my latest food video:
Showing posts with label farmers market. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farmers market. Show all posts
6/5/09
8/6/07
Review: Buy Me Some Bi-Rite
The Fanch reports:
We had quite the foodie weekend with our visitors from NY, Hillary and Kofi. We started out chez Bistro Hugo Friday evening, where we whipped up a sensational meal culled from the fruits of Roz's garden.
A tangy, light cucumber, avocado and heirloom tomato salad laced with cilantro and grapeseed-oil vinaigrette accompanied a hearty roasted-green-eggplant-and-sausage sugo over whole-wheat pasta.
The next morning, we were ready for more indulgence, heading off to the Farmer's Market for an orgy of fruit, from green figs to soft-ball-sized peaches. But a highlight, in addition to our Bodega Bistro experience, outlined by Alex below, was Saturday evening's dessert.
At Dan Becker's urging, we decided to try Bi-Rite Creamery, the new ice cream shop on 18th off Dolores, a block that already had an embarrassment of culinary riches before its latest addition opened.
Inside the brightly lit, compact store we found alluring flavors, from honey-lavender to salted caramel. We tasted a few and made our strategic choices: balsamic strawberry, coffee toffee and chai-laced milk chocolate. All winners. Good thing the pints cost $7.99. Otherwise, I would have been tempted to take some of this divine dairy home.
We had quite the foodie weekend with our visitors from NY, Hillary and Kofi. We started out chez Bistro Hugo Friday evening, where we whipped up a sensational meal culled from the fruits of Roz's garden.
A tangy, light cucumber, avocado and heirloom tomato salad laced with cilantro and grapeseed-oil vinaigrette accompanied a hearty roasted-green-eggplant-and-sausage sugo over whole-wheat pasta.
The next morning, we were ready for more indulgence, heading off to the Farmer's Market for an orgy of fruit, from green figs to soft-ball-sized peaches. But a highlight, in addition to our Bodega Bistro experience, outlined by Alex below, was Saturday evening's dessert.
At Dan Becker's urging, we decided to try Bi-Rite Creamery, the new ice cream shop on 18th off Dolores, a block that already had an embarrassment of culinary riches before its latest addition opened.
Inside the brightly lit, compact store we found alluring flavors, from honey-lavender to salted caramel. We tasted a few and made our strategic choices: balsamic strawberry, coffee toffee and chai-laced milk chocolate. All winners. Good thing the pints cost $7.99. Otherwise, I would have been tempted to take some of this divine dairy home.
6/17/07
Eureka! Apricots of Yore!
Like me, my friend Sam is a lifelong Californian. Like me and, I suspect, many lifelong Californians 50 and over, Sam had given up on ever tasting a ripe apricot again. When I was a kid, tree-ripened apricots were as much a part of summer as riding bikes to swim in the municipal plunge every day or taking turns cranking the ice cream freezer in the backyard. These sweet, jammy gems were second only to ripe figs for what I later came to realize was vaginal lusciousness. They disappeared, as best I can recall, in the early 70s, mainly, I suspect, because markets grew more and more distant from sources. A ripe apricot is difficult to ship, so they're picked green and hard. Unfortunately, unlike peaches, apricots don't ripen after they're picked.
Like an obsessive birder set on finding a nesting pair of ivory-billed woodpeckers, I kept hope alive, searching down the decades: farmers markets, expensive boutique groceries, Napa Valley fruitstands. Nothing came close. When Sam called last Saturday morning, the urgency in his terse message was unmistakable: "Alemany Farmers Market. South row, far west end. Apricots of yore. Hurry!"
I drove down immediately and ran into Sam. He pointed to the stand and instructed, "Ask for a sample. They'll give you a whole one." I did, they did, and I bought 2 pounds. Yesterday, I bought 6 pounds. Forgot the price. Who cares?
I don't believe in hoarding treasure. And so I am obliged to report Sam's historic rediscovery. I apologize for my delay, since apricot season comes early in the summer and does not linger. The Alemany wonders are from Modesto. And they're also a variety called "Modesto," a distinction that both amused the farmer selling them and made him proud. As he deserves to be.
For eating fresh, choose the soft, even mushy, ones. For baking, any will do. Store in the reefer, but do not eat them cold; God's in his heaven...all's right with the world!
Like an obsessive birder set on finding a nesting pair of ivory-billed woodpeckers, I kept hope alive, searching down the decades: farmers markets, expensive boutique groceries, Napa Valley fruitstands. Nothing came close. When Sam called last Saturday morning, the urgency in his terse message was unmistakable: "Alemany Farmers Market. South row, far west end. Apricots of yore. Hurry!"
I drove down immediately and ran into Sam. He pointed to the stand and instructed, "Ask for a sample. They'll give you a whole one." I did, they did, and I bought 2 pounds. Yesterday, I bought 6 pounds. Forgot the price. Who cares?
I don't believe in hoarding treasure. And so I am obliged to report Sam's historic rediscovery. I apologize for my delay, since apricot season comes early in the summer and does not linger. The Alemany wonders are from Modesto. And they're also a variety called "Modesto," a distinction that both amused the farmer selling them and made him proud. As he deserves to be.
For eating fresh, choose the soft, even mushy, ones. For baking, any will do. Store in the reefer, but do not eat them cold; God's in his heaven...all's right with the world!
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