Savory Onion-Cranberry “Jam”: My New Favorite Condiment

Pork Loin sous vide sandwich, w/ Pt Reyes Bleu & Onion-Cranberry MarmaladeYesterday, as I was blabbering about cooking with friends, I tried to argue that the biggest prize from letting another cook into your kitchen is, aside from some help with the dishes, the potential to learn something new, to come up with a meal that you’d not otherwise have thought of. A case in point, and the needle affixed to the business end of this particular thread, comes courtesy of our dear friends the B’s, their torrid  love affair with thermal immersion circulators (one of the gastro-toys du jour), my new favorite condiment (a savory onion-cranberry jam, as advertised in the tag line), and an escalating cacophony of rumbling tummies at the afternoon soiree we were hosting at our casita: A pitch-perfect finger sandwich of pork loin sous-vide (executed in spades and delivered in situ by our guests), with local blue cheese and my onion jam, on grilled cranberry-semolina sourdough toast from a nearby oven.
Despite my undying enthusiasm for the popularity of sous-vide cooking, the technique (to say nothing of the required infrastructure) remains well outside my culinary bandwidth. In that regard, a tightly-monitored water bath is hardly unique; there are all sorts of interesting ways to cook that are either beyond my ken, my natural abilities, or simply strike me as an upside-down cost/benefit analysis, given limited resources of time, money, and storage space. But that’s the whole point of collaborative cooking: I never, not ever, would have made this dish (as I understand it, a pork loin, dressed in bacon fat and cooked very slowly in the usual sous-vide fashion, which is then cooled and sliced), and yet it played perfectly off things that I would, and in fact did, cook.
I already had a loaf of cranberry-semolina sourdough from the uniformly excellent Full Circle Baking Company; a wedge of Pt Reyes Original Blue; and a jar of my savory onion-cranberry jam  (adapted from Tom Colicchio and a staple of many years’ worth of Gramercy Tavern menus; my recipe follows). Mr & Mrs B had their pork loin (I can get his recipe for anyone that likes, just ping a request in the comment section). Like some foodie version of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial, everything sort of just fell into everything else: The sweet spiciness of the onions, the salty tang of the cheese, and the melt-in-your-mouth richness of the pork, all contrasting with the hard crust of grilled semolina sourdough, combined to make, I have to say, one of the better sarnies I’ve had in quite some time.
So we let B do his thing, put his protein in the driver’s seat (he absolutely killed it), and used the condiments to played off of that porcine bass line: Add some thin slices of the cranberry-semolina bread to a grill pan for texture and color, layer with medallion-like slices of the pork loin, and top each medallion with a small dollop of the jam and a little chunk of blue cheese (the cheese and onions can easily overwhelm the delicate pork – a little goes a long way). Garnish with fresh thyme flowers or, as pictured here, lavender blossoms. Damn good finger sandwich.
And I never would have had it, had I not let someone else screw around in my kitchen.
Onion-Cranberry Marmalade (Adapted from T Colicchio, “Think Like a Cook”)

  1. Heat a large pan over medium-low heat and finely slice 4 medium onions, preferably a sweet, yellow variety like Vidalia or Walla Walla. (I’ve taken to cutting the onions into fine dice rather than slices, as I prefer how it spreads.)
  2. Put a small amount of fat in the pan – canola, peanut, or similarly neutral oil – and add the onions, along with few pinches of salt, and a tablespoon of mixed spices (I used roughly equal proportions of cloves, ginger, nutmeg, and white pepper – the key is to incorporate some of those “baking spice” flavors without letting them become overpowering).
  3. Sautee gently until the onions are all soft and begin to give up their water and shrink down in the pan. Do not let them caramelize too deeply or develop any texture – you want them to get really sweet, but also to remain very soft and translucent.
  4. Add about a half-cup of good balsamic vinegar, a quarter-cup of sugar, and a 1/2-1 cup (depending on your preferences; I liked it with more rather than less) of dried cranberries. Turn the heat down to low, and cover the pan (it needn’t be air tight, aluminum foil is fine). Continue to cook, checking and stirring occasionally, for at least an hour, and ideally more like 90 minutes. If the onions begin to dry out, taste them, and add either more balsamic vinegar, water, or even a light stock, depending on how it tastes (the onions should take on a deep reddish brown color and should have a pronounced acidity kept in check by sweet spice).
  5. Once the stuff has reduced to a thick, jam-like consistency, adjust the seasoning and allow to cool. This is quite a lot of the stuff, but it should keep for weeks in the fridge.

Serve cold on pork or turkey sandwiches, in a tart or quiche, as a side to strong cheeses, or warm with steak or game.

Sift Cupcake & Dessert Bar: Six new desserts

Just in time to solidly crush all those silly promises to lay off the sweets this year, Sift Cupcake & Dessert Bar is adding six new confections to their cupcake lineup. Throughout December, the pastry peeps worked with Facebook fans to taste-test the new line which rolls out the week of January 10, 2011 — just in time for their Cupcake Wars debut on the Food Network on 1.11.11.
BiteClub got a guided tour just before the holidays. Try not to feel too jealous.

cupcake tuffle at Sift
cupcake truffle at Sift

Cupcake Truffles: Cupcakes and frosting take a whirl in the blender, then get hand-dipped in chocolate to create a bite-sized cruffle. ($2)
Frosting Shots: If you’re in the camp that believes cupcakes are merely convenient carriers for a heaping helping of buttercream, belly up to the bar. Tiny shot glasses get a swirl of frosting, a few sprinkles and their own mini spoon. $1.50
Whoopie Cookies: Two soft homemade cookies sandwich a layer of buttercream frosting. These guys are Whoopie whoppers, so bring a friend to help out. ($3)
frosting shot at Sift
frosting shot at Sift

Profiteroles: Tiny puffs of pastry get a dollop of cream filling and a sprinkly ganache hat. So light and airy, it’s almost like there are no calories at all! $3 for 2.
Macarons: French almond meringue cookies (not the coconut ones) get supersized with smoosh of frosting in between. Classy AND gluten-free. ($3)
Cupcakes: The classic. Minis available by pre-order.
– Coming soon, Ice Cream Sammy: Homemade cookies embrace a scoop of ice cream.
Sift Cupcake & Dessert Bars: Cotati (7582 Commerce Blvd., 792-1681); Santa Rosa (703-4228) and Napa (1000 Main St., Suite 100, 240-4004)

New Years’ Resolutions

So, whether you’re a hardcore resolutionist or you defy any attempt to start fresh on January 1, there’s no denying that the New Year provides an opportunity to take stock and perhaps see where some improvement might be needed. That, or just be a total smart-ass.
BiteClub reached out to a handful of food and wine folks to see what their resolutions would be. And while some were heartfelt, most landed in the latter category. And, frankly, anything else would have been disappointing. Here are some of my favorites and two of my own…
Ziggy Eshcliman/Ziggy the Wine Gal): “I think I’m going to try and embrace more Beer! (Now THAT’s a challenge!)”
Lisa Hemenway/Fresh by Lisa Hemenway:” It has been a long 2010!! I am ready for the change! I want to get out in the woods and hike more. Hug the trees and smell the moss. I also would love to be more disciplined. By this I mean less procrastination!”
Terri Stark/Stark Reality Restaurants: “Here are my resolutions: Stop working out; Eat and Drink more; Gain 20 Lbs; Start Smoking; Spend less time with my family. Ha!”
Josh Silvers/Syrah Bistro: “Not to procrastinate”
Hardy Wallace/Natural Process Alliance and Social Media legend: “My resolution-  to bring the untamed spirit of the WWF to wineries throughout Sonoma county.”
Heather Irwin/BiteClub:
1. Minimize everything, including my thighs
2. Force everyone around me to make resolutions which I will repeatedly and sternly remind them of throughout the year.
What are your resolutions (sardonic or otherwise)….
PS, here are the most popular ones…
* Lose Weight
* Manage Debt
* Save Money
* Get a Better Job
* Get Fit
* Get a Better Education
* Drink Less Alcohol
* Quit Smoking Now
* Reduce Stress Overall
* Reduce Stress at Work
* Take a Trip
* Volunteer to Help Others

Food Trends for 2011

Each year, as we kiss a fond farewell to our gastronomic past and look toward all the delicious possibilities, culinary crystal balls appear to forecast the food trends of the year. Overexposed zeitgeists like bacon and cupcakes begin to fade and newcomers take the stage. What’s does 2011 have in store? Here are some top picks inspired by what’s happening locally, social media rumblings on Twitter and Facebook, and national input from restaurant consultants like Andrew Freeman & Co. of San Francisco and Brooklyn-based Baum + Whiteman.

Pies from the Petaluma Pie Company. (Courtesy of Petaluma Pie Company)
Pies from the Petaluma Pie Company

Pies are the new cupcakes: Though perhaps not as Kewpie-cute as cupcakes, the homier pie is set to have its moment in 2011.  Made with seasonal ingredients (persimmon, Meyer lemons), local butters and organic, all-natural ingredients, these are the kinds of pies great-grandmas used to have cooling on the windowsill. Branching off are myriad ethnic versions (savory curry pies, English hand pies), mini pies baked in Mason jars and southern-inspired, pecan and fried pies. Petaluma Pie Company, 125 Petaluma Blvd N. (behind Starbucks), Petaluma, 347-9743; fried pies at Fremont Diner, 2660 Fremont Dr., Sonoma, 938-7370. Best pies in SoCo.

Market Eateries: More than a grocery store, less than a restaurant. Multi-purpose, European-style food halls offer gourmet prepared foods; meats, cheeses & groceries along with sit-down service. One of the most anticipated market halls was Mario Batali’s Eataly in New York City, a 50,000 square-foot space with several boutique eateries as well as fish, meat, pasta and bakery goods for sale. Locally, Fresh by Lisa Hemenway (5755 Mountain Hawk Way, Santa Rosa, 595-1048) pioneered the local market eatery with a combination of locally produced foods, an extensive prepared foods deli and in-store eatery.  On a smaller scale is Woodruff’s Artisan Foods & Cafe in Sebastopol, a recently opened specialty foods market with it’s own restaurant, Cafe Marcella, inside. (966 Gravenstein Hwy S., Sebastopol,)
Southern cooking & Gulf seafood: The South is rising again. Although Sonoma County has long been a home to southern transplants, nouveau southern cooking will get its due in 2011. Grits, pimento cheese, fried chicken, Spam, red velvet, barbecue, gumbo and scrapple are showing up on local menus with increasingly regularity. Chefs are showing support for the hard-hit fishermen of the Gulf by showcasing seafood (most notably shrimp) from the area as well. Top spots for Southern hospitality: Rocker Oysterfeller’s & Sonoma Coast Fish Bank (buttermilk fried chicken, gumbo, Gulf seafood) 14415 Coast Hwy 1, Valley Ford, 876-1983); Zin Restaurant and Wine Bar (cassoulet with Andouille sausage): 344 Center St., Healdsburg, 473-0946; Rotisserie & Wine (duck confit and waffles, scrapple) 720 Main St., Napa, 254-8500); Sarah’s Forestville Kitchen (jalepeno grits, gumbo) 6566 Front St., Forestville, 887-1055; Pimento burger at Brick and Bottle (55 Tamal Vista Blvd., Corte Madera, (415) 924-3366).
Haute Dogs: The lowly wiener has become more than just ballpark fare. Hot dogs and their encased-siblings, sausages, are getting a makeover, with white tablecloth toppings (wine reductions, caramelized onions) and unusual ingredients (feta, cranberries). Using their own meat grinders and natural casings, chefs are getting into the action as well. Roy’s Chicago Doggery (peach habenaro hot sauce, blue cheese) 84 Corona Rd, Petaluma, 774-1574; Tap’s Petaluma (organic sauerkraut, deep fried bacon dog) 205 Kentucky Street (beneath the historic Petaluma Hotel), Petaluma, 763-6700; Chicago Style Hot Dogs (pinot dog), various locations Twitter: dogsfromchicago; Yanni’s Sausage Grill (Greek, chicken limoncello) 10007 Main St., Penngrove, 795-7088;

Panini from Bliss Bakery
Panini from Bliss Bakery

“Free” Foods: Elevating Vegetarian, Vegan, Gluten-free dining: Formerly fringe-y food ideas are going mainstream as our collective waistlines expand. Meatless Mondays, a one-day-a-week-meat-free movement started in 2003 as a public health awareness program, is gaining momentum as restaurants and schools cut back on animal protein in favor of grains and vegetables. Forward-thinking chefs are lavishing attention on vegetarian and vegan options — highlighting pristine produce. Eateries devoted to raw, vegan and gluten-free foods are getting thriving, as are restaurants that offer limited protein choices. The Garden (90 Mark West Springs Road, 829-1410); Bliss Bakery (gluten-free dining) 463 Sebastopol Ave., Santa Rosa, 542-6000; Cyrus’ haute vegetarian tasting menu, 29 North St., Healdburg, 707.433.3311; Cafe Gratitude, 206 Healdsburg Ave., Healdsburg. 707.723.4462.
Dessert First: Heck with dinner, why not just eat dessert? Dessert bars, bakeries and superstar pastry chefs are emerging as equals. Top Chef Just Desserts on Bravo helped to shine a light on the sometimes overlooked craft of pastry. With a new emphasis on exotic flavors, savory influences along with updated spins on traditional treats, desserts are becoming an integrated part of the meal. Or the meal itself. Sift Cupcakery has shed its cupcake-only mantle to become Sift Cupcake and Dessert Bar (Santa Rosa, Cotati, Napa) featuring unique takes on the whoopie pie, cream puffs, profite rolls, macarons and ice cream sandwiches. Haute restaurants are recruiting top pastry talent, including the recent move of Nicole Plue to Cyrus.
More trends for 2011:
Smaller Portions/Mini-sizing: Gut-busting plates of food will be replaced by more thoughtful, reasonable portions. Sliders, mini-burgers and other micro-sized bites pack in flavor, but satisfy with less. Continuing to remain popular are tapas and small plates restaurants where ordering multiple dishes and sharing are encouraged.
Calories in our face: More and more menus are actually listing calories in places other than hidden away on some pamphlet hung near the bathroom. Fast food giant Wendy’s is putting calorie counts right on the ordering menu…and frankly, it’s not all bad. Yes, there are times when you just don’t want to know. But a dose of realism is also a pretty good thing sometimes.
Hot Cheese, tomato soup and pickles
Hot Cheese, tomato soup and pickles

One-thing only eateries: Shifting away from the Chinese menu approach are restaurants and pop-up eateries that just do one thing really well. Chef John Ash experimented with a grilled-cheese-only farm-market stand called “Hot Cheese” over the summer.
Feeding our children better: School lunch programs continue to evolve, though many still pay mostly lip-service to meaningful nutritional change. Over-ambitious parents pack tweezer perfect Bento-boxes with nutritious yet adorable rice balls, fruits and vegetables.
Still Trending from 2010
The hottest food trends of 2010 will continue to extend their influence into the mainstream throughout the year…
Food Trucks: Santa Rosa’s Munch Mondays begin on January 10 as a collection of mobile kitchens converge near downtown. In Napa, trucks converge on the first Friday of the month near Oxbow market.
Food buzzwords also include: home canning and preserving; collective gardening as entire neighborhoods share in the bounty; the waste-less whole animal eating; Korean cuisine; exotic spices and spice blends in the kitchen.
Your 15 minutes are officially over
The bacon zeitgeist: At last bacon can just be bacon again. The wacky days of bacon mayonnaise, bacon candy, bacon t-shirts and bacon cocktails are winding down, which is actually good news to folks like John Stewart of Santa Rosa’s Black Pig Meat Company. Although the frenzy was initially good for biz, serious pork-o-philes can now just get back to the task of enjoying their smoky goodness in peace.

The Do’s and Don’t’s of Cooking with Friends

“Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly. “ ~M. F. K. Fisher
Cooking for friends and cooking with friends can both be successful, but – per baby boys and girls when it comes to changing diapers – require distinct sets of operating instructions. To cook collaboratively where one usually operates in isolation compels an entirely different approach to traversing the kitchen floor, to juggling pots and burners, and, of course, to wielding long, sharp, pointy metallic objects, all the while in the company of an upturned wine bottle, or three. Indeed, cooking with friends enjoins a different way of thinking about food altogether, because – no matter how much enthusiasm (and, critically, aptitude) for prep, plating and service your guests show up with – cooking for company remains an inherently solitary undertaking, while cooking with company is easily as much about the resulting social fabric as it is about the meal.
Partly, this is a function of logistics; partly, and importantly, but not principally. No, true collaboration, on one’s own home court, with another person with whom one has never shared the kitchen, demands significant measures of humility, compromise, and adaptability – three words that, truth be told, I very nearly had to spell-check, as rarely as they enter my lexicon. I am not, as a rule, much beholden to the way other people think things should be done, and I tend to cook that way. Of course, I also drive, vote, and tell anyone who will listen what I think in that way as well, so this is hardly a unique pattern; really, it’s a reasonably effective pattern, so long as I have room to maneuver and more or less know what I’m doing; the downside scenario – when certitude replaces certainty, when I’m more obstinate than resolved – isn’t pretty, but that’s a story for another post.
The thing to remember, if you invite a friend to help you cook, is that it’s a good bet that they aren’t showing up expressly for the purpose of prepping your mise or doing your dishes; no, they’ll want to contribute, preferably in some way directly related to the application of heat and knife-force to starches and proteins. They may even arrive with a dish, or at least a central component of one, already set in heart and mind, if not par-cooked and in-transit; upon arrival and ensconced with kitchen towel and some measure of accountability, they may well fail to appreciate that only you know the right way to do something.
All of which – and this, finally, is The Point – necessitates a degree of flexibility that most of us, at least those among us who spend a lot of time doing our own work in our own kitchen, generally lack: Seasoning to taste, presentation, and the menu itself – what we normally think of as our manifest culinary destiny – become, with company that cooks, a team effort. But that needn’t be a bad thing, and that really is the point of this post: To the contrary, it can mean less work for you or me; a chance to check out someone else’s chops and maybe even learn something; and – this is the key, really – the opportunity to come up with something, working together, that neither would have come up with alone.

New Year’s Eve: Serve This, Get Lucky

December 30th: Even if you procrastinate as pervasively as I do, even if you’re still hunting around for a clever New Year’s Eve idea at T-24 hours and counting, I’m still going to figure that you’ve already thought of Champagne and caviar, and probably oysters and chocolate to boot. Indeed, Google Trends confirms it: Internet traffic containing either the word “caviar” or “Champagne” rises up to 500% this time of year, and we San Franciscans trail only New Yorkers in their apparent affinity for these NYE classics. Classics are, as a rule, classic for a reason, so how much can I possibly add at this point?
If you’ve already got Champagne and caviar lying about, then by all means, use it, with neither apology nor reservation. But here is my contribution, and what all those other NYE shopping lists won’t tell say: Whatever you do, make sure you serve something that will get you lucky. As it happens – to nobody’s surprise, at least if they’re regular readers – we in the Proximal Kitchen are nothing if not opinionated, we love to speculate about which foods and wines are most likely to earn you flirty looks and messier sheets, and we think we’ve got just the ticket: A big, rich, opulent, and very sexy Sonoma County Chardonnay.
I’ve waxed previously about the sundry virtues of the smoking hot Chards fermenting over in my neighboring valley (several columns, starting here), as well what I’m pretty sure must be the only dry white wine to survive dinner service for the Clinton, Bush, and Obama administrations (reference here), so herewith a drive-by post of my Three Bottles Most Likely To Result in Tussled Hair:

  1. Selby Winery, 2008 “Dave Selby Reserve”. I love Susie’s wines, she’s a part of the ongoing ascent of women winemakers, and it doesn’t hurt that she and her TR staff are all tasty little numbers themselves (and, to their undying credit, won’t call me a wanton scoundrel for saying so). I particularly like her Chards, as they strike a pitch-perfect balance between creamy oak (100% new French) and crisp fruit (from the western Russian River Valley). Seriously, if the wine is good enough for the Bushes to keep serving it after the Clintons, and the Obamas after the Bushes, then surely it’s good enough to impair (or enhance, depending on your perspective) the judgment of your date?
  2. Robert Young Estate Winery, 2008 “Barrel Select”. The full extent of my digital drooling over this wine may be found here, but suffice it to say that, in my personal opinion, there is not a better example of New World Chardonnay at almost any price, and certainly not for less than 2-3 times the cost of this beauty.
  3. Ridge Winery, 2007 “Monte Bello”. My only pick from outside the County and, even more unconventionally, one of the rare examples of the extraordinary Chardonnays being grown up in the Santa Cruz Mountains AVA (I could just as easily picked one of the “Estate” designates from Mount Eden or Varner, but I’ve had a soft spot for Ridge since my days as a slug, and they have a tasting room right here in Healdsburg, so they win the push). Very different, in all sorts of good ways, from the Napa and Sonoma juice further north, and a great example of what cooler climate, mountain grown whites can be like in the New World (as well as the less conventional practice, typical at Ridge, of using primarily American oak). Rich and creamy, to be sure, but with a well defined and steely backbone of acidity – American’s Next Top Model, but with some muscle mass and a brain to back it all up.

If you’re still wondering what to cook with all of this, you could do a lot worse than Gently Scrambled Eggs with Naughty Whipped Cream – get some really nice, local eggs (we have lots of good local egg farmers, but my favorite oeufs come from Wyeth Acres); very gently scramble them, until the reach a custard-like consistency; and top them with some of that Salty Vodka Whipped Cream (see previous recipe link). If you’ve already got that caviar lying about, by all means, gild the lily – the salty, buttery pop of the fish roe will pair perfectly with the vodka, cream and eggs, and the contrasts in temperature and texture really complete the dish. Any of those Chards would pair perfectly, as would Champagne – particularly a blanc de blanc. And, most of all, someone is going to feel very flattered by all of this, after which you can thank me in the morning.

Can’t deal with New Year’s Eve? Try lunch.

I once asked a dear friend of mine, a man with at least several points more of IQ than a low-grade fever claims in mercury and a penchant for securing invitations from the hipster set, why he refuses to go out on new years’ eve, and he told me, in no uncertain terms, “it’s the ultimate rookie night”. That was at least a decade ago (maybe two) and I have to say, the more evidence I accumulate, the more I have to agree with him, although that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go out and celebrate, and why I’m taking my wife to lunch instead. What, really, is more luxuriant, more celebratory, than ordering a cocktail or a glass of bubbly at lunchtime, or walking out of a nice restaurant, arm in arm and a little warm and tipsy, in broad daylight? It’s very nearly downright naughty, and who’s not a fan of that?
I don’t say this speculatively, because my wife and I have tried to scratch the new years’ itch in any number of ostensibly irreproachable ways: The extravagant meals from a celebrity chef; fancy-dress parties on a rooftops; bar-hopping and clubbing through one or another Earthly version of Gotham City; a weekend away at an impossibly quaint country inn; a potluck of couples at a snowed-in condo; even, once, in a display of shockingly bad judgment, we embraced, and survived, the beachfront anarchy of Phuket (I still wonder: How much booze does it take to convince innumerable throngs of otherwise sane people that lighting enormous quantities of fireworks inside structures made of naked wood and dry palm fronds is a really clever idea?).
Now, to be fair, we had a grand time, nearly every time, some of our evenings rank amongst the most memorable of our lives, and everyone should try it at one time or another; indeed, to this day, we still talk in hushed and excited whispers about a new years’ weekend spent hidden away in the Cotswolds, all cobbles and sheep and meals from Raymond Blanc’s garden, and our first night out after our first baby was born, as the benchmark for all new years before and since. But in the main, there is something about New Years that never quite lives up to the hype: Maybe its mismanaged expectations, maybe its the inevitable sense that you’ve paid to much for an otherwise ordinary dinner and mediocre champagne (or that you’ve paid the price of a car for a truly fine one), or maybe its simply the impossible physics of trying to encapsulate the joy of an entire year in a single night. Whatever the proximal cause, the effect remains the same, the inevitable onset of ennui poached in fine Champagne.
So here is my suggestion: Screw New Years Eve, and go to lunch instead. It’s not my idea – my dad and his wife have been driving into San Francisco for a fancy lunch on the 31st of December for as many as 20 years – but that only strengthens my resolve and reinforces my endorsement. This year, weather and baby sitter permitting, we’re going to ride our bikes around the valleys of our little corner of wine country before settling into a too-large and possibly boozy luncheon somewhere in town, and then waddle home, in time to spend the afternoon with our kids, and on a schedule that, with luck, will just keep us up to see the ball drop on Times Square – on New York local time, or an almost embarrassing 9pm on our Left Coast clocks. And here’s the other little secret: Go to Google Trends and compare “Dinner” and “Lunch”: See those huge spikes in “dinner” traffic after Thanksgiving, right before the end of each year? Those spikes are the reason you’ll pay so much to eat dinner out on Friday night. See the corresponding dips for “lunch” traffic at the end of each year? That’s why you won’t even need a reservation.

New Year’s Eve 2010: Open in Sonoma County

New Year's eve dining in Sonoma CountyTOP PICKS
Santi Restaurant (Santa Rosa): Liza Hinman’s swan song at Santi is a blowout New Year’s Eve dinner. Two seatings: Early seating 5:30, 5:45 & 6:00p.m $85 a person; Late Seating  8:30, 8:45 & 9:00p.m. $100 a person. Live music with the Richie Blue’s Band, champagne toast, and party favors. Menu includes brown butter crepe with Dungeness crab, County Line chicory, Yukon potato, and and a crab veloute sauce; foie gras terrine with brioche toasts; cauliflower soup with sea urchin; linguini with lemon, cream and salmon. 2097 Stagecoach Rd # 100, Santa Rosa, (707) 528-1549.
Rocker Oysterfeller’s (Valley Ford): Four-course prix-fixe dinner featuring Dungeness Crab with each savory course as well as other options for the non-seafood lover, $65 per person.  Dinner reservations accepted from 5 to 9pm. Saloon will be first-come first-served offering either the special dinner or a limited bar menu.  Sonoma Coast Fish Bank: After dinner, local djs spin dance music next door until late night. Full bar will be offered alongside a Tomales Bay oyster and Tsar Nicolai Caviar bar.  An entry charge of $10 will include a glass of midnight sparkling wine to chime in the new year.  The party begins at 9:30 p.m. and will carry on until 12:30 a.m. Rocker Oysterfeller’s will be serving New Year’s Day Brunch from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. and will be closed for dinner service. 14415 Highway One, Valley Ford, 876-1983
Blue Label Restaurant at the Belvedere (Santa Rosa). The crew from Humble Pie in Penngrove celebrate the grand opening of Blue Label at the Belvedere with suckling pig, grilled rosemary quail, chocolate truffles and other surprises. $50 per person includes a glass of sparkling. Doors open at 7pm, pig carved at 8pm. (707) 542-8705 for reservations, full bar available.
Madrona Manor (Healdsburg): Chef Jesse Mallgren will be offering a 5-course tasting menu and Greg Hester’s jazz quartet accompanies. Seating times are from 6:30pm – 9:30pm, leading up to a midnight celebration on the Palm Terrace with a complimentary champagne toast and dancing until 1:00am. Price $150 per person. 1001 Westside Road, Healdsburg, (707) 433-4231.

Syrah New Year’s Eve Gala (Santa Rosa)
: Four course menu includes lobster bisque with Madeira foam, steak tartare, Sonoma foie gros torchon, pan roasted Liberty duck breast, whiskey creamed loser vol-au-vent, braised short ribs, dessert tasting plate. $85 per person, wine pairing for additional $35.
More Great New Year’s Eve Dining Events
fig cafe and wine bar (Sonoma):
Menu includes oyster stew, roasted squash or endive salad, rib eye, seared daybook scallops and braised pork belly, sticky toffee pudding. $35 per person.707.933.3000 x13. 13690 Arnold Drive, Glen Ellen, 938.2130.
Barndiva (Healdsburg): Six course New Year’s Eve menu, $85, wine pairing, $45. Menu includes cauliflower veloute, chestnut agnolotti with black truffles, day boat scallops, heirloom bean cassoulet, flat iron steak with lobster ravioli and creme brulee bombe. Reservations required 431.0100.
Restaurant P/30 (Sebastopol): Full dinner menu or order from the restaurant’s new three course prix fixe menu. Dinner starts at 5pm. Reservations suggested. 9890 Bodega Hwy, Sebastopol. 707.861.9030
Hot Box Grill (Sonoma): Menu includes oysters and caviar, dungeness crab and citrus salad, Wolfe Ranch quail, filet mignon and foie gras. $75 Per person plus $35 for wine pairings. 18350 Hwy 12, Sonoma 939-8383.
Flamingo Hotel (Santa Rosa): Basic package includes lounge party dancing with Electric Avenue, room, taxes and admission, $159 per couple. 2777 Fourth Street, Santa Rosa, (707) 545-8530.
Hopmonk Tavern (Sebastopol): Sebastopol’s Hopmonk features jam band Melvin Seals & JB; $40 with IPA toast at 8pm. 230 Petaluma Avenue, Sebastopol, 829-7300.
Spoonbar at the h2hotel (Healdsburg): Craft your own menu of three courses from 5pm to midnight. $50 before 9pm, $70 after includes surprise treats from the chef, glass of celebration sparkling wine at midnight and music and dancing at the h2 lounge party. Menu includes Dungeness crab salad, roast duck, dry aged New York strip, lavender panna cotta. 219 Healdsburg Ave., Healdsburg, 433-7222.
Rendez Vous Bistro (Santa Rosa): Three, five or seven course prix fixe menus with additional wine pairing. Three course: $45 or $75 with wine; Five course: $75, $110; Seven course: $110, $150. Menu items include: Czar Nicolai sturgeon roe with blini; black and white truffle risotto; spiced quail over dandelion salad; butter poached Maine lobster; filet mignon. Midnight champagne toast, glass of house champagne included with prix fixe dinner. 614 4th Street, Santa Rosa,  526-7700.
Do you have a favorite spot to spend NYE? Let us know!

A Nicoise Salad in Winter, and The Rules

Autumn Nicoise Salad with Tuna Belly (without tomatoes)
Nicoise Salad, Tuna Belly, Everything But Tomatoes
Perhaps Will Shakespeare lived in Northern California and craved a salad in winter when he spoke of those days, green in judgment and cold in blood; or maybe I’m just projecting because, as recently as yesterday, I was talking about this salad I had made, borne of winter crops, which still I took to be a very-nearly-classic Salade Nicoise, but for the outrage of tomatoes in absentia, and it got me thinking: What, really, constitutes the One, True Thing, the Nicoise that casts its shadow on the wall?
One could write at least a novella on le salade Nicoise – indeed, foodies collectively have written several – and still fail to define what must, and what must never, find its way to the plate (some excellent arguments about what might be definitive, as well as summary reviews of the more authoritative recipes, may be found here and here). Or one could do as I have done, and thumb through some of the reference points for classic French (and specifically Provencal) cooking, say Gastronomique (Larousse) , The Cuisine of the Sun (M. Johnston), and Mastering the Art of French Cooking (J. Child). One might also, and rightly, compare the lot of it to the recipes of Auguste Escoffier – the “king of chefs, and the chef of kings” – who happened to born in (or nearly in) Nice, and who provides his take as version as No. 2015 in Le Guide Culinaire. Regardless, upon distilling the mash, you’ll inevitably find at least as much contradiction as you will coherence, even about the most seemingly fundamental aspects:

  • You must never use lettuce. Or, you must always use lettuce, but only Gem, Bibb, or a similarly tender and unobtrusive leaf. (I’ve only ever been served the with-lettuce version, although I see no reason why you couldn’t make it more like a chopped vegetable salad and skip the leaves – particularly if you use a broad array of raw vegetables.)
  • You must only use raw vegetables, including tomatoes as the centerpiece, as well as baby artichokes, lima beans, bell peppers, cucumber, fennel and radishes. Except, of course, for the black olives. And maybe the capers, if you’re using them, but generally you shouldn’t. (I’ve never been served a version with artichokes, beans, cucumber, fennel, and radish, although I’ve probably had each individually or in some combination. The central role of tomatoes, however, seems one of the few irreducible constants.)
  • Either you must never use blanched haricots verts or boiled potatoes – or, they are essential. (I am sure that the raw-vegetable version is outstanding, but I love the extra heft given the dish by the starch from potatoes and beans, particularly if you’re serving the salad as a main course for dinner, as I was last night, and particularly in winter.)
  • You must include either tuna or anchovies, but never both. If you do use tuna, you must only use canned, oil-packed, Mediterranean tuna, never water-packed, and certainly never fresh. (Apparently, it was Escoffier who “added” tuna in the first place, and it has been broadly considered to be mandatory ever since. I greatly prefer it this way, with both, although anchovies alone – if of sufficiently high quality and in adequate quantity to flavor the whole of the dish – would certainly be fine. I love seared tuna, but please don’t put it on a salad and call it Nicoise.)
  • Hard-boiled eggs (oeufs dur to the French – cooked through, but just, with yolks that do not cake and crumble) are mandatory. Or maybe they’re verboten – none other than Monsieur Escoffier himself left them out. (I’ve never been served a Nicoise without eggs, and nor do I want to – I’m sure it’s fine without, just as I’m sure it’s better with.)
  • The only acceptable dressing is a simple vinaigrette of oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, mustard and – depending whom you ask – fresh garlic and fines herbs. (I adamantly agree on the dressing – keep it simple, and don’t screw it up. I actually didn’t use garlic last night, but knowing what I do of the cuisine of the Sud-Ouest and the dish itself, next time I will.)
  • You should definitely add finely sliced red or green onions. Or, really, you shouldn’t. (I don’t have a strong opinion on this one, as I like the slightly bitter heat and purple color they add to the salad, but generally find raw onions overpowering. I have not, generally, been served raw onions on my salad, but I won’t object, so long as there are not too many, and they are very finely sliced.)
  • The salad is never to be tossed; prep the components individually, and compose the salad in layers, right before service. (This is absolutely correct, as any attempt at tossing will only serve to break apart the eggs and cause all the otherwise distinct components to mash together, destroying the essential sensation of all those discretely defined elements acting both independently assertive and perfectly harmonious.)

So, sitting here just after the equinox, on the heels of a preposterously late growing season – late enough for sweet bell peppers in winter, although certainly not tomatoes – what did I do? I raided the closest farm stand and our local healthy-foods store – yielding, jointly, organic sweet red peppers, baby new potatoes, green beans, red onion, and a Bibb-like head of lettuce; a basket of truly free-range eggs; and imported Italian sardines and tuna, packed in olive oil – and followed Ms Child’s recipe, more or less to a “T”, minus the tomatoes. I’m quite certain that, regardless of whatever else I did rightly or wrongly, the absence of tomatoes precludes me from calling this a true Salade Nicoise. But I’m equally certain that it was better than the vast majority of the version I’ve been served, and that it was a far sight better than waiting until next July or August for a nice tomato.
Classic Salade Nicoise (Adapted from J Child)

  1. Make a few cups’ worth of cold French-style potato salad (boil the potatoes, peel and slice them when just done, and dress with white wine and a simple vinaigrette of olive oil, wine vinegar, mustard, lemon juice, and parsley). Be sure not to overcook the potatoes or they’ll fall apart on the plate.
  2. Blanch a few cups of green beans in salted water. Err on the side of al dente.
  3. Gently cook through 2-4 eggs (for a room temperature egg, put them in cold water, bring rapidly to a boil, then turn off the heat, cover for 10 minutes, and cool rapidly in ice water – this will result in a fully cooked egg with a dark yellow and n0t-chalky yolk). Allow eggs, potatoes and beans to cool (this may all be done ahead, but don’t dress the beans).
  4. Julienne a sweet red pepper and a few anchovy fillets.
  5. Just before serving, prepare a cup of classic French vinaigrette with garlic and freshly chopped green herbs  – parsley, basil, chives, tarragon – although, personally, I am not at all crazy about Tarragon in this dish. Dress the tomatoes and beans, allowing the tomatoes to “bleed out” some of their liquids. (Simply ignore the tomatoes if you’re doing this in winter, but consider an extra pepper for color and be sure the whole of the dish has adequate acidity.)
  6. Separate and then dress the salad leaves and arrange in a large bowl (or on individual plates – but it makes a really nice “family-style” dish as well).
  7. Arrange a bed of potatoes, green beans, and tomatoes on top of, and encompassed by, the bed of lettuce leaves.
  8. Intersperse with a random pattern of tuna chunk (be sure to get an Italian tuna, packed in olive oil; for an incomparable treat, get a can of “tuna belly” – essentially, sushi-grade toro that has been canned in olive oil and salt – very expensive, but insanely good), quartered egg (as always, very fresh and free-range), and black olive (preferably an oil-cured black olive from Provence), and drape the julienne strips of pepper and anchovy over the top.
  9. Alternatively, compose the salad – either on top of a bed of dressed leaves, or without lettuce entirely – in sections on the plate, a quadrant of tuna, a little pile of beans, one of tomatoes, etc.
  10. Serve with a good crusty sweet baguette and a chilled rose.
  11. If you can get everything but tomatoes – please, please do not use out of season tomatoes for this dish – then make it like I did in the picture. It may not transport you to Nice, but it’s definitely the next best thing.

A Salade Nicoise in Winter

Autumn Nicoise Salad with Tuna Belly (without tomatoes)The degree to which this – a Salade Nicoise, sans tomates – is, in fact, a Nicoise salad remains debatable. What is incontrovertible is that, while I won’t eat out-of-season tomatoes, I’m not waiting around until next summer for the league leader in salads-as-meals, and this, my Jack Frost version extant, still tastes damn good.
But first: If I’m to degrade a classic, what, precisely, defines the original? I’ve eaten dozens, possibly hundreds, of versions over the years, some in Paris, several in Nice itself, and at faux bistros everywhere from New York City to San Francisco; probably, I’ve gnawed through at least one frost-bitten affront from an airline kitchen at 30,000 feet, although I’ve mercifully forgotten its specifics; and I’ve made any number of hackneyed and typically inadequate wannabes in my own kitchen, inevitably omitting some essential ingredient, using the wrong sort of tuna, or – today’s apostasy and the subject of this heretical holiday post – constructing one in early winter, with tomatoes served only from memory.
The thing of it is, for all those salads eaten, cookbooks consulted, and time spent chopping, the only true constants are these: First and foremost, while a truly fine Salade Nicoise elevates simple cooking to the transcendent, even a modestly proximate imitation can be, while perhaps not a true Nicoise, a very, very good salad in its own right; second, no matter where you go to order or how you make them, no two versions will ever be precisely the same; and last but certainly not least, a chilled Vin Rose will make an unimpeachable companion.
That being said, there are still certain Rules, without which you may still make a decent – even excellent – salad, but you will not, in their absence, have made a Salade Nicoise. However, to miss the consummate dish for The Rules of its construction is to mistake the map in your hand for the ground beneath your feet. No, in order to appreciate a truly classic dish, one must develop a sense of why The Rules are what they are, of the cultural and regional culinary context that encouraged what began life as various and even conflicting ideas to converge and eventually to crystallize into a single canonized tradition. And while there is remarkably little congruity as to what constitutes the One, True Version of this magnificent salad, the central facet – as with the best of Provencal cooking and, I suppose, a healthy philosophy of food more generally – must always be the freshness, purity, and proximal roots of its ingredients.
Try this exercise in cliche: Stand at the battered ceramic basin of a postcard-countrified kitchen somewhere along the Cote d’Azur; listen to the bob and creak of fishing boats nestled in the port below; squint at the afternoon sunlight as it dances obliquely off the cerulean sea beyond the harbor; smell the salty tang of the air; and watch the humidity coalesce into condensate as it traces lazy rivulets  down the cool, clear glass of a bottle of rose-hued wine. Wander on unsure turista feet over the cobbles and through the stalls of an open-air market, wave off the low cloud cover of harsh Gitanes settling like San Franciscan fog over the sidewalks, and choose a perfect baguette entirely at random.  Now, compose a salad, not just a salad but a salad-as-parable, a plate which encompasses every vacation on the French Mediterranean, real, celluloid, or merely imagined – a salad inextricable from the city of Nice itself, the very essence of the place collected and transported via the tines of a fork into a mouthful of acid, oil, and crunch. Which blueprint would you use, which rules would you follow, for the construction of such a salad? And would they allow you such a salad in winter, without tomatoes?
For my part, I made the thing as I believe it should be made, minus les tomates. I won’t say that I made a proper Salade Nicoise, but I will say that I ate an awfully good, if improper, approximation in the middle of December… but more on that, and The Rules, tomorrow.