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Say Cheese


For some people, cheese is just a food. For others, it’s an addictive substance.

Cheese lovers hover at cheese counters and unconsciously paw at the glass that keeps them from aromatic wedges of Parmesan, stinky rounds of French triple creams and pungent British blues. They’re the people that actually eat the cheese samples at Whole Foods. Normal people may go to a cheese shop and ask to speak to the cheesemonger–but cheese addicts go to cheese counter and ask for “the pusher”.

I am one of those people. My name is Brooke and I have a cheese problem.

Confessions of a Cheese Lover

It’s sad how much money I’ve spent on goat, sheep and cow’s milk cheeses. With the ridiculous cost of gas, I’d rather go easy on the environment (and my cheese buying budget) and walk a mile to the store and back, just so I can get a great wedge of cheese. Considering my commitment to the creamy stuff, I recently decided I should learn how to make it. Maybe not a great idea for a cheese lover (addict) like myself to do, but besides being a great learning experience, I could save some serious money while I’m at it.

Maybe making my own cheese a bad idea for someone like me. But after getting my first taste of home made cheese I have to say, how can something so good be bad?

After doing some tentative research on-line that offered me disappointing results, I stumbled upon some chefs making cheese at the restaurant I work at. Low and behold, in my very own place of culinary work, I learned that cheese making didn’t need to be difficult. At all.

Thanks to the kind, smart and talented chefs at my restaurant, they answered all of my questions and tolerated my obsessive observation of the cheese making process so that I could come to you with some great tips and one of the easiest cheese making recipes around! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Greek yogurt cheese!


Greek Yogurt Cheese
(makes approx. 12 oz. of cheese)
*This cheese would also be great with the addition of lavender or herbs such as thyme, dill or oregano.

Ingredients:

1 regular sized (32 oz.) container of Greek Yogurt
1 lemon (to be zested and then squeezed)
Kosher salt
Cheesecloth (cut into 3-4 18-20” pieces)
Kitchen twine
Tall prep container


Pour the container of Greek yogurt into a medium sized bowl. Mix into the yogurt the zest and juice of one lemon.

Add salt to taste. 2-3 tablespoons should do.

Line a second bowl with the cheesecloth, being careful to leave the sides hanging out over the side.

Ladle the cheese mixture into the cheesecloth-lined bowl. Bring the tops of the cheesecloth together, creating a semi-tight sack or “purse”. You will notice clear liquid dripping from the sack already. The cheese making process has begun! Though this is a very exciting step, be sure not to get too eager to remove moisture from the yogurt and squeeze the purse too tightly. Otherwise you’ll see yogurt oozing out through the cheesecloth, not just liquid. Tie the top of the purse off with kitchen twine.

Wrap the loose portion of the purse (use twine if you need to) to the neck of a wooden kitchen spoon or ladle. Set the spoon across the top of your prep container (or, if your prep container is too shallow—set it between two tall containers and let the moisture fall into a short bowl).

Make sure that the bottom of the cheesecloth purse doesn’t touch the bottom of the container! Keep in refrigerator for at least 24 hours. The cheese will feel firm, like a goat cheese when it is done. Remove from cheesecloth. Serve! The texture of the cheese should be that of a goat or sheeps’ milk cheese. The flavor, however, is incredibly refreshing, zesty (from the citrus) and deliciously creamy. You won’t want to waste one bit of this cheese!

My husband and I vow to make this cheese every month and skip the cheese counter.

Simple serving suggestions: Serve on crackers with Italian flat parsley and thinly sliced lemons.

Or toasted bread with tomato, parsley and prosciutto.

Next up, the dish that inspired home made Greek Yogurt Cheese!

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Inspirational Dishes


Eating at a great restaurant is inspiring.

If you can get beyond the the daily challenges of the service industry, working at a great restaurant is galvanizing.

While working in a great restaurant: I met and fell in love with my husband. I found some of my best friends. I discovered (and tasted) wines from all over the world. I became a foodie. I learned how to make a miserable guest happy. I unraveled the mystery of cheese making. I gained an acute sense of taste and smell. I sampled a panoply of dishes and made them my own.

This spring time antipasti, is one of them.

This is one of those great restaurant dishes that once I tasted it, I needed to know how to make it. The following is my interpretation of the dish we currently serve at the restaurant.

Peas Mint and (home made) Greek Yogurt Cheese

3 tablespoons (a full palm’s worth) of Greek Yogurt Cheese
(Note: see previous post for the full recipe). To save time, goat or sheep’s milk cheese will do.
1 cup of sweet peas (in the pod), juilienned
1⁄4 cup red onion, diced
Juice of one lemon
3 tablespoons of a good red wine vinegar
1⁄4 cup Extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Maldon sea salt (or a good finishing salt)

*Begin preparation of Greek Yogurt cheese one day before serving with salad!

Toss the julienned peas and onion with the olive oil, lemon juice and vinegar.

Season with salt and pepper to taste. Put on plate and serve with a small round of your home made Greek Yogurt Cheese. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil and pinch of Maldon sea salt.

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Get out of Dodge: the ritual


Rituals aren’t what they used to be. Long gone are the myriad of traditional rites of passage once witnessed by and passed on to whole communities and families. In this modern world of ours, ritual is a personalized thing, sculpted to fit our contemporary needs.

Today’s thinking humans don’t find structure for life crises or clear ground rules for human development in chanting, group dances, or sage burning. In our modern age, we are more likely to ask Dr. Phil, Oprah and Dr. Spock how to raise our kids then look to the way of our ancestors. We turn to guidebooks, travel magazines and TV show hosts to teach us how to have fun. Who needs an ancient rituals of a long dead society to tell us what’s fun?

Ritual nowadays is what you make it. For many, the only daily ritual observed is the eating of breakfast, lunch and dinner. And even within these seemingly rigid constructs, there’s variance. Other’s find ritual in exercise, work, make-up application, wine drinking and vacations.

GET OUT OF DODGE: MY RITUAL

Time off from work is such a cherished and special thing, it deserves to be ritualized. The repetition of certain activities verges on becoming a meditation in relaxation. Vacation rituals allow the mind and body to ease into its new state by removing the potential anxiety-provoking decision making process.

Whenever the continuous loop of Los Angeles living and working gets to be too much, my husband and I “get out of dodge” and go to Santa Barbara. We have been making this trip for years and tend to stick to the same steps, while occasionally mixing in some variations when we find new inspirations along the way.

If you’re ever in the Santa Barbara area, here are a few of our tried and true rituals that we love to share with our friends and family. As any ritual nowadays, make it your own.

The ritual:

1) Grab a cup of coffee at the Coffee Bean and drive the gassed up car North for 1.5 hours (without traffic) on the 101.

2) Just past the first Santa Barbara exits, take the Milpas turn off. Meander your way to Superica, Santa Barbara’s most famous taco stand.

Order at least five dishes from the special’s board and never changing numbered menu. (We recommend the #18 quacamole, the #13 cheese bowl, the The #11: Lomito Suiza. See this previous post for more details.

3) Drive to the Presidio Motel


This wonderful, kitchy-cool motel has rates so low ($89-$150) we’re able to come up on a frequent basis.

4) Walk Main Street until feet are tired.

5) take a nap at the hotel. Get ready for dinner.

6) Eat dinner at The Hungry Cat, Santa Barbara.

1134 Chapala St
Santa Barbara, CA 93101
(805) 884-4701

Enjoy a fresh cocktail (the margarita of the day or a Pimlico) while you wait for a table. Order fresh-off-the-boat oysters with a glass of crisp Chablis.

The pub burger is always good (especially after a day of wine tasting), but the ever changing menu continues to amaze us. Finish with cheese or the delicious chocolate bread pudding.

7) Sleep off alcohol. Go for a run in the Santa Barbara hills or go to yoga at Santa Barbara Yoga Center.

32 E Micheltorena St
Santa Barbara, CA 93101
(805) 965-6045

8) Drive to Santa Ynez for wine tasting. Check out Melville

5185 East Hwy 246, Lompoc, CA 93436
Tel: 805-735-7030
Hours 11-4 PM

10)Have an early dinner at the locals favorite Italian restaurant, Grappolo in Santa Ynez. If you crave meat, have a juicy steak and an equally big house made wine at The Hitching Post or drive a bit to find the cozy bar at The Cold Spring Tavern.

Ritual is what you make of it.

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Beyond "regular"


Picture the scene. Busy restaurant. Tables packed with hungry guests. A guest in jeans and a tee shirt gives the menu a cursory glance. They scan the appetizers for words they know. Their eyes fall on the heading: bruschetta. They see chicken liver bruschetta then salt cod bruschetta and, suddenly, they’re confused.

“Don’t you have a regular bruschetta?” they say in a pained voice.

“I’m sorry,” I try to say with a blank look on my face (I hear this question twenty times a night). “What exactly do you mean by regular?”

Now, I know it’s not fair asking a question I already know the answer to. But I always want to be sure that my guest really is thinking that they want garlic bread with tomato, olive oil and basil—despite the fact that they have three or four other really amazing (and far better) options to choose from on the menu.

Unfortunately, “regular”, in the mind of my restaurant customer, actually means “what I’m used to.”

You see, when it comes to food, there really is no “regular”. There are regional dishes and traditional fare, but every chef in every culture has their own way of doing things. In the case of bruschetta, bruschetta is to the Italians what toasted bread is to us—it’s just a starting point for something else.

According to Italian food expert, chef and cookbook author Marcella Hazan, the word bruschetta comes directly from the Latin verb bruscare, which means to toast (as in a slice of bread). “In bruschetta,” she says, “the most important component, aside from the grilled bread itself, is olive oil.”

So, thinking beyond the “regular bruschetta”, I’ve been experimenting. I’ve been trying to stay within the world of Italian cooking, while thinking of bruschetta as a sort of open faced sandwich or a tiny vehicle to showcase a handful of exciting flavors.

I found some gorgeous Italian dandelions and fresh goat cheese at the farmer’s market this weekend and came up with this simple, and delicious nibble that’s just perfect for a before dinner snack. The dandelion greens are bitter so I recommend using something sweet to balance out the flavor. I used a slightly spicy (as in mustard, spicy) clementine jelly for mine. If you don’t have access to an Italian market then be sure to use a nice honey in its place.

Italian Dandelion, goat cheese and bacon bruschetta with salsa di Clementine
Serves 6–but feel free to adjust recipe to make as many or as few as you want!

1 bunch of washed and dried dandelion greens (cut into 1” pieces)
1 garlic clove (whole)
olive oil (for drizzling)
1 small container of fresh goat cheese (a fresh sheep cheese would also work)
3-5 pieces of bacon (cooked and cut into 1 inch pieces)
1/2 batard of rustic bread or ½ of a well made baguette
Salsa di Clementine (an Italian, spicy clementine jelly) Feel free to use any other moustarda jelly or specialty honey.

Cut the bread into ¼ inch thick slices. Heat up a saute pan over medium high heat, then add bacon. Cook until crisp. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and place on paper towels to remove excess oil. If bacon hasn’t given off too much grease, throw cleaned and chopped dandelion greens into the same pan and quickly cook until wilted (about 2 minutes). Otherwise, remove the excess grease, leaving about a tablespoon worth of bacon fat behind in the pan for cooking the greens.

Meanwhile, toast the bread. When bread is done, rub the bread with the garlic clove. *this is my favorite part, watching the garlic melt like butter onto the bread. Then, drizzle bread with a tiny amount of olive oil and then spread a small amount of spicy Clementine jelly on top. Note: if using honey, drizzle honey over the greens at the end. Add a teaspoon of goat cheese to each piece of bread, then top with a heaping teaspoon dandelion greens. Top with bacon. Eat immediately.

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Don't fear the egg


The beauty of an egg is its simplicity–simplicity embodied in its elegant shape and intelligent design. Inside the egg, there is a delicate liquid dance of light and dark—a golden orb of yolk suspended in a viscous, protective fluid. Combined, these elements are powerful enough to support a life. In the hands of skilled chef, the egg is the center point of a meal or the central ingredient behind rich sauces or a delicate soufflé.

Up until recently, I feared the egg.

My fear wasn’t based on science, agricultural politics, or some kind of bizarre food phobia. No, my fear was based on the power of one single cooked egg to confirm (or disprove, in my case) my level of skill in the kitchen.

If I can conquer all sorts of culinary challenges, my thought process would go, how is it an EGG can thwart me?

It an embarrassing thing for a food writer to admit, being afraid of cooking eggs. I mean, after years of cooking, brining, roasting, fish gutting and baking, I should have long ago gotten over this fear of an egg-centered breakfast. Granted, I kept my fear in the closet for years after mastering egg poaching, just so I could continue on living like a perfectly normal, food-obsessed woman in the kitchen. And now, after years of quiet observing and coaching (Thanks husband!), I am now happy to report I can now cook scrambled and sunny-side up eggs as well as fluffy omelets without breaking into a sort of culinary panic attack.

But for anyone like me that still may secretly fear they might undo any culinary status they’ve built up with friends and family by making a terrible egg dish, I offer the following fool proof dish that will wow any breakfast guest. This, by the way, also makes a great lunch when the cabinets and fridge are nearly bare. Oh, and feel free to increase the recipe, depending on how many guests you plan to impress!


EGGS AL FORNO
Serves one

One monkey dish (small, 5 to 6” cassarole dish with “ears”)
One egg (or two if you like)
1 piece of bread from a rustic loaf (or baguette), cut to fit the dish
1 handful of a good cheese (fontina, perrano, or any medium bodied cheese), cubed
1 generous sprinkling of freshly grated parmesean (1/3 cup)
a healthy pinch of chopped sweet onion (or green onion, or chives)
a touch of olive oil (1 teaspoon)
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to piping hot 500 degrees. Put the piece of bread into the dish. Drizzle with a little olive oil. Surround the bread with the cheese cubes and parmesean. Add a healthy pinch of sweet onion around the bread. Crack the egg and lay it on top of the bread. Season with salt and pepper. Grate a tiny bit more parmesan over the egg. Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 7 minutes, or until done.

Be very careful taking the baking dish from the oven! Place a folded cloth napkin on your plate before serving. For bacon lovers, a piece of fried bacon on top would be a perfect way to garnish the dish!

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What you think vs. What you do


To be twenty-something is to be an active dreamer. You think about bigger picture stuff (world politics, the state of the economy, the state of technology, the state of art and commerce, fame, fortune and all the organic bits in between) and try to figure out how you, the twenty-something, fit into this big, broad game of life. Some twenty-somethings are mover and shakers that seem to have already conquered the world, while others try on different personas and job opportunities like trendy outfits.

When I was twenty something, I was in the midst of trying on lots of different personas. I was a writer, a journalist, a comedian and a bartender living in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I bartended at a tiny music club while struggling to figure out what to do with my life.

This was about when I first met Tony Maws. He was a sous chef at a fine dining restaurant and one of my late night regulars. He’d roll in at 1:30 in the morning with a bunch of rowdy kitchen guys and mouthy servers. They’d shout a flurry of desperate orders at me in hopes of beating the ticking clock of last call. Tony, with his long curly hair hidden behind a sweat-soaked bandanna, would shoot me an impish smile that could cut daggers through the dark and boisterous crowd of last-call ordering and put his request for a shot and a beer at the top of my priority list every time. After many visits to my bar (which always included a funny dance of gratuitous over-tipping and generous over-pouring), Tony and I became friends.

The thing about Tony that impressed me most was that despite all the whining and complaining of most of our twenty-something friends around us, he always knew exactly what it was he wanted to do. He’d tell me how he’d finish out “doing his time” cooking at the Blue Room in Cambridge, then work on the West coast, maybe spend some time in a kitchen in France and then, by the age of 30, he’d own and run his own restaurant. I remember the stunned feeling I had, that morning we shared a muffin and coffee at a local bakery, when he told me his plans for the future. His determination and drive made my head spin and made me wonder if maybe I should start thinking more about the direction of my life and less about “finding myself”.

Time passed and I started whittling down the many things I wanted to do and started focusing on one option: writing. In that time, Tony left town moved to Santa Fe and worked for Mark Miller at his highly celebrated Coyote Café in Santa Fe. Later, I heard through the restaurant grapevine that Tony went to France to work for Bernard Constantin at La Rivore in Lyon. I moved to Los Angeles to go to film school. Then, in 2002, I spotted Tony’s face on the cover of Food & Wine. I was happy to read that Tony had done just as he said he would. He was the chef owner of his own restaurant.

Craigie Street Bistrot

Living on the west coast as a film school student presented plenty of worthy distractions and even more financial obstacles to keep me from flying back east to try out the new restaurant of my long-ago friend. But then, after years of frustration over dead-end Hollywood jobs, I decided to move back home to Massachusetts for the summer to make some fast money bartending and waitressing at a busy sea-side restaurant and decide, once and for all, if I should give up on my dreams of being a screenwriter.

Strangely enough, one of the first things I did when I got back East was try to make a reservation at Craigie Street Bistrot. I was pleasantly disappointed when I heard a voice mail explain that the restaurant would be closed for the first few weeks of summer for “a well deserved vacation.” I smiled to myself as I hung up the phone. Without tasting a morsel of food or seeing his dining room, I already knew Tony’s restaurant would be unlike any other I had ever visited.

Booking a reservation

My east coast summer experiment offered many unexpected insights. I had changed. I didn’t fit into my small town. I thrived on the diversity of the city of Los Angeles. Most importantly, I realized that writing was in my blood—there was no avoiding it. So after a long and difficult summer in Newburyport Massachusetts, I was ready to move back to LA—for good. Just before packing my car up for the long ride west, I booked an early reservation at Tony’s restaurant for my sister and I.

Just blocks from Harvard University’s campus, Craigie Street Bistrot is a tiny place that requires patience in finding. Located on a side street in the basement of an unassuming brick building, the dining room of Craigie Street Bistrot is smaller than many of its well-heeled customers’ living rooms.

Chef Tony creates his menus daily, based on what is available from local purveyors and farmers. This is no little feat, considering the fickle New England weather and harsh winters Massachusetts suffers. Regardless of the season’s bounty or limited availability of anything beyond tubers and squash, Tony never fails to find inspiration for his ever-changing daily menu. Even when snowstorms strike and crops fail, his market fresh dishes are so delicious and thoughtful, diners often forget they’re in a small (albeit homey) and nearly windowless basement dining room.

His dishes engage the eater to try something new. House-Cured Greek sardines with
preserved lemons and pickled peppers challenge the typical fish and chips eaters while meat lovers are given a chance to experience a little snout to tail eating with the Organic Smoked Hangar Steak with
bone marrow, smoked beef tongue ragoût, shiitake mushrooms, foie gras onions, parsnip purée. To finish, there may be a mind bending Verbena Ice cream or bruleed Warm Sweet White Corn Grits with hazelnuts and dried fruit compote.

Beyond being delicious, Tony’s food is political. In the dead of winter he refuses to succumb to the urge for ripe tomatoes flown in from Chile and finds inspiration in what is available. Tony’s commitment to stay faithful to local farmers across Massachusetts and neighboring Vermont and New Hampshire not only supports local agriculture in the most difficult months, but also helps to quietly educate his customers about sustainable agriculture and cooking only with fresh and seasonal produce.

Intelligent Cooking

Beside the numerous awards Tony and his restaurant staff have won, one of the most inspiring thing about Tony and his staff at Craigie Street Bistrot is their unyielding commitment to responsible dining and intelligent consumerism. Tony not only cooks great food, but he’s actively engaged in a political and philosophical way of cooking that goes beyond just local eating. Tony creates his seasonally driven dishes from local ingredients that have been raised responsibly and with the greater good of the environment and the eater in mind. Tony may not be the first chef in America to think that local and seasonal cooking is the only responsible
way to run a restaurant (thanks Alice Waters), but he is a powerful spokesperson for responsible consumerism in agriculture.

If you don’t believe me, just read Tony’s thoughtful and intelligent response to a disgruntled customer here. Most chefs are passionate, but few are as thoughtful, political or philosophical about food. With so much about the global economy seeming to be beyond an individual’s control, it’s good to see someone take a stand for a local food economy.

Dream big and make a plan

Now that I’m in my thirties, where I stand in the world makes a whole lot more sense. I know who I am, what I want and what I care about. Despite the years and the thousands of miles, it’s amazing to realize Tony and I actually still share a lot in common. We are political eaters. We love food and are committed to creating great dishes that are not only flavorful but are socially respectful of local agriculture.

By deciding what we eat, or where we eat, we let our dollars do the talking. To quote my new favorite author Michael Pollan, political eating really can make a difference. “At least in this one corner of your life, you will have begun to heal the split between what you think and what you do, to commingle your identities as consumer and producer and citizen.”

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Discovering Torbato


I believe eating and drinking to be a kind of journey. It requires attentiveness and observation. Beyond physical fulfillment, eating can lead to the discovery of unique flavors, myriads of textures and the gathering of cultural insights.

Culinary adventures can happen at any moment and occur in the most unexpected of places. And when I do have a great culinary discovery, I feel the exhilaration of a world explorer claiming a small (albeit valuable) new territory. Which is exactly how I felt when I discovered the delicious flavors of Torbato, a supremely rare white wine varietal native only to a small plot of land in Sardinia.

Thought to be imported by the early Greeks and the Catalans in the sixteenth century or a native, ancient grape of Sardinia, Torbato has almost completely disappeared from the winemaking scene. Wine making powerhouse Selle & Mosca, however, plan to change all that. As the sole owners of land that still produces this truly rare and delicate grape, the wine makers hope to popularize this little known grape and bring its delicious flavors to wine drinkers beyond the little island of Sardinia.

Grown in Northwest of Sardinia, Sella & Mosca’s Torbato is briefly aged in oak for six months and bottled under the name “Terre Bianche.” This rare, straw yellow white wine offers surprising aromatics of hay, grapefruit zest and almost earthy petrol notes of a German Riesling. The flavors are crisp, refreshing and dry like a wet, flinty Vermentino– perfect for seafood, poultry and light pastas. Torbato is a good wine and serves as a fascinating link to Sardinia’s somewhat mysterious vinous past.

I found this wine on line at Wine.com and, if you live in the Hollywood area, you should try a refreshing glass of Torbato at a lovely new Italian restaurant on Hollwood Blvd. (near Cahuenga) called Melograno. Chef Alberto Lazzarino’s Italian menu is both rustic and elegant.

Beautiful and approachable, this Hollywood eatery feels like a secret getaway from the hustling boardwalk populated by star-struck tourists, the well-heeled and the homeless. This intimate Italian restaurant offers delicious Italian fare that appeals to the timid and the adventurous. The wine list offers many great deals as well as amazing finds like the Torbato we tried. We enjoyed perfectly cooked asparagus with a porcini mushroom ragu (a sort of creamy mushroom sauce), cheese fondue and quail egg—a perfect dish for Torbato! For our entrée we enjoyed a delicious white barramundi with a pomegranate and Arneis gastrique as well as a deliciously succulent Cornish game hen. Melograno is a perfect location for any culinary explorer.

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Taste of Spring: Favas


When I shell peas, any kind of fresh bean in a pod, I am instantly transported back to the early days of my childhood. Pop open a pea pod and that sweet, almost green smell brings me a vivid sensory memory of the old farmhouse we once lived in and the lush vegetable garden my mother lovingly tended by hand. When I sat down in front of my television the other night to peel six pounds of fresh Fava beans (also known as an English “broad bean”), I was immediately transported to my days as a make-believing six year old, sitting cross-legged on the screened-in porch, shelling a bowl of peas.

While a caught up on my Tivo’d recordings, I snapped the tiny green caps off the end of my Fava bean pods and, recalling the same wonder I felt as a child, I zippered open its belly with the pod’s center “string”. Once inside the pod, I was like a child observing nature’s ingenious design. I marveled at the white spongy material that held the tender beans in place and protects them from harm. Curious, I popped a fresh Fava from the shell and put one in my mouth. The flavor made me cringe a little as I discovered that fresh Fava beans are too bitter to be eaten raw. Considering how long it takes to shell a fava bean, it’s a good thing that the beans’ fresh, green, earthy flavors are just perfect for short cooking time.

Many chefs cook young, fresh Favas in the pod while others recommend shelling the beans and cooking them in salted water for salads, side dishes and purees. After an hour of shelling, I decided upon a recipe that was not only extremely easy to prepare but also something uniquely original. In a city filled with fava bean purees and fava bean salads, it was rather refreshing to find a decadent dish such as this.

The following recipe from the Silver Spoon is sure to please the adults at the table, along with curious six year olds with a hankering for shelling fresh peas.

FAVA BEANS IN CREAM
Adapted from the Silver Spoon cookbook

3 pounds Fava beans, shelled
1 cup heavy cream
2 oz Fontina

Cook beans in salted water for 10 minutes. Drain the beans and then tip into a skillet. Add cream and simmer gently for 10 minutes, or until thickened. Stir in fontina and cook until it is just starting to melt.

Serve immediately.

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The taste of Spring: Ramps


In New England, Spring is a colorful and dramatic turning point to a long and blistery tale about the hardships brought on by snow. When Spring arrives in the east, states that spend most of the year draped in snow are suddenly part of delightful show of color. Yellow daffodils and triumphant purple crocuses make a cameo. Green buds, sprouting from tree limbs, steal the scene.

But here in southern California, where temperatures linger in the 70’s for most of the year and flowers bloom year round, the shifting of seasons is so subtle, it takes more than just the eyes to observe the nuanced shift to Spring. Beyond the obvious wardrobe changes of its inhabitants—shoes are shelved for flip flops, shorts replace pants, miniscule dresses take over for floor length skirts—the real signs of spring in southern California can only be tasted.

One of the first flavors of Spring–sweet, pungent and earthy– is offered by the short lived ramp. This leafy, wild green closely related to onions (and lilies!) offers robust flavors akin to garlic and sweet onion, for a brief handful of weeks at the beginning of Spring.

The tear drop-sized bulb of the ramp is sweet while the delicate leafy greens hold intensely pungent flavors of sweet onion and garlic. It’s a perfect vegetable for a fast sautée in olive oil or a brief flash of heat from grill. At the Santa Monica farmer’s market, the “ramp man” suggested pickling the bulbs and grilling the greens on the BBQ.

My good friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet described a delicious bruschetta, she once had at a Lower East Side restaurant that had nothing but “prosciutto butter and sautéed ramps”. Anxious to recreate this recipe, I hurried home and prepared this recipe.

Sauteed Ramp bruschetta with prosciutto butter
Serves four

5 slices of proscuitto. (I used just two slices short of a full package of sliced proscuitto from Trader Joes.)
1 teaspoon butter
1/4 pound of ramps (about 12 ramps)
1 small baguette
a splash of olive oil
Maldon sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Delicately wash the ramps. Dry on paper towels. Remove the roots of the ramps from the bulbs. Sautee the ramps in a tiny amount of olive oil for about 2-3 minutes or just until the leaves have wilted. Turn off heat and lightly drizzle with salt and a quick turn of the pepper mill. Leave the ramps in the pan to keep warm while you throw the sliced prosciutto into a food processor with a pat of butter. Blend until you have the consistency of a creamy, pâté-like spread.

Slice, then lightly toast the bread. Spread a thin layer of prosciutto butter on the warm bread and then top with the ramps. Note, you may want to cut the ramps into quarters or bite sized pieces before putting them on the bread, in order to make the bruschetta easier to eat.

Serve immediately.

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Friendly Advice: Great cheap date restaurant


Los Balcones del Peru
1360 Vine St. (between De Longpre Ave. and Afton Place)
LA, CA 90028
323 871 9600

The friend: David, Sommelier/Manager

The advice: “If you want to save some money and have a great dinner, you’ve got to go to Los Balcones Del Peru and order the ceviche and steak.”

Were it not for the striped, brown awnings and the exact street address scrawled on a piece of paper, one might easily pass by the hidden Peruvian restaurant, Los Balcones del Peru. Just one block south of the bustling corner of Sunset and Vine, Los Balcones del Peru is a perfect pre- or post-movie meal at the Arclight Theater.

The dining room is disarmingly simple for a culture known for its brightly colored textiles and golden Incan gods. The space is sparsely decorated (a couple of carved-wood candle boxes hang from a wall) and black, pin-cushion styled booths found often in retro diners, line the perimeter of the dining room.

The food here is fresh, full of flavor and is incredibly appealing for meat and seafood lovers alike. Familiar flavors of garlic, cilantro and lime are present in many of the dishes, along with unfamiliar tastes like potato-like yucca and meaty Peruvian Corn.


Lime-soaked seafood ceviches are a popular starter at Los Balcones. We tried the Camarones a La Piedra ($12.75), a sunshiny-yellow shrimp “ceviche” that came out warm. The dish had a generous helping of moist shrimp served with the tails on, swimming in a lime juice and a slightly spicy aji amarillo sauce with Yuca, moist Peruvian corn and an impossible to stop eating lime-marinated julienne of red onion.

The warm southern California weather inspired us to order the Choclo Con Quezo , an ancient breed of Peruvian corn that has oversized kernels (the size of marbles) and are filled with a fascinatingly dense, semi-sweet corn meal. The dish is served with a delicious side of dipping sauce made from cilantro, lime and garlic and cubes of a South American style of feta.


We shared an entrée of Tacu-tacu Con Bisteck a La Parrilla ($11.50), a deliciously earthy, charbroiled steak served with the tasty lime soaked red onion julienne and a dense and comforting mash of re-fried Peruvian beans mixed with rice. Reminiscent of a skirt steak fresh off the bbq, the tacu tacu begged for a good dousing of the garlicy green sauce and a crisp Peruvian beer.

Los Balcones del Peru has a number of delicious beverage options, including crisp, Peruvian beers (all $4.00).

Cristal is a light and fresh beer and Cusqeña is a light, smoky-sweet malt lager. The non-alcoholic Chicha Morada ($2.00), is a deliciously sweet and floral drink made from an infusion of red Peruvian corn, fruit juices and spices.

The first of many visits, Los Balcones del Peru is the perfect spot for Arclight movie goers and hungry, Hollywood Farmers Market fanatics alike.

Los Balcones Del Peru on Urbanspoon

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Nan's Iced Tea Recipe

Breezy
Have you ever studied a photograph for so long that the image was transformed into a living memory? In my memory, family snapshots play back to me like short documentaries. Thanks to a tattered album I studied as a child, I have what seems like a vivid memory of my stylish grandmother–the year hovering some where in the 40’s–on the day she married my grandfather.

Granted, I have a very active fantasy life. I am a writer. My job is to engage in daily games of make believe.

My grandmother is the bride and cousin Anna's grandmother Mary is on the right
My grandmother is the bride and cousin Anna's grandmother Mary is on the right

But just this week I found my imaginary memories of family were jarred into a new kind of reality when I met for the first time, a long lost cousin. She’s the daughter of my grandmother’s sister, and, it turns out, is blessed with all of our family’s best features. My cousin Anna is, without a doubt, a living representation of the elegant women of our family. She is a living memory of elegant days past. Anna, like our grandmothers, is smart, opinionated, creative, and supremely intuitive. And, it turns out, she’s also obsessed with food.

So when she asked me if I had our great grandmother’s recipe for Iced Tea I almost wept with joy. I had forgotten that my family lives on not only through photos but also the recipes they leave behind.

Beyond being my great grandmother Nan’s recipe, this is one of the most delicious iced teas I’ve ever tasted.


Nan’s Iced Tea

6 cups of water
5 black tea bags, English breakfast, Earl Grey or Lipton
1 cup sugar
6 lemons, 1 for slicing the rest to be juiced (1 cup needed)
5 small tangerines, 1 for slicing the rest to be juiced (1/4 cup needed)
1 bunch of mint
Plenty of ice cubes

Boil the water. Take off heat and add tea bags. Let steep for 15 minutes. While waiting for tea to steep, juice all but one of the lemons and tangerines. Be sure to keep one lemon and tangerine for garnishing. Once tea is finished steeping, remove the tea bags and add sugar to the warm tea. Stir until the sugar dissolves. Put citrus juice, mint, sliced lemons and tangerines into a large pitcher. Add the sugared tea to the mixture, stir and chill.

Serve over ice. Garnish with fresh sprigs of mint.

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Pesciolini in Scapece


How could something this simple taste so good? Typical Roman home cooking, this is a simple, rustic and incredibly savory dish that’s great on bread. It takes a day to marinade, but when if you make it the night before you’ll have yourself one AMAZING lunch!

Pesciolini in Scapece:
Marinated Fish with Vinegar and Mint
From Mario Batali’s Molto Mario

4 to 5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
1-2 cup of white wine vinegar. Start with one cup and if it cooks down too much, add more!
¼ cup all purpose flour
2 to 2 ½ pounds small fish such as sardines or smelts, cleaned, scaled and heads removed.


In a small sauce pan, combine the garlic, mint and vinegar. Bring just to a boil over medium-low heat. Reduce the heat to below a simmer. After several minutes, take off the heat and leave the aromatics to steep in the vinegar.

Spread the flour on a plate and dredge the fish lightly through it.

In a 10-12 inch sauté pan, heat ½ cup olive oil over medium-high heat until smoking. Add the fish in batches and cook, turning once until golden brown and just cooked through.

Transfer to paper towels to drain.

Discard oil and wipe out the pan. Add the remaining ½ cup oil to the pan and set over a very low heat to warm. Be careful! You are just WARMING the oil—not getting it hot!

Strain the vinegar into a small bowl, reserving the garlic and mint. Layer the fish in a glass or ceramic dish just large enough to hold them. Distribute the reserved garlic and mint over them. Combine the warm vinegar and warmed oil and pour over the fish.

Cover the dish and refrigerate for 2-3 days. Serve slightly chilled or at room temperature.

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How to gut a fish


There’s a certain amount of fearlessness required to do anything unfamiliar. Faith helps, especially when facing an impressively difficult task. Steve Martin, the well-known grey haired comedian/writer (“well excuuuuuuuse me!”) says in his recent memoir “Born Standing Up” that naivite is the single most important trait required for anyone about to do something truly difficult. Pure, bright-eyed innocence of what trials are awaiting them is what is needed in order to protect the individual “from knowing just how unsuited [they] are for what [they] are about to do.”

And so it is with prepping, gutting and eating a whole fish.

When it comes to cooking, you have to be a little fearless, a touch naïve, and full of faith that your efforts will result in something good—and hopefully—something really delicious. There’s only so much research you can do. Not every task has a clear set of rules. Sometimes you just have to wing it.

Which is exactly what I did last week when I went to the market and was dazzled by the beautiful, clear-eyed whole fish on display. I never hesitated selecting a pound of whole sardines and two glorious, whole branzino from the shaved ice. It didn’t matter I had never cleaned a fish myself. I had faith that I could figure it out.

In all my years of working in restaurants, I’ve seen hundreds of fish scaled, cleaned and filleted. I’ve watched cooks throw whole fish onto their cutting boards and deftly use their knives to slice through the skin to reveal the tangerine flesh of salmon and the milky white meat of snapper. I’ve noticed how the back of a knife could be used to peel scales from the delicate skin of the fish. I’ve heard the percussive thud of fish head after fish head, hitting the side of the rubber garbage bin. So when I got home with my fish I figured just how hard could cleaning a fish be?

Back home in the kitchen, I immediately went to work. I washed my hands, ripped open the fishmonger’s paper packages and admired my bounty. The fishes’ tiny eyes shone bright and their silvery scales glistened in the kitchen light. I marveled at their fresh, clean smell. When I was good and ready to say goodbye to the pristine natural state of the fish, I took out my Knife Skills book and scanned its pages for tips on gutting.

Plenty of information is to be had on how to fillet (the left handed and right handed versions are beautifully illustrated), but to my surprise, Knife Skills doesn’t see the need to mention the fish gutting step. Feeling up to the challenge, I took my one good chef’s knife and pointed its tip into the belly of the first sardine. The knife barely pierced the fish’s delicate flesh, indicating that I had learned my first valuable lesson in gutting a fish.

1) Sharpen your knife.

After a good once over with my knife sharpener, I was ready to slice into the belly of the sardine. It was simple enough, running the knife along the belly to reveal the center cavity. Inside, the contents were easy enough to remove with the gentle swipe of a finger.

Gutting the whole branzino (whole black bass), however, offered to be a tad more difficult. The branzino, though much more hearty and therefore easier to work with (i.e. was more forgiving to my novice gutting skills), required scaling. Going from memory, I used the back of my knife to lightly push the scales back and off the fish. As I washed the skin under the sink’s cold water, I felt the skin with my fingers to find what spots I missed.

When it came time to gut the fish, self-doubt began to creep in. My husband is a perceptive man (and also a fifteen year restaurant professional) and took the opportune moment to give me some sage words of advice gleaned from a former employer, Michael Cimarusti, the well known chef/owner of the sea-food driven restaurant Providence. “Michael used to say that gutting a fish is easy” Hans told me in practically a whisper. “The fish’s meat stays firm and while the rest just slides away.”

I took a deep breath, let my sharpened knife slide through the thin layer of skin. Once inside the internal cavity, the organs did just as Cimarusti said they would. The liver, stomach and kidneys slipped onto the cutting board without a struggle. I rinsed the cavity to make sure I had removed everything and nothing unnecessary remained.

2) Let the fish release its insides to you

Following a very simple recipe from Mario Batali’s Molto Mario cookbook, I lightly seasoned the inside and outside of the fish, drizzled it in olive oil, and cooked it for three minutes on each side under the broiler for a total of 12 minutes. When done, the meat is moist, sweet and unbelievably delicious.

Of course, the real adventure of preparing a whole fish begins when you eat it. There are no rules. Whole fish, like lobster, is an incredibly rustic meal that appeals to meat foragers and people who aren’t afraid to get a little messy at the dinner table. Fingers are good instruments to find the bones, but depending on your dining environment, eating with your hands isn’t always possible. Regardless, care must be taken when eating a whole fish. Remove as many bones as you can–in one grand, head to tail gesture is always fun—but be sure not to throw away the head! The cheeks are one of the most delicious parts of the fish!


Mario Batali’s recipe for Branzino alla Griglia:
Grilled whole black bass with onions, olives and red chard

Makes 4 servings
Two 2-pound black bass (branzino), cleaned and scaled
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
1 cup Ligurian black olives. I used one jar of Mediterranean olives from Whole Foods
2 pounds red Swiss chard, *trimmed and cut into 1-inch wide ribbons.
Grated zest and juice of one lemon
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup olive paste
2 lemonds cut into 6 wedges (for serving)

*trim the leaves of the internal stalk of the chard but make sure to save these pieces for the recipe! To create 1 inch wide ribbons, roll the trimmed leaves up like a cigar and cut horizontally against the rolled up greens.

Preheat grill or broiler. Heat a 12-inch sauté pan over medium heat, and add ¼ cup of the olive oil. Add the onion and cook until wilted, about 2 minutes. Add the olives, chard, lemon zest and the juice. Toss until the chard is wilted, about 3 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and cover to keep warm.

Season the fish inside and out with salt and pepper. Brush with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Place on grill or on a cooking sheet under the broiler for 3 minutes on each side, for a total of 12 to 15 minutes. Cook until cooked through yet still moist.

Just before serving, reheat the chard (if necessary). Place the
fish on a large serving platter, arrange the chard around the border, and serve immediately with the olive paste and lemon wedges along side.

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Pesciolini in Scapece


How could something this simple taste so good? Typical Roman home cooking, this is a simple, rustic and incredibly savory dish that’s great on bread. It takes a day to marinade, but when if you make it the night before you’ll have yourself one AMAZING lunch!

Pesciolini in Scapece:
Marinated Fish with Vinegar and Mint
From Mario Batali’s Molto Mario

4 to 5 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
1-2 cup of white wine vinegar. Start with one cup and if it cooks down too much, add more!
¼ cup all purpose flour
2 to 2 ½ pounds small fish such as sardines or smelts, cleaned, scaled and heads removed.


In a small sauce pan, combine the garlic, mint and vinegar. Bring just to a boil over medium-low heat. Reduce the heat to below a simmer. After several minutes, take off the heat and leave the aromatics to steep in the vinegar.

Spread the flour on a plate and dredge the fish lightly through it.

In a 10-12 inch sauté pan, heat ½ cup olive oil over medium-high heat until smoking. Add the fish in batches and cook, turning once until golden brown and just cooked through.

Transfer to paper towels to drain.

Discard oil and wipe out the pan. Add the remaining ½ cup oil to the pan and set over a very low heat to warm. Be careful! You are just WARMING the oil—not getting it hot!

Strain the vinegar into a small bowl, reserving the garlic and mint. Layer the fish in a glass or ceramic dish just large enough to hold them. Distribute the reserved garlic and mint over them. Combine the warm vinegar and warmed oil and pour over the fish.

Cover the dish and refrigerate for 2-3 days. Serve slightly chilled or at room temperature.

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Bread rises, Hope falls


Despite a minor win, the 1999 and 2005 gold medal winning American team has lost its gold medal ranking to the French in the 2008 Baking World Cup competition.

Team France ended its 12-year losing streak when it rose to the top with its high scores in three out of four categories of bread baking. The French dominated with their authentic light and crusty baguettes, elegant Viennese pastry (yeasted sweet bread) and an elaborate bread masterpiece dedicated to the female form in an haute couture doughy outfit. The American team won the Pastry competition, but the sweetness of their high scores was not enough to overcome the bitterness of walking away without even a single medal. Bakers from Taiwan finished second and Italy won bronze. The two-time winning American team and 2002 Japanese champions finished without any medals.

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Gettin’ me the Zankou


Zankou Chicken has been on my mind a lot lately. Call it an unhealthy obsession or a fast food craving flare up—whatever it is, I’ve suddenly become inflicted with the need to eat some take out hummus and chicken. Fast.

It all started when I drove by the original Zankou Chicken on Santa Monica Boulevard on my way East to Silverlake Wines a few weeks ago. As I spotted the classic red and black sign in a non-descript mini-mall, my sensory memory was flooded with the exotic tastes of Zankou Chicken. I could taste the tart pickles, moist chicken, creamy hummus, nutty Tahini and the soft bite of the velvety garlic paste even though it had been years (seven to be exact) since I had been to a Zankou. When I discovered my husband had never tasted the food, our fates were sealed. We were going to Zankou sooner than later.

Just last week, Hans and I were able to take a leisurely mid-day break and head east for an inexpensive lunch at Zankou Chicken. For those unfamiliar with the Middle Eastern fast food chain, Zankou Chicken is a Lebanese and Armenian family-run restaurant specializing in fresh ingredients and spit fired meats. Their mission, according to their website, is to serve fresh ingredients and authentic family recipes at an affordable price to their customers.

And serve great food for a low price, they do. For less than ten bucks you can get a soda and a Chicken Tarna plate with the works: marinated and flame-broiled chicken, sliced up and served with pita bread and sides of tahini, oil and paprika-topped hummus, fresh radish pickles and a side of their famous secret garlic sauce*.

For $8.50 there’s the Shawerma plate: marinated, spit-fired beef sliced up and served with all the fixings. For anyone looking for a great meal for a low price, Zankou chicken is an excellent find.

Zankou Chicken
1716 S. Sepulveda (Santa Monica and Sepulveda)
310.444.0550

*For a great description of what people have gone through to find out the ingredients of Zankou Chicken’s secret garlic sauce (and get the behind the scenes information on the “Zankou murders”), be sure to read this months’ Los Angeles Magazine.

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The Bakery World Cup


For many foodies, watching sports hardly ranks as a favorite weekend activity. Unless, of course, one counts the hours spent on the food network cheering competitive cooking shows like Iron Chef, Hells Kitchen and Top Chef.

After three long years of waiting, the Olympics are back. (No, not that Olympics.) The Bread Olympics, or the Coupe De Monde De Boulangerie, begins tomorrow in Paris. From March 29th until April 2nd, twelve international teams representing the worlds finest bakers will enter the heat of the battle at Europain to see who will bake the greatest breads in the world. In just eight hours, three team members from each of the 12 participating countries, must compete in four specific categories of baking:

Bread (baguette and specialty bread making), Viennese pastry (sweet, yeast risen pastries), Savory (sandwiches and savory rolls) and Artistic Presentation (artistic masterpieces based on country symbol). Organization, teamwork, degree of difficulty and team member competance will all be deciding factors in the judges’ voting.

The American Team, coached by bread maven and La Brea Bakery founder, Nancy Silverton, is this year’s gold medal defending champion. The American team, sponsored by the Bread Bakers Guild of America), consists of Chicagoan Peter Yuan, owner of La Patisserie P , Solveig Tofte, Baker/Chef of Turtle Bread Company in Chicago and Dara Reimers a baker and Pastry arts graduate of Notter School.

Go Team!

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Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe


Getting to know a place eventually requires a trip to the market. Step into a local  market and discover valuable cultural information, right there on the supermarket shelf. City markets filled with ready-made convenience food show a wholly different snapshot of daily life than the mom-and-pop corner store with a deli counter and an aisle of mismatched necessities.

It wasn’t until I started frequenting farmers’ markets that I really started to understand just how different California was from Massachusetts. Back east, vegetables were named simply: potato, lettuce, corn. In Massachusetts I never thought of varietals, hybrids, heirloom, and organics. But at the markets of California, I saw fruits and vegetable I’d never heard of. I experienced produce that tasted more real than anything I’d experienced before.

Suddenly, a tomato wasn’t just a tomato. An orange could be any number of different things.

After scanning cookbooks in search of the perfect ending to a culinary celebration with my friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet, I found Suzanne Goin’s recipe for “Creamsicles” and sugar cookies in Sunday Suppers at Lucques. Before thoroughly reading the recipe, it was easy for me to conceptualize the dessert. I would serve sugar cookies with a bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with freshly squeezed orange juice. It wasn’t until I actually read the recipe that I realized I was about to enter into uncharted citrus territory.

Continue For an Incredible Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe »

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Mind-blowing candy


Fleur de sel caramel

Boule Bakery
408 N. La Cienega Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90048

It’s amazing when something so small and seemingly insignificant can push your day in an unexpected direction.

A good-looking stranger smiles at you and puts a spring in your step. You find a twenty-dollar bill on the sidewalk and suddenly feel flush with cash. You get an unexpected message from a friend and suddenly you’re in your car alone and laughing so hard you’re nearly crying. And then sometimes, you take a bite of a single ingredient and inspires you to make a journey across the world.

Such is the case with Boule Bakery’s Fleur de sel caramel. Small and life-changing, a single bite of this buttery, salty, crunchy candy makes me want to pack my bags and move to the Northern shores of France. The simple and balanced flavors of browned butter, caramelized sugar and sea-side salt come together in this tiny little candy to create a sublime treat that costs only a dollar a piece.

This isn’t a rip-your-fillings-out-of-your teeth kind of caramel. This is a soft, mouth watering, real-deal caramel that’s painstakingly made from fresh ingredients by master pastry makers. And priced at a dollar a candy, this mind-blowing, sugary morsel is totally worth every penny.

And don’t just take my word for it. Oprah, queen of all things great, named this caramel the “finest (she’s) ever come across.”

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Spring has sprung (out west, that is)

Growing up in a place so close to the sea, every winter was brutal. White winters lingered for months and months and the Atlantic winds constantly slapped our faces with air so cold that pink-red rashes appeared on our pale cheeks every time we stepped outside. As the winters waned, slush appeared–a thick snow mixed with salt, sand and dirt—and soaked our clothes in less than a second if we had the misfortune of touching it.

Eventually, we kids all knew, winter would end. The slush would melt and prove once again that grass really could stay alive under a mammoth snow bank and that streets were made of black pavement and not grey ice. We anxiously awaited the firs sign of spring to peel off our parkas and watch icicles melt.

For me, the first sign of spring was the first bloom of bright yellow daffodils on the still snow-covered lawn. Then, it was the coming of the fearless crocuses that grew despite the inevitable, life-ending cold snap that would always come. Though the days grew warmer, it would be months before the local gardens would be ready to produce any fruits and vegetables.

June would be the first month for our local road-side market stands to open with a lean offering of peas, beets and spinach. In Massachusetts we would have to wait for the sweltering days of summer until the U-Pick strawberry farm or pick your own apple orchards would let us come in and fill our bags with produce. Some kids longed for summer camps while I craved plump, juicy strawberries fresh and warm from the sun-drenched earth. Now that I’m all grown up and living on the west coast, I’m happy I don’t have to wait that long. Thanks to the amazing southern California climate, strawberries (juicy and in an abundant flavors and styles) are available already. So are blackberries, blueberries and gorgeous citrus fruits.

Going to the Farmer’s market is wonderful, but if you are like me and miss the childhood glories of picking the fruits and vegetables yourself, there is an organization that wants to make that a little bit easier for you.

Thanks to my friend Leah at SpicySaltySweet, I’ve just learned about the wonderful organization, Eat Well. In conjunction with Sustainable Table, Eat Well, a free online directory of thousands of family farms, restaurants, markets and other outlets that offer local, fresh and sustainable food in the United States and Canada, creates a guide to the seasonal foods that are available in every state. Just click on this and you’ll find a listing of the foods that are in season in your area.

For Southern Californian’s like me, you might be interested in going to Pickyourown.org to get up to date information on what farms have available and what local farms allow people (and kids) the chance to pick their own produce. PickYourOwn.Org also has lots of tips on canning, pickling, and how best to prepare for a day of picking.

Thanks to my new favorite website, I’m looking forward to a day trip to a strawberry field for a day of picking!