Oh, the joys of a summer picnic in San Francisco! The five o'clock winds whirling away the paper napkins, leather-jacketed guests huddled around the grill for warmth, tippy paper plates piled with rapidly cooling veggie dogs...need I go on?

If you've lived in San Francisco through more than one ostensible summer—those months between Memorial Day and Labor Day when Walnut Creek swelters while we shiver—you've been to a picnic like this, in Golden Gate Park or in an Inner Richmond backyard, where the hosts have high hopes that end with everyone back inside, squeezed into the kitchen drinking Trumer Pils by the stove.

Still, it's not always like that. There are always a few blissful 80+ degree days, where Dolores Park becomes a shirtless, sundressed parking lot and even Baker Beach is warm enough to lure full-body sunseekers to its clothing-optional end. Or there's a speedy BART ride to that place across the bridge called the East Bay, with its sunny skies, warmer temps, and many, many parks, where most of your home-buying friends live now, anyway. And away from the ocean, the inner reaches of Marin, along with Napa and Sonoma, offer reliably toasty summer weather.

So, no excuse not to pack up the picnic basket this weekend. Picnics and barbecues, by their nature, are expandable, pot-lucky affairs. Some hosts do their duty by laying out chips, guacamole, baby carrots and beer, leaving it up to the guests to bring their own sausages, steaks, or salmon for the grill—a recession-wise move when local wild salmon runs $20/lb or more. Jealously guarding your own little slab of protein from the grazing hordes can feel a little greedy, but hopefully, some generous soul will have had the foresight to throw down a few extra sausages, skewers, or veggie burgers for their six-pack-toting friends who forgot to hit Bi-Rite on the way.

Tables are inevitably cluttered with salads and dips, plastic tubs or bowls of thrown-together, easily-transportable stuff that no one really loves but everyone eats: potato salads, pasta salads, hummus, salsa, quinoa-and-bean things. Personally, I've received modest but heartfelt acclaim over the years for my potato salad, which is neither truffled or lobstered, but simply made from scratch rather than being bought by the pound at Safeway.

The trick to good potato salad is a two-step dressing process, and most importantly, making it the day before. Potatoes are stolid things, and they need some time to jazz themselves up. Sitting on BART for 30 minutes nestled up against a cold pack won't do it. Give your potatoes a full 24 hours in the fridge to soak up their dressing, and you'll have something worth eating. Otherwise, you'll have OK salad followed by really spectacular leftovers.

The method is more important than the exact measurements, which will vary depending on your taste and how many potatoes you have lying around. Waxy potatoes, like the commonly found round, red-skinned ones, will give you a neater salad, since they tend to keep their shape better when boiled. Once your potatoes are boiled tender (but before they start collapsing and exploding), drain them and let them cool just to the point where you can handle them without burning your fingers. Peel and cut into just-a-little-bigger-than-bite-size chunks. Toss with some minced shallot, a bit of freshly minced garlic, a generous dose of white-wine or rice vinegar, and plenty of salt and pepper. Turn them around in this; they should be well moistened but not sitting in a puddle. Cover and put this away at room temperature for an hour or two, or in the fridge if you need to leave it longer than that.

Once your potatoes have soaked up a little tang, you can decide which way you want the dressing to go: a mustardy, olive oil-based vinaigrette, with the crunch of whole-grain mustard and perhaps a little diced red onion for color, or the all-American mayonnaise-y way, with lots of good mayonnaise whisked with a little milk or sour cream to lighten it, plus a dab of mustard and a good squirt of fresh lemon juice, tossed with the potatoes to coat with some finely chopped celery and scallion. Whichever you choose, toss it well and put it back into the fridge to mellow. Taste for seasoning before serving; potatoes can usually stand a lot of salt and pepper, and the French-style salad always benefits from a generous handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley thrown in at the very end.

Then there are deviled eggs, which everyone loves but not enough people make. The reason? Most likely, the unhappy memory of trying to transport a plateful of the slippery little devils on the N-Judah, arriving with all the tasty yellow filling smooshed into the plastic wrap. For the classic cut-in-half eggs filled with a swirl in the shape of fancy cake icing, you really need one of those made-for-the-purpose plates dimpled with little egg-shaped indentations. Which you'll use maybe 3 times a year, which is why so few of us have them.

Not to worry, though. There's another way to make deviled eggs that neatly sidesteps the need for specialty plateware. So, boil your eggs the way you do, keeping in mind, my chicken-keeping friends, that backyard-fresh eggs will be much harder to peel, leaving you with something like a pock-marked chunk of moon rock. It will be much easier to separate white from shell if you use a stash that's been waiting in the fridge for a week.

Anyway, peel your eggs. Now, standing the egg upright on its narrower end, slice a little bit off its round bottom, so it has a nice flat surface to sit on. Now slice off the top, about a third of the way down. Scoop or pop out the yolk, and drop it into a bowl. (Generally, as an egg ages, its yolk sinks closer to the wider end.)

Once your whites de-yolked, consider your flavorings. Everyone loves a plain deviled egg, the yolks mixed up with mayo, a pinch of dry mustard, a wee bit of paprika, perhaps a drop or two of lemon juice. Which means, of course, that you probably can't wait to mix it up and put in curry or wasabi or smoked paprika. All of which are fine, as long as you don't go nuts and overwhelm the nice rich egginess of the basic product.

Lately, I've become particularly enamored of deviled eggs sassed up with the salty, umami-laden punch of anchovy. Spanish boquerones, marinated white anchovies, are expensive and gorgeous, but whole salt-packed regular ones work quite well, too. (Fancy Italian delis often have a large open can of the salt-packed ones around, and will scoop out as many as you need. Rinse off the extra salt before using; some soaking may necessary if they still seem excessively salty.) There's also the funkier, fishier canned versions, as well as anchovy paste in a tube.

Anyway, as in Caesar salad, the anchovy is just there to enhance the final product and give it that more-ish edge, not to scream ANCHOVY ANCHOVY ANCHOVY!!! So, mash your little fishy in, just a bit more than you think you should use, forking it together with your cooked egg yolks into a crumbly paste. Moisten with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, a glug of olive oil, and enough mayonnaise to bind it. Taste and adjust the seasonings.

If you have a pastry bag, pop in the tip of your choice (use one with a wide opening), and scoop your egg filling into the bag. (You can also use a small resealable plastic bag, scooping in the filling, pushing it into one corner, then snipping off the point of that corner with a pair of scissors. Voila! Instant pastry bag.) Twist the top shut and start shooting the rows of hard-boiled whites full of your deviled-egg mixture. (You'll get the most impressive results if you do this on site, rather than trying to travel with them once they're finished.) Keep chilled until ready to serve.

Huh. Cauliflower. Who knew it could be so delicious?

The first time I went to the Berkeley Bowl, I remember marveling at the array of orange cauliflower (which contains 25 times the Vitamin A of white varieties; the color is from the massive quantities of beta-carotene in the veggie) and purple cauliflower (whose shocking violet color is caused by the antioxidant anthocyanin, also found in blueberries, red cabbage, and red wine) on display.

Apparently, yes, you can have your vegetables in carnival colors. I still went home with the plain Jane white variety that evening -- I dunno, maybe the kaleidoscope cauliflower was just too jarring for me. It's been awhile since I last bought a head of cauliflower. My renewed interest in it came about after a lovely Italian meal.

Did you ever notice how Italians just have a way with making simple vegetables taste so darn good? It's the Grade A olive oil they use. That, and invoking la bella vita into their kitchens, no doubt. This particular contorno of cavolfiori was robust and full of flavor. Florets of cauliflower were roasted with sweet garlic, briny anchovies, and gilded with fruity olive oil. As each little cauliflower tree disappeared into my mouth, I plotted my strategy on how to recreate this dish at home.

I started off by cutting the cauliflower in half, then separating the branches into florets. Then, I melted down the anchovies in a skillet, stirring them until a paste formed. My husband is obsessed with all things anchovy (and all things salty for that matter), so I've been buying in bulk these little tins of Italian anchovies packed in olive oil.

Next, I add the smashed garlic to the pan, lemon juice, and the cauliflower, tossing it all together so that the anchovy "sauce" coats all the florets. A sprinkle of panko crumbs, a drizzle of olive oil, and into the oven it all goes.

The dish is done when the cauliflower is fork-tender and the panko has turned a crunchy golden brown. Top with grated parmigiano, salt and pepper, and you've got yourself one mighty fine side dish. No peacock colors necessary. The bang is all in the taste.

Radish Cream Cheese Dill Dip

All that balmy weather and sunshine last week had me jones-ing for a BBQ throwback. Chips, dip, some charred dogs, cold beer, and a boom-box blaring something from 1994 if at all possible.

Let me see you Tootsee Roll

Those 69 Boyz, they knew a thing or two -- about the universal popularity of dip, that is.

A party's not a party without some chips and dip. A few crowd-pleasers that have made it to my Top Hits list:

Radishes

I first sampled this utterly addictive Radish Dip at my friend, Amy's house last summer. One Fritos Scoop in and I was hooked. The radishes are just perfect here, imparting a crispy, fresh, peppery crunch with each bite, not to mention, the gorgeous sparks of hot pink that peek through the creamy dip. The lemon and zest add a splash of brightness, and the dill is just the herb to tie it all together.

For a fancy re-mix, try spreading it over some slices of pumpernickel and topping with lox for an elegant brunch. Or, for a quickie dinner, try mixing it with some hot angel hair pasta and veggies for an impromptu cream sauce primavera.

Portuguese Green Olive Dip

If you are the type of person who almost always chooses salty over sweet, then this Green Olive Dip will make you swoon.

I discovered this fantastic recipe on Leite's Culinaria and fell head over heels for the stuff. David Leite, author of The New Portuguese Table, came by the dish when he visited a lovely restaurant in the south-central region of Portugal. He suggests serving it with a platter of crudités, crackers or bread, or, even as a topping for grilled fish.

The rich, full-bodied, savory flavor of this dip comes from oil-packed anchovies that have been blended into the mix. Amazingly, it is also made without any of the usual suspects associated with dips (cream cheese, sour cream, or mayonnaise). Instead, the luscious, creamy texture is made from "milk mayonnaise," created by whipping up whole milk and adding oil in a thin stream until an emulsion forms (similar to regular mayo, minus the eggs). For best results, be sure to heed Leite's warning of using an immersion blender or small blender.

For extra olive-y flavor, I use olive oil rather than vegetable oil. Whip this baby up ASAP. Your savory-tooth will thank you. And, it is killer with a dirty martini.

You can never have too much guacamole.

Last, but not least, a classic staple -- cool, creamy, good ol' Guacamole. I'll have to thank 10 for $10 Safeway for this one. That big bin of shiny, buttery avocados was just calling my name.

Avocado green

I like to keep it simple with guac. Just some diced tomatoes, garlic, lemon juice, cilantro, salt and pepper to accent this big bowl of pale green gorgeousness. You can add some red onion if you're into that kind of thing (I may keep my distance when you try to talk to me, but I won't judge you).

Avocados are the star here. I prefer keeping some generous chunks of them in the mix. And the best part of this recipe? It makes a boatload. You can never have too much guacamole.

The weather may be on the fritz now, but when BBQ weather strikes back, don't forget to dip. Oh, I feel a whoomp comin' on…

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Radish Dip
Recipe courtesy of Amy Powers

Makes: 1 ½ cups

Ingredients:
1 cup finely chopped radishes
8 ounces cream cheese
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Zest of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon finely chopped dill
1 teaspoon salt
1 clove garlic, minced

Preparation:
1. Mix together all the ingredients and serve (preferably with Fritos Scoops).

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Green Olive Dip (Patê de Azeitonas Verdes)
Recipe by David Leite, from The New Portuguese Table (Clarkson Potter, 2009)

Adaptations: I've found that it is difficult to come by pitted Manzanilla olives that aren't stuffed, and so I often use jarred green olives that have been pitted and stuffed with pimentos. The flavor isn't as pure as Leite's original recipe, but it sure beats tediously pitting olives all day. Also, I like to substitute the vegetable oil with extra virgin olive oil.

Makes: 1 ½ cups

Ingredients:
1/3 cup whole milk, more if needed
6 oil-packed anchovy fillets
1 small garlic clove
Leaves and tender stems of 6 fresh cilantro sprigs, minced
Pinch of freshly ground white pepper
3/4 cup vegetable (or olive) oil
2/3 cup pitted green olives such as Manzanilla, rinsed quickly if particularly salty, roughly chopped

Preparation:
1. Using a hand blender or stand blender (not a food processor -- most are too big to allow the mixture to whip up correctly), add the milk, anchovies, garlic, and pepper, and pulse to combine. With the motor running, add the oil in a slow, thin stream. Keep blending until the oil is incorporated and the mixture begins to thicken into a mayonnaise-like consistency.
2. Add two thirds of the cilantro and whir again until it is mixed in.
3. Stir in the olives, top with the remaining cilantro and garnish with some olive slices.
4. If the dip thickens, stir in a little bit of milk to loosen it up.

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Guacamole

Serves: 10-12

Ingredients:
6 ripe avocadoes
3 plum tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon Kosher salt
A handful of chopped cilantro
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
1. Slice the avocados in half, pit them, and scoop out the flesh into a large bowl. Mash them up a bit with a fork or large spoon, leaving some chunks if that's the way you like your guacamole.
2. Dice the tomatoes and add to the bowl.
3. Using either a mortar and pestle or the flat side of a chef's knife, grind together the minced garlic and teaspoon of coarse Kosher salt until you have created a paste. Add this to the bowl.
4. Add the lemon juice and cilantro to the mix.
5. Mix together until everything is incorporated and serve immediately. You can pre-make this, but I've found that the avocados tend to discolor slightly (despite the addition of the lemon juice).

As Stephanie reported on Sunday, the largest casualty to our food chain due to the November 7 San Francisco Oil Spill seems to be the Dungeness Crab season.

As each day passes, more information is learned about the effects of the oil spill. While the focus of the fishing disaster has been on the Dungeness crab -- one of the Bay Area's most well known harvests of the year -- the Bay Area also depends on local waters for many other seafood crops. Most notably during this time of year the Bay Area also harvests:

• Mackerel
• Salmon
• Sardines
• Oysters
• Herring
• Squid

Oysters were one of the early victims of this oil spill.

Once oil drifted to the Pt. Reyes National Seashore, it arrived at Drake's Bay Oyster Company, an oyster farm that provides oysters to many Bay Area customers. Oysters, along with other types of shellfish, eat by filtering water. When that water is contaminated, the shellfish goes bad and is not fit for human consumption. "If we lose that part of the food chain, we'll lose the next in line," says Kathy Fosmark, the Co-Chairman of the Alliance of Communities for Sustainable Fisheries, referring to bait fish and krill. According to the San Jose Mercury-News, Drake's Bay Oyster Company has temporarily closed due to oil contamination.

I spoke to Ms. Fosmark and her husband, Steve Fosmark -- an owner/operator and fisherman from Monterey County, on Monday afternoon. "From what I am hearing, this is going to be catastrophic," stated Mr. Fosmark.

"Fishermen are coming down on the lean side of a salmon year. A lot of the people who salmon fish then do crab," said Ms. Fosmark, "This is the last thing that they need."

Herring is the San Francisco Bay's only commercially fished species. According to one source, a "possible recommendation to not open in December is being considered." Typically, herring season would be open by December and any delay in that season will mean a hit to the pockets of the fishermen.

Many of the fishermen don't even know any more than we do at this point. Mr. and Mrs. Fosmark were watching the same news that we have all been watching for the past few days, waiting to hear their fates from press conferences and the Associated Press and local news stations.

The frustration among fishermen is palpable. While news reports are of successful beach clean-ups and oil wrangling, the fishermen are frustrated that the real story of the effect on the environment and the fishing industry is not being told. "Excuse me but I must go puke my guts out," stated one anonymous email from a fisherman.

Chances that the average Bay Area consumer will notice a difference in their fish counter are slim. "We get oysters from all up and down the coast," said Brian from Swan Oyster Depot on Monday. He went on to say that they had to change their source from Drake's Bay to other oyster companies from farther afield this week. "But we're always going to have oysters."

I selfishly asked about the local anchovies and sardines, as they are my most common purchase from Swan Oyster Depot. Brian told me, "the anchovies and sardines come from the Monterey area, and as far as I know that hasn't been affected." Swan's buyers will purchase Dungeness crab from Oregon until the local harvest starts to come in.

The main lesson of the day is that more will be revealed. At this point, we know very little, but the chances that this oil spill could prove catastrophic for local fishermen are high. The main thing that we can do is to keep on top of the story, and support local fishermen with our dollars when they are able to bring healthy, abundant fish to our fish counters.

Updated, 11/13, 3:00 pm:

The Governor has suspended fishing and crabbing until December 1 at the earliest. From the Chronicle article:

"Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger issued an executive order late this morning suspending all fishing and crabbing for human consumption in areas affected by the Cosco Busan fuel spill until at least Dec. 1. The ban includes all of San Francisco Bay, along with affected shorelines, coastlines and waters of San Francisco, Alameda, Contra Costa, Marin, San Mateo, Solano and Sonoma counties."