Check, Please! Bay Area Season 6: episode 3 airs Thursday July 21 at 7:30pm on KQED TV 9. View other airtimes and channels.

You can watch individual restaurant segments as well as view the entire episode online. The website also provides restaurant information not specified on the show, written reviews from the guests and restaurant recipes. If you have opinions on the restaurants featured please feel free to share your thoughts. This season, Leslie Sbrocco will be sharing wine tips with each episode.

The third episode of the season features these restaurants: Grand Oaks Restaurant and Sports Lounge (Oakland), Risibisi Italian Restaurant (Petaluma) and The Elite Cafe (San Francisco).

Leslie Sbrocco: Wine Tips -- About Stemware

Cochon 555 in New Orleans

Cochon 555's formula for success is simple: 5 chefs + 5 pigs + 5 wineries = porcine bliss. The event -- part culinary competition, part pork orgy -- was founded by Brady Lowe three years ago to help family farms responsibly raising heritage breed pigs sustain and expand their businesses while educating communities nationwide about the tasty payoff of supporting these farmers.

Roasted and Toasted

As Cochon 555 winds down its 10-city tour, I had a chance to catch the latest porktastic affair in New Orleans, where five local chefs prepared a nose-to-tail menu created from their heritage breed pig of choice.

Stephen Stryjewski (Cochon Restaurant) and Smoked Boudin with Spicy Mustard

Chef #1: Stephen Stryjewski, Cochon Restaurant (New Orleans, LA)
Pig #1: Red Wattle, Revival Meats (Texas)

This year's James Beard Best Chef of the South, Stephen Stryjewski, was a strong contender. I had lunch earlier that day at Stryjewski's Cochon Butcher, and if that divine BBQ Pork Sandwich was any indicator of what was in store, we were in for a treat.

Sorghum Pork Rinds

Cochon's smorgasbord of swine was large and plentiful. Among the dozen or so offerings was Smoked Boudin of course, one of Stryjewski's specialties. Other favorites included Open Faced Face, with farmer's cheese and white beans, Liver Cheese and Pepper Jelly on toast, Pork Rinds with Sorghum Molasses drizzled on top, and the tastiest use of pig's blood I have ever encountered, Chocolate and Chicory Blood Pudding.

Chocolate and Chicory Blood Pudding garnished with Bacon

Erick Loos (La Provence) and Head-to-Trotter Tasting

Chef #2: Erick Loos, La Provence -- Besh Restaurant Group, (Lacombe, LA)
Pig #2: Mangalitsa, La Provence Farm (Louisiana)

Representing the Besh Restaurant Group, Erick Loos blew us away with his creativity. He presented a mini four-course meal, showcasing a spectrum of techniques and thorough use of the animal. First up was the Pork Liver Parfait (a cool and savory concoction of liver and blood mousse, whipped lard, house-preserved peaches, and muscadine wine gelée). Admittedly, it was a little disorientating for my taste. Next came the Head to Toe Salad, composed of a terrine of the pig's head, tongue, skin, heart, tail, shanks, and trotters, topped with heirloom tomatoes and sugar cane vinaigrette. For our main, we had Slow Cooked Leg, Shoulder, and Loin served with porcini mushrooms over panisse, a chickpea fritter traditionally from the South of France. The real stunner, however, was dessert. The Porked Alaska, bacon pecan crunch ice cream and amaretto cream melting softly inside a crispy meringue, was my favorite bite of the entire evening.

Adolfo Garcia and Fried Coppa di Testa

Chef #3: Adolfo Garcia, RioMar (New Orleans, LA)
Pig #3: Ossabaw, Black Hill Ranch (Texas)

Our third hometown chef, Adolfo Garcia, put his signature Spanish and Latin American flavors into his snout-to-toe creations. Favorites included fried Coppa di Testa balls, made with rich head cheese, and a spicy, tangy Empanada garnished with pickled onions.

Bacon-spiked Tequila Shooters and Pork Liver Mousseline Cones

Chef #4: John Currence, City Grocery (Oxford, MS)
Pig #4: Berkshire, Newman Farm (Missouri)

Born and raised in New Orleans, and a recent contestant on Top Chef Masters, John Currence brought the party with his Sangrita Javelina, a shooter of tomato juice, bacon infused tequila, and bacon bits, with a rim dusted with powdered country ham and brown sugar. Also delightful were his mini cones of Pork Liver Mousseline topped with vinegar powdered chicharrones.

Mike Lata (FIG) and Fried Head Cheese over Spring Peas

Chef #5: Mike Lata, FIG (Charleston, SC)
Pig #5: Large Black, Caw Caw Creek (South Carolina)

Mike Lata traveled the furthest for this swine-off, but that didn't prevent him from bringing his A-game. Favorite bites were his Crostini of Liver Mousse and a single square inch bit of perfectly fried Pork Belly.

Team FIG and Porky Crostini

If the cornucopia of pork from these fine chefs wasn't enough to sate you, there was also massive cheese spread from St. James Cheese Company, a literal boatload of oysters, Black River Caviar, a feast of whole roasted Porcelet de Lait (young, milk-fed pig) courtesy of Naomi Pomeroy (Beast PDX) and D'Artagnan, and piles of succulent crawfish. For dessert, there were passed platters of 4505 Meats' legendary salty, sweet, chili-dusted chicharrones served fondue-style with a bowl of melted dark chocolate for your dipping pleasure. Yes, you heard right: Chocolate Dipped Chicharrones.

St. James Cheese Company, Oysters and Caviar, and Spoils of the Butcher Competition

As my blood began to turn to lardo, the only logical solution was to thin it out with a taste from the 5 wineries of the evening: Matthiasson (California), Elk Cove Vineyards (Oregon), The Scholium Project (California), McCrea Cellars (Washington), and Chase Cellars (California).

The Prince of Porc: Erick Loos (Besh Restaurant Group)

The night ended with the crowning of The Prince of Porc. By decree of the pork-loving populus, Erick Loos took home the win with the help of the Mangalitsa wooly pig he raised at La Provence's biodynamic farm.

Cochon 555 will be coming to San Francisco on 6/5, the last of this year's 10-city tour before the whole shebang culminates at the Grand Cochon, where all ten previous winners will face off at the FOOD & WINE Classic in Aspen on 6/19.

Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, Shrove Tuesday: whatever you call it, food and religion come together today into one last pre-Lenten blowout. Tomorrow, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent, the 40-day countdown to Easter that was, traditionally, a time of great austerity at table.

As Patience Gray points out in her book Honey from a Weed, about the culinary and cultural traditions she experienced throughout the Mediterranean, the Church's command of six weeks of spare diet--lentils and beans instead of meat, nothing rich or fried or sweet--was as much practical as spiritual. Depending on the cycle of the lunar calendar, Lent stretches across the cusp of late winter and early spring, the time when the larder, and the fields, would be at their most bare. Only dried beans from last autumn's harvest would still be on hand, and wild greens would be sprouting on the hillsides, encouraged by winter's rains and the slowly lengthening days giving a few minutes' more light before sunset each night.

But the sheep, goats, or cows would still be skinny from winter fodder, not yet producing milk, preserving their strength for giving birth to their lambs, kids, and calves later in the spring. The indulgences of Christmas and the New Year would be long past, and on a small subsistence farm, in a wind-scoured, stony mountain village, there would be little to harvest or sell at this season. And so there, conveniently, is the command for privation, making the stark meals of slow-cooked beans and boiled weeds into a commendable form of spiritual discipline.

Nothing succeeds like contrast, however, and so before the cold water and hard cheese of Lent came the glorious blowout of Carnival, a celebration of carne, meat, and all the accompanying carnal pleasures of the flesh. The pantry was stripped of whatever remaining delights it might still hold, like lard, for frying sweet dumplings, doughnuts, beignets, or pancakes; sugar for sweets like King Cake; and alcohol, stirring into any number of mixed punches.

Misrule was the rule of the day; masks hid everyday identities and lords swapped places with laborers. Parades, games, races, and balls turned the days before Lent into a dizzying holiday, culminating in one last day of feasting and festivity. In Louisiana, the traditions had the same French and Spanish Catholic and Caribbean roots, twisted through Creole and Cajun traditions, but the city and the country celebrated very differently. Costumes could be multi-thousand dollar gowns dripping with crystal beading, huge feathered regalias or old flour sacks dyed and fringed. You might parade into town after an all-day horseback ride or pull up in a stretch limo.

These days, outside of the South, if Mardi Gras is celebrated at all, it's mostly seen as an excuse to go out drinking on a Tuesday night, at bars blasting Clifton Chenier from speakers draped in strings of beads and festooned in fleur-de-lys. While there are venerable British, Irish, German, and Scandinavian pre-Lenten traditions (like the English Shrove Tuesday pancake races, run by women flipping pancakes in skillets), New Orleans' style is typically the one on display.

But who wouldn't enjoy an excuse to dig into crawfish etouffee, shrimp remoulade, gumbo or jambalaya? Bloggers from the Bay Area are getting into the mood with tips for fixing their favorite N'Awlins dishes.

Even if you're not a subscriber to the email newsletter Tuesday Recipe, you can still find cookbook author and television host Tori Ritchie's spectacular crab gumbo on the Tuesday Recipe website, a great source for straightforward, workable recipes that give punchy flavor payoffs for not too much work in the kitchen. And while a typical Louisiana gumbo would be made with blue crabs, our plump West Coast Dungeness work just fine. Ritchie also has recipes for big easy jambalaya and Louisiana-style barbecued shrimp.

Over at Parties That Cook, Bibby and her crew suggest Mini Shrimp Po'Boys with Bacon Mayo. Or, even better, a trip to Brenda's French Soul Food, the Tenderloin's beignet wonderland, now serving dinner.

You can also find beignets, barbecued shrimp n' grits, and fried oyster po'boys on the menu today at Brown Sugar Kitchen, serving breakfast and lunch in West Oakland. Uptown, Pican is planning a fancy Mardi Gras bash, with a live zydeco band, food and cocktails.

Longing for a King Cake? You can find them at La Farine in Oakland's Dimond district, as Susan Mernit reports over on Oakland Local. Seems the manager of that branch of the popular French bakery read some locals' plea for authentic King Cake on a neighborhood listserve, and decided to put his bakers on the job. Here's hoping this becomes a yearly tradition. (Sold out at 9:00am, call 510-531-7750 to inquire about more cakes available later today).

When you think about Mardi Gras you think about New Orleans, and when you think about New Orleans you think about beignets! The word beignet refers to fried dough but depending on the country the pastry can vary. They can be square or round, savory or sweet, fruit-filled or plain dough. In New Orleans they are the natural accompaniment to your café au lait and they come piping hot in groups of three on a plate with a heap of powdered sugar on top.

Mardi Gras is just around the corner, and if you can't be in New Orleans, you may as well celebrate at home with these delicious treats.

Unfortunately for vegans, the dough for traditional beignets contains milk and eggs. But these two ingredients have simple substitutes, making for a very easily veganizable recipe.

This dough makes a LOT of beignets, so keep that in mind and cut the ingredients in half if you want less (but really, do you?).

Recipe: Vegan Beignets

Summary: These Vegan Beignets use simple substitutes for the traditional dough ingredients of milk and eggs.

By Vi Zahajszky

Prep time: 2 hrs 30 min (30 min prep, 2 hrs rise time)
Cook time: 5 min for each batch
Total time: 2 hour 35 min
Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

• 1 packet active dry yeast
• 1 1/2 cups warm water (110°F)
• 1/2 cup granulated vegan sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 3 tsp Ener-G Egg Replacer mixed with 4 Tbsp water (this is the equivalent of 2 eggs)
• 1 cup coconut milk
• 7 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup coconut oil (extra virgin or refined –- either way it should be solid)
• 1 quart vegetable oil for frying
• 1/4 cup confectioners sugar (if you are concerned about bone char, make your own vegan powdered sugar

Instructions

1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water, then add sugar, salt, egg replacer, coconut milk, and blend well.
2. Mix in 4 cups of flour and beat until smooth.
3. At this point I recommend using a stand mixer if you have one.
4. Add coconut oil and rest of flour.
5. Transfer to a large oiled bowl and cover with a warm damp towel. Put in a warm area for 2 hours to let rise.
6. After 2 hours, the dough will have risen and will be very sticky. You may want to chill for a little to have it be easier to work with, or just use a lot of flour when rolling it out.
7. Roll out dough to about a 1/4 inch thickness and cut into squares.



8. Heat oil to about 350°F (I had it just above medium).
9. Carefully place squares into oil and fry until they are golden.
10. Place them on paper towels to drain the oil, and then transfer to a plate.
11. Sprinkle (or dump) confectioners sugar onto the hot beignets. Serve warm with coconut milk café au lait!

Note: This is a modification of a combination of two recipes found on AllRecipes.com and VegWeb.

Cochon Butcher (New Orleans)

Suspended above the deli counter of Cochon Butcher runs a long meat locker filled with pink plump sausage links dangling happily in temperature controlled, humidified bliss. On the walls, homage to the divine swine. In the deli case, rows of house-made sausages and salumi, butcher specials like andouille sausage, smoky spicy tasso ham, kurobuta bacon, boudin-stuffed quail, duck confit, and various cuts of beef, lamb, and of course, piggy piggy.

This was going to be a great lunch.

Chef Donald Link, of Nola's famous French-Southern bistro Herbsaint and the acclaimed Cajun-Southern restaurant Cochon, opened Butcher in January 2009 with partner chefs Stephen Stryjewski and Warren Stephens. The casual 25-seat combo café/meat market is right next to Cochon, and together, they have made the Warehouse District quite the dining destination.

All the sandwiches are made with house-cured meats -– it reminded me of the Fatted Calf, but with a distinct New Orleans style with heavenly freshly baked bread (light and white), bold spices, and rich flavors.

Hot Boudin

To start, we sampled the Hot Boudin -– a Cajun classic. Rice is mixed in with the pork before it is all stuffed into the casing (back in the day, this was the poor man's sausage and adding the rice filler was a way to stretch the meat). The hearty boudin is served with sweet-tart crunchy pickles and spicy whole-grain mustard, both great for cutting the richness of the dish.

Cochon Muffaletta

Another NOLA classic, we had to try the Cochon Muffaletta (pronounced muff-a-lotta). There are a few hallmarks of a great Muffaletta. Soft, pillowy bread, round as an oversized whoopee cushion, and sprinkled with sesame seeds; deli meats piled high; and olive salad. Cochon's version hits the spot with quality house-made meats, provolone, pickled peppers, and a finely minced olive salad, whose olive oil-red wine vinegar dressing has soaked nicely into the bread.

Duck Pastrami Slider

The Duck Pastrami Slider sure didn't look like any slider I've seen before…and the duck didn't taste too much like duck, but what's in a name? This was a tasty pastrami sandwich cut into cute little triangles. I do wish the duck was a bit duckier, but no matter, the creamy gruyere cheese sauce and butter-grilled white Pullman bread made up for it.

Pork Belly on White with Mint + Cucumber

I'm a sucker for pork belly, so I just couldn't resist trying this. Shockingly, it was my least favorite sandwich. Maybe I'm just spoiled with all the excellent pork belly I've found in SF? The Pork Belly on White fell a bit flat for me. No crispy bits. Perhaps not enough salt? The simplicity of the sliced white bread I could appreciate (like an amped up tea sandwich), and the mint, pickled cucumber, and chili-lime aioli were bright accompaniments, but the star of the show fell short. Those homemade kettle chips though. I could eat them forever. Not a trace of grease and a crunch you can hear round the world.

BBQ Pork 'Carolina Style' and Cole Slaw with Potato Salad

Now, my favorite of the bunch, the BBQ Pork sandwich, lit up the room like a shower of Mardi Gras beads. A generous heap of smoky Carolina-style Pulled BBQ Pork, topped with a generous heap of fresh Cole Slaw (that is thankfully, not drowning in mayo for once), all piled on top of that airy, soft-crumb bread I've fallen in love with here in the Big Easy. The most remarkable thing about this BBQ pork sandwich is that it is served without a drop of BBQ sauce. Instead, the meat is dressed in a vinegar sauce that gives it a mouth-watering tang. Pardon my French, but this is one tasty, juicy mofo. Also of note, the Potato Salad earns its keep here. Creamy and chunky, with lots of whole-grain mustard cutting it so it doesn't feel too heavy. Ooh child, this order is a whole lotta lovin' on a plate.

Bacon Praline

Bacon Pralines officially tipped this meal from decadent to obscene. Instead of studding the buttery brown sugar and cream praline with the traditional pecans, Butcher's heart attack version uses chewy bits of thick slab bacon. The homemade batches of these PRAH-leens (as my Southern gentleman of a host kindly pointed out, I've been saying it all wrong my whole life) routinely sell out. We were lucky to get our paws on some, still warm from the oven. I expected them to be more brittle, like toffee, but the consistency of real southern pralines is soft, like fudge. If you're the type who loves dipping your bacon in maple syrup, this is your kind of candy.

It was refreshing to see a different regional take on artisanal homemade charcuterie. Cochon Butcher has a special thing going, with a style and personality all its own.

Cochon Butcher
930 Tchoupitoulas St
New Orleans, LA 70130
(504) 588-7675

Most years, I don't pay professional football any attention until the last few games of the season. That wasn't always the case. Growing up in Louisville, my younger brother and I were rabid fans. Very curiously, we rooted for the San Francisco Forty Niners. They were extremely good, easy to like because they won buckets of games, but I think we also liked them because we liked San Francisco. We'd visited a few times. My brother and I had to do chores to earn television time in those days, and after turning over frost-glazed garden beds, emptying compost pails, and moving around boxes in the basement, we'd settle in front of a 300-pound television set with a small, low-definition screen to watch our gold-helmeted heroes do battle with rivals like the Giants and Cowboys. The Cowboys were, to me, the worst. Whenever the Niners played them, I felt, even then, like I was watching a culture war unfold -- albeit on a canvas of green grass and white chalk. Coach Jimmy Johnson looked like a slick hillbilly hustler. Their cheerleaders wore gaudy, unusually trashy get-ups. To me, at the time, Dallas epitomized sprawl, conservatism, and flash without class. I was too young and headstrong to take a more nuanced tack. It was Green Party v.s. hunting party, Alice Waters against brisket barbecue. In truth, Dallas had little to do with it. I was reacting on prejudices I harbored against my own home-state, hating the Cowboys because their stomping ground epitomized a bigger, grander, and more nefarious version of Kentucky culture.

Since my very late noughts and early teens, I have mellowed into more palatable state of fan-ship. Today, I avoid firm allegiances, at least with regard to football. I get a little excited late in the season and pick a good team with a compelling story begging for a happy ending. Last weekend, I watched the New Orleans Saints beat the Minnesota Vikings at a Chili's outpost in LAX as my girlfriend and I waited to catch a plane back to San Francisco. After Brett Favre threw his fatal interception, the three large Viking fans next to me -- I thought of them as pale blobs of butter-soaked lutefisk heaped on stools -- grumbled about a "Katrina curse." I smiled. I had been a Saints fan for about a month and a half. I suppose Katrina does have a lot to do with it. A Saints Super Bowl victory would mean a lot to New Orleans. My aunt, uncle, and cousins have lived there for two decades. They lost their house to the hurricane. New Orleans has problems beyond the debris, flooding, and disease that disaster brought upon its residents. Thankfully, food at least is not one.

From beignets, pralines, and chicory coffee, to crawfish boils, gumbo, and etouffee, New Orleans boasts a magnificent cuisine that reflects its French, Spanish, African, Italian, and Cajun influences. They run through the city's classic preparations like arteries; the end product is -- like the city -- both high and low, rich and frugal, bold and wildly delicious yet unhealthy, a little dangerous. I remember one New Orleans visit years ago, when I was around ten -- and Montana was, in my mind, still truly more Joe than state. We ate at a fish place, a frill-free joint with checkered tablecloths and wood-paneled walls. My tiny cousin was lurching around the room. He neared another table, and an old lady presiding over a huge steaming plate leaned down to slip him a fried chicken finger from her spread of eats. He crunched on it. I've never thought about New Orleans without recalling that moment.

I'm excited about the Super Bowl, not just because the game should be good, but because party hosts all over the country will have such a stellar culinary tradition to mine for inspiration. The kitchen table face-off on Sunday will be as interesting as the on-field action: on one side, offerings from one of America's most storied indigenous food cultures -- and on the other, perhaps a cornucopia of delicacies from a less-celebrated bastion of gastronomic excellence...

Indiana, home of the Colts.

I'm not trying to be an asshole here. I grew up not far from Indianapolis. Kentuckians clown hard on Hoosiers. They toss around jokes about us, and we return the favor, touching on topics as diverse as their perpetually bare feet, their absurd dental shortcomings, and a statistically-proven propensity to commit incest and avoid using bathrooms. I will make no jokes about Midwestern food though -- mainly because there's nothing really to joke about. I'm doing the research, and while in this match-up, the deck appears stacked to favor The Big Easy, Indiana has a few tasty tricks up its dirty old sleeves. The Taggart Bakery Company of Indianapolis originally produced Wonder Bread. Van Camp's, the second-best-selling brand of pork-and-beans hails from the same city. Indiana is respected for its corn, both popped and otherwise prepared -- wrapped around hot dogs impaled on sticks, for starters. Lard-crusted sugar cream pies know many admirers, as does Amish-style fried chicken. In Indiana, chicken is only the paper-thin puffed-out outer crust of the fried food diaspora. State Fair food is huge here, and funnel cakes, cheese, and candy bars tumble gloriously into vats of oil alongside poultry and meat.

The state's greatest deep-fried achievement, at least that which enjoys the most notoriety (thanks in part to an indie documentary on the subject), is the breaded pork tenderloin sandwich. A gigantic piece of pork is pounded until it is approximately a quarter-inch thick. It is breaded and then fried. It comes on a toasted hamburger bun, much smaller than the craggy sheet of fried swine, anointed with mustard and mayo, topped with lettuce, tomato slices, pickles, and onions. According to a legend popularized by Jane and Michael Stern, Jake Freienstein, brother to Nicholas, the Indiana man who supposedly invented the pork tenderloin sandwich, had lost his fingers to severe frostbite. He used his stumps to tenderize the pork slices, and apparently drove Nicholas's competitors to emulate his technique with hammers and mechanical devices.

On Sunday, even as I hope the Saints' defense manages to pound the Colts' star quarterback Peyton Manning (incidentally a New Orleans native who attended the school at which my aunt teaches) into the turf like a hapless hunk of pig, I'll be bringing an Indiana-style pork tenderloin sandwich to the party I attend. In a sense, it'll be fitting. I'll view my contribution as an effigy for the team the Saints must best. Just as I consume the sandwich, the Saints will devour their foe, and somewhere, far away, in a magical luxury box high above Lake Pontchartrain, Lil Wayne, John Goodman, Aaron Neville, and Paul Prudhomme will all clink glasses of Sazerac.

Crawfish Po' Boy with Remoulade Sauce (mind you, that's just a half order)

When I first visited New Orleans as a young and adventurous 21-year-old (with nine other young and adventurous 21-year-olds), it was under the incredible hospitality of the generous Miss Dawn. Like a good southern hostess, Miss Dawn kept us well-fed, full of hearty, delicious, filling sustenance that would provide the proper base for a night of revelry.

Two memorable meals from our time there was the epic crawfish boil she set up our first night in, and the constant supply of po' boy makings she kept on hand for 1 pm breakfasts...5 pm snacks...and 4 am nightcaps. Piles of roast beef, fresh French bread, and dressed to the nines.

As soon as I saw the menu at Yats, I was brought back to sultry nights of sucking crawfish out of the shell and feasting on the ubiquitous po' boy.

Yats, San Francisco

In case you're wondering about this order window with the sign "Yats" pointing to it, well, that's it. Yats is actually, brilliantly, located inside Jack's Club, an homage to the divey friendly bars of New Orleans.

NOLA Fries: thick-cut steak fries showered in parmesan cheese, salt and pepper

The humble establishment makes good use of its well-loved deep fryer. Cue specimen A: NOLA Fries. Thick, golden, wedges of starchy goodness, dusted in a snowfall of parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. These huge steak fries are crispy on the outside, nice and soft on the inside.

You may be overwhelmed when you see the lengthy selection of Famous Po' Boys on the menu. I don't mean to be bossy, but get the Crawfish with Remoulade, and ask for extra sauce! Succulent bits of crawfish meat, coated in a crunchy cornmeal crust, and stuffed inside a loaf of fresh French bread with a soft airy center, and crispy flaky crust. And, you should probably get the whole foot-long. Trust me.

Mac-n-Cheese

You will also want to complement your sandwich lovin' with a side of Mac-n-Cheese. Quite possibly the best in SF. Do I have any challengers? This mac-n-cheese is no joke. Creamy and rich with a little coarse-grained mustard thrown in. Pure comfort food.

Yats takes bar food to a whole new level. The only down side is that the hours are a little tricky for a weekday visit unless you work in the neighborhood. Otherwise, your Saturday afternoon may have just found a new best friend.

By the way, if it's an authentic crawfish boil you seek, Yats is celebrating its One Year Anniversary with a Crawfish Boil this Saturday, May 16th, noon - 5 pm.

Yats
(Inside Jack's Club)
2545 24th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
Map
415-282-8906
Open Mon-Thurs, 11 am - 4 pm; Fri, 11 am - 8 pm; Sat, 11 am - 6 pm

One needs many lifetimes to enjoy all that the Crescent City has to offer. Alas, I only have ten days and one stomach.

That hasn’t stopped me from trying, though. Here are just a few of the highlights from the past week….

If you’re here during the winter and if someone you know owns an oyster boat, be sure to pack a bottle of hot sauce and an oyster knife. A screwdriver from the engine room works almost as well. Otherwise, head to Casamento's during the R months — like any proper oyster house they’re closed during the summer — or squeeze in with the tourists at Acme in the French Quarter.

If you’re here in the springtime, ask for wild crawfish from the Atchafalaya Basin. (Resist calling them crayfish or mudbugs, please.) At other times of the year, try to track down ones raised in the rice country surrounding nearby Lafayette. They’re on menus everywhere, but perhaps the best way to find some good crawfish boil is to take the St. Charles Avenue Streetcar all the way uptown to Audubon Park on the weekend. Make friends with one of the families gathered for a reunion or birthday (or at least, get to know the people tending the 60 gallon pots). A few neighborly words and a request for their recipe will nearly always garner you a pile of crawfish. Head to the shade of a nearby tree and feast away.

There are many sources for pralines, a classic New Orleans sweet. My favorite version, heavy on the pecans, comes from Southern Candymakers at 334 Decatur Street (and Iberville) in the French Quarter.

After seeing their cheerful trucks parked along Dauphine Street, I started hunting for Hubig’s pies. It wasn’t hard. The little fried treats are everywhere in New Orleans. Look for a corner store or grocery store, and you’ll soon be in front of a tempting selection. I’ve managed to try apple, coconut, and lemon, and love all three. Blackberry, strawberry, blueberry, cherry, peach, pineapple, and chocolate are still on my list. With a 7-day expiration date printed on each bag, Hubig’s little pies aren’t sold anywhere else.

Along with rice and vegetables, Prairie Arcadians raised cattle, and to those early ranchers we owe the loveliness of spoon-tender grillades and another NOLA classic, roast beef po’boys. One of the best is served up at a local bar, Parasol’s at 2533 Constance Street (and Third). Walk past the bar, stopping to order a cold beer or an iced tea (don’t even bother asking for sweet tea), and then head to the window in the back room where you can order one of these messy sandwiches. Also on the menu are the typical fried treats: oysters, boudin balls and “dickles,” sour-salty dill slices encased in a crisp coating.

Be sure to save time on Saturday morning for Market Umbrella’s
Crescent City Farmers Market at the intersection of Magazine and Girod. Just to the right of the Magazine Street entrance, Smith Creamery parks their refrigerated truck and lines up their coolers. Stop for a bit of their Creole cream cheese, an ivory-tinted mixture of cultured skim milk and pure cream. Its slightly tart, very rich flavor is the base of local cheesecakes, dips and sauces. Most folks I ask, though, admit to just eating it with a spoon.

While at the market, buy some Creole tomatoes. Dense, smooth flesh and a deep, rich, sweet flavor with just the right amount of acidity make them essential for the Cajun and Creole cooking. You can’t get them anywhere else, as their flavor comes from the soil of Plaquemines and they bruise too easily for shipping. After meals of roux-based sauces, fried foods galore, and more cocktails than I should admit, slicing these luscious tomatoes, sprinkling them with a hint of salt, and enjoying them as a refreshing mid-afternoon salad is at the top of my list for local flavors.

As you’re strolling the market and wilting under the mid-morning sun, look for an inconspicuous, hand-lettered sign offering “Amanda’s fresh fruit juices and frozen fruit bars.” An icy cold peach popsicle or a gorgeously red strawberry popsicle or, for those who have enjoyed avocado shakes at Vietnamese restaurants, the avocado and cream popsicle are all must-tries.

As you head out, don’t forget to stop by Melvin’s corner table for some of his crazy-yummy boiled peanuts. Left in the ground an extra year, they become super plump and flavorful. Boiled in a spicy mix and scooped up warm, they are addictive beyond reason.

Liz Williams, director of the excellent Southern Food and Beverage Museum, received frantic emails from post-Katrina exiles scattered across the country: “I can’t find red drink. And they don’t even know what it is around here!” Back in New Orleans, though, they can order it confidently. Also known as nectar soda, this slightly fizzy, slightly sweet, and very red drink will convert even those who swear they never sip sodas.

A big icy snowball drizzled in syrup is another way to cool down. The best, judging by the one-hour line I joined on a hot Sunday afternoon, is shaved up at Hansen’s Sno-Bliz. Sweet-smiling Ashley Hansen has taken over the reins from her grandparents, who invented their shop’s machine that shaves extra fluffy snow from large blocks of ice. They make their own syrup and store it in an old Frigidaire in the back of their shop on 4801 Tchoupitoulas Street (at Bordeaux). Wild cherry, strawberry, lemonade, chocolate cream, coffee, almond, spearmint, bubblegum, and many many more -- it’s a long list that you’ll have plenty of time to contemplate. Use your time in line to gather dining notes from those around you. Everyone in New Orleans can and will talk about food.

Before you leave town, be sure to stop at a grocery store. Breaux and Rouse’s are two local chains where you can stock up on supplies for recreating your favorite NOLA dishes and snag fun gifts for friends and families. Shrimp/crab/crawfish boil mix comes in little bags that are perfect for tucking into the corners of your suitcase. Zatarain’s is the old standby, but there are lots of other brands. Every cook has a favorite, and every cook adds other secret ingredients, so any of them will do you fine.

Monday is the traditional day for making rice and beans, using that big, tasty bone left from Sunday’s ham. Fortunately, you can enjoy it any day of the week here and at home. The secret, of course, is Camellia red beans. No other bean will give the right creamy consistency and that flavor that Louis Armstrong evoked in his letters -- “red beans and rice-ly yours.”

You know you’re in a food town when the postcard racks stock recipe cards to mail back to your friends. It’s been a long, hot, humid and delicious weekend in New Orleans.

Pacing has been key, of course, from judging just how many blocks a human can walk under intense sun to learning how many meals one can pack into an average day. Thank goodness for brunch to add a nice bite between early breakfast (café au lait and beignets at Café du Monde) and late lunch (roast beef po'boys with extra gravy at Parasol's).

Elizabeth's was at the top of my list, for a single menu item: praline bacon. Suffice to say that shimmering, smoky bacon topped with a crust of brown sugar is a beautiful thing.

Their crispy, hot calas, however, shined as the true star of the meal. This humble fritter -- some leftover rice, a bit of natural yeast, a generous hand with the nutmeg, and a long night of flavorful fermenting –- was once a morning staple in the French Quarter. Women in the late 1800s once walked the streets with large, covered baskets on their heads calling "Madame, mo gaingin calas! Beeelles calas…beeeeelles calas, tou cho, tou cho!" Madame, I have calas! Fine calas, fine calas, very hot, very hot!

All you need to finish a still-hot batch of calas is a snowy sprinkling of powdered sugar. Creative chefs, though, have figured out that a crispy round of rice can be the foundation of many other good things, such as poached eggs or fresh strawberries, as well as a carrier of savory bits of wild rice, sausage, mushrooms or duck confit. For Sunday brunch, a Commander's Palace serves a single, large calas smothered with a Creole courtbouillon of Gulf seafood, perfectly poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce.

Calas depend on a simple batter created out out of need and ingenuity. Creole women had figured out how to make extra money with cooked rice. There are versions now that use dry yeast instead of natural fermentation, and some call for baking powder, a nod to time-pressed cooks. But for the traditional, distinctive flavor (something San Franciscans with their sourdough know well) letting the calas batter rise overnight is not optional. Danno has an excellent recipe on his blog, NOLA Cuisine.

For a taste of classic, ungilded calas, make your way to the Bywater for breakfast or brunch at Elizabeth's. This neighborhood joint, housed in a 100-year-old building next to the train tracks, has comfortable, relaxed dining rooms, and Heidi Trull's home-style, southern specials are a favorite of locals. Meat lovers should not miss the praline bacon nor the beef grillades, tender enough to eat with a spoon and served over creamy grits. A nice rendition of eggs Sardou, a New Orleans original with artichoke hearts, creamed spinach, and Hollandaise, and anything served with their flaky biscuits are also worth sharing. Try, if you can, to save room for dessert. Red velvet, chess pie, and "ooey gooey cake" all beckon enticingly from the glass display case.

ELIZABETH'S
601 Gallier Street (at Charles)
New Orleans, LA 70117
(504) 944-9272

You know when you take a bite of something and you realize that this is a taste you are going to crave? Like salted caramel ice cream at Bi-Rite Creamery. It's usually something you can't get just anywhere. For me it often happens when I'm traveling somewhere and I won't easily find that taste again back home. Like the Middlewhite bacon sandwich at St. John's in London (on homemade bread with homemade ketchup, don't knock it til you try it), which my husband and I often wistfully talk about. Or, more recently, the most perfect shrimp po-boy from New Orleans.

A few weeks ago I went to New Orleans, a city I adore and which I've visited many times while growing up in Texas, but where I had not returned for at least 8 years. This was my first visit post-Katrina, and it ended up being one of the most meaningful, eye-opening, and intense experiences I've had while traveling (more on that in another post when I've had a chance to digest it all). For me, most of what makes New Orleans so special are the people who live there and their generous and kind spirit. With all that they've been through, they still carry on with the most positive attitude, full of Southern hospitality. It's obvious every time you go to a restaurant or a bar and they serve up some authentic New Orleans cuisine, welcoming, gracious, and always happy to have you there.

On the advice of a few locals, we headed over to Domilise's Po-Boy & Bar for one of the best po-boys in town. Tucked away in a residential area, we almost drove by the nondescript corner restaurant. It's all that you might expect from a divey po-boy shop, the deep fryer and sandwich station on one wall, the bar on the other, and a handful of tables scattered in between. The line moves swiftly, and then you have to jostle for a table before your name is called and your sandwich comes out. In keeping with the old-time Southern feel, the drinks on offer include bottled Barq's root beer and crème soda.

We were told that their specialty was the "1/2 and 1/2 dressed." Huh? 1/2 fried shrimp, 1/2 fried oysters. "Dressed" means slathered with mayo, creole mustard, ketchup, and topped with shredded lettuce and pickles. There is nothing light or healthy here, so if you are looking for that, you should go elsewhere.

Not being a huge fan of fried oysters (I like mine raw), I went for the shrimp po-boy dressed (although my friend did order the 1/2 and 1/2, which only comes in a large size, and amazed us all by eating the whole thing). It was incredible, and we were not disappointed. I knew one bite in that I was done for. Fresh, crisp-fried shrimp that burst in your mouth with flavor, real Gulf shrimp that you just can't get out here on the west coast. Light, airy crisp-on-the-outside French bread--oozing with the perfect amount of condiments--held it all together. I knew that I would return to the Bay Area and think about that sandwich, and wish I could just pop on over to Domilise's and get another. I'm thinking about it right now actually. My friend Amy emailed me a week to the day that we went and reminded me of the sandwich, and how she wished she had one RIGHT NOW. It's going to be a problem, I can tell.

So I decided to try to reconstruct one from memory. It won't be the same. I don't have the sweet old guy behind the bar asking, "What can I get you sweetie?" Or the friendly folks around us smiling and chatting with us, or the smell of the fresh seafood being deep fried, or that perfect taste that I crave when it all came together one day in New Orleans.

A Dressed Shrimp Po-boy

Serves 4

Ingredients
For the shrimp:
Peanut oil for frying
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cornflour
1 egg
1 1/2 lbs medium shrimp, peeled and deveined

For the sandwiches:
4 soft white French rolls (New Orleans style), split in half and warmed in the oven
Mayo
Creole mustard
Ketchup
About 2 cups shredded iceberg lettuce
Dill pickle slices

Preparation
1. In a medium saucepan, add enough oil so that it is 1/2-inch deep. Heat to 375 F.

2. Have ready three shallow bowls. In bowl #1, put about 1/2 cup flour. In bowl #2, crack the egg and whisk it until frothy. In bowl #3, stir together about 1/2 cup cornflour with about 1/4 cup flour. Rinse and dry the shrimp. Dredge them first in the flour, then in egg, then in the cornflour mixture.

3. Add the shrimp, in batches to avoid overcrowding, and fry just until golden brown. Set aside to drain on a paper-towel lined plate.

4. Spread each side of the bread with mayo, then creole mustard. Layer the fried shrimp, a squirt of ketchup, the lettuce, and then the pickle slices on the sandwich. Eat it up!

Domilise's Po-Boy & Bar
5240 Annunciation St.
New Orleans, LA
504-899-9126
map

A small way that you can help:
The Southern Food and Beverage Museum, located in New Orleans, lost over half its collection of cookbooks in Katrina. They are trying to rebuild their collection through donations across the country. If you have cookbooks on the American South or cuisines and cultures that have influenced the cuisine of that region; community-based cookbooks or pamphlets; culinary histories; or any cuisine-based books that you think they might be interested in, please send them to:

Southern Food & Beverage Museum
Attn: Liz Williams
1 Poydras Street, #169
New Orleans, Louisiana 70130