the Cooking Freak

Of Fruit and Philosophies: In The Still-Room of June Taylor

                        

                        

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June Taylor apologized for the red berry juice on her hands. It’s what assured me, however, that I was in the right place. When the person whose name is on the product greets you wearing it, you’re talking art not industry.  Industrious she is though, this slight, soft-spoken woman who talks about her sparklingly beautiful jams, conserves and syrups as though she were intimately acquainted with each fruit, each berry.  Then there’s the philosophic, even poetic, way she describes her process.

With the seriousness of a child at play, June works magic in The Still-Room, and here’s something of how she does it.

Two or three hundred years ago, “Still Room” was used to describe the pantry or storeroom connected with kitchens of large houses.  It’s where servants prepared tea and beverages and stored liquors, and preserves. In The Still-Room on 4th Street in Berkeley, Ca., www.junetaylorjams.com visitors step into a small, bright entry way surrounded by shelves to the left and right filled with squat jars of gems like Meyer Lemon & Vanilla Bean Marmalade or slender bottles of fruit syrups such as Spiced Pear and Mediterranean Bay Leaf.  Some conserves, like Kadota Fig, Meyer Lemon & Wild Fennel are mysterious sounding and inspire adventurous eating.  Others, like Strawberry and Raspberry are more familiar and suggest comfort and nostalgia. And some wax romantic when you mouth them:  Red Cloud Apricot, Strawberry & Persian Mint. 

Whatever the name, all June’s products are from organic California farms, made with little sugar and no commercial pectin.  They are on the softer side so as to preserve more of the fruit’s fresh flavor.  Open a jar of these hand-cut, hand-stirred creations and experience the fruit—-and sometimes the fruit and its paired herb—-in its essential state. Tart-sweet, dripping with natural flavors. For the artisan, this kind of perfection comes at a price, however.  “That’s the madness” June said about her attention to detail, relaying a story about how she found a worm in a berry once and had to throw the whole pot out!  Seeing what’s wrong, tasting what’s off from the desired outcome, requires a spirit possessed by the quest for what’s best and nothing less. 

It’s possibly June’s fruit syrups that intrigue me the most.  The syrups are deceptively simple, she said. The simpler the task, the harder to do. They [the syrups] are the most ephemeral and intimate. They require multiple infusions for a more distinct, clear flavor. These syrups are playful and ask the cook to be playful too.  What could be so serious about a liquid called Summer Sweet Peach & Rosemary?  Try it tossed over berries or, if it’s the Wild Fennel, pour it over blood orange segments. And her candied citrus peels bring out the kid in me.  Disks of Clementines and triangles of Oro Blanco Grapefruit can be tossed into couscous, greens or granola.  I’ll top a vanilla buttercream with Meyer Lemon. 

A student of food history, no one taught June these secrets.  She divined them for herself from books while standing, as an apprentice, next to the author and…. through trial and error…..learning. June told me of a day when she went from wanting to do a tayberry conserve straight, to tasting and deciding, You know what…I want something else going on here.  But her home garden, from which she gets her herbs, wasn’t cooperating, and she couldn’t get rose geranium.  So how did you compensate for that?, I asked. I did lemon verbena! 

This kind of flexibility, such alignment with nature, is much of what makes The Still-Room a unique and valuable resource.  For any of us who like to eat, to cook surely.  But also for those who appreciate our culinary history, recognize the value of trial and error, and admire the boldness of experimentation.

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Pizzetta 211

Meet Jack Murphy, friendly, likable host, all-around lover and maker of delicious food, and chef/owner of Pizzetta 211.  First I liked the look: small place, couple of outside bistro tables, warm, homey looking interior, and a short ( read focused for excellence) menu posted on the window.  Then I loved the food: a special starter plate of homemade pork sausage with a hint of red pepper, onion, and cilantro sitting on roasted wax beans, cherry tomatoes and shavings of Pecorino fell loosely out of the casing as the fork hit and had just the right hit of heat. 

The pizzetta ( little pizzas ) were thin and crispy and delicately dressed.  One with pine nuts was a great pairing of rich Fiore Sardo cheese and woody rosemary, the other classic tomato, mozzarella, basil, held a sea salty white anchovy on each slice. I didn’t try the Flourless Chocolate Cake that’s always on the menu, (and I’m sure it’s terrific), because the special Apricot Upside Down Almond Cake just looked too enticing.  It was a good pick.  The apricots were perfectly softened and tart-sweet, the cake moist with almond paste and butter.  A side dollop of whipped cream the perfect pairing.

And last, I loved the community of people working and cooking at Pizzetta. That’s where Jack comes in. He was funny and outgoing and passionate about allowing his staff to flourish in all aspects of their work at Pizzetta. They take turns cooking, learning, and overall sharing, the workings of the restaurant.  Amy served our table and was generous in all her answers and suggestions.  She even agreed to give me the Almond Cake recipe and brought over a handwritten note shortly after. 

Pizzetta 211, at 23rd and California Ave., San Francisco, was fun, welcoming, and made me feel like I was in a friend’s home. The food was made with as much imagination, care and attention to detail as a friend might muster, and it was absloutely delicious.

Temptation

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McAvoy Ranch Olive Oil, Acme Bread, Ciao Bella Gelato, Miette Confections, Blue Bottle Coffee, Happy Girl Kitchen Co., Prather Ranch Meats, and Boccalone Salumeria. These are just some of the uniquely Californian food products for sale at the Ferry Building Marketplace in San Francisco. Outside, on the plaza, I talked with local farmers who were tempting passersby with their straight-from-the-earth produce. Lemon cucumbers, Santa Rosa plums, and Frog Hollow Peaches were just some of the many offerings on display.

Opened in 1898, San Francisco’s Ferry Building is a terminal for ferries that travel across San Francisco Bay and a shopping center on the Embarcadero.  On top of the building is a huge clock tower which can be seen from Market Street, a main thoroughfare that’s been compared to New York City’s Fifth Ave.  To get there, I took the #31 Muni bus at the corner of Balboa and 21st Ave.,  just a few blocks from our house. Because it pretty much stops at every other street along the way, the 5 mile ride took nearly 40 minutes.  But the bus is the way to go.  No traffic to tackle, no parking to find, and nothing to do but take in the sights.  Kind of like a tour bus without the guide’s annoying jokes. 

I felt a little like a kid, seeing and exploring this section of the city on my own.  Everything is new, but not really.  I had imaginings about San Francisco from years of reading or hearing about it.  I knew, for instance, that the Ferry Building was a famous landmark, I knew about the marketplace, and I’d heard about……earthquakes.  I’d even heard about the great weather: on the cool side, dry, California sun. It’s fun to compare the fact with the legend. When the reality matches—-or surpasses—-the myth, it’s exciting.  We travel, after all, to experience something different. 

So back to the food.  For lunch I had a small plate of Wood Fired Halibut on Vermicelli in a Pineapple Anchovy sauce with a side of Baby Bok Choy and a glass of Russian River Red at The Slanted Door, an amazing Vietnamese restaurant in the Terminal.  I sat at the bar or not at all.  It was packed, and rightly so.  The Halibut was charred lightly around the edges and, under that, velvety white and tender.  The sauce was light but a distinct blend of the piquant anchovy with the sweetness of pineapple. Heaven.

Back in the main hall where all the food companies hold court, I stopped at Acme Bread to view the boules and baguettes from this famed California company.  For a meal to be cooked up at home, I picked up a $25, one pound rib eye at Prather Meats and walked next door to the mushroom stall to buy porcini flavored salt to rub on it before searing.  And then….. a handful of creminis and shitakes to saute with the steak.  Further down the long hall of the ferry Building, I stopped at Blue Bottle Coffee and bought some of their granola.  No, I didn’t get any of their fabulous coffee; that’s for my next trip in a week. 

You can’t really pass Miette’s without stopping. This confectioner’s style is Parisian pastels, scallop-edged labels and delicate baked goods. I reached into a small freezer next to the counter for an ice cream sandwich ala Miette.  Their own chocolate wafer cookies and Valrhona chocolate ice cream.  It was the best ice cream sandwich in memory.  The cookies crisp…… but willing to soften as the ice cream does, and the chocolate deep and rich. At Happy Girl Kitchen Co. where their shelves are filled with local, seasonal preserved jams, marmalades, and pickles, I bought a small, $7 jar of Meyer Lemon Ginger Marmalade to baste on chicken or fish.

The farmers represented outside in the plaza on a Saturday is twice the number as I saw today on a Thursday. So I’ll be returning early Saturday, the 23rd, and plan on cooking that night with what I bring home.                                                                                       

Great View, Terrible Food

Tonight is our last night in Yosemite.  We’ve moved to a different room, requested a balcony, and……. Lord, the view is astonishing.  Let’s just say, it’s the kind of space you never want to leave.  Not even for dinner.  Have it sent up, read the novel you tucked into your luggage, and try to keep turning the page even though you’re magnetized to the view across the way and would rather just stare. Staring  mindlessly at nature.  Because this nature is unlike any we have on Long Island. 

The fancy Ahwahnee Hotel where we’re staying is just a cleverly crafted illusion of civilization set into wilderness.  But that wilderness is the reality.  I wouldn’t want to be stranded, at nightfall, too far from this oasis of safety. It takes nearly half an hour just to get from the entrance of the park to the hotel.  It’s deep, deep into bear country.

How then, amidst all this perfection, can the exquisite dining room of the Ahwanhee serve nearly inedible food? The menu itself is tall and leather embossed.  You open it as you would a papal decree, expecting something sacred and life changing.  But alas, it’s pure hype.  In fact, the food is so bad, it makes the course descriptions sound like farce.  Blackened Swordfish on a bed of Julienned Jicama in a Tomato Coulis came way undercooked and tough.  Upon its reappearrance on the table after I had sent it back…..it was still undercooked!  Pan Seared Trout Meuniere with Rock Shrimp and Sauteed Spinach was more like “Trout Manure,” greasy, overcooked and flavorless.  Come on, we’re next to some of the most pristine rivers in the US, can’t you get a fishing rod and land a fresh one?  Caesar Salad/Sourdough Croutons was simply lettuce swathed in Hellman’s and sprinkled with tiny, greasy,nuggets of old bread.

People staying at the Ahwahnee are paying $500 a night and they’re a captive audience.  You can’t just take a jaunt out of the park and find another place to eat.  So it’s especially puzzling as to why the one source of food here can’t be better, a lot better.  In such a historic, stately dining room where 20 ft wall to wall windows let in the most breathtaking views this country has to offer, it sure is sad that the great food this country has to offer isn’t celebrated as well.

The View From 21st Ave.

Fireworks……..pink, blue and green…….are shooting into the sky above the red lights of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Fourth of July in San Francisco.  And the show is right outside the windows of our house on 21st Ave.

The air is chilly, so different than the east coast Independence Days I’m used to. The trees are different too, tropical, tall and fernlike. The strawberries, orange slices and blueberries topping my yogurt in the morning are a sweeter, more brilliant red, orange and sapphire.  It’s California food, Pacific Coast weather and Jurassic Park foliage.

The DeYoung Museum is a few blocks from here, and yesterday Carol and I saw the Picasso exhibit, works mostly from his own private collection on loan from a Paris museum in the Marais.  A woman viewing the Cubist image in front of me asked , How does that look like the head of a woman? I wasn’t sure what to say.  I don’t think it was a real question anyway.  But it seems connected to this Fourth of July, so different from this perspective.  In a new place, with surprising angles and a foreign backdrop, we see something familiar in a strange way.

What’s Noyau Ice Cream?

Here I am with Mary Jo Thoresen, pastry chef at Alice Waters iconic restaurant, Chez Panisse.  We had just begun eating our Pluot tart with noyau ice cream when I asked our waitress, Claire, what noyau was. “It’s the kernal inside an apricot pit,” she said.  “But let me ask our pastry chef how she uses it.” At that Claire turned and headed into the kitchen——no wall between it and we diners——to speak with Mary Jo. 

“You were right,” Claire said. “The kernels are crushed and steeped in the ice cream base, the creme anglaise, imparting a delicate almond flavor. Would you like to speak to Mary Jo about it?”

As the nuanced flavor of almonds is at the heart of an apricot, so is this exchange at the heart of what it means to dine at Chez Panisse.  When Alice opened Chez Panisse 30 years ago, it was to create a community around the pleasures and art of authentic food with community as the central idea. The farmers, the chefs, staff and diners are clearly considered all one.  This borderless meeting place is literally mirrored in the structure of the restaurant where one can see and hear what’s going on in the kitchen, a feeling not unlike a home.

Chez Panisse did not disappoint.  I’ve waited eight years to get here and after reading all of its cookbooks, watching the Pagnol films which served as Alice Waters inspiration, and cooking myself in the spirit of this great American restaurant, the real thing was as exciting, welcoming——and magnificently delectable——-as I could have hoped.

The Carols Have Landed

                                                      

Just arrived in San Francisco….great flight landing in a sunny, 70-degree climate, and we’re getting settled into our house in the Russian section of the city.  Can see Onion Domes of the Russian Orthodox churches and the Golden Gate Bridge beyond.

Here I am, in the foyer of the house….Tomorrow we dine at Chez Panisse….stay tuned!