San Francisco Food Blog

From Dana Goodyear's previous fist-bump with Pulitzer Prize-winning LA Weekly food critic Jonathan Gold, to Calvin Trillin's poutine exposé, the New Yorker has offered up scrumptious reads of late, but Lunch with M, John Colapinto's chronicle of lunch at Jean Georges with a Michelin inspector, is one we've pored over a few times already.

We suspected it all along -- Michelin inspectors are a super race.

​We're particularly fascinated by the idea that Michelin inspectors are experts by virtue of their training, experience, and education. A degree in hospitality, cooking, or hotel management is a prerequisite, which makes some sense, but it's also suggested -- by M herself, as she carves up a foie gras brulée -- that professionals like her and her colleagues may be endowed with biological advantages when it comes to discerning flavors. In M's words, "cooking is a science, and either it's right or it's wrong." But what good is an innately superior palate, we wonder, when the well-heeled mediocrities who flock to multistar restaurants might not be able to taste the difference between a stunning risotto and an ordinary one, and -- gasp -- might not really care that they can't? Eating at a restaurant is an experience, and the Michelin guide doesn't share that.

To avoid "buying in" to Michelin's oft-criticized process, we're not going to waste space on localized gripes regarding how the Bay Area's latest assortment of stars were distributed -- except to say that they ought to have put some Asian spots "on the wall." Whoops, that slipped out. We promise we'll stop. We can hardly afford to eat at any of these restaurants anyway -- save for Aziza, maybe Range on a good night, and Range -- though tasty -- doesn't deserve a star any more than perhaps a half-dozen other restaurants just a force-fed goose's waddle away from Valencia and 19th. Uh-oh, we're doing it again. Sorry. Don't mind us.

villagevoice.com

2010: Year of the cock?

​Local hospitality and restaurant consulting firm Andrew Freeman & Co. has just released its annual national forecasting report for 2010, its third annual Trend Watch List. We got a kick out of learning that skewers are totally hot, PLTs -- P standing for pancetta or pork belly -- are the hipper version of BLTs, and mackerel is the next "it" fish. 

Chief among the snazzier soundbites this year: "Sriracha is the new salsa," "iced tea is the new water," and "forget chicken noodle soup; it's pho, for sure."

Check out the whole Trend Watch List in handy PDF form.

Back in December 2008, MillerCoors voluntarily removed caffeine, taurine, guarana, and ginseng from energy drink Sparks, due in part to pressure from San Francisco City Attorney Dennis Herrera. Hipsters everywhere lost their collective shit. The overly sweet malt liquor/energy drink hybrid saturated the fabric of many a party flannel. Subtract the caffeine and all you have left is a really gross drink, instead of a really gross drink that makes you stay up really, really late.

A match made in heaven?

​Luckily, there were drinks like Four-Loko and Joose primed to fill the 16-oz-can shaped hole in our hearts. Their stupid names and potential to dye your tongue as if you were suffering from a nutritional deficiency felt familiar and safe.

But The Man wasn't satisfied.

Herrera issued a statement on Nov. 13 explaining that he and other state attorneys had successfully pressured the FDA into investigating the safety of caffeinated alcoholic beverages, because they create "wide-awake" drunks and "may lead to increased risk-taking and other serious alcohol-related problems such as driving under the influence, violence, sexual assault, and suicide." The desired outcome of this investigation? Herrera hopes "companies that produce these drinks and target youth with their products will take the responsible step and remove these dangerous products from the marketplace immediately."

When life hands you lemons, you make Bathtub Sparks.

T. Palmer

Nobody beats our crabs.

​Hey, like we told you earlier, we want you to enjoy Dungeness season. Just don't forget who your Daddy is, okay?

Joseph Schell (left); MichaelPollan.com (right)

Koehn (left) and Pollan: Can you spot the pot advocate?

​Okay, so we know from some of his writing that Michael Pollan is a fan of the wacky tobacc-y, but last night we did a serious double take when we spotted this guy manning a booth for a pot activist group called Americans for Safe Access at last night's Third Annual Cannabis Cup in SOMA. We figured that either Pollan has gotten more serious about his pro-pot stance, or he has one serious doppelgänger. Later, we found out the lookalike's name is Michael Koehn. Which, when you say it fast in a room where spliffs are as plentiful as logo pens at a builders' convention, sounds remarkably like "Michael Pollan." Freaky, huh?

dailylifeofmojo/Flickr

Again we have to ask: Why?

​Food history was made yesterday when a group of U.C. Berkeley students and volunteers made the world's longest California roll in Sproul Plaza. Reports from the Oakland Tribune and San Francisco Chronicle detail hundreds of amateur sushi makers -- some rocking ninja gear -- rolling a new world record of 331 feet. It was composed of 200 pounds of dry rice, 180 pounds of imitation crabmeat (aka krab), and 80 pounds of both avocado and cucumber -- the end of the roll was filled with tofu as a substitute for the krab. Eight years ago, a group in Maui set the record for a 300-foot-long roll. The event was a celebration of the 50th anniversary of Cal's Center for Japanese Studies. Uh, can we get more ginger and wasabi over here?

Guinness World Records

Um. Why?

​Michael Bauer isn't the only one with a meatball obsession. Congrats to Nonni's Italian Eatery of Concord, N.H., for making the world's biggest specimen last weekend -- it weighed a whopping 222.5 pounds. SFoodie cannot stop looking at the picture of that huge sphere of meat, and imagining the pounds of ground-up animal, eggs, and other goodies it took to finesse it into a meaty prize winner. Be sure to check out the video for the official weigh-in (love the giant spoon!) and proclamations of how tasty the meatball is. Afterwards, the Nonni's crew packed up the meatball for a delivery to local homeless shelters.

M. Brody

Did somebody just lose their sweet tooth?

​One a recent night in the Richmond, you could have furnished a small apartment with the finds left out on the sidewalk. On one block, we passed five chairs (three wood, two plastic), a woven wicker hamper in good repair, a Formica-topped coffee table, and box upon box of books and tapes (we snagged a Wallace & Gromit three-tape set for some parents we know who still possess a combination VCR/DVD player).

But who would fish chocolate pasties out of the box laden with lotions and body gel? On closer inspection, the contents seemed to tell a short story -- a rather tawdry one. Getting out of a home-based business, perhaps, due to changes in what Craigslist will post? Or just someone who lost their taste for sweets?

Halloween has become the Irreverent Olympics, in which everyone tries to out-whimsy each other with unexpected costumes. Oftentimes, partiers look to the pantry for inspiration. Sometimes food-themed costumes go right, and sometimes they go very, very wrong.

1. Wonder Bread Baby

Neiman Marcus

Twenty-five large will buy you a Honda, Mazda, or cupcake.

​If you're already struggling with your Christmas wish list, here's a sweet suggestion from Neiman Marcus via its annual Christmas Book: Your own customized cupcake car designed by Lisa Pongrace of East Bay design firm Pomegranate Gardens will make you the talk of the town.

You may have seen some slightly less deluxe versions of these no-horsepower, 7 mph vehicles zipping around the playa at Burning Man. They've also made more local appearances at the county fairgrounds at Maker Faire.

The cost? Oh, just a mere $25,000. But, hey, you get to choose your own frosting and sprinkles.

Sentient Solutions, LLC

Linger vaginal mints: Curiously strong -- and maybe just a tad gross.

​Ladies, the makers of Linger -- mints for the va-jay-jay -- are hoping you'll want to add an "internal feminine flavoring" for sexy time. As reported on MotherJones.com, the mints, priced at $7.99 per pack, are actually "small, naturally sweetened flavoring ... which was created to flavor the secretions of a woman when she is sexually aroused." So wrong. Or oh so right?

One red flag that has us both shrugging and shuddering is the use of sugar as the main ingredient. Sugar is known to cause nasty and troubling yeast infections, a fact that might just give a whole new meaning to the Linger label. The lady mints are made in New Jersey by Admints, who also manufacture regular mints for trade show giveaways. And just like regular breath mints, the manufacturer promises a certain longevity: "Linger is shaped for comfort during insertion and use, and is formulated to dissolve slowly, so the effects last and last." Frankly, we'll take the dated feminine hygiene images of women walking on the beach and listening to soft music over that kind of Linger-ing feeling. Any day.

OC Register

Yo quiero sugar rush: Test cupcakes at a Taco Bell in the OC.

​SFoodie knows the search for a good red velvet cupcake can be tough, but we may not be ready to rely on Taco Bell just yet. A mix of healthier and sweet items -- red velvet cupcakes included -- are being tested at Taco Bell locations in Orange County, Calif. Apparently, both a dessert display and a smoothie and shake-slash-juice bar are hyping the new items. The OC Register has reported that residents near the test locations received Taco Bell mailers touting new food items that included things called Crispy Mini Empanadas, Atomic Bacon Bombers, Warm Stuft Cookies, Dulce Dippers, Cheesy Churro Fries, Mini Churros, and Jalapeño Cheesy Bread, priced at $.99 to $1.29. These new items seem to be all over the place, not exactly in line with the bean- and cheese-filled items of Taco Bells past. The real question: Will core customers be interested in making a run well north of the border -- for red velvet cupcakes?

T. Palmer

From the Panthers, with love.

​Our version of a Black Panther party is rugged, salty, and sweet, and made us do a double-take the first time we saw it. It's Black Panther fudge, a righteous slab of milk chocolate, peanut butter, and salted caramel. Made by Z. Cioccolato (474 Columbus at Stockton), we bought our hunk of edible revolution ($4/quarter pound) at Sweet Dish (2144 Chestnut at Pierce). A quarter pound is enough to feed your small team and keep 'em fueled for the mission ahead, whatever that might be. Mind you, that's unless you've got weak players that can't tolerate sugar bombs, in which case this'll immediately lay them out for the count.

Big E blog

The doily makes it classy.

​Bacon burger and doughnut lovers unable to make it to Massachusetts this weekend, you may be able to get some visual love from the Craz-E Burger lighting up news channels and blogs lately. It was Headline News where SFoodie first locked eyes with all 1,500 calories of Craz-E. Can't claim it was love at first bite, but the sight, anyway, of a grilled glazed doughnut with two pieces of crisp bacon, gooey cheese, and a beef patty nestled inside had us all googly-eyed with savory-sweet anticipation.

The Craz-E made its debut at the Big EZ Café, a concession stand at The Big E in Springfield, Mass., otherwise known as the Eastern States Exposition (it ends this weekend). The fair features appearances by Seether, Bret Michaels, and Foghat, which should give you some idea of the audience for the Craz-E Burger. According to the Big E blog, Marty Brownsey of West Seneca, New York, came up with the "Craz-E" moniker in a naming contest on Facebook. Brownsey beat out the aptly named "Heart Attack on a Bun" and somewhat lamer "The E-Normous."

tharrin/Flickr

​When brand-new dad Gavin Newsom, finally galvanized into action by a damning UCLA study on obesity and soft drink consumption, proposed his indirect soda tax last week -- not a tax on individual cans of corn syrupy goodness but a fee levied on retailers as varied as Safeway and corner liquor stores -- he likely wasn't counted on being called a communist. That's hyperbolic (sorry), but as reported in the Chronicle on Sunday, Muhtar Kent, Coca-Cola's CEO, did offer words of warning that very faintly cloaked broader allegations: "I've never seen it work where a government tells people what to eat and what to drink. . . If it worked, the Soviet Union would still be around." Chronicle writer Andrew S. Ross went on to point out that Arkansas, Tennessee, and Virginia have what he'd consider similar taxes.

In a situation such as this, when a public official -- a mayor no less -- wants to regulate what people put in their bodies -- directly, with the support of voters, or indirectly, by such a roundabout method only Supervisors must approve -- lawsuits are inevitable. Likewise, naysayers wonder why vendors should be taxed for selling soda, but not ice cream, or, say, sports drinks -- a slovenly vice New York City recently targeted in an ad campaign. The author of one comment on Ross's piece proposed a $25 tax on each bag of dog food sold in San Francisco, with the idea that the revenue could "fund a city-operated dog-shit clean up service" to mitigate the near-ubiquitous presence of canine feces on sidewalks and in parks.

T. Palmer

Could some of the City's best egg rolls come from a BBQ joint?

​Usually, when we visit Memphis Minnie's Barbecue Joint and Smokehouse (576 Haight at Steiner), there's little anyone or anything can do to distract us from the fried catfish and banana pudding. We've barely taken the time to explore the menu beyond those personal delights before last night, when we discovered a strange East-West fusion of sorts. Minnie's BBQ pork rolls ($5.95) are basically the ultimate egg roll, filled with a generous heap of smoked, pulled pork, fried to an almost dangerous crisp, and served with a chipotle aioli. Here's hoping that spare rib chow mein is next.

Try not to embarrass yourself. Please?

​You know the people who dress up like Santa one day every December? Usually St. Nicks in various states of costumed disorder, occasionally trampy, scantily-clad Mrs. Clauses or soused elves, they gather in a specific location and stagger around town, bar-hopping. Or bar-waddling, for those Santas with accurately stuffed tummies, peeing in the streets, bellowing, passing out weird gifts, and generally making life confusing and strange for the befuddled citizens trapped in their path. We'll wager a flagon of fucking grog that many of the same folks are suiting up for International Talk Like a Pirate Day too.

Perhaps the popularity of Caleb Crain's September 7 New Yorker review of Peter T. Leeson's "The Invisible Hook" guarantees that this year's International Talk Like a Pirate Day will prove the very best yet. The article paints a less frightening picture of those swashbuckling seafarers from the 18th century than we've absorbed through recent current events and movies apart from Pirates of the Caribbean. The saga sung short, courtesy of the article's pithy cartoon caption: "Pirates had strict but unconventional codes of behavior, and some historians claim them as early progressives--with democracy, economic fairness, racial tolerance, and even health care." Leeson goes on to describe how merchant sailors frequently welcomed pirate takeovers and often begged their captors to take them on as new recruits -- because pirate life was lucrative, more fun than theirs, and romantic, even then.

Our take: Little boys and girls never get over pirates. We know because we've seen 4-year-olds fence, walk the plank, and curse (in Piratese) better than Johnny Depp. They grow up, become academics, and study the very things that compelled them back when they still threw tantrums at the grocery store. Or they just toss on an eye patch, gird a plastic cutlass, and shiver their timbers all over town every 19th of September.

Jean Smart

It's not like you toss hunks of butter into a Fry Daddy.

​The announcement last month by organizers of the State Fair of Texas that deep-fried butter would be an entry for the category of best food caused a lot of folks to wonder how -- and why -- the butter bombs were created in the first place. A recent NPR Health blog post explains the myths and mystery of Abel Gonzales, who bears the title Deep Fried Genius. Gonzales serves up 100 percent deep-fried pure whipped butter wrapped in sweetened dough -- think buttery bread to the nth degree. Customers can order the buttery treat with flavors such as sweet cream, cherry, or garlic. The State Fair of Texas kicks off September 25.

Perhaps the idea of deep-fried butter is too much for some, and Gonzales conceded to NBC News that, "I'm not actually taking a hunk of butter and just putting in a fryer. That would be kind of gross." Good to know. The Deep Fried Genius has also served up deep-fried Coke, PB&J, cookie dough, and something called "Fire and Ice" (battered, deep-fried pineapple rings with whipped cream, frozen solid via liquid nitrogen). No word on how Gonzales keeps his cholesterol in check. Maybe that's his real genius.

Raphael Brion/EatMeDaily.com

Local food shows up in big portions. Stuff from far away, not so much.

​Unless you're going to New York this weekend, you won't actually see this.

All the same, it looks like something you'd enjoy. As part of Pioneers of Change, this month's festival of Dutch design, architecture, and fashion taking place on Governor's Island, just a free seven-minute ferry haul from Manhattan, Droog, an Amsterdam-based design lab, along with a gang of independent designers, stylists, and food-centric artists too long and Dutch-sounding to list by name, is presenting Go Slow. This project was conceived as a rejoinder to an increasingly fast-moving society where the special, quiet details of products and processes often go unnoticed. Thus, at the installation's Go Slow Café, the menus are embroidered and tea bags sewn while you wait for the kettle to whistle. You wear slippers. Dishes made with produce pulled from the local garden are served in massive helpings; those prepared with ingredients flown in from faraway locales come in progressively miniscule portions -- from greens grown on site, to cheese from Tennessee, ham from Kentucky, walnuts from Chile, olives from Turkey, butter from Russia, lychees from China, and finally, ridiculously, stardust. San Franciscans, you get the idea. Curiously, to literally embody the super-Slow Food-iness of this endeavor, cooks and servers at the temporary eatery are senior citizens, presumably because they can't help but chop, stir, and sweetly shuffle through the dining room at a gentle, snail-like pace. As you enter, you're told to imagine you're visiting your grandmother for dinner. Let's just hope she's not this Granny.

Mmm, froggy.

​According to a CNN report today, the Food and Drug Administration Office of Regulatory Affairs has concluded that the foreign matter in a man's can of Diet Pepsi appears to have been a frog or a toad. Gulp. In July, Fred DeNegri of Ormond Beach, Florida, started gagging after he took a drink of his soda. After emptying the can, he could tell there was still something inside. DeNegri and his wife Amy took pictures of something that resembled "pink linguini" or "dark stuff" and called poison control, the FDA, and Pepsi. Today, a Pepsi spokesperson did major backpedaling by stating via e-mail to CNN: "We have not determined when or how the contamination occurred."

The DeNegris are seeking legal advice after getting the cold shoulder from Pepsi.

Adobo Hobo may be famous on Filipino TV, but the Crème Brûlée Cart is a rap icon in the making, apparently. Fatty Boomblatty's "Foodie's Paradise" song and video immortalizes the fiery sugar salesman to the tune of Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise."



As it turns out, the video was shot as part of Fatty's insanely dedicated entry in the Go Game Street Food Scavenger Hunt for the S.F. Street Food Festival last month. Competitors were asked to film them rapping for the Crème Brûlée Guy, and "Foodie's Paradise" is the one that has continued to propagate as a (micro) viral offering since then.

Three other teams took on that particular challenge as well, though Team Twin TuTu was very liberal in its use of the term rap. And Cincoamigos -- well, they couldn't even keep a beat. Local chocolatiers the Sôcôla Sisters have also posted their own video and song called "Creme Brulee Man," although this one isn't a rap exactly.

Something like a phenomenon? Watch 'em after the jump.

Aimee Shapiro

Playa munchy? The almond bin at TJ's in San Francisco.

​Almonds are a superb source of plant-derived protein. They also contain loads of fiber, phytonutrients, and antioxidants like Vitamin E and selenium. Their fat is fine, the healthy monounsaturated and polyunsaturated kinds proven to lower LDL cholesterol.

Clearly, nuts are good for you. Unfortunately, according to Trader Joe's, they're also good for Burning Man. Just take this scruffy little bug-eyed cartoon character's word for it.

We don't care how much we like frozen pierogis: In light of this mortifying marketing train-wreck, the boycott is on -- until they ditch those wretched signs and bring back the wonton chips.

Mark Andrew Gravel's new mag goes down like a psilocybin samwich.

​The connection between drugs and food is rarely mined in mainstream food circles, which is a shame considering they're both ingested, and food, like drugs, can give pleasure, cause physical discomfort, satiate, and spark cravings -- even alter perception. Famously, at The Fat Duck, wd~50, and, of course, El Bulli, chefs concoct surreal conflations of science, art, and culture, playing off diners' memories and the broader expanse of human experience, doling out mind-bending adventures more than meals -- kind of like trips.

Take, for example, Heston Blumenthal's Not-So-Full English Breakfast, one of a dozen dishes you might see on The Fat Duck's tasting menu any given night: parsnip cereal, nitro-scrambled eggs, bacon ice cream, and hot and iced teas. That might give non-prescription face-melters -- twiggy bits of psilocybin dunked in peanut butter, $6 tabs of acid, pot brownies -- a run for their money, at least when it comes to actually changing how you see things you thought you knew already. And you won't end up standing at the edge of a baseball field during a downpour, flicking a chain-link fence for two hours straight until your nails chip and yours fingers ache, listening to an echo ripple over the black, swaying trees, getting louder and louder, but never quite loud enough.

What's more, food writers both large and small, both glossy and matte, often muster, usually with limited success, frantic, gonzo-fied recounts of dining hedonism, sounded at times as if their subjects -- whether they be burgers, raw fish, or stinky cheese -- have riddled their brains and bodies with currents of improbably electric joyous ecstasy, like good drugs at the right time, or sexual pleasure.

JinkyBurns/Flickr

Willie: Not feelin' the gray hairs who showed up at Perry's.

​Perry's owner Perry Butler must have been thrilled when he read ex-mayor Willie Brown's take in yesterday's Chron about his guest stint as bartender during the restaurant's 40th birthday celebration last Friday:

"On my last visit, 20 years ago, I was joined by guest bartenders Herb Caen, Joe Montana, and Huey Lewis. This year it was Joe and me and a crowd that looked as if its next stop would be Laguna Honda." Gee, thanks, Willie.

M. Brody

Snacking by the numbers: Useful information?

We don't usually stop at the concession stand when we go to the movies, preferring to sneak in our own treats, which cost less and taste better. (Show us the theater that offers seasonal fruit, BLTs, or Thornton red wine truffles at reasonable prices, and we'll stop smuggling.)

So it came as a surprise the other night when we noticed calorie counts on the overhead signage at the AMC in Emeryville, where we saw District 9. (Apologies for the picture quality: We had time to snap off only a few before a staffer politely asked us to stop.)

The counts seemed less than helpful. Bottled drinks clocked in at a range between 4 and 275 calories, ice cream between 120 and 500, and popcorn -- a range of 271 to 664 calories -- seemed calculated without buttery toppings. The information that nachos ran between 1,390 and 2,310 calories -- about what an inactive woman or man should consume in an entire day -- did give us pause. (As did the candy prices, between $3 and $4.25. Yikes.)

AMC manager of corporate communications Andy DiOrio confirmed what we suspected: The chain added calorie counts to conform with the California law (SB 1420) that obliges food sellers with at least 20 locations to make calorie counts available, effective June 30 of this year. (AMC is ahead of the game; counts aren't mandated for menu boards until 2010.) When asked if sales had been affected, DiOrio told SFoodie that "sales have continued as expected."

We forgot to ask him if AMC was working on inventing noiseless popcorn, our movie-going Holy Grail.

Tags: nutrition

audaciousink.wordpres.com

Julia Child: Nicer in the kitchen than she was to gays?

​Getting tired of all the Julie & Julia hype? Here's something to add to the backlash files, according to SFist: Cooking matriarch Julia Child may have had a tendency to be -- shall we say? -- not so nice to gay people.

According to the story, which refers to an article published by Boston in 2007 called "Just a Pinch of Prejudice," Child was known to refer to gays as pedal, pedalo, fags, and the thoroughly original-sounding homovipers. SFist is also reporting that Child was sued in 1992, accused of trying to prevent an openly gay San Franciscan from heading up the American Institute of Wine and Food.

Laszlo Toth/laughingsquid.com

​SFist has kindly alerted us to a rather unsavory conspiracy theory brewing on Nob Hill. In a guest post at Laughing Squid, author Laszlo Toth reports on a note posted to the door of 1519 Polk Street, a former retail location of See's Candies.

"Your favorite candy store is gone," begins the note, presumably authored by landlord John Jenkel. "This property owner will not do business with people like [See's owner] Warren Buffett who maintain unconstitutional wars for profit."

True, SFoodie is not in Buffett's inner circle, but we did take a private tour of the See's Candies factory in South San Francisco back in June. While it was more difficult to secure a visit there than to the Pentagon, we're confident that there are no secret plots going on there, other than brainstorming new sugar bombs on a serious mission to delight us all.

Should Mission panaderias panic over Girl Scouts Dulce de Leche cookies?

​If you've been surfing the Internet today, you've quite possibly read something about Wal-Mart's new, suspiciously Girl Scout-like cookies. You may have even wondered how a giant corporation could prey on little girls like that, stealing their Thin Mints and Tagalongs with a wicked laugh.

But don't worry too much for the financial future of Girl Scouts Troop 362, which serves San Francisco, Treasure Island, and the Presidio. The 2009 cookie selling period has already passed, and 2010 pre-orders are not likely to begin until January.

Besides, with no Wal-Mart to speak of in S.F. proper, you'd have to go all the way over to Oakland (8400 Edgewater Drive at Hegenberger) for a cookie fix, and cookie cravers aren't known as a patient, delay gratification sort of lot. Locally, the Girls would be better off looking over their shoulders at crumbly competitors like Anthony's Cookies (1417 Valencia at 25th St.), Hot Cookie (407 Castro at 17th St.), and Cookie Wag.

shawnzam/Flickr

This is good for you, dammit.

​We don't always read the obituaries, but for some reason we were perusing the death notices in the Chron today. We were heartened to read about Mima Hardwicke, formerly of Los Gatos, who made it to 100, attributing "her longevity and spirit to bacon, pungent cheese, corned beef, and Kaluha [sic]." Good girl.

jdlasica/Flickr

Newsom's favorite is green -- and no, it isn't a Shamrock Shake.

​Far be it from us to knock a politician for playing politics with food, but really? Gavin Newsom's iconic milkshake is a green tea creation? Seriously?

Today the Got Milk? launched a list of celebrity-themed milkshake recipes (concocted by Mariah Swan, pastry chef of L.A. restaurant BLD) designed to be expressive of the California luminaries who allegedly guzzle them. Newsom's is a blend of green tea and vanilla ice creams and cocoa powder, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. So what, that green tea represents a cagey strategy for the would-be governor to snag the Asian bloc? Or Santa Monica yoga moms, ever eager to suck down antioxidants? And what it all says about the would-be governor is murky.

One thing that seems clear? We're pretty sure Newsom isn't thrilled about the the most prominent line of his brief bio on Got Milk?: Newsom has gained worldwide attention as a champion for same-sex marriage. D'oh!