Michael Ruhlman -- you've heard his name before -- is in love with numbers. His previous book, Ratio, focused less on hard-and-fast recipes and more on the proportions of ingredients to one another.

With his latest book, Ruhlman's Twenty, he zeroes in on twenty culinary techniques and ingredients over the course of 100 recipes. While I haven't read his first instructional cookbook "The Elements of Cooking," his new work seems to be a more expansive, visually-rich book filled with glossy photos taken by his photographer wife, Donna Turner Ruhlman.

From salt to water, roast to braise, Michael gives a thorough run down of methods and terms before launching into the recipes. There's nothing in the book that the average home cook couldn't successfully attempt with a modest amount of effort, and "Ruhlman's Twenty" seems geared more for the beginner cook who'd like to add more sparkle to old favorites. The recipes are a collection of comfort food standards, from "Perfect Meat Loaf with Chipotle Ketchup," "Pulled Pork with Eastern North Carolina Barbecue Sauce," "Mac and Cheese with Soubise" and "Rosemary-Brined Buttermilk Fried Chicken" to basic fare such as "Scrambled Eggs with Goat Cheese and Chives" and "Tomato Sauce." There's nothing too complicated or exotic within its pages, and it would be a good addition to the bookshelf for any aspiring foodie looking to step up their culinary game.

Under "Soup: The Easiest Meal" -- because he agrees with former Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl's assertion that, "You know what they say, if you've got chicken stock, you've got a meal." -- he includes a recipe for "Sweet Bell Pepper Soup" that includes just four ingredients.

Sweet Bell Pepper Soup
Serves 5

1 pound / 455 grams red, orange, and/or yellow bell peppers / capsicums, seeded and cut into 2-inch/5-centimeter pieces
1 cup / 240 milliliters heavy / double cream
Kosher salt
Lemon juice

Combine the vegetables and cream in a saucepan and bring the cream to a simmer over high heat. Reduce the heat to low and cook the vegetables until tender, about 5 minutes. Puree, adding a three-finger pinch of salt and leaving the blender cap off and covering the the blender with a kitchen towel until the contents are thoroughly pureed, about 2 minutes. Taste and add more salt if needed. Add a squeeze of lemon. Pass the soup through a fine-mesh strainer into a clean pan or bowl. Taste again for seasoning and adjust if neceessary. Serve 1/2-cup/60 milliter portions.

Ruhlman says, "The same method works with nearly any vegetable, but the best choices are nongreen vegetables such as root vegetables, fennel, cauliflower, and mushrooms."

If you'd like to meet the author in person, Michael will be appearing at Omnivore Books this Wednesday, November 30, from 6-7 PM. A celebratory dinner at Incanto will follow afterwards, and he'll be present to sign copies for guests. The dinner is standard seating, so reservations can be made online or by phone at 415-641-4500.

Not too far back in the past a vegan had very few options for a store-bought holiday main dish outside of a Tofurkey or for recipes beyond a bland grain-stuffed squash. Boy, have times changed! Vegan food companies and vegan foodies have become incredibly creative in inventing "turkey replacements." I've usually gone store-bought in the past, but this year I just can't resist making Karina Allrich's incredibly flavorful Vegetarian Garden Loaf (with a few twists added), not only because it's incredibly delicious, but also because my family includes two vegans, one vegetarian, and a celiac. Karina is a cookbook author and creator of the gluten-free blog, gluten-free goddess, where she has lots and lots of vegetarian and vegan recipes, some inspired by her pre-celiac cookbook, Recipes from a Vegetarian Goddess.

However, if you are still on the lookout for something a little less maintenance, check out this list of delectable store-bought options to make your holiday table thoroughly Tofurkey-less:
• Gardein's Savory Stuffed Turk'y
• Field Roast Grain Meat Co.'s Stuffed Celebration Roast
• Field Roast Grain Meat Co.'s Hazelnut Cranberry Roast En Croute
• Vegetarian Plus' Vegan Whole Turkey (Here's a review of it on vegansaurus.)

Vegan (and Gluten-Free) Garden Loaf with Cranberry-Maple Glaze
(Based on Karina Allrich's Vegetarian Garden Loaf with Maple Apricot Glaze from gluten-free goddess, altered with permission from Karina Allrich.)

Makes: 1 loaf/6 slices
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 30 minutes
Total Time: 60 minutes

Ingredients:
Extra virgin olive oil
1 cup chopped onion- red or sweet
2 heaping cups chopped Baby Bella or Cremini mushrooms
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
5 cups loosely packed baby spinach leaves
Sea salt and ground pepper

1 cup cooked quinoa
1 cup toasted gluten-free bread or waffle crumbs (I used Vans Wheat/Gluten Free Waffles, which I toasted and then made into crumbs in my food processor.)
2 tablespoons ketchup
2 tablespoons molasses
1 tablespoon good olive oil
1 tablespoon dried Italian herb mix -- basil, thyme, oregano, parsley, marjoram
1 teaspoon fresh minced rosemary
3-4 scallions sliced thin
1 baked orange sweet potato or yam, peeled and diced (take it out before it's cooked too much or too soft)

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line the bottom of a glass loaf pan with a piece of parchment paper that extends up above the longer sides. When the loaf has baked, and set a bit, you will be able to lift out the loaf in one whole piece.

Heat the olive oil in a skillet and cook the onion until it is translucent. Add the mushrooms and garlic; stir until softened. Add the balsamic vinegar and stir. Add the spinach. Season with sea salt and ground pepper. Stir and cook down until the mixture is soft -- about seven minutes or so.

Spoon the skillet vegetables into a food processor and pulse to make a grainy mixture. Don't over-process it -- you want some texture.

Place the mixture into a large bowl. Add the cooked quinoa, gluten-free breadcrumbs, ketchup, molasses, and olive oil and stir to combine. Add in your dried herbs, rosemary, scallions, and mix to distribute. You want a moist mixture that sticks together when you press it with a spoon. If you need more ketchup to hold it together, add it now, maybe a tablespoon.

Add in the diced sweet potato and fold in gently. At this point, taste the mixture and see if you need to add salt and pepper.

Spoon the loaf mixture into the oiled loaf pan and shape it with moist fingers, pressing it tight into the pan. Smooth the top.

Make your glaze.

Combine:

1/4 cup jellied cranberry sauce
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon maple syrup
A sprinkle of cinnamon and cumin
Hot red chili flakes, to taste

(I made two batches of this to have extra as a drizzle for individual slices of the loaf.)

Pour the glaze all over the top of the loaf.

Tent loosely with a piece of foil. Bake in the center of a preheated oven until heated through and the edges of the glaze are bubbling—about 30 minutes.

Allow the loaf to set for ten minutes, tented with foil. This helps it to settle, and makes it easier to slice. Slice into portions (the loaf yields about 6 slices) and lift out with a thin spatula. Enjoy!

Mitch Rosenthal. Photo credit: Paige Green © 2011

Mitch Rosenthal is the chef and owner of three of San Francisco's most beloved restaurants, Town Hall, Salt House, and Anchor & Hope, as well as Irving Street Kitchen in Portland, Oregon. Mitch hails from Edison, New Jersey, and was a chef at the Four Seasons in New York City, Wolfgang Puck’s Postrio in San Francisco, and Paul Prudhomme’s K-Paul’s in New Orleans. Through the years and through many kitchens, Mitch developed an adventurous philosophy not bound to a single cuisine, blending Jewish deli roots with Southern-inspired comfort food, updated regional favorites and urban sophistication.

The recipes for many of his favorite dishes appear in his newly published cookbook, Cooking My Way Back Home (2011, Ten Speed Press), and reflect the Southern exuberance of Town Hall, the contemporary approach of Salt House, and the focus on fresh seafood of Anchor & Hope. The book draws upon Mitch’s 35 years of restaurant experience but is geared toward the home chef—he tested every single recipe in his own home kitchen. Readers can cook up one of the book’s recipes, the Cheesy Rosti Potato Cake, at the end of this piece. Mitch lives in Mill Valley with his wife, Mary, and two children, Eli and Athena.

What do you have planned for Thanksgiving?

We’re having 30 people over at our house, and the menu will probably be a little different this year. We’re thinking of doing the turkey porchetta style: boneless, rolled up with lots of traditional spices, and roasted. This way, we’ll have more time to do other things -- maybe a seafood paella. Both are untraditional for us, we’ve never done this before. Since we’re having a lot of people over and have a pretty small house, we can cook the paella outside over the grill and just roast the porchetta. The porchetta will take less time to cook and be much easier to carve than a traditional turkey. We’re still discussing sides, as the flavors from the fennel and other spices used on the porchetta will change what will go with it. For example, we’ll probably skip the cranberry sauce and use something like Italian mustard fruits instead. But my wife Mary will still make her apple-sausage stuffing, as she does every year.

Please tell the story of closing Salt House and using it for a special Thanksgiving...

It was a disaster. Fun, but a disaster. Originally it was supposed to be a dinner for close friends and family, but then we had people inviting others and suddenly there were about 70 people at dinner. We had to put all of our tables in the restaurant together to fit everyone. The menu was very traditional: roast turkey with all the trimmings, Mary’s apple-sausage stuffing, and cranberry sauce. We did have jambalaya, though, and my brother Steve made his chopped liver, which he does every year. We had a lot of wine. It was fun, but there’s a point when you’re cooking for a group where you start to feel like the hired help instead of the host. I never got to sit down. We had a good time, but it was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Any dishes that have special meaning?

The chopped chicken liver that my brother makes every year is our grandmother’s recipe. It’s in the cookbook. And Mary cooks a lot of recipes that were handed down -- her apple-sausage stuffing is from her mother. We also serve latkes with smoked salmon at Thanksgiving as an hors d’oeuvre, which I learned from Tom Plajanis, the chef at the Jewish deli I worked at in New Jersey. The latke recipe is in the cookbook as well.

How is the book tour going?

The book tour really just started, but I’m always surprised by how many people show up. The biggest surprise so far was probably earlier this month at Powell’s Books in Portland, which was my first big talk during a book signing. I was really nervous, but it was great -- I was able to go on for over an hour talking and had to cut myself off. It’s so easy to talk about food and the stories around it. The other big surprise has been all of the emails I’m getting from long-lost friends, lots from the East Coast. Ever since the cookbook was published, I’m hearing from some great old friends that I haven’t talked to in years.

How did your cookbook come about?

Honestly, I was pushed into writing a cookbook. Elisabeth Prueitt and Chad Robertson of Tartine pushed me into it -- they’ve been bugging me for years. The funny thing is that’s how I got into the restaurant business: my mother pushed me into it.

One of the biggest surprises to me while writing the cookbook was how little it affected my marriage. With Mary being a chef, we got into very few fights while testing recipes at home -- basically I just let her be the boss. The big thing about testing recipes at home was that it brought me closer to the overall experience of cooking at home, which was a first. I’ve spent my life cooking in restaurant kitchens, and cooking out of my house brought me closer to the home cook. But I’m hoping that the book will do the opposite for the home chef, giving people the skills for more restaurant-level cooking.

What are you favorite off-night food & drink spots?

The reality is that I don’t go out that often, but when I do, I love R&G Lounge for their salt and pepper fried crab. Or the original Shalimar restaurant in the Tenderloin, for their lamb and spinach stew.

Favorite date night spots?

We like to visit Redd, a friend’s restaurant, in Yountville for special occasions, and have actually been to Aziza a few times in the last couple of months. They have these great vegetable spreads made with charred eggplant and yogurt dill. I had calamari with a saffron sauce that was amazing.

What is your favorite meal to have with friends and/or family?

When I go out to eat we usually go out with my family. We love Tony’s Pizza Napoletana. I always get the Jersey Original, and we always order the meatballs -- they’re amazing. Our new favorite place to eat out as a family is Super Duper burgers. I get the Double. We also love Yank Sing for any of their dumplings -- my kids go crazy there.

Mitch Rosenthal. Photo: Paige Green

Guiltiest food pleasure?

I love it and it’s gross: a Jersey Taylor pork roll. The way they’re made is very specific. It’s pork on a Kaiser roll, topped with fried egg, ketchup and American cheese. You only ever see them in Jersey. They’re so bad for you that I rarely eat them anymore, but last time I was in Jersey I had one.

How did you and your wife meet?

Mary worked for me in the kitchen at Postrio. The longer story is that she went on to become chef at the Liberty Café, but we had a mutual friend, Robin, who cooked with us and stayed on in the kitchen after Mary left. Robin thought that Mary and I would make a great couple and told Mary that I kept asking about her, all the while telling me that Mary was asking about me. None of this was true, but she ended up setting us up on a date. True story.

Tell us about your kids? Do they have favorite foods?

My son Eli is 12 and my daughter Athena is 8. Eli’s favorite food is pizza. Athena is a big fan of any soup, especially brothy soup. When they come to Town Hall, Eli has the BBQ shrimp. Athena has a broader palate, and loves ribs, fried chicken and meatballs.

Any advice for cooks during the holidays?

Test dishes you’ve never made before. Like with the Thanksgiving turkey porchetta, which is something we’ve never done, I’m not going to wait until the day-of to figure out the details. Look through what you’re planning to cook and see what you can prepare a day or two early so you’re not cooking everything all at once. Start early, and have a cocktail. Or a beer. And invite people that you like.

Recipe: Cheesy Rösti Potato Cake with Roasted Garlic and Thyme

Serves 6 to 8

2 heads garlic
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil
3 large russet potatoes
4 ounces fontina cheese, grated
1 ounce Parmesan cheese, grated
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 350°F.
to roast the garlic, cut the top off of each head of garlic, about 1/8 of an inch to expose the cloves. Put in a shallow pan and drizzle a tablespoon of the olive oil over each, season with salt and pepper. Cover the pan with foil and roast in the oven until cloves are soft and creamy, about 45 minutes to an hour. When done, and cool enough to handle, squeeze the cloves from their papery skin and set aside.

to steam the potatoes, place a collapsible metal vegetable steamer basket in a large heavy-bottomed pot with an inch of water. Bring the water to a boil, add the whole, unpeeled potatoes and steam for 16 minutes. Set the potatoes aside to cool.

It is important that the potatoes are completely cool before continuing. When they are, peel the potatoes and grate on the largest hole of a box grater and season with salt and pepper.

In a bowl, toss together the grated fontina and Parmesan and set aside.

to make the rösti, heat one-half of the oil in a heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium heat. Add half of the grated potatoes and distribute them evenly, pushing them down with the spatula and shaping them to the form of the pan. Next layer the roasted garlic cloves evenly on top of the potatoes. Then, layer the grated cheese over the garlic and potatoes in an even circle, leaving about 1/4 inch from the edge of the pan. Pack the cheese down with the spatula, and then sprinkle with the chopped thyme, and cover with the remaining half of the grated potatoes, making sure to cover the garlic and cheese completely and evenly. Pack it down and cook for 5 to 7 minutes, or until the potatoes are crispy and golden brown. When ready, turn the rösti over. This can be accomplished using either a spatula, a quick flick of the wrist, or by turning it out onto a plate, and then back into the pan. After it has been flipped, cook for 5 more minutes, then slip the pan into the oven for another 5 minutes. Slice and serve immediately.

“Reprinted with permission from Cooking My Way Back Home: Recipes from San Francisco’s Town Hall, Anchor & Hope, and Salt House by Mitchell Rosenthal, copyright © 2011. Published by Ten Speed Press, a division of Random House, Inc.”

It’s been over five months since Natalie Galatzer decided to shutter her bike delivery pie business, Bike Basket Pies. And life already looks a lot different. She’s not schlepping around the Mission doing deliveries, she’s not working well into the night rolling out dough, and she’s not stressing about the seasonality of persimmons or how manageable her to-do list is for the next day. The best thing is that she’s not thinking about tomorrow today—she’s really enjoying today for today, including the ability to make social plans and travel.

Natalie’s currently working at two Bay Area restaurants waiting tables and thinking about what’s next. But the difference is she’s thinking big picture, not about tomorrow’s ingredient lists. And there’s freedom in that space to just breathe, reconsider, and reflect. One thing’s for sure: Natalie’s pretty certain the big picture won't include baking. She always thought that she wanted to be a baker, but isn’t convinced anymore. The act of turning something she loved into a business, made it quickly about the outcome and not the process she once loved. As you can imagine, this eventually killed the joy she once found in baking.

But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t looked back. In between her shifts waiting tables and scheming up new ideas, she needed a creative project and felt like she owed a little something to her loyal pie customers. So she decided to write a pie booklet, entitled Bike Basket Pies: How to Make Handheld Pies for Bicycle Delivery, with 14 of her favorite and most popular recipes and detailed instructions and illustrations on the process of making small (and large) pies. It was time that the recipes lived on somewhere other than within her computer spreadsheets. It was time to give something back.

After two years in business, you can imagine how difficult it was to choose a mere fourteen recipes for the booklet. Natalie organized all of her recipes not just by the seasons but actually by the months she’d make them–heavily dictated by the produce available in the Bay Area during that time. She knew she wanted to structure the book using the seasons, but she also wanted each recipe to be uniquely her own. For instance, in terms of pumpkin pie, there are limited things you can do with a pumpkin pie recipe. Her pumpkin, while wonderful, doesn’t differ all that much from my pumpkin or your mother’s pumpkin. But there are so many of Natalie’s pies that are the exact opposite and that’s what she decided to highlight in her book.

When you hold the booklet in your hands, you’ll notice the charming illustrations by Minty Lewis. They truly make Natalie’s words and recipes come alive: from drawings of the actual pies to step-by-step illustrated instructions on forming small pies and larger pies. Beyond the illustrations, you’ll notice there are 14 recipes (3 for each season along with a few savories). Yes, the Shaker Orange recipe is in there. As is the Pear Ginger. In addition to the recipes, there are little sections on Making Dough, Rolling Out Dough, Forming Small Pies, and Making a 9” Pie. There are clear mini sections on Temperatures and Baking Times, too. You’re in good hands here. While some people find pie-making overwhelming, Natlalie’s assured tone and concise instructions and Minty’s sweet illustrations will force you out of any pie rut. Guaranteed.

The booklet took Natalie a little over a month to write with one of the bigger challenges being how to decide what parts of the pie-making process to illustrate, how much detailed information to provide for the home baker, and how to best layout each step for her readers. The easiest way for her to tackle this was to spend a day making pie and having a friend photograph the process. Then they went through to decide what parts of the process seemed like an actual step and what they could assume the reader would already understand.

When asked about proprietary recipes and whether she was nervous about them being out and available to the public, Natalie replied, “What am I going to do with them? A lot about it is technique and practice anyway, and I’m no longer making pies for people so now I can give then the tools to do it on their own and still enjoy what I make.”

So is Natalie’s day-to-day life one without pie? Largely, yes. She doesn’t make them anymore and doesn’t find herself craving them. That will probably come back in time. For now, she’s excited to produce something tangible that’s different in the sense that it’s a living, lasting artifact. A piece of pie, while lovely in the moment, won’t last for generations. Natalie’s book of recipes will. And lucky for us, she’s decided to share.

Buy the Booklet: Bike Basket Pies: How to Make Handheld Pies for Bicycle Delivery is available for order now on Natalie's website. Orders placed from now until November 29th will be shipped on December 1st. In addition, keep your eyes peeled as Natalie has plans to approach area book shops who may be interested in stocking it.

Join Natalie at Pot + Pantry to help celebrate the release of the booklet. The party is BYOPie with champagne provided, and booklets for sale. Tuesday, November 29th, 6:30 to 8 pm. RSVP here.

There's a new family member in 4505 Meats' "Swine So Fine Product Line" making its debut this month. Aside from their transcendental chicharrones (pillowy clouds of fried pork skin that melts in your mouth), turduckens, spiritual t-shirts, letterpress posters, and the masterminds behind the best burger in the Bay Area (if not the country, aside from Peter Luger's in Brooklyn), they're releasing their visually stunning, prodigious tome of meat wisdom: Whole Beast Butchery: The Complete Visual Guide to Beef, Lamb and Pork.

I've been an ardent fan of chef Ryan Farr since my fellow KQED colleague and I attended a panel discussion UC Berkeley titled, "The Art of the Butcher." We watched in awe as he proceeded to expertly break down an entire side of a pig in front of the audience. (And later on, when hunting for a caterer to roast a whole pig at my wedding, I knew who to call. Ryan and his talented crew prepared this amazing porchetta for our picnic reception several years ago.) Since then, I've also seen him work his magic at various street food festivals and his weekly lunch gig at the Ferry Building.

Ryan Farr holding his book "Whole Beast Butchery" at Eat Real Fest 2011. Photo by Wendy Goodfriend

With the release of "Whole Beast Butchery," he's adding author to his list of talents. Ryan teaches butcher and sausage-making classes, but as they're sold out for the rest of the year -- this is the next best thing. This hefty book is beautifully illustrated with color photographs by Ed Anderson that comprehensively depicts the labor-intensive process of cutting up whole slabs of beef, lamb and pork. This short video from Chronicle Books gives a great overview of what you'll find inside.

Whole Beast Butchery starts off with an introduction that outlines why there's an increased interest in taking this ambitious culinary step.

"Home butchering is the next logical step for those who raise their own vegetables and chickens, preserve the bounty of the land and field of off-season meals, and care deeply about what they feed themselves and their families. When you decide to butcher a whole animal or a part of one by yourself, as I hope you will, you are almost always going to be buying that animal locally. By doing so, you are supporting a local business as well as your community."

Ryan then outlines the basic tools you'll need to get started: a hatchet, an array of knives, bone saw, hooks and other accoutrements to break down an animal. But the best advice he gives is to plan ahead -- partner with other families to share the labor and costs of a whole animal, and decide ahead of time how you want to butcher the meat.

"You will need to understand all the different options in order to make the best decision based on your needs. Not every cut of meat with which you are familiar can physically come from the same animal...If you want tenderloin medallions or filet mignon, you won't be able to cut porterhouse or T-bones from the same side of the animal."

Ryan also advises to follow "whole-animal utilization," which is "not just about using all the parts of the animal -- including the offal, the lesser-known cuts and organs -- it's also about making sure there are no scraps left behind, which is also a great way to get the most value from your whole animals. Use the best scraps to make sausage and other scraps to make stock. Then poach your sausage in the stock. Then reduce the stock and make a sauce."

There's loads of recipes in the book how to prepare your cuts of meat once you're done butchering (or if you're just interested in cooking), from spice-cured beef brisket with curry to crispy pork shoulder with shank. Here's one for smoked pork sirloin if you want to prepare yourself a decadent breakfast.

Smoked Pork Sirloin
Serves 4

Master Brine, completely cold - 8.5 cups (67 oz, 1900 g, 28.7%)

Boneless pork sirloin or cowboy "ham" steak - 1 whole (27 oz, 766 g, 71.3%)

Rendered pork fat for cooking (optional) as needed

1. In a nonreactive container, brine the sirloin, fully submerged, in your refrigerator for 24 hours. Rinse well under cold water.

2. Prepare a smoker with about 2 cups / 8 ounces of apple or hickory wood chips. Insert a probe thermometer into the center of the sirloin and smoke the meat, ideally at about 230°F / 110°C, until the internal temperature at the center reaches 150°F / 65°C. (The smoke will peter out after a while; don't add more chips, or the meat will be too smoky.

3. Let the meat cool, the refrigerate until ready to serve. Cut into thick slices and fry until crispy and golden, adding a little rendered pork fat to the pan, if you like. Enjoy for breakfast (or anytime of day).

Master Brine

Yield: 4.73 liters / 1 gallon and 1 quart

This recipe is a starting point, but there are many possible variations. If you're not a fan of hot flavors, go ahead and omit the chiles. Always use a tall, narrow nonreactive container only just large enough to hold the protein, so the brine will go up as far up as possible. The brine must cover the protein completely, so scale the quantities here up or down as necessary.

Granulated sugar - 2 cups (13.6 oz/385 g / 6.5%)

Kosher salt - 2.5 cups (20.4 oz / 578 g / 12.7%)

Whole black peppercorns - 1/4 c (1.2 oz / 34 g / 0.7%)

Whole coriander seeds - 6 tbsp (0.8 oz / 24 g / 5%)

Dried bird's-eye chile or Thai chile - 3 small ( 6 oz / 17 g / 0.4%)

Water - 16 cups (123 oz / 3500 g / 77.1%)

Combine everything in a large pot and bring to a boil. Once the sugar and salt have dissolved, remove form the heat. Transfer to a tall nonreactive container that will fit in your refrigerator and let it sit uncovered to cool. When the brine is at room temperature, refrigerate until it is completely cold. Add the meat, and brine as directed.

Whole Beast Butchery: The Complete Visual Guide to Beef, Lamb, and Pork by chef Ryan Farr and Birgit Binns. Photographs by Ed Anderson. Published by Chronicle Books.

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If there's one cuisine that I'd love to be able to cook like a native at home, it would be Moroccan. Why? For the seductive spicing that scents the kitchen like a bazaar; the dried apricots and dates nestled up lush and luscious next to slow-cooked lamb; the crisp brik pastries; the fiery smear of harissa; the unexpected matches of sweet and savory, even the delicate, gold-rimmed glasses poured theatrically full of hot, achingly sweet mint tea out of the held-high spout of an intricately decorated silver pot.

I had my first Moroccan meal—a platter of couscous piled with meat and soft-cooked vegetables, ladled over with flavorful broth and shared by everyone at the table—in a small, cozily dim neighborhood restaurant in Paris in 1983. I was a teenager, and no stranger to New York and New Jersey's various ethnic restaurants, thanks to my culinarily-adventurous parents, but the flavors of North Africa were utterly new to me. Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco, which brought descriptions, at least, of tagines, couscous, preserved lemons, and ras el hanoot to American kitchens (getting authentic ingredients was something else), had been published ten years before, but author Paula Wolfert's caftan-wearing bohemian taste hadn't wafted to our corner of the East Coast yet. I had to get to France, with its large post-colonial population of North Africans, to taste scorchingly hot merguez (lamb sausage) and the pigeon pie, called b'steeya, whose savory filling was wrapped in shatteringly crisp, sugar-dusted pastry leaves.

Now, decades later, San Francisco has its own mini-neighborhood of inexpensive Moroccan and Tunisian restaurants along a five-block stretch of Polk Street. And then there's Aziza, the swanky destination with the unlikely Outer Richmond address, as much like these casual couscous joints as Kokkari is to a gyros shop on Telegraph Ave. Run by Mourad Lahlou, the tattooed, Moroccan-born chef who came to San Francisco in 1985 to go to college at SF State, Aziza is a contemporary restaurant first, with Moroccan roots but a menu dedicated to modern techniques rather than classic interpretations. Because, as Lahlou writes in his new book, Mourad: New Moroccan, why shouldn't Moroccan food evolve, just like California cuisine has? As he writes about his childhood memories of growing up in Marrakesh with a large extended family,

But the thing is, I don't long for that world. I cherish it, and I cook from it every day. And so, dish by dish and year by year, my food evolves. I started at Kasbah [his first restaurant, in San Rafael] with a somewhat obsessive attitude about showing people real Moroccan food, done the authentic way. But there we were in California. It's just not possible. The ingredients are different—even the ones flown in from Morocco don't taste the same by the time they arrive...So, before long, I was doing the Moroccan version of what so many inventive northern California chefs have done. I adapted what I knew and loved to make it work with the beautiful ingredients I can get here, and then just followed my nose, my heart and my palate."

Mourad Lahlou. Photo: Deborah Jones

Mourad's food here in the Richmond is an expression of both his own and his customers' restless taste. His book, gorgeously photographed in that lavish minimalist style familiar to readers of European and Australian food magazines, in which single items are shot in mouth-watering, brilliantly detailed close-up, surrounded by tons of expensive-looking white space, sells the not-quite-established celebrity appeal of the handsome Mourad as much as it does his food. The book is gorgeous and spot-on contemporary; if you want a chic cookbook to give your have-everything loft-dwelling pals for the holidays, this is it. (And to ensure an invitation to the cocktail party where they try out the recipes for harissa bloody marys and Berbere-cured chicken liver mousse.)

But can you cook from it? For DIY obsessives, the most crucial parts are the opening chapters, which focus on the spice-driven building blocks of Mourad's cuisine. He mentions, casually, that his restaurant staff makes five different ras el hanout blends for different dishes, but putting together the one 23-ingredient version he offers should satisfy, especially if you, the home cook, follow it up with the sexy 22-ingredient vadouvan blend, for which it helps to have a dehydrator as well a tablespoon or so of an additional 10-ingredient curry mix. There is a long, leisurely section about hand-rolling your own couscous from coarse semolina, salt, water, and flour, and an even longer one about making tissue-thin sheets of warqa, Morocco's version of phyllo, with the up-to-date help of a little xanthan gum.

Once you move onto the main dishes, success, as always with chef- and restaurant-driven cookbooks, depends on your affinity and patience for long ingredient lists and multiple sub-recipes. Restaurants, as surely as any TV watcher now knows, spend all day, every day, making the many different items that come together on your plate. One guy makes the stocks. Another guy takes those stocks and turns them into sauces. Someone else chops the onions or toasts and grinds the spice mixes. Even if it looks like you're getting protein, vegetables, and sauce on a plate, do a little real analysis and you'll probably find a dozen different steps (or double that) that went into making your meal. And Mourad, 21st-century chef, likes his drips and drizzles, his frizzled herbs and sudden spice-drenched dabs of infused oils.

Of course, you can strip out the fancy stuff, and just make the still luscious-sounding entrees and surprisingly simple but alluring salads and sides. But if you want to get the full Mourad, you're going to have to do some serious spice-shopping, and get ready to divvy up multiple tasks, probably over several days, to crank out a full menu. To make that Lamb Shank, Spiced Prunes, and Brown-Butter Farro, be prepared to brew up a Red Wine Gastrique Lamb Sauce, make the Spiced Prunes, simmer up some lamb stock, dry your shanks in the fridge overnight, and then tend to them lovingly for at least most of an afternoon, including a nearly 3-hour braising time in the oven. (And if you happen to have some Activa RM around, you can follow the "Chef to Chef" tips and turn the meat into a sliceable log.)

You won't find xanthan gum in Paula Wolfert's clay-pot-lined kitchen. In the nearly 4 decades since her first Moroccan cookbook came out, Wolfert, who lives in Sonoma, has become perhaps the American expert on traditional Mediterranean cuisines. Given the Bay Area's affinity with all things olive-oiled and bay-leaved, it's rare to find a kitchen not stocked with at least one of her cookbooks around here. (Those that don't usually have a few by Joyce Goldstein instead.) Wolfert, now 71, still finds a thrill in capturing authenticity, in ferreting out obscure or lesser-known dishes or methods, often unique to a particular region or place. She's especially drawn to those that she feels are in danger of disappearing, as cooks give up (perhaps with a sigh of relief) traditional labor-intensive methods and ingredients.

Back when Wolfert first started her cookbook-writing career, her books were more for armchair travelers than hands-on cooks. Finding fresh purslane, nigella seeds, or cubeb pepper was almost impossible; there was no busy-mom instant couscous on the shelves at Safeway. But slowly, book after book, Wolfert made a difference. Now, leafing through The Food of Morocco, her decades-later update of that first couscous book, a Bay Area cook would be hard-pressed to find an ingredient that she couldn't source between a handful of well-stocked international-foods shops.

Wolfert's book doesn't look as striking as Mourad's; the design is busier, the serifed typefaces fussy, the colors a little washed out. Still, after all these years, Wolfert still has the enthusiasm to sit down with her readers and start right at the beginning. The first 50 pages are lists, techniques, and explanations that explain all the basics and then some, from The Ten Most Frequently Used Spices (with descriptions), to her own long and enticing description of ras el hanout, and how it can include up to a hundred ingredients, even the poisonous, irritating, supposed aphrodisiac known as Spanish fly. There are questions and answers about how to grate a tomato, why and how to grate an onion, how to make saffron water, even how to peel chickpeas. Wolfert makes no assumptions about the sophistication or hipness of her readers; you can't imagine her labeling a chapter on couscous "Here's How I Roll," as Mourad does. In the recipes, the flavors are familiar, even comforting, rife with almonds, eggplant, cumin, cilantro, turmeric, ginger, olives, lemons, and honey, but the methods just different enough from a typical California sear or grill to twist the results into something altogether different.

So which cookbook will get more spattered in my kitchen? When I'm cooking for myself, I'll trust Wolfert. Cooking to impress? I'll ask the tattooed guy over, and hope he brings a bunch of friends with sharp knives and plenty of time.

Some grocers offer recipes and coupons. Others offer recipes for a socioeconomic-savvy food system and a mean pear skillet cake.

For the food shopper who thinks, the positively indispensable Bi-Rite Market’s Eat Good Food: A Grocer’s Guide to Shopping, Cooking, and Creating Community Through Food by Sam Mogannam and Dabney Gough (Ten Speed Press) released this month is the holy reference guide/blue book that clues consumers in to the real value of what’s on the grocery shelf. At a time when so much is being written about atrocities in our broken food system, consumers looking for sound, actionable advice on making grocery store purchasing decisions will appreciate this neatly compiled background check on everything from canned tuna to flour, fresh meat, fish and milk, and every manner of produce under the sun.

And note that this cannot be dismissed as a mere starter’s guide. As a veteran food nerd for decades, I thought that I knew a something about eating mindfully, ecologically, locally, and sustainably. But a primer on avoiding genetically modified organisms, and a full list of foods that are most commonly GMO? I am edified (sugar, milk and dairy, oils, corn and soybeans -- page 12). The pleasures of the texture of bronze die-cut pasta? I had no idea how this aspect of artisan pasta production can be essential for clinging sauce (page 37). And a list of all of the product acronyms on European foods that signify it is a product of protected origin (such as true, regionally-specific Champagne as opposed to methode champenoise) -- AO, DO, AOC, DOC, DOP, PDO, and IGT, page 47. And that’s just chapter one, people.

Just as one pushes the cart down the grocery aisle, the uber-brainiac education rolls through every department, well-captured in France Ruffenach’s bright, busy photography that conveys what it feels like to shop in Bi-Rite on a sunny Saturday afternoon or at the 5pm dinner rush. Mogannam and Gough give faces to food throughout the book as well, introducing readers to the likes of his brother Raphael, grocery buyer; farmer for the store’s self-grown produce and produce buyer, Simon Richard; and a smattering of farmers that are enmeshed in Bi-Rite’s business and mission -- some, like Drakes Bay Family Farms, purely as retail partner; others, like Soul Food Farm, pet investments to help propel local and sustainable agriculture.

The Eat Good Food shopping information stands alone as a necessity for any kitchen bookshelf. But the tome is also comprised of recipes from the Bi-Rite deli and beyond which, while well written to induce drool and craving, they feel awkwardly placed and difficult to find plunked at the end of each chapter. As a frequent Bi-Rite shopper, I was excited to finally crack the code on their addictive Mujadareh (see recipe below), and their heavenly and rich deli counter summer staple, Sergio’s Gazpacho. Even Delfina’s spaghetti makes a cameo, simple and delicious and part of the book’s neighborhood charm. And thumbing through I quickly found a new favorite, Mom’s Pear Skillet Cake from, you guessed it, Sam’s mother, which yields results that far outshine the effort, and is the perfect thing to be doing with pears right now.

Another challenge of the book is that it’s so much information, it’s nearly impossible to remember the essentials when you’re actually cruising down aisle six. Seafood shoppers striving to do the right thing really benefited from the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s wallet card guides to sustainable seafood and then later, their mobile apps. But when pondering the entire grocery store of everything from coffee to celeriac, tri-tip to crème fraiche out in the trenches -- well, we could really use an app for that.

In my favorite cookbooks, encyclopedias, or reference books, I turn down page corners and make notations freely, and my copy of Eat Good Food is already remarkably dog-eared. Essential as a shopping list, I’ve no doubt that it will continue to serve as reference and advisor. And that’s far more valuable than a coupon.

---

Recipe: Mujadara

Serves: 4 to 6 as a main course, 
or 6 to 8 as a side

Ingredients:
1 cup uncooked black or green lentils
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 medium or 2 large onions, diced (about 41/2 cups)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup uncooked long-grain rice, such as jasmine 
or basmati
2 tablespoons mild curry powder

Instructions:
Rinse the lentils and pick out any stones or foreign objects. Put in a bowl, add water to cover by 1 inch, and soak for at least 2 hours or up to 6 hours. Drain the lentils and set aside.

In a Dutch oven or soup pot, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat. Add half the onions and a pinch of salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft and translucent and golden on the edges, about 4 minutes. Add the lentils, rice, curry powder, 
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly.

Add 3 cups water, increase the heat to high, and bring the liquid to a boil. Then lower the heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cover the pot. Cook until the rice and lentils are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. At this point, it’s okay if there’s still a tiny bit of bite to the lentils; they will continue to absorb water. Remove from the heat and let rest with the lid on for 10 to 
15 minutes.

While the rice mixture is cooking, caramelize the remaining onions: heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, add the remaining onions and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally at first and more frequently as you go, until the onions are soft and almost at the brink of burning, 9 to 11 minutes (lower the heat if the browning seems to be progressing more rapidly than the softening).

Set aside.

To serve, fluff the rice mixture with a fork and transfer to a serving platter.

Top with the caramelized onions.

Serve hot or at room temperature. You can make this up to 2 days ahead. If desired, reheat in a covered, shallow ovenproof dish in a 350°F oven for about 
30 minutes.

Reprinted with permission from Bi-Rite Market’s Eat Good Food by Sam Mogannam & Dabney Gough, copyright © 2011. Published by Ten Speed Press, a division of Random House, Inc.

Photo credit: France Ruffenach © 2011

---

Full disclosure: Karen Solomon is the volunteer host of the Jam It Salon at 18 Reasons, the non-profit art and food organization that is part of the Bi-Rite family of businesses.

Gabrielle Hamilton. Photo: Melissa Hamilton

Gabrielle Hamilton can write, there's no doubt about that. Craft infuses her recent bestseller, peppered as it is with references to both body and kitchen fluids.

Still, this writer was reluctant to read the memoir of this reluctant chef. When a book like Blood, Bones & Butter gets so much advance praise it's hard to believe it can live up to the hype.

Let's review, shall we? There was the excerpt in The New Yorker, a New York Times profile and laudatory reviews from the paper of record by Michiko Kakutani and Frank Bruni, along with glowing accounts in the Washington Post and Wall Street Journal. Of course, the womens' glossies weighed in with pleasure, as did the blogosphere, including the Times (again), 5 Second Rule, and Bay Area Bites.

Top chefs chimed in too: Her book boasts bubbly blurbs from Bourdain, Batali, and Boulud.

Curious to find out what all the fuss was about, this reporter went to hear Hamilton speak at Omnivore Books in March, when she swung through town on book tour, and again last Thursday, when she appeared on stage in conversation with Kim Severson as part of the City Arts & Lecture series. Oh, and in between this reporter devoured her almost 300-page coming-of-age story.

The book is an indisputable page turner, but let's dispose of one major beef up front: The last section -- "Butter" -- feels rushed and not ready for prime time, in large part because the central concern -- the unraveling of her lonely marriage -- was not resolved in real time. No matter, the publisher wanted that memoir hitting the shelves pronto and mass marketing waits for no one. (Hamilton said Thursday that she's since addressed the marriage matter -- in life and on the page in an epilogue for the paperback edition, available in January.)

Clearly, the woman has a talent with pots and pens. The owner of Prune, a wildly popular little bistro in Manhattan's East Village, (the restaurant's title comes from a childhood nickname), Hamilton recently won a James Beard Award for best New York City chef after receiving nominations for the coveted title three years running. (Though some grumbled that the gal who serves Triscuits and canned sardines at the bar won more for what she represents than what she cooks.) She's written about the chef's life for Bon Appetit, Food & Wine, and Saveur, where her sister Melissa Hamilton was an editor, and appeared in six volumes of Best Food Writing.

Hamilton has worked hard and overcome obstacles to get to the top of her game, in two creative fields no less. She survived a largely feral childhood followed by a drug-fueled, unsupervised adolescence, turned to cooking to find family, home, hope, structure, and salvation and wound up, on a whim, running a restaurant of her own.

She's not interested in glamorizing either pursuit. If anything she has a tendency to martyrdom: Hamilton recounts cleaning human excrement off the restaurant stoop and deposing of a dead rat riddled with maggots found on the back steps. She turns hundreds of eggs on the breakfast line, while major-league pregnant and, later, with babies clinging to her breast. Her autobiography, a decade in the making, is scribbled on brown paper between services, on subway rides, and while putting those babes to bed. There is never enough time or sleep.

Professionally, Hamilton is a big talent and a huge success. Her personal life, as she reveals in her book, is a bit messier. Estranged from her mother for decades, she identifies as lesbian but ditched the sisterhood for a clandestine affair with an Italian man she ends up marrying. He is the father of her two boys, though from the beginning of their coupling trouble is brewing. For starters, Hamilton seems more in love with his mother and summer visits to the Italian clan's compound than her actual husband.

These personal revelations would seem meaty subjects for seasoned interviewer Kim Severson in her City Arts & Lectures discussion with Hamilton. But Severson -- now the New York Times' Atlanta bureau chief who appears to keep her hand in the food beat and her heart in San Francisco -- was in a tricky situation. Just days before Hamilton landed in town the New York Post had dropped a bombshell about the celebrity chef's love life.

Of course, who Hamilton sleeps with is really nobody else's business, except that her memoir includes revelations about her adventures in the sack as well as an apron. And Hamilton talks a lot about the value of being honest and authentic in the kitchen and on the page. To top it off, the New York Post item on Hamilton was recycled in the local food media the day before her appearance.

Severson gave a nod to the matter early on in the chat: "I'm going to ask you the question on everyone's minds, [theatrical pause] How do you keep your skin so dewy?" That set the tone for an evening of mostly softballs from Severson, who made a running gag about not being "bitter" that Hamilton's memoir was a better read than her own, Spoon Fed.

The Times staffer did try some shock value, noting the book's unusual intimacy, which a friend described to Severson this way: "I feel like I know every fold in her vagina." But she quickly found herself in the role of comforting colleague, after an earthquake literally shook the subdued Hamilton, who looked like she wanted to bolt from the stage when things started rocking.

A few sips of wine later, however, Hamilton regained her composure and temporarily shut down Severson, as she meandered through her self-described cliched questions. Case in point: "What's the last taste you would want in your mouth before you die?" Surely not the first time Hamilton's fielded that query.

"I thought we were going to have an intelligent conversation about writing and you want to know if I keep lube in my bedside table," Hamilton scolded at one point. Note to Linda Hunt: Not all KQED subscribers may be amused by the repartee between these two, who wondered if any couple, regardless of orientation, can keep sex alive in a long-term relationship -- though, it must be said, the crowd at Herbst Theater ate it up.

During the audience Q&A fans gushed about how much they loved Hamilton's book, even if they hadn't finished it, and her restaurant, even if they hadn't eaten there yet. In such an environment, this reporter felt it would have been a hostile act to ask the writer-chef if she cared to comment about the recent allegations in the press. Instead, she opted for the more discreet email follow up to both Hamilton and Severson, neither of whom jumped at the opportunity to explain why the subject wasn't broached on stage.

Hardly surprising. Hamilton made it clear at her book signing at Omnivore that she's selective about what aspects of her private life the public get to know about through her writing. Her mantra: If it's not in there, it's not tellable -- readers don't get all of her. Fair enough.

It's this kind of contradiction -- the tell-all that keeps secrets -- that makes Hamilton such a fascinating creature. She's full of inconsistencies -- aren't we all? -- only hers are on display for all the world to see and hear. Hamilton often says she loathes being called "a female chef" and yet when TV came calling looking for just such a demographic, she jumped at the chance to take one for the team.

Similarly she thinks the term "food writer" is demeaning; she's simply a chef who is also a scribe and cooking is what allowed her to come to the party. Yet, when asked what readers can expect next from the literary writer she responds: A cookbook.

During the talk Hamilton mentions the moms at her sons' school, who she says look at her disdainfully as she drops off her kids. Her children eat poorly and often in the car on the way to school, she confesses. And yet, one can't help but get the impression that the 45-year-old looks down her nose at them. Severson counters that perhaps the other moms are intimidated or awed by the successful chef with the best-selling memoir but Hamilton dismisses this notion out of hand.

And the Beard Award is silly, Hamilton says, until she wins it, and then it's the most important culinary honor a chef can earn. Thankfully she has a sense of humor about all this flip-flopping.

One gets the sense that Hamilton doesn't give a hoot if you like her, agree with her opinions, or want to read her book. It's what makes her intriguing and may well be an essential part of why she's so talented on the page and in the kitchen. She's just doing her own thing and not seeking anyone else's praise or approval.

During the course of the 90-minute City Arts & Lectures dialogue she laments the fetishization of food (the cult of farmers' markets, home cooks with sous vide machines), discussions of gender issues in restaurant kitchens (snoozeville), and the plethora of social media around food culture. Reading about food online, she says, is like eating at McDonalds. "You end up feeling hungry, undernourished, tired, and full of self loathing."

She's also down on the rise of reality TV cooking shows, even though she's had her own turn in front of the camera. (She slayed Bobby Flay on "Iron Chef"). "It's starting to suck for all of us, since TV isn't about cooking it's about entertaining," says Hamilton. "It's impossible to be quiet or subtle with food on television because actual cooking is really quite dull and repetitive."

Plans for a movie based on the memoir are already in the works, Hamilton told fans Thursday. She jokes she'd like to see Robert Downey Jr. play her.

That seems about right. Hamilton has balls. And a muscularity to her convictions and craft that the actor could convey handsomely. Audiences with a taste for Hamilton's contrarian ways might just go for such gender-bending casting. Stay tuned.

Listen to the conversation between Gabrielle Hamilton and Kim Severson broadcast on KQED Sunday, November 27 at 1 p.m.

The first thing that struck me about The Beekman 1802 Heirloom Cookbook, written by Brent Ridge and Josh Kilmer-Purcell with Sandy Gluck, is the very first page. There's a smartly designed book-plate that reads:

First Generation to Own This Book: ____________

I think the very first page of the book says a great deal about the mission and ethos behind the project, the recipes, and the vision. Brent and Josh have a 200-year old farm outside of tiny Sharon Springs, New York where they produce goat's milk soap, cheeses, and other artisanal products along with hosting dinners and events. After deciding they firmly believed in capturing the work that was happening on the farm, preserving the food traditions they were introducing, and celebrating the small community surrounding them, a cookbook seemed like the next logical step.

Now the Beekman boys will be the first to ask the question, "does the world really need another cookbook?" This fall, especially, seems to be a banner season for new releases including The Family Meal, Bi-Rite's Eat Good Food, Essential Pepin, Ruhlman's Twenty and The Food 52 Cookbook among many others. So what sets this one apart? Sure, it's organized by seasons and focuses on feel-good recipes with a sense of history. But a lot of cookbooks do this. I think the true thing that sets the Beekman Boys' book apart is the definitive aesthetic and design (highly visual, quirky, a little bit irreverent), the approachable and inspired recipes appropriate for novice and more experienced cooks alike, and their push for generational cooking. I like this last part a lot. It's why I'm really sold on this book.

The photography by Paulette Tavormina captures the almost-down-home nature of the recipes beautifully. Most dishes are basic comfort food with a twist, and the photos really convey a warm, lived-in quality that make you want to pull up a chair and settle right into an evening meal at the farm. As far as the recipes are concerned, there are some that stand out right away for me. I've bookmarked Pea Pod Risotto, Meatloaf Burgers, Buttery Peach Cake, and Rosemary Spiced Nuts. The recipes range from simple salads and soups to more substantial entrees, side dishes and desserts. In addition, they do profiles of ingredients (raspberries, green beans, onions) and little "how-to" (yogurt cheese) sections that make the reader feel even closer to farm life. The headnotes for each recipe are approachable and become quite formulaic: the Beekman boys spell out why they're drawn to the recipe and then give a tip on preparation or shopping. For example, with the Broccoli Cheddar Soup recipe, they discuss using the broccoli stalks and florets and why each is useful.

But we really can't discuss the recipes without exploring the question: what exactly is a "heritage recipe"? In their introduction, Brent and Josh note that "heirlooms [are] recipes that we will make every year, recipes that we pass along to friends and family on scraps of paper. They are now as much a part of the story and life of Beekman 1802 Farms as are the house, the barn and the land." Later they go on to note that "heirlooms" of any kind are often irreplaceable and are, therefore, cherished. So they seem to have a two-fold mission: first, to publish recipes that have become important to them in living and creating a meaningful life on the farm and second, to encourage others to make these recipes a part of their own family traditions. There is a little "Notes" box next to each recipe to encourage readers to jot down what they liked, didn't like, or would change. They also supply sturdy note cards to jot down adaptations you might make with a certain recipe. Then, after doing so, Brent and Josh encourage readers to go to Beekman1802 to chronicle the changes. This way, each recipe will grow, change, and live on. For generations? Who knows. Time will tell, I suppose.

Is the book romanticizing their "newly bucolic [country] lives?" Sure. Absolutely. Regardless, the emphasis on family and the importance of traditions is especially relevant this time of year, especially as we tip-toe into fall and start to peek towards Thanksgiving. And that is why I so wanted to try out their Sweet Potato Pie recipe that appears towards the back of the book.

The Beekman Boys have given Bay Area Bites permission to reprint the recipe and I can tell you that it's already been decided that Sweet Potato is taking down Pumpkin this Thanksgiving at our house. This recipe is special largely because of its simplicity, attention to detail (uses two distinct kinds of sweet potato) and the addition of brown butter at the end. It's, in all honesty, a pie I was talking about for a good three days afterwards. I think you will, too. While the recipe doesn't delineate the timing, I've done so here below. I've also split the paragraphs up into numbered steps. Last, when making your pie dough, if lard isn't your thing, Martha Stewart's pate brisee is a perfectly lovely and reliable pie dough so go that route instead.

Sweet Potato Pie
To get a sweet potato pie that isn't overly sweet, we use two kinds of sweet potatoes: Japanese sweet potatoes, which are a little drier in texture and mildly sweet, and deep-orange garnet potatoes, which are moist and quite sweet. If the pie develops a crack in the center as it cooks, which many do, simply top with sweetened whipped cream, sour cream, or yogurt.

Prep Time: 25 minutes (to make dough)
Cook Time: 1 hour
Total Time: 1 hour, 25 minutes

Ingredients:
Basic Pie Dough *
1 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, grated
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup sour cream
3 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups pureed cooked sweet potatoes (from about 1 1/2 pounds)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter

Instructions:
1. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough to a 12-inch round. Roll the dough around the rolling pin, and then fit it into a 9-inch deep-dish plate without stretching it.
2. Press the dough into the bottom and sides of the pan. With a pair of scissors or a paring knife, trim the edges of the dough to form a 1-inch overhand. Fold the overhand over to form a high edge, and with your fingers, crimp the dough all around. Refrigerate.
3. Preheat the oven to 350 F.
4. In a large bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt until well combined. Whisk in the milk, sour cream, whole eggs, egg yolk, and vanilla. Whisk in the mashed sweet potatoes.
5. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Cook until the butter foams; them continue cooking until the foam subsides and the butter turns a rich brown.
6. Immediately pour the browned butter into the sweet potato mixture and whisk until incorporated.
7. Place the pie plate on a rimmed baking sheet and pour the mixture into it. Bake for 1 hour, or until the pie is set with a slightly wobbly center.
8. Cool on a rack. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

*Basic Pie Dough
Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
4 tablespoons cold lard, cut into bits
3-4 tablespoons ice water

Instructions: (note that there are two methods described below)
1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. With a pastry blender or two knives used scissors fashion, cut in the butter and the lard until pea-size lumps remain.
2. Gradually add the ice water until the dough begins to come together but doesn't clean the sides of the bowl. Add just enough of the ice water so the mixture holds together when pinched between two fingers.

1. Alternatively, in a food processor, pulse together the flour, sugar, and salt.
2. Add the butter and lard and pulse 10 times or until large pea-size lumps are formed. With the motor running, gradually add the ice water until the dough begins to come together but doesn't clean the sides of the bowl.
3. Add just enough of the ice water so the mixture holds together when pinched between two fingers.
4. Shape into a disk, wrap in wax paper and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.

Buy the book on Amazon, $13

Gosh the Brits know how to do misery, don't they? Miserable weather, miserable class distinctions, miserable food, circa 1960s at least. (The Anglophiles among us need not get their knickers in a twist: Word that there's now fab fare to be found in Britain has leaked out.)

But the grim, gray food of an earlier generation is on full display in the autobiographical film "Toast," based on the memoir of the same name by popular English cookbook author, food writer, and TV show host Nigel Slater. (Regular readers may recall a recent review of his latest tome, Tender, an homage to the humble veg, in a delightful Stephanie Rosenbaum post.)

There's no sugar coating it: Slater's early years were incredibly sad and lonely. The untimely death of his beloved mother, a simply awful cook who adored her boy and he her. Her only culinary saving grace: Toast with lashings of butter served up for dinner after another canned-food failure. Slater had a difficult relationship with his father, who made cheese sandwiches for days on end after the death of his wife. Something of a bully, the father also made it clear his son was a huge disappointment to him. Add to this equation the evil stepmother, played with trollopy gusto by Helena Bonham Carter, who wormed her way into their lives, first as an obsessive cleaner and then with her culinary (and, we're given ample evidence to believe, sexual) prowess.

The woman may have been cheap as chips but she knew how to cook -- and bake. Oh my, that lemon meringue pie!

In the film, with screenplay by Lee Hall who wrote "Billy Elliott," the adolescent Slater (Freddie Highmore) is locked in a culinary clash with his despised stepmother for the attention and affection of his father. He loses, of course, and blames his stepmother for the early death of his father. Moviegoers will get the sense she literally fed him to death; the cakes, pies, and roasts just keep coming out of the oven.

Victoria Hamilton as Nigel's mother and Oscar Kennedy as young Nigel Slater.

The role of food in families -- as both a comfort and a weapon -- is at the heart of this movie, which makes great use of the anguished music of Dusty Springfield for its soundtrack. Dinner time in the Slater household was a desperately unhappy affair. Still, the young Slater finds refuge in food, sneaking cookbooks under the covers to read up on recipes, excelling in his Home Economics class, and triumphing over his stepmom by perfecting his own lemon meringue pie, which pops off the screen as a bright yellow gelatinous mass with a mound of white peaks expertly browned on top.

As in many children's fairy tales, his stepmom also provides his liberation: Following his father's death he simply walks out of her life and flees to London, where a future in food is his for the taking, and he never sees her again.

In a sweet end note, Slater appears in a cameo as himself, reassuring his younger self, who is desperate to find a kitchen job (at the Savoy Hotel, no less) that everything will be fine.

Fortunately for the food world, it is. Slater is the author of ten books, many bestsellers, including Real Fast Food, Appetite, and The Kitchen Diaries. A food columnist for The Observer for almost two decades, Toast the memoir, which won several major awards, including British Biography of the Year, began marinating as a column.

Ken Stott as Nigel's father and Oscar Kennedy as young Nigel Slater.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the adult Slater is not fond of fussy food, he prefers simple suppers made with care and thought, using quality ingredients. And despite his upbringing, he believes that making something good to eat for yourself or for others can lift the spirits in the way little else can.

(In an interesting twist, the daughters of Slater's now deceased stepmother denounced his portrayal of her in the British press earlier this year. The very different accounts of their childhood years serves to remind us that every person's version of the truth can vary wildly. On this much, though, all parties seem to agree: Slater's early years were full of rejection and loss. Indeed the subtitle of his book "A Boy and His Hunger" is both a nod to his need for real, nourishing food and genuine, nourishing love.)

When asked what's missing from the movie, Slater responds without missing a beat: The sex. "Toast is a sexy little book, there's a lot of adolescent sex in those pages and they form an integral part of the story," he said in an interview yesterday. "It doesn't really matter in the movie but honestly I would have liked to have seen a bit more of it. "Toast" was made for prime-time viewing in Britain at Christmas, and I think they wanted a film that the whole family could watch, not something adolescent boys might squirm at."

The movie only hints at the teenage Slater's emerging sexuality; it reveals his crush on a family gardener and a first kiss in the woods with a local boy.

Fans of the food writer's memoir should not hold their breath for Toast: The Second Slice. Here's why: "I'm a very private person and tend to keep to myself, in part because I don't think I'm that interesting," Slater said. "That memoir was the most intimate of memoirs and to this day I don't really know why I did it. But I was writing as a little boy and I was somehow able to differentiate it from my adult self. I stopped at 18 and I've protected myself ever since, I went back into my shell."

There's more. "In practical terms, if I were to do a second book, it would be more a conventional memoir," he said, adding, "and I'd have to write about other people's lives, people who are still alive, and I don't want to intrude on their privacy."

At a time when many of us wax on about the pleasures of the table (this writer included), "Toast" reminds us that food can cause major misery in many people's lives. Audience goers will likely find themselves reflecting on their own childhood food memories while watching the film. Thankfully, this being a decidedly British film, there's a lot of black humor amid the sorrow.

Just as well, too, because this writer, who wanted to rush home and bake her teenage son a cake after seeing the film, found herself wincing at the pain of it all at times.

"Toast" opens in Bay Area cinemas this Friday.