Bay Area Wannabe

The problem with going on a blogging hiatus is that the anecdotes and meals and treats start to accumulate until I can't bring myself to blog again, due to a frenzy of indecision about the next post.  That's how a supposedly short hiatus becomes an unintended silence of far too long.  We've been back from the Bay Area for a couple of seriously insane weeks.  It feels as if the moment we arrived back into New York, the portal to Hell yawned wide and swallowed us up, with an unending round of work and other obligations.   

All excuses aside, here's what I learned on my trip out West.  Don't let anyone fool you.  Those West Coast people have got it all over the East Coast in terms of the quality, freshness and sheer delectability of the food available to them.  The peaches and tomatoes taste like summer produce from an East Coast farmers' market -- times a zillion.   But how to take advantage of all this glory?  I figured the best way to conduct myself while I was there would be to pose as a Bay Area foodie.  After all, I had a wealth of great information from numerous local food blogs and their remarkable authors. 

So, after a week at my darling friend Pat's house in Berkeley, we laid in supplies at my dear pal Betty's house in the Mission, where we parked ourselves for another week while she and her kids took over our New York digs.  There we grilled sausages and crepinettes from the Fatted Calf, just like Dr. Biggles.  I cooked Marin Sun Farms eggs for my breakfasts, as if I were Sam -- that is, when I wasn't having a Saturday morning Ferry Plaza Farmers' market Mexican breakfast with Sam at the Cocina Primavera stand justly lauded by Jeanne and by Brett.  I stopped by Poulet on an almost daily basis so we could keep sampling Shuna's desserts.  We went to Mitchell's over and over again.  G was torn between his Grasshopper Pie milkshake and one made with Kahlua Cream ice cream and oreos, but I simply couldn't figure out which coconut ice-cream I liked better, buko or macapuno -- just like Stephanie.  We went to Zuni Café for the roast chicken and bread salad (like Joy! -- and many another SF food lover) and to Tartine for sandwiches and pastry and to El Farolito at all hours (like Joy again)  and the El Tonayense truck for tacos and quesadillas.  We took a day excursion to Copia and ate a tasting menu at Redd (like Jen, and like Joy yet again).  We ate pupusas at La Santaneca and chaat from Vik's at least twice, and a had a stellar Thai dinner at Be My Guest with my cousin Matthew, who, having married into a Thai family, knows how to order much better than we do.  I had a gorgeous dinner prepared by my lovely friend Lea and her family in San Rafael.   We stopped at Rainbow Grocery for incidentals and I went to the Ferry Plaza Farmers' market three times within a single week.  And all the while I tried to pretend that I never had to go back to New York, to work, to produce that tries its best but just doesn't quite hit the ecstasy zone, even in summer.   

At some point I awoke to the reality that I would indeed have to return home, and so I worked hard to remember all the things I love to eat on the East Coast -- aged Cabot Vermont Cheddar cheese (which, incidentally, we saw on several West Coast menus); thick, dark, Grade B organic maple syrup; the many kinds of wonderful apples that will appear shortly in my local farmers' market.  I thought about smoked fish from Russ and Daughters and Zabar's, pastrami from Katz's,  Eli's bread, Shackburgers and cheese fries and frozen custard at Shake Shack, dinner and cocktails at the Bread Bar. 

Occasionally we did some things that weren't directly related to food, or at least to eating -- walking in the Marin headlands and the Presidio, talking to our dear family friend Steve at his stunningly beautiful store Dandelion, exploring new neighborhoods, spending a few days in Calistoga, taking long drives, hanging out, laughing, watching DVDs with friends.  We went to the Edible Schoolyard, where Pat's daughter goes to school, and I thought about what kind of school I might like to run if I ever decide to use the credentials I'm getting in the terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad administration program.

But I just couldn't leave all that good West Coast food there -- and so I've comforted myself with all of the delicious things we managed to bring home with us.  Despite the insanity that is our New York lives, I've been extending my vacation by continuing to pretend to be a Bay Area Foodie.  In addition to all the jarred and bottled and boxed foodstuffs pictured below, I carried home a variety of sausages from the Fatted Calf (frozen to survive the flight),  eight Blossom Bluff Orchards peaches (individually wrapped to avoid bruising), Acme bread, Tartine brownies and the Meyer lemons I stole from Pat's backyard in Berkeley.  Fortunately Homeland Security has not yet decided that peaches or sausages might contain explosives -- other than their incredible flavor, of course.  I was nervous before we got on our plane.  There was the case of wine we were putting in checked baggage, but all the food was coming with us in my carry-on.  "If they try to take my food from me, I'm not going to go easy," I warned G.  All came through without a hitch, however, and so the other night I was able to made G quesadillas for dinner, using Fatted Calf chorizo along with some pepper jack and cilantro.  They were very good, it's true -- but we missed washing them down with the bottled Mexican Cokes that we found at all the tacquerias in the Mission, made with real cane sugar instead of corn syrup, and tasting like Coke is actually supposed to taste. 

The delights pictured here are culled from a number of wonderful days.  The luscious Recchiuti chocolates come from one of the Ferry Plaza visits, of course.   Then there was our day at Bouchaine Vineyards (in the Carneros region of Napa) with their winemaker Michael Richmond, who also has his own label, Amethyst, that he grows "in his backyard," as he puts it.   G and I received what felt like a very preliminary taste of an education in California wines from Mike, who spent several hours giving us other tastes as well.  G lost count sometime around the point when Mike was siphoning us some sips from the twentieth barrel or so.  As our senses were heightened by taste after taste, Mike enlightened us about not only grapes and their harvest and fermentation, but barrels, their woods and degree of "toast" and the impact that all of these factors have on the resulting wines.  Needless to say, we've begun to appreciate wine in a whole different way these days.  And the bottles that we managed to get back on the plane (we did have to put them in checked baggage, very carefully packed) are all the more precious for our newfound knowledge. 

But of all the days that deserve at least one post of their own, the most memorable would be my afternoon with June Taylor, our own era's virtuoso of preserved fruit.  We were staying in Berkeley, as luck would have it, literally a block away from Ms. Taylor's Stillroom.  When I realized how close I was, I screwed my courage to the sticking-point and called.  I expected to talk with a receptionist, an assistant -- almost anyone except Ms. Taylor herself.  But it was she who answered the phone, and invited me to come for a visit that very afternoon.  When I got there, I saw that indeed there were no receptionists or in fact, anyone other than Ms. Taylor and a young woman, her one assistant.  Small is beautiful indeed at the Stillroom.  I sat on a high stool, drank a proffered cup of green tea, watched and listened.  Ms. Taylor made small batches of apricot sauce in huge pots, bottled them and talked to me of preserving and conserving in both the immediate moment and in the larger sense of what life brings us:  the web of relationships, passion, work, education, and history.  We spoke of the moments that children remember and carry inside always -- of mothers who make something delicious just for them.  We talked about connecting with farmers and other producers, so that the continuum of nourishment is human and not relegated to a factory production line.  We talked of our mutual sense of desire to share knowledge with others -- but to see also that they find their own sense of how to create what they like, rather than relying solely on someone else's expertise and taste; to see that these ways don't die out despite the forces in our world which seek relentlessly to industrialize those things which should still be done by hand. 

Our conversation began with the apricot sauce -- something that Ms. Taylor was inventing right there, right then, so as not to discard the excess of liquid produced by a particularly juicy harvest of apricots.  Almost everything can be used, she said.  And I heard the echo of my mother, and the resonance of my own upbringing -- the eggshell swiped clean with a finger so as not to waste any of the precious egg, the chicken carcass used for stock, the meat and vegetable juices saved to flavor soups, the re-used vanilla bean stuck in the the sugar jar.  So you see, my afternoon with Ms. Taylor wasn't just about jam (and indeed, as she herself will tell you, she doesn't make jam, but rather marmalades, fruit butters, and conserves).  My time with her was about preserving and conserving -- the preservation not only of the fruit but of artisanal ways with it; the conservation not only of foodstuffs, but of the land, the resources and the people who labor to produce them.   

June Taylor is the sort of person you want to learn from, you want to know, and you want to spend time with.  If and when I'm lucky enough to be in the Bay Area when Ms. Taylor is giving a class, I will run and not walk to sign up for that experience.  And we certainly plan to be spending more time in the Bay Area.  G loves it there, for many reasons more than just the tacos and the ice-cream.  I'm lucky enough to have great friends and good colleagues there.  So perhaps some day, perhaps in five years, or in ten, I'll be doing more than just pretending to be a Bay Area foodie. 

Comments

[Tanna]

That was really grand. I really think the world changes when you find a place that somehow is in sync with your heart of hearts. Sounds like you may have found your bliss.

[Tea]

Wow, Julie. You did the Bay Area proud! Most locals don't manage to squeeze that much savoring in over the course of a month. Glad you has such delicious times--I'm just sorry I was out of town and missed meeting you. But it sounds as if you will be back...

[Zarah Maria]

So the West Coast is cool - but Shake Shack Burgers?? AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! And yes, In'n'Out burgers are good, but they're NOTHING like the Shake Shacks! Hey, you're the one that got me hooked!:-) Sounds like you had an awfully nice time Julie - wish it was me!

[lindy]

Extreme, burning envy here.

Which June Taylor preserves did you bring back? I can't quite see in the photo.

[Sucar]

I was in the bay area last year on business and have felt the tug often to go back. The food, the wine, the weather-lots to love there. I particularly enjoyed your description of Ms. Taylor's vocation in this blog. You have described the heart of a foodie to me. That's exactly why I cook and what I hope to give to my loved ones. Glad you're back!

[Luisa]

Aiyiyiyiyi! This is the trip I've been meaning to take for years. I'm so envious and yet so glad you had such a great time! It sounds like a total dream. And as for your afternoon with June Taylor, I SWOOOON. ;)

[Julie]

Tanna -- you're so right. The Bay Area is bliss indeed, as far as both G and I are concerned!

Tea, we did manage quite a lot of deliciousness in a fairly short period of time. Perhaps I'll get to meet you on our next trip out...

Zarah, you're right, Shake Shack burgers do call us back to NY -- even if I haven't had a single one this whole summer! Must go down to Madison Park and get one, this weekend maybe. When are you coming back for yours?

Lindy, we brought back apricot-almond butter, white nectarine conserve, boysenberry conserve, Santa Rosa Plum fruit cheese (in the glass crock), Seville orange marmalade (which I regretfully left at my Dad's, since I bought it for him -- truly the most wonderful marmalade I've ever eaten) and a bottle of the apricot sauce Ms. Taylor was making the afternoon I was there. It's unlabeled, since it was still warm when I carried it off...

Sucar, I know just what you mean. Ms. Taylor is a devotee of preserving in all senses of the word. I think what you say is so true -- many of us cook for these very reasons.

Luisa, this trip truly was a dream, as you put it -- as was our Bay Area vacation last summer. We had such a good time that we just had to do it again. Do take a trip out there -- it's just swoon-making all around. And there's so much I haven't even yet done...

[Lea]

Hi Julie!
I'm happy that we were able to meet up again. And love reading about all your adventures while you and G. were out here.

Will be thinking of you while I continue my studies. Hope you have a great school year.

Love,
Lea xoxo

[Kimberly]

Oh, Julie, what a wonderful trip!

When I lived in the Bay Area, I had not yet developed a passion for eating locally; that happened after I moved to Seattle, another tremendous place for foodies.

I'll be going to the Bay Area in a couple of weeks to take one of June Taylor's classes. I am thrilled beyond words. Your time with her sounds really quite special.

[Joe C]

I don't like the sound of this, little sister.

[Julie]

Lea -- all love back to you as well, and to your wonderful family. Thanks again for such a lovely evening...and have a great year as you resume your studies.

Kimberley, I know from personal experience that it is possible to be very happy for someone else while being wildly jealous of them at the same time. You're taking a class with June Taylor, yay for you, you lucky lucky duck!

Awww, bro -- this isn't even the five-to-ten year plan. It's the five-to-ten year pipe dream. And on the up side, if we did go out to the Left Coast, it would give you more reasons to come visit...

[Elise]

What a foodie's paradise you found in the Bay Area. I live here and even I haven't done all that. What did you think of the Edible Schoolyard? Are there similar school-run gardens where you are?