Parlez Vous Francais?

An ordinary weekday morning...a Saturday spent visiting friends...your birthday!  All present fine opportunities for some French toast.

Let's be frank here.  Do you actually need a recipe for something like French toast?
Nope.
But as my mother would say, could you stand to be reminded of a few things?
Of course you could!

So let's get started:

1.  French toast makes people happy.
It just does.  Tell them you're making french toast and watch their smiles light up the room.
Who says 'no' to French toast?
Well, my two-year old niece does.  She says no to everything, but that's a story for another time.

2.  So, about the French toast...let's start with bread.
Just consider this a gentle reminder that your French toast is completely dependent on the kind of bread you decide to use.  So go ahead and use the last two slices of that lame wheat bread you use for sandwiches, but don't expect miracles.  Not in the super-amazing-happiness-bringing category of French toast I'm talking about.  Yours could be good in a pinch, but mine requires a teensy bit of planning:  you've come across a new bakery and they have some beautiful challah!  Go for it.  Or, you're in the bread aisle of your local supermarket* on a Thursday and think:  I could make French toast on Saturday morning...yes, indeed...grab that loaf of brioche and make sure your syrup supply is stocked.
*I'm  not entirely certain about the odds of finding a loaf of brioche in a generic supermarket, but I'm happy to report that finding challah bread in a random Florida grocery store a couple weeks ago on vacation was a snap.

Bottom line:  you want some kind of eggy, rich bread as the foundation for your French toast.

3.  Heavy cream + eggs = French toast perfection
What, you normally use skim milk?  Skim milk is never a part of the makings of first-class anything.  Fine for your coffee (I'm rolling my eyes here) but most emphatically not for cooking.  'Nuf said.
For one loaf of challah bread you'll want to whisk 3 eggs with a 1/2 cup of heavy cream.  (Like how I went from zero to a hundred there?)

4.  Additions
There aren't any.  Seriously.
But, oh, okay, I suppose if you really feel you need to add something here you could go with a splash of vanilla to the egg/cream mixture, I guess.  And then there are those of you out there who feel cinnamon should be sprinkled hither and yon.  Don't let me stop you.  But know this...all you really need here is the bread, the cream and the eggs.  And, right...there's also...

5.   Butter
About butter.  I'm not going to make apologies here  for loving butter.  And I'm not going to cheerfully tell you that you can make this by using olive oil instead.  (Please don't.)  Just know that the fabulousness of this French toast directly correlates with frying it in a nice-sized-knob of butter.

6.  Process
Once you've got your ingredients set up, we all know hoow this goes down, right?  Slice bread 1" thick.  Whisk the eggs and cream together.   Get a pan or griddle HOT over some medium-high heat and add a tablespoon of butter.  Dip a slice of bread in the egg mixture, making sure all the sides are well coated and add to the hot pan.  You want to hear sizzle.  Flip when golden.
This all moves fairly quickly...not more than a couple minutes per side.  Once I get started I pile the finished French toast on a platter in a warm oven until ready to serve.

7.  Toppings
Maple syrup is the obvious choice, but a more offbeat idea I loved as a kid was whipped up by a favorite aunt and uncle when we were on vacation together:  top the French toast with a sprinkle of juice from a freshly squeezed orange half followed by a shower of powdered sugar finished with a garnish of orange slices.  It's an unexpected, but lovely combination.

8.  And, finally, a word about bacon.
Yes.

Recipe adapted from Food52.
Serves 4.

Ruined

It's called Wonder Bread
But when you take a look at it, you'll understand that the name is a funny bonus, because though it truly is a wonder, it bears absolutely no resemblance at all to that other Wonder Bread.

The thing that makes me a little sad about bread is how it's gotten a bad rap over the past five or six years.  

Sigh...so many bread haters out there...for various reasons, of course. Some, most legitimately need to stay away from bread for health reasons, but others, “the lemmings”, let's call them, just follow whatever the current food fad. Paleo, gluten-free, all-kale, juicing, etc...you know them...and they've proclaimed bread to be “bad”.

So, first off, let me say that I LOVE bread, but in a very finicky, highly selective way. You see, there is so much bread out there in the world that should be ignored and bypassed. The strange and spongy “french” bread (really? French??) I see at my parents' local grocery in the Midwest. The stale pita that tastes like cardboard you get along with a salad at the airport. Sad dinner rolls deposited on your table in many ho-hum restaurants. These are the times you should ignore bread.

But, the bread here in San Francisco?

It has ruined me so that I've become an insufferable bread snob.

The thing you should know about San Francisco is that it feels like the very epicenter of a bread making renaissance. I remember first moving here almost seven years ago and being introduced to AcmeBread.  (Cue the hallelujah chorus.)

Their baguettes (both sweet and sour) and their pain au levain tasted like the real deal you find in France. I even loved the story of how Acme came to be.  The founder had been a busboy at the legendary ChezPanisse, and became obsessed with breadmaking after a trip to Europe. His bread project was serious and he experimented and refined his technique in the back of the restaurant's kitchen. People must have loved what he was doing because he eventually took over supplying the restaurant with his bread when their regular supplier couldn't meet demand. He was eventually encouraged (nudged) to head out on his own when his operation grew too large for the restaurant's kitchens. Now there is Acme bread in almost every SF area grocery store (applause!) and my favorite location: a small storefront in Berkeley at the main bakery, where there is a perpetual queue of bread lovers (carbs?! Bring 'em I say!). I typically grow giddy with indecision when I reach the front of the line there and am standing in front of an array of Acme's breads and delectable baked goods.

There's more amazing bread in this town than you can shake a stick at, but I don't want to shake a stick at any of it...I just want to slather it with butter and eat it. And by the way, there is not much that's better than a slice of a beautifully made loaf of bread spread with some nice butter.

There are intensely handsome loaves of bread baked by Chad Robertson of Tartine Bakery.

 

Tartine's breads come out of the ovens in late afternoon because that accommodates the baker's surfing schedule (bravo!) but also happen to work perfectly with the idea that you pick one up on your way home from work and enjoy with your dinner. I've always wondered why one of the food magazines hasn't picked up on the success of People magazine's Sexiest ManAlive, or Most Beautiful Woman series with a version that selects a cover bread named Most Gorgeous Bread! each year because if they did, I would immediately nominate Tartine's Country Bread.

More humble in the looks department, yet splendid in its own way is the house bread at Outerlands, a restaurant in the outer Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco. Order their grilled cheese made with the house bread and you have achieved bread-lover nirvana. The house loaf has more the look and shape of a sandwich bread and incredible flavor. Word to the wise, ask if they have extra and take a loaf home for yourself. (Extra bonus: your car will fill with the delectable aroma of bread.) Toast it up in the morning and see what all the fuss is about. You're welcome.

And, speaking of toast, this brings me to Wonder Bread.

I can't remember exactly how I first heard about it...maybe in one of the local food blogs I read from time to time?

Somewhere there was a story about a local guy who was making bread.

JoseyBaker (insert obligatory joke about is-that-his-real-name? here, and, yes, it is.) started out just fiddling around in his kitchen at home in his spare time, making bread and then giving it to people. The bread was good. The sourdough starter he was using came from a friend's grandma or grandpa. How could it not be?

Friends, neighbors...they all wanted more. If I remember correctly, he started a subscription service so people could get his bread on a regular basis with him delivering his bread, on a bike. (It's a perfect San Francisco story.) He connected with a local coffee roaster and they opened up a place where he mills his own flour and makes his incredible loaves...You can get toast there...coffee, of course...and even pizza on Monday nights. Note to self as I was reading that article: find your way to this bread-happy place at some point.

Last winter, I was wandering the bread aisle at my favorite local,worker-owned, food co-op (power to the people!) I saw they had started to carry some of his bread. Happy day! Incredible, artisanal bread available at my go-to market. Life is good. So I grabbed a loaf of Wonder Bread. Shaped like a sliceable, sandwich loaf, it smelled “wonder”ful. Yeasty and nutty and bready...intoxicating, for this bread hound. This is bread with character, people. It has a gorgeous, dark brown top and it's as far from a white loaf of the other Wonder Bread as you can imagine.

A slice right when you get home is delicious. It's a kind whole wheat, but the crumb is beautifully fine and dense. Super tasty. But I also encourage you to wait until morning. (I sometimes fall asleep with a smile on my face because I'm thinking of my morning toast.) Because that's when you want to cut yourself a nice, thick slice and toast it. That, my friends, is when the true magic happens. Toasting does something amazing to this bread and if you sliced it thick enough, you get this perfect ratio happening: a wonderfully chewy interior that perfectly balances the warm, crispy, nutty crust.

Be smart and slather some almond butter on that, and then, maybe a little jam.  Take a bite and behold the wonder.

You too can be ruined by good bread. Just don't tell the paleo crowd...this way there's plenty of bread for us snobs.

*          *          *

For those not inclined towards almond butter, another idea if you come across some outstanding bread is what I call California toast, and no it's not mushing some avocado on toast, though I do get why you might think that.  

California Toast

serves one

one thick cut slice of  a tasty sourdough loaf, toasted 

(Acme's Walnut Levain is particularly nice here)

a couple spoonfuls of good ricotta

honey

You know what to do.

Less is More

 You might call me an over-doer.

When I cook, “more is more” seems to be my style.

Is this a general personality trait, you ask? I've thought about that, and I suppose there's a strong “maybe”, when it comes to shoes...and, well, okay, perhaps handbags, but otherwise, no.

It only seems to be related to my adventures in the kitchen. It is not with shame, but with wonder, that I can point to Asian-themed dinner parties with not one, but five-too-many dishes. Weekend breakfasts that find me simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the stove, the toaster and the oven while squeezing fresh orange juice by hand. Overly ambitious holiday baking lists that can only be accomplished by late night baking sessions where I nap on the sofa with a timer between batches of cookies.

On one of our early dates, Steve invited me over for dinner at his place. I stood at his door, knocking, bottle of wine in hand, for at least five minutes with no response. Maybe I'd been stood up? But no, there was too much clanging of pots and pans coming from inside. The door swung open to reveal him standing there, wearing an oil spattered rain coat (what??) and clutching a bloody paper towel to his hand before motioning me to come in. He sent me into the living room to wait and then disappeared into the kitchen. More banging of pots and pans, some loud cursing and then a crash. I had to investigate. Turns out he was trying to cook a mult-course meal from a chinese cookbook and things were not going well. I was in love.

So, maybe I'm some kind of kitchen adrenaline junkie.

But, here's the thing...every so often, I experience a kind of epiphany when serving up a single dish that deeply satisfies, and yet doesn't involve a dozen ingredients, six different pots and pans or a kitchen blowtorch. It feels like a new realization every time it happens. I'll make something super simple, and it's delicious and everyone is happy eating it. In this age of countless food shows, food blogs and catalogues with a million different cooking tools and gadgets, it's easy to forget that yes, less can be more.

Thanksgiving last week was a simple affair for us and cliched as it maybe, it reminded me how the meaning of sharing a meal with people you love can get lost in the frenzied preparations for the big gatherings we typically host.

Some of my best memories are of humble meals with people who are very dear to me. So, now that we're in this crazy rush through the December holidays, I thought I'd share a simple dish I made last Christmas for brunch.

It's called strata and I promise you will be glad I introduced you. Strata has a lot going for it. It's kind of like a savory, cheesy bread pudding and it can be tailored to your tastes. Vegetarian? Sure! Just use cheese and spinach. Prefer cheddar over swiss? Go right ahead! You assemble the whole thing the night before, so its true beauty is apparent as you relax in a comfy chair the next morning, sipping coffee in your pj's and sniffing the delicious aromas wafting through your home as it bakes. Simple is good.

I've made it a number of times this past year, and each time I marvel...easy, no stress cooking that's delicious and makes people happy. How novel!

I'll make it again this Christmas...but you know, I was kind of thinking to whip up a little roasted pear compote, on the side...you know...to serve with the smoked salmon blini and blood orange mimosas...

BREAKFAST STRATA WITH SAUSAGE, SPINACH AND GRUYERE

NOTES: I adapted this from Cooks Illustrated and adding the sausage was a stroke of brilliance if I do say so.

This doubles really easily so you can bump up from serving 6 to 12 by going from an 8-inch pan to a larger rectangular baking dish.

INGREDIENTS:

12 slices supermarket french bread or italian bread (leave it out overnight, or toast in a low—225 degree—oven)

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

4 medium shallots, minced (about ½ cup)

1 10-ounce package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry

½ lb. Bulk breakfast sausage

salt and ground black pepper

½ cup dry white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc, OR vermouth is also delicious here

6 ounces Gruyere cheese, grated (about 1 ½ cups)

6 large eggs

1 ¾ cups half-and-half

1. Butter the sliced bread on one side with 2-3 tablespoons of butter and set aside.

2. Brown the sausage in a medium nonstick skillet over medium-high heat and set aside in a medium bowl.

3. Heat 2 tablespoons butter in same skillet over medium heat and saute shallots until translucent; add spinach and salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to the bowl with the sausage.

4. Add the wine to the skillet and reduce to ¼ cup over high heat.

5. Butter 8-inch square baking dish with remaining 1 tablespoon butter; arrange half the buttered bread slices, buttered side up in a singler layer in the dish.

6. Sprinkle half the spinach/sausage mixture, then ½ cup grated cheese evenly over bread slices.

7. Arrange remaining bread slices in single layer over the cheese; sprinkle remaining spinach/sausage mixture and another ½ cup cheese evenly over bread.

8. Whisk eggs in medium bowl until combined; whisk in reduced wine/vermouth, half-and-half, 1 teaspoon salt and pepper to taste. Pour this egg mixture evenly over bread layers; cover surface flush with plastic wrap and weigh down. (I've used a heavy plate, or a small box of brown or regular sugar.)

Refrigerate overnight.

9. Remove dish from refrigerator and let stand for 20 minutes at room temp. Heat oven to 325 degrees and adjust oven rack to middle position. Remove plastic wrap and sprinkle remaining ½ cup cheese evenly over the surface; bake until edges and center are puffed up, 50-55 minutes (more like an hour if you're doubling and using the bigger baking dish). Cool on wire rack 5 minutes and serve.

Comfort

It's been a while, I know.  And I won't pretend.

I've been sad.  

The loss of our beloved black Lab, Henry, last year put me in state of 'just getting through' for a while.  You know.  You go about the business of your life because that's what you do, but it's with a heavy heart.  

The joys of food and drink and company feel muted because you are just seeking comfort...a respite from the sadness.  But in an inversely strange way, it also makes me feel grateful... for the kindness of friends, the everyday joy and companionship that our dear boy gave us, and the very awesomeness of his short, wonderful life.

The term "comfort food" really has taken on a fuller meaning as I've trudged through this time.  There's been a bit of a retreat from dreaming of fancy dishes I'd like to try to a simple craving for food that nourishes in a quiet way.  Which brings me to the uncomplicated solace of a bowl of porridge.  

I have rather unpleasant memories of the oatmeal my mother would make when I was a kid.  It was a gluey, bland mush of Quaker oats that just couldn't compete with a bowl of Captain Crunch.  The 80s brought the worship of All Things Oat, which I duly ignored since I wasn't obsessed with my cholesterol levels.  But then some time in the 90s I discovered steel-cut oats in a memorable Waldorf-Astoria room service breakfast for which I am eternally grateful.  So I've been a steel-cut oat fan ever since, but not long ago I came across an ingenious recipe for 'porridge', as the English like to call their breakfast oatmeal, that puts the oats I've been making for years to shame.  (Clouds parting.  Chorus singing.  Rays of sunshine.  Applause.)

Hard to believe it comes from a cookbook called,  A Girl and Her Pig.  (Yes, there is a photo of the author, chef April Bloomfield, on the cover, draped in a dead pig.  Calm down everyone.)  

April's way with porridge is extraordinarily simple and oh so comforting.  The beauty lies in cooking a mix of rolled oats with steel-cut in half milk and half water with a generous amount of Maldon salt.  The resulting chewy, creamy texture when topped with a drizzle of maple syrup elevates things to porridge nirvana.

So for those of you in the frigid, polar-vortex'd Midwest and snow battered East, this hot breakfast will fortify you like nothing else for your next round of shoveling and for those of us who are feeling a little fragile at times it's like breakfast, with a hug.  Some days that's just what you need.

Porridge 

adapted from A Girl and Her Pig, by April Bloomfield

(serves 4, if you're restrained, or 2 hearty appetites)

1 1/2 cups milk (April says whole milk, but I used 2%), plus a few splashes

1 1/2 teaspoons Maldon or another flaky sea salt

1/2 cup stell-cut oats

1/2 cup rolled oats (no instant or quick-cooking here, go with regular oats)

About 2 tablespoons brown sugar

A drizzle of maple syrup

1.  Combine the milk, water and salt in a medium saucepan and set over high heat.  As soon as the liquid comes to a gentle simmer, add both kinds of oats and lower the heat to medium to keep the oats at a steady simmer.  Stir frequently and check the heat to maintain the simmer, for 20 minutes.

2.  After the 20 minutes, turn off the heat and stir in the brown sugar.  

3.  Spoon into bowls and let sit for a minute.  Drizzle with a little maple syrup.  That's where I finish and get ready to dig in, but April suggests carefully pouring a little cold milk around the edge of each bowl for little more of custard feel as the porridge sets near the cold milk.  

       

A Staycation

I remember when I first heard the term "stay-cation".  It was not long after the markets crashed a couple years ago.  The news was full of stories of families staying put and economizing by skipping the expensive 'travel' vacation and pitching tents in their backyards, visiting local museums and playing mini-golf in their hometowns.

You have to admit...there is something very appealing about staying put.
No packing a full wardrobe into a regulation size wheelie bag.
No airplanes, airports or awful security lines.
No need to stop the paper or board the dog and you water your own plants.
And you sleep in your own bed!  
I could go on and on... 

After last year's Sicilian extravaganza we thought...why not give stay-cationing a try?
So we spent a week at home last month and I'm happy to report, it was an absolute delight!

Now, granted...we live in a city that is truly lovely.  People from all over the world come to visit
San Francisco and there was no shortage of things to do on our stay-cation.

There was a day trip to Santa Cruz...  (Funny how all oceanside towns are, umm, the same...)
...and an afternoon at SFMOMA ogling the vast art collection accumulated by the Gap founders.  (Why buy one Calder when you can buy 23?)

We breezed in to Bi-Rite Creamery on a Tuesday afternoon and enjoyed our favorite local ice cream.  (And there was no line to wait in!!  Seriously.  NO line!!)

There was a tasty mid-week lunch at Tyler Florence's new restaurant and then... a nap.

(That's what we get for having fried chicken and steak-and-eggs at noon!)

We walked our dog.

We had one of the best meals ever at Ubuntu, a Michelin starred vegetarian restaurant in Napa. (If you live here or visit the area I beg you to go.  It will rock your world.)

We even hiked Angel Island, the small state park in the Bay with gorgeous 360-views.  Something we've always wanted to do.  (Anything that includes a ferry ride is a-okay in my book!)



It was a splendid week, but that's not really what I'm here to tell you.

What I discovered was that the true beauty of a stay-cation is it allows you time to putter.  And that, people...is a glorious thing.  Who has time to just putter around any more?  And I mean really putter.  To spend a lazy morning, sipping (not slurping or slamming) your coffee, flipping through a magazine (yes...a magazine...printed on paper...no laptop required!), listening to music while something bakes in the oven?!  Oh, it's the stuff dreams are made of, I tell you!

So during this stay-cation I spent an hour or so one morning puttering...while making a batch of granola.  Yes...homemade granola.

Now you could say this is one of those things that is fine to just buy pre-made, in boxes at your local supermarket.
And I would tell you that you are wrong.

Homemade granola is an entirely different and much, much more delicious thing.  Sprinkled into yogurt or over pancakes...even eaten out of hand, it is fantastic.
It's like...if there is a choice between pre-made-boxed granola and, well...nothing...
I would choose nothing.
Because homemade granola is totally in-another-stratosphere in comparison.

But let me reassure you...it's not something that you need a stay-cation in order to make.  No, no...not at all.  I'm just saying should you have a weekend morning free or you just want to cheer yourself up some evening after dinner.  The warm, toasty aromas of nuts and oats browning in the oven...wafting through your kitchen as you read a novel or watch a movie or catch up with a friend on the phone. 

It's the perfect way to create a stay-cation frame of mind.

*          *           *

The great thing about homemade granola is that it can be customized to taste with your favorite combination of dried fruits and nuts.  Mine is dried blueberries, golden raisins and almonds, but the possibilities are endless.  Just go and stand in the dried fruit and nut aisle at Trader Joe's and let your imagination run wild.

If I haven't said it before...thank heavens for my SILPAT mats.  The silicone baking sheet liners make things easy when you stir the granola.

Homemade Granola
adapted from Baked
(makes approx. 1 pound)

2 cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup whole almonds
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1/3 cup dried blueberries
1/3 cup golden raisins

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Toss the oats with the cinnamon and salt in a large bowl where everything will end up.
Using a medium bowl, whisk the oil, honey, brown sugar and vanilla until thoroughly combined.

Pour the honey mixture over the oats and using your hands or a plastic spatula or scraper mix everything together until well coated.
(If you like your granola a bit clumpy, squish the mixture into clumps with your hands and make a fist before letting go.)

Pour everything onto your baking sheet.  (If you don't use silicone mats line your baking sheet with parchment paper.  You'll thank me come clean-up time.  Granola is a bit sticky.)

Bake for 10 minutes then stir and turn the granola before adding the nuts -- sprinkle those on top.
Return to bake for another 5 to 10 minutes.
Remove from the oven and add your dried fruit before stirring again.

Cool the granola on the baking sheet completely before transferring to an airtight container.
should last for a week...theoretically...but, it's gone in two days around here.

Sunday Morning Biscuits

Here's the thing. When you grow up believing that biscuits spring forth from a cardboard tube your mother buys in the refrigerated section of the grocery store, and then whacks on the edge of the kitchen counter to open, it's a seriously profound moment when you realize this is simply one way...not the only way...of 'making' biscuits.

Years ago, when I discovered that biscuits are even better when they don't come out of a tube, I went through a bit of a biscuit-making phase, seeking out any and all kinds of variations on the standard. There were very involved dill biscuits that topped a labor intensive chicken pot pie and then little cheddar-and-bacon biscuits I served with brunch. Variations on biscuit dough that became shortcakes. I made my way through the biscuit genre. Recently, I realized that I rarely, if ever, made a simple biscuit.

A couple weeks ago when I was surfing some of my favorite food blogs, I came across Dorie Greenspan's mention of her easy buttermilk biscuit recipe which then haunted me for most of the week. (Crazy, I know. Haunted by Biscuits. I am ridiculous.) That following Sunday morning, after a cup of coffee and some leisurely perusal of the paper, I made my way into the kitchen. Folks...it was Biscuit Time.

Within thirty minutes, the kitchen was filled with the cozy, warm smell of baking and we were diving into golden, flaky and tender biscuits with our scrambled eggs. I try to keep a quart of buttermilk in the refrigerator most of the time, and that's what gives these biscuits their delicious tang. A simple list of ingredients and no fancy tools required -- just your hands. It could not have been easier. And, get this...no cardboard tube necessary.

Buttermilk Biscuits

adapted from Dorie Greenspan PARADE magazine

makes 16 biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder (make sure it's fresh)

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter, cut into 12 pieces

3/4 cup cold buttermilk

1. Preheat the oven to 425ºF. Whisk the flour, baking powder, soda, sugar, and salt together in a bowl. Drop in the butter and, with your fingers, rub it into the flour until you’ve got crumbs—some the size of flakes, some like baby peas. Add the buttermilk and stir; the mixture will be very sticky.
2. Reach into the bowl and knead the dough gently 3 or 4 times. Turn it onto a floured surface and roll or pat it into a circle about 1/2-inch thick. Use a 2-inch biscuit cutter to cut out as many biscuits as you can; gather the scraps, re-roll, and cut out more biscuits.

3. Transfer the biscuits to a foil-lined baking sheet and bake 15 to 18 minutes or until puffed and golden. Cool 5 minutes.

Mmmm -- delicious with a bit of raspberry jam.

A Bakery Unlike Any Other

MAKE LOAVES, NOT WAR, says the banner stretching the width of the Arizmendi Bakery in San Francisco. Two cyclists in serious riding gear are filling their travel coffee mugs. A woman in the corner is reading The Art of Persian Cooking as she sips her coffee. I’m munching the most amazing cheese roll, ever… and pondering how it is that San Francisco has such an abundance of wonderful bakeries. My neighbor back in Chicago told me about Arizmendi, and now I understand why she and her family come every day when visiting friends here.

That cheese roll, for example. Chewy and yeasty, with a golden crusty top, it looks like it is made with whole wheat flour. I’m hungry now, just thinking about it.



For years, there was one cheese bread which held first place in my heart. It was a cheese and bacon roll, mind you, so it had that bacon thing going for it. My friend, Darcy, introduced me to it one day when I was visiting her in London. She lived a few blocks from Harrods and we’d wandered through the legendary food hall, where she steered me to the baked goods. We bought two Cheddar Bacon Twists – gorgeous, golden brown, knotted rolls speckled with cheddar and bacon – and proceeded to a park bench nearby. There was silence as we ate. I announced that this was the most delicious bread I’d ever had. Darcy guiltily admitted to eating them on a regular basis during her first few months in London. I was prepared to move there, just to be near the Cheddar Bacon Twists. Well, people...no more plotting trips to London, just to have one of those twists. I'm all about this tiny, worker-owned, cooperative bakery in the Inner Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco. Made in the U.S.A. baby!

I move on to the currant scone.



Oh my. The scone is sensational. Not too dense, with a gorgeous, crunchy, melt-in-your-mouth top. I've drifted away from scones these past few years, but this! This scone will renew one's faith in the power of baked goods to produce pure, elemental joy!

I'm still sitting there in a state of quiet, scone-induced happiness, thinking I really should get going, when I hear a woman in line telling her friend about the incredible pizza they make here come lunchtime.

Wait, they make pizza too???
Hmm, maybe I can work out my schedule to be able to return tomorrow, for lunch...



Arizmendi Bakery
1331 9th Avenue
San Francisco, CA 94122
(415) 566-3117

My Big Fat Breakfast

Oh the wonderful laziness of a holiday morning. Yes, the 4th fell right smack in the middle of the week this year… but a day off, is a Day Off! That means having time to linger in pajamas, savor a cup of coffee and then make a big breakfast. Marcia’s Law says that a “big breakfast” should somehow include pancakes.

I’m not really sure why I love pancakes so much. All I can tell you is that my affection for them has no bounds – potato pancakes, box-mix pancakes, Denny’s pancakes, Korean pancakes, any-kind-of-vegetable pancakes, puffy oven pancakes, Swedish pancakes, crepes, dhosas, Italian crespelle, palacinke, moo shu, ohmy I could go on and on, and I love them all!

But let’s talk here about the typical American breakfast pancake. Remember Aunt Jemima and Bisquick mix pancakes? These were a few of the very American foods my mother would make when I was a child and they formed a sort of ‘taste imprint’, resulting in a strong preference for boxed mixes, lasting well into my 20s. I’m a little embarrassed to say that I really did think that there was no other way to make pancakes. A friend once pointed out that he made them from scratch, which made me stare at him as if he had two heads. Like, with a bunch of separate ingredients? I mean, why? I continued to believe in the infinite superiority of Bisquick.

The pancake that converted me was an ethereal, melt-in-your-mouth delight I found years ago in The Breakfast Book, by Marion Cunningham. Oooooh here, in one charming small volume, were lovely recipes for things like Sticky Buns and Shirred Eggs, and yes, folks…an entire chapter on…pancakes!! I decided to give the Buttermilk Pancakes a try. Wow. They were a dream… light and perfectly fluffy. Fellow pancake lovers at my table clamored for me to ‘keep ‘em coming’! They even passed the ultimate minimalist pancake test: a sprinkle of powdered sugar and the squeeze of an orange made you want to gobble them by the pile. Forget maple syrup.

Yet, in the back of my mind, the memory of a sturdy, fat Bisquick pancake lingered. Just for kicks not long ago, I thought I’d try my favorite cooking nerds’ version from The New Best Recipe. This was the pancake of my youth! A cake-y, yet fluffy, pancake with a nice, tangy buttermilk flavor. The Best Recipe cakes stands up to syrup or preserves, and are truly stellar when strewn with my new favorite pancake topping: fresh berries and vanilla yogurt.

So, this past 4th of July morning, after I had perused the paper and had my coffee at a leisurely pace, I spied the pint of black raspberries from this week’s CSA share sitting on the counter, and thought… mmm, pancakes. Then, perhaps a second later, this next thought crept into my mind: maybe later this week I could convince Steve to go for moo shu…


NOTE: Both recipes stress the importance of not overmixing the batter – stir just enough to combine, and leave the lumps!

When you want a light, elegant pancake…these go beautifully with a drizzle of maple syrup, my powdered-sugar-squeeze-of-orange treatment, or any warmed jam or preserves.

Buttermilk Pancakes
from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham
(makes about 14 3-inch pancakes)

1 cup buttermilk
1 egg, room temperature (this is key!)
3 tablespoons butter, melted
¾ cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda

(Heat oven to 200 F. to keep finished pancakes warm as you are working through the batch.)

Stir buttermilk, egg and melted butter in a mixing bowl until smooth and blended.

Stir flour, salt and baking soda together in a small bowl and then add to the buttermilk mixture, stirring only until the dry ingredients are moistened – leave the lumps!

Pre-heat a skillet or griddle to medium hot. (This is important too…you want a hot surface.) Grease lightly and spoon out about 3 tablespoons of batter per pancake. Spread the batter with the back of the spoon so it is thinned out a little. Cook until a few bubbles break on top. Turn the pancakes over and cook briefly.

For a fluffy-yet-sturdy, tangy pancake…these use buttermilk, or milk mixed with lemon juice as an alternative).

Light and Fluffy Pancakes
from The New Best Recipe by The Editors of Cook’s Illustrated

(makes about sixteen 4-inch pancakes)

2 cups buttermilk, (or 2 cups milk, whisked with 1 tablespoon lemon juice)
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 large egg
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
1-2 teaspoons vegetable oil


1. Whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bolw to combine.

2. Whisk the egg and melted butter into the milk until combined. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients in the bowl; pour in the milk mixture and whisk very gently until just combined ( a few lumps should remain). Do not overmix.

3. Heat a non-stick skillet (or griddle) over medium heat for 3 to 5 minutes (they’re not kidding!); add 1 teaspoon of oil and brush to coat evenly. Pour ¼ cup batter leaving an inch or two between pancakes, and cook until large bubbles begin to appear, 11/2 to 2 minutes. Flip with a wide spatula and cook until golden brown on the second side.