How are we celebrating the Fourth of July up in Bernal? We're harvesting the tater bucket! You might recall, back in the early, chilly days of spring, right around St Patrick's Day, a handful of ugly sprouting potatoes were thrown face-down in a bucket of dirt, given their chance for producing the next generation. And now, the resulting crop of new potatoes has been dug up, rinsed, steamed, browned in butter and chives, and eaten.

To be true red-white-and-blue homesteaders, we could have whisked up some homemade mayonnaise and made all-American potato salad. But the patio potatoes were too few, and too precious, for that. They needed to be appreciated just for their dainty little selves.

You might be saying to yourself, wow, those sure are some small potatoes. And it's true. The original potatoes planted were fingerlings, which are naturally small, but these are rather petite even for those.

What happened was, alas, a fungal infection of some kind. Might have been early blight, might have been a wilt like fusarium. All of a sudden, about a month ago, the lovely healthy leaves got brown-spotted one by one. The brown turned to yellow, and eventually the whole stem got limp and died. The brown turned to yellow, and eventually each cluster of leaves faded and died while the stem below the soil line rotted. And once the leaves were gone, the pizza delivery to the potatoes stopped, so to speak, and so did their growth.

These, then, were my teenage potatoes, kicked out of the nest a little young. I think it was partly my fault, due to some overwatering that probably spurred the blight's progression, since fungal diseases are spread and exacerbated by moisture.

Luckily, though, this happened pretty far along in the tater-growing process, meaning we still got a few good handfuls. And there is something pretty wonderful about harvesting your own dinner--not just picking a few tomatoes or plucking a little basil but plunging your whole arm past the elbow into a bucket of warm dirt, fishing around for what slender gold treasures might be hiding in there. These were true new potatoes, fresh and moist, their skins tattered off merely by washing. Not to mention really, really delicious, if I say so myself.

And just in case you were wondering what a potato looks like when it's still growing, well, it looks like this, only deep in the dirt. You can see that the potato itself isn't a root, like carrots or beets, but rather a stolen, or swollen stem, branching off from the main stem above the roots.

Since most potatoes take about 100 days from sprouting to harvest, there's still time for another crop before the winter wet weather comes on. Will tater bucket #2 be more successful? Stay tuned!

Photos by Sally Carter

"In my village, we have a festival." "In my village, we would never treat an octopus in such a way."

These men can get away with saying such things as easily as they can get away with calling women "baby" because they are Greek. They have the accent, they have an old world charm about them that clings like the smell of clove and stale cigarette smoke.

And I have always been a little bit jealous. If I were to ever pepper my sentences with the words "In my village..." People would most likely assume it was Greenwich Village. And I can just forget about using the word "baby." Ever.

Well, I can get away with things they can't, too, like speaking only in Sondheim lyrics. And giving Greeks a hard time about, well, being so damned Greek. But it's only because I love them, I really do.

We clearly have our differences, but that is something I cherish. For example, in my childhood village of Anaheim, summer outings often included salads made from fresh Jell-o and organic, vine-ripened mini-marshmallows from my neighbors' gardens.

In the villages of my Greek co-workers, however, one will find strange, unnatural combinations. Things like tomatoes and cucumbers or, ripe watermelon and feta cheese.

They are crazy people, these Greeks.

Crazy good, I mean.

If you haven't tried this flavor combination, then you have not tasted summer. I know, that sounds like bad advertising copy, which is why I remain poor, but it's true, nevertheless.

Give it a go this weekend. I mean it. You'll thank me for it later, baby.

Karpouzi me Feta (Watermelon Salad)

Serves whoever, wherever and as many as you need.

I've brought this dish to a few picnics in my day. The initial reaction to it is usually one of strange curiosity. Watermelon and, what? Feta? How interesting. I would never have thought to pair watermelon with cheese.

Well, I'm glad somebody did.

This is such a pleasantly simple dish to make. And it takes about five minutes to create a big bowl or platterful. The watermelon, which smacks of summertime, offers a bit of sweet refreshment and hydration, while the cheese lends a bit of salty protein. And the olive oil, of course, gives you a shiny, healthy-looking coat. It is the perfect antidote to drinking alcohol in the hot sun and, therefore, the perfect Fourth of July picnic salad-- all Red, White, and Green, just like the American flag is to the marginally colorblind.

Ingredients:

One of the best things about this recipe is that there really is no recipe, just a list of ingredients. You want a lot of cheese? Go for it. Lots of olive oil? Absolutely. And let it dribble down your chest a little and rub it in for a deep, dark, Bain de Soleil-like golden tan. Delicious.

1 small, ripe seedless (or not) watermelon, rind removed and cut into reasonably-sized cubes

Feta cheese. Good feta. Greek Feta. From Epiros, if possible. Cubed or crumbled.

Good olive oil. Extra virgin. No, it does not have to be Greek.

Fresh basil, torn into small pieces. Or even oregano.

Toasted pine nuts or pumpkin seeds. I thought pumpkin seeds were an inspired choice given the pumpkin's shape and vine-grown status. That, and the fact that the pine nut bin at the store had been ravaged by the time I got there.

Preparation:

1. On a picnic platter or other, preferred serving dish, place cubed watermelon.

2. Crumble the feta over the watermelon, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle the mass with herb-of-choice and nut/seed-of-choice.

3. Serve immediately.

4. Watch the he-men crow and sweat over their grills while you kick back, have a drink, and accept compliments about your brilliant salad.

"On Independence Day, Americans will enjoy 150 million hot dogs, enough to stretch from D.C. to L.A. over five times."
--National Hot Dog and Sausage Council

My first reaction to this quote was "is there really a national hot dog and sausage council?"; while my second reaction was mild nausea mixed with a hankering for my own dog slathered in mustard and relish.

The all-beef American hot dog should not be confused with its namesake the frankfurter, which is a German regional sausage made from pork. Nor should you think it tastes much like an Austrian wiener, which is a pork and beef delicacy. Sure, frankfurters, wieners and hot dogs are all sausages, but there's very little that is European about a hot dog. Mass produced, precooked, and stuck in a bun it's as American as a food can get. Dirty Harry even eats one right before famously saying his "Do you feel lucky" line. So here's Clint, eating his dog, for you to enjoy.

Unlike Harry, my family and I don't eat a lot of hot dogs. Nothing against them; we just tend to eat more sausage when we want some sort of meat product in a tube, probably due to my Italian upbringing. I'm also not a big fan of processed foods. But there are certain occasions when a hot dog is the perfect meal, especially if you have a couple of hungry kids with you. Baseball games and the 4th of July top that list.

So in celebration of National Hot Dog Month, and also to better educate myself about American hot dogs, I have created an unscientific comparison of the major brands. Included in the list are organic, nitrate-free, and standard hot dogs that you can find locally. I am not recommending one frank over another as I did not try every brand, and, honestly, I've only tasted a few. Rather, I wanted to share the nutritional information and ingredients lists provided by the manufacturers so people can make their own educated decisions.

The following list is also limited to beef hot dogs as these are the traditional choice at block parties, backyard barbecues, and baseball games. Plus including chicken, turkey and tofu dogs would make the list ridiculously long. Please note that my inventory is in no way complete. I am not attempting to compare all the brands; just the ones I see most often. If I have missed something obvious, or something you really like, feel free to add the information in the comments section. Finally, I should say that I don't distinguish between kosher and non-kosher brands.

When comparing the hot dogs on the list, you should note that each brand's hot dogs vary in size. So while the Nathan's Famous beef franks look at first to have the most sodium, they are also twice the size of many of the other hot dogs, so be sure to look at the size column when comparing products.

Here are the lists. I have grouped the brands by type for easier viewing and listed the size, calories, calories from fat, saturated fat grams and sodium levels, along with ingredients lists. I was very interested by what I found. I hope you will be too.

Organic and Grass Fed Hot Dogs
These hot dogs are all made from organic, and often grass-fed, beef. No nitrates are used for organic hot dogs.

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Nitrate-Free but not Organic Hot Dogs
Non-organic beef but no nitrates are used.

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Standard Hot Dogs
The hot dogs are all beef and the meat has been preserved with nitrates and other preservatives.

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Credit must be given where it's due -- the Hearty Man Meal originated with my older brother who I must admit, is pretty self-sufficient in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I'm not able to divulge the inspiration and story of creation behind this recipe, because he won’t answer my call right now. (Sorry bro, you just missed your chance at blogger famedom).

Like all great recipes, the Man Meal has evolved over time, lovingly tweaked and revised until it resurfaced as the hearty, manly goodness it is today. Terence started out with peppers, onions, and Jimmy Dean. Hua added eggplant, chicken, and oyster sauce.

Delicious, nutritious, and easy to prepare, this fortifying meal was the perfect bachelor-friendly dish to feature in a cooking class (Dude's Night: Cooking 101) we hosted last weekend.

The guys all agreed, this Man Meal has everything you need -- veggies, meats, and an awesome sauce.

Start with your vitamin-rich vegetables.

Carrots and bell peppers for sweetness…

Knife skills: how to not cut your fingers off

Eggplant for a great binding texture…

Respect the vegetable

And of course, onions for that aromatic base.

Saute away

Happy veggies

Now for the meat. I discovered Jimmy Dean for the first time. I think I was always scared of it, and must have bypassed it at the supermarket dozens of times, sitting so unassumingly on the meat shelf. Food snobs don't turn your nose up. Jimmy Dean is tasty.

As your happy veggies saute away, crumble some JD sausage into a separate pan and let it brown. For an extra protein boost, add some chunks of skinless chicken meat, and let that brown as well.

Get primitive on that bird.

Once the meat is browned, you can add it to the vegetable mixture.

Vegetable/meat comingling.

And then it's sauce time.

BBQ sauce and Oyster sauce

A smoky hickory BBQ sauce and salty Oyster sauce create the base of the Man Meal sauce. A touch of Sriracha adds heat, Worcestershire sauce gives it a little tang, brown sugar brings sweetness, and sesame oil adds a toasty, nutty, dimension to the mix.

Always taste taste taste as you cook

If you taste the sauce at this point, it will be not so good. The bold, salty flavors are aggressive when tasted alone, but once the sauce melds in with the other ingredients, it works.

Dig in!

This dish is great because once you combine everything, you can let it simmer on the stove and just leave it for 30-40 minutes with no fuss -- go for a run, pump some iron, whatever. When you return, you'll have a hearty meal fit for a lumberjack ready to eat.

Man Meal done-zo

Hearty Man Meal

Makes: 5 Man-servings

Ingredients:
2 red bell peppers
2 eggplant
1 large onion
1 ½ cup peeled baby carrots
1 Jimmy Dean sausage roll
5 skinless chicken thighs
Olive oil (for sauteing)
Cooked Rice

Sauce:
¼ cup barbecue sauce (Hickory brown sugar flavor)
½ cup oyster sauce
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon Sriracha chili sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil

Preparation:
1. Chop all the veggies into similar sized pieces.
2. Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan over medium heat and sauté onions and peppers until caramelized and softened. Add carrots and eggplant.
3. In a separate pan, brown the sausage by heating a drizzle of oil, and crumbling pieces of the meat into the pan.
4. Cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and add to the sausage. Cook until the meat is browned and has a nice sear.
5. Mix together all the sauce ingredients and add to the veggie mixture. Add the meat and combine.
6. Let simmer, uncovered, for 30-40 minutes.
7. If the sauce needs thickening, add a mixture of 1 teaspoon cornstarch/2 tablespoons cool water into the sauce and let simmer for a few more minutes.

Serve over rice. Eat and Fortify.

The view of Guerrero from inside 18 Reasons

18 Reasons, the Bi Rite-affiliated gallery space on Guerrero near 18th Street, has made such conscious, well-examined consumption its mission, offering exhibitions, lectures, tastings, and classes to draw clear bright lines between food, people, and place, existing essentially as the embodiment of its intention, as a local meeting spot for people who love food and want to talk about it, share what they know, and learn from others. The gallery has received some local press love but this summer's offerings deserve special mention.

Morgan Maki starting on the lamb

Last week, I attended the second part of a Lamb Butchery and Sausage Making class taught by Bi Rite butcher Morgan Maki, the same guy who schooled folks in Stock Theory and Knife Skills a few months ago. The first session saw a 5-foot-long 45 pound lamb broken down and whittled into chops, roasts, and other cuts for cookery. I missed that one due to illness but the pictures tell enough of the story for you to get the basic idea. It came in whole and left in chunks. Maki dropped some anatomy knowledge. Everyone ate cheese and drank wine. When I arrived at the second session, the students were chopping the trimmings from that depleted carcass, sleeves rolled up, ties tucked, and jewelry removed. It was a Tuesday night, and most had clearly come straight from work and were dutifully taxing the bottles of merlot making the rounds. The gallery's clean white walls were bare, awaiting the summer show (Julie Duffoo's semi-gristly Meatpaper photographs of local butchers). The only exhibit on display was the whirl of activity, something like a party happening around the sturdy wooden table in the center of the room: sausage as social sculpture.

Gathering around the grinder

As Maki spoke, some of the attendees frantically scribbled on yellow legal pads. A few people hung back against the walls, silent, literally watching others watch and talk. Most crowded around the table for a shot at slicing, or volunteered to help grind once the ingredients were assembled. "This is probably used in extreme interrogation techniques," quipped one dude as he eyed the sausage stuffing apparatus.

The sausage, ground

People capable of paying 60 dollars to learn how Bi Rite butchers make sausages using $2000 grinders can afford to buy sausage at Bi Rite any time they want. They don't need to learn how to make sausage at home in order to save money or make their lives easier. Prussian statesman Otto Von Bismarck (an abundantly mustached practitioner of Realpolitik who probably put away many many sausages in his day) famously compared the crafting of laws to the processing of sausages. There was once the idea that people wouldn't want to eat sausage if they saw how it was made. Now, people want to know where they can find fresh pork blood and a good deal on a professional grinder.

Those who show up at 18 Reasons for something like this aren't just amassing knowledge for themselves. They're making a personal investment in an enduring artisanal tradition and, by extension, a community. "The more people that use this space the healthier it will be," said Maki when I asked him what he wanted out of the gallery. The neighborhood has definitely taken notice. Every person walking past with laundry and grocery bags stops to peer in. Maybe they all won't shell out the ducats for a class but they'll maybe come to a free event, or at least read up on something they saw posted on the board outside.

If you want to get involved, now is a good time. Classes on the horizon promise to please. On Tuesday, July 7, Maki will teach the first section of a two-part course on Pig Butchery and Curing, in which participants will learn the basics of swine disassembly as well as several principles and techniques of curing in preparation for smoking or curing. The cost is $60 for non-members. Buy your tickets here.

Photos by Michael V. Chopko

Weeks before starting my internship at Oliveto, I began researching the knives I would need to be a swashbuckling chef apprentice.

I owned an old set of Wustof knives, but like a lot of home chefs, I had mistreated them. New knives were essential. They needed to be sharp. They needed to be versatile. They needed to feel comfortable in my hand.

My first step was to consult Paul Canales, the executive chef at Oliveto.

"You need four knives," said Canales. "A 10-inch chef's knife, a paring knife, a seven-inch utility knife and a semi-stiff boning knife. That will get you started."

Like many restaurants, Oliveto owns a number of cleavers, cheese knives and other specialty tools shared by all kitchen employees. But chefs and interns are expected to have their own personal knives. Most wouldn't want it any other way.

Chefs tend to be picky about how their blades are used, sharpened and stored. If all knives were used communally in a kitchen, the skirmishes would be epic. Fights would break out -- knife fights.

To examine the options, Canales graciously allowed me to try out the personal knives that he and other Oliveto chefs were using. In one afternoon, I was able to handle and slice food with a few dozen blades, while picking up tips on knife shops and Web sites.

Here are the knives I purchased that week, along with a few others I've since added to my collection:

Fujitake 10 1/2 inch chef knife
This knife is a wonder of Japanese forging. It is light, well-balanced, amazingly thin, strong and very, very sharp. It is made with VG-10, a combination of steel, cobalt and other elements. The cobalt helps the steel keep its edge.

Two of the chefs at Oliveto own Fujitakes, and after I worked with one, I was immediately seduced. I headed straight to Hida Tool in Berkeley and purchased one.

From what I've read, Hida is the only U.S. importer of Fujitake ware. At $159, this big chef's knife is not cheap, but it is amazingly versatile.

Sabatier Canadian Massif 7 1/4 inch slicer
I wanted at least one classic French knife in my collection, and this is the one I chose. These Canadian Massif knifes are made in Thiers, the legendary French forging town that is the reputed home of the guillotine. These knives are made from historic blanks (chunks of steel), and are collector's items. They were originally sold to the Canadian market, hence the name.

This is an old school knife -- made of carbon steel, not stainless steel. To prevent rusting, it must be kept dry, which makes it a poor choice for home use. But carbon steel is easier to sharpen and keep sharp than stainless steel. That's why many professional chefs, including Canales, prefer it for everyday restaurant use.

I pull out this knife for cleaning and cutting squid, filleting fish, slicing the skin off of grapefruits and oranges and other tasks. I purchased it for $74.95 at The Best Things, an online shop that offers one of the Web's best selections of historic French, German and Japanese knives.

Shun 4-inch paring knife
Yikes. This thing is sharp. It also is beautiful, with a black Pakkawood handle capped in stainless steel, and a wavy pattern on the blade known as "Damascus."

These knives were designed by Seattle bladesmith Bob Kramer, whose innovations in forging were chronicled last November in a New Yorker profile.

Sur La Table commissioned Kramer to design a special set of Damascus knives, made in Japan under the "Shun" label.

If you have small hands, you might prefer a paring knife with a shorter handle. But the Shun works for me, and I use it daily, mainly for paring onions and garlic. You can find this wicked blade at Sur La Table and various web sites, selling for roughly $65.

Dexter Russell semi-stiff 6-inch boning knife
This U.S. manufacturer of commercial cutlery is known for its boning knives, and you can purchase them with any number of handles and forgings, with a resulting range of prices. I bought the basic model, for $16.50. So far, it has been effective in boning and trimming chicken, fish, pork and other meats.

Victorinox bird's beak paring knife
A bird's beak is handy for small, technical jobs, like trimming baby artichokes. Thus I added this to my collection. This knife costs less than $10, and with a basic nylon handle, you can find them for as cheap as $5.

Edge Pro 12-inch ceramic honer
If you are serious about knives, you need a sharpening stone, and you need to learn how to use it. Yet if you are doing a lot cutting, a ceramic honer will help keep your knives sharp in between sessions with the stone.

Several chefs at Oliveto swear by this honing wand made by Edge Pro, a company in Hood Hood River, Oregon, because it sharpens without taking as away metal as a sharpening steel. The ceramic honer is especial protective of thin-edged Japanese knives, which can be ruined by use, and misuse, of a sharpening steel.

This honer costs $30. You can find it at Edge Pro's website.

That's my small knife kit, such as it is. But as my wife likes to say, I am a "gear head." So my collection is sure to expand. How about you? Do you have a particular knife, or collection of knives, that you consider to be extraordinary?

Or that's how it might be in other cities, where Pride comes around but once a year. Here in our lovely fog-bound burg, though, we can be prideful every day, even if we still-still!-can't get married in City Hall.

But there is something particularly fabulous in seeing the typical straight-to-gay ratio of just about everything upended this month. I still remember walking into 2223 Market one night near the end of June last year, and feeling like everyone there was gay. Gay couples, gay friends, gay parents--it was just like being in the straight world, except this time it was all ours.

Naming all the LGBT chefs and business owners who have made the SF food scene what it is would turn this column into a faygelah version of Adam Sandler's Hannukah Song, but still, let's raise a glass to Traci des Jardins, for running a fancypants place in Hayes Valley and a taqueria with a conscience, and never turning down the chance to help out a good cause; to bad boy Jeremiah Tower, for making Stars sparkle; to Elizabeth Faulkner and her partner Sabrina Riddle, for giving the dyke food mafia an official clubhouse, first at Citizen Cake, now at Orson; and to food photographer Frankie Frankeny, because she shoots what we want to eat, and finds a way to sneak her daschunds into every shoot.

And let's not forget a toast to vinologist Pamela Busch, of the late Hayes and Vine and the current Cav Wine Bar, and to Absinthe's Jamie Lauren and her Top Chef Team Rainbow, for making "hot chef" replace "folk singer" as the default lesbian occupation. Also heating up the room is Gialina pizza diva Sharon Ardiana, turning Glen Park into Naples, and Celia Sack of Omnivore Books, for bringing us cookbook-browsing perfection with nary a 30-Minute-Meal or celebrity diet in sight, just up the street from the ever-charming Lovejoy's Teahouse, run by Muna Nash and Gillian Briley. Were we getting married, we might just drag pastry chef Yigit Pura of Taste Catering out to Iowa with us, just so we could show that corn-fed state just how divine his chocolate-hazelnut daquoise with passion fruit filling wedding cakes can be.

And thank you Rainbow Grocery, for letting us shop for veggie dogs on the 4th of July but closing for Pride Sunday, so your collective members can be out and proud rather than stuck restocking the spirulina. Even Food Not Bombs gets into the spirit now, serving up free eats (in tuxedo shirts and fake mustaches) at their mobile Chez Gay Cafe in Dolores Park before the Tranny March. We're here, we're queer, let's eat!

Frankly, I had conveniently managed to forget about it until my friend Sean mentioned that Cloris Leachman was to be Grand Marshall in this weekend's big parade.

I've never much cared for Pride Weekend. It's not that I don't enjoy being gay, because I do. I can reference old movies with abandon, not worry about child support payments, and get away with saying things that most straights would never dare to.

And, of course, I am proud of the fact that I know who Cloris Leachman is. I think every homosexual is required by law to quote freely and liberally from The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

I love being gay. I just don't love big parades-- they make me wonder how I'm supposed to get across town. It's kind of like how I feel about Christmas. I love the spirit of the thing, but I hate the clothes, the crowds, and the decorative motifs.

So no pink today, no Sarah-Tucker-there's-a-rainbow-on-your-table.

But there is fruit.

That's the best tie-in I can think of for clafoutis.

Clafoutis

Many of you know this dessert already-- it is, at heart, baked pancake batter dotted with fruit. There are recipes for apricot clafoutis (delicious), clementine clafoutis (if you don't know how I feel about clementines, please visit here), and eggplant clafoutis (?). If you can stick it into pancake batter, it's probably been made into a clafoutis.

A traditional clafoutis, however, is to be made with cherries. Amen.

Some folks run with the pancake theme, serving them warm and puffy and fresh from the oven for breakfast like one would a Dutch Apple Pancake. Do what you will, but the flavors blend together and texture becomes more custard-like if you have the patience to allow it to spend the night in your refrigerator.

The clafoutis is sort of like a Pride weekend trick-- if light and fluffy, fresh and hot is your thing, go for it. Out of your life and on to the next dessert, as it were. I just happen to prefer my clafoutis after it has hung around my kitchen for a little bit and settled down.

And I'm kind of proud of that.

Cherry-Almond Clafoutis

Serves: 4 to 8-ish, depending upon how you slice it.

This charming, no-fuss little number hails from the Limousin region of France, located not quite in the heart of the country, but more or less where the liver might be located.

Traditional clafoutis calls for leaving the pits in the cherries, the wisdom being that the pits lend a pleasant almond-like flavor to the dish. Of course, there are so few people left living in the Limousin region and those who remain are mostly elderly, that chipping a tooth is not considered much of a risk.

Ingredients:

1 pound of cherries (or enough to populate the surface of an 8-inch pan without touching each other), pitted or not pitted. The choice and the risk is yours.

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

2 large eggs

3/4 cups heavy cream (you can get away with using milk, but the day-after texture will suffer greatly, I promise).

6 tablespoons sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

1/3 to 1/2 cup toasted slivered almonds

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Powdered sugar, for dusting

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 350° F

2. In a blender, combine eggs, flour, cream, salt, and 2 tablespoons of sugar. Blend well, scraping down the sides of the blender from time to time. Or whisk aggressively. Your choice. When blended, add half the slivered almonds to the batter and stir them about.

3. In an 8-inch cast iron skillet or heat-proof baking pan, add butter and 2 tablespoons sugar until all is melted, slightly nutty-smelling, and syrupy. Add cherries; cooking and coating them for about two minutes.

4. Pour the batter gently into the pan around the cherries. Sprinkle the remaining sugar over the and pop into the center of your oven.

5. Bake for about 45 minutes, or until sufficiently browned and puffy, remove from the oven and let cool.

6. If your clafoutis is not sufficiently browned and puffy, do as I both say and do-- sprinkle the remaining almonds over the top and pop it under the broiler. Works like a charm unless you burn it.

7. Dust with powdered sugar for garnish just before serving with crème fraîche, lightly whipped cream, or all by itself.

Growing up in San Diego really fed my love for Baja Mexican food. In addition to the extraordinary taco shops up and down Highway 1 –- Juanitas, Robertos, Albertos –- Mexican food was an integral part of daily life in the area. Many people had mothers and grandmothers who made superb homemade tamales (especially at Christmas), others had fathers or brothers who would fish (yes, they were pretty much always the men in the family) and then bring home their catch for homemade fish tacos. In my family, the fish was caught by my brother-in-law Joe. I always loved when he would come home and toss the freshly caught rock cod or halibut on the grill while we all rounded up some tortillas and salsa.

Even better than the fish catch, however, was the lobster he would bring home from his diving stints during the short lobster season. Sitting out on the back patio with a plateful of just-caught and grilled to perfection lobster, drinking a cold cerveza and hanging out with my family is my idea of heaven. So last week, once the sun had broken through the June gloom, school was out, and summer was all around us, I just couldn't pass up the lobster tails I saw on sale for $7.99 each. Sure, they weren't caught that morning by Joe, but I figured they would make great tacos nonetheless. Plus west coast lobster is considered a "best choice" on the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch list, so I knew we could eat it guilt free.

As I had three ripe mangos sitting on my counter with three ripe avocados by their sides, I decided to veer from the normal salsa fresca we usually serve with our tacos. The mango and avocado salsa I whipped up went nicely with the lobster. Tossed with lime juice and diced jalapeno peppers, the salsa was sweet and slightly tangy with the perfect amount of heat. I decided to then top everything off with a blended sauce made from sour cream and avocado, which melded all the flavors together perfectly.

Sitting on our back patio, I knew summer had really arrived. The only thing missing was my family in San Diego. Guess I'll have to make this again when we visit them in August.

Note: This dish could easily be made with shrimp. And, of course, grilled fish is not only an acceptable alternative, but a fantastic one.

Grilled Lobster Tacos

Makes: 6 – 8 tacos

Ingredients:
2 medium-sized lobster tails
3 limes
2 Tbsp olive oil
6 – 8 corn tortillas

Preparation:
1. Drizzle juice from two limes plus the olive oil over lobster tails, coating them evenly. Let marinate for 15-20 minutes.
2. Heat grill.
3. On maximum heat, lay lobsters with the heavier part of the shell on the bottom and grill for 5-7 minutes or until the meat becomes pinkish and opaque.
4. Remove lobsters from the grill and set on a plate to cook for a couple of minutes.
5. Cut through a line down the thinner side of the shell and gently pull the meat from the shell. Set meat on a separate plate. Do the same for the other lobster.
6. Cut meat into ½-inch chunks and squeeze the last lime the lobster chunks. Add salt and pepper to taste.
7. Heat corn tortillas on the grill (about 30 seconds on each side).
8. Lay about ¼-cup lobster meat on each tortilla. Top with Mango Avocado Salsa and Avocado Crema. Serve.

Mango Avocado Salsa

Makes: 3 cups salsa

Ingredients:
3 small or 2 medium mangos
2 medium or 3 small avocados
½ to 1 whole jalapeno (depending on how hot you'd like the salsa). Remove stems, membranes and seeds.
2 limes
Salt to taste

Preparation:
1. Remove meat from mangos and avocados and cut into ¼-inch chunks. Place in a bowl.
2. Dice jalapenos into small pieces and add to the fruit.
3. Squeeze lime juice on top.
4. Add salt to taste.
5. Serve on top of tacos or with corn chips.

Avocado Crema

Makes: 1 cup

Ingredients:
1/2 an avocado
1/2 cup sour cream
salt to taste

Preparation:
1. Place avocado and sour cream in a small chopper or blender and mix until thoroughly combined and smooth.
2. Add salt to taste
3. Add as a topping to lobster or fish tacos.

"There is nothing like good food, good wine and a bad girl."

So says the fine print on the menu at Oola. It sure does set the tone, and on a Monday night at that.

Monday date night at Oola

The strategic lighting, exposed brick, and soaring-ceilings make you feel a little mysterious, a little daring, a little come-hither.

So while we're being naughty, let's start with dessert first. Our Vahlrona Chocolate Souffle served with a Chambord ice cream sauce, fresh berries, and a cute little puff of meringue was an absolute treat. Pastry chef Alicia Montalvo has a good thing going here. Our souffle was everything I wanted it to be. Light, airy, rich, and downright sexy. Montalvo is planning on featuring a new souffle special every Monday, only on Mondays. I'm already looking forward to finding out what creative concoctions she has up her sleeve.

Hama Hama Oysters, Oola

From one aphrodisiac to another, bring on the oysters. Oola had Hama Hamas and Marins on the menu, both served on the half shell with a mignonette and cocktail sauce on the side. We preferred the hama hamas which had a more buttery texture and cleaner, fresh sea taste. Mmm, I could eat a whole pirate chest of good oysters.

Baby Back Ribs, Oola

If you've never tasted Chef Ola Fendert’s famous Baby Back Ribs, you must. Glazed in a soy sauce, cilantro, ginger sauce, they are the perfect flavor and texture. Eat them with your hands and lick the tangy, salty, sweet, stickiness off your fingers. The outer layer is beautifully caramelized and slightly charred, while the inner bites are falling-off-the-bone tender. The red cabbage-apple slaw on the side provides a nice fresh crunch and a touch of mellow creaminess. They dutifully perform their supporting role in this highly delicious act.

Foie gras and chicken ravioli, Oola

For my main, I went with the Foie Gras and Chicken Ravioli served in a roasted chicken and truffle broth. The ravioli had me at foie gras. When the dish arrived at the table, I was momentarily intoxicated by the unmistakable earthy, pungent, woodsy aroma of black truffle. The al dente pasta had great chew and flavor, and the foie gras/chicken filling was meaty and full-flavored, but texture wise, I wish it was more velvety, molten-foie gras-like, and less meat-like.

"Farmer’s Market Special" Bruins Farms Heirloom Tomato Risotto

The "Farmer’s Market Special," part of Oola's new summer menu dedicated to showcasing seasonal, local-sourced organic ingredients, was an Heirloom Tomato Risotto made with chunks of heirloom tomatoes, stewed cherry tomatoes that burst in my mouth, and oven-dried tomatoes that added a touch of smokiness. The combination made for a complex and bright sweetness. The risotto was topped with a creamy, mild goat cheese, and seasoned with fragrant lavender – the perfect complementary accents.

(In a way this dish reminded me of a way fancier version of what I used to eat as a child. Surprisingly, for a period in my life, I was a picky eater, and the only way my parents could get me to eat rice was if it was doused in ketchup. OK, you may or may not think less of me now. What's done is done.)

Parenthetical aside, Oola may just have what it takes to make Monday the new date night. Nothing like a souffle and some footsie to take the edge off a new week.

Oola Restaurant & Bar
860 Folsom Street
(between 4th St & 5th St)
San Francisco, CA 94107
(415) 995-2061