There's no other way to say it folks, and you know the web producers over at NBC 11 have been waiting years to write this headline: 'Holy Guacamole! Third Of California Avocados Gone.' According to emergency officials, 20,000 acres of avocado trees (one-third of the state's $1.5 billion industry) have been claimed by the raging wildfires in San Diego County. And the loss will extend beyond this year's crop because, unlike many other fruits and veggies, avocados grow on aged trees, which take 15 to 20 years to mature.
NPR is more reflective on pronouncing losses, saying it's too early for a definitive number, but that one-fifth of the orchards are in burn zones. Meanwhile, the California Avocado Commission is scrambling to ease fears about the predicted global avocado shortage, saying the reports of 20,000 acres burned are an exaggeration. In any case, you can expect to pay at least a little more for that Super Bowl guacamole.
Despite the estimated 165 taquerias in San Francisco, there are many people who say that the only really great place to get a taco is from a truck. Maybe it's something about the way diesel fumes compliment Al Pastor, or the way everything is served on paper plates and aluminum foil. Who knows, but there's definitely something different about taco trucks, and that's why yumtacos.com exists.
Like the best taco trucks, it's simple and easy: a user-generated Google map pinpointing every taco truck in the region, specifically Northern California, but also encompassing trucks across the state. Included is 'taco news,' a chronicle of (what else?) taco truck-related news: "Taco truck, SUV collide on Turner Road"
Oh, Food Network, what hast thou wrought? Despite not having a single program aimed at kids, the all-food-all-the-time channel has spawned a younger generation of foodies annoyingly known as "gastro pups."
According to USA Today, about 9.8 million kids ages 2 to 17 (out of 65 million monthly viewers) are watching Food Network, and those 24-hour TV dreams have given rise to a host of kid-centric books, websites and even school programs, all aimed at roping youngsters into culinary careers. So help me god, the first time my future child tells me he/she wants homemade pasta over a Happy Meal, the TV is going straight out the window. As The Grinder so succinctly puts it "Smother the Gastro Pups."
When it comes to Halloween candy, the days of wowing kids with candy corn and Sugar Daddy are long gone. And with crazy gimmicks like Critter Goo around, good riddance. The highly-detailed quartet of plastic bug treats filled with sweet, sweet goopy guts are the perfect the synthesis of disgusting and saccharine, taking the Halloween treat equation to an entirely new level.
Just pop the critters' head off and squeeze out the innards, which according to the Onion AV Club "looks like hair conditioner and tastes like Kool-Aid made with 20 times the recommended amount of powder mix." Sadly, the AV Club doesn't say where to find these creepy confections, and there's no sign of them anywhere else in the Googleable universe. Maybe they just want to keep all the Critter Goo for themselves? Any tips out there on where to find it?
Perhaps Michael Bauer is feeling a little defensive after laying the hurt on Fleur de Lys last week, only to be criticized by readers for going too easy on the joint. Surprisingly, he took on, and published, some of his readers' concerns about the overall task of being a food critic, which of course entails skewing "towards to anal," despite the fact that most restaurant workers bust their asses every night.
While he concedes that "everyone's a critic ... that it's easy to nitpick," Bauer sticks to his guns, defending his profession and its maddening attention to detail on the grounds that, in essence, the details are what really make the difference between a good restaurant and a great restaurant. Face it, without critics like Bauer we'd probably all be taking dates for a night on the town at Carl's Jr.
Couldn't we all use a little Zen thinking on a gloomy Monday morning? Here's the trailer to the recently-released documentary 'How To Cook Your Life,' a look at the food-inspired teachings of local Zen master Edward Espe Brown.
Is drinking raw milk like "playing Russian roulette with your health"? The California State Legislature seems to think so. Earlier this month they quietly passed a new law that essentially bans the sale of unpasteurized milk in the state, one of just four in the U.S. that allow raw milk to be sold in stores. Needless to say, the 40,000 or so raw milk buyers in California, along with several dairies, are pretty pissed off about it and intend to fight for repeal.
The debate is over the levels of coliform bacteria in raw milk, most strains of which do not cause illness. In fact, many people buy raw milk specifically because they want some of that bacteria, which they contend helps build the immune system and ward off allergies and asthma.
Mark McAfee of Organic Pastures, which sells most of the raw milk in California, is leading the fight against the new law, and is planning a call to action among his customers -- among them Sylvester Stallone -- in hopes of repealing the measure.
Anybody who's worked in the restaurant industry knows that women chefs are rare breed, despite the fact that the overwhelming history of home cooking has belonged to the fairer sex. Why? In the current age of culinary idolization, it's a question worth asking.
New York Magazine recently set to find out, interviewing seven of the top female chefs in New York. Not surprisingly, sexism and intense machismo play a large role in top kitchens, yet the interviewees, not to be cast as victims, were reluctant to go straight for the jugular.
On the contrary, the overriding conclusion is that women cook different food, and indeed better food, than many of their technique-obsessed male counterparts. Sara Jenkins (formerly of 50 Carmine):
"I think women cook different food, and I think women cook better food. It’s more from the heart and more from the soul. I look at this whole molecular-gastronomy thing, and I’m like, “Boys with toys.” They’re just fascinated with technology and chemistry sets. I think we make better-tasting food. I’m sorry, I know that’s politically incorrect."
Gary Danko, can I just call you Caligula? Along with 49 of his star chef cohorts, San Francisco's own Danko deliciously entertains his last meal in a Time magazine preview of the newly released book My Last Supper: 50 Great Chefs and Their Final Meals. In by far the most elaborate photo shoot of the preview, Danko, who wants his final feast "eaten by hand like at a Roman or Greek banquet," appears laughing uncomfortably atop a mountain of satin, grapes, and pomegranates as two, uh, enthusiastic ladies feed one another nearby.
Setting aside the bizarre awkwardness of the photo itself, Danko's chosen feast does sound appropriately decadent: "caviar, spit-roasted suckling pigs, black truffles wrapped in salt pork, and a roasted Bleu Bresse chicken." One question: Where did they find those Roman hos?
Bitch-slap and prepare to be bitch-slapped. That's the message from Chronicle readers after food critic Michael Bauer laid the hurt on Nob Hill restaurant Fleur de Lys. But it's not what you think. They aren't accusing Bauer of being too harsh on the place, in fact, they want even more of a spanking. They want blood.
On his blog, Bauer responds to comments from readers miffed that even after repeatedly bellyaching about the shitty service at Fleur de Lys, he still gave the place an overall rating of three and a half stars out of four. One reader even accuses the venerable foodie of deliberately kowtowing to owners. In Bauer's defense, his review does consistently maintain the excellence of Fleur de Lys' food, just not the service.
Feed your broke ass at Dogpatch Saloon's Thursday lunch special. Buy one drink, get a free all-you-can-eat lunch, with a slew of different weekly dishes, among them chili and lasagna.
No word on how it all tastes, but if you're broke enough to trek out to Dogpatch for a free lunch, you probably aren't too particular. 2496 3rd St., at 22nd. I still don't know why 22nd St. intersects with 3rd St., but after two rounds in the Dogpatch, I don't think I'll really care.
Following The Grinder's lead, I'm totally obsessed by the Aeropress single serve coffeemaker, and the story trail surrounding it. Invented by the people who brought you the Aerobie flying ring, the Aeropress is a device conceptually similar to the French press. Only in this case, the user plunges the coffee and water down through a filter, rather than pulling up (see the demo video above) -- but be warned, you might want to caffeinate yourself with the old drip machine before attempting the Aeropress, as it seems to require a lot of torque.
But why, you ask, would I want to ditch the tried and true drip maker or French press in favor of the Aeropress? For one thing, it appears to be all plastic, making it easy to lug around in your carry-on without fear of breakage. Also, there's this news story, via Boing Boing, about the proliferation of hotel coffee makers as mini meth labs. The telltale signs include a "dark reddish-orange stain" in the hotel coffee pot, as well as a lingering chemical odor in the room. Say what you will about tweakers, but they sure are pragmatic.
Amid the squirrel invasion -- red squirrels being driven out by marauding gray squirrels -- locals are being encouraged to "dispatch" the grays, hence the need for squirrel recipes. That's where Uncle Russ comes in, with recipes for Squirrel Fricassee and Fried Squirrel Cakes, among others. If there's a lesson to be learned from all of this, here it is: One man's pesky varmint is another man's fricassee (probably a Southern man, but maybe a British man too).
I've been waiting years for someone else to capitalize on the gimmicky genius of Easy Cheese, but never expected it to go quite so far. Get a load of this: Pancakes and waffles in an aerosol can. No mixing, no dishes, no dripping, just pure propellent-driven mastery.
Batter Blaster promises " organic light and fluffy pancakes ... in minutes!" and I'm only slightly disturbed by the "pressurized, patent-pending process." Yet as The Grinder points out, there's something about the hokey TV ad on the site (bottom left corner) that just screams parody. Is it possible that Batter Blaster doesn't even exist? According to one commenter, it is an actual product. Here's hoping.
The second edition of that venerable bastion of haute cuisine known as the Michelin Guide is out, and here are the not-so-shocking results: Thomas Keller's French Laundry in Yountville is the only restaurant in Northern California to receive the coveted three star rating, defined as "exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey."
Of the 600 restaurants visited by Michelin critics, 384 got one star, which translates in Michelin talk as "very good," including four San Francisco newcomers: Ame, Coi, Cortez and One Market. The only real losers this year are Bushi-Tei in San Francisco and Dry Creek Kitchen in Healdsburg, which both lost their single star rating from last year. I still don't understand what the hell tires have to do with restaurants, but whatever.
