Salt Bricks

Salt bricks make salt walls and salt houses. These houses house patients with asthma and indicate improved results.

Salt bricks also make great hot plates when heated. You can sear beef quickly, or use as a pizza stone. I want one.

Salt bricks are the new cedar planks.

Hog Island!

We had been waiting on these reservations for 3 months. 3 MONTHS. My dear friends, that's worse than getting into the French Laundry. My word! But here, it's not a matter of convincing the host that you are important enough to sit at the table, it's a matter of getting the host to pick up the damn phone. Yes, well Hog Island Oyster Company is a wily one.

September 27th finds us plowing through 100F weather as we drive out to Point Reyes. Good thing the top is down. Good thing life is good. My eyes practically pop when I see the spandex warriors blazing on their bicycles. In this heat, I can only fathom a Pimm's cup.

An hour and a half north of SF, there is Point Reyes, a cape that protrudes from the California coast. Tomales bay, a very long and narrow stretch of water separates the cape from the mainland. Point Reyes is also capped at the south end by Bolinas, a lovely town of 1,246 inhabitants (incidentally, they have been wanting to secede from nation since the 60s.)

But I digress. Many good things come out of Point Reyes: Cowgirl creamery, oysters, seabeans, poets. Today we are on the hunt for oysters. And lots of them.

Point Reyes is typically cloudy and cold, but today it shines. It really is magnificent! The boats linger in the bay and in silence. The only thing you hear are the motorcyclists. I'd like to ride a motorcycle-- but not on a day like today. It's as if the heat has turned their leather outerwear into little sausage casings. "They're like a gang out here," one of us says.

We make the near fatal mistake of taking a first turn into the Tomales Bay Oyster company. (Eek! Reverse! Abort! Reverse!) . The place is crowded and hectic - I am certain I caught a wiff of Penn station somewhere in there. In retrospect I would have liked to mark up our journey on a map so that we could avoid encounters such as these.

In Marshall, ten miles north of Point Reyes, we arrive at the Hog Island oyster hole. Surprisingly, the only thing that is excessive about this place is the valet parking, which I am willing to concede. There is a picnic table held for us, equipped with a grill. We set up and our acme bread, molinari salame, Andante cheese (by biochemist turned cheese maker Soyoung Scalan), and Pimms dressings.

Ariana and I run over the giant tubs where the workers are doling out the oysters. They come in extra-small, small, and medium. They also have kumamotos, but caveat them reports of salinity in today's catch. We buy a couple dozen and a pound of clams to throw on the grill. They give us trays, gloves, lemons, tapatio, and shuckers.

The oysters are a dream to open. Ariana and Omar manage to address all of them in less than 20 minutes. We line them up on plates, our eyeballs feasting already. We pretend to comment on how nicely they were shucked and how beautiful the weather is, but give up easily. And then they disappear in to our eager bellies. One after another, some unadulterated, and some with the most mind-blowing Happy Girl spicy tomato juice (recently voted one of the top 50 things to eat in the world by The Guardian UK) and their pickled haricot verts. They were recommended for bloody marys, but I thought they would make brilliant shooters, with a bit of gin.

We also fire up the grill,

ever

so

slowly,

and attempt to steam our clams in foil. We are unable to start a proper fire. Slow and weak, our fire is. The clams aren't an epic fail, but a timid last compared to the chorizo and clam concoction by the table next door. Our neighbors take pity on our sad little clams and offer us some of theirs. We are grateful.

Later on we try and light a second chimney for the fire. We refuse to use lighter fluid, although I toast the coals with some gin. The coals remain tepid, but at least there are more of them now, and we grill our fresh sardines and 1 inch thick slices of salami. The grilled salami renders a bit over the flame, but ultimately bastes itself as the fat drips down.

We plate a small fish and bring it over to our charitable neighbor to give thanks. Next to his ribeyes and bottles of robust wine, I feel paupered. His eyes open wide when he sees the juicy sardine. "Are these sardines? Fresh sardines? Really? Where did you get these?" We learn that he has been searching for fresh sardines across town. I smile, "he's one of us." He accepts the plate with both hands. Seconds later, the fish is but bones.

It's getting late, both at Hog Island and here as I type in the night. We clean up and head on out. I'm getting ready to shut down my computer - teeth brushed. We head up highway 1 all the way back to the city. It is nice to see that the fog has rolled in to the bay. It cools of the city as we sleep.

NYT: Cakes Gone Wrong

Those babies sure can ride them carrots!

So odd. For the full show.

Food Trend-Setter

ITS ALL ABOUT SARDINES

A Wild Feast: Underground Restaurant in a Bike Shop Back Alley

A couple weeks ago, i willingly launched myself into helping out in an underground restaurant. A Wild Kitchen. A wild dinner. At the end of the night, I emerged tattered and my muscles ached. I wondered how the hell 8 hours slipped by without my notice. I wondered how the hell I got through it. I wondered how the hell we did it.

Here are some numbers (because we all love numbers):
- 25 people
- 4 kitchen staff
- 3 portable burners
- 3 pot of hot fat - of varying temperature and compositions
- 1 pig's face
- 1/2 a front of the house waiter.

I had aspirations of grandeur going in. My assumption that things would work out without serious forethought and anticipation was trampled by the reality of the night - the motions of attending to minutiae and the ticking of that hideous clock. But, I was happy doing so. I felt myself being assertive - with the visceral feel or urgency and, and a desire to do the best that I could. Let me tell you - that is a rare find my friends - a rare find.

Whimsy, does not a successful restaurant make.

I realize that, in any craft, we depend on lists and planning, anticipation and management to get the job done. You also need confidence and assertiveness, and a thick skin.

I require a lot of this when I make wedding cakes for others. I make lists, post-its - killing trees and ficases in the process with my furious pen. I even re-write my plans as if they were notes in class - with each iteration, understanding something new. I thrive off this sort of planning an anticipation. It excites me.

I also learned a valuable lesson in the art of scalability. What can and cannot be served to 25 people with the same quality and expediency as to 5 people? What about to 150 people? Holy hell, my eyeballs are sore.

Here is a little offering of what we did:

We rolled up a skinned pig's face and slow poached it to create porchetta di testo. We sliced it thin. And served it with chicken liver pate.

We flash fried smelts, browned potatoes in vanilla pork fat, and oil poached tuna in a gallon of olive oil in the alleyway of a bike shop. The concrete stained by our destruction.

We thinly sliced fresh abalone (foraged from the sea) on a meat slicer, pounded it thin, and sautéed it, and served it with a sweet sauce.

We fried seabeans (aka pickleweed) tempura style. Natures pickles, fried raw. (Take that NYTimes blog).

And yes, they were epic dishes.

New Obsession: Olive Oil, Rye and Stone Fruit Cake

Adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini's Gâteau de Mamy à la Poire, this cake is my fanaticism. I have made three in the past three days. It takes less than 10 minutes to throw together, and tastes like good quality cake. Delicious cake. The recipe is a dream to remember and acts for like a framework from which theme and variation can play.

I vary the stone fruit/fruit and fats involved in this cake depending on supply. The first was a simple pear and butter cake. Next, a fairtime peach, olive oil and rye flour cake. Next a strawberry, olive oil, and rye muffins.

I am so positively floured up on this cake, I may try sweet corn, brown butter, and polenta next.

In a standing mixer, beat 2 eggs and 1/2 c sugar on high for 3 minutes until white and creamy. Throw in 1/2 c flour (all purpose, rye, or even cornmeal), a handful of nuts ground down to a coarse meal (walnuts, almonds, macadamias etc), 1/2 tsp salt, and 1 1/2 tsp baking powder into the mixer and whip on high for 2 minutes. Add 1/2c of liquid fat (melted butter, olive oil, or melted lard) to the mixer and beat for 2 more minutes.

Cut up you fruit and lay it at the bottom of a greased 6 or 8 inch pan (enough to cover the bottom of the pan and then some - 3 pears, 2 medium peaches, or 1 pint of strawberries). Pour the batter on top of the fruit. Bake in the oven at 350 F for 45 minutes.

Eat perfection.

Molecular Gastronomy 101: Tinkering with Chocolate Mayonnaise a la Herve This

Of the books I'd like to finish reading are Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by Edwin A. Abbott [Cover Thrift Editions], The Science and Lore of the Kitchen by Harold McGee [Scribners], Molecular Gastronomy by Herve This [Columbia University Press], and A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole [Louisiana University Press].

One of them is about the exploration of spatial dimensions - including a very sexist and facist portrayal of the two dimensional world of 'flatland'.  Another is an encyclopedia of food science-including photos of gluten and fat molecules under an electron microscope.  Another is a discussion on how food science of today leads to innovation tomorrow.  The first three books highlight my affinity for the applied sciences while the last is a hilarious book about a slovenly slug, who slings a 400 page indictment against our times.  

I will focus on the second and third books - those concerning food science.  These books are not everybody's bedside table books.  They are not coffee table books either.  They may, perhaps, act as large blocks under which you weigh down a simmering pot of dolmas. But I dare say that they are for me.

Let's narrow in on the matter of emulsions, which is mentioned in both books: the unlikely marriage of fat and water. This phenomenon occurs when water and oil get together under the generosity of the globular proteins.

As a review, water and oil regard each other with equal contempt.  Think of them as republicans and democrats - shit-slingers. Now think of proteins as these large globular masses that appeal to each side - money, power, and the senate.  Begrudgingly, they must unite under the bi-partisanship of the legislative senate to make progressive changes like healthcare reform -- errr -- all the while able to sleep with their lady lovers on the side.  **Caution: disturb the balance, by throwing in too many republicans or democrats and the house falls down.

That, my friends is an emulsion.  A protein structure that attracts both fat and water in its mass. What are examples of emulsions?  Caesar salad dressing for one-the proteins in the egg yolk join oil and vinegar in a happy love tub.  Milk as another - the milk fats and waters doing the hippie dance with proteins.  Mousses, pates, ice creams!!!!

Tartar me crazy, even mayonnaise is an emulsion! The most perfect example of an emulsion!  The large proteins in the eggs are whipped so that they form a jungle gym structure on which the fats (added oil) and and waters (from the egg) can play. In the end, there is that perfect gelled structure - even in color, consistency, and taste - no trappings of internal feuds of oil and water.   And to think - all you need is protein fat and water...

Herve This, author of Molecular Gastronomy, proposes that the oil in mayonnaise can be substitute out for some other type of fat -- cocoa fat!  Chocolate!

So here I whipped one egg white on high and slowly drizzled in 2 oz of melted chocolate thinned with a bit of water for 5-10 minutes on high. Eventually the chocolate transformed from a dark satin to a light and voluminous cream. The texture is so smooth, you would imagine some kind of cream inside.




This is the application of food tradition set forth to drive evolution of food in the future and thought to be a manifestation of molecular gastronomy.  Stay tuned for when I put this delectable substance int he microwave.  A flourless chocolate cake in of just two ingredients within 60 seconds!!!!   Yeee-haw!