Beet photos by Kathleen Korb

Beets are polarizing. Love them or hate them, it’s their earthy flavor that evokes a range of reactions.

I recently served beets at a dinner party, and the conversation took a swift turn to childhood beet stories—some fond and bucolic; others of beet standoffs that usually ended in being sent to bed without dinner. While my hunch is most of those beets went from can to table, their seasonal spring counterpart needn’t be so controversial. The key to broad beet appeal is to contrast their earthy flavor with acid-driven vinaigrettes and pair them with something creamy, transforming the little roasted roots into a dish that appeals to beet eaters at every point on the spectrum. Shaved, roasted or steamed, baby beets are delicate and sweet, and their greens tender and mild. Roasting beets in parchment or foil with some herbs and olive oil enhances their delicate flavor and also accentuates their vivid colors (with the added bonus of easy peeling). At the farmers market I have rescued beet greens on their way to the compost, because the often-discarded leaves can be used in much the same way as any other greens—sautéed, steamed or made into a delicious pesto.

Beet Chips with Dill and Horseradish Créme Fraiche

Beets, dill and horseradish are a classic and time-honored combination, and the addition of crème fraiche brings all the flavors together. Try to use a variety of beets for this recipe, including golden and Chioggia, which results in an especially colorful presentation.

6 fresh dill sprigs
Canola oil for pan-frying
6 to 8 small beets, variety of colors
1/2 cup crème fraiche
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
Lemon juice
Fleur de sel
Fresh ground pepper

Heat 3/4 inch canola oil in a frying pan. Fry dill sprigs approximately 30 seconds, or until crisp, and drain on a paper towel.

Just before frying, slice beets as thinly as possible with a mandoline. Keep the different colors of beets separated. Start with the golden beets, working your way up to the most vibrant red beets. Fry in a single layer, turning midway through, less than a minute total.

Drain the fried beets on paper towels, and sprinkle with sea salt and fried dill.

Combine the crème fraiche with horseradish and a squeeze of lemon juice, and thin with a bit of milk, if necessary.

Season with salt and pepper.

Serve the crispy beets with the crème fraiche dip on the side.

Beet Green Tart with Spring Vegetables

Turning beet greens into an earthy pesto is an easy way to spread beet love to those who may not appreciate the root ends, and just a small amount of shaved and chopped spring vegetables bring big fresh flavors to this simple tart (this is a great way to use the odds and ends of spring veggies in your CSA box).

Pesto:

3 cups (packed) golden greens, woody ribs removed, and rinsed well (plus enough parsley to equal 3 cups total of greens)
1/2 cup toasted walnuts
2 small or 1 large clove garlic
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup olive oil

Tart:

1 sheet puff pastry, thawed according to package directions
Olive oil
2 to 3 baby leeks (sliced on the diagonal) or shallots (diced)
2 stalks green garlic, or 2 small cloves of garlic
2 cups shaved spring vegetables (mix of asparagus, zucchini, peas, carrots, etc.)
1/2 cup goat cheese

Preheat oven to 400°.

Blanch the cleaned greens in a large pot of salted water and transfer to an ice bath to cool. When cool, drain and squeeze tightly to remove most of the moisture.

Warm the nuts in a pan on the stovetop until fragrant but not toasted.

Toast the whole unpeeled garlic clove in a pan over medium heat on the stovetop for 4 minutes to soften and mellow. Mash garlic with the sea salt to form a paste. Add garlic paste, greens and walnuts to a food processor and pulse until finely chopped.

Add cheese and oil and pulse to combine. Thin with a little water if needed to be spreadable. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Roll the puff pastry on lightly floured parchment paper. Poke the entire surface of the tart every inch with the tines of fork.

Slide onto a baking sheet and prebake the crust for 15 minutes, until golden brown. Remove the crust from the oven, and let the pastry deflate.

While the crust bakes, sauté the leeks and green garlic on low heat in olive oil until soft.

With the heat off, toss the shaved vegetables in the pan to combine. Season with salt and pepper.

Spread pesto to  ightly cover tart. Top with shaved and sliced veggies. Add goat cheese crumbles.

Return the tart to the oven and bake for 10 minutes, until the vegetables and cheese just begin to brown.

Season with salt and pepper, slice and serve.

Beet Relish Crostini with Fromage Blanc

The diced beets in this relish begin to sparkle like ruby jewels when spooned on top of the fromage blanc, making these crostini a great beet conversation starter. Bonus: This relish is very versatile; its lightly pickled flavor pairs well with most seafood or meats.

6 small red beets
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 sprigs thyme
Salt
Pepper
2 shallots, finely diced
4 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
2 teaspoons mirin
2 tablespoons olive oil
Handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
Fromage blanc (or other soft white cheese from the farmers market, like a fresh ricotta)
Milk
1 baguette Italian-style bread
Olive oil

Preheat oven to 350°.

Cut the greens off the beets and reserve for another use (like beet pesto, see above). Put the beets on a large piece of foil; toss with olive oil, thyme, salt and pepper; and fold the foil over to seal tightly like an envelope. Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, until just tender. When cooled slightly, use a paper towel to gently rub the skin off the beets and finely dice them.

Combine the diced beets with the shallots, rice vinegar, mirin and a pinch of salt, and let sit for 20 minutes. Add olive oil and parsley, season with more salt and pepper. The relish is best when the acid prevails, so add more vinegar if necessary.

Slice the baguette into half-inch slices. Brush with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill or broil the bread for a couple minutes until just beginning to crisp.

Whip the fromage blanc with a fork to loosen slightly and season with salt and pepper. Add a splash of milk if needed to make it spreadable. Spread on grilled bread, and top with the beet relish.

This content was published in the Spring 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2013. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

All photos by Alanna Hale

As I stood over our kitchen sink scrubbing slime and bits of snail poo out of a plastic bucket I did not feel heroic. I did not sense the triumph of the urban forager feeding her family with found edibles. I had no swell of locavore pride in preparing tiny creatures plucked from my yard. I did not even give myself a pat on the back for being such a dedicated food writer.

Instead, I knew that despite my fears, I couldn’t be too bad of a mother if I was willing to purge snails for my son.

Shortly after this last Christmas, my 9-year-old son and I were lucky enough to find ourselves walking past L’Escargot Montorgueil, an old Parisian restaurant with a giant bronze snail hanging over its awning. The previous day he had been stunned by the fact that a steak and fries is a widely available lunch option, and now he saw that snails were on offer. He can be an adventurous eater and our trip to Paris was bringing out the best in him.

It was morning, so the restaurant was closed. But when a friend and I planned the menu for our New Year’s Eve feast, I mentioned my son’s newfound fascination with escargots. Our friend’s French pride kicked into high gear and he insisted on buying the specimens himself.

The day of the party, he handed me an aluminum tray with a stiff white paper lid bedecked with the Le Grandgousier sticker on top. These weren’t just snails, they were the best escargots from the snazziest traiteur on the Rue St-Honore. Inside were three dozen fat tan snail shells, each about two inches across and filled to the rim with bright green butter. We baked them in the oven for the recommended 15 minutes and brought them to the table already adorned with baguettes and a bottle of Montrachet.

As the other adults helped themselves to a few shells and sipped their wine, the snail buyer focused on my son, watching him pick up the first shell, dig around with a toothpick (for we had no designated two-pronged escargot forks), pull out a fat squiggle of gray meat dripping with seasoned butter, pop it in his mouth and chew. I’m not sure whose eyes lit up more brightly with delight when it became clear that the long-awaited taste of escargot lived up to so much expectation.

“Mom,” he said, “you should write a story about snails!”

Both the French and the Americans at the table laughed. No no, they all asserted, California garden snails aren’t the kind you eat.

But they are. They are exactly the kind (or, to be exact, one of the kinds) you eat. In fact, according to UC Davis, California has brown snails (Helix aspersa) because a Frenchman brought them here in the 1850s in order to make escargots (we were actually tucking into Helix pomatia, the other snail species commonly eaten in France, which tend to be bigger and have distinctive tan shells). Heliciculture didn’t take off in the Golden State, but like so many others before and since, the mollusks loved it here.

In Search of Helix Aspersa

Once upon a time, our garden was full of snails. Big fat dudes who left slime trails across the concrete stairs and hid under deck chairs and along the sides of plant containers. I went on a crusade that consisted of leaving saucers of beer all over the place. The snails drank and the snails drowned. And they haven’t returned. It ends up that, like the French, raccoons are fond of eating snails. We definitely have raccoons—they dig up the ground cover under the gravel sections of the yard looking for treats and leave their scat on the cocoa shells I use to mulch the center garden plot.

In short, I have no snails in my garden. This is, as most San Franciscans know, usually considered a good thing. It’s not, however, such a great thing if you’re writing a story about harvesting snails from your garden. Lucky for me, others are not so lucky, so one early March night I grabbed a flashlight and a large bucket and my son donned his camping headlamp and we headed out into the dark of a friend’s yard and garden that we had been promised was infested with snails.

Snails are largely nocturnal and like things damp and dreary. Thus, they really dig foggy San Francisco. They like to hang out on the underside of succulents and stalk-y or long-leafed plants. Since it was dark, we found plenty of them just crawling about on rocks and sidewalk edges.

If you know there are snails in your garden, make things easy on yourself: Set up a board on some rocks or bricks or whatever will keep it a few inches off the ground over some soil in a shady part of your yard. Check it in the morning. Chances are there will be scads of snails clinging to the underside of the board.

At first the snails we saw seemed way too small. Their shells were less than half the size of the snails we ate in France. Then, we started noticing how big the snails were outside their shells. The phrase “bite-size morsels” came to mind. We started picking them up and dropping them in the bucket. In quick order, we had five dozen snails to take home.

The Tending of Snails

We covered the bucket, set it in the corner of my study—a place that stays cool and dark—and threw in a few stalks of fennel. My son went to bed. I sat down to read but had to retreat upstairs. The noise of the snails crunching on the fennel was distracting. Hilarious and distracting.

For the next nine days we fed them herbs, then cornmeal, then nothing in a process called “purging” to clean the snails from the inside out. The whole process can easily be sped up to five days. The key points are:

• Choose a container from which the snails cannot escape but in which there is a free exchange of air. A bin topped with a screen weighed down with a brick works, or a container with a plastic lid that snaps on and into which you have poked some holes is good. I used a plastic bucket with an old pair of black tights as a lid (legs of the tights cut off and tied closed). The tights had the advantage of being something that I could dampen each day to help keep the container slightly damp without having standing water in it. A large glass jar with holes punched in the lid lets you see just how much slime and poo they produce. Whatever container you use, sprinkle the snails with a bit of misty water each day after you clean the container, but make sure there isn’t a bunch of standing water on the bottom.

• Keep the container in a cool, dark place. That’s what snails like. I wouldn’t keep them outside. Both raccoons and skunks love to eat snails and who wants to bother with building a raccoon-proof snail bucket?

• To purge the snails, start by feeding them greens and herbs for a day or two. This lets you know what you’re starting with. Then feed them cornmeal or oatmeal for a day or two. Since this diet turns their poo white, you’ll know other stuff is out of their systems. (Note: Gordon Ramsay recommends giving them carrots for this stage, since it turns their poo orange!) Then give them nothing for a day or two before cooking them. (Note: Some people skip the starving stage, finding it cruel. I saw how much poo these little things make; I didn’t want to eat snails full of it.) Some people chill their snails before cooking them—sending them into a fake semihibernation. I found no difference in the taste or texture of the snails that I had chilled versus those I had not.

• Clean the container daily. You may be tempted to skip a day, thinking it won’t be that bad. It will be. It will be more than twice as grossPart of the ick factor comes from the poo, of course, but just as much (if not more) comes from the slime snails leave all over everything. Two days worth of slime takes more than twice as long to clean and scrub out than does one day of slime. Trust me.

• Before you clean their container, transfer the snails to a large bowl or other container. You might want to keep the temporary container covered. A snail’s pace isn’t quite as slow as it’s made out to be.

Snail Cookery 101

You would think you could now just cook them, but turning snails into something not just edible but tasty and appealing is just a wee bit more complicated than that. There is parboiling, removing from their shells, and then a quick cook in acidulated water to de-slime them. I tried skipping this last step and just cook them with plenty of acid. I ended up with an inedible slimy mess that looked not unlike vomit.

Whether you’re making traditional Burgundian escargots or another snail dish, the first steps of cooking snails are the same: Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add plenty of salt. Rinse off the snails— making sure they are poo- and slimefree before you start! Dump them in the pot and cook them for about 3 minutes. Drain the snails and rinse them with plenty of cold water. Use tweezers or a small fork to pull the snails out of their shells. Be warned that there will be more mucus involved here. In some cases a lot more mucus.

On the upside, when you pull the snails out most of them will stretch out as you pull and the spring back into a curlicue shape in a most pleasing and delightful way. On the downside, some of the snails will look like globs of gray diseased snot because they will be coated in so much mucus.

While you’re removing all the mollusks from their curly shells, bring a pan filled with ¾ water and ¼ distilled white vinegar to a boil. Plop in the deshelled snails and boil them until they are slime-free, about 3 minutes. A snail you pull out of the water should not feel slimy and you will probably be able to see bits that look like tiny specks of curdled egg in the water—that’s the mucus that’s cooked off the snails. Drain the snails and, obviously, rinse them in plenty of cool water to get all the bits of cooked slime off of them. The snails are now ready to be cooked in a recipe.

I made traditional garlic butter– slathered escargots as well as a salad with crisped pancetta and sautéed snails. Snail lovers found them sweet and tender; I found them somewhat mushroom-like but, honestly, thoughts of slime and poo would not leave my head long enough for me to enjoy them.

My son, however, had no such trouble. He swiftly ate a dozen from their shells. Then, when I found a dish of eighteen un-shelled snails that I had accidentally left in the oven after the photo shoot, he downed those too.

When the big one hits or my son asks with verve, I am prepared, if necessary, to tackle buckets of slime and poo again. For the moment, though, I prefer my snails packed up in a neat ovenproof tray with a pretty French sticker on top. Better yet, I’ll take them sizzling hot and set in front of me by an aloof but efficient Parisian waiter.

Click here for more of Molly’s snail recipes.

This content was published in the Spring 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2013. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

All photos by Alanna Hale

When I say escargot I mean the classic French preparation of snails that began in the vineyards of Burgundy, where snails fat from a summer and fall of furious and fairly constant snacking would set themselves to hibernate for the winter and instead get plucked from their hiding places under rocks and along bottom fences to be cooked up in their shells along with plenty of garlic butter.

You do not need shells to make escargot, but they are helpful. California snails aren’t always all that big—especially compared to the farmed snails now used for escargot, with their giant lime-strengthened shells—but it is possible to stuff them. So prepare the snails as outlined in the accompanying article and save the shells. Bring a pot of about 4 cups of water to a boil and add about 2 tablespoons of baking soda. Add the snail shells and boil for about 3 minutes. Drain and rinse the shells. Pat them dry and set them on a baking sheet or piece of foil and dry them in a hot oven. Note that California snail shells tend to be not all that strong (we don’t have all the limestone in the soil that much of France does, and farmed snails are given a hefty supplement of calcium to strengthen their shells), so handle them gently. If you can use larger shells for smallerdish), you’ll make things easier on yourself.

Along with shells, you’ll need compound butter. For 2 dozen snails, mince as finely as you can mince 1 small garlic clove, 1 small shallot, and ½ cup flat parsley leaves. You can, if you like, pulse it all in a food processor until it’s almost paste-like. Mash together with ¼ cup butter. Add plenty of salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Put a small amount of the butter in each shell, stuff in a snail, and top it all off with as much butter as you can stuff in the shell.

Once all the shells are filled, set them in a small baking dish—you don’t want it too much bigger than all the shells because you want the melted butter to sort of stay with the snails—or in an escargot dish with individual wells for each snail and bake at 375°F. until the butter is melted and the snails are tender, about 15 minutes. Use small forks or toothpicks to pick the snails from their shells and serve with plenty of bread to mop up the real star: the lightly snail-infused garlic-shallot-herb butter.

Note: If you choose not to bother with the shells, simply put the prepared snails in a small baking dish or ramekin and top with the butter. Since the snails aren’t buried in protective shells, they only need to bake for about 10 minutes.

Beyond Escargot

If nothing else, this project hammered home the degree to which snails have a very mushroom-like quality. There is a reason some chefs like to cook them in olive oil and garlic and herbs and toss them with pasta. This salad was simple and highlighted the fungi-like earthy flavor of snails. Sauté chopped pancetta or bacon in a tablespoon or two of olive oil until crispy. Add some sliced or chopped garlic and the snails and a bit of dry white wine. Cover and simmer for a bit. Remove the lid to cook off the excess liquid. There should be some fat in there. Sprinkle in some lemon juice and add salt and pepper to taste. A handful of chopped parsley is good, although there are worse ideas than adding some rosemary or sage or thyme instead. Toss the pancetta-snail mixture with a generous amount of watercress or peppery arugula. Divide the dressed leaves among four plates and top with the snail-pancetta bits that will have settled at the bottom of the salad bowl. Serve right away. Cooked snails do not improve with sitting around.

This content was published in the Spring 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2013. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

Namu’s Beef Tongue with Sunchokes, Mustard and Onions

From Edible San Francisco

Kristyn Leach is the farmer at Namu Farm, a one acre plot in Sunol, owned by brothers Dennis, Dan and David Lee. The farm is dedicated to growing food for their inspiring family restaurant, Namu Gaji.

Ingredients

• Ingredients Part One
• 4 Beef tongues
• 1 head crushed or minced garlic
• 8oz peeled & minced ginger
• 4 Thai chili, split lengthwise
• 2 Bay leaf
• 1 oz black peppercorns
• 1.5 cups Sea Salt
• 5 quarts water
• Part II
• 2 cups Soy sauce
• 1 bunch Cilantro, chopped stem and leaf
• 6 Jalapenos sliced into rounds
• 5 teaspoons fried garlic
• 1 Red onions
• 1 cup fresh squeezed Lime juice
• ½ cup White vinegar
• 1 cup Mirin
• ½ cup Sugar
• Water

Directions

1. Method
2. 1. Combine ingredients in part one in a pot large enough for the tongues and add water to cover. Refrigerate over night.
3. 2. Bring the pot to a boil in the brine and turn down to a simmer. Simmer for 3 hours(until tender) skimming regularly.
4. 3. Strain the brine through a chinois and set aside and take out the tongues.
5. 4. Trim the skin and connective tissues off the tongues. (easiest to do this while hot)
6. 5. Combine all second part ingredients in a 3rd pan and add cleaned tongues. Add brine to cover, discard the rest. Let sit for 7 days in the refrigerator. Stir the liquid around with a spoon once a day.
7. 6. cut into squares and grill to order
8. Mustard Greens
9. 1.blanch quickly, about 30 seconds in boiling water
10. 2.squeeze all water out, rough chop and season with sesame oil, toasted perilla seeds, salt and lemon zest

– Nutrition Facts

for 100 grams

Calories Fat Cal.

Nutrition Facts Ingredient Description Wikipedia

Analyzed by Kitchenbug

This content was published in the Spring 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2013. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

Photos by Stacy Ventura

Between the spicy collard greens and the West African peanut stew, the band members put down their instruments, the swinging tempo of 1940s jazz stops and one of the zoot-suit-clad waiters walks up to the microphone to tell his story. Where he was; where he could have been; where he is now.

This is Cora Jean’s Old Skool Café. A nonprofit supper club in the heart of Bayview run completely (and flawlessly) by teens and young adults, ages 16 to 22. Every evening, diners enjoy live entertainment (also provided by a youthful crew) and a soulful menu inspired by the grandparents, parents and the many cultures of those in the kitchen.

The décor, the music and the sophisticated uniforms harken backto the days of the Harlem Renaissance, a period marked by determination and celebration despite trepid times. And if you really want to get into the details, the majority of staff also happens to have criminal records. But that fact, like the theme of the restaurant, is simply a formative part of their history and, more importantly, a part of their past.

Founded by a former corrections officer, Teresa Goines, Old Skool Café provides something missing from the current juvenile criminal system: a future. For years, Teresa watched as the young men she worked with, incarcerated for gang- and drug-related crimes, received probation only to fall back on their former ways. A revolving door resulting from the need for money and the desire for a sense of family—which drugs and gangs provided. And with too few other options and too little hope, Teresa says, there just wasn’t anything else to change their fate.

That is, until she prayed for another way, another means of financial and familial support, even with an unlawful past. The answer came in the form of a restaurant, which would not only reconnect at-risk youth to the larger community, but perhaps pull the community towards them. Like the well-known Delancey Street, Old Skool Café employs the unemployable and, through partnerships with local mentorship programs and the greater food community, affords them the training and the responsibilities to begin a professional career. Not just providing a second chance, but simply a chance.

PAST

Teresa built her vision around the ideals of trust and belief, two things the youth lacked and two things even she struggled to earn when starting out.

“I wanted to run a fine-dining restaurant with previously incarcerated kids with no job experience,” she says. “It was kind of a hard sell.” After trying unsuccessfully for funding and a permanent location, Teresa decided to forget the normal steps and just go for it. “I realized people needed to see it to believe in it.” And before the pop-up dining venue was trendy, for Teresa it was necessity.

She started with her own home, which she used since 2005 for birthdays, dinners and other Old Skool Café catered events. She asked professional chefs, friends in the industry and even acquaintances from her salsa-dancing community to teach basic cutting and cooking skills. Other volunteers taught the apprentices how to serve. “And then we started popping up whenever and wherever we could get free space,” she says, “inviting everybody and anybody to join us.” Including the chief of police and the chief of juvenile probation—a guest list that led to endorsements, grant funding, a Jefferson Award and an honor from the FBI for violence prevention.

With this momentum, Old Skool Café also started attracting volunteers from all over the Bay, like Jeffrey Liang, who has worked alongside the Old Skool apprentices for six years. “I caught an interview with Teresa on TV and I knew I wanted to start volunteering, even though I had no restaurant experience.” Like him, Jeffrey says people come in for dinner only to realize they have something to contribute—whether it is a lesson on beer pairings or just providing encouragement.

“There are so many different facets of these youths’ lives that need support,” Teresa says. So whether it’s volunteers like Jeffrey, organizations like Dress for Success or local restaurants, she welcomes anyone ready to offer mentorship or skill building. “I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel, but call on the net of support that already exists.”

But whatever a volunteer brings to Old Skool Café, Jeffrey adds that they all end up learning with and from the youth. “It’s good for the apprenticesto see that even the adults don’t have the answer sometimes,” Teresa adds, “but with perseverance and hard work, we can work it out.” It puts them on an equal level. It makes them a team. It makes them a family. And while people think the number of hours Jeffrey puts in at Old Skool is a sacrifice, he says it a blessing. “I work with an amazing group of people in all different stages of life and even though I live in Hayes Valley, I think of Bayview as my home.”

Top left to right: Jonathan Zavala, Richard
Springfield, Dominic Souse
Bottom row left to right: Desiree Maldonado,
Teresa Goines, Giselda Perez, Dazah Gantt

PRESENT

This April, Old Skool Café will officially celebrate a year in their Bayview digs. Teresa’s vision will finally come true and she’ll offer her young apprentices consistent shift work and a real nonpop- up location. But Teresa cannot offer positions to everyone. “You can only help people that are ready to change,” she explains. And the training starts with the very first interview. “When people get called back for a second interview, most of the time only half of them show up. And we have to give them boundaries so they are prepared to be professionals and make it in the real world.”

When they are ready for responsibility, though, there is no shortage of skills, jobs or learning experiences to choose from. “Everyone should start washing dishes and work their way up,” Teresa says. “That way, they appreciate each job that is critical to make the restaurant run.” But she also gives them the opportunities to move around, from front of house to back, according to their passions, and to take on leadership positions when they’re ready.

“My vision is to help them be prepared to be managers and entrepreneurs, not just [hold] jobs that will keep them in minimum wage.”

3That includes experiencing the level of service they’re expected to provide. “A huge piece of the mission is also about taking the staff to high-end restaurants to be guests. If they’ve never been on the receiving end, how do they know what good service is?” Slanted Door, Water Bar and Jardinière all happily opened their doors and kitchen. But Teresa hopes for more than just a seat at the table; she hopes for a place on the line, too. “If we could have 15 restaurants partner with us for externships where the apprentices experienced a professional kitchen, then perhaps the doors will really open. And maybe when they have openings for a dishwasher or line cook, they’ll call us.”

FUTURE

While professional training serves as one main goal in the Old Skool Café mission, personal exploration stands as the second. Teresa wants the apprentices to learn how to think big and dream big, to become confident and self-empowered enough to seek out the opportunities and support they desire when they graduate from the Old Skool Café walls. And she teaches them these skills through the network of mentors, volunteers and even the clothes they wear on their back.

“I picked the zoot suits because I thought they looked cool,” Teresa says. “But it’s a look that also comes from a time of great African American history, a time of joy, pride and dignity that has been lost on our young people.” When she watches her staff put on all the pieces, though—the suspenders, the bow tie, the fedora and the red flower—she sees them transform. “They look proud. Because when you act the part, you start to feel the part.”

And it is at that moment that Old Skool Café becomes more than just a classy supper club and more than a bridge from past to future. It becomes more than a new path, a stepping-stone to greater possibilities for these youth or an opportunity for people to believe in them. It is the moment when they start believing in themselves.

This content was published in the Spring 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2013. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

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3930 JUDAH ST
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1001 MINNESOTA
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Just how smart is your tongue?

In the game of Blind-Tasting Bingo, the chef presents mystery bites that players taste with their blindfolds on, and then try to identify on a bingo board that includes both correct and incorrect answers. BINGO!

Are your taste buds in training? Is your mouth and mind connection sharp as a tack?

We are very excited that Chef Anthony Strong of Locanda Restaurant will be presenting the mystery tastes for this event! Prepare to be amazed!

Event Details:
A note to all players: The menu for this game will be gluten-free, nut-free, and will contain meat and alcohol. Only 21 years and older will be admitted (with ticket).

All tickets are non-refundable.

Blind-Tasting Bingo starts promptly at 7 pm. Doors open at 6:30.

Tickets go on sale Monday, April 15 at 12:00 pm. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE TICKETS.

A big THANK YOU to all of our sponsors!

Plump, fresh, San Francisco Bay herring. Going to cure them in sea salt for a couple days, then they go into a marinade. And then I’m going to eat them, all by myself. #edible #herring #OurLittleLocalFish

The San Francisco Bay herring spawn is most likely coming to an end shortly, but whole fish should still be available for retail purchase in select markets in the Bay Area, including Bi-Rite Market, SF Fish Company and Avedano’s in San Francisco; Monterey Fish in Berkeley; and Fish in Sausalito. Siren SeaSA has also featured herring in their CSA delivery this past month.

If you follow us on Instagram and Vine then you’re already familiar with our fondness for the little finned fish. We even saved the roe from a bunch to make our own bottarga!

Fishing for herring on the Embarcadero this morning.

Bonus points! Best thing about curing herring is the roe (and milt) sacks. The herring run starts in November and they spawn in January, so right now they are full of roe. Going to dust with rice flour and fry in butter, serve on toasts.

Sauteed herring roe on toast with a dab of yuzo kosho creme fraiche.

Herring Hipster am I. Scored a big bag of the little-finned fish with my @SirenSeaSA subscription. Salt curing another round. #edible

House cured (that would be my house) marinated SF Bay Herring filets with pickled red onions. Undescribably delicious. #herring

Going for Bottarga with the herring roe from @SirenSeaSA pick up today. First step: soak overnite in saltwater. #FishEggsEverywhere

Home made Bottarga step two: showered with salt and setting on paper towels to help draw out moisture. #HerringRoe #fisheggseverywhereAgain

Smoked herring. Yes please. @statebirdsf

Mission accomplished! Homemade Bottarga from SF Bay herring roe. cc: @sirenseasa @lfstewart

Nothing fancy – toothpick version – home-cured herring with some super smooth Icelandic White Ale. cc: @lfstewart there is a fish scale on my fingertip as I type this

Our interview with SF Bay Herring fisherman Ernie Koepf:

Photo by Stacy Ventura

Catching Up with a Few of Our Favorite Bay Area Seafood Wranglers.

In the 1920s, a million pounds of herring were harvested annually from the San
Francisco Bay, all of it for human consumption. Fisherman Ernie Koepf is hoping
to revive that tradition by beginning once more to offer the local herring catch to
restaurants and consumers alike.

Grew up in?
Half Moon Bay

Current ‘hood?
Oakland

Gig?
Herring fisherman on San Francisco Bay

Name of your boat?
Ursula B

Docked?
Fisherman’s Wharf, right behind Scoma’s

Been fishing since?
1976

Only herring?
I fish for salmon too. And I used to fish for albacore and crab.

But all of your herring catch previously went straight to Japan?
Yes, for the sac-roe market. The herring are frozen and trans-shipped to Canada for processing; the roe are shipped on to Japan and the meat goes to other uses. Sometimes it just gets discarded.

And now you’re selling some locally?
I lobbied Fish & Game for a regulation change to extend the fresh market season from November 1 to April 1 (the Forage Species Conservation and Management Act of 2011, AB 1299). Prior to that there was just a two-week window of opportunity, which was impractical.

How many boats fish for the fresh market herring in SF Bay?
There are two permits for the fresh market in San Francisco Bay. But I expect it to grow, depending on my success.

How much of your catch is going to the fresh market now?
300 to 500 pounds a week, depending on demand. I work with Mel Wickliffe at Pier 45 Seafood, who supplies chefs and restaurants (Quince and Chez Panisse, for starters). Paul Johnson of Monterey Market in San Francisco and Berkeley is really interested in promoting it as well. Some of the catch also goes to Monterey.

No herring in Monterey Bay?
No, it’s not an ocean fishery. There’s a run in the winter, in November, that comes into San Francisco Bay, Tomales Bay and Humboldt Bay. The peak of the spawning season is January.

What’s your usual catch?
We got 15 tons the other night near Sausalito, and then we caught another 15 tons the next night. We’re landing 2,000 tons annually.

Is that sustainable?
The biomass in SF Bay in last 35 years has averaged 45,000 tons. We are allowed to harvest 5% of that, which is known as the harvest ratio. It’s a sustainable rate.

Bycatch?
Not too much. In the wintertime when fresh water flows into the Bay the sardines and anchovies move out to sea and the herring move in. We occasionally get some jack smelt. The fresh water really makes the Bay come alive. There’s more herring, more jack smelt, more everything. The Bay is much cleaner now than it used to be.

Do herring spawn with the tides?
Herring usually spawn in the hours between 3am and daylight, so we begin fishing at night. We use two-inch mesh that harvests mostly 4-year-olds. That leaves the year-class of 2- and 3-year-olds untouched.

What’s the average herring life
span?
Up to seven years

Usual fishing spots?
We fish the piers, San Quentin, Angel Island, Treasure Island, Alameda, Coyote Point, Candlestick Point and Point San Pablo up by The Brothers. Herring used to spawn all the way to Alviso, historically.

Anywhere you can’t fish?
Years past, we’ve fished the waters next to Golden Gate National Recreational Area but they recently changed their policy to dictate that commercial fishing is not consistent with usage of parklands. We have a sustainable practice and a fishery management plan but the Park Service now claims jurisdiction out to 1,500 feet and we fish right on the shore where the herring spawn. It’s very selective and discriminatory.

Biggest thing ever caught in
your net besides herring?
A snag.

This interview was published in the Winter 2012 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2012 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2012. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

Cellophane Noodles with Crab and Black Pepper

From Edible San Francisco

When it is Dungeness crab season, one of my favorite ways to capture the essence of Metacarcinus magister is to make these golden noodles. Cellophane noodles absorb whatever flavors they are combined with, in this case the sweet brininess of crabmeat and tomalley. This dish is best when it is made with a live crab that you cook yourself. If you are too squeamish
to cook crab at home, buy a precooked crab the day it is cooked.

Total 00:35

Prep 00:30

Cook 00:05

Ingredients

• Cooked meat and tomalley
• and fat from a 2- pound
• Dungeness crab ( about
• 1/2 pound crabmeat and
• 1/4 cup tomalley and fat)
• 1 egg
• 1 tablespoon water
• 11/2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1/2 to 3/4 teaspoon black
• pepper, preferably
• freshly ground
• 2 tablespoons finely
• chopped fresh cilantro
• 2 tablespoons canola or
• other neutral oil
• 1 large shallot or small yellow
• onion, thinly sliced
• 3 dried wood ear mushrooms,
• reconstituted,
• stemmed and cut into
• 1/8- inch-wide strips
• (about 1/4 cup)
• 1/4 pound cellophane noodles,
• soaked in hot water
• until pliable, drained and
• cut into 10- inch lengths

Directions

1. In a bowl, combine the tomalley and fat, egg, water, fish sauce, pepper, and chopped cilantro and mix well. Measure the mixture; you want about 3/4 cup total. Add water if needed.
2. In a wok or large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the shallot and stir-fry for about 2 minutes, or until soft. Add the crabmeat and mushrooms and stir-fry for about 1 minute, or until aromatic. Add the noodles and continue to stir-fry for about 2 minutes, or until they begin to soften. The noodles will look a bit dry.
3. Give the tomalley mixture a good stir and pour over the noodles. Quickly work the mixture into the noodles to ensure an even distribution of flavors, lowering the heat if the noodles begin to clump. In about 2 minutes, the noodles will become translucent and lightly golden.
4. Remove from the heat and taste and adjust with extra sprinkles of fish sauce and/or pepper. Transfer to a serving plate and serve immediately.

Tips

• Note If you prefer not to use the tomalley and fat, or if there isn’t any, use 2 eggs instead of 1 egg and increase the fish sauce in step 1 to 2 tablespoons.

– Nutrition Facts

for 100 grams

Calories Fat Cal.

Nutrition Facts Ingredient Description Wikipedia

Analyzed by Kitchenbug

Reprinted with permission from Into the Vietnamese Kitchen: Treasured Foodways, Modern Flavors © 2006 by Andrea Nguyen, Ten Speed Press 

This content was published in the Winter 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2012. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.

Photo by Kimberley Hasselbrink

Winter in Northern California means crab season, pure and simple. Two days before the official start of the season I drove out to Bodega Head, where the Dungeness crab traps were stacked 10 feet high on the side of the road. Rough men were pulling into town, doffing caps and preparing to move out to the open sea. Idling tractor-trailers labeled “Spuds Point Crab Company” lined the docks, and the anticipation was heady.

Crab is a versatile creature to cook—there are about a million recipes to choose from, and on top of that you can easily make something up. You can buy crab pre-picked (for a ridiculous sum), but if you’re obsessive-compulsive like I am, there’s nothing more diverting than picking the meat yourself. I always ask the butcher to crack a freshly cooked crab, but then I haul it home and pull out my tools: a skewer, a lobster cracker and a tiny teaspoon. I leave no molecule of crabmeat unplucked from its shell, much to my dog’s dismay.

In the past three weeks I’ve cooked three very different crab dishes, and each is worthy of repeating. Let’s begin with Alice Waters, because who doesn’t want to begin with Alice Waters? You will be surprised to read that this dish comes from her wonderful Chez Panisse Fruit. She once told me that this is her favorite book, and wishes more people would use it; I agree. Her Crab Salad with Meyer Lemon, Endive and Watercress is sweet and bitter and tangy. The endive and crab provide sweet, crunch and pillowy softness. Watercress is bitter, lemon is tangy and Champagne vinaigrette brings it all together. The salad is simple to make, elegant to present and easy to adapt. (No watercress? Use chicory. Or butter lettuce, for God’s sake. And add some avocado for silkiness.)

Next up, I tried my hand at The Sunset Cookbook’s Mendo Crabcakes, taken from Mendo Bistro in Ft. Bragg. Panko breadcrumbs are the key here—they are light and feathery, and don’t weigh down the crab cake the way regular breadcrumbs do. The recipe calls for adding a small amount of them to the crab cake itself (along with an addictive, easy-to-make tarragon aioli), and then to pat some on the outside of the cake before frying. Something I’ve become obsessive about in my cooking is flattening patties (whether the meat, fish or vegetable variety) to a consistent, flat shape—the patty will cook much more evenly, rather than being rare in the middle and well done at the extremities. It’s also important to add enough oil to the pan that the full bottom half fries in it. Trust me.

Lastly, I wanted to get out of my American comfort zone, so I cooked (and promptly slurped up) Andrea Nguyen’s Cellophane Noodles with Crab and Black Pepper from her fantastic tome Into the Vietnamese Kitchen. Wow. Talk about satisfying. Of all three recipes, this is the one I keep thinking about; the one that makes my stomach rumble. The great thing about this recipe is, if you do it exactly as Nguyen instructs, it will be great, and if you don’t, it will still probably be great. I wasn’t able to procure the tomalley and fat from the crab, so substituted an extra egg. I couldn’t find dried wood ear mushrooms, so used a mix of dried mushrooms. I threw in a sliced Serrano pepper for extra spice. Scallions would’ve made a nice addition, or I could have substituted chicken for crab, and added chopped peanuts … the point is, once you’ve mastered how to cook those cellophane noodles, which turns out to be embarrassingly easy, the rest is up to you. However, it’s crab season, so you might as well enjoy it while you can.

Click here for the recipe to Cellophane Noodles with Crab and Black Pepper by Andrea Nguyen.

This content was published in the Winter 2013 issue of Edible San Francisco Magazine. © 2013 Edible San Francisco. This website and its content is a copyrighted work of Edible Communities, Inc. © 2012. All rights reserved. You may not, except with our express written consent, distribute or commercially exploit the content. Nor may you transmit it or store it on any other website or other electronic or printed form.