GASTRONORMOUS

The Hubs and I stole away from the family events in California to have a quiet meal together just before his early departure to Alaska for work. Several restaurants in the Walnut Creek/Lafayette area were recommended to us, but we decided on Chow, mostly because it involved no driving to get to there from our starting point, but also because I went to the Chow in San Francisco once, years and years ago, and remembered really enjoying the food. The Lafayette branch is known for being a family-friendly place with more sophisticated food than your average “family” restaurant.

There was a long wait for a table at this popular place. As we stood outside debating whether we even wanted to eat in the clamorous interior, let alone wait for table there, we realized that a couple patrons seemed to be getting service at one of the outdoor tables, where there were more than enough heating lamps to ward off the chill (indeed, the people eating out there were in their shirt sleeves). After asking the hostess, she cheerily informed me that it was no problem to eat outside. And so that we did, in quiet, warm contentment.

We started off with the roasted Brussels sprouts appetizer, which was especially recommended by my brother. Boy, he couldn’t have been more right-on in his advice. It was prepared with roasted apples, which added a nice sweet foil to the sulfurous sprouts. The dish looks really greasy in the photo (actually, all the food in these pics do—it must have been the lighting), but it didn’t taste it. It was an interesting and delicious combination of flavors. The beet salad, featuring red and golden beets, along with mixed greens (though the menu stated endive), orange, hazelnuts, a simple vinaigrette, and a couple slices of toasted schmeared with goat cheese was also quite tasty. Not more remarkable than many a beet salad I have had, but tasty.

When I was taking this picture of this pizza, a patron was walking by; she looked at what I was doing, paused, opened her mouth, hesitated, then asked, “Why are you taking pictures of your food?” Oh! Those charming Californians, so unused to the food-blogging so commonplace in New York. It isn’t unusual for me to see someone else taking pictures of their food at a restaurant I am reviewing, so plentiful we are in number here. But in Lafayette food blogs seem to be a novelty. How refreshing! In any case, the wild mushroom pizza with red onions, and of course cheese and tomato sauce, was also quite good, though a bit underseasoned for my taste (but I have a salt-loving palate). The toppings were nice and gooey and the crust was crackery and thin enough to satisfy even a true New Yorker (as I understand, after living here nearly fifteen years, I can now be considered.)

All in all it was good meal. The service was pleasant, the prices were right, and the ambiance, well outdoors, anyway, was quiet, comfortable, and relaxing. Chow is definitely worth a visit if you happen to be in Lafayette, CA some day.

Chow
53 Lafayette Circle
Lafayette, CA 94549
925-962-2469

For our anniversary last month, we decided to take a tour of the Scharffen Berger chocolate factory in Berkeley. Long a haven for foodies, Berkeley offers up such pantheons of culinary distinction as Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse (at which we looked but didn’t touch!), but also caters to its college population and the aging hippies that still grace the parks and street corners.

Founded in 1996 and named for co-founder John Scharffenberger (he was required to split the name in two for copyright reasons), the operation is located in an old Heinz pickle factory in the industrial section of town. Quaint and fresh in that “old made new” aesthetic popular in many a historic district, the factory is surprisingly small. Even though the company was recently acquired by Hershey (as a part of their Artisan Confections Company, which also includes Dagoba Organic Chocolate and Joseph Schmidt Confections), the factory maintains an independent production process and only makes a few million pounds of chocolate a year. The big commercial chocolate factories top that in less than a week.

Sharffen Berger offers a large range of chocolate products, from roasted cacao nibs to three types of ganache–and of course chocolate bars. Although the company does produce what they call “milk chocolate” (it is 41% cacao as opposed to most other brands 10% or so), all Scharffen Berger chocolate is technically dark chocolate based on the percentage of cacao used (ranging from 41% to 82% cacao for bars and up to 99% for baking squares).

After an overview lecture (coupled with copious tasting), the factory tour was brief but hands on; in Scharffen Berger’s world, there isn’t much to it but selecting, roasting, pulverizing, and tempering the cocoa beans (a process during which cacao paste is melted along with cocoa butter, and in the case of the “milk” chocolate variety, milk) into the final product.

We each had to don hairnets (and even beard nets for the especially hirsute) before venturing into the racquetball-court-sized production room. The vintage European machines used to make the chocolate are unique on this side of the Atlantic, and can only process beans in small batches. On this day, no roasting or tempering was in process, but we did get to see the chocolate nibs crushed on a granite wheel into a sticky paste called a chocolate liquor. The aroma was incredible: not sweet, but rather earthy and deep, much like coffee grounds or a dark beer. During the lecture, our guide passed around a block of cocoa butter (“Rub it in!” he said, and I did. Smelling like chocolate is second only to eating it!) and offered cocoa nibs for each to taste (they taste much like the factory smelled, and most of our tour group visibly blanched in surprise). Among other interesting “nibs” of information, we learned that no chocolate goes to waste; if bars aren’t pressed properly, or don’t meet quality standards, they are simply re-tempered and put through again. College students make the factory’s dumpsters a regular stop in their diving tours, our tour guide noted, and always come up empty-handed. Fortunately, we didn’t leave empty-handed!

Like all factory tours, we were spat into the gift shop at the end and stuffed full of samples, but none of us minded a bit. Having taken a Disney-fied tour of the Hershey factory in Pennsylvania, I was pleased that this tour was its polar opposite; intimate, simple, and without artifice, much like the product. The tour, like their chocolate, has a lot to recommend it.

The building also houses a charming, light-filled café called Café Cacao that serves brunch, lunch, and an assortment of chocolate treats. We opted for little “whoopie pies” made of chocolate cookies and peanut butter cream and Scharffen Berger hot chocolate. An overload of chocolate, but excellent nonetheless. Of course, I bought an assortment of bars and a bag of nibs. Nibs can be substituted for chopped nuts in any recipe with interesting results; I also sprinkle them on ice cream or (gasp) in a peanut butter sandwich.

After the tour, we nipped into town to visit the first Peet’s Coffee & Tea store on the corner of Walnut and Vine Streets. Founded in 1966, Peet’s provided the first beans to what became the Starbucks chain, but refused to compromise quality and service to likewise expand into a full competitor. Today, Peet’s is a smaller, beloved chain mostly on the west coast offering up coffee and tea amid African artworks and brewing paraphernalia. Peet’s sells a Scharffen Berger mocha that is to die for; it’s the perfect marriage of chocolate and coffee, and what better way to celebrate local culinary culture (aside from nabbing that Chez Panisse reservation)?

1 hour Public Tours are free
7 days a week, 4-6 times a day
Reservations Required

Scharffen Berger Chocolate Maker
914 Heinz Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94707
(800) 930-4528

Whew, it’s been a long, long time, but I am back with more food news from the west coast.

I happen to have a weakness for mysteries and afternoon tea, and this book, part of the Tea Shop Mystery series, has both. Sure, on the surface I’m a cynical 30-something with a pottymouth, but deep inside languishes a dainty, middle-aged Southern belle with a red hat, purple dress, and a fierce need to eat something on a doily. Oh, and I love killing. We all have our quirks.

But why write about a cheesy mystery on a food blog, you ask? Because this is a cheesy mystery with a twist: recipes!

The book wasn’t that great, but I tried a few of the recipes in the back, and I think I’ll probably come back for more. Last night I whipped up lavender scones and faux Devonshire cream, and I think I’ll be looking for new ways to incorporate lavender into my dessert fare (and sure, main dishes while I’m at it).

Lavender Scones

2 cups flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
6 Tbsp butter
3 Tbsp sugar
2 tsp dried culinary lavender, chopped
1 egg
1/2 cup buttermilk

Sift flour and baking powder together. Cut the butter into flour mixture until it has the consistency of bread crumbs. Stir in sugar and lavender. In separate bowl, beat egg and buttermilk, then add to mixture, forming dough. Place dough onto well-floured surface and shape into a circle. Pat down dough until it is about 1 inch thick. Use a floured cutter to stamp out 12 scones [WCB note: I made mine considerably smaller to share at work, so I made about 20; just cook for slightly less time]. Place scones on parchment-lined cookie sheet and sprinkle with a little sugar. Bake at 425 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Serve warm with Devonshire cream and jam or preserves.

Simple Devonshire Cream

1 3-oz package cream cheese, softened
1 Tbsp sugar
1/8 Tsp salt
1 cup heavy cream

Cream together cream cheese, sugar, and salt. Then, beat in cream until mixture forms stiff peaks. Chill until serving.

Makes 2 cups.

(both recipes from The Silver Needle Murder, by Laura Childs)

I am what I like to call a fishitarian, and have been that way for 10 years: I don’t eat red meat, pork, or poultry, but I’ll gladly stuff my face with (nearly) anything hauled out of the water. I settled on this dietary lifestyle after watching my family’s long, convoluted metamorphosis through various forms of vegetarianism.

When I was about 10, my dad decided he wasn’t going to eat red meat anymore; by the time I was in high school, this personal decision of his had evolved into the near-complete vegetarianism of the entire family. Except me. A moody adolescent, I wasn’t buying what they were selling. I worked at McDonald’s at the time, and would luxuriate in lavish displays of lip-smacking over Quarter Pounders brought home from work while my parents and brother would sneer in disgust. I remember their 5-year experiment with a vegan lifestyle after I moved away from home (ah, that disappointing first Thanksgiving!) as a blurry, horrifying time in which my parents lost their sense of humor and spent hours reading package labels in the grocery store. My younger brother, who had morphed from a passive participant to a raging militant, was one of those vegetarians (we all know at least one) who hated vegetables. He subsisted almost entirely on a diet of bean burritos (hold the cheese, please!) from Taco Bell.

Having this kind of history, it was a bit surprising to find this gift from my parents on our doorstep a few days before Christmas:

It’s a Coleman Road Trip Grill LXE [$149.99]. Quasi-vegetarians and carnivores alike will find this cute contraption nothing less than a pleasure to incorporate into their cooking arsenal. It’s tiny (just 36 inches and 50 pounds), easy to fold and pull with a handle, and its gas heat packs a surprising wallop. The legs even come off so you can use it on a tabletop. Our car has a picnic table built into the trunk (I admit it swayed me to buy the car, what can I say? A BUILT-IN PICNIC TABLE, people!), so it’s only natural that we should need other similarly collapsible outdoorsy stuff. Dare I say our next purchase should be a tent-thingy?

Weirdly enough, I’m now the only person in my family who closely approximates a vegetarian; my parents and brother shocked me this year by admitting that they eat poultry again. I wouldn’t be surprised if soon they are drying their own raccoon jerky and attending Ted Nugent concerts. For former vegans, surely this is a small conceptual leap.

First, I must divulge that I grew up in America’s heartland, where the fields far outnumber the freeways. Inexplicably, the Midwestern diet is heavy on cheese and pork, light on fresh fruits and vegetables, so I didn’t really cultivate a taste for the bounties of the harvest until I moved to the big city (and became a vegetarian).

Now that I live in Northern California, the thing that strikes me the most about the region is the abundant opportunity to “eat local.” Sure, I’ve been to farmer’s markets all over the United States (and Europe!), but in my experience they can be confected arrangements of knobby, gnarled fruit and bags of nuts trucked in from very far away, and the buying experience was rushed and overcrowded. Here, they are truly cornucopias of all that is delightful about food, and rarely is there a grower present whose fields are more than 50 miles from the market.

My favorite farmer’s market is, hands down, the twice-weekly affair in Davis.

Every Wednesday afternoon and Saturday morning, the main park transforms into a delightful panoply of arts and crafts, flowers, baked goods, prepared foods, and a wonderful assortment of fruit, veggies, nuts, fish, and even fresh tortillas and wine. By no means is it the largest or most comprehensive market (the Sunday morning Sacramento farmer’s market far outstrips Davis’ in terms of quantity and diversity, and of course the farmer’s market at San Francisco’s Ferry Building is a singular experience), but darn if it isn’t always a good time. I come for the food and the people; my husband tags along for the Labrador Retriever rescue that always sets up shop at the far end of the park. The pace is leisurely, almost extravagant, as people file through with dogs or kids in arms; growers are friendly and willing to chat about any aspect of their business (they also love it when you take pictures of their produce!) as you munch on samples.

Let’s be brutally frank, however: though I love the fresh almond butter (available in creamy OR crunchy!), the locally produced honey, and the gigantic fruit, my favorite thing about the Davis farmer’s market is the popsicles made by Aisu Pops.

It’s almost a crime to call them mere popsicles, for they shouldn’t be lumped into the same category as an Otter Pop or a Fudgsicle. These are chilly innovation on a stick, and I find myself counting the days until I can go back and try another flavor.

Aisu Pops are the brainchild of H.T. Jaymes Luu, a Davis local who brings her wares on a bicycle fitted with a freezer. Nearly all of the ingredients come from growers who sell at the farmer’s market, and they are made in small batches of 40 pops at a, well, pop. The flavors rotate according to season and chef-ly whim; some are conventional taste combinations such as strawberry coconut and kiwi mango, but step outside the norm and the results are astonishingly original and exciting: beet tangerine, kaffir limeade with avocado, blueberry grape with tarragon, and canteloupe chai are just a few of the flavors that have graced the freezer on wheels at markets past.

This weekend, we tried the Thai iced tea popsicle, made creamy and even more orange with sweet potatoes, and kiwi mango (pictured above), which had the perfect blend of gritty seeds and velvety tropical delight. At $2 a pop, I can’t think of a more cost-effective way to eat local, undoubtedly with a smile.

I am excited to introduce a new contributor to gastronormous! Michelle Treviño is a writer, editor, and friend extraordinaire. She was born in the Midwest and spent much of her life in cities small and large along the East Coast before moving to the West Coast a few years ago. Her gastroreporting will focus mostly on Sacramento and its environs, with some forays into San Francisco and other California locales.

Michelle’s first post is about a farmer’s market, the bounty of which is perhaps best appreciated by someone who lived in New York for many years (as she did), and therefore understands the sadness of living someplace with a relative dearth of readily available, good-quality, fresh produce! [Ah, but I miss fresh California produce!]

Okay, everyone, please welcome Michelle! You can contact her at michelle {at} gastronormous {dot} com.