"The Taste of Place"

Vintners and wine drinkers talk often about terroir as it relates to grapes.

In "The Taste of Place: A Cultural Journey Into Terroir," Amy Trubek discusses the topic as it relates more broadly to food, where it is grown in the United States, and how it is cooked and served.

It matters a great deal because "concerns about practices, tastes, and origins in fact can help create alternative cultural values about place, about community, about agriculture, and about hospitality."

Trubek, whose work includes "Haute Cuisine: How the French Invented the Culinary Profession," takes decidedly French ideals and applies them to California, for example, among the richest agricultural regions in the country.

She looks more specifically at the Ferry Building Marketplace in San Francisco, a major attraction for residents as well as visitors, using it to highlight ways in which growers, producers, sellers and consumers can interact on a regular basis.

The building hosts farmers markets that draw thousands of people to the waterfront; it also includes "a mixture of (businesses) selling artisan products - cheese, chocolate, olive oil, wine - restaurants, a coffee shop, bakeries, and fish and meat shops, as well as a kitchenware store and a bookstore."

In subsequent chapters, Trubek examines farming traditions in Wisconsin and Vermont, for example, giving this insightful title on the food movement in America both topical depth and geographical breadth.

Chocolate-chip forgiveness

"This is my Amelia Bedelia solution. After she had 'drawn' the drapes, 'stolen' home plate, or baked a sponge cake of dish sponges, the naive housemaid of my childhood library visits, when faced with a list of her trespasses, would always produce a surprise plate of perfect chocolate-chip cookies in the end, and all would be forgiven..."

Michelle Maisto, writing in "The Gastronomy of Marriage: A Memoir of Food and Love."

A cheeky bunch

Nigel Farndale writes about bananas in The Telegraph. The British are indeed a cheeky bunch:

"It is heart-lightening to behold. As cheerful as a daffodil, but somehow more human. In a bunch they look like fingers. Individually, they have skin as smooth as human skin and a gently curving shape that is perfectly evolved to fit the human grip. They are even satisfying to peel, unlike the mean and fiddly orange.

"There is the snap of the stem, then, as a silk dressing gown might fall with a whisper from the shoulders of a beautiful woman, it stands before you in all its pale, naked glory. On a cold winter's day, its sweet fragrance offers a hint of the Caribbean. A cure for seasonal affective disorder if ever there was..."

On the road

Is it my imagination?

Or does the road sign on I-5 north actually say: Hungry Valley, next exit?

Good eats

Any day spent at the Ferry Building Marketplace in San Francisco is a good day. There is Peet's and Blue Bottle Coffee, tasty salted pig parts at Boccalone Salumeria, Boulette's Larder and The Slanted Door. And there are macarons, of course, from Miette. Any day spent eating burgers at Taylor's Automatic Refresher is a good day.

Dagnamit

Baking soda.

The gingerbread recipe from Lauren Chattman's "Cake Keeper Cakes" calls for baking soda... not baking powder. Dagnamit! Why is it so hard to distinguish between the two? And, will anyone eating the dessert on Christmas notice the difference?

Chocolate Gingerbread

3/4 cup hot tap water
1/2 cup dark molasses
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 cup unsweetened Dutch process cocoa powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. instant espresso powder
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1/4 tsp. ground black pepper
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 large egg yolk
1/2 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan and dust it with flour, knocking out any extra.

Stir together the hot water and molasses. Set aside to cool.

Sift the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, espresso powder, cinnamon, cloves and pepper in a medium bowl.

Combine the butter and sugar in a large bowl and cream with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes, scraping down the sides once or twice as necessary.

Add the egg yolk and beat until smooth, scraping down the sides once or twice as necessary. Beat in half the molasses mixture on low and then half the flour mixture. Scrape down the bowl and repeat with the remaining molasses mixture and the remaining flour mixture. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Let the gingerbread cool in the pan for about 15 minutes, invert it onto a wire rack, and then turn it right side up to cool completely. Makes 9 servings.

When toes get cold

When it is cold as all get out - when two layers of socks, for example, still cannot keep the toes comfortable - there is nothing to do but make soup. To put a large pot on the stove, chop vegetables and season homemade broth. To heat the kitchen nicely.

In the refrigerator, there is turkey stock made from Thanksgiving leftovers. There are potatoes to peel and a package of greens from Trader Joe's purchased Sunday after the basketball game.

Hoping to riff on a potato and kale soup recipe from Culinate, I set to work. I dice and brown sausages and onions. I add broth and turn up the fire. I search the cupboards for bay leaves and happily grind salt and pepper. I let things simmer.

It is the best idea I have had all week.

"Trauma" farming

Like David Mas Masumoto's "Wisdom of the Last Farmer," Brian Brett's "Trauma Farm: A Rebel History of Rural Life" both bemoans and celebrates farm life.

(The book gets its title from the nickname the Bretts give to their family homestead, Willowpond Farm on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia.)

It speaks to the challenges faced by independent farmers as well as the fleeting joys: "Rural living is an eccentric pursuit, in the same way that beauty is an eccentric pursuit."

Unlike Masumoto, however, who grows primarily grapes and peaches in California, Brett talks not only of fruits and vegetables. He also tends to a small selection of cows, chickens and pigs, and condemns, for example, the way in which most cattle these days wind up in feedlots before being "shipped to slaughterhouses that resemble medieval torture chambers, where they are sliced open and cleaned." The strong criticism is not surprising.

Fortunately, however, the author tempers his discussion with lighthearted passages on topics such as farm-fresh eggs: "A real egg is a lovely creation. I can tell what a chicken has been eating and how it's been raised when I break an egg on the frying pan."

He peppers it with humor, too: "How do you make a small fortune at farming? Start with a large fortune." In doing so, Brett makes the book a stretch more provocative than others and an altogether compelling read.

(A version of this review appears in Publishers Weekly.)

The big feed

In the end, two days (on and off) of cooking. Twenty minutes of eating, not counting dessert. Three hours of cleaning.

At the White House, incidentally, Pres. Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama host dinner for friends, family and staff members. The menu includes roast turkey, honey-baked ham and (this is the best part) six kinds of pie:

Turkey
Honey-Baked Ham

Cornbread Stuffing
Oyster Stuffing

Greens
Macaroni and Cheese
Sweet Potatoes
Mashed Potatoes
Green Bean Casserole

Banana Cream Pie
Pumpkin Pie
Apple Pie
Sweet Potato Pie
Huckleberry Pie
Cherry Pie

Worth savoring

In "The Soul of a New Cuisine: A Discovery of the Foods and Flavors of Africa," New York City chef Marcus Samuelsson delivers a tempting version of Yellow Rice.

Dutch traders brought the dish, he says, to South Africa from Indonesia: "In its most traditional form, it is white rice cooked with raisins and turmeric, which gives it a bright golden hue." He jazzes things up with corn, mango and yellow bell peppers.

Born in Ethiopia and raised in Sweden by adoptive parents, Samuelsson traveled across Africa over the years to learn more of his personal history and cultural heritage. As he went from one end of the continent to the other, sampling foods and absorbing techniques, he realized the importance of simple preparations.

"Most of the cooking," he writes, "is what we think of as 'poor man's food': simple stews, grilled meats and fish, steamed vegetables, filling side dishes, and a range of breads. Yet these simple foods are anything but dull."

From Libya and Morocco in the north to Cape Town in the south, from Mali and Senegal in the west to his native Ethiopia, Samuelsson watched and worked.

In time, he devised recipes for Mango Couscous, influenced by the flavors of North Africa, and Chicken-Peanut Stew, eaten throughout West Africa. He developed recipes for Plantain-Coconut Stew, a nice vegetarian option, and Bobotie, a one-dish casserole popular in South Africa.

He provides us the impetus to step out of our comfort zone, to experiment with different flavors in the kitchen. Our taste buds won't know what hit them.

(A version of this article appeared originally on www.culinate.com.)

Flipping out

Should my sister meet Bonny Wolf, I think they would get along. She is a Bundt-pan fanatic, using hers nearly every other week to create simple round cakes for friends and colleagues. Have boxed mix, will travel. Or so she says.

In "The Little Cake Pan That Could," the first essay in "Talking With My Mouth Full," Wolf takes a delicious look at Bundt cakes, "perfectly shaped, evenly browned, and consistently moist."

The Washington, D.C.-based journalist pays proper tribute to H. David Dalquist, who with his wife, Dorothy, founded Nordic Ware in 1946 in the basement of their Minneapolis home. Roughly four years later, they developed their signature mould.

After a Texas woman placed second in the 17th annual Pillsbury Bake-Off in 1966, for a Tunnel of Fudge cake prepared in a Bundt pan, the Dalquists' creation took center stage. Its popularity soared. Production orders rolled in quickly. It is now considered a bakeware icon.

"For a while, everyone made Bundt cakes," Wolf writes, "blueberry cream cheese, walnut rum, even one with 7-Up. The Harvey Wallbanger Bundt cake... used yellow cake mix, vanilla pudding mix, eggs, oil, orange juice, vodka, and Galliano liqueur, just like its namesake cocktail. The Margarita cake involved margarita mix, orange liqueur, and tequila." The possibilities seem endless. Doesn't my sister know it?

The author describes in straightforward prose foods she has always eaten: the old-fashioned dishes of her childhood in Minnesota, the crab cakes of her college days in Baltimore.

Avoiding fancy or fussy presentations, Wolf concentrates instead on homey comfort fare. She examines family classics and regional specialties, easy-to-make entrees as well as tried-and-true sweets. They are items we have had before or would hope to taste in the future.

She punctuates these 30-plus discussions with cooking instructions for meats and vegetables, fancy drinks and frozen desserts, all recipes she has collected religiously over the years from a variety of sources.

Should my brother meet Wolf, they would get along, too. Wolf looks beyond the kitchen as well, to kitschy county fairs and thriving food halls across the United States. In the piece "A Day at the Fair," for example, she describes greasy grub at the annual Minnesota State Fair, which features "forty-nine foods on a stick... (representing) the good, the bad, and the truly gross."

It is a scene I think my brother would appreciate. With his friends in Southern California, he has gone to the Los Angeles County Fair nine years running. He has downed deep-fried Oreos, Snickers, and Twinkies; fried green tomatoes, zucchini, and mushrooms; curly fries, garlic fries, and chili-cheese fries. Presumably on different afternoons.

In "Market Pleasures," one of my favorites, Wolf takes us to the Eastern Market in Washington, D.C.'s Capitol Hill neighborhood, an institution she cherishes.

"It is where (we) shop every day, like European housewives, for fresh fish, meats, poultry and bread," she explains. "This is where we go for cold cuts and cheese, fresh pasta and sauces. If we wanted to, we could even buy pigs' feet. On Monday, the one day the market is closed, we suffer."

The Eastern Market is similar in many ways to the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, the Pike Place Market in Seattle, the West Side Market in Cleveland, the original Farmers' Market in Los Angeles, and the Ferry Building Marketplace in San Francisco.

"It's at a city's market that you come to understand the city," Wolf writes. "When you see how real people shop for food you begin to understand who they are and how they live. It's the 'life' part of city life and the 'heart' part of heart of town. If you're very lucky, you live nearby." I want to be that lucky.

Other essays - on ice-cream shops, perfectly roasted poultry, and what the author calls "the holy trinity of Texas meat cooking" (chicken-fried steak, chili and barbecue) - prove equally rewarding. Accessible topics such as these help give "Talking With My Mouth Full" a strong sense of familiarity and a certain cohesiveness.

By looking at things we all have encountered, Wolf reminds us of the bonds we inevitably share, the common threads that run through our lives at the table. She celebrates the items that nourish us time and again, offering insight on a host of uniquely and traditionally American foods.

(A version of this article appeared originally on www.culinate.com.)

Feeding groupies

Jamie's Italian at Canary Wharf. It is the meal I look forward to. If Jamie Oliver is a rock star, then we are bona fide groupies. Admittedly so. It is the meal on which we conclude this particular trip. We enjoy spit-roasted lamb and pasta Bolognese. We are happy and well-fed.

Happy Harrods

Nor can we resist the food hall (and chocolate Santas) at Harrods.

Literary London

All it takes is a walk through Hatchards on Piccadilly or Books for Cooks in Notting Hill to make me wish I've brought extra empty luggage. Next time, definitely.

I think, for example, to buy "Pies and Prejudice: In Search of the North" by Stuart Maconie, or "Breakfast at The Wolseley" by A.A. Gill, or "Great British Grub" by Brian Turner or "Full English: A Journey Through the British and Their Food" by Tom Parker-Bowles, son of Camilla...

But I practice restraint and limit myself to one title - Nigel Slater's "Eating for England: The Delights and Eccentricities of the British at Table," in paperback.

Upstairs we eat

Downstairs in The Horniman at Hays, a stone's throw from the HMS Belfast and London Bridge, people laugh and drink after work and into the evening.

Upstairs, away from the bustle, we eat. We have pie and mash and veggies. We have fish and chips and mushy peas. Others come for the beer. We, apparently, come for the food.

Fortnum for sure

Nor can we resist the pretty sweets at Fortnum & Mason on Piccadilly.

BBQ buns

We can take the girl out of Chinatown, but we can not take Chinatown out of the girl.

The White House eats

During a June visit to London, the Obama girls, their mother, grandmother and the rest of the entourage reportedly ate at The Audley in Mayfair. The children, we understand, had fish and chips. When we explore the quiet tony neighborhood, we find the British pub for ourselves.

Humming along

Opened, as it turns out, by a friend of a friend, The Hummingbird Bakery sells American-style desserts aplenty. There are cupcakes, for instance. There are layer cakes, pies, cookies and brownies.

And, not surprisingly, there is a book: "The Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook" from owner Tarek Malouf.

We opt for a red velvet cupcake with traditional cream cheese frosting. My sister takes a bite. I happily finish the rest.

Leave the rice, keep the soy

The store-bought sushi is convenient but mediocre. The rice is cold and hard, the fish nearly nonexistent. The soy sauce, however, is packaged in such a unique way we can not resist a photo.