Sunday, December 5, 2010

A Late Season Eggplant Dip

Now that eggplants are mostly gone from the market, it seems a little silly to be telling you all about my obsession that started at the end of the season.

At my nearest farmers market there are a fair few Southeast Asian vendors selling all kinds of greens eggplants and chilis. On a recent lazy Sunday, a perusal of the refrigerator turned up eggplants, fresh chilis, and cilantro. The ever present garlic and fish sauce meant that I had a winning combo. Here's what I did. I placed a couple of eggplants right on an open flame like so:
I cooked them until they were blackened and put aside. They should look like this:
Next I grabbed a handful of chilis:
and threw them in a mortar and pestle with a handful of lightly crushed garlic like so:
Then I pounded away. This is a great stress reliever I might add. If you like, pretend that you are crushing the bones of your favorite CEO of that bank that will soon turn you out of your home, you sicko. When things were good and crushed together I threw the paste into a wok in some oil at low heat and gently cooked the concoction. As it cooked I added a healthy splash of fish sauce.
I put the now cooked mixture back into the mortar and pestle. Next I peeled the eggplants, remember them? I added them to the garlic and chilis and added some cilantro and gave gave it a good smash and stir.
I served it up (to myself) with some raw veggies. It also goes great with sticky rice, or if you want to mix it up, on some crackers. If I was going to do it again, I'd add more chilis, but that's just me.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Wild Oyster Mushrooms, Frittata

For many Americans, the day after Thanksgiving is often spent either trampling other shoppers to death or simply on the couch in a food hang over. This year a small group of us headed for the mountains for a hike and hoped civilization would fall while we were away. It never seems far fetched.

We set out for the Santa Cruz mountains and took a day long hike amongst majestic redwoods. Along the trail we encountered hundreds of mushrooms. I am not an expert when it comes to identification so I don't take mushroom harvesting lightly. However we came across oyster mushrooms which our housemate had brought home just the week before so we knew how to identify them. Actually, I was already very familiar with their characteristics. They are fan shaped. They like to grow on dead logs. They have scales that run up and down the entirety of the body. Also, as I understand it, there is no poisonous cousin or look alike. All types of oyster mushrooms are edible. Please, don't just take my word for it though. Get a book, have someone take you out, and be careful!
The following morning I decided to make a simple frittata with these fresh, delicious oyster mushrooms.
I cut the them into strips and dry sauteed them. Heck, this is my go to method for cooking all mushrooms. I added butter, a little salt, and after they had cooked a bit, I threw in whole cloves of garlic and thyme.
When they were mostly cooked I added five eggs and put the skillet into the oven and baked until the eggs were cooked.
When it was just about ready, I  sprinkled it with smoked paprika and grated Parmesan, and placed it under the broiler for a couple minutes.

I served it with fresh persimmons and seasonal Vital Vittles persimmon bread. Not too shabby.

Sunday, November 28, 2010


For most of the year, I'm mostly bored by the American food culture that I am surrounded by. I'm tired of food trends and fashions that are so prevalent in San Francisco. I miss vibrant street scenes and markets. Our streets are wide and for cars and our markets are few and far between.  You can get a lot in this big mixing bowl of America, but something has defanged a lot of imported flavors. Call it the wild wild west meets the great blanding grounds. I'm mostly bored by it all and my mind is often elsewhere save for one day a year.

Thanksgiving is not about some supernatural happening thousands of years ago or a day dedicated to buying useless shit on credit. It's about food, friends, and family. This is the holiday for me. This is also incidentally, the one day of the year where I would not want to be anywhere else. Each and every year I savor it.

This year, for a variety of scheduling mishaps, we ended up staying in San Francisco for the big day. We enjoyed a lot of the usual suspects. But instead of turkey, we opted for a large cut of wild boar recently shot by a housemate. A Chinese friend brought some excellent dumplings. Otherwise, most of what we had would be familiar to my largely North American audience. I've included a slide show for you to enjoy, or not.

Until next year...

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Getting Ready for Thanksgiving

Today I picked up the only turkey I will be having this Thanksgiving. While I'm not always crazy about the burn of this 101 proof whiskey, this is a tradition too important to let slide.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Chinese Food?

Once a week I tutor a group of Chinese students at San Francisco State University. As food is one of my favorite subjects, I've started working lunch into our weekly meetings. A few weeks back I decided to join them at "Asia Express" come lunch time. One of the things they suggested I try was the MaPo Tofu. It's a dish I am familiar with but feel that good versions are lacking in the area.  They assured me this one was good.
Well, um. It just kinda looked and tasted like what I affectionately call "mall Chinese food" if you catch my drift. Just yesterday I again asked one of the women about the food and she assured me that it was "really good".  I'm still scratching my head.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

The Hunt is On

A couple weeks ago I took part in my first mushroom hunt of the season. A quick drive from the city and we were somewhere in the Marin Headlands. It's not a typical spot of mushroom hunting, but it's close. The outing was as much an excuse to enjoy the landscapes as anything else. We thought we might find a few (top secret mushrooms) but we struck out. No matter, it was a great opportunity to enjoy the beautiful day. We took a hike to Kirby cove and got to see a less familiar angle of the oft jumped from Golden Gate Bridge.
On the way back we came upon a curiosity upon a hillside. Mr. O decided to check it out.
He returned with a few gorgeous looking yet unknown boletes. O knows his mushrooms but these were a curiosity even to him.
In the nearby gulch on the side of the trail we found some watercress, which we all chewed on while looking at the strange mushrooms.
Foraged food is all the rage right now. It seems to be the logical progression of the currently over hyped and increasingly boring local, organic food fetish. San Francisco's ever enlightened diners have latched onto wild food like emaciated leeches at an anorexic's birthday party. There's not enough to go around, but for the right price those with money can get a piece while it's still available. A foraged food box has even become available in the city which has some environmentalists and established foragers rather concerned. Our small party spent a few hours tromping around having a wonderful time, and while I was chewing on this water cress I realized what money and an explosion of interest could do to our wild spaces. The watercress was nothing more than a nibble, so I got to wondering what the price is of trying to bring this back to the city to feed San Francisco's increasingly particular diners.
Along the side of the trail as we neared the end of our hike I spied a few very young mushrooms with beautiful scales.
They turned out to be an edible variety which are in fact the type of mushrooms commonly eaten in France. After dinner that night we dry sauteed the handful that we found and found them to be highly enjoyable. More to come.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Sundown on Page Street

Several Mondays ago at about sundown I realized it was time to take the compost out as it was garbage night. I walked out onto my street, which looks very striking at sundown I might add, and came face to face with neighbors, strangers, my neighborhood enemy, and tourists on bicycles. I went to lift the lid on the green bin and one of the aforementioned tourists stopped his bike and made to take a picture in my direction. I dumped my mess, closed the lid and fled. It was really quite shocking that I was about to be immortalized in a photo while placing organic matter in the bin. "Look here, as a local takes out his coffee grounds, orange peels, and dead goldfish. Isn't it romantic!" And so it goes. I find myself stumbling into the frame quite often, ruining or making many a tourists photo, I can't tell which.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Calorie Deficit, Rosamunde Sausage

As of late, I'm constantly running at a troubling calorie deficit. My diet's recently changed owing to my commute. Most days I'm putting at least sixteen miles on my bike. I'm not saying that this is a lot of miles or takes a ton of effort, but recently, Ive started finding myself hungrier than before. I'm often eating two lunches, an extra dinner, or at the very least, a surprising number of snacks.

Fortunately(?) for me I live about a block from Rosamunde gourmet sausage shop.  Long time readers will likely know, I'm a huge fan of what's in the 'hood, so I always make it a point to frequent those businesses before schlepping across town. Often this journey defeats the whole point of being able to eat when you are actually hungry. I've mentioned this conveniently located shop before and how it relates to beer. But today it's all about getting the body caught up on necessary sustenance. I was out the door and in the shop in under two minutes.

I like the business model at Rosamunde. I want a sausage, and they sell it to me with gourmet toppings. They don't serve burgers, sandwiches, salads, or other things found on most bloated menus. They do one thing and they do it well. The sausages are made to order, so you just might have to wait Porky.

I ordered the the special: The Fresh Sicilian. Made out of pork, green bell peppers, provolone and Romano cheese.

I get tired of being asked what want all the time. I love personal choice, really I do. However, does each sausage have an ideal topping combination? Left to my own devices I would always order sauerkraut and grilled onions. This time I asked the sausage hawker to dress it up as she saw fit. She thought about it for a moment then added: Grilled onions, sweet peppers, brown mustard and just a bit of ketchup. I walked my sausage home. It lost something in appearance being wrapped up for the block long walk but I still find its appearance rather enticing.

Two hours later I ate another dinner, then had dessert.

Rosamunde Sausage Grill
545 Haight Street
San Francisco, CA 94117
(415) 437-6851

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Medical Marijuana and Beyond

Waiting for a friend at a favorite nearby happy hour I picked up a copy of the SF Weekly. Upon flipping to the back, I was shocked by what I saw. What were once mostly sex ads, drug addiction studies, and other such numbers to call in your hour of desperation had been almost entirely replaced by medical marijuana ads.
In a matter of days, the voters of California will vote on whether to legalize marijuana, which will make it legal for private citizens to grow and smoke pot in the comfort of their own homes.  At present, this is still technically illegal, but the entire state has been gradually backing off of enforcement as there are much bigger fish to fry. If Proposition 19 passes, the state could regulate and tax the sale of marijuana. Seeing as it is presently our largest cash crop, the state stands to make a fair bit of green.

While there are other and maybe more important things happening on election day this year I can't help but think this issue has important implications. While there are certainly thorny issues about public health and questions about who might be allowed to sell, I am firmly in the legalization camp. Of all the evils of our government, America's war on drugs is one of the worst and most futile. While the passage of Prop 19 will not end America's war upon her own citizens and the citizens of foreign nations, it is an important first step.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Gearing up for Mushroom Season

It may have rained for the entire weekend but at my house we started getting excited. Mushroom season is approaching!

It was at the end of last mushroom season, in my newish house, when I started realizing the possibilities. My housemates went away from a weekend mushroom hunt and brought back what was reportedly a rather small haul. I was still very excited. Here is the kitchen chopping block covered in morels, the questionable snowbank morels, and porcinis.

I only started learning about mushrooms early this year, and went one one very successful chanterelle hunt.  In the coming months, I hope to tag along on some more expeditions. Watch this space!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

How to Make a Basiltini

It was only two weeks ago, when the weather was hot and the days in San Francisco beautiful that I wrote: Sunday is a great day for a Basiltini, but then again, so is just about any other day with pleasant weather. If you're familiar with this drink, stop reading now and go outside. Stop wasting your life in front of the computer. The rest of you, let me tell you about the basiltini.

I first had something like this back in the mid 2000s somewhere in Portland, Oregon that no longer exists. But come to think of it, it's a boring story. Never mind.
At present, there's supposedly a new golden age of cocktails in the world. Or maybe there is in America. Or maybe just in the ivory tower of San Francisco. Maybe you can get something like this in one of the many overpriced cocktail bars somewhere near you. You know the places: hip, expensive, places to see and be seen. Conversely, you could just buy the necessary ingredients and dance with the speeding freight train that is alcoholism in the comfort of your own home.  At least you don't need to put pants on as you'll be the master of your own domain.

To make a basiltini you will need:
cocktail shaker

This recipe makes two cocktails.

1. Place a good handful of basil in your shaker.
2. Add a teaspoon of sugar. I like to do this as it aids the next step.
3. Muddle the hell out of your simple mixture.
4. Add the juice of one lemon.
5. Add a handful of ice cubes
6. Add 4 oz of vodka
7. Shake.
8. Pour.
9. slur
This is my attempt at a recipe for something I usually eyeball. This basiltini, if I'm making it, will put you on your backside if you are not careful. Drink one, or maybe two. Three you just might regret. Headaches follow.

If you've done this right, the drink will take on a delightful green color. Do it wrong and you will feel like a failure. This isn't rocket science. Happy drinking.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Coffee: Addiction, Waves, Temperature

Every once in a while, I give up coffee and my life kind of falls apart for a little while. When things settle down again and I no longer feel the need, I pick it up again. I wait until it sounds good, smells good, and actually tastes good again. Usually my abuse gets to the point of it not tasting good anymore, nor does it really matter. It gets me moving in the morning and helps me complete the most mundane tasks. Next thing I know, I'm drinking it at every turn. So I quit.

In the interim, I think about my relationship to the beverage, if I should really drink, and how to start drinking it again.  This time I really started thinking about coffee's third wave and our new relationship with the beverage here in San Francisco.

I'm a little unclear on what exactly constitutes the "first" wave, although I imagine it falls somewhere between coffee colonialism and the emergence of Juan Valdez. The first wave lasted until Starbucks started kicking things up a notch, increasing the quality and supply of coffee to the overfed the world over. People soon started having coffee beverages that were the caloric value of a meal. Frappuccino entered our vocabularies as did the ever delightful frappuccino-gut.  And so now we're onto the third wave.  Third wave coffee reaches toward high cuisine and moves away from commodity. It's about small harvests. It's small batches of roasted coffees. It's high cuisine meets molecular gastronomy. It's getting a cup like you've never had before. It's coffee meets wine. It's suddenly finding yourself surrounded by yuppies sipping at four dollar (or more) cups of coffee. It's increasingly keeping me shuttered in the house.
So before I brewed my first cup in over a week and a half, I picked up On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen by Harold McGee and took a quick looks at the section on coffee. I was particularly interested in brewing temperatures. Too high of a brewing temperature can render your fifteen dollar a pound coffee from Ritual schwaggy and taste more like a brew from Starbucks.  What a waste. The book suggested the ideal temperature for french press was between 190-195 degrees Fahrenheit for 4 to 6 minutes.

Pardon me if this seems either obvious or just a pain in the butt. I had always heard that temperature mattered, but never had a proper thermometer. In addition, it's an extra variable which just might make your brewing all the less enjoyable. You don't have to do this, but if you're looking to kick things up a notch, I do recommend it.
The result? A very smooth cup that brings out the unique flavors of the coffee without any of the off flavors that had recently pushed me away from this brewing method.  I had mistaken my sloppy brewing technique for a fault in the method. The added bonus was that my head cleared and I felt refreshingly intelligent. It made me able to attend to business with a new sense of confidence.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Peanut Butter, Bananas and Honey

There's something about peanut butter. It's an eternally baffling subject as it is one of the few American staples that many, many outsiders take a pass on. Growing up, and now well into adulthood it appears frequently in my diet. I eat it when I'm lazy, when I'm crashing, and when it's the only thing that could possibly fill the (unfillable)void. Take this classic comfort food:

Peanut butter, bananas, and honey,
Elvis Presley himself was known to love this here sandwich. Some sources even claim Mr Presley even enjoyed a few strips of bacon to make the sandwich even better. What with the current bacon craze, it's hard to believe this variation isn't getting tremendously popular.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Israeli Juicer

I would like nothing more than to be able to walk out my front door, visit a favorite juice hawker, and sit upon the sidewalk and watch the world go by. Unfortunately, there is no juice man or woman gracing the streets or storefronts. The streets aren't really public anymore as recent laws passed in this land make it a possible offense to sit too long on the sidewalk. Also, I risk my safety each and every time I leave the house. Fortunately, in my kitchen rests an epic juicer.
Meet the Israeli Juicer. My housemate, who holds dual American/Israeli citizenship, is kind enough to share one of the perks: A juicer used by the many juice vendors in Israel. This here juicer is the perfect example of how a beautiful piece of engineering makes certain delights an easy everyday thing.
Three or four oranges, depending on the orange and the size glass, and you've got a glass of juice. A four year old could operate this device as you get a lot of torque from the long handle.
This takes a minute or less. Then you can sit at your table and read the paper and learn all about how the country and larger world is falling apart.
Some people cry into their beer. I choose to do it into a nice glass of juice. Everything seems like a dream with a cup of liquid sun in your hand.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Club Sandwich. I'll Pass on Membership.

I said goodbye to my endless summer the other week the only way I know how: with food and drink. The hottest day of the year called for a meal in Dolores Park.
The club sandwich from Claire's Deli is not for me. Especially not on a 90 plus degree day. Too many meats, too salty, and on this one, way too much mayo.  The beer tasted good at first but only added to my dehydration on this hottest of days.

I don't have a history of eating this type of calorie bomb. It was big and rich enough for two eaters. At seven dollars for a hefty club sandwich, you do have a cheap meal for two. But how many people actually do this?

I'm getting interested in sandwiches. Correction: I'm getting interested in the glut of sandwiches in the area but lack knowledge on the subject. Every little market advertises them, but are they any good? There are lots of "famous" sandwiches in the area, but what of your average sandwich in a run of the mill corner store? I'm all ears.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Sandwiches and Mediocrity

Sitting over a sandwich a while back, I effortlessly took this shot. It wasn't really a beautiful shot, a unique sandwich, or inspiring in any way. It got me thinking about eating, blogging, and talking about food. What percentage of Americans eat a sandwich on any given day? Of the masses, what percentage are eating a sandwich that looks something like this? I imagine many are more poverty stricken sandwiches than this one, but this one is a good example as there's nothing particularly special about it: mayo, mustard, lettuce, pickles, red onions, sprouts, and turkey. The same ingredients that can be had day in, day out in America, where the food changes little from season to season. Whether it's the dead of winter, or the height of summer, the tomatoes are always mealy and nearly inedible on their own. But for five bucks this huge sandwich is a step up from Subway or some other corporate chain that is sending Americans to an early grave. It's a meal that can be had just about anywhere in the union, and it's all very uninspiring.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Time to go Shopping


Not a lot left. At least we've got Thai chilis, which have factored heavily into our recent cooking.  At a dollar a bunch at the civic center farmers market, this is maybe one of the best deals around.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Backyard Chickens Redux

Now that I've moved on and no longer live with a gaggle of hens, it's time to looks back and talk about what did and didn't work.

Owning backyard chickens has exploded in popularity in the last couple of years. And it makes a lot of sense. You give them a good life, they give you some great eggs. What could be simpler? Well there are problems. Let me remind you of what happened to my chicken Big Mamma. I'd love to tell you that it ended there, but it didn't. We in fact had another gruesome death that was maybe worse than the first. The gauge of wire you use on your coop is very important. You see, chicken wire is not really the wire to use. Who would have thought?  The holes are actually too large and some pesky creatures, say a raccoon, can reach its little paws through and do some damage. That's precisely what happened to our chicken Pepper. She had her leg and wing horribly mangled. She didn't die. She was left to suffer until we could finish the job.
Forgetting about death for a minute there's the issue of responsibility. Just like other animals you might keep like a dog, cat, or small child, chickens need food, water, and if you care about their well being, freedom to scratch. I've seen coops with chickens that rarely leave, but I like my girls to be able to get out and stretch. Furthermore, if things like food, water, and natural behaviors are important to you, as they should be, you need to be willing and able to tend to them everyday. That's a big responsibility. Unfortunately, a lot of people get chickens and then realize this far too late. In my own house, let's just say there was little enthusiasm for our feathered friends. Some housemates were never home, others kept strange hours, and others simply refused to have anything to do with them. So if one of us who was committed wasn't around, they were neglected, and that was very frustrating.

The last number of months we had only one chicken. I thought she seemed sad, but as the spring progressed she returned to her normally prolific self by laying every single day.



And the story ends there. We moved on to a different house and out of the remaining chicken's life. As far as I know, at present Naked Neck is still healthy, happy, and laying a lot of eggs.

So what can I say to prospective chicken owners? If you have the space, the time, and the dedication, go for it. Don't think of them as pets, but don't just think of them just as meat either. If you've got a lifestyle where you're on the move a lot, don't even think about getting them. They require and deserve your attention.

As with a lot of fads, like owning a particular breed of dog, many people don't get into this with the right frame of mind. "Oh wouldn't it be fun to own a (Insert name of animal here)!" they say. Novelty breeds of dogs and chickens alike are dropped off at animal shelters and deserted stretches of highway by people who think it would be cool to own a furry or feathered friend before adequately thinking things through.  If the needless death or slaughter of an animal doesn't bother you, by all means, get a backyard hen or three right away! Otherwise, do your research and get an idea what owning animals actually entails. If you think it's right for your lifestyle and you can commit to your feathered friends, I wholeheartedly recommend backyard chickens.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Stay Classy America

I've been particularly interested in billboards and other forms of advertising over the years.  They illustrate our increasingly unhealthy relationship to food in this country. Take this recent offering from 14th and Valencia.
In other words, you might feel like shit for eating to your little hearts content, but don't worry about it. You can just drink this magical liquid and gorge yourself closer to your inevitable death without the pesky side effect of physical sickness. You've tried to eat well and it just doesn't work. Oh well. A few blocks down the road you will see another billboard that will make you feel bad about your body. At least it doesn't feel like there are knives ripping into your gut.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Street Food and El Tonayense Taco Truck

Street food is all the rage in San Francisco. A growing fleet of twitter based chefs have taken to the streets with brief communiques telling followers where they can find them on a given evening. Craving a creme brulee? A curry? Filipino Adobo? Look for them on twitter and then if you are extremely lucky, you just might get something. Their hours are short, their supplies limited, and popularity impressive. I've had the last couple weeks free to explore my newish city and have found the opportunity to sample the twitter carts exactly zero times. Maybe it's because I don't have an iphone. Maybe my timing is just off. Maybe I just find the whole thing boring. Maybe this is all a bunch of hot air.

The other day I was craving some tacos. Excellent tacos. Instead of looking on twitter to see if one of the army of twitter vendors might grace my neighborhood, I chose a taco truck that is always in the same place. What a novel idea. I had been hearing praise for El Tonoyense so I made a taco date.

A friend and I took a liesurely walk, ended up in front of one of a truck, made an order, and parked ourselves on a sidewalk between two cars. What could be simpler? I ordered three tacos with tripitas. My friend tried one of them, a chicken, and pastor. Her favorite? Tripas.
Solid. As I had heard, El Tonoyense know their tacos. Nuff said.

The current twitter movement makes a lot of sense given the overly restrictive licensing and zoning laws. This makes a the product more or less questionably legal. While the end product does reflect the diverse tastes and population of San Francisco, as of yet, it still serves a very small population. Are you one of the lucky ones who have actually gotten your hands on (insert twitter food cart name here)? I have better luck scoring drugs throughout the city and those are illegal too.

At the moment of this writing a few of the better known carts aren't serving anything up for a few days. In other words, the immense popularity of street food has not been met with an impressive supply.Things are changing and this city is slowly making efforts to speed up the licensing process for the hungry hordes. So far, the current street food phenomenon is mostly limited to planned events and festivals. You're unlikely to just stumble across a diverse group of carts on any given night.

In closing, when I want to eat some street food I don't want to go on a scavenger hunt. I certainly wouldn't warn anyone away from their favorite twitter cart, as the reviews have been solid. However, there already was and is reliable street food in the city.  Visit El Tonoyense on Harrison (and a few other locations) street and have your fill whenever you like.

El Tonayense
1719 Harrison Street,
San Francisco, CA

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Homemade Blackberry Cobbler

The other week I travelled to a super secret location in San Francisco to pick blackberries. I wanted to make one of my very favorite desserts: blackberry cobbler. Just across the bay in the Oakland and Berkeley hills, there are tons of places to pick, but I wanted to stay in the area. More importantly, I wanted to avoid crossing the bay. More specifically, I wanted to not hand BART any money unnecessarily. So I jumped on my bike and rode the three or four miles to the secret location. It was so secret that just about every berry had already been picked. It took just about an eternity to fill a yogurt container with mostly ripe berries. It seems that the entire city picks at one meager patch.
The blackberries that grow out west are invasive. They take over vacant lots, gardens, and summer afternoons. Where I grew up in Oregon, you can pick them by the bucket full. My super secret location in San Francisco proved to have minimal yields. Sorry California, your limited rainfall only retards the berries, not the invasive species.

My favored recipe was missing so I threw a few different recipes together and made my very own.  To make the exact recipe that I made you need:

Mix together three cups of berries
between 3/4 to 1 cup of sugar (I did closer to one cup due to less than perfectly ripe berries)
1 tablespoon of corn starch

Set aside and let them get all juicy.

Set in oven at 375 until they start to simmer, then add your favorite biscuits. I chose drop biscuits. I chose them because I am lazy. They do taste great. Bake until golden brown.
Top with ice cream or don't.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Socialism and Berries

It was with great excitement that I received my San Francisco library card early this summer. One of the many joys of living in a large metropolitan area is the access to quality public institutions such as libraries.

Sadly, certain members of our country, when not sniffing glue or listening to right wing radio, are currently attacking our public institutions. Conservative members of our country for years have been doing their damnedest to undermine public education, much like they've recently fought like hell to keep health care privatized and crooked. For whatever reason, the constantly selfish or simply manipulated would rather see their fellow citizens turned out of their homes and die of treatable diseases than receive treatment befitting the citizens of the world's remaining superpower. Recent cuts in library funding have me worried. What's next? Are we going to do away with police and fire departments, the postal service, and municipal water supplies? If the red scare of the 21st century makes a casualty of our public libraries, I would certainly hate to have to buy all those shitty Michael Crichton novels myself.
Where was I? Oh yes, berries. The day I got my library card was also my first time of really shopping at the Civic Center Farmers Market. Every Wednesday and Sunday people descent upon the United Nations Plaza to freely spend their wages on fruits and vegetables for the week. And on the radio they tried to say that we were heading toward socialism. I mean communism. I mean fascism. Oh boy.

Anyhow, it was near the end of raspberry season so we picked up half a flat for seven bucks. Beautiful.
Look at those berries!
The cyborg girl seen above made a delicious tart, but first we had to go stand in a long line just to pick up our monthly rations of flour and sugar. It was worth the wait.

Heart of the City Farmers Market
1182 Market St
San Francisco, CA 94102
Wednesday and Sunday 8AM-5PM