My Picks: Hillcrest Farmers Market, San Diego

me a few years back with my favorite food, artichokes.

Although I grew up in Shaker Heights, OH, a suburb of Cleveland, my parents moved to San Diego when I was a senior in College. Although I loved my experience in Cleveland and I think I was lucky enough to go to one of the best high schools in America, I never complain about getting to go to California to visit my folks. It's become a tradition for my mom and I to visit the farmers market in Hillcrest, an artsy neighborhood in downtown San Diego. It is simply, the best farmers market I have ever been to. There are gorgeous fruits and vegetables lining the road as far as the eye can see. Since almost everything is almost always in season in Southern California, there is always an abundance. The market also has vendors selling jewelry and clothing, prepared foods, sweets, sauces, dips, dressings, coffee, spices, juices, and nuts. Also, everything else. It is an amazing place that my  mom and I usually spend a few hours in every time we go. The best part is that almost every single food vendor has SAMPLES! They're not stingy either. Our tradition is to not eat anything before we go because we are always stuffed by the time we get out of there. We always buy a few things, but it is the irresistible samples that really get us. The food is fresh and delicious, the vendors are local and friendly. It is impossible to say no. I've decided to finally do a round-up and share some of my favorite must-have items. I wish I could get them in New York! They are not to be missed if you find yourself in San Diego on a Sunday afternoon.

Poppa's Fresh Fish

After Getting coffee, this is where my mom and I start our day. Poppa's sells fresh shucked oysters, fish tacos, clams, uni (sea urchin), and other fresh fish that you can take home. I almost always get a fish taco because they are so delicious. They come with all the fixings and you eat them hot, as soon as the fish goes from the grill into the corn tortilla. I did get a fish taco on my last visit but I also decided to get the uni. I had never had it so fresh, right out of the shell. It was an amazing thing to eat: creamy and briny with a subtly sweet finish. I'd also never eaten so much uni in my life for just $10. That is just not something that can happen in New York.

Bitchin' Sauce

Bitchin Sauce can be a dip, spread, sauce, or dressing. It doesn't matter. The point is it tastes AMAZING. At the farmers market they let you sample it with carrots or tortilla chips. At home, I put it on everything or just eat it with a spoon. Whatever. And IT'S GOOD FOR YOU! It's vegan and gluten free and made from almonds and nutritional yeast and it tastes crazy delicious. My favorite is the chipotle, but they're all great. It's probably a good thing they don't sell it in NY or I'd OD on it. Oh wait, I just found out they ship from their website....uh oh.

image from here

Majestic Garlic

Here comes my real crack. This garlic spread blew my mind when I first tasted it. It has the consistency of mayonnaise but it is made from garlic blended with flax oil. It is almost inexplicably creamy and somehow the taste of garlic is not overwhelming at all. The flavor choices are endless; my current obsession is sun-dried tomato and jalapeno. My mom is crushing on the pesto. They're all insanely good and good for you. OMEGAS!!! Use it as a dip, eat it with your eggs, mix it with quinoa, spread it on a sandwich. The possibilities are endless. Use it with a can of (wild, sustainable) tuna in place of mayo and you will never look at tuna salad the same way. TRUE STORY.

  image from here

H & B's Guac Shac

This is the best guac I have ever tasted. 

It is creamy and chunky with the perfect amount of tomato, cilantro, onion, and acid.

It is magic in a container.

And I have been to Mexico and California and that place in Sunset Park. So there.

 Photo from here.

Tomatoes

All the tomatoes here are probably amazing because it is San Diego. There is one place that samples a tomato salad with basil or cilantro and it is like heaven in a dixie cup. When you eat tomatoes like that you realize you've been eating shitty tomatoes your whole life, but didn't know it until that moment.

Happy Pantry

These guys make sauerkrauts,kimchi's,pickles,and kombucha. Their flavors rely on seasonal vegetables and everything I've tried there is great. Last time I tasted the nettle kraut and loved it. They make their kraut and kimchi naturally and organically, but their products still pack a ton of punch. I would buy from them every week if I could.

Bonus Shout Outs:

Jackie's Jams.

TRUFFLE & FIG JAM. Yep, I ate that. A whole jar of that. Mostly with a spoon. And I felt fancy as hell. OMG it was so good.

Greek Yogurt Guy

Right before my mom and I left the market, I sampled greek yogurt from a vendor I had never seen before. He made the yogurt himself from sheep on his farm. It was the most delicious greek yogurt I had ever tasted. That chobani stuff (which I love) doesn't even compare. It was thick and creamy and so fresh that I could have eaten a whole bowl of it plain. I wish I could remember the vendor's name. I will definitely be looking for him next time I am there.

so there we were again

So there we were again. 

Same two fathers, cousins, brothers, sons.  

Standing at the feet of their fathers, also brothers, cousins, grandfathers and sons. 

It was the same sadness and peace. 

I watched, with the same sympathy, same sadness. Same acknowledgment of time. There was one difference; one more mother laid to rest. 

One more hole filled. 

One more grandmother. Great grandmother, wife, sister, and mother gone. 

One hole left. One more matriarch. The last of the elders, the salt of the earth.  

I watch, inextricably connected but never having known. 

There was some rain, but not the kind where you want an umbrella. 

The kind where you realize your skin is thirsty and you need to drink. 

And you look up, mouth open and there is a rainbow in the sky. 

Connecting the past to the present and everything in between. 

Maybe it's because it's in Israel says one cousin, brother, father, husband. 

I don't know, but it's a good omen, says the other cousin, son, husband, father.

Four More Years

We are not going to have a supreme court that will overturn Roe versus Wade.
We are not going to repeal health care reform.
Nobody is going to kill medicare and make old people fight it out in the open market to get health insurance.
We are not going to give 20% tax cuts to millionaires and billionaires and expect programs like food stamps and children’s insurance to cover the cost of that tax cut.
We will not need to consult our boss if we need to get birth control
We are not going to amend the US constitution to stop gay people from marrying
We are not scaling back on student loans because the government’s new plan is that you borrow money from your parents.
We are not vetoing the dream act, nor are we self deporting.

Ohio really did go to president Obama and he really did win.
And he really was born in Hawaii and he really is the legitimate president of the United States, again.
And the bureau of labor statistics did not make up a fake unemployment rate last month.
And the congressional research service really can find no evidence that cutting taxes on rich people grows the economy.
And Nate Silver was not making up fake projections to make conservatives feel bad. He was doing math.
And climate change is real
And rape really does cause pregnancy sometimes.
And evolution is real.
And the Benghazi was an attack on us, not a scandal by us.
And nobody is taking away people’s guns.
And taxes have not gone up and the deficit is dropping, actually.
And Sadam Hussein did not have weapon of mass destruction.
And FEMA is not building concentration camps
And moderate reforms of the regulations of the insurance industry and financial services industry are not the same thing as communism.
               -Rachel Maddow, 11/07/12

visions of kimchee and voices of the past. or: how to cope with mono in your 30's (a post about food).

it is yom kippur, the jewish day of repentance. i am 32 years old and i have mononucleosis, also known amongst teenagers as "the kissing disease."

"did your hubby give it to you?" asks the friendly nurse at NYU student health center. "no, i don't have a husband." i reply. "i'm sorry" she laughs, "i thought you did. i don't know why. and now you have mono and i just reminded you you don't have a husband. my bad."

my bad, indeed. to what do i owe this suffering?

lymph nodes as big as golf balls, a throat so rough and swollen, there might as well be an artichoke stuffed inside it. my lids grow heavy from the stress of a trip back and forth from manhattan. i drift into another sweat-soaked sleep and find myself in ancient korea, breathing in kimchee fumes as i ferment cabbage and grind shrimp paste until my wrists are brittle and sore.

this seems like a strange dream for a midwestern-raised jewish girl to be having, but the truth is i am up to my neck in kimchee these days. i am taking a korean food course as part of my food studies degree, and part of our assignment is watching this amazing old korean soap opera called jewel in the palace, which i like to think of as a korean game of thrones. minus the sex. definitely no sex. but lots of violence. and kimchee for days. i wake up only long enough to realize i'll be missing that class tomorrow due to the mono, and that, damn, tomorrow we were trying rice cakes. not the nasty dry kind quaker makes that americans think of as diet food, but the sturdy glutinous noodles that are amazingly chewy and soft and most often found under a steam bath of hot chili sauce and korean vegetables.

but let's be honest, all i can take down right now is a couple of saltines and a popsicle. 

i drift back into my cocoon of sleep and i am back at camp, the place where i spent 10 summers of my adolescent and young adult life. camp was in zionsville, indiana. a place where no one who didn't go there should have heard of. it consists of little more than a winding road, a cow patch and a few low-budget constructs when put together was something that reform jews from ohio, indiana, kansas, kentucky, missouri, and ontario lovingly called camp. so i was there, but not there. it was camp, but not really. i was kicking down a dirt path, and there was mr. thornton, my high school theater teacher (and quiet mentor of almost all students who spent time on his stage), who has been in my dreams fairly regularly since he passed away in march.

i was in israel at the time, writing about my father, and his father, and the amazing falafals and tahini i was eating. meeting my sisters fiancee, exploring the alleyways and ancient footpaths, and somewhere in that za'atar scented week, he died. just like that. and all i could do was sit by myself on the ground outside of my sisters little apartment and find a stray cat to clutch for a few hours and cry a little. just to have something warm in my hands, impervious to my sadness, who didn't run away and curled up in a perfect little ball in my lap and napped. 

i loved that cat. she didn't ask any questions. didn't mind i wasn't holding an israeli passport. just seemed content to have a warm lap to hang out in for awhile. and i thought of mr. thornton, whom we called j.t, cause his first name was james. he laughed loud and heartily, and he was the wisest person i ever met. and he cared so much. when we were hungry he fed us raw almonds. the last time i saw him i had tears in my eyes because he had a tumor in his brain and he just smiled and sang something whimsical, like he always did (i'm forever blowing bubbles...). there was nothing processed in his world. everything was fresh and real and juicy, like strawberries. he lived the most amazing life.

in my dream he put his hand on my shoulder, and we looked at each other, and i was so happy to have him back.

today i thought that saltines might be my only friends now that i have this thing, but then i thought, well that's a little dramatic.

in korea they don't say "how are you?" as a greeting. they say "have you eaten?" my teacher says i'm korean on the inside. i think this is a total compliment. food is good. food is love.

this summer was so hot. it was unbearable, expect for the glorious tomatoes and sweet sweet corn. i think i ate tomatoes every day. they were overflowing in baskets at the market; i had never seen them look so vibrant; verging on bursting and intoxicating with the herby scent of vines. i made corn soup twice this summer and didn't even cook the corn. it was that good.

now it is fall, my favorite season and all i can do is sleep. there is perfectly crisp air outside but i can't seem to make it past my bedroom, where it is safe and warm and tempting as a siren's lair. oh, mono. this isn't supposed to happen in your 30's. it's supposed to be a rite of passage in your teens, like the chicken pox, getting your period, whatever. it's supposed to be awesome in 8th grade when you don't have to go to school for 3 weeks and you can stay home and snooze all day and everyone feels so bad for you. not now! not when you have stuff to do and adult responsibilities. 

i curse my luck but the thought of a popsicle perks me up. soon, i will return to my dream land, deciding on tomorrow's soups just before drift off. hopefully there will be crisp leaves, gingerbread muffins and pumpkin scented air where i go.

i stand by and watch: a week in tel aviv

two weeks ago i went to israel. it wasn't religious, or even particularly spiritual. i went for the occasion of my grandmother's 80th birthday. she, never having been known to be sentimental, uncharacteristically surprised myself and other family members by flying both my father and i to israel so that we might be near her on the occasion of this momentous day. being both unwell and clouded by painkillers and blood-pressure medications, my grandmother, who happens to be my only living grandparent, vacillates in mood as much as she does her location. having moved from cleveland to columbus to san diego to israel in the last decade, i think she is finally at peace with her final destination in the land she was born in and conceived my father. coincidentally, my sister lives there now too, mostly for work, but also to scratch a cultural itch i think she was carrying around for a long time.

so there we were in tel aviv, eating hot falafel and creamy plates of hummus. there were no walls to pray at and no holy mountains to climb, but there were decadent breakfasts with endless spreads and bowls of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, spiked with parsley and lemon and very good olive oil. 

it was a relief really, to be in such a sacred place without having to think too much of it. in some ways, i was just somewhere, but with family. lots of family, most of whom i had never met before. this trip taught me a little bit about myself and a lot about my father.  for one thing, i finally understood that he is israeli. to see him, through my adult eyes, speaking flawless hebrew and grasping hands with childhood cousins, barely recognizable now with their white beards and swollen bellies. they compliment my father, still dark-haired and svelte. a youthful glimmer is exchanged in their eyes, my fathers' shining with tears of memories, thinking of days when they slept by the sea.

i stand by and watch, not understanding their hurried words that are exchanged, but still, seeing how much joy there is. and how much pain there is too.

i am watching my father at his father's grave. what did he feel like, that day he learned his father had died at the age of 45?

i watch him remembering. complicated feelings are on display in his facial expressions.

the twists and turns on his mouth, the way his hand moves to his chin, pondering what it would have been like to have a father who had lived to see both his granddaughters be born and then grow up into women.

i stand next to him and feel him pull me in, sharing the weight of his sadness. i gave my weight back to him, reminding him of the joy of creation.

we go to my grandmother and push her in her wheelchair away from the cemetery. three generations feeling the weight of history while silently enjoying the cool israeli air in the afternoon light.

kajitsu: a place to eat your vegetables

they say march comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. well, today it came in more like a wet dog--not ferocious or particularly offensive, just kind of annoying when it jumps on you and covers you with slobber and smelly wet fur. february is not typically a precursor to spring, but this past february had more sweet days than sour and it definitely did a pretty good job standing in for the role of "transition month." february may have just pulled the wool over our eyes, but we drank that kool-aid like it was sweet sweet nectar. some of the days were practically balmy and, confused as we all were, we chalked up another one for team global warming and ordered our coffee iced.

february was not only full of freaky temps, but for me, it was also full of fun (fun-uary?). the last week in particular felt like my birthday all week long, although it was not at all my birthday or any particular occasion for that matter.  i got a healthy dose of culture with a coveted ticket to war horse at lincoln center, a fancy pre-theater dinner at bar boulud, and a spot at joe's pub to watch some amazingly talented broadway performers sing their tributes to whitney houston. also, i've had boyfriend extraordinaire, derek, to accompany me in these ventures. seriously, lucky me. but the most anticipated event of the week was dinner at east village heavyweight, kajitsu. a veritable shrine to vegetables, kajitsu is a double michelin-starred sanctuary of a restaurant serving shojin cuisine. shojin, an ancient japanese cuisine developed in buddhist monasteries, follows the buddhist principle of not taking life. the menu changes monthly and is designed according to the seasons. there are no menu choices, other than a 5-course or a 7-course tasting. there is a formidable sake list and sapporo on draft. ladies and gentleman, we have hit the mother-load.

after reading that the current chef was going to go back to japan at the end of march, i called to make a reservation. a month later, derek and i found ourselves grateful to have snagged a 5:30 reservation at the chef's counter. this turned out to be the best place to watch the chef, masato nishihara meticulously hand plate every dish himself. there was so much precision and fluidity in his movements, it felt more like watching a well-choreographed dance than watching a chef at work. one thing we noticed right away was that there no music piping into the room. we were truly there to concentrate on our food, and not give into the distractions of loud music and typical restaurant noise.

after derek and i both decided on sapporo's and the full 7-course tasting menus, we were brought our first dish: grated celery root with early spring vegetables. we soon realized that "early" meant "baby" when we noticed the petiteness of the vegetables. the flavors were light and reminiscent of the spring bounty ahead. every few bites revealed some heat from a small dollop of wasabi mixed in. it was elegant and the vegetables were sublime. demure but suggestive of what was in store for us, we relished the flavors with much anticipation.  

next up, a composed salad of fried black-eyed peas, sun-choke chips, salsify, morel mushrooms, and nori-fu. nori-fu, according to wikipedia, "is made by washing wheat flour dough with water until all the starch dissolves, leaving insoluble gluten as an elastic mass which is then cooked before being eaten." that doesn't sound great, but the taste was fairly neutral. the texture, however was starchy, satisfying, and well, glutinous. maybe not for everyone, but i enjoyed it immensely. eating this dish was a little like foraging for treasure. the crispy black-eyed peas provided an easy crunch to top the dish, but the good stuff came after a little digging. oh, morel mushrooms, so earthy, so elusive. i wish we could go steady all year round. that composition of flavors and textures: the crispy peas, the chewy fu, the meaty morels--that was  a mini masterpiece in a dish.

the next dish, which our server told us was the appetizer course was a trio of uncharted flavors for us.

we were told to eat from left to right, starting with a sake kasu soup, a salad of banana flower, bean sprouts, and bamboo skin, and finally, a fortune sushi roll with pumpkin-fu and kobacha squash. the soup, which turns out was made from the lees of sake production, had an amazingly rich flavor, reminiscent of sake, but not dominated by it. i also felt that it was the more resourceful thing i had ever eaten. i can't imagine a wine yeast soup tasting nearly as good, but it's something that should be looked into. next, the small salad siting atop a lovely (but inedible) banana leaf was a quick study in restraint of flavor, and i don't mean that pejoratively. it was subtly, crunchy, and totally satisfying for what it was. the roll, which we were told was traditionally eaten with eyes shut, was the epitome of minimalist decadence. this was not your average spicy tuna roll. the pumpkin- fu was a perfect foil for an animal protein, in that its starchiness transcended this roll from a typical vegetable maki into something wholly satisfying. every bite inspired more curiosity.

the next course involved springy house made soba noodles with a bowl of dipping sauce. the odd thing was, the sauce, which was a very tasty soy and scallion based broth, felt more like a soup, and was disproportional to the amount of noodles we were served. we were both done with our noodles long before we finished the sauce, and opted to drink the rest of the sauce out of the bowl. hey, when in rome....

along with the noodles, we were also given a miniature spice grinder which contained a special blend of 17 spices that the chef had prepared especially for this dish. this guy clearly doesn't do anything half-assed. it was about this time that i was ready for some sake. i asked for a recommendation, and our server pointed to one, noting that the chef recommended it for this month. i loved the specificity of that statement, knowing how much though and care was put into every detail of the experience. chefs' choice was sasaichi junmai yamanashi, described as  "very smooth and well balanced, using excellent underground water from mt. fuji." yes, please.

*this pic from here

finally, along came the entree, the piece de resistance. it was a medley of colors and textures. intriguing in appearance, less so in taste. there were leeks that had been grilled in a banana leaf that unwound like papardelle noodles when unwrapped. there were steamed turnips and taro grilled and served in its skin. two sauces accompanied: one ponzu and one a miso paste served on a thin slab of wood. there was fennel topped with gomadofu and fennel prawns. overall, the dish was a delight to eye; a perfect picture of organized chaos that served as a convincing argument for anyone who doubts that cooking can be an art form. unfortunately, derek and i both agreed that as a whole we felt like there was generally one note, and that note was mushy. i was surprised that after experiencing so much contrast in flavor and texture in the previous dishes, this one dish felt monotonous in comparison. if i was on iron chef judging this dish i would have given high marks for presentation and creativity, but lower marks for taste. a good dish none the less, but not one that surpassed it's predecessors. tough crowd, i know.

and then a bowl of rice arrived with seven vegetable tempura and umeboshi plum, because we were clearly still starving (no). there was a lovely assortment of pickles that came along side, and despite being stuffed, we persevered and conquered the rice, especially enjoying the briny bitterness of the plum mixed with the oils of the vegetables and the rice.

dessert arrived and we were happy to see it was a single serving of mochi stuffed with white bean taste and basil. to me, this was dessert perfection: herbaceous, unfussy, with just a touch of sweetness. i loved this.

small sugar candies appeared, handmade in tokyo along with a cup of matcha tea the chef himself had been preparing for us. it was strong and reawakened our senses and reminded us that our night was not not over. it was liquid courage to  pry ourselves from our stools and trade the tranquility of kujitsu for the east village air. after all, it was only 7:30pm.

a bowl of goodness

there have been many home cooked meals as of late, and i regret i didn't tell you about them sooner. they have been healthy, flavorful, and void of meat and dairy. veganism seems to be having  a moment right now.  i feel as though everywhere i turn i run into a reformed carnivore. kale is so ubiquitous on nyc menus, i'm wondering if has replaced bacon as the latest ingredient "du jour." let's hope so. veganism no longer feels counter culture; if anything, it just feels logical. i had my first introduction to veganism when i was just sixteen. i was a young impressionable novice vegetarian in the 90's and i met a boy at summer camp  who told me that if i really gave a shit about animals i would stop eating eggs and dairy. it made sense and i was pretty sure he spoke nothing but truthiness. we spent a summer locking eyes over campfire meals of tofu dogs and boca burgers.

nowadays, i have been known to indulge in some good goat cheese and even slurp an oyster or ten, but lately i have been thinking that it may be time to revisit my inner vegan. i just reread eating animals by jonathan safran foer, and i'm having a harder and harder time ignoring that little voice inside me that tells me i'm kind of a hypocrite every time i pop a spicy salmon roll. if you haven't read the book, do. foer is the kind of vegan that anyone can get down with. his writing is totally non-judgemental while being completely honest and informative. because he is a fiction writer (and a damn good one at that), he has a very specific writing style that can be hip and factual at the same time. he can appeal to anyone just looking to read a good book. he has managed to convert a few meat eaters over to the vegan side, but that doesn't feel like his agenda. if anything, he is telling the story of what happened when he decided to fully educate himself about the ins and outs of animal husbandry. not for everyone, i'm sure, but if you are least vaguely interested, and looking for something easier to digest than the jungle, this might be a good pick.

so, i've decided to take a cue from mark bittman who eats vegan 2 out of 3 meals a day. unlike bittman who stays vegan until dinner, the hardest meal for me to relinquish is breakfast. dinner is easy. dinner is all about savory sauces and spices, bountiful greens and hearty beans. breakfast is more delicate. generally mine is composed of some egg whites or greek yogurt with jam. by dinner time, i want something savory, warm, and filling.

tonight i decided to make an asian stew inspired by some leftover produce i wanted to use up.  i can't seem to get enough kimchee these days and i had plenty leftover from a tofu kimchee stir fry i had made earlier in the week. in the wintertime, i crave nothing more than hearty spicy soups. i made a traditional stock with kombu (kelp) and built in miso, tamari, and nori. then came hijiki, oyster mushrooms, brown button mushrooms, scallions, daikon, turnips, bean sprouts, kimchee, red bell pepper, and tofu noodles. i also added a little tapioca starch to thicken the broth to an almost gravy consistency, which stood up well to the bulk of vegetables. the resulting flavor had a deep umami quality resulting from the mingling of hijiki, miso, and mushrooms. that earthiness is something i crave in meals, so the natural saltiness hit my sweet spot just right. there was a subtle spice and a discernible crunchiness from the daikon and sprouts that contrasted nicely agains the soft kimchee and chewy mushrooms. it was a yummy dish that i think will develop even more depth after a few more days.

i am happy to be cooking frequently again and even happier to be writing about it. the joy has returned to my food preparation, and that is what it is all about. if nothing else, this blog has been about me keeping a diary of things that make me happy, and nothing does that more for me than healthy and delicious meals. i am in grad school now, getting my masters in food studies, so there is a lot to process. my days are steeped in academia and i am faced with tough questions about politics, theory and socio-economics all relating to food--it's a complicated issue. however, there are few complications (beyond deciding what to make)  in coming home and preparing something to eat that is primarily composed of vegetables that i know were produced in a sustainable way. this make me happy and there is a strong correlation in eating something sustainable and eating something that just makes you feel good. there will be many more dishes to come so stay tuned. i'm looking forward to it.