Joe Yonan in his home kitchen. All photos: Ed Anderson

Devotees of the NBC sitcom 30 Rock may well remember a scene in an episode that goes something like this: Liz Lemon, the perennially single character played by Tina Fey, is at home on the phone talking with her boss Jack Donaghy (played by public radio fan Alec Baldwin). Donaghy asks, somewhat unkindly, what Lemon did last night. She responds: "Well, I was going to go to my cooking for one class but my instructor committed suicide." Cue laugh track now.

Joe Yonan, the James Beard Award-winning food editor of The Washington Post, recalled that scene at a recent book signing at Omnivore Books, where he talked up his adventures in cooking for one, which he documents in a monthly column of the same name at the Post, and in his recent cookbook Serve Yourself (Ten Speed, paperback, $22).

Spend even a few minutes with Yonan and you'll figure out he's one funny guy. But Yonan isn't terribly amused by those who mock singletons who make a meal for themselves. That's because, he tells folks at the event, it feeds into people's perceptions that it's not worth "bothering" to make something delicious when "it's just me." He says such sentiment makes him tear up a bit and you believe him. He simply discounts the commonly held notion that cooking for one is depressing or sad. Alone and lonely are not synonymous in his mind. He's living proof: As the youngest of eight kids he has a highly developed sense of narcissism, he admits, and never ever thinks "it's just me." And you believe that, too.

That kind of secure thinking is worth imitating. Yonan's feed-yourself-well mantra boils down to this: Standards for what goes on the table shouldn't slip because there's only one place serving. That territory has been covered in other recent recipe books on eating alone, including those by culinary legends Judith Jones, Deborah Madison, and Joyce Goldstein, as well as an anthology of essays on the subject edited by Jennie Ferrari-Adler. (For reviews on these see my colleague Megan Gordon's piece on same, as well as her post on the lighter side of eating alone.)

Still, Yonan thought there was room in the genre for his male perspective (hello taco chapter) and his easy-to-make recipes aimed at food-fancying singles -- the fasted-growing segment of U.S. households. Young ones are waiting longer to get married (if at all), while many older folks who survive their spouses are healthy enough to live independently.

Serve Yourself is full of useful tips, walking readers through the three concerns of single amateur chefs: portion size, shopping, and spoilage. (In short: the freezer is your friend (cooked rice, broth, or pizza dough, can form the beginnings of many a meal), as is the fridge (condiments like chutney, kimchee, and salsa can brighten lots of dishes), and the pantry (dried beans, pasta, or grains, can get things started at the stove). He offers solutions for storage to minimize waste and recommends that soloists make it a goal never to have to stop at the store on the way home from a long day at work, which sinks many home cooks, regardless of how many mouths there are to feed.

Yonan views cooking for one as an opportunity to take a few risks and diversify one's repertoire, since there's no performance anxiety issues at play, like those that can surface when cooking for a crowd. There aren't any unknown eating quirks or allergies to cater to either, he notes, there's only your sweet self to satisfy.

Cooking for yourself is literally a way of taking care of yourself, adds Yonan, who's quick to acknowledge he frequently cooks for and eats with family and friends. But there's no question that learning your way around a kitchen makes you less dependent on others, whether paid or not, to provide you with nourishment. It's both a selfless and selfish act. It's certainly cheaper and healthier than eating out or ordering take out every night.

There's a growing audience for this book. "Lots of people become single later in life because the relationship or marriage goes south, and I've run into lots of those on book tour," says Yonan. "Some of them are a little more open to the idea of cooking for themselves than you might think, because they see it as something of sweet revenge -- finally getting to make the things that they've wanted to, things that damn partner never wanted them to make. Some find it soothing to nurture themselves when they're heartbroken, of course," he explains. "And some are ready to move on, big time. I had one recently single gentleman slip me a note at a signing that read, 'If you're ever ready to cook for two, you know where to find me.'"

Yonan's cookbook includes over 100 recipes for both weeknight dining and more complex cooking projects for weekend meals, when time is potentially less a factor. Not surprisingly eggs feature prominently (there's a whole chapter on these portion-controlled, versatile, long-lasting, fast-cooking, protein-filled friend of the single cook) and it's good to find another eggs-for-dinner advocate. Pizza gets a chapter too and Yonan reveals his Texas roots with his fondness for salsas, beans, and those tacos. Bonus: The man is a sweet potato fan. Dishes that sound worthy solo endeavors include Mushroom and Green Garlic Frittata, Sweet Potato and Orange Soup with Smoky Pecans, Catfish Tacos with Chipotle Slaw, and Smoked Trout, Potato, and Fennel Pizza. Meat lovers will find pulled pork, short ribs, and sirloin steak, no worries. And there are desserts too, like Cappuccino Tapioca Pudding with Cardamom Brulee.

The only drawback to solo cooking, as far as Yonan is concerned: There's no one to help with the clean up after dinner, which, since he lives alone, he often leaves until the morning, as there's no one to nag about dishes in the sink.

Yonan needs to send a copy of Serve Yourself to Tina Fey pronto. With his enthusiasm for the pleasures of cooking for one, even the cynical Liz Lemon might be won over.

Cappuccino Tapioca Pudding with Cardamom Brulee

Makes 6 (1/2-cup) servings

3 cups milk, preferably low-fat
1/3 cup small pearl tapioca
1 tablespoon instant espresso powder
2 egg yolks, whisked to combine
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

Pour 1 cup of the milk into a heavy saucepan. Add the tapioca and let soak for at least 30 minutes.

Pour the remaining 2 cups of milk into a mixing bowl or glass measuring cup, sprinkle the espresso powder over, let it sit for a minute or two, and then stir to dissolve.

Whisk the espresso-milk mixture into the tapioca mixture, along with the egg yolks, salt, and 1/3 cup of the sugar. Over medium heat, slowly bring the mixture just barely to a boil, stirring constantly; it will take 10 to 15 minutes. Reduce the heat until the mixture is barely simmering, and continue cooking the tapioca, stirring occasionally, until the beads swell up and become almost translucent and the custard thickens, another 15 to 20 minutes.

Remove from the heat and let it cool. Spoon the pudding into 6 individual 1/2-cup ramekins and wrap each in plastic wrap, pressing the plastic directly onto the surface of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming. Refrigerate until chilled. It will keep it the refrigerator for several days or in the freezer for up to 2 months.

When you are ready to eat, unwrap one of the ramekins of pudding (thaw it first if frozen), and sprinkle the top with 1 teaspoon of the remaining sugar and a pinch of cardamom. Use a small culinary blowtorch to caramelize the sugar on top, keeping the torch moving so you deeply brown but don’t blacken the sugar, then eat.

When a world-famous and beloved chef gathers together sixty years of the recipes he "love[s] the most" and stuffs them in a hearty cookbook that measures two inches thick, it's time to make room on the bookshelf. This fall Jacques Pépin publishes his newest cookbook, Essential Pépin, and gives his hungry fans over 700 of his favorite recipes culled from his six decades as an apprentice cook, professional chef, and cooking school teacher.

Always the perfectionist in and out of the kitchen, Jacques didn't go easy on himself when putting this book together. In his introduction, Jacques admits that he could have simply sent off all 700+ recipes to be published with no additional changes, however, he instead decided to reconsider each one and "adjust, correct, and retest [them] for a modern kitchen to make them usable, friendly, and current for today's cook, while retaining the spirit and flavor of the originals." Essential Pépin is essentially Jacques, and the recipes reflect his life in food from the fanciest French dishes to the homiest American comfort foods to his personalized approach to "fast food" cooking.

I don't know what Jacques' original recipe was for Onion Soup Lyonnaise-Style, but this one did me just fine on a pre-Autumnal evening. As I swim my way through a practically tangible haze of slowly simmering onions and browning mountain cheese, I will say that I wish Jacques had been a little more specific about what port is "sweet port." To me, all port -- ruby, tawny, vintage -- is fairly sweet. It's not like sherry where one is clearly sweet and one is clearly dry. I went with ruby for this recipe, but might try tawny another time just to experience a taste comparison. Also, I didn't use canned stock. What with all the scary news about what is going on with canned foods these days, I buy cartons of stock not cans. Of course, that's an even better excuse to make your own stock, which is Jacques' primary suggestion.

Onion Soup Lyonnaise-Style

Serves 6 to 8

15-20 slices baguette, 1/4 inch thick
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 medium onions, thinly sliced (about 4 cups)
8 cups homemade chicken stock or low-salt canned chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups grated Gruyère or Emmenthaler cheese
2 large egg yolks
1/2 cup sweet port

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Arrange the bread slices on a cookie sheet and bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until browned. Remove from the oven and set aside. (Leave the oven on.) Melt the butter in a large saucepan. Add the onions and sauté for 15 minutes, or until dark brown.

Add the stock, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil and cook for 20 minutes. Push the soup through a food mill.

Arrange one third of the toasted bread in the bottom of an ovenproof soup tureen or large casserole. Sprinkle with some of the cheese, then add the remaining bread and more cheese, saving enough to sprinkle over the top of the soup. Fill the tureen with the hot soup, sprinkle the reserved cheese on top, and place on a cookie sheet. Bake for approximately 35 minutes, or until a golden crust forms on top.

At serving time, bring the soup to the table. Combine the yolks with the port in a deep soup plate and whip with a fork. With a ladle, make a hole in the top of the gratinée, pour in the wine mixture, and fold into the soup with the ladle. Stir everything together and serve.

I also tried one of Jacques' pita pizzas -- the one with red onion, tomatoes, Herbes de Provence, chives, and Gruyère cheese -- and it's definitely something I'm going to try out on my toddler. In fact, my husband was so taken with the pizza that I had to make another one right after we scarfed down the first one. I was out of tomatoes, so my second rendition was done up with slices of red onion, Herbes de Provence, chives, Gruyère, and a handful olive oil-dressed watercress I tossed on the pizza after it came out of the oven.

If I recall from my work on More Fast Food My Way, Jacques' pita pizzas are part of his "fast food" oeuvre, and clearly the onion soup smacks of his classical French background, so I decided to round out my Essential Pépin sojourn with his roast chicken recipe, a classic American entry.

My experience with this recipe was somewhat rocky. While I loved Jacques' tip about not covering the finished chicken with foil (because the steaming that ensues makes the chicken taste reheated), I did struggle mightily to keep the stubborn bird on its side during part of the roasting process. I ended up lacerating one of the drumsticks during the balancing act, but since the drumsticks go to my toddler, it wasn't a huge loss.

As my husband and I stood over the warm chicken, tearing off crispy skin and strips of juicy breast meat with our fingers, he mumbled through a mouthful, "Best roast chicken you've ever made." I then whisked some Grey Poupon into the pan of unstrained juices, warmed it slightly, and poured it off into a bowl. We continued feasting, this time dipping our fingerfuls of chicken into the sauce. In this book, there's Jacques the Chef.

I leafed through the rest of the book, scanning other recipes, and suddenly realized I wasn't even reading the recipes because I completely enthralled by the illustrations. In this cookbook, there's no glossy photography showing rivulets of garnet juices running down a slice of steak, no crooked fingers of steam rising from hot-from-the-oven rolls, there's just a gratin pan here, a curly head of Boston lettuce there, an occasional plump chicken pecking in the dirt -- all lovingly rendered in watercolor by the chef himself. In this book, there's Jacques the Artist.

Early in the book is a 3-page "General Information About Eggs" section, which is seeded with smidges of new-to-me information. Here Jacques shares a great tip about freezing individual egg whites in ice cub trays and how raw unbroken egg yolks should be covered with cold water for optimal refrigerator storage. However, the egg tip I find most fascinating is the idea that it's not it's necessary to bring eggs to room temperature before whipping up their whites. The master chef's opposing opinion is that the texture of egg whites is "tighter, smoother, and better if the egg whites are cold, even though the volume after beating is slightly less." Tucked among the 700 recipes are other snippets of advice, like how to make your own proof box for baking and ways to improvise your own fish smoker out of an old pot or roaster and a screen.

The next recipe I'm most looking forward to trying is the Grilled Squid on Watercress. Grilled squid is a dish I always order (sometimes in multiples) if I see it on a restaurant menu, but I've never had sufficient courage to try at home. With Jacques by my side, guiding me through each step, I think I'll finally be able to attempt it. In this book, there's Jacques the Teacher.

Packaged with the book is a 3-hour DVD of Jacques' techniques, which really deserves its own review. The very first technique Jacques demonstrates is the proper way of tying your apron to insulate yourself against burns, and attaching your towel to your apron for attractiveness and ease of retrieval. Genius. There are other worthy techniques, of course, and some are difficult -- making butter roses and gilding them with paprika for color -- and some are easy, like peeling broccoli stems for cooking.

Also not to be missed is KQED's 26-episode TV show, Essential Pépin, which starts airing on October 15th. KQED's specially designed website will feature 2-4 printable recipes from each episode along with delectable photographs of the finished dishes. The website also enables you to watch full episodes online a week before they air on TV.

What's on your locavore's barbecue this Labor Day weekend? A slab of beef tri-tip, our favorite regional cut, sliced and nestled up to a stack of red torpedo onions and dry-farmed Early Girl tomatoes sounds mighty tasty. If you prefer fish, try a side of grilled sockeye or king salmon topped with this easy corn relish. And to start, what captures the taste of our unique coastal landscape than a a platter of oysters plucked from the salt-sweet estuaries of Tomales Bay or Point Reyes?

You can shuck and serve them raw, with nothing more than a squirt of lemon and a shake of hot sauce, or get a little more fancy with a saucer of mignonette sauce. Mignonette may sound lah-di-dah, but it's nothing more than a tart dunk of minced shallot, black pepper, and champagne vinegar. At its popular restaurant and oyster bar in the Ferry Building, the Hog Island Oyster Company has California-ized this French classic into a "Hog Wash" of shallot, minced jalapeno, cilantro, and both seasoned and plain rice vinegar. Or you can raise a toast to a particularly local tradition and barbecue them right on the grill. No shucking required; just place oysters, flat side up, on a hot grill until the shells pop open. Off the heat, remove the top shell, loosen the oyster within with a quick swipe of an oyster knife, and top with your favorite barbecue sauce. You can return the oysters to the grill for a minute or two to heat the sauce through. Whatever you do, the oysters will be sexy and succulent, with a clean ocean taste like the first fresh slap of a wave against your face.

Once your appetite is whetted, you might want to know more about these intriguing little bivalves, so rich in history and lore. Oyster Culture by Gwendolyn Meyer and Doreen Schmid, is a great place to start. Illustrated with Meyer's beautiful, evocative black-and-white and color photographs as well as historical documents and pictures, the book, published by Petaluma's Cameron Press, delves into the history and ecology of the local oyster industry. How did the book happen? Via email, Meyer told us,

"The book evolved from a photo essay on how oysters are farmed on one farm into the bigger story of oyster farming out here in West Marin. I started shooting grainy black and white film images back in 2001 out on the water and the gritty grainy look captured the hard working farmers on the bay on its foggy overcast cold windy days. The Tomales Bay is a special and unique place, one of the few clean estuariane systems left in California. The water-based farms fascinated me, and being out on the bay was captivating. Getting to know some of the people involved with oysters here and the history of the east shore-- I realized that there was a story that hadn't been told.

Photos from Oyster Culture copyright Gwendolyn Meyer

People in California have been eating oysters for centuries. Archaeological digs at Coast Miwok campsites have revealed piles of oyster, mussel, and clam shells. The native oyster of California's indigenous peoples and first settlers was the small, coppery-tasting Olympia oyster, Ostreo lurida. It has since been replaced, first by Atlantic varieties shipped in from the East Coast, then, since the 1930s, by Japanese Pacific varieties like the Miyagi and the Kumamoto. At first, commercial oyster farming was concentrated in San Francisco Bay, but as silt and pollution threatened the beds, the oyster companies looked north, to the more pristine estuaries of Tomales Bay and the Point Reyes peninsula. Oysters thrive in flat tidal estuaries where the river meets the sea, as part of a very particular coastal ecology. Once railways were established, linking the once-remote hamlets of West Marin to San Francisco and the surrounding towns, local aquaculture took off. As Oyster Culture notes, "For a brief moment in the 1950s, Tomales Bay was the largest oyster producer in California. Today, it is the state's smallest production area, but home of its oldest oyster farm and last oyster-canning factory, at Drakes Bay Estero."

Using an attractive and inviting layout, Oyster Culture explores both the natural and cultural histories of oysters, oyster farming, and oyster-eating around the Bay Area. At an early age, left to its own devices, an oyster attaches itself permanently to whatever solid surface it can find. Raising oysters is more like farming, or raising livestock, than fishing, since the oysters stay where they're planted. Marin's oyster companies, including Hog Island, Tomales Bay Oyster Company, Point Reyes Oyster Company, Cove Mussel Company, the Marin Oyster Company, and Drakes Bay Oyster Company (formerly Johnson's Oyster Farm), have evolved their own systems for raising and growing their oysters, each producing slightly different results. Along with ranching and farming, the oyster industry makes up a significant part of Marin's agricultural history and current agricultural and aquaculture-based economy. As Meyer told us,

"What was striking to me was how involved and familiar with every aspect of oysters everyone who works with them is, from the oyster bar shuckers to the farmers. There is a wealth of information about the oyster, and people who work with oysters know so much. Everyone in the industry has a particular philosophy about how they grow. Their understanding of the bay and the water and the environment they work in is impressive. I think a memorable story comes from Jorge out at Drakes Bay. Jorge has worked on the water for 30-plus years at Drakes Bay, for the Lunny family and the Johnsons before them. One early morning, he and Kevin Lunny got disoriented in the fog out on the estero. The fog blanketed out any recognizable features and they got didn’t know which way was home. They mistook the light on shore for that of a boat and headed away from it towards the ocean, which could have been disastrous. Fortunately, they managed to figure it out and didn’t head out to sea.

The story reminded me how even experienced [oyster] farmers with years of working on the same body of water are at the mercy of changing conditions. It may look calm and protected out there on the bay and estero, but it’s a landscape very much affected by many influences, both natural and man-made. I think the environment keeps farmers constantly on their toes.

Eat a local oyster, and you're supporting local jobs, something that makes putting oysters on the menu particularly appropriate for Labor Day. It's cold, wet work, tending to the rough-shelled babies out in the Bay, scrubbing and shucking, but it's an industry with deep roots, one that both provides jobs and presents a model for how for-profit agricultural businesses can work within protected parklands. "Because Tomales Bay is part of the Gulf of the Farallones National Marine Sanctuary, the farm [Hog Island], like all those within this sanctuary, works with over twenty agencies that manage land use and water quality in and around the Bay," the authors write. Says Hog Island co-owner Terry Sawyer, "None of this would be here without the Point Reyes National Seashore--we all owe a huge debt to its creation."

Now that she's an oyster expert, what oyster does Meyer prefer?

"Lately I’m particularly fond of the Tomales Bay Oyster Company's golden nuggets. They are beautiful oysters that are tumbled, not grown on the bottom, and because of this their shells are really pretty. The oyster itself is a deep-cupped, plump, rich tasting and perfect-looking oyster -- really a delicacy. I believe TBOC is the only farm doing tumbled bags on the bays. I prefer them freshly shucked, on the half shell with a squeeze of lemon. I like their briny taste of the ocean and want the full flavor of that, especially as we come into the winter months when they are at their prime.

Recipe: Oysters with Chorizo Sauce

Summary: This recipe, adapted from the book Oyster Culture by Gwendolyn Marks and Doreen Schmid, comes from the kitchen of The Marshall Store, a popular seafood restaurant on the eastern side of Tomales Bay.

From the Marshall Store

Oysters with Chorizo Sauce. Photo copyright Gwendolyn Meyer

Prep time: 10 minutes, plus 1 hour's chilling time
Cook time: 5 minutes
Total time: 15 minutes, plus 1 hour's chilling time
Yield: 24 oysters, serves 6

Ingredients

1/4 lb fresh Mexican-style chorizo sausage, removed from casing
1 cup (8 oz) unsalted butter, softened
2 tbsp finely chopped parsley
24 oysters

Instructions

1. Soften butter at room temperature. Saute chorizo until thoroughly cooked, then crumble. Place in refrigerator to cool.

2. Place butter in a small bowl and break up with a wooden spoon. Add cooled chorizo and mix thoroughly. Add parsley. Place the mixture in the middle of a sheet of waxed paper. Roll into a 2-inch wide log, twist ends shut, and chill in the refrigerator until firm.

3. Prepare a gas or charcoal grill. While grill is heating, shuck oysters and leave in shells. When grill is hot, top each opened oyster with a thin slice of butter cut from roll. Cover and cook just until the butter starts to bubble.

Note: If you don't have an outdoor grill, these oysters can also be cooked under the broiler. To broil, cover an ovenproof plate or platter with a layer of slightly moistened rock salt about 1 inch deep. Set oysters, in shells, on the rock salt, making sure they are level. Top each oyster with a thin slice of chorizo butter. Broil just until the butter starts to bubble.

Alice Waters clutches garlic and talks up edible education while Levi's President and Chez Panisse fan Robert Hanson looks on.

All photos: Wendy Goodfriend

Unless you've been living in a cave the last week or two you likely know that a certain iconic restaurant in Berkeley is celebrating its 40th birthday this weekend.

Iconic owner of iconic eatery has been here, there, and everywhere in the past week or two. SEO-friendly translation: Alice Waters of Chez Panisse has chatted with former Chez chefs on KQED's Forum, dished on supping solo on Fresh Air with Terry Gross, and got dirty with Hollywood heartthrob and Edible Schoolyard supporter Jake Gyllenhaal on the Today Show, where she was interviewed by Jenna Bush Hager — yes, that Jenna Bush — at The Edible Schoolyard at the San Francisco Boys and Girls Club in Hunters Point, one of several affiliates to the original Edible Schoolyard in Berkeley.

She's also been the subject of not one but two lengthy retrospectives in the San Francisco Chronicle and graced the pages of many glossies this month, with more major print media to come this weekend when the Chez Panisse 40th birthday celebrations kick off.

Today, however, Waters took to the streets of San Francisco -- in Maiden Lane off Union Square no less -- to serve lunch, sell T-shirts, and sign books.

On the menu: School lunch, of course, or Waters' vision of what school lunch should be. The boxed lunches were a fundraiser for the newly named nonprofit Edible Schoolyard Project, a national organization designed to integrate garden and kitchen education into grade-school curriculum. Suggested donation: $5 a pop for a box and 400 lunches sold out within an hour or so. In the mix: Smoked pulled chicken baguette (featuring Soul Food Farm chicken, Dirty Girl Farm shallot and Early Girl tomato, and Little City Gardens herbs and baby, frilly mustard greens) with harissa and aioli. The sandwich was accompanied by La Tercera cucumber pickles and radish, along with Knoll Farms figs, Lagier Ranches Bronx grapes, and Happy Quail Farms peppers. For veggies: Pounded lemon thyme pistou with iacopi butter bean mash, Dirty Girl tomatoes, pickled vegetables, and aforementioned frilly mustard greens. And to wash all those organic veggies down, a refreshing drink of Full Belly Farm yellow doll watermelon with anise hyssop and lime juice.

Got all that? There will be a quiz after lunch. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Chez chefs were all too busy prepping for the weekend galas to whip up lunch today, which was outsourced to Nicole Lobue's Lobue Events, a high-end catering company, in close consultation with Waters, of course.

Waters also teamed up with another local-gone-global icon, Levi's, to launch a limited-edition t-shirt collection (100 % organic cotton, natch) designed by Alice Waters (who 'fessed up to help from chef Sylvan Brackett on her tee) and four well-known creative types: musician David Byrne, filmmaker Sofia Coppola, author Dave Eggers and illustrator Maira Kalman. Alas, none of the luminaries were on hand this afternoon to model the $30 shirts, proceeds from the sale also support the Edible Schoolyard Project. Beginning today, the shirts are available in select Levi’s stores and online at levi.com. At lunch some 40 or so Ts were snapped up, Kalman's pie print proving as popular as Waters' apple images.

Waters addressed the crowd and the media asking: "What could be more universal than blue jeans and edible education?" To which there were no snappy rejoinders, since this is Waters' moment in the sun. Levi's honcho Robert Hanson told a story about his then-very-pregnant girlfriend insisting the couple keep a date at Chez Panisse, some years ago. That night, she gave birth to a baby girl, who's been an organic vegetarian eater ever since. Cue awww now.

It was all very lovely: Wheelbarrows full of freshly harvested produce, including ground cherries, squash, and aromatic herbs from the ESY garden, along with cute little booths. The communal tables sported linen table cloths and posies of fresh flowers. Waters sang the praises of freshly picked garlic the way she has famously waxed about a perfect peach and stressed the importance of educating all the nation's children about good food and the pleasures of the table.

The crowd was a mixed bag of die-hard Chez Panisse fans, supporters of Waters' school lunch and slow food agenda, self-described foodies -- and nearby workers who stumbled onto a good thing. Some in line said that the boxed lunch was the closest they'd ever get to Chez Panisse food, since the high-end restaurant is out of reach for many. Some had never heard of the Edible Schoolyard, offering proof that Waters' mission is far from over.

The local food legend, who signed copies of her new book 40 Years of Chez Panisse: The Power of Gathering, shook hands with lunch-goers waiting in line to eat and promised the mellow crowd of 500 or so that anyone who missed out on a meal was invited to come eat at Chez Panisse. No word on who would foot the bill.

When asked if her offer was good, press rep David Prior, who was fairly confident that everyone who wanted a box lunch was accommodated, said: "I wouldn't be surprised. There's nothing Alice likes less than running out of food. She's all about feeding people."

Related Posts:
Chez Panisse's birthday kicks off with party to remember (Berkeleyside)

So it's time to make a meal, and you're bored with making the same old dishes. It's time to recharge your repertoire.

Back in the day before the dawn of the online era, you'd just snag a new family recipe from a relative with some culinary chops, or tune into the wisdom of Julia Child. But the mega-popularity of The Food Network has since ignited an unrelenting avalanche of food-related media, and now you can find endless numbers of resources on television, newspapers, cookbooks, blogs, discussion forums, and even smart phone apps.

So where to go in the midst of this media overload? There are some excellent new sites that offer a curated collection of recipes that will help you sift through the onslaught of available resources.

If you're a fan of food porn, the following two sites will catch your fancy. Punchfork aggregates recipes from a number of popular food websites that rank highly in the social media sphere. According to their website, "Punchfork uses real-time data like tweets and Facebook shares to measure which recipes are grabbing the attention of users. We uncover the latent sentiment in sharing patterns on social networks." You can see which recipes have top-ratings with the foodie crowd, what's new, and of course, what's trending. Each recipe is easily sharable with folks on your own social networks, too. Learn more about this innovative new site in this interview with Punchfork's founder, Jeff Miller.

Then there's Gojee. Be sure to click on this site after you've had a snack, because the glossy photography will make your stomach instantly growl with hunger. You have to register to view the recipes, and then you're greeted with a stunning portrait of a dish that you'll want to make right away -- like Penne with Corn & Brown Butter.

The user interface is quite personable, allowing users to search by ingredient for what you "crave," what you "have" in your pantry, and what you "dislike." And when you type in search terms, witty messages such as "Almond joying myself, are you?" pop up as you wait for the recipe to pop up. And they bring careful attention to their curatorial process, as mentioned in this Forbes.com article: "You could call us a high quality, hand curated, easy to use Google for food blogger recipes. Every recipe on our site is manually chosen by our team," says founder Mike Lavalle.

Then there's Foodpress, which has a roster of featured food bloggers that contribute recipes. You can click on popular keywords that are listed in a handy sidebar, or check out sections such as, "Today's Specials" and "Featured Posts."

But if you'd like to dive into the online juggernaut, there are comprehensive sites such as Yummly, Google Recipe View (and if you're using their new Google+ social network, their "Sparks" feature includes recipes. However, you'll see it filters through articles as well as plain recipes when you scroll through.)

And of course, don't forget to check our Bay Area Bites's extensive archive of great recipes.

Jessica and Joshua Applestone's story is, by now, a familiar one. Vegetarian/vegan couple gets interested in sustainability, organics, and the implications of ethical eating. They start reading and going to farms and farmers' markets, realize that the staff (and signage) at most big food retailers--even the ones that tout their eco-friendliness--are uninformed and unreliable. Who to believe? How to make a difference? What to make for dinner?

This is where the Applestones' story veers off from the typical hipster vegan-turned-ethical omnivore trajectory. They didn't just find a meat CSA and fill their freezer with grass-fed hangar steak and pork belly destined for homemade ramen or home-cured bacon. That's what might happen now, in 2011, here in San Francisco. But this was 2004, only a couple of years after Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation had been published. Michael Pollan's New York Times Magazine article, Power Steer, which followed the short, unhappy life of one young, burger-destined steer in a Kansas feedlot, had just made millions of beef-eating Americans realize that most of the corn- and soy-stuffed animals they were buying had never come near a blade of grass. Grass-fed meat, what little there was of it, was hard to find, and usually available only shipped frozen from the Midwest. So what did they do? They started a butcher shop in New York's Hudson Valley selling only pasture-raised meats, a butcher shop that bought only whole animals from small farmers and ranchers they knew. Joshua, still vegan at the time they started the business, learned the butchery side, a trade plied by both his grandfather and great-grandfather. They called the shop Fleisher's Grass-Fed Organic Meats, from Joshua's family name. They got advice from dozens of retired butchers, almost all of whom told them that they were crazy, that they'd be out of business and worse, divorced, in a matter of months.

Now, some 7 years later, their business (and their marriage) is not just intact, but thriving. This fall, they're opening their second shop, in Brooklyn's Park Slope neighborhood, with a third one planned for the Upper West Side. (Take that, Zabar's!) The food culture has caught up with them, and "grass-fed" and "pasture-raised" have entered the common dialogue of more than just a few provenance-obsessed food folks. This week, Joshua and Jessica made the trek West for a series of events promoting their new book, The Butcher's Guide to Well-Raised Meat: How to Buy, Cut, and Cook Great Beef, Lamb, Pork, Poultry, and More. I caught up with them at an after-party at Bernal Heights butcher shop Avedano's, following their book-signing at nearby Omnivore Books and their on-air appearance on KQED's Forum with Avedano's butcher and co-owner Tia Harrison. (Harrison is also the chef at Sociale and a co-founder of the Butchers' Guild.)

Like a lot of New Yorkers, Jessica has a San Francisco connection; while she was raised in Long Island, her father grew up here, and she lived in the city from 1989-1991, working at the San Francisco Bay Guardian and Mercury Press before moving to Tokyo and New York City. "I miss the real foodie culture here, the diversity of ethnicities. And the Mexican food!" she said as we stood near a candlelit platter of ham. She and her husband have dubbed Kingston, NY, where they have their shop, "Park Slope North" for the number of Brooklynites from that Berkeley-ish neighborhood who spend their weekends up in their locale. Woodstock (yes, that Woodstock) is close by, as is New Paltz, a busy college town whose young mayor made headlines in 2004 for issuing marriage licenses and performing civic weddings for 25 same-sex couples, six years before gay marriage was legalized in New York. Without customers from these bourgeois-bohemian enclaves, she admits, much of their painstakingly sourced, meticulously cut meat wouldn't get bought, week after week. Although their learning curve was steep (says Jessica, "We didn't have a learning curve; it just went straight up from the minute we started"), their butcher shop has become, amazingly, something almost exactly what they envisioned: a source not just of meat but of community, a place where the butchers know their customers by name, and where people chat and ask questions, take classes, share recipes and swap neighborhood gossip, and in the process, use their food dollars to support a whole network of local farmers, ranchers, slaughterhouses, and more.

Their book is an unintimidating, user-friendly guide for the home cook, one who's curious about this whole whole-beast thing but doesn't yet have the chops, or the knowledge, to get busy with a boning knife. It's a primer on primals, the "big cuts" that well-trained butchers break down into the more familiar chops, ribs, sirloins and roasts. This is no encyclopedia of meats; the type is big, there are lots of chatty sidebars and plenty of weekday-dinner recipes. Even if you never follow their instructions for butterflying a leg of lamb or frenching a crown roast, you can still learn a lot of useful basics to make you feel much more at home in front of a meat case. Particularly useful are the pages championing their favorite lesser-known butcher's cuts, like lamb sirloin (one of my favorites, and frequently on hand at Avedano's), the cuts that a butcher knows but rarely sells.

Jessica and Joshua Applestone. Photo by Jennifer May

While Joshua cuts the meat, Jessica talks to the customers, explaining everything from how grass-fed meat is a seasonal product to the best way to cook bacon (the details are in the book, but suffice it to say that you're probably doing it wrong. Low and slow, that's the ticket). You've probably seen the dotted-line cow or pig in a dozen cookbooks, segmented and labeled to show where the shank, loin, chuck roast or top round come from. Jessica discovered a faster way to teach customers why some cuts are tender, others tough: the dotted-line human. Just imagine yourself down on all fours, and you can feel where your tougher, working muscles are (like the shoulders, neck, and legs) and what's placid and fatty, like the belly, the back and the meat around the ribs. "I fought hard to get the human in the book!" she laughs, and while it's off-putting at first sight, it does the job. You're not likely to forget where a tenderloin comes from once you've seen it labeled right over a navel like your own.

Hard-core wanna-be butchers may find the book a little too basic for their cleaver-and-chain-mail tastes. For them, there's Ryan Farr's Whole Beast Butchery slated for publication later this fall. Farr, a butcher's butcher who started 4505 Meats, the man who made putting (artisanal) chicharrones on a (handmade) hot dog seem like the ultimate in porky deliciousness, will be offering more step-by-step photographs and specialized instruction, with no stinting on the tongues, ears, and brains. But as an introduction to being a thoughtful carnivore in the kitchen, The Butcher's Guide to Well-Raised Meat makes a fine argument for knowing your meats and knowing your butcher.

Joshua and Jessica Applestone will be participating in the Cochon 555's Heritage Fire event at Charles Krug Winery in Napa on Saturday, Aug 13. Tickets $100-$200.

Sustainable Meat and the Art of Butchery
In recent years, more chefs and consumers are demanding local, sustainable meats, driving some to raise and butcher their own livestock. KQED's Forum gets into the gristle with three butchers and talk all about meat, from what consumers should be asking at the counter to how to cook a whole pig in the backyard.

Original Broadcast: Wed, Aug 10, 2011 -- 10:00 AM

Host: Sydnie Kohara

Guests:
• Jessica Applestone, co-author of "The Butcher's Guide to Well-Raised Meat" and co-owner of Fleisher's Grass-fed & Organic Meats in New York
• Joshua Applestone, co-author of "The Butcher's Guide to Well-Raised Meat" and co-owner of Fleisher's Grass-fed & Organic Meats in New York
• Tia Harrison, co-owner of Avendano's Holly Park Market, executive chef and co-owner of Sociale restaurant and co-founder of The Butcher's Guild

Related Articles:
• A Tell-All Guide to Artisanal Butchery By Adriana Velez (Civil Eats)
• Events: Former Vegan and Vegetarian Write the Book on Sustainable Meat By Mollie McWilliams (SFoodie)

A big crowd gathered last night at the Make-Out Room to celebrate Mission Street Food's forthcoming cookbook, "Mission Street Food: Recipes and Ideas From An Improbable Restaurant," published by McSweeney's new cookbook imprint.

Unfortunately, the cookbooks were tied up at customs and so no copies were to be had for the foodie groupies. But there was music, free beer, a short and funny presentation given by MSF duo Anthony Myint and Karen Leibowitz and Popeye's fried chicken -- lots of it. Apparently this chicken holds a soft spot in their hearts, especially Anthony's.

Anthony and Karen also took time out of their busy schedules to answer a few questions via email about their new project.

1) You've had quite a journey in the past 3 years, from street food vendor, to Mission Burger, Commonwealth, Mission Chinese Food and now you're launching a cookbook. What was your initial inspiration for the cookbook?

Our editor, Chris Ying, suggested we write about Mission Street Food, because he was starting McSweeney’s food imprint. We hadn’t been planning to write a book—as you mention, the last few years have been a bit of a whirlwind for us—but actually, the process of writing has helped us make sense of everything that’s happened. The story of MSF’s evolution takes about as much space in our book as the recipes, because we wanted to show how the food came out of our peculiar circumstances as an ever-changing pop-up restaurant.

2) There are loads of Chinese cookbooks out there. What will folks come away with from the Mission Chinese Street Food's book that's unique?

In this book, we really focused on recipes from the Mission Street Food era, rather than Mission Chinese Food. The book’s cover is modeled on a classic American-Chinese restaurant placemat, because we wanted to reflect the way that MSF was contained within Lung Shan, though our food was inspired by culinary traditions from around the world. The recipes in our book reflect that international approach to cooking, so you’ll find our version of Peking Duck juxtaposed with our version of a Nordic dessert, and we happily admit that neither is “authentic.”

3) How would you compare the collaborative cookbook writing process to your food ventures? Was it harder, easier, and/or gratifying in other ways?

Writing the book was probably a little bit easier than starting Mission Street Food, because the hours were more flexible. We worked very closely on the book, and literally passed the laptop back and forth between us as we talked. Working in a restaurant can be so ephemeral—if the food is good, then it disappears—so it’s nice to have something so solid that we can point to, and say “We made this!”

4) What's up next for Mission Chinese Food? Any plans to expand?

Hard to say. We’re definitely bursting the seams of our current arrangement, but our priority has always been to make food that’s really personal, so we don’t have any plans to expand right now.

5) The book party for your cookbook served up Popeye's fried chicken. What's the connection to Mission Street Food?

Well, there’s no connection between Popeye’s and Mission Street Food, but we do discuss how Popeye’s deserves culinary respect for their combination of deliciousness and low price—part of a general open-mindedness towards various foods.

Fruit, glorious fruit, now is your time. The farmers' market doesn't come alive until the strawberries and cherries show up, and now with stone fruit season in full, chin-dripping swing, we have months of glory ahead. Perfect timing, then, for Plum Gorgeous, by Romney Steele, subtitled Recipes and Memories from the Orchard.

These recipes are as much inspirations as instructions, of the why-didn't-I-think-of-that variety. Once you read a description like Strawberry, Nasturium, and Cucumber Salad, Heirloom Tomatoes and Peaches with Burrata, or Honey-Baked Figs with Lavender and Wine, you almost don't need to bother with the cups and teaspoons; the idea is enough. Which is how the generous, bohemian-spirited Steele wants you to cook, anyway. Get the adorable but steely-hearted Miette bakery cookbook for your Louboutin-wearing, alpha-domme gal-pal, the one with the pink KitchenAid mixer, unchippable nails and spotless counters. Plum Gorgeous is a little more messy, much more colorful and a lot more forgiving. Starting with great fruit, it would be pretty hard to screw up any of these unfussy, casually delicious dishes, both sweet and savory, all seasoned with a dash of whimsy. The chapters follow the fruit of California's seasons: winter's citrus, spring's berries, the stone fruits of summer and the figs, apples, quinces, grapes, and pears of autumn.

Strawberry, Nasturtium, and Cucumber Salad. Photo: Sara Remington

Leafing through the book, it’s impossible not to be charmed at first sight. Read it cover to cover, though, from chirpy, service-y headnotes to poetic musings, and you might see how the whole thing risks falling into the sugar-coated, envy-making genre I'd call how nice for you. In her previous book, My Nepenthe, Steele told the story of her grandparents, the founders of Big Sur's fabled restaurant Nepenthe, and her family's involvement with the place through the decades. She alluded, gracefully and with the lightest of touches, to the challenges and complications of combining business, family, and the coastal counterculturalism of the 60s and 70s. Here, though, there's almost nothing but sweetness. Not every cookbook needs to be a memoir, especially not one whose ostensible purpose is simply fruit and fun. But without revealing a real story, a backbone of truth, writing that's aiming for a romantic, color-drenched poetry of the senses can end up reading like advertising copy, breathless and aspirational.

The photographs, by Sara Remington (who also shot My Nepenthe), are absolutely gorgeous, ravishingly styled and lit to look perfectly effortless. I wanted to live in the place captured by these photographs, and I also wanted to know if the cute skirt and candy-colored wellies on page 15 came in my size, and if there was express-shipping for polka-dot red dress blowing in the breeze on page 106. Was this a cookbook, or the latest Anthropologie catalog? The more Steele pushes the poetry of the idyllic years she spent raising two children in a mountainside cottage, surrounded by fog, flowers, and fruit trees, the more the reader notices how much she's assiduously sponged out. No sharp edges, no stress, just children spooned in the same bed "warm and tender like new-rising bread." Whispers run throughout: a murmur of returning home to Big Sur both "discontent and comforted by the coziness of home," of “closeness being at once beautiful and a challenge, heartbreaking and poetic.” But what happened? How did she end up, presumably a single mother, in that tiny house? A little more heartbreak explained might have balanced all that honey.

Kumquats and Toasted Couscous with Halloumi. Photo: Sara Remington

Maybe I'm just being crabby, envious of those azure Big Sur mornings and her memories of baking tarts surrounded by the lemon-yellow walls of Henry Miller's kitchen. Or perhaps it was too many lines like this one: "By this time we were drinking wine and nibbling on the last of the kumquat and couscous salad—just photographed for the book—under the shade of a grapefruit tree in the garden as the sun went down, and lavishing spoonfuls of rose petal jam onto toast with runny cheese for dessert." Well, how nice for you. This is the sort of thing that can take a lot of Raspberry Ratafia to swallow. Honestly, I could deal with the grapefruit tree, the sunset, even the kumquats. But did the jam really have to be "lavished?" Wasn’t a spoonful enough?

Of course, no one’s buying cookbook-memoirs called My Trip to Safeway for Another Box of Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies. Every book like this, however based in real experience, is packaging a fantasy where the grapefruit trees are shady, the jam lavishly spread, and the kumquat salad always ready for its close-up. So enjoy the view, whip up the Rhubarb Mustard, Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Moscato Apricots, Plum Blackberry Sorbet, or Tomato-Grape Ricotta Flatbread, and imagine you’re in a cottage overlooking Big Sur. Now where I can find that perfect polka-dot dress?

Plum Blackberry Sorbet. Photo: Sara Remington

Up until a couple of recent events, I'd almost given up consuming seafood in this country, saving my shellfish and finfish feasts for my annual visits back home to Australia, where eating sea creatures seems somehow less loaded and certainly more local.

Then in May I was fortunate to attend the Cooking for Solutions Sustainable Foods Institute, a media powwow hosted by the Monterey Bay Aquarium (creator of the Seafood Watch pocket guide). At the event everyone from fired up media mogul turned bison farmer Ted Turner and actor-activist Isabelle Rossellini to chef Cindy Pawlcyn and author Paul Greenberg -- along with Seafood Watch scientists and sustainable fishing advocates -- schooled me in the latest research and thinking on eating fish.

That two-day sustainable seafood cram session was followed by a visit to Omnivore Books in June to hear Seattle-based seafood chef-writer Becky Selengut joke about how she caught crabs on assignment for a magazine and, more seriously, dish out advice on how to buy and cook local seafood in her new cookbook, good fish.

Seafood consumers and home cooks should consider this post a companion piece to my Bay Area Bites colleague Denise Santoro Lincoln's sustainable fish primer from February, which is full of good tips and reliable resources on this very subject. Check that post out and then come back here. I'll wait.

Okay, let's get the bad stuff out of the way, shall we? Buying fish is confusing and challenging because you're concerned about species extinction, pollution problems, bycatch issues, and health concerns, right? And you should be. While seafood is an excellent source of lean protein and heart- and brain-friendly omega-3s, it can also be laden with mercury, which can do a nasty number on the brain and nervous systems of vulnerable populations (think nursing women, children, and the unborn). Add to that persistent organic pollutants (also known as POPS) which, despite the cute acronym, are hormone-disrupting neurotoxins that can wreak havoc on humans, and it's a wonder you're not hungry for a slab of farmed salmon or wild tuna cooked quickly on the grill.

Then, of course, for the ethical environmentalists among us, there's the sad realization that we're coming to the end of the line seafood-species wise. We've done a good job globally of depleting fish stocks to worrisomely low levels, with Atlantic cod and bluefin tuna on a fast track towards extinction. Throw in the real problems with certain farmed fish businesses (think waste-disease-pollution) and the anxiety around GMO-salmon and the dreaded Frankenfish, and it's enough to make a seafood lover switch to some other protein source.

Enough with the horror stories from the open seas. There are still ways to get a seafood fix, it just takes a little education, thought and planning. But if you've read this far you're probably willing to go the extra mile for mussels or work a bit harder for halibut. Chances are, you've likely already done that as far as fruit and vegetables are concerned (local, organic, seasonal) and meat (grass-fed, humanely-raised, thoughtfully slaughtered).

Some suggestions for making healthier, more sustainable seafood choices, gleaned from the experts above:

• Think small: Americans are conditioned to thinking bigger is better. Not necessarily so when it comes to fish. Sardines and anchovies, those little, oily bottom feeders of the sea, revered in other parts of the world, are delicious, nutritious, and affordable, and carry a lower risk for toxins than big fish like tuna.
• Buy seasonally and diversify: Would you expect to buy great tasting, local, organic tomatoes in January? Apply the same sensibility to your seafood shopping and pick shellfish and finfish during their peak time for freshness, taste, and price. Dungeness crab is harvested in the fall and winter, for instance. When in doubt, ask. Most Americans who eat seafood choose salmon, shrimp, or tuna. Check out Arctic char or Pacific halibut for a change.
• Reconsider frozen and farmed fish: A properly frozen fish (landed gently, bled, and quickly chilled preferably at sea) can be a high-quality, carbon-foot print friendly option, if handled well, says Selengut. While hook-and-line wild fish is a better bet than seafood caught by dredging or trawling, which can produce a lot of bycatch (accidentally caught species unintentionally killed in the fishing process), farmed fish are a wise choice in some circumstances, adds the cookbook author. Farmed fish may be a more sustainable choice for fish lower on the food chain that are either vegetarian or require only small amounts of fish protein to produce flesh. Find an example of a farmed fish that may be gentler on the environment in a recent Time magazine story on a western Massachusetts-based outfit farming barramundi, a fish much loved in my homeland.
• Find a fishmonger you trust: Local picks include the year-old San Francisco-based online sustainable seafood supplier i love blue sea, co-founded by Martin Reed, a panelist at the recent Sustainable Foods Institute. I love blue sea doesn't sell any of Seafood Watch's red-listed fish and ships via FedEx across the country. (Bay Area residents can pick up directly, avoiding the expense and guilt associated with air freight).

  Newcomer Siren SeaSA founded by Anna Larsen, offers a CSA-like option for seafood lovers: For six Saturdays starting July 16, subscribers can pick up an assortment of seasonal, sustainable seafood in San Francisco or Petaluma. Catch of the day may include wild king salmon from Bodega Bay, squid from Monterey, wild-caught Pacific sardines, Miyagi oysters from Tomales Bay, and hook-and-line caught black cod. Limited to 100 members for its trial run, a six-week subscription is still available at a cost of $255 for seafood portions calculated to feed four people. Larsen plans to continue the program beyond this initial summer launch.

  A Community Supported Fishery (CSF) program is also running this summer out of Half Moon Bay. And a very new online resource Local Catch, promises connections to CSF members via a zip code search function.

• Frequent seafood restaurants with a sustainable seafood rap: Top picks from San Francisco's "Good Fish, Bad Fish" story by Erik Vance this year include The Basin in Saratoga, Flea St. Cafe in Menlo Park, Nettie's Crab Shack, Nopa, and Tataki Sushi and Sake Bar in San Francisco, Revival Bar & Kitchen in Berkeley, and Zazu in Santa Rosa. See how 18 other big name Bay Area restaurants fared on the sustainable seafood front in the magazine's story.

Learn more about sustainable seafood:

Read Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food by Paul Greenberg, which documents the tenuous outlook for salmon, sea bass, cod, and tuna.

Follow the reporting of sustainable seafood writers such as former Gourmet scribe Barry Estabrook of Politics of the Plate and freelance food writer Clare Leschin-Hoar.

Watch Isabelle Rossellini's entertaining, educational, and amusing Green Porno series, which documents the plight of sea creatures and other animals.

See the seafood documentaries The End of the Line and Red Gold.

Cook Find Mark Bittman's simple recipes for serving white fish fillet a dozen ways in the New York Times. Check out acclaimed seafood chef and National Geographic Fellow Barton Seaver's new cookbook For Cod and Country or Selengut's good fish, which features fifteen types of Pacific Coast sea creatures (including clams, crabs, char, cod, salmon, scallops, squid, and sardines) in 75 recipes. Check out the instructional online videos from the private chef and cooking teacher, who also blogs at chefreinvented.

Got a sustainable seafood resource to share? Add your voice below.