For years I searched for the ideal fish and chips. Journeying 45 minutes away to a restaurant a friend of a friend swore by, or hanging out in a shop decorated with sticky vinyl chairs and soggy fries, I was on a mission. My hunt for the ideal fish and chips -- crispy on the outside, steaming hot and tender inside -- became increasingly elusive. Sure, I would occasionally stumble upon a place with decent and sometimes quite good platters of fish, but these were far and few between and hardly ever in the Bay Area. The sad truth is that there is more awful fish and chips out there than not.

Now I suppose I should explain that when I want fried fish I'm looking for the beer-battered variety. The type you would find in a first-rate British pub (although I've eaten bad fish and chips in the UK as well, so the problem isn't just here). I want my teeth to bite into a perfectly crunchy coating that gives way to a delicate flaky center. I want to taste the beer in the batter and I don't want my mouth to feel like an oil slick. Bread crumbs are not an option and curses on whoever tries to pawn off breaded fish with potatoes as fish and chips. Here is an example of the horrors that lie in wait.

So a few years ago -- after being served the soggiest bread-crumby fish I had ever encountered (and paying close to $15 for it) -- I decided to make my own fish and chips. I was happily surprised to find that making truly decent battered fish is both incredibly easy and straightforward. And, as is the case with all home cooking, you can control the results: want it really crispy, fry a little longer; interested in smaller pieces, cut them up; in the mood for a hearty batter, use dark beer.

Another benefit to making your own fish and chips is that you can easily batter and fry up some lemon slices to go with it. These are a heavenly way to garnish the dish and after trying them at your own fish fry, you'll never want to eat fish and chips without them again.

If you are lucky enough to live near a restaurant with wonderful fish and chips, I am happy for you. But if you're like me and you don't, I am here to tell you that you can make homemade fish and chips that will taste better than almost anything you can buy in a restaurant or pub, and cost a fraction of the price.

The recipe I use is tried and true. I've made it more times than I can count, and it has never failed me. Before you start, however, there are a few basic tenets to consider concerning frying the fish and also making and eating it.

Basic frying rules to get under your belt:

1. If you don't have a fryer (which includes most of us), use a non-reactive deep pan that can hold enough oil to submerge at least half the fish. I use my trusty large cast iron pan and it works great.
2. Use an oil with a high burn rate. I like to use canola oil. Don't use olive oil as it will scorch and flavor the fish.
3. Do not overheat your oil or it will burn the batter. I usually start the pan on medium high and slowly work my way down to medium and then medium low as the pan continues to heat the longer you fry.
4. Do not underheat your oil. Frying your fish in underheated oil leads to the batter sliding off the fish. Not a pretty sight. I'm not sure what the actual temperature of the oil should be, as I don't have a thermometer, but you can test the oil by placing a small teaspoon of batter in the oil. If it doesn't sink to the bottom of the pan and sizzles nicely, you should be good to go.
5. Use a fry screen if you have one as it will help reduce splatter and keep your stove from becoming a complete mess.
6. Be sure to gently lay the fish into the oil so you don't spatter it onto your hand (which really hurts!).
If you follow these rules, you should be in good frying shape.

General rules for making and eating fish and chips:

1. Dark beer gives the dish a more complex flavor while lighter beers are more subtle. Choose whichever you prefer.
2. Look for meaty white fish. Please don’'t use Atlantic cod as it's endangered and, according to the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch list, we're "fishing the last 10% of this population." Other great choices are Alaskan Pacific Cod and Pacific Halibut. I've also made it with catfish, which worked well.
3. Try to use fresh fish instead of thawed frozen, which tends to taste dry.
4. Pat the fish dry with a paper towel before seasoning and dipping in the batter.
5. Serve with malt vinegar, which perfectly accents the beer batter. If you don't have any, try fresh lemon juice.
6. Consider making your own tartar sauce by mixing good mayonnaise, chopped up sweet pickles, and a little horseradish.

As for the chips, I bake them. Yes... you heard me. I bake them. They come out crispy and seasoned perfectly. Best of all, my potatoes are not reduced to the sad fate of sogginess which often happens with home fried fries. Here's my recipe.

Homemade Beer Battered Fish

Serves: 4 people

Ingredients:

6 - 8 medium-sized pieces of white fish
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup beer
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
Enough oil to fill half a large non-reactive pan (about 1 cup)

Preparation:

1. Pat fish dry and lay on a plate. Season with salt and pepper.
2. Heat oil in pan.
3. While oil is heating, mix flour, beer, salt, pepper and thyme in a large bowl. Whisk until everything is fully incorporated. The mixture should reach the consistency of pancake batter. Add more beer if necessary.
4. When oil is hot (test using method #4 in the frying rules section above), coat two pieces of fish in batter and then gently lie them in the oil. Be sure to fully coat the fish and be careful not to splash oil on yourself.
5. Cook fish until it is crispy and a rich brown color. Pick up each piece of fish with a fork and gently turn them over. Cook on the other side until done.
6. Drain fish on a plate lined with paper towels and fry the remaining fish pieces.
7. Serve hot with malt vinegar and battered lemon slices (recipe below).

Beer Battered Lemon Slices

Makes: 6 slices

Ingredients:

1 lemon cut into 1/4-inch slices (not including the ends)
Leftover batter and oil from your beer battered fish

Preparation:

1. Remove seeds from lemon slices.
2. Coat slices with batter.
3. Lay lemon slices in the hot cooking oil and brown on each side.
4. Remove from pan and serve with fish.

Wandering the unfamiliar, blandly mall-like environs of Jack London Square, a kind of mini-Emeryville, only with space, better taste, and a harbor view, you might have wondered where all the food-seeking hipsters were. It was Friday night, after all, the opening of Oakland's Eat Real Festival, yet there was no waft of organic pork carnitas, no compostable spoons littering the ground.

But wait, what's in the hand of that guy strolling by? Was it a Mason jar filled with watermelon wheat beer? And was that the Soviet-red logo for Ritual Roasters coffee, painted on the side of a bike trailer peddling (by pedaling) a load of high-octane iced coffee? Hay bales for seats, toddlers clutching ice-cream cones while Mom and Dad downed a brew: this was definitely the place.

Friday's unseasonally balmy night ("Earthquake weather," nodded numerous passerby sagely, but that didn't seem to stop them from promenading along the waterfront, lemon-shiso sorbet dripping down their chins) made a perfect soft opening for the festival, which began with an open-air beer tasting ($25 for your own festival-logo'd glass drinking jar plus 8 tickets for filling it up, or $7 for a single serve) and ice-cream social.

Some real food to go with the beer would have been nice, but that would have to wait until the real crowds arrived on Saturday and Sunday. In the interim, then, there was the rare chance to sample and buy ice cream and sorbet from a dozen local makers with barely a line to be seen. Scream, Ici, Bi-Rite Creamery, Straus Ice Cream, Fenton's, Ceci, and more were scooping flavors ranging from pomegranate (Fenton's) to beet-lemon (Scream, and surprisingly good--like frozen borscht, in the tastiest possible way).

There was an open-air game of Edible Pursuit (who knew the popsicle was invented in Oakland?), a highly competitive canning contest (dubbed, of course, Yes I Can), live jazz and a whole lot of happy cone-licking kids.

Saturday, of course, was a lot busier, but the vibe stayed mellow. There was all that beer, for starters, and plenty of port-a-potties, and a lot of space to sprawl, wander, and lie out on the grass and watch the sailboats breeze by. You could check out the greywater recycling system set up by the crew at Aquaponics, watch cooking demonstrations, stroll through the expansive indoor marketplace to chat up farmers and artisanal jam-makers, or just go get more beer.

Or, if you wanted to eat, you could stand in line. It's inevitable, at events like this that are all about the food, that the main activity ends up being waiting in line. The lines weren't too bad, actually, but they moved slowly.

Very slowly. Watching four guys put together one plate at Jim and Nick's--one massaging the shredded pork into a ball and put it on the bun, one scooping the pimento cheese, another putting on the pickles and saltines, and a fourth chatting up whichever cute girl was handing over her money, I did a little minutes-per-plate x people-in-line math, and gave up, even though I was longing to try a plate made by a bunch of Southern barbecue guys who had driven their rig all the way from Alabama to crash the event and show the West Coast how to bbq.

The trick, I realized, was to pick one long line--like the one for Seoul Food's Korean tacos-- and then send your friends out on recon missions to the shorter lines, so you'd have something to eat while you waited in line for something to eat.

Where the recent SF Street Food Festival skipped actual street food for slimmed-down restaurant eats, Eat Real did keep it real, with taco trucks, soul food ribs and the Sexy Soup Lady in a pink apron straddling her three-wheeled soup cart. And the prices were right, too, with nothing over $5.

Of course, this meant was nearly everything was some culturally-inspired variation on meat and dough, all squeezed down to the size of a slider, from pulled-chicken barbecue on a bun and Korean spicy-pork tacos to pupusas and bite-sized brisket sandwiches. Finding vegetables (beyond salsa and coleslaw) took a little searching, and it helped it if you liked falafel, didn't mind patronizing the fancy-tapas truck of festival co-sponsor Whole Foods, or got there before the veggie-pie folks had sold through their entire inventory. For dessert, there was more ice cream, of course. And cupcakes!

What it was, overall, was a fun local event, a late-summer festival that did feel very Oaklandish, mixing up $3 pupusas with $20 "Street Food" t-shirts.

Crawfish Po' Boy with Remoulade Sauce (mind you, that's just a half order)

When I first visited New Orleans as a young and adventurous 21-year-old (with nine other young and adventurous 21-year-olds), it was under the incredible hospitality of the generous Miss Dawn. Like a good southern hostess, Miss Dawn kept us well-fed, full of hearty, delicious, filling sustenance that would provide the proper base for a night of revelry.

Two memorable meals from our time there was the epic crawfish boil she set up our first night in, and the constant supply of po' boy makings she kept on hand for 1 pm breakfasts...5 pm snacks...and 4 am nightcaps. Piles of roast beef, fresh French bread, and dressed to the nines.

As soon as I saw the menu at Yats, I was brought back to sultry nights of sucking crawfish out of the shell and feasting on the ubiquitous po' boy.

Yats, San Francisco

In case you're wondering about this order window with the sign "Yats" pointing to it, well, that's it. Yats is actually, brilliantly, located inside Jack's Club, an homage to the divey friendly bars of New Orleans.

NOLA Fries: thick-cut steak fries showered in parmesan cheese, salt and pepper

The humble establishment makes good use of its well-loved deep fryer. Cue specimen A: NOLA Fries. Thick, golden, wedges of starchy goodness, dusted in a snowfall of parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. These huge steak fries are crispy on the outside, nice and soft on the inside.

You may be overwhelmed when you see the lengthy selection of Famous Po' Boys on the menu. I don't mean to be bossy, but get the Crawfish with Remoulade, and ask for extra sauce! Succulent bits of crawfish meat, coated in a crunchy cornmeal crust, and stuffed inside a loaf of fresh French bread with a soft airy center, and crispy flaky crust. And, you should probably get the whole foot-long. Trust me.

Mac-n-Cheese

You will also want to complement your sandwich lovin' with a side of Mac-n-Cheese. Quite possibly the best in SF. Do I have any challengers? This mac-n-cheese is no joke. Creamy and rich with a little coarse-grained mustard thrown in. Pure comfort food.

Yats takes bar food to a whole new level. The only down side is that the hours are a little tricky for a weekday visit unless you work in the neighborhood. Otherwise, your Saturday afternoon may have just found a new best friend.

By the way, if it's an authentic crawfish boil you seek, Yats is celebrating its One Year Anniversary with a Crawfish Boil this Saturday, May 16th, noon - 5 pm.

Yats
(Inside Jack's Club)
2545 24th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
Map
415-282-8906
Open Mon-Thurs, 11 am - 4 pm; Fri, 11 am - 8 pm; Sat, 11 am - 6 pm

I love cherries and I'm also quite keen on beer, so you would think that I would have jumped at the chance to try a Belgian cherry beer on tap when offered one; yet I at first refused. Although I adore cherries -- they may just be my favorite fruit -- I abhor fake cherry flavoring. This is why I am unable to take cough medicine or drink cherry soda. It just tastes fake and wrong to me. So last year, while visiting the lovely city of Haarlem in the Netherlands, I had to be convinced to try the cherry beer that is a staple at most pubs in the fall. I am so glad I relented.

Kriek (pronounced like “creek”) is a fruit beer made from lambic, a sour and dry Belgian beer, which has been infused with sour cherries and their pits. According to the bartender I chatted with in Haarlem, the pits are where the real cherry flavor lies. Lambic is only brewed in Belgium. It is unique in that brewers don’t add any yeast as an ingredient. Fermentation instead occurs through exposure to yeast strains and bacteria native to the area of Pajottenland (is it me, or does that sound like a name thought up by Dr. Seuss?). The marriage of lambic with sour cherries is really a regional match made in heaven.

After sipping my friend Corbin’s kriek, I was hooked. My first response was literally “Wow!” The cherry flavor was tart and sweet, but understated and not syrupy, and the texture of the brew was perfect. Although we had just had a big meal, I drank two and a half pints. I realized this was my one and only chance to have this stuff on tap (well, until my next visit to Northern Europe, whenever that may be) and I wanted to make the most of it.

The next morning, before I flew to London, I dashed to the local liquor store and bought a few bottles of kriek to share with my husband, who was stuck at home with the kids while I gallivanted throughout Europe with my oldest friend. It was the least I could do -- really. I knew he would love it, and wasn’t sure I could find the stuff at home.

But a few months after returning home, I saw it on the menu at Luka’s Taproom in Oakland. And, although it wasn’t as fresh and earthy as the lovely brew on tap in Haarlem, it was close enough to make me quite happy. Our waitress told us she had seen it at Whole Foods, so I journeyed over there a few days later and bought some, along with a bottle or two of framboise, kriek’s raspberry cousin which is equally intriguing.

The most common brand sold in the United States is Lindeman’s, which comes in both 750 ml and 8 oz bottles, and is sold at both Luka’s Taproom and Whole Foods. But if you’re interested in trying a few other varieties, The Trappist in Oakland has a number of different brands by the bottle and actually sometimes even has kriek on tap (at least their web site says they do). I tried a bottle there recently. Unfortunately I can’t remember the brand, but it was less sweet than the Lindeman’s and quite good.

Although Luka’s refers to kriek as a dessert beer, I think the designation is too limiting. Since finding that I can get it here, I’ve tried it with numerous dishes. Kriek is a fantastic accompaniment to roasted pork, spinach salad, and baked chicken. It’s also nice with a plate of cheese -- the stinkier the better.

So if you come across some kriek, I highly recommend it. Better yet, if you find yourself in Belgium or The Netherlands in the fall, try a pint on tap. You won’t regret it.

Since I've already admitted that I'm a cocktail snob, it should come as no surprise that I'm also a beer snob, and as a beer snob I've long believed that good American beer doesn't come in cans. (I say "American," because as a beer snob, I adore canned Guinness, Boddingtons, and -- when it was sold here -- Caffrey's.)

But American canned beer? Bah!

Once again, I am so happy to be proven wrong. On every trip home to Minneapolis for the past few years, I have been tempted to tour the Surly Brewing Company in Brooklyn Center, MN. The name of the company alone was enough to intrigue me, but then I got a load of the beer names: Furious, CynicAle, Bitter Brewer, and Bender. Just add Grumpy, Sleepy, and Dopey and they could be the Seven Drunk Dwarfs of beerland.

I figured a company that creative with their names had to produce good stuff, and I was right.

We had our first taste of Furious on tap at Bryant Lake Bowl -- a bowling alley/restaurant known for its bowling, local food, and wide range of beers -- and loved it. It was big and hoppy and reminded us of Racer 5 IPA and is got its name because: "This is the beer that would come to mind while spending the last two years tearing down walls, hanging sheetrock, moving kegs, power washing the ceilings, arguing with various agencies, and cutting the water main."

Next we tried CynicAle, which had been heroically and specially procured for us by my friend's husband in the middle of a dinner party all because my friend knew we were on a Surly hunt.

Described as, "Brewed with Belgian malted barley, this copper hued ale is brewed in the Belgian Saison style. A unique Belgian yeast strain creates the spicy flavor and imported hops lend the apricot/peach aroma...You know summer in Minnesota is here when Cynic is around," CynicAle was another canned winner.

Finally, we grabbed a four-pack of Bender. Bender is made up of five malts -- two of them from Belgium -- which are supplemented by oatmeal "to give it a smooth texture not usually associated with this type of beer." It was lovely; rich, chocolately, Guinness-like but with its own distinctive edge.

Knowing that beer snobs like me might turn up my nose at cans, Surly has a list of reasons why they can it. My two favorites are, "Cans are cool" and "Throwing them at the band will not hurt them."

However, beer and can defense aside, the best Surly quirk -- and something that gives you a glimpse into how these particular beer mavens think -- is how the company got its name:

"In 2005, Omar & his wife Becca headed out to Portland for a weeklong beer drinking trip. On the flight out, Becca came up with the name Surly. The name was a reaction to the question posed: "How do you feel when you go into a bar and there is no good beer?"

Answer - You Get Surly, and say "Let's go to another bar that cares about decent beer."

Surly: The anger fueled by the inability to find good beer."

We actually had hopes of bringing some warm Surly cans home with us to enjoy in the San Francisco summer months of September and October, but because it's not filtered or pasteurized, Surly must always be kept cold.

I'll tell you this, I'm getting pretty Surly that I can't get me some CynicAle for election night in San Francisco.

I think beer is getting a little out of control. It all started with the Bud Light Lime, which is an okay idea, I guess. I mean, I'd much rather jam my own lime slice down the long neck of a Corona, but for the lazier out there who don't mind the taste of artificial lime mixed in with their frat beer? God bless. Yes, they say it's "100% natural lime," but they had to stabilize the juice for shelf life and filter it for clarity, so not sure how much natural is left.

However, Michelob has really gone overboard with their Ultra flavors, because Lime Cactus? Pomegranate Raspberry? TUSCAN ORANGE GRAPEFRUIT? Are these beers or wine coolers? Look, if you didn't want your mass-produced, skanky beer not to taste like mass-produced, skanky beer, here's a tip: stop making mass-produced, skanky beer!

Meanwhile, there are a ton of summer sippers out there just waiting to be quaffed. Here's my shortlist of summer suds:

Wailua Wheat, Kona Brewing Company (Kona, HI): Made by Kona Brewing in Hawaii and raved about here. In a nutshell, it's hoppy and fruity but not fruity like a fruit beer. The passionfruit is more of a kiss than a belt across the mouth. Also? It was featured in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. (You know you drink a lot of beer when you can recognize a beer by the neck label on a small television screen.)

Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema, Anderson Valley Brewing Company (Booneville, CA): I discovered Summer Solstice on a hot San Diego taco night. The spiced meat released the cold, creamy soul of the beer. If a root beer float were made with actual beer, it would be Summer Solstice.

Mothership Wit, New Belgium Brewing (Fort Collins, CO): Bright, white, and organic, Mothership is brewed with both wheat and barley malt along with a feisty dabble of bitter orange peel and coriander.

Skinny Dip, New Belgium Brewing (Fort Collins, CO): The bikini-friendly answer to New Belgium's classic Fat Tire. Skinny Dip is lower in calories and alcohol content but just as big and hoppy in the mouth. The light smudge of kaffir lime makes you happy to be alive.

Golden Monkey, Victory Brewing Company (Downington, PA): Spiky and weird, the beer bubbles in this pour are pure Belgian-style tripel. It sparkles in both your mouth and belly with a yeast-ful power that batters back even the stickiest of temps.

Sam Adams Summer Ale (Boston, MA): A wheat beer brewed with grains of paradise and citrus peel, making it lovely with an overstuffed lobster roll and a walk on a singing beach.

Boddingtons (Manchester, UK): The head on this beer is so thick, the ads in the UK show men shaving with it. It might be a bit on the hearty side for summer, but the bitter back-of-the-tongue thrill gives me happy goosebumps in any season.

Racer 5, Bear Republic Brewery (Healdsburg, CA): Unashamedly hoppy, this is definitely a beer for all seasons, but something about the heady strength makes it ultimate refreshment on a sweaty day or heavy night.

Magic Hat No. 9 (Burlington, VT): There's a strange but wonderful hint of summer stone fruit in this pale-ish ale, which the brewery itself calls "impossible to describe because there's never been anything else quite like it." I long for my East Coast life when No. 9 was stocked in my fridge and pray Magic Hat makes its delicious way West some day.