shooting stars of thought...

Restless Farewell

2008-03-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

Well, folks, whether I'm ready or not, here it is: this blog is graduating.

That's right, this is the last post you'll see on shootingstarsofthought.blogspot.com. From now on, please point your browsers, rss feeds, and curious eyes to http://shootingstarsofthought.com

Here's the caveat: this new site is clearly a work in progress right now. I'm experimenting with layout, format, subject matter, even my hopes and dreams for the whole thing. (I'm also experimenting with trying to find more time to write on it, as the shortest month of the year, even with a bonus day, has also proved one of the busiest).

But all of these things will work themselves out. When they do, the little "beta" sign might just disappear from the top of the page. And the font might get a little bigger, and the design a little easier to navigate. But until then, while the design might wax and wane, the voice will stay strong and true. From now on, anytime you want to find what's on my mind, it will be here: shootingstarsofthought.com.

And there you have it. Thank you blogger, you've been good to me all of these years. I'd leave you with more of a speech, but I haven't got it in me (there's a tivo-ed episode of the wire and the last 25 pages of the diving bell and the butterfly to still accomplish tonite).

Instead, I'll do something I've been meaning to do for weeks: call your attention to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's acceptance speeches from the Oscars. (Unfortunately, in what only seems like oh-so-obvious irony, you can no longer watch these on youtube, thanks to "a copyright claim by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.")

So with the words of Glen Hansard--"Make art! Make art!"--I jump ship, change lanes, and set out for a wildly more creative course with the design of my blog in my own hands. Well, I guess it's time to bid farewell and be down the road...See you on the other side!

-Lauren

ps--feedback about this new venture is DEFINITELY welcome!

Day 2 of the Great Gourmand Vacation Week

2008-01-31T12:12:00.000-08:00

Day 2 (Monday): Homemade Jalepeno Cheese Bread sandwiches

The Great Gourmand Vacation Week continued on Monday with a recreation of one of my all-time favorite sandwiches: a steak melt on jalepeno cheese bread. I've sung songs about the valiant JCB in the past, and for good reason--the combination of creamy cheddar and spicy chile does wonders to any filling you dare insert between the slices.

Monday's JCB melt was inspired by leftover tri-tip, and took a deliciously local turn. Our overstuffed sandwiches not only featured leftover Brandt Beef tri-tip, they were crafted on Bread on Market jalepeno cheese mini-baguettes, and topped with caramelized Schaner Farms onions, and a splash of diced Valdavia Farms arugula for good measure. If only I had some Winchester Gouda on hand, the sandwich would seriously have been the best flavor explosion to come out of one San Diego kitchen since it started playing host to locally sourced meals about a year ago. (As it was, I had a huge block of Tillamook in my fridge, and being on "vacation" and all, I settled for the convenient rather than the trek to a Hillcrest cheese shop).

The meal even included San Diego hot sauce--I had the pleasure of sampling an array of hot sauces from Carlsbad company Scorpion Bay. When GGVW (Great Gourmand Vacation Week) ends and I go back to my regular routine, I intend to experiment more with these sauces--their tantalizing flavors (avocado, chocolate, taco-shop) deserve front-and-center placement in a dish. For the time being, I was content to dash a few drops of each on different bites of my sandwich, as any hot sauce that doesn't hold up to a steak sandwich is no hot sauce in my mind. (They all passed).

Suffice it to say, San Diego puts forth a damn good cheese steak. Why has it taken me so long to come to this realization? Seriously, with the triumvirate of Bandt beef, Bread on Market JCB baguette, and (I imagine) Winchester Gouda, Philly's got nothing on us. And did I mention how well a JCB cheese steak goes with a pint of Ballast Point Dorado? It's like the two were made to go hand in hand. (The brewery has 22-oz. bottles if you're wondering where to get some).

Coming up next: the Great Gourmand Vacation Week Road Trip!

the great gourmand vacation week: day 1

2008-01-30T21:43:00.000-08:00

Through a series of coincidences, happenstance, and a handful of last minute plans, this week has been dubbed, for lack of a more grandiose term, the Great Gourmand Vacation Week. Ok, so a caveat--in "vacation" week I don't actually mean I'm taking any time off work, but I do mean actively trying to spend every single evening acting like I'm on vacation. The result? A week peppered with delicious adventures in an itinerary that I otherwise thought only occurred during the the most well-planned, luxurious vacations. It's phenomenal (and I wholeheartedly recommend trying it at home).

Today marks the halfway point, and while I really should be in bed resting up for my next big adventure tomorrow, I thought that the halfway point seemed worthy of a blog post. Here, in a bit of a delay, is how the week kicked off.

Day 1 (Sunday): Homebrew lesson and barbeque.
I knew from the second I started pulling brewing equipment from a friend's closet that nothing this week was going to top day 1. It all started on Saturday, during a last minute trip to Ballast Point brewery (which doubles as the Home Brew Mart) when a casual conversation escalated to reality. A beer style was decided on, ingredients were purchased, and a plan was set in motion to make my first ever homebrew attempt actually happen.

the bounty: malt, malt extract, hops, yeast, and sugar, all ready to be spun into one bewitching brew

We settled on an American Pale Ale, mostly due to me liking it, my friend having had success with the style in the past, and the home brew mart's helpful "beer recipes" telling us exactly what we needed to throw into the pot. Here's the recipe (although the version we made had a few more kinds of hops), here's the instructions we followed for steeping grains and brewing from extract, and here's a step-by-step visual recount of the event:

steeping the grains

removing the grains

adding the malt extract

adding the hops

chilling the wort

transferring to the fermenter and taking a hydrometer reading

adding the yeast

sealing the deal!

Three days later it is bubbling steadily at 71 degrees F. (that's good!) We've got dry-hopping and then the bottling process to come, and if all goes well the official tasting is scheduled for leap-year Friday, because, well what better day to taste your first homebrew attempt than a day that only comes once in as far as you can remember (Feb 29 on a Friday)?

Oh, and then there was the barbecue. Not one to let experiences skate by at anything less than epic, I decided to take advantage of the wait time during the 3-hour process by grilling up a massive cut of tri-tip. (Who has a homebrew session without lots of delicious food to accompany it?). Brandt Beef has started coming to the Pacific Beach farmers markets on Saturday mornings, and I've been celebrating first with chili, then beef stew, and I was excited to try my third purchase, tri-tip. I also was hankering to test out a smoker bag I recently picked up, and ended up with a hassle-free, one bag, outstandingly delicious dinner: tri tip, new potatoes, and green beans. I'd show you pictures but my camera was trained on the stove the whole evening.

Stay tuned for more adventures from the Great Gourmand Vacation Week!

Let's get all historical up in this post

2008-01-23T19:54:00.000-08:00

Let's just call this the first in a series of ruminations on the past, present, and future of food. In no particular order, this one falls around the mid-1800's.

According to Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, as translated by M.F.K. Fisher*:

Definition of Gastronomy

Gastronomy is the intelligent knowledge of whatever concerns man's nourishment.

Its purpose is to watch over his conservation by suggesting the best possible sustenance for him.

It arrives at this goal by directing, according to certain principles, all men who hunt, supply or prepare whatever can be made into food.

Thus it is Gastronomy, to tell the truth, which motivates the farmers, vineyardists, fishermen, hunters, and the great family of cooks, no matter under what names or qualifications they may disguise their part in the preparation of foods.

Gastronomy is a part of:
Natural history, by its classification of alimentary substances;
Physics, because of the examination of the composition and quality of these substances;
Chemistry, by the various analyses and catalyses to which it subjects them;
Cookery, because of the art of adapting dishes and making them pleasant to the taste;
Business, by the seeking out of methods of buying as cheaply as possible what is needed, and of selling most advantageously what can be produced for sale;
Finally, political economy, because of the sources of revenue which gastronomy creates and the means of exchange which it establishes between nations.

It rules over our whole life; for the cries often newborn babe beg for his wet nurse's breast; and the dying man still receives with some pleasure his final potion, which, alas, it is too late for him ever to digest!

It concerns also every state of society, for just as it directs the banquets of assembled kings, it dictates the number of minutes needed to make a perfectly boiled egg.

The subject matter of gastronomy is whatever can be eaten; its direct end is the conservation of individuals; and its means of execution are the culture which produces, the commerce which exchanges, the industry which prepares, and the experience which invents means to dispose of everything to the best advantage.

*Brilliat-Savarin's The Physiology of Taste was published in 1825. It has been translated from French into English several times, including once by the food writer MFK Fisher, who published a translation in 1945. I'm currently reading this translation, and, in being lazy, spent a portion of the evening trying to search for a public-domain version from which to copy and paste this quote. However, it looks like most public-domain versions out there are of a different translation, the Fayette Robinsion translation (done around the mid 1800's I believe--he died in 1859). I've never paid attention to different translations of foreign texts before, but even a quick skim through shows the difference the translator's perspective can have. Robinson's alternative translation of the above passage can be found here (scroll to the third essay down)--I wonder if I'm the only one to realize the amazing richness a food writer brought to the enjoyment of this text. (If you agree, and intend to ever read a copy of this tome, be sure to get your hands on a version of the MFK Fisher translation...it's well worth the hunt).

drive-by blogging: toronado

2008-01-21T19:09:00.000-08:00

Well, I might as well follow up my post about the new Liars Club with a post about what will possibly (?) be its central San Diego replacement.

Word on the street has been that Toronado is slated to open a San Diego branch in "early 2008." Having been there just once, I'm excited. I mean, look at what they have on draft in SF right now. (One can only surmise that most of those Nor. Cal. breweries will be So. Cal. breweries in the new location).

But, never content to rely on word on the street for more than a few weeks (I want answers, ok?) I sent a dispatch to San Francisco to get a firsthand report from the Toronado staff about the situation. (ok, he was going to SF anyway, and he was also going to Toronado anyway, but he promised me he'd ask.) The report? "Anyday now."

A report like "anyday" gets me excited, so I decided to dispatch myself to do a little investigating. Turns out "anyday" in Toronado bartender speak is a pretty liberal euphemism for, well...eventually.

Here's the building--it's on 30th between Lincoln and Polk

and here's what it looks like right now:

yep kids, looks like at least for a little while longer the forthcoming Toronado is pretty firmly rooted as a boarded up yoga studio.

the black marker on the sign is incredibly faded, but it definitely says Toronado. Here's some stellar photo editing for your enjoyment:

Anyway, look like the wait will be at least a few weeks longer. Luckily for anyone in the area, I recently discovered that the bike ride from Hillcrest to Hamilton's is incredibly do-able (and a mostly downhill ride that should definitely require a helmet). Just don't count on getting a cab within 40 minutes of when you decide you're ready to leave.

alright, well I think that's about enough citizen journalism for one day.

Brilliant

2008-01-18T22:47:00.000-08:00

totally off topic, but i have to express my respect for some joe strummer brilliance:

the diving bell and butterfly (warning, automatic sound) (trailer here also, i think, automatic sound) ends with joe strummer and the mescaleros's ramshackle day parade (one the also otherwise brilliant streetcore) running through the credits, and i have to admit, the movie sheds a considerable brilliance on the song...i mean, WOW. please watch the movie, and then please insist that the song be played at least five times in a row after that. then, if you're as sappy as me, relish, or at least notice, the tears streaming down yr face.

also, tom waits's all the world is green is equally amazing in the soundtrack (also plays in the credits, but there is another tom waits song that plays during the movie)

besides the soundtrack, this movie is absolutely amazing on it's own. based on a true story and what a story it is. i ran out today and added the book to my library reserve list (which is good, because i'm now number 12 on the new michael pollan book, so i need a few to distract me for a while).

anyway, i know a good number of you loyal readers will enjoy it if you get a chance. (the movie, not necessarily the strummer song, although that's amazing too)

Polito Farms featured in LA Times

2008-01-16T08:41:00.000-08:00

This time of year, I'm seriously addicted to citrus. I have been downing Satsuma tangerines and Valencia oranges from Polito Family Farms by the pound (I'm actually eating one now as I type). And it looks like I'm not alone--the LA Times food section this week has a nice feature on Bob Polito. Check it out: This Farmer Has a Zest for Experimentation.

The article highlights the history of his Vally Center farm, how he came to grow what he grows, and the importance of farmers' markets for farmer's financial success. Be sure to read to the end--the last section of the article gives an overview of the hardships farmers in San Diego County have faced over the past five years.

After you read the piece, be sure to check out Polito's produce first hand. They're at the Pacific Beach farmers' market every Saturday.

Also in today's LA Times food section is a great article on 100 things to do with a meyer lemon. Polito has them, if you're interested. They've got a thin rind, and are much sweeter than a typical lemon--you can eat a slice and not pucker up seconds after the juice hits your tastebuds. (I also happened to be gifted a gorgeous Meyer lemon tree last month, so I'm particularly excited to see this article.)

I'd love to see more articles like this in our papers. I was just having a conversation last night about how odd it is that while the chef seems to have reached celebrity status in our world, the growers of our food all too often pass by under the radar, unnamed and uncelebrated. You can't have chefs without food folks--here's to celebrating our growers.

It's a beautiful day in the Neighborhood!

2008-01-14T13:06:00.000-08:00

There's a sign on the door that promises new hours at Neighborhood, including a brief lunch hour from 12-2 (formerly it opened at 4pm daily). You will probably find me there Wednesday, which is when the new hours go into effect. Whohoo!

to Alpine we will go

2008-01-13T18:21:00.000-08:00

I've been disappointed at the lack of internet visuals regarding the new Liars Club Alpine location, so went on a little field trip yesterday to take care of that.

We took off during the afternoon, and the drive out the 8 was a breeze. No traffic, and once you get out of San Diego County, 70 mph speed limit signs. We even got a hint of scenery.

It took about 25 minutes to reach the Tavern Road exit (conveniently easy to remember, eh?)

And from the exit, it was less than 5 minutes to our first destination: Alpine Beer Company.

Alpine Beer Company is at 2351 Alpine Blvd, and is, in my book, an essential co-destination for anyone heading to the new Liar's Club. You literally have to pass it to get to the LCA (Liars Club Alpine), so you might as well stop. It's only open until 6, so plan accordingly (and bring a cooler in your car). Growler fills are some of the most reasonable around--I think it was around $9 for Pure Hoppiness and $8 of anything else (empty growlers cost $5). Several 22-ounce bottles were also available for about $4 each.

Tastings are $1 per beer, and we tried several before moving on down the road. Alpine is best known for their outstanding IPA's, but we were impressed by the Willy Vanilly, a vanilla wheat ale, and the Captain Stout, a delicious oatmeal chocolate stout. I would have tried several more had the Liars Club not been calling.

It's about a 3 minute drive from Alpine Beer Company to the LCA, but drive slowly--we almost missed the unassuming sign. There's no bright red paint, no flashing neon beer mugs, just a couple of black-and-white signs with the Liars Club logo. 2806 Alpine Blvd is a modest tan and wood space occupying the street-end spot of a small strip mall.

Sorry for the blurriness--like I said we almost missed the turn. We parked (yep kids, nothing to lure you to a bar like a parking lot!), and then came the moment I had been waiting for since November 9 (the day after the last time I went to the Mission Beach Liars Club): stepping inside.

I have to admit, the sensation was a bit eerie, like returning to your college town and showing up to your favorite bar only to realize it's not quite the same as it used to be. This was crisp, clean, shiny and new. Black ceilings and dark walls were nowhere to be found; instead their place stood gleaming white paint and clean exposed brick. Barstools were uniform, sleek and unwobbly; leather booths were free from rips and stains. Look around as we might, there were no sorts of shenanigans to be found.

Two things assuaged our resistance to change: seeing the line-up of taps within seconds of entering the door, and seeing a familiar bartender moments after that. Looking around, we found the jukebox selection and much of the artwork had also made the trek.

We saddled up to the bar--which with it's brand new, polished wood is perhaps the location's most sexy feature--and went straight for the familiar: two pints of Pliny the Elder, and $2 in the jukebox.

Then, we wasted no time getting to the food. Truth be told, there are so many solid beer bars in San Diego now that the trek to the LCA is hardly going to be about the beer for me (although the trek to the Alpine Beer Company always will be). Within the past few years San Diego has been graced with the opening of Hamilton's, Neighborhood, and (hopefully soon) Toronado; we've also come to rely on restaurants such as Ritual Tavern and the Linkery as ones whose beer selection will rival that of the food. We've of course, had our few standbys for some time--the drive to O'Briens or Downtown Johnny Browns now seems paltry compared to the hike out the 8. And there's always the breweries themselves--Ballast Point, Port Brewing, Coronado Brewery, and Alesmith are all far closer to central San Diego than Alpine is. Not to discount the Liars Club's beer selection, but what will lure me to the LCA will most likely not be the beer but the food.

Luckily, the only change to the bar menu is a slight expansion of offerings. This came as an enormous relief, as I've developed a serious, serious addiction to the Liar's Club's jalepeno-cheese bread. I imagine cravings for the Liars Club food are highly personal, so I'm happy to report that all the usual suspects are still there--fuego melt, cholula chicken, blta, sweet potato fries, etc.

As for the newbies, beer-battered artichoke hearts served with cholula ranch are a welcome addition, as is the offering of a grilled cheese sandwich, which appears on a kind-of-strange-to-see "kids menu." I didn't order it this time (I couldn't help but stick to the traditional), but the thought of a gooey, greasy grilled cheese on thick, toasted jalepeno-cheese-bread is enough to motivate my next trip.

As it was, we found our cravings immensely satisfied.
That's sweet potato fries accompanying a cholula chicken sandwich and cajun fries with a steak melt, both, of course, on nothing other than JCB. It was so satisfying after two whole months of denial that I contemplated ordering a third sandwich just to bring home to eat the next day. (I definitely regret not doing that).

So satisfaction with the trip? Definitely high. A few years ago I made the claim: "The Liars Club is one of the few bars to meet my triumvirate of conditions: an excellent selection of local brews, a kick ass jukebox that consistently plays good tunes no matter who's feeding it money, and a seriously addictive bar menu." The Liars Club Alpine undoubtedly has all that.

But, I realized as my jukebox selection ended and no one came up to take care of the silence, that there's something more than meeting the triumvirate of food, drink, and sound that makes a good bar good. And, while I have no doubt that the LCA will eventually have that, it's not quite there yet. Let's just say that while the LCA has heart, it's still doesn't quite have soul. (Is that too harsh to say just weeks after they opened?)

Don't get me wrong--I'm going to drive out there at least once a month (hey, there was a time I was heading to the old place several times a week). And I can't wait to see how the space shapes up. But they do have a lot of work ahead of them. I mean, just to put it in perspective, the Mission Blvd. location inhabited a space that was formerly home to a bar Tom Waits chose to work at--it had soul the moment it opened. The Alpine location, well it inhabited a space that was formerly home to a Boll Weevil.

But things seem promising. Tom Nickel walked in while we were there; the Alpine Beer Company employee who poured us our tastings earlier in the day soon followed. This will always be a destination for San Diego beer lovers--and no doubt Louis will keep an enticing selection peppered with beers that will lure us out every once in a while. Plus, once the live music thing starts up, it will probably become a destination worthy of an overnight stay.

But will we ever see moments like this again?:

(uh, yes, that's a guitar being played like a violin, by a man using a fiddle as a bow, all the while standing on a rickety bar stool...the Scotch Greens, Saint Patrick's Day at the Liars Club 2006)

Let's hope it happens, and let's hope I'm there to witness it. Until then, I'll keep feeding the jukebox, feeding myself jalepeno cheese bread, and waiting to see what happens.

a delicious transition

2008-01-13T18:11:00.000-08:00

I'm behind again on my blogging. Too many projects going on at once.

Didn't want to let two meals slip by unnoticed:

Last meal of 2007:

First meal of 2008:

Noooooo they be fellin mah trees

2008-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

During a Loaded Questions game on New Years Eve, I was asked "What is your greatest skill, one that you wouldn't hesitate to pit yourself up against anyone in the world?" My answer: sleeping. Seriously, I'm pretty damn good at it--once I'm out, I'm out like a light. I've slept through earthquakes, thunderstorms, and a cat repeatedly jumping on me from a windowsill (I've also slept through many an alarm...). Needless to say, I slept through much of the wind/rainstorms that hit San Diego this past weekend. What I saw during my waking hours was little more than a drizzle, and I assumed the rain that came was little more than harmless, much needed precipitation.

Unfortunately, I found out yesterday that there was a casualty of the storm.

RIP Morley Field Shoe Tree. We'll miss you! (photos; video)

UPDATE: more photos of the tree back in the day, via flickr

In Defense of Food

2008-01-02T12:42:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting down to a lunch of leftover hoppin' john and collard greens (best new years day tradition ever) when I decide to catch up on some blogging from the past week. Over at the Slow Food Blog, I find some exciting news: Michael Pollan has a new book out. Being halfway through the Botany of Desire and having greedily polished off the Omnivore's Dilemma last year, I'd be excited to read anything new he wrote. Turns out the topic could not make me happier--the book addresses what to eat and why (which apparently can be answered in 7 words that I believe were first mentioned in the Omnivore's Dilemma: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.").

I'm off to the library to reserve a copy when it comes in. In the mean time, feast on the tempting summary and the book's introduction (pdf) on his website.

Thank you again Michael Pollan, for so boldly putting forth what needs to be said...

2008 Marketing Meme Prediction: Craft

2007-12-31T14:33:00.000-08:00

I spent an 18-hour journey back from Italy yesterday engrossed in what has so far proven to be one of the best reads of 2007: Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table: Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food.

Oliver is the brewmaster and founder of Brooklyn Brewery, a brewery that I hold particulary close to my heart, as it's beer was the first craft beer ever to touch my lips: over a summer I spent in NYC during college, the small bodegas near my aunt's apartment always had a steady supply of Brooklyn IPA (they also seemed to not care that I barely looked a day over 20). Later in college, Brooklyn's Pennant Pale Ale became my go-to beer of choice, as the bar I worked at always included it in its selection of 40 taps.

I dare say that moving to California, my biggest regret is the unavailability of Brooklyn Beer (thanks to distribution laws). (My biggest disappointment yesterday came during a layover in JFK when after combing the terminal for a bar serving up Brooklyn, finally finding one with Pennant Pale Ale on tap (whohoo!), then hearing the sickening words from the bartender's lips that they were out of it...as well as out of a solid east-coast-only second choice, Magic Hat #9.)

But back to the book. Within the first 50 pages, Oliver's words resonated with truth. One of my favorite quotes follows below, which Oliver so eloquently presents in the context of a brief history of American beer. Here's a recap:

According to Oliver, pre-prohibition brewing in the United States was a respectable endeavor, starting with homebrewing efforts during the revolutionary war (patriots faced a cut off of British beer supply), which quickly evolved to small brewing operations, which increased after a wave of German immigration in the 1830's to see an explosion of breweries catering to German-style beer. But then came prohibition, and with it's end, a change in the way American's viewed beer. Oliver explains of brewers eager to get back to their craft: "But their world had changed, and they soon found that they had to change with it. It had been thirteen long years, and many people were not feeling terribly picky about the flavor qualities of the beer that was now offered." This, coupled with the backlash of the depression (the need to keep the cost of beer down), the rise of soft drinks, which were actually seen as competition to beer, and laws that required alcohol levels to be below 3.2%, left the brewers with no choice but to make a very different beer than it's pre-prohibition and worldly counterparts. "American beer, now sold by huge advertising campaigns, moved swiftly away from its European roots."

And now for my favorite quote:

"By the end of World War II, the American brewing industry was transformed. It would be an industry of fewer and fewer breweries, which themselves grew to become national behemoths. The product, following the cultural norms of the day, would become innocuous and bland, to the extent that even brewers could barely tell the beers apart. Volume selling, driven by advertising, would take over as the number one goal of American brewers. The modern mass-market American lager beer, a watery, flavorless beverage unrecognizable to any visiting German, emerged into an American culinary landscape paved over by fast food restaurants, processed cheese, and frozen vegetables. After 10,000 years of flavorful brewing around the world,the American brewers had finally reduced the progenitor of human civilization to a pallid ghost in a can."

A pallid ghost in a can. That is what thousands of Americans have been content to drink for over half a century. SAB-Miller, Coors, Anheiser-Busch--all of these behemoths emerged from the post-WWII brewing strategy of quantity over quality and all of these behemouths have continued to serve up this pallid ghost for nearly 60 years. Why? Because they brew to demand, they market for profit, and for 60 years, this pallid ghost is what many Americans have been content to consider "beer." Sure, the mega-brewers have changed their products, and their marketing campaigns over time (certainly their marketing campaigns): American's on a diet? We'll invent light beer. American's want caffeine with their alcohol? Have a caffeinated beer. American's like small-batch, craft brews? Sure, we can do that too.

Record scratch.

Nope. You can't. You can't suddenly become a craftsman.

Throughout the disastrous reign of mega-breweries, American beer has thankfully had an alternative, a group of small brewers that have dedicated themselves to what Oliver refers to throughout his book as "real beer," beer that follows the thousands of years of brewing traditions. The rise of these small breweries, starting in the late 1970's, became what Oliver calls a "new age of American brewing." Not unlike early American brewing efforts, this movement started mostly thorough home brewing efforts, from people like Oliver who were seeking the tastes and pleasures unavailable through the products of large American breweries. Home brewing efforts naturally extended to small brewery operations, and soon America was populated with hundreds of craft brewers, all making beers according to their individual taste preferences.

"Craft Brewing" is the term that has arisen to describe these breweries, and it is particularly appropriate. Craft is a term that dates back thousands of years, to apply to the products made by hand or man-operated machinery before the industrial revolution and assembly line. Those who produce crafts earn the title of artisan or craftsman, often only after a rigorous apprentiship ensuring that they learned all aspects of the trade. The key idea behind craftsmanship was this training--you learned your craft through another craftsman and were taught not only the steps in producing the product but the pride in quality, in standing behind what you produced, and in support of fellow craftsman. As I said, you can't become a craftsman overnight.

According to the Brewer's Association, Craft Beer is defined as the product of a brewing operation that is small, independent, and traditional. Unfortunately, "craft" seems to be the buzz word usurped by many a mega-brewery. Sure you can take your industrial assembly line and use it to produce craft-like products, but this doesn't make you a craftsman. And it doesn't make what you produce craft.

Realizing that Americans want craft--that we want to relish flavor and quality, want to experience the particular nuances of a finely hopped beer, want to sample seasonal offerings and annual brews, and most importantly want to know who is making their beer and how--does not mean you are qualified to become a craftsman. And it certainly does not mean that you can claim the beer you are producing is a craft beer.

I know that some people have reviewed certain mass-produced specialty beers positively, citing taste alone as the deciding factor. If a mega-brewery can produce a tasteworthy small-batch brew, who cares about anything else? they claim. I disagree wholeheartedly. It's not just about taste. It's about integrity. It's about knowing that the person who is brewing the beer you are drinking cares passionately about the final product, and that they are doing it for a love of the craft, not just for the profits.

I am afraid, however, that 2008 is going to see a lot of these so-called craft imitators. And I urge you against buying into the marketing hype. If a beer has to advertise that it is "artfully crafted," it's going to make me doubt that it actually was. Advertisements like this make me cringe:

Hand-crafted products have a quality that is self-evident. An attention to detail, a slight imperfection here or there. And above all, a truthfulness about them that can only come from making a product that you are proud of. My resolution this year is to dedicate myself to true craftsmanship, to steer clear of the pallid imitators, and to realize the difference between the two. I hope you will join me.

more me!

2007-12-13T22:39:00.000-08:00

In an of-course-i-have-time-for-this moment, I volunteered to be a guinea pig for a new accidental hedonist project--the "food diaries."

I'm not exactly sure what my "food diary" will shape up to be, but you can now find (and rss) more of my food-related musings at accidentalhedonist.com/duffystar.

this song is for you my brother

2007-12-12T21:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the news doesn't really hit home until someone smacks ...you in the face ... with it.

The Liars Club in Mission Beach is hova. I've known this for weeks, sadly craning my neck as I ride by, only to see dark windows and barstools stacked upon tables. But until I received the bargoer email a week or so back, I still had a glimmer of hope.

Now hope is gone. This hits home, hard, because I happen to live a mile away from 3844 Mission, and also happen to have a good percentage of disdain for everything else that I live within a mile of. Without this neighborhood oasis, I no longer think there is a single place in my neighborhood I now care to patronize after 8 pm.

If I was as talented as the Jim Carrol band, I'd hum a catchy little tune for my long lost neighborhood bar. Since I can't carry a tune worth a damn, I'm posting a yet-unpublished and now-never-to-be review of the place I did back in August. When I'm feeling nostalgic in the future, I'll have something to look back on.

Thanks for all the beers and the BLTA's Louis. Maybe one day I'll see you in Alpine.

* * *

The Liars' Club holds a special place in my heart. It’s not because of its history—although Tom Waits did used to work the door at 3844 Mission Blvd. It’s not because of its jukebox, although the punk-inspired selection is beyond credible. It’s not even because of its menu, whose irresistible sandwiches, burgers, munchies, and salads I am seriously addicted to. It is because of its taps, its chalkboard menu of rotating craft and Belgian beers, its weekly Friday-evening cask, and its disdain for anything remotely affiliated with Bud, Miller, or Coors. The Liars' Club holds a special place in my heart because it introduced me to beer. Good beer. San Diego beer.

The setting is basement-meets-roadhouse, a sparsely decorated space with a hint of a hardcore vibe. The staff is tattooed and casual, often blending in with the patrons themselves. The floors are dark, the ceiling painted black. The booths and mismatched bar stools are upholstered in cracking vinyl and the table tops covered with forest-green Formica. Whitewashed brick walls are sparsely adorned with typical bar kitsch—a dartboard, framed prints, brewery paraphernalia. Mounted televisions hang just beneath the ceiling, unobtrusive enough to be ignored, but large enough to show any necessary sports games. The setting is little more than functional, and that is all it needs to be—the important thing here is not the scene but the senses, particularly those of taste and hearing.

Let’s talk music. The jukebox is award-winning, if not legendary. It’s populated with solid albums and compilations that cover just about every type of drinking occasion the bar could witness. The collection of punk, rock, and blues includes songs to appease every type of drinker: the angry (the Ramones, Sex Pistols), the celebratory (the Replacements), the down and out (Nick Cave, Tom Waits), the esoteric (Thelonious Monk), the restless (the Clash), the exulted (New York Dolls), the theatrical (Gogol Bordello), the unabashedly reminiscent (David Bowie, Blondie). There are albums for early afternoon (Rolling Stones), late night (James Brown), and happy hour (Lady Dottie and the Diamonds). There’s a soundtrack for the drinking binge (the Pogues, local band the Scotch Greens), the hangover (Jesus and Mary Chain), even the wake (Jim Carroll Band).

Before you feed your two dollars into the jukebox though, you’d better have a beer in your hand. Go ahead, saunter up to the chalkboard hanging above the kitchen—what’s on tap is on the left; what’s in bottles is on the right. As for the taps, you’ll find the list divided into two categories: local and everything else (with local more often than not being the larger list). If you’re overwhelmed—or if it’s Friday (local beer night)—you needn’t look beyond the locals: Stone, Green Flash, and Alpine are almost always represented; Ballast Point, AleSmith, Coronado Brewing Company, and Port Brewing usually make an appearance. Of course, venturing into non-local territory is never bad—Russian River, Avery, North Coast, and Bear Republic are solid northerly neighbors. As with all reputable San Diego beer bars, the hops are well-represented—a solid selection of IPAs and double IPAs are always on tap, and Pliny the Elder and Pure Hoppiness—two gold standards—are near-regulars. Belgian and Belgian-style beers are embraced too, especially through the bottled beer selection. And, for the timid, a solid selection of pale ales, American-style whites, and occasionally a lager or a cider can be found. If you see something unfamiliar or if you’re looking for a particular style, just ask—the staff is more than willing to chat about the beer.

With your thirst quenched, your ears happy, and hopefully a seat underneath you, the menu calls. The kitchen is adept at both meals and munchies, with a menu so solid that I'd back nearly anything on it. The portions are generous and the flavors are feisty—if you like spicy food you’re in good hands. A little insider advice? Order your sandwiches on jalapeño cheese bread and your fries Cajuned. Try the sweet potato fries, and for the sheer ridiculousness of it, the hand-cut fries smothered with bacon. The BLTA is classic, the seared ahi sandwich phenomenal, and the roast beef dip and cholula ranch burger both more than solid. If you’re feeling daring, order the popular (but painfully hot) fuego melt, whose Serrano and jalapeño-inspired heat advertises itself with the phrase "feel the burn twice." If you’re weary of heartburn, the salads are surprisingly good, any burger can be Boca-fied, and the kitchen can always hold the chipotle aioli. Whatever you do, if you’re there on a weekend before 3 p.m., do not pass up a bloody Mary—garnished with two bacon-wrapped shrimp, these ladies are the best in town.

If you're asking yourself "what's not to like?" the answer is, occasionally, the crowds—the Liars' Club's popularity doesn't mesh well with its size. The small venue—it holds just nine tables inside, five on the outdoor deck, and about ten seats at the bar—fills quickly, and once it’s filled, you can forget about it emptying. Friday nights are the most crowded, although they are also the most attractive: “Local Beer Night" means $3 local pints and a weekly cask that's tapped at 5:00 p.m., sharp. It's one of the best deals in town, and depending on the cask, it can be well worth fighting the crowds for. Tuesday nights are a close second, with $3 “you-call-it’s” that not only attract the beer lovers but anyone in town looking for a cheap drink.

But let’s face it—crowds are hardly a reason to stay away from one of the top five on-tap beer selections in San Diego. After all, it’s well worth waiting your turn for a pint of cask-conditioned Ballast Point Sculpin IPA or Alesmith Summer YuleSmith. But if can’t fit through the door on a Friday evening, don’t’ give up on the Liar’s Club. Other nights of the week are much calmer, and still easily affordable—Monday's Steak and Ale promotions means a $10 steak dinner, and any weekday means happy hour from 4-7. Even on a Saturday night, beers are only $3.25 to $5.50.

Some would argue the beer alone is worth the trip to the Liar’s Club, and I’d have to agree. But while beer may attract the first-timers, it’s much more than beer that keeps the regulars happy. Once you’re settled into a booth in the heart of the bar, with the Replacements blaring, a fresh pint of West Coast IPA set before you, and a mouth full of the unbeatable combination of bacon and jalepeño cheese bread, you’ll understand.

Local, East Coast Style

2007-12-02T21:28:00.000-08:00

The very first time I waxed poetic about eating locally, I got a response along the lines of: "You're so lucky you can do that. You live in California." It was the middle of winter, and I'm sure the person who said that pictured idyllic gardens and 70-degree days.

I had to admit Southern California offered some damn good produce, but luck? Was that really the deciding factor?

That was over a year ago, and I admit I didn't have an answer. That was before I participated in One Local Summer and kept watch over east coast participation; and before I read about Joel Salatin and his amazing Virginia farm in the Omnivore's Dilemma.

A year later, armed with a bit more knowledge and a lot more determination, I finally had the opportunity to prove that luck had nothing to do with local. My extended East Coast Thanksgiving trip last week culminated in a meal so delicious, so hearty, and so entirely local it made me the envious one.

The meal started two days before Thanksgiving, when I flew into JFK with three priorities: seeing a good friend, seeing a good band, and hitting up the Union Square Greenmarket. (I would soon be heading to New Jersey for Thanksgiving and had promised to make the vegetable dishes). Two reusable bags full of butternut squash, brussels sprouts, heirloom carrots, garlic, herbs, and onions later, I stumbled on the biggest discovery of my year: locally grown and milled grains. OMG, FLOUR!, I exclaimed as I rushed toward the stall, leaving a somewhat bewildered friend to hurry along behind me. Yes, I got that excited about flour. And polenta. Both were produced by Wild Hive Farm in Clinton Corners, NY. "Small batch milling from our micro mill," the packages explained. I was ecstatic--this was the first time I had come across local grains, and they were grains milled just nine miles from where they were grown! Eating on the east coast was starting to look good.

With a bag of polenta and a bag of organic stone ground hard red spring wheat (recommended for baking bread) stashed in my suitcase, I came to Virginia three days later, not done with my local explorations. (Meanwhile, on Thanksgiving, the local brussels sprouts, squash, and carrots were the talk of the table).

Sunday morning, I dragged a second friend to a second market: the Fresh Farm Market at Dupont Circle in Washington, DC. Let me just say, east coast local naysayers, that the produce offerings looked straight out of San Diego--including fresh tomatoes, greens, and herbs. These made possible by many growers who turned to greenhouses when the summer reached its end. I was tempted by every stall, but the biggest surprise of the market (for a San Diego locavore, at least) was the meat: lamb, whole chickens, fresh Chesapeake crab. I was in carnivore heaven. And then I spied the pastured pork.

Pastured meat is the term used for meat that has been raised by traditional, non-industrial methods, an unfortunate rarity in our modern food system. Pastured animals are allowed to roam free on open land, are fed a grass-based diet, and are raised without hormones, antibiotics, or feed additives. The best explanation I've found for the differences in industrial and pastured meat is Jay Porter's at the Linkery; another excellent explanation of the benefits of pastured meat can be found at Sustainable Table. Anyone looking for local pastured meat, as well as eggs and dairy, should check out the Eat Wild website.

The pastured meat I found was from David Ober and Sheila Goodman at Cedarbrook Farm in West Virginia. Their offerings at the Dupont Market made me wish I was staying in Virginia for longer--many of the cuts available were roasts that allowed for upwards of 16 hours slow cooking time. Just imagining the taste of a 24-hour spice-rubbed shoulder roast made my mouth water. (David had recipes available at his booth, which didn't help curb my salivation). Alas, as I had a mere 24 hours left in my trip, I settled for bone-in loin slices and seasoned sausage. I was not disappointed.

I came home to my parent's house with an arsenal of local goods: pastured pork chops and sausage; apples and pears from Quaker Valley Orchards in Biglerville, PA; German butterball potatoes, onions, leeks, and spinach. My only regret was not having enough cash on me to bring home one of the amazing array of goat cheeses that I sampled. Oh, and also forgetting to return to the crab cake booth and bring home fresh Chesapeake crab cakes (sorry Mom!). Spreading my array on the counter, I added the leftover garlic, shallots, rosemary, and sage from the Union Square Greenmarket, and cracked open the bag of polenta. I had a plan, and dinner would be ready in 2 hours.

Polenta, Pear, and Sausage Stuffing (inspiration/adapted from here and here )

For Polenta
1 cup cornmeal
4 cups water
salt, to taste
1 Tbsp. butter
1 tsp. sage
1 tsp. parsley

For Stuffing
1 pound sausage
2 Tbsp. butter
1/2 sweet onion, diced
1 leek, white part only, sliced thin
2 bosc pears, peeled, cored, and diced into 1/2 inch pieces
2 tbsp fresh sage, dieced fine
3/4 cup white wine

Make polenta (I rely on the America's Test Kitchen technique) by bringing water and salt to boil, slowly whisking in polenta, turning heat down to low and cooking for 30 minutes, stirring frequently to ensure polenta does not burn.
remove from heat and stir in 1 Tbsp. butter, 1 tsp. sage, 1 tsp. rosemary, plus salt and pepper to taste.
spread in 9x13 dish and chill in fridge for at least 15 minutes, until cool.

While polenta is cooling, brown sausage over medium heat. remove and set aside
in same pot, drain sausage grease. add 1 tbsp. butter, saute onions and leeks until translucent, about 10 minutes
add garlic, saute 30 seconds until fragrant
add pears and sage. saute 5 minutes
add white wine and bring to boil. turn heat to medium-low and cook until liquid is reduced to almost gone
add sausage back to skillet and stir to combine.

remove skillet from heat and set aside

turn polenta out onto cutting board.
divide into thirds, mash one third with a fork and stir into sausage mixture
slice remaining 2/3 into 1/2 inch squares. toss with 1 tbsp. melted butter
broil squares for 3-5 minutes, until slightly firm.

mix polenta squares with sausage mixture and bake in 9x13 casserole for 20 minutes, covered. remove foil, cook for 10 more minutes, uncovered.

Skillet Pork Chops
I turn to the masters for my meat recipes: America's Test Kitchen. Unfortunately, their recipes are closely guarded by a subscription-based website (including the recipe I used for Skillet-Barbequed Pork Chops. Fortunately (ahem), lots of other sites seem to defy their copyrights, and post their reliable recipes. Here's a recap of the Skillet-Barbequed Pork Chop recipe I followed for the pork, although I omitted the sauce and just used the brine and the rub--the flavor of the pastured pork was so amazing that it required no sauce.

Smashed Potatoes
An old standby from my One Local Summer meals--recipe here.

Sauteed Spinach with Caramelized Onions
1/2 onion, sliced
1 tsp plus 1 tbsp oil
2 garlic cloves
1/2 pound spinach
arugula for plating (optional)

In small saucepan, heat 1 tsp. oil over medium heat. Add onions and cook 5 minutes stirring occasionally. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook, 30-45 minutes, until onions are wilted and brown,and slightly sweet.

5 minutes before serving, heat remaining Tbsp. of oil over medium heat. Add garlic and sautee for 30 seconds. Add spinach and cook for 3 minutes, until all spinach is wilted. Add salt and pepper to taste.

To serve, plate spinach atop bed of arugula, and top with caramelized onions.

Note: I desperately want to post photos of this meal, but my computer seems to not be recognizing my camera's memory card right now...photos hopefully to follow!

Get thee to a bussery

2007-11-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

That's right kids. Take the bus today.

Apparently Washington Mutual is sponsoring bus fares today, which means that today's bus rides are free! So if you're contemplating heading out for lunch, or heading down to Canes for the Hold Steady concert this fine evening, give the old public transit a try (the 8 or 9 from Old Town will get you to that last one).

And remember, Google Maps now has an integrated transit feature for San Diego. Use it to get directions and click on the "take public transit" option to see what bus to take and when. Use the "options" feature to change the departure or arrival time.

My $2.25 savings is going toward a pint of Green Flash at the Liars Club before the show. What will you do with $2.25?

Laundry Soup

2007-10-30T22:24:00.000-07:00

There will always be times in life when we just really don't want to be doing what we happen to be doing. For me, that time comes about once every two weeks, when it's time to do laundry. But fear not my fellow laundry-despising friends. For when life hands you laundry, you can now make: Laundry Soup.

With fall in the air, and root vegetables on the farmer's market stalls, I found myself this week with a fridge full of produce begging to be spun into a deserving meal. And tonight was the only evening I knew I would have time to spend in the kitchen, but it was also the only evening I would have time for the dreaded chore. Knowing I would be pulled away from the kitchen at least twice, I needed something easy to prepare but slow to cook, that could work around my quick dashes to the laundromat. And then I had a plan: the laundry went in, the vegetables were chopped, the laundry was changed, the vegetables went into the pot, the laundry folded, and voila, dinner was ready.

It was a dinner so worthy of its ingredients that I may never look down upon doing laundry again.

Laundry Soup

1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp. butter
1 red onion, diced coarsely
3 small carrots, chopped
1 bunch turnips, stems removed, washed and chopped
3 cloves garlic
4 strips bacon, sliced
5 small potatoes, chopped into 1/2" pieces (I used a mix of red and yukon gold)
32 oz. chicken broth or stock
1 bay leaf
3 sprigs thyme
1 15-ounce can cannelloni beans, rinsed
1 bunch swiss chard or other greens, coarsely chopped (I used a mix of chard and mustard greens)

heat olive oil and butter in a large stockpot over medium heat, until butter bubbles slightly. Add onion and saute for 5 minutes, being careful not to brown. Add carrots and turnips and cook for 8 minutes longer, until vegetables are soft. Add garlic and saute for 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add potatoes and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, heat a heavy bottomed skillet over medium heat until just smoking. Add bacon and cook 3-5 minutes until partially cooked but not crisp. Add bacon to pot of vegetables, reserving bacon grease in skillet for later.

Add chicken broth, bay leaf, and thyme and bring to a rapid simmer. Reduce heat to medium low and continue to simmer, covered, 15-20 minutes, or until potatoes are cooked through. Stir occasionally, making sure liquid does not come to a full boil. When potatoes are cooked through, add beans. With a wooden spoon, carefully crush 1/3 to 1/2 of potato chunks against side of pot, until soup consistency reaches desired thickness. (For a thicker soup, crush more potatoes, for a more watery soup, crush less).

Meanwhile, in skillet used to prepare bacon, reheat bacon grease. Add chard or greens and saute 2-3 minutes, until slightly wilted. Add greens to pot and stir to incorporate. Simmer soup for 5-10 minutes longer, and remove from heat. Let stand 5-10 minutes, covered. Remove bay leaf and thyme springs and serve in heaping bowls.

Why caring about what you eat is not pretentious.

2007-10-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

I ended up in somewhat of an accidental argument yesterday with an acquaintance who I both like and respect. He's a talented home brewer, a devoted beer enthusiast, and I admire and share his passion for craft beer. But when our conversation turned to one of the local breweries yesterday, we started butting heads.

"Oh, I hate the restaurant there," he bemoaned, referring to a local brewery's fairly new restaurant on their premises. "I don't know who they think they are. Everything is so pretentious."

Normally one to let little things slide, especially when drinking with friends, I just couldn't let this one past me. "I happen to like the restaurant," I piped up, "and I respect what their doing with their food."

And with that I opened one momentous can of worms. It wasn't that I felt the need to defend the restaurant, or convince him that it was a place he should give a second chance. I understood his complaints--that for a restaurant connected to a brewery, it hardly catered to the typical beer-drinking brewery-goer. The food was expensive, the dishes leaned toward that of a restaurant rather than a pub, and there was little on the menu that was a particularly good accompaniment to beer (well, maybe I didn't agree with that last one). This was all fine with me--I certainly wasn't going to defend the restaurant against any of these complaints. What I did feel the need to argue against--and why I absolutely couldn't justify keeping my mouth shut--was his claim that the restaurant was pretentious.

I may be opening another can of worms, but I feel the need to explain my belief that caring about the food you eat, or in this case serve, is completely devoid of pretension.

The restaurant in question is one that has a quite open and adamant preference for sustainable food. The owner of the brewery is a supporter of Slow Food, and the restaurant is making a conscious effort to serve "good, clean, and fair" food. Their menus inform guests of this, with each menu item described in great detail including quite often the source of its ingredients. They explain that their meats are raised without antibiotics or hormones, that their produce is organic or local and not genetically engineered, that their cheeses are artisan and hand made. The intentions behind the food are explained up front, which means that guests who dine there are asked to think about the food they are eating.

This is far from pretense. This is pride, yes. But it is pride in a good way, as in "we are so happy with the ingredients we procure and the dishes we prepare that we want to share this information with you." This is not an attempt to be elite, or exclusive, or high and mighty. If anything, it is the opposite. This is an attempt to inform, so that when people taste what is being offered, they will begin to understand why a dish tastes the way it does. Doing this even involves a degree of humbleness, showing that the taste of a dish doesn't necessarily come from the kitchen, it comes from the farm; that quality comes not from the restaurant but from the ingredients used. But most importantly, this is an act of introducing, an attempt of someone who believes passionately in something to introduce those concepts to others, because they believe there are others out there who might benefit or be interested, or maybe even agree.

I'm no longer talking specifically about this one restaurant. Wanting to eat sustainably raised or artisanal food is no more pretentious than any other specialized diet, which is to say it is not pretentious at all. Vegetarianism is hardly an attempt to be elite or exclusive--it stems from personal beliefs and is a personal act of living out those beliefs. Kosher diets are entirely similar. Fasting for religious purposes has not an ounce of selfishness in it. Restricting your diet to lose weight does not mean you are "above" eating dessert or greasy food; it simply means you are denying yourself of them. For christ's sake, even refusing to eat carbohydrates was (briefly) accepted as the most natural thing in the world. Basing what you eat on where the ingredients come from and how they were raised is just one of many ways approach the food choices that we make.

And we all make choices. The daily decision of what to eat is one of the most ubiquitous issues in our culture. We all need to make this decision, and we need to make it multiple times a day. We not only need to eat a certain amount of food to live, but we need to eat a certain amount of certain types of foods, with certain nutrients, to keep our bodies functioning properly. Yet there is no hard and fast rule about what exactly we need to live--we can adapt to a wide variety of diets, foods, and amounts of it and still get along just fine. Because of this, because we can survive whether we eat 1000 calories a day or 3000, whether we make time in the morning to eat a breakfast of eggs and bacon or grab a granola bar on the way out the door, whether we carefully prepare our dinner or dine out every night, the act of eating necessarily involves making decisions every single day.

There are so many factors that go into this decision that it's impossible to even compile them all. The main ones, of course, include taste, cost, and nutritional value, factors which vary in their importance from person to person and even from meal to meal. Other factors range from ones completely out of our hands--such as the marketing campaigns we're exposed to-- to ones we hold close to our heart, such as our preference for our mother's macaroni and cheese over all other versions. Among these factors, although perhaps not one of the obvious ones, is the factor of impact: the amount of resources the things we eat require to reach the point where they are ready to consume.

I understand that this is something that the majority of people out there don't ever think about. It's also not something that's easy to understand, or even to quantify. It's not clear whether the ecological impact of orgainically-raised grass-fed cows from New Zealand flown halfway around the world is more or less than that of corn-fed cows driven just 1,000 miles from slaughterhouse to plate. And its certainly not a convenient thing to think about, especially when you're really hungry. But it is one which some of us choose to consider when selecting our food.

Personally, I want to eat food that has been prepared with passion and intention, by someone who cares about food as much as I do and with ingredients that were grown and raised for taste rather than for profit or convenience. I want to keep corporate interests and profit margins away from my dinner table, and I believe the best way to do this is to seek out producers, purveyors, and restaurants that share my beliefs. I want to buy from the underdog--the small farmer that realizes government-endorsed pesticides may not be the best option, the rancher that works twice as hard to grass feed his animals, the artisan cheese maker that spends hours turning out a product that can be mass produced for less time and less money, purely for the pleasure in doing so. When I spend money to eat food from these sources, I'm not doing it because I consider them "better," or because I consider myself "above" their mass produced counterparts, but because I want to support the individuals whose values are aligned with mine and whose actions and intentions I can support.

I understand there are people out there who view food completely differently, who want their meals quick and efficient, or who care about taste more than cost, or cost more than nutrition, or nutrition more than taste. I know there are people who can't stand certain foods, and who love the taste of others. I understand that regardless of what we decide to eat or why we decide it, we're all making these decisions. In this way, we're all equal--we all ultimately satisfy our own hunger and none of us are better than anyone else because of what thoughts run through our mind when we go about accomplishing this basic, essential human need. No matter what we think and how many factors we consider when choosing our dinner, it is not pretentious that we care about what we eat.

American cuisine?

2007-09-13T19:02:00.001-07:00

The James Beard Foundation has an interesting poll on its website right now, which is kind of fun to think about. In conjunction with their Taste America celebration, they are asking visitors to share their thoughts on what comprises American cuisine. I liked taking the survey just for the challenge of thinking about what indeed makes up traditional American food. Take the survey here.

readymade frenzy

2007-09-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

yesterday was a solid day. I discovered that my favorite inspiring DIY mag, ReadyMade, now archives all of its past issues online. If you are remotely DIY-inclined, this is huge. I happily spent the afternoon drooling over potential projects, even if I passed over most of them due to lack of time/power tools/skills. This one, however, I couldn't resist: the plastic bag bag. In a witty twist on materials, the bag takes the ubiquitous disposable shopping bag and reinterprets it as fabric, sewing patches of thick, doubled-over plastic bag together to create a permanent handbag.

I switched to reusable grocery bags over a year ago and consider myself (almost) fully trained to grab my canvas tote before heading out the door. Even with the best of intentions, though, I manage to come home with a plastic bag now and then, and feel guilty when I stare at the accumulating pile waiting to be recycled. Remorse no longer-I will now be collecting a stash to sew into a handbag when the pile gets large enough.

May the DIY mindset last as long as those indestructible plastic bags do!

San Diego Breweries

2007-09-10T06:40:00.001-07:00

Also, trailing on yesterday's post, here's a little map I put together of many of San Diego's breweries (blue markers) and solid places to sample their beers (red markers). Enjoy!

View Larger Map

liquid sustenance

2007-09-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

I spent yesterday afternoon at the Stone 11th anniversary bash, a highly worthwhile adventure. $30 bought a ticket into the festival, which included 10 3-ounce samplings, with over 30 breweries and well over 100 brews to choose from. I also opted to take the O'Brien's bus up to the festival (a friend drove us back) meaning that several additional beers were added to the day's sampling...

Here's what my day consisted of:

9:45 (on tap at O'Briens) Blind Pig IPA (Russian River Brewery) one of the best of the best, as far as I'm concerned. A classic and near-perfect double IPA, inspired after the very first of its kind-the first of its kind being a double IPA brewed by Vinnie Cilurzo of the (now defunct) Blind Pig Brewery in Temecula, CA (Vinnie later moved on to become head brewer of Russian River, hence the homage). And, ok, a little more San Diego beer history trivia: legend has it that the very last growler of the very last batch of Plind Pig IPA was sold to Greg Koch, aka Stone Brewery's founder. (My late afternoon investigating skills - read: confronting Greg Koch- confirmed the rumor to be true). Anyway, the Blind Pig IPA set the standards high for the rest of the day.

10:15 am (on the bus) Alpine Ale (Alpine Beer Company, Alpine, CA) Alpine is best known for their Pure Hoppiness, and seemed a fitting brewery to begin the day (especially as they were not represented at the anniversary celebration. The Ale was the first taste of other Alpine offerings I'd tried. It's an extra pale ale, pretty tasty--well worth sampling if you come across it!

11:00 (still on the bus, waiting for the line to die down) Lightning Pilsner (Lightning Brewery, Poway, CA) This was apparently reserved for the bus ride home, but got tapped early. While Lightning is local for me, I had not yet sampled their wares. I have a fond place in my heart for pilsner (having spent a semester in the Czech Republic, home to the original Pilsner Urquell and Budvar), and this one did not disappoint.

11:15 Dorado IPA (Ballast Point Brewery, San Diego, CA) Probably my favorite local brewery; this is one of their most solid Double IPA's, well received by many. (I was hoping for a sampling of Sculpin IPA or Victory at Sea, but no such luck)

11:15 Lightning IPA (Lightning Brewery, Poway, CA) My goal throughout the day was to sample beers I had not before tried (with exceptions for some of the good ones) This one was a bonus--it was also local!

11:45 Koningshoeven Trappest Quadrupel (brewery De Koningshoeven, Holland) I was determined to step outside of my hoppy comfort zone, and settled on the sweet nectar from this Dutch brewery.

12:00 Stone 11th Anniversary on cask with Chinook and Amarillo hops. Hands-down the best beer I sampled all day.

12:15 Pig Dog Pale Ale (Port Brewing, San Marcos, CA)- I loved the description-full of hops but not that full of alcohol. At the moment, it hit the spot.

12:30 Avery White Rascal (Avery Brewing, Boulder, CO) Wow. THE perfect beer for a hot summer afternoon. Spiced with coriander and orange, it was refreshing with every sip.

12:45 San Diego Brewing Hypnotic IPA (San Diego Brewing Company, San Diego, CA). Another local brewery that I had not yet had the pleasure of sampling, and another that I'm now looking forward to visiting.

1:00 Ommegang Abby Ale (Ommegang Brewery, Cooperstown, NY). I admit it, I'm a hop head, and prefer IPAs to Belgian-style brews. That said, this was still worthy of sampling.

1:20 Stone 11th Anniversary on cask with Simcoe & Summit hops. Delicious, but not as good as the Amarillo and Chinook version!

1:30 TAPS Fish House & Brewery Thomas Jefferson Ale (Taps Fish House & Brewery, Brea, CA). So, I encountered these guys, (arriving separately, both sporting tshirts from Charlottesville institutions) and was instantly reminded of Virgina. TAPS claims this style beer is akin to one TJ himself brewed at Monticello 200 years ago.

1:45 Alesmith IPA (Alesmith Brewing, Mira Mesa, CA). Ok, so faced with dwindling tasting tickets left, toward the end of the session I abandoned my plan of sampling beers I hadn't before tasted and opted for guaranteed satisfaction. I was hoping for Summer Yulesmith, but in its absence, Alesmith IPA will always do.

1:55 Stone IPA on cask- a fitting end to the day.

Also sampled throughout the day were Mike's Beer Cheese, made by Stone's webmaster with Stone beer, and Arrogant Bastard smoked almonds, from San Marcos Trading Company.

Sometimes San Diego seems like such an amazing place to be.

Surprise! New look

2007-08-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

7:50 and the sun is long gone. Last night's full moon was briefly eclipsed. A winnebago just hit my house (yes, a winnebago just HIT MY HOUSE). I finally listened to Tommy McLain singing Before I Grow Too Old. In a sudden onset of capriciousness, I changed this blog's template. Stranger things have happened.