Diving into Affidelice

"Looking is free, ain't it?"







"You humans pay too much for cheese."

Danke Schon, Gary Danko

Damn, he's good. Gary Danko, I mean.

It's one of the top restaurants in San Francisco-- consistently rated at the top, a Michelin star (not two??) and rated by Zagat as highly as Thomas Keller's temple of food, The French Laundry. The atmosphere is always referred to as classy, but not stuffy, and the food divine. Will it be all that it's cracked up to be? I dialed my little fingers off to get a reservation for Ms. Food Snoot, the Pajama Queen and myself so we could see for ourselves.

So, it was that on a chilly San Francisco evening, we tottered up to 800 North Point in our most important-looking heels, and strode confidently into Danko's comfortably warm establishment. We arrived almost an hour early, but when you're wearing four inch heels, the idea of walking around on hills in the cold, going from bar to restaurant in search of a way to kill time, just doesn't look all that appealing.

At Danko's though, we lucked out and three seats at the bar were left free all at once and we settled in for a little pre-prandial chat and cocktail.

Service is a big deal--BIG deal--at this place. I'm not kidding. And neither are they. It started with the transfer from the bar to our table. Being reasonably able-bodied and not completely snookered at this point, we were fully prepared to carry our own drinks to the table, but the gentleman who came to get us already had a tray in his hand onto which he deftly placed the three glasses. We duly followed him to the dining room and as we did the "where do you want to sit?" tango with each other, I thought, geez, does he even remember who had what? As soon as we were committed to a seat, without missing a beat each glass sailed down to the table in front of the proper owner.

"Not bad... And for your next trick?" I thought.

I didn't have to wait long. Ms Snoot's wallet slipped from her lap and onto the floor, and the PQ offered to get up and look under the table. Perhaps it was a bit odd looking -- a lovely woman diving under the table, but quicker than you can say "amuse-bouche," three of the staff members were at our table, one with a flashlight in hand.

"Can I help?" she offers, as the PQ extracts herself. "Happens all the time-- it's why we keep a light at the front. It's by your feet, miss."

Only Ms. Snoot's fabulous agility enables her to pick it up before the captain who's next to her.

Danko's offers a tasting menu, or a "design-your own" a la carte menu, and so to maximize our possibilities, we opted for one tasting menu with wine pairings (Ms. Food Snoot), and a four course menu with its own wine pairings (PQ) and a four course without wine pairings (designated driver).

To start with, of course, there is the "little treat" as the server said.

A quenelle of salmon tartare mixed with slightly crunchy couscous, with dots of blood orange reduction and garlic cream. Succulent, aromatic and utterly delightful.

Ms. Snoot's first course: glazed oysters topped with generous dollops of Osetra caviar, paired gorgeously with a 2006 Gruner Veltliner from Rudi Pichler of the Wachau region of Austria.

How is it that Gruner can go with anything? It also worked quite well with the PQ's and my asparagus starters.

The PQ's mix of green and white asparagus, nestled under greens with red peppers and a red onion vinaigrette as well as delicately poached quail eggs. Eggs and asparagus -- so perfect. It came nicely paired with a 2006 Teira Sauvignon Blanc from Sonoma.

My soup. The plate came to the table with a napoleon of duck confit, parmagiano and tarragon aioli over a slash of balsamic reduction. I have only moments to enjoy the view before another server is immediately at my side with the most adorable little covered copper pot, from which he pours a creamy asparagus soup that floods the napoleon.

I'm thoroughly impressed at how nicely the servers sweep in with the plates, simultaneously presenting each of our dishes. Since they made a big deal about that in the first season of Top Chef, I've started noticing, and it is kinda cool.

As is our wont-- because most of us don't regularly dine at those haute cuisine establishments but rather at family-style joints where passing round the plates is not only customary, but de rigeur-- we each took a few bites of our respective dishes and then passed our plates around to the right.

Consternation from the waitstaff. Two of them materialized instantly and one tried valiantly to pick the caviar and oyster dish out of the air as Ms. Snoot passed it, just so she could place it gently in front of the PQ, even as another one sadly straightened the rectangular asparagus salad plate, which I had unceremoniously plonked down 15 degrees askew in front of myself. Looked faintly defeated, they all retired appearing to be thoroughly mortified as we passed the plates twice more. Oh God... oh god....the captain is going to kill us, seemed written on their faces.

Ms. Snoot had one extra course, a horseradish crusted salmon medallion, not with the dilled cucumbers as advertised on the menu, but rather the freshest green beans in a mustard sauce. As we stared at the lovely looking plate, Ms. Snoot wondered aloud if the wine pairings included a fresh wine for this course, and no sooner had the words left her lips than I spotted our server heading--nay, charging, I tell you-- toward our table with a glass and a bottle in hand, as though the very fact that Ms. Snoot had been left wine-less with food in front of her for more than a microsecond was a crime beyond contemplation. And it was a total winner, an aromatic, fruity and beautifully balanced 100% Roussanne, a 2006 Domaine Quenard Chignin-Bergeron "Vieilles Vignes" from the Savoie region.

Moving on, the PQ tackled her scallops with a goodly glug of Merry Edwards Pinot Noir (2006) from the Sonoma Coast. The sweet scallops were seared perfectly and served with roasted vegetables.

Another example of the toll that tasting all these fancy foods and wine is taking: Ms. Snoot takes a none-too-stable picture of her entree, a beef tenderloin with trumpet mushrooms and shallots glazed in cassis with Stilton-infused butter. Paired this time a Bordeaux style blend of cabernet sauvignon, cab franc, and merlot --2003 Almus from Caldwell Vineyard in Napa. Full and flavorful, but not edgy.

For my main I decided on the quail stuffed with wild mushrooms and foie gras with a Romanesco and rosemary scented potato cake and oddly enough, one of the highlights for me that evening, florets of perfect blanched broccoli across a swath of sweet carrot puree. This last little element was surprisingly spring-like and delicious, reminding me of those perfectly executed little vegetable sides at Cibreo.

The PQ, in our frenzy of cross-table tasting, has splooged a drop of sauce on the tablecloth in front of her. She jokes to a server that she'll have to hide it with the bread plate, but as the server sweeps the crumbs off the table, she says quite seriously, "Does it bother you?"

We all laugh, of course not. But the server reaches into an inside pocket and extracts small circular white label stickers, which she places on the tablecloth to cover the 1 cm stain left by the droplet of sauce.

"Seriously," says the PQ, "Are there people who ask you for that?"

"It would bother some people," she says quite reasonably. I'm still stunned at the notion that this kind of "Out, out, damned spot" moment must occur often enough to warrant her carrying the stickies in her pocket.

Ahhh. the cheese cart. I'd been eying that little vehicle literally since we walked in the door.

I counted nineteen cheeses on the cart and our long-suffering server carefully explained each one. I was quite thrilled really to see that they actually had several cheeses that I had never had, and a couple I'd never even heard of-- the true benchmark for fine dining in my estimation. Since each one of us had opted for a cheese course, we had a potential of tasting twelve cheeses. TWELVE. Oh Lordy. Hold me down.

The PQ's cheese choices include, from the top, a French Livarot, Cashel Blue from Ireland, Mimolette (a little dry-- perhaps not aged long enough--and in the PQ's opinion, too salty) , and a Cana de Cabra, a Spanish goat cheese from the Murcia region that I had never had before, but which turned out to be beautifully ripe and pungent.

For Ms. Snoot, also from the top, a Brie de Nangis (sadly too old, given the 60-day holding pattern it suffers in customs), Midnight Moon from Cypress Grove and a fabulous Munster au Gewurtz, semisoft and stinkily intoxicating Munster with a terrific rind washed in Gewurtztraminer, the classic pairing for this cheese.

On my plate, from the left, a surprisingly well-crafted and powerfully buttery Grayson from Meadow Creek Farms in Virginia, a smooth and very tasty Gorgonzola dolce, a rather dry ashed "Tradition du Berry" goat cheese-- shaped in a chopped off pyramid like the Valencays-- from Fromagerie Jacquin (they make that fantastic, goopy young St. Maure de Touraine that still haunts my Omnivore's dreams), and a little taste of the sheep's milk Brebiou from the Pyrenees.

And to go along with this extravaganza of cheese? A '06 Veneto Amarone from Campagnola called "Caterina Zardini."

At this point, a restroom break. Ms Snoot and the PQ start to explain where I can find "the Spa" as they call it, but then they both stop short. "Never mind, someone is GOING to help you before you get there."

An odd thing to say, I muse, as I make my way through the dining room. Out of no place, a captain appears and says, "May I?" and leads me to the door of the rest room, where, I kid you not, one of our servers appears to be waiting just for the sole purpose of opening the door for me. She's our server, so I know she can't be standing there all night opening the bathroom door, but it was bizarre and faintly eerie that she seemed to be right on hand as I headed to the ladies room.

I'm already stuffed to the gills, but for our dessert, the PQ and I are sharing Bananas Foster, which is spectacularly prepared tableside, with flames and everything.




We're fascinated by the entire procedure and have many questions for our now even longer-suffering server.




The finished dish is plated with chocolate crepes and a lovely hazelnut ice cream, topped with pearls of Valrhona chocolate. Exquisitely silky bananas, mmmmmm.

Oddly enough, as she's finishing up the Bananas Foster, our server starts looking rather frantically over at the corridor, and following her gaze, I spot no less than five people in a frenzy of preparing what looks like our coffee and Ms. Snoot's dessert. Another near-panicked glare over at the corridor and they head majestically over to our table. Cups and saucers, a lovely little cream and sugar service first, then with perfect timing, the Ms Snoot's Chocolate Souffle and the Bananas Foster hit the table at the same time. Brilliant.

With expert precision, another server breaks into the souffle, and pours, oh, a good cup of creme anglaise and another cup of melted chocolate into the center. Add a glass of Jacques Laverierre Clos Chatart Banyuls (plus a 20 year tawny port for the PQ) and we are good to go.

Amazing.

Just as we're reeling, stuffed and overstimulated, they plonk down one more thing-- the irresistible petits fours.

Wafer thin.

It's now half past midnight, and I may have turned into a pumpkin-- or at least, I may now be shaped like a pumpkin.

The restaurant is emptying out, but still, the table near us is still going strong and I see a staff member wheel the cheese course in their direction. Seriously? They won't be finished til two am! Does the staff EVER get to go home?

We totter towards the door and no less than six staff members are there to see us off.

Dang, I think to myself. Can you drive us home too?

On second thought, they probably would have.

Easter Ham and Hoch Ybrig Souffle Adventure

And the winner was-- Ham for Easter.

Thanks to all for voting in the poll -- for our much anticipated Reunion of the Food Snoots, we actually made a super juicy delicious ham from Niman Ranch with a plum chutney, fingerling potatoes and asparagus on the side.

Spring has sprung and aren't we all a little happier for it?

The experimental dish of the day was the Hoch Ybrig Cheese Souffle in phyllo cups. I wasn't sure how the phyllo cups would work out, and I also wasn't positive about using the Hoch Ybrig, a wonderful nutty Swiss cheese --affined by Rolf Beeler-- which we picked up at the Berkeley Cheese Board. Overall though, a veritable success. The phyllo was a little overcooked, but that was probably due to my distracted running about the kitchen. The souffles however, rose admirably and made a lovely little presentation at the table.

Recipes after the jump. Try the souffle -- it's remarkably easy for such a scary sounding dish!

Mustard-Honey Glazed Ham with Plum Chutney
(this one is adapted out of an old Cuisine Magazine.)

1 6-8 pound ham (Look for a butt half ham, semi-boneless and fully cooked in natural juices--not water added!)

36 oz ginger ale
1 orange, halved and juiced
1 lemon halved and juiced
1 lime, halved and juiced
1 whole cinnamon stick
1/4 teaspoon of whole cloves

For the glaze:
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup Dijon Mustard
1 Tbsp fresh minced ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves

Preheat the oven to 325F and in a roasting pan large enough to hold the ham, combine the ginger ale, cinnamon, cloves and the orange lemon and lime halves along with juices. Put the roasting rack in the pan and then place the ham on the rack, cut side down.

Tent it loosely with foil and roast 12-15 minutes for each pound of ham.

In a bowl, combine the glaze ingredients and and when the ham's temperature reaches about 70F, (probably about 45 minutes to an hour into the process) glaze liberally with the mixture and continue to roast uncovered for the rest of the time.

When the ham's temperature reaches 110F, pull it out and let it rest for about 15 minutes, then carve and serve with plum chutney.

Plum Chutney

2 cups orange juice
10 oz. dried plums (prunes), diced
10 oz. dried mangoes, diced
1/2 cup orange marmalade
1/4 cup of sugar
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper
1/4 tsp kosher salt.

Combine all the ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Allow it to continue cooking over a medium heat until the mixture thickens and looks like jam.

Chill it overnight so that the flavors blend, and then serve at room temperature.

"Quick, quick, find me a pot!"

We're in a strange kitchen -- I have no idea where anything is, and I'm trying to make souffles. This recipe is an amalgam of ideas and concepts, which is how I wound up filling a dozen lovely little souffle cups with fluffy batter, and STILL needing a place for the half gallon or so of batter that was left over. Fortunately there was a lovely Le Creuset pot lurking above the stove. A quick butter and pour, and voile -- seconds for everyone...

We liked this one with a zingy little green salad and simple vinaigrette.

Hoch Ybrig Souffle in Phyllo Cups ...with leftovers...

For the Phyllo cups:
8 (17- by 12-inch) phyllo sheets, thawed to room temperature if frozen
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Cover your stack of phyllo with 2 overlapping sheets of plastic wrap and a dampened kitchen towel. Put 1 phyllo sheet on a work surface and brush with some butter, then top with 3 more sheets of phyllo, brushing each with butter.

Cut buttered stack into 6 (4 1/2-inch) squares with a sharp knife, trimming sides as needed. Using a muffin or cupcake pan that makes at least a dozen muffins, line each of 6 muffin cups with a square. Make 6 more phyllo cups (4 are extra, in case of breakage) in same manner with remaining pastry sheets and butter.

Bake cups in middle of oven until golden, about 8 minutes, then cool completely in pan on a rack.

For the Souffle:
Base:

1 cup milk
1/2 small onion, diced
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp whole peppercorns
2 whole cloves
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
2 Tbsp AP flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp white pepper
dash nutmeg
5 egg yolks

5 eggs whites
1/4 tsp cream of tartar

1 cup grated Hoch Ybrig or good quality Gruyere cheese

Is your oven still st 375F? Leave it there.

Separate the eggs first -- get the stress over with. You want whites with not a speck of egg yolk in them. Use three bowls-- one for white, one for yolks, and one to separate the egg you're working on at the moment (that way if a bit of yolk slips through into your white, you won't lose the entire bowl of whites and have to start again.)

To make the bechamel for the souffle base, in a small saucepan, combine milk, onions, bay leaf, whole peppercorns and cloves and bring to a simmer. Let it stand off heat for 15 minutes for it to absorb the flavors and then strain the solids out.

In a larger sauce pan, make a roux by melting the butter and then whisking in the flour. Cook it , whisking constantly, until the mixture starts to take on a golden brown color. Gradually whisk in the flavored milk and cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce thickens. Add in salt, pepper and nutmeg. Take the sauce off heat and whisk in the egg yolks until the sauce is smooth again.

In a super-super clean large bowl, beat the egg whites with cream of tartar until you get stiff glossy peaks when you lift the whisk from the bowl. Be careful not to overbeat -- to the point where the whites look grainy and dry.

Add a scoop of egg white to the sauce in the pan, folding it in to lighten the base. Then gently fold in the rest of the white and cheese, adding about a third of each one at a time. Don't over mix-- you don't want the souffle bubbles to get mixed away.

At this point you might also butter (generously) an extra souffle dish or casserole for the leftover souffle batter.

Scoop a dollop of souffle into each phyllo cup, filling about 3/4 of the way up. Any leftovers? Turn those into the extra dish.

Right about now, start herding your guests to the table. By the time you get them settled, everyone's poured themselves a glass of wine and figured out which salad plate is theirs, the souffles will be ready.

Bake your souffles at 375F -- about ten minutes for the phyllo cups and perhaps another ten to fifteen minutes for the big souffle.

Serve IMMEDIATELY, or *pouffe!* they're gone.

Bunny Foo Foo Decorates

...after the whole field mouse and species reassignment episode, Bunny Foo Foo settled down to a quiet life of egg and cookie decorating.

G-Bun is particularly fond of pysanky -- the Ukrainian art of egg decorating. We thought it would be easy to get supplies for egg making (the styluses or kistkas, the beeswax, the dyes), but a visit to the Caning Shop in Berkeley reveals that there's been a serious run on Ukrainian eggs this year. I count myself lucky to have made it out with four kistkas, three dyes (Forget about Paas--these are special dyes that give you really lovely rich dark colors!) and the last cake of beeswax.

Kistkas make the process of controlling the wax flow much much easier and are worth picking up or ordering if you can find them. We used delrin kistkas instead of the traditional kind. Add a candle and some eggs and you have literally hours of painstaking fun.

While Bunny Foo Foo finishes up with the eggs, we also made some Cinnamon Sugar cookies for decorating. As usual, Martha Stewart has some terrific recipes that are easy to throw together.

She freaks me out whenever she talks about the "LIT-tle CHIL-dren" in that way that screams "serial killer." Shouldn't we be more disturbed that she makes such an enticing cookie? Check in her oven -- is there a kid named Hansel in there?

Cinnamon Sugar Cookies

2 cups AP flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons brandy
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Royal Icing to decorate

Whisk together flour, salt, and baking powder in a medium bowl. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter and sugar; add dry ingredients, and mix until incorporated. With mixer running, add egg, brandy (or milk), and vanilla; mix until incorporated.

Transfer dough to a work surface. Shape into 2 discs, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.


Line baking sheets with nonstick baking mats or parchment paper and set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sprinkle flour on work surface, roll out the dough to 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into desired shapes, and transfer to prepared baking sheets, leaving at least an inch in between. The leftover dough can be rolled and cut once more.

Bake until lightly golden, about 10 minutes; do not allow to brown. Transfer to wire racks to cool.

Decorate with icing and colored sugar, sprinkles or candy sand.

Royal Icing

1 box confectioners' sugar (1 pound)
2 large egg whites

Pour the sugar into a clean medium sized bowl. With an electric mixer on a low speed, mix one egg white into the sugar. Slowly add the other egg white until the mixture reaches a thick ribbon like consistency. For a thinner consistency add more egg white, adding very small amounts at a time.

What's for dinner...?

Why does reading Michael Pollan always makes me feel a little bit panicky? Like I've been poisoning myself unwittingly all my life and now have no idea whatsoever what to feed myself?

I've just finished his excellent manifesto, "In Defense of Food." Read it--preferably someplace close to an outdoor farmer's market that sells organic produce from small farms, bread made from unbleached organic flour and naturally fermented starters, as well as 100% grass fed, kindly treated beef, or else you might feel weight of all those hydrogenated oils beating against your brain.

In a happier part of the book (yes, there is a happier part) Michael makes a case for dining as a cultural activity, something to be enjoyed with friends as a social occasion-- food liberally salted with conversation and flavored with good company. Well, now that I think we can all get behind without any guilt. So we come to Easter Dinner.

Our Food Snoot friends are happily coming into town for Easter and nothing is more interesting than setting up a menu. We're still in the planning phase, so I put it to you:

Should we make a Greek style menu (Roast Leg of Lamb with Artichokes and Olives, Cucumber Dill and Lemon Salad and Tsoureki -- the Greek Easter bread)?

How about a Provencal menu as suggested by this month's Gourmet magazine: Rack of Lamb with Swiss Chard, maybe some lovely market fresh vegetables and bread from della Fattoria?

Or should we try a glazed ham of some sort? With Apricot Mustard glaze a la Martha? Or a ginger ale, citrus glaze?

I'm torn four ways -- help us out here. Vote in the poll in the upper left corner of this blog! I can't promise we'll use the results to make our menu, but I'm interested to know what you think!

Yes, Cinderella, you shall go to the Ailey Barbecue! (BBQ days: Part I)

Last year after a performance by Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, we wandered around the back of the theater, over by the loading dock of Zellerbach Hall and inhaled. Deeply.

Barbecue.

It's become such an annual tradition with Cal Performances and the Ailey company that now the company blows into town with their own barbecues and grills to add to the cooking equipment that Cal Performance's crew brings to the party. Things are set up when the company arrives for their week-long run, and then for days they smoke, they slow roast, they prep a huge homey event, which takes place between the Saturday matinee and evening shows at the end of the run.

The guys tending the fires backstage were chatty and warm and said, "Hey, yeah, you should come by -- it's great!"

But I was uncharacteristically shy. They were just being nice, I thought.

This year, I had the chance to talk with Judith Jamison when Ailey arrived for their Berkeley season. We talked for a moment about the gorgeous weather, which I jokingly said they brought along with them just for the barbecue and she said, "Why don't you come? Oh you should--you must!"

Well, when Judith Jamison says "you must come to the barbecue," who am I to refuse?

The Ailey barbecue started out as a friendly conversation between Danny Nilles (Cal Performance's Head Carpenter), E. J. Corrigan (Ailey's Technical Director) and Calvin Hunt (Ailey's Senior Director of Performance and Production) about what they were going to have for lunch on Saturday. I imagine it not so unlike my conversation with Jamison, "Lovely weather. We should enjoy it-- with food!!"

Nilles brought in his Weber, the guys cooked up some burgers, people smelled the food, and the Ailey barbecue was born. Now the company travels with their own grills while on tour, bringing a taste of home-away-from-home into whatever country they land. But the Berkeley barbecue is still special. It's a meeting of gourmet minds. Out come the smokers, deep fryers, and the china boxes. More on that last in a moment.

At the Saturday matinee, the dancers were high energy, but Jamison had already warned me, "The smell of the barbecue comes drifting backstage and onto stage-- it's everywhere..."

The performance of "Revelations" concluded and for the first time in my entire Ailey-going experience, there was no encore of "Rocka My Soul." I guess everyone couldn't stand waiting a second longer.

We hotfooted it out and around the back and found the proceedings underway already. Dancers who weren't in "Revelations" were walking around carrying plates laden with ribs and sides.

The ribs were scrumptious of course--deeply smoky and succulent. But the star of the show was clearly the whole roasted pig. I had never seen one before.

Dancers and stagehands scatter as the guys jog across the patio with the finished pig, slow-cooked to perfection for about five hours in a china box. It's gorgeous, aromatic, deeply browned and just a little bit freaky.

After several minutes of resting and plenty of photo ops, they start cutting off slices--chunks, really--of the incredibly moist meat. Injected with a salt brine, they tell us, but that was all the preparation it needed. My Omnivore goes straight for the the crusty browned skin. "Cracklins," he says tearing a bit off with an ecstatic look on his face, "Brings out the Southern boy in me..."

"That's Carolina, baby!" shouts one of the guys who's carving up the pig.

Over at an eight-foot table piled high with sides--spicy sweet baked beans, candied sweet potatoes, creamed corn, collard greens, apple sauce, homemade cornbread-- we chat with a kindly-looking older woman who's tending the casseroles. She tells us that she made all the sides, except for the cornbread and the beans. As she's talking, I start digging in. I'm not big on greens, but these-- cut into tiny 1 cm squares and intensely, well...green in flavor-- are the best danged collard greens I have ever had in my life.

I take a bite of the yams and come rounding back to the table.

"How did you make these? These are SOOOO good!"

"Awww, it's just some yams, a little bit of cinnamon, a little nutmeg and some brown sugar," she says nonchalantly. "Oh and a little bit of Karo syrup."

In honor of the barbecue, I present my favorite recipe for sweet potatoes. (I replace Karo Syrup with maple syrup in my recipe because I just can't get behind the corn syrup thing...)

Candied Sweet Potatoes

3 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
(The dark orange ones are often mislabelled as yams, but are perfect for this recipe)
1/2 cup maple syrup (Grade "B" has the best flavor)
1 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 stick butter, melted

Preheat oven to 325F.

Butter a 9x12 inch baking dish and spread yams evenly in the dish. Pour maple syrup over the yams and sprinkle with nutmeg, cinnamon and brown sugar. Pour over the butter and cover with aluminum foil.

Bake 25 minutes.

And for the heck of it, a link back to the yummy applesauce we made for Thanksgiving once.

==============

Come back in a few days for BBQ Days: Part 2-- a look back at our BBQ-Off over at Food Migration's house, in which we pit Memphis Minnie's Bar-B-Que Joint and Smoke House against Johnson's "You can Eat my Meat With No Teeth" Barbeque.