The Root of all Celery, plus Tome des Recollets

What a fantastic creature is the celery root. Look at it. It's like a great hairy monster of a vegetable, with the creeping thickness of banyan tree roots at Angkor Wat, or the tangled lianas of amate roots like the ones at the Hacienda de Cortes in Cuernavaca.

I love the flavor, too. Celery itself always seems slightly pedestrian -- we often replace it with leeks in recipes for stock or soup. But celeriac has the impact of celery flavor with none of the wateriness or stringy texture.

We were looking for a nice side for pork chops with merlot sauce for a recent dinner party and pureed celeriac sounded perfect. Simple, but incredibly tasty, this recipe is adapted from Gourmet Magazine.


Celeriac and Gala Apple Puree

4 lb celeriac
4 (1.5 lb) Gala apples
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
2 teaspoons salt
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon white pepper
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 medium leek, light green and white parts cleaned, and sliced into thin half circles.
2 Tbsp. butter

Peel the root carefully (best to cut it on one side so you have a flat surface to put on the board and then cut down the sides from there), then cut it into 1-inch cubes. Peel and core the apples, then cut those into 1-inch pieces also.

Melt 1/2 stick butter in a 6- to 8-quart heavy pot over moderately low heat, then add celeriac, apples, and salt and stir to coat with butter. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook (without adding liquid), stirring occasionally, until celery root is tender, 50 minutes to 1 hour.

In the mean time, on the side, melt the remaining butter in a medium pan over a medium-low heat and add the leeks. Cover and cook until leeks are soft and almost "melted."

Purée the celeriac mixture in a food processor or with a stick blender until smooth. Return the purée to a medium heat and stir in the cream, white pepper, and nutmeg. Reheat the celeriac covered, over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until hot, about 5 minutes. Serve topped with melted leeks.

For our dinner party we also needed a cheese plate, of course, so we fought our way down to the Ferry Building, battling the fearsome Shelob on the way.

I didn't know that spiders cached cheese, but apparently Shelob's been stocking her lair.

On the Cowgirls' recommendation, we were searching for a Tome de Bordeaux, but there was unfortunately none to be had. Instead, we managed to snag the last wedge of a lovely, elegant little Tome des Recollets (center), a nicely balanced semi-soft goat and cow cheese blanketed in herbs and spices. I hadn't had this one before, but it's not unlike a softer, more buttery and less tangy version of the Tome de Bordeaux.

On the left, a slice of Brie de Meaux, my favorite sort of brie, but almost impossible to get in any acceptable sort of state in America because of the import regulations on raw milk cheese. Don't get me started.

By the time we got it warmed up to goopiness, it was already giving off a slight air of ammonia. Will I never learn? Probably not. I'm such an eternal optimist when it comes to raw milk cheese.

"Maybe this will be the magic Vacherin!"

My Omnivore gives me The Look. "You know the law."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. *Sniff.*

Also pictured to the right is a perfectly lovely half of Mt. Tam from the Cowgirls.

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(US Customs and Border Protection officials, please skip the rest of this post.)

As a side note, I've recently received a shipment of fabulous corn varieties from my friend Teri in Peru! They're totally gorgeous, fabulous colors and some of the grains are enormous!

I'd like to experiment with cooking it and try making nixtamal (Sort of pre-treated corn for masa dough) but I can't find slaked lime anywhere!

Can you help me? Does anyone out there know where I can get slaked lime or chuna paste in the Bay Area?

Brasserie Bafflement

So, you might wonder where I've been for, lo, these many weeks. Basically it went like this: we went to NY over the holidays, I got sick and remained sick for many days, and essentially have been giving myself a three week vacation. Hah!

But there's much to catch up on, and I did want to blog, as a warning to others, the very disappointing Brasserie in The Seagram Building on 53rd St. in New York.

It wasn't the best of circumstances by any measure -- we needed a place for Christmas dinner with my Dad, and it was a last minute choice, but I must admit, I was definitely expecting a little more from this once trendy, hipster hangout.

It's a strange place, and I can't say I disapproved of the decor which is sort of sleek, Arclinea cold. I guess "Terminal"--as in "airline"-- is the idea. Except without the security gate and taking off the shoes and mailing your Swiss Army knife back to yourself stuff.

There is a weird Big Brother vibe though, in that there's a bank of TVs hanging over the bar in the main dining room, each of which shows a frame of the last dozen or so patrons to enter. Diner beware as you enter through the revolving door, you're on Candid Camera. No cleaning out your earwax or picking your nose, because the image will be displayed to the entire dining room. And THEN after checking your coat, you'll be expected to walk down a little runway ramp into the room, you ear-picker, you. I suppose if Mick Jagger or Naomi Campbell were coming in, everyone in the restaurant could gawk, but of course nowadays, it's just well... it's just us.

On the plus side, they did not lose our reservation, and seated us in a quieter room, and they do have some cute prismatic illusion menu covers, which offered my Omnivore several minutes of amusement.







Yeah. Hmmm. If only what was on the inside of the menu had been as amusing as what was on the cover.

Moving on.


So the first thing is that I was perturbed by the butter. As many of you know, I have an obsession with butter (among other things) and although I think Brasserie probably served us some nice butter, the fact that they sliced it like a sausage roll and plonked down the slice, with foil still embedded in it, in front of us, was how shall we say... not appealing?

Our habit at most places is to ask the server what his or her favorite things on the menu are. They should know, after all, right? So our server, a very pleasant man with a French accent, told us that he had "gotten very good feedback on the Short Ribs and the Guinea Hen, and the monkfish is very popular."

"Have you tried both?"

"Um, no, I have not actually personally tried them, but many guests have enjoyed it."

Beg pardon? You haven't even tried them? Don't tell me what's popular -- this isn't a primary election. I want to know what's good.

Alright, alright. Whatever. I guess we're on our own.

I ordered the Duck Confit Salad, which would have been fab if I had actually ordered a Frisee Salad. As it was, I had a bit of a time finding my confit under all that frisee. The duck cracklings, I will concede, were good. But how hard is that? It's fried duck fat. What's not to love?


Dad got the Lobster Bisque, by far the best out of the three appetizers. Reasonably smooth and tasty, it was what it was. Soup Nazi definitely makes better bisque, but this was not bad.

My Omnivore's wild mushroom tart, though, was pretty dull. It seemed like the mushrooms were under-seasoned when they were cooked, or maybe just overcooked. A universe apart from the delicious perky wild mushrooms we had at Ai Gondolieri in Venice.

Guinea Hen (while popular) was desperately overcooked and dry, as were the short ribs, while the monkfish was rather bland and unimaginative. And all I could think was that for $70 a head, we could have gone back to Artisanal and had some damn cheese.

Maybe it's that Christmas Dinner thing. I mean, the kitchen staff probably doesn't want to be there, so they're phoning in the reduced version of the usual menu. Still, I was flabbergasted at how dull everything was. No wonder our server didn't want to taste the food.

Dessert came, on a non-illusory menu, but I must confess, by this time I was feeling a bit defeated.

Ultimately, though, I will say that we did better here than with our main courses and starters.

Pumpkin Tart was flavorful and had a nice Port sauce to go with it.



Pecan Brown Butter had decent depth of flavor and was not overly sweet.





I was also so amused by the typo on the menu that read "Bouche de Noel" that I thought it might be the inspiration for a new holiday dessert.

They, of course, meant Buche de Noel, according to our French-speaking server, who only rolled his eyes a little when we pointed this out. I couldn't help thinking though, that Bouche de Noel might be more fun.

Frankly, Brasserie looks like the sort of place that's in its last gasps. It was a bit demoralizing instead of festive--throughout the dinner, I couldn't stop glancing at the crusts of dried bread on the floor, clearly illuminated by the once-trendy "frosted glass under the banquette" lighting. Once hip and happening, it's now reduced to serving the rest of us, and has consequently gone from high end dining to cafeteria--honestly, you can get better food in museum cafes in New York.

It shows in the service, it shows in the atmosphere, and in the care that goes into the menu as well as the preparations.



And at the end, I just wasn't satisfied. Heading back to our hotel at close to midnight, I couldn't help wondering if the Korean barbecue joints were any good...

Catch-22

I love hitting new restaurants, and we're extraordinarily lucky, not only in that we live in the Bay Area, where you can throw a kumquat in any direction and probably hit an interesting new place, but also that we have lots of friends who love hitting those restaurants with us. People who suggest that hot little Thai place, or that new skewer plate spot, who are adventurous with their orders, don't mind sharing, and most importantly, are willing to wait until we take pictures of the food before diving in.

"Wait, wait," says Ms. Art Attack, slapping her husband's hand as he reaches for a fork. "Don't touch it -- we have to take a picture first."

The waiter is standing over us trying to refill a water glass, but frozen as we try to stabilize the image on our poor little camera. Damn food bloggers -- just take the picture already. Jeez.

So on this trip we had dinner with our friend, Ms. Croix de Candlestick at the new Pacific Catch on 9th near Lincoln.

Housed in the space that was formerly the Canvas --a nifty little art meets cafe place, Catch focuses on, everybody altogether now, seafood. I gather they have a place in the Marina as well, though I've never been there. It's kind of a Chevy's type chain, but they're committed to fresh, sustainable seafood, so we figured it was worth a try.

I wanted to like the place -- it's in a district I like a lot, not expensive and hey, fresh seafood. However...

Light levels were low in this place, so it was hard to get photos of any sort. That must also be why it was hard to get service of any sort as well. The staff seemed nice enough, but though they seated us early while we waited for Ms. Croix to arrive, we were quickly forgotten and it became impossible for us to flag anyone down to even get a glass of water, much less a menu and a drink. My Omnivore and I finally took matters into our own hands and he went and got drinks from the bar while I went over to the hostess and got menus. Sheesh. I know we're in Chevy's land, but, come on, you've only been open two days and we seem to be working in cafeteria style.

Ms. Croix arrived and we again spent some time trying to obtain a drink for her, but the arrival of a third must have given our party the critical mass it needed, because the server finally noticed us.

To begin we got a mix of starters, all decent, but nothing spectacular. My fish filet was a bit greasy, and somewhat flavorless until you added a squeeze of citrus over it. The Sweet Potato Fries were probably the best thing on the menu, but not much else was memorable.

In fact, now that we come to it. I'm racking my brains to recall just what we all had. Hmmmm, not a good sign.

Et in Arcadia ego

Just catching up on the frenzy of eating we did from the holiday season.

We were scheduled to see Ballet San Jose's Nutcracker and, determined to have a nice relaxing dinner, we stumbled upon Michael Mina's Arcadia in San Jose. It's only a short walk (one block, but a long one!) from the theater, and it's the best meal I've had in San Jose yet. (No cackles from the peanut gallery).

Located in the Marriott, it's a little less intimidating than Mina' place in San Francisco-- not so formal, and packed with happy conventioneers at the bar, although that does make it QUITE LOUD. What? LOUD. What? I SAID, IT'S LOUD.

Since we were going to see the Nutcracker, I guess it lent a certain ambiance to be seated under the butt of the giant Nutcracker doll. I might have preferred a different view, but it was entertaining I suppose.

I haven't been to Michael Mina in the St. Francis, which sounds thoroughly amazing. I'm guessing that Arcadia is rather different in style as it is billed as a steakhouse. But since that was all I was looking for in a pre-show meal, I was quite happy. I got the burger, perfectly prepared, with a side of impossible-to-stop-eating duck-fat fries.

My Omnivore ordered the Steak Rossini, a nice rib eye over a potato cake with mushrooms, topped with seared foie gras. Pricey, but extremely yummy.




And for dessert -- a fantastic rich chocolate cake with salt caramel ice cream. The cake was luxurious, but with the ice cream, kind of almost decadent.

Perhaps we shall have to investigate the Mina closer to home...

Golden Produce's new store is open!

So our favorite little local grocery store is Golden Produce (172 Church Street at Market), which I blogged about in 2006 in the midst of the Wedding Frenzy.

They always have the freshest organic veggies and a host of fabulous little other items, from imported pasta to my favorite mini-biscotti.

So when Golden's family mentioned that they were in the process of opening a new store a few doors down at 130 Church Street, we were elated. Every week it seemed, for years, we would ask how it was going -- when they were opening...

Well, last Monday, they finally took down the brown plywood, opened their doors, and on Monday night I waltzed out of there with a bag stuffed full of goodies...

The new store is vastly more spacious, and a major difference is that this one will carry meat, wine and a wider array of cheeses. The old store will of course keep on stocking the fabulous vegetables -- the little mini-peppers and lemongrass, beautiful shiitakes and seasonal apples and pears.

The new one though, has organic meat, lamb from Sonoma, Rosie organic chickens, sausages, bacon, chops, that sort of thing.

But in addition they also seem to have everything I always have to run all over town for -- right there--in one place! Seventh Generation paper towels and cleaners, recycled paper coffee filters, D'Arbo jams, Newman's cat food, King Arthur flour, Saint Marcellin cheeses, Fra'Mani salamettos, torta d'aceite from Spain, Cline Syrah, Amy's Mac and Cheese, Annie Chun's soba noodles. Just walking around the store made me happy!

Go, go now! Feel the happiness. 130 Church Street.

Blown Away

The view from my window. Only a crazy person would go out in this, which of course explains it, because I am a crazy person.

We're in the middle of a storm here. I went out to deliver some work stuff this morning and literally the wind was so bad I could barely get back to my front door.

Still, it doesn't seem quite as horrible as the storms of 1995 which I remember vividly as I lived in Pacifica (i.e. near the ocean) at the time. Even so, after about half and hour out in the hurricane, I was totally soaked, right down to the knickers.

Plus there's flooding everywhere. I wondered what this poor person who parked at a low spot at Turk and Franklin, is going to think when they get back to the car...
Maybe it will be drained. A worker was already clearing the drain out when I walked by again and I had to take a picture of him enjoying the whirlpool of draining in the midst of 40 mph winds on the corner.

But now, it's time to head back inside and hunker down with a cup of tea and a cat, or two.

I've been off the blog the last few weeks while we swept through New York over the holidays. Had a bit of a nasty cold though -- or is it flu-- which hung on like grim death from Christmas Eve until, well, today.

Does this sound familiar? Slightly sore throat and scratchy voice which swells from Kathleen Turner husky to Phyllis Diller in a single day. Followed by coughing, coughing, coughing, plus headache and zero energy. I was clutching twin bottles of Dayquil and Nyquil like an alcoholic through most of New York. Coming through airport security I defiantly threw in my 10 oz. bottle of Nyquil into my carry on. Just try to let me onto the plane without it.

Of course TSA had the last laugh because I took so much Nyquil that I fainted on the plane ride and had a horrible time getting through the last five hours of the flight.

Back home now, though, and quite happy to be drinking teas of my own devising. We've pulled out the magical Lemon Thyme Tea which is remarkable in its ability to quiet a cough long enough for you to get some breathing time. At that hour of the wolf, between one and three, when you can't sleep for coughing a lung up and you can't catch a breath? Make some Lemon Thyme Tea -- it's the bomb. The trick is to use fresh thyme, which has natural tussins to stop the cough.

Lemon Thyme Tea

2 Tbsp chopped fresh thyme
1 tsp lemon zest
2 cups hot boiling water

Let the thyme and lemon zest steep in the water for several minutes, then strain it out and drink the tea. I like to add a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it up.