Aaahh, Memorial Day weekend, the official kickoff of summer. A season that makes me eat too many cherries until my stomach is turning in satiated circles, gobble up corn– sliced from the cob and sauteed with butter and chives, or grilled and slathered in sweet cream butter, and the grandaddy of them all, the BBQ, is belching smoke into the warm summer sky.
Now I don’t live in Memphis, or Kansas City, or Texas for that matter, I live in Berkeley, CA. And I don’t own a massive BBQ, a smoke pit, or a galvanized steel drum, in fact I do my barbecuing on a very modest hibachi; but this does not negate my desire for smoky, charred BBQ, slathered with tangy, slightly sweet sauce. What could be better than homemade sauce? Rich, piquant, the reddish color tinging the fingertips, and melting to a smoky, sweet flavor, caramelizing delectably.

Early in [...]

Just what does this mean anyway? It seems to me to be one of those idioms that came out of nowhere. Now the “salad days” have fallen out of favor, only uttered by grandmothers, and linguists interested in peculiar vernaculars. But I did a bit of bird dogging (watch out, the vernacular is flying) and discovered the term was coined by none other than William Shakespeare in Antony and Cleopatra, and means youthful innocence, or indiscretion. What this has to do with salad, is anyone’s guess. And what this posting has to do with vernacular speech and etymology is really up to you.

But it’s spring, almost summer, a time when enjoying a salad for your evening meal seems less dietetic and more of a celebration of the season. Certainly not a salad my grandmother would make, this salad was bright and sweet, lightly dressed with dijon mustard, lemon juice [...]

We all know by now that I am a big fan of desserts. This does not mean however, that I am huge fan of making desserts. Every once in awhile I forget that I don’t loooove to bake, and I jump head first in to some lengthy project involving vanilla beans, too many egg whites beaten to stiff peaks, and a very hot oven. I get impatient. I get frustrated. I go running from the kitchen in a poof of flour, swearing that I will never bake again. That is until the following week, when the entire process starts again.
I adore summer, for many reason, including those culinary. Stone fruit. Luscious, fleeting, and dessert worthy, is my reason for seasonal adoration. For some it may be a bit early for summer fruit, but here in California, land of citrus fruit in the winter, and apricots in the summer, this fruit [...]

A few summers ago, I moved back to the East Bay, and in with Brian. I was thrilled to be back, near the friends and food that I had come to love. I think I remembered Berkeley as being an idyllic community, filled with new places to explore, as well as old haunts to frequent. It’s amazing how being away from a place completely changes how you feel about it. Now Berkeley is home again filled with just as many frustrations as it is filled with joys. But that summer Berkeley was good to me, and I reciprocated with jam– lots of jam.
I’m not sure how it all began, I had never made jam before, or even been given homemade preserves, but that summer I pumped out enough jam to keep the students at the local elementary school in PB & J until mid October. Mixed berry, plum and [...]

But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful the smell and taste remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for the moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.Marcel Proust, “Swann’s Way”
Marcel Proust may have had the madeleine, but I have something far less delicate, possibly even coarse in nature. I remember mealtimes as a child, pork chops would be served. Unadorned, grilled with salt and a smidgen of pepper, on the stove. My family would sit down together to enjoy our meal, chat about the days events, and I would pick at my food, a spoonful of [...]

When I was young my mom used to make egg salad. Hard-cooked eggs, mayonnaise, diced dill pickles, all mixed together into a sunny glop, awaiting two slices of white bakery bread to be sandwiched between. I never ate it. All of my least favorite ingredients blended together to make one wholly undesirable lunchtime entree. As I’ve gotten older, my tastes have changed. I like dill pickles (but never pickle relish); I’m learning to tolerate hard-boiled eggs, and alas, I still do not enjoy mayonnaise (and yes, I’ve had the homemade kind).
I’m not the hugest fan of savory egg dishes, except frittatas. And while you still won’t see me gobbling up a large plate of scrambled eggs on a Sunday morning, or puncturing the yolk of a fried egg, the bright yellow ooziness quickly sopped up by a piece of generously buttered toast, I am coming around to certain egg [...]

What is this lovely? Well, it’s not a scallion, and it’s too broad to be garlic chives, so by process of elimination, it’s a ramp, or as some like to call it– a wild leek. Indigenous to North America this aromatic vegetable simply resembles other vegetables, but has a taste that is uniquely it’s own.
I had seen ramps popping up on menus in restaurants around town prepared in various ways; left whole and grilled, sauteed and braised, or even slivered and served raw, but I had yet to try them myself. When I saw them, haphazardly lying in nest-like pile at Berkeley Bowl, I decided to bring them home and experiment with them for dinner.
At $9 a pound, these babies are not cheap, but doing my research I understand why. Ramps are generally grown and foraged in the wild. I’m not actually sure how “wild” one can get in the [...]

I did not grow up in a household of health nuts. My parents did not try to convince me of the virtues of carob, when the only thing I truly longed for was a sumptuous, rich bit of chocolate. I was not plied with Kefir, nor was I given sandwiches of sprouts and soy cheese on multi-grain bread. But I did eat fairly well. My lunches, packed by my mother for entirely too long, well into high school, I’m ashamed to say, always contained two fruits and a vegetable, or vice versa. Dinners were always well-balanced, perhaps this is how I have achieved the propensity for “proper” meal planning. But every once in awhile, I was allowed a glorious treat, a sugar cereal at the grocery store.
I have always eaten breakfast. Whether it be a piece of fruit, some toast, or Eggs Benedict (which it never actually would be, [...]

It is a good thing that the whole low-carb lifestyle is coming to a close, not that I ever subscribed to such an extreme form of dieting, I just got tired of hearing about it. For me, and my carbohydrate loving ways, it would be torture. Some people live off of junk food, others subsist on on a diet of whole grains and organic food, others still go munching away on nuts and berries. I could (could being the operative word here) exist on a diet of carbohydrates, of any form.
Lucky for me, or unlucky, it depends on how you see it, I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and there are some pretty good bread shops here. Like any good bourgie, I crave a chewy baguette from time to time, and Acme and La Farine Bakery have the finest baguettes outside of France. La Farine has kept [...]

Every culture has them, the Americans with ketchup or BBQ sauce, Asian with soy sauce, among others, raita for the Indian culture, the French with pure, beautiful butter, and salsa in the Latino culture. Condiments are going strong. Born and raised in California, salsa, and in turn Mexican food is something with which I grew up.
Going out for Mexican food, Americanized though it may be, was always a favorite. Huge plates were delivered with the warning, “Careful, plate is very hot!” Bubbling portions of refried beans nestled along side heaping spoonfuls of rice, each grain made crisp from cooking in the oven, and delicately flavored with tomatoes and chiles, and the entree of my choosing: tamales, enchiladas, or my favorite, sopitos. The entire plate was sprinkled with cheese, and popped in the oven, making the cheese melt to a runny slickness. Talk about excess, and I loved it.
I would [...]