'Frisco Fatty

This weekend, I'm in San Francisco with some old high school friends to celebrate a birthday.  Oh, and Halloween.  What a horrible holiday. 

The food scene in SF is a funny thing for me to approach. I grew up frequenting the city so I've got a number of favorite haunts here.  I always want to try something new, though. One of my good friends - who happens to be as impulsive, glutinous, and perpetually hungry as I - lives here now, so the food game is always on.  

A16 has been on my list for a while now.  The warm lighting makes for a great date spot.  We were seated in the more casual wine bar area, bedecked with cork tile walls (kind of odd, but good for touching if you've got an attention deficit).  From my seat, the dining room looked rustic and elegant at once.  Ivy grew freely up some walls, reaching over tables topped with starchy, white cloths. There was garlic in the air.  

Our waitress approached and I immediately knew I liked her.  She was of the old-school service variety: ready to learn our likes and dislikes, pair wines with our food selections, and describe the food in enough detail that I could visualize the plate in its entirety before placing my order.  Here’s the road she lead us down:

Carpaccio of yellowtail jack with roasted friarelli peppers and calabrian chilies. Thank you, waitress, for telling us we needed to get the chilies on the side. We would not have been able to taste anything else had we ignored this advice. 

Pickled beets with watercress, hazelnuts and grana padano.  Not particularly inventive, but satisfying in the way I knew it would be.

Local albacore conserva with dried fava puree, bitter greens, garlic and oregano croccantini. Read: olive oil cured tuna on top of hummus with crackers for dipping.  Sounded promising, and the fava puree was good, but the tuna fell below the mark. 

Terrina of guinea hen and duck with poached seckel pears and blackberry honey.  YUM.  Probably the best dish to hit the table.  Salty and sweet.  Richness cut with peppery arugula. 

Fall chicories with lemon and salt. Impeccably seasoned and perfectly simple. 

Squid ink tonarelli with sea urchin, tomato, fennel and chilies. Me = not Uni’s #1 fan.  I hesitantly incorporated a small amount of it into the ebony noodles, second-guessing this choice with each toss of the pasta.  The first bite transported me to the ocean. Truly. There was a welcome burst of salinity that could have only come from the sea. I will eat sea urchin again.  

We ended the night at delarosa - nightcap needed for digestion.  

Pickled Beets

Menu at A16

Guinea Hen & Duck Terrina

Today, we set out to buy me a Halloween costume. After shopping our way through the Hait, it was time to eat.  My friend had picked a sandwich place called Naked Lunch, solely based on the first menu item: foie gras torchon sandwich, with duck prosciutto, heirloom tomato & butter lettuce. Even the food over-achiever inside of me shuddered. I heard it.  We would split this sandwich and another (the sweet corn and shishito pepper sandwich, with melted onion, manchego, arugula & english cucumber) so as not to be immobilized.  We do have a party to get to tonight.  

Compromising on the veg sandwich selection (I wanted sandwich #2 to be the skirt steak option) meant a caloric splurge elsewhere: housemade chicharrones. They were light as air and filled your mouth with porky flavor. Their second trick was turning from solid to liquid. And by liquid, I mean pork drippings. They were too much and not enough at the same time. We didn't really stop eating them until every last crumb was gone.  Oops.  Hope I still fit into the costume we picked out this morning.

Foie Gras Sandwich.

Dirty

Lunch for the Funemployed

What was the spark that made me start blogging?  For one, I am unemployed.  Some call it "funemployed" - true at times, however I've found myself twiddling my thumbs more than once in the past couple of months.

A good thing about unemployment is that it has ignited an old flame of mine.  I used to cook often, but I've fallen off in recent times.  Today, I decided to play around in the kitchen.

<Obligatory background info> I am an equal opportunity consumer.  Even if it's something that has garnered a scowl from me in the past, I tend to revisit my list of less favorable ingredients fairly regularly.  As of late, I've been on a mission to combat my lack of fondness for squash, particularly pumpkin and butternut. Seems seasonally appropriate, right?

Earlier, I found myself in a staring contest with a beautifully stacked display of butternut squash.  Each of them sat there mocking me, no doubt:  "You haven't even finished your coffee, there's no way you're gonna take us on today."  I looked one of the judgmental bastards square in the, um, bulb and said to myself "Soup!"  I brought his sister along for good measure.  Also in for the ride: onions, rosemary and heavy cream.

Now, I've had your average butternut squash soup several times and, no me gusta. I would need to add some depth, maybe some spice, and probably that day old loaf of italian bread sitting on the counter.

Here's how I turned myself into a butternut fan:

Soup:
2 butternut squash (about 6lbs), split in half lengthwise, seeds removed
2 large yellow onions, sliced
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
2 TBSP butter
4 TBSP olive oil
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp ground clove
Salt & Pepper to taste

To Make the Soup: Arrange the butternuts, flesh side up, on a baking sheet lined with parchment or foil.  Drizzle with 2 TBSP of the olive oil and season generously with salt and pepper.  Roast for about 45 minutes, or until fork tender.  Remove and set aside.

While the squash is roasting, melt the butter and remaining olive oil in a dutch oven over low heat.  Add the onion, season with salt, and cook slowly until caramelized, about 40 minutes. Turn off the heat and add 1 cup of the stock.  Set aside.

When the squash is cool enough to handle, scoop out the flesh and discard the skins.

Add the squash, the remaining stock, the ginger, paprika & cloves to the dutch oven with the onions.  Using an immersion blender, puree until smooth - about 2 minutes.

Place the dutch oven back on the stove and reheat the mixture over medium-low heat.

Cream: 
1 cup heavy whipping cream
2 tsp Thai hot sauce (Sriracha works)
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp salt

To Make the Cream: Combine all ingredients in a medium mixing bowl and beat with a whisk until the mixture just begins to set.  Do not overmix.  Set aside

Croutons: 
Day old loaf of bread, cut into 1/2" cubes (2-3 cups)
3 TBSP olive oil
1 TBSP fresh rosemary, minced
2 tsp kosher salt

To Make the Croutons: Toss all ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Spread them onto a baking sheet and bake at 400 until browned, about 10-15 minutes.

To Serve: Ladle soup into a bowl.  Top with a dollop of cream and a few croutons.

Ok.  I like it now. 

How it all started...

My very first food memory involves a yellow stand mixer (which has yet to churn out a final batch of dough) and a tawny red, acrylic resin countertop. 70's and 80's babies will be most familiar with this kind of scene. There I sat, half-clothed on the counter, not a day over 3 years old and completely fascinated by the process of cookie making.

"OK, time to add the flour," said my Mom, who seemed to churn out goodies on a weekly, if not daily basis.  "Now, do it sl..."

Too late. I had dumped in the flour and switched the mixer on to "8". Or was it "10"? Either way, the groovy colored worktop was redecorated, flecks of white powder covering every inch of it.

From then on, I would carefully watch both Mom and Dad as they put together meals. The whole cooking thing was messy, and I loved it.

There would be cuts that required stitching and burns that needed ice. There'd also be lots of questions: "What's wrong with the whipped cream?" I asked Mom on my 3rd Birthday, referring to the bowl of almost butter that my Aunt Debbie produced for my cake. The point is, I was fascinated and wanted to learn more, whenever I could.  That's how it all started.

Me, possibly testing whipped cream.