charlotteann

I caught my own food! The hunt wasn’t quite like that described in Michael Pollan’s third chapter of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and I won’t be writing about it as well or in such detail, so if you want to know how a lobsterman works, there’s a Wikipedia page just for you. I didn’t actually pull my future dinner out of the water (I’m not strong enough to haul water-logged buoys) but I did pick it out of the bucket and held it briefly while I stretched two fat rubber bands onto its claws before dropping it into another bucket. Once a lobster is captured it spends the rest of its life in some sort of bucket filled with seawater, including the one in which it will likely be boiled to death. Ocean, trap filled with rotting fish, bucket, pot, stomach, … you know the rest.
This is what lobsters eat:

After my time was up in Maine, I took a bus down to New York City to visit some old friends. I ate pizza in two boroughs, a sno-cone from a street vendor in Flatbush, and drank my very first Skittle bomb. Tragically, I also had some camera issues. My neutral density filter - it served me well in Maine - was stuck to my haze filter. Being somewhat paranoid, I refused to just take both off and leave the lens surface vulnerable to the elements. Almost all my photographs from New York are as a result vignetted, blurry, and underexposed. Oh well!
The lovely lady I was staying with made some delicious guacamole for me and her boyfriend to enjoy after we played a game of Scrabble, which I lost by a wide margin. I met another friend at The High Line for lunch, but I was a bit late thanks to the Q train and we ended up walking from 16th St. up to 34th St. so she wouldn’t be late to work. This was okay with me as it placed me rather conveniently near B&H, where the sales associate I cornered could not help me with my filter problem. So aside from not being able to take good photos, losing at Scrabble, and sweating profusely on several journeys between Manhattan and Brooklyn, I had a wonderful time.

My flight back to San Francisco involved a layover in Austin, Texas. I chose to scarf down two BBQ tacos from a Salt Lick “truck” located on the other side of a security checkpoint from the food court version. I walked between these two establishments at least three times, debating the best way to get a good deal on my airport food. This is why you read my blog; I go above and beyond. The Salt Lick (food court) charges about $12 for a plate of food, and about $14+ for a sandwich. You can also buy an entire brisket to bring with you on the plane, presumably as a gift for whomever you are visiting. Turned off by the outrageous prices for a stupid BBQ sandwich with a mushy side and the thought of being gifted an entire brisket purchased at an airport, I wandered over to the cart that sells the same meat on a tortilla for $3.99 a pop. I bought two tacos - the brisket (!) and pork - and a jubilantly labeled iced tea from Sweet Leaf Tea for about $11. I could have spent the same amount on only one kind of meat, but instead I got two. I win! The pork, which came with a scant amount of green cabbage, was definitely better than the brisket (go figure) and the tea was indeed sweet. As far as airport meals go, this one was actually decent. If you find yourself in a similar situation and want to drink a beer with your BBQ, go to the taco cart (closes at 6PM) because it is located right next to a stage, which has a real live band playing real live music in front of a bar. Don’t mess with Texas.

So I flew from San Francisco to Long Beach, then took a red eye flight to Boston yesterday and/or today. Even though it took the check-in guy and I some time to sort out how I could avoid paying $50 for my overweight bag, I still like jetBlue - they actually have free snacks. Alas, I have no pictures of those blue potato chips or the animal crackers because I was asleep when they were handing them out. But before I got on my plane to Long Beach, I hit up the Firewood Grill café near gate 12 in the international terminal at SFO. Not the one you see immediately after security, mind you. This was that perfectly fine airport bar & restaurant’s loser little brother. All of their pre-made sandwiches (prices unmarked) had tomatoes, the service was pretty slow, and my Italian sausage sandwich looked like this:

I know what you’re thinking. Well, maybe not exactly, but it’s something like, “Gee, who orders a fatty, greasy sandwich before a long flight?” or “Duh, airport food sucks!” You’re right about the first thing. However, I have had some totally decent airport grub after I got over how much it cost. Not at the Firewood Grill. You know what else sucked about the Firewood Grill? It took a long time because they botched my order. Not cool in an airport, dudes. Also, what’s up with that hexagon to-go container? I’d never bring that thing on an airplane. Maybe I am a little cranky because it’s raining over here in New England and the A’s lost to the Red Sox, but step it up little Firewood Grill brother! Even though we jetBluers have free snacks we always appreciate a real meal before flying.

Mmmm, take-out. Convenience is tasty, especially if you pick the right place. I have a few standbys here in San Francisco’s Tenderloin/Tendernob neighborhood I inhabit, including Milan Pizza and Chutney. Admittedly, I haven’t explored too much: I’m cheap. Sue me. But because it’s Tuesday (the day of the week best suited to go with the words “take out”) and I am avoiding groceries in light of my upcoming trip to the East coast in a week I walked a block up to Eden’s Mediterranean Turkish and Greek Restaurant for a chicken gyro.
I have to say it was absolutely delicious. Ready in 3 minutes and only $6.00. Convenient? Check. Cheap? Check. Lots of yummy dressing but not enough to make the lavash fall apart, crunchy veggies (normally there are raw tomatoes, but I hate those stupid things), and fabulously marinated, moist chicken. Two noms up!

Typically, I follow a recipe when I make something other than ramen, spaghetti, or a grilled cheese. But yesterday I decided to wing it with a boneless pork chop I purchased from my new buddy at the meat counter at Golden Natural Foods. I know I said it was pricey, but it’s also really convenient. I knew I wanted to use some sage and rosemary from my little garden. Dressing the linguine was proving quite difficult until I came upon some ricotta left over from lasagna I made last week. This recipe isn’t exactly fancy. I was even too lazy to mince garlic, but it tasted pretty good so… No whining!

Pork chop 
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 2 or 3 sprigs of rosemary
• 5 or 6 leaves of sage
• 1 boneless pork chop on the small side

In a cast iron skillet add the olive oil, rosemary, and sage and let cook over medium heat until fragrant. Add the pork chop, cook about 15-20 minutes on each side (depending on thickness). I was having trouble gauging the cooking time for this because I can get impatient and my meat thermometer is not very accurate. So you should probably rely on your own pig-cooking skills before sticking to my suggested 15-20 minutes.

Linguine 
• single serving of whole wheat linguine
• 2 tbsp fresh ricotta cheese
• 1 or 2 tbsp dried cranberries
• salt and pepper

Cook the pasta to that lovely point of al dente, drain, and return to the pan to keep warm. Toss with ricotta and pinches of salt and pepper or according to taste.

There are a lot of French people in San Francisco. Sure, some of them are just on vacation (as the French frequently are) but there’s a significant number of them actually living here. Not only do I get to eavesdrop on them arguing over the MUNI map, but in my near two years of living in the Bay Area I have also dined at some pretty authentic French establishments. I even worked at one, Crepe O Chocolat, that serves up some mighty tasty French goodies. But she stopped making galettes, something I consider tantamount to tragedy because they were so, so good. The point I’m trying to make is that when I lived in Paris, I would often ruin my dinner on Wednesdays with an enormous galette jambon-fromage from this awesome lady near the métro Jussieu in the 5th. I had a photography class over there, and it was simply impossible to concentrate in the darkroom without a belly full of gooey cheese, crispy buckwheat, and salty, fatty ham. I have never tasted a galette so delicious as hers, but I’m going to try. Enter this month’s “quest” (I gotta do something on this blog rather than bore you with my dinners).

Today I checked out The Butler and the Chef Bistro in the SOMA district. It’s across the street from San Francisco’s South Park - apparently the oldest in the city - which has two playgrounds and smells a little like dog poop. I think my galette would have been damn near awesome like the one I hold on its Parisian pedestal, but it wasn’t very hot, nor very dank. It was dry and salty. I’m cool with salty, but you best be buttery, too. It and its oddly seasoned organic spinach salad cost me $12. The restaurant gets points for being uber green and using Frenchy ham, but I used to pay €3.50 for something bigger and, you know, danker.

The journey continues…

PS.
galette: savory crepe
jambon: ham
fromage: cheese