The Year of the Dragon roars into town today, with two weeks of celebrations capped by the famous Chinatown Parade on February 11. Saturday, I attended a New Year’s themed buffet lunch and wok cooking demonstration by acclaimed cookbook author and San Francisco native, Grace Young, in Louie’s restaurant, a Chinatown institution.

Young —wearing a lucky red-colored top, as are many other attendees— greets her audience by reminding us that New Year’s is “the most important holiday in the Chinese calendar. It’s about renewal, rebirth and family togetherness.” Of all the animals in the Chinese horoscope, the mythical dragon is thought to embody power and success. Those born under its the sign are believed to be exceptionally intelligent, creative, charismatic, fearless, lucky, generous, confident, innovative, passionate but unpredictable. No wonder millions of Chinese people are waiting to get married, start businesses and have babies this year.

Grace Young. Photo courtesy of Steven Mark Neeham

The powerful dragon is a good symbol for Grace Young, a determined woman on a mission. Her goal: to rejuvenate authentic Chinese home cooking by keeping the wok tradition alive. “For 2000 years, the wok has been the iron thread that has bound Chinese culinary culture.” she says. “Now is the first time in his history that it’s at risk of being lost.” Non-stick woks are destroying Chinese home cooking,” declares Young passionately. “The food doesn’t taste right, because you can’t get it to sear and caramelize properly. It ends up braised and soggy. Non-stick cookware is not meant for the high heat necessary for stir-fries.” She prefers a flat-bottom, 14-inch carbon steel wok, with a long wooden handle, which can be seasoned to a warm burnished gold, like the one she is using today to make spicy long beans with sausage and mushrooms, a dish her mother taught her.

Besides coming to celebrate the new year with her family in San Francisco, Young is on a tour to promote and sign copies of her latest book, Stir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge, winner of the James Beard International Cookbook Award, which has taken her to Chinese diaspora communities around the world and steeled her resolve to share the secrets of the wok with as many home cooks as possible.

Young demonstrates how to judge when the preheated wok is hot enough (as soon as a drop of water evaporates on contact) then swirls in the oil and quickly adds her vegetables. One tip she imparts is to listen to your food cook, “That sizzle is the wok talking to you. If you don’t hear it, it’s not hot enough.” Her green beans turn out crunchy with a delicate, smoky wok flavor, which Young says sets it apart from stir-fries made in a skillet or non-stick cookware.

Meanwhile, upstairs, a Chinese calligrapher inks lucky characters on red paper, and the guests line up to fill their plates with lucky foods. Wilma Pang, one of the organizers of today’s event, under the auspices of A Better Chinatown Tomorrow, explains the symbolism of the foods arranged on the buffet table.

Many dishes are considered lucky because their Chinese names are homonyms for auspicious goals; others insure a good year because of their shapes or colors.

“The word for celery (choi) is a homonym for hard work,” Pang explains, and it portends the monetary result of all that effort. Green onions stand for intelligence; the turnip cake signifies that things will keep getting better. The apple means smooth sailing ahead and the tangerine is considered lucky because its orange color connects to gold. Its leaves represent growth and prosperity.

Although, many Chinese New Years foods vary by family and village, the one universal dish is crescent shaped dumplings. Traditionally, dumplings are made on New Years Eve by all the members of the family, working together. Their shape represents gold ingots and so symbolizes good fortune for the upcoming year. “The more you make, it’s like putting money in the bank,” says Pang. “And often, we hide a coin in one dumpling for a lucky diner to find.”

Pang points out the chicken with its head and feet still attached. “Very important to cook an entire chicken, for family togetherness.”

“See these cookies that open up with a smiling face, they represent happiness,” says Pang.

During the meal, there is one dish that has even the Chinese diners stumped. What are those roundish starchy vegetables? “Arrowroot,” Pang answers and holds up a fresh one, slyly smiling as she explains, “See this shape, with the little part that sticks out – that’s for having boy babies.”

After lunch, I have a chance to chat with Grace Young and ask her a few questions.

She grew up eating the traditional Cantonese foods her parents prepared. But at age 12, discovered Julia Child on TV and became fascinated with French cooking, and its entirely different culinary vocabulary. After apprenticing with French chef Josephine Araldo in San Francisco, Young moved to New York in 1979, and worked writing and testing recipes for General Foods. Then she ran the test kitchen at Time Life Books for 18 years, and produced more than 40 cookbooks that spanned the globe.

A chance comment from a cousin ignited the spark of Young’s passion to explore her own family’s culinary culture. Her cousin said, ”When it comes to Chinese cooking, I don’t even try because you can’t beat the Chinese take-out in San Francisco.” Young feared that if most second generation Chinese shared her cousin’s indifference towards learning to make the food of their ancestors, a wealth of authentic recipes and foodways might disappear.

For three years, she made numerous visits to San Francisco to learn her parents’ and family’s recipes. This led to her parents sharing stories about customs and traditions associated with the food, as well as tales from their lives in China that she had never heard before. Young’s first book, The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen, was published in 1999 and won the IACP Best International Cookbook. Young is proudest of this book because she feels it preserves traditional Chinese home cooking.

Is the dish you made today special for Chinese New Year's?
Not specifically, but it has mushrooms which grow quickly and so symbolize prosperity. I made this dish today because it’s one of my mother’s favorites. Now that she’s getting older and doesn’t cook, I’m so grateful I have recorded her recipes in my book. When I go back and reread them, it’s as if I can hear her still talking to me through the recipes. For all these years, she always made the New Year’s Eve meal and now in the last few years I am able, through my book, to make it for her. It’s ironic because I always thought that I was writing for the next generation. And in a million years I never dreamed I would give this back to my mother. When I make her a special New Year’s dish, like turnip cake, her face lights up, because food is memory.

Is there a certain dish you always have for New Year's eve dinner?
Fish is the standard dish at the end of the meal. The word for fish “yu” means wish and signifies abundance. It is essential to serve the complete fish, with the head and tail attached to ensure a good beginning and end to the year. Traditionally purchased live from a tank where one can pick out a strong swimmer, the poached fish with scallions and ginger is served as the last course of the New Year’s Eve feast, but not completely consumed. The leftovers are eaten the next day, so that its abundance will spill over into the New Year. Lobster, as the king of the ocean, represents the energy of the dragon. But any seafood is auspicious. Shrimp, whose name ha sounds like laughter, represents happiness; the shells of clams and scallops resemble old Chinese coins and therefore portend prosperity. Also, the clam shells open as you stir fry them, signifying a new beginning.

What's the difference between the Chinatowns in San Francisco and New York?
For me, San Francisco Chinatown has such sweet memories. My father was a liquor salesman and so the owners of every restaurant and shop knew him and gave us a special welcome. Plus, the produce in California is so much more abundant and pristine in quality, especially the Asian vegetables. I love the hustle bustle and energy of shopping on Stockton Street. When a grocer brings out a new box of baby bok choy or snow pea shoots and rips it open, all of a sudden everyone lunges towards it with frenzied excitement and all these hands try to grab the freshest greens.

As we finish our interview, I accompany Grace on a short walk to The Wok Shop, a bustling little warren, filled chock-a-block with woks, gadgets and cooking accessories, whose owner Tane Chan graciously provided the seasoned wok for today’s cooking demonstration.

“This is the best wok store in the whole country,” says Grace as she leads me right to the tower of carbonized steel flat bottom woks (only $24.95). And I gladly buy one. No use resisting the power of the dragon.

Chef Jacques Pépin demonstrates how to make haddock steaks in rice paper with a shallot and soy sauce. This video clip is a web-exclusive that was taped during the filming of Jacques' series Essential Pépin.

Chef Jacques Pépin demonstrates how to clean and prepare mussels. He is joined by his daughter, Claudine on the set of his TV series Essential Pépin.

Chef Jacques Pépin demonstrates how to crystallize orange skin to make candied orange peels. This video clip is a web-exclusive that was taped during the filming of Jacques' series Essential Pépin.

Chef Jacques Pépin demonstrates how to debone a quail. This video clip is a web-exclusive that was taped during the filming of Jacques' series Essential Pépin.

Happy New Year! Here are two culinary experts sharing radically different approaches to opening a bottle of champagne. Both techniques are excellent skills to cultivate and can be used depending on the mood of the party.

First up is Jacques Pépin, the classic chef and teacher who's new series, Essential Pépin is currently airing on KQED and can be watched online. This technique clip was filmed during the taping of the show and includes Jacques' tips on pouring sparkling wine.

Next up is the vivacious and a bit more dramatic Leslie Sbrocco, host of Check, Please! Bay Area. Leslie shares one of her favorite party tricks that she originally demoed a few years back on the Josh Kornbluth show.

* Note: Do not attempt this technique while intoxicated.

Chef Sunhui Chang showcases Fusebox beer + wine license notice. Photo: SunIm Chang

Asian cuisine in the Bay Area has a new crop of intensely passionate leaders with enough talent and culinary chops to lure Martha Stewart to the table. Anthony Myint and Danny Bowien stand behind big, bold Mission Chinese. Sylvan Mishima Brackett of PekoPeko Catering’s insanely articulate and authentic Japanese food will certainly land him on the map of grander things -- one hopes the rumors are true that he’s seeking his own location.  And scheduled to open in January, FuseBox, the West Oakland eatery of Korean-born Sunhui Chang, will add fuel to the Korean food fire with housemade gochuchang, exquisitely crafted pickles, bacon mochi, and well-honed culinary passion.

What’s pucker-worthy about Chang’s cuisine is its pickle-centric nature, many varieties of which he’s been sharing with the pickling community. He’s currently crafting several different varieties of kimchee, using the standard cabbage and daikon, and also rapini and turnip greens. He prides himself on making use of the “offal of vegetables” and thereby using ever part -- including radish greens, and reusing a vinegar pickle brine and the pickled garlic that flavors it. He dunks in the drink your standard vegetables such as cucumbers (see the recipe for Oiji below) and breakfast radish, but also more experimental concepts such as blueberries, summer squash, and fennel.  FuseBox is equipped with some vegetable boxes that will grow some of the produce, and Chang is currently working with the People’s Grocery to have them grow additional vegetables for him. Everything pickled and fermented from Chang’s kitchen will be as closely sourced as possible.

Of course, pickles aren’t the only things on the menu. Bacon-wrapped mochi are satisfyingly stretchy and smoky, and Chang will be grilling ko chu jang pork and chicken yakitori, and caking housemade tofu.

Chang takes regular trips to LA to procure quality, small-batch artisan soy sauce -- he says it’s the closest place to find it outside Korea.  But another of the most impressive aspects of Chang’s cooking is that he makes his own gochuchang, the hot, salty and sweet fermented red pepper paste that is the basis of Korean cooking (akin to what miso is to Japanese cuisine). Few are the Korean chefs who make their own. Most Korean markets offer several different varieties, and if you’ve ever eaten Korean food, you’ve tasted it.  It’s used in stir fries like bi bim bab, as a marinade for bulgogi, to flavor stews, as a condiment for crispy lettuce wraps, as the base for soups, and in many varieties of Korean pickles. I’d never tasted good gochuchang until I’d encountered Chang’s proprietary blend of glutinous rice, soybeans, red chili powder, and sugar. The sauce ferments for about 60-90 days.

“It took a while to learn the gochuchang. I went through so many batches where mold had developed. What I make is not as sweet as the store-bought stuff; more earthy.” Chang reports that in anticipation of the FuseBox opening, he’s experimenting with different varieties of gochuchang, including one for fish stews, and another to be eaten fresh.

Chang has kimchee and other Korean flavors flowing in his blood. As a child born in Korea, family friends gathered to play cards at his house and eat his mother’s well-loved kimchee chi gae. “There’s a Korean expression, ‘She just had her hands in the food,’ and that’s why it was so good. We didn’t have recipes or grow up with cooking books. Cooking was just innate to her.”

Eventually, after Chang’s family moved to Guam, his mother opened her own Korean restaurant when he was 13 years old, and he immediately began helping out by cleaning dishes, sweeping, and mopping. Later he was allowed to slice meat and occasionally pop into the kitchen. “I’m so grateful for everything she taught me, and I wish I’d followed her more. However, at the time, I didn’t think she was really, really cooking. It wasn’t as exciting as watching chefs on the cooking shows!” Growing up with Guam’s tiny and remote culinary culture, Chang laughs as he recalls that the PBS show Great Chefs, Great Cities was a huge influence on his career choice.

Just a few days after his 17th birthday, Chang moved to Berkeley by himself to begin qualifying for in-state tuition at UC Berkeley, where he later studied sociology. To fund his schooling, he worked in a bagel shop, then as a butcher and a fishmonger at a market. He soon became a cook at the now-defunct Hwang Won, a Korean restaurant in Oakland, before launching his own catering business for 14 years.

After two years of effort, FuseBox has secured over $17,000 via Kickstarter (where I invested $25); enough to finish construction and, hopefully, have the inside complete for an opening this January. Expansion plans are already underway to offer outdoor seating and possibly open a market next door selling fresh fish, local artisan goods, and of course Chang’s pickles by the jar.

Oiji—Korean Cucumber Pickle

Recipe by Sunhui Chang of FuseBox Oakland

5 small cucumbers—Either Pickling (Kirby), Persian, or Japanese
2 tablespoons kosher salt
3 cloves garlic
The whites of two green onions, cut into 1’ pieces
4-5 Korean chili pepper threads (available at Korean markets)
3/4 cup unseasoned rice vinegar
1/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup water

Wash cucumbers, leaving them wet.  Sprinkle salt on cucumbers and let them sit in a flat dish for three hours, turning them occasionally.

Wash the salt from the cucumbers and trim the ends so that they’ll fit standing upright in a pint-sized jar.  Add them to the jar, along with the garlic, green onion, and pepper threads.

Meanwhile, make the brine.  In a small saucepan, combine the vinegar, sugar and water.  Bring to boil.  Lower heat and simmer for 1-2 minutes.

Pour warm brine over cucumbers.  Cover, cool, and refrigerate.  Enjoy the pickles after two days, but they will last up to two weeks.

Makes one pint.

Photo of Bacon Mochi by SunIm Chang. Photo of Kimchee and Gochuchang by Sarah K. Khan.

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!

How do you conceptualize your Thanksgiving practice? Do you loll in the warm gravy-filled bathtub of tradition, splashing between the green bean casserole and the marshmallow-topped yams? Do you light out for the territories with Thai-spiced vegan pumpkin soup? Do you skip the whole thing, go out for dim sum, then roast a turkey on Friday just for the joy of standing in front of the fridge, making sandwiches, picking at leftovers or frying up hash? Why Brussels sprouts? And how?

At times like these, a cookbook, an app, the Food Network, even Mark Bittman is not enough. For inspiration, for solace, for getting you through your kitchen's long dark night of the soul, only poetry will do. (Philosophy, the big gun typically aimed at life's meatier questions, is distressingly silent on crucial issues like do I brine or do I fry?) For all the koan-like beauty of his work, poet Wallace Stevens never made the most obvious suggestion to readers of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, one known to every kid since their days of playground double-Dutch: get yourself eleven more birds, mister, and you got yourself a pie.

Not that all poets should bake pies, but, as Grace Paley has pointed out, it's a valid occasional alternative, even for a poet. As Paley writes,

I was going to write a poem
I made a pie instead
...
everybody will like this pie
it will have apples and cranberries
dried apricots in it many friends
will say why in the world did you
make only one

this doesn't happen with poems

So, pace Mr. Stevens, we offer 13 Ways of Looking at a Brussels Sprout, our poem of recipes for you and your pre-holiday kitchen.

I
Among twenty winter squashes
The only moving thing
Was the cleaver heading towards your fingers.

Aida Mollencamp, CHOW, How to Cut Hard Squash

II
I was of three minds
Like a refrigerator
In which there are three slaws.

Mark Bittman, New York Times, Slaws Eight Ways

III
The pureed pumpkin whirled in the coconut milk.
It was a small part of the dairy-free, gluten-free pantomime.

Pim Techamuanvivit, Chez Pim, Pumpkin Panna Cotta

IV
A man and a woman
Are hungry.
A man and a woman and a Brussels sprout salad
Are happy.

Heidi Swanson, 101 Cookbooks, Shredded Brussels Sprouts & Apples

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of chestnuts
Or the beauty of butter.
The pie coming out of the oven,
Or pie the morning after.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Chestnut Soup for the Holidays
Bay Area Bites, KQED, Sweet Potato Pie

VI
Pies filled the long window
With buttery shards.
The shadow of you on your bicycle
Crossed it, to and fro, wishing you had pre-ordered your Thanksgiving dessert.
The mood
Traced on the glass
Sugared with longing.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Food Secrets of Mission Pie’s Karen Heisler and Krystin Rubin
Bay Area Bites, KQED, A Day with 3 Babes’ Bakeshop

VII
O vegan teens of Haight Street,
Why do you imagine golden tofurkys?
Do you not see how the bacon
Whispers to the Brussels sprouts
Of the Whole Foods around you?

Chef Zac Palaccio, New York Times, Fatty ‘Cue Brussels Sprouts
Chef Erik Cosselmon, 7x7, Kokkari's Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Lemon

VIII
I know Burning Man
And its lurid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That fried onions in a can are involved
In what I know.

Isa Chandra Moskowitz, Post Punk Kitchen, Vegan Green Bean-Mushroom Casserole
Tori Richie, Tuesday Recipe, Green Beans with Brown Butter and Lemon

IX
When the Brussels sprout rolled under the table,
It came out fuzzied in cat hair
The five-second rule, debatable.

Bay Area Bites, KQED, Food Safety on Thanksgiving

X
At the sight of Brussels sprout leaves
Wilting in a skillet with red grapes and bacon
Even the ennui’d of brassicas
Would cry out sharply.

Chef Rene Ortiz, SF Chronicle, La Condesa's Coles de Brussels

XI
He rode over to the coast
In a Zipcar Mini.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The false chanterelles
For chanterelles.

Iso Rabins, Forage SF, Wild Mushroom Box

XII
The lard is melting
the pigs must be flying.

Jessica Prentice, Edible East Bay, Cream of Celery Root Soup with Leeks and Lard
Sara Seinberg, Seinberg Holistic Health Coaching, Spicy Cauliflower and Japanese Sweet Potato Soup

XIII
It was dinnertime all afternoon.
The dishwasher was running.
And it was going to run.

(with thanks to Amy Rosenbaum Clark)