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.”

A chilly Spring has me longing for a tropical vacation. One way to get a little taste of the islands in our own backyard is to dine at Roy's. Chef Roy Yamaguchi is one of the most influential and well-respected Hawaiian chefs. His style of fusion cuisine combines Asian, French and Hawaiian ingredients and techniques. He is Hawaii's first James Beard award-winner and this year his restaurants are celebrating their 20th year with special dinners.

Tomorrow's 20th anniversary dinner takes place at the San Francisco Roy's, with Roy at the helm. Local and Hawaiian ingredients will be featured with a particular emphasis on sustainable seafood and a portion of proceeds will go to Grow for Good, a national initiative dedicated to supporting local farms and encouraging sustainable agriculture.

amuse buche
Shiro-Shoyu Marinated Kona Kampachi "Nigiri"--sustainable princess conch, tri-color tobiko & Kumamoto oysters--Perrier Jouet Grand Brut

first course
Kona Lobster Ceviche--California avocado and halibut turtle shell, --organic watermelon radish, Cara Cara oranges
Jacob's Creek Riesling

second course
Organic Sausalito Springs Watercress & Red Kaiware Sprout Salad
goat cheese, Sparrow Lane Napa walnut vinaigrette --Brancott Sauvignon Blanc

third course
Japanese Wagyu Topped Niman Ranch Top Sirloin--Delta asparagus, red Irish potatoes, Sebastopol mushrooms
Jacob's Creek Reserve Shiraz

fourth course
Hawaiian Vanilla & Rum Infused "Baba"--Berkeley Farms sweet cream--Sandeman
Tawny 20 Year Port

What: Roy's 20th Anniversary Dinner
Cost: Tickets are $100 (excludes tax & gratuity)
When: Thursday April 10th, Seating from 5:00 to 9:30 pm
Where: Roy's is located at 575 Mission Street in San Francisco
More: The evening will also include performance by Hawaiian dancers and Patrick Landeza
How: To make your reservation for this special event, please call 415.777.0277

Another sweet event, literally, is a pairing of wine and chocolate at local chocolate shop, Cocoa Bella.

Head over to Cocoa Bella Chocolates on Union Street for the first Wine and Chocolate Soire. They'll be offering a six-piece tasting of favorite American and European chocolates paired with a 3-glass selection of sparkling and dessert wines. The staff will be on hand to discuss how to match up your favorite bonbons with port, Madeira, and other after-dinner drinks. Each attendee will go home with a 2-piece box of complimentary chocolates chosen from the evening's special selection.

Space is limited, so make your reservations now. Reserved tickets can be paid for at the door. Some additional tickets may be available on the night of the event, but advance reservations are encouraged to ensure your space at this entertaining and informative event.

What: Wine & Chocolate Soiree
Cost: $40 per person
When: Thursday, April 10, 2008, 7 PM - 9 PM
Where: Cocoa Bella Chocolates, 2102 Union St at Webster, San Francisco
More: Includes 6-piece chocolate tasting, 3 glasses of selected wines, and complimentary 2-piece chocolate box
How: For reservations, call (415) 931-6213 or email cocoabellachocolates@yahoo.com
Additional tickets may be available at the door

My friend Ed works crazy long hours making sure people are fed well. Fortunately, he also knows how to party. More to the point, he knows how to throw down one hell of a spread and mixes generous, powerful drinks.

Thus, I blame him for my momentary lapse of politics. It's been roughly a year since I gave up shrimp, confused and frustrated and devastated. Then, at a recent bash, Ed laid out platters piled high with buttery, herby, perfectly poached shrimp. My powers of resistance were strong for a good half hour, then slowly, steadily, the other guests' swoons of delight and the potency of sangria convinced me to try one...just one....

Two dozen plump prawns later, I remembered my boycott. I ate another dozen while contemplating their deadly deliciousness. I convinced at least two other guests to consider not eating shrimp while finishing my last plate. And when I got home, I emailed Ed for the recipe.

He obliged me with his secrets, which I offer now verbatim for anyone looking for easy holiday party food:

Ed's Party Shrimp

• I filled a stock pot with water and about enough salt for it to taste like the sea (about 1/2 to 3/4 cup).
• I added about 3 cups of dry vermouth. (It's what I had left over after a night of martinis).
• I then threw in one tin of the fish rub that I found in the spice rack at the grocery store. If you are morally opposed to using pre-packaged fish rub then I suppose you could substitute with about 1/2 cup of the following chopped/ground and combined: rosemary, thyme, sage, marjoram, parsley, onion, garlic, pepper, celery seed, oregano, basil (basically a mystery basket of cupboard spices)
• I quartered 2 lemons, squeezed the juice into the broth..and then threw in the rinds too.
• Here's the secret.....two sticks of butter (sshhh!). Just throw it in too.
• Bring to a boil...then simmer for 15 minutes.
• I used frozen shrimp. Cook the shrimp in the simmering liquid in small batches for about 3 minutes each.

Voila! Yummy...BUTTERY shrimp!

THE DARKER SIDE OF SHRIMP

As someone raised happily on my mother's spring rolls, black pepper shrimp, caramelized shrimp, shrimp dumpling soup, shrimp fried rice, and just plain ol' spicy stir-fried shrimp, giving them up has been one of the most difficult diet changes I've tried to make. They're so succulent and versatile and easy to cook. And they're everywhere -- which is, unfortunately part of the problem.

It was during one of my early trips back to Vietnam that I first realized the devastating effect on my homeland as rice farmers and fishermen moved to the lucrative, fast, easy promises of shrimp farming. I could hardly blame war-torn, embargo-crippled families for trying to make a living. Through the 90s, though, shrimp and prawns became a standard item on every restaurant menu, and as Southeast Asian food became popular, so did one of its staples. Jumbo shrimp became gourmet rather than simply an oxymoronic joke. They became affordable and, for the home cook, approachable.

However, that popularity came at a steep price. Nearly 40 percent of the world's mangroves, crucial to the health of the oceans, has been destroyed because of shrimp farming along coastal areas. In Thailand, it takes roughly three years for a shrimp farm to ruin the local ecosystem; many farms simply pick up operations and move further along the coast, hopscotching until there's no clean coast available.

Inland ponds require heavy use of chemicals to clean the water and kill the viral invasions endemic to intensive farming. The European Union bars all shrimp from China, where carcinogenic chemicals appears frequently in farmed shrimp; the U.S. still imports it.

Another heavy impact comes hidden in the shrimp's feed: while in the wild they scavenge, on farms they're fed fish much higher on the food chain.

THE SILVER LINING

Fortunately, there's a tiny tiny bit of light for shrimp lovers.

The strongest among us have already become vegetarians, but for others like me, with weaker wills tied more directly to emotional and sensual cravings, searching out good shrimp is possible.

The Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch lists a few options for those who still crave a taste of shrimp now and then. Currently best on the list are wild-caught prawns and spot shrimp from British Columbia, and wild-caught ocean or cocktail shrimp from Oregon. Small, cold-water shrimp are the most sustainable. True, they're not as sexy as those big, lusty, warm-water prawns. However, anyone even remotely worried about the future of our planet should avoid these oversized, striped crustaceans.

Wild-caught is no guarantee, as by-catch is always a problem, but look for those from domestic companies. Small pink or white shrimp are generally -- very generally -- a safer bet for the conscientious eater than large, brown, imported shrimp.

Sustainable shrimp farming is still in its infancy. That said, Ecuador has surpassed other countries in developing organic, nonpolluting shrimp farms. EcoFish imports it under the name "Henry & Lisa's Natural Shrimp." Look for their bags of cooked or raw shrimp in the freezer section of naturally-minded, full-service markets.

I was dreading lunar new year without my family's recipe for spring rolls. The tofu version is fine the rest of the year, but it never inspires me to heights of celebration. So, I'm very glad to know that, come February, I'll be able to make my mom's cha gio.

MORE INFO

Some links for those interested in learning more:

• NASA's Earth Observatory shows before and after Landsat images of shrimp farming effects along the Pacific Coast of Honduras, one of the largest importers of the crustaceans to the U.S.

• The Environmental Justice Foundation created a short film about shrimp farming along the eastern coast of Brazil.

• Shrimp News International offers a detailed description of shrimp farming. Food wonks immune to industry spin might like scrolling down to see the charts and illustrations showing the life cycle of shrimp (missionary position!) or how El Nino affects the supply of larvae . Be forewarned: the text is a strong reminder that shrimp are, after all, just swimming insects.

• The Chefs Collaborative's communique with recommendations for sustainable shrimp was directed at restaurants, but the home cook can also use their excellent information.

• The White Boot Brigade, based in New Orleans, is a nonprofit dedicated to developing a sustainable shrimp industry in Louisiana. They work to educate businesses and consumers about the economic, environmental and social benefits of supporting small family fleets that harvest shrimp from the Gulf.

• And, finally, what's the difference between a shrimp and a prawn? In the U.S., nothing. Though there's sometimes a vague sense of "specialness" about prawns, the two words appear in menus and markets interchangeably. Australians, however, apparently make a point of remembering that prawns have evenly overlapping abdominal segments and that their females release eggs to currents rather than brooding them. For them, Americans are silly and confusing for calling shrimp prawns and vice versa.

Old friends and wedding parties and extended families have a way of creating memorable meals. Place them all in a gorgeous locale overflowing with fresh ingredients -- say the San Juan Islands on the Puget Sound during the last weeks of summer -- and even the simplest pot of soup becomes sublime.

We were gathered on the northern shore of Guemes Island. A single ferry connects locals to the mainland, and the island's one store -- Anderson's General Store -- assures shoppers that: "If we don't have it, we'll explain how you can get along without it." Guemes is a place where feeling the tides is a sixth sense, where the ebb and flow of water determines the success of work and the ease of play. Instead of a farmers market, there's a produce swap on Sunday mornings. The island's highest speed limit is 25 mph, and even at that, you could cross it from tip to tip in 10 leisurely minutes.

Everyone who lives along the shore has a boat and a couple of crab traps. Lone buoys out on the water sport duct tape with names and phone numbers. I tried throwing out a couple of the traps to catch our dinner. Having written about the crab industry, I wasn't expecting it to be easy. But let's just say that if I had to catch my own food -- let alone make a living -- with a row boat and two heavy traps, I'd be a heck of a lot skinnier than I am now.

Fortunately for us, a neighbor across the Sound stopped by and left a deep, wide bucket filled with freshly dug clams and sea water. It was waiting quietly on the beach for us. I tried to count, but stopped at 140.

The bride's mother chipped in tomatoes from her garden. The groom's father offered fresh corn; the cobs and some salmon trimmings would make a rich, sweet stock. There were bottles of wine leftover from the wedding. Butter and garlic, fortunately, always magically appear in the company of food-lovers. A loaf of bread from the wedding reception was a bit stale, making it perfect for croutons, and our cabin offered up the last requirement: a big pot generous enough to hold all the food.

No crabs, unfortunately. But where nature taketh away, she always giveth in return.

Neighborly Clams with White Wedding Wine

Soak freshly-dug clams in cornmeal for a couple of hours to help them purge all their grit. Scrub and rinse them well.

Cut off the kernels from whole corn (reserve them for making creamed corn or, even better, salmon and corn chowder for lunch the next day). If you have a sharp knife, cut the corn cobs in half or quarters. If you don't, ask one of the stronger wedding guests to break them in two. Boil them in a pot of water with any trimmings you may have: carrot, onion, celery, or just some salmon skin and belly flaps. Strain and reserve the broth.

Now the fun part: Melt some butter in a big pot. Add chopped onion and garlic and the precious last carrot; saute over a medium flame until softened. Stir in chopped tomatoes and as much of their juices as you can catch, stir a few times, and then pour in a quarter to a whole bottle of wine. Add that corn and salmon broth that you made earlier. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes to meld together all the flavors and emulsify the butter. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Bring the broth back to a full boil. Add the clams and cover tightly. In about 10 minutes, give the clams a good stir and check for doneness. If you have a big batch, you'll probably need to continue cooking for another 5 to 10 minutes. If you like your clams on the rare side, take them out just as soon as they've all opened fully.

Bring the pot to the table along with all the bowls you can find in the cabin. Pass around toasted stale bread, more bottles of wine and stories of younger, greener days.

My first summer in San Francisco, I bought a little Weber and installed it on my fire escape. Within two minutes of lighting its inaugural pile of charcoal, I answered my doorbell to find an irate neighbor pointing at the flames and reminding me that all the houses in our neighborhood were constructed of wood. My poor Smokey Joe was instantly retired. Since then, I've explored various safer ways to char my food and finally, after quite a few years, settled on a system that actually works.After dismissing stovetop options, such as grill pans and an aluminum rack on legs that I dug up in the back aisle of Soko Hardware, I finally cobbled together a simple setup.

I had a gas stove from the 80s with a broiler drawer at the bottom. (It was pristine the first time I opened it; the previous inhabitants hadn't used it once!) Unfortunately, I could never get enough heat to sear and finish food with that unique texture and flavor that comes from the direct heat of a hot, dry flame. Everything steamed and soaked in its own juices, and my food always left a mess that was a pain to scrub away.

Two things changed that:

1) Replacing the wimpy grill pan that came with the stove. I bought the biggest, heaviest searing grill that I could find. The ones that stretch across two burners and have a grease well are perfect. I splurged on a Dacor searing grill, but there are plenty others that will work.

2) Following Linda Carucci's advice and keeping the door of the broiler open an inch or so. This helps the steam escape to maintain dry heat.

As you can see from the photo, even whole fish grills up crisp and clean. It's essential to preheat the searing grill until smoking hot. The first few times you use it, be sure to brush it lightly with peanut or grapeseed oil (you'll need the high-smoke point!). As the grill becomes seasoned though, the oil in the marinades and moist rubs is enough to lift food off easily. I can now confidently follow summer recipes throughout the year while keeping my fire escape free of flames.

For the other half of grilling fish in the city, here's a quick primer on buying the freshest fish possible...

FINDING A FISHMONGER

Visit a quality fishmonger. New May Wah on Clement and 8th Ave, Bryan's on California St., Shogun Fish at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, Berkeley Bowl, 99 Ranch and Whole Foods are a few of the places I'd recommend, but the best thing to do is look for a good store near you and then cultivate a relationship with the folks behind the counter.

Ask friendly questions, such as their advice about the freshest fish of the day, how it was caught and how they like to prepare it. After a few visits, you'll figure out if they know what they're talking about. Best of all, you'll become one of those favorite regulars who receive the best of the counter. Any quality vendor appreciates curious customers who are looking for good products. (Be prepared for brusque service at the Asian fish counters, though. I hate to admit it, but customer service isn't their forte. Super-fresh fish for the fearless, on the other hand, they have covered.)

When you walk into a new place, look for lots of ice for the whole fish and metal trays for the fillets and steaks. Needless to say, you should immediately leave any place that smells of rotten fish. A wall of tanks filled with lively fish swimming in clear, bubbling water is at the top of my own list, since I often point at the exact fish I want netted. Little signs that indicate origin and the method of catching are helpful for those who are trying to eat within a sustainable seafood system.

SELECTING FISH

On whole fish, don't be afraid to lift the gills to check for red blood. Avoid any fish with dry, browned gills. Then press your forefinger into the thickest part of the fish's flank to watch its flesh spring back out, quick and firm. Wet, moist tail and fins are good; dry, brittle ones are bad. Clear, shiny, rounded eyes are another good indicator of fresh fish, although sometimes the ice can damage them, so it shouldn't be the only thing on your list. Sniff for an odor of ocean. It's okay to get a noseful of "pier perfume," but there should be no hint of decay or any strong "fishiness" that reveals too many days out of the water.

If you're buying fillets, the touch and smell tests are the best. Even cut flesh will spring back. You shouldn't be able to see a depression where your finger was. The longer your fingerprint lingers, the older the fish. Sliminess is another sure sign that you should move on to the next fish or choose chicken for dinner. Whole fish will have a natural shine and slipperiness -- the scales dull and loosen as the fish ages out of water -- but cut flesh should not feel slick.

If the fish is protected behind glass cases, I make a point of asking the person helping me to poke the fish for me or to bring it out so I can perform my own touch and sniff tests. No, I don't mind people behind me sighing, rolling their eyes or muttering under their breaths.

Sometimes, though, the best fish is in the freezer. A fish that's expertly frozen within hours of leaving its watery home is much, much better in quality than a so-called fresh fish that's taken almost a week to get from boat to market.

After going through all that trouble tracking down and identifying a good fish, don't bother waiting a couple of days to cook it. Plan on buying, cooking and eating your fish the same day or, at the most, within a day of finding it.

PREPARING WHOLE FISH FOR THE GRILL OR BROILER

Here are some tips for handling whole fish:

If you're not comfortable gutting and scaling a whole fish (that's another whole entry in itself...) then make it easy on yourself and ask the fishmonger to clean the fish for you. What you want is simply a dressed fish: gutted and scaled but with its head, fins and tail intact.

Get back home quickly, or plan to bring a cooler or insulated bag with you. I often ask the fishmonger to put the fish, after weighing it, into another bag with some ice. No market has ever refused to do this, and they may have a ice pack or two that they're happy to pass along.

When you unwrap the fish in your own kitchen, take care with the tail and fins. They sometimes have sharp ends that can poke or cut your hand.

With any fish that's more than two inches thick, cut three slits at an angle into each side of the fish to allow the heat to penetrate to the center. I like to fill the belly cavity with aromatics -- say scallions and lemon slices or big handfuls of fennel fronds -- in order to maintain its rounded shape at the table. A few toothpicks soaked in water will keep the belly flaps together.

Here's an old trick for creating a "nonstick" grill rack: Cut a big, starchy potato in half. Stick the potato halves onto a big fork. Be sure the grill rack is clean and free of burnt food remains. Once the preheated grill rack is hot, rub it well with the cut side of the potato halves. The instantly seared layer of starch will create a surface which will release the fish more readily, especially if you have a brand-new, shiny grill.

For every inch of thickness, allow ten minutes to cook the fish. It will vary slightly either way, but this is a good baseline for figuring out cooking times. Once the fish flakes easily close to the bone, it's ready for eating. I prefer undercooking to any amount of overcooking, but you should cook the fish to the point that you enjoy. With the variation in size and species, the best way to test for flake is with the tip of a paring knife.

Use two wide spatulas to roll the fish gently when it's ready to turn. Be sure there are enough hot coals beneath the area where the second side will cook. Brush the fish lightly with oil before turning it.

Wrapping a fish in soaked banana leaves will make the fish easier to turn and remove. You'll lose that nice char but will gain a wonderful smoky flavor while retaining lots of moisture. Plan for a longer cooking time.

If you have a pizza peel or one of those thin cookie sheets, especially one with a tapered edge, then you can scoop up the whole fish with little effort. Otherwise, use those two wide spatulas and have the platter as close to the fish as possible.

SPICY GINGER-LEMONGRASS RUB

This is a recipe that I've adapted from my uncles in Vietnam. Whenever I visited, they'd chop down a young banana tree to create an impromptu grill. Two logs of the juicy trunk supported split bamboo skewers, and everything from the family chicken to sweet field mice ended up coated with this spicy, savory rub.

I have an Indian-style mixie which makes it a lot easier to blend the hard lemongrass with minimal liquid. If you have a regular blender, plan on chopping the ingredients more finely and then adding a bit more oil and/or wine to help the blades do their thing.

Chop roughly:
A big knob of ginger, peeled
The pale half of 4 stalks of lemon grass
3 large cloves of moist, plump garlic
2-4 red Thai chiles, seeded or not as you wish
A small knob of fresh turmeric (or a half teaspoon of powdered turmeric)

Have ready 3-4 tablespoons each:
Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
Vegetable oil

Combine the aromatic, dry ingredients in the jar of a blender. Drizzle in 2 tablespoons of the rice wine and oil. Blend to a smooth paste, adding more liquid and scraping down as needed. Rub evenly onto fish, chicken, beef, pork or pressed tofu. Cover and let marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Grill or broil the meat or tofu with high, direct heat, brushing lightly with additional oil.

Not long ago I had dinner at a place that specialized in fish. But oddly enough, there wasn't that much fish on the menu. Weird Fish in the Mission is committed to serving "sustainable" fish and that limits what's on offer. Catfish and tilapia are mainstays. But sustainability isn't the only issue. While we tend to think of eating fish as healthy, concerns about PCB's and mercury have also made choosing fish more challenging.

There couldn't be a better man to set us straight about fish than Paul Johnson, a former chef and advisor to the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch Program, he is best known for having founded the Monterey Fish Market. He has supplied fish to local chefs and restaurateurs including Thomas Keller, Alice Waters, Michael Mina, Traci Des Jardin, etc.

Fish Forever has almost 100 recipes, but also describes each fish in detail, how they are fished, their health benefits and how to find the best sustainable options. It's written in a wonderfully clear and engaging manner by someone who is absolutely passionate about the subject. I was thrilled to see sardine recipes, tips for how to make tilapia more tasty, a recipe for albacore confit, and clear instructions for how to prepare every fish for cooking. Consider it a bible for anyone who eats fish.

Sand Dabs with Fried Capers, Parsley and Lemon
Serves 4 as a main dish

1/4 cup mild olive oil
2 Tablespoons capers, rinsed, drained and patted dry
8 pan-ready sand dabs
Seasoned flour: 1/4 cup all-purpose flour mixed with 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, and 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup dry white wine
Juice of 1 lemon
2 Tablespoons minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 Tablespoon cold unsalted butter, cut into bits

1. In a large cast-iron skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat until it shimmers.
2. Add the capers and fry until slightly crispy and a shade darker, about 1 minute. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels to drain.
3. Dredge the sand dabs in the seasoned flour and carefully add them to the hot pan. Cook for 3 or 4 minutes on each side or until golden brown. Transfer to a plate and keep warm.
4. Pour off any oil remaining in the pan. Add the white wine and lemon juice, stirring to scrap up the browned bits form the bottom of the pan. Cook to reduce the liquid by two thirds. Turn off the heat and add the parsley. Whisk in the cold butter, a bit at a time, until the pan juices become silky and thick. Pour the sauce oven the sand dabs and garnish with the fried capers.

Reprinted by permission from Fish Forever, by Paul Johnson. Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Copyright © 2007 by Paul Johnson. All rights reserved.

Nothing evokes special occasions like a lobster with drawn butter, but there was once a time when they were considered poverty fare. Fed to orphans, prisoners and indentured servants, lobsters from the Northern Atlantic did not appeal to early colonists.

It took the canning craze of the 1950s to spread the taste of lobster beyond New England, and since then, the red, beady-eyed crustaceans appear on casino buffets and surf-and-turf menus in every state. There's debate now about whether the lobster industry is the best it's ever been or on the verge of collapse, but Maine lobstermen are working closely with marine biologists to develop sustainable practices. It's the older, more labor-intensive, back-breaking ways of early lobstering that will save the industry.

Working on a lobster boat for one hour -- let alone one day -- will silence anyone who complains about the price of lobster.

Lobster Lingo

For those who weren't raised along the coast of Maine, here's a quick primer on lobsters:

Berries - Lobster eggs. Conscientious, law-abiding lobstermen will gently return a berried female back to the water after V-notching her tail, indicating to others that she's a valuable resource. Her 10,000 or so eggs, carried on the outside of her shell, will be released after 9 or 10 months, and of these, about 10 of them will survive. That's 1/10 of 1 percent who even have a whiff of a chance of reaching maturity.

Bugs - Newly hatched lobster larvae. More generally, an affectionate term for all lobsters, as in "Come ovah for dinner tonight for some boiled bugs."

Chicken - A one-pound lobster. It can take as long as 7 years in the cold waters of the northern Atlantic to grow to this size.

Hen - A female lobster.

Cock - A male lobster.

Snappers - Young lobsters, for their tendency to flick their tails frequently

Pistol - A lobster without claws. During molting or fighting, they may lose one or both, but will regenerate them with time.

Pot - A lobster trap, especially in great Britain. Though now more commonly made of easy-to-maintain plastic rather than wood, it still attracts lobsters through a one-way entrance. Famously inefficient, they often allow lobsters to walk away after eating. With a stoic shrug of their shoulders, lobstermen accept this as a facet of Maine's de facto aquaculture, allowing younger ones to feed, escape and breed. In the photo (from Casco Bay) you can see the low-tech bricks that weigh the traps down in the water.

Kitchen - The first chamber of a lobster trap, where the bug goes to eat.

Parlor - The inner chamber of a lobster trap. Also known as the bedroom, this is where the bug awaits the lobsterman.

Lobster cars - Crates that are kept buoyed and locked just off-shore to store trapped lobsters until they go to market.

Ghost fishing When lost nets, loose traps or fragments of other broken equipment continue to catch and kill marine life. Modern traps have escape vents constructed from biodegradable materials to allow lobsters to escape from lost traps.

Keepers Lobsters that measure between 3.25 and 5 inches from their eye sockets to the tip of their tails, the legal limits for market.

Shorts - Lobsters that fall below the legal size.

Shedder - A newly molted lobster. It has absorbed sea water into its body, and there's extra space in its soft shell. If you've ever received a gush of water when cracking open a lobster, you probably have a shedder on your plate.

Crusher - The larger, stronger claw with courser teeth. If the lobster's right claw is the crusher, it's called a "right-handed" lobster.

Ripper - The smaller claw, which has finer teeth for cutting and tearing.

"From away" - People like me who are not from Maine. Summer tourists. Well-meaning travelers and diners who triple town populations and clog up Highway 1 in search of lobster.

Where to eat lobster in the Bay Area

In November of 1920, The Manufacturer and the Builder--"A monthly journal devoted to the Advancement and Diffusement of Practical Knowledge"--reported that California received its first shipment of live lobsters from the East Coast. Layered in a crate with moist rock weed and then packed inside another, ice-lined crate, a little over half of the 600 lobsters survived the voyage.

While overnight planes have sped up the trip considerably in this century, finding a good lobster isn't as easy as you'd think. For the most part, New Englanders stranded in Northern California simply waited between visits back east to enjoy fresh, plain crustaceans, free of wasabi-panko crust or truffle oil or even chipotle butter.

For those who'd like a taste without boarding a plane, there's at least one place you can nurse your bug cravings. It's not quite the same as your favorite shack in Harpswell or Thomaston, but Old Port Lobster Shack in Redwood City boasts the closest thing to Down East eating in these parts. They have sister restaurants in North Beach and Napa, but it's the South Bay kitchen that serves up the better bugs.

A bell near the register let's the kitchen know when to throw a lobster into the pot. Behind it you can see some of the draft beers from both the east and west coasts you can try: Sea Dog, Allagash, Old Thumper, Anchor Steam, Dead Guy, and Widmer Brothers.

While the sides are not particularly noteworthy (even the dried blueberries in the cole slaw weren't really that great) the OPLS serves lobsters whole and uncracked in all their glory. You could order the lazy version, but why?

The true find are the lobster rolls, which come with the right bread (baked specially soft for the restaurant) and are packed full of handpicked meat. The "naked" version is the purist's choice; a tiny bit of melted butter and mayo arrive on the side.

Old Port Lobster Shack

Redwood City
851 Veterans Blvd
Redwood City, CA 94061
(650) 366-2400

Napa Valley
806 Fourth Street

Napa, CA 94559
(707) 258.8200

North Beach
532 Green St
San Francisco, CA 94133
(415) 829-3634