Culinary Muse

STAY COOL WITH PEET'S

How does a wilting Muse stay cool on these too hot days in the City? By drinking tall, cold glasses of Peet’s new Scharffen Berger Chocolate Mocha Freddo. We were introduced to this addictive drink last week at the Coffee and Chocolate Pairing free event hosted by the PEET'S in the Ferry Building and SCHARFFEN BERGER CHOCOLATE. The tasting was led by Peet’s John Reynolds, roastmaster emeritus, and John Scharffenberger. Four separate pairings were offered. Our favorite was the pairing of Peet’s Guatemala coffee with Scharffen Berger’s 62% Cacao Mocha semisweet chocolate. Sublime.

Sign up to receive Peet’s and Scharffen Berger's newsletters where these events are listed. We note that on Saturdays, August 12 and 19 Peet's will be sampling this delicious new drink from 2-4 at all of their stores.

The Muse’s love affair with Peet’s coffee goes back to college days at CAL. Berkeley flipped this suburban white girl’s world upside down. And the flip side of my family’s percolated coffee was a cup of Peet’s sipped on the way to campus. The dark, bitter brew was the magic potion that spoke of other worlds and promised a transformation that only Berkeley could provide. Thank you, Peet's.

BIG NATE’S BBQ

An article in today’s San Francisco Chronicle reminded me that it was high time that I sing the praises of BIG NATE'S BARBEQUE. I met Nate Thurmond over ten years ago when we were both members of the same gym owned by Jim Simpson. The gym was then located in the basement of the Marine’s Memorial Building on Sutter Street at Mason. And what a great, funky place it was. I usually worked out on the men’s side of the gym because the men, who worked out in their underwear, were always nicer than the women who would snarl at me if I was on ‘their’ exercise bike for longer than 5 minutes. Anyway, the men who went to this gym included a retired NAACP lawyer, a judge, a hippy songwriter from North Beach, a musician, an evangelist, a retired FBI agent and a stockbroker or two for good measure. They had all been going there for many, many years. That is where I met the jazz musician Vernon Alley. He would tell me great stories about Billie and Carmen and Ella and Sarah as I sweated on the Stairmaster. He introduced me to Dinah Washington's music and her ‘Blue Gardenia’ CD. Another interesting man named Robert told me that you could always tell someone from Los Angeles (this would have been during his downtown days in the 40's through 60's) because the men did not wear hats. Take that, LA!  Back to Nate. We started ordering home delivery of his barbeque in 1996 and still do today. Our favorite is the ‘Memphis Pork Dinner’. Pork shoulder is slowly smoked until it is tender and falling to pieces. The pork ribs are great, too. Mr. Culinary Muse loves their coleslaw.  I love their potato salad.  It took me a long time to understand the purpose of the slices of brown wonderbread. Now I stuff them with morsels of smoky pork bits and nibble away as sauce pours down my hand past my wrist along my arm to my elbow.  Elbow licking good!

Mr. Weil, Fantasia, Blums and me

It was one of those marvelous life moments when you realize that all the stars, moons and planets have somehow aligned themselves in your favor.  There I was, sitting with Ernest Weil and his charming daughters, sipping tea and eating his famous Florentines and Almond Macaroons which he had baked just for us.  A little background: Mr. Weil is the man who created the Coffee Crunch Cake and he is the man who founded FANTASIA BAKERY in San Francisco.  When I wrote an article a few months ago entitled "Blums, Where are you?" I was contacted by one of his daughters, Sandy.  She was pleased to tell me that he was writing a cookbook which would be out in the Spring, 2006.  I had to meet this legend.  And I did.  An appointment that was only scheduled to last one hour was still going strong three hours later.  Only a previous engagement tore us away.  I am so honored to have been in his company for this time and to hear him share the stories of his emigration from Germany, his time in a French orphanage, his education at the Cordon Bleu and his arrival in America.  His is the story of so many of our own grandparents fleeing for their lives from Europe with only the clothes on their back. With luck a guardian angel lends a helping hand once they arrive in this country and then their own hard work that resulted in great success. 

The cookbook is now available through the website LOVE TO BAKE COOKBOOK.  It is a must for anyone who wants the original recipe for Coffee Crunch Cake, Florentines and great stories about San Francisco's beloved Fantasia Bakery.

CUPCAKES ARE THE PUPPIES OF THE FOOD WORLD

They oohed. They aahed. The cable car conductor exclaimed (I never use the word ‘exclaimed’ but there is no other way to describe it) that he was sure there were enough for everyone, didn’t I think so? When I presented the tray to my friends they shrieked with delight. What could evoke such spontaneous glee? A Baked Alaska? A two story high souffle? A serving of flaming crepes Suzette? No. Just a tray of cupcakes. White cupcakes in heart patterned paper cups topped with pale pink frosting and sparkles to be exact. Nothing that I thought was particularly brilliant culinary-wise but apparently I was wrong. Witnessing this response immediately reminded me of the days when our Boxer dogs were puppies. Take a puppy anywhere and you will not be alone for long. You could be dressed as the Grim Reaper and people will drop to their knees in front of you to play with a puppy. People will do the same thing when presented with a cupcake.

I have been aware of this cupcake phenomena for a few years now and am surprised that it has lasted as long as it has. I have tried a couple of the most au courant versions, organic no less, from very good bakeries and found them dry and flavorless. So what is it exactly that people are reacting to if not the taste? A fond childhood memory of room mothers baking a batch to be distributed during the Valentine’s Day party? Perhaps. The appeal here goes beyond the concept of comforting food. People do not giggle when a plate of macaroni and cheese is placed in front of them. A cupcake is about the compact cuteness of something that fits into the palm of your hand that does not require a fork and knife and will sometimes even be dyed pale pink or blue. Not culinary brilliance but maybe folks don’t need food brilliance in their lives. What people seem to be craving is whimsy and silliness and a chance to shriek with delight over a simple pink cupcake.

DUNGENESS CRAB AS AN INALIENABLE RIGHT

"What is it with you people and Dungeness crab for Christmas Eve?" asked our friend E, a transplanted Chicagoan. Well, along with the other rights promised by our Bill of Rights, we San Franciscans understand that there will always be fresh Dungeness crab available to us, once the season officially opens. So imagine the shock waves that moved through the city on December 23 when our fine fish purveyors had to get on the phone and inform many hosts and hostesses that there would be NO DUNGENESS CRAB available. The weather had been too rough for the boats to go out. One friend was informed that she had a better chance of winning the LOTTO than of finding a fresh Dungeness crab that day. Ever resourceful, she called down to Mrs. Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf and bagged the last four crabs they had. This crab saga continued through New Year’s Eve. Only 1,000 crabs were delivered to the entire city of San Francisco and only 100 made their way to the SAN FRANCISCO FISH COMPANY in the Ferry Building Marketplace. These were distributed in the most democratic fashion. Folks on the Christmas Eve waiting list were given first right of refusal. Hard to imagine anyone refusing.

The Muse decided not to partake of this holiday feeding frenzy. Instead we have waited until today. We called our favorite seafood shop, SWAN’S OYSTER DEPOT, and were told that they will be getting their delivery this morning. We reserved our crab for pick up this afternoon. And we are ready. The newspaper has been spread out on the kitchen table. This is what we dump the crab on to. One big bowl is ready for empty shells, one small bowl is ready for the Best Food’s mayo and one small plate at each place for the crab meat. You can tell a lot about a person by watching them eat fresh crab. There are the ‘eat as you go’ folks who stuff the sweet crab meat into their mouths as fast as they extract it from the shell. There are the ‘clean a little, eat a little folks’ like the Muse. Finally, there are the ‘don’t eat one bit of crab until they have cleaned the entire crab’ folks. Never marry someone like this. They are stingy and they gloat over their amassed crab fortune. They eat alone because everyone else is done.

The Best Hot Chocolate

I have your best interests at heart. I am still trying to find the best hot chocolate in San Francisco. Well, I had a great one the other day at TOWN HALL. Served in a large cup with a side of whipped cream. $8.00. Well, still cheaper than a flight to Paris.

Of course, if I could be anywhere in the world right now tasting chocolate it would be with David Lebovitz on his Chocolate Tour of Italy. Check it out!

Recipes: I'm a fool for you Kendall Farms Creme Fraiche Strawberry Fool

“Kendall Farms Crème Fraiche is the paradigm of crème fraiche.” Thomas Keller, The French Laundry, Per Se, Bouchon

If you have made it all the way through the April 2005 issue of SAVEUR magazine on ‘American Artisanal Cheese’ you will have read about the remarkable Sadie Kendall (page 50 and 51).   Sadie Kendall made the first artisanal cheeses in America.  She now makes, in my opinion, the best crème fraiche.   

Kendall Farms Crème Fraiche has a fresh flavor with a slight acidity that results in a bright taste.  The texture is velvety smooth.  Amanda Hesser in The New York Times described it as “all silk and cream with a delicate hint of hazelnut”. It is the food of angels.  But it is also a real kitchen workhorse.  Because of the fine emulsion that Sadie is able to achieve, this crème fraiche does not break at even the highest temperatures.  Chefs use it to make pan sauces.  Hollandaise broken?  Whip in some Kendall Farms Crème fraiche and it comes right back.

Next Thursday, April 14, Sadie and I are going to be teaching a class about her crème fraiche at Andronico's in Danville, California, from 6:30 to 9:00 p.m..  As of this posting there were still a few spots available. 

In the meantime, enjoy this lovely Fool, from the French verb 'fouler', to crush. Only very ripe strawberries please.

KENDALL FARMS CRÈME FRAICHE STRAWBERRY FOOL

From The Crème Fraiche Cookbook by Sadie Kendall (out of print)

1 cup Kendall Farms Crème Fraiche

10 large strawberries, stems removed

6 to 8 tablespoons white sugar, to taste

4 heaping teaspoons brown sugar

1. Using a fork or pastry blender, mash the strawberries with the white sugar.

2. Place 4 tablespoons of crème fraiche in each dessert dish.

3. Top the crème fraiche with the 2 tablespoons of mashed strawberries.  Swirl strawberries into the crème fraiche, but not completely

4. Top each dish with 1 heaping teaspoon brown sugar.  Serve at once.

Serves 4

Sadie likes to warm the fruit-sugar mixture and serve it over a mound of cold crème fraiche.  The contrast of the warm fruit and the cold, velvety denseness of the crème fraiche is another ‘dimension of pleasure’.

Ode to Starbuck's New Hot Chocolate 'Chantico'

I used to love to hate Starbucks.  I fancy myself a Peet’s gal.  From my first cup of real coffee in college at Berkeley, Peet’s has been my only coffee of choice.  Then one day I was stuck at an airport in the Midwest with five hours between planes.  I really wanted an espresso but I thought the chances of even getting a decent cup of black coffee were small.  That was the first time that Starbucks saved the day.  The second time was in Hawaii.  I was staying at a luxury hotel on Waikiki beach.  I discovered that the breakfast served on the lanai of the hotel was a prix fixe $35.00 buffet.  Who could eat enough food at 7:00 a.m. to make it worth it? A Starbucks two blocks away provided a great alternative with its island themed coconut lattes and bagels.  Then just last spring I made my annual pilgrimage to Los Angeles via Highway 5. The pale brown swill that I purchased at the pink stucco oasis ‘Harris Ranch’ got tossed out of the window after my first sip.  Now what?  Three more hours on the road and no caffeine?  I drove on and within an hour found a Starbucks at the foot of the Grapevine.  Drive thru, no less.  What is all this chatter about Starbucks leading up to?  On Saturday I went to a charity event that included ‘goodie bags’ at each seat.  One of the ‘goodies’ was a coupon for a free cup of Starbuck’s new hot chocolate called ‘Chantico’.   I tried it this afternoon.  Forget the dumb name.  All you need to know is that it is a six-ounce serving of deep, rich, thick hot chocolate.  Delicious.  A perfect afternoon ‘pick me up’. Try it…

March 16, 2005 update: I was told by a nutritionist yesterday that one serving of Chantico (6 ounces) is 600 calories!  Wow!  In other words, staying home with my feet up on the couch eating a donut is better than walking the five miles a day I usually walk while drinking a Chantico.  I have to give this some thought......

March 18, 2005 update: Daniel was kind enough to send me the actual nutritional info: 390 calories, 21 grams of fat and 51 carbs per six ounce serving.  Thanks, Daniel.

An Ode: Valentine’s Day Ode to the Dove Bar

I had my first Dove Bar in 1986 in NYC.  It was June and I was hauling heavy artist’s portfolio cases in and out of cabs. It was humid.  Being from San Francisco, I had no idea what this humidity thing was all about. I was sticky and hot and my panty hose clung to me like Saran Wrap. Yes, we all wore panty hose then. On my last day of meeting with too many, too cool for their own good Art Directors and deranged Art Buyers (all wearing black, may I add), I was trying to hail a cab on Madison Avenue when I noticed that a crowd was forming on the corner behind me.  Apparently, a guy was giving out free frozen food.  A ‘Frozen Novelty’ to be exact.  Every time the guy thrust his hand into the freezer to pull out the novelty all I could think of was how nice it would be to put my head in that freezer. Not for a long time.  Just long enough to cool off, but not long enough for the police to arrive. 

I snapped out of it when I saw what was being given away.  The biggest hunk of chocolate covered something I had ever seen on a stick.  At least three times as big as an Eskimo Pie.  ‘The size of a baseball glove’ is how my husband describes it.  I dragged myself, along with the now detested albatross portfolio cases, over to the line and grabbed one. After I let it set on top of my head for a minute or two (look, I was hot, and after five days in Manhattan I had stopped caring how provincial I looked), I peeled off the white wrapping and bit in.  I cracked through a thick layer of perfect ‘melt on the tongue’ chocolate which coated an even richer creamy vanilla ice cream.  I finished the entire bar, smacked my lips and was ready to find out where to buy my next one. 

It took a while for the Dove Bar to arrive in SF.  The first ones were the same size that I had had in NYC, huge, packaged three to a carton.  Then somewhere along the way the Mars folks figured out that Americans perceive value in quantity so they packed them four to a carton but made the bars at least 25% smaller.  On this Valentine's Day we are having Dove Bars for dessert.  Two bars for each of us.  One for each hand.