Adultery Fridays

A new post is available for your global health reading pleasure over at the Foreign Policy Association.

I found this via the phenomenon known as Facebook.  I think I love Ojai even more.

Canning My Way Into Food Nirvana

One of my friends is a farmer (you can check out her farm stand here).  Due to an unseasonably cold summer in Lompoc, her tomatoes didn't come in until now...and they came in all at once.  When she showed up in SF on Tuesday, the bed of her pickup was filled with tomatoes, plus smaller (though certainly not negligible) amounts of pears, kale, apples, eggs, dahlias, quinces, beef, peaches, and peppers.  When she opened the camper shell, a delicious, sweet perfume of pears and tomatoes (some of which had started to split) wafted out.  What did this mean?  Canning, of course.

Wednesday and part of Thursday were dedicated to this task.  Another friend was nice enough to donate her apartment/kitchen in The Mission, which ended up covered in tomato juice.  We estimated that we processed about fifty pounds of tomatoes, which came out to just under fifty jars of quarts, pints, and half-pints of tomatoes and tomato-japaleño jam, all-told.  This was not, by the way, all of the tomatoes.  There were three or four boxes remaining, which we split amongst ourselves.  My friend also took one box down to Tartine Bakery, in appreciation of their ridiculously, insanely delicious desserts, sandwiches, and bread.  Oh, the bread.  I'm working my way through a round of walnut bread right now.  Blistered in all the right ways, it has wide striations of flour on either side of the split ridge of crust on top.  The loaf's so heavy, it feels like I could use it as a blunt bludgeoning object, and you have to really muscle a serrated blade to get through the crust.  When you do finally cut into it, a tangy, yeast-enhanced smell--like the way bread should smell--almost bursts forth.  The soft walnut pieces studding the interior crackle a bit in the toaster oven.  That deep, almost syrupy taste you get with a perfectly browned crust.  A nice, thick slice toasted and topped with cream cheese is pretty close to nirvana.  It would fulfill the Vietnamese idea of năm giác quan, which means that it appeals to all five senses.  And I won't get started on Tartine's chocolate pudding, lemon tarts, croissants, or coconut cake.  This is one of those places that's absolutely worth the money.  To be honest, when I first heard of Tartine, I was skeptical--there was no way it was worth the hype or the ridiculously long lines.  But it was.  It so, so was.  Go immediately.  Buy bread.  Bathe in pudding.  No judgments.

Our process started with cutting the tomatoes and prepping them for a quick blanching, to loosen the skins.  Then, we peeled off the skins and cut or pulled the tomatoes into large chunks and cooked them down to a nice pulp with some lemon juice for acidity.  Once the jars were sterilized and the water hot, we jarred them and processed them in boiling water (I'm being vague on purpose).  Jars were removed and cooled, and we checked their seals.  Rinse, then repeat with the next round.  Jarring/canning requires some amount of knowledge (yay, botulism!) and special tools.  Make sure you have a buddy with you, maybe to just shout directions at you from a recipe as you wrangle jar lifters, sterilize lids, and pour near-boiling fruit goop from one thing into another.  It goes without saying that I required close supervision.  Fire, boiling water, and knives were involved, after all.

We were working with a variety of heirloom tomatoes, including yellow pears (they're tiny and went whole into a jam concoction with sugar, lemon juice, jalapeños, and basil), green zebras, purple cherokees, amaras, pineapples, and brandywines. 

There's something very satisfying about taking a whole product--especially one that's close to being unusable--and turning it into a long-lasting something else.  For instance, making an iPod case out of a (clean and not ratty) sock with a hole in it, which is pretty much my only DIY skill and isn't going to get me any attention on Etsy just yet.  Or, in this case, taking on-the-cusp-of-composting tomatoes, beautiful shouldn't-be-wasted heirlooms, and sealing them up for use in soups, pasta sauces, and so on, for a year (or more) to come.  The tomatoes were gorgeous before we cut them up, and they continued to be as we processed them.  

We took a break to re-fuel at Tartine and Bi-Rite Market (we did Bi-Rite Creamery on Tuesday night: Basil and Crème Fraîche double scoop).  Bi-Rite is a bit amazing.  Apart from its absolute ridiculousness--I once saw $10 blackberries there, I am not joking--the market has an impressive selection of food-porn-worthy goods.  Frozen rendered duck fat.  Dry spaghetti with that perfect rough texture in violet tissue paper.  At least twenty varieties of gourmet chocolate bars wrapped in beautiful papers, single-origin, organic, hand crafted, nibbed, or fair trade.  A dried bean gallery to die for.  For any foodie, further nirvana awaits.  We cleared out the last copies of the first issue of Lucky Peach, which has a delicious 3-part haiku recipe for miso corn and a conversation among David Chang, Anthony Bourdain (my current obsession is "No Reservations"), and Wylie Dufresne on authenticity.  Did I mention the magazine is devoted almost entirely to ramen?  

As the experts talked shop with the butchers/meat cutters on types of cuts--cowboy steak, a novel London broil, etc.--I learned a few things about beef.  Of course, if you've read Michael Pollan's The Ominvore's Dilemma (or remain in limbo, never quite finishing it...I'm not describing myself), you know that corn is the devil.  I think that's what he was getting at; it might be a bit more complicated.  100% pasture raised means that the cows are eating grass before they go off to a feed lot or are otherwise finished.  "Grass finished" means that just before the steers are killed, they're still eating grass (no hay).  "Grain finished" means that they get some kind of grain, which is occasionally specified.  When a steer is grain or hay finished, it tends to have a better marble on it, which means more delicious fat.  When that finishing grain is corn, that can be a problem for steer's health, as well as yours.  You can read Mr. Pollan's book for more on that.  Something good to know: Santa Barbara County has outlawed feed lots.  Those are the tiny, poop-filled enclosures where steers are contained to fatten them up prior to slaughtering.  So, if you can source your beef from SB, you're probably in better shape, and the bovine specimen you're eating was in better shape before reaching your table. 

After our break, we finished up most of the jarring (apart from the yellow pear tomato and jalapeño jam, which was...a bit fraught), ending around 9pm.  After we chowed down on some Vietnamese noodles, we called it a night and did the final bits on Thursday.  Which brings us to our final product.  A summer's bounty for a winter of lycopene.  

 

No Title

I don't know what to say about today.  Or what I think.  So, here's Paul Simon.  Don't bother with the video.  There's been enough media manipulation already.  Just listen.

Adultery Fridays

New post over at Foreign Policy Association.  On non-communicable diseases, the upcoming United Nations High Level Meeting on said diseases, and how we (being the global community) need to do a whole lot more. 

Off to eat some ramen and wander around China Town and Union Square with the sis.  Have a good weekend.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

 
I live in Cow Hollow.  It's a green, lush place that sits between the steep slopes of Pacific Heights and the flat Marina.  Pac Heights is all big, fancy houses with views of the Bay and gardens that are manicured perfectly, or neglected in the orderly way that means: "We didn't hire a landscaper, but we do have help." The Marina is all residential, apartments and some houses, but perhaps because it was flattened in the 1906 earthquake, it has a strange feel.  And none of the stately Victorians that are on the hill above.  Cow Hollow is a mix of both and includes Union and Chestnut, two boutique-y, cute-restaurant streets that are great for wandering around.  I do that often, as I am unfettered by a job.  Currently. 

The entire area gets a bit of a bad rap--Pac Heights for its old-money snobbery, the Marina for the same, except of the yuppie variety, and Cow Hollow for being a meeting place for both, as well as for being a bit bro-y or fratty.  Although some of this is undeniably accurate, Cow Hollow offers more than the (different kind of) snobby brush-off given by some San Franciscans and tour books, including Time Out.  In the past, I've loved Time Out for its ability to give the locals' view of a city, and I used the guide (and magazine) frequently to find new things in New York.  Maybe I'm getting too old, at the ripe age of 25, to put up with a certain level of hipster-inspired superciliousness (I also complain about music being too loud in bars, sometimes), but their out-of-hand dismissal of my neighborhood was a bit of a bummer.  Boo, Time Out. 

I've been doing a bit of walking/jogging/slogging around the neighborhood and surrounds, and I've started to notice a few trends.  Jogging is very popular, at any time of day.  Probably because of the hills.  If you ever want to see your life flash before your eyes, take a little sprint up the Lyon Steps.  I can't say I was able to even jog all the way up, but I did, at least, make it to the top.  The sharp inclines from Cow Hollow to Pac Heights are totally worth the view, by the way.  On a clear day, you can see all of Alcatraz:

Pac Heights and Cow Hollow dwellers take advantage of every available space for flowers, gardens and greenery.  This includes carefully maintained tree boxes in front of almost every house (right next to the street), vines and other creepers on walls, rooftop gardens, flower boxes and potted plants, and trees and bushes that trail over fences, usually with beautiful blooms. 

Like these.

 

Or these.

A well-maintained garden is a point of pride.  Sculptures optional, but arresting succulents, sprays of flowers, and different shades of green are not.

 I love how this Japanese maple just flares up in the late afternoon.

There are quaint leftovers from simpler times.  Like these emergency boxes (which do not appear to work).

And great little details or touches that differentiate every house.

Even houses that look the same.  Doesn't this remind you of the Bo-Kapp?

There's one final thing that seems to be a must, especially in Pac Heights: having your house renovated.  Which means lots of cones, city permits, signs, and, of course, port-a-potties.  They're everywhere.   See?

When I first moved to Cow Hollow, I was a little intimidated by the way people (mostly women/girls) dress.  And I decided that to fit in, I would have to acquire a dog, which is not allowed in my building.  Or a baby (plus $2,000 stroller), which is out of the question.  And a Mini Cooper.  OK, so the area is a bit (a lot) fancy.  And I can't guarantee that you won't find young people reliving their college weekends at some of the bars, especially for college football games (last weekend was kind of intense with all the face-painting...I was glad I don't care).  But let's be real: in any place with a young, highly-educated demographic (much of The Mission, too, my little hipsters), regardless of their particular scene, you're going to find twenty-somethings  "reliving their college experience" in some way.  That's just life.  On top of Cow Hollow's somewhat questionable population, there are delicious restaurants for every wallet size, shops with unique clothes that make me want to cut up my credit card (yes, I have only one) to stop me from buying anything else, weird bookstores, bakeries of all dispositions and specialties, exciting antiques (I'm a nerd, it's already established, let's move on), and great little cafes for sitting and watching all of the people that walk by.  You can hear the fog horn from the Golden Gate Bridge almost every night.  And there's so much greenery, which must mean that most people here are a bit happier and healthier.  Cow Hollow (and around) is great.  It has everything you need.  Plus a stinky port-a-potty on every corner.

Walking the Mission

As I mentioned in my Foreign Policy Association post, I spent some time wandering The Mission during the week. It's a strange area, a limbo of sorts (you can decide which way is heaven and which is hell), because, of course, it's gentrifying. And it has that cooler-than-thou hipster/fringe/wannabe fringe vibe (hey, I dig the coffee and the stores too, it's OK) and then the I-live-here-and-you-a-holes-are-upping-the-rent vibe. It's just how it goes. I don't know how to fix gentrification. It's one of those urban social evils that isn't always evil. But that always ends up hurting a chunk of the community. I just want to acknowledge that.

Anyway. I took some pictures. There's a lot of awesome street art on Valencia and around as well as more formal (though no less awesome) murals.

A mural commemorating the Arab Spring.

On a building being renovated on Valencia, a nod to SF Giants pitcher Brian Wilson, the wildest beard in the MLB. Feel free to disagree (please note: I am still a Dodgers fan).


A panorama (not great, sorry) of the Women's Building mural on 18th St. Seriously boss.


And finally, a sweet street art installation. The sign reads "What do you love?" Below, people have put luggage tags on the fence listing things that they, presumably, love. A nice spot on Valencia to stop, take a breath, and appreciate the community.

Please note that the photo of Bigfoot at the top is not from The Mission. It's actually Polk St.

Adultery Fridays and the Golden Gate Three Ways

So, it's Friday. Which means a new post at the Foreign Policy Association. This time, I get environmental and discuss why we need green spaces everywhere. For health. Seriously. Also, if you have time, go read the report to which I link in the post. After I read it, I immediately opened all the blinds in the house so that I could see the trees outside. If you're lucky enough to have chlorophyll outside your window, you'll possibly want to do so too. Or please, consider buying a house plant.


I've been doing some (not enough) walking/running around the Presidio and Crissy Field. So, I'd like to share three photos I've taken of the Golden Gate Bridge in various states of fogdom. In order: iPhone with Hipstamatic (topmost), regular camera (middle) and iPhone with Photosynth's panoramic business (below).