It’s 5 o’clock, and you’re leaving the office in search of some post-work libations and snacks before dinner. You could go the traditional happy hour route — where you’re limited to a few drinks and small bites within a short window of time — or you could up the ante and visit a Japanese izakaya.
Food, glorious, food. It’s that time of year people: Bay Area Bites brings you the best in food news for 2010.
In this two-part package, we look at the national trends and topics that sizzled over the past 12 months and serve up some local flavor on the side.
Feel free to weigh in with your own edible highlights from the year that was.
I decided to make ketchup. Why I chose ketchup is rather hard to say. I may have thought a lot about it, but I never said that my thinking wasn’t fundamentally flawed.
While discussing the possibility of making this condiment that the Reagan administration legally defined as a vegetable with my friend Jay, I was wondering aloud about how it was made. “Well, Mikey, ketchup doesn’t just happen, you know,” implying that somebody has to make it. Well, sometimes it does just happen. I decided to become that somebody who happens to make ketchup.
Just as quince gets described as apple’s tough, weird older sister, so apricots are often just a placeholder for peach-lovers, something sweet and orange with a pit that will do until the real goodies come along.
But apricots are good for cooking in a way that peaches aren’t, their flavor intensifying into an ineffable tangy sweetness that leans just right against a crumbly, buttery crust or a piece of whole-grain toast. And ask any home jam-maker what apricot they prefer, and you’re bound to hear paens of praise for a little, freckly, squishy, short-season fruit that, when ripe, practically turns to jam all by itself.