tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79963314503414650342024-03-05T16:25:19.468-08:00The Warmest Room In The HouseStevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-29319370799592983512011-04-19T18:59:00.000-07:002011-04-19T18:59:41.110-07:00The Joy of Not Cooking - The Atlantic<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/05/the-joy-of-not-cooking/8442/">The Joy of Not Cooking - The Atlantic</a><div><br /></div><div>I've been so focused on the next book that I forgot that people are still interested in the last book (and the namesake of this blog, btw!) </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a nice little blurb taken from <i>The Warmest Room in the House </i>in this insightful article by Megan McCardle in the current issue of <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>. Enjoy!</div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-61299972264970509872011-04-13T11:14:00.000-07:002011-04-13T17:10:39.011-07:00The Not-So-Great Gob Easter Egg Hunt, Or Flying Turkeys & Other Marketing MishapsFirst allow me to start by apologizing to everyone who tried to order <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.foodzie.com/mystery-box-1.html">a Gobba Gobba Hey Easter Box</a> in the past few days only to get caught in a tech tangle of bad links and "out of stock" notices! I felt your frustration, and the blame is ultimately mine. If you're wondering what happened, I can start by answering "A lot!" But allow me to say that it all seemed like a good idea at the time. (Cue flashback swirl and dramatic musical interlude <a href="http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:1MWmRFoH6tMJ:www.soundrangers.com/index.cfm%3Ffuseaction%3Dcategory.display%26category_ID%3D530+harp+flourish+sounds&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us&client=safari&source=www.google.com">here</a>. Might I suggest "harp flourish number 5?")<div><br /></div><div>Easter was fast approaching, and my latest gob box was in need of a theme, so turning the monthly Gobba Gobba Hey sale into a high tech Easter Egg Hunt not only sounded clever, I also decided it was a good way to effectively reduce anxiety for everyone on Team GGH. Besides, with <a href="http://sanfrancisco.giants.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=sf">the Giants back at home plate</a> and with <a href="http://www.efile.com/tax-day-deadlines/">tax time looming</a>, there were too many things competing for my clientele's attention. I figured that in order to get my customers to act I had to give them more incentive to buy, or at the very least I had to entertain them in the process. So, what if, I thought, in the spirit of the holiday's most famous game, I created an online treasure hunt? The Easter Gob sale would, like a classic <a href="http://www.bayareaonthecheap.com/bay-area-easter-egg-hunts/">Easter Egg Hunt</a>, have an element of surprise, and even an air of adventure! People always love a good game, right? Right...? <div><br /></div><div>Wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><div>It all started off well enough. After a few promo emails, I sent out a message alerting my customers that the Easter gobs were finally available, but - and here was where the "game" came into play - I added that it might take a little extra effort to find them. Orders began coming in almost immediately. In brisk succession, email confirmations filled my inbox, one right after another after another after another and so on.... only to stop as quickly as they began. Silence followed. I hit refresh and made sure my mail program was working properly. Nothing. I logged into my gob mail account. Crickets chirped. Tumbleweeds rolled through. No signs of orders, anywhere. After a few hours of puzzling inactivity, first one, then two, then three, then four emails arrived from rightfully-frustrated customers who were a little irked at initially being unable to find the <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.foodzie.com/mystery-box-1.html">Gobba Gobba Hey Easter Gob Dozen</a>. Adding to their irritation was the fact that once their browsers successfully loaded the link to my gob store, they received notification that the box was no longer available. "Out of Stock!"</div><div><br /></div><div>As I quickly worked to right the wrongs, I thought of what <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Marketing-Dummies-Alexander-Hiam/dp/0764556002">a text book example</a> I had created in how <i>not </i>to sell one's wares. Not only did I make it almost impossible for my customers to order from me, I led them into a store that was also filled with other products to purchase when their attempts to support my business no doubt failed. I couldn't help but think about the classic "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ST01bZJPuE0">WKRP In Cincinnati" Thanksgiving Day Turkey Drop episode</a>. </div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Lesson learned! </div><div><br /></div><div>Again, my apologies to you all, and thank you for your continued support!</div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-14163698011843556612011-03-01T04:38:00.000-08:002011-03-01T05:10:04.536-08:00A Different Kind of March Madness!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0USq8TWznsUEyGIMESQdmXAbdbt-LeDbiwQ6NLV5cJ9Ki_tmAo_PFRBeVT8wOM8hDqNC-2I22WY9tIKq1RuLKRa9FYOrZ4_8ml5Clw93B24OGo6t7EKA5DBX0U64K4kRKGbfyDEF6Hk/s1600/20110228-Gobba-Gobba-Hey-1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0USq8TWznsUEyGIMESQdmXAbdbt-LeDbiwQ6NLV5cJ9Ki_tmAo_PFRBeVT8wOM8hDqNC-2I22WY9tIKq1RuLKRa9FYOrZ4_8ml5Clw93B24OGo6t7EKA5DBX0U64K4kRKGbfyDEF6Hk/s320/20110228-Gobba-Gobba-Hey-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579092618657793506" /></a>Here's a little teaser for the Gobba Gobba Hey St Paddy's Day Lucky Dozen Gob Box I'll be offering later this month! The box will consist of three flavors including the following; four Irish Coffee Gobs fueled by Green & Black's Organic Cocoa (also known to Gobsters as my weapon of choice) with some nice smoky espresso and a frosting of Bailey's & Whiskey; four Chocolate Gobs with Vanilla Guinness Frosting; and - because I couldn't offer you a St Patrick's Day selection without including something green - four of the Matcha Green Tea Gobs with Lemongrass Ginger Frosting. <div><br /><div>Interested? Of course you are. There is a limited supply of these, and I know they are going to go quickly. I suggest reserving them now. Send an email to gobbagobbahey at gmail.com to reserve yours. Shipping, 2 Day via Fed Ex on March 15th, will be handled through <a href="http://foodzie.com/">Foodzie.com</a> as always. I'll let you know when the store goes live. Local delivery, on March 16th, will be handled by yours truly. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>I know that Lent begins on the 9th, but maybe some extra prayers to St Patrick, asking for an extra week of indulging, will result in lenience, if not an outright intervention, on your behalf!</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Once again, the talents of <a href="http://www.junbelen.com/">Jun Belen</a> shine. Many thanks for the incredible photographs he has taken of Gobba Gobba Hey's Gobs. </i></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-384744282245683402011-02-23T15:53:00.000-08:002011-02-23T18:31:43.389-08:00From Tray... To Truck?<div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNWCdJJTmf4NC_kv2YzLb1LFuQppBALCS4eGMUstdBHrfaZ6lDbiFvxapAyomOUekuw1ZZNL751AJOSkbLBSE3T5JsfEOBaoZaDTyK_RDnPn7I-fAMMMrDg9m61HahwzV-OJDj64zxhI/s200/Steven-Gdula-SF-Street-Food-Festival-low-res.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577040268381604402" /></div>We all have our elevator pitches, those thirty second self promos that explain who we are and what we do. Default bios, they usually contain just the facts with one or two catchphrases that define our attitude, if not our intent, when a stranger asks "So, what is it that you do?" <div><br /></div><div>My own bio in the past two years explained that I was a "food-writer-turned-baker," with a reference to the recession, the new wave of San Francisco street food vendors out of which my business grew, and my self-described position in that scene as "a no cart kinda guy in a big cart kinda town." </div><div><br /></div><div>I said it so much that it became a motto as well as a mantra. I never had a cart, a canopy or even a folding table. I sold my goods from a tray. I kept a cooler stocked with more gobs within arm's reach so that I could replenish my supply when it dwindled. Conducting sales in this manner was cheap and manageable, and as far as health department regulations were concerned all I really needed to prove was that my product was baked in a commercial facility and transported and stored at a safe temperature. Aside from shipping and delivering by the dozen, I built my business - and Gobba Gobba Hey's reputation - selling one gob at a time off of that white plastic tray. I never imagined selling any other way. Baking a handmade product was time-consuming, and unless I hired a staff, there was no way I could possibly scale up enough in production to even concern myself with selling more than a couple hundred gobs at a time. Plus I had a book to write. Between meeting my manuscript's deadline and a maintaining a busy baking schedule, my batter-gooped hands were full enough, thank you.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I reacted with a bit of surprise and a bit of amusement when, in discussing book signing events for <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gobba-Hey-Gob-Cookbook/dp/1608194787/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1">Gobba Gobba Hey: A Gob Cook Book</a></i>, my publicist from <a href="http://www.bloomsburyusa.com/">Bloomsbury</a> informed me that a few bookstores "were excited for [me] to bring The Truck." </div><div><br /></div><div>Immediately I asked "Truck!? What truck? I don't have a truck..."</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't have to wait for an explanation, though. I surmised what had happened. In hearing that I was one of the graduates of The Streets of San Francisco's Vendor Class '09, it wasn't too much of a stretch for bookstore owners to assume I had some sort of vehicle out of which I sold my wares. Despite my attempts at telling my tale - see reference to my motto above - stories can take on a life of their own. The origins of <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.com/">Gobba Gobba Hey</a> certainly had. </div><div><br /></div><div>In an instant an idea I hadn't previously considered started to seem, well, not only possible... it started to seem appealing. I heard myself say, "But that doesn't mean that I couldn't have a truck by the time the book came out."</div><div><br /></div><div>And there it was. With that sentence, I was on the road to putting myself, and my gobs, behind the wheel. </div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8j0kY2BdukYjlKkhVRC5BX-ScYimyd72MF-p4cpw_9Virih0EyQSNgaQHAMsklZtqeSHsKE4qpWiT_Wx9eZAfCkgusPTlYbqTS6NFO8cnvRFJewFeP-UxFRVfcC6T57m7vkMUwlFDnQ/s200/IMG_0955.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577059581842555538" /></div><div>If you're asking wait wait wait, what about not having a staff, not being able to scale up, and all that business about being a "no cart kinda guy in a big cart kinda town," well, I have an answer. Or I hope to find an answer, here, in the coming months. My goal? To have a truck by the time my book comes out at summer's end so that I can roll into these signing events in style. </div><div><br /></div><div>The search is underway. I have taken to excitedly scrolling through online ads, and after one or two false starts last week, I took a look at a 1991 Chevy Step Van this morning. After my trusty mechanic asked all the right questions, I took the beast for a spin. Actually, it was more like a lurch. Twenty feet of truck turned out to be more machine than I could manage.</div><div><br /></div><div>But that's what this is all about. I hope to chronicle the process here. The plan right now is simply to have a truck for promotional purposes. Wrapped in the new book's cover art, it will be a rolling billboard from which I can distribute gobs. As for securing the proper permits to sell from a truck, well, that's something I hope to document here as well. No doubt it's a prohibitive process. Let's see. Let's go for a ride. I've already got <a href="http://www.foghat.com/">Foghat</a> cued up on my iPod. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>A quick note of thanks to the lovely and talented <a href="http://www.junbelen.com/">Jun Belen</a> for allowing me to use the photo at the top of this page. Also, there is now a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gobba-Gobba-Hey-Gobs/200762646603911">Gobba Gobba Hey Facebook page</a>. It's just sort of sitting there right now, but I promise it will be a little more exciting. Soon.</i></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-71221128309470110412010-09-01T17:03:00.000-07:002010-09-01T18:15:58.164-07:00It's All Fun And Gobs Until Someone Has A Book Manuscript To Finish. Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6l-fCzGSNoI54QEi31pim7atcpuPJ6eFBAZ5953NIC3PS3YTTFp58uTXKx55eDr37H1q4zbaSOedSF5KR-FDbBGadaQdEez_Sx2j1TIRkcUYOMXRmk4EtqqNRwP34_8i4ObiIO3EQFE0/s1600/IMG_1205.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6l-fCzGSNoI54QEi31pim7atcpuPJ6eFBAZ5953NIC3PS3YTTFp58uTXKx55eDr37H1q4zbaSOedSF5KR-FDbBGadaQdEez_Sx2j1TIRkcUYOMXRmk4EtqqNRwP34_8i4ObiIO3EQFE0/s200/IMG_1205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512100389205323026" /></a>To paraphrase <a href="http://www.quotationspage.com/quotes/Fran_Lebowitz">Fran Lebowitz</a>, book manuscripts aren't like book reports. You can't finish them the night before they're due. <div><br /></div><div>So, what have I been up to, you might be wondering, if I haven't been busy putting the spit and polish on my current book's last few pages? A lot, actually, as this rare-self-approved photo to the right will testify. I'll get to that in a sec, but can I just say that while it's <i>always </i>flattering when someone <i>wants </i>to take your photo, the resulting images can sometimes be, decidedly, <i>not</i>. (Impromptu pix shot by the lovely and talented <a href="http://blog.junbelen.com/">Jun Belen</a> not included.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So. It's been another fun gob-filled summer here in San Francisco as street food festivals and all around street eat hijinx ensued. When I wasn't standing in front of the 20 quart Hobart, I was seated behind the laptop. On a few fine days in June, friend and fellow food writer <a href="http://twitter.com/SFoodie/status/21944027968">Tamara Palmer</a> and I packed up our rigs and drove down the coast to drink booze-laced coffee and work and write from the stucco-sided perch known as the Moss Beach Distillery. As we tapped away at our duties on our respective Macs, I told her I was fantasizing that she was Joan Didion to my John Gregory Dunne, coast side in Malibu, circa 1976. Geographics, subject matter, politics, and orientations aside, of course. The only thing that was missing from the scene was our matching Royal typewriters, <a href="http://http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fleetwood_Mac#Transitional_era_.281970.E2.80.931975.29">Fleetwood Mac</a> on the soundtrack and some, well... Hmm. As memories now serves, seems we had everything we needed.</div><div><br /></div><div>What else has been going on? Well, a little thing called Off The Grid that started at Fort Mason in early July had turned into a big deal by month's end, and in August, <a href="http:///www.lacocinasf.org/">La Cocina's</a> much maligned <a href="http://www.sfstreetfoodfest.com/">Street Food Festival</a> from last year came back and this time around showed everyone where the wolf shit in the buckwheat - to use one of my Dad's favorite expressions to describe silencing the naysayers and <i>nudrugs. </i>(That is Slovak for, "pants," but as best as I can translate it as my Dad intends it, it refers to someone who is a stick-in-the-mud. For now I'll just say it's all in his delivery and move on.) So, yeah, lines were a little less long at the La Cocina gig, but the food was just as good, maybe even better as numerous other vendors were added to the event's menu this time out. (See photo above, ahem.) And then there was the reprise of the <a href="http://eatrealfest.com/">Eat Real Festival</a> in Oakland where several very kind people wished us well on surviving the legendary first year in business. My favorite comment though came from the guy who said "Last year you were walking around holding a tray of your gobs. This year you've graduated to your own booth. Congratulations!" (Fair is fair, and I have to give thanks as well as some love to <a href="http://www.sfweekly.com/bestof/2010/award/best-roaming-barbecue-1983667/">Good Foods Catering</a> and <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/23/business/smallbusiness/23twitter.html">The Creme Brulee Cart</a> for helping out with logistics in the case of both of those events.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Now that my "What I Baked On My Summer Vacation" recap is over I should get back to the business at hand and finish this book. Versions of the cover art have already been coming into my inbox. Phone calls about serif versus san serif fonts, and the use of color (and photos) are now in progress. My wonderful publisher and editor at <a href="http://www.bloomsburyusa.com/">Bloomsbury USA</a> are doing their parts, so I need to step up and deliver mine. </div><div><br /></div><div>All of this of course has to happen just as summer has finally arrived here in the Bay Area. So if I'm not on the grid, look for me pool side, somewhere, wrapping up the rest of my manuscript as if I were back in third grade, retelling why <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Fern-Grows-Wilson-Rawls/dp/0440412676">"Where The Red Fern Grows"</a> made me cry. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-13491795446885927432010-05-05T09:17:00.000-07:002010-05-05T11:47:33.369-07:00Spicy Kale Slaw: Old Salt, New Flavor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaQztVB8IHvT-odvt2qZTp4GQ4ssEnJrvHEhMu5WXYIOyOUM72MqG_q-R5AmW8i88ydiHP_CasRYmVZAcPlnUXsfWdP3TDBFP3il4rRDdo-1zuFfnNpOe55wTT0L3H_pg_nITI6trLbA/s1600/IMG_1077.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaQztVB8IHvT-odvt2qZTp4GQ4ssEnJrvHEhMu5WXYIOyOUM72MqG_q-R5AmW8i88ydiHP_CasRYmVZAcPlnUXsfWdP3TDBFP3il4rRDdo-1zuFfnNpOe55wTT0L3H_pg_nITI6trLbA/s200/IMG_1077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467821987935584162" /></a>If you had told me earlier this year that I'd be writing not one, but <i>two</i> posts about celery salt within a few months time, I would have told you to step away from your Don Draper DVDs. I hadn't used celery salt in years. Aside from some kitschy retro appeal, I couldn't see the point of having the green seasoning in my kitchen. With so many incredible sea salts and finishing salts not to mention fresh herbs now available, celery salt was one of those vestiges from a by gone era that seemed quaint, but unnecessary. Its attraction for me was based in nostalgia, not in an actual recipe. But then I came across an exceptional product in the <a href="http://foodzie.com/blog/topics/test-kitchen/">Foodzie Test Kitchen</a>, an organic version of celery salt made from organic dried celery leaves that was simply called <a href="http://allstarorganics.foodzie.com/celery-salt-rosemary-salt-and-garlic-salt-trio.html">All Star Organic Celery Salt</a>. It was, in a word, sublime. A revelation. The surprise was not only in how much I liked this celery salt, but also in my desire to actually look for more ways to cook with it! <div><br /></div><div>After using the celery salt in a <a href="http://foodzie.com/blog/2010/03/test-kitchen-tuna-casserole-all-grown-up/">tuna casserole with edamame and shiitake for Foodzie</a>, I saw an opportunity to put the seasoning back to work in my kitchen when I needed a quick side for rice-flour-and-beer battered cod. I was baking, not frying, the fish, but I still wanted to serve it with a side dish of crunchy freshness. Eyeing the bounty from that morning's farmer's market, I saw my answer in the big crinkled leaves that were poking out of the bags that I still hadn't unpacked. I would make a spicy kale slaw.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I'd been inspired ever since I tasted the spicy cole slaw made by my friend <a href="http://twitter.com/goodfoodscaters">Dontaye Ball</a> of <a href="http://goodfoodsonthego.blogspot.com/">Good Foods Catering</a>, and I was intent on trying to recreate a version of his excellent side dish in my own kitchen. I already had several slaw recipes in my own repertoire that relied on napa or green or red cabbage, but in looking at the crisp, wavy leaves of the kale I'd purchased that day, I saw an opportunity to make something a little different. I got out the cutting board, the knives, and the colander and I went to work. </div><div> </div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeInDuKVSn9ZHJLMH5v_LctqMOZrugA6FNNytGbsCtlKN8S8gNREtKMO-gY1Yul-e2lBSKhapPpcBGxBMk_H1_fsK6_pYEuxEHndNVVcPct9lKbkQ83zLJGTYgfeN_gHBhJ11dUowjEck/s200/IMG_1072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467837208498590578" /><div>Rather than cooking or even blanching the kale, I cut the leaves from their center stalk and then shredded them finely. I wanted these green strips to still maintain their fresh crunch; what I didn't want was for the slaw to seem like it was made from plate garnishes. There was another sensory component I was after: I wanted the thrill of the snap of fresh vegetables that I got with each forkful and bite I took of Dontaye's spicy cole slaw. So in addition to leaving the kale as nature intended, I cut a jalapeno pepper into strips and I allowed its spears to sit in the vinegar dressing for about an hour so that they could quickly pickle. </div><div><br /></div><div>As for the inclusion of the celery salt in this recipe, it not only added a nice nostalgic flavor to the slaw, it also helped with the crispness of the veggies. I'm always happy when a recipe turns out to be quick and enjoyable. The biggest investment, time-wise, in the making of this dish is cutting the kale greens off of their stems. The carrot and apple you can shred quickly using a box grater. Slice the jalapeno carefully if you want long, thin slivers, otherwise chop away. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Spicy Kale Slaw </b></div><div><i>For the vegetables...</i></div><div>4 cups loosely packed kale leaves (about half of a bundle from a typical market sale)</div><div>2 medium sized carrots, peeled</div><div>1 Granny Smith Apple, cored</div><div>1 large jalapeno, veins and seeds removed</div><div>2 TBS fresh mint, finely chopped</div><div><i>For the dressing...</i></div><div>1/2 cup seasoned rice vinegar</div><div>1/2 cup mayo</div><div>2 TBS fresh lime juice</div><div>1 TBS brown sugar </div><div>1 tsp celery salt </div><div>cracked black pepper to taste</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Remove stem, and slice jalapeno in half. Scrape out seeds and veins, and slice into strips. Set aside. Finely chop mint leaves. Set aside.</div><div>2. Pour vinegar, lime juice, celery salt and brown sugar into a bowl. Mix thoroughly. Add jalapeno and mint. Set aside. </div><div>3. Using kitchen shears, cut green leaves from stalks of kale, and then cut into small strips. (If you want to cut the strips down further with the scissors, more power to you. I simply made a big pile on my cutting board and had at it with a knife.) Add kale strips to large bowl.</div><div>4. Core the Granny Smith Apple and then shred on a box grater. Add apple to bowl with kale. </div><div>5. Peel carrots if desired, then grate. Add to bowl with kale and apple. Toss. And toss. And toss, until all of the components are evenly distributed. </div><div>6. Scoop mayo into the bowl containing the vinegar mixture. Whisky thoroughly. Season with cracked black pepper, adding more brown sugar and/ or lime juice if desired. When dressing is mixed well, pour over kale slaw. </div><div>7. Repeatedly toss until dressing evenly coats the apple and vegetables. Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving. </div><div><br /></div><div>Makes about six one cup side servings. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-13856280793231769562010-04-26T09:20:00.000-07:002010-04-26T17:10:36.488-07:00"Is This Ube?" Or, "Steven And The Purple Yam."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrD6XHelbKJ8ayCBXUDWH7-Tq_18apCexObmAruCEFEnteWsHtChzzZyrQb9n2sGnR9fzHERSSJ-uoZB8XTDuIXf1NU0Rb-B7intpdRnQygdOHJfklGOsqjEmR8lWr8pLJ9X10S0P-Z9M/s1600/IMG_1060.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrD6XHelbKJ8ayCBXUDWH7-Tq_18apCexObmAruCEFEnteWsHtChzzZyrQb9n2sGnR9fzHERSSJ-uoZB8XTDuIXf1NU0Rb-B7intpdRnQygdOHJfklGOsqjEmR8lWr8pLJ9X10S0P-Z9M/s200/IMG_1060.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464482921191339314" /></a>There's a much-mangled quote that gets attributed to Abraham Lincoln, that goes something like this: "After a certain age, a man gets the face he deserves." The "certain age" part of the adage seems to change from "forty," to "fifty" to "sixty," depending on how many years are hung on the mug of the person repeating the quote. And, no doubt, on whether they feel the aging process treated them, and their face, fairly.<div><br /></div><div>So as you look at the picture of these gnarly tubers to the right, you might wonder why I'm mentioning that quote. Don't worry. I'm not saying that I think my face looks like a yam. At least not yet. No, I've been thinking about that quote because as a kid I often viewed <a href="http://www.haroldandthepurplecrayontv.com/">Harold, the cartoon figure of the clean spate and crayon-clenched hand</a>, as a kindred spirit. And now that I'm of a certain age, and headed - no pun intended - toward an equally denuded scalp as Harold, I keep thinking about the books which featured him as I have started to color my culinary world with a variety of purple yam called Ube. (That's pronounced "oooh-bay," by the way.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Often used in desserts in Filipino cuisine, ube was something I'd never heard of until I moved to San Francisco. But once I saw it, I was instantly intrigued. Its hue was somewhere between royal blue and a nearly-neon purple, and I saw repeatedly in ice cream. Over time, I became determined to bake gobs with it. When OutsideIn - the monthly event organized by <a href="http://www.soulcocina.com/OSCPages/ChefRogerFeelyProfile.html">chef Roger Feely aka Soul Cocina</a> which takes vendors and food purveyors who ordinarily sell on the street and brings them together, under one roof, for one night - announced it was having a Filipino-themed evening, I knew I had my chance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Finding <i>fresh </i>ube proved to be a bit of a challenge, but I finally succeeded in securing the frozen variety through the magic of Twitter. Guided by the tweets I received from my followers, I discovered whole ube in a market less than a mile and a half from my house. I dashed to the store and saw two varieties in the freezer. The first was a mass of purple pulp, and quite honestly looked like something a phlebotomist would've drained out of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Phantomcomics2.jpg">The Phantom</a>. The second bag held several peeled, but whole ube. Peeled, their oblique cuts and facets made them resemble strange gemstones rather than something that was actually edible, but I hurried home with my loot, eager to try them in my recipe.</div><div><br /></div><div>I prepared the ube as I would any filling that I was going to add to my gob batter. But ube was proving it wasn't just any old gob filling. For one thing, even after boiled down, its starchiness made it quickly coagulate into one gigantic mound. For another, that same tendency for its pieces to become part of a whole again, made it almost impossible to disperse. What I hoped for was a rich, purple batter. When I had, instead, was a gray mix with tiny points of the yam, scattered like drops of violet mercury, throughout. </div><div><br /></div><div>After the first batch failed, I quickly regrouped in my kitchen, and decided the ube would go into the frosting instead. While that approach was more successful than putting it in the batter, it didn't yield that <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002239/">Prince-worthy</a> color I'd hoped for. But when the coconut gob was filled with the ube frosting, the flavor was sweet and exotic. Not only did it taste good, the Coconut Ube Gob ended up looking <a href="http://foodgawker.com/?s=ube&cat=0">foodgawker</a>- and <a href="http://www.tastespotting.com/search/ube/1">tastespotting</a>-worthy, thanks to the <a href="http://blog.junbelen.com/2010/03/29/inventive-filipino-street-food-at-san-franciscos-outside-in-3-event/">skillful eye of blogger and photographer Jun Belen</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6CmkEFusub4KZgcIc5ePWi3AAlTfsg3HMTyUlaaYNFZRpfyuzmfLRBLuyFLowPYInAXxnxjDe43U3kLsW9mHtQOLILd3BrJicZhOHwX3FUnKeVtCTUEXWVBYkkACEVwSfD15Px8p3tU/s200/Outsidein-107-1024x682.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464508040855190322" /></div><div>Having worked with the frozen version, I remained determined to find the real thing, so I was nearly speechless when I saw some of the white-skinned roots sitting in a box at my local farmer's market. My favorite organic purveyor was now carrying them! Holding them up excitedly I asked "Is this ube?" The proprietor of the stall looked at the tubers in my hand and said "That's purple yam. What's ube? I don't know ube." I said "Ube, it's um, it's a purple yam used in Filipino dishes." She shook her head knowingly. "So," she said as she weighed bok choy for another customer, "You have a Filipino wife?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No," I answered, as I turned each ube over, looking for the smoothest specimens possible. "I just like to cook with a lot of Asian ingredients." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh," she said. "So you're one of <i>those </i>guys." </div><div><br /></div><div>I stood up. An awkward silence followed. She exchanged glances with her son and then looked back at me as people within ear shot shuffled their feet, waiting for something to break the tension. </div><div><br /></div><div>"What she means is 'One of those guys who thinks he's Asian,'" her son hurriedly offered.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was more silence, a few more furtive glances, and then big laughs. And finally a discount on my order. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes. I guess I was "one of those guys," I thought. I was happy, and I felt a bit like Harold as I raced home, excited to color my kitchen. The purple possibilities seemed endless. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Many thanks to Jun Belen, not only for his creative eye and kind words in his blog, but also for his generosity in allowing me to reprint his photo of my Coconut Ube Gob. </i></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-6297328587228363242010-04-08T09:39:00.000-07:002010-04-08T10:39:01.395-07:00Testing The Test Kitchen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht80OpvexJTZzlE0FkwKiqoLURP_btLdZp2duWwF8mv8C55p0LvxO73X_AZwhTdCZ0Zd-X0EuUlxL1yaCNjCSyu6MYK21ugwbIpkxAJ10CW9oaGCdMIaIyQmt_Ox1ek4uIPfVpWz1cDWw/s1600/4424786823_674641075a.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht80OpvexJTZzlE0FkwKiqoLURP_btLdZp2duWwF8mv8C55p0LvxO73X_AZwhTdCZ0Zd-X0EuUlxL1yaCNjCSyu6MYK21ugwbIpkxAJ10CW9oaGCdMIaIyQmt_Ox1ek4uIPfVpWz1cDWw/s200/4424786823_674641075a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457810251616847522" /></a>With baseball season getting under way it seems like a good time to paraphrase "Field Of Dreams." Again. I know. I've done it before. But I've often thought about its most famous line - "If you build it, they will come," - as I've posted to this site: After all, if you blog it, they will read. Right? <div><br /></div><div>I think that's the assumption that most of us made when we first started to blog, or put anything on the web for that matter. The simple notion that we'd pecked and poured our hearts out into a template was enough. But that was, of course, the exact same thought held first by thousands and now by millions of others. </div><div><br /></div><div>How do you make your content stand out now? How do you compete for someone's attention on the web, for instance, when there are nearly <a href="http://blog.twitter.com/2010/02/measuring-tweets.html">50 million tweets per day</a>? </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a question that I'm reviewing now. In the past few weeks I've been helping the folks over at <a href="http://foodzie.com/">Foodzie.com</a> add some content to their site in the form of a <a href="http://foodzie.com/blog/topics/test-kitchen/">Test Kitchen</a>. For those of you who don't know, Foodzie is an online grocery store that sells artisan foods. Part of the original plan with the Test Kitchen was to engage visitors to the site. Of course getting them to shop was the ultimate goal - that is what retailers are in business for, anyway - but we also wanted to create a dialogue. By offering people recipe suggestions for different products we wanted to establish a conversation where visitors responded with their impressions, and maybe even shared their own recipes. </div><div><br /></div><div>People loved it! We received excited emails telling us how much they enjoyed the Foodzie Test Kitchen. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was only one problem: Instead of posting their comments on the site, they sent their messages directly to us. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, since most of you are more web savvy than I am, I thought I'd turn to you. I'm including some links to the test kitchen below. If you could, please let me know what you think. On the Foodzie site, por favor. </div><div><br /></div><div>And if you happen to pick up, oh, say, some of <a href="http://mendoseasoning.foodzie.com/mendocino-sea-salt.html">La Mar's Mendocino Sea Salt</a> or some of <a href="http://napafarmhouse1885.foodzie.com/our-persimmon-jam.html">Napa Farmhouse's Persimmon Jam</a>, while you're looking around, well, that would be swell, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here are the links. Thanks in advance! (Photo credit: Courtesy of Foodzie.com)</div><div>http://foodzie.com/blog/2010/03/introducing-the-test-kitchen-playing-with-persimmon-jam/</div><div>http://foodzie.com/blog/2010/04/test-kitchen-pecan-encrusted-chicken-mojito-roasted-beets/</div><div>http://foodzie.com/blog/2010/03/test-kitchen-fig-balsamic-lamb-chops/</div><div>http://foodzie.com/blog/2010/03/test-kitchen-tuna-casserole-all-grown-up/</div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-6442303965106710622010-03-03T08:03:00.000-08:002010-03-03T11:25:15.086-08:00Gobba Gobba Hey in Fast Company<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBN9k2dlhr5A3n0KS94SKBTjGtC2gfPI2-BaMUHHsfGBD6hogHQpeXgDO42c6qkXmI0qyJX9mbaJ8LNv5apgU9Nm2w_HmLkDyfuSFg8wZp918bp19FQo_iWJfGXB1QrJLnN6GFbhQdiE/s1600-h/DSC_0127.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBN9k2dlhr5A3n0KS94SKBTjGtC2gfPI2-BaMUHHsfGBD6hogHQpeXgDO42c6qkXmI0qyJX9mbaJ8LNv5apgU9Nm2w_HmLkDyfuSFg8wZp918bp19FQo_iWJfGXB1QrJLnN6GFbhQdiE/s200/DSC_0127.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444439688795130498" /></a>The first thing you'll probably notice about this entry is the gorgeous picture to the right of this text. If you're thinking "He did <i>not </i>take that pic with his phone," you are right. All credit goes to Emily Olson, co-founder of Foodzie.com . The next thing you might take note of, depending on the frequency of your visits to this site, is the brevity of this entry. That too, is courtesy of Emily. Well, sort of. You see, Emily did such a wonderful job of talking about Gobba Gobba Hey and in particular the Matcha Green Tea Gob, pictured here, in her recent conversation with <i>Fast Company </i>magazine that I'm just going to include the link and end this post. It's kind of like those days when your history professor pulled the blinds and ran a film instead of actually lecturing. <div><br /></div><div>So, here you are. And here you go: <a href="http://www.fastcompany.com/1566132/food-sustainability-with-emily-olson-co-founder-of-foodzie-inc">http://www.fastcompany.com/1566132/food-sustainability-with-emily-olson-co-founder-of-foodzie-inc</a></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-71651744227791534822010-02-03T07:29:00.000-08:002010-02-03T08:39:58.873-08:00Love Is Like A Box Of Chocolates. Or Something.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zMqmuXo8__3lk7OS6xiODxr_r0A-q3Nd4c2RDa_Gh2JojhcMKiUjyEbNpKyw5EWDh6b2hLnUqQ3apjdrsZs8LNDFq-8inukeG437ggfRMPo85nRhWLfPq7cC9NuXU0PrfH1wxbdQ9d4/s1600-h/IMG_0968.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zMqmuXo8__3lk7OS6xiODxr_r0A-q3Nd4c2RDa_Gh2JojhcMKiUjyEbNpKyw5EWDh6b2hLnUqQ3apjdrsZs8LNDFq-8inukeG437ggfRMPo85nRhWLfPq7cC9NuXU0PrfH1wxbdQ9d4/s200/IMG_0968.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434040035297913586" /></a>I hate Forrest Gump. Don't let the title of this blog entry fool you. I am not a fan. Love Tom Hanks. Let me say that now. But if I'm going to read or watch something about how a simple soul is mistaken for a genius, I'll take Kosinski's "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerzy_Kosinski#Being_There">Being There</a>" any day. That's just me, though. <div><br /></div><div>So what does "<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0109830/">Forrest Gump</a>" have to do with chocolate or Valentine's Day or gobs or this blog? Not a lot really. Yes there is that whole "... you never know what you're going to find," gem, but it doesn't hold true in this case because I'm about to tell you exactly what it is that you're going to find in the Gobba Gobba Hey Valentine's Day Gift Box. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll man up and admit that I used that heading simply because the idea of writing something clever about love, gobs, and chocolate resulted in the creation of a big old mental block. A chocolate-covered mental block, mind you, but a block just the same. In trying to think of all of the witty plays-on-words about the most celebrated human emotion, I was stumped. I was reminded of all of the things that love is capable of - Love Conquers All. Love Is Like Oxygen. Love Means You Never Have To Say You're Sorry. Love Will Save The Day. Love Is A Rose.... - yet I came up with an empty page. In this case? Love didn't hurt. But Love did leave me speechless. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I'll let you write your own inscription when you give your beloved this Valentine's Day Gift Box. Like all good things, it's a collection that's meant to be shared, so you'll find two of each of the six flavors inside. It's an all chocolate set, by the way. (And even that fact tripped me up a bit, as I wondered if I should give it a name that tweaked the contents. At one point I thought of something along the lines of "A Chocoholic Sinsation" but thought that mash up was nowhere near as hot as the great name of my fellow Bay Area baking buds, <a href="http:/www.cinnaholic.com/">Cinnaholic</a>. Still, I riffed on it a little. See below.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Without any further rambling, here it is. The Gobba Gobba Hey Ultimate Chocolate Hers & His, His & His, Hers & Hers, or Mine All Mine Valentine's Day Gob Collection! (Good thing I'm not trying to print that title on a label. Whew.) </div><div><br /></div><div>There is a very limited run of these through this site. Please order by 10:00 PM on Friday, February 5th. Pick up is on Friday, February 12th. Stake your claim now. Email gobbagobbahey at gmail dot com. Thirty bucks (because I forgot to figure in packaging for the Christmas collection.) </div><div><br /></div><div>And here they are... </div><div><br /></div><div><!--StartFragment--><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;"><b>Chocolate Covered Strawberry Gob</b></span><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;"> - We’ve made a Valhrona Chocolate glacage, drizzled it over the top of this Valhrona Chocolate gob and then filled the center with fresh strawberries that have been doused with cream and a splash of Prosecco!</span><!--EndFragment--></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:19px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:19px;"> <!--StartFragment--><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;"><b>The Triple X Gob</b></span><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;"> - This gob is a chocolate sinsation! Chocolate glacage covers the chocolatey cake while a chocolate butter cream takes the flavor where no gob has gone before!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:19px;"> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>The Banana Split Gob - </b><span style="font-weight:normal">Bet you didn’t know that the ingredients in a banana split - chocolate sauce, vanilla beans, bananas - also happen to be aphrodisiacs? You’ll find them all in this gob. And don’t worry. We won’t forget the cherry! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;"><b>Chocolate Orange Gob with Hazelnut Frosting </b></span><span style="Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:14.0pt;">- Orange zest livens up this chocolate gob, and Frangelico hazelnut liquor adds a perfectly smooth balance to the butter cream frosting. </span><!--EndFragment--></p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Chocolate Ancho Cinnamon Gob - </b><span style="font-weight:normal">Sweet, spicy and full of sass, this gob will help fire up your Valentine’s Day weekend! The almond paste and lemon butter cream keeps things from getting too out of control. One of our most popular gobs!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Chocolate And Vanilla - </b><span style="font-weight:normal">Chocolate and vanilla are a classic pair, no doubt just like you and your other half! Green & Black’s Organic Cocoa and fresh vanilla beans make this a simple yet sexy confection. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Remember, no substitutes, though kitchen catastrophes could result in a last minute change. Also, no crunchy frogs. (Sorry. How could I write about love from a chocolate box without mentioning <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy6uLfermPU">that</a> or <a href="http://www.marcalmond.co.uk/">this.</a> You might have to click and scroll to find the reference on "this," though. Maybe you'll win a prize if you find it....!) </p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span></span></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-35690786429877718172010-01-12T12:19:00.001-08:002010-01-14T11:41:35.757-08:00The Case of the Mysterious Greens, Or, That's Not What I Smoked<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijO0CvHCtfa-MpAyIlMp6ZW8YTSvzS2iq43t87cxmtv1z-PzBuh11mg69GHJxc4bS-8IPNd7eqeke12YC8eb1WT8mhSiAFuj0xaXWpzhqfSuPwaubHzw9Nug300cYToPqZNqgOJ6c4VFU/s1600-h/IMG_0955.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijO0CvHCtfa-MpAyIlMp6ZW8YTSvzS2iq43t87cxmtv1z-PzBuh11mg69GHJxc4bS-8IPNd7eqeke12YC8eb1WT8mhSiAFuj0xaXWpzhqfSuPwaubHzw9Nug300cYToPqZNqgOJ6c4VFU/s200/IMG_0955.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425950989282536226" /></a>"Dandelions!? These aren't dandelions..." I was looking at the leafy stems sticking out of the bag that Lon had just brought back from the <a href="http://www.localforage.com/local_forage/2008/08/alemany-farme-1.html">Alemany Farmers Market</a>. I shook my head. <div><br /></div><div>"I <i>know</i> dandelions: I've eaten them. I've weeded them. I've smoked them. And I'm telling you, these are not dandelions." </div><div><br /></div><div>"And I'm telling you that the woman who sold them to me said they were dandelions," Lon replied, as I continued to brush the bushy stalks from side to side. I examined the leaves, baffled that someone who knew food would identify and sell this plant as a dandelion, especially since it looked nothing like the jaggy-edged greens I have alternately loathed and loved over the years. </div><div><br /></div><div>As a kid my dad drafted me every summer to do battle with dandelions in our backyard. The weed's ability to adapt to any set of circumstances - how the hell was it growing out of the sidewalk pavers? - made it a formidable pest and robbed me of many hours I could have spent playing with my friends in the nearby woods or swimming at our local public pool. I hated dandelions. But during the summer that I was 13 a certain "someone" convinced me that the leaves of the plant that I'd always viewed as a foe could actually prove to be kind of friendly. Quite friendly, in fact. If they were smoked. Or so I was told. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, several hours of dizziness, vomiting and tearful explanations to my parents later, the weed had returned to being just that again; a weed. As far as I was concerned the only good dandelion was one that had been yanked from its stronghold, blasted with Roundup and then left to die. By the time dandelion greens were served to me as a salad in a restaurant several years later, it was with a little trepidation - after all, I knew what smoking these things did to the body, what would happen if I ingested them - and a bit of vengeance, that I dug in. Instantly bitterness took hold of my taste buds. I looked up, astonished. I had to admit it. I'd just met a dandelion that I liked. A lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>The sight of a small cluster of flowers snapped me out of this revelry. "Here! Look!" I pinched the buds from their stem and held them up for Lon to examine. "See these? These are not dandelion buds." I felt vindicated. "Knew it," I said to myself. I know food. I've written about food. I've eaten all over the world, I thought smugly. I knew these weren't dandelions. Pfft. No one was going to tell me anything about dandelions that I didn't already know. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then, someone did. </div><div><br /></div><div>"They look like they <i>could</i> be a variety of dandelion." It was a text from my friend Sam. When this whole debate started I snapped a pic of the greens and emailed it his way, asking for help in identifying the mysterious plant. I thought if anyone would know, he might. He owns <a href="http://zanninoscatering.com/index.php">Zannino's Catering</a> in Baltimore, a business that was built on the family recipes of his Italian ancestors. And I remembered him distinctly talking one time about the dandelion greens his father used to pick. "Italians adore bitter the way Americans love sweet," his text continued. "Bite into a leaf. The taste should give you your answer." </div><div><br /></div><div>So I did. But I didn't get my answer; where I tasted something slightly nutty, Lon tasted pepper. </div><div><br /></div><div>The mystery continued. I'd also sent a pic to <i>New York Times </i>columnist and acquaintance <a href="http://www.johntedge.com/">John T. Edge</a>. "Could they be dry land cress? Creasy greens?" his email reply asked. Good question. So I googled creasy greens, and then spent a good ten minutes searching the web and looking back and forth between the varieties pictured online and the leaves I held in my hand. </div><div><br /></div><div>There wasn't a match. But at this point, it didn't matter. I'd already made up my mind that this strange new addition to my kitchen was going to be stir-fried that night and served alongside the Bo Kho I was making from my new copy of <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=xVMws0_WSA4C&dq=%22andrea+nguyen+into+the+vietnamese+kitchen%22&printsec=frontcover&source=in&hl=en&ei=OnFPS6ngIoustAP07Oj_Bw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=11&ved=0CCwQ6AEwCg#v=onepage&q=&f=false">Andrea Nguyen's "Into The Vietnamese Kitchen"</a> a recent purchase from <a href="http://omnivorebooks.com/">Omnivore Books</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>While we didn't have our answer, the wok did bring us a little closer to discovering the identity of the greens. Once cooked, their bitterness was released. The flavor was a nice compliment to the star anise and sweet tomato of the Bo Kho. </div><div><br /></div><div>The point of this post? It's easy to forget that despite the access that most of us now have to an abundance of produce, not to mention restaurants featuring global cuisine, there are still discoveries to be made in our own kitchens. The ultimate enjoyment doesn't really come from the knowing, it comes from the tasting. And the sharing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could tell you, definitively, what those greens were. The closest I've come to an answer is that they could be a variety of dandelion. Maybe? Really, though, it doesn't matter. The real joy of discovery wasn't in finding the answer on line but in discovering a new food that I liked. Looking back, I'm a little embarrassed by my hesitance and my need to know what this plant was before I ate it. Did it really make a difference? After all, this wasn't the first time I stuck something in my mouth without knowing what it was. Sometimes you just have to bite and enjoy. Search engines, be damned. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-14805099084366090452010-01-05T10:10:00.001-08:002010-01-05T14:02:39.936-08:00Happy Flu Year, Or, How Did My Grandmother Make That Soup?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtgItdoMpiBNWH-7YAKDHKRgkkz_HYeTD1VRfdQkK1xTHaVeItcqrTd9d7mAbANI8BuvJ4zZqRpbMwv6Ep8TPoumgaDWUVWz6zCfstCSH4w1dGCH38xXA5n-3w-_8oo1RmYOeRdLbP2A/s1600-h/IMG_0946.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtgItdoMpiBNWH-7YAKDHKRgkkz_HYeTD1VRfdQkK1xTHaVeItcqrTd9d7mAbANI8BuvJ4zZqRpbMwv6Ep8TPoumgaDWUVWz6zCfstCSH4w1dGCH38xXA5n-3w-_8oo1RmYOeRdLbP2A/s200/IMG_0946.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423320179991985874" /></a>It's official. I have the flu. Not "the Flu," but <i>a flu. </i>Apparently, while the incidence of <a href="http://www.cdc.gov/H1N1FLU/">H1N1</a> cases has dropped here in the Bay Area, a bug of less famous but nonetheless formidable nastiness has been making its rounds. And I caught it. The worst is certainly over but my doctor advised that I restrict my activities for a few more days. So since I can't bake gobs, or do much else, I've been finishing my issue of <a href="http://store.mcsweeneys.net/index.cfm/fuseaction/catalog.detail/object_id/46ea295f-d5fb-4d20-8ffd-2e07fbd4a13d">Panorama</a>, reading long-neglected books on my shelf - why did I allow Ishiguro's <i><a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4629918">Never Let Me Go</a> </i>to sit unread? - and, now, blogging. I've also googled away hours on the web to see what I could shake loose from the internets in the form of flu recipes. Well, I should clarify, because that previous statement makes it sound like I was seeking out a formula for making a flu, when in fact what I was looking for were recipes to help alleviate flu symptoms. <div><br /></div><div>Surprisingly I came up empty handed. But I was seeking something very specific as this search had two sources of inspiration. The first came from my Chinese doctor whose prescription for my recovery included "steamed fish and rice." But even when I'm not feeling well, I want to do a little more in the kitchen than put an unseasoned slab of fish over a stove-top sauna. But the second, and more significant factor fueling my exploration was my longing for a comforting bowl of what my grandmother made for us when we were sick. She called it Sick Soup, and following her example, we did the same. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sick Soup's ingredients were few, but its flavors - and healing properties - were miraculous. When we were ill we would sit huddled at her kitchen table, our shoulders draped with blankets while our feet, in over-sized slippers, dangled from the chair. As my grandmother stood at her stove, <a href="http://countrymusic.about.com/b/2009/09/02/tammy-wynette-headed-for-hall-of-fame.htm">Tammy Wynette</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9J7XE-ctMU">spelled out the tragedies of her marriage</a> in the background on a small plastic radio - a transistor which my grandmother had religiously set to WIYQ, a Pennsylvania radio station whose programming used to feature a "sacred song" of the hour hence her interest - while we waited for the c-u-r-e for whatever it was that a-i-l-e-d us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Any cook who has ever tried to recreate a recipe for a dish they had in the past knows that memories can get you so far. Then instinct takes over. But, over the years as I've tried to recreate the broth that was made in that blue enamel pot, I've had to restrict myself to the contents Gram, as we called her, would've had in her kitchen and pantry. The list of possible ingredients is frustratingly short. While I originally assumed chicken stock was certainly the soup's base, the notion that my grandmother would have always used her own stock is questionable. She didn't have much freezer space in her fridge for storage. Canned stock could have been an option, on occasion, but because of the expense its regular usage was probably unlikely. That leaves the only consistent ingredient as water. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eggs, salt and pepper were all added to that soup, but beyond that, the options in my recreation were scant. Even though her kitchen was about as Hungarian as a room this side of Budapest could get, Gram knew enough about food and its possible effects on an upset stomach that paprika and sour cream were <i>tilos. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>In the past few days I attempted an approximation of Sick Soup again. And as I had in the past, I failed. What I made this time was basically scrambled eggs in water, in both taste and appearance. It bore little resemblance to Gram's medicinal wonder. Clumps of yellow and white floated in my mustardy colored broth. The eggs in my grandmother's soup, on the other hand, had blossomed in bursts of white and gold, much the same way flowers unfold in Chinese Chrysanthemum tea. The bowl she served was as soothing to the sight as it was to the soul. </div><div><br /></div><div>Still, I ate the soup I made. And while I can't say its properties were as healing as what Gram used to administer to us, it certainly didn't make me any sicker. It didn't look like much, but illness isn't pretty. In fact it can be downright scary, which brings me to this entry's photo. My doctor's office urges patients who are experiencing flu symptoms to don a surgical mask out of respect for others. I dutifully put mine on, and then as I waited for my appointment, I proceeded to take my picture and send it to friends and family with the caption "Guess where I am?" In hindsight it wasn't the best idea, especially judging from some of the reactions text back to me. If you were one of the recipients of that image, I apologize. Let me make it up to you. C'mon over. I'll play some Tammy Wynette and I'll make you a nice bowl of soup. When I'm feeling better, of course. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-81758545668691664992009-12-28T13:46:00.000-08:002009-12-30T11:54:16.223-08:00The Year In Gobs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMQrOc3caf3SpKGCAdEThNOjXn5LTZIEHRLthMqeQ2-vIApaJ2qyXp64n007V55Sg7WsQrrZQVsabDsG4IGH8CRe627C8pcB3cziG24q2nBajJeI6OjQDYopU3ChtbBYHpzHagD_bTDA/s1600-h/IMG_0927.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMQrOc3caf3SpKGCAdEThNOjXn5LTZIEHRLthMqeQ2-vIApaJ2qyXp64n007V55Sg7WsQrrZQVsabDsG4IGH8CRe627C8pcB3cziG24q2nBajJeI6OjQDYopU3ChtbBYHpzHagD_bTDA/s200/IMG_0927.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420407124680601650" /></a>I'm rarely at a loss for words. In fact, I can get so revved up on a talking jag that I often have to apologize for going on what I call "autoblab." I've also been known to utter words that don't even exist. On occasion my left temporal lobe decides that <a href="http://www.askoxford.com/asktheexperts/faq/aboutenglish/numberwords">the hundreds of thousands of words in the English language</a> can't effectively communicate what I'm trying to say and, before I can stop myself, I'm speaking gibberish. What's worse? I even conjugate this nonsense. Especially if caffeine or sugar or alcohol - or God forbid, all three - are involved. Throw in my western Pennsylvania accent that I never really lost and at times my speech can be almost indecipherable to the untrained ear. So I'm accustomed to the raised eyebrow or the questioning tilt of the head on the part of people with whom I'm conversing. But even I was surprised when earlier this year I found myself repeating the word "gob" to people who obviously had no idea what I had just said; the fact that I was asking them to <i>buy</i> this thing they'd never previously heard of only made the exchange even more complicated and bewildering. <div><br /></div><div>But what a difference six months, and a certain amount of press coverage, can make. I'd like to think of 2009 as the year San Franciscans added the word "gob" - or perhaps a different usage of the word - to their vocabulary. It's been heartening, but especially humbling, the way the city has welcomed me and my baked goods into its culture since I officially debuted Gobba Gobba Hey Gobs in late May. This time last year, barely two months after my move from Washington, DC, I was scratching my head as I scoured San Francisco's media outlets, trying to find my place professionally and personally in my new hometown. My book <i>The Warmest Room In The House </i>had just made it onto <i>The Chicago Tribune's </i>Best Books of 2008 List - not that that honor made any difference, or brought with it any guarantees, though. With the economy tanking and options for freelance writers disappearing daily, the only thing that was certain was uncertainty. Eventually I found my place at the table not by writing about food but by baking and selling one of my favorite confections from my childhood. Gobs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now as 2009 comes to a close, it's the gobs that have been included in some year-end round ups. <a href="http://www.jamitpickleitcureit.com/buy-it/">Author and columnist Karen Solomon</a> gave Gobba Gobba Hey a nod in her "Best Eats of 2009" survey in <a href="http://www.sfstation.com/best-eats-of-2009-a25431">SF Station</a> and the readers of <a href="http://www.7x7.com/blogs/bits-bites/your-big-eat-suggestions-all-88-them">7X7's Bits + Bites nominated gobs as one of the Big Eat Suggestions for 2010</a>. There was even a mention of my baking in the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/04/dining/04sfdine.html?scp=1&sq=gdula%20&st=cse">December 4 issue of the </a><i><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/04/dining/04sfdine.html?scp=1&sq=gdula%20&st=cse">New York Times</a></i>, and also in December's <i>Conde Nast Traveler. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>There's not enough room to thank everyone here who helped make this past year so wonderfully memorable, but if you're reading this, please know I am extremely grateful for your support. I thank you all, and I especially thank you, San Francisco, for adding the word "gob" to your lexicon. You've left me speechless. (Almost.) </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-57795869233682049252009-12-03T09:50:00.000-08:002009-12-03T10:53:56.682-08:00The Twelve Gobs Of Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj734vgUwGIPAtBoc5dH1HBDROgtGYuKsgnKhOOaf8_C7NHs1a1SRKNoDoGkcFBkWvsZALgNz_fKwcdZg09D9Dbz7qUByYOVfuSLTgtASda9lMSNmIjqCC3HGcoS4QdfMlwIKq2_kCmOAs/s1600-h/IMG_0877.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj734vgUwGIPAtBoc5dH1HBDROgtGYuKsgnKhOOaf8_C7NHs1a1SRKNoDoGkcFBkWvsZALgNz_fKwcdZg09D9Dbz7qUByYOVfuSLTgtASda9lMSNmIjqCC3HGcoS4QdfMlwIKq2_kCmOAs/s200/IMG_0877.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411069530328483506" /></a>Yes, Virginia, there is a Gob Holiday Gift Box Set. <div><br /></div><div>But more on that in a minute. First a few seconds to catch up. I know I said something in my last blog about "if I didn't post now it will be December before I have a chance to write again." Seems I'm surprisingly prophetic in that way. Shame those skills of prediction don't work on anything else, though, like game scores or winning lottery tickets. <div><br /></div><div>So yes, here it is the last month of the year, and the end of the aught decade. October's curtain came down after a wonderful night as I appeared on a panel - along side <a href="http://blog.missionstreetfood.com/">Mission Street Food's</a> Anthony Myint, <a href="http://heavensdog.com/">Charles Phan of Heaven's Dog</a> and Slanted Door-fame, and the man the myth the legend, Brian Kimball, aka <a href="http://twitter.com/MagicCurryKart">The Magic Curry Cart</a> - at the <a href="http://feed://audio.commonwealthclub.org/audio/podcast/weekly.xml">Commonwealth Club's INforum discussion on Street Food</a>. The evening was presided over by the lovely, talented, and shrewd moderator <a href="http://blogs.sfweekly.com/foodie/palmer/">Tamara Palmer of SFoodie</a> who did her Barbara Walters-best to get me to cry with her first question. (In defense of my waterworks, I'd just learned that a dear friend, and the man responsible for buffing my confidence enough to encourage me to begin this whole recession-driven baking business in the first place, had been <a href="http://blogs.sfweekly.com/foodie/2009/10/wife_of_detained_amuse_bouche.php">incarcerated for violation of his green card status and was facing deportation</a>. But more on that later. We all have to save bits of our story for the film version after all, don't we?)</div><div><br /></div><div>November saw the gobs bringing a healthy dose of sugar to some birthday parties, and art openings (both <a href="http://www.fabric8.com/">Fabric8</a> and also the <a href="http://www.lostartca.com/">Lost Art Salon</a>, which, I for one am happy to have found.) The gobs received some front and center placement on the web sensation, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-bhyg7DH-0">We Eating Dot Com</a>. And our fearless butter-cream-filled confections graced the dessert menu at Mission Street Food's Alcohol Themed Night. Since I know a thing or two about dessert and booze, Anthony Myint asked that I prepare a tasting flight of gobs for the evening. So I offered up Chocolate Raspberry Fennel with Absinthe, Spiced Pumpkin with Buttered Rum Butter Cream as well as Irish Coffee with Maker's Mark Bourbon replacing the traditional Irish Whiskey. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then it was time to take a deep breath, which leads me to The Twelve Gobs Of Christmas offer.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was supposed to have my gob-selling Foodzie.com store open by the first of this month, but through no one's fault but my own the store will not be open for business until January 1, 2010. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sounds so far away, doesn't it? I thought so too. And as I fielded some questions about the store's unopened status with red-faced embarrassment, a marble of an idea began rolling around in my brain. Who says I, or you, dear gob-lover, have to wait, right? People are asking for gobs by the dozen <i>now. </i>Who am I to deny their cravings? </div><div><br /></div><div>Let them eat gobs!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I am currently taking orders for the Twelve Gobs of Christmas Holiday Gift Box Set for limited delivery in San Francisco and the Bay Area. Your loved one, or better yet, you, will receive a box containing a dozen <i>different gobs, </i>a collection which includes twelve of the most popular gobs from this past year. The gift box will feature one of each of the following gobs:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Orange Cardamom Ginger with Saffron</i></div><div><i>Old School Chocolate and Vanilla</i></div><div><i>Mocha Almond</i></div><div><i>Ancho Cinnamon Chocolate</i></div><div><i>Spiced Pumpkin with Buttered Rum</i></div><div><i>Matcha Green Tea with Lemongrass Ginger frosting </i></div><div><i>Ginger Snap with Raspberry butter cream</i></div><div><i>Strawberry Basil "Shortcake" </i></div><div><i>Oatmeal Cream Pie Gobs</i></div><div><i>Lemon Thyme</i></div><div><i>Chocolate Raspberry Absinthe </i></div><div><i>Carrot Cake </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>(Sorry, no substitutes!)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>How do you get your hands on such deliciousness? Simple.</div><div><br /></div><div>Send an email to gobbagobbahey at gmail dot com. Place your order by December 13 and deliveries will take place December 19 through the 21st. Twenty five bucks. Done. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pretty simple, right? What's the catch? There will only be a limited amount available. </div><div><br /></div><div>So get crackin' and get gobbing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks so much for your friendship and support this past year. May the holidays bring you the perfect mix of what you want and what you need! </div><div><br /></div><div>(And yes, three T shirts after the first of the year. We're doing them. You'll be wearing them. And that's all for now.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-1589896153503201862009-10-12T13:00:00.000-07:002009-10-12T14:14:42.919-07:00It's All Fun And Gobs Until...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__FnQjmBxnbfhflH9Cw61ryBD-x8LSLg39m9qQ9QVLPePO8cCz0kOo0KNHR7IKT1_ObIWarAdJ1HVkqNve9tvdL5fTHgYsmq-gFa8DShKPVtnX3uNphcM-7Y-IxWJOcgCAMqYpIHqU1g/s1600-h/IMG_0794.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__FnQjmBxnbfhflH9Cw61ryBD-x8LSLg39m9qQ9QVLPePO8cCz0kOo0KNHR7IKT1_ObIWarAdJ1HVkqNve9tvdL5fTHgYsmq-gFa8DShKPVtnX3uNphcM-7Y-IxWJOcgCAMqYpIHqU1g/s200/IMG_0794.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391806517732638594" /></a>Well, what d'ya know. Here we are, and it's Columbus Day. August and September sailed by in a whoosh and October is threatening to do the same. It's probably way too late for a What I Baked On My Summer Vacation-style post, but I have some catching up to do, pronto, otherwise it will be December before I post again, and I don't want to risk being called out as a blog squatter. <div><br /></div><div>I've chronicled the happenings of my career here, as well as my kitchen, ever since I kick-started this blog back in the Spring. I just didn't think that two seasons later, they'd be one in the same. But, just as a recipe can often have a mind of its own - more fodder for my "Accidental Kitchen"-entitled memoirs, btw - so can an economy. And to recap, quickly, that's why I turned to blogging, and then baking, in the first place. Underemployment created an opportunity; namely the Gobba Gobba Hey venture. I seized it, thinking it in turn would kick-start my writing career again. But then the gob biz seized me. In a matter of weeks I went from selling gobs near Valencia Street here in San Francisco, to working out of a commercial kitchen and securing liability insurance. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the most part it's been all fun and gobs, until of course I caught my first glimpse of the gobs in a retail spot where, in a smashed state, they looked as if someone had played whack-a-mole with them. I suddenly saw my product as potential customers were seeing them. The picture wasn't very pretty. Maintaining control of the gobs once they've left my sight was another item to add to the action list. As was updating the logo. I'm still working on both of those bullet points as I type. Again, a lesson in Marketing 101 came my way in what I've been referring to as "Forest, Meet Thy Trees." Seems my Ramones-inspired turn-of-a-phrase in my product's name wasn't the only thing people weren't getting. The stark black and white label, meant to mimic the <a href="http://musicruinedmylife.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-was-teenage-ramone-true-ish-story_28.html">"Gabba Gabba Hey" placard</a> carried on stage by Joey Ramone, was equally confounding to potential customers. This came to my attention when I saw that a merchant had taken a highlighter to my minimalist design and wreathed it with squiggly pink lines. When I asked why they had decided to change my logo's look they replied matter-of-fact-ly "Because it needed color." </div><div><br /></div><div>It was appalling to see at first, but as I looked at the smashed gobs with their Hannah Montana embellishment, I saw the newest challenge in peddling my wares.</div><div><br /></div><div>If the first hurdle was creating familiarity with the product - try standing on a street corner, asking people if they want to buy a "gob" and then wait for their reaction - then the next barrier was going to be enticing the uninitiated with packaging that sold the Gobba Gobba Hey confection when I wasn't there to provide a sales pitch. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still haven't cleared that, but I have some time, fortunately as festivals, weddings and deliveries are keeping me plenty busy. Since my last post I've had the privilege of participating in the <a href="http://eatrealfest.com/">Eat Real Festival</a> in Oakland and collaborating with artists in a Street Food X Street Art event at <a href="http://fabric8.com/">Fabric8 Gallery</a> in San Francisco. <a href="http:///tickets.commonwealthclub.org/auto_choose_ga.asp?area=1&shcode=1459">The Commonwealth Club</a> has asked me to take part in a panel discussion about the street food vending scene in SF; Charles Phan of <a href="http://www.slanteddoor.com/">Slanted Door</a> and <a href="http://www.heavensdog.com/heavensdog.html">Heaven's Dog</a> renown will be speaking, as will Anthony Mynt of <a href="http://http://blog.missionstreetfood.com/">Mission Street Food</a> and Brian Kimball, aka <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/magic-curry-kart-san-francisco">The Magic Curry Cart</a>. The discerning tastebuddies at <a href="http://foodzie.com/">Foodzie.com</a> have asked to carry the gobs in their web store and the talented bloggers over at <a href="http://www.foodbuzz.com/">FoodBuzz</a> have requested gobs at an event in early November but before all of that happens, Gobba Gobba Hey will be one of the sweets on the dessert table <a href="http://jennyandshawnhatfield.blogspot.com/">at a wedding</a>! </div><div><br /></div><div>Definitely not the path I intended when I first began baking it to the streets (as I've fondly called those early gobbing days.) But it's been an interesting one, and one I should have done a better job of chronicling here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of chronicling, the most wickedly ironic moment since this all began came in late July when into the Gobba Gobba Hey mailbox came a missive from none other than <a href="http://www.chroniclebooks.com/">Chronicle Books</a>. As I'd pitched my agent on the possibility of a gob cook book in the Spring, I excitedly clicked the envelope open. In the milliseconds that it took for the file to download my mind raced. "Could this all have worked? Did I really draw attention back to my byline by baking the gobs and taking them out on the streets? Was Chronicle actually writing to express interest in my work? The story of food-writer/author-turned-baker-because-of-the-bad-economy <i>had </i>to be a good one, right???"</div><div><br /></div><div>Turns out they were interested in my work. They'd picked up some gobs from the <a href="http://www.4505meats.com/">4505 Meats stall</a> at the <a href="http://www.cuesa.org/markets/">Ferry Building</a> and loved them. </div><div><br /></div><div>And they wanted to know how they could place a delivery order, for their office, for several dozen. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-16707746438959609152009-06-11T06:17:00.000-07:002009-06-11T06:32:32.769-07:00Gulp! The Gobs Have Been Yelped!Well, I'm touched and honored to say that the gobs have already been <a href="http://yelp.com/biz/gobba-gobba-hey-san-francisco">yelped</a>! Along with <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/sexy-soup-cart-san-francisco">Sexy Soup Cart</a> and <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/the-creme-brulee-cart-san-francisco">Creme Brulee Cart</a>, and maybe some others that I don't know about yet, Gobba Gobba Hey has joined the list of user-reviewed street food vendors in San Francisco and I couldn't be happier! <div><br /></div><div>This is a cheat- post and I promise a fuller update soon. But I wanted to acknowledge how grateful I am of the support everyone has shown <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.com/">Gobba Gobba Hey</a> - from emailed pats-on-the-back to sending in orders for a dozen of gobs to requesting that gobs be delivered to their office - it's meant a lot. I sincerely thank you. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's been a tough year for a lot of us, and I know many of you are in circumstances that are as bad as my own. I appreciate your support, and especially your ears. It's been a tough time for those of us who earn our living via an unconventional skill. But I know if we all hold on to some positivity and believe in ourselves and one another that we'll get through this period. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, don't lose hope. You never know what might happen, no matter how crazy your idea. To paraphrase that old movie "Field of Dreams," "If you bake it, they will come." </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-75050810633237960802009-06-04T09:56:00.000-07:002009-06-08T12:40:29.102-07:00Will ____ For Food, or Have a Gob Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBvsoHZIrBxzea-QBv-BzETtTWTFPS_F9N4h9Zi9ms1lHaPk-WjSfnsoDoXunK4kBRFBu8GYTJB9eW-JXvGI08__D7eKxoRj5j16aTisTmZB76G2lrGo9OWLsks-iYzQ7xsEJgF5QNJQ/s1600-h/IMG_0700.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBvsoHZIrBxzea-QBv-BzETtTWTFPS_F9N4h9Zi9ms1lHaPk-WjSfnsoDoXunK4kBRFBu8GYTJB9eW-JXvGI08__D7eKxoRj5j16aTisTmZB76G2lrGo9OWLsks-iYzQ7xsEJgF5QNJQ/s200/IMG_0700.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343517940091411442" /></a>For the last twenty plus years, my professional motto has been "Will Write For Food." Somewhere in that mission statement you could've added the words "About Food or Music or Fashion." For the better part of the last decade, though, my writing has primarily focused on topics relating to food and the kitchen. It earned me a modest living at best, but I enjoyed my work thoroughly. <div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, in the last six months or so, my motto, "Will Write For Food" hasn't put very much of it - food that is - on the table. Like many others employed in a variety of industries I've watched as the outlets and opportunities in my line of work became smaller. Newspapers and magazines have been vanishing and those that have survived this recession have cut their staffs, and their publications' page counts, dramatically. With fewer freelance jobs to be had an already-crowded pool is over-capacity as writers and editors who once held masthead positions are now in the same waters as the self-employed. </div><div><br /></div><div>The question this situation raised for me wasn't "sink or swim," but rather "get out or stay in?" Abandoning a freelance career entirely wouldn't be wise. People need to see your content, and your byline, regularly. (Isn't that one of the top five tips on which even new bloggers are schooled?) Besides, the stories coming back from the front-lines from colleagues who'd ventured into the job market weren't encouraging. After sending in writing samples and a resume, one friend, a well-respected editor, was placed on a waiting list for an interview. At Starbucks. </div><div><br /></div><div>If one of the busiest franchises in the country was being squeezed by the recession, this didn't bode well for finding employment <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">anywhere. </span>I decided rather than search in vain for something that might not pay off, I'd be better off creating my own opportunities. In assessing my marketable skills beyond the obvious, I started to see some possibilities in my cooking skills (previous post aside, natch.) </div><div><br /></div><div>An old maxim of marketing advises those with something to sell to find a niche and fill it. So I have. With butter cream, sugar and so far, a lot of smiles. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dear readers, I have found Gob. And I'm not embarrassed to admit it.</div><div><br /></div><div>As some of you may recall, earlier this spring I went in search of the recipe for one of my favorite childhood treats, The Gob. I found <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">a </span>recipe, but the resulting confection wasn't quite what I recalled eating as a kid. I thought with a little culinary tweaking, and some fresher ingredients, I could improve upon the wheel. Arrogant? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely. And I'm happy to report that I succeeded. But what now? I had these incredible-tasting treats, but as long as they stayed in my kitchen nothing was accomplished. My waistline was becoming more visible but my byline remained unseen. </div><div><br /></div><div>So it was with some nervousness and even more desperation that I took to the streets to add my two baked cents to what turned out to be - inadvertently, I swear - a highly publicized street food vendor scene. I was hoping to generate a bit of a buzz through the gobs that would then bring my byline back into circulation. Instead, I seem to have succeeded in getting more attention for the gobs than I did for myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Where's this leading? I'm not sure. The gobs are enjoying a life of their own, and really, who am I to stop them? In a bizarre twist I noticed the other day that one of their new followers on Twitter was an editor to whom I'd pitched some story ideas to barely four months back. This editor was now unemployed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Times are tough, but the treats are sweet. Might as well ride it all out on a sugar high. And I know just the place for you to get the hook-up. See you at <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.com">gobba gobba hey dot com</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>(A quick shout out to Amuse Bouche, Sexy Soup Cart, Cookie Wag, Urban Nectar, Creme Brulee Cart, Magic Curry Cart and all the others who've been so welcoming. Thanks for the support and especially the inspiration! Oh. And Free The Soup!) </div><div><br /></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-36015279505976597402009-05-26T08:34:00.000-07:002009-05-27T18:55:41.081-07:00BBQ Chicken Rubbed and Roasted, or Did You Just Offer Me A Knuckle Sandwich?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv0QSuX64mOyzFJpTiFaWg7lzfYAY4XFet7jcD23dU1TN6r1RdzuUi_u9SeT7k-c5MOttfiQ3EPAVFXfqDxojNb004kzOH2raRGOUpFNWwvZiBtoRWrnRdWvBQMCFTXBE_d9-M0tF_Vw/s1600-h/IMG_0678.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv0QSuX64mOyzFJpTiFaWg7lzfYAY4XFet7jcD23dU1TN6r1RdzuUi_u9SeT7k-c5MOttfiQ3EPAVFXfqDxojNb004kzOH2raRGOUpFNWwvZiBtoRWrnRdWvBQMCFTXBE_d9-M0tF_Vw/s200/IMG_0678.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340158343218829490" /></a>We all know what happens when food is overcooked. It gets dry, or burned, and is essentially rendered inedible. But what about when a cook spends too much time in the kitchen? Do they also run the risk of getting a little crispy around the edges? <div><br /></div><div>Judging from my experience this past weekend, the answer is a loud, cartilage-crunching "yes." I had planned on serving my guests one of my go-to party-pleasers - chicken that is first slow-roasted with a fragrant and spicy rub to the point where it practically melts off the bone, before being dunked into a kicking BBQ sauce. Like I said, that's what I'd <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">planned </span>on serving them. But what I brought to the table instead was something that I have since shamefully been referring to as The Knuckle Sandwich. <br /><div><br /></div><div>Before getting to the meat of the story, so to speak, I should issue a warning now: If you are a cook, what you're about to read might make you gasp in horror. Or maybe it will elicit some empathy and a nod of knowing recognition. If you're a vegetarian, the following could make you gag in disgust, or you just might cackle with vengeful glee. (At my folly, not the bird's fate, obviously.) And if you're someone I've promised to invite over for dinner, this tale might make you think twice about accepting that invitation. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since there is a recipe below, I'll try to get quickly to the point. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'd spent most of Saturday and well into Sunday morning this past weekend preparing and wrapping three types of <a href="http://gobbagobbahey.com/">gobs</a>. They were scheduled to <a href="http://missionsf.groups.vox.com/library/post/6a00b8ea0683a7dece00bf76c9a82f93b5.html">make an appearance in The Mission</a> and of course I wanted them looking and tasting their Sunday best. At about 1 AM Sunday morning I'd frosted and fitted the last of the halves, individually wrapped the finished, and now-whole, gobs, and sealed them up in the fridge. Less than five hours later, I was awake, back in the kitchen, diving into the prep work for that evening's Memorial Day soiree that we were hosting. Guests were due to begin arriving at 6:30 or 7 PM.</div><div><br /></div><div>At around 11:30 AM I ran out to deliver the gobs. By the time I returned it was close to 1 PM. I looked at my prep list, looked at the clock, and decided I was, for once, miraculously ahead of the game. The chicken, which has been slow roasting since about 10:30 AM, smelled intoxicating when I opened the oven door. There was a fiery note from the cayenne, a mellow yet rich aroma from the dried anchos, and a wild, flowery scent from the coriander. Everything was coming together nicely. (The weather was, to quote our local weatherman <a href="http://abclocal.go.com/kgo/bio?section=resources/inside_station/newsteam&id=5771740">Spencer Christian</a>, "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EB4PmbfG4bw">Fargo</a>-like," over the weekend otherwise the grill would've been fired up.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Over the next few hours I prepped a black bean salad as well as a slaw. Both were intended for my vegan and vegetarian friends, but the latter was destined to serve double duty. It could easily have topped the pulled, BBQ chicken on the rolls. I was originally going to repeat one of the stars of my Cinco de Mayo meal and make corn blinis and serve the chicken on those but all of the other cooking from the night before had honestly left me a little whisked and sifted out. I opted for, go ahead and gasp if you want, store bought rolls. They were fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>That quick decision, and my willingness, to alter my menu should have been my first sign that I wasn't my usual hosting self. But I chocked it up to the "entertaining family and friends is its own reward" motto that I try to live by. (And anyone who's seen me nervous and frenetic, rushing around the kitchen, still in shorts and a <a href="http://www.8ball.co.uk/tshirt/3/22408/T-Shirts/Classic-Rock-T-Shirts/T--Rex-T-Shirt---Electric-Warrior/">T.Rex T-shirt</a>, as the first guests start to arrive probably wonders how much masochism is in that "reward.") </div><div><br /></div><div>I looked at the clock again, and felt confident. I made the BBQ sauce on top of the stove. I blanched the cabbage for the slaw, drained it, quickly tossed it with the carrot and granny smith apples, then lightly drizzled in some fresh squeezed lemon juice. I added some kosher salt and black pepper. It was delightfully fresh. The chill that still clung to the cabbage after its plunge from the boiling spring atop the stove into the ice cube bath made for a wonderfully sensual experience. The sweet cold crispness, along with the tart lemon juice and coarseness of the salt and pepper were all simple and satisfying. <a href="http://www.chezpanisse.com/">Alice Waters</a> would've been proud. </div><div><br /></div><div>If, that is, she'd eaten it within the next twenty minutes. Unfortunately I was working ahead and the slaw still had another.... four hours before it was going to be served. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm still not sure what kind of culinary vortex I fell into in the ensuing hours but before I knew it I was scrambling to take the chicken apart, comb through for any bones, skin or cartilage, and get it into the pot of BBQ sauce. It needed to slow cook on the stove so it could continue to break down into shredded threads of meat as it became infused with the flavors of the sauce. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, as often happens, I forgot to eat. I think the last thing I taste-tested was the black bean salad before I tossed in the rice vinaigrette. </div><div><br /></div><div>That vinaigrette, as I discovered later, never got added. I'd completely spaced on it. Making matters worse? Well, in addition to the things I didn't put <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">into </span>the foods were the things that I somehow <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">never took out. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>After everyone left I finally sat down to eat something. I just can't eat while I'm hosting, so once everyone was out the door I made a plate for myself. I took a bite of the BBQ chicken sandwich I'd made.... and was greeted by a loud crunch. I quickly spat out the mouthful of food and examined it. There, along with the beautifully shredded chicken, was a piece of cartilage. "Better that I found this than one of our guests," I thought as I took another bite. And immediately heard another crunch. And then another. And another. And, please dear God, make it stop, another. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think it's safe to say I was apoplectic. I looked at Lon and shrieked, "There are pieces of cartilage all through this!!! Why didn't you let me know?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"Because I didn't notice it." </div><div><br /></div><div>"How could you not notice it?" I practically demanded.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Because there was nothing to notice." </div><div><br /></div><div>Answered like a truly supportive spouse. Whether Lon did or did not find anything other than chicken in the pot, isn't the point. Sensing my increasing anxiety, the only way to quell what I saw as a horrible problem was to tell me that there was no problem. </div><div><br /></div><div>"And no one else noticed anything either. I cleared the plates, I washed them, and I didn't see any signs that anybody stopped eating."</div><div><br /></div><div>I almost didn't even hear that comment. I was focused on the fact that I'd overextended myself in the kitchen the past two days, and as a result I had been a terrible host for the night, possibly serving my guests something ghastly.</div><div><br /></div><div>If anyone did find anything wrong with the meal, no one uttered a word to me. They were incredibly gracious, sending thank you notes over the next two days. I was still fixated on how I'd somehow let everyone down by not being at my best as a cook, when I suddenly became aware of the lesson my friends had taught me over the weekend: How to be a good guest.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe they really didn't receive anything but decent food on their plates, but to me it's obvious they appreciated the effort. It made me smile. The kitchen, like friendship, really offers its own rewards. </div><div><br /></div><div>I adapted this recipe from an old, now defunct mag called <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Eating Well. </span>That this adaptation of it has been used every warm season since 1998 speaks to how well it goes over. Plus it's relatively labor-free - providing of course you thoroughly check the bones!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Rubbed And Roasted BBQ Chicken<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">For the rub... </span></div><div>1.5 turkey thighs or 2 lbs chicken thighs, preferably skin removed</div><div>1 TBS brown sugar</div><div>1 TBS cracked black pepper</div><div>1 TBS paprika</div><div>1 TBS coriander</div><div>1 TBS ancho chili powder</div><div>2 tsp chipotle powder</div><div>1/2 TBS dry mustard</div><div>1 tsp kosher salt</div><div>1/4 to 1/2 tsp cayenne (to your taste)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the barbecue sauce.... </span></div><div>1/2 cup good quality ketchup</div><div>1/4 cider vinegar</div><div>1/4 cup apple juice</div><div>1/4 cup bourbon (use something with a higher sugar content like Maker's Mark)</div><div>1 TBS black molasses</div><div>2 tsp brown sugar</div><div>juice of half a lime</div><div>1 TBS Tabasco </div><div>1/2 TBS Worcestershire sauce</div><div>1. Preheat oven to 300 F. </div><div>2. Put all dry ingredients for spice rub into a bowl and whisk to combine thoroughly. Rub into chicken (or turkey) thighs. Set aside.</div><div>3. Place pieces of fowl in a roaster, covered with foil, and slide into oven for about an hour and a half. Remove foil and check. Allow to continue cooking for at least another half hour without the foil cover. At the end of two hours, check a piece for doneness (approximately 180 to 185 F.) If pieces are cooked through, remove from oven and allow to sit, at least ten minutes, so pieces can seal. This will also allow it to cool to the touch so that you can shred it off the bone. </div><div>4. In a nonreactive pan place all ingredients for the barbecue sauce, except the lime juice. Allow sauce to build from a simmer to a slight boil, stirring frequently. Turn off heat and stir in lime juice. </div><div>5. Add pieces of shredded meat to the BBQ sauce, place back on stove and heat to medium high. Serve on rolls. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">NOTES: </span>I've made this with both turkey and chicken and I admit I like the turkey better. It has a more, well, wild flavor than the chicken. The dark meat of both birds is perfectly suited for this slow roasting as they stay moist longer. You can make the BBQ as the meat is cooking and allow it to sit on the stove. The flavors of both the spice-rubbed meat and the BBQ sauce only get better as they meld so there's no rush to get them together unless drying out is an issue.</div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-40522748680450693982009-05-24T13:04:00.000-07:002009-05-24T13:29:31.737-07:00Gobba Gobba Hey: The Gobs Leave Home!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHos4lWDCGzYdILbMcm1HPNwZYk3fa8zkzpvjSXYbaqClIVJu4QoMX9cosBS9Ag7mEkf3YuiVdHbbUZvpD0oFwsx9z5xexMBGCpVaK7y4x-1BXSnk0VmeChHZR-f9dGf8oBelopb-5_k/s1600-h/IMG_0671.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHos4lWDCGzYdILbMcm1HPNwZYk3fa8zkzpvjSXYbaqClIVJu4QoMX9cosBS9Ag7mEkf3YuiVdHbbUZvpD0oFwsx9z5xexMBGCpVaK7y4x-1BXSnk0VmeChHZR-f9dGf8oBelopb-5_k/s200/IMG_0671.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339484801142281682" /></a>Well, the gobs left home today. It was only a matter of time before they outgrew this little "room." They have a site of their own now, and while I'll still post about them here, I'll be writing more about them primarily at <a href="http://www.gobbagobbahey.com">www.gobbagobbahey.com</a> . <div><br /></div><div>The original Chocolate and Blonde On Blonde gobs were joined today by a new, as of yet, unnamed carrot cake version. I like the idea of a christening them with a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dQWzdUVMbI">Ziggy Stardus</a>t reference since they have a lot in common with that particular Bowie incarnation, but I'm still undecided. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks to everyone who's given them such a warm welcome, and please, don't be a stranger at their new site! <br /><div><br /></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-15544238925485331022009-05-20T12:03:00.000-07:002009-05-20T13:28:32.790-07:00Absinthe Frosted Gobs, or There's Nothing Here To Look At People, Just Keep Moving Along<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2Q9W8BQ46sCMRFp-CMAbRSwM12ngyfFYAYgTUC3Z_sTJdabnZtVNNhOkWbZ8urAiG5IihD7l0348u_DQKCrdhUkjk4DquITDES-eG6HT3uTmhU2npqjWG1oxY57S6G0qdTGFbJCrIkI/s1600-h/IMG_0670.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2Q9W8BQ46sCMRFp-CMAbRSwM12ngyfFYAYgTUC3Z_sTJdabnZtVNNhOkWbZ8urAiG5IihD7l0348u_DQKCrdhUkjk4DquITDES-eG6HT3uTmhU2npqjWG1oxY57S6G0qdTGFbJCrIkI/s200/IMG_0670.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337984152539415762" /></a>Something bad happened in my kitchen yesterday. A good recipe went wrong. Horribly wrong. As a result, sometime between midnight and, what I'll just refer to as "a not so early hour this morning," I passed out. <div><br /></div><div>When I woke up this morning in a happy and well-fed yet admittedly hazy and confused state, I looked around at the sunny, sunny bedroom, spied the clock and gasped "What the hell happened?" <br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div>Soon enough my mental circuitry started to snap and spark. It all came back to me very clearly. No wonder I felt like I'd been wrapped in gauze: I was fighting a hangover. A gob-induced hangover. Make that an absinthe-frosted-gob-induced hangover. And that beguiling green bottle was to blame. <div><br /></div><div>Now that I look back at my decision to make an absinthe-frosted gob, countless cautionary tales are coming to mind. Here are just a few:</div><div>1. Just because it's edible, it doesn't always mean you should put it in your mouth.</div><div>2. Just because it works on paper, it doesn't mean it's going to work on the palate. </div><div>3. If something was illegal for nearly a hundred years, there must have been a good reason.</div><div>4. Follow directions. If the label cautions one part absinthe to four-to-six parts water, again, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">there must be a good reason</span>.</div><div>5. Don't play with your food. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why was I attempting to incorporate absinthe into a gob recipe? Like every other great challenge, the answer is simple. Because it was there. But mostly because my gobs are about to start making more appearances on the streets, and in at least one store, in the city where I live and I wanted to have five solid versions under my belt. (I was going to say "under my apron" but that just sounds wrong in more ways than I can count.) And with this being San Francisco, not only does food have to be good, it has to be unique. Like the song says, it's hard out here for a pimp. Or in this case, it's hard out here for a barely-employed food writer who's learned that it's not enough in a recession just to be able to write about food. You have to be able to cook it, write the recipe, make sure it's like nothing else that's out there at the moment, take the dish's damn photo, put it up on line, promote it, take it to the streets, sell it, and then, if you can grow your own yeast, filet your own sashimi plate, create water from air, balance the tires on someone's car or check their oil while you're doing everything else, then maybe, just maybe someone will pay attention to you. Or at least that's how it is in this town! There is always someone better than the best around the next corner. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh yeah, it's definitely a city of producers," a friend of mine who is a lifelong resident of this great city confirmed yesterday when I was sharing how amazed I am at the level of talent contained here in the 7 X 7. That talent, and the inspiration that it offers, is one of the reasons why I wanted to move here in the first place. </div><div><br /></div><div>Don't worry, this isn't where I break into the Mary Tyler Moore theme and throw my hat up in the air, nor is it where I start singing about "spreading the news." But it is where I'm going to rewind back to yesterday when I was tilting back the bottle of absinthe as I tried to get the balance right in the frosting I was making for this new batch of gobs. I'm not going to disclose all of the ingredients or the recipe since I'm not giving up on it just yet. I will share though that every ingredient was given a lot of thought and theoretically they all should've harmoniously clicked, like yin and yang, when the two gob halves were frosted and then fitted together. </div><div><br /></div><div>They're not bad. But like anything that's suddenly given power, in this case through a jolt of high octane alcohol, they just don't know their own strength. And I didn't know it - their power, that is - either. At least not until I returned home last night from a certain crowded concert venue and found myself in a ravenous state through no doing of my own. Since this is a family-oriented blog, I'll let you figure that one out for yourselves. Happily standing in my kitchen at around midnight and looking for something to eat, I was overcome with a giddy rush as I remembered the gobs I'd baked earlier in the afternoon. I quickly devoured two of them. I remember washing them down with some milk straight outta the carton. And the next thing I knew it was morning. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, the moral of this recipe? Know your ingredients. (How many times have I said that to myself in the past few weeks?) And measure them accordingly. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will probably give these gobs another go, tempering my pour on the absinthe. In the meantime, I have a fridge full of these things over here at the Folsom Test Kitchen. San Francisco peeps, you know where I live! But please, if you come over, bring along a designated driver: You will be eating at your own risk. </div></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-32091426687986139582009-05-16T15:33:00.000-07:002009-05-16T17:59:20.769-07:00Gazpacho Shooters: The Classic Chilled Soup Goes High Octane For Brunch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4MgMXXCP4Wbs8Z7817x545xM2JxrDU7jarDCBdC2kmr-6dqVg7KLBUZ2Ts_rBESTrwGzD8kbxmlW5eAY-LAWa3ViiZCimBhr1BDGT1wYnq_gwSdUDT5qpKhZvvCw-C0kGwW6AHoFVgQ/s1600-h/IMG_0638.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4MgMXXCP4Wbs8Z7817x545xM2JxrDU7jarDCBdC2kmr-6dqVg7KLBUZ2Ts_rBESTrwGzD8kbxmlW5eAY-LAWa3ViiZCimBhr1BDGT1wYnq_gwSdUDT5qpKhZvvCw-C0kGwW6AHoFVgQ/s200/IMG_0638.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336554696515718226" /></a>I think I'm one of those people who wears their influences on their proverbial sleeves. From my taste in movies and music, to my favorites in fashion and food, I think I'm pretty easy to read: I am a product of my generation. Take my love of gazpacho, for instance. I began coming into my culinary own, so to speak, right around the time that the Tex-Mex and Southwestern crazes were spicing up the American kitchen. I was living in Baltimore back then, and a small restaurant in Fells Point called South By Southwest inspired my palate with a simple side dish of black beans and white corn. In another part of town, the menu at a place called the Cultured Pearl offered an equally-influential gazpacho. Those two dishes set me on a course of personal study. I stayed up late reading books by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Essential-Cuisines-Mexico-throughout-recipes/dp/0609603558">Diana Kennedy</a>. I combed through recipes in magazines and newspapers, training my eyes to spot words like "ancho," "poblano," and "mesa" at cincuenta pasos. And I faithfully watched PBS series like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Southwest Tastes: Great Chefs of the Wes</span>t or Julia's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Cooking With Master Chefs</span>, which featured the about-to-be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Too </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Hot Tamales </span><a href="http://topchefs.chef2chef.net/recipes/tamales/#Biography">Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger.</a> <div><br /></div><div>I quickly discovered the importance of balancing my spice blends, tempering a fiery patch of peppers with a cooling dollop of sour cream. Before long, I was perfecting dishes. Gazpacho was one of the first. The cold tomato soup provided a great way to learn the subtleties of fresh ingredients and how they can make, or break a meal. A seemingly benign cucumber, for instance, can practically poison a recipe; red onions, if not used judiciously or if used so much as an hour past their prime, can likewise befoul a dish and sentence it to the compost bin. Gazpacho empowered me to follow my instincts. I began to improvise with varying degrees of success. Not all of my experiments yielded tasty, or even edible results. To this day my former housemate Margo will not let me forget my disastrous orange chili chicken. Comparing its flavor to, and I quote directly, "a vomit patch" she blames that meal for putting her off of what she now generalizes as the "meat-fruit-nut combo" dishes. </div><div><br /></div><div>If TexMex foods were all the rage when I was carving out my kitchen's niche, then vodka was the beverage of choice. Drinking vodka became as much about stylist choice as it was about taste, a trend established by the distiller Absolut. Absolut Vodka ads were everywhere in the mid and late 1980s. The era was all but defined by the images for the company by artists like <a href="http://absolutad.com/absolut_gallery/singles/pictures/?id=1846&_s=singles">Andy Warhol</a> and <a href="http://absolutad.com/absolut_gallery/singles/pictures/?id=960&_s=singles">Keith Haring</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unlike my trial-and-errors with south-of-the-border recipes, my experiments with vodka are probably best left for chronicling elsewhere. But this is one that's safe to share: I've always had a strong urge to wed my early love of vodka with my gazpacho recipe. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'd always thought a Bloody Mary could practically be served in a bowl, anyway, and wasn't gazpacho really just the unleaded version of the classic cocktail? Well, as I discovered when I attempted to create a gazpacho shooter for an upcoming brunch, the answer is no. The cucumber, once again, is the wild card, as is any chili pepper that you decide to use. </div><div><br /></div><div>So after a few wretched batches, and one wicked mid-day hangover, I hit upon a recipe for Gazpacho Shooters. Enjoy responsibly, please, and ask if you have any questions. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Gazpacho Shooters</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the soup... </span></div><div>1 can whole peeled tomatoes in juice (28 oz)</div><div>1 lemon, sliced into rounds</div><div>half a medium-sized cucumber, peeled and sliced into rounds</div><div>juice of 1 lime</div><div>2 strips of fresh jalapeno, sliced lengthwise </div><div>1 cup vodka</div><div>2 to 4 TBS lemon-thyme syrup (see Gobs Gone Wild post on this blog)</div><div>Tabasco sauce</div><div>kosher salt to taste</div><div>fresh ground black pepper</div><div>chives for "straw" garnish</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Pour vodka into a shallow bowl or baking dish. Do not use plastic as it will sully the flavor. Place lemon slices and cucumber slices in vodka. Cover and refrigerate for at least four hours. </div><div>2. Puree tomatoes in a food processor or blender. Add cucumbers from vodka and puree with tomatoes until smooth. Squeeze lemon slices into tomato and cucumber mix. Puree well. </div><div>3. Add at least two tablespoons of the lemon thyme syrup to tomato mixture and puree again. Starting with one tablespoon of lime juice, begin to balance out the flavor. You might find that you want to add more sweetener. (I usually put a bit of strained honey into my gazpacho.) The lime will counter the lemon nicely. Add the lime juice to your taste, but puree after each additional seasoning. (SEE NOTES BELOW.)</div><div>4. Add two or three healthy dashes of Tabasco to the soup and puree well again. </div><div>5. Using a funnel and a ladle, pour into individual shot glasses, top with cracked pepper and serve with a "straw" of fresh chive. </div><div>NOTES: The vodka in the gazpacho was almost overpowering on my first three attempts. If I'd just been a little more patient I would have discovered that with some extra pureeing - and a bit of time - the flavors would meld together wonderfully. Don't give up on this if at first it tastes too strong, or if the flavors seem disproportionate. Balance it to your liking with the lime and the lemon-thyme syrup. And then let it sit for at least ten minutes in your fridge. Taste it again. It will come together on its own. I used canned tomatoes here just because the fresh are still a little too unpredictable. Choose a cucumber that is medium sized and hopefully not seedy and pithy. Also, if the jalapeno smells the least bit acrid when you slice into it, don't use it! </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-20301381815683028632009-05-12T17:00:00.000-07:002009-05-12T18:25:26.922-07:00Gobs Gone Wild! Lemon Makes These Blonde On Blonde Gobs Hot!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYAxVZzS30dH0QavxH6epDQI5ph-4sD-pmpUpCpnCCrnwl7dzcmLTfH3rz3iU8j8-T5kXBd_WX8WRYvHqmX_KT6Uw1lmz0l8wK_oI_jkCUBep2bx5NinCo5bBKKESctARwvjxOp5RF4w/s1600-h/IMG_0633.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYAxVZzS30dH0QavxH6epDQI5ph-4sD-pmpUpCpnCCrnwl7dzcmLTfH3rz3iU8j8-T5kXBd_WX8WRYvHqmX_KT6Uw1lmz0l8wK_oI_jkCUBep2bx5NinCo5bBKKESctARwvjxOp5RF4w/s200/IMG_0633.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335091892066238226" /></a>You don't have to go too far back in this blog's history to find a post in which I extolled the virtues of keeping food traditions. Fortunately there's also another post somewhere in my blogging past stating that I'm not very good at following rules. Even if they're self-imposed. <div><br /></div><div>Truth is I've always been too curious for my own good. And while I've been tempted lately to see what would happen if I strayed from the recipe for my beloved gobs - one that I was only recently reunited with - I'll admit that I honestly couldn't justify doing so. At least not without good cause. But a recent conversation led me to the conclusion that I could experiment without abandoning my first love, with the understanding, of course, that it was all in the name of culinary exploration.</div><div><br /></div><div>So with that in mind I gave the gobs a makeover, turning them from brunettes into blondes. I wanted to try to tone down their sweetness by adding a bit of herbal essence and a little citrus-y tang. I infused a homemade syrup with fresh lemon juice, lemon rind and whole sprigs of fresh thyme and then added a small, strained bit of that into the batter, along with lemon zest. I also poured a bit of the lemon-thyme syrup into the frosting, adding more lemon zest and fresh thyme leaves. I also switched out the original recipe's vegetable shortening for butter in the cake batter, though I did leave it in the frosting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Give it a try and get back to me. And before anyone asks, the answer is no. These still aren't whoopie pies. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Blonde On Blonde Gobs </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the lemon-thyme syrup...</span></div><div>1 cup water</div><div>1 cup sugar</div><div>5 - 7 sprigs of fresh thyme (if the stalks are really leafy, use less)</div><div>4 TBS fresh squeezed lemon juice</div><div>rind of half a lemon</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the Gobs... </span></div><div>2 cups sugar</div><div>1/2 cup butter, softened</div><div>2 eggs, room temperature</div><div>4 cups flour</div><div>1/2 tsp baking powder</div><div>2 tsp baking soda</div><div>1 TBS lemon zest</div><div>1 cup buttermilk</div><div>1 cup water (use sparingly) </div><div>1 tsp vanilla</div><div>1 tsp lemon-thyme syrup (see above)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the frosting.... </span></div><div>1 cup milk</div><div>4 TBS flour</div><div>1/2 cup vegetable shortening</div><div>1/2 cup butter</div><div>1 cup confectioner's sugar (plus more if needed to thicken frosting)</div><div>1/2 tsp vanilla</div><div>1/2 tsp lemon-thyme syrup</div><div>1 tsp fresh thyme leaves</div><div>1 tsp lemon zest </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>1. Make the syrup ahead of time by placing water, sugar, lemon juice, thyme sprigs and lemon rind in a small pan and bringing to a boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat. Allow to cool and steep at least 20 minutes. Strain when cool. Set aside. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Preheat oven to 350 F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Set aside. Sift the flour, baking powder, and baking soda together in a large bowl. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Cream the sugar, butter and eggs together in a mixing bowl. Scrape sides occasionally to make sure all of the sugar gets thoroughly mixed. Begin adding flour mixture and alternate with additions of the milk, water (see NOTES,) vanilla and lemon-thyme syrup. Start and end the combining process with the dry ingredients. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. Beat mixture well, scraping sides of mixing bowl. Using a spoon begin dropping small mounds of batter onto lined cookie sheets. The batter should be thick enough that it doesn't run. If it needs smoothed out you can do so by dipping your finger in water and lightly rounding the tops. Make sure your finger is not dripping wet! Space mounds apart so that six large, or eight small, gob halves are on each tray. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes, depending on your oven, until the gobs' domes have raised nicely and a tester inserted in the center of one of the gobs comes out clean. Allow to cool on a rack. Continue in batches until all of the batter is used. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Make the icing by heating a cup of milk and four tablespoons of flour on stove top. Stir well and heat until mixture begins to thicken. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Cream the vegetable shortening and butter in a mixer, then add the sugar. Mix well. Add the vanilla, lemon-thyme syrup and milk-flour mixture and beat until almost fluffy. Add the lemon zest and thyme leaves and mix thoroughly. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. When gob halves are cooled, invert one and spread about a teaspoon and a half of frosting on top of it. Top with another gob half. Allow to set. The frosting should be thick enough to hold the two haves together without oozing out of the sides. Wrap each gob in wax paper or parchment paper, then again in plastic wrap or place in an airtight container. Refrigerate. Serve chilled.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">NOTES: </span>The first time I made the gobs I used nearly all of the one cup of water in the batter part of the recipe. Since I was adding more liquid this time as a flavoring - the lemon-thyme syrup - I cut back on the water and only used about half. Also, the first time I used all of the confectioner's sugar that was called for in the frosting, which was nearly 2 cups. This time I only used 1 cup plus maybe another tablespoon of sugar and there was enough frosting left over for another gob or two. I prefer gobs cold and so I keep them refrigerated. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-53302885736587335732009-05-09T09:44:00.000-07:002009-05-09T11:41:58.740-07:00The Hampden Highball: A Cocktail That's Fittingly Spicy, Sassy and Smooth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePmbztmJ89n-UWAlnhaKr84C4K9K-zyiKh_eM11T_oNJAvQ9n5mJUJU6LIAYeDPwtzrOcdFgZYpec60FqHELLaw55uBaIErLu_hAWhazvkd01L6YS3U1wpsd1l1gw0ZJv-eEPCnPRAPU/s1600-h/IMG_0617.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePmbztmJ89n-UWAlnhaKr84C4K9K-zyiKh_eM11T_oNJAvQ9n5mJUJU6LIAYeDPwtzrOcdFgZYpec60FqHELLaw55uBaIErLu_hAWhazvkd01L6YS3U1wpsd1l1gw0ZJv-eEPCnPRAPU/s200/IMG_0617.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333866415339327314" /></a>When I decided a few weeks back that I was going to fashion a cocktail for each race of the Triple Crown, I knew that of the three, creating a drink worthy of the <a href="http://www.preakness.com/">Preakness</a> was going to be the most daunting task. I'd lived in Baltimore for nearly eleven years. I'd moved there right outta college, and in true poetic form (though not Poe's form) those days were the best of times and they were the worst of times. Since "Baltimore, The City That Reads," was a campaign that was just breaking when I parked my Uhaul at the corner of Cathedral and Center Streets, I'll continue with the literary allusions. What made those years the worst of times proved Tolstoy right: Bad relationships - whether with people, a job, even a town - are unique to each individual. Each person has their own gripe. But what made those years the best of times is something that is fairly universal: The joy we experience from our friendships. And even though I currently live on the other side of the country, the people that I met while living in Baltimore remain my friends to this day. They are still some of the most creative, talented, brilliant and funny souls I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. So I knew honoring those friends in a cocktail created for The Preakness was going to be a heavy and humbling task. <div><br /></div><div>I was set on only one ingredient: The drink had to include one of the soda's made my Stewart's. But what went into the cocktail after that? That's where I was stumbling. Fortunately, I'd just learned a big lesson about mixing drinks. And it came in a very small glass. </div><div><br /></div><div>We had recently attended a party in honor of "<a href="http://www.fabric8.com/bazaar/product.f8ml?PID=BB0140">Peep's Corner</a>," the latest print to be released by our friend, the artist and San Francisco fixture, <a href="http://brianbarneclo.com/">Brian Barneclo</a> (who just so happened to design the banner you see above.) The gathering was at <a href="http://www.ryesf.com/">Rye</a>, one of the best watering holes in town, and I figured I'd take advantage of the expertise behind the bar. So when Douglas Williams, the aptly titled <a href="http://www.liquidalchemysf.com/">Liquid Alchemist</a>, came over to take my order, I shrugged and said "Surprise me." And boy, did he. Doug mixed a drink that I can only describe as putting the "wow" in whiskey sour. He used rye, lemon juice, a little <a href="http://www.allaboutagave.com/index.php">agave nectar</a>, and some bitters. It was sublime. When I expressed my amazement over the balance of the drink, Doug essentially explained that if you have the right ingredients, at the right temperatures, the flavors will develop on their own. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remembered Doug's words as I went about creating The <a href="http://www.hampdenmerchants.com/index.html">Hampden</a> Highball, named for one of my favorite neighborhoods in <a href="http://www.charmcitycakes.com/">Charm City</a>. As I said, I wanted to use one of <a href="http://www.drinkstewarts.com/">Stewart's sodas</a> since the company was a Baltimore institution, but beyond that I was stumped. I'd hoped initially to create something with Stewart's Creme, or maybe Stewart's Key Lime. Why those flavors? Because mixing a successful cocktail out of the famous Stewart's Root Beer just seemed totally beyond my grasp of flavors. (For now.) </div><div><br /></div><div>In the end I relied on Stewart's Ginger Beer. Many memorable nights were spent with some of my best Baltimore friends drinking Jim Beam mixed with ginger beer (or ginger ale if we couldn't find any of the former.) Starting with that as the base I then added a little vanilla extract to pay homage to Stewart's Creme Soda, and some bitters in honor of the many cocktails I'd consumed at the now defunct-<a href="http://deadvenuesofbaltimore.blogspot.com/2009/01/liquor-bike-live-memory-lane-1996.html">Memory Lane</a> as well as at the legendary <a href="http://www.theclubcharles.com/links.htm">Club Charles</a>. I took the first sip. And it was awful. So, I took a second sip. Still just as bad. I decided to pour it over ice. It was then that I turned to my default garnish of choice - a healthy squirt of fresh lime. I gave the juice a quick stir into and under the ice, took a sip, and smiled. I think, though I can't be entirely, I had mixed a drink that would have made Doug - but especially my Baltimore friends - proud. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not going to question how those flavors came together. All I know is that somewhere in those chips of ice, the ingredients enacted an alchemy all their own. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Hampden Highball </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the cocktail....</span></div><div>4 oz Stewart's Ginger Beer (if you need to use Ginger Ale, that's fine, just know that it won't have the same bite.)</div><div>2 oz Bourbon (Jim Beam or Maker's Mark will work best.)</div><div>A dash of vanilla extract (less than 1/8 tsp)</div><div>2 (or more) dashes of bitters</div><div>1 squirt of lime (squeezing out the juice from a quartered wedge should do the trick.)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the garnish... </span></div><div>Lime wheel</div><div>Vanilla bean (if you get these at Costco they are much less pricey.)</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Pour ice in glass to halfway.</div><div>2. In a mixing glass add ginger beer, then bourbon. Add dash of vanilla (use a measuring spoon to get the "less than 1/8 tsp" if necessary) and then a few dashes of bitters. Stir.</div><div>3. Pour over ice. Squirt lime juice into glass. Give another stir. Garnish. Enjoy responsibly! </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-11187560748570437242009-05-06T09:06:00.000-07:002009-05-06T12:30:49.032-07:00Easy, Pleasing Salsa With A Seedy Twist!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEQ1pDb6XjZYa5szOQ8v3xyhalF1YqkZ_Ion3nrW_gLDjuNYV9BYdaEpB5sCjUafyV35TfjJvqT7kPydI_wfHhsXIqq-8BQoJUqKbF8OSK0ksiBXjP9v78TTNP8FDhFY7clob8OsiJkg/s1600-h/IMG_0589.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEQ1pDb6XjZYa5szOQ8v3xyhalF1YqkZ_Ion3nrW_gLDjuNYV9BYdaEpB5sCjUafyV35TfjJvqT7kPydI_wfHhsXIqq-8BQoJUqKbF8OSK0ksiBXjP9v78TTNP8FDhFY7clob8OsiJkg/s200/IMG_0589.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332743966074525954" /></a>I'm feeling very Cinco de Mayo my-oh-my this morning so thankfully I have this easy salsa recipe to offer. I hacked this recipe years ago from the very first issue of Chow Magazine. It has since proven quite versatile and its basic elements can be tweaked just enough to turn into a salsa, a dip or a spread. I served it last night with mini cornmeal blinis (instead of taco shells or tortillas) that were slathered with some of this salsa, then topped with crunchy green cabbage, grated carrots, and fajita-spiced flank steak. I also put it in a bowl next to some jicama and carrot strips for dipping. Even more fun than watching everyone enjoying it was seeing the puzzlement on their faces as they swiped stick after stick through the dip in an attempt to guess the source of the beguiling flavor. This salsa gets a triple shot of smoky flavor from roasted tomatoes, toasted pumpkin seeds and ground chipotle. A little vinegar, brown sugar and lime juice then rounds those flavors out. Kosher salt provides the balance. <div><br /></div><div>That's it. This will quickly become a staple in your kitchen. </div><div><br /></div><div>Without further rambling from me - my morning fog is your concise recipe entry - so here you are. As always, ask if you have questions. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Roasted Tomato And Pumpkin Seed Salsa</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the salsa....</span></div><div>5 tomatoes, roma work best but you can use larger varieties, halved, cored, seeded, with pithy pulp removed</div><div>1 cup raw pumpkin seeds</div><div>Olive oil</div><div>salt and pepper</div><div>1 to 2 TBS chipotle powder</div><div>1 TBS ancho powder</div><div>2 TBS brown sugar </div><div>1 TBS kosher salt</div><div>1 TSP coarse ground black pepper</div><div>1/4 quarter cup white vinegar (or more if desired)</div><div>2 to 4 TBS lime juice </div><div><br /></div><div>1. Preheat oven to 400F. Toss tomato halves in a little olive oil with salt and pepper, place on foil lined baking sheet and stick in oven for about 15 minutes. Flip. Roast another 10 minutes, start to watch for charring of the skins. This is desirable for the rich flavor, btw. When skins of tomatoes are starting to turn brown, remove from oven. Set aside.</div><div>2. Toss pumpkin seeds with a light drizzle of oil, spread evenly on foil-lined pan. Place in oven and immediately turn heat down to 250F. Keep an eye on them. In about five minutes you'll get a waft of their nutty fragrance. Make sure they're not burning. When they've started browning, remove. This should happen in about 10 minutes. Set aside to cool, but be mindful that some of them will be popping and cracking open. </div><div>3. Place tomatoes and pumpkin seeds in a non-reactive pan over medium heat. Add one cup water. Bring to boil, then turn down to simmer. Add vinegar, chipotle powder, ancho powder, one tablespoon of brown sugar, kosher salt, and black pepper. Stir very well. Simmer about thirty minutes on low or until tomatoes have started breaking down. Remove from heat, stir in lime juice and adjust flavoring as needed. I personally like more lime than vinegar so I went heavy on the lime. </div><div>4. When mixture has sufficiently cooled, add to food processor. Watching for rogue exploding pumpkin seeds. Pulse until a chunky puree has been made. Taste and adjust seasoning again. Pulse until seeds are reduced to tiny bits. Refrigerate til ready to use. Makes approximately two cups. Serve with chips, jiacama sticks, or use as a spread on wraps. </div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7996331450341465034.post-60129934763949080712009-05-05T10:06:00.000-07:002009-05-05T11:32:29.607-07:00In Synch: These Fudge Brownies Are Perfect For Cinco de Mayo AND Vegan Tuesday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnB6KPPN_7si055Sv_MQFkBX_U8CP39I9ieEqQHTPblfxSQwSyJkLxcr2_6pekl8OdBwvfE-EJgkL2KSdl3YyZ8zyANzUQwh_-7vq5AQVR3iATmCXG-y0Lk_keByAKkZHcXeFcBWwYrE/s1600-h/IMG_0581.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnB6KPPN_7si055Sv_MQFkBX_U8CP39I9ieEqQHTPblfxSQwSyJkLxcr2_6pekl8OdBwvfE-EJgkL2KSdl3YyZ8zyANzUQwh_-7vq5AQVR3iATmCXG-y0Lk_keByAKkZHcXeFcBWwYrE/s200/IMG_0581.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332388153205721410" /></a>I know, I know. You're going to look at the photo immediately to the right of this text and ask, "Pfft, who are you to judge? You just take pictures of the food you make with your phone." To that accusation I would have to plead, as the <a href="http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/walkhard/">Great Dewey Cox</a> once sang, "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Fn17NYTdQU">Guilty as charged.</a>" But, I would also have to add that I'm not a professional food stylist, nor am I in the food packaging business. The manufacturers of the box housing the product that I'm about to criticize, however, are. And if it weren't for trusting Lon's judgement on this, I never would've used said product, and I might still be waiting for these vegan fudge brownies to set. So, what's the offending party? The artwork on the front of the box containing the egg substitute that I used. After all, I had to ensure that these brownies could be both Vegan Tuesday <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">and </span>Cinco de Mayo compliant. <div><br /></div><div>If I hadn't seen the <a href="http://www.ener-g.com/store/detail.aspx?section=8&cat=8&id=97">Ener-G Egg Replacer</a> - the egg substitute in question - being pulled from a grocery store bag with my own eyes just a few months ago, I would've sworn that it was an artifact left behind when our kitchen was renovated the first time. In 1968. Oddly outdated, and even vaguely foreign looking, the box of Ener-G Egg Replacer that Lon purchased earlier this year looked like something that had sat neglected and covered in dust on the top shelf in a kosher butcher shop; the kinda place that my sister-in-law Amy describes as "having sawdust all over the floor and an 80 year old man behind the meat case who says to the 60 year old woman in line, 'And what can I get for you today, young lady?'"</div><div><br /></div><div>As I've ventured into vegan territory for over a year now, one of the things I have often noted is how the products themselves don't look very appetizing or appealing. Maybe it's because we don't have any idea of what some vegan foods are supposed to look like? I don't know. But aside from the dishes they're displayed in, I can't tell one food apart from the other on the front of the Ener-G box. The ice cream, the veggie dip, the custards? All the same color.</div><div><br /></div><div>But as we all know, don't judge a box or anything else by its cover. And while I had my doubts about using this egg substitute in my vegan brownie recipe, I gotta tell you: The results were amazing. The flavor and texture of these fudge brownies could fool any carnivore. You would never know they <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">weren't </span>laden with beaten eggs, butter and cream. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll leave the rest of my yammering to the NOTES section of this recipe. The recipe below was hacked from a fudge brownie recipe that Lon found, actually, on <a href="http://www.wholeliving.com/">Martha Stewart's Whole Living web site</a>. Since it already has an unconventional ingredient - as you will soon see - it was already destined to have a different texture, if not taste, but again, the surprise was solely mine. </div><div><br /></div><div>I devised this recipe when I realized that Cinco de Mayo was falling on a Tuesday, and since I've been keeping, and writing about, Vegan Tuesday since January of 2008, I had to find a vegan alternative for what I planned to eat today. So the vegan aspects of the recipe will be obvious, as will the inspirations of the Mexican table. I spiced these up with a light addition of cinnamon, cayenne, and almond extract. I never got around to making the avocado cream for them though. Maybe later this afternoon. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hit me up if you have any questions, I need to get to the recipe as my posts keep getting longer and longer and... well, longer. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Vegan Fudge Brownies for Cinco de Mayo</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For the brownies.... </span></div><div>1/4 cup vegetable shortening (make sure it stresses "no animal products") and more for the pan</div><div>2/3 cup unsweetened, natural cocoa powder</div><div>1/2 cup flour (you can use almond flour in this but be prepared as it might be gritty)</div><div>1/2 tsp baking powder</div><div>1/4 tsp salt</div><div>1/2 tsp cinnamon</div><div>1/8 tsp cayenne (if you want to rely on a pinch, go ahead, a little goes a long way here.)</div><div>1/2 cup sugar</div><div>2/3 cup sweet potato puree (see NOTES below)</div><div>2 TBS <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">prepared </span>Ener-G Egg Replacer (see NOTES below)</div><div>1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract</div><div>1/2 tsp almond extract </div><div><br /></div><div>1. Heat oven to 350 F. Rub sides of square 8 inch baking pan with vegetable shortening.</div><div>2. Melt 1/4 vegetable shortening over medium heat. Remove from heat, stir the cocoa powder in. Mix well. Set aside. It will get very thick and clumpy but that will be addressed below. </div><div>3. Measure egg substitute according to package directions. Set aside. (I made a double batch because I wasn't sure how it was going to produce once mixed. I only added the equivalent of one egg, though.)</div><div>4. Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, cayenne and salt to a large bowl. (I dump all of the dry items into a large strainer and tap them through the sieve, into my mixing bowl. I find this works similar to sifting and disperses dry ingredients more thoroughly than whisking alone.) Whisk to mix further.</div><div>5. Mix sugar into pureed sweet potato mix. Add egg substitute. Stir well. </div><div>6. Add vanilla and almond extracts to cocoa mix. Stir well with a fork. If it still seems to clumpy try adding warm - not hot and not cold - water, 1/2 teaspoon at a time. Mix thoroughly before adding more liquid. This <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">will </span>smooth out. </div><div>7. Combine sweetened potato puree to cocoa mixture. Stir well. </div><div>8. Combine this potato/ cocoa mixture to flour mixture. Stir well. Try to break up any lumps of flour. Using a wide rubber spatula - one that you might want to coat lightly with canola oil first - scoop batter into baking pan. Spread top as evenly as possible. Bake in oven about 20 minutes but start keeping an eye on them at 17 minutes. Insert toothpick to make sure it's coming out almost entirely free of mix. I had to leave these in for about 22 minutes total. Half way through the baking I noticed that the vegetable shortening was lightly pooling on top of the brownies. I smoothed these out, carefully, with my fingers. They got absorbed back into surface. Allow to cool for at least twenty minutes. They will be very dense and moist. Cut, carefully, into squares, then refrigerate. I found that keeping them cold balanced out the cayenne flavoring very well. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">NOTES: </span>For the sweet potato puree, I bought three small sweet potatoes, peeled them, cubed them and par-boiled them. I gave them a whir in the food processor, and voila, sweet potato puree. They help keep the fat content low while keeping the brownies moist. A word about the egg replacer. It is plant-based, and its active ingredient comes from cellulose. It has the very ability to bind and expand when its hot but melt when its cool. So when you're mixing the powder, use warm water for best results and don't let it sit around. I also wasn't sure how the egg substitute was going to work so I doubled the baking powder. The original recipe only called for 1/4 tsp. I added 1/2 and it was fine. As for the cayenne, add as much, or as little, as your tastes prefer. I could see these brownies making an excellent Cinco de Mayo dessert with ice cream - but since the holiday falls on Vegan Tuesday this year, I won't be serving it that way. Maybe next year....? Feedback is appreciated, as always. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01981990190703934633noreply@blogger.com1