On one lovely sunny afternoon in early January, my friend Pamela Palma and I decided to take a coffee break in the backyard of General Store, a quaint little shop in the Outer Richmond located next door to Trouble Coffee. We were taking a leisurely bike ride around the city and around 3 o'clock -- that magic hour that's perfect for a little caffeine boost -- we were both craving some coffee.

As we sat within the quiet walls of that peaceful sanctuary and sipped our drinks, we came upon the idea of creating an extended version of that day's journey: a bicycle tour that visited several of our favorite coffee shops throughout the city. As we're both cycling enthusiasts and devotees of good food and drink, this was the perfect blend of our passions.

We quickly came up with a list that would loop around the city, thus allowing our friends to burn off some caffeine if they chose to indulge themselves at each location: Sightglass Coffee in SOMA; just right around the corner at Mission and 7th Street is De La Paz Coffee at their new location; Blue Bottle Coffee at the Ferry Building Marketplace; Trouble Coffee on Judah and 46th Street near Ocean Beach; Ritual Roasters at Flora Grubb Gardens; and Four Barrel Coffee in the Mission.

We set the date for early April and spread the word to our friends. Folks were encouraged to bring their own mugs and a steel stomach.

On the bright spring morning of the ride, close to 50 folks showed up for our 25-mile excursion. We hadn't warned any of the shops that we'd be arriving en masse, so our arrival felt a bit like a flash mob descending on the baristas. Their lazy Sunday turned into a Monday morning-like rush, but they were happy to accomodate us one drip coffee at a time.

After lingering at Sightglass for an hour, we ended up bypassing De La Paz as they were still renovating their new space. Onwards to the Ferry Building, where people also fueled up with Blue Bottle's delicious caramelized Belgian-style waffles. The energy came in handy as we wove through Fisherman's Wharf, Ft. Mason, zoomed past Crissy Field and climbed up through the hilly Presidio. We spread out along the vast lanes of The Great Highway, which was conveniently closed off for Sunday Streets.

Giulietta Carrelli, the proprietor of Trouble Coffee, greeted us warmly at our third stop and rang up our orders. Folks filled up on their renowned fresh coconut water and thick-sliced toast slathered with cinnamon and butter, peanut butter or Nutella. And of course, we guzzled more coffee as there was still lots of riding on the agenda.

After a much-needed pit stop at a public bathroom on La Playa, we meandered up the long, slow incline of Sloat Avenue, then cut through to Monterey Boulevard. Alemany Boulevard took us down to Hunter's Point, and we soon descended upon Flora Grubb Gardens, a lovely urban oasis located in Bayview. The line for Ritual Roasters was bit shorter, as people were well-buzzed, hungry for dinner and ready to retire for the day. We made an executive decision to end the tour there and Four Barrel would have to wait another time.

Pamela and I were thrilled to discover that we were able to introduce many of our friends to new shops and bike routes within the city. You can try out our route by following the Google Map below. Approximately half of it follows bike paths and streets with bike lanes. It's an intermediate ride with several climbs throughout the city loop, so feel free to reference the San Francisco Bike Map to get approximations of elevation or to plot out an easier course. Be sure to stay well-hydrated, wear a helmet and have fun!

View San Francisco Coffee Ride! in a larger map

Check out more photos from our coffee ride from Pamela Palma's Flickr set.

It's no secret that I'm a fan of sweets, and macarons are at the top of that list. I've written about macarons extensively on my blog, and made hundreds of them while testing recipes for a macaron cookbook. I've eaten them at every location in San Francisco that I learned made them, and it's not uncommon for me to BART over to SF just to visit Paulette.

I was in Paris this week, and the very first adventure I went on was to go find the two most famous pastry shops in town and try their macarons. That's right -- I went on a macaron pilgrimage, visiting both Pierre Hermé and Ladurée in the same day. I bought a couple in each location and put them to the test to see who had the better pastry.

Ed note: You'll notice I used the term "pastry" instead of "cookie." That's because every time I called macarons "cookies" in Paris, I was corrected. According to the Parisians I talked to, macarons are most definitely not cookies. Lesson learned!

After a little digging, I learned that both Ladurée and Hermé had locations on Rue Bonaparte, not far from the Seine River. Headed to a perfectly central location on the left bank, I planned my day: I would buy a handful of macarons at each bakery, then enjoy them in the sunshine while sitting along the river. The weather was topping out at 72 degrees that day, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend my afternoon than nibbling gourmet goodies in the Parisian sun.

My first stop was Ladurée, where the scent of pure sugar wafted out the door and down the street to greet me at the corner, beckoning me to the shopfront. I was immediately swept away by an incredible assortment of pastries in all sizes and colors, including a selection of ten or so flavors of macarons and a handful of larger macarons that were three times the normal size. The decor was delightfully, classically "French," or at least what this American girl thinks of when she dreams of French pastry from thousands of miles away in California. Think rich greens, blues and browns, pinstripes, and matching seafoam-green ribbons on every box. I felt like I was walking into a Parisian pastry fairy tale.

The line was out the door, but no worry; that gave me plenty of time to gawk without looking like a loafer. After staring in awe at their selection of sweets, I chose two flavors of macarons -- salted caramel and chocolate orange -- and headed out the door to visit Pierre Hermé's shop down the street.

Pierre Hermé was less classically decorated than Ladurée, and was instead very sleek and stylish. The place was decked out in glass and dark teak-looking wood, rounded out with black accents. Here, the desserts provided all the color to the joint, and I suspect that was the whole point. In the dark environment, each little treat glowed like it was Louis XV's crown jewels.

Here I selected two more macarons -- passion fruit and vanilla olive oil (!!) -- and made my way to the Seine River to put these little jewels of egg white and sugar to the test.

The Test
Visually, both shop's macarons were gorgeous. Their colors were bright and they flaunted themselves, unashamed, in the Parisian spring sunshine. The first thing I noticed, though, was that Ladurée's macarons were a little lacking in the filling department, and their shells were a little cracked, while Hermé's macarons were literally bubbling over with filling and the shells were perfectly in-tact, with not a crack to be seen. Upon the first bite, though, it turned out that one of Hermé's macarons -- the passionfruit -- had soaked up the moisture in the filling, making the shell soggy. Also, the passionfruit was really, really tart, and almost made me turn my face inside out. While I did like the flavor, it was a little shocking considering the fluffy texture of the buttercream filling.

Here it's important to note that both bakeries use the Italian meringue method for making macarons, since it yields a more stable batter (anyone who's made macarons knows how volatile the process can be) and a somewhat denser finished product. While Ladurée's macarons had less filling to boast and the shells were a little worse for wear, they both displayed consistency in quality -- the shells were crispy on the outside and soft in the middle, and had a lovely little crunch when bitten into. Hermé's on the other hand, were softer and lighter, floating on your tongue like little sugary clouds, like the very first bite of cotton candy you tried when you were four years old.

Flavor-wise, both were lovely, but I felt that while Ladurée's macarons were more consistently better, Hermé's flavors were more creative. The vanilla olive oil variety was particular unique, and incredibly satisfying, but the passion fruit was a little too much of a sock in the face for me to enjoy it. Ladurée's chocolate orange was smooth and creamy, and the salted caramel divine, but they were flavors I'd expect to see in a macaron, and therefore didn't stand out beyond their high quality of overall flavor.

The Verdict
If I had to pick a winner (and I guess I do, given the title of this post), I'd say that the Macaron Oscar goes to Pierre Hermé, with his vanilla olive oil variety. Hermé also packed in the filling, which made for a better visual experience and a more satisfying first bite, making the overall package a sheer dream. That said, Ladurée certainly held their own in the battle; their macarons were more consistently good, but the shortage of filling and the cracked shells were kind of a bummer.

My final word? Visit both. If you're in the left bank area, the two shops are only like three blocks apart, so stage your own battle!

Pierre Hermé
72, rue Bonaparte
75006 Paris, France
Tel : +33 (1) 43 54 47 77
Near the Saint-Germain des Prés Paris Metro station

Ladurée
21, Rue Bonaparte
75006 Paris, France
Tel : +33 (1) 44 07 64 87 ‎
Near the Saint Sulpice Metro station

In the United States, we have this idea that Italian meatballs are best piled on top of a huge mound of spaghetti noodles. Remember the song, spaghetti with meatballs, all covered with cheese? Well, the only way I've come across polpette en Italia is on their own, usually in a simple, tart pomodoro sauce. I've eaten polpette everywhere from Bologna to Brindisi, and while there are subtle differences in each region's traditional recipe, not once have I seen a menu offering spaghetti con polpette.

Perhaps they serve spaghetti with meatballs somewhere in the country (and if you know where, please feel free to chime in), but according to my friend's mom Angela, an incredible home cook in the Puglia region, meatballs are generally served on their own in the second piatti (second course), while pasta is served separately for the primi piatti course, or first course.

These days I'm in Firenze, or Florence, so the recipe I'm going to share with you is uniquely fiorentino. This dish comes from the kind woman who runs the hotel I'm staying at, who, when it came up in conversation that I was writing this post, was all too excited to share a bit of her family's culinary history with the rest of the world. Her only condition was that I not mention her name and that I should inform you all that American meatballs are missing the necessary addition of cured pork, and that on all of her trips to the states, she had to stop ordering meatballs because they were too bland for her. So, there you go. More bacon!

If there's one thing you need to eat in Spain, it's paella. And that's exactly what I planned to do once I got to Valencia during my recent trip to Europe -- eat all the paella I could get my hands on. After all, paella originated in Valencia; hence the fact that most recipes call for Valencia rice, a short-grain white rice from the same area.

Unfortunately, my trip to Valencia succumbed to the whims of the mercurial travel gods, and I ended up spending an entire week in Barcelona instead. Not one to be dissuaded from my dream meal, I was determined to have my paella anyways, even if it could only be had a few hours north of where it originated. I set about the gorgeous city of Barcelona to find the perfect place to eat, but noticed a problem right away: many different restaurants had these funny signs with ten or so photos of paella, all labeled with a brand name: Paellador. Others had a difference brand, Paella Maxima. As one who likes my food so fresh that it would almost be breathing, my foodie-tuned spidey sense went off.

After a little digging, it turns out that these are pre-fab frozen paella companies. Restaurants buy the dishes frozen, then heat up the paella to serve to customers, who think they're getting the real thing. Um, no. No. Great big capital NO. Frozen paella? In Spain? Are you kidding me?

I polled the staff of a few restaurants and eventually turned up a handful of places that served fresh paella. I ate at three or four of them, and indeed the dishes they served were freshly made with some of the finest seafood the Aegean sea has to offer. I never did try the frozen paella, and you know what? I never will. Yikes.

For those of you not currently cooling your heels in Barcelona, I recommend making paella at home. It's a very simple dish to make, and the ingredients are easy to rustle up. If you're in the East Bay or near Mill Valley, I highly recommend making the short trek down to your local Spanish Table shop, where they not only stock Iberian imported foods, but they can also school you in the magical ways of paella making and recommend a Spanish wine to pair with your meat selection. Can you say staycation?

The market's grand exterior, on a side street just off La Rambla.

In the heart of Barcelona, Spain, there is a road called Rambla dells Caputxins, or La Rambla for short. Teeming with life, La Rambla is a wide, busy road that is partially blocked off for pedestrian traffic. You can buy all sorts of things along this street: flowers, crepes, postcards, newspapers, hamsters, and a steaming hot pan of paella. But perhaps the most interesting part of La Rambla is Mercat de La Boqueria, Barcelona's famous open food market.

Ferran Adrià, chef of Spain's famous elBulli, called the mercat "A temple of gastronomy,' if that gives you any idea of what a culinary wonderland this place its. While you can buy all sorts of interesting things on La Rambla, within the huge hangar-like structure of Mercat de La Boqueria you'll find an incredible selection of Spanish fare. Fruit and produce are just a small portion of what's available; there are rows upon rows of incredibly fresh seafood, cured meats, freshly-foraged mushrooms, and delectable handmade sweets.

The variety and freshness of the foods in the Mercat de La Boqueria can be overwhelming for even the most experienced foodie -- one could easily spend four or five hours roaming the stalls, deciding what to eat or prepare for dinner. My first visit took me about three hours, and I finally left because, being on vacation, I couldn't bear the thought of not having a place to prepare any of the wonderful things I was seeing. My second (and third!) trip to the market also took hours. Really, there is so much to see, smell, and taste.

This is one of those situations where pictures speaks much louder than words, so I'll just show you the loveliness of it all. Be prepared for the urge to book the next one-way ticket to Spain.

A forest of cured meats! Hallelujah!

Fruit salad "La Macedonia." Many vendors sell these salads for a quick, healthy, on-the-go lunch.

Fruity smoothies make a great snack. A rainbow of flavors are available.

The selection of seafood is unimaginable.

A food porn shot for the mushroom lover in all of us.

More seafood, still alive and kicking.

A huge selection of sweets are available for a huge selection of vendors. It's a sugar-lovers paradise in here.

More sweets to tempt your sweet tooth.

I loved these silver pastilles. Such a bright light in the busy market.

And did I mention the produce selection? It's ungodly, really.

More fresh seafood, though clearly not alive any longer. ;)

This fresh conejo might offend even the staunch carnivore, but that doesn't make it any less tasty.

More cured meat, for the charcuterie lover (like me!).

I loved these little cupcakes. They were only .50 euros each -- or $0.70 US!

Seeing all of these fresh ingredients makes me wish I had a kitchen to cook in while I am here. Alas...............

The Perennial Plate is an online weekly documentary series dedicated to socially responsible and adventurous eating. The episodes follow the culinary, agricultural and hunting explorations of chef and activist, Daniel Klein. Season One took place over a calendar year in Minnesota where every Monday for 52 weeks, Daniel and cameragirl Mirra Fine released short films about good food. In Season Two, they will be traveling across America, taking the viewer on a journey to appreciate and understand where good food comes from and how to enjoy it.

Bay Area Bites asked Daniel about Season Two's Real Food Road Trip -- the mission, the project, the plan for the Bay Area and how people can participate.

Daniel Klein and Mirra Fine jump for joy in front of the vehicle that will take them on the Real Food Road Trip. Photo: Tim Klein

BAB: What is the mission of you trip? How does a road trip around the country fit in with your project? What do you expect to accomplish? Why did you choose the specific destinations you plan to explore?

Daniel: The mission of our trip is to explore and promote what good food is in this country. What “good food” or “real food” means is, of course, up for question. And we don’t pretend to know. This trip is about engaging and learning with the people who are passionate about their food.

The first phase of The Perennial Plate was about Minnesota. It was extremely local and/or regional. There is fantastic stuff happening here, much like the rest of the country. We couldn’t move on and just do a year in Iowa, so we decided to take on the whole country and show glimpses of these places in all their similarities and differences. It also just seemed like the logical next step for the show.

We expect to learn a lot. What I film is generally something I want to learn about, so we just bring the viewers along on that same educational and entertaining journey. Beyond learning, we hope to meet (and entertain) a lot of people, and develop a project that is a real celebration of all that goes into food (animals, the earth, water, money, politics, humans, love).

The destinations on our map are not set in stone. We want this journey to be guided by the people who submit ideas, or have stories to tell. We drew a map of places we wanted to visit, but it will surely change and develop.

Real Food Road Trip Map. Illustration: Mirra Fine

BAB: After a year documenting local Minnesota food + farming what kinds of local stories will you seek from specific regions? Are you going to try to capture the essence of the local cuisine? Or are you just looking for compelling stories?

Daniel: There are some regions where we really want to focus on the food that makes that place famous, but other places we’ll avoid the obvious choices. The truth of the matter is we don’t know yet. In the first few days of announcing the project, we received hundreds of story ideas, we are still sorting through them.

We are looking for compelling stories most of all. But each episode will vary. One week may just cover “Iowa” and have several short stories about food in that state. Another week could be a more in depth look at just one fisherman in Louisiana. We don’t like to repeat a format each week, and we think that changing things up keeps people coming back. One thing that will stay constant is that each week will keep moving, we’ve only got 6 months to cross the country.

BAB: When do you anticipate being in the Bay Area? What types of stories are you looking for to capture the food culture of the Bay Area? Do you have anything lined up yet? How can people submit their stories?

Daniel: We expect to be in the Bay Area in late June, early July. I am really excited about the Bay Area, but also a little nervous. There are so many stories there, it seems like everyone and there brother is involved with food in some way. So we could do something on just how prevalent and awesome good food is. We have been in touch with a number of folks in the Bay Area, but nothing is confirmed yet. On our website we also got hundreds of stories from across the US, many were from the Bay Area. We are still accepting ideas on our site, please: Tell Us Your Local Food Story.

Mirra Filming with second camera. Photo: Chuck Peterson

BAB: I am curious about your production process -- how will you produce segments while on the road? What kind of setup do you have?

Daniel: Working from the road is going to be a challenge, however after filming and editing 52 videos, we are relatively proficient in the process. Our setup will include a laptop, many hard drives, 2 cameras (one HD video camera and one DSLR camera that will be used to film occasionally but more often to capture pictures for our blog and the post-trip cookbook).

Our plan is to always be a week ahead of our videos, so its pretty real time. We are leaving on May 9th and we will release our first video on the 16th. We will film an episode every week as well as extra footage that may not make it into the series, but could appear in a film or mini-series version of the project.

BAB: I hear that Mirra, your vegetarian girlfriend and videographer will be blogging to document your journey in addition to shooting the segments. You say she will provide a vegetarian perspective to the experience -- what does that mean? Why do you want to include this POV?

Daniel and Mirra working together at a Harvest Dinner. Photo: Stephanie Watts

Daniel: Mirra will be blogging. She’s always been a part of the project, though very behind the scenes. But she is a funny writer with a very different POV from my own (when it comes to food). We say she will bring a vegetarian perspective, but really she will just bring her own thoughts to the project, they just happen to be vegetarian. That means when I am excited about some meat, or discussing the morality of killing an animal, she may have something different to say. It won’t all be serious of course, I expect her to make fun of me often.

The show is very much about connecting people to their food and making them think about it. We are learning and don’t know the answers, so by having two very different food perspectives, we are playing to that concept of dialogue and reason. Also, the first episode turned Mirra into a vegetarian -- it may do the same to others -- and that’s ok. The more folks are conscious about what they eat, the better.

Bread Pudding + Pumpkin Soup and Harvest Dinner Menu. Photos: Stephanie Watts

BAB: You also talk about doing events while on the road that people can get involved in. Can you clarify the details for people that might be interested?

Daniel: There are two types of events: harvest dinner and screening. We are working on a 30 minute version of the Minnesota series that we will be showing across the country (along with a Q&A). These screenings can be in at a restaurant, farm, home, theatre... wherever there is space and the appropriate equipment for screening as well as a reasonable size crowd (20+)

For the dinners, we will be cook (and film) and promote the dinner. The host is expected to organize the location, kitchen, money (for food) as well as bring together the guests. The event can be a fundraiser for an organization, a farm or The Perennial Plate. Events must have at least 20 people.

To host an event, please Submit Your Idea.

BAB: Is the Perennial Plate slated to become a documentary film? A TV series?

Daniel: We plan on turning the 6 months of filming into a documentary film or mini-series. Although we are releasing a video every week, we will be filming other content that will make this next phase possible.

BAB: How have you funded your project for the past year? How do you plan to fund your upcoming Real Food Road Trip?

Daniel: Last year was funded out of pocket as well as through crowd funding and hosting harvest dinners. For Season 2 we are raising $20K on Kickstarter (Please Donate!) and also looking for sponsors. It's a lot cheaper to drive around Minnesota than to drive cross-country. We want the viewership to both guide the trip as well as help pay for it.

BAB: What do you hope people will learn from The Perennial Plate?

Daniel: I hope people are entertained and through that entertainment, become more engaged with what they eat. Even if they go in a different direction than I would, if they are thinking and making a choice about it, that is positive.

BAB: How has your project affected the way you view food? View life?

Daniel: The project has made me more open minded about food. I don’t think there is one answer, and when you meet with people who have different points of view, but a similar passion for making good food available, you realize that this process has many paths.

The project has made me look differently at filmmaking and storytelling. I focus more on the person and less on the project, looking for moments of humanity rather than a clear explanation.

The Perennial Plate | Twitter | Facebook | Foursquare

When Americans think of McDonald's, they usually fall into one of two camps. These two groups can be characterized by the following thoughts:

Group A: "Yay, cheap food in 30 seconds!"
Group B: "Um, ew."

While Group B might avoid McDonald's at all costs, Group A has no problem with sitting down to grab a quick bite to eat; they might even enjoy it. They've grown accustomed to the red and yellow decor, the hard plastic chairs, the food-traffic worn floors. In the United States, McDonald's isn't known for its ambience. It's known for serving up a boatload of calories, fast and on the cheap.

Great Britain, on the other hand, has a somewhat difference perspective on America's favorite fast food chain. In Europe, locals want a comfortable place to relax -- they want clean, they want stylish, and they want nice, dammit. The hard and fast Mickey-D's as we know it wouldn't do well in, say, London, so McDonald's Corp decided to cater to the dominant demographic.

Behold, the stylish London McDonald's:

Doesn't look like the average American fast food joint exterior, does it?

Several locations have conference-style seating upstairs.

Some of the seating areas almost look like paintings, with their color selection.

Even the area around the counters are made to look nice, like a place you'd want to spend time hanging out.

And down the street at Burger King… things aren't all that different from what you'd find in the US:

It's worth noting, though, that while the interior decor is an example of European finery, the food is pretty much the same as you'd find in the United States. In fact, I had a medium fries and proceeded to pay for it with a cacophony of gastronomical gurgles for the next 24 hours. Like they say, you can't judge a book by it's cover -- regardless of how attractive that cover may be.

Cochon Butcher (New Orleans)

Suspended above the deli counter of Cochon Butcher runs a long meat locker filled with pink plump sausage links dangling happily in temperature controlled, humidified bliss. On the walls, homage to the divine swine. In the deli case, rows of house-made sausages and salumi, butcher specials like andouille sausage, smoky spicy tasso ham, kurobuta bacon, boudin-stuffed quail, duck confit, and various cuts of beef, lamb, and of course, piggy piggy.

This was going to be a great lunch.

Chef Donald Link, of Nola's famous French-Southern bistro Herbsaint and the acclaimed Cajun-Southern restaurant Cochon, opened Butcher in January 2009 with partner chefs Stephen Stryjewski and Warren Stephens. The casual 25-seat combo café/meat market is right next to Cochon, and together, they have made the Warehouse District quite the dining destination.

All the sandwiches are made with house-cured meats -– it reminded me of the Fatted Calf, but with a distinct New Orleans style with heavenly freshly baked bread (light and white), bold spices, and rich flavors.

Hot Boudin

To start, we sampled the Hot Boudin -– a Cajun classic. Rice is mixed in with the pork before it is all stuffed into the casing (back in the day, this was the poor man's sausage and adding the rice filler was a way to stretch the meat). The hearty boudin is served with sweet-tart crunchy pickles and spicy whole-grain mustard, both great for cutting the richness of the dish.

Cochon Muffaletta

Another NOLA classic, we had to try the Cochon Muffaletta (pronounced muff-a-lotta). There are a few hallmarks of a great Muffaletta. Soft, pillowy bread, round as an oversized whoopee cushion, and sprinkled with sesame seeds; deli meats piled high; and olive salad. Cochon's version hits the spot with quality house-made meats, provolone, pickled peppers, and a finely minced olive salad, whose olive oil-red wine vinegar dressing has soaked nicely into the bread.

Duck Pastrami Slider

The Duck Pastrami Slider sure didn't look like any slider I've seen before…and the duck didn't taste too much like duck, but what's in a name? This was a tasty pastrami sandwich cut into cute little triangles. I do wish the duck was a bit duckier, but no matter, the creamy gruyere cheese sauce and butter-grilled white Pullman bread made up for it.

Pork Belly on White with Mint + Cucumber

I'm a sucker for pork belly, so I just couldn't resist trying this. Shockingly, it was my least favorite sandwich. Maybe I'm just spoiled with all the excellent pork belly I've found in SF? The Pork Belly on White fell a bit flat for me. No crispy bits. Perhaps not enough salt? The simplicity of the sliced white bread I could appreciate (like an amped up tea sandwich), and the mint, pickled cucumber, and chili-lime aioli were bright accompaniments, but the star of the show fell short. Those homemade kettle chips though. I could eat them forever. Not a trace of grease and a crunch you can hear round the world.

BBQ Pork 'Carolina Style' and Cole Slaw with Potato Salad

Now, my favorite of the bunch, the BBQ Pork sandwich, lit up the room like a shower of Mardi Gras beads. A generous heap of smoky Carolina-style Pulled BBQ Pork, topped with a generous heap of fresh Cole Slaw (that is thankfully, not drowning in mayo for once), all piled on top of that airy, soft-crumb bread I've fallen in love with here in the Big Easy. The most remarkable thing about this BBQ pork sandwich is that it is served without a drop of BBQ sauce. Instead, the meat is dressed in a vinegar sauce that gives it a mouth-watering tang. Pardon my French, but this is one tasty, juicy mofo. Also of note, the Potato Salad earns its keep here. Creamy and chunky, with lots of whole-grain mustard cutting it so it doesn't feel too heavy. Ooh child, this order is a whole lotta lovin' on a plate.

Bacon Praline

Bacon Pralines officially tipped this meal from decadent to obscene. Instead of studding the buttery brown sugar and cream praline with the traditional pecans, Butcher's heart attack version uses chewy bits of thick slab bacon. The homemade batches of these PRAH-leens (as my Southern gentleman of a host kindly pointed out, I've been saying it all wrong my whole life) routinely sell out. We were lucky to get our paws on some, still warm from the oven. I expected them to be more brittle, like toffee, but the consistency of real southern pralines is soft, like fudge. If you're the type who loves dipping your bacon in maple syrup, this is your kind of candy.

It was refreshing to see a different regional take on artisanal homemade charcuterie. Cochon Butcher has a special thing going, with a style and personality all its own.

Cochon Butcher
930 Tchoupitoulas St
New Orleans, LA 70130
(504) 588-7675

Buon Natale!

There are a lot of reasons that we love Italy here in San Francisco. The heritage of our city, caught in the hiss of a thousand espresso machines every morning and the beckoning scent of chopped garlic sizzling in olive oil at night, is a melting pot, to be sure, but a fine portion of the pot can be traced back to Genoa and Liguria, Venice and Rome, Sicily and Sardinia. Here, like there, we make wine, press olives, harvest rosemary from the hillsides and basil from our backyards. And naturally, we eat, drink, and talk about eating and drinking with gusto and boundless energy.

December in Bologna, where I used to live, looks a lot like a slow-food, un-commercial dream of Christmas: no tinsel, no Jingle Bells, just pine boughs across the windowsills, tiny white lights looped across the narrow streets radiating off the central square, and in the steamy-windowed caffes, thick-as-pudding ciccolatta calda (hot chocolate) topped with a snowball of whipped cream. The busiest shops are the ones selling food, no surprise in a city that's been obsessed with seeking both knowledge (the University of Bologna is one of Europe's oldest seats of learning) and the pleasures of the table for centuries.

No Italian, it seems, can set foot in another's home at Christmastime without bringing a panettone, a puffy yeasted sweet bread studded with candied fruit. And so, brightly colored boxes the size of football helmets were stacked 10 deep at every shop, some lavishly striped with chocolate-hazelnut gianduia, others the simplest plain pane d'oro, without nuts or fruit.

(And once they go on sale, the week after Christmas--we scored ours for 1 euro--they make extravagantly delicious French toast, especially after a New Year's Eve spent elbow-to-elbow in the main plaza watching fireworks and downing prosecco straight from the bottle.)

Like the euro, panettone are ubiquitous throughout Italy now, with no particular regional association. But everywhere the panettone was, so was the local specialty, certosino, a flat, glossy spiced fruitcake glistening with translucent candied cherries and nuts. In the pasta shops, between the usual trays of eggy fresh tagliatelle were heaps of tiny, hand-pinched tortellini, the pride of Bologna, filled with a rich mixture of veal and mortadella and ready to be floated in golden capon broth to start the Christmas dinner.

In the butcher shops, fat zampone the size of a baby's pudgy arm were on proud display. There's no delicate way to describe zampone: it's a pig's trotter, bones removed, packed with a savory meat stuffing and then sewn back up so that it looks ready to walk. Simmered a long time, then served with lentils, it's a traditional dish in Emilia-Romagna, especially around New Year's.

In the sweet shops, there were shiny boxes of dreamy, hazelnut-layered Fiat Cremino and Fiat Noir chocolates, made by Majani, but also chunks of carbone, crunchy lumps of rock candy dyed black to look like coal. (It seems naughty Italian children are also in danger of getting coal for Christmas.) Santa Claus, that jolly toy-toting American immigrant, has made some inroads, but traditionally, gifts for children come not on Christmas Day but on Epiphany, delivered by a beneficent witch known as La Befana.

We saw her--or at least a convincing, black-shawled version of her--riding in a carriage through the streets of Bologna on the morning of January 6. A well-dressed older gentleman ahead of us, cellphone pressed to his ear, turned his head as she rode by. "Ah, ecco La Befana!" he said, in perfect seriousness, before resuming his conversation.

Bologna loves its salume (it is the home of mortadella, bastardized here into baloney) and its culatello, not to mention the sweet-salty proscuitto produced in nearby Parma. That Christmas, I learned the way to get the best proscuitto was to follow hard on the heels of the bossiest elderly lady customer in the shop. Once she'd picked out, after much discussion, the exact haunch of proscuitto she wanted out of the many in the shop, I'd hover in her wake. As soon as her purchase was wrapped up, I'd hustle to the counter, before the leg could be lifted off the slicer, and request a few etti (100 grams) of lo stesso (the same). (This technique can also be used very successfully re: smoked salmon in Jewish delis.)

Another tradition that really came into its own at this time of year was the aperitivi spread. No corner caffe-bar would dream of serving drinks without putting out a little free something to snack on. It could be just little squares of leftover panini and a bowl of olives, or a whole mini-buffet, but it's common throughout Italy in the evening. Only in Bologna does aperitivi happen before lunch, too.

Well, perche non? The holidays seemed like a great time to take advantage of this, especially when friends came to visit. It was a cultural mandate, after all. After a Christmas Eve morning spent browsing through churches (each with an extravagant creche on display), excellent chocolate shops, and tiny, fiercely bustling cheese stores (but giving the equine butcher shops--marked by the golden horse heads out front--a wide berth), we ducked into a nearby caffe for a couple glasses of prosecco. The counter was loaded with an especially lavish display of tasty little snacks for the taking--craggy chunks of parmesan and cubes of mortadella, proscuitto wrapped around the skinny bread sticks known as grissini, olives, sweet roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, a hot cheese dip kept warm over a candle--and the perpetually chic Italians around us were happily munching. Behind the counter, one of the equally chic workers paused and held up her own glass of bubbles.

"Buon Natale!" she said, looking out over the bar. "Buon Natale a tutti!"

Over Thanksgiving, I flew to New York to share Thanksgiving with my extended family. After the feast itself, I had a pretty lengthy list of places I wanted to try and dishes I had to taste before leaving the city. And when it comes down to it, Mario Batali's Eataly really deserves its own post. It is quite something--all 50,000 square feet of it.

Eataly is touted as the largest artisanal Italian food and wine marketplace in the world, and you certainly sense that upon walking in. The place is overwhelming in its variety, selection, and hungry crowds.

Back entrance to Eataly

What Mario Batali and partners Joe Bastianich, Lidia Bastianich (and a few others) have done with Eataly is successfully create a high-end marketplace that has distinct sections so it almost feels like a large, airy hall with its own pizzeria, fish market, cheese market, handmade pasta, fruits and vegetables, and wine and coffee bar. There are seven separate restaurants and they're trying to keep it that way, avoiding Eataly taking on more of a food court kind of vibe. We actually experienced this first-hand when my sister and I tried to finish our slice of pizza at the tables where you order your cheeses and meats. Apparently, so not acceptable.

The nice thing about Eataly is you can literally walk through and gawk and savor without purchasing a darn thing. It's an experience in and of itself. Besides our light lunch, we didn't actually buy anything (although there were dozens of opportunities to do so). I can certainly imagine if you lived in the neighborhood, it'd be a fabulous spot to pop in and pick up some homemade pasta or freshly pulled mozzarella. But I think on your first visit, it's all you can do just to take it all in.

There's the cheese. Oh, the cheese.

The friendly folks at the cheese counter

As if the cheese counter isn't enough, you turn around and there's a nice gentleman hand pulling mozzarella. You must try the mozzarella. It's to die for. It's just a little bit salty, ultra creamy, and perfectly soft.

Mozzarella!

After you check out the cheese, there's meat to be had. From housemade prosciutto to perfectly cured salumi, this is a tough area to pass up. And this is obviously in Batali's genes.

The vast array of cured meats & the meat counter at Eataly

And then, of course, there's the pizza and foccaccia. You can see the gentleman on the top right there preparing the foccaccia dough and that's my little sister Zoe doing a taste-test. She approved. We both did.

Pizza and foccaccia at Eataly

Everywhere you turn, there are little nooks and communal tables for folks to sit down and enjoy their meals, snacks, or quick tastes. This was my favorite part of Eataly, actually. It's very non-committal in terms of actually having a meal. They encourage trying a little of this and a little of that and coming together and sharing them. You see families splitting up and getting samples of things and coming back to show off their finds. And then, of course, you see families just sitting down and having a traditional meal in one of the restaurants.

Sharing a post-thanksgiving Italian lunch

My mom and sisters and I ended up parking it by the cheese counter, sharing a plate of house-cured meats and a variety of cheeses and olives. It was the perfect little mid-afternoon pick-me up.

Our lunch at Eataly

After you do a little grazing, there's always dessert and coffee.

Beautiful espresso machine and sweet dessert options

I actually noticed many people pulling up to have a quick espresso before delving into the market. Smart. You're going to need the stamina. But if you're in the right head space (that it'll be crowded and you don't have the place to yourself), Eataly is not to be missed. It's a visual smorgasbord of the best Italian packaged goods and prepared foods I've ever seen under one roof. If you are in New York and you're even remotely interested in food, this is stop #1.

Eataly
200 Fifth Avenue
(at 23rd Street)
New York, NY 10010
(212) 229-2560
Hours: Market 10am- 11pm daily; for to-go and restaurant sections of Eataly, check the website for more detailed information