Since today is half over and still overcast, my enthusiasm to write about how fabulous this lemonade was on a hot summer’s day is waning quickly. But I shall do my best.

The coldest summer in 40 years came to an abrupt, record-setting end at the beginning of this week and anyone who had to go to work was probably pretty bummed out. But I don’t feel bad for them because they have jobs. Anyway, I got really sweaty and gross from the heat and just felt like a glass of lemonade. I wandered down to the farmers’ market in shorts of all things and loaded up my bag with summery things like strawberries, lemons, figs, and tomatoes. I also bought an enormous bunch of basil that had seen better days but I needed it for Super Summer Salad Event: Insalata Caprese!

Raw tomatoes are another not-favorite of mine (like eggs). I met someone recently who shares my distaste for raw tomatoes. Or rather, they shared my distaste because they had systematically forced their taste buds to reverse their opinion and start loving tomatoes. Why? Who knows. Maybe because tomatoes are like, but not as bad as, eggs when it comes to things like sandwiches: they’re all over the place and it would behoove oneself to tolerate them. Otherwise you’ll be saying “no tomatoes” for the rest of your life. What a waste of time. But with a homemade caprese salad, I discovered I can handle a thick slice of raw tomato because it’s smothered in balsamic vinegar and olive oil and topped with basil and mozzarella (in case you didn’t know). Is this the beginning of a taste bud-turning journey? Will I someday enjoy raw tomatoes on my sandwich? Only time will tell…

Tasty!

I lifted this recipe from several websites because a google search for “miso marinated steak” resulted in several hits for nearly identical miso-wasabi marinades. “How strange,” thought I, and wondered: Does this mean there is some kind of miso-wasabi standard out there, handed down from the Japanese god of all things that come in paste form? Decide for yourself if this recipe is divine:

Wasabi-Miso Marinated Steak with Soba and Green Onion
adapted from numerous websites/handed down from the paste gods

For the marinade:

Whisk together all of the marinade ingredients in a bowl. Place the mixture into a plastic bag with the steak and allow to marinate for two hours in the refrigerator, turning it over after an hour.

As it marinates, prepare the soba noodles according to package instructions. After rinsing the noodles in cold water, cover and place the colander over a bowl before placing in the refrigerator. This will allow the noodles to chill and drain further.

After two hours, remove the steak from the bag and save the marinade. Get your broiler going and adjust the rack according to your steak’s thickness. Actually, this is an area I know very little about, so hopefully you know your own broiler and where to put the rack. Technically speaking, I just wing it. I also prefer to use my cast iron skillet in lieu of the broiler pan because it’s about 80 million times easier to clean. As the broiler heats up (with your pan or skillet in place), slice the green onions and remove the soba noodles from the ol’ ice box.

When the broiler is ready and your cooking pan of choice is hot, place the steak on it. You can baste the steak with the reserved marinade if you like. I didn’t because I don’t have a baster. Cooking time will vary on steak thickness and your preference for rareness. I think my steak (about an 1 1/2 ” thick) cooked for about 10 minutes, with a quick flip after 7 minutes, and came out a little too medium for me but still juicy.

Slice the steak thin and place on top of soba noodles and garnish with green onions. I would suggest drizzling some pan juices, but I didn’t have any. Instead I used the juice that collected on the cutting board while I sliced the steak. I also added some soy sauce. Enjoy!

Someone posted a comment a long time ago asking me for my thoughts on the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. I apologize for not addressing it sooner, but like my experience at San Francisco’s Ocean Beach it makes me incredibly upset. I avoided all photographs of the situation because they made me cry. Stupid reason perhaps to not spend time learning about one of the worst environmental disasters in human history, although I have spent many an hour reading critical texts on environmentalism for a class. A class that eventually led me to believe that we are literally destroying the Earth. If our political leaders don’t blow us up first, nature will reset the balance and most of us will die.

Climate change, pollution, unsafe drinking water, drought, famine, disease, hurricanes, fires, and everything else are getting worse. There are simply too many of us and we’re still making babies, especially in places where women have no political power or financial autonomy. While placing blame is pointless - we’re all in this together, this planet belongs to all of us and we all have to be environmentalists - I find myself taking up Valerie Solanas’ viewpoint to some extent. Patriarchy sucks. I don’t think men are inherently disposed to wrecking stuff, but the societies and cultures they dominate have been structured around promoting ideals of dominance, brute strength, and superiority over women and other species. So let’s go back to school yard rules: share. Only we’d be sharing wealth, resources, healthcare, nutritious food and clean water, education, and habitat instead of toys and the swings.

Do I think this will happen anytime soon, perhaps in my lifetime? No, not really. I consider myself a hopeful person but this is one necessary change I have little to no faith in as long as the current power structure holds. It places a higher value on too few rather than everyone. It’s a bizarre form of selfishness. My one hope is that it collapses without the use of nuclear bombs and that people govern themselves. That time when we blindly adhered to what the church, the tyrant, or the television said is over. We can read. We can think rationally. We can grow our own food and eat it too.

We can stop making plastic, stop using oil, and stop all the toxic pollution that comes with their production. Would it be hard? Maybe. But perhaps if we also stopped listening to the crap spun by companies like BP that everything is going to be okay we wouldn’t see what is actually the matter of our survival as unimportant or difficult. We simply cannot delegate the task of fixing the mess we made to the Green Party or the EPA. The environment is everyone’s problem and ultimately everyone’s solution. So start talking about it. Tell your friends, tell your mom, tell anyone who will listen that we have to do something about the mess. Remember that the BPs, Exxons, and all the other enemies of the environment need us to survive and we are therefore more powerful than they are. Remember that the downfall of civilization is not fun. Remember to share.

Her name is Ellie, short for Eleanor, and I got her almost exactly two years ago. It’s very possible it was this very Caturday in 2008 that I brought home that soft, cuddly 5 month-old kitten. I knew she was mine when she fell asleep in my arms at the shelter. Well, this place wasn’t exactly a shelter. It was kind of like a pet supply store that had rescue animals running amok and barking and defecating all over the place and all over each other. Luckily they closed after I found Ellie. Who, as you may have noticed, has unusual coloring. She is a dilute tortoiseshell, which means she is a softer version of the real thing. Not just in terms of coloring apparently, because this cat is softer than a chinchilla.

For fun, Ellie likes to sleep. When she is not sleeping, she is bothering me while I work at my desk until I start throwing the toy mice that rattle (if it doesn’t rattle it might as well be a piece of broccoli: wholly unappealing to a cat) across the room for her to chase down and then return to me. That’s right, my cat fetches. She also leaps into the air after these mice, grabs them with her paws, and sits on them for a couple seconds before hiding under the bed until I throw another. I don’t understand, but it’s adorable.

Fun!

Not so fun

Alas, these lazy days of summer spent at home cooking, taking pictures of food and my cat, and reading are nearly over. I had a minor panic attack last night upon realizing that this is the last summer vacation of my life because I plan to graduate in December. I’m a bit annoyed that I am already anxious about this seeing as the school year has yet to start. I am nevertheless excited for these finale five classes before I am forced to fight the economy for my share of a dwindling supply of money. It’s easy to feel depressed, and I do, but I am also grateful for the positive and purring things in my life.

A fellow ramen f(r)iend

I had brought this friend to my personal favorite, Tanpopo in San Francisco’s Japantown, where we enjoyed two enormous bowls of awesome before he suggested we try his favorite spot. After our dining experience at Norikonoko it looks as though we’ll be trying to one-up each other, a challenge for which I am more than excited (and think I am winning already, hah!). Norikonoko is a very cozy restaurant with a sliding door and maybe ten tables. It’s a bit beyond the hubbub of that mess of retail stores and coffee shops that exist for UC Berkeley students on Telegraph avenue inside of a dark wood grotto of restaurants and shops. Although ramen isn’t exactly a main feature on the menu (I’d say the robata dinners had that spot), there were four options available. In my experience, the fewer options you have for a particular dish the better: the restaurant isn’t trying to please everyone and (hopefully) as a result prepares those few variations very well.

I ordered the miso chashu ramen (sans egg of course) and went to town. The noodles were thick but good and the fish cake was tasty. I did take issue with the broth and pork, however: too salty and too lean, respectively. As I said, I probably didn’t need the extra calories from fatty pork but I would have preferred two smaller, more succulent pieces to four thick slabs of regular old pork. Salty broth is great but too salty isn’t ideal as it overpowers the other flavors. All ramen, unless it’s really bad ramen, makes me happy so all told I enjoyed Norikonoko and would love to return with a larger appetite and try the other reportedly authentic Japanese dishes on the menu.

Miso ramen with chashu pork

Although restaurant ramen can be cheap, it’s got nothing on the practically free packets of the instant stuff available at basically any store. After I finish my current stack of books, I plan to read The Ramen King and I by Andy Raskin to learn more about the history of instant noodles and figure out how to fix (read: get) a love life. Yes, it is terribly salty and loaded with chemicals human beings have no business consuming but good grief! it tastes good. To give my heart a fighting chance I try to empty only half of the spice packet and toss in tofu, mushrooms, and whatever green leaf I have sitting in the crisper drawer. For today’s lunch, I had bok choy and garnished it with crisp green onions.

NONGSHIM Shin Ramyum instant spicy ramen

The Shin Ramyun packet includes spice, noodles, and “vegetables.” The vegetables are dried tofu, mushrooms and seaweed. I think. Whatever they are, they’re gross and I never use them. Eating an entire packet takes more than your daily allowance of sodium and a significant chunk of your calories. Whatever. And you can buy it amazon. Of course I would rather be stuck on an island with a skilled, handsome ramen chef than with a lifetime supply of this stuff, but when you’re an unemployed student it keeps you from starving.

Home fries, cat

Ellie, my cat, is sometimes the one who wakes me up. Usually it’s the glorious morning summertime light beaming in through my gossamer curtains, but sometimes the cat decides that 8:00 AM is the perfect time for a litter box party and I wake to sounds of litter being scratched around and tossed over the sides of the box onto my floor. Cute, sort of.

Eggs are cheap but I am pretty sure potatoes are cheaper. I really like home fries and hashbrown scrambles so I’ve been merging the two in my cast iron skillet and scrilleting up some potatoes, mushrooms, onions, and herbs with butter or oil. Lately I’ve been going through sticks of butter like I was saving for hibernation or something, but so far no weight gain. I’ll get to that part later (hint: the litter box story was foreshadowing).

French toast with butter

See? Butter! This morning I noticed some old bread hanging out in the back of my refrigerator and decided to eat it. While low calorie %100 whole wheat bread is great for healthy sandwiches, it does not work that well for french toast. But wait! Doesn’t french toast require eggs? Why yes, yes it does. But I use only one beaten egg in an ocean of low-fat milk swirling with cinnamon so in the end nothing tastes like eggs. It just tastes (pretty) good.

Now for the main reason I’ve been digging this whole breakfast thing: my digestive system has finally achieved some sort of regularity. Anyone who knows me too well may be privy to last year’s bowel infection that cost me two trips the emergency room, or my autobiography Girls Don’t Poop. While my diet hasn’t really changed in terms of what I put in my mouth, it has become more regular because of these morning meals. It’s not rocket science to eat on a schedule but somehow the benefits of doing so never occurred to me. My body feels super awesome and the pounds of butter I’ve ingested over the last couple weeks haven’t shown up on my hips. Not yet, anyway…

Note: Girls Don’t Poop was not in fact written by me. It’s by Mario van Buren and published by Atomic Books, who unfortunately no longer have a page for the book.

Galette with ham and gruyère cheese

A galette, also known as a savory crêpe or a buckwheat crêpe, is really awesome like Paris but you can eat it. It’s like eating Paris. Actually, the galette originates in Bretagne (Brittany) where buckwheat was a cheap alternative to regular wheat, which was taxed. Buckwheat arrived via the crusaders from Asia. I guess religious wars can have their perks.

When we visited Bretagne and Normandy, we ate so many apples and apple-based dishes I can barely remember Mont St. Michel or the D-Day beaches. But when I was in Paris, I took a photography course near the Jussieu métro that serves the nearby Université Denis Diderot. Consequently, a crêpe-making superstar serves throngs of students across the street from the métro entrance. I unfortunately never learned this woman’s name, but she was incredibly kind and sold me several enormous, cheap galettes au jambon-fromage. The classic of course is the galette complète which contains cheese, ham, and an egg. I dislike eggs. My life is incomplete without them I know, so save your energy.

Following the recipe in Culinaria France by Andre Domine (recipe below) I whipped up a batch of galette batter substituting melted butter for lard. Moments later (like I was really going to let it sit overnight) I was enjoying the earthy flavor of buckwheat coupled with grated gruyère and Black Forest ham. Salty, gooey, good.

And now for the photos!

Butter on hand as the crêpe pan heats up

Sliced ham. Yum.

The first is always a dud, despite the fact I have worked at two crêperies.

After the first side is cooked and easily flipped over, add the fillings in the center of the galette

Fold it up anyway you like - I was taught the “square” and obviously lost my touch

Because galettes are best eaten immediately after they come off the pan, I suggest multitasking while you make them and set up a plate and utensils on a neighboring (cool) burner.

Recipe adapted from Culinaria France:

Pâte à galettes de blé noir

Makes 12 galettes

2 cups/250 g buckwheat flour
1 egg
2 cups/500 mL water
1 tbsp coarse sea salt
2 tbsp melted butter (or lard, if using)
Butter or lard for baking

Suggested toppings:
Sliced ham, prosciutto, slice turkey, goat cheese, grated cheese (gruyère or emmenthal are great), sautéed mushrooms, baby spinach, sliced cherry tomatoes, butter, salt and pepper.

Place the flour in a large mixing bowl and form a hollow in the middle and whisk the egg into the center. Add the salt and water gradually as you mix. The batter should be fluid but not too runny. Let the mixture sit for 2 hours (or do as I did and mix in the butter [or lard] immediately).

Heat up a 10″ crêpe or circular non-stick pan and whisk the batter before cooking. When the pan is very hot, pour 1/2 cup of the batter into the center of the pan and swirl it around until it reaches the edges. I didn’t need to grease my pan, but if needed any cooking spray or butter will work. Traditionally, Culinaria France notes that lard and egg yolk were used to grease the pan before cooking. Holes in galette should form as it cooks. When the edges are browned and the galette lifts easily from the pan, flip it over and add cheese, ham, or toppings of your choosing. Salt and pepper may be added as well.

After about a minute or a minute and a half, fold two sides of the galette in towards the center. Make folding marks in the other two sides to help fold them in towards the center. Let the galette cook for a bit longer before giving it final flip to heat up the other side.

Serve immediately and enjoy!

Unfortunately, I am no stylist. The composition is fine, I think, but the balance of the original colors is totally off. Thus, a black and white image is born! I eventually gave up trying to arrange my produce and gave in to the rumble in my tummy and made a delicious salad.

I know what you’re thinking, “Charlotte, you should TOTALLY give up photography and get into graphic design cuz you’re sooo talented, obvi!”

But seriously, there is a multitude of take-out options in my neighborhood and I rarely take advantage of any save the pizza place down the street after a night of responsible alcohol consumption. The affectionately so-called Tendernob lies somewhere between the Tenderloin (smells like pee) and Nob Hill (smells like money) features many different cuisines, especially if you are willing to expand its borders to the upper blocks of the ‘Loin. There are Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Mexican, and Indian restaurants scattered among the dive bars and liquor stores. A few blocks up and you see more Thai, pizza, the famous Pearl’s burgers, and even an Indonesian place catering to the hotels and Academy of Art students. And me, I live here. When I’m lazy I’ll make instant ramen instead of getting take-out, but when I’m sick and the dishes are piling up and I haven’t showered in two days, I’ll spend the dough on a couple entrées if only for comfort’s sake.

Enter the Osha Thai Noodle Café on Geary St., a mere two blocks from my building. Osha is a family-owned thing, and this nearest location is apparently the original amongst the seven locations in San Francisco. It’s open until 3 AM on Fridays and Saturdays and every time I’ve walked by on such an evening it’s packed. In fact, it usually looks busy. A fact I coupled with a recent article from 7×7: The 2010 Eat+Drink Reader’s Choice Awards to pick Osha for this maiden voyage of Take-Out Tuesday. In short, it was not so good. In length, allow me to explain using words and pictures.

Take-Out Tuesday: Osha Thai Noodle Café

I ordered the crab-fried rice and tofu pad kee mao, two standards in my book. I immediately realized after ordering the crab dish that it was a mistake, as it’s not exactly crab season and their website boasts sourcing locally and sustainably. Confirmation of this error came later as the strands and weak chunks of crab tasted like fish sauce, an ingredient applied far too liberally in this dish’s making. The pad kee mao was okay but for the fact I think it was actually pad see ew. Whatever it was, it was greasy and not what I was expecting, I had asked for “medium” spice and not only was it not that spicy, but I had to supply my own chili garlic paste to liven both dishes up. My Coke tasted like any other Coke.

Crab-fried rice

Pad kee mao or pad see ew?

The service was very kind and my food was ready by the time I made it back from my trip the pharmacy two blocks away for tissues and cold medicine. But I have to say I was expecting a bit more from Osha. I had dinner once upon a time at their location in the Mission and I remember eating something with more kick, flavor, and style than what I received today.

I feel like this - greasy, empty, and strangely orange

So that was Take-Out Tuesday numero uno! I hope you enjoyed it and that you will check back next week to see where my cravings lead me…

I already mentioned the totally delicious breakfast I had at Jam on Hawthorne, but let’s talk about the pho I had for my morning repast a couple days later at Pho Gia in Northeast Portland.

Pho Tai

It was really quite good but a bit heavy on the noodles and light on the beef.

Noodle overload!

Plenty of yelp reviewers had mentioned the clovey sweetness of Pho Gia’s broth and I agree but without issue. Aside from over-noodling, my only other problem was with the onions: having not been entirely severed from the core (?) the slices were all stuck together and difficult to separate. Is that too nitpicky? I don’t think so. Enjoying pho should be easy and uninhibited. After slurping as many noodles and spoonfuls of broth I could possibly contain, I drank my ca phe sua da (good, but not especially strong).

All done!

So that’s it for today, kids. I’ll be back soon with tales of the not-so-good noodles, the meat stuffed with other meat, and, of course, the pizza.