Photo by Wendy Goodfriend

Happy Pride! And what a day! A whole lot of New York caterers and wedding-cake bakers are very happy today, now that same-sex marriage is wonderfully, amazingly legal in New York, and without a residency requirement, meaning Virgin Atlantic and Jet Blue should be running bride-and-bride, groom-and-groom cross-country specials very soon, at least until the slow-moving wheels of justice finally get the right thing done out here. So, what do you eat, in between the Frameline35 LGBT film festival, the Trans March, the Dyke March, the parade on Sunday and all the myriad house parties, dance parties, comedy shows, performances, and more happening during this fine final week of June? Popcorn, probably, the celery, pickled green beans and olives in your Bloody Mary, and of course, whatever bacon-wrapped hot dog or meat-on-a-stick is being smokily, deliciously offered for a few bucks to the hungry, sweaty, beer-bathed hordes from now through Sunday.

This being San Francisco, of course, Pride is hardly confined to the Castro or Civic Center. We've got LGBT chefs, restaurant owners, bartenders, bakers, and ice-cream makers in every neighborhood, after all. As Pride Parade Honorary Grand Marshall Susie Bright says, "I must have my breakfast, and the best crab cakes west of the Orleans parish line are at Adrienne's Just for You Cafe in Dogpatch." Once the late-afternoon fog rolls in, then it's time for a Blue Moon, not just a summer drink but the "ultimate lavender Liz Taylor's eyes cocktail," made from gin, fresh lemon, and Crème des Violettes, shaken over ice and served with a twist."The color is breathtaking, it tastes sublime, and the violet aroma is real!" Order it at what Susie describes as her "latest swoon," the Comstock Saloon in North Beach. "It's like going into a Barbary Coast time machine; the attention to detail is intoxicating, and the food and drink are prepared with such panache. A one-of-a-kind experience!" she says. And while you're feeling blue, you can also drop into the brand-new Bluestem Brasserie, where chef James Ormsby (Bruno's, PlumpJack Cafe) has returned to the restaurant scene as consulting pastry chef, whipping up tasty treats like the "Honolulu Hangover" (chocolate coconut layer cake, toasted coconut marshallow meringue) and "Sealed with a Kiss" (vanilla ice cream profiteroles, strawberry rhubarb compote, crème rose).

What else? Take a tip from what our local Celebrity Grand Marshall and Top Chef Desserts winner Yigit Pura says in his It Gets Better video, "Have some dessert! Feel good!" (Keep an eye out for Pura's own patisserie, Tout Sweet, coming soon.) Up in Pacific Heights, Elizabeth Falkner's crew at Citizen Cake are busy baking heart-shaped pride cookies splashed with spin-art rainbow icing, alongside with cookie sunglasses dotted with candy-sprinkle hearts. Down the street, at Fillmore and Haight, Three Twins ice cream has a dozen Pride-themed flavors happening this weekend, like Harvey Milk and Cookies (made with rice milk) and peanut-butter-laced Bear Bait. Prefer savory to sweet? Over in the Mission, Delfina Pizzeria is a sponsor of the 2011 Dyke March, selling a limited-edition t-shirt as a fundraiser for the cash-strapped parade. Instead of the restaurant's usual red-on-black offering, the aqua-blue, $25 tee imagines the Golden Gate Bridge as a ring of rainbow-colored pizza slices. Given the topless, tattooed show that the Dyke March gives the Prosecco-clutching patrons of Delfina and Pizzeria Delfina every June, it's clearly a case of, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and keep 'em going for another year.

You can make a sandwich for your cooler or parade-side picnic with Project Open Hand's new peanut butter, now for sale in Whole Foods. 100% of the proceeds go to support Project Open Hand's mission. Or, finally, you can take a little inspiration from Gertrude, Alice and Susie.

As Bright told us, "My main culinary memories of Pride can be summed up in two words: hash brownies. And yes, the Ghirardelli chocolate is up to the task."

Brick Hut 3: Kwan and Rami. Photo by Ace Morgan

Part 2: The Food... (Part 1: The Story)
Having a cafe was nobody's dream, but it sustained us in our other
endeavors.

The Brick Hut was a place for us all to create a space in the world
where we could be our complete selves.

The food was the community, the edible fare was our way of bringing it
all together, with love.

Brick Hut 1: 1975-1983 "Women Invented Cheese"
In the beginning, it wasn't all about the food. For us, owning our work place was about opportunity, self-determination, sanctuary. Every person did every job.

The Brick Hut was our anchor, as well as an anchor for our community.

Brick Hut 1: Something Moving album cover with menu

The menu was small, painted by Peggy Mitchell of the band BeBe K'Roche, on a board attached to the hood above the stove. It is featured on the cover of Mary Watkins' album, Something Moving which includes the song Brick Hut.
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The food was simple. Comfort food: Eggs, waffles and pancakes, hash browns, toast, bacon, ham and sausage links, one kind of cheese -- cheddar. A bottomless cup of coffee was 70 cents and customers could help themselves while waiting to be seated. And, bless them, wait they did.

In fact, waiting for a seat became a good time to meet old friends or make new ones, hold lively discussions or maybe just flirt with somebody.

Our specialty signature item was a spiced whole wheat batter for our delicious waffles and pancakes. Pure maple syrup was extra.

Our food evolved along with the business and the times. Debi Thow wanted to make muffins. She brought in a recipe from Gourmet magazine that we modified over time and the famous Brick Hut blueberry muffin was born. Amey Shaw showed us how to make a gorgeous Hollandaise sauce and brunch exploded in a bevy of Hollandaise dishes.

Hash browns became home fries and we saw our options were limited only by our imaginations.

People had ideas, we experimented.

We created omelets and named them for inspirational women: Sister Marion for a marathon-running nun; Ruth Reid for an early 20th Century lesbian poet and activist; Seven Sisters for the Berkeley feminist construction collective and the Mendocino omelet for the herb blend we ordered from a woman owned business.

What's in a Ruth Reid Omelet?
• Avocado
• Green chili
• Jack cheese
• Sour cream

Hut 2: 1983-1995 "Pancakes, Eggs and Fun"
When we expanded to a new location, the menu expanded too. More space meant the ability to offer more fresh foods: salads, fruit bowls, better breakfast meats, artisanal sausages, higher quality meat and poultry.

Seasonal fresh fruits topped the waffles and pancakes.

The Tofu Saute with fresh sautéed vegetables was a vegetarian favorite.

We made soups, improved our chili, made salsas, offered a beautiful variety of baked goods, some house-made, some from Berkeley's Nabolom Bakery.

We installed an espresso machine to round out our epic breakfast experience. There was still a line down the street.

We played with our food. We joked that we cooked 50 items 500 ways.

One day, I thought it would be fun to offer something completely new: eggs scrambled with pesto. It was an immediate sensation and was copied by several other cafes in the area, as well as a few in other parts of the country, thanks to customers who had moved away and talked their local eatery into trying it out.

Occasionally, the brunch board offered one special: the Mystery Omelet. I think I started that just to avoid having to make a million of my least favorite omelets (the Ruth Reid-- too many moving parts, too many substitutions!)

We just asked if the customer was vegetarian or not and proceeded to create a whatever omelet on the fly—no two alike all day.

Kids loved our Mickey Mouse pancakes and it wasn’t unusual to see a server carrying around a baby so mom could eat unencumbered.

People came in for breakfast during the times of the Iran-Contra hearings or when Anita Hill was testifying at the Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings and ended up joining people at other tables for discussion and, eventually, lunch.

If a customer asked for something different, we did our best to make it happen.

Tofu Saute
• Cut medium/firm tofu into 1/2" thick triangles
• Cut, blanch and shock: carrot, broccoli, zucchini, set aside
• In heated sauté pan, add: Chopped garlic and ginger
• Add tofu
• Add tamari or soy,
• Add sliced onions and mushrooms (shiitakes are best for this)
• Add vegetables, a little salt and black pepper
• Cover to finish
• Drizzle a little sesame oil to flavor
• Top with toasted sesame seeds, maybe some chopped scallion
• Serve on rice or with home fries and toast

Brick Hut 3 kitchen chaos: Sharon, Rami, Monica, Luana, Kaja. Photo by Ace Morgan

Hut 3: 1995-1997 "Girl Town"
Once again we moved and our menu expanded into dinners. We served pastas, using old family recipes, pizzas, using a cornmeal crust by none other than Sophia Loren. We offered fresh fish, grilled veggies. We made our desserts in house or supplemented them with items, like our sorbet, from local businesses. We served wine and beer (featuring St. Supery, a woman-run winery and Lost Coast Ales, by Master Brewer Barbara Groom).

We bought a fryer and made French fries, chicken wings, and anything that we could make up that we thought our customers would like.

There really was something for everyone.

Still, there was a line down the street, but mostly on weekends.
People were surprised when we closed our doors forever, believing that that line happened all week.

I am grateful for all of the folks who came through those doors, to work or to eat. Every one of them created a part of the Brick Hut.

To this day, we hear from old customers that they really miss us and that they wish there was a Brick Hut. My old friend and business partner, Sharon Davenport usually replies, "There was a Brick Hut."

Join the Remembering The Brick Hut Cafe group on Facebook. Share your memories, thoughts and photos.

Sophia Loren inspired pizza dough
• 5c. warm water
• 8T active dry yeast
• pinch sugar
• mix lightly to dissolve yeast

gently stir in:

• 1.5 c. sweet olive oil
• 1/4 tsp salt
• freshly chopped herb blend (or just rosemary)
• 2T chopped garlic (can also be roasted)
• 8c. pizza flour
• 2c. corn flour (medium grind)
• mix thoroughly, cover, let rise
• punch down dough, divide in 1/2
• cover and let rise again
• after second rise, divide into 12-15 11 oz. dough balls
• stretch, form crust, sprinkle coarse corn meal on pizza pan,
  add whatever toppings you like
• bake at 450 degrees for 6-8 minutes

Sharon Davenport and Joan Antonuccio at The Brick Hut Cafe (3). Photo: Ace Morgan

Part 1: The Story... (Part 2: The Food)
For nearly 22 years, from 1975 to 1997, The Brick Hut Café was a popular destination for the LGBT community in the East Bay and beyond. It was for most of its life a lesbian-feminist owned and operated community café. I was one of the founding members.

BRICK HUT 1
In February of 1975, the Brick Hut Café Collective was a worker-owned, feminist collective located at 3017 Adeline Street in Berkeley, CA across the street from the Berkeley Flea Market. The original members of the collective were Cheryl Jones, Claudia Hartley, Helen McKinley, Karen Ripley, Marshall Berzon (left in 1977 to open the Homemade Café), Randi Hepner, Sharon Davenport, and Wendy Welsh. By 1976, the collective included Joan Antonuccio, Cynthia La Mana, and Teresa Chandler.

The first Brick Hut was small: three booths and nine counter seats. We welcomed everyone who was an ally in our common cause of social justice and inclusion. The weekend crowds spilled out into the street even after we built a backyard patio where we served a limited menu of blueberry muffins, coffee, and tea.

We were a haven for lesbians and gay men, an information center for LGBT activists, an anchor for a diverse community that included working girls, bad-boys, suburban queens, transmen and transwomen. We were the Dyke Diner: the Lesbian Luncheonette: the Chick Hut: the Brick Hug. When AIDS hit a group of customers affectionately named the Shattuck Street Fairies (SSF) we became a refuge and an information outlet for AIDS awareness. Sometimes we were the last stop: as when Ron, one of the SSF housemates, was lovingly carried in on the arms of his friends for his last Brick Hut meal.

The Brick Hut Cafe contingent at the 1984 San Francisco Pride parade. Enjoy Life...Eat Out More Often!

We always closed on what was then called Gay Day and we closed to attend political demonstrations and rallies. We left a sign on the door, JOIN US AT the parade, rally, or demonstration. We supported through contributions of food and energy to anti-nuclear demonstrations, anti-war rallies, and the feminist causes of Inez Garcia, Norma Jean Croy, Joan Little, and Yvonne Wanrow. We closed and attended the vigil for the assassinations of Harvey Milk and George Moscone. We closed to protest the Dan White verdict.

We worked to maintain the Brick Hut as a viable business in spite of threats and intimidations. We invited all our customers to cross the demoralizing barriers of class, race, and gender differences, and join us at the community table. We had our share of broken windows, vandalism, and public harassment. In one instance, we placed a poster in our window announcing we were boycotting Florida orange juice because of the Anita Bryant Campaign to repeal the anti-gay discrimination law in Dade County and our windows were broken.

These were politically active times for lesbians. “We are the women that men have warned us about” (Robin Morgan, 1970, Goodbye to All That (pdf)).

There were other women-owned and operated collectives and businesses:
• The Olivia Records collective located around the corner from the Hut. The Brick Hut song with words by Pat Parker and music by Mary Watkins was part of Mary Watkins first album with Olivia, Something Moving, which featured the enormous talents of Vicki Randle and Linda Tillery. We fed some of these musicians and cultural activists and were sometimes repaid with a song. Customers still remember the day Linda T. spontaneously sang a cappella for the masses. The women of BeBe K'Roche, an all woman electric rock band worked at the Brick Hut from time to time.
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• Seven Sisters Construction, a feminist collective, would help us with carpentry projects -- sometimes in exchange for breakfast.
• A Woman’s Place Bookstore and the Women's Press Collective were sources for books, publishing, and networking with artists and writers like Judy Grahn, Wendy Cadden, Willyce Kim, and Pat Parker to name only a few of our customers and allies.
• There were the bars: Ollie's Bar, the Bacchanal, and the Jubilee and across the street from Mama Bear's Bookstore, Thursday nights at the White Horse.

There was a brief appearance of the Night Hut, with Chef Amy Shaw making her culinary debut cooking and serving dinner.

Between 1976 and 1983, Brick Hut collective members Karen, Helen, Randi, Cheryl, Teresa, and Wendy left to pursue other careers and interests as cultural activists, healers, and educators. Marie Della Camera joined the collective around 1983.

BRICK HUT 2
In 1983, with the financial help of the Cheese Board Collective, and the efforts of customers and friends, the Brick Hut moved to a new location at 3222 Adeline Street. Seven Sisters Construction, a feminist collective helped remodel the new space. The Brick Hut became a community gathering spot for local merchants, Berkeley City Council members, writers, musicians, and artists. We also continued to support feminist and queer causes and activities like the Lyon-Martin Clinic, Queer Nation, and East Bay Act Up. KPFA Radio broadcasted their International Women’s Day program directly from the Brick Hut. With our larger wall space, we featured community artists' work. Amana Johnson, Grace Harwood, Barbara Sandidge, Kyos Featherdancing, Cathy Cade, and Wendy Cadden were some of the artists who filled our walls. Once a year, we featured the work of the children of Berkwood-Hedge School to benefit their program.

In subsequent years, Cynthia, Claudia, and Marie left the collective to pursue other careers. At the second location, the Brick Hut was robbed and vandalized over 17 times in eleven years. With the ownership of the Hut left to Joan and Sharon and the neighborhood falling to the ravages of crack, we initiated plans to move the Hut to a safer location.

BRICK HUT 3
In 1995, the Brick Hut moved to a new, expanded location at 2512 San Pablo Avenue. The new space was constructed primarily by O’Malley and Latimer Construction (formerly members of Seven Sisters) and included a performance, meeting, and gallery space. We also opened for dinner. Our first salon featured writer Dorothy Allison and singer/songwriter Alix Dobkin hosted a regular open mike night. Women artists once again filled our walls: Franna Lusson, Mariella de la Paz, and Grace Harwood to name a few. We wanted the new, larger Brick Hut to be an attractive and active space for our community. Other women-owned businesses opened on the same block: Good Vibrations, West Berkeley Women's Books, and It's Her Business. Collectively we were known as Girl Town.

In 1996, the Brick Hut fell into serious financial difficulties; we filed for Chapter 11 status. In 1997, we filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy and closed our doors for the last time at 2pm on March 24, 1997. We had a big, crowded, raucous party.

At the Brick Hut, I believe we celebrated difference. We were visibly different, we forefronted difference, we encouraged difference, we hosted difference. We did not try to assimilate, disappear into conformity, or become mainstream. We did not build The Brick Hut Cafe so we could have jobs, although that was good. We did not build it to have careers, or support career-moves, although that was a possibility. We did not build it only to make money for ourselves, although we wanted to maintain a viable business that supported our friends, our fellow workers, our causes, and ourselves. We built it to create the possibility of a workplace and a community where no one's politics or cultural affiliations were left at the front door. We built the Hut to celebrate difference, to celebrate YOU. It was a home for a while and we still mourn its passing. Thanks to everyone who contributed to and supported the Brick Hut (1975-1997).

Join the Remembering The Brick Hut Cafe group on Facebook. Share your memories, thoughts and photos.

Joan Antonuccio and Sharon Davenport remembering The Brick Hut Cafe. Photo: Wendy Goodfriend

Chance and Coriander in Recipe for Love

There are a lot of clichés when it comes to putting food on film. Almost always, food is shorthand for sensuality. Show us a woman who rolls a tomato between her palms at the farmers' market, licks her fingers in the kitchen, or closes her eyes and moans when anything tasty ends up in her mouth, and we know we're meant to believe that she's a tiger in bed. If she does that to a tomato, the reasoning goes, imagine what she'll do with...

The food inspires the sex, or stands in for the sex until a lover enters the picture. If you know how to cook and/or eat, the reasoning goes in films like Eat Pray Love, I Am Love, Chocolat, and Like Water for Chocolate, then you know how to love, or at least how to get it on up against the fridge. And if you don't know how to love, learning how to eat will take you there. (Restaurant movies, like Big Night and the upcoming documentary about Danny Meyer, The Restauranteur, are a different story: more men, more competition, a lot more stress than sex.)

Of course, like most cliché-ridden things, some of this is true. Don't you have a foolproof dish or two that never fails to lure an attractive stranger home? (Thank you, peach pie!) I've been wooed with dim-sum dumplings, challah French toast, coffee in bed, cheese grits, a boat full of sushi, a perfect steak.

One of the frankest and sexiest of all food stories is still Dorothy Allison's "A Lesbian Appetite," in which she writes, "I remember women by what we ate together, what they dug out of the freezer after we'd made love for hours. I've only had one lover who didn't want to eat at all. We didn't last long. The sex was good but I couldn't think what to do with her when the sex was finished. We drink spring water, and fight a lot."

She then goes on, in sweaty, salty detail, to describe the good stuff she and her other lovers shared: roadside barbecue and Yoo-hoos smuggled into a vegetarian women's music festival, fried eggplant and tomatoes ripe from the garden, long-simmered greens and leftover biscuits. Here, as elsewhere, the food leads to the sex, the sex is great, and then you're both starving and you end up eating again, which leads to...well, there's a reason Safeway has so many 24-hour supermarkets here.

So, not surprisingly, gorgeous food does lead to delicious sex in the film Recipe for Love, featured in two upcoming programs of shorts at the Frameline35 LGBT film festival. And the food really does look good enough to eat, or make anyone fall in love with the cook.

The 26-minute piece, made by first-time filmmaker Chauncey Wales, revolves around the food-laden stories of Chance Oliveida, a young Brazilian woman living in San Francisco (played by Brazilian actress Fernanda Jimena). Chance runs a green cleaning company, but she'd really rather be cooking. So when one of her cleaners skips an appointment at the (huge and spotless) apartment of young businesswoman-on-the-go Juliette (Coriander Stasi), Chance shows up to do the job herself, bringing along a box of homemade truffles perfumed with cinnamon, chiles, and rosewater ("romance in a bottle," as Chance murmurs to herself while adding a few drops) to apologize.

Juliette takes the truffles to bed with her (closed eyes, gasp, close-up), and soon she's enlisting Chance to cook dinner for her, her food-snob sister and her brother-in-law. At the party, the guests fall in love with Chance's food—mango-and-Champagne soup, oysters on the half shell, scallops decked with flowers—and before Chance can finish reciting the recipe for the passionfruit mousse, she and Juliette are stripping down in the hallway for their own after-hours party for two.

Wales, a passionate cook herself, gives full credit for the on-screen food to Jessy Manuel, a 24-year-old professional chef who auditioned for the part of Chance. She didn't get the part, but she turned out to the be the perfect choice for food stylist and second assistant director. Before the shoot, Wales, Manuel, and Jimena spend hours together talking about food, trying to figure out what kinds of food would reflect how Chance lives between two worlds, contemporary San Francisco and her homeland in southeastern Brazil. They came up with many dishes (yucca fries, peach chimichurri sauce), only a fraction of which made it into the movie.

And while the music and accents may be Brazilian, the vibe is very San Franciscan, from the skyline and opening Ferry Plaza farmers' market shots to the jilted, cheating boyfriend who's curing his wandering ways with Bikram yoga (while ogling the yoga teacher). And that candlelit scallop dish, layered with broth, jewel-toned vegetables, and a scatter of edible flowers? Utterly ravishing.

Recipe for Love plays at the Victoria Theater as part of Fierce and Fabulous! Queer Women of Color Shorts on Sun., June 19 at 4pm and in Sazón y Sabon on Mon., June 20 at 7pm.

Film Information:
Website: Recipe for Love (view trailer)
Twitter: @recipe_for_love
Facebook: Recipe For Love Film

Related Posts at KQED Arts:
Frameline Festival 35 Preview by Emmanuel Hapsis
Frameline35: Bay Area Features by Michael Fox

Chloe Harris and Frankie Frankeny. Photo by Keeney and Law

Power couple Chloé Harris and Frankie Frankeny are well known in the LGBT and creative worlds. Texas gals by birth, Chloé is from Dallas and Frankie from Austin. Harris is the managing editor of StyleBistro.com and a writer whose work has appeared in publications including The Advocate, Advocate.com, InStyle Home, C Magazine, L-Word’s OurChart.com, Bond Alternative Wedding Magazine, 7x7 and California Home + Design. Since 2007, Chloé has been a member of the San Francisco Leadership Council for GLAAD (the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) and is co-chair of the GLAAD 2010 Media Awards in SF.

Frankie Frankeny is a photographer and film director who has worked in the fields of fashion, lifestyle and food. She knows a lot of chefs and hospitality stars, and was once named among Entertainment Weekly’s Most Creative People in the US. Frankie has collaborated on more than 60 books including award-winners The Art of the Bar and Demolition Desserts. She is also owner of the marketing communications agency Piper/Keller. In 2008, she directed Everything Must Change, a music video in support of marriage equality. Frankie is also a founding member of dot429, a social network for LGBT professionals. Frankeny answered questions about their favorite spots via email.

Marriage two ways: Paris and San Francisco

DATE NIGHT
For date nights we love the perfect Caviar and champagne at the bar at Jardiniere. We were married there. We love the casual elegance of Barbacco (polpette we must have every time) and we way too often eat the Orson burger with duck fat french fries along side a nice glass of red.

WEEKEND BRUNCH
When we have time on the weekend day to have a long brunch we can usually be found at Slanted Door eating the glass noodle with crab dish and their perfect papaya salad. We lean very French bistro for brunch and like the croques at Cafe De La Presse, The Butler and The Chef Bistro and at Chez Papa we gravitate to the mussels and butter lettuce salads. All with sparkling and water.

WINE COUNTRY EATS
When we can get away, we love Yountville. You are in walking distance to an amazing array of special restaurants when you visit. There is Bouchon Bakery; Chloé loves the chocolate bouchons. Bistro Jeanty has the most remarkable tomato soup ever. You have Redd, Ad Hoc and Bardessono. In addition, my new love is Bottega. I just finished shooting Chef Chiarello's book on the place and can't seem to get enough! It is a really special place. You must have the burratta, gnocci, polenta and the amazing porchetta.

MOM AND POP JOINTS
We love Pazzia on 3rd (we love the pizza). Also, South Park Cafe for heirloom tomato salad in season pig salad. Marlowe for spiced prawns and steak tartar and I can be seen too regularly eating lunch and working at Mijita. I love it all there but am hooked on the nachos at the moment. This place is definitely my guiltiest local food pleasure. I eat way too much of it!

GROCERY SHOPPING
I do all the shopping, and love to grocery shop, so here is a short re-cap of my usual places in the Ferry Building:
For fresh produce, it’s the Saturday market. Then Cowgirl Creamery for cheeses. Miette because Chloé has a passion for their pistachio macarons. I like going to Far West Fungi for mushrooms, although I love to forage with my pal Matt. At Boulette's, I usually get a duck confit leg, some of their special salts, and if they have the fava bean cake, get it!

Frankeny & Harris have were first married in Paris in 2006 in a non-legal ceremony. Their full story is here: justmarried.us, and the two are working to make marriage equality a reality.

Frankeny says:

“Then we had our 2008 legal ceremony at Jardiniere, another reason we love it so much. And we couldn't have done either wedding without Traci Des Jardins who literally did most everything for us for both ceremonies. I hope to marry Chloe again when we can have a marriage that is not just recognized in nine states, but in every state and country around the world.”

Yes, Swish Steak.

Among my cookbooks, there is a recent acquisition I consider to be the jewel in my crown-- a must-have for anyone who fancies herself (or, of course, himself) Queen of the Kitchen: The Gay Cookbook by Chef Lou Rand Hogan* (Sherbourne Press, 1965).

The Gay Cookbook: "the complete compendium of campy cuisine and menus for men... or what have you" was first brought to my attention by Celia Sacks of Omnivore Books on Food, who had a copy proudly displayed in her store window the last time I visited. She always seems to know what will pique my interest.

A gay cookbook? Pre-Stonewall? I never thought any such thing could exist. I was transfixed. I just had to have a copy for my library. I mentioned the book later that evening to friends over drinks. One month later, those same friends placed a copy in my not-so-little hands. It was probably the most perfect birthday present. Ever.

When I returned home, I opened the book and was immediately struck by how much times have changed since 1965. Not only our food ways, but our slang, too. Especially what I would call gay-speak. The "girlfriend" tone has remained, but the terms have certainly changed. There is a self-mockery that may be horrifying to some readers; others might find the embracing of extreme stereotyping fun and, in a sense, freeing. The last two paragraphs of the book's introduction leave no doubt as to what the reader is in for:

Yes, in that magic hour 'tween day and dark, after effacing the ravages of the day's toil, and before the night's serious cruising, ya gotta take on some food. Man, woman, or child, a girl has got to eat!

So we'll offer here a sort of nonsensical cookbook for the androgynous (don't bother to look it up, Maude. It means "limp-wristed"), and while we can't guarantee the quality of the guests these dishes may be set before, we do not hesitate to assure the reader that all preparations and recipe details are honest and practical.

Here then is the GAY COOKBOOK, which some queen will promptly call FAGGOT'S FARE.

Fierce! At least we have been warned.

I knew I just had to make something from this book. But what? Something from Chapter Six: That Old, Tired Fish? Chapter Five: The Shell Game; Oysters, Lobsters, Shrimp, and What To Do With Crabs? I finally settled on the dish I feel best exemplifies this time capsule of Camp: Swish Steak-- a dish that just may have been served in many a home among the Swish Alps-- otherwise known as the Hollywood Hills.

Swish Steak

Serves 4.

The recipe is delivered to you as originally written. The curly parsley is my own photographic addition. I happen to think that this is an unintentional omission of the author. What gay chef in his right mind would not add a splash of color to a monochromatic dish?

I did, however, omit the MSG. My concern is not for my own health, but for yours. And for the health of Dr. Joyce Brothers. If she happened to wander into your kitchen uninvited and took a bite of MSG-laden Swish Steak, it would kill her. I know this for a fact because she told me so. If you are too young to remember Dr. Joyce Brothers, then you are certainly too young to remember this cookbook.

It really does taste like the 1960's. Or, at least this is what I imagine them to taste like. I was only there for about five months. And on bottle-fed formula.

I suggest you pop this little number into the oven, pour yourself some Cream Sherry, and sit back to enjoy a careful watching of The Boys in The Band. By the time you've finished, dinner will be ready.

Go on, gurl. Dish it out like only you know how to do.

Ingredients:

4 Steaks (for swishing)

3 medium onions, sliced

3 pts. gravy--OR-- part gravy, part rich stock

6 buds garlic, minced

1 tsp. coarse-ground Black pepper

1 tsp. salt

1 ½ tsp. MSG

4 Tbs. flour

4 Tbs. fat (bacon if possible)

(opt.) small can mushrooms 'stems & pieces'

(opt.) small can Tomato sauce

(opt.) 1 Tbs. meat extract (V.V., Boveril, etc.)

Preparation [No paragraph breaks]:

Lay each steak flat; pound lightly with a meat tenderizer (a sort of mallet-like thing with a big and peculiar shaped head), or give each steak a dozen or so whacks with the blunt back of a heave knife, sort of criss-cross on either side. These blows should just cut the surface of the meat but not too deeeply [sic]. Dredge each piece in the flour; heat fat in heavy skillet to very hot. Sear (Brown... as if you didn't know...) meat on both sides in fat in skillet. Take meat out of skillet, put into roast pan (one with a cover). Toss sliced onions and garlic into fat in skillet, cover, cook 3-5 minutes; then dump it all into the roast pan onto the steaks. Add salt and pepper, the MSG, the leftover flour, the mushrooms and tomato sauce if used. Pour stock and gravy (any left-over, rich, brown gravy, except 'sweet-sour' or sauerbraten gravy), into roaster over and around the meat. Cover and cook in 325° oven until tender. This may be 2 or 3 hours. For last half hour, take cover off roast pan, but gravy should still just cover the meat. When meat is real tender, carefully take steaks out of the gravy and set aside on a platter or pan in a warm place. Why not the oven with the heat turned off? Scrape out all the sauce, etc. from the roast pan into a small sauce pot, getting every bit of it. Let this sit for a while on the stove until all the fat-- and there'll be quite a lot of it-- rises to the top. Skim this away. The gravy, full of onion, mushrooms, etc. should be thick enough; taste for seasoning, and you're ready for chow down! Serve the Swish Steak with some of the sauce over each piece of meat. This is wonderful with hot buttered noodles, or with mashed potatoes, etc. Men just love this one, though whether it's the 'swish' or the 'steak' would be hard to say. But-- keep 'em happy...

* Lou Rand Hogan was also the creator of what is believed to be the first gay detective in print (the sexual identity of that perennial bachelor, Sherlock Holmes, is open for debate), Francis Morley, in Rough Trade (originally titled The Gay Detective), also from 1965. The Gay Cookbook, incidentally, was written right here in San Francisco.

In case you've been living in a well-stocked bomb shelter for the past few weeks, you've most likely heard that the California Supreme Court voted 4-3 to legalize same-sex marriages.

Well, hooray and all that, but it's got me a bit troubled. I'm not so much bothered about those clowns at Save California and their terribly irritating November ballot measure because, for some extraordinary reason, I've recently been instilled with an unreasonable amount of faith in the majority of California voters. For now.

No, what troubles me is this--

What on earth does one feed a banquet hall full of homosexuals? That's a dilemma that would strike any sane wedding planner apoplectic. Individually, a gay man might respond to foodstuffs in a manner similar to that of a straight man, but get five or more in a room together and watch out. Have you ever baked a birthday cake for a gay man's birthday party, only to find thirty or so other gay men moaning about carbohydrates, telling you that while the dessert you've just put your heart and soul into looks great, they'll just have to pass on it, while patting their stomach? Well, I have, and what I have since learned is this: Guzzling vodka = good carbs, eating a tiny sliver of polenta cake= It-will-make-me-fat-and-then-no-one-will-love me-or-think-I'm-hot bad.

No, cake is out of the question. Perhaps a wedding protein shake would be more fitting. Of course, there's the problem of slicing.

How does one approach a gay reception? For one couple I know, I imagine there would be a chilled Ketel One fountain splashing about. Would others prefer a Teddy Bear Picnic motif? I think the traditional menus might need a going over. Instead of fish or chicken, the invitations should request a preference for either no-carb or sauce on the side.

And what on earth do you feed a roomful of lesbians? There is only so much quinoa to be had in any given season, you know.

Entertainment? If Melissa Etheridge is too busy with her own wedding or too highly priced to perform at yours, will gym teacher-turned-songbird Ann Murray do? I don't know for certain if she is a lesbian, but she's Canadian and not as busy as she used to be, and that often works in a pinch.

If you are planning a wedding and you want it gay-officiated, gay photographed, and gay-catered (I'm going to assume you'd be picking a gay deejay anyway), one resource with possibilities I've found is the Golden Gate Business Association. Hound them. While there is so far no specific section of their website dedicated to gay wedding needs, I think it would be wise for them to throw one together. Like now.

Of course, chances are, your wedding planner might be a gay man with some inside channels, one might hope. And then there's the gay florists and caterers, who tend to be busy in the June wedding season anyway. Citizen Cake, for example, has been flooded with wedding cake orders this month-- gay and straight.

Hypothesizing same-sex wedding scenarios is time well spent, but this is what really bothers me…

When I contacted the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender Center of San Francisco for information, I was told by the gentleman who assisted me that the Center was "so overwhelmed with Pride" at the moment to do anything about same-sex weddings. So overwhelmed with Pride. It's as busy and as gay a month as anyone can imagine. And so emotional, apparently.

The Big Gay resource centers do not yet have a handle on this new marriage business. I can't say I don't understand, since it was all rather unexpected and came at a time when everyone was already too excited by the selection of Charo as our Gay Pride Grand Marshall to think of anything else. But time's a-wasting. The weddings start happening on June 17th. Or, as rumor has it, the evening of the 16th.

The fact of the gay wedding matter is our selection of go-to wedding assistance is very limited. There's always GayWeddings.com. Its a good starting point, certainly, but theyre Washington-based. What we need is something local. So you'll just have to go through the traditionally straight channels to plan that day you've always dreamed about but never thought would actually happen.

And that's a big, crying shame. The fact that the Gay BLT Center or whatever it's called is too "overwhelmed" with, um, Pride tells me that they really don't have their priorities, um straight. From an historic point of view, this is a big, big, BIG moment for San Francisco's Lesbians and Gays. From a financial point of view, same-sex weddings are a booming business. Tens of thousands of gay couples will be flocking to our state-- and our city-- to get married to the tune of nearly three-quarters of a billion dollars over the next couple of years. Sure, parades are fun-- wave a flag, wear some hot pants, and shake your ass on a corporate-sponsored float all you want-- it's a damned parade, for Christ's sake. I just don't want us to miss the real parade that might be passing us by.

Or the gravy train.

Of course we won't really miss it. Businesses will pop up like so many mushrooms: gay wedding planners, gay photographers, gay divorce lawyers. Perhaps The Midnight Sun will rent itself out for receptions. I just hope that, after the drunken haze of Pride Season clears, we can focus on what should really make us proud (Sorry, Charo, it isn't you)-- that we are finally equal under California State law. We can have our own weddings and, even better, attend those of our straight friends and families without that sad, nagging "I can never have this" feeling-- whether you want your own wedding or not.

Until November, anyway, when we'll have to fight again.

You know why I'm fighting? Because the next time a guy introduces his "hus-bear" to me, I can ask to see the rings as proof of their wedded bliss. I only hope to God they show me the ones on their fingers.

A few weeks ago, I was watching To Be or Not To Be at a friend's house where, after the film, I wandered into the kitchen to help myself to a glass of water. As I was drinking, I spied an oddly-titled book on the kitchen table-- Muscle Chow. I picked it up and began to thumb through...

I barely had the chance to scan the recipe for Muscle Meatloaf before my friend walked in, shouted something about his not wanting me to see the book, and tried to rip it from my hands. I had a fairly firm grasp on the thing, but it was clear he was determined. Though the idea of a playful round of kitchen wrestling was appealing, I let go-- I could see the red fires of shame burning his eye sockets.

My pleas for a longer look at the thing were met with a firm "No."

Muscle Meatloaf? God, I thought, no wonder he was embarrassed. But why mortifyingly so? The level of alarm he displayed would have been appropriate if I had, say, found a bottle of poppers, a traffic cone, and can of Crisco accidentally left lying about in the dining room. But, no, this was just a little cookbook left among the stack of papers and news weeklies on his kitchen table. What was the big deal?

It felt as though I had stumbled upon his secret stash of porn. In a sense, I did, but it was food porn. Gay food porn. Perhaps it was the embarrassing admission that he, too, had fallen victim to the gay curse of body dysmorphia. I should have known something was up when he wanted to stop on the way to dinner and buy a bottle of flax seed oil.

I just had to get a hold of a copy for myself, so I did. In fact, I have two, thanks to my not understanding the Click-and-Buy feature at Amazon.com. And next time, I will make certain my purchases aren't sent to my rather perplexed ex-boyfriend.

Ready, Set, Cook.

Before I start complaining about the writing of this cookbook, I must state that it's actually a good resource for those looking to eat well, build muscle, and burn fat. Really. And it's hard not to like any diet-related book that warns against not eating enough. That said...

If ever a cookbook could grunt, it would be Muscle Chow, published by Men's Health. Filled with enough manly posturing to make a professional wrestler uncomfortable, the recipes are straight forward and fairly sound. I suppose the creative team had no choice to pump up the He-Man tone of the book-- how else are you going to get He-men to eat things like Strawberry Salad or Cucumber-Lime Gelatin? You hide them between recipes entitled "Fix 'N' Eat Sardine Sandy" and "Ultimate Muscle Stacks", a muscle-boy riff on pancakes-- that's how.

It's really the names of the recipes that leave me simultaneously amused and disgusted. Ripped Chicken? I picture a violent death. Muscle-Bound Chili? I should think the kidney beans would be more likely to un-bind. Cherry Custard Protein Pie? That just make me feel so dirty I want to take a shower.

Muscle Chow is a fun read, if just for those recipes alone. And the number of "'N'" recipes-- Tofu 'N' Whey Surprise, Oat Peaches 'N' Cream, and On-The-Go Cottage Cheese 'N' Bananas (which is listed next to On-The-Go Cottage Cheese And Preserves) suggest just that-- that a muscle man is too on-the-go to have time to write out the letters a-n-d. It also suggests a certain self-consciousness about spending too much time in the kitchen, which is disappointing.

In fairness to my friend, I think this book was purchased with a desire for greater health and well-being in mind. I don't think he's planning on turning himself into the next Colt Men cover boy. (Please, say it isn't so.) So I wish him luck in his muscle chow and I shall salute his efforts by raising my spoon and digging into a hearty baby food-infused helping of Vein-Poppin' "Tapioca" Pudding.

Cheers.

Peanut Butter Muscle Bombs

I chose to make this recipe because of the name, naturally. That and the fact that I was glad I could use up another 1/4 cup of the molasses that's been sitting in my cupboard, neglected. I was shocked by how absolutely addictive they are. Really.

Ingredients:

2 cups all-natural unsalted crunchy peanut butter, drained of separated oil

2 scoops vanilla whey protein powder (a measuring scoop is included in every can)

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon molasses

2 tablespoons whole flax seeds.

Preparation:

1. In a large bowl, mix together all ingredients. This takes some muscle (their words, not mine).

2. Form the mixture into walnut-sized balls. Place in a container lined with waxed paper or parchment, separating each layer with another sheet of waxed paper or parchment.

3. Chill in the freezer or fridge for at least two hours before serving.

Makes 25 bombs.

Notes:

I was uncertain as to just what "walnut-sized" meant. Shelled or unshelled? Given the problem of steroid use within the bodybuilding community and it's resultant testicular shrinkage, it isn't surprising they managed to squeeze 25 of these out of the recipe. I only got 20 out of it.

Also, I decided to place the flax seeds on the outside of the balls, since the whey powder lends a very unpleasant-looking greenish tinge to the brown of the molasses and peanut-butter, which made the resulting balls roughly the color of a dog's fecal matter after he's eaten too much grass. Rolling the bombs in the seeds not only disguises this, but makes their handling much easier, too. Talking about the bombs with my friend Jay, he warned me that eating too much flax would aid not only in the pumping up of one's muscles, but the pumping out of one's bowels.

"Like a duck down a slide," he said.

Enjoy.