Stephanie at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market Berry Festival. Photos by Christina Vickory

Doing a cooking demonstration for strangers is part Food Network, part Comedy Central. The first time I tossed a salad in front of an audience, at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market back in 2001, I was very nervous. Would my knife skills be sneered at? Would I forget to add some crucial ingredient, or go blank in the middle of an explanation of whisking or macerating?

Former Bay Area pastry chef David Lebovitz set my mind at ease. "Make them laugh! They just want to be entertained; no one's going to be watching what you do," he said, just before going out in front of the crowd and doing just that. Yes, on that day, if you watched carefully, you could learn how David made his truly excellent brownies, plus a dried-fruit compote with which to dress them up. But mostly, David made the crowd laugh. They had a good time with him, and what could make a brownie taste better?

So that's what I try to do, make 'em laugh--in between pleading with them to buy fresh baking powder, use a microplane for grating orange rind, and stop storing the spices over the stove (where they dry out and turn to dust so tasteless than no one could pick the rubbed sage from the smoked paprika).

But man, sometimes you guys are a tough crowd, clutching your xeroxed recipe sheets, staring up at the counter with all the enthusiasm of an after-lunch trigonometry class on the last day before summer vacation. Are you simply in it for the samples? Or do all my attempts to squeeze a little Liz Lemon into the soup just fall flat?

Be that as it may, I was booked as the talent yesterday at CUESA's Berry Celebration, down at the Saturday Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market. So, a joyful reason to cook with berries was in order.

Now, in my house, "cooking with berries" rarely happens. Why? Because the berries go fast from carton to mouth. Sometimes they make it into the cereal bowl or the pancake batter; once a summer there is blueberry pie. In my opinion, cream is the only embellishment a perfect raspberry needs, and the best blackberry is the winey, sun-warmed one you pick yourself from a dusty tangle at the side of the road.

However, topping a bowl of Grape-Nuts with blueberries, or mashing them down into a bowl of vanilla ice cream, is a little short on the show biz a cooking demo requires. No, what I needed here was a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants...or in this case, a sassy how-to for Double Berry Shortcake, with warm orange-scented biscuits layered with triple-berry jam, honey whipped cream, and fresh berries.

Now, the first thing to know about making biscuits is that they die young. A warm biscuit fresh from the oven is a heavenly thing. A few hours later, meh. Starch and butter, never a bad thing, but nothing for which to thank your mama and the good Lord for bringing you into the world and giving you a mouth. So, for best results, bake your biscuits not more than an hour or two before serving. If you can get them to the table still slightly warm, all the better. (Blazing-hot biscuits will melt the whipped cream, however, so do let them cool for at least 15 minutes or so before using.)

The second thing is that baking powder, too, has a shelf life, and if you bought it three boyfriends ago, you need to splash out and spend the buck and a half to get a new container. There's an expiration date on the bottom of the can. Heed it.

Finally, the box grater. Mostly these are useless, except to grate carrots for carrot cake or potatoes for latkes. But they have one more use, as I remembered just minutes before Saturday's little show-and-tell. Rub your cold, firm stick of butter through the big holes into your bowl of flour, and you'll get a near-instant, pastry-perfect mix. Keep your hands gentle and your touch light, and stamp out your biscuits with a wavy-edged biscuit cutter for the cutest final product.

As for the berry filling, you can make it with any mixture of raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, ollalieberries, or marionberries. The secret? Quick-cooking tapioca. It thickens the berries up without any tell-tale lumps or bumps, giving it the texture of perfectly gelled pie filling. If you have any extra berry filling, spoon it into a clean jar, refrigerate and use within a couple of weeks. Because of the tapioca thickener, it should not be sealed in canning jars for room-temperature storage like regular homemade jam. If you've never used tapioca before, look for the little red box of Minute brand next to the boxes of Jell-O.

(And then save the rest to make Heidi Swanson's creamy tapioca pudding, on a night when nothing but sweet eggy custard will soothe your battered soul.)

As for the cream, you'd be surprised what goes into the average carton of supermarket cream, from mono- and di-glycerides to carrageenan. Instead, look for the Clover organic or Straus organic heavy cream, both made of fresh, dairy-sweet local cream and nothing but.

And finally, when it comes to the berries, be as generous as you can. Blueberries for Sal! Tayberries for You! Berries, berries everywhere! You cannot have too many.

Double Berry Shortcake with Honey Cream

Light, fluffy biscuits get layered with a jammy berry filling, drenched with honey-sweetened whipped cream, and topped with more fresh berries.

Serves 6 to 8, depending on size of biscuits

For Shortcake Biscuits:
2 cups all-purpose white flour, preferably unbleached
1/2 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
grated rind of 1 orange
8 TB (1 stick or 1/2 cup) butter, chilled
1 egg
1/2 cup milk plus 1 TB (you may need slightly more or less)

For Berry Filling:
2 TB water
1 TB quick-cooking tapioca, such as Minute brand
juice of half a lemon
1/2 cup sugar
2 cups mixed berries, such as blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries
2 tsp Chambord or cassis liqueur, optional

For Honey Cream:
1/2 pint heavy (whipping) cream
1 TB honey, or to taste
a few drops of orange extract or orange liqueur (such as Grand Marnier), or 1/4 tsp grated orange rind, optional

For Assembly:
2 to 3 cups mixed fresh berries

1. To make shortcake biscuits: Preheat oven to 400°F. Lightly grease a round cake pan.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt.

3. Using a box grater, grate chilled butter into flour mixture. (You can also pulse ingredients together in a food processor until just pebbly.) Toss buttter-flour mixture together lightly, until butter is covered with flour and evenly mixed throughout.

3. Measure 1/2 cup milk in a glass measuring cup, then break in egg and beat together. Drizzle over flour mixture and mix gently into a soft dough. If dough seems dry, add additional milk as needed.

4. Turn out onto a floured countertop or cutting board. Pat into an even 1-inch-thick round. Using a floured biscuit cutter or the rim of a small drinking glass, cut out 6 to 8 biscuits (number may vary depending on the size of your cutter). Fit biscuits into cake pan, sides touching.

5. Bake 15-20 minutes, until tops are pale gold. Remove from baking sheet and let cool on a rack.

6. To make quick berry filling: In a small, heavy-bottomed pot, mix water, tapioca, lemon juice, sugar, and berries together. Over medium-low heat, bring to a simmer. Simmer, stirring frequently, until berries have collapsed and mixture is deep purple and jammy, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Let cool (it will thicken as it cools) and refrigerate until needed. Stir in liqueur before serving, if desired.

7. To make honey cream: Pour cream into a chilled bowl and whip with a whisk or hand-held electric mixer until beater begins to leave traces on the surface of the cream. Add honey and extract or rind if desired. Continue beating until cream is thick enough to mound up on a spoon.

8. To assemble shortcakes: Using a small sharp knife, split biscuit. Put bottom half on biscuit in a shallow bowl. Spread with a generous spoonful of preserves. Top with some fresh berries and a spoonful of cream. Top with top half of biscuit, more cream and fresh berries. Repeat with remaining biscuits.

Blackberry Cornmeal Muffins from my blog, A Sweet Spoonful

There's something about this time of year. I find myself baking much more frequently, leaving the Kitchen Aid out on the counter instead of storing it in its proper winter-time home, and bookmarking dessert recipes right and left. Then I start thinking about opening a bakery...but that's a whole different post. On my own blog recently, I've made very special muffins (above) and Jim Lahey's whole wheat bread. And I have big plans for some cupcakes for a party I'm attending this week. So I'm certainly not lacking in the inspiration department. But you've got to be prepared with everything you need, the recipes that inspire, and a few extras just for fun. So here are some of my favorite things to help kick start your time in the kitchen this spring:

Batter Bowls

Some love them, some hate them: you either find them useful in an 'Oh, my mom used those for our pancakes' kind of way or you're not quite sure what to do with them. But batter bowls are actually fabulous: you can mix batters right inside the bowl and neatly pour into your cupcake tins, waffle-maker, or cheesecake pan. I also use them to help pour eggs for omelettes and I might occasionally mix and pour cocktails in my batter bowl. Yes, you heard that right. You can get them many places, but I find Stonewall Kitchen's batter bowls to be very sweet--nice spring colors and a generous handle.

Prettiest Apron You'll Ever See

I can't get enough of Ice Milk Aprons. I actually don't own one yet, but I gawk frequently online. They're a small family company that does heirloom aprons that are super simple and inspired by the founder's grandmother who always wore an apron when she fixed a dinner of waffles, fresh fruit, and ice milk at home. They do full traditional aprons, but they also do a gorgeous "Rolling Pin Waist" style that is more life a half apron with a sash up top. In many ways, they're almost too pretty to really muck up in the kitchen--but that hasn't stopped me from hinting to friends and family.

Baking Supplies

While I obviously support going to your local cookware shop, I have found the folks at Layer Cake Shop stock some interesting baking accoutrement that you may not be able to find as easily all in one spot. I love their simple paper tags that come in a variety of colors--great for labeling desserts. And they have all different colors of bakers twine and an incredible variety of little muffin and cupcake cups. Useful and inspiring.

Cupcake Toppers

Once you make those cupcakes, you're going to want to decorate them. And this is where on one recent Sunday morning I got sucked down the Etsy rabbit hole. You know the one I'm talking about--the one where you start looking at one shop and all of a sudden you've lost two hours of your life. Well I took a liking to these vintage-inspired cupcake toppers. The seller scanned in prints of the 1950's ladies from her vintage cookbook collection and mounted them on a sturdy bamboo stick. She'll also work with you on different colors of backing or increased quantities for larger parties.

Good Quality Vanilla (and other extracts)

No cutesy aprons here folks. For your spring baking projects this year, be sure you're using really good quality vanilla--whether it's an extract, a vanilla bean, or vanilla paste (my absolute favorite discovery of the year). Nielsen Massey not only stocks incredible vanilla, but they also do harder to find extracts that I'm excited to experiment with. They have chocolate, coffee, and a really nice lemon extract. You can check out their online site and they'll guide you to shops in your area that stock what you're looking for, and they have great information on the history of vanilla and how to choose which product is right for you.

Three Book Suggestions
Now this isn't a formal review because I only own one of these books. But here are a few recent baking books that have come out that I'm eager to get my hands on. If you're looking for a little baking inspiration, look no further:

• Deborah Madison's Seasonal Fruit Desserts: I'm a huge Madison fan, and have made many of her vegetarian entrees in the kitchen, but I'm even more excited to try out some of her well-regarded dessert recipes. She's the master of seasonal recipes, and this is no exception.
• Kim Boyce's Good to the Grain: I've leafed through this book and the photos by Quentin Bacon are truly stunning. But even more important--the recipes are really exciting. Boyce makes baking with whole-grain flours (not always an easy feat) look approachable and second-nature. And we're not just talking whole-wheat flour: she experiments with teff and amaranth and twelve different kinds of other whole-grain flours. I can't wait to start baking from this book.
• David Lebovitz's Ready For Dessert: If you're tuned into the food blogging world, there's been a lot of talk about this book ever since it came out. I have Lebovitz's other books so initially I was hesitant to purchase this one, but there's something appealing about having the best recipes all within easy reach (plus, those photos!). For those who aren't familiar with his recipes, this is the perfect book for you. From relatively easy cookie recipes to Lebovtiz's incredible sauces--inspiration abounds here.

According to David Lebovitz, "Each year, hundreds of cookbooks are released, which means that inevitably, many must go to make room for the new."

One look through his latest book Ready for Dessert (his original title idea was David's Greatest Hits) is enough to make me want to do just that-- clear my shelf of all the pretty, rarely-used dessert tomes that do little else than collect dust and take up space in my kitchen.

My copy of Lebovitz's book is already stained (with coffee) from just looking at it. It's the best type of food porn available: high production values (great recipes and gorgeous photography by Maren Caruso); a cast of stars (Chocolate Orbit Cake, Kumquat Sticky Toffee Pudding, Apple-Quince Tarte Tatin) that are hot, but not out of reach; and a writer who supplies, if not a story line, then enough anecdotes to keep me interested (The Racine's Cake recipe was, after all, found written on a men's room wall). It's one sexy book.

The first time I met David Lebovitz, one of the first things out of his mouth was "I'm not a nice person," which I found interesting, since the impression I got from him was the exact opposite. If he is, in fact, not a nice person at all, he's hidden his misanthropy entirely in what is a very friendly, approachable cookbook. The Caramelization guidelines for both wet and dry caramel, with their step-by-step photos, careful instruction, and simple explanation are worth the price of admission alone. And the overall tone is warm, funny and, with the exception of crowing over his chocolate chip cookies (page 188)), modest. I've made those cookies. He can crow all he wants.

Unfussy, straightforward desserts that rely more upon the complexity or impact of flavor than frills are Lebovitz's hallmark. From the subtlety of his Black Currant Tea Crème Brûlée (page 129) to the luciously rich Chocolate Pavé (page 25), Ready for Dessert offers a wide range of recipes that are within the grasp of all but the most inept cooks. And, even then, there's always that Chocolate Orbit (née Idiot) cake (page 26).

And one look at his Orange-Almond Bread Pudding (page 136) drizzled with Tangerine Butterscotch Sauce (page 242) is enough to make me Crème Anglais (page 237) my pants. Rarely has a cookbook inspired me to roll up my sleeves and get baking.

I highly recommend this book.

David Lebovitz's Chocolate Chip Cookies (excerpt from Ready for Dessert, page 188. Published with permission.)

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups (350g) all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup (8 ounces/225 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup (215 g) packed light brown sugar

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs, at room temperature

2 cups (about 225 g) nuts, such as walnuts, pecans, almonds, or macadamia nuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

14 ounces (400 g) bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped into 1/2-to 1-inch (1.5- to 3-cm) chunks or 3 cups (340 g) chocolate drops (see Tip)

Preparation:

1. In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt.

2. In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment (or in a bowl by hand), beat together the butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar, and vanilla on medium speed just until smooth. Beat in the eggs on at a time until thoroughly incorporated, then stir in the flour mixer followed by the nuts and chocolate chunks.

3. On a lightly floured work surface, divide the dough into quarters. Shape each quarter into a log about 9 inches (23 cm) long. Wrap the logs in plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm, preferably for 24 hours.

4. Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven; preheat the oven to 350ºF (175ºC). Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.

5. Slice logs into disks 3/4 inch (2 cm) thick and place the disks 3 inches (8 cm) apart on the prepared baking sheets. If the nuts or chips crumble out, simply push them back in.

6. Bake, rotating the baking sheets midway through the baking, until the cookies are very lightly browned in the centers, about 10 minutes. If you like soft cookies, as I do, err on the side of underbaking.

7. Let cookies cool on the baking sheets until firm enough to handle, then use a spatula to transfer them to a wire rack.

Storage: The dough logs can be refrigerated for 1 week or frozen for up to 1 month. The baked cookies will keep well in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Tip: Many chocolate makers now produce chocolate "drops" or "chunks" that are suitable for use in this recipe. Regular chocolate chips are designed to resist melting, so I don't use them in my chocolate chip cookies.

Picking lemons from my mom's generous backyard lemon tree

Spring has sprung in the Bay Area. Unless you've been living under a rock, I'm sure this isn't news to you. Haven't you noticed coworkers with a little extra spring in their step--perhaps an unexpected smile on the bus? Asparagus is in the markets, flowers are popping up at the corner store by my place, and it's no longer getting dark at 5:30 p.m. Hallelujah. For me, there's something so appealing about the notion of fresh starts, new beginnings, and second chances that always leads me to put spring on a bit of a pedestal. Who doesn't love the chance at a new beginning? Even if it doesn't come to fruition literally, spring always gives me a surge of creativity and energy. It means going for runs after work instead of hunkering down, making fresh salads for dinner, and doing a little spring time baking. So here we find ourselves.

I spent some time at my mom's place in Marin last weekend and she has an amazing lemon tree with more lemons than she knows what to do with. I started bagging some up and racked my brain for what I wanted to do with them. Then I remembered reading a recipe for a Lemon Pudding Cake recently that I was curious to try. The recipe is from one of my first blogging friends, Kelsey, over at The Naptime Chef. If you haven't seen her blog, it's pretty great. She loves cooking and baking but found herself strapped for time after having her first child. So she started choosing and adapting recipes for the naptime hour--most that can be done in an hour or less. While I don't have kids, I appreciate Kelsey's tasteful recipe choices, great cookbook recommendations, and smart voice. Oh, and this cake.

A bowl of Lemon Pudding Cake right out of the oven. Enough said.

Kelsey adapted this cake recipe from Cooks Illustrated Entertaining 2010. As printed, the directions were much more complex, so Kelsey made it more approachable and do-able in under an hour. It's somewhere in between a luscious lemon pudding and a light fluffy cake, and I loved it right out of the oven. But I've also discovered that, with a cup of strong coffee, it makes a nice breakfast. And in addition to Kelsey's recipe, I've included some links below for other lemon desserts popping up around the web--all from bloggers or food sites that I read regularly. So here's to new beginnings, fresh starts, and cake for breakfast.

Juicing, Zesting, Mixing, and Separating: all in the name of Lemon Pudding Cake!

Lemon Pudding Cake
From: The Naptime Chef; adapted from Cooks Illustrated Entertaining

Makes: 8-10 servings

Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tsp. cornstarch
1 1/4 cups sugar
5 Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature
2 Tbsp. grated lemon zest
1/2 cups fresh lemon juice
1 1/4 cups whole milk
5 eggs, separated; yolks in one bowl with whites in another

Preparation:
1. Adjust oven rack to center position and heat oven to 325 degrees. Lightly butter an 8" square baking pan. Bring several quarts of water to boil for water bath. Mix flour and cornstarch together in a bowl, set aside.
2. Cream the butter, 1 cup of the sugar and lemon zest until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Then, beat in the egg yolks and flour mixture, mixing until smooth. Slowly mix in the lemon juice, then stir in the milk.
3. Set the custard mixture aside and beat the egg whites until they hold soft peaks. Then, add the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar and beat egg whites to stiff, moist peaks. Gently stir a dollop of the egg whites into the custard. Then, working slowly, fold the remaining egg whites in bit by bit until they are all incorporated, but not overly beaten.
4. Pour the batter into the baking pan and place the pan inside a larger baking pan. Then fill the larger baking pan with hot water bath until it comes halfway up the side of the pan. Bake until pudding cake center is set and springs back when gently touched, about 1 hour. Remove roasting pan from oven and let pan cool for 1 hour before serving.

Other Lemon Desserts to Check Out:

• One of my favorite bloggers, Tim over at Lottie + Doof, made The Ultimate Lemon Butter Bars
• The Kitchn featured a recipe last week for Sticky Lemon Rolls with Lemon Cream Cheese Glaze
• Denise Santoro Lincoln makes Homemade Meyer Lemon Marmalade for Bay Area Bites
• I've heard very good things about David Leibovitz's Lemon Tart recipe
• Joy the Baker whips up Lemon Tea Cloud Cookies

What are you doing for New Year's Eve? As much as I'd like to be waltzing in silver lamé, this year I'll be taking a page from the late novelist and essayist Laurie Colwin, who wrote persuasively in More Home Cooking about the joys of opting out of the big razzle-dazzle. Instead, she brought the party home, making a tradition out of sharing champagne, salmon, and homemade biscuits with friends and family at home.

After all, who wants to scramble for reservations when so many restaurants will be flinging confetti on the tablecloths and pushing high-priced prix fixe menus and set seatings?

Instead, I'll be corralling a small group for dinner at six, starting with a champagne cocktail hour with crab salad in endive spears, followed by chestnut soup with warm popovers, slow-roasted artic char plastered with herbs, and for dessert, an adaptation of David Lebovitz's Champagne Citrus Gelée, from his excellent first cookbook, Room for Dessert.

Lebovitz, who used to be a pastry chef at Chez Panisse, took the ex-pat route over a decade ago and has since created an enviable life for himself in Paris, writing cookbooks and a very popular blog, teaching cooking workshops, and leading food/chocolate/pastry tours throughout France. In my experience, every recipe of his that I've made has been plate-cleaningly delicious, since he has not just skill and smarts but also a great palate and a willingness to test and test and test again.

This, however, is my own version of Lebovitz's recipe, tweaked and modified to reflect my personal taste. But I'm absolutely indebted to his book for the original concept, and for creating a dessert that's not only sparkly and festive but also perfectly seasonal for San Francisco in the wintertime, when the citrus and pomegranates come in.

It can also be eaten by almost everyone, no mean feat in the Bay Area. Wheat-, gluten-, dairy-, and fat-free, there's nothing here to wreak havoc on even the most stringent January 1st resolution. No, you couldn't serve it to vegans, but you could probably mess around and figure out how to replace the gelatin with agar-agar. Skipping the alcohol? Replace the champagne with a pleasant, not-too-sweet sparkling fruit juice. Strictly no-sugar? Serve the citrus compote plain. Even without the gelée, the colors look gorgeous enough to be worth a toast.

Sparkling Citrus Gelée
Look for the little orange-and-white boxes of Knox unflavored gelatin in the powdered dessert mix/Jell-O section of the baking aisle. Don't even think of using lemon Jell-O.

Serves 8

Ingredients:
3 pink grapefruits
2 navel oranges
2 blood oranges
1-2 tbsp good-quality orange liqueur, such as Grand Marnier (not the cheap stuff that tastes like baby aspirin)

2 envelopes powdered unflavored gelatin (such as Knox)
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar, or to taste
1 bottle (750 ml) sparkling wine, Prosecco, or Champagne (not Cooks, but not Tattinger, either. Something Californian in the $10-$15 range should be just fine)
Juice of 1 lime or lemon (and use a real one, not a squirt from one of those nasty plastic jobs full of bitter battery acid)

12 kumquats, ends and seeds removed, sliced thinly
Seeds of 1 large pomegranate
Soft Candied Citrus Peel in syrup (see below)

Preparation:
1. First, prep your fruit: Cut off the top and bottom of the grapefruit so it sits flat, then slice off peel and white membrane from top to bottom in vertical strips, moving around the circumference. Trim off every speck of white pith. Really, get it off now. You'll thank me later.

2. Cupping the now-naked fruit with one hand, free the fruit segments from between the "fans" of tough membrane using a small sharp paring knife. Do this over a bowl so you can catch all the excess juice. Slice or wiggle the fruit out, so you get a glistening arc of membrane-free fruit. Drop fruit slices into the bowl.

3. Repeat with remaining grapefruits and oranges. Sprinkle with orange liqueur, if desired. Refrigerate, tightly covered, if not using right away.

4. When you're ready to make the gelée, drain juice from fruit segments and reserve; you should have at least 1 cup. Sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup reserved fruit juice and let soften for 5 minutes.

5. Heat additional 1/2 cup juice with sugar until sugar dissolves and mixture is hot. Pour sugar syrup over gelatin and stir until gelatin is thoroughly dissolved. Pour the gelatin mixture into a big bowl.

6. Pop the cork on your sparkling wine and pour in the whole bottle. Watch out for the froth! Add about half the lime or lemon juice, then taste and add more as needed. Cover and refrigerate until it begins to thicken and set.

7. Make the candied peel in syrup (recipe below), or take it out of the fridge if you made it earlier. Warm gently until syrup is liquid again. Stir in sliced kumquats. Take off heat and set aside.

8. Take out 8 stemmed parfait or wine glasses. Drain the kumquats/candied peel. (Save the orange syrup if you can think of something to do with it later). Get out the gelée, the pomegranate seeds, and the bowl of fruit slices.

9. To assemble, spoon some of the gelée into each glass. Add some pomegranate seeds, a few pieces of citrus, a few slices of kumquat, and a few strands of candied peel. Continue layering gelée, pomegranate seeds, citrus, kumquat, and candied peel until glass is full. Repeat with remaining glasses. Chill for several hours, until fully set.

Soft Candied Citrus Peel

Ingredients:
4 lemons or oranges, preferably organic, washed
1 1/2 cups water
3/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp corn syrup or honey

Preparation:
1. Remove zest (the colored part of the peel) with a vegetable peeler. Cut lengthwise into very narrow strips. Cover peel with water, bring to a boil, and cook until soft and translucent, about 5-6 minutes. Drain peel and discard water.

2. Bring 1 1/2 cups water, sugar, and syrup to a boil. Add peel, reduce heat, and simmer until peel is translucent and candied-looking, about 20 minutes. Cool in syrup and refrigerate.

Sparkling Citrus Gelée photo by Steve Duell

There are myriad guidebooks to Paris: Pudlow, Michelin, and Lonely Planet, to name a few and all of them worth the money. They tell you where eat, where to stay, and what to see.

And then, of course, there are guidebooks to Paris-- those that tell you all of the above plus a little bit more, like how to navigate unfamiliar social customs, how to blend in with the landscape-- in short, how not appear as though one has arrived from Central Casting to play the Ugly American. The Sweet Life in Paris by David Lebovitz is that and a bit more:

It has recipes. Lots and lots of recipes.

Granted, The Sweet Life in Paris was neither written nor is it marketed as a comprehensive guide to the sights and flavors of the city. Rather, it's more or less an organic extension of Mr. Lebovitz's blog, which chronicles his life and experiences as a San Francisco pastry chef who packed up everything he owned and moved to Paris-- and all the pleasures, pains, and frequent head-scratchings that accompany French Culture Shock.

I refer to his book as a guidebook because that is precisely how I used it on my recent visit to his adopted city-- an entertaining, human, and extremely useful guide.

For example, his chapter "The Most Important Words to Know in Paris" warns that one absolutely must say "Bonjour Monsieur" or "Bonjour Madame" to the first person one makes eye contact with in any store or restaurant or "even in an elevator." It's a minute, but extremely important bit of information to share with Americans who are by nature accustomed to a thin veneer of anonymity when out in public. That and the knowledge that even the most feeble attempt by an American to speak French goes a very long way with Parisians. Having French-speaking abilities on par with a backwards two year-old, I found this comforting knowledge and entirely true in practice.

I purchased a copy of The Sweet Life in Paris the afternoon before leaving on my trip, hoping to read it on the flight over. It's a smooth, pleasurable read that I decided to put down at around page 200 so that I might finish up in the city itself.

Perhaps I should have read one chapter further...

Prior to my visit, I contacted Mr. Lebovitz, suggesting that we might meet up for lunch or a glass of wine so that I might talk to him about this latest book of his, and to which he politely agreed. Two days into my stay, I resumed reading and was horrified by what I read in the next:

In "The Visitors", Lebovitz shares his growing distaste for out-of-towners-- especially friends of friends-- who expect him to drop everything to meet up with them. Here's an excerpt:

The final straw was when one of those friends-of-friends types, whom I foolishly agreed to meet, deeply insulted a waiter at what was once my favorite café in the Marais. The charming waiter, who liked to joke around with me, said to this fellow, who ordered his drink in English, "You should try to speak a little French, after all, you are in France!" To which my gracious guest glared and shot back, "You know what? I don't even want to try." It would have looked a little funny trying to disappear by sliding under the table, so instead, I gulped down my drink quickly and got out of there as politely as I could. And I haven't gathered up the courage to go back. After that, I swore off guests forever.

As an out-of-town friend-of-friend, I gulped and quickly shot him off an email underscoring the fact that lunch or drinks or shiny baubles were on me.

I had short list of questions I wanted to ask Lebovitz when we finally met up for lunch, which happened at 5pm and turned into a bottle of wine and no food except the obligatory bar snack that seems to arrive anywhere, anytime you order a drink in Paris. And I don't think I asked a single book-related question. I didn't really care. I was enjoying myself.

Some people read better on paper than they do in person. Sometimes the persona a blogger dons is bigger than the one he wears in real life. Neither are true, so I discovered, with Mr. Lebovitz.

After a couple of hours and a couple of glasses of red wine later, Lebovitz offered us some advice as to where to have dinner. With that tip, we said goodbye and I headed off to the suggested restaurant, A la Biche au Bois.

Upon arrival without a reservation, I looked the man I took to be the owner in the eye, said "Bonsoir, Monsieur," and, in my terrible French, apologized for not having a reservation, but that we would very much like to "eat of the food here." He looked around at the very crowded restaurant and back at me to say, "There is no room for you!" Then he paused a moment and said, gruffly, "Come back in 45 minutes."

45 minutes. No problem. But he didn't take our name, which would have been the expectation, had this been happening here in San Francisco. Instead of worrying about it, we just decided to do as he said, go next door, and drink a kir or two (which happens to be the first recipe on offer in The Sweet Life in Paris and purely a coincidental occurrence).

At the agreed-upon time, we re-appeared, and so did the tall, bald linebacker of a man who told us to come back in the first place. He waved us to the rear of the restaurant and wedged us into a tiny table next to the service station, where a basket of old silver spoons lay tantalizingly within reach.

In short, the meal was simple and wonderful. It remains one of the favorite memories of my stay in Paris. And the best part of all? When Monsieur Gruffiness came by at the end of our meal, he looked at our water glasses and said, "You'd better drink up, boys." We did as we were told and emptied them in a gulp. He then refilled them with Armagnac from an obscenely large bottle he held under his arm. His serious scowl was replaced by a grin which led me to think he may have had one or two snorts himself. He roamed the place pouring out the bottle to his guests.

From the moment I entered the restaurant to the time I left, I played the "W.W.D.L.D."* game. From how I said hello, to what I ordered, to how I attacked the cheese platter, to how I eventually (and reluctantly) said goodnight.

It was a little bit of Paris for which I am grateful. Though it could be argued that nearly any Paris guide could lead you to such a place, how many of them will tell you, an American in Paris, what to do when you get there? The Sweet Life in Paris does.

And, of course, the others don't have recipes.

*What Would David Lebovitz Do?

There is a tradition in my house around this time of year. Come Easter Sunday, a cake must be made, and it must be made in the shape of a bunny or a lamb, using a special bunny- or lamb-shaped cake pan (preferably the one passed along to me by my mother, from her mother). Once the cake is baked, it's frosted with white icing and lavished with pastel-dyed coconut (to represent bunny fur or lambswool, if bunnies had a thing for Manic Panic hair color). Jelly beans stand in for eyes, mouth, and general bejeweling. The type of cake--white, yellow, lemon--is less important than the fabulousness of the decoration.

Now, if you're the sort of person who notices bylines, you might be a little curious by now. Why is someone named Rosenbaum waxing rhapsodic about bunny cake? Shouldn't a Rosenbaum be making matzoh kugel this time of year, chopping charoseth and grating horseradish, whipping up a batch of Marcy Goldman-via-David Lebovitz chocolate-covered toffee matzoh crunch?

Well, as a matter of fact, I'm doing that too. On a line for religious affiliation, I'd have to write "Baking Jew." My Hebrew skills are nonexistent and my grasp of Torah imprecise, but I can whip up a mean Rosh Hashanah honey cake, an excellent Purim hamentaschen, a swell matzoh ball and a pretty great Seder spongecake, even in a studio apartment with a kitchen counter smaller than a newspaper.

So, where does the bunny cake come in? The short answer: my mother converted when she got married. So my sisters and I were raised Jewish, with no bacon, Hebrew school three times a week, challah French toast on Saturdays and lox and bagels on Sundays. But we still got to have fun on Easter, in a purely secular, egg-dyeing way, up at my grandmother's house. We would spend a gleeful afternoon on an Easter-egg hunt around her house, filling our plastic-grass lined baskets with Peeps, Cadbury creme eggs, and hollow-eared chocolate bunnies.

But therein lay the moral quandary. For understandable reasons, there is no such thing as kosher for Passover Easter candy. If, as commonly occurs, Easter fell during the eight days of Passover, we couldn't eat those marshmallow chicks and foil-wrapped eggs until Passover was over, which could be up to a week away... When this happened, my grandmother would take pity on us and make her bunny cake with a kosher-for-Passover cake mix: an absurd but also wonderful gesture, as I see it now.

This weekend, I'm out in Minneapolis with my sister and brother-in-law (a Methodist), and their 3 children. We're having a Seder tonight, with an Easter ham stashed in the fridge for Sunday. Her bunny cake mold is made of pink silicone now, already pre-portioned into kiddie-sized chunks. My sister and I are sharing matzoh and averting our eyes from the rest of the family's morning waffles. She's added a Sephardic date-and-ginger charoseth to the mix, and my brother-in-law is providing the pot roast. It may not be totally kosher, but it tastes like home.

Via Eat Me Daily

I spend entirely too much time on the Internet. Sometimes I'm working, sometimes I go into a Facebook Scramble trance, and other times, I am taking a look at what other food bloggers are doing.

There are, for better or for worse, a dizzying amount of food blogs out there. And most of them are, frankly, unappetizing. The sinister flash photography, the "look-what-I-had-for-dinner" sharing, the heavy reliance on the exclamation point, the word "yummy" or the suffix "-icious." It's enough make me show you what-I-had-for-dinner. After I have eaten it.

And don't get me started on the number of cupcake blogs out there or I shall cry.

Fortunately, there are a few places of refuge: sites that sparkle like the Emerald City set against the background of a sky blackened by millions of flying, food blogging monkeys.

The following are my current web crushes, in no particular order. One is relatively famous and respected in the food world, one should be, and the other is just plain interesting. They are sites that always have me coming back for more. If you don't know them already, you should. Give them a little look-see. If you're anything like me, you'll be hooked instantly.

David Lebovitz

Photo by David Lebovitz

You probably already know him or, at least know of him. If you don't, you should. He's one of the most visible food bloggers around. And for very good reason. Lebovitz is a pastry wiz who made a name for himself right here in the Bay Area. Now an American in Paris, he shares his experience of living in a city that many Americans fantasized about without the irritating look-at-me-I'm-in-Paris tone of other writers, for which I am deeply grateful. In fact, he can even mention cupcakes without upsetting me. Of course, showgirls were a mitigating factor.

His recipes and food photography are solid and enticing, his writing style is concise and informative yet chatty and personable. David Lebovitz might heart Neufchâtel, but I heart his blog.

Ezra Pound Cake

Photo-- Ezra Pound Cake

Several weeks ago, while trolling about the Internet, I found a food photography website. I couldn't tell you the name. What I can tell you is that, as I was thumbing through the thumbnails of dessert photos and whatnots, I discovered that most of the images I was clicking on were taken from the same food blog. Ezra Pound Cake. I clicked on over to the website, just kicking myself for not having thought up that name before this particular blogger did.

Ezra Pound Cake. It's just plain brilliant. Rebecca Crump, the force behind the blog, describes the name as a "Wheel of Fortune-style Before & After phrase, like Toby Keith Urban or Whitney Houston Texas." It spells out her own "before" and "after" as a writer-turned-baker. And, man, can she do both.

Filled with a recipes culled from her favorite websites and cook books, Crump tackles them with charm, wit, and a healthy dose of pop culture references. She is a blogger after my own heart, except with better photography, baking, and naming skills.

Ezra Pound Cake isn't budging from my blogroll.

Eat Me Daily

Meat Bingo. Photo by Mike Zortman

I don't even know where to begin with this one. Eat Me Daily is a fascinating group blog that started doing its thing in October 2008. Almost pointless to describe, this website is primarily devoted to food-related media: visual arts, television programming and commercials, cookbooks, print ads, and news-related items.

From Martha Stewart to meat bingo to frog blancmange, this site really has it going on. It is, however, not for the squeamish or, as they put it "your mom (unless your mom is awesome)."

Meet me there for a daily dose of odd.

Calling all cupcake lovers! Make them or buy them and share or just eat them, this Sunday at CupcakeCamp.

Cupcake tastings will be scheduled at different time slots (e.g. by flavor, baker, or store) and categories to be judged include Best Frosting (flavor), Best Cake, Most Creative/Unique/Original/Bacon.
For those bringing cupcakes, the limit per person is 1 dozen large or 2 dozen mini. There will be 8 time slots, 30 minutes each, and the schedule will be posted the day of the event. People bringing cupcakes need to bring them by 1:30pm and everyone attending should be prepared to take leftover cupcakes home!

When: Sunday, June 1, 2008 2:00 PM - 6:00 PM
Where: Citizen Space, 425 Second St., #300, San Francisco
What: CupcakeCamp
How: RSVP to attend or RSVP if you plan to bake or buy cupcakes to share

Note: If you plan on bringing cupcakes, you need to submit how much and what type of cupcakes you are bringing along with your RSVP by Friday, May 30 at noon. There is no cost associated with this event.

In case you are looking for a foolproof and crowd pleasing recipe, consider this version of Black Bottom Cupcakes from masterful pastry chef and food blogger, David Lebovitz.

Black Bottom Cupcakes

Ingredients

FOR THE FILLING
8 ounces cream cheese, regular or reduced fat, at room temperature
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, at room temperature
2 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

FOR THE CUPCAKES
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 tablespoons natural unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch-process)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup water
1/3 cup unflavored vegetable oil
1 tablespoon white or cider vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Method

MAKE THE FILLING
1. Beat together the cream cheese, granulated sugar, and egg until smooth. Stir in the chopped chocolate pieces. Set aside.

MAKE THE CUPCAKES
1. Adjust the rack to the center of the oven and preheat to 350°F (175°C). Butter a 12-cup muffin tin, or line the tin with paper muffin cups.

2. In a medium bowl sift together the flour, brown sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. In a separate bowl, mix together the water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla.

3. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and stir in the wet ingredients, stirring until just smooth. Stir any longer and you will over mix the batter and end up with less-than-tender cupcakes.

4. Divide the batter among the muffin cups. Spoon a few tablespoons of the filling into the center of each cupcake, dividing the filling evenly. This will fill the cups almost completely, which is fine.

5. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the tops are slightly golden brown and the cupcakes feel springy when gently pressed.

These moist treats will keep well unrefrigerated for 2 to 3 days if stored in an airtight container.

The Great Book of Chocolate © 2004 David Lebovitz. All rights reserved.