Why bears must hibernate

Now I know I am fruit-obsessed. I find myself going through summer withdrawal, seriously. I realize just now I am not able to have another terrific yellow peach this year. The season's over.

I should have made cobbler more often. Shoot. I should have made pie. I should have simply ODed on fruit. (To be fair, I did have my fill.) Where does the time go? Is there even a reason still to visit the farmers' market? Oh, kettle corn. Is it any wonder bears hibernate?

Kitchen music

Local station 92.7 FM KNGY is off the air. Its new owners changed the format and the call letters, and alienated a significant radio audience.

For the time being, I cannot listen to good dance music when I chop vegetables in the late afternoon or bake on a Saturday morning or wash dishes late into the evening. There is no house or electronic or club mix to keep me company. There is nothing but crap now on that frequency.

I mean, do I actually have to go clubbing in San Francisco to get my fill of good dance music? And, will they let me in the building with my kitchen gear?

Road food

I have a pricey burger at the Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant. Its staff and recipes are showcased in "The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook: A Year in the Life of a Restaurant," written by owners Michelle Wojtowicz, Philip Wojtowicz and Michael Gilson.

Topped with white Vermont cheddar, grilled onions and slices of heirloom tomato, the sandwich looks good on the plate and tastes fine. The beef is a little overcooked, though, unfortunately.

I have a much less expensive burger at Burger Me, a casual place opened by Mark Estee on Donner Pass Road in the small town of Truckee, near Lake Tahoe. Nobody at the restaurant has published any kind of a cookbook, as far as I know.

They use meat, I learn, from Five Dot Ranch, a family-owned business in the Napa Valley. The beef is 100-percent natural, raised without antibiotics or hormones. And, it is cooked exactly the way I like it, medium-well.

(The photo is of Burger Me!)

Cake love

"I could kill for cake. Here's the list: 1 carrot cake, 2 cheesecakes, 3 chocolate cakes, 3 slices of fruit bread, 9 slices of fruit cake, 2 slices of birthday cake, 2 slices of Pret a Manger pecan pie, 5 slices lemon cake, 1 apricot tart, half a ricotta tart, 5 fairy cakes (once you start you can't stop), 2 battenburg and a slice of walnut pie. Not bad, until you add it to the 32 biscotti, 8 flapjacks, 4 Jaffa cakes, 500g pan forte, 2 madeleines, 14 double choc chip cookies, 4 meringues, 12 amaretti and a fortune cookie, which I promptly spat out.

"I have separated puddings and cake for obvious reasons (put them together and I sound like Billy Bunter). Anyway: 3 chocolate banana fritters (which I didn't want but Ruth Watson made me eat), half a pannacotta with passion fruit, 2 mouthfuls of zabaglione, 1 apple crumble and custard, 4 plum crumbles and custard, 1 blueberry tart, 1 apricot tart, 1 raspberry tart, 1 lemon tart, 1 fig tart, 1 gooseberry tart, 6 mince pies, 1 prune tart, 1 plum pie, 5 portions of trifle and a summer pudding. On the ice cream front I managed to get by with only 2 tubs of vanilla ice, 2 of orange sorbet, 1 portion of rose, 2 of pear, and 500ml of mango. Oh, and I almost forgot, 2kg of chocolate ice cream."

Nigel Slater, in the article "Last Year I Ate...," anthologized in Bonnie Marranca's "A Slice of Life: Contemporary Writers on Food."

Is it any wonder I love him?

Toon town

Because it is silly.

Big Sur and back

We make it to the Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant, stunned by the coastal scenery along Highway 1, but they run out early of many baked goods. There are handfuls of cookies left but no scones at all. What I would do for fruit scones. We mask the disappointment and stay for lunch.

The recipe is from "The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook":

Scones

1 cup fresh huckleberries or blueberries
1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cubed
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. baking powder
2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 Tbsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup turbinado sugar

About 2 hours before making the scones, scatter the berries on a cookie sheet and put it in the freezer.

Put the cubed butter, flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a mixing bowl. Put the bowl in the freezer and leave it there for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, adjust the oven rack to the middle position and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set it aside.

Using a pastry cutter, work the chilled ingredients together in the bowl until the butter cubes are the size of peas. Make a well in the center.

Combine the vanilla and buttermilk in a separate bowl, and pour the mixture into the well. Mix the ingredients with a wooden spoon to form a shaggy mass. Add the frozen berries and gently mix them in, trying not to crush them.

To shape the scones, place a 3-inch round cookie or biscuit cutter on one corner of the prepared baking sheet. Take a handful of the scone dough and press it into the cutter, patting it down so that the top of the scone is flat.

Pull the cutter off the sheet, leaving the scone behind. Repeat this process across the sheet, keeping enough space between the scones for them to double in size, until you've used all the dough.

Sprinkle the tops of the scones with the turbinado sugar and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until they're golden brown along the sides but still tender inside. Transfer the scones to a cooling rack and let them sit for at least 10 minutes before serving. Makes about 1 dozen scones.

Where to go, what to eat

On a spur-of-the-moment trip to Sonoma County to see lavender gardens at Matanzas Creek Winery, a sister and I drop by Wild Flour in the small town of Freestone, just outside of Sebastopol.

A good friend mentioned the bakery once. He liked their breads, he said, but had to pay a pretty penny for them. He wouldn't let any go to waste. I have been curious about the shop since.

My sister and I share but still can not finish a large sticky bun. It measures at least 8 inches across and, honestly, tastes quite good. Nice and sticky, the way I like it. I will have to try the scones and breads as well sometime soon.

I can feel travel priorities shifting. My sister is contemplating a trip to Carmel and Monterey, hoping to take advantage of the long summer days. I tell her I am interested only if we can make a detour to the Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant off Highway 1. I have been reading about it lately.

She thinks about where to go. I think about what to eat.

Wisdom

David Mas Masumoto works hard both in and out of the fields.

The third-generation Japanese American, whose "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm" is a perennial favorite, recently published "Wisdom of the Last Farmer: Harvesting Legacies from the Land."

Like earlier titles, this book touches upon themes of home and hope, prosperity and posterity.

Referring to Masumoto as "America's Peach Laureate," something with which I cannot argue, The Seattle Times offers a substantial review:

"His prose is contemplative, disciplined and repetitive in a pleasing way.

"He gives marvelously detailed particulars about farming, especially the hard work of weeding by hand, the continual vigilance for plant diseases and pests, and the precise timing of when to pick the fruit and rush it to market..."

It is worth the read.

On the edge

On a road trip through the Central Valley in California, William Emery and Scott Squire visit smaller farms and businesses. They concentrate on individuals connected to their land, "rooted in their philosophies, their practices, their maniac desire to feed their families and the planet something healthy, gorgeous, and delicious."

The result: "Edges of Bounty: Adventures in the Edible Valley."

They speak, for example, with Lucy and Ramon Cadena, who own just over an acre in Yolo County on which the couple grows herbs and vegetables without pesticides. They farm for themselves first, Emery says, and their customers at the weekly market in Davis second.

"(Their) belief seemed to be that everyone should farm so that no one should starve. It was a compelling and sobering understanding of agriculture, that the farmer should seek to feed himself and then the world, not the other way around."

Emery, himself raised on a farm in the Smoky Hills of Kansas, and Squire also meet Harold Dirks, a beekeeper in Sutter County drawn to his enterprise like, well, bees to honey.

A full-time inspector with the California Department of Agriculture, Dirks tends to his hives every day before and after work and all day on weekends, and sells jars of honey through a "network of roadside stands." He has been fascinated with bees for decades, Emery says, and continues to experiment with new ways to extract liquid gold from his combs.

And they visit Mike Madison, a writer and farmer in Winters, in the Sacramento Valley, whose books include "Walking the Flatlands" and "Blithe Tomato." The men taste a Spanish melon straight from Madison's abundant patch.

"Its flesh glistened like melting snow, weeping over its own perfection," Emery recalls. "The flavor was a cathedral and a liqueur." But the fruit does not meet Madison's own exacting standards; he tosses the rest of it aside for the chickens later. "There's nothing they like better than melon seeds," he says.

What further distinguish "Edges of Bounty: Adventures in the Edible Valley" from other similar titles, however, are the numerous evocative images from Seattle-based photographer Squire: A field hand picking and packing rosemary. Juicy slices of tomatoes on a cutting board. A cowboy eating an apple next to a pick-up truck.

They enhance the overall narrative, helping to make Emery's work both a literary and visual achievement.

(A version of this article appears in Gastronomica.)

French fries and mangoes

Among the best parts of the exchange between Pres. Obama and 11-year-old Florida student Damon Weaver, who had been angling for months for an interview with the chief executive:

Damon: Do you have the power to make the school lunches better?

Pres. Obama: Well, I remember that when I used to get school lunches they didn't taste so good, I've got to admit. We are seeing if we can work to at least make school lunches healthier, cause a lot of school lunches, there's a lot of french fries, pizza, tater tots, all kinds of stuff that isn't a well-balanced meal. So we want to make sure there are more fruits and vegetables in the schools. Now, kids may not end up liking that, but it's better for them. It'll be healthier for them. And those are some of the changes we're trying to make.

Damon: I suggest that we have french fries and mangoes every day for lunch.

Pres. Obama: See, and if you were planning the lunch program it'd probably taste good to you but it might not make you big and strong like you need to be. And so we want to make sure that food tastes good in school lunches but that they're also healthy for you, too.

Damon: I looooove mangoes.

Pres. Obama: I love mangoes, too. But I'm not sure we can get mangoes in every school. They only grow in hot temperatures and there are a lot of schools up north where they don't have mango trees.

Young Damon might be onto something. I would love to subsist for a while on french fries and mangoes as well. They would definitely have to be crisp steak fries, however, and fresh juicy mangoes.

Three-quarters plum, one-quarter apricot

Chip Brantley remembers eating a pluot for the first time at a farmers' market in Culver City in the middle of the week.

"I was warm and hungry, and it looked like a plum... When I bit into it, it felt almost liquid, like plum jelly. I ate it outside the fruit tent, bent forward, dripping juice onto the pavement, and I used my two front teeth to scrape off the flesh that clung to the pit."

He remembers learning its name and proper pronunciation at another farmers' market a few days later.

"Feeling somewhat justified for having majored in French, I asked the man at the stand what the story was with the 'plew-ohs.' He looked over at me and said, 'PLEW-ott. PLUH-um and ay-prick-OT. Plu-ots.' 'Pluots,' I said, turning it over in my mouth."

In "The Perfect Fruit: Good Breeding, Bad Seeds, and the Hunt for the Elusive Pluot," Brantley details his affection for the unique fruit. He sings its praises. Co-founder of the website cookthink.com, he traces the development in California of the hybrid fruit and its increasing popularity among growers and shoppers in recent years.

Three-quarters plum and one-quarter apricot, the pluot is prettier and substantially sweeter than either of the individual fruits. The Flavor King, for instance, one of a handful of pluot varieties, is "dark purple, almost blue, and lightly specked with gold," Brantley tells us. It tastes "of caramel and almonds."

Pluots appeared initially in the early 1990s in markets on the West Coast, after decades of experimentation by Floyd Zaiger, "considered by many who knew about these things to be the foremost fruit breeder in the world."

A scientist in Modesto and owner of Zaiger Genetics, Zaiger, 83, has helped to create more than 200 new and improved fruits, from low-acid peaches to different types of apples and pears. For his contributions, he was awarded the American Pomological Society's Wilder Medal in 1995, "the fruiticultural equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize."

Brantley sheds light on the late Luther Burbank, too, a botanist in Northern California who cultivated numerous strains and varieties of plants during his lifetime, including the Santa Rosa plum and the plumcot, equal halves plum and apricot. He describes Burbank's work and achievements in the field, remarkable accomplishments that preceded Zaiger's by a generation.

Part personal narrative, part food world exegesis, "The Perfect Fruit..." brings to mind other nonfiction titles. The author's love for the pluot, for instance, recalls David Mas Masumoto's devotion to the peach in "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm."

His look into the lives of fruit breeders and his forays into the Central Valley, "that enormous trough that occupies the whole middle of California," remind us in some way of Susan Orlean's experiences with orchid collectors in South Florida in "The Orchid Thief."

And his talk of taste, of pluots grown primarily for mouth feel rather than size or durability, makes us want to re-read Russ Parsons' "How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table." It makes us want to celebrate, and indulge in, truly amazing summer fruit.

Straightforward and occasionally humorous, Brantley's book provides insight on a burgeoning industry, one that can benefit farmers and retailers as well as consumers. It makes agricultural science accessible, helping us to realize where some of our best foods come from and the effort involved in producing them.

(This review appears originally in the San Francisco Chronicle.)

Just Julia

"In France, Paul explained, good cooking was regarded as a combination of national sport and high art, and wine was always served with lunch and dinner. 'The trick is moderation,' he said.

"Suddenly the dining room filled with wonderfully intermixing aromas that I sort of recognized but couldn't name. The first smell was something oniony - 'shallots,' Paul identified it, 'being sautéed in fresh butter.' ('What's a shallot?' I asked, sheepishly. 'You'll see,' he said.) Then came a warm and winy fragrance from the kitchen, which was probably a delicious sauce being reduced on the stove. This was followed by a whiff of something astringent: the salad being tossed in a big ceramic bowl with lemon, wine vinegar, olive oil, and a few shakes of salt and pepper.

"My stomach gurgled with hunger...

"Rouen is famous for its duck dishes, but after consulting the waiter Paul had decided to order sole meuniere. It arrived whole: a large, flat Dover sole that was perfectly browned in a sputtering butter sauce with a sprinkling of chopped parsley on top...

"I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a forkful of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter...

"Paul and I floated out the door into the brilliant sunshine and cool air. Our first lunch together in France had been absolute perfection. It was the most exciting meal of my life."

Julia Child, in the memoir "My Life in France," written with Alex Prud'homme.

Berry good

Though the home plating might not look as professional as possible - strawberry sauce to cover the bottom of the dish, who knew? - the taste is terrific.

The cake is everything I hoped it would be, a lovely way to incorporate seasonal fruit. The recipe is from Food & Wine magazine.

Warm Strawberry Crumb Cake

filling:

3 lbs. strawberries, hulled and halved (8 cups)
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 1/2 Tbsp. cornstarch dissolved in 2 1/2 Tbsp. of water
1 vanilla bean, split and seeds scraped

crumb topping:

1/2 cup lightly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
pinch of salt
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed and chilled

cake:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1 1/4 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
3/4 cup buttermilk

Make the filling:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a large bowl, toss the strawberries with the sugar, lemon juice, cornstarch slurry and vanilla seeds and let stand until the berries release some of their juices, about 30 minutes. Pour the fruit filling into a 9-by-13-inch glass or ceramic baking dish set on a sturdy baking sheet.

Meanwhile, make the crumb topping:

In a medium bowl, mix all of the ingredients with your fingers until a coarse meal forms; press into small clumps.

Make the cake:

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour with the baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, using a handheld electric mixer, beat the butter with the sugar at medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.

Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well between additions. Beat in the vanilla extract and scrape down the bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the batter in 3 additions, alternating with the buttermilk.

Spoon the batter over the fruit filling, spreading it to the edge. Sprinkle with the crumb topping. Bake in the center of the oven for 1 hour and 15 minutes, until the fruit is bubbling, the crumb topping is golden and a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out with a few moist crumbs attached.

Transfer to a rack to cool slightly. Serve the crumb cake warm or at room temperature, with ice cream. Makes 8 servings.

Note: The crumb cake can be refrigerated overnight. Serve warm or at room temperature. The fruit filling can also be made with a combination of blackberries, raspberries and blueberries.

In the Sunday paper

Michael Pollan starts with a discussion on the forthcoming Meryl Streep movie, "Julie & Julia," based on Julie Powell's book as well as Julia Child's autobiography "My Life in France," co-authored by Alex Prud'homme.

But the story in The New York Times eventually becomes an exegesis on food television - then and now - and our constantly evolving cooking culture. It is an altogether interesting read.

Homer on beer

"Beer. Now there's a temporary solution."

Homer Simpson, in an episode of "The Simpsons."

Wise words. The man must have been named Homer for a reason.

(The photo is from the Associated Press.)

The White House drinks

I find it hard to believe Pres. Obama actually likes Budweiser. It seems to me he has better taste than that. I suppose politics, however, demands everyday beer.

Among the highlights from a Slate piece on beer profiling and beer diplomacy:

"When Obama announced that he would have a Budweiser on Thursday night, it suggested he was going for the most regular-guy brand he could find. (It sells for about $6.50 for a six-pack.) But it turns out that the cop likes the same kind of fancy beer the professor does: He's having a Blue Moon, a Belgian-Style witbier ($7 to $9 a six-pack), while Gates is having a Red Stripe ($7) or Becks ($8). Upon this affinity for upmarket beers may be built a towering reconciliation."

The thing is: If the president, the police officer and the professor are drinking beer together, shouldn't they drink the same beer?

Fruit bliss

In addition to bananas, which I always seem to have, there are plums and nectarines in the kitchen.

There are pluots - a plum and apricot hybrid - I have been meaning to taste. Three-parts plum, one-part apricot. Not to be confused with apriums - three-parts apricot, one-part plum.

There are white peaches and yellow peaches. There are kiwis from New Zealand.

In the refrigerator, there is cantaloupe and pineapple cut into chunks. There are pints of blueberries. There is a bag of cherries from Washington and a flat of strawberries from Watsonville.

This, I learn to appreciate, is Northern California in the middle of the summer. Pure fruit bliss.

Salad days

Just when I remind myself to eat more vegetables, Mark Bittman comes up with 101 ways in The New York Times for me to do exactly that.

His are simple suggestions.

The question then: Should I start at the top of the list and work my way down? Or should I select dishes randomly depending on mood and availability?

Perhaps the more important question, however: If there is salad for dinner, will there be cake for dessert?

Bob's Big pie

A morning spent in the Mojave Desert is reason enough for a visit to Bob's Big Boy on the return.

It is my first time at the original Bob's on Riverside Drive in Burbank. It is an opportunity for onion rings and milkshakes in the early afternoon. And one tremendously red strawberry pie.

I cut four slices for the table and pack the rest for later.

Pulling pork

Honestly, I have only used the OXO potato masher for potatoes. Until now.

Now, I realize the tool, with its terrific ergonomic grip, works equally well in pulling pork. That is to say, I can use it also to shred the pork in this stovetop recipe.

Since I do not have bread rolls, I think I will toast some Thomas' English muffins instead.

I cannot decide, however, whether to eat the sandwich opened, with a knife and fork, or closed, with my hands. If I have it opened, the meal will seem fancier. If I have it closed, I can lick sweet sauce from my fingers.

Pulled Pork

1 3 1/2- to 4-lb. boneless pork roast, cut into chunks and trimmed of fat
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cup orange juice
1/2 cup ketchup
3 Tbsp. brown sugar
3 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
2 1/2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. liquid smoke
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
3 cloves garlic, minced
6 to 8 sandwich rolls

Heat olive oil in a large pan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Cook the pork and onions for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

In a bowl, combine the orange juice, ketchup, brown sugar, red wine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, liquid smoke, salt, pepper and minced garlic.

Add this mixture to the pan or Dutch oven, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for 1 hour.

Cook, uncovered, for an additional 30 minutes over medium-low heat, or until most of the liquid has evaporated.

Shred the pork with a couple of forks or a potato masher. Serve on warm bread rolls. Makes 6 to 8 sandwiches.