1.29.2004
Alex: On the Nose?
Just in case Shymala's previous post encourages people to curl up by the fire with a hot mug, that's Swiss *Kriss*, not Miss. You can still top it with marshmallows if you like.
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Just in case Shymala's previous post encourages people to curl up by the fire with a hot mug, that's Swiss *Kriss*, not Miss. You can still top it with marshmallows if you like.
1.27.2004
Alex: Blogger Bugs
I just heard from Anthony that the picture I posted is nasty. Indeed it is, but the strange thing is, I never really posted it. Actually I did, late last night to test some picture-posting code Ed shared with me. It sort of worked but had problems (all the HTML showed up on screen), so I simply deleted the post only a minute or so after uploading it.
But when I go to the site now, I see the text of the post; but not the picture. When I go to the edit mode, I don't see the post at all. Something weird is going on. If anyone knows, let me know.
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I just heard from Anthony that the picture I posted is nasty. Indeed it is, but the strange thing is, I never really posted it. Actually I did, late last night to test some picture-posting code Ed shared with me. It sort of worked but had problems (all the HTML showed up on screen), so I simply deleted the post only a minute or so after uploading it.
But when I go to the site now, I see the text of the post; but not the picture. When I go to the edit mode, I don't see the post at all. Something weird is going on. If anyone knows, let me know.
1.25.2004
Ed: Beastly!
It's hard to believe that M and I have each toyed with vegetarianism at various points in our lives. For M it was more than a toy -- it was a four year commitment. In my case it was more like a bold and earnest proclamation to "eat less meat! Way less!".
I spent about three years during which nary a fleck of red meat passed over my palate -- except for those excellent Eastern European sausages that they sell from the slowly dying-out butcher shops along The Main (Blvd. St. Laurent in Montreal). I mean really, who can walk up the main on a sunny Saturday and not duck into Slovenia or Hoffman for a spicy sausage on a bun with fiery mustard? Even vegetarians have their limits!
That's all ancient history, however (the vegetarianism, not the sausages). M and I still try to keep our red meat consumption to a minimum, preferring to get our protein from chicken, seafood, and fish. And the occasional mouth-watering filet mignon avec sauce Bourbonnais from that bistro on rue St. Charles that we can never remember the name of (although we can't forget that beef!)
Tonight, however, I went through a rite of passage -- for the first time in my life I made a roast of beef.
It was inevitable, given the collision of recent monumental events that have transpired in my little world. First there was the purchase of a real house -- something M and I did together, and it was the first time for each of us (although we've each previously had a condo). Then there was the coming of winter and those cold weekend days that simply cry out for something warm and aromatic to happen in the kitchen. Next was the near-disaster when the oven in our new house died just before Christmas -- and we had dinner for 12 planned for Christmas Eve -- which resulted in our hasty (but not regretted) purchase of a very impressive stainless steel, in-wall convection oven. And of course there was the purchase of a nice roasting pan that I found on sale last week.
And finally, near record-breaking cold this weekend.
Above, you see the result. A small but delicious inside-round roast of beef with cracked pepper and herbs. Done rare, as it should be. Muy deliciouso!
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It's hard to believe that M and I have each toyed with vegetarianism at various points in our lives. For M it was more than a toy -- it was a four year commitment. In my case it was more like a bold and earnest proclamation to "eat less meat! Way less!".
I spent about three years during which nary a fleck of red meat passed over my palate -- except for those excellent Eastern European sausages that they sell from the slowly dying-out butcher shops along The Main (Blvd. St. Laurent in Montreal). I mean really, who can walk up the main on a sunny Saturday and not duck into Slovenia or Hoffman for a spicy sausage on a bun with fiery mustard? Even vegetarians have their limits!
That's all ancient history, however (the vegetarianism, not the sausages). M and I still try to keep our red meat consumption to a minimum, preferring to get our protein from chicken, seafood, and fish. And the occasional mouth-watering filet mignon avec sauce Bourbonnais from that bistro on rue St. Charles that we can never remember the name of (although we can't forget that beef!)
Tonight, however, I went through a rite of passage -- for the first time in my life I made a roast of beef.
It was inevitable, given the collision of recent monumental events that have transpired in my little world. First there was the purchase of a real house -- something M and I did together, and it was the first time for each of us (although we've each previously had a condo). Then there was the coming of winter and those cold weekend days that simply cry out for something warm and aromatic to happen in the kitchen. Next was the near-disaster when the oven in our new house died just before Christmas -- and we had dinner for 12 planned for Christmas Eve -- which resulted in our hasty (but not regretted) purchase of a very impressive stainless steel, in-wall convection oven. And of course there was the purchase of a nice roasting pan that I found on sale last week.
And finally, near record-breaking cold this weekend.
Above, you see the result. A small but delicious inside-round roast of beef with cracked pepper and herbs. Done rare, as it should be. Muy deliciouso!
1.22.2004
Martine: Soup and the Montreal folks
I don't know if we are more sophisticated, as Alex stated it, but we sure are more cold-resistant. I remember a certain California boy on a visit in Montreal, who had to borrow all the warm clothes he could get his hands on in the middle of... May. Okay, I'll admit that it was a very cold month of May, with snow and everything...
When it's really really cold, or, as québécois like to say, when "il fait frette" (which is colder than froid), there's nothing better than soupe à l'oignon gratinée. Ed and I tried this recipe yesterday and our cries of pleasure made the ice melt on the roof of our house. Really.
Thanks for the invite to join Wild Thymes. As an ex San Franciscan, it's a bit frustrating to hear about all the restaurants I'm missing out on, but we'll try to make you jealous with our Montreal dining experiences.
Oh, and joyeux anniversaire, Antoine!
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I don't know if we are more sophisticated, as Alex stated it, but we sure are more cold-resistant. I remember a certain California boy on a visit in Montreal, who had to borrow all the warm clothes he could get his hands on in the middle of... May. Okay, I'll admit that it was a very cold month of May, with snow and everything...
When it's really really cold, or, as québécois like to say, when "il fait frette" (which is colder than froid), there's nothing better than soupe à l'oignon gratinée. Ed and I tried this recipe yesterday and our cries of pleasure made the ice melt on the roof of our house. Really.
Thanks for the invite to join Wild Thymes. As an ex San Franciscan, it's a bit frustrating to hear about all the restaurants I'm missing out on, but we'll try to make you jealous with our Montreal dining experiences.
Oh, and joyeux anniversaire, Antoine!
Alex: Miscellaneous Rumblings
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, T-BONE! May your 35th year be full of spice and sweetness.
A couple responses to today's terroir-ist ch-ch-ch-chatter (does it matter? Sha-doo-bee):
Re. small plates: Luv 'em. I understand Shyamala's tapas-angst and Nick's animalistic hunger, but small plates in the right setting are the way to make a long night memorable. It helps to be on vacation, say, in Spain, with nothing to do but stumble back to the pensión at 4am. A night of small plates, loud music that spills from the bar onto the plaza and bottles of big, rough red wine is divine. In the more formal dinner setting, when everyone is worried about splitting the check, getting home in time for the 11 o'clock news, or tomorrow's deadlines, well, better to have a steak or big piece of comfort lasagna. Maybe one should approach tapas the way one approaches psilocybin: make sure your appointment calendar is clear and you don't have to get home to feed the dog (or the kid).
Re. search spiders: I have no idea. Can you eat them? Is there a way to make a blog rebuff the search crawlers? I don't think there is. If so, please inform. I'm happy to make it so, as BrO likes to say. Or at least I think he does...he hasn't contributed much -- AHEM -- for a long time. Remember, I am the benevolent Jewish dictator; I rule by guilt.
And yet more soup: here's a Thai-ish recipe from a friend of Fanch (FOF):
>PUT
>a few drops of oil at the bottom of a soup pot
>
>SLOW SAUTEE
>- the hearts of 3 stalks of lemongrass, sliced lengthwise
>- half-a-thumb chunk of ginger, peeled and chopped in large pieces
>- 4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped in large pieces
>- 1 small onion, chopped
>- 1 small leek, chopped (hearts and greens)
>- fresh chili peppers (3 - 4)
>
>ADD WATER. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer.
>
>ADD VEGETABLES, i.e.
>- 2 carrots, sliced at an angle
>- a bag of fresh spinach
>- 1 cup + mushrooms
>+
>a handful of fresh mint
>a dash of soy sauce
>fresh ground pepper
>a handful of fresh mint
>
>Let steep for 30 or so minutes, to taste. Enjoy.
>
>x o, Danielle
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, T-BONE! May your 35th year be full of spice and sweetness.
A couple responses to today's terroir-ist ch-ch-ch-chatter (does it matter? Sha-doo-bee):
Re. small plates: Luv 'em. I understand Shyamala's tapas-angst and Nick's animalistic hunger, but small plates in the right setting are the way to make a long night memorable. It helps to be on vacation, say, in Spain, with nothing to do but stumble back to the pensión at 4am. A night of small plates, loud music that spills from the bar onto the plaza and bottles of big, rough red wine is divine. In the more formal dinner setting, when everyone is worried about splitting the check, getting home in time for the 11 o'clock news, or tomorrow's deadlines, well, better to have a steak or big piece of comfort lasagna. Maybe one should approach tapas the way one approaches psilocybin: make sure your appointment calendar is clear and you don't have to get home to feed the dog (or the kid).
Re. search spiders: I have no idea. Can you eat them? Is there a way to make a blog rebuff the search crawlers? I don't think there is. If so, please inform. I'm happy to make it so, as BrO likes to say. Or at least I think he does...he hasn't contributed much -- AHEM -- for a long time. Remember, I am the benevolent Jewish dictator; I rule by guilt.
And yet more soup: here's a Thai-ish recipe from a friend of Fanch (FOF):
>PUT
>a few drops of oil at the bottom of a soup pot
>
>SLOW SAUTEE
>- the hearts of 3 stalks of lemongrass, sliced lengthwise
>- half-a-thumb chunk of ginger, peeled and chopped in large pieces
>- 4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped in large pieces
>- 1 small onion, chopped
>- 1 small leek, chopped (hearts and greens)
>- fresh chili peppers (3 - 4)
>
>ADD WATER. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer.
>
>ADD VEGETABLES, i.e.
>- 2 carrots, sliced at an angle
>- a bag of fresh spinach
>- 1 cup + mushrooms
>+
>a handful of fresh mint
>a dash of soy sauce
>fresh ground pepper
>a handful of fresh mint
>
>Let steep for 30 or so minutes, to taste. Enjoy.
>
>x o, Danielle
Alex: Recycle Your Scraps, As Said Nick
Soup seems a popular recipe on this blog. Is it winter, or is it something else? Discuss amongst Elvis yourselvis. I just wanted to add to Nick's admonition to recycle scraps into soup stock. I keep a humongous Ziploc baggie in the freezer; whenever I have scraps from cooking -- green bean tips, tops of carrots, onion skins, stems from bok choy, chard, and other greens, etc -- I put them in the freezer. I have a feeling that certain things probably aren't good for such purposes, either because they impart no flavor or, worse, they add a bad taste. If anyone has tips on what scraps NOT to include in stock, please let us know.
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Soup seems a popular recipe on this blog. Is it winter, or is it something else? Discuss amongst Elvis yourselvis. I just wanted to add to Nick's admonition to recycle scraps into soup stock. I keep a humongous Ziploc baggie in the freezer; whenever I have scraps from cooking -- green bean tips, tops of carrots, onion skins, stems from bok choy, chard, and other greens, etc -- I put them in the freezer. I have a feeling that certain things probably aren't good for such purposes, either because they impart no flavor or, worse, they add a bad taste. If anyone has tips on what scraps NOT to include in stock, please let us know.
Alex: Dude--whoa
First of all, let me explain to the Wild Thyme community that, thanks to NAFTA, we have moved some of our operations to Canada. Let me welcome veteran bloggers and all-around decent folk Ed and Martine to the fold. They are from Montréal and therefore far more sophisticated and cold-resistant than the rest of us.
The sophistication is evident from Ed's very first post, in which he included A PICTURE. How the hell did you do that, Ed? Instructions would be much appreciated. (Obviously this Internet-dot-com-interactive stuff has only rubbed off on us Northern Californians to a limited degree.)
Second, I forgot to mention in my invite to Ed and Martine -- but it behooves us all to remember -- that it's nice to put your name in the header of your post as I've done above. Sometimes I forget, too.
So, welcome, bienvenus, mes amis nordiques! Chez nous, écrivez comme vous faites la cuisine: avec l'amour et des rires.
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First of all, let me explain to the Wild Thyme community that, thanks to NAFTA, we have moved some of our operations to Canada. Let me welcome veteran bloggers and all-around decent folk Ed and Martine to the fold. They are from Montréal and therefore far more sophisticated and cold-resistant than the rest of us.
The sophistication is evident from Ed's very first post, in which he included A PICTURE. How the hell did you do that, Ed? Instructions would be much appreciated. (Obviously this Internet-dot-com-interactive stuff has only rubbed off on us Northern Californians to a limited degree.)
Second, I forgot to mention in my invite to Ed and Martine -- but it behooves us all to remember -- that it's nice to put your name in the header of your post as I've done above. Sometimes I forget, too.
So, welcome, bienvenus, mes amis nordiques! Chez nous, écrivez comme vous faites la cuisine: avec l'amour et des rires.
1.21.2004
Soup is a snap!
I made this fabulous soup with ingredients I had on-hand, with the exception of the green onions. I've been reading Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto, and every five minutes the characters are eating ramen. So I've been carrying around an urge, and had bought the green onions in anticipation.
Tonight I satiated the urge. I began by chopping up some Shitake mushrooms that I had leftover from a previous meal, and thinly sliced some red pepper. They went into a bowl together with some carrots that I had matchsticked. Then I chopped up the green onions and cilantro and put that in another bowl.
In the meantime I cooked some rice vermicelli (I had no ramen noodles), rinsed them, and set them aside. Back at the stove I heated a few cups of diluted chicken stock that also had a bit of shrimp stock rolled in. When that was boiling I dropped in some raw shrimp that I had thawed from the freezer.
As the shrimp pinkened, I tipped in the mushrooms, peppers, carrots, and a few bamboo shoots that were leftover from last week's curry. That rolled around in the boil for a minute and then I took the pot off the heat. I added the noodles, cilantro, and green onions, stirred, and voila! Soup!
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I made this fabulous soup with ingredients I had on-hand, with the exception of the green onions. I've been reading Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto, and every five minutes the characters are eating ramen. So I've been carrying around an urge, and had bought the green onions in anticipation.
Tonight I satiated the urge. I began by chopping up some Shitake mushrooms that I had leftover from a previous meal, and thinly sliced some red pepper. They went into a bowl together with some carrots that I had matchsticked. Then I chopped up the green onions and cilantro and put that in another bowl.
In the meantime I cooked some rice vermicelli (I had no ramen noodles), rinsed them, and set them aside. Back at the stove I heated a few cups of diluted chicken stock that also had a bit of shrimp stock rolled in. When that was boiling I dropped in some raw shrimp that I had thawed from the freezer.
As the shrimp pinkened, I tipped in the mushrooms, peppers, carrots, and a few bamboo shoots that were leftover from last week's curry. That rolled around in the boil for a minute and then I took the pot off the heat. I added the noodles, cilantro, and green onions, stirred, and voila! Soup!
1.17.2004
Alex: Roosky Zakusky
The Fanch got home last night and neither of us felt like cooking. At her suggestion, we brainstormed for a little adventure, something a little more unusual than (sigh) Vietnamese or (yawn) Indian/Pakistani or (please) Japanese. Afghani at Helmand would have been perfect, but we didn't want to deal with the hassle of parking in North Beach. We settled on Katia's on 5th and Balboa, where I'd been once many years ago with that connoisseur of cabbage, that big boy of beets, Ilan Greenberg.
Just as I remembered it, the room was nice (albeit a bit overfragranced with a scented candle). Wonderfully dramatic Russian music, sort of a Slavic Nana Mouskouri type singer, was playing in the background. We arrived late, around 8:30, and only two other tables were occupied.
We each started with a bowl of soup. Borscht for me, potato-vegetable for Emily. Mine was better although a tad salty; I would have liked a smidge more sour cream, too, but overall very tasty, a nice balance of the sweet musky beet, hearty potato chunks and the rich salty stock.
We proceeded to the zakusky -- appetizers -- a "Vinaigrette" salad which mostly consisted of beets, potatoes, and other veggies chopped uniformly small, into cubes a bit larger than craps dice. Beets prevailed, and the salad was the same color of my borscht. Hey, no problem: I love beets.
Zakusky number twosky was a small plate of herring, about ten pieces the size of a small pinkie finger, sprinkled with chopped scallions and dill. Not quite what I expected: when I lived in Prague, I loved the marinated pickled herring that was rolled around carrots and onion. Zavinac, it was called; they were pickly and oniony and fishy and a terrible idea before going on a date. (Zavinac is also what the Czechs call the @ sign, because the zavinac herring are rolled in a spiral and held with a toothpick.)
The herring last night, however, were sweeter and had a certain spice that I don't like, the same way I don't like marzipan or in certain instances coriander. Still, I ordered it. With thick brown bread and a generous smear of butter, they weren't too bad. I ate 8 of the 10.
Finally, we split an entree: stuffed cabbage in tomato sauce. The sauce was a treat, because it looked like an Italian marinara but had a different burst of flavor and mouth feel--not entirely comforting, as a garlicky marinara is. It was good but different than good; it was provocative and not entirely satisfying, which is OK sometimes.
For $50, including a generous tip to the plump blond teenage Russian waitress who was kind enough to tell us the name of the singer playing in the background ("She was of my parents' generation," she said), it was well worth it. A bit of a splurge, a bit of a jolt out of our comfortable rut, a bit of an adventure for our tongues. And a lot of food.
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The Fanch got home last night and neither of us felt like cooking. At her suggestion, we brainstormed for a little adventure, something a little more unusual than (sigh) Vietnamese or (yawn) Indian/Pakistani or (please) Japanese. Afghani at Helmand would have been perfect, but we didn't want to deal with the hassle of parking in North Beach. We settled on Katia's on 5th and Balboa, where I'd been once many years ago with that connoisseur of cabbage, that big boy of beets, Ilan Greenberg.
Just as I remembered it, the room was nice (albeit a bit overfragranced with a scented candle). Wonderfully dramatic Russian music, sort of a Slavic Nana Mouskouri type singer, was playing in the background. We arrived late, around 8:30, and only two other tables were occupied.
We each started with a bowl of soup. Borscht for me, potato-vegetable for Emily. Mine was better although a tad salty; I would have liked a smidge more sour cream, too, but overall very tasty, a nice balance of the sweet musky beet, hearty potato chunks and the rich salty stock.
We proceeded to the zakusky -- appetizers -- a "Vinaigrette" salad which mostly consisted of beets, potatoes, and other veggies chopped uniformly small, into cubes a bit larger than craps dice. Beets prevailed, and the salad was the same color of my borscht. Hey, no problem: I love beets.
Zakusky number twosky was a small plate of herring, about ten pieces the size of a small pinkie finger, sprinkled with chopped scallions and dill. Not quite what I expected: when I lived in Prague, I loved the marinated pickled herring that was rolled around carrots and onion. Zavinac, it was called; they were pickly and oniony and fishy and a terrible idea before going on a date. (Zavinac is also what the Czechs call the @ sign, because the zavinac herring are rolled in a spiral and held with a toothpick.)
The herring last night, however, were sweeter and had a certain spice that I don't like, the same way I don't like marzipan or in certain instances coriander. Still, I ordered it. With thick brown bread and a generous smear of butter, they weren't too bad. I ate 8 of the 10.
Finally, we split an entree: stuffed cabbage in tomato sauce. The sauce was a treat, because it looked like an Italian marinara but had a different burst of flavor and mouth feel--not entirely comforting, as a garlicky marinara is. It was good but different than good; it was provocative and not entirely satisfying, which is OK sometimes.
For $50, including a generous tip to the plump blond teenage Russian waitress who was kind enough to tell us the name of the singer playing in the background ("She was of my parents' generation," she said), it was well worth it. A bit of a splurge, a bit of a jolt out of our comfortable rut, a bit of an adventure for our tongues. And a lot of food.
1.15.2004
Alex: Like a Really Small Johnny Apple
Like the NY Times' RW "Johnny" Apple, I sampled culinary delights today, turning misfortune into opportunity. I went downtown to interview Chance Martin, the editor of the Street Sheet, which is published by the Coalition for the Homeless. The offices are in the heart of the Tenderloin, only a couple of blocks from the Bar Nothing but far less tastefully turned out. When I arrived promptly for our noon appointment, the editor was nowhere to be found. As I stood at the reception desk, manned by Captain Lou Albano's grimy doppleganger, Chance called in from home. Turns out he was sick and said he was "going to do that Kaiser thing."
That left me without a lunch date, so after stopping off at the Great American box office to buy tickets, I picked a random Vietnamese lunchery for a hot bowl of pho. Pangolac, on Larkin between Ellis and...Eddy?...was the winner. The pho ga (chicken) was extremely simple: broth, chicken, small white noodles, chopped scallions and cilantro. I would have liked more chicken. The side plate of sprouts, basil and green chilies was nice but standard fare. $5.50. Solid, but it wasn't going to keep me from trying elsewhere.
On the MUNI ride back home, we stopped just before the Duboce tunnel and the driver announced, "I'm being informed of police activity in the tunnel. We have to hold here." Good God: dead body? Drug bust? Kids walking through on a dare? Whatever it was, the SFPD probably didn't have as much fun as the Spokane PD did yesterday.
I folded my magazine and trudged up to Haight St. to catch the 6 or 71. The bus however could wait. I hadn't been to Rosamunde for a while. Mmm, sausage. Grilled sausage. Practically every kind you could imagine. Duck with cherry? Yep. Wild boar? Bien sur. Lamb, chicken, beef, tofu, veal, pork eight ways til Sunday? Checkmatey. I opted for the wild boar. $4, split lengthwise and grilled, placed in a sesame seed roll (which could've used a few seconds on the grill, too -- must remember to ask next time), and garni'ed with spicy honey dijon and caramelized onions. It was a wee bit dry, but quite tasty. I ate it piping hot and could have eaten another.
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Like the NY Times' RW "Johnny" Apple, I sampled culinary delights today, turning misfortune into opportunity. I went downtown to interview Chance Martin, the editor of the Street Sheet, which is published by the Coalition for the Homeless. The offices are in the heart of the Tenderloin, only a couple of blocks from the Bar Nothing but far less tastefully turned out. When I arrived promptly for our noon appointment, the editor was nowhere to be found. As I stood at the reception desk, manned by Captain Lou Albano's grimy doppleganger, Chance called in from home. Turns out he was sick and said he was "going to do that Kaiser thing."
That left me without a lunch date, so after stopping off at the Great American box office to buy tickets, I picked a random Vietnamese lunchery for a hot bowl of pho. Pangolac, on Larkin between Ellis and...Eddy?...was the winner. The pho ga (chicken) was extremely simple: broth, chicken, small white noodles, chopped scallions and cilantro. I would have liked more chicken. The side plate of sprouts, basil and green chilies was nice but standard fare. $5.50. Solid, but it wasn't going to keep me from trying elsewhere.
On the MUNI ride back home, we stopped just before the Duboce tunnel and the driver announced, "I'm being informed of police activity in the tunnel. We have to hold here." Good God: dead body? Drug bust? Kids walking through on a dare? Whatever it was, the SFPD probably didn't have as much fun as the Spokane PD did yesterday.
I folded my magazine and trudged up to Haight St. to catch the 6 or 71. The bus however could wait. I hadn't been to Rosamunde for a while. Mmm, sausage. Grilled sausage. Practically every kind you could imagine. Duck with cherry? Yep. Wild boar? Bien sur. Lamb, chicken, beef, tofu, veal, pork eight ways til Sunday? Checkmatey. I opted for the wild boar. $4, split lengthwise and grilled, placed in a sesame seed roll (which could've used a few seconds on the grill, too -- must remember to ask next time), and garni'ed with spicy honey dijon and caramelized onions. It was a wee bit dry, but quite tasty. I ate it piping hot and could have eaten another.
Headline Without a Story
Someone with an iron stomach should do a roundup of Chinese dive restaurants: "The Dim Sum of All Fears."
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Someone with an iron stomach should do a roundup of Chinese dive restaurants: "The Dim Sum of All Fears."
1.13.2004
Do You Consider the Eating of Oysters to be Moral?
For those who missed it, the First Ever Wild Thyme Community Proceeding took place yesterday at the Hog Island oyster bar/brew pub in the ferry building. Mondays are happy hours, from 4 to 7. $2 beers, $1 oysters. Dee-lish!
The food: I let others order, but all varieties that came to our table were fresh, toothsome and piquant. I believe one was Atlantic and another...hmmm....does anyone remember? (They all come from the Hog Island oyster farm in Tomales Bay.)
The mignonette and cocktail dipping sauces were both tart and tasty; the cocktail with a generous horseradish kick, which I always appreciate.
I had a house pilsner, which was *excellent*. Just the right bitter bite, yet complex enough to be slightly sweet and very refreshing. Did I mention it was a two-dollar beer?
The setting helped whet my appetite for brew and shellfish: picture windows that look out over the ferry landing, Bay Bridge and Treasure Island, which last night was shrouded in Maltese-Falcon-era mist. After a few sips of grog I wanted to run out and shanghai me a ferry to anywhere. Arrgggh!
Finally, an interesting tidbit about Spartacus, which has nothing to do with pirates but contains the famous "eating of oysters" scene:
When the film was restored, many years after Olivier's death, the original dialogue recording from this scene was missing, and so it had to be re-dubbed. Tony Curtis was able to re-record his part, but Crassus's voice is actually an Olivier impersonation by Anthony Hopkins.
C: Do you steal, Antoninus?
A: No, master.
C: Do you lie?
A: Not if I can avoid it.
C: Have you ever dishonoured the gods?
A: No, master.
C: Do you refrain from these vices out of respect for the moral virtues?
A: Yes, master.
C: Do you eat oysters?
A: When I have them, master.
C: Do you eat snails?
A: No, master.
C: Do you consider the eating of oysters to be moral, and the eating of snails to be immoral?
A: No, master. Of course not.
C: It is all a matter of taste, isn't it?
A: Yes, master.
C: And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals, is it?
A: It could be argued so, master.
C: That will do. My robe, Antoninus.
C: My taste includes...both snails and oysters.
|
For those who missed it, the First Ever Wild Thyme Community Proceeding took place yesterday at the Hog Island oyster bar/brew pub in the ferry building. Mondays are happy hours, from 4 to 7. $2 beers, $1 oysters. Dee-lish!
The food: I let others order, but all varieties that came to our table were fresh, toothsome and piquant. I believe one was Atlantic and another...hmmm....does anyone remember? (They all come from the Hog Island oyster farm in Tomales Bay.)
The mignonette and cocktail dipping sauces were both tart and tasty; the cocktail with a generous horseradish kick, which I always appreciate.
I had a house pilsner, which was *excellent*. Just the right bitter bite, yet complex enough to be slightly sweet and very refreshing. Did I mention it was a two-dollar beer?
The setting helped whet my appetite for brew and shellfish: picture windows that look out over the ferry landing, Bay Bridge and Treasure Island, which last night was shrouded in Maltese-Falcon-era mist. After a few sips of grog I wanted to run out and shanghai me a ferry to anywhere. Arrgggh!
Finally, an interesting tidbit about Spartacus, which has nothing to do with pirates but contains the famous "eating of oysters" scene:
When the film was restored, many years after Olivier's death, the original dialogue recording from this scene was missing, and so it had to be re-dubbed. Tony Curtis was able to re-record his part, but Crassus's voice is actually an Olivier impersonation by Anthony Hopkins.
C: Do you steal, Antoninus?
A: No, master.
C: Do you lie?
A: Not if I can avoid it.
C: Have you ever dishonoured the gods?
A: No, master.
C: Do you refrain from these vices out of respect for the moral virtues?
A: Yes, master.
C: Do you eat oysters?
A: When I have them, master.
C: Do you eat snails?
A: No, master.
C: Do you consider the eating of oysters to be moral, and the eating of snails to be immoral?
A: No, master. Of course not.
C: It is all a matter of taste, isn't it?
A: Yes, master.
C: And taste is not the same as appetite, and therefore not a question of morals, is it?
A: It could be argued so, master.
C: That will do. My robe, Antoninus.
C: My taste includes...both snails and oysters.
1.09.2004
Alex: The Evil of Atkins
The upscale deli chain Max's, which used to proclaim it was a "bad place for a diet," has succumbed to the Atkins fad. Ron and Roz had symphony tickets last night, so our plans to meet for dinner were fashioned to meet their needs. And that's just fine.
We tried Max's Opera Cafe, where I used to go all the time with my grandma Shirley (back when she liked to travel and visit S.F.), because it was the closest S.F. got to a Jewish deli, a la Junior's or Factor's in West LA. Chopped liver, stuffed cabbage, brisket, etc. All the goods.
A lot of the goods have disappeared. There's still the brisket, the pastrami, the big sandwiches, etc., but the menu looks frighteningly similar to Appelbee's: Heart-friendly roast chicken, lots of Asian-themed salads, and -- gasp -- a full page of "Atkins-friendly" entrees. It's not really Jewish anymore. And the waitresses, instead of actually singing opera, sang some B-grade pseudo-Whitney Houston rip-off schmaltz. Or maybe it was Whitney Houston material.
Ron had the roast chicken with currants and carrots, which was actually quite good; Roz ordered a bowl of Russian beef cabbage soup but received instead motzah-ball soup, which wasn't very good; Aaron had the LC New York Steak (LC = low-carb), which came with roasted veggies instead of fries; I had the Carolina pulled pork (with Texas-style BBQ sauce: go figure), which was gloppy, overly sweet, not very pulled and came with fries instead of roasted veggies. The entrees came out two at a time, with a five-minute time lag between. Not good. The waitress put the second set down and blamed it on the kitchen.
Why we didn't go to Cafe Delle Stelle, I'll never know.
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The upscale deli chain Max's, which used to proclaim it was a "bad place for a diet," has succumbed to the Atkins fad. Ron and Roz had symphony tickets last night, so our plans to meet for dinner were fashioned to meet their needs. And that's just fine.
We tried Max's Opera Cafe, where I used to go all the time with my grandma Shirley (back when she liked to travel and visit S.F.), because it was the closest S.F. got to a Jewish deli, a la Junior's or Factor's in West LA. Chopped liver, stuffed cabbage, brisket, etc. All the goods.
A lot of the goods have disappeared. There's still the brisket, the pastrami, the big sandwiches, etc., but the menu looks frighteningly similar to Appelbee's: Heart-friendly roast chicken, lots of Asian-themed salads, and -- gasp -- a full page of "Atkins-friendly" entrees. It's not really Jewish anymore. And the waitresses, instead of actually singing opera, sang some B-grade pseudo-Whitney Houston rip-off schmaltz. Or maybe it was Whitney Houston material.
Ron had the roast chicken with currants and carrots, which was actually quite good; Roz ordered a bowl of Russian beef cabbage soup but received instead motzah-ball soup, which wasn't very good; Aaron had the LC New York Steak (LC = low-carb), which came with roasted veggies instead of fries; I had the Carolina pulled pork (with Texas-style BBQ sauce: go figure), which was gloppy, overly sweet, not very pulled and came with fries instead of roasted veggies. The entrees came out two at a time, with a five-minute time lag between. Not good. The waitress put the second set down and blamed it on the kitchen.
Why we didn't go to Cafe Delle Stelle, I'll never know.
1.08.2004
Alex: Salmon Caution
Dioxins in farmed salmon. Says one researcher, "The bottom-line message is to continue to eat fish but consume a variety of different types.''
I also recommend the handy-dandy Seafood Watch rating system as a guide to what kind of fish and shellfish to eat, how often, and why (or why not).
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Dioxins in farmed salmon. Says one researcher, "The bottom-line message is to continue to eat fish but consume a variety of different types.''
I also recommend the handy-dandy Seafood Watch rating system as a guide to what kind of fish and shellfish to eat, how often, and why (or why not).
1.07.2004
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1.06.2004
Alex: Funny You Should Ask
As some of you know, I have been pondering the creation of a taqueria rating system. In fact, I went so far as to register a blog that I haven't done much with. Wild Thyme is a decent forum in which to air taqueria-related criticism, but ideally I'd love a chart, a database, a form into which we can enter our ratings. Anyone got the right software?
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As some of you know, I have been pondering the creation of a taqueria rating system. In fact, I went so far as to register a blog that I haven't done much with. Wild Thyme is a decent forum in which to air taqueria-related criticism, but ideally I'd love a chart, a database, a form into which we can enter our ratings. Anyone got the right software?
1.05.2004
Alex: Wild Thyme Stamp of Approval
It looks like "Happy Chef" Wingfield has become the first Wild Thymer to officially endorse a product. Click here and scroll down to customer reviews.
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It looks like "Happy Chef" Wingfield has become the first Wild Thymer to officially endorse a product. Click here and scroll down to customer reviews.
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1.04.2004
Alex: Sugar, Daddy
Fresh n fizzy from the AP:
Soft drinks are a common source of excess calories that can contribute to weight gain, and soft drink consumers at all ages have a higher daily calorie intake than nonconsumers, the academy's policy said. It cites data showing that 56 percent to 85 percent of school-age children consume at least one soft drink daily, most often sugared rather than diet sodas.
The National Soft Drink Association, which represents most soft drink makers nationwide, said the new policy is misguided and goes too far.
"Soft drinks can be a part of a balanced lifestyle and are a nice treat,'' said Jim Finkelstein, the association's executive director.
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Fresh n fizzy from the AP:
Soft drinks are a common source of excess calories that can contribute to weight gain, and soft drink consumers at all ages have a higher daily calorie intake than nonconsumers, the academy's policy said. It cites data showing that 56 percent to 85 percent of school-age children consume at least one soft drink daily, most often sugared rather than diet sodas.
The National Soft Drink Association, which represents most soft drink makers nationwide, said the new policy is misguided and goes too far.
"Soft drinks can be a part of a balanced lifestyle and are a nice treat,'' said Jim Finkelstein, the association's executive director.
Don't Go There
Literally. After round two of Diane Arbus at the MOMA, the Fanch, my dad, his G, and I stepped out for a bite. The caffe Museo was too crowded so, knowing we wanted to come back after lunch for a quick spin around the Pirkle Jones California photo exhibit, we stayed close: The A.G. Ferrari deli on Mission, street level of the new Paramount luxury apt. building.
Ugh. Doughy, cold focaccia for the sandwiches. Tuscan tomato bread soup that was glopped up with bread blobs the consistency of pond algae. Expensive salads that were pre-made and sitting in plastic in the cooler, a la McDonalds. This is an upscale Italian style deli? Supposedly the one on Castro is excellent. (Or so Fanch had heard.) There was no reason to doubt this one would be such a cazzo di disastro.
Did I mention the Arbus exhibit is out of this world?
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Literally. After round two of Diane Arbus at the MOMA, the Fanch, my dad, his G, and I stepped out for a bite. The caffe Museo was too crowded so, knowing we wanted to come back after lunch for a quick spin around the Pirkle Jones California photo exhibit, we stayed close: The A.G. Ferrari deli on Mission, street level of the new Paramount luxury apt. building.
Ugh. Doughy, cold focaccia for the sandwiches. Tuscan tomato bread soup that was glopped up with bread blobs the consistency of pond algae. Expensive salads that were pre-made and sitting in plastic in the cooler, a la McDonalds. This is an upscale Italian style deli? Supposedly the one on Castro is excellent. (Or so Fanch had heard.) There was no reason to doubt this one would be such a cazzo di disastro.
Did I mention the Arbus exhibit is out of this world?
