Seeking Mac-n-Cheese Perfection: The Ground Rules

OK, it's Monday, enough of the booze chatter. We promised to engage in the pursuit of mac-n-cheese perfection, and here in the Proximal Kitchen, we don't take such promises lightly. If you caught my previous post on mac-n-cheese, despair not yet another sermon from the culinary pulpit, because today's post - our introductory foray into the mac-n-cheese sweepstakes - is all business.

Fighting Scurvy, One Gimlet at a Time

I'm not a big drinker of cocktails in general, and I'm even less of a drinker of gin. That being said, cocktails clearly have their place: Less so with food, and more before - or after, or occasionally instead of; as an alternative to beer, when the weather or environs don't seem conducive to wine; and certainly, as a welcome to guests who have just endured the Bay Area's northbound assault on wine country traffic

What’s Wrong With ‘Man v. Food’ (Redux)

I have a pretty strict rule of approving every comment but responding to none, no matter how profound and insightful or vacuous and petty they may be. It isn’t always pleasant, but it is fair, which might be the most one can hope for in the blogosphere.  It is also how I’ve managed, pending this post, the acrimonious chatter […]

What’s wrong with ‘Man v. Food’? What isn’t?

Lying around in full couch tuber regalia, following the heartbreakingly tantalizing 49er game, I had the misfortune to channel-surf through the treacherous waters of Monday Night Television, only to find my mental Minnow festooned around the awful coral head of Adam Richman’s Man v. Food. As if driving past an overturned car in a highway […]

Fresh: Beta

Lisa Hemenway's new store isn't quite ready for prime-time, but gives locals a sneak peek

Dude, Get Your Car Off My Farm

Walking by a cracked and decrepit freeway on-ramp - reclaimed from the morning commute and relegated to the urban wasteland by the Loma Prieta earthquake - two San Franciscans, thinking more like old-school farmers than new-age city dwellers, look at the cracked blacktop bleeding with weeds and saw, incredibly, an orchard. And the topsoil, so manifestly absent in the windswept concrete col, in which these imagined trees would sink their roots?