Travel

Pretty Pictures of Autumn Leaves

December 7, 2010
autumn_leaves

Autumn Leaves
(French lyrics by Jacques Prévert,
English lyrics by Johnny Mercer,
Music by Joseph Kosma)

The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Nous vivions tous, les deux ensemble
Toi que m’aimais moi qui t’aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable les pas des amants désunis

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/n/nat+king+cole/#share

Cocktail Recipes

Celebrate Repeal Day with a Pisco Punch

December 5, 2010

pisco punch at quinceThis time of year, most people’s holiday-related thoughts are consumed by Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and New Year’s Eve. But today, the holiday most serious bartenders and cocktail geeks are celebrating is Repeal Day. December 5, 1933 marked the end of Prohibition, the ill-conceived “Noble Experiment” with temperance that ran from 1919 to 1933.

Repeal Day events are going on tonight at classically-minded bars like The Drawing Room in Chicago. In northern California, check out the party at Elixir in the Mission. In Southern California, head to downtown LA to Seven Grand, The Edison and/or The Varnish.

Before Prohibition, a delicious golden cocktail called the Pisco Punch was the San Francisco treat – sorry Rice-a-Roni. According to David Wondrich’s fine historical cocktail book “Imbibe”, all the bars in town made the this tangy cocktail with the Peruvian grape brandy. Many patrons were prone to over-enjoying Pisco Punch; things got so bad that in 1856, police mandated that people could be served just one of the cocktails per day.
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Food + Recipes

Scream Sorbet: A Really Good Vegan “Ice Cream” Shop Now Open in Temescal

November 28, 2010
scream_Sorbet_ingredients

To be honest, the word “vegan” appearing next to any food I like usually makes me groan. A vegan take on say liver wouldn’t bother me a bit. But vegan + ice cream? How could one fake the exquisite harmony of cream, eggs and sugar with coconut oil or worse?

But I’m rethinking my bias, now that I’ve tasted a few flavors by Scream Sorbet, which opened in Oakland’s Temescal neighborhood about 10 days ago.

Normally, sorbets are a combination of fruit, water and sugar. The creative confections that Scream Sorbet has sold at Bay Area farmers markets for the past few years don’t contain any dairy, but they still manage to take sorbet in a whole new direction. Scream sorbets eat like ice cream, since they have a surprisingly creamy and luscious texture that comes from a careful blend of nut milks and butters. After a bite of Scream sorbet, the palate feels clean instead of coated with fat, as often happens with dairy-based ice creams.

Owner Nathan Kurz explains that most traditional ice creams are 90 percent eggs, cream and sugar with just 10 percent flavoring like strawberries, chocolate or pistachio nuts added. But Scream pastry chef Stephanie Lau — who worked at Cafe Fanny — starts with a base ingredient like locally grown sweet potatoes, pomegranates or pecans and adds just enough sugar and fats from nuts or coconut to make the recipe creamy.

Scream Sorbet’s shop window at 5030 Telegraph Ave. in Oakland features lids from their many different flavors.

“You get so much more flavor out of the sorbets this way,” says Kurz, who owns Scream along with Noah Goldner. He explains the research that led them to creamy sorbets in this October 2010 New York Times Style Magazine piece.

At their storefront at 5030 Telegraph Ave., shoppers can pick up pints of sorbet for $8 to $10 apiece in a variety of Scream flavors like seasonal Pecan and Bourbon laced with Maker’s Mark, Rose Almond, Satsuma Mandarin, Coconut Thai Basil and Kettle Corn.

They’re still waiting for their final health department permit, so they can’t scoop ice cream – er sorbet – on premises yet. But it’s worth stopping by to sample of one of their ice cream sandwiches like shortbread stuffed with Meyer lemon sorbet or gingersnaps with Blue Bottle Coffee sorbet. They’re so good, I promise you’ll forget all about the v-word.

Update: Scream Sorbet closed its doors in 2013. If you want to try making a Scream-style nut sorbet at home, check out this pistachio sorbet recipe on the blog Joy of Blending.

© Maria C. Hunt, aka The Bubbly Girl

Cocktail Recipes

Cocktails to Crave: The Old Cuban

November 19, 2010
old_cuban_cocktail
This delicious Old Cuban was mixed at Rye, by co-owner Jon Gasparini.

This delicious Old Cuban was mixed at Rye, by co-owner Jon Gasparini.

After doing a little event for a group of women attorneys at The Bubble Lounge last week, I went out for drinks with Heather and Marie, a pair of new foodie friends.

As we scanned the menu at a hip vintage style watering hole in the Financial District, Heather was disappointed that the Old Cuban — her favorite new drink — wasn’t on the menu. I told her to ask for one anyway. It’s my new favorite too and a modern classic that any bartender worth his salt knows how to make.

Apparently not. The waiter brought over two pale cocktails that looked like mojitos. Close — since the Old Cuban is a variant of the mojito. Both are made with lime, mint, simple syrup and benefit from a good golden or dark rum with some age, like Zaya, Smith & Cross or El Dorado 12.

But what makes an Old Cuban really fine and so appealing is the Angostura bitters. A proper Old Cuban — as created by the brilliant Audrey Saunders at Pegu Club in New York — has a few dashes of Angostura bitters in the mix.

I’ve read that some bartenders are making their version of an Old Cuban sans Angostura bitters. An Old Cuban without bitters isn’t an Old Cuban, it’s a Hemingway Mojito, which gets finished with a slug of champagne instead of club soda. Plus, it’s a huge mistake in terms of flavor.

Angostura bitters are made in Trinidad from a secret blend of roots and herbs.

Angostura bitters are made in Trinidad from a secret blend of roots and herbs.

Bitters aren’t a garnish here, like they are atop the foam on a Pisco Sour. In an Old Cuban, Angostura bitters make the cocktail. Bitters turn the drink the desired shade of reddish brown — think of an Old Cuban cigar. And they also bring the drink’s flavors into sharp focus while imparting a mysterious, complex quality that makes an Old Cuban so beguiling. And since Angostura bitters were originally created as a digestive aid, I can’t think of any better way to begin a meal.

One can find a good Old Cuban in the Bay Area at Rye in the Tenderloin and  Beretta in the Mission.

But since not much tastes better — especially in winter — than a fine cocktail from your home bar, here’s the recipe:

Old Cuban
5 fresh mint leaves, plus a sprig for garnish
3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 to 3/4 ounces simple syrup
1-1/2 ounces tasty rum
2 to 3 dashes Angostura bitters
2 ounces brut cava or champagne

Muddle the mint leaves, lime juice and simple syrup in the bottom of a mixing glass or cocktail shaker. Add the rum, bitters and ice and shake until well-chilled. Strain into a smallish footed cocktail glass or vintage champagne coupe and top with the sparkling wine or champagne. Garnish with the mint sprig. Repeat.

Celebrity Chefs, Food + Recipes

The Sushification of America + The Best Sauce in the World, According to Ruth Reichl

November 7, 2010
sushi_ruth_reichl_morimoto_chef

First thing Saturday morning, I drove up to the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone to catch the last day of the Worlds of Flavor Japan Conference. Ruth Reichl was just one of the bold letter names in food in St. Helena Nov. 4 -6. The foodie glitterati also included Thomas Keller of The French Laundry, David Chang of Momofuku, Doug Keane of Cyrus, Masaharu Morimoto of Iron Chef and newish Morimoto Napa and three of the seven Michelin three-star chefs in Kyoto.

Saturday afternoon, Reichl took the stage to reflect on the ways Japanese flavors have influenced American cuisine. She says that for years, Americans pretty much had no concept of what real Japanese food was about – the devotion to seasonal ingredients and achieving an exquisite balance of flavors and textures.

A rare and accurate early account of a trip to a Japanese restaurant was written in 1914 by Clarence Edgar Edwords in his book called Bohemian San Francisco. He describes eating raw fish and enjoying it and even mastering the use of chopsticks.

Up until the 70s, much of the food writing about Japanese cuisine focused on sukiyaki, a winter dish of beef, vegetables and noodles. And Reichl herself caught hell in 1983 for doing her first New York Times food review on a soba noodle place – and giving it three stars. “Never mind that it was an excellent soba noodle parlor,” Reichl added sotto voce.

While other ethnic cuisines took hold because of immigration, that didn’t happen with Japanese foods. Part of the problem is that there wasn’t a good supply of fresh fish needed to make Japanese cuisine in the U.S. But Reichl says things started to change after the Magnuson Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act of 1976 that made it profitable for fishermen to invest in boats that could freeze fish at sea and deliver sushi-grade seafood to market. (It also set up many fish populations for over-fishing.)

Sushi restaurants started to open on the West Coast and high-end restaurants of all types started serving raw fish carpaccio, crudo and tartare. Now sushi is found in any supermarket. Reichl thinks the generation who grew up on grab-and-go industrial sushi is now creating the nation’s street food culture. “The sushification of America is now complete,” Reichl said.

This simple combination of soy butter and lime is a great sauce for seafood or poultry and can be dressed up by adding ginger, garlic or even chipotle chile.

We’ve started to get our heads — and mouths — around concepts like umami. But the next frontier in food is texture – and the Japanese know there’s more to it than crunchy. Reichl mused that maybe one day Americans will develop an appreciation for slippery – the texture one finds in natto, okra and yamaimo – the misunderstood mountain potato.

During an interview Reichl did with some years ago with David Bouley, Eric Ripert and Jean-Georges Vongerichten, they all revealed that visiting Japan had the most profound influence on the way they cooked. They gained a greater appreciation for presenting seasonal fare from kaiseki ryori. But they all realized too how sublime simple combinations can be. J-G dubbed soy, butter and lime to be the best sauce in the world and the other chefs agreed.

Here’s how to make it at home: for every tablespoon of butter, mix in 1/2 teaspoon soy sauce over a low-medium flame. When the butter is melted, whisk in one teaspoon of fresh lime juice. The sauce will be a gorgeous caramel color and tastes delicious over seafood or poultry. Once you have the ratio down, it can easily be varied by adding small amounts of fresh ginger root, minced garlic or even chipotle chiles.