Culinary Muse

I Break for Chocolate

A few years ago I read about a woman in the south of France who was celebrating her 105th birthday. When asked what she attributed her long life to she replied that she ate a piece of chocolate everyday. Perhaps the antioxidant properties of chocolate had a direct effect on her physical well being. I am guessing that the sheer pleasure derived from enjoying something delicious everyday gave her the will to live on and on and on. While I may not want to live to be 105 years old, I do make a habit of having something chocolate every day for the great pleasure it gives me. Now that the weather has turned colder my chocolate of choice is a cup of thick, rich, dark hot chocolate. Served mid morning in a lovely china cup and saucer. Sometimes I toast a sweet French baguette (La Brea Bakery) to dip into the thick, pudding-like drink. I have made my own from scratch but now that there are so many great hot chocolate mixes available made with premium ingredients, I say 'why bother?'.  Especially if you are taking your break at work where there is only a microwave oven to heat up your mug of milk.  In that case I would heat the milk to simmer.  Add the dry mix, stirring well.  Return to microwave for another minute.  Stir and let sit for a minute or two to thicken.

My favorite hot chocolate this month is Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolate:Cocoa Noir available from Cocoa Bella Chocolates. They also carry a spicy version which I will try next time. If you live out of town you can order on-line. The shop on Union Street is lovely or visit their new location in the Westfield San Francisco Centre which opens tomorrow!

Shopping Synchronicity

The stars in fashion heaven aligned themselves today during lunch at the Rotunda Restaurant in Neiman Marcus. The cameras flashed and we were off and running. Lucky for the Muse, she was lunching with W who knows who all of these folks are at a glance. He faced east and gave a running commentary on who was arriving with whom. (I need a copy of my Nob Hill Gazette or Paper to place the faces with the names). Denise Minnelli Hale was the first to arrive looking as divine as usual. Then Ralph Rucci and James Galanos strolled in followed closely by Vanessa Getty. That was on one side of the dining room. On the other side, we had Miuccia Prada’s brother pacing back and forth talking on his cell phone. Why so many fashion folks gathered in San Francisco? We are guessing that it has something to do with the grand opening of the new Bloomingdale's next week. And what better place to lunch than the very grand, over the top dining room of the Rotunda. Good food, beautiful interior, nice view, strong cocktails.

HOW YOU CAN TELL IT IS FALL IN SAN FRANCISCO

Okay, so we don’t have forests full of trees turning all shades of amber and gold. But we do have the following:

Indian Summer: Just when you thought you could wear the new cashmere turtle neck under the plaid jumper, it turns 80 degrees. Enjoy it by having a mid week picnic in Golden Gate Park. Stop at Andronico’s on Irving Street for huge sandwiches and a couple beers in a plain brown bag to go. When? Now.

NEW NEIGHBORS

So what is it with these huge black crows? It really is like something out of Hitchcock’s The Birds. I first noticed them in 1998. Bob, our Boxer, was 3 months old. We were walking in Huntington Park on Nob Hill and he came to a dead stop. His ears went back and his shoulders hunched up as he slowly lifted his head to peer up into the sky. I looked up and saw a crow flying low, in circles. Odd, I thought. I had never noticed a crow in the neighborhood. And odd, I thought, because Bob was clearly disturbed. Did he know something I didn’t? Had he been carried away by crows in a previous life? Were we about to be carried away? I flashed on Suzanne Pleshette. The chain smoking, depressed, sweater-set wearing spinster school teacher, Suzanne Pleshette, wasting her life away in Bodega Bay, only to be pecked to death by a flock of maniac crows. Should I start singing ‘knick, knack, paddy-wack, give your dog a bone..."? Should we flee for our lives? Where were my Camels?

The Power of a Warm Apple Crisp

Dear Readers: Below is a reprint of an article I wrote in September 2001 for the on-line zine SPACE, part of enokiworld.com.  It is still pertinent today.

In the September 26, 2001 New York Times, Stephen Jay Gould wrote a wonderful editorial entitled "A Time of Gifts". He talks about the rescue effort at the World Trade Center and the power of "Twelve, warm, apple brown bettys". Read it here.

It reminded me, yet again, of the power of food. The power to comfort and the power to connect. I encourage you to have a meal with family and friends this week. And be sure to eat out at least once. Our colleagues in the food biz need your help right now. If you want your favorite restaurant to be around next month, you need to visit them tonight. And leave a big tip - they will love you for it.

MY LAST FIX

I have a confession: I am a thrift store junkie. And like all hard core junkies I am always in search of my next hit. But a satisfying hit is harder and harder to find these days. I blame it on the re-sale shop phenomena which we all know are just pawn shops with a more respectable air and chintz curtains. Don’t get me wrong. I have been overjoyed to score my fair share of Chanel skirts and Stephane Kelian shoes at these stores. Items that without the financial incentive to their owners to part with them, they would probably never have left the closet. But the thrill of the chase is missing when I enter a re-sale shop. I feel like I am stealing heavily cut hard rock candy from a baby. The merchandise has already been pre-screened by the owner whose taste I am now subjected to. No chance of uncovering a vintage 1930s Harlequin costume while I am pawing through the color coded racks. Or of discovering a mis-marked Scottish Cashmere sweater for $10.

Sweet Smell of September

Did you feel it this morning? That cold nip in the air? The Muse is rejoicing as this is my absolute favorite time of year. I am sure that it has everything to do with the new school year beginning which always brings the promise of possibilities even if I am not in school anymore. And the air always smells a little different in September. I can still remember the sweet smell of cooked tomatoes that would waft over the playground of my elementary school from the Del Monte Canning Plant miles away in Oakland. That sweet smell combined with the smell of fallen leaves decaying on the ground bring me complete bliss. Add a touch of cinnamon, nutmeg and pumpkin and I am in heaven. Smell is your longest sense memory. And this morning I smelled Autumn.