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.

Mom's "Secret" Pumpkin Pie Recipe

This recipe, for the very best pumpkin pie, is one my mother got from a cookbook in the 1960s. It is legendary in my family and outside of it, and has been shared with many friends and neighbors. Warm wishes and fragrant kitchens for the holidays ahead.

Mom's Famous (Secret) Pumpkin Pie 
(Makes 2 pies)

2 crusts, rolled and chilled
1 Large can pumpkin (or equivalent amount home-roasted and pureed): Libby is best
2 cans sweetened condensed (not evaporated) milk: Borden is best
2 large eggs
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp each ginger and nutmeg
+/- 2 C HOT water

Mix and pour into chilled crusts
Bake at 375 degrees 50-55 minutes until center is still ever so slightly wiggly.

Allow to cool to at least room temperature before serving. The pie will be more dense and solid the next morning after time in the refrigerator. (Irresistible for breakfast!)

The Very Best Pie Crust
(Courtesy of Grandma Landre)

Ingredients
2 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1/2 c cold unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 c Spectrum shortening
1 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar (optional)
1/2 to 1 cup ice water

Tools
Food processor or pastry blender
Rolling pin

Method
Place flour, salt, sugar in a food processor, spin to combine. Distribute fats on top of flour, close processor, and pulse until it resembles coarse cornmeal.

Sprinkle about 1/4 c of the water on top of mixture. Pulse a few times to mix evenly, sprinkle a little more water, pulse again. What you are looking for is a mixture that will just hold together when squeezed. You don't need any more water than that.

Scoop out into a bowl or a floured work surface and press together into a ball. Flatten the ball into a disk, roll out.

I always roll and shape my crust, then chill it in the refrigerator or freezer while I'm making the filling. Easier to work with that way.

I find this easiest in a food processor, but it can also be done with a fork or pastry blender (that weird D-shaped thing in the back of your kitchen drawer with wires or blades and a handle).

From the Vault: Applesauce Cake

This easy, tasty little cake is from my grandmother's Lily Wallace New American Cook Book, copyright 1946. (This is the cookbook that we feared was missing, which to our great relief, turned up at the bottom of a box of recipe clippings during last month's garage sale.)

Just the right amount of spice and moistness. Grandma's handwritten notes suggested icing it with a powdered sugar/butter/vanilla frosting and adding raisins for a dessert cake. I made it this morning with apple slices arranged on the bottom of the pan for a simple decoration when inverted. Very tasty as a coffee/breakfast cake.

Applesauce Cake

Oven to 350 degrees

1/2 cup shortening (1 stick butter)
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1 egg
1 cup thick applesauce
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp clove
1 1/2 to 2 cups flour (I split the difference and used 1 3/4 and it turned out just right.)
1 tsp soda

Cream shortening, sugar and egg together. (It helps if all ingredients are at room temperature.)
Dissolve soda in applesauce and add. Sift salt, cinnamon and clove with part of the flour and add to the first mixture. Add enough more flour to make a fairly stiff batter. Pour into a greased (or buttered) loaf pan (I used a deep 9" round cake pan.) and bake in a moderate oven 50-60 minutes. 1 cup raisins may be added to the batter.

After buttering the pan, I added 2 sliced apples arranged in a circle, to the bottom of the pan, along with a sprinkle of brown sugar, then poured the batter in on top of the apples, spreading it out with a spatula so that the middle was slightly lower than the edges to even the cake out.

Lovely!


The sky on my way home Friday.

Catching Up

Ok, I'm combing back through the now spam-free comments...

I'll start with this one, which is election relevant, though it was made about a different election, from Kate:

"Although there are promises made the candidates may not be able to keep, at least the people I vote for KNOW what I want, and may even attempt to give it to me. What worries me is the other side doesn't even seem to have a CLUE as to what I want, so how will they ever be able to work for my interest? If my president doesn't know I want soda in my drinking fountain, I know I will NEVER get it from him/her."
Original Post

Whether we get what we hope for in 2010 or not, we have to remind ourselves that our country doesn't rest on the shoulders of the reigning political party, but on us, the people who go to the polls, enabling a system to exist that at least strives to keep our country free and fair.

As Jon Stewart said recently in response to being asked whether he was disappointed in politicians (I paraphrase): "No. If I go to the zoo and a monkey throws feces at me, I say, 'What do you expect? It's a monkey.' What disappoints me is when the zookeeper doesn't say, 'Bad monkey.'"

"oh, how cute... do you know what kind they are?" Emily
My little watering-can dwellers were Bewick's Wrens.
Original Post

"I have found your blog by a curios coincidence. My maternal grandmother was born in Long Run, Ohio in 1893. She married a Martin Milosewski , a coal miner, and they lived in Short Creek but divorced him circa 1921. She remarried and divorced several more times before her death in 1947, Lansing, Michigan. I have a photo of her with her name Valeria Waszkiewicz. She also went by the name Lily. Do you think there is any connection? I wouldn't have except for the inclusion of Short Creek Ohio." Georgia

Hello Georgia! I'm guessing you are probably long gone. If it weren't for the fact that my blog was attacked by spammers, I never would have found your comment. I would be happy to compare family history notes with you if you happen to see this follow-up comment.
Original Post

"What a lovely contemplation of the stuff we collect and carry with us. Really lovely!"

Shana, this was over a year ago, but thank you very much for the compliment. It means a lot to me coming from you.
Original Post

Here’s where to find the indispensable silicone spatulas:
Kellers in Modesto
www.kellersgifts.com

and more info from loveblueskies:

“I have the spatula and love it too!! It was a gift purchased at Sur La Table.

After much research, I learned the initials stand for William Bounds. I don't think they make the cookie spatula anymore, but they still make a Sili Jumbo Jack spatula which I must have!

I just found 2 cookie spatulas on sale at Sur La Table. The blue one was item # 520254 for $3.99 and the yellow one was item # 664730 for $1.99. Happy hunting to see if they have any left!”
Thanks, loveblueskies!

"Mmmmmmm, granola. Will you please borrow Abbie in a few years and teach her to make granola? That is exactly the experience an aunt and niece should have. I can picture the day: a slightly drizzly gray sky, Abbie in the apron that my grandmother made for me, standing on a stool next to you looking very serious as you explain why melting is done over low and not high heat. Once again I don't understand why I got a brother instead of a sister. I deserve a sister."

I would be more than happy to make granola with cutie-bootie anytime (cheap flights on Alaska right now!), though I suspect by now you might have beaten me to it!
Original Post

Thanks for the tips about silken tofu (love it!), zapple pie (ditto, though real apple is my pie du jour), pear upside-down cakes and rashguards and other sun-protective clothing in lieu of coral-polluting sunscreens.

Ok, that's it. I've used up this little chunk of time, and I'm going forward from now on, and not back. AND, very important, I'm disabling comments for future posts, to keep the spam-monster at bay.

Right now, with this beautiful, sunny fall weather, I'm in the mood to make these short ribs and some homemade cinnamon bread. Anyone have a good recipe???

Um, I guess you'll have to contact me some other way!

Oh dear!

I just found the "spam comments" folder! My blog had been totally spamified, about 580 different comments, most on different posts, but 125, interestingly, on a post about spamming in comments, which was sort of funny in a way.

So if you commented, said hello, asked a question or offered a suggestion, I apologize for not ever responding.

Here are your answers:
Yes, the Dutch Baby is just as good with thinly sliced apples and a generous sprinkle of cinnamon sugar. Just slice the apples thinly so they don't weigh down the batter too much. If you do weigh it down, it's still delicious, just not as puffy.

Thanks for the tips about the silicone spatulas. I found more at the wonderful kitchen store in McHenry Village whose name escapes me now. That's a great place to shop for gifts, btw, not a chain and a Valley institution.

I'll answer more as soon as I can!

Pear Upside-Down Cake: Variation on a Favorite for Fall

This is a delicious Fall variation on the Plum Upside-Down Cake from a summer or two ago. Lighter and milder real maple syrup is substituted for most or all of the brown sugar in the topping. (Thanks, Monty!) I recommend experimenting with other types of pears and apples this time of year. Not too sweet, this little cake makes a pretty breakfast or tea cake as well.

Bartlett Pear Upside-Down Cake

For the topping
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted
1/3- 1/2 cup pure maple syrup
(optional- add up to 1/3 cup brown sugar for a sweeter topping)
+/- 2 semi-firm Bartlett Pears

For the cake
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
3/4 cup milk

(vanilla ice cream as an accompaniment)

Make the topping:
This time, I melted the butter in a saucepan, then poured it into the cake pan, swirling it around to coat all surfaces. If using brown sugar, sprinkle into buttered pan. Pour in maple syrup. Slice unpeeled pears 1/4 inch thick and arrange in a pretty overlapping circle on top of the butter and sugar/syrup. Set aside.

Make the cake:
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Into a bowl sift together the flour, the baking powder, the salt, and the cinnamon.

In another bowl with an electric mixer (or with a stand mixer, whisk, or wooden spoon) cream the butter with the sugar until the mixture is light and fluffy.

Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition, and beat in the vanilla.

Add the flour mixture alternately in batches with the milk, beginning and ending with the flour mixture and beating well after each addition.

Pour the batter into the pan, spreading it evenly, and bake the cake in the middle of the oven for 45 to 55 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean, the cake is golden on top, and has pulled away from the pan edges a bit.

Let the cake cool in the pan on a rack for 15 minutes, run a thin knife around the edge if necessary, and invert the cake onto a plate.

Serve the cake warm (oh yeah) or at room temperature with the whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Litany, by Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

The poem as recited by an enthusiastic three year old.

And by the author on City Arts and Lectures.
This is the same poet who wrote "Taking off Emily Dickinson's Clothes" which you will have to google yourself.

Remember- You’re not managing an inconvenience, you’re raising a human being. (Kittie Frantz)

You know how sometimes you try to make something from a recipe, say, bread, but no matter how many times you try, you just find that it isn't in you to be a good baker? Other people have the touch, the time, the special knack, whatever it is, that it takes to make delicious bread. You like their bread better. They are good at it. Hooray for everyone. They make good bread, you like to eat good bread. We are all happy.

This is how I feel sometimes about children. Not that I want to eat them, of course. Other people are so damn good at making them-- not just the *making* part, but the raising part, I mean. I don't think I have the innate skills that it would have taken to make good ones.

And what is more tragic than preferring other people to the ones you made yourself?

The Power Of The Dog

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But...you've given your heart for a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long--
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

- Rudyard Kipling

Hot Weather Dinner Ideas

Here are some of my favorites this time of year: Cold vegetables with blue cheese dip (substitute as much plain non-fat yogurt or fat-free sour cream for the regular sour cream as you like) or white bean dip; Tuscan Cold Supper; Asian-spiced chopped chicken, or any flavorful meaty mix, in romaine or iceberg leaves; bean salads; and of course hummus. It's almost time for nectarine margaritas, though any fruit will do...strawberry or cherry, anyone? And don't forget cobblers and upside-down cakes for dessert. That should cover it!