Each year during blueberry season, I'm reminded of one of my favorite children's books, Blueberries for Sal. If you’re not familiar with this book, here’s the general storyline for this classic Robert McCloskey tale.

Sal, a toddler in a cute little romper, and her mother go to Blueberry Hill to collect berries to can for the winter. Little do they know that Mama Bear and her baby are also there, eating as many blueberries as they can before they tuck away for a long winter's hibernation. After Sal eats one too many berries from her mother’s pail, mom feels free to send her chubby little tot off to play and pick berries unattended on the wild hill so she can concentrate on her berry collecting duties (written in the 40s, this obviously couldn't happen today without Child Protective Services getting involved). Meanwhile Mama Bear is also annoyed with Baby Bear and so sends him off to find his own berries to store up for the winter. High jinx ensue -- after all, this is a children's story -- and everyone gets all mixed up on Blueberry Hill.

Sal stumbles upon Mama Bear and Baby Bear comes up behind Sal's mother -- but soon the kids are reunited with their appropriate parents. Sal and her mother have buckets of berries to bring home and Mama and Baby Bear can eat enough to store up for the long cold winter. The ending illustration is of little Sal and her mother canning away in their Maine kitchen.

I’ve always loved how this story encapsulates the fleetingness of blueberry season. Sweet and bursting with flavor for a short time, the berries on Blueberry Hill must be picked and eaten or quickly canned before they are lost. Irresistible to Sal and Baby Bear, they are a decadent delight for all children (or anyone) during their brief season. Sure, you can preserve them like Sal and her mom (or these days you can also buy frozen berries), but nothing compares to berries freshly picked.

Like Sal, I find blueberries hard to resist this time of year. Sadly I don't live next to Blueberry Hill -- although I would love to see Baby Bear up there eating his fill of berries -- so I don’t have the luxury of picking buckets of them. I can, however, find beautiful mounds of blueberries everywhere I shop. Ripe, plump and juicy, they are ephemerally at their sweetest right now. So in addition to the handfuls of blueberries I like to eat while standing in my kitchen, and the blueberry muffins I’ve enjoyed recently, I have also made my yearly fresh blueberry crumble pie.

The key to this pie is fresh blueberries. It can be made with frozen berries, but I recommend making it now while the fruit is firm and plump, deliciously sweet with a slightly tart burst. Cooked in a prebaked pie crust, the pastry is buttery and crisp and sits firmly beneath the berry filling (instead of getting soggy). I then top the pie with a traditional fruit crisp topping of oatmeal, flour, sugar and butter.

As Sal's mother and Mama Bear knew, blueberry season passes quickly; so why not make the most of it with a pie?

Blueberry Crumble Pie

Makes: One pie

Ingredients:

1 pie crust
5 cups blueberries (cleaned and dried with stems removed)
4 Tbsp flour
2/3 cup granulated sugar
Pinch salt
Zest from 1/2 a lemon
1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice

Topping
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup oatmeal
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 stick butter

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place pie crust in you baking dish, top with parchment paper and either pie weights or beans, and bake for 20 minutes. Take crust out of the oven then and then remove the pie weights and parchment paper. Let cool until ready to use.
2. Mix berries, white sugar, flour, salt, lemon zest and peel in a large bowl. Set aside.
3. Mix topping ingredients, being sure to thoroughly incorporate the butter into the flour, oatmeal and sugar so it resembles small pebbles.

4. Set blueberries into the cooked pie crust. Top with the oatmeal and flour mixture, being sure to mound it securely on top. Bake for 50 - 60 minutes or until the topping is golden brown and the filing is bubbling. If the topping browns too quickly while baking, place foil on it.
5. Let pie cool and serve with ice cream.

Anyone who's ever browsed through the baskets of Star Route Farms or Green Gulch Farm knows what beautiful greens look like. Bunches of taut, brilliantly verdant kale and chard, each leaf perfectly ruffled or puckered, turgid and bright, rustling together crisp as taffeta or a new dollar bill.

Such perfection is no mean feat for an organic farm, where insidious leaf-miners and flea beetles (to name just two of a whole host of burrowing, munching hungry creatures who have a greedy lust for chard and arugula unmatched by even Alice Waters) can turn a row of gorgeous leaves into hole-punched eyelet overnight. Strong plants, good soil, a lot of attention, companion plantings that feed beneficial bugs--all these help. But so does accepting that your crop is always going to be on a bell curve, and not every leaf can be above average.

Of course, restaurant chefs (and the picky shoppers paying top dollar at Ferry Plaza) want perfection. Providing impeccable produce year after year has made the reputation of these local farms. But what happens to all the delectable but not-quite-gorgeous-enough stuff?

Thanks to Marin Organic, it's showing up on the plates of those who need it most: active, hungry, growing kids.

Every Monday, Scott Davidson, Marin Organic's School Lunch and Gleaning Program Manager, meets up with an all-ages group of volunteers at a selected farm. The task is simple: go through rows that have already been harvested for sale, and pick the best of what's left. The produce is boxed, rinsed, and loaded onto Marin Organic's truck. Cooled overnight, it's delivered the next day to schools, camps, and/or after-school programs all over Marin, either for free or at very low cost.

Fresh, nutritious, locally-grown produce goes to the kitchen and turns into lunch--and because there's no cost to the farm, and very little cost in labor, participating schools actually save money, money that can then be spent on getting more healthy food to their students.

Anyone with a couple of hours free on a Monday afternoon can join the Glean Team. Sign up online or over the phone, and an email detailing the next week's location will be sent to you every Friday. Usually, the location flip-flops between Green Gulch and Star Route, with a few other farms making occasional appearances.

Wear a jacket and don't-mind-getting-muddy shoes, and bring a few tote and/or plastic bags for your post-gleaning haul. (After the gleaning is done, volunteers can go through the harvested section yet again and pick for themselves.)

Last Monday, we left a hot, sunny afternoon in Oakland for the cool, foggy twists of the Shoreline Highway, bumping down the eucalyptus-lined road to the Zen Center's Green Gulch Farm. As you might expect from a longtime Buddhist retreat cupped close to the ocean, the whole place is soaked in peace and abundantly quiet. The joy jumps out in color: ravishingly purple bursts of lavender, whorled-pink roses, black-red pincushion flowers, vermillion-tipped raspberry canes and espaliered apples and pears weighted with green-and-gold fruit. Yellow-spattered mustard plants gone to flower reach up six feet high over the broccoli and cabbage rows we've come to harvest.

These weed-laced rows are going to be mowed under tomorrow, Scott tells us. The biggest, fattest heads of broccoli and cauliflower have already been picked, but sharp eyes can find side shoots, mini-heads growing next to where the main stalk was broken off. These tender, bite-sized florets are gold to school-kitchen chefs, he tells us, easy to cook and easy to eat.

We fan out down the rows. Everyone likes the hunt, especially the teenage boys in the crew. The leaves are huge and heavy, hiding the score, but underneath, the tender stalks snap easily and our recycled waxed-cardboard boxes fill up fast. We move onto small, loosely curled heads of cabbage, then over to red-veined plumes of ruby chard, puckery dino kale and curled Bloomsdale spinach.

We're mindful to take only the best-looking stuff, part of the education process of eating local and organic. Because it's being given away, it has to look better, even, than what's bought: No one, even a cash-strapped camp or school, wants to feel like a dumping ground for wormy charity carrots, no matter how much Vitamin A they might provide. It's not hard, however: there are still plenty of lovely greens left, enough to fill at least twenty-five or thirty boxes, if not more.

Scott points out the clumps of nettles growing in between the rows. This weed is probably the most nutritious thing growing on the farm (sellable for at least $6 a pound at a farmers' market) but the leaves will cause a brief, itchy sting if touched. They do leave their mark on my wrists and knees as I pick, but I don't mind: I've happily paid good money for nettle soup and nettle pasta at Delfina. Tomorrow's breakfast will be emerald eggs, scrambled with sauteed nettles. (Once cooked, they're harmless and delicious, especially rich in B vitamins. Just wear gloves, or use tongs, when working with the raw item.)

By six o'clock, the boxes are neatly stacked in the truck. Now we can go over the rows one more time, picking for ourselves. Now I'm not so particular: holey chard, nettle tips, tiny volunteer beets and potatoes all go into my bag. We'll be living off this bounty for a few days at least, while back at the farm, the tractor will be turning under the last few roots and leaves, making room for a new planting.

Green Gulch Greens Pie
This adaptable, calzone-like pie is inspired by Greek spanikopita. You could easily replace the yeast dough with six or seven sheets of defrosted phyllo dough, brushing melted butter between each sheet before filling and sealing.

Any mixture of reasonably tender greens will work here, including chard, spinach, orach, mustard, radish or turnip tops, lacinato (dino) kale, and beet greens. If you want to add in some tougher greens, like collards, kale, or broccoli leaves, be sure to shred them very finely so they'll cook as fast as the softer greens. A handful of strongly flavored greens, like arugula, parsley, or sorrel can be tossed in as an accent.

Makes 2 pies, enough to serve 6-8

Ingredients:
For dough:
1 1/2 tsp yeast (1/2 package)
3/4 cup lukewarm water
2 cups all-purpose white flour, or 1 cup white flour mixed with 1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tbsp cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp olive oil

For filling:
approximately 10 cups shredded mixed greens
1 large onion, peeled and diced (about 1 cup)
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg, or to taste
Juice and grated rind of 1 lemon
2 oz. feta cheese, crumbled
1 oz. ricotta salata, crumbled
Salt, if needed
2 eggs
2 tbsp raw rice
Egg wash (optional): 1 egg yolk beaten with 1 tbsp water

Preparation:
1. To make dough: Dissolve yeast in water and let sit for a few minutes. In a large bowl, stir together flour, cornmeal and salt. Pour in yeast mixture and olive oil. Stir to make a pliable dough.

2. On a lightly floured surface, knead dough for 5-8 minutes, until it feels springy and elastic. Rinse out bowl, coat lightly with olive oil, and return dough to the bowl, turning to coat with oil.

3. Cover bowl with a clean damp towel and let dough rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours. Punch down and divide dough in two.

4. While dough is rising, make filling: Place a large saute pan over medium-low heat. Add oil, then onions and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently, until onions are soft and translucent but not browned.

5. Add greens by the handful, stirring, until they collapse and cook down. (You make have to do this in batches, removing the already cooked greens to a separate bowl.)

6. When all the greens are cooked, add nutmeg, lemon juice and lemon rind, and crumbled cheeses. Let cool slightly, and taste for seasoning, adding salt if needed. Stir in rice and beaten eggs, and let sit for 15 minutes.

7. To assemble, preheat oven to 375F. Roll and stretch one dough ball into a long oval. Lightly grease a large rimmed baking sheet. Place dough on sheet. Cover half the oval with greens filling, leaving an inch-wide margin. Fold over remaining dough and pinch together to seal. Repeat with remaining portion of dough.

8. If desired, brush pies with egg wash. Bake for 45-50 minutes, until dough is firm and golden brown.

For more information or to sign up with the Glean Team, go to Marin Organic. The next outing will be Monday, Aug. 9th, from 4-6pm at Star Route Farms in Bolinas.

The other morning, I was awakened bright and early by a phone call:

"Uhhh... Hey! What you are doing Saturday night?"

It was my friend Shannon. I'm not very good at making up lies first thing in the morning, so I told her I was free that night.

"Can the girls have a sleepover at your place so Craig and I can have a night out on the town to celebrate our 15th anniversary?"

Let's see. My oldest friends in the world want me to hang out with their two (usually) adorable daughters so that they can seize a rare opportunity to have a carefree evening to commemorate a milestone in their relationship?

"Of course I will," I said.

And then I flew into a panic as soon as I hung up the phone.

I live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. I own no plastic cups. I have a glass coffee table with sharp corners. I live on the 3rd floor. I was temporarily immobilized by the fear that something was going to get broken. Like a willful five year-old.

I ran to the medicine cabinet.

Hydrogen peroxide? Check. Band-Aids? Roger. Ace bandages? Yup. I hoped that was all the triage equipment I'd need. I reassured myself that I could keep the girls safe on this, my first ever babysitting sleepover.

And then I thought of something even more terrifying to a single gay 40-something man faced with having to entertain little girls that (seem to) look up to him?

What if-- G-d forbid-- they get bored?

Over my dead body. I quickly sketched out the evening:

1. Bacon cheese burgers and french-fried, wholesale bribery at Grubstake where we might celebrate both cinematic history and Portuguese heritage in one sitting.

2. Make your own sundaes at home.

3. A Marilyn Monroe film like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or How To Marry A Millionaire to instill some good, old-fashioned American values in the little angels.

4. Organic beauty treatments. Namely: guacamole face masks.

I thought I was being brilliant. However, I quickly realized that obsessively planning out an evening of "fun" is nearly impossible when a five year-old is involved.

Upon arrival, Craig and Shannon scanned my apartment for potential dangers, made a little chit chat, and then escaped.

"Well, girls," I said with a little clap of my hands,"I thought we'd start the evening off with a little beauty treatment!"

"I know," said India the five year-old, "Guacamole face masks..." She sounded less than pleased.

"It'll be awesome!" I said. I brought out two bandanas to protect their hair from avocado, and two small, grey t-shirts to protect their clothing, asked them to put them on and then made them pose for photographs, like any annoying adult with a camera might do.

"Why do we have to be Chinese women?" asked India. Chinese women? I had no idea what she was talking about, unless she read that the t-shirts were manufactured in China.

Zelly, the eleven year-old, looked at her little sister and then up at me. "I have no idea where she got that," she said.

"Is there anything particularly wrong with being a Chinese woman?" I asked India.

"I just don't wanna be one," was her response. Fine, I thought. I doubted that anyone would mistake a little girl with curly red hair for a Chinese woman, t-shirt or no. We got down to making the face masks:

Avocado (for dry skin), tomato (for those dreadful oily patches), and lime (for flavor and eye-irritation). Both the girls enjoyed mashing the ingredients together.

Zelly was game for smearing the mush on her face, but India would have none of it.

"But India, it'll make your skin soft and beautiful," coaxed Zelly.

"I already have soft, beautiful skin," countered her sister.

I was about to explain that it would do her a world of good by making her look years younger until I realized that a five year-old might end up looking like a newborn and therefore wouldn't find that appealing in the least. I let the matter drop.

"This is booooooooo-riiiiiiiiing," she moaned, "When are we going to go eat?" She just sat there and pouted until Zelly and I got cleaned up.

On our way to dinner, we passed the Asian travel agency around the corner from where I live. In the window was a poster for the Shanghai exhibit at San Francisco's Asian Art Museum. The image showed a beautiful woman representing the prosperity of that city in the 1930's. I pointed it out to India.

"She's beautiful!" she gasped. Suddenly, being a Chinese woman was appealing to her.

Zelly and I enjoyed our bacon cheeseburgers and beautiful skin, while India dined on about a quart of ketchup and french fries that were hailed as "better than Frjtz." When we returned home from dinner, she put the grey t-shirt back on to resume her Chinese womanhood. She refused even to take it of to sleep.

All was peaceful. The make-your-own sundaes a smashing success. And then I learned the first of two very important life lessons:

Never load up a five year-old with sugar and then expect her to sit through a feature-length 1950's comedy.

Bored, India set about annoying her sister and disrupting the film.

"This is boring! I thought we were supposed to have and adventure! I don't want to watch this stupid movie!"

She was dripping with charm. Her sister wisely suggested that, for the sake of peace, we watch Wallace & Grommit instead. I reluctantly agreed.

And then, of course, the dvd player broke. Being the adult in the room, I showed no outward sign of my panic. Instead, I grabbed my lap top and downloaded streaming episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Evening saved. Sort of. I won't go into the false accusations of biting or the door slamming incidents or child-gassiness. We all survived and I lived long enough to recount the evening to their happy parents over brunch the next morning.

When I returned home, I was exhausted, but rather pleased with myself: No children were harmed during the course of the evening. They were fed, cared for, and more-or-less entertained. And, except for the sure-fire french-fry-and-ice-cream bribery, nothing at all went according to plan, which lead me to a deep understanding of the second-- and most valuable-- life lesson of the day:

Never underestimate the power of improvisation-- especially when five year-olds are involved.

And speaking of improvisation, here's my recipe for today:

Gringo-Gwai Lo Guacamole

"Gwai lo" in Cantonese means "ghost person." In certain circles, it's how they refer to white people. Well, since I'm a ghastly pale gringo making up a Mexican dish out of Chinese ingredients, I'm just going to embrace my gringo-gwai lo-ness and just go with it. And, since it's essentially guacamole we're talking about here, there are no specific amounts for the ingredients-- just go with what feels and tastes right to you.

Believe it or not, this recipe really, really works. I think I must be developing a knack for dips.

Serves no 5 year-olds I know, since there isn't any ketchup in the recipe.

Ingredients:

3 ripe avocados

2 to 3 cloves of garlic, depending on your love of the bulb

Coarse salt, as much as you like

Toasted sesame oil

A splash or two of rice wine vinegar

A pinch or two of ground Chinese five spice

Black sesame seeds for garnish.

Preparation:

1. Split avocados lengthwise around the pit. Twist halves, remove pit, and scoop into a medium sized bowl.

2. Place garlic cloves in a mortar and pestle with a little bit of salt. Since you can neither morally nor legally take out your physical frustration on a five year-old girl, this is an excellent release valve. Mash to a pulp. Add to avocados.

3. Now mash avocados with a fork to attain a chunky/smooth consistency. Add sesame oil, vinegar, a bit more salt, and Chinese five spice. Taste, adjust seasonings. Garnish with back sesame seeds.

4. Serve on fried wonton wrappers to the eleven year-old, who behaved so beautifully. Sit back and enjoy the five year-old's resulting temper tantrum.

Frozen yogurt is going through a bit of a makeover. Soft serve that tastes like ice cream is out while creamy swirls that burst with the flavor of real yogurt are in. Shops serving cups of froyo that burst with yogurt's innate natural tartness are opening everywhere. Forget my favorite college flavor of orange, which tasted more like creamy ice cream that had been melded with baby aspirin. Today's frozen yogurt highlights sweet fruit flavors and is enticingly tangy.

After a few trips to some yogurt shops where four servings cost around $20 -- because let's face it, the new frozen yogurt chains are more expensive than the old ones -- I decided to try making my own concoctions. I found that if you have an ice-cream maker (the kind where you pre-freeze the canister), frozen yogurt is remarkably easy to make. It's also nice to be able to control your own ingredients. You can choose to use organic and nonfat yogurt, or luxuriate in a treat made with creamy whole milk. You can also opt to sweeten your dessert with sugar, or go for a healthier alternative like fruit juice or honey -- it's all up to you.

I experimented with whole fat, nonfat and Greek yogurts and found that although whole fat and Greek yogurts freeze better, nonfat frozen yogurt desserts can be creamy and soft -- just eat them within an hour or two of churning. This isn't hard to do as homemade froyo tastes so rich and creamy straight out of the ice cream maker that it's easy to eat the whole batch with a few friends. But if you want to freeze it ahead of time, make your batch with whole yogurt. It will be harder than ice cream, but still scoopable. There are also some frozen yogurt recipes out there where you incorporate your yogurt into an egg custard, much as you would when making homemade ice cream. I had no desire to stand over the stove on a hot day when we all just wanted a quick and fun dessert, but those recipes are out there if you're interested.

Following are a few recipes you can try for your own frozen yogurt adventures. If you have kids or aren't super fond of yogurt's innate tartness, I suggest using vanilla or a fruit-flavored yogurt for your initiation to this homemade frozen treat. Although my kids liked my first batch of peach frozen yogurt (made with plain nonfat yogurt strained overnight), they adored all combinations made with vanilla whole yogurt.

It's also worth noting that even when I used the more expensive organic and local yogurt varieties, the cost of a batch of homemade frozen yogurt still never exceeded $5 -- a pretty nice price for a fun summer dessert that fed four people.

Peach Frozen Yogurt
This recipe uses peaches, but you could easily use any other summer stone fruit (including cherries). I used nonfat yogurt, which was perfectly creamy straight from the ice cream maker. My daughter had a second helping a couple of hours after I stuck the leftovers in the freezer and the texture was still velvety. The peach nectar measurement variation from 1/4 - 1/2 cup is dependent on how thick your yogurt is after adding the pureed peaches. If you're using regular or nonfat yogurt, you will need less, but if include Greek or strained yogurt, you'll probably need to add a bit more.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:
2 cups strained nonfat or whole milk yogurt
1 cup peaches peeled, chopped and pureed
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 - 1/2 cup peach nectar (I used Kerns) (measurement varies according to taste and

Preparation:
1. If straining yogurt, do so at least 4-6 hours ahead of time by placing your yogurt in cheesecloth and tying it at the top. Then set the package in a strainer set over a large bowl or container to catch the liquids. After a few hours your yogurt will be so thick and creamy it will look more like cream cheese.

2. Peel, chop and puree your peaches until smooth.

3. Place peach puree and sugar in a small pot and heat until sugar melts into the peaches. Cool mixture. You can also just add simple syrup instead of sugar to the peaches if you have some on hand.

4. Once peach puree mixture is cool, set up your ice cream maker so it's ready to go.

5. Take the yogurt out of the refrigerator and place in a large bowl. Mix in the peach puree and peach nectar. Taste and add more nectar if needed.

6. Pour the mixture into your ice cream maker and churn as you would normally make ice cream. Serve when frozen and creamy or place in the freezer for 1-2 hours.

Peanut Butter Frozen Yogurt
This recipe uses a heated peanut butter, sugar and water combination, which flavors the yogurt beautifully and provides a nice backdrop for toppings, such as chocolate jimmies, crumbled peanut butter cups, or M & Ms. I used nonfat plain yogurt, but will use vanilla flavored yogurt next time as I think it will nicely compliment the peanut butter flavors. I also recommend against using strained yogurt in this recipe as the peanut butter is already thick enough.

Note: the measurements for this recipe vary according to taste. If you like your frozen yogurt light and tangy, then use 1/2 cup peanut butter and sugar; if you like a more pronounced peanut butter flavor, then go with the 3/4 measurements.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:
1/2 - 3/4 creamy peanut butter
1/2 - 3/4 cup sugar
2 cups nonfat or whole vanilla-flavored yogurt (not strained)
1/4 cup water

Preparation:
1. Place peanut butter, sugar and water in a pot and set on medium heat. Heat mixture while constantly stirring until peanut butter and sugar are melted into each other. If mixture is too thick (you should be able to easily stir the peanut butter), add a little more water.

2. Cool peanut butter mixture. You can do this in a cold water bath (setting the mix in a bowl and then placing that bowl over a larger bowl containing ice cubes and water) or just let it cool on its on the counter. Then place it in the refrigerator so it's cool but still stirable.

3. Set up your ice cream maker so it's ready to go.

4. Take the yogurt out of the refrigerator and place in a large bowl. Stir in the peanut butter mixture.

5. Pour the mixture into your ice cream maker and churn as you would normally make ice cream. Serve when frozen and creamy or place in the freezer for 1-2 hours.

Banana Frozen Yogurt
The Banana Frozen Yogurt recipe uses vanilla yogurt mixed with bananas that have been pureed with a little juice. This was hands down my kids favorite froyo and was also the easiest to make as you don’t need to heat anything.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:
2 cups vanilla yogurt (whole milk, lowfat or nonfat)
1/2 cup mango, apricot, orange or any other full-bodied juice
2 large or 3 medium bananas cut up

Preparation:
1. Chop up bananas and then puree with the juice.

2. Set up ice cream maker so it's ready to go.

3. Take the yogurt out of the refrigerator and place in a large bowl. Stir in the banana mixture.

4. Pour the mixture into your ice cream maker and churn as you would normally make ice cream. Serve when frozen and creamy or place in the freezer for 1-2 hours.

Steph Squared Cafe: Stephanie Rosenbaum and her wares at the InDIYpendent Culture Faire. Photo by Stephane von Stephane

Total strangers--pleasant people all, I'm sure, but still, to me completely unknown--are waking up this morning and starting their day with jam from my kitchen. Lemon Lady Marmalade on their scones, perhaps, or Citrus Commotion on their whole-wheat toast, perhaps a little Strawberry Beautiful stirred into their goat-milk yogurt.

Before, you had to know me pretty well to score a jar of jam. I made my jams and jellies in very small batches, often from backyard or foraged fruit (blackberries from China Beach were a particular favorite), and bestowed them on holidays and birthdays to family and a few select pals. I wasn't above snooping through the recipients' cabinets a few months later; if the jam was still there, dusty and unopened, they were off the list. There were too many other people (mostly my blood relations, but still) who inhaled the stuff and promptly returned the empty jars, nudging for a refill.

But what Moliere said about writing is just as true for jamming: First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, and then for money. After the second Underground Farmers' Market, I had to send a rather abashed note to my circuit of jam fans. "Remember that jam I gave you for Christmas? I hope you liked it, because there isn't any more. I sold all the rest to strangers. For money."

This week's foray into jam-commerce was a fun and funky one, the first-ever InDIYpendent Culture Faire up in Napa. Organized as a benefit for local arts organization Wandering Rose, the Faire is a two-day event continuing today from noon to sundown. On a small-town scale, it's part Burning Man, part Maker's Faire, part all-ages, hands-on, anything-goes art class.

Just look for the spray-painted signs and the skate park set up on one side of the parking lot, next to a taco truck (a real one, not a hipster-ironic one) doing a brisk business in tortas and carne asada burritos.

Along the walls of the old furniture warehouse there were murals being painted, a bike-repair workshop in progress, a local community garden demonstrating easy backyard composting with buckets of leaves and lawn clippings, a guy drawing an elaborately detailed eight-foot-tall Egyptian mummy in colored chalk, and loads of spray-paint, chalk, and markers to share. A girl in a top hat, looking like Emily the Strange, dreamily marked a pentagram in blue chalk by the entrance. Another pair of girls chalk-traced the outlines of their sneakers, writing "Have Fun!" with an arrow pointing inside, and "No Fun" with an arrow pointing away.

Inside, a dozen tables were loaded with art supplies from feathers and tissue paper to paints, markers, crayons, and ink stamps. A woman sat on the floor in one corner, gluing scraps of cardboard and colored paper onto a panel labeled "Garbage Art". Jewelry makers displayed their necklaces draped over old baby dolls and mannequin torsos. There were zines--zines!--and poetry chapbooks, and kids lying on the floor with their arms sleeved in sock puppets. Upstairs, in a warren of small rooms, was a more formal gallery show of paintings photographs, and video art. Of course, there were bands, and teens Dumpster-diving every aesthetic: 80s punk, 90's grunge, guys with Jesus-in-Godspell hair and superhero tights.

And among all this art was the Steph Squared Cafe, offering homemade jams, cool gypsy art furniture painted by Stephane von Stephane, and copies of my honey and astrology cookbooks. And yes, the jam did sell, and I hope everyone that bought some is a little happier this morning because of it.

But the real sleeper hit of the fair was our last-minute brainwave: bowls of whipped cream and organic strawberries, dished up for $3 a pop.

Who wouldn't like strawberries and cream? For such a punk event, there were a whole lot of regular moms and kids, and we were the only dessert in town, and an organic one one at that. The inspiration was a simple one: a kitchen full of too many berries, no room in the fridge and not enough time to turn them all into jam. Enter a half-gallon of cream, a handy whipped-cream dispenser, and sticky-sweet happiness for a whole lot of kids and their parents.

While it's hard to improve on the simple perfection of strawberries and cream (the folks at Wimbleton do know their stuff), adding a biscuit and turning the affair into strawberry shortcake is the way to do it. Now, first off: to me, a true strawberry shortcake is based on a biscuit, gentle and flaky and just barely sweetened. You may think that strawberry shortcake is rightly made with those puffy yellow spongecakes sold six to a package in the supermarket, but you'd be wrong. The biscuit's buttery sturdiness of the biscuit against the intense sweet-tartness of the berries, all under a sliding avalanche of real cream just barely whipped: that is what beckons in summer with a true flourish.

For Memorial Day, coming a couple of weeks, or the 4th of July, you can add a sprinkle of blueberries for the patriotic red-white-and-blue effect. Biscuit cutters shaped like stars or hearts can give the whole presentation a little whimsy with no more effort than cutting simple circles or triangles. As for the exact layering of the berries and cream, it's up to you. Berries first (to soak the fluffy split biscuit innards with juice), a dollop of cream, then the biscuit top precariously balanced and topped with more cream and berries would be my modus operandi, but really, there's no way of not to get it right.

Do go to the farmers' market for your berries, and taste around to find your favorite variety and grower. Right now, I'm in love with the organic Albion berries from Yerena Farms, a family operation that sells at the Ferry Plaza, Civic Center, and Alemany markets in San Francisco. But I wouldn't kick the flavorful organic Chandler and Seascape berries from Tomatero Farms out of bed either. You can find them at Oakland's Grand Lake, Marin's Civic Center, and San Francisco's Alemany Markets, among others.

Look for berries that are red from stalk to tip (white shoulders and white tips are sure signs of underripeness). And take a deep whiff before you buy: strawberries that smell good, taste good.

Strawberry Shortcake
Assemble just before serving, so the biscuits don't get soggy. You can also pass the biscuits, cream, and berries separately and let each person divine their own perfect proportions of biscuit to cream to berries. If desired, you can play around with flavoring for the biscuits. Orange rind? Cardamom? Whatever you like.

Serves 6 to 8

Ingredients
For the biscuits:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp salt
6 tablespoons butter, very cold, cut into cubes
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/3 cup heavy cream or half-and-half, plus a little extra for brushing tops of biscuits

4 cups strawberries, hulled and sliced (2 to 3 pint baskets)
2 tablespoons sugar

For the cream:
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 to 2 tablespoons powdered sugar, to taste, optional
1 tsp vanilla extract, optional

Preparation
1. Preheat oven to 425F. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, cornmeal, baking powder, sugar, and salt.

2. Using a pastry blender, a pair of butter knives, or your fingers, cut butter into flour mixture until the butter bits are pea-sized. (You can also pulse briefly in a food processor--faster, but more stuff to clean afterwards.)

3. Add egg and cream and stir lightly until mixture just holds together. Knead gently two or three times. On a floured countertop, pat out into a round about 1 inch thick. Using a biscuit cutter or a knife, cut out into rounds or other shapes. Place on a baking sheet and brush lightly with cream.

4. Bake 12 to 15 minutes, until pale golden. Remove to a rack to cool.

5. While biscuits are baking, mix strawberries and sugar, crushing a few of the berries with a fork, and set aside. As the berries sit, the sugar will draw out the juices to form a garnet-colored puddle that you can dribble inside the biscuits as you go. Lovely.

6. Once biscuits are warm, not hot, to the touch, whip the cream until just thickened. If desired, add sugar and vanilla to taste.

7. Split each biscuit and place on a plate. Add a spoonful of berries, with juice. Dollop with cream. Top with the other half of the biscuit, some more berries, and more cream. Serve.

The best part about Mother's Day is, of course, the cooking that starts the day. At least that's how it is when you're eight, counting the scoopfuls of coffee grounds needed to make that all-important morning cup, showing off the brilliant red of raspberry jam in a pretty cut-glass bowl and finally nipping outside for a handful of blossoms to adorn the tray.

I still remember the production-with-a-capital-P that making Mother's Day breakfast in bed was for my two older sisters and I, with my dad hovering in the background to make sure we didn't burn the house down with the toast.

Being a guy with pretty high standards, especially when it came to food, I can imagine it took a lot of willpower for him to stand back and give us the satisfaction of doing the whole job ourselves, even if it meant Mom got a mouthful of grounds in her coffee (oops, someone forgot the filter paper) or scrambled eggs that would bounce if you dropped them. But I thank them both for letting us totter up the stairs with that laden tray. It's a great lesson, learning what it takes to turn ingredients into food, and to see how even the simplest cooking can be a gift of great generosity.

So, how exactly do you start? My own experience cooking with kids (none of my own, but auntie to many) has shown that a little Zen energy helps a lot. You really do need to appreciate the journey--the floor-powdering transition of flour, butter, and water into pie crust, the triumphal cracking of an egg--as the purpose of the adventure. You can't hurry a five year old through the mixing of a cookie dough, any more than you can keep his hands out of the chocolate chips. (And for that, I recommend keeping a small "tasting bowl" of chips, nuts, raisins, etc. for nibbling alongside, so all the goodie-packed raw dough doesn't disappear into little bellies along the way.)

Do bigger kitchen projects, like making a pie or mixing a meatloaf, when you have a little more time and the household isn't screaming with 6pm hunger. Let go of your banal adult standards of acceptable beauty. Embrace pink sprinkles as appropriate decoration for just about anything but garlic chicken. Don't stress about the mess, but don't let your kids blithely ribbon the place with molasses and then disappear, either. Make the clean-up as much a part of the activity as measuring and mixing. And don't assume that kids are only interested in sweet stuff.

Which leads me to the next tip: even when the whole household IS screaming with hunger, don't banish the kids from the kitchen. There are many boring and repetitive tasks--shelling peas, husking corn, tearing lettuce into bite-sized pieces, even getting the ketchup on the table and pouring the milk--that children find fascinating, or at least mildly entertaining. Anything that gets them involved and aware that there are steps you can master that will turn ingredients into food is a small step towards a well-fed adulthood.

Now that I know what a mess kids can make of a kitchen, I'm even more impressed at how much time and patience my mom extended in teaching me how to cook. It was never formal; she just let me hang around while she did what she did every day, the radio tuned to the local classical-music station, as she made granola and rolled out the crust for an apple pie (or, when the 80s arrived and she went back to work, quiche, quiche, and more quiche, the power-suited lady's best friend).

As I went from watching to helping to "I can do it myself", she quickly realized quickly that I needed the satisfaction of creating something on my own more than I needed perfection. So she let me make my own tiny pie in a little Pyrex cup, which I could dig into with pride while everyone else had to settle for an ordinary slice from the big one. My own little meatloaf, squished like Play-doh and baked in the same Pyrex cup, my own mini-loaf of braided challah: all kid food, made to scale, and most importantly, first shaped and then, eventually, made start to finish all by me.

Of course, things escalated pretty fast. Pretty soon, I couldn't wait for my family to leave the house for the day. I would hold my breath for 10 or 15 minutes, waiting for someone to run back up the stairs for a left-behind wallet or pair of glasses, and then I'd head straight for the kitchen. Dill bread from scratch, homemade mayonnaise, fragile tuiles that had to be shaped over a rolling pin while still hot: it wasn't until much later that I discovered that for most kids, nascent adolescent rebellion didn't involve the Joy of Cooking or Julia Child's recipe for spinach omelets.

Of course, I did get into trouble, more than once, when the family showed up early to discover a high-octane mess. Yes, full-on yelling, go-to-your-room, banished-from-the-kitchen kind of trouble, which somehow never precluded everyone from happily scarfing down whatever I'd made. This seemed, and still does, a tad unfair. After all, there's no omelet without breaking eggs, and certainly there are no tuiles without a certain amount of butter and flour on the floor, especially when you're twelve.

In my sister's household, it's her husband who is the cook of the family. As soon as my nephew Graham was old enough to stand up on his own, my brother-in-law fenced in a tall chair so that he could pull his son eye-level to the counter while he diced and chopped and pulled espresso shots. Now 12, Graham is an ace cook and an adventurous eater (and I'm sure only a few years away from becoming a cappuccino connoisseur). For Mother's Day, he and his sisters are making my sister homemade veggie sushi for dinner.

Really, though, even if your kid never gets farther in the kitchen than pinging the microwave, teach him how to set a table. Napkin and fork on the left, plate in the middle, knife (blade in), then spoon on the right. This is how it's done. If you can nail down the difference between your and you're, its and it's, you can master this small but crucial bit of social currency. Please, don't make me have to follow you around when you're 25, shifting your forks from one side to the other so you don't embarrass yourself.

Sesame Fish
I couldn't resist adding this recipe to my kids' cookbook Fun Food, since it was the one and only way we would eat fish as children. Cutting the fish into strips nudges it a fish-stick direction, while leaving the fillets whole gives you both a teachable moment in the ways and means of graceful fork management. Definitely serve ketchup, lemon-spiked mayo or tartar sauce on the side; every kid loves a dip.

1 1/2 lbs rock cod, halibut, or other firm white fish fillets
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
freshly ground pepper
2 eggs
1 cup sesame seeds
1/4 cup peanut or canola oil
lemon wedges, for serving

1. Wash your hands. Did you use soap? OK, now, what'll it be, fillets or fish sticks? Sticks? All right, now put those fillets on a cutting board and cut fish into strips, roughly 1 by 5 inches. Rinse and dry your hands again. Get out three wide, shallow bowls and two big clean plates.

2. Put the flour in the first bowl, and season it with salt and pepper.

3. Crack the eggs into bowl #2, then beat with a fork until well blended.

4. Finally, put the sesame seeds into the last bowl.

5. Line up the flour, eggs, and sesame seed bowls in that order) in front of you.

6. Drag a piece of fish through the flour, shaking off any extra. Dip it quickly into the egg, letting any excess drip off. Drag it through the sesame seeds, turning to get it coated evenly. Set it aside on a big clean plate. Repeat until you've coated all the fish. Place a layer of paper towels on plate #2, and set aside.

7. Now here's the hot-stove part where a grownup will definitely want to be in the room. Heat a saute pan over medium heat for 1 minute. Add oil and heat for another 30 seconds or so. Using tongs or a spatula, add the fish one by one to the pan. The coating should sizzle when it touches the oil. Don't crowd the pan; there should be a little space around each piece. (You may have to do this in batches)

8. Cook fish until golden brown, about 4 minutes per side. Transfer fish onto paper towels to drain. Repeat as needed to cook remaining fish.

9. Serve hot with lemon wedges and the sauce of your choice.

The other night at work, I watched as a fellow server carried a tray of cocktails to one of his tables. On that tray were three beverages known as Shirley Temples.

As he passed me, I commented with mock indignance, "Poor Jane Withers, no one ever named a drink after her. It's always Shirley, Shirley, Shirley."

Which was exactly what was happening as I spoke the words. One Shirley, two Shirley, three Shirleys down...

So I resolved then and there to create a drink in Jane Withers' honor to make up for nearly seven decades-worth of slight.

For those of you not well-versed in Depression-Era (the 1930's version, not the present one) pop culture, Jane Withers gained fame as Shirley Temple's nemesis in a film or two, most notably in Bright Eyes. Meaner, bigger, and less endearing, she was still entertaining enough to hold her own against Miss Temple. And if I have to explain to you who Shirley Temple is, I am going to cry.

Just watch and you'll see what I mean:

When I got home, I thought about what to make and came up blank. Who even remembers Jane Withers anymore, except me, I mean? Should I just simply do a take-off of a Shirley Temple? Would I add bitters? Make it taller? I was frustrated. There is little pay-off in naming anything after a child who lived her early years in Miss Temple's enormous career shadow.

I needed a drink.

And, suddenly, there was the answer. I decided then and there to forget all about Miss Withers and create an adult beverage in honor of the infinitely more famous Miss Temple. I know what you're thinking-- I'm a star-(expletive)er.

Well, I guess you're right. I am a star-(expletive)er (never, mind you, in a literal sense). And why not? Shirley Temple the mega-child star transitioned successfully into adulthood as Shirley Temple Black-- wife, mother, representative to the United Nations General Assembly (Nixon), the first female Chief of Protocol of the United States (Carter), and U.S. Ambassador to both Ghana (Ford) and Czechoslovakia (Bush the Elder). If anyone has earned a good, stiff drink, it is she.

Shirley Temple Black

The Shirley Temple is far-and-away the most popular "kiddie cocktail" in the world-- fitting that it was named for the most popular child actor to have ever existed.

The original Shirley Temple drink was, as one rumor has it, created by a bartender at The Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu in the 1930's-- a place Miss Temple visited with her family many times.

It is a non-alcoholic beverage made with ginger ale or some sort of lemon-lime soda, grenadine syrup, a garnish of maraschino cherries and a slice of orange. The Canadians love to add a splash of orange juice, and so do I-- it just makes the thing that much more wholesome, which is something Canadians know all about. After all, they did send us the original America's Sweetheart, Mary Pickford. Miss Pickford, if you didn't know, served as the hairstyle inspiration for Miss Temple. No Pickford, no Curly Top.

The whole notion of kiddie cocktails centers around their ability to allow children to participate somewhat benignly in adult cocktail culture-- preparing them in a sense for their futures as alcohol-swigging grown-ups to whom they look up, both physically and morally.

Maybe they're not so benign, after all.

The idea of the Shirley Temple Black is entirely upside down. It is a drink that allows me to mix and mingle with the wee 'uns from time to time without having them point at my Manhattan and ask what's in it. With an innocent-looking, yet boozy Shirley Temple Black, I can gently tone down those shrieks of bouncy castle delight, or steel myself for the twenty-seventh consecutive screening of Thomas the Tank Engine more or less unnoticed.

At the next children's party I am obliged to attend, when the host or hostess asks me what I'm having, you know my answer's going to be:

"I'll have a Shirley Temple, and make it Black."

Makes One Deceptive Little Cocktail

Ingredients

1 ounce white rum

1/2 ounce Maraschino liqueur

A splash of grenadine

A splash of fresh orange juice

Ginger Beer

Crushed ice

Orange zest or a slice of orange for garnish.

Preparation:

Fill a highball or double old fashioned glass with crushed ice. Pour in rum, maraschino liqueur, grenadine, and splash of orange juice. Fill to near the top, but not brimming (remember, there are children present whose motor skills aren't yet finely tuned) with Ginger Beer and garnish with orange.

Drink immediately to bring your own motor skills closer the the level of the precious little ones.

Variation: The Jane Withers

Just like a Roy Rogers is the classic cola-based alter ego of a Shirley Temple, I felt the Shirley Temple Black was in need of a foil. Feeling guilty that I was turning away from the woman I had originally intended to honor, my friend Rebecca suggested this drink might be delicious with a slug of rye instead of rum.

Of course she would say that-- her boyfriend is an amazing mixologist.

So here you go, Miss Withers-- a drink created especially for you:

The Jane Withers

It's kickier than a Shirley Temple Black, and guaranteed to unclog your pipes faster than Josephine the Plumber.

To make a Jane Withers, simply substitute rye for rum.

And we're done. I hope everybody's happy.

About a million years ago, when I was waitressing my way through college, I worked at a prime rib house. The name of the restaurant sounded more like a strip club than a steak joint -- I kid you not, it was The Gentleman's Choice. We were known for our prime cuts of beef plus a very decent bar. Our signature dish was, obviously, prime rib. But those thick slabs of beef were always a bit of a turn off for me. I was happy to avoid the meat overload with au jus and a baked potato side dish in favor of the simpler steak sandwich. While the prime rib plates seemed excessive for my tastes, the sandwich offered great beef flavor but in a crusty bun (and I really love the crunch). Since that time, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for a good steak sandwich.

Now although the sandwich from The Gentleman's Choice is my Platonic ideal, I can very rarely even try to duplicate it as the main ingredient is thinly sliced prime rib -- something only occasionally available at my house the day after Christmas. I'm also not one to make roast beef very often (actually, never). So a couple of years ago, after watching a Barefoot Contessa episode where Ina Garten roasted an enormous (and very expensive) filet of beef (which is essentially one large filet mignon) for her steak sandwich lunch, I went to the butcher feeling completely depressed. I wanted my own hearty steak sandwich, but knew that tenderloin and prime rib decadence wasn't in the cards for me as I didn't have Ina's budget. After chatting with the butcher about my dilemma, he came up with a solution: cube steak.

Yes, this 1950s staple is my route to affordable steak sandwich success. Made from either the top or bottom round, cube steak undergoes a serious pounding that helps tenderize it into submission. So, although you start off with a chewier piece of meat than the upmarket prime rib roast or tenderloin, you end up with something that works beautifully when pressed into a bun. As a busy mom, I also love that this dish takes less than 10 minutes to make.

Since my discovery, I've made various iterations of the steak sandwich, topping it with everything from cheese and onions for a mock Philly cheese steak, to mushrooms, onions and gravy for unadulterated comfort food. Sure, I would still love a thinly-sliced prime rib sandwich every now and again, but between Christmases, I'm happy to stick with the more inexpensive variety.

Comforting Cube Steak Sandwich

Makes: 4 sandwiches

Ingredients:
8 slices of cube steak
1 large onion thinly sliced
1 cup brown or white mushrooms thinly sliced
1/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup beer, wine or broth
More salt and pepper to taste
4 crunchy rolls
Horseradish and mayonnaise (optional)

Preparation:
1. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the meat.
2. Place flour on a flat plate and then add the remaining seasonings to the flour.
3. Dredge the meat in the flour and then set aside.
4. Heat the 1 Tbsp butter and 1 Tbsp oil in a large pan (I like to use my cast iron). When it bubbles and the pan is not, lay half the meat into the pan. Cook on each side for 2-3 minutes, or until done.
5. Remove meat from the pan and then add the remaining butter and oil, repeat step #4 and then remove the meat from the pan.
6. Add the onions and Worcestershire sauce to the pan along with extra oil if needed and sauté until soft. Add the sliced mushrooms and continue to sauté until they are soft and integrated into the onions. Remove vegetables from the pan.
7. Lower the heat and then add the beer, wine or broth to the pan, scraping up everything on the bottom of the pan. Because the meat was dredged in flour you should be able to make a nice gravy from the pan drippings, but if the gravy is too thin, make a slurry with some flour and more wine or beer and add to sauce to thicken.
8. Slice rolls (you can preheat these if you like) and then place two cooked cube steaks on each, topping with onions, mushrooms and gravy. Serve with a slather of some mayonnaise mixed with horseradish if desired.

Mock Philly Cheese Steak

If you're interested in a sandwich that's more like a Philly cheese steak, just omit the mushrooms and add some sliced peppers to the pan instead. Also, instead of making gravy just top the sandwich with cheese sauce (recipe below).

Makes: 4 sandwiches

Ingredients:
8 slices of cube steak
1 large onion thinly sliced
1 large red pepper thinly sliced
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 cup cheese sauce (see recipe below)
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil
More salt and pepper to taste
4 crunchy rolls

Preparation:
1. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the meat and then marinade in Worcestershire sauce for at least five minutes.
2. Heat the 1 Tbsp butter and 1 Tbsp oil in a large pan (I like to use my cast iron). When it bubbles and the pan is not, lay half the meat into the pan. Cook on each side for 2-3 minutes, or until done.
3. Remove meat from the pan and then add the remaining butter and oil, repeat step #2 and then remove the meat from the pan.
4. Add the onions to the pan along with Worcestershire sauce from the marinade. Add extra oil if needed and sauté until soft. Add the sliced peppers and continue to sauté until they are soft and integrated into the onions. Remove vegetables from the pan.
5. Meanwhile, make your cheese sauce (recipe below).
6. Slice rolls (you can preheat these if you like) and then place two cooked cube steaks on each, topping with onions and peppers. Slather on some cheese sauce and serve.

Cheese Sauce

Makes: a little over 1 1/2 cups

Ingredients:
3 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
1 cup whole or 2% warmed milk
1 cup grated cheese (mild cheddar, provolone, Swiss, Gruyere, American, a mix of each or whatever you like)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
1. Heat butter in a medium sauce pan.
2. When butter start to bubble, add in the flour and mix to create a roux.
3. Slowly add in the milk and whisk to incorporate.
4. Turn off the heat and mix in the cheese. It should melt in nicely.
5. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Happy Purim! Yes, today is the Jewish celebration of Purim, a happy little holiday where costumes and drunken revelry are mandated, and rolling from house to house bringing gifts of food and drink is exactly what you're supposed to do. The party is mostly a secular one, a celebration of the bravery and resourcefulness of Queen Esther, favorite of Persia's King Ahasuerus. When Haman, one of the king's advisors, plotted to rid the kingdom of Jews, Esther went to the king, revealed her previously hidden Jewish identity and pleaded for her people to be spared. As a result, Haman got it in the neck instead of the Jews, and persecution was set aside for another day.

So, a fine reason to celebrate. At the synagogue, the story is read from the Book of Esther, and every time Haman is mentioned, noisemakers are cranked to drown out his name. Sometimes the story is acted out, in a goofy pageant called the Purimspiel. Many synagogues or community centers hold a Purim Carnival for kids. Who could resist games like "Throw the Beanbag through Haman's Mouth"? Best of all, of course, are the hamantaschen, cookies made in the shape of Haman's (supposedly) three-cornered hat and filled with a thick, sweet paste of apricots, prunes, or poppy seeds.

Clearly, this is a cookie born in Central Europe, brought over by immigrants raised on the buttery cookies, the poppy seeds, honey, spices and dried fruits found in baking traditions from Vienna to Budapest. What sets hamantaschen apart from, say, thumbprint cookies are their fillings: dense and sticky, full flavored and rich. Called lekvar, these are pastes, not jams, made from dried fruits plumped in juice and water, flavored with citrus and spices. Where jam would boil and run, lekvar stays put.

It's not impossible to find hamantaschen at bakeries around the Bay Area, especially at this time of year. But they're never anywhere near as good as homemade. Too often, the dough is sugar-cookie bland, the filling a thin scrape of rubbery goo. What you want is a fat, buttery-lemony cookie folded around a plump spoonful of rich fruitiness, something almost more mince pie than mere cookie.

Now, it's easy to find canned lekvars in the kosher section of any supermarket. Like so many prepared foods, though, they're often filled with unnecessary junk: high-fructose corn syrup, weird preservatives. Happily, though, making your own is easy, and the taste is well worth the tiny bit of effort put in at the blender.

You will, however, need to make a special trip for the apricot paste. Any shop specializing in Middle Eastern groceries will carry this, essentially a flat brick of lightly sweetened fruit leather. I've only ever seen one brand, made in Syria and wrapped in golden cellophane, with a beautiful blue label painted with bright orange apricots.

While you're there, of course, you can browse for all kinds of other delicious things, like olives, thick yogurt, pink pickled turnips, mint tea, pomegranate molasses, rose-petal jam, baba ghanoush, chunks of halvah ribboned with chocolate, fresh pita bread, crunchy melon seeds, belly-dancing videos, copper pots for making Turkish coffee, sesame candy, and more. I found mine (and all of the above) at Samiramis Imports in the Mission.

Apricot paste in hand, you can divide up the process over a few hours. Make the cookie dough and stash it in the fridge. Make the fillings, apricot first so you can reuse the pot and the blender without needing to wash them, since the darkness of the prune will absorb any remaining apricot stickiness. Roll out the dough, cut the rounds, move them onto cookie sheets and let little hands plop on the filling and pinch the three-cornered triangles. Bake, make tea or pour milk, and celebrate. And then bring a plateful to your neighbors.

Hamantaschen
Both dough and fillings keep well in the refrigerator, so you can roll out and fill just a few cookies at a time. Then again, these are really delicious and fun to eat even for breakfast, since they're not overly rich or sweet. In my experience, even a whole batch doesn't last very long out of the oven.

Makes: about 20 cookies

Ingredients:
8 tbsp (1 stick, 4 oz) butter or margarine
1/2 cup + 2 tbsp sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 tbsp orange juice
1/2 tsp grated lemon rind
2 cups flour
1 1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
Apricot and/or Prune Lekvar, recipe below

Preparation:
1. Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Beat in egg, orange juice, and vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir flour into butter mixture, mixing gently until just combined. Add lemon zest and stir until dough is smooth.

2. Form into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap or pop into a resealable plastic bag.
Chill in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours or overnight. (Otherwise dough will be too sticky to roll out.) While dough is chilling, making filling(s).

3. Preheat oven to 375 F. Lightly flour a large wooden cutting board or countertop. Because this dough tends to be sticky, it's easiest to roll it out with a sheet of waxed paper between the dough and the rolling pin. This will prevent the dough from sticking and tearing as you roll.

4. Roll out dough into a broad round, as if you're making a thickish sheet of pie dough. It's better to have it on the thicker side, maybe a quarter-inch or so, as the cookies are nicer when they're a little puffy, and also will be easier to fill and pinch if they're not super-skinny.

5. Using a cookie cutter or a drinking glass, stamp out circles of dough. Move the circles onto a cookie sheet, leaving an inch or so between each one. It's important to fill the rounds on the cookie sheet (rather than on the counter top) as they are hard to move without tearing once they're filled. The size is up to you; I usually use a cutter that's about 4 inches across, making a round the size of a smallish hamburger patty.

6. Place a generous tablespoon of filling in the center of each round. Fold the top sides of the circle into the middle and pinch the top into a point. Fold the bottom half up to meet the folded-in sides. Pinch each side to seal, forming a triangle with a patch of filling peeking out from the middle.

7. Bake for 20 minutes or so, until cookies are pale golden brown around the edges. Let cool on a rack. Note that the filling will be super-bubbling hot right out of the oven, so try to give them at least a few minutes' cooling time before you bite into your first one.

Apricot Lekvar

Ingredients:
7 oz apricot paste
1/2 cup water
2 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp orange juice
1 tablespoon grated orange zest
1/2 cup golden raisins
2 tbsp sugar or honey, or to taste

Preparation:
Tear apricot paste into bite-sized pieces. Place in a small, heavy saucepan with the rest of the ingredients. Warm over low heat, stirring frequently, until paste is soft and melting and raisins have plumped up, about 10-12 minutes. Let cool for a few minutes, then transfer to a food processor or blender. Puree until smooth. Taste and add more sugar or orange juice, as needed. Store in the refrigerator until needed. (If you have extra, it keeps for a very long time and is excellent on toast.)

Prune Lekvar

Ingredients:
1/2 cup water or orange juice
2 tbsp lemon juice
1 cup pitted prunes
1/2 cup raisins
2 tbsp sugar or honey
1/8 tsp cinnamon

Preparation:
Mix all ingredients together. Put them into the same pot you used for the apricot filling (no need to wash it out), and warm over low heat until prunes and raisins are soft and mushy, about 8-10 minutes. Let cool slightly, then puree. Store in the fridge until needed. Like the apricot filling, it keeps a very long time and tastes divine.

Samiramis Imports, 2990 Mission St at 26th St., San Francisco. (415) 824-6556.

I have a few extended family members who hate soup. For some reason, this really bugs me. As a lover of all chowders, consommés, gumbos and bisques, I take it almost as a personal affront that they have no interest in homemade chicken or mushroom soup, clam chowder, or minestrone (particularly when I make them). Thankfully, my husband and children share my passion for all things steamy, creamy and brothy.

Knowing this, it won't surprise you to hear that we eat a lot of soup at my house. My daughters are actually little soup fanatics. It is a cure-all for any ill. Have the sniffles? Ask mom to make homemade chicken soup. Your friend was mean to you at recess? Take comfort in a cup of miso soup. It's rainy and cold outside? Then obviously we need cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Yes, from head colds to just an all-around bad day, soup makes their lives a little brighter.

My daughters' hands-down favorite is a tie between homemade chicken soup and miso soup from our local sushi spot. But boiling a chicken takes time and the Japanese restaurant is a hassle to walk or drive to on a busy night. So, because necessity is the mother of invention, I've created a few easy-to-prepare soups that can be made in less than ten minutes from foods most of us have on hand in our freezers and pantries. As any working mom can tell you, quick and easy is essential for a week-night dinner, and these recipes are both; yet I also love how these homey dishes are made almost entirely of vegetables, making them just as nutritious for my family as they are tasty.

Now, I realize some of you may scoff at the idea of using frozen vegetables or canned tomatoes, but when you're trying to cook seasonally, they're really your only option in the winter if you want to use something that isn't either a root vegetable or a leafy green. Plus many frozen vegetables are picked at the height of the season, so, if you don't overcook them, their natural summer sweetness really comes through.

After quickly sautéing the vegetables, you just add in some chicken or vegetable stock, milk with butter, and a few seasonings; ten minutes later, you will see that these hearty and warm dishes are worthy of your full attention.

If you have your own quick pantry or freezer soup recipe, I'd love to hear about it.

Homemade Cream of Tomato Soup

My husband's favorite childhood rainy-day lunch was Campbell's Tomato Soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Too bad the poor guy grew up to have a wife who sneers at canned soups and refuses to buy them. But after years of eating this quick pantry soup, he's never looked back. Just like their dad, our kids are now eating cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches on rainy days, although theirs lacks corn syrup and preservatives.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 15 oz can of diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, or whole plum tomatoes that have been blended.
1/2 medium onion diced
1 medium carrot diced
1 cup béchamel sauce (double recipe below)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp flour
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 Tbsp dried dill, oregano or basil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat oil in a medium-sized pot.
2. Add onions and carrots and cook for 3-5 minutes or until onions start to become translucent.
3. Stir in tomatoes and then add in the broth and simmer for 5 minutes.
4. In a separate pot, make the béchamel sauce.
5. If tomatoes are chunky, puree using either a hand or stand blender.
6. Whisk the béchamel into the tomato mixture then stir in the dried herbs (dill, basil or oregano) and simmer for about three minutes.
7. Add salt and pepper to taste. Top with a dollop of sour cream or crème fraiche for added creaminess and some fresh basil or dill to garnish. Serve with grilled cheese sandwiches.

Broken Freezer Frozen Pea Soup

This soup was invented after my freezer broke. While cleaning out the defrosting mess, I realized that I have a problem buying frozen peas. Now I am not being hyperbolic here. I had 7 bags of frozen peas in my freezer. Why did I have 7 bags of peas? I am asking myself that same question. In any case, this soup is fast, easy, and even uses leftover mashed potatoes or rice, if you have those on hand. If not, you can plop in some béchamel for substance and creaminess.
Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 bag frozen peas
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp butter
1/2 onion or 1/4 cup shallots finely chopped
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 cup leftover mashed potatoes, the inside of a baked potato, or cooked rice. If you don’t have any of these around, just use 1/2 cup béchamel sauce (see recipe below).
1/4 cup milk
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat oil and butter in a medium-sized pot.
2. Add onions and cook until translucent.
3. Add peas and cook for a few minutes.
4. Add broth and simmer for five minutes.
5. Add potatoes, rice or béchamel sauce and then add the remaining milk. If using béchamel sauce, wait until step 6 sto see if the soup needs to be thinned a bit before adding the extra 1/4 cup milk. Mix thoroughly.
6. Puree ingredients thoroughly using either a hand or stand blender. If using béchamel sauce, add the remaining milk now only if soup needs to be thinned a bit.
7. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve with a splash of olive oil or a small dollop of crème fraiche. Serve with bread.

Creamy Corn Chowder with Pancetta and Peppers

I love the natural sweet flavor of corn in this easy-to-prepare soup. The pancetta adds a great salty flavor, but if you prefer to keep this dish vegetarian, just omit it. Bursting with flavor, this is the perfect soup for a weekend lunch or weeknight dinner. Serve with quesadillas or a big salad.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 16 oz bag frozen corn kernels
1/4 cup chopped peppers (pasilla are nice, but you can also use red, yellow or green bell peppers or even a can of chopped roasted peppers)
1/4 cup chopped pancetta or bacon (optional)
1/4 cup chopped shallots, onions, or green onions
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup whole or low-fat milk

Preparation:

1. Heat oil in a medium-sized pot and sauté chopped pancetta on medium-high heat for 2 minutes.
2. Add onions and peppers and cook for 3-5 minutes or until vegetables soften
3. Add corn and cook on medium-high for a few minutes.
4. Add in broth and cook at a low boil for 3-5 minutes.
5. Puree using a hand or stand blender.
6. Add the milk and and simmer for a few minutes.
7. Salt and pepper to taste. If desired, top with a chopped cilantro or another herb to garnish.

Béchamel Sauce
Makes: 1/2 cup
1/2 cup whole or low-fat milk
2 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
dash of salt, pepper and nutmeg

Preparation:
1. melt butter and then mix in the flour to create a roux.
2. Add in the milk and simmer until it thickens.
3. Season with salt, pepper and a dash of nutmeg to taste.