Instead of arming Cupid’s bow with an arrow dipped in the latest chocolate-cayenne-goji berry-sea salt-caramel to woo your sweetheart, aim for your honey’s inner child with a retro sugar rush from Powell’s Sweet Shoppe in Berkeley (or other Bay Area locations).

The Valentine table is carpeted in conversation hearts—speaking dialects from Disney princess to Sponge Bob Square Pants—plus a blanket of red and pink jelly beans and cupid corn, valentine Dots, kiss me mints, chocolate covered marshmallow hearts and XOXO lollipops.

It’s easy to get lost in a sugar-coated trip down memory lane browsing the College Avenue shop’s collection of 6000 classic candies in varieties that date from the 20s to the 80s.

The real fun starts with a perusal of the bags and bars on the nostalgia table that run from Abba-Zabba’s to Zotz. “This is where childhood memories are reawakened,” says Shahrazad Junblat, co-owner of the shop with her sister and brother-in-law. “I always hear customers exclaim, ‘Oh my God, I haven’t seen this since I was 5,’ or ‘ Grandma always used to buy me this.’” The vintage treats include: Look!, Big Hunk, Moon Pie, Sugar Babies, pastel button dots on strips of paper, Turkish taffy and Nik-L-Nip wax bottles filled with sweet syrup.

For the sweetest history lesson ever, check out the Candy by the Decade chart on Powell’s website.

Did you know that Bit-O-Honey, Butterfinger, Charleston Chew and Jujubees go way back to the early 1900s?

If you are a 50s Boomer, you’ll remember Fizzies, Pixy Stix, and Hot Tamales.

Flower Child of the 60s? Fruit Stripe gum, Twizzlers and Lemonheads should ring a bell.

Wore Jordache Jeans in the 70s? Pop Rocks and Ring Pops came out in your decade.

Played Pac Man in 80s? Maybe while chomping Runts and Nerds.

Junblat left the corporate world after 20+ years to cheerfully preside over “this happy place.” She personally favors the British imports, including Cadbury bars, Rountree’s Fruit Gums and Aero bubble chocolate, aptly housed in a red British phone booth. Additional foreign imports satisfy both world travelers and expats, such as Australian Kookabura licorice and Violet Crumble bars. Famous Dutch licorice is represented by licorice coins, hard licorice buttons, and salty salmiak rocks.

Gummis range from butterflies, penguins and mice to khaki green army guys and even sunnyside up eggs.

Asked for the latest trend in candy, Junblat quickly replies, “Bacon is the new black.” And points to a table with bacon flavored floss, toothpaste, chocolate, fizzy drinks and lollipops.

Some sweets perform a double duty, like candy beaded necklaces and Melody pops that play a tune.

All manner of jawbreakers sit in jars, from teensy marbles to huge orbs the size of a baby's head. Aaron Lindstrom, shift manager, admits to keeping a gigantic jawbreaker hidden in a paper bag under his bed when he was in the third grade. He secretly worked on it for months until it was gone.

Powell’s most helpful website also lists candies for those with dietary restrictions and preferences.

It’s nice to know that vegans can still enjoy Swedish Fish, Chick-O-Sticks, Hot Tamales and Boston Baked Beans.

There’s a large number of gluten-free goodies too.

I noticed that the list of candies without high fructose corn syrup includes Gummi Brains, Banana Heads and Smarties.

Does this somehow indicate that people who avoid the stuff are more intelligent?

If there's one thing Bay Area backyard gardeners can count on at this time of year, it's kale. Our cool, typically damp winter weather is tailor-made for hearty winter greens, ones that can thrive through hard frosts, even snow. And though winter's rains may be passing us by, with a little irrigation, the crinkly kale, dino kale, red or white Russian kale should be growing like crazy in whatever pot, plot, or raised bed you've got planted.

Shop the farmers' markets these days, and while the first, $8/lb sugar-snap peas may be starting to appear, the backbone of the veggie tables are dark-green, iron-rich greens: punchy mustard greens, mellow collards, rainbow-ribbed chard, plus green or burgundy beet tops, the gift of two-veg-in-one that comes free with every bunch of sweet roots.

So: time to love your greens. We served a lot of greens during my time cooking at the Headlands Center for the Arts, yet we were pretty content to do them the same way each time. A handful of minced shallot was flung into sizzling olive oil, chopped greens were added, then the whole was stirred and stirred until just wilted and tender. To finish, we tossed in a quick splash of sherry vinegar or a couple of lemons, sliced into eighths and crushed a little to release the juice and aromatic oils. I do mine at home much the same way, with slivered garlic instead of shallots, and a healthy shake of red pepper flakes for a little burn. Nice with rice and tofu, nice with polenta and sausage, nice leftover cold out of the pan, eaten with your fingers while doing the dishes.

Now, though, during greens' moment in the sun, dinner is not enough. Greens need to find a home at every meal. A lot of farm mornings began with eggs and kale, as we counted down the weeks until the potato harvest. I love green eggs and ham, made from emerald-green minced nettles sauteed and stirred into scrambled eggs with a bit of proscuitto draped on top. And, then, for lunch, there are kale chips, kale Caesar salad, pasta with kale, Portuguese caldo verde with kale, potatoes, and linguica sausage, kale every way.

But have you thought about a kale sandwich? I did, this past weekend, when I was making breakfast and lunch for a staff and board members' retreat, 25 people needing muffins and sandwiches to help them forget that a sunny, beautiful beach was just five minutes' walk away from where they were trapped around a darkened conference table with spreadsheets and PowerPoint. My solution? Quinoa-almond-citrus salad, lentil-beet-mint salad, chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies, apple-cherry cider, turkey sandwiches, and the veggie crowning glory, kale sandwiches. Oh, you may laugh, but they were lively, colorful stacks that turned out to be much more than the sum of their vitamin-packed parts. The elements? Sauteed greens and onions piled on whole-wheat focaccia dabbed with Dijon mustard, layered with thin slices of roasted winter squash, topped with Weirauch Farm and Creamery's Tomme Fraiche or creamy Doubloon cheese, and finished with a smear of tart-tangy plum chutney or punchy arugula pesto.

It takes a while to make a sandwich when you're making everything from bread to pesto from scratch. So, while homemade focaccia is always the best, feel free to substitute any good bread of choice, from Acme's herb slab to the sesame loaf baked by Morell's Bread (pictured here). The chutney, luckily, I'd made earlier in the summer, to rescue a batch of less-than-stellar jam. Boring, slightly-too-sweet stone-fruit jam, it turns out, can make a very successful base for chutney, once it's jazzed up and cooked down with cider vinegar, chopped onions, and plenty of aromatic spices. If you don't have a pantry full of chutney on hand, I'd recommend any of Alison McQuade's excellent, small-batch chutneys, sold under the name McQuade's Celtic Chutney. Or, you can retrieve that slightly shriveled, almost-wilted bunch of arugula from down in the vegetable drawer and buzz it together with a couple tablespoons of walnuts or pine nuts, a couple cloves of garlic, salt to taste, the juice of a lemon, a splash of water and a few tablespoons of olive oil. Puree until smooth, and taste. It will probably taste too tannic from the walnuts, too sharp from the arugula, and leave you wishing for summer's fragrant basil.

No worry, though: a solution is at hand. Crumble in a moist, creamy-mild Doubloon cheese, made by Weirauch Farm and Creamery in Petaluma. Instantly, the spread is tamed, its punch tempered with creaminess. When you're picking up your Doubloons, get another one, this one rolled in herbes de Provence, along with a wedge of their springy, buttery Tomme Fraiche.

Now, onto your squash. Butternut, kabocha, pumpkin, whatever hard-shelled winter squash you've had languishing on the counter since your last CSA box. Not acorn, though; too pasty and stringy. You want dense, sweet and nutty for this. Peel and seed your squash, and slice the flesh into thin half-moons. Oil lightly, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and roast at 400F until tender.

While the squash is roasting, slice up an onion, red or yellow. In a wide pan, saute it in olive oil until tangled and translucent. You can let it go farther and get browned here and there, halfway to caramelization. Keep some texture, though; you want recognizable loops, not onion jam. Wash but don't dry your greens, which don't have to be kale but should be some mixture of sturdy greens, rather than something weepingly delicate like spinach. I used a mixture of collards, mustard, and beet tops, but any tough-ish greens will do. Shred your greens and toss them into the hot pan full of onions. Stir and season with salt and pepper until greens are wilted and just tender. Take a bite; you shouldn't feel like you're chewing on a raincoat, but they shouldn't be boiled to mush, either. Pull off the stove and let cool.

Now, the assemblage. Slice your focaccia horizontally, if using; otherwise, slice your bread. Spread chutney or pesto on the inside of one piece. Add a few pieces of Tomme Fraiche, or crumble on a tablespoon or so of Doubloon. On the second slice of bread, spread a dab of Dijon mustard. Pile on some greens and onions. Layer on some slices of roasted squash, as if you're laying out a row of cards in solitaire. Put the halves together with a firm but gentle squish. Enjoy!

I’ll admit it: my kitchen obsessions aren’t hip. If they were, I’d have a cleaver slung on my hip, bacon smoking in the backyard, a burr grinder and Hario pour-over kettle on the counter for brewing my home-roasted coffee beans, kimchee fermenting stinkily on the porch next to a carboy of triple-hopped homemade ale. Meat, salt, booze, caffeine, and above all, funky slow rot: such is DIY hipness, 2012 style.

But the thing is, I’m a nice Jewish girl unmoved by bacon’s siren call. Beer is not my drink, madly bitter beer even less so. My nerves are easily unhinged by San Francisco’s high-octane third-wave coffee; what I need in the morning is not a tepid single mug brewed at tai-chi speed but a tall French press of good decaf poured three-to-one with hot milk. While I love fermented products in theory (and on my plate when I’m out of the house), uncontrolled bacterial action in my own kitchen unnerves me. I can taste mold at fifty paces; blue cheese and all its green-streaked brethren revolts me.

Instead, I have this thing for grain. For wheat, in particular, and how uncool is that, in this moment of all things gluten-free? I love windmills and grist mills run by water wheels. I’ll find any excuse to detour to a good bread bakery. Oven spring—when a previously sluggish loaf of dough suddenly leaps up to double its size during baking—strikes joy in my heart. I will never buy a bread machine, not so long as I have a bowl, my hands, and an oven.

It really does make a difference, getting fresh, good flour for your bread baking. Standard, brand-name paper-bagged whole wheat from the supermarket: fine, just fine. But fresh from the mill, especially if it’s from recently, locally grown grain: well, that’s going to make you some amazing bread.

I learned this first hand when I worked as an apprentice at the CASFS educational farm at UC Santa Cruz. We sowed a quarter-acre with three strains of heirloom wheat, chewed the milky kernels as they swelled, dried, and turned golden in the sun, scythed the stalks by hand then fed them into a noisy threshing machine. The result? Buckets of whole wheat berries, ground into flour and baked into the most alive bread I’ve ever made.

This fondness for mills started in childhood, with summertime visits to the Old Mill on Nantucket, whose sweeping sails dominated the low-slung island's horizon from any direction. In Minneapolis, I toured the excellent Mill City Museum, on the site of a formerly dilapidated flour mill, then brought home bags of heirloom wheat berries and freshly ground flour and polenta from the Mill City Farmers' Market. In Arkansas, I made dozens of biscuits from cornmeal ground at the War Eagle Grist Mill, a historic water-wheel mill that still produces dozens of flours (the mystique may have been upped by getting to drive there in a purple Lotus with the mill's current owner, now in her 70s). Through the Lee Brothers’ Boiled Peanuts catalog, I’ve special-ordered Guilford Mills’ remarkable grits, which are stone-ground in a North Carolina grist mill dating back to the 18th century.

And here, we are lucky enough to have the Bale Grist Mill, right next to the lovely, hike-worthy Bothe Napa State Park, tucked among the vineyards, oaks, and manzanitas, right off Highway 29 between Calistoga and St. Helena. The mill was fully restored a few years ago, and is open for milling tours most weekends, three dollars well spent.

If you were the kid (or grownup) who pored over David Macauley’s The New Way Things Work, this is the tour for you. Milling with a water wheel makes basic physics come to rattling life, energy and motion transformed through simple engineering into productivity. It’s also a delight for grammar and etymology geeks: little did I know how many common words and phrases--“nose to the grindstone,” “cockeyed,” “fair to middling”--derive from milling. You put your nose to the grindstone to sniff for ozone, the smell you get in the air after a lightning strike; the scent of it can mean that the two millstones have become unbalanced, knocking into each other and striking sparks from the friction. Fair to middling are the two central grades of flour to emerge from the bolter, bookended by fine and coarse; if you’re feeling “fair to middling,” you’re right in the middle, so-so.

But now is the time to get to this mill for a visit. As well-loved as the grist mill is, its future is uncertain, thanks to stringent cutbacks in California's parks budget. As detailed in a recent Napa Register article about local park closures, both Napa Bothe Park and the Bale Grist Mill could be closed to the public as early as February, unless two local park groups, the Napa County Regional Parks and Open Space District and the Napa Valley State Parks Association, get approval (and funding) to take over the parks from the state this spring. It's ironic, of course, that such a historical resource could shut down just as a groundswell of consumer interest in local grains and grain products is rising.

For the moment, the Bale Grist Mill sells polenta, cornmeal, spelt, buckwheat, rye, and whole-wheat flours, all ground in the mill. Although, for liability reasons, the flours are marked "not for human consumption," the millers are scrupulous about cleanliness and sanitation during the milling and storage process. Any grain or flour touched or spilled during the milling process goes into a big bag marked "sweeps." A local farmer picks all the sweeps once a week, a welcome addition to his pigs' daily mash. Using both raw wheat kernels (wheat berries) and the mill's coarse, bran-rich bread flour, I made a dense, almost scone-like whole grain loaf inspired by the recipe for "Holly's Whole Wheat Bread" in Romney Steele's book My Nepenthe.

Wheat Berry Bread with Fruit and Nuts
Adjust the combination of dried fruit, seeds, and nuts depending on what's in your pantry, and what you like best. Dried persimmons, often available at Bay Area farmers' markets at this time of year, add bright color and a pleasant sweet chewiness to the finished bread.

Yield: 2 loaves
Prep Time: 90 minutes, plus 3 hours' rising time
Cook Time: 45 to 60 minutes
Total Time: 2 hours, 15 to 30 minutes, plus 3 hours' rising time

Ingredients:
1/2 cup whole raw wheat or spelt berries
3 cups water
1 1/2 cups whole milk
3 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup honey
1 package (2 1/2 tsp) active dry yeast, or 1 oz fresh (cake) yeast
5 1/2 cups whole-wheat flour, plus more for the work surface
2 tbsp ground flax seed (optional)
2 teaspoons salt
1 cup raisins, dried cranberries, or chopped dried apricots or persimmons, soaked in hot water to cover for 10 minutes if very dry or wizened
1/4 cup unsalted sunflower or pumpkin seeds, plus 2 tablespoons for sprinkling, lightly toasted
1/2 cup hazelnuts, pecans, or walnuts, lightly toasted and roughly chopped

Preparation:
1. Cover wheat berries with 3 cups water in a medium saucepan. Over medium heat, bring to simmer. Reduce heat, cover, and cook gently for 1 hour, until berries have softened and are tender to the bite but not mushy. They will absorb most of the water; drain any excess in a colander. (Step 1 can be done up to 4 days before you make your bread; store cooked and drained wheat berries in the refrigerator until needed.)

2. In a medium saucepan, heat milk until just beginning to bubble around the edges. Add butter, honey, and salt. Stir to dissolve, then let cool until tepid.

3. In a large bowl, sprinkle or crumble yeast over 1/4 cup lukewarm water. Let stand for a few minutes, then whisk vigorously to dissolve any remaining yeast. Beat in the milk mixture and 5 cups of the flour, mixing to form a soft dough. Stir in wheat berries, raisins or other dried fruit, 1/4 cup of sunflower or pumpkin seeds, and nuts.

4. Sprinkle flour over your counter or work table. Scoop the dough onto the work surface and knead for about 6 minutes, adding more flour (up to an additional 1/2 cup) in increments to keep dough from getting too sticky. Various errant mix-ins will try to push their way to freedom by popping out of the dough as you knead. Don’t let them get away with this; push them back into the dough and continue kneading until dough feels elastic and smooth.

5. Wash and butter your large bowl. Put the dough back into it, turning it over to coat with butter. Cover with a clean damp kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm place for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, or in a cool place for 3 hours.

6. Deflate the dough by sinking a fist into it. Divide in half and shape into two loaves. Grease two 8"-by-5" loaf pans. Put shaped dough into pans, cover with damp towel, and let rise again for another 45 to 60 minutes, until loaves have doubled in bulk.

7. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Brush the top of each loaf with milk and sprinkle with sunflower seeds. Bake loaves for 45 to 50 minutes, until well-browned. Let cool in pans for 15 minutes, then remove from pans and continue cooling on a rack.

Pumpkin for Christmas: who knew? My Midwestern pals, that's who. Putting together two back-to-back holiday parties for my best friend, who cherishes her Minnesotan roots, I was surprised that she put pumpkin cake, made in a Bundt pan, of course, on the top of her list of must-have treats for the table. She was right: big smiles lit up the faces of the guests who hailed from Chicago and Minneapolis when they spied the cinnamon-brown Bundt. "Pumpkin cake for Christmas! I was just thinking about that," said one. "With whipped cream, of course," agreed another.

It makes sense, though: such a cake is dense and spicy, redolent of all the fragrant holiday spices that perfume everything from gingersnaps to mulled cider and hot wine this time of year. It's easy to throw together, since a couple cans of pumpkin are probably already in the cabinet, souvenirs of Thanksgiving's pie-minded supermarket stock-up. (A recent report found that 20% of Americans always have canned pumpkin on hand in their pantries. Having poked around in a lot of home kitchens, though, I would guess that most of that pumpkin was bought in 1993, forgotten, and never moved or dusted since.) If not, there's a plethora of gorgeous fresh winter squash out there, ready to be roasted and mashed.

(The nomenclature of pumpkin bread aside, I've found that butternut squash gives the most consistently full-flavored results, and cranking your freshly roasted squash through a food mill turns any stringy chunks into a velvety puree.)

The pumpkin cake I made for last week's holiday party was a basic buttery-cinnamony recipe originally published in Gourmet. It was light and moist, thanks to the pumpkin and buttermilk. I added powdered ginger, fresh nutmeg, and a pinch of cloves to the mix; having just cinnamon and allspice is like the Brady Brunch without Cindy, Jan, or Alice.

Turns out I wasn't the only one thinking about pumpkin at this time of year. Talking to my old pal Jennifer Joseph, poet, founder and publisher of the excellent Manic D Press, and Bernal baker par excellence, I got the inside scoop on the pumpkin cake she made last week, which was devoured, down to the crumbs in less than two days by her husband and daughter. Made with whole-wheat pastry flour, fresh cranberries, walnuts, chocolate chips, and pumpkin, it was, she said, "secretly good for you," and we all know chocolate is a health food, right?

It also looks particularly bright and festive, which meant it wasn't too much of a jump to take it from afternoon cake to morning bread. I've cut back the sugar a little, subbing in apple juice (or cider) for the water in Jen's original recipe so as to add a little more natural sweetness and flavor. Served warm, this bread is lovely on its own, or spread with a little whipped cream cheese.

Happy holidays!

Secretly Good for You Pumpkin Breakfast Bread
Fresh cranberries add a nice tanginess to this sweet bread. Stock up on cranberries when you find them in late autumn; they freeze beautifully and don't need to be thawed before using. In a pinch, you can use dried cranberries, but since they're already sweetened, they won't add as much contrast to the finished loaf.

Yield: 1 loaf
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 50-60 minues
Total Time: 1 hour, 10-20 minutes

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice (see note, below)
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup canola oil, melted butter, or melted coconut oil
1/4 cup apple juice
2 tbsp molasses
1/2 cup chopped fresh cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup dark or white chocolate chips, optional

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a loaf pan or metal or Pyrex ring mold.

2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, spices, baking soda, and salt.

3. In a medium bowl, beat eggs, sugar, pumpkin, oil, apple juice, and molasses together.

4. Stir pumpkin mixture into flour mixture, stopping when just mixed. Gently stir in cranberries, walnuts, and chocolate chips, if using. Spoon into prepared pan.

5. Bake 50-60 minutes for a loaf pan, ring mold 40-50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Note: Pumpkin pie spice, sometimes called apple pie spice, is a blend of commonly used baking spices, usually including cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, and/or cloves. For this recipe, you can substitute 3/4 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg, 1/4 tsp ginger, and 1/4 tsp ground cloves or allspice.

Photo courtesy of Alameda County Community Food Bank

Hunger isn’t jolly, decked with holly or tied up with pretty ribbons. But it’s as surely a part of this holiday season as tinsel trimmed trees and spinning dreidels.

Last week, instead of ignoring the hunger epidemic, I joined many pairs of willing hands to do something about it at the Alameda County Community Food Bank. I attended a volunteer orientation, sorted cans, bagged pears and was stunned by the enormity of the operation—and the exploding need. A 44,000 square foot sorting room and 77,000 square feet of storage combine to accommodate almost 3 acres of food items—of which more than half is farm-fresh produce.

The demand for food assistance is now so great that the turnover time for all the edibles in this gigantic facility is less than 1 month. Distributing through its 275 partner agencies, 49,000 hungry people—43% are children and 19% seniors—get nutritious food from the food bank’s efforts every week. That’s a staggering 1 of every 6 Alameda County residents.

Volunteer coordinator, Sheila Burks, an inspiring dynamo in a constant blur of motion, delivers an impassioned orientation and leads a tour of the facilities.

“Everything you touch here will positively benefit someone you’ve never met,” says Burks, rallying the assembled volunteers who range from retired people with time on their hands and a desire to do good to those who need to work off their speeding tickets through community service hours. Every year, 6,000 groups and 9,000 individuals generously give their time to sort cans and boxes, bag fruit and vegetables, pack cartons of food, as well as answer the emergency food helpline (which gets more than 3,500 calls a month) and assist with office work.

Photo courtesy of Alameda County Community Food Bank

“Hunger doesn’t take a holiday,” says Burks. “And now there is a new face to hunger, people who never thought they would need to call us. A teacher who got laid off and can’t feed his kids, a massage therapist who broke her arm and can’t work, families who find they need a little help at the end of the month to make it to their next check.”

As she shows us around the huge warehouse, I meet some of the volunteers pitching in on this Wednesday afternoon. A group of 5th graders from St. Martin de Porres Catholic School in Oakland are eagerly bagging pears. They tell me “it’s fun” and “it’s good to help people” while school principal Maurice Harper, Jr. confides that, “Many of our school’s families benefit directly from food assistance. So involving students in a hands-on way empowers them.”

A majority of the food bank’s volunteers come as part of a group: company sponsored employee associations, Girl and Boy Scouts troops, religious organizations—one cohort in their 70’s and 80’s arrives faithfully every 2 weeks to fill backpacks for the Children’s BackPack Program, which provides low-income school children a bag of food to help their families through the weekend.

Looking distinguished even in their hairnets, Oakland residents, George and Jane Collier, both retired anthropology professors from Stanford University, have been volunteering at the food bank for the past three years. They enjoy the work “because it’s socially important, flexible, good exercise and you get to meet interesting people.” Today the couple is divvying up 50-pound sacks of pinto beans, scooping out 5 pounds of speckled legumes into separate plastic bags. Jane admits that she likes bean duty, compared to certain summertime assignments, such as sorting plums and kiwis, “which can get a little squishy.” As specialists in indigenous cultures of southern Mexico, the couple is worldly, well–traveled and appalled at the state of American society today. “Even the poorest indigenous people in southern Mexico have subsistence farming to grow themselves something to eat,“ says George. “The extreme income inequality in America is not found in other countries and it’s only recently—since Reagan—that we have so many homeless and hungry people.”

I find the repetitive motion of bagging scores of firm, green pears or scooping mounds of speckled beans somehow makes palpable the overwhelming hunger needs in our food-rich state. Six years ago, the Alameda County food bank went through 1,000,000 pounds of fresh produce a year. Now that million pounds, often trucked in directly from farms in 800-pound boxes, is distributed in only one month—a 12-fold increase.

While dropping a few cans of baked beans, creamed corn or cranberry sauce in one of the red and black barrels scattered around the Bay Area may feel like a quick fix, what food banks really need is cash and people-power. Because they are buying foodstuffs in such enormous bulk, they can take the couple of dollars you’d spend on one jar of peanut butter and buy half a dozen jars. The time required to process food donations also eats up a lot of resources. As this article from Slate.com makes clear, “Food dropped off by well-meaning citizens needs to be carefully inspected and sorted. A personal check, by contrast, can be used to order what’s needed without placing extra burdens on the staff.”

Besides distributing food to Alameda County’s neediest citizens since 1985, the Community Food Bank conducts several pro-active initiatives: nutrition education classes, anti-hunger advocacy and an outreach program in five languages to help people through the complicated process of applying for our under-utilized food stamp program—now called CalFresh.

After I layered a carton with cans of tuna, chili and soup, topped by boxes of cereal and rice, its 10 pounds felt formidable, like a force that might be able to keep the hunger at bay, for one family, even for a few days. I found it heartening to engage in some physical action against the exponentially increasing hunger in our community. Not surprisingly, a recent study showed that volunteering enriches your feeling of purpose, lowers your stress and actually improves your health:

Sheila Burks says, “My faith is renewed every day. I’m inspired by the volunteers. It’s phenomenally powerful to see people share their time and energy to restore the peace of mind and dignity of strangers.”

A reminder from the food bank: hunger doesn’t end when the holidays are over, the need will still be there in early 2012, even though the focus may not be.

The food bank’s website gives details on volunteering opportunities, how to donate money, organize a food drive or join the advocacy team to promote policy change.

Helpline to get same-day emergency food –- (800) 870-FOOD (3663) or 510-635-3663. Hours of operation: Monday – Friday, 9 a.m. – 4 p.m.

Thanksgiving works a little differently for us vegans and vegetarians. We also love to celebrate and give thanks with those closest to us. We also love to share a grand meal and reflect on the past year. We also love pie.

What we do differently is not just swap out the meat with a squash or a store-bought substitute. We also make sure to think about the hundreds of millions of birds who are slaughtered each year during this time and give thanks to the individuals at sanctuaries around the country who take in the more fortunate. We thank the restaurants who cater to our lifestyle of compassion. And we thank the animals who make our lives richer, funnier, eye-opening, and loving.

Below is a list of events happening in the area to celebrate Thanksgiving AND the turkeys, plus options on places to order a vegan meal and desserts:

1. November 12: Join Harvest Home Animal Sanctuary for Toast for the Turkeys in honor of the rescued turkeys at the sanctuary.

   
   Two of the residents at Harvest Home Animal Sanctuary, Bill and Sierra. Bill was found wandering the streets of Berkeley before being pickup by Animal Control. He is a gentle giant with the manners of a perfect gentleman. He spends his days gracing the green pasture with his buddy, Sierra. Photo Credit: Christine Morrissey

   The event, sponsored by such Bay Area establishments as Cinnaholic, Vegansaurus, D.O.V.E. Distributors, and Rainbow Grocery will also feature a “Humane Harvest” vegetarian food drive, to benefit the Emergency Food Bank of Stockton/San Joaquin.

Check out this video from last year's Toast to the Turkeys:

2. November 19: Take part in Farm Sanctuary’s annual Celebration FOR the Turkeys which features a vegan feast, musical performance, guest presentations, and the most adored of all – the Feeding of the Turkeys celebration, where the turkeys are the center of attention and dine on squash, pumpkin pie, and cranberries (on silver platters of course!).

   
   Me bonding with a turkey at the 2009 Feeding of the Turkeys. They are incredibly friendly animals and love to socialize and be petted!

   This year’s guests will include vegan writer and chef Colleen Patrick-Goudreau and Biz Stone, co-founder of Twitter and the new Biz & Livia Stone Foundation, who became vegan after visiting Farm Sanctuary. You will also be able to tour the farm and visit with all the other animals. I was taken to the Celebration FOR the Turkeys for my 30th birthday, and it was the best birthday I ever had (good job, husband!).

   
   Two turkeys enjoying their feast of pumpkin and veggies. At factory farms, turkeys' beaks and toes are clipped (without anesthesia), so these guys have a little trouble eating without getting messy. But they definitely still enjoy the feast that so many turkeys don't get to experience.

   Farm Sanctuary (who recently took in 25 baby turkeys from a factory farm that were dumped on their doorstep) truly changes your perspective on farm animals as you spend time with them, experience their different personalities, and watch them thrive in a free and loving environment. [If you can’t make it, consider sponsoring a turkey!]

3. November 24: Join Café Gratitude (who recently opened a location in LA!) for their annual vegan Free Thanksgiving Meal, where this super compassionate establishment gives back with a feast served by volunteers from the community.

   
   Cafe Gratitude's Annual Free Thanksgiving Meal. Photo Credit: Cary Mosier
   
   If you prefer to stay in, you can still experience some Gratitude on your table by ordering a pie to go. Their desserts are seriously delicious (and probably the most healthy you’ll ever eat). It's sure to please vegans and omnis alike.

4. Order your vegan holiday meal from Souley Vegan, everyone’s favorite vegan soul food restaurant! This year the offerings include Southern fried tofu, roasted garlic mashed potato with gravy, and cornbread dressing, among other delicious options. You can also order pies and cheesecakes.

   
   Photo Credit: Souley Vegan

   Check out their homepage for a link to the menu and ordering instructions (order must be received by November 21).

5. Cinnaholic is promising some exciting holiday flavors this year, including pumpkin spice and egg nog frostings, and toppings like gingersnaps, candy cane pieces, and peppermint “Oreos.”

   
   Photo Credit: Michael Lang/Cinnaholic

   They’ve also teamed up with the aforementioned Harvest Home Sanctuary to celebrate the Toast to the Turkeys by donating, for the entire month of November, 50% of all Baby Bun sales to help out with feeding, housing, and general care for the animals.

And if you are simply looking for a way to complete your holiday table with something sweet, here are a few other places to check out for ordering Thanksgiving desserts:

Wholesome Bakery: Try their Sweet Potato Pecan Baby Pies
Rainbow Grocery: They always have an assortment of vegan treats from various local bakeries.
Mission Pie: They're offering a Vegan Apple-Cranberry crumb-top pie this year for Thanksgiving.
Fat Bottom Bakery: You can special order some Pumpkin Cupcakes with vegan cream cheese frosting.
Idle Hands Baking Company: Try their Spice Cake (gluten-free option available) or Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cake.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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.

The new 18 Reasons space

It’s Saturday night, warm for San Francisco, and the line at Bi-Rite Creamery stretches around the corner onto Dolores Street. Just a few doors down at the Creamery’s soft-serve window, the swirl of the day is balsamic strawberry and vanilla. Under a neon glow, flowers and pumpkins, melons and apples are piled up in front of the brightly lit windows of Bi-Rite Market across the street, where savvily curated, compulsively purchasable groceries lure dinner-party goers and dinner-party throwers alike.

And tonight, another Bi-Rite business is in full swing: the bigger, newer, cooler home of 18 Reasons, where a long communal table is packed with friends and neighbors listening to a twangy banjo band, sharing $5 bowls of cannellini-bean soup and $3 bottles of Trumer Pils as part of its monthly Soup for Supper program, this time in conjunction with Slow Food's $5 Challenge. Behind the public room, splashy with bright murals by local artist Zoltron, is the company's new stainless steel commissary kitchen, where Bi-Rite workers prep salads for tomorrow's deli case.

The commissary kitchen

Face it: on this block, it's Bi-Rite's world. Which, it seems, given the company's success, and its lively involvement in the local community (and economy), is just how we like it. Think about it: here are a lot more jobs on this block than there used to be, back when it had a single bad hippie restaurant, a tiny barber shop and a couple of junky secondhand stores. A lot more small farmers, cheesemakers, winemakers, jam-makers, and tiny sea-salt caramel businesses are getting paid, thanks to getting their products on these shelves. Now, with the opening of its bigger space, 18 Reasons can reach out to more people with its mandate of community food education and engagement.

Olivia Maki, 18 Reasons' events coordinator, is excited about this. "We hated turning people away," she said, when they wanted to come to popular events. "Now, we have a lot more space," she noted, as well as, in the evenings, the use of the spacious commercial kitchen for dinner events and cooking classes. The old Guerrero Street space, a cramped storefront with a miniscule galley kitchen, was a challenge for an organization doing frequent sit-down dinners and food-based events. How did they manage it? "We spent a lot of time pushing metro racks full of half-prepared food down the street," she laughed.

What's coming up, now that they've got both marble counters and elbow room?

"Rosie Gill, 18 Reason's program director and I are particularly excited about all the children's programming we've got coming up. That's really going to be our focus for the next year. Food education, working with kids, that's a big part of our mission."

Maggie Spicer serving soup on Saturday night

As is bringing people together to eat, talk, schmooze, and think. Maggie Spicer, a volunteer and co-curator, with Tia Paneet, of the rotating art installations, was also tonight's soup-maker, using a Tuscan-style sage-and-bean soup recipe from Bi-Rite’s upcoming cookbook/shopping guide/manifesto, Eat Good Food, out next month from Ten Speed Press. The bigger space allows for bigger art, in this case enormous murals inspired by Ronald McDonald, weeping for his sins, and the Japanese tsunami, envisioned as an ominously grinning, skull-faced girl, Sue Nami. The murals began as street art on the plywood panels shielding the windows during construction. Graffiti, and commentary, followed, and the paintings became collaborations between Zoltron and local artists Bodhi Freedom and Hollis Rhodes, among others.

Eucalyptus "constellations" by Julie Kahn, part of The Bathroom Residency installation

Even the bathroom is its own mini-gallery, thanks to The Bathroom Residency, part of The Residencies, a long-term project by artist Julie Kahn. Each quarter, Kahn plans to create a new nature-inspired installation, passing the job onto another artist after a year. Twigs of eucalyptus poke out of the walls in the shapes of two autumn constellations, Scorpius and Sagittarius, while a box of scrolls, helpfully labeled “Bathroom Reading,” explain the concepts behind both the project and its current installation. White and bright, the room still manages to be serene, at least until the unsettlingly aggressive Dyson hand dryer roars into action, a MiG jet attacking the dastardly enemy of freshly rinsed hands.

Bathroom reading explaining the installation

Outside, the ice-cream line persists, fed by the post-pie crowds from Pizzeria Delfina across the street. Appetites, it seems, know no bounds.

18 Reasons
3674 18th Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
Twitter: @18reasons
Facebook: 18 Reasons

The Edible Schoolyard kitchen classroom at Hunters Point. Photo courtesy of ESY HP.

Who hasn't heard of The Edible Schoolyard in Berkeley? But many here may not know about another affiliated program in the Bay Area, The Edible Schoolyard at the San Francisco Boys and Girls Club in Hunters Point, which offers children in that food insecure community a chance to grow their own food, cook it, and eat it too.

The Hunters Point Willie Mays Clubhouse afterschool program is getting a little extra exposure and financial assistance in conjunction with the 40th birthday celebrations for Chez Panisse. Earlier this week, the Today Show aired a segment with Alice Waters and Edible Schoolyard supporter actor Jake Gyllenhaal that was filmed at the Hunters Point program.

Tomorrow, as part of the Eating for Education campaign to raise awareness about and money for school gardens, San Francisco restaurants Bar Agricole, Bar Jules, Contigo, Delfina, and Zuni -- along with coffee companies Blue Bottle and Four Barrel -- will donate a percentage of the day's profits to the Hunters Point school garden and cooking program serving some 250 mostly low-income children of color from elementary age through to high school. The Bayview-Hunters Point area of the city is known more for fast food than fresh food; only about five percent of food sold in the neighborhood is considered fresh.

Ace fundraiser and Chez alum Samin Nosrat is in charge of the Eating for Education effort, a nation-wide, one-day event (find a complete list of participants on the Eating for Education site.)

For many restauranteurs, participating was a no-brainer. "The Boys and Girls Club in Hunters Point is a model program and this is a cause that's important to us," said Brett Emerson of Contigo. "Showcasing for children in a fun and engaging way the fundamentals of nutrition, respect for those that grow our food and passion for eating is key."

Another Chez alum, Gilbert Pilgrim of Zuni, chimed in: "We believe that people will eat in a healthy manner if they start doing it while they are young. This is a worthy cause that deserves all our support."

For the Boys and Girls Club, the campaign is an opportunity to connect with chefs and reach others in the food movement who value edible education for youth, said Brittany Johnson, a spokesperson for the organization.

While Zuni is full for Saturday night, Contigo still has room for both reservations and walk-ins who want to eat well -- and support edible education at the same time.

Photo: Wendy Goodfriend