Have you been to Caffe 817 lately? Opened in 1993, this sunny hangout in Old Oakland changed hands last year. While the name and the Italian inspiration remains the name, new owners Scott and Emily Goldenberg have made the place their own. The couple, who met while both were working as sous-chefs at Zuni Cafe, are dedicated to bringing their love for local flavors and housemade products to downtown Oakland. At a recent breakfast for food writers and bloggers hosted by Oakland Local, Scott and Emily showcased a few of their favorite brunch items and talked about what they're trying to do.
But first, what's that alluring, elusive flavor--not cinnamon--in that bowl of crunchy, not-too-sweet organic granola? It's cardamom, a legacy of Emily's Norwegian heritage. (Throughout Scandanavia, cardamom is a commonly addition to sweet breads and morning pastries.) Nutmeg's in there, and an herby-citrusy burst of coriander, too, tossed into a hearty mix of organic nuts, seeds, and grains.
Granola may not be Italian, but the coffee certainly is, or at least as Italian as you can get without leaving the West Coast. The Goldenbergs stock Mr. Espresso beans, which Emily describes as "as local as local can be," since their beans are roasted over oak just a few blocks away on 3rd Street close to Jack London Square. The family-run business was founded by the Italian-born Carlo Di Ruocco, who got his start as an importer of espresso machines. The Di Ruocco family "come in for coffee all the time," Emily notes, while praising the "real Italian profile" of their beans. The Di Ruoccos were one of the first roasters in the area to source organic and certified fair-trade beans.
While Scott works the poached-egg maker--which he describes, with pride, as "an old-school piece of Italian gadgetry," Emily urges us to dress up our levain toast with a spoonful of one of her housemade winter preserves, including spiced apple butter, mandarin orange marmalade, and kiwi jam.
But I can't resist ducking behind the counter to get a closer look at that egg poacher. It's a tall, streamlined metal box, with hot water in the base topped by a perforated metal insert. "It's an old thing that doesn't break," marvels Scott as he cracks eggs into individual ceramic cups, then lowers them into the insert. Once the lid is shut, the eggs cook fast but gently, bain-marie style, in the circulating steam. A quick scoop around with a rubber spatula, and a perfectly shaped, consistently tender egg pops out, ready to be perched atop a slice of olivada-smeared levain toast or nestled into a dish of chunky, satisfying corned-beef hash. The corned beef starts with grass-fed brisket (sourced, depending on the season, from local Marin Sun Farms or South Dakota's Storm Hill Beef Cooperative) that's brined for five days, then slow-cooked overnight to get "uberdelicious," as Emily calls it.
We also get to try the Italian toast, a slim pressed hot sandwich of Italian proscuitto cotto (cooked ham) with rosemary paired with a domestic Gruyere (made by Wisconsin-based Roth Kase) and a tangy slather of mostarda, made with dried figs, cherries, and raisins poached with spices and wine and then pureed into jam, a untraditional touch that turns it from chunky condiment into versatile spread.
So far, the neighborhood's response to their freshened-up, seasonal menu has been strong. But since the name remains the same, Scott and Emily realize that many people, even formerly regular diners, may not yet know that the place is, in fact, new. It's just one of many challenges; the Goldenbergs also welcomed the arrival of their first child recently. A new restaurant, a new baby, and they still find time to make their own jam and cure their own brisket! If that's not a labor of love, what is?
Chef Ravi Kapur, formerly of Boulevard and Prospect, brings his homegrown version of ohana (Hawaiian for 'family') to a pop-up restaurant he is calling Liholiho Yacht Club. The pop-up is happening at Citizen's Band in San Francisco for a total of four Monday nights. I attended the second dinner and there are two more scheduled with a possibility for additional ones in the future. The menu pulls from dishes that Kapur created with his friends in mind: the idea being to bring people together, eat family style, and enjoy each others company—without having to be an 'over-the-top-foodie experience.'
“In Hawaii, everyone seems to cook. It's a function of survival. Cooking isn't intimidating.” Kapur brings the easiness of his native Oahu to his menu, with dishes like tender pulehu beef tongue and smoked tako (octopus) easily shared between friends. Discussing the idea behind the pop-up, Kapur says, “I'm cooking with flavors I grew up with and not having to fit my inspiration into a fine-dining context.”
Though the food intentionally steers away from being 'fine dining,' the decade that Kapur spent as chef de cuisine at Boulevard and then executive chef at Prospect is evident in the dishes' execution: they look simple, but each of them has multiple ingredients that have been lovingly prepared for days before the pop-up: kimchi to accompany the main courses fermenting in the kitchen, three kinds of radishes pickling before being sliced onto appetizers, sugar caramelizing for the short-rib glaze.
Liholiho Yacht Club’s menu is fixed price, with no substitutions, set at $65 per person which includes tax and tip. The price tag might seem hefty, but considering that both the appetizer and the entrée courses include five dishes per person, there are two desserts, and all of the ingredients are high quality, your full belly will thank you after you 'grind'(Hawaiian slang for 'eats').
Sitting down at a cozy table at Citizen's Band, the first noticeable feature is the relaxed atmosphere. Even the servers have warm Hawaiian smiles and Mauna Loa music plays through the speakers. Tables are filled with groups of friends "talking story."
"When I was just on Maui, I was talking story, I mean 'hanging out' (he quickly corrects himself for my Californian ears) with my Uncle George," Kapur said. "He was telling me about how when he was younger, and racing Hobie Cats, he and his friends would throw parties to pay for their supplies. They would go down to the beach and throw a party--fire up the grill, ice down the beer, and get a band to play," reminisces Kapur. "They would charge a modest price--the intention was to make enough money to allow them to do what they loved. They realized they needed a name for their 'organization' and he lived on Liholiho street so decided to name it Liholiho Yacht Club. I loved the name and the idea: to throw a party to allow you to keep doing what you love."
About the future of the pop-up, Kapur says there is "no grand plan, no long term goal," though he expresses admiration for Citizen's Band owner Chris Beerman for "taking care of his neighborhood first," and says one day he hopes to be able to do the same in the neighborhood he's lived in for 15 years: the Mission.
Ravi Kapur hanging with a table of diners at LLYC.
I’d recommend dining at Liholiho with a few friends. Portions are adjusted for smaller parties, but there’s something so inviting about the platters of Asian-influenced Hawaiian soul food. The Korean-style fried quail with a red Fresno chile barbecue sauce is especially noteworthy. The idea of digging into platefuls of soy-date glazed shortribs, fermented-miso sauced Brussels sprouts, and thin, tenderly-grilled beef tongue is even more appealing when you’re with a few friends, washing it all down with several communal bottles of Sapporo or Asahi beer.
The dishes for each course arrived all together, the five dishes took up most of the room on the table. The appetizer course dishes consisted of: small bites of potatoes in a white-miso vinaigrette, finished with steelhead roe and crispy potato skins; cold roasted sunchokes with large, dried nori flakes on a stripe of seaweed "ranch"; spicy clams in a red Thai curry sauce peppered with crispy strips of pig ears and larger chunks of the ear meat floating in the broth; and pungent house-smoked tako, cut nicely by spicy pickled radishes, sesame oil, and plenty of sesame seeds to give the dish a nice crunch that offsets the soft tako.
Don't eat a late lunch before dining at Liholiho Yacht Club, you'll want to save plenty of room for the deep-fried half-quail and the sweetly salty pork ribs. The vegetable sides accompanying the dishes have a fermented tang to them, and everything is self-served over a bed of sticky shiitake rice that's been steamed in a lotus leaf, Chinese-style.
“The food I'm cooking is very personal and influenced strongly by my childhood,” says Kapur on a Sunday afternoon as he brines pig ears that will eventually get thin-sliced and deep-fried to accompany a steaming bowl of clams during the appetizer course. “There's a lot of nostalgia on the menu. Eating smoked tako is one of my earliest food memories. Malasadas...they're everywhere. The ones I looked forward to the most were at the Punahou School carnival... that's the school Obama went to!”
Jonny Raglin and fellow Saloon Keeper Jeff Hollinger partnered with Bill Russell-Shapiro’s The Absinthe Group to open Comstock Saloon on the ever-busy corner of Pacific and Columbus Avenues in North Beach in 2009. Raglin and Hollinger created the bar program, and chef Carlo Espinas handles the classic menu: Hangtown toast, beef shank & bone marrow pot pie, and house made Cheddar crackers with pepper jelly. Comstock’s design, menus and staff uniform all reflect an earlier era, and the building’s history can be dated to 1907.
Raglin is from Harrah, Oklahoma and got his start at the Cajun restaurant Pearl's Oyster Bar while attending the University of Central Oklahoma. After graduating, he traveled to Europe and worked in Irish pubs. In 2001, he began working at Stars, where he learned from Dan McCracken “how to make proper cocktails with fresh juices and seasonal ingredients.” After Stars closed in 2003, he joined Incanto and worked with Chef Chris Cosentino. The next year, Raglin joined Absinthe Brasserie & Bar’s bar team, and began working with Hollinger to develop culinary-like cocktails inspired by the classics. From 2005 to 2009, he oversaw Absinthe’s bar program as Bar Manager. He designed cocktail menus for Nopa, DOSA and Maverick, through his own company, Proper Potion Consulting.
Raglin is a member of the United States Bartender’s Guild association. In 2007, he was selected as a StarChefs “Rising Star Bar Chef.” He lives in Bernal Heights with his wife Sara Spearin of Dynamo Donuts fame, and their two sons, Henry and Arlo. Raglin met Spearin at Stars, where she was the pastry chef and they have been married for six years. On a recent visit, Raglin crafted a Bamboo cocktail (recipe below) on a Free Lunch Friday at Comstock, which was paired with a Scotch egg salad. The free lunch promotion means anyone who buys two adult beverages can try Chef Espina’s lunch plate for free; other recent offerings in the rotation were fried chicken with mashed potatoes and chicken and dumplings.
What was it like having Anthony Bourdain visit Comstock for his TV show, The Layover?
We’ve been very busy ever since and we were already busy. Right after the show aired we had to hold the door on weekends. The Layover is one of the better shows because it’s for tourists who specifically travel to eat and drink.
What do you think about the mixologist label?
It’s a really old term. I don’t call myself that. I don't think it’s a bad word. I’ve bartended for 16 years now and always considered myself a bartender. Why would I change that? Everyone wants to talk about the esoteric ingredients in their drink rather than talk about life.
How do you divide Comstock’s Twitter duties @ComstockSaloon?
It goes to whoever’s on duty. We do twitter throughout the week, mainly to say what the free lunch item is [for Friday].
What are your favorite eating spots?
Sara and I work very opposite hours. It’s a lot of handoff. Our son is in preschool now, so there’s not a lot of date night going on. We manage our time and bank account these days.
What are your favorite spots to shop for food?
I like Good Life Grocery, Whole Foods and fish from Mission Market. We supplement most everything with biweekly trips to Trader Joe's. There are some things that Trader Joe’s does well and ultimately it’s the price that wins out. When we lived on Capp Street before moving to Bernal, we lived at Rainbow for their discount days, and we used those Rainbow phone book coupons. Living in Bernal, you’ve got to get in a car.
What’s new with Proper Potion Consulting?
Ever since Jeff and I opened up Comstock, I haven’t had much time. When I do some consultation, it’s kind of cool because I get to know about places before they open.
What is your guiltiest food pleasure?
I’m not guilty but bacon is probably my biggest one. I’m not the type that wants bacon on everything, but I do want three bacon strips a day. And Bourbon Whisky. That is a pleasure I should definitely feel guilty about.
Any news for 2012?
This year we’ll travel to Maine, near the Canadian border. We own a portion of a family cabin and have been doing a remodel. It will be Arlo’s first time. We didn’t take a vacation last year.
We’re anticipating having an even busier year because there will be a Dynamo kiosk at Crissy field. [Mayor] Ed Lee is our landlord, so as soon as we get the papers signed, it should happen. We thought we’d be running by spring. There will be two deliveries a day, and production will still be in the Mission.
What is it like running Comstock?
Jeff and I had thoughts on what the space would be: a classic spot where you can dress up and have fun. We continue to come back to the end commodity, which is fun. I would never recommend to anyone to open a restaurant, kids or not. The risks involved here in the city are great. Maybe in another city. It’s a lot cheaper to do business in the East Bay. Here, it’s high rents, high utilities and health insurance. If you saw what our water bill was here, it’s crazy. A lot of doing business here is about labor and healthcare. As a company, we just offer full health benefits via Kaiser. I think it’s great to offer healthcare.
For the future, we’ve talked about eventually opening something more foodcentric, like a café.
Which places do you watch and visit?
I see so much more comfort cuisine in San Francisco. New York has these amazing fine dining restaurants and fine pizza slices with very few mid-range places. San Francisco has embodied more variety for a long time. There is Benu, which is very successful. Then you have Ron Siegel at Parallel 37 now doing something much more approachable.
The really cool one who was able to diversify is Commonwealth. Valencia Street blows me away. We ate at Tacolicious and it’s awesome. All that tequila? That makes me happy. Their fried fish taco was so good. No one’s really trying that here. In Southern California, they do fried tacos well, but here?
I go to Mr. Bing’s because it’s right across the street from Comstock.
Family photo -- biking at Ocean Beach. Courtesy of Jonny Raglin
What is your favorite meal to have with your family?
Most often, we cook at home. Our culinary extravagances have definitely toned down. Last night, I took chicken roulade home from here [Comstock], which was awesome. Carlo’s food is not delicate so it travels well. It still tasted great. My youngest will eat about anything. The older one has food allergies and is very picky, but he’ll eat the bacon donut [from Dynamo Donuts.] I raised the boys on bacon because I do the mornings with them. Honestly, before Sara, I wasn’t that great around the stove. Now I feel confident with my skills. All it takes is Fatted Calf bacon to make us happy.
Bamboo Cocktail: courtesy of Liza Gershman
1.5 oz. medium dry Amontillado sherry (we use Pemartin)
1.5 oz. dry vermouth (we use Sutton Cellars)
1 dash Angostura bitters
garnish with a twist of lemon.
Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir for about 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish. Serve.
P.S. Keep your sherry and vermouth refrigerated for optimum freshness.
Once upon a time, two childhood friends drove a Volkswagen bus across the country to Berkeley. Sue Conley opened Bette's Ocean Diner in Berkeley and worked at Betty's and Peggy Smith cooked at Chez Panisse for 17 years.
After some decades of culinary success, the two were ready for a new challenge. Their concept was essentially a marketing vehicle for local organic farms like Straus Family Creamery which was the first organic dairy farm west of the Mississippi. One of them fell in love with the Point Reyes National Park, and the other fell in love with a park ranger. Tomales Bay Foods was founded in 1993.
Tomales Bay Foods
The vision for Tomales Bay Foods was a place where people could come and buy and eat local products grown and made in West Marin. Sue dreamt of a European-style cheese counter, something that didn't quite exist even in the food-forward Bay Area at that time. Four years later an old hay barn was renovated into the market that we know today, housing the cheesemaking facility, an organic produce stand, a natural-fabric clothing shop, an artisan cheese counter and a deli. Eventually, Sue and Peggy tried their hands at making some simple fresh cheeses--all of which I was lucky enough to taste on a tour with some chef and wine industry friends at Cowgirl Creamery.
Crème fraîche
The first tasting was crème fraîche:
Crème fraîche is made from a simple heavy cream with a little bifidus culture added to make it tangy. The cheese is made exclusively from Straus milk obtained from the original herd, something that is pretty hard to come by these days. The team at Cowgirl lovingly refers to it as their "estate-bottled milk." What I didn't know about crème fraîche is that the older it gets, the better it is! Although a film may form on the top of the cheese, it can be removed and thrown out, and the crème fraîche underneath is improved by ageing. The budding novice cheesemaker can purchase their own heavy cream, add a little crème fraîche, and use it as a "mother" to create their own. At Cowgirl, the crème fraîche is the building block for all of their other fresh cheeses. I'd never thought of cheese as a "live food before," but it's true: the lacto bifidus in many cheeses creates an ever-changing product that only improves with some age.
Fromage Blanc
Next on the tasting menu was fromage blanc:
The second-to-simplest cheese made at Cowgirl, fromage blanc is made by heating milk, adding the culture (lactus bifidus) to create acids and coagulate the milk, and hanging the resulting cheesecloth overnight to drain out the whey. The resulting cream cheese is a crisp, clear, clean cream cheese without any cloying xanthan gum. It tastes absolutely unlike anything I've ever had on a bagel and I know I'll never be able to eat Philadelphia again.
Manager Michael Zilber discusses clabbered cottage cheese
Then, it was time to try the clabbered cottage cheese:
This cheese is the first one that Sue ever made, and we hear it's the one she's still most proud of. Traditionally, cottage cheese is made from the nonfat milk that's left over from the day's butter-making. The milk is turned into whey and mixed with fresh cream from the morning's milking, which is why cottage cheese is traditionally a breakfast cheese. This cheese has great acidity and texture, and we're told it can be substituted for ricotta in almost any recipe. This cheese won a blue ribbon from the American Cheese Society in 2005, making it ostensibly the best cottage cheese in the USA. "What it comes down to is highlighting the high-quality milk," says our guide, cheesemonger/manager Michael Zilber, modestly.
AGED CHEESES
After a year of making fresh cheeses, Sue decides to try her hand at making some aged cheeses. At the time, a Dutch dairy scientist was interning at Cowgirl. With his input, the creamery as it is today was designed, and Cowgirl made its first soft aged cheese: basically a creamy Gouda. Many tests-and-repeats later, Cowgirl is probably known best for its famous Mount Tam cheese.
Mount Tam:
We learned that cheese ripens from the outside in, which can be noticed in the three different textures of the triangle of Mount Tam we were given to examine, sniff, and taste. The rind, which is made from candida mold that has broken down the milk and made a seal, is white and fluffy. Just inside the rind there's a ribbon of ripe cheese, and inside of that, the center of the cheese is a firm, bright white. "To really dork out on soft cheeses," says our guide, "first taste the center, and taste the ripe part of the cheese second. For the third nibble, taste the two parts together." All three bites had their own distinct flavors.
Three stages of ripeness in one slice of Mount Tam
Also, says Zilber, "anyone who says they are lactose-intolerant should be able to eat aged, soft cheeses." Why? "The cultures added to the cheese eat all of the lactose after a few days of aging and turn it into lactic acid." Hence, the slightly acidic, citrusy tang we taste in a newer cheese. The mold feeds on that acid, sweetening the cheese. "So a cheese's rind not only seals but sweetens the cheese."
Red Hawk:
The next cheese we tasted was the Red Hawk, which is made similarly to the Mount Tam. After two weeks of aging, the fluffy candida mold is scrubbed off of the cheese and it's washed with salt water. (Some cheesemakers will wash the rinds with beer or wine at this stage of cheesemaking.) The saline prevents more white fluffy mold from growing and then nature takes over. B. Linens mold from the air grows on the cheeses giving them their nuttiness and a slight funk. B. Linens mold is a naturally-occurring mold in the air--it's what makes stinky cheeses like Limberger stinky. Red Hawk represents the terroir of West Marin--it cannot be made in Petaluma, because the air doesn't have the mold. It is a true American original: the only known washed-rind, triple-cream soft cheese in the world. Pair it with a true Sauternes or a hoppy IPA.
Individual slices of the washed rind, triple-cream Red Hawk
Devil's Gulch:
This seasonal cheese is soft and aged, with a sweet and spicy pepper rind. Cowgirl's seasonal cheese is the same cheese year-round, with different herbs to finish the rind. The cheese itself is a washed rind, similar to the Red Hawk but the milk is from a Jersey cow farm. There is no cream added to the cheese because the fat content in Jersey cow milk is higher than that of Holstein cows, which is where the "estate-bottled" Straus milk comes from.
Homegrown dried pepper rind on Devil's Gulch cheese
Wagon Wheel:
After years of making fresh cheeses and soft aged cheeses, Cowgirl's cheesemakers wanted an "everyday cheese that they could cook with," says Zilber. Wagon Wheel is their first hard-aged cheese. The process is the same as with an asiago, says Zilber. He's right that Wagon Wheel is a great melting cheese: we bought out Tomales Bay Foods' stock of Barbaclette and spent the rest of the afternoon melting it over the barbecues at the Hog Island Oyster Company for lunch.
Much ado has been made of the new permanent home of Wise Sons -- the first Jewish deli in the Mission and, arguably, the only Jewish deli in San Francisco worth eating. The powerful but petite eatery’s proprietors, Evan Bloom and Leo Beckerman, have become local media darlings, featured everywhere from a fiery hot chef competition, to blogs, newspapers, and upcoming in Sunset magazine and perhaps on local TV show Dine and Dish. I myself, giddy after finding the long-craved 2nd Avenue Deli-quality eats of my people, gushed about them in this public love letter earlier this year.
But while the excitement of the experience has tongues wagging (mmmm…could we get some tongue on the menu, please?) what has not been fully explored is the uncompromising heritage and quality of the food. “We’re not a factory,” explains Beckerman. “We’re all about education -- keeping this food and this culture alive and sharing it. The level of attention and detail we put into our work,” -- brining and smoking the meat, baking the rye, preserving the pickles and jams, and making every single thing in-house from scratch or buying from top-quality local purveyors who do so -- “this is truly slow food. That’s what people deserve.”
Wise Sons interior. Photo by Stephanie Rosenbaum
Bloom and Beckerman grew dissatisfied with their careers in construction management (Bloom) and non-profit medical development (Beckerman), and came together because of their love for food. Through kitchen experimentation and recipe development, the menu is a continuing work in progress. Its influences come from a number of sources -- the glossy cookbooks of Joan Nathan and Secrets of a Jewish Baker, as well as spiral-bound DIY cookbooks from synagogues, Jewish community centers, temple sisterhoods and the like, “each featuring six different recipes for Matzo Ball Soup, all slightly different, as well as Mrs. Schmendrick’s Husband’s Favorite Soup,” says Beckerman.
The Wise Sons menu also owes a huge debt to Oliver, a family friend who was monumental in developing the house recipe for bialys (“Ollie’s Bialys,” quips Beckerman), as well as hand-written recipes on 3x5 index cards from Beckerman’s grandmother’s recipe file. “I went through that box with her before she passed away and asked her if I could take the ones I wanted. That was a nice passing on of recipes.”
Nothing served, however, is verbatim of any written formula, family-derived or otherwise. The challah is on the sweet side, and even though Wise Sons is not a kosher eatery, they opt out of butter in the recipe to keep it parve. And because it’s 2012, it’s topped with flaked sea salt just to make it awesome. And while Beckerman, who oversees most of the baking while Bloom takes on the meat and the savories, wanted to make his grandmother’s babke with nuts, raisins, and meringue, they opted for chocolate instead. “We ended up going in a different direction,” says Beckerman. “As soon as you put in nuts and raisins, it narrows down the audience. People have allergies.” Right. This is, after all, San Francisco and not the 1947 Lower East Side.
The brisket for the pastrami and corned beef is cut to Wise Sons’ specifications by Creekstone Farms in Kansas. But why not use what’s local and grass fed? Beckerman unapologetically explains, “The truth is that we found out that grass fed animals are much smaller and too lean, and the pastrami doesn’t come out as nice. There aren’t enough cows in the Bay Area to do what we do,” -- which, on an average Tuesday at their Ferry Building kiosk, can easily mean 150-200 lbs. of beef and still a lengthy line-up of customers craving Reubens.
Photo: Stephanie Rosenbaum
Beckerman and Bloom’s brand loyalty for ingredients is unbending. The chicken soup starts with Mary’s or Fulton Valley. The matzo and matzo meal is Streits. The flour is Giusto’s. And, true story: I wanted to buy a whole babke to send to my mother for Chanukah last December, but I was out of luck because the particular Guittard chocolate used in the recipe -- E. Guittard 72 percent cacao -- wasn’t available. And rather than settle for a chocolate substitute, Beckerman told me, there just wasn’t going to be any. This is the same reason you’ll only find bagels on Saturdays -- when Beauty's can deliver them. “I’d rather serve no bagels than crappy bagels,” he says. “Do you want twice as much of something half as good?” Wise words, indeed.
I recently moved out of San Francisco after twelve years. It was a long goodbye with tons of get-togethers, there was a lot of dust as I rummaged through long-forgotten drawers, and many, many tears were shed. On the last Saturday I was in the city, I was packing a box of old journals. I flipped one open and saw the following note from June 7, 2003.
"First day working at the farmers market. Head spinning, so many things to say. Working behind the scenes is so different than being a customer. Happy."
I remember that day pretty vividly. The Ferry Plaza Farmers Market had just opened in its new location six weeks prior, and I had learned from a friend that Nigel Walker of Eatwell Farm was looking for someone new to work at the booth. Up until this point, I was a regular customer when the market was on Green Street, and was quickly becoming fond of the farmers and vendors. I had learned to love green garlic from Eatwell, and often gave my money to Nigel's five-year-old twins as they learned how to make change.
Working at the market that first day was long, hard work. I arrived at 6am, and left the market exhausted but exhilarated at about 4pm. I hauled produce, set up tents, talked to customers and just watched in awe as the thriving market community swirled around me.
I didn't know the import that day would have. In hindsight, I realize it was the beginning of everything: of long-time relationships with farmers at the market, of a passion about local food that would lead to my blog, to being published nationally, to friendships among a community of like-minded folks that would change the course of my career and my social life. It was a rare moment that changed the course of my life.
At the hub of my memory was a kind, funny, brilliant farmer who was willing to answer any question honestly. And when I say "honestly," I mean it. Nigel didn't always give the politically correct answer to a question, and often didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. I watched as Nigel left his booth to meet with other farmers, interested not only in selling his produce, but in shaping the way that the market fundamentally worked.
My friendship with Nigel and the entire Eatwell Farm community continued. To be honest, I breathed a sigh of relief on my very last trip to the farmers market this past December that Nigel wasn't there; the idea of that good-bye was just too difficult.
And I'm not the only one so affected by Nigel and Eatwell Farm. So many people have a specific affinity for Nigel that is separate from the terrific produce and eggs that his farm brings to market. We've stood in admiration as we learn how well he treats his workers, we've watched his twin boys grow up at the market, and we welcomed his wife Lorraine (of Drinkwell Soda) into the market community recently.
That's why it's been such a blow in the past month to learn that Nigel has stage 3 multiple myeloma, which is a type of cancer of the bone marrow. He has spent most of January having radiation on his spinal column and treatments to force a retreat of the cancer. And it seems to be working. The latest I've heard is that the cancer is responding well to the treatments, and instead of heavy duty chemotherapy, Nigel will soon be starting a more mild form of chemo.
As anyone who has spent time talking to farmers knows, Nigel is lucky to have health insurance. The financial realities of providing good, healthy food to the public—even at a place like the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market—means slim margins, and personal health insurance is often last on a long list of priorities. However, the Walker family is still facing significant costs associated with his care that are not being covered by insurance.
If you are so moved—if you can relate to the effect of Eatwell Farm on the Bay Area scene, or you have a personal connection with Nigel—there are a few ways that you can help Eatwell Farm during this time.
CUESA, the organization that runs the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, is hosting a fundraiser in conjunction with Tacolicious this Sunday, February 26. One hundred percent of the proceeds for this fundraising reception will go to Nigel and his family. It's sure to be a fun evening.
Encourage friends and family to try out a CSA box from Eatwell. The Walker family and the Eatwell Farm family is ensuring that delicious produce is still being grown and sold during this difficult time and one thing we can do to support the farm is to ensure that the produce sells out.
Although the details of this ongoing story have yet to be fully revealed, it spotlights cultural stereotypes often associated with dining etiquette. While North Americans and Northern Europeans deem that transferring edibles to the mouth with a metal-pronged stick is somehow more refined than using the utensils we were born with, members of the many cultures who have been eating with their hands for thousands of years beg to differ.
Africans, Arabs and Indians (to name only a few) describe in rhapsodic terms the advantages of eating with their fingers: the sensuous connection to the food, the feeling of sharing and community, practicality (in that it’s easier to pluck that last bit of meat off the bones) avoiding waste, even a lingering aroma on the fingers to sustain the memory of a marvelous meal.
After reading scores of impassioned comments that the above mentioned article garnered, I felt compelled to conduct my own interviews to get a first-hand perspective on this cultural divide, followed by a hands-on lesson (see video clip below.)
photos courtesy of Vijitha Shyam of Indian food blog Spices and Aroma
Vinita Chopra Jacinto grew up in Northern India and is now a chef instructor at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco. She feels strongly that Indian food tastes best when eaten with one’s fingers. She tells me that Indians eat with their hands because they believe that food is, “more than just protein, carbs and fat it nourishes the mind, intellect and spirit. Eating should be sensual and mindful, employing all the senses: sight, smell, sound, taste and touch. Using your hands gives you a tactile connection with your food.”
Jacinto clarifies some regional differences, “In the North, where breads are commonly consumed, you tear a piece of bread and wrap it around your food. While, in the South, rice is combined with curries, and each mouthful offers a unique blend of flavors. Traditionally in Southern India, plates are made of disposable, recyclable, banana leaves. Using a knife and fork on a banana leaf would shred your plate.”
Significantly, all cultures that shun silverware maintain a set of rules for eating with the hands. Before the meal, the hands must be washed, wiped or even rubbed with sand, as desert Arabs do. But the foremost rule is that only the right hand is employed for eating.
“The left hand is never used for that,” Jacinto says, “It is considered unclean.” In principle, at least, this is because the left hand is saved for bodily cleaning. Another taboo Jacinto cautions against is jutha, or double dipping your bread into a communal dish of food.
“The secret to gracefully eating with your fingers,” Jacinto advises, “is to use your thumb. For example, a small amount of rice is formed into a little pile on your plate, blended with one or more bits of curried lentils, vegetables, meat or fish, and then picked up with a twist of the wrist, held onto by the fingers and maneuvered right up to your mouth. But don’t put your fingers into your mouth.” she instructs, “Just use your thumb to push the food inside.”
Fharzana Elankumaran, founder of I Heart Curry, where she teaches Indian cooking classes, also grew up eating with her hands in Bangladesh. “I appreciate this way of eating because you have more control over your food,“ she says. “For example, if you’re eating fish or chicken, you don’t have to worry about cutting with a knife around the bones. When you use your fingers, you can get every last bit of meat and so waste less. It’s an expression of the great respect we have for the food.”
In her Indian cooking classes, Elankumaran encourages students to eat with their hands, but finds that it may be a challenge for first-timers. “ Sometimes my students tell me their hands get tired, because they are using a whole new set of muscles.”
Yemeni dish at Oasis Market and Restaurant
On a shopping trip to Oakland’s Oasis Market and Restaurant, I spy manager Rassam Sharif eating his lunch by hand. It’s a Yemeni specialty, fahsa (cooked boneless beef topped with whipped fenugreek, with a salsa-like sauce). Sharif kindly demonstrates his technique: he tears off a bit of tandoori bread, dips it into the meat and salsa, and brings it to his mouth with 3 fingers. Sharif prefers eating by hand because, he says, “You have more connection to your food. With a spoon, it’s just like shoveling something into your mouth to get full. In Islam, we are taught that the Prophet said to eat from your own side of the dish, slowly, with the right hand, just until you are not hungry. It makes you take your time and be mindful of what you’re eating.”
Enough talk, I decide, it’s time for me to get some hands-on tutoring.
Luckily, my request for cross-cultural dining instruction interests Mostafa Raiss El Fenni, owner of Berkeley’s Sahara Home Décor. He invites me to stay for lunch and we sit on intricately carved and painted chairs amid his stunning collection of Moroccan carpets, ottomans, embroidered textiles, brass lanterns, conical clay pots and delicate tea glasses.
Mostafa Raiss El Fenni -- Moroccan food
Raiss El Fenni, a former Cal student and chemist, whose shop promotes the works of artists from his homeland, tells me, “Eating with your hands is about sharing,” and as the youngest in a family of 12 children, he got a lot of practice doing that. There is an intimacy formed when you all eat from the same dish dipping in small pieces of bread, he explains. “ And if you find a piece of meat close to you that’s especially good, you can share it with your neighbor.”
“Does each person take the piece of meat and bread onto their own plate?” I ask.
“We don’t have individual plates. We are a very collective society. But if we invite guests over who are not familiar with this way of eating, we show them how it’s done.”
Watch my lesson in eating with the hands, Moroccan style:
Filmed and Edited by Kim Aronson
In the college dorm, it was a bit of culture shock for Raiss El Fenni that each student ate his own sandwich. “I couldn’t get used to eating by myself. So, I just waited with my food until they were done, and then said, “Hey, want to share? Eventually they got the idea and would offer to share some of their sandwiches with me too.”
Raiss-El-Fenni also hosts Moroccan parties in colorful Berber tents set up outside his shop. Parties range from mint tea and pastries to an all-out catered feast with live music and belly dancers. And of course, he will encourage your guests to eat with their hands for the true Moroccan experience.
Tanjia Moroccan Restaurant
After my tasty lesson, I invite my husband out for a Moroccan meal and tell him I’ll show him how to eat with his hands, so we head over to Tanjia, an Oakland Moroccan restaurant we haven’t yet tried.
We enter the lovely blue and red interior with low couches that let you sit close to your dining companion. But I am disappointed to see the tables set with forks and knives. When I tell the server we hoped to eat in Moroccan fashion, she gladly takes away the silverware and returns with a pot of water and washes our hands.
The first course is an assortment of delicately spiced salads: carrots, eggplant, cucumbers, tomato and bell pepper. Easy to scoop up with chunks of home baked bread. But with the arrival of the lamb and eggplant and chicken with honey and prunes, which are so meltingly tender you can tell they have cooked slowly for hours, my husband chickens-out of the hands-on approach and, to keep him company, I ask for two forks. It’s not so easy to change a lifetimes's eating habits.
Owner Jamal Zahid recently took over the restaurant from his brother, Said who started Tanjia in 2000. It has always been a “silverware optional restaurant” but seeing the reaction of a younger generation of customers not used to the traditional Moroccan way of dining sans utensils, Zahid decided-- as an act of hospitality to his guests-- to set the table with forks and knives, a reversal of his brother’s default setting. Personally, Zahid favors eating with the hands as a way to feel connected to the food and savor the meal slowly.
Ethiopian platter and injera - Cafe Colucci
At Oakland’s Café Colucci Ethiopian restaurant, by contrast, forks are nowhere in sight. Injera, the spongy, slightly sour, crepe-like bread made from the teff grain, functions as tablecloth, plate and utensil and the food is served family style, atop a large injera circle. “Eating is almost a sacred ritual,” says owner Fetlework Tefferi, whose award-winning restaurant just celebrated its 20th year. Besides the rules of hand washing and right hand only, she adds another from her native Ethiopia, “Once the tray of food is laid on the table, no one rises until all are done and the tray removed. We chew slowly, with closed mouths and a calm dignity. The food is sacred. It’s not polite to rush through your meal.”
Again, eating with the hand is more than just a mechanism to get sustenance into the mouth. “On certain occasions,” explains Tefferi, “we feed each other by hand, it’s called goorsha and it’s a loving act, an endearment. You might feed a child who is not eating enough or a guest you are entertaining. But if I were to make a bite for a man, “she chuckles,” I need to make sure it’s a big, well-packed roll of injera. I guess it’s a macho thing.” She adds, “We usually don’t eat alone. If you are in a restaurant in Ethiopia, for example, and the people at the next table get served first, they will probably ask you to join them or at least take a few bites with them. That kind of sharing is what holds us together.”
Tefferi demonstrates how to tear off a small square from the rolls of injera in the basket. She describes the technique as “wrap and roll.” You lay your piece of injera over some food and use all your fingers to gather up the filling and twist it into a little packed pouch, which you may dip into several different dishes on the tray. Our platter today has collard greens seasoned with black cumin, cabbage with carrots, potatoes with ginger, garlic and turmeric, lentils in red berbere sauce, yellow split peas in turmeric sauce, Ethiopian cheese and kitfo, a highly seasoned raw meat dish.
“Children are taught to make a bite of food that’s just big enough to fit in their mouth all at once, without stuffing their cheeks and to eat only with their right hands.” Tefferi remembers her mother training her left-handed brother by having him sit with his left hand behind his back.
“In the restaurant, we get 97% American diners. If they ask for silverware, I tell them it will be $10 extra,” teases Tefferi, with a twinkle in her eye, “ I just want them to try eating with their hands.” This gracious cultural ambassador wants to encourage more people to appreciate the 3000-year old cuisine of her homeland. “We need to revisit the way people used to eat; how much they cared and believed that whatever they put into their mouths was sacred,” says Tefferi. “The aroma is important too. Even after you wash up at the end of the meal, the scent of the food remains on your hand. Later, you might hold up your hand to someone else and say “Smell my hand, see how good the food was!”
(It was and I did.)
"Eating with a fork and knife is like making love through an interpreter”
-- attributed variously to Prime Minister Nehru and the Shah of Iran
Related links:
A recent study says babies may eat better when they feed themselves with their fingers
Stepping through the doors of Bergamot Alley, the newest addition to Healdsburg’s food and wine scene, I’m greeted with a warm hug from the hostess. A long hug. Let me backtrack. I’m from Healdsburg, a fifth-generation rarity who moved to San Francisco almost 10 years ago and only travels back home sporadically. Every time I do, though, I find that another friend, or pair of friends, or group of friends, has opened up or is planning on opening up a cool new spot in my hometown. Bergamot Alley is one of them.
The brainchild of Kevin Wardell, formerly a sommelier at flour + water and A16, and his partner Sarah Johnson, Bergamot Alley looks like it was born of a machine shop and an artistic city-slicker. The lofty space on Healdsburg Avenue was formerly a jumbled antiques mall filled with woodstoves and tractor parts, and the original brick walls have been carefully exposed. The 17-foot ceilings are finished in their original tin from 1896. Because the building is one of Healdsburg’s oldest, Wardell says, it has a certain landmark status that inspired the décor. In the walls: a wooden brick here, a tin patch there, small iron bars jutting out at random angles. The “wallscape” somehow works together, with a collection of air gardens climbing the bricks and vending-machine bouncing balls shoved onto the ends of the iron bars to turn them into functional coat and purse racks. A plaster wall that divides Bergamot Alley from its next-door-neighbor sports decals by Telluride, CO-based artist Nathan Frerichs, the whimsical squid and octopus looking as at home here in the Dry Creek Valley as they would on a T-shirt sold on Haight Street.
Bergamot Alley owners Sarah Johnson and Kevin Wardell. Photo: Kena Frank
Bergamot Alley is intended to be a “bar without a bar,” says Wardell. “There’s no division between the customer and the people who work here,” he says.
“We wanted to have a space that really felt like a community room, where the flow of the people and the energy is uninterrupted by a bar.”
Large, community-style tables that can fit up to 10 people are hand-welded with kick-plates made from WWII-era hot-dog bun baking trays. The chairs are from elementary schools, with taller legs welded to them to elevate the drinker to barstool height. The vibe: all-encompassing and welcoming. Whether you’re a local, a tourist, or a “new local” with a chateau out in the valley and perfectly mucked designer Wellingtons, you’ll feel at home here.
“We wanted to avoid the ‘me versus you’ of the typical bar,” says Wardell.
“That works great for tasting rooms, but we’re inviting a community-based dynamic here.”
In Healdsburg, it's rare for a wine bar to serve non-local wine; to not serve any Californian wine at all is practically sacrilege. Yet that's what Bergamot Alley does! But because of Wardell and Johnson's deep respect for, and involvement in, the local community, their decision to focus on interesting foreign wines is a welcome breath of fresh air through the old-growth Zinfandel vines--not an affront. Aside from an entirely Mediterranean wine list that offers a large selection by the glass, there's a wide selection of microbrewed beers, the Alley's concession to keeping the locavores happy. All draft beers are local, and a medical refrigerator full of eclectic American 750’s and Bombers like Allagash Curieux (Portland, ME), Brother Thelonious (Fort Bragg, CA), and Lagunitas’ Cappuccino Stout (Petaluma, CA) is designed to be self-serve.
Customers are encouraged to grab their own beers as servers bring around stacks of glasses, contributing to the general picnicking atmosphere. Completing the picnic vibe will be a snacking menu, due to debut on March 1.
Some of the best chefs in town, all friends of Wardell, will be contributing to Bergamot Alley’s menu. Expect offerings from the owners of Zazu, Scopa, and Diavola on the “jars and tins,” menu, which will feature items easily shared amongst friends at one of the Alley’s long tables or taken to go with a bottle of semi-sparkling Provenza “Turbiano” Rosato Groppello and enjoyed outdoors at one of the many surrounding wineries’ picnic areas.
The menu will include handmade pickles, pates, rillettes, cheeses, local flatbread crackers, and sweets, as well as imported Mediterranean items like olives and boquerones. The grab-and-go (or grab-and-stay!) menu is designed to be paired with the wines, all of which can be purchased by the bottle and taken with you. Bottles are stacked up eight feet tall on repurposed fitting shelves salvaged from a local machine shop. Wardell's impressive wine list reflects his years of experience as one of San Francisco’s top Italian-wine sommeliers, showcasing wines from all over Italy, France, and “any country that touches the Mediterranean Sea.”
In the “porn room,” (the staff’s affectionate name for the rare & exotic wine room) the rules are not so strict. A repurposed barn door is counterweighted to slide upward on pulleys, leading the oenophile into a naturally-insulated space made from vintage sliding-glass doors. Ninety percent of the wines are sold at a relatively low cost (between $65-$120), a screaming deal for a wine geek who’s looking for an interesting bottle like a 1982 Casetta "Vigna Ausario" Barbaresco with some bottle age on it.
The proprietors’ enthusiasm for community, groovy art, and eclectic wines is expressed in every aspect of Bergamot Alley, from the collaborative efforts put into the funky interior design, the menu offering tastings from their well-known chef friends, and the hugs at the door from a local hostess who seems to know everyone who walks through the door—or will by the time you leave.
Peeking into the "Porn Room." Photos: Kena Frank
Disclaimer: Ella Lawrence worked with Kevin Wardell at A16 restaurant and considers him a close friend.
If you're reading this blog post, it means that KQED's Interactive team is doing its job. We oversee KQED.org and ensure all of its content is up 24-7, which is no easy feat. There's the technical folks (engineers and developers) who manage the nuts-and-bolts of our site, and then there's producers like myself who create the original stories, videos, news reports and other features that are showcased online.
Since we're behind a computer for most of the day tinkering in the virtual realm, it's nice to take a break and interact with our colleagues in the real world -- and there's no better way to do that (in my biased opinion) than with a gathering that's centered around food.
On a recent afternoon, we headed to the Dogpatch (a lovely 20-minute walk from the station) to Hands On Gourmet for a a collaborative cooking session. (One of the co-founders, Stephen Gibbs, had a brief stint blogging for Bay Area Bites.) When we arrived at Hands On Gourmet's spacious, sunny loft space, we indulged in a sampler of cheese and wine as we took in lovely views of the city.
Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
As much as we would have been happy spending the entire day chatting over wine and cheese, it was time to start cooking. Chef Dan introduced himself and his fellow chefs to us -- Joshua and Christine -- who were going to help us prepare an Indian feast.
Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
It was a full menu with fried vegetable fritters (pakoras), naan, eggplant stew (bengan bharta), cucumber and mint salad, and keema gobi, a lamb-and-vegetable curry (which we also made a vegetarian version of with squash). We tied on our aprons, divided into groups and headed to our stations which were already stocked with our ingredients.
Chef Joshua managed our table, which was in charge of the keema gobi and cucumber mint salad. Tim Olson, Tina Barseghian, Craig Rosa and AJ Alfieri-Crispin (Media Systems Admin) prepped the food for the curry, while I worked on the salad.
Joshua gave a lesson to Tim about how to quickly chop up an onion, then gave a brief tutorial to AJ on mincing ginger: first peel the root, then slice it into thin planks, then thin matchsticks, and finish up with mincing them cross-wise. Tina and Craig got the squash ready for the veggie version of the curry.
Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
Meanwhile, the pakoras were well underway in the capable hands of Amanda Stupi (Interactive Producer, News), Carol C. and Emmanuel Hapsis, who were happily deep-frying a huge batch of chickpea-floured vegetables.
Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
Colleen Wilson (Director, Interactive) passed them out with a fantastic sweet-and-sour achar chutney that their team had also prepared.
I had put in a healthy dose of cayenne into my cucumber salad, but luckily it didn't make it too spicy. Justin gave it a thumbs up after I added a bit more lemon zest and juice and second bunch of mint to mix in. (We served the cilantro on the side as not everyone on our team was a fan of the herb.)
Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
My other colleagues were busy working at their stations on raita, naan and dessert.
Chef Dan instructs Lisa and Marie how to make raita. Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
Mark and Lisa making naan. Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
Christine makes fig cake while Emmanuel observes. Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
After about two hours of working away in the kitchen, it was time to savor the fruits of our labor. But of course, as media employees of KQED, we had to thoroughly document our meal beforehand prior to sitting down for lunch.
As we dived into our food, we debated which team's dish came out the best. I personally think the cucumber mint salad stole the show, although those highly addictive pakoras were pretty tasty.
Somehow, after polishing off our huge plates of food, we still had room for dessert: a date walnut cake with a brandy-caramel sauce. We loosened the strings on our aprons and dug in -- I mean, how could you resist this?
Date Walnut Cake. Photo: Wendy Goodfriend
Afterwards, we thanked the chefs for a fun and delicious day. They were great to work with and I think we all walked away with a little bit more culinary savvy under our belts.
We slowly roused ourselves from the table and as we had some extra time, thought about where to venture next. One of our discussions over lunch had turned to the subject of our favorite ice cream spots, and as Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous was a mere block away, we magically found an appetite for more dessert. Coffee soon followed at Piccino, and then it was onto Yield Wine Bar for one last round of drinks. Fortunately, there were no technical difficulties back at the station in our absence. I don't know if they would have been able to rouse us from our food comas.
While some of your lovers may be appeased with heart-shaped boxes of mediocre creams and gels during this chocolate season, those trying to win the passions of true food nerds had better reach for a higher bar. A chocolate bar, of course, now in the Dogpatch and soon to be situated on Valencia Street, that asks and answers a panoply of questions far beyond just “milk or dark?”.
For the chocolate lover who thinks, local burgeoning flower Dandelion Chocolate is a smart, artisan bar as only SF can temper it: fueled by passion and dot-com dollars, hand-crafted in small batches on hacked or self-constructed machinery, featuring beans bought directly from small farms in the far flung cacao growing regions of the globe, flavored with nothing but roasted cacao and sugar. No dairy, cocoa butter, vanilla, or lecithin get in the way of the fact that it tastes really, really freakin’ excellent. “We get amazingly good beans, minimally process them, and give them a very, very light roast. We get the best flavor we can from each bag of beans,” says entrepreneur and chocolate maker Todd Masonis. Mission accomplished.
photo: courtesy of Dandelion Chocolate
Shoppers of the Mission Community Market and Noe Valley Farmer's Market are quite familiar with Masonis, Cam Ring, and Alice Nystrom, the young trio who stand at their stall, bowls of teasing tastes in hand, asking passers by to appreciate the flavor profile differentiations of real chocolate bars made from beans from Venezuela, Costa Rica, Bolivia, and the like. Each batch of bars-- about a thousand from 30 kilos of cacao -- regardless of how popular or in demand it may be, is a unique snowflake of the beans, the roast, the process, and the flavor. And once the supply is gone, it’s gone.
Recent relationship-building visits to farms in Mexico, Madagascar, and elsewhere give these chocolate enthusiasts more to talk about with their growing audience of artisan food appreciators -- as well as access to the farmers’ best beans. “Our plan is to try to educate our customer and hope they stick with and learn something,” adds Masonis.
photo: courtesy of Dandelion Chocolate
But education is not only for the consumer. Learning how to make chocolate, building the business, and now scaling the business has been a learning curve for the chocolate trio as well. Masonis and Ring sold their dot-com Plaxo in 2008, allowing them “free time enough to follow our passions.” According to their website, “Our friends often said that given enough time, it seemed inevitable that [we] would open a chocolate factory. They watched as we experimented with growing small cacao plants in our apartments, pan roasted beans in the oven, and ate our way through the many of the chocolate shops of the world.” Their passions fueled a garage hobby, often powered by machinery to roast, crack, winnow, grind, conch and temper the chocolate that they rigged together themselves. Nystrom heard of their unusual venture through friends -- there are only about 15 bean-to-bar chocolate makers in the US, about half of whom have sprung up in just the last few years, according to Masonis -- and she jumped at the chance to align herself with the team.
After making chocolate for family and friends, Dandelion launched at the now-defunct Underground Market before moving on to the farmers markets and other storefronts like Bi-Rite, Chocolate Covered, and Fog City News. Glitches with City permits have slowed the construction of the 740 Valencia Street operation, now under construction, which Masonis is hopeful will open in a matter of months.
“The vision is that there is a small factory and a little storefront where people can buy a hot chocolate and a brownie. Hundreds of years ago, they used to have coffee houses and chocolate houses. We’d like to make a chocolate house happen once again.”
Factory Cafe. photo: courtesy of Dandelion Chocolate
Dandelion Chocolate will be participating in a Valentine’s-themed sale, A Love Supreme, at Love & Luxe from 5 – 10 PM on Saturday, February 11th.
