Comfort food, gluten-free recipes and vampire prevention appeared to be peak areas of interest for BAB readers in 2010.

Here are the top thirteen stories and recipes most visited on Bay Area Bites during the year:

#1 Creamy Chicken and Rice Casserole by Denise Santoro Lincoln

"The casserole is undergoing a resurgence in popularity. After years of being maligned as a tasteless and gloppy suburban dish made with Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, it is finally coming into its own. Blame it on the economy and the rising cost of food, but high-end cuts of meat seared faultlessly and served with the perfect wine are passé in this environment: extravagant and unseemly amidst layoffs and foreclosures. Comfort foods are the new at-home gourmet chic, and there's nothing more heartening and reassuring than a chicken casserole."

#2 Giving Up Sunday Gravy: A Lost Food Tradition by Denise Santoro Lincoln

Have you ever given up a long-held family food tradition? I have. Years ago I gave up Italian Sunday Gravy, which is basically manna for Italian Americans. Although I stand by my decision, I often regret it as well.

#3 Hachiya Persimmons by Denise Santoro Lincoln

Hachiyas are the misunderstood fruit of winter: although they are sweet and wonderful when baked into cakes and puddings, many people are afraid to eat them because they are truly awful when immature. A firm Hachiya is extraordinarily astringent and inedible. I admit that taking a bite out of one is sort of like eating an unripe bitter walnut while suddenly having all the moisture sucked out of your cheeks and tongue. But there's a very simple way to avoid this: don't eat Hachiyas until they're ripe.

#4 Gluten-Free Thanksgiving Recipes by Stephanie Stiavetti

Slowly, as I learned to bake using a completely new set of rules, I discovered that gluten-free baked goods can rival their wheaty counterparts. I learned how to make a gluten-free version of Thanksgiving stuffing, a fantastic butternut squash pie, and everything else that a normal person would sit down to enjoy with their loved ones. Sure, at first my family balked at my "weird" cornbread, but once they came around, they discovered that what I was making tasted good. Actually, I'd venture to say that my from-scratch versions tasted better than a lot of the prefab, processed stuff that my family normally layed out on the table during the holidays.

#5 Caramel Cake, The Recipe. by Shuna Fish Lydon

Shuna's famous CARAMEL CAKE with Caramelized Butter Frosting

#6 Meyer Lemon Ricotta Pancakes by Kim Laidlaw

On Sunday mornings, especially when the weather is rainy and cold and grey, I love to make a decadent breakfast, like brown butter waffles, a full English, or, one of my all-time favorites: delicate, soufflé-like ricotta pancakes. The first time I ate them was at the much beloved neighborhood restaurant, Rockridge Café, located on College Avenue in Oakland. I was hooked immediately.

So, with a bowlful of Meyer lemons, I decided to make some extra-lemony fluffy ricotta pancakes. You can make these for breakfast but they're also perfect for dessert.

#7 Froyo: How to Make Homemade Frozen Yogurt by Denise Santoro Lincoln

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

#8 Vampire Pantry Preventatives by Stephanie Lucianovic

If you want to keep vampires at bay, you should stock your kitchen with the following vampire-fighting ingredients...

#9 Dacquoise & Meringue. A Detailed Instruction by Shuna Fish Lydon

Traditionally, dacquoise is defined as nut meringue. These edible architectural details can usually be found demurely hiding in between layers of buttercream as they start out crunchy but softly melt into a layer of sweet nutty unctuousness.

Easy on paper, the meringue (French, Swiss or Italian) is a component which can frustrate even the most seasoned baker. When recipes rely on egg whites or meringue as their main leavener, the workings and instructions of the recipe are very important. Few cookbooks can afford to take the time to explain thoroughly what I am about to here.

#10 Wheat Berries by Denise Santoro Lincoln

If you've never heard of wheat berries, you're not alone. When I mentioned to a few people that I wanted to write about them, I received some quizzical looks. So, for anyone not familiar with this whole grain, let me end the suspense: wheat berries are simply individual kernels of wheat. They are what King Arthur and other grain companies mill to produce baking flours, from whole wheat to cake and all-purpose. And, just as there are many different types of wheat, there are just as many types of wheat berries, with their color ranging from light tan to a reddish brown. But the most important thing about wheat berries, at least as far as this post is concerned, is that they are scrumptious.

#11 Pulled Pork Sandwiches by Denise Santoro Lincoln

Tangy barbecue sauce dripping over slow-cooked pork on a bun. Yum. I freely admit that I am a fan of all things pork. I love pork chops, bacon, and roast loin, not to mention all those sausages. But there's something astonishing about taking one of the least expensive cuts of pork you can buy and turning it into one of the tenderest and juiciest sandwiches you can eat. Ah -- the miracle of pork.

#12 Recipe: Apricot Jam by Stephanie Rosenbaum

Apricots, while more accessible, still have a certain forgotten-fruit quality to them. Just as quince gets described as apple's tough, weird older sister, so apricots are often just a placeholder for peach-lovers, something sweet and orange with a pit that will do until the real goodies come along.

But apricots are good for cooking in a way that peaches aren't, their flavor intensifying into an ineffable tangy sweetness that leans just right against a crumbly, buttery short crust or a piece of whole-grain toast, especially one spread with mild fresh chevre.

#13 Rich as Rockefeller by Michael Procopio

Today, I wanted something rich. Something that would make me feel like that big shot I will more than likely never become.

So I up and made myself a dish named for America's first billionaire-- Oysters Rockefeller.

Underappreciated fruits and vegetables will always have a special place in my heart. Rhubarb, nettles, quince: all these things, so tasty when cooked, used to be very popular until they got shouldered aside by easier pleasures that didn't sting the unwary picker into welts, or weren't so sour or astringent at first bite as to make you wince. Artichokes' dip-scooping leaves were probably its saving grace. But for its use as a nifty delivery system for melted butter and lemon mayonnaise, it would be a forgotten thistle today.

Apricots, while more accessible, still have a certain forgotten-fruit quality to them. Just as quince gets described as apple's tough, weird older sister, so apricots are often just a placeholder for peach-lovers, something sweet and orange with a pit that will do until the real goodies come along.

But apricots are good for cooking in a way that peaches aren't, their flavor intensifying into an ineffable tangy sweetness that leans just right against a crumbly, buttery short crust or a piece of whole-grain toast, especially one spread with mild fresh chevre. Too often, though, all that the marketplace offers is the big bland Patterson, so smooth-skinned, so bright, so uniform and so utterly dull.

What you really want, especially for jam, are Blenheims, also called Royal Blenheims. You have to trust in these, because they're not so pretty. Mostly they're small, often green-shouldered, often freckly. At peak ripeness, they're almost deliquescent, their pulp turning to jam right inside the skin.

But, oh, what juicy, sticky-dripping flavor! Slurpy-good right off the tree, they're sublime for jam. I like to use the same overnight-sugar macerating technique as for strawberries, although these apricots don't throw off enough liquid to make straining necessary. Instead, they subside gracefully into a pool of satiny slush that's part pulp, part skin, part juice, and all divine.

Being wildly uncommercial—too small, too funny-looking, too mushy, too short a season—Blenheims have to be hunted out, either from soft-hearted orchardists or friends with an old tree in the backyard. Everything Under the Sun (the folks with the "Sampling is Mandatory-We're Watching!" sign) at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market had them last week, and probably this week, but not for much longer. Carpe diem! Get out your jars!

Apricot Jam
Of all the jams I make, this one remains my favorite. Letting the fruit and sugar macerate together before cooking mellows the sweetness and helps thickens the final product without the need for long cooking. This preserves the fruit's naturally vivid flavor and color.

Yield: 4 to 5 8-oz jars.
Prep Time: 15-20 minutes, plus 10-16 hours resting time
Cook Time: 30-40 minutes
Total: 1 hour, plus 10-16 hours resting time

Ingredients:
3 lb apricots
2 1/2 cups sugar
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (1-2 lemons)

Preparation:
1. Halve apricots and pop out pits. Cut fruit into quarters if large. Toss apricots, sugar, and lemon juice together in a glass or ceramic bowl. Cover with a towel and set aside for several hours at room temperature, or overnight in the refrigerator. Stir occasionally to help the sugar dissolve evenly, if you feel like it.

2. When all the sugar has been dissolved, pour the mixture into a wide, heavy-bottomed nonreactive pot and bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer 10 minutes, stirring gently but frequently. Cook for another 8 minutes, until the fruit looks translucent and is beginning to break down. It's easy to scorch it at this stage, so stir frequently and don't wander off.

3. Pour mixture back into the bowl, let cool, then cover with a towel and set aside at room temperature for at least six hours, or overnight in the refrigerator.

4. Return fruit mixture to the large pot. Over low heat, bring to a simmer, stirring frequently. Cook for another 10-12 minutes, until fruit has mostly broken down and juices look syrupy. Scoop a small amount of juice onto a clean metal spoon. Tip the spoon sideways and let juice run off the edge. When juice has reached the jelly point, the last few drops will look thicker and run together into one viscous drop. Remove from heat. Ladle into clean, sterilized jars.

5. Set jars on a clean towel and do not touch or move them until they are completely cool. If you're using canning jars, listen for the slurpy sucking pop of the jars vacuum-sealing. Sealed jars will keep up to 1 year in a cool, dry place. If jar isn't sealed, store in fridge and eat within 2-3 weeks.

Yesterday was Bastille Day, France's Independence Day which, like the US is celebrated with parades and red, white and blue flags. That's where the similarity ends. At least from my vantage point. The parade was much more of a military parade with marching soldiers and imposing tanks flexing their military muscle down the Champs-Elysees rather than the baton twirling cheerleaders and Boy Scout troops sauntering up Main Street USA waving to Mom and Dad on the side. The crescendo was the French version of the Blue Angels screaming up the Champs-Elysees from La Defense emitting a red, white and blue trail of smoke.

Quite spectacular and impressive over all but I absolutely missed the down home, charming, local parades I grew up walking in with my Camp Fire Girl troops where your friends and grandparents would be screaming at you from the sidewalk and you'd end up at the town park with a bandstand and the local Kiwanas or Rotary Club playing the Star-Spangled Banner, Oh When the Saints and God Bless America on accordions and trumpets. Bar-b-ques would be sizzling, slurpees flowing and kids with huge cotton candies running everywhere. So how do I impart a little bit of the Good Ol' USA into a French celebration? I was going to bake another apple pie but I thought that was too obvious and I refused to do that ubiquitous raspberry/shredded coconut/blueberry striped cake. . So I opted for a rustic apricot pie with hazelnuts and a little brandy splashed in for good measure. I love the French word for brandy: eau-de-vie, or water of life. Amen and pass the pie!

The apricots at the market nearly took my breath away. Vibrant orange to coral to red, perfectly plump and I so wanted to squeeze one but dare not face the wrath of the produce lady so I politely requested a kilo (a little more than two pounds) which she delicately measured into a little paper bag. I ran home and squeezed them all. :-)

More decades ago than I care to admit, I was in my apricot period. Picasso had his rose period, I had my apricot period. Apricot colored clothes, stationery, sheets, apricot jam, apricots, apricot pie, apricot ice cream all inspired by a huge apricot tree in our yard that practically rained down those precious fruits. One of my many chores was to rake the yard and pick up the fruit that was rotting on the ground. More often than not, I would first pick a few pockets full of apricots, sit under the tree and tuck in, juice running down my chin, spotting my little apricot-colored tops. Within minutes the bees would arrive, their sugar radar at full tilt, and chase me away.

I find etymology fascinating and "apricot" did not disappoint. Apricots are one of the earlier fruits to ripen so no coincidence that it derives from the Latin praecoc or praecox which means early ripening or precocious....as in a precocious child or one who matures at a very early age. Who knew?!

Apricots have been traced back 4,000 years when a fruit belonging to the rose family was discovered on the mountain slopes of China. They were subsequently introduced into Asia Minor (the Persian Empire) and the Mediterranean where they flourished in that sultry climate. The Spanish Explorers brought apricots to the New World, specifically to California and the Spanish missions that dot the west coast of California.

In 1792, in what is now the heart of Silicon Valley, the first major production of apricots was recorded. In 1910, 96% of all apricots grown in the United States were produced in California and nearly 100 years later that statistic remains constant though most all of the apricot (and cherry, plum and peach) orchards were overrun by the hi-tech explosion and relocated to the San Joaquin Valley. Ironic that Apple took over the apricots. Sorry, couldn’t resist. A few fun facts on apricots include 1. no saturated fat, sodium, or cholesterol, 2. low fat, 3. high in vitamins A and C, and 4. A good source of potassium. You can't afford not to eat them!

So when I saw these precocious apricots beckoning me from their precarious pyramid, I couldn't resist. Nor could I resist the alliteration. Sorry, on to the pie!

Apricot Hazelnut Brandy Tart ~ Tarte aux Abricots avec Noisettes et Eau-de-Vie

1 package of pastry dough (sorry shuna, but i'm pastrily-challenged)
1.5 to 2 lbs of apricots
1/2 cup sugar
a few splashes of brandy

2 eggs
2 tbsp flour
1/2 cup creme fraiche

3 tbsp cup ground hazelnuts
1 small handful of whole hazelnuts

Options: Add bright raspberries or black berries for a gorgeous contrast. Scrape the insides of half a vanilla bean into the sugar. You can also add a few shakes of cinnamon or nutmeg and a few dots of butter on the top. A squeeze of half a lemon can also give it a kick. This one I kept simple. And if you want it really sweet, double the sugar.

1. Heat over to 400F / #7

2. Halve and pit the apricots. Lay them out on a dish cut side up and sprinkle with some of the sugar. Hold your thumb over the spout of the brandy bottle and splash some on all the apricots. Set aside and let sit for 15-20 minutes.

3. Roll out the dough. If you are using puff pastry, dock it or poke it all over with a fork. I used puff pastry here but a pate brisee or standard tart dough would work fine. You can also incorporate the ground almonds into the crust for more flavor if you are making it from scratch.

4. Cover the bottom with a thin layer of ground hazelnuts.

5. Bake it for 10 minutes. (this is called blink baking - browning a crust with nothing in it so that it cooks a bit which keeps it from getting soggy from the liquid filling.)

6. Mix the remaining sugar, eggs, flour, creme fraiche.

7. Chop whole hazelnuts and toast carefully in a non-stick pan on the stove.

8. Take it out pie crust from oven and pour in the sugar, eggs mixture.

9. Arrange the apricot halves around the pie dish as you'd like. I had a lot of apricots so I stood them up on their sides at an angle to fit them all in.

10. Sprinkle with toasted chopped hazelnuts.

11. Put tart in oven and reduce heat to 350F / #5. Cook for 30 to 45 minutes, depending on your oven. I'd rather cook it longer at a lower temperature.

12. Take out and let cool for at least an hour.

Bon appetit and Vive la France!