I (Heart) Healdsburg

Mike and I spent yesterday's sunny, blue-sky afternoon on one of my favorite drives, northward and out of the Napa Valley through sleepy Knight's and Alexander Valleys to the town of Healdsburg.

The drive takes more than an hour, longer if you stop to taste wine at one of the friendly family wineries along the way. Since Mike and I are both in the wine business, we tend to shy away from tasting rooms unless we have out of town company.

Depending on when you start your drive and from how far south, if it happens to be lunchtime when you pass through Calistoga, do not miss our number one favorite barbecue joint: Buster's BBQ. The tri-tip sandwich is the maneuver here. Definitely, positively, do NOT get the "Hot" sauce on your first visit. Or if you do, get a little side container of it to dole out or dip in as you eat, unless you are a glutton for searing, sweat-inducing, lip-throbbing pain. It IS delicious, though, with depth of flavor and tang that will impress as well as inflame.

This time of year, pink plum trees are in bloom and line the roadsides of these quiet valleys, whose stumpy, head-pruned vineyards are interspersed with yellow mustard. It feels like farm country, with old stone buildings, knoll-top farmhouses, and faded wood-barns spaced well apart among the green hills and the occasional sprinkle of goats or sheep. In one pasture, three out of four horses were sunning their round barrel bellies on the ground, making it look like an especially strong wind had come through and blown them all over.

Once in Healdsburg, head for the square. Beer-lovers, go directly to the Bear Republic Brewing Company, just off the main square. There is ample parking behind the Brewing Company in a large lot, or on the square itself. Mike and I sit at the end of the bar and drink a pint or two with lunch. The food is not extraordinary, but it's good for pub food. The beers are the star of the show here, but it's also possible to have a pretty good burger, a cup of fairly healthy and flavorful chili, or a salad, and not feel like you need to see a cardiologist immediately.

After people watching and sipping our favorite brews, we sometimes stop in to at the eclectic Erickson Gallery across the street, but yesterday we bee-lined it for one of my favorite bookstores anywhere, Levin & Company. I love to browse the big flat tables stacked with new hard-cover and paperback fiction, non-fiction, and big coffee-table design books. It's such a pleasure to book-shop with a bit of a beer-buzz going, running my fingers over the textures of the covers, letting my loosened subconscious mind lead me to my next long read. Yesterday I picked up F in Exams, a collection of funny bad answers to test questions, , and Dave Eggers' annual Best Non-Required Reading. Many cozy evenings of enjoyment to come. Someday I may read many of my books on an electronic device, but I will surely miss the smell of a book. Maybe in the future, Kindles and Nooks et all will be fitted with devices that atomize that inimitable papery smell so that we can still pretend.

Next, we stopped in at 14 Feet for an eyeful of uber-retro-chic design inspiration. Marne and her partner have an eye for furniture, fabrics and objets d'art that will make you take a second look at your storage unit. Well, only if it's crammed with well-loved mid-century and industrial furniture. I wish I could afford to buy all of my furniture from them.

Last stop on the square for the day was Flying Goat. A perfect espresso for me and a house-made chai for Mike. The art installation changes all the time.

You may wish to pick up a snack and browse the wonderfully curated collection of items at the JimTown Store. An eye for vintage treasures and a quirky, retro sense of humor and style is evident at the store. More notes here.

Ahhh, Sundays!

Ricotta Gnocchi, Part 2

The verdict: Gnocchi, delicious. Sauce, tasty, but waaaay more butter involved than was absolutely necessary. (See recipe link in previous post.)

This dish would be just as tasty with mushrooms (I used shiitake) sauteed in olive oil, rather than half a stick of butter, then the garlic and shallots.

I used frozen peas, and pre-cooked them with a quick dip in the boiling gnocchi water, but they would have been better going into the mushroom mix frozen, so that they'd be just-cooked and fresher tasting. The mushroom portion of the sauce sits while the gnocchi is browning, so keep that in mind and undercook the mushrooms by just a bit as well.

Gnocchi could be browned in a mix of half butter and half olive oil as well, making the whole dish with 1/4 of a stick of butter rather than the 1 stick called for, and I don't think it would be harmed a bit.

These light, slightly lemony gnocchi were surprisingly easy to put together, and could also be delicious sauteed as in the recipe, then served with just the fresh peas over arugula or spinach, dressed with a little lemon and olive oil, with shaved parmesan or even prosciutto, for a much lighter dish.

Ricotta Gnocchi, Part 1

Ricotta Gnocchi

3/4 c flour
1/4 tsp salt
Zest of one lemon
1/2 cup grated parmesan
(mixed together well)
plus
1 cup ricotta
1 egg

Mix ricotta, flour, lemon zest, salt, egg and parmesan together into a light dough that just holds together on a floured surface.


Cut into thirds and gently roll into 1" thick ropes. Chill ropes, uncovered, in refrigerator, at least 30 minutes or up to 2 hours.


Cut ropes into half inch pieces. Roll pieces across the tines of a fork and back onto floured surface.



To cook: Drop into boiling, salted water for 1 minute, use a slotted spoon to remove. Saute in a little butter until browned.

This recipe is from Micheal Symon. Further instructions for cooking and making a brown-butter sauce at this link. I'm making a mushroom-butter sauce with peas and parmesan tonight (also from Michael Symon) which I hope to be able to photograph before it is gobbled up!

Michael's recipe does not call for the traditional fork or paddle-rolled shape, but to me, it's not gnocchi without that. It takes a bit of practice, but can easily be mastered in one batch. They don't have to be perfect!

Something Bright

I love these ranunculus (ranunculuses? ranunculi?) this time of year. So cheery and bright. And my favorite color!

Easy, Pretty, Little Lemon Pudding Cakes

I've had this recipe, from Sunset magazine, since it came out in print in 2009, and finally decided to test drive it last night for Mike for Valentine's Day. Easy and very cute.

Changes: I used four larger ramekins instead of the 6 called for. No milk, so soy milk was substituted. I dropped the raspberries in, instead of folding. I think that's it. Picture above is before fresh raspberries were added.

Raspberry Lemon Pudding Cakes

Time: 50 minutes, plus 30 minutes to cool. "This light and tangy lemon dessert satisfies my longing for lemon pie," said reader Jeanette Hennings about her original version of this recipe. We added loads of berries for a more summery take. The tender berry cake rises to the top, and the creamy lemon cake sinks to the bottom.

Yield: Serves 6

Ingredients

• 2 large eggs, separated
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 3 tablespoons flour
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
• Finely shredded zest of 1 lemon
• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 cup low-fat (1%) milk
• 1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar
• 2 2/3 cups (12 oz.) raspberries, divided
• Powdered sugar

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Set 6 ramekins (2/3 cup size) in a 9- by 13-in. baking pan.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together egg yolks and granulated sugar until thick and creamy. Whisk in flour, butter, lemon zest and juice, and milk until blended.

3. In a deep bowl with a mixer on high speed, beat egg whites and cream of tartar until whites hold stiff, moist peaks when beater is lifted. Stir one-quarter of whites into yolk mixture until blended, then gently fold in remaining whites. Gently fold in half of raspberries.

4. Spoon batter into ramekins. Pour enough hot tap water into baking pan to come 1 in. up sides of ramekins.

5. Bake until cake layers are set and tops are golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Remove ramekins from water; let cool at least 30 minutes. Serve with more berries on top and a dusting of powdered sugar.

Make ahead: Chill airtight up to 1 day; pudding layer will become more distinct.

Fishing

Kelp heads bob among the rolling breakers of the foggy cove. A spiffy scenic-route-sign seagull preens on the wet sand to my right, casting furtive lunch-seeking glances my way.

Mike is standing on a medium-sized, irregular boulder to my right, which overhangs a shallow, turbulent area of the surf zone that is free of kelp. This is where he hopes the rockfish will be waiting, poised attentively on fin-tips, watching for his bait of chopped frozen squid to drop.

There is a light, cool wind and a crush and rumble of surf. The sun is casting a weak light through the scrim of fog that makes it bright enough for sunglasses.

He is still preparing his bait. Seagull still equidistant between us, in case there is food in the near future.

This little rocky cove is infinite in its possibilities. To my left, the fine lace of a dessicated leaf, left strung together by its intricate vasculature, sits amid a pile of shredded plant material: lacy, golden leaves, delicate fern-like fragments, waxy, long, narrow strips of seagrass, a sinewy tendon of kelp, wisps of feathery, Seussian moss, all captured by a softly waving hand of dried kelp whose end is lodged-- or planted-- under a rock on this sometimes submerged beach.

The sand, a mix of tiny pebbles reluctantly yielding to sand, really, is gilded and strewn with this tinsel of the land and sea. The leaves are most remarkable.

The sun may burn through to this little cove today, or it may not.

He stands patiently atop his rock, shifting his weight... Hey! He's caught a fish! A nice, big one. Looks to be a surf perch from here.

Seagull keenly observes from above, but no fish guts are on the offer this round. Mr. Perch is thrown right back in as the sky shows patches of blue through the fog. The perch are mild-flavored, fine-textured fish, pleasant enough to eat, but we have the luxury of choosing not to. Or, he was simply too small.

He prepares another baited hook and casts again, resuming his alternating stance in the saddle of the boulder.

The fog recedes further.

Crows and seagulls cross paths overhead as they commute to daytime stations. Misty clouds zoom southwards, but the distant fog seems to be growing and advancing.

After the first fish slaps back into the ocean, he and I communicate via matching baby claps to signal, "Yay! You caught a fish!" I approve with quick taps of my fingertips, "Yay!" "Mr. Fish goes free!" he claps. "Yay!" I answer. And on we go.

The wind is more gusty now, as the land behind heats and the air rises.

Reeling, reeling in... is it kelp, or nothing, or another fish? The latter. Almost looks like he caught the same one, only just a little smaller. And back in she goes.

More bait, more casting, more standing. We've been here an hour. Two fish: not bad.

I think I'd rather read a book than write one. Because, well, dialogue, for one thing. How do you make conversations purposeful, intentional, serve the end of what needs to happen, when in reality they are clumsy, haphazard, awkward and frequently pointless?

He straddles the front crest of the big rock now, for a different angle on the shallows, looking like he's riding behind the ears of a giant hunchbacked toad. He flings his lure with intent and gusto but reels it right back in and shakes his head at me.

The sea here dances with a range of blues, browns and greens, fringed with a rustle of white.

Reeling, reeling....kelp!

Each time the sun burns through the mist, the colors reveal themselves in its light. I have completely lost feeling in my rear end and also have to pee.

How was it that there was no warning of the tsunami in Indonesia? Although, to be fair, I know that when a tsunami warning was issued in Santa Cruz in college, we responded not by loading our loved ones in the car and heading for higher ground, but by filling our stomachs with beer and making for the cliffs. So it may not have helped at all.

At least one person and one dog have been here already today. The person's footsteps, still clearly impressed, a purposeful segment from one area to another, the dog's a joyful, erratic tangent of punctuation marks through the sand.