crazysalad

Growing Places 2009

Sweet Relief

It’s another Santa Ana week in San Diego.

On these days when the temperature hits 90 degrees (in October!) and the humidity hovers around 10%, all I want to do is eat something cold. Right now I’m craving one of the ice-cold, homemade popsicles made by Lisa Altmann of Viva Pops.

I met Lisa and her partner, Jack, on their first day at the Saturday morning Little Italy Farmers’ Market.  Lisa makes all of the popsicles herself, using only organic fruit that she buys from local vendors.  Right now, in late (California) summer, she is getting her nectarines, peaches and plums from Lone Oak Ranch, which also has a stand at the Little Italy (and La Jolla) market.

Of course, I love the fact that she uses local, organic ingredients, but what I really love are all the different flavors she offers. Like Mexican paletas, Viva Pops come in a variety of flavors and textures, both creamy (made with milk) and icy, flavored with tart fruits and spices (chile, mint, ginger). 

The mango-chile and nectarine-basil were two of my favorites.  My daughter went straight for the chocolate-banana, her favorite flavor combination.  At $3 a pop, they are not cheap.  But for coffee drinkers used to paying that much for a cup of chain-store coffee, I don’t see how you can complain.  The intense flavor and freshness of these pops sure beats those artificially flavored, sugary ice cubes you get at the grocery store.  And Lisa says her flavors will change with the season.  Naturally.

Red Flag Fire Alert

On these hot Santa Ana days, when the temperature in San Diego rises and the humidity falls below 10%, the National Weather Service issues a red flag warning.  This warning means that critical fire weather conditions are occurring: a combination of strong winds, low humidity, and warm temperatures which could create an “explosive fire growth potential.”

It’s been nearly a year since the Witch Creek Fire and other fires burned over half a million acres in southern California, destroyed over 2000 residences, caused a billion dollars in damages and led half a million people to evacuate their homes.

Once again, we are watching the hills and watching the news.

for every drop of water
for every day
every season

give thanks

to the firefighters who risk their lives
to the farmers whose livelihood depends on our support

 

City of Books

It has the best bookstore in the country.

It’s progressive, yet retains its history and interesting architecture.

It boasts an impressive public transportation system, including free trolley rides in the downtown area.  Bike-friendly.  (Oops, with one exception—watch out for the tracks!)

For food lovers, it offers an abundance of food supplied by local farms, dairies, and rivers, not to mention great coffee, wine, and beer to go with it.

If it weren’t for the weather, I would move there in a minute.

I’m talking about Portland, Oregon.

I recently spent a weekend there with my sister and my cousin, who lives in the city.   It’s probably just as well that I picked one of the coldest weeks in the past 10 years to visit, or else I might not have come back home to San Diego (where the temperature averaged 66 degrees this past week in January). 

Day 1

Less than an hour after arriving in town, I had dropped my bags at my hotel and walked over to Powell's.   Besides food, books are my other true passion and I had been looking forward to coming here for years.

They don’t call it the City of Books for nothing. From the looks of it, the original store started out in one small corner building and slowly annexed all the adjacent structures until it occupied the entire city block. 

As I stood in the front entrance waiting for my nose to thaw out (did I mention it was bitterly cold that weekend?), gawking at the huge floorplan sign hanging from the ceiling, I felt a little like tourist in Times Square holding a map of New York.  I’m not kidding, if you’re new, they will give you a map and even a walking tour to help you find your way in and back out again.

There are dozens of rooms (denoted by color) on many levels, connected by staircases and doorways and ramps.  New and used books are shelved together, enabling you to find not only an author’s latest book, but often their entire backstock, as well as many out of print works. In case you do get lost and can’t find your way out, you won’t starve--there is a Coffee Room with wireless Internet, sandwiches, and plenty of World Cup (locally roasted, fair-trade) coffee.

And like any big city, it’s impossible to see everything in one day.  So I came back the next day.  And the next.  And the morning before I flew out.  Well, I had to do something between meals, didn’t I?

Day 2

Maybe it was the walk across town in 20 degree weather.  Or the fact that they were playing The Clash’s Greatest Hits album.  But as soon as I walked into Ken’s Artisan Bakery—greeted by a blast of warm air and the smell of sweet bread—I felt immediately at home. 

The staff was friendly and easy-going.  A toddler crawled across my feet as I poured cream in my coffee.  “Sorry.  That’s George. I call him Curious George,” an exasperated mother told me as she pulled him out of the bus tubs beneath the condiments table.  No problem.  I’m happy to be in a place that welcomes kids. 

I felt like I had walked into a neighborhood block party.  The bakery was packed.  People of all ages greeted each other, shared tables.  I managed to secure a small table near a window in the back and stayed for several hours, reading the poetry books I had bought at Powell's and watching customers both inside and out. 

I loved Ken’s chocolate croissants--crackling on the outside, buttery interior stuffed with Valrhona chocolate—and the sweet morning buns with their hint of orange. 

Looking at all the varieties of bread on the shelves, I was a little surprised by how dark the loaves were—they looked almost burned.  But after buying a loaf and trying a slice, I found I liked the contrast between the carmelized crust and the soft crumb.   The levain had a nice, mellow flavor—not sour, but slightly tangy and complex, the result of slow, natural fermentation.   Clearly Ken knows what he is doing.

As good as the breads are, I think I could have eaten just the butter for breakfast.  Sourced from a local dairy, unbelievably light and so sweet, not greasy at all—I think it’s some of the best butter I have tasted.  That on top of their country brown bread (pain de campagne, modeled after pain Poilâne) and a cup of Stumptown coffee and I was ready to move in.

Portland, where the healthy food snob actually ate fast food (and liked it): Burgerville!

Salone del Gusto 2006

I came to Italy this year to participate both in Slow Food’s Terra Made and Salone del Gusto.  Celebrating its 10th anniversary this year, Salone del Gusto is a international fair held in Torino every 2 years to celebrate the diversity and quality of food, an eco-gastronomic response to the standardization and globalization of our food system.

Well, ok, I have to confess.  Mostly I came to eat. And speak Italian.  And to travel around Italy for a week with friends afterwards.  But it was because of the Salone del Gusto that I came here.  I've been wanting to come for years, ever since I first heard about this amazing global food fair.

Salone del Gusto runs for 4 days and attracts tens of thousands of people, including large groups of schoolkids. The event is held in the Lingotto, the former Fiat factory turned convention center.  It’s a food lover’s dream come true.  Imagine an entire convention center filled with table after table displaying the food of farmers and producers from all over Italy and the rest of the world.

Olive That and More...

Leaving Escondido, I drove on toward Temecula.  The northeastern corner of San Diego County is filled with spectacular scenery:  rugged boulder-strewn mountains, Indian reservations, the Lawrence Welk resort, and, just after Riverside County, a graceful bridge spanning over the freeway. 

Although I had visited the wine country before, this was my first visit to Old Town Temecula.   I must say my first impression was a bit bewildering.  One block after leaving the speedway that is the I-15 freeway, I found myself in another world. 

Well, not entirely.  The first thing I saw upon entering Old Temecula was a Starbucks on the corner.  (If I ever travel to the moon, I won’t be surprised to see one there, too.)  On the opposite side of the street was a psychic. 

The main street was bumper-to-bumper traffic, which gave me plenty of time to sightsee, noting the many antique shops along the way.

It was a week before Thanksgiving and although the thermometer in my car registered 93 degrees, Temecula was already in the Christmas spirit.  I parked along the street and as I stepped from my car, I heard the distinctive voice of Bruce Springsteen singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”  Thinking it was playing on a car stereo, I looked around.  Now it seemed to be coming from a shop across the street. 

No, it was coming from a speaker mounted on a lamppost outside the shop.  Actually, it was playing on every lamppost on the entire street.  Oh no, I had entered a giant outdoor mall.  As I went to close my car door, I heard jingle bells.  I turned in time to see a horse-drawn carriage coming along the street.  It was Santa!

Santa waved at me as he passed, accompanied by a wagon full of carolers, including the Grinch.  Bruce finished his song and then Bing Crosby crooned, followed by a rap song.  Quite a variety of music, I thought, something to appeal to everyone.  No, my mistake, the hip-hop music came from a group of motorcyclists sitting in the traffic behind Santa.

I set off down Front Street involuntarily humming “White Christmas” and wondering if I had stepped onto a movie set at Universal Studios.  This feeling was further reinforced when I went searching for a restroom.  I turned a corner and found myself in front of the Temecula Jail.
 

How Far Would You Go...

For food?  For a photo of food?

Last weekend at a blind tasting, I discovered a new olive oil and was surprised to find out that was produced locally.  I wanted to know more.  And I wanted more of that oil.  So I did what all good food bloggers do, I went online, googled the name of the company, and went to their website. 

I liked what I read.  The company was founded by a couple that moved out of Los Angeles so that their kids could grow up in the country. Their philosophy is “family, friends, fun, and food.” They practice sustainable agriculture.

As soon as I found out that they have a tasting room, I made up my mind to go to Temecula (a one-hour drive).  As I was driving up the I-15, I decided to make a quick stop in Escondido.  I don’t get up that way very often, but there is a bakery that I always stop at when I’m passing through.

I have been going to San Diego Artisan Bakers, off and on, since they opened about 10 years ago.  On my sporadic visits, I always enjoyed talking to the owner, Frederick Holmshaw, about the craft of baking bread (using the traditional method of slow fermentation instead of commercial yeast).  I bought my proofing baskets from him.  I spent a day taking his breadmaking class, which ended with lunch out on the patio: pizza made in a brick-fired oven that Frederick had built himself.

A few months ago, however, I stopped in and discovered that the bakery was now called Belen Artisan Bakers.  Owner Lucy Duran told me that she and her husband had bought the bakery earlier this year.

When I visited this past Saturday, I met Jose Duran.  After I bought a couple of loaves of bread, I asked Jose if I could take some photos.  He didn’t say anything at first, but I could see on his face that he was hesitant about the idea.  I explained to him that I love food and that I like to write about what I eat.  He still looked very doubtful.

At that point, I should have realized that he wasn’t comfortable with the idea and backed off.  But no, I continued to talk, telling him that I like to promote locally-grown food and what a wonderful idea it would be to appear on my blog, blah, blah, blah.  He finally relented, but asked that I not take any photos with the prices of the bread. 

Why?  He explained that he had a lot of competitors and that he didn’t want to give them any information that could be used to their advantage.  He mentioned “spies” who had come in snooping around.  I assured him I had no intention of opening a bakery, that I simply liked bread and liked to support locally owned, independent businesses.

I didn’t quite follow his logic, but since that was the condition for getting the photos, I agreed not to show prices. I went around behind the bread rack and shot from that side only. 

After a short time, several customers entered the store.  A line formed and it became obvious that I had worn out my welcome.  “Are you done yet?”

I guess I was.  Here are the photos I got.  I wish I could tell you what type of bread this is, but all the names were printed on the signs in the front (along with the prices).  If you want to know, you’ll have to go to the bakery and find out for yourself. Interestingly enough, if you look at the photos on their website you can spot a few there. 

Afterword:
The whole experience left me feeling very uncomfortable.  Should I have gone with my gut feeling and left the poor man alone?  After all, not everyone wants publicity, however well intentioned it may be. I came in, unannounced, and put him on the spot.

For me, this incident raises an interesting issue.  Do we, as bloggers, have the right to go into every restaurant and business, take notes and photos and then “publish” that information?  What do you think?  What are the legal and ethical boundaries here? 

I’m curious to hear what kind of experiences other bloggers have had with reluctant subjects.  Do you ask people before taking photos or do you just start snapping away?  Or do you take them on the sly when no one is looking? 

I don’t understand his reluctance to reveal prices.  This isn’t a used car dealership.  Anyone can walk into the bakery and get that information.  From my experience, customers who buy artisan bread buy it because it tastes better and they prefer a hand-made loaf to a commercially baked product filled with preservatives and dough conditioners. 

Yes, it is more expensive.  But who are his competitors?  I know of only 4 other bakeries in all of San Diego County that offer artisan, European-style breads: Bread & Cie, Bread on Market, Sadie Rose, and Con Pane.  Granted, two of them have large wholesale operations.  But I don’t think anyone is going to drive from Escondido to Hillcrest, for example, just to save 50 cents* on a loaf of bread.
*Hypothetical, does not reflect actual prices! 

Or is it the grocery stores that are undercutting him?  Personally, I would much rather buy my bread directly from a baker than from VONS.  I love bakeries—the sight of all those loaves lined up neatly on the shelves, the variety, the smell of baking bread in the air, the dusting of flour all over the countertops.

Jose, I wish you all the best. Running your own business, especially a family-run bakery like yours--open 12 hours a day, 6 days a week--can't be easy.  I liked your semolina bread, by the way. I’d like to stop by again soon.

I’ll leave my camera in the car. 

Onward: Temecula, ho, ho, ho!

Making balsamico

As I said in my previous post, Reggio Emilia has gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to recognition for their balsamico tradizionale, even though it has been made in the same way for centuries.  Even the current issue of Chow magazine, in an article entitled “Real or Fake” says that if it’s not from Modena, it can’t be real balsamico. 

I had tasted balsamico and read about how it is made, but I was curious to see it for myself.  I thought about calling up the consortium of balsamico producers, but instead I asked my good friend, Matteo, if he knew of anyone who made their own balsamico and could show me the process. 

Matteo Casali, a talented writer, is not as crazy about food as I am.  His passions run more toward Mexican wrestling and conspiracy theories involving ants.  But since he has lived in Reggio Emilia his whole life (actually, Cella, which is just outside the city), I figured he would come through for me.  Sure enough, his dad knew someone who knew someone who knew how to make balsamico.

After many phone calls (thanks, Matteo), we were all set.  On a rainy afternoon in October, a group of eight of us drove out to Fogliano, a small town on the southern outskirts of Reggio.  We turned off the main road directly into a gravel driveway flanked by vineyards on one side.

Two barking dogs announced our arrival.  Signora Maria Roggiani came out to greet us and invited us into her home.  We passed by chickens pecking in the courtyard and through the garage occupying the ground floor of the house, where a cat lay curled in a tractor seat. 

Typical Products

Although the recent chestnut festival I attended in Italy was ostensibly a celebration of chestnut season, no food festival in Reggio Emilia would be complete without prodotti tipici, or “typical products.”  When pressed to name some typical American food products I immediately think of Kraft “process cheese products” and Coca-Cola.  But in Italy, the words have a completely different meaning (and taste). 

In contrast to our American industrial items, Italian prodotti tipici are foods that are characteristic or representative of a specific region.  They are foods and wines that have been handcrafted for centuries using traditional methods and they are inexorably linked to their place of origin.  Prodotti tipici in the Reggio province of Emilia Romagna include some of Italy’s most famous foods: prosciutto di Parma, parmigiano reggiano, and balsamic vinegar. 

At the festival, in addition to chestnuts, there were dozens of tables offering local products for sale and for sampling.  My mother and I literally ate our way down the street, stopping every 10 feet to taste, discuss, and buy local foods.

Celebrating San Diego

Yesterday was a perfect reminder of why I live in San Diego.  We are blessed with a climate that allows us to grow food year round here.  And every year Celebrate the Craft at the Lodge at Torrey Pines brings together the region’s best farmers and chefs to showcase our culinary splendors.  What I really love about this event, however, is the way that restaurants and farms are paired together.  Next to a farmer with a gorgeous display of fruits and vegetables is a chef handing you a plate of that same produce, deliciously prepared.

It was hard to know where to start.  I walked around from table to table admiring the bounty.  The bright sun intensified the already-colorful fruits and vegetables.   The smell of grilled tuna and duck confit wafted across the lawn.  I wanted to eat, but as at the farmers’ market, I got distracted talking to old friends, asking questions, and taking photographs.

For me, Region is the restaurant that best exemplifies what San Diego cuisine is all about. Here Chef Allyson Colwell prepares plates of grilled bread and Crows Pass Farm onions waiting to be topped with grilled tuna.

Chew-Wow!

If you have been afraid to make your own chocolates because you thought it was too hard, a chocolate class might be the perfect thing for you. Here in San Diego we are fortunate to have our very own artisan chocolate maker, Chuao (pronounced “chew-wow”) Chocolatier.  During regular hours at the Chuao main location in the Encinitas Lumberyard, customers shopping in the store can see the chocolates being made in the production area just behind the glass display counters.  But if you really want an in-depth look into how their chocolates are made, sign up for one of their beginner’s courses, held on Wednesday evenings just after the store closes.

Last night I attended a Level I class, which introduces the cacao bean, details the origins and manufacturing of chocolate, and offers a hands-on lesson in rolling and dipping truffles.

The class began with a short 10-minute documentary explaining the history of chocolate and Venezuelan chocolate, in particular. The video was produced by Chocolates El Rey, a Venezuelan maker of premium chocolate and one of the first companies to follow cacao production all the way from beans to finished chocolate.   

A lifelong chocolate lover, I thought I knew everything there was to know about chocolate.  But I learned a few new facts.  Did you know that cacao beans were once so valuable that they were used a means of currency to pay taxes and buy slaves?  Ten beans could buy you the favors of a woman.  (Even back then, some women would do anything for chocolate.)

Jam on biscuits, jam on toast…

A favorite book to read aloud to my kids is Bread & Jam for Frances.  Actually, I love the Hobans' entire series of Frances books for many reasons, but I especially enjoy the books for their detailed descriptions of food. 

Frances’ family is serious about food.  You can tell by the cheese grater and beautiful chunk of parmigiano depicted on their dinner table.  This might not seem noteworthy now, but remember this book was written in 1964, when most of America (including my family) was sprinkling their spaghetti with grated cheese from a green canister.   

Note also the lunches that Frances packs for school.  No brown-bagged PB & J for her.  Instead, she brings: a thermos bottle filled with cream of tomato soup, a lobster-salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread, celery, carrot sticks, black olives, a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery, two plums, a tiny basket of cherries, vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles, and a spoon to eat it with.  She arranges all of this on her desk on a paper doily with a tiny vase of violets.