I am now obsessed with tamarind...

Cooking classes are a popular "tourist attraction" in Thailand. I am usually not one for conventional tourist attraction, but you will see from my future posts full of vacation photos that I basically did every typical tourist attraction available, because they're so damn cool over there. I mean, who doesn't want to ride an elephant, drink "twig whiskey" with old men who never quite got right after a few decade of opium, swim with 50 different kinds of tropical fish in a shallow coral reef, and see a real, practical application for gold leaf? More on these later. This post is about my love affair with food and how I got to make a whole bunch of it from scratch, using amazingly fresh ingredients. There was also a small gang of cats roaming around the house where the cooking class was held, which was a big bonus for this crazy cat lady in training.

John is prepping his ingredients


breafast: pad thai

spring rolls (fried & steamed)








tom kha gai soup with oyster mushrooms


cashew chicken stir fry


green chicken curry


red chicken curry with thai eggplant


yellow chicken curry stir-fry



papaya salad


who let me play with fire?

All adventures start with a full plate...

I can talk food for days. Literally, days. I think it's my favorite subject, above and beyond, because unlike politics it tends to garner only the most positive of reactions, and while I don't mind cooking up a nasty look every once in a while, I'd much rather be cooking something with lemon grass and turmeric.

On my recent vacation to Chiang Mai, Thailand (which I am still planning to write about, but you know how it is, I tend to drop the ball on long-term blog projects), I took a Thai cooking class in a little open-air bungalow. Before the class, the instructor took my partner and me to the produce market, where my eyes went buck-wild and I turned into a trigger-happy camera-holder. The market was insane. Fresh produce, vivid colors, pungent scents, strong flavors, you name it. Check out some photos:

the market


tom yum soup


tom kha ingredients: lemon grass, slice of thai ginger (galangal), chilis, kaffir lime leaves, corriander, slice of turmeric


closer look at the tom kha bundle


chilis and thai eggplant bundles


fruit: rambutans, mangosteens, som (thai oranges), young coconuts


lancet fruit, dragon fruit, asian pears


thai eggplant, thai ginger, chilis, turmeric, herbs


tiny hot chilis


msuhrooms, beans, and heart of palm

Hopefully soon I'll have time to post photos of all the food from the cooking classes. Stay tuned!

Local seafood ups and downs...

It's time to debunk the pearl of wisdom imparted on us by elementary school teachers everywhere: you can't judge a book by its cover, widely interpreted to mean that you don't know what something will be like until you personally experience it. Fact 1: if you let your publisher slap an ugly or cliche cover on your precious work of art, you likely did not have the straight common sense to create a masterpiece to begin with. More relevant to my experience this weekend, Fact 2: if you're in a restaurant full of people you would not normally eat with, stop right there and walk on out, you should not be eating there. Don't even bother giving the very vague menu a second chance, just cut your losses and move on.

On Saturday my lovely roommate and I decided to head out of town for the morning/afternoon, concluding our day in Sonoma's hills and fields with a lunch in Bodega Bay. Maybe it was the fact that we were completely starving that made us overlook the fact that The Tides was full of old folks, who generally tend to have a palate for bland food... maybe it was the grim but peaceful grey bay sprawling under our window, with a lone bird perched atop something that looks like it was once part of a boat. Maybe just bad judgement. Maybe we wanted to give our spoiled-by-eating-in-San-Francisco tongues a break. Bad decision! The wooden fish decor should've tipped us off. Say, what kind of a crab sandwich can you get for $22? Let me tell you: two pieces of sourdough bread, topped with a shredded crab/mayo mixture, a slice of tomato, and melted with cheese. A total waste of fresh crab, if you ask me. Crab cakes? Kind of burned, and served with a giant pool of the oiliest marinara I've ever had, a wilted leaf of lettuce, and a $13 price tag.

What was I expecting from a place that has children's menus printed on a fish-shaped cardboard? Or a place that has so many kids in it, to begin with...

I bet this place rocked back when it looked like this...

So, lesson learned, we went back to the good ol' city, a box with half a crab sandwich and one and a half crab cakes went into the fridge to most likely never be eaten, and I went to pre-game at Fresca in Noe Valley for a sea food experience that doesn't involve giant dollops of mayo, people asking for cream soda, or noisy children. Young adults and real adults alike were dressed up in that casual SF way we all know and love (meaning, I changed out of my flip flops and did something special to my hair, so consider me ready for public), sangria was not too sweet and being poured liberally, and food came out at the perfect time: just as the pitcher was getting empty.

If you're a pescaterian, or just a lover of ceviche like I am, you won't be disappointed with the variety on the menu. The plates that seem small when they come out are actually deceptively filling. When they say "jumbo", they mean jumbo. You can get a sampler of 3 to 5 different ceviches, each with its own distinct sauce that compliments the fresh and delectable protein: coconut milk with jalapeno, chives and Andean corn for lobster and crab; squid ink sauce, cilantro and rocoto aji for prawns and halibut; jalapeno, soy, white truffle oil, and Andean corn for the hamachi.

Andean corn is a biodiverse and sustainably farmed crop brought to us by the Slow Food movement. It's larger, meatier and more starchy than the sweet corn we usually eat in the States, with a texture and taste that don't interfere with a strong tasting sauce, but provide a much needed solid balance. The rocoto aji is a type of "very hot" pepper native to Peru and Bolivia, and a staple ingredient in all traditional and modern Peruvian kitchens. Together with cilantro, ever present in Latin cooking, the three ingredients form the base of all Peruvian cuisine.


The devil's in the details, folks, and a good restaurant will always remember this... not try to compensate for volume with whipped mayonnaise. So lesson for today: if you wouldn't want to be friends with your co-diners, quickly find an alternate solution to your hunger.

P.S. Rest in peace Tastespotting, you provided me with hours of amazing gastronomic day dreams. May you sleep well in internet heaven, nestled in the soft bosom of every other lost internet phenomenon. However, please welcome Food Gawker to the scene; FG, please live up to the shoes you're here to fill.

TasteSpotting, you devil...

This post is strictly for me and my foodie brethren. As I sit on my couch on a less-than-warm Saturday afternoon, watching Iron Chef America and sifting through the recipes on my new favorite website, TasteSpotting, I could find no better way to crawl my way into the weekend.

I've already made two recipes found on this site (the french onion soup and something else - can't remember now) and they were both magnificent. Oh, if only there were more hours in the day to spontaneously play with the contents of my fridge.

"Food" and "crime" can only happen on Mission & 23rd...

I can't seem to get past the irony of this (hey, I list puns as a hobby, OK?) so I might as well get it all out because it's not even remotely funny. Two days ago, an armed robber walked into the new Mission restaurant/bar Beretta, held it up, and went on his merry way with a sack of cash bearing dollar signs (probably minus that last part). I sure hope he used a BERETTA, because otherwise this situation is just all wrong.

Well, Beretta happens to be on my social calendar for tonight, since most of my roommate's Bourbon & Branch cohorts have migrated back to the Mission and we dilligently follow the trail of tasty cocktails they leave in their wake. So here's to hoping that lighting doesn't strike the same spot twice.

There is no actual candy at CandyBar, bummer.

I keep putting off my "review" of CandyBar SF in hopes that it'll take the negative cues it's getting from eye-rolling neighbors and patrons alike and leave. Then I wouldn't have to write something negative, which I really don't enjoy doing about a fledgeling business, especially of the around-the-corner nature. But I can't help it. I admit I had some strong preconceived notions about what a dessert lounge would be like in my down-to-earth haven where everyone mellows out once the lights dim in our local haunts, but I really tried to put those aside and enjoy the menu. And you know what? That's not easy to do in this place. As soon as my party and I sat down, a manager told us the kitchen was closing (it was 11:20!) and that we'd have a limited amount of time to drink our $8 beers, followed by an embittered rant about how the permitting process for our neighborhood is so difficult and that CandyBar could only obtain one that lets them stay open until midnight on weekends.

According to their business statement, they aim to be an "after dinner dessert lounge" where folks who aren't satisfied with the limited sweets menus at NOPA, RNM, and Solstice could come after their meal and relax with a night cap. This is a great concept that I would have absolutely welcomed to the 'hood for those nights when you just want to relax with a small circle of friends for a thinktank vs. graduate blog discussion (I am on the grad. blog side, fyi). I envision: comfortable chairs, dim lighting that's easy on the eyes, unusual desserts, and creative cocktails made with soju and sake since they are allowed under a beer/wine license.

Instead you get a cranky crew working under glaring 200-watt lighting, constantly having to apologize for its booze selection and hours; stiff blocky chairs; ultra-industrial decor that reminds me of a pricey bathroom showroom; food you can find anywhere else (Chowhound sites "conflicting elements" when it comes to taste); and subsequentally, you and your friends leaving with an agreed "Let's go get a real drink somewhere."

So go ahead and stay at NOPA, RNM or Solstice for dessert. Nothing about this place is really worth it.

Neighborhood stuff...

Ever since I wrote about Minibar, a barbershop-turned-another-bar on Divisadero (a very appropriate parallel to how the street's changed over the years), I've been on the lookout for something that seems like a perfect new hangout. Well, I guess I haven't been looking that hard, since I keep missing its very unassuming storefront-like location. Is it even open?? I want a beer, already.

Meanwhile, Bar Crudo has applied for some kind of a license. I'm assuming (hoping?) it's to sell booze, but it may be something building-related. Will they let neighbors dine in sweat pants? I hope so.

Taking the place of the corner-staple Bars & Stools, which kindly let neighbors park in its driveways after business hours, is Plant-It Earth, a hydroponic/organic gardening supply company. Sadly, I have a feeling that something with "organic" in its name is going to be less forgiving about our parking shenanigans.

Candy Bar SF ???

On my way to the faraway land of non-metered parking in the Western Addition this morning, I passed a glowing new venue being refitted for - wait for it - yet another beer/wine only bar in the neighborhood (there are two more within a half a block), whose claim to fame is going to be sweet foods. It's a wine and dessert bar with a ridiculously Marina name to match: CandyBar SF. How quippy and adorably Chestnut Street. I'm all for new businesses filling up the empty store fronts in my neighborhood, but I'm really hoping this doesn't attract the Alembic kinda crowd that now overflows into my favorite little low-key Upper Haight bar, ruining it with massive amounts of pretense and douchebaggery.

(edit): In other gastronomically adventurous news, I can't believe I didn't catch this earlier when scanning the EaterSF site, but pricey yet tasty Bar Crudo is opening a brand new location way too close to home, my home that is.

Also coming soon: Minibar (a former barbershop space converted to probably another beer/wine only location) & live jazz cafe On the Corner (I saw the owners exiting after a walk-through this weekend and they say they're expecting to open in a week, but didn't mention the live jazz).

In other news, I've been busy winning Pig & Whistle trivia with my college buddies a eating up the crazy insightful awesomeness that is my favorite COIN blog, which everyone should put on their blog roll immediately. You can not read this stuff anywhere else, ladies and gentlemen. Okay, maybe you can, but the trio that writes for AM does it with so much finesse.

P.S. I ate 30 oysters today and it felt great. Props to human beings for being able to consume entire colonies of other organisms. 5 dozen fresh raw sweetwaters split between 3 hungry friends disappeared like there was a black hole at our table, followed shortly by Manila clams in a wheat beer broth and a grilled cheese sandwich that's still making my mouth water... in short, if you haven't been to Hog Island, you should go.

Oysters with Kay

Anyone else's weekend go by way too quickly? Can we hear it for the four day work week? Yea, unlikely. I think three days would be a perfect amount of time to collect and regroup mentally: one day to play, one day to be productive, and one day to do absolutely nothing. I think I'd be a lot more industrious during the work week if I knew I had a day of total rest to look forward to during the weekend. But while we of the M-F nine-to-fiver ranks have a mere two days to get done everything from laundry to house keeping to catching up with friends at a bar to finally getting to cook a decent breakfast, there's always this difficult choice to make: do I do nothing and decompress, or do I do something to make good use of my free time? Unfortunately, something usually wins out over nothing.

As my "something" this weekend, I decided to get the hell out of SF. Sometimes you've just had enough, you know? This was probably heavily influenced by the crowd at Big Foot Tavern on Polk the night before and their general insistance to act with pretty heavy douchebaggery - you know the kind, if there's a narrow spot or a doorway, they have to stand there and refuse to move - and women pushing 30 who still throw up in the bar bathroom. C'mon ladies, get it together.

I rant and rave about the California coast quite a bit. To me there's nothing that can even come close. What can I say, I love it. It's so close to home but has a completely different look and feel. Tomales Bay is home to some of the best oyster farms that cater to the Bay Area, specifically Hog Island Oyster Co, which I could also go on about for days (the Ferry Building location, the outdoor seating, the $1/oyster happy hour, the grilled cheese sandwiches??). Anyway, my cohort and I ended up in Tomales Bay, and we wanted to eat some oysters since it was a gorgeous day, and we found ourselves at the farm:

The best part? While restaurant oysters can run $2.50 per a tiny itty bitty single, even more if you want the fresh specialty ones, buying a tray of clusters and shucking them yourself is dirt cheap (by oyster standards) at $10 for a dozen.

... and also fun, if you have a hidden talent for shucking, like me. Also I'm excited that this time I didn't slice my hand open, but then again, I was also not using a kitchen towel for a glove like last time.

Go city girl, go! Observe the deserted "picnic area" behind me. Just moments earlier it was infested with Marina types, couples wearing matching Giants t-shirts and Hog Island sweatshirts, throwing a football around for all of 15 seconds and calling each other "babe" constantly (ie. "Babe, can you take a picture of me walking to the trash can?" I kid you not.)

Fresh air + drinking = I'm 23, back off.

The past two days have shown me massive signs of hope. I feel good, I feel blessed... do you think I'm talking about Super Tuesday? No! Okay, that's exciting too, but what I'm really down for right now is this beautiful weather that's showing a glimmer of change to the grey, depressing, windy downpour we've all been dreading every day we leave our cold apartments, trying to find a cab or hoping not to miss the MUNI, sharp needles of cold rain forcing us to squint into a bad day.

No more. We've had enough.

In honor of what I hope is the return of a decent existence without the constant threat of wayward umbrella corners, I'm compiling a list of bars with outdoor patios where you can sit under a heat lamp and pretend the sun is actually warm while drinking a crisp microbrew or a spicey bloody mary.

• Zeitgeist - a no-brainer. Some friends, a deck of cards, a giant purse full of miscaleneous items to weigh your cards down with, and some BBQ. Definitely can't wait to resume all that.
• Mojo - they have a nice back yard covered with plants, perfect for a big glass of hef. But my backyard is next door and has lounge chairs and I could drink beer out of bottles for much cheaper. I'll probably still come here, though...
• El Rio - I'm not that likely to stray so far from my home grounds for a beer, and if I was going to Bernal during the day time I think I'd go elsewhere, but this is an outdoor option, although mostly occupied during evenings.
• Thee Parkside - the outdoor patio has its own bar. Oh reaaaallly...
• Zazie - tucked away in Cole Valley, whose tangled streets are great for walking off a serious buzz in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, easy to get to, but, unfortunately, sometimes infested with children.
• Frjtz (the Hayes Valley location) - good for both food and beers, and a convenient walking distance away.
  

Home, Sweet home!

And already, all I can think about is my next meal. My trip to Chicago padded me nicely with a few extra pounds since food there is amazing and very filling, but it wasn't too bad since we got to take in all of downtown and the surrounding areas on foot. I love cities where you can walk and walk until your scenery completely changes. But there's still almost three months until a Hawaii wedding (not mine - no worries!), and I'm glad Dine About Town happens in January and not March. Dine About Town is a nice deal but never saves me as much money as I expect it to, since the $31.95/Dinner rate is a prix-fix menu and I always end up wanting additional things off the menu, mainly fancy appetizers, since those are kind of my thing. But most people have far more self control than I do when it comes to food: this is perfect for them.

So far on my radar are Aziza (Mediterranean), Baraka (French), Cassis (French - this one for the beef stew), Le Colonial (Vietnamese), RNM (American, and even though I've been here a few times I'm always too suaced up to remember specifics), Supperclub, and AsiaSF, which I can't believe I still haven't been to. Plus AsiaSF's got a lot more variety for their prix-fix menu than other restaurants.

In the meantime, to keep my brainmatter from slowly turning into a polenta-like substance, I've decided to take Farsi classes in order to keep people on their toes.

Traditions and transitions

I have never celebrated family-style Thanksgiving. Not officially. Except for birthdays, Rosh HaShana, and a big New Year's dinner to start the year off nice and fattened up, my family finds as few reasons as possible to get together because no one really needs an additional ulcer in their life. My mother, ever the hard-working woman, always gets a manicure and catches up on her sitting around and doing nothing on the Thursday off; I usually invite myself along with whoever I am seeing at the time and invade their family time. This year I have been a very hard-working woman. This year I am catching up on my sitting around and doing nothing, but I am not patient enough for a manicure.

Even so, this is the first year I am actually going to see my parental figure on this supposedly family-oriented holiday. She is my rock and my greatest inspiration, and for that I'm thankful for every day, not just once a year.

In terms of traditions, I think my generation, whatever it's called and whoever it consists of, likes to develop its own. Six (seven? eight?) years ago, my core group of friends from high school started doing day-before-Thanksgiving dinners, which have grown from simple pot luck's in someone's parents' dining room to elaborate menus in our down dining rooms to even more elaborate fine dining menus. People have come and gone, but yesterday we clinked glasses of red wine, cucumber martinis and passionfruit somethings, passed the entres clockwise, and laughed until every speck of dessert was gone from the generous plates provided by Anzu in the Nikko Hotel. That's my family. That's my tradition.

The Cheesy Italian Waiter

This weekend my high school pal and longtime grrrlfriend Mindy celebrated her 23rd birthday (she is our youngest) at the uber-Italian-vibe North Beach staple Panta Rei, complete with cheesy Italian waiters and Italian pop videos on a big screen above the bar. In three words, a total tourist attraction. Welcome to little Italy, SF.

This is really all about The Cheesy Italian Waiter. He works at Panta Rei, Steps of Rome, or any of many cafes sprinkled generously throughout the North Beach. He can not help but shout "Bella!" at every person who passes for a female, and asks your boyfriend why he's being stingy and won't take you inside for dinner. Sometimes he forgets to put on his accent, so the next time he lays it on extra thick. And sometimes he will dump cake on the birthday girl's arm and lick it off, despite her loud and firm objection to this.

It will look like this (this is based on an actual photo, but who doesn't love an MS Paint reanactment??):

Gluttony: the Incanto experience.

Tonight I'm having a much-anticipated dinner at Incanto with my roommate. We ran into an old co-worker of hers from another restaurant this past weekend, and he said he jumped ship to this very interesting spot. Incanto's Yelp reviews are all of the map... from amazing, positive, brilliant, fun; to completely disgusting. I feel like the negativity comes from misunderstanding: both tourists and old-fashioned natives want another traditional Italian restaurant, and traditional this place ain't. Which is precisely why I can't wait for our 9pm reservation.

Edit: My only regret is that I didn't save room for dessert. Skate has been consumed and subsequentally loved. Real big chunks of butternut squash in a butternut squash risotto make it that much more mouth-watering. Read my full review of Incanto on Yelp.