la·de·da

Left to my own devices, I’m a big snacker. So I wrote about it for Yoga Journal’s May 2012 issue.

A year ago, during a period of major angst and a requisite late-20s existential crisis, I realized I rarely ever left San Francisco, where life had suddenly become as gray and cold as the summer fog that walls it in. And so I did as so many of the heroines and authors I admire have done before me: I hit the road. Well, usually on the weekends or slightly longer stretches, at least twice a month.

In my mostly West Coast travels this year, I’ve slept in five-star resorts, Wine Country bed and breakfasts, chic and sexy hotels, and even a teepee. I’ve been to Portland and driven through all of the Willamette Valley, gone fly-fishing in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, danced all night in Las Vegas, rode a BMW motorcycle through Aspen’s Independence Pass, drove across the bridge to Cavallo Point’s amazing view of SF, soaked in the mineral pool at Indian Springs in Napa Valley, scoured LA’s flea markets for vintage finds, baked in Scottsdale’s sun, backpacked through the Grand Canyon and played in its secret waterfalls, hiked in Tahoe’s winter snow, visited the Chopra Center in Carlsbad, California, hid away in a guest house in Tomales a few times, wore myself out at Coachella in the desert sun, sipped my way through Santa Barbara’s urban wine trail, and revisited Monterey’s Cannery Row to see what was new (note: nothing much).  

Without a lot of thought, I shared my travels on Instagram. Most of the comments ask for my itineraries so others can go too. Here are the top three destination requests.

1. Big Sur Trailer: This mint-condition 1960s trailer sits on a hillside overlooking the ocean and Esalen (across the street), where you can enjoy the cliffside bathhouse and a massage. But I didn’t really want to leave. Richard, the landowner, rents out just this one secluded trailer, so I had total privacy to enjoy the trailer’s private bathhouse with a large soaking tub, where I spent most of the day sipping whiskey and watching for whales. There’s also an outdoor shower that hits the herb garden below and perfumes the air. And in the afternoon, Richard leaves for you at the top of the drive fillets of fish he caught in the ocean that day. All they need are a drizzle of olive oil, salt, pepper, lemon, and a few minutes on each side over the trailer’s original gas stove.

2. Burlingame Treehouse: The only thing I knew about Burlingame was that it was near the airport. But last weekend, I drove 20 minutes south of SF and into the suburb’s hills, where I spent the night in a floating treehouse with a lofted bed and wraparound porch. Inside were a table for our included breakfast, a TV and DVD player, chandelier, candles, and books. At night, the wind gently swayed the branches, and in the morning, I took a short, three-mile hike through a canyon just blocks away. 

3. Hacienda San Angel: OK, so Puerto Vallarta isn’t exactly off the beaten path, but in Old Town, blocks from the beach, is a gorgeous, romantic stay filled with Mexican and European antiques and three candle-lit pools. It’s also the former home of Richard Burton. I got to stay in his master bedroom, which overlooks the hacienda’s chapel on one side and its lush courtyard on the other. 

A few weeks ago, I visited Digg founder Kevin Rose’s new startup in the Mission to do a 7x7 shoot with one of the most stylish guys in tech, Milk creative director Daniel Burka. Once the issue hit newsstands, I sent Daniel a link to the story on my Flickr account, which I use as a kind of portfolio for most of my work. Within two hours, my Flickr page had 5,000 views thanks to tweets from Daniel and Kevin. Just to put that into perspective, up until that point, the most views I’d received on a single day was 178. It’s the first time anything I’ve done has gone remotely viral, and I still get a few hundred views on these two images every day. 

I wrote about it for 7x7, and you can read the rest of the article here.

Image by JamesCollier/Flickr

A few weeks ago, I spent a lovely weekend in Sonoma, playing in the kitchen with 30-something chefs, food stylists, cooking geeks, and underground supperclub hosts. Eat Retreat is probably the best-documented gathering I’ve ever been a part of (who of this foodie group doesn’t have a blog or Flickr stream?), so I’ll skip the recap and just tell you what I cooked up. 

I spent Saturday afternoon overlooking a green valley with BiRite marketing manager Kersten Bourne and 18 Reasons‘ Rosie Branson Gill, unzipping fava pods and uprooting the beans from their purses with our thumbs. An hour later, I hauled a huge orange bowl with several pounds of jewel-like favas down the hill and into the kitchen, where I quickly blanched and shocked them. I spent the next three hours under a tree or over the dining table with several other retreaters looking for something to busy their hands with. As we worked our way through the second shelling, we chatted and took pictures, but mostly we just zoned out and enjoyed doing something quiet and productive together. 

After, I noticed the beans could benefit from another 5 minutes in boiling, salted water. I reserved a few cups of the cooking water and drained the rest. With the favas back in a dry pot, I splashed in a generous amount of olive oil, black pepper, a handful of mint leaves, and half a preserved lemon (rinsed) and took a hand blender to the whole thing, adding some of the reserved cooking water as needed to get a thick, hummus-like consistency. Kerstin suggested we keep a bit of the grain, so I held back from blending it too smooth. 

From there, we roughly cut some seed bread into uneven pieces, brushed them with olive oil, toasted them in the oven, and topped them with a generous schmear of the puree. Even with the lemon, the favas were quite rich, so I quickly made a simple dressing of half olive oil and half fresh lemon juice and sprinkled a few drops over the crostini. 

As I was plating the apps, Dr. Michael Rakotz suggested pulling some edible flowers out of the herb fridge (yes, a whole refrigerator stuffed with fresh herbs!) and topping the crostini with a few buds. Lovely. 

I worked out with trainer Frank Matrisciano and wrote a story about it.

To do: Practice and learn more songs on the guitar. Then convince some kid to sing a duet with me. 

It’s December, and already the lists of this year’s best cookbooks are filling my inbox. They come from bloggers, The New York Times, and a few notorious collectors, such as Celia Sack, owner of Omnivore Books. My personal collection includes about 100 books full of recipes and techniques, much of them sourced from used bookstores, eBay, garage sales, and family members’ pantries. So instead of presenting my favorite new books, I give you the cookbooks I actually cooked from in 2010. A couple were duds, one or two old favorites, and others surprising finds. But they’re all lined up along my white hutch, stained, scribbled on, and much loved. 

The Tassajara Bread Book, by Edward Espe Brown (Shambhala, 2005): I’ve been baking the Tassajara yeasted bread since one of the monks at their retreat center in Carmel Valley sent me home with a loaf a few years ago. The challah recipe is excellent too. I’ve probably learned the most about breadmaking from this book, thanks to its helpful illustrations and almost lyrical instructions: “Turn, fold, push. Rock forward. Twist and fold as you rock back. Rock forward. Little by little you will develop some rhythm.”

Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarian (Clarkson Potter, 1999): When my friend Alisha invited everyone over for a North African potluck night, I didn’t know where to begin. I’d made Jaffrey’s ghee a few times, but it wasn’t until I sweetened her couscous with a little sugar, currants, and almond milk that I fell in love—and discovered Moroccan cookery.

The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters (Clarkson Potter, 2007): This is the book that taught me to roast a chicken to perfection, shock blanched greens, and braise short ribs. My best dinner parties are born from these pages.

The Art of the Cookie, by Shelly Kaldunski (Weldon Owen, 2010): OK, shameless promotion here, but I wrote the first 15 or so pages of this book. I also made some of the prettiest sugar cookies out of it.

The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, by Marion Cunningham (Knopf, 2008): Biggest. Disappointment. Ever. The meatloaf? A complete failure. Oatmeal cookies? Like dry cake. I’m sorry, Fannie, but this one’s going to the back of the cookbook shelf. 

The All New Joy of Cooking, by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (Scribner, 1997): These pages have soaked up more than their fair share of gravies, jams, butter sauces, and cake batters. I probably consult this tome more than any other, at least when I come across an ingredient I’m unsure of or a technique I’ve never tried. From these pages, I played with spice rubs and tagines, and it’s the one book I turn to (before even considering going online) to look up internal temperatures when I’m preparing fish and large pieces of meat.

Jamie’s America, by Jamie Oliver (Penguin, 2009): The measurements are in grams and handfuls, which somehow forced me to both use a food scale and my intuition. I made the one recipe that doesn’t call for large gobs of butter: A Southern pecan salad that was just divine.

Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, by Deborah Madison (Broadway, 1997): Her apple galette is a classic and has become my standby for a quick dessert to put together when people come over. I also turn to her when I have a fridge full of random produce and don’t know where to begin. It turns out that most anything can be roasted or turned into a gratin. 

Tassajara Dinners & Desserts, by Dale and Melissa Kent (Gibbs Smith, 2009): On my resume, under skills and interests, it reads “I make a killer carrot bundt cake.” The recipe (minus a few personal tweaks) can be found on page 183.

Eat Well, by Charity Ferreira (Williams-Sonoma, 2008): My grandmother was diagnosed with dementia this year and can no longer hold down a conversation. But for some reason, she still remembers this warm spinach salad I made from my friend Charity’s book. Grams may no longer know my name, but she’s clearly still thinking about this salad along with the almond polenta cake I served for lunch on a warm summer day in 2009.

Peter Reinhart’s Whole Grain Breads (Ten Speed Press, 2007): Soakers, bigas, and final doughs—it’s all too much for my little brain to handle. I tried the challah, cinnamon raisin, and whole wheat, but the results just weren’t worth the trouble of reading recipes like they were secret scientific formulas. I’m hoping Santa’s wrapping the Tartine Bread book this Christmas.

Baking, by James Peterson (Ten Speed Press, 2009): The almond flour sponge cake has never failed me, and the vanilla butter cake turns out perfect cake bonbons.

Betty Crocker’s Cookbook (Golden Press, 1980): I stole this from my mom’s cupboards when I moved out of the house to go to college. Most everything calls for lard, and the pictures are terribly dark, the food very plastic-looking (see cheese-pineapple boats). But the classics, such as chocolate chip cookies, are amazing.

La Technique, by Jacques Pepin (Quadrangle, 1976): My new favorite pie dough can be found on page 374. It’s also perhaps the most low-key recipe in the book. This next year, I hope to get over myself and take advantage of this classic’s step-by-step photos and learn some real butchering skills. I’m looking at you, double rack of lamb.

Lest you think I’ve been slacking off, let me assure you: I was working. On this story about the state of publishing and how San Francisco is changing the media landscape. Then I somehow convinced the city’s chefs to share with me their secret recipes. There are a few other things that haven’t hit newsstands yet, but I’ll post them once they’re up.