Bylines

“Something Fishy”

Edible San Luis Obispo; June 2018

Had it not been for Kikunae Ikeda, the now-famous Japanese scientist who ruminated over the savory quality of his broth, the word umami may never have entered our culinary lexicon. But, we’d still have it on the tip of our tongue because that funky, earthy, gamy, and yes—bordering on the malodorous and almost putrid— quality of umami is pure magic when it meets our taste receptors and translates into a tantalizing taste sensation that brings both depth and richness to food. This was exactly what Ikeda experienced, since the word itself is derived from two Japanese words meaning delicious and essence...

“The French Connection”

Edible San Luis Obispo; December 2017

Perhaps it’s his French ancestry, but I’ve noticed that people like giving him the spoils of the hunt. On more occasions than I’d care to count, he’s been the recipient of one wild beast or another. Once, early in our marriage, I returned home unexpectedly to find him in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand and a massive deer haunch protruding from our kitchen sink. After I calmed down, he explained that his intentions were admirable, that he was in pursuit of the perfect sausage, and that all of his efforts were for me...

“Drinking in the Season: Pear Brandy”

Edible San Luis Obispo; September 2017

I am unabashed in my passionate pursuit of perfection as I thump on the swollen bellies of watermelon, delicately squeeze my way through an artful display of peaches—still blushing from the heat, and rifle through the bags of grapes searching among the violet-hued gems for only the plumpest and sweetest of the lot. Certain I can’t be alone in my endeavors, I quickly scan the market, but aside from a red-headed woman elbow-deep in a bounty of late summer tomatoes, the other shoppers are oblivious to the botanical wonders that lie within reach...

“The Fermented Garden”

Edible San Luis Obispo; June 2017

My grandfather’s garden was a sight to behold, with neatly planted rows of sweet corn and teepees of green beans, waist-high tomato bushes, and pepper plants so heavy with fruit they had to be staked with iron poles. He grew prolific amounts of produce and for three seasons out of the year, my grandmother could go for weeks on end without stepping into a grocery store...

“A Better Butter”

Edible San Luis Obispo; March 2017

Who knows how my mother fell victim to the siren song of a 1970’s advertising campaign, but one day she took our butter dish from the refrigerator and casually tossed it aside. Later that evening as we waited for our supper, she placed a blue plastic tub next to the breadbasket. My brother and I peered into the tub at the much-too-yellow spread until my brother asked in a strikingly confident tone, “Where’s the butter?”​

“The Rich History of Eggnog”

Edible San Luis Obispo; December 2016

It may be the season of peace and goodwill, but mention whipping up a batch of eggnog and you’re likely to unleash a spirited discussion that could quickly turn ugly. In one camp are those who shudder at the mere thought of consuming a drink based on raw egg yolks and heavy cream–even if it is laced with generous amounts of liquor. Equally passionate, if not more so, are those in the other camp, the true eggnog aficionados who wax poetic at the very thought of their favorite holiday libation.

The latter are easy to pick out at the local grocery, their carts laden with dozens of eggs, cartons of heavy cream, and bottles of brandy, bourbon, and rum. Quite often, too, these shoppers are the ones humming Christmas tunes as they merrily rolling their baskets up and down the aisles...

“A Walk on the Wild Side”

Edible San Luis Obispo; September 2016

We’ve long since evolved from our foraging ancestors who wandered the woodlands and forests scouring the landscape for edibles–roots and leaves, an unattended egg, a cluster of mushrooms–but we’re still hardwired to hunt and gather. A visit to the neighborhood grocery offers quick proof as people drift along the produce aisles, instinctively ferreting through the stacks of fruits and vegetables, casting about for the perfect specimens to throw into their baskets. We have a natural predisposition to uproot, burrow and explore our environment while extracting its treasures...

“The Root of The Matter”

Edible San Luis Obispo; June 2016

My grandfather sparked my love of root beer. He was mischievous and secretly pilfered those barrel-shaped root beer candies from my grandmother’s crystal candy dish. Then, he would delight in pulling them from his pockets with the same sleight-of-hand finesse as a skilled magician. The candies were shockingly spicy and after only a few moments would send my palate into distress, their peppery boldness so intense that the only way I could cool down the fire on my tongue was to hold the oblong candy between my teeth and rapidly blow the heat out through pursed lips. They may have caused me tremendous discomfort, but of all the childhood treats, I loved those root beer candies the most and could easily pass an entire afternoon before wearing a single one down to microscopic thinness...

“Savoring Sunshine”

Edible San Luis Obispo; December 2015

Take a quick survey of the produce section at your neighborhood market and you’re bound to find a seemingly endless supply of lemons. So ubiquitous is the lemon in the modern culinary realm that it’s quite likely you won’t give them a second thought as you wheel your cart around the colorful displays and down the aisles. But like so many other botanicals, the lemon’s journey was rife with fate and opportunity...

“Indian Summer”

Edible San Luis Obispo; September 2015

Even a casual mention of India is enough to set my imagination running wild. Visions of culture and chaos collide while scenes of luxury trains snaking their way through a countryside of picturesque mountain landscapes and lush jungles, of elaborately dressed men atop huge elephants, and women wrapped in color-saturated saris on their way to the market rapidly unfold…

“The Culture Club”

Edible San Luis Obispo; May 2015

Hippocrates’ famous proclamation, “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food,” was likely based on observation–eating was a dangerous business in his time. A lack of cleanliness and a proliferation of bacteria left diners riddled with anxiety and bereft of appetite; sitting down to a meal could have tragic consequences...

“The Ginger Bug”

Edible San Luis Obispo; March 2015

Pharmacists were a curious breed. They practiced the art of apothecary while employing both the knowledge of the chemist and the skill of the physician, During the 1800s they were part of the great drug revolution as they opened small storefronts in towns all across America. Their shops served as community centers where people would gather for gossip and news, and more importantly, a cure for whatever ailed them...

“A Winter Marmalade”

Edible San Luis Obispo; December 2014

Blame it on cultural differences, but while marmalade has long been a staple of the English breakfast table, its popularity has lagged on our side of the pond. Much to the dismay of the British, American tastes favor sweet preserves and thick jams, and even as the British are politely ‘tsk-tsking’ us under their breath, Americans everywhere are busily licking Concord grape jelly off their butter knives…

“Give Cheese a Chance”

Edible San Luis Obispo; August 2014

The first taste was electric as the receptors on my tongue flashed waves of pleasure to my brain. I could feel my eyelids drop as the bittersweet cherries, the rich butterfat, and the grassy, herbaceous flavors collided and I quickly crossed the line straight into cheese ecstasy...

“The Missing Links”

Edible San Luis Obispo; January 2014

When Germany’s “Iron Chancellor,” Otto von Bismark said, “The less people know about how sausages and laws are made, the better they’ll sleep at night,” he wasn’t far from the truth. Historically, sausage making was a way to preserve every bit of an animal: scraps of meat, fat, offal, and even blood–everything but the squeal...

“Half-Crocked”

Edible San Luis Obispo; October 2013

Scientists have long been fascinated by what they term nasal nostalgia, a process where the olfactory bulb is triggered by a scent, causing us to recall a memory, pleasant or not. Scientists don’t quite understand how the olfactory bulb works in memory recall, but they do know that the bulb is only three synapses from the hippocampus, the place where our brains store long-term memories...

“Sticky Fingers”

Edible San Luis Obispo; July 2013

I’ve had a lifelong love of marshmallows that began when my mother first brought home those breakfast cereals that contained bits of pencil-eraser-sized marshmallows. I would secretly pick out as many marshmallows as I could before my brother arrived at the breakfast table. When he’d look down at his bowl, disproportionately filled with plain cereal, he’d scowl at me, but I would just shrug my shoulders and continue eating…

“The Start of Something”

Edible San Luis Obispo; April 2013

Millie thrived. She was the ideal wild yeast starter. When fed, she immediately went to work digesting her meal and producing a new and vigorous fermentation. Her color was the palest ivory and she smelled strongly of peaches...

“Pork Belly, My Love”

Edible San Luis Obispo; January 2013

It started innocently enough. We were having breakfast. Our Sunday newspaper was spread across the table, a wayward glob of good strawberry jam on the front page, a thick wet coffee ring on the bridal announcements. I picked up a crisp strip of bacon, slipped it casually between my teeth, closed my eyes, and blissfully began chomping away...

“The Watermelon Hunter”

Honey and Nonno; July 2013

By mid-June, the anticipation for the season’s first watermelon was palpable, though none of us dared mention it. My grandfather was stern and formidable in the morning, but by late afternoon, turned jovial and mischievous, willing to entertain us by drawing comical cartoon figures on scraps of paper, teaching us bits of limericks, or teasing my grandmother by just pushing the edges of family decorum. We played along, giggling behind my grandmother’s back, climbing on his lap, hanging onto his worn sweater sleeve, but even with such intimacy, such camaraderie between us, we knew better than to ask him about the watermelon; we even knew not to talk about it with each other...

“The Birthday Cake”

Honey and Nonno; June 2013

I always wished that my mother was deft enough to maneuver a pastry bag and that she’d adorn my cake with deep red and pink frosting roses, but she had no interest in cake decorating, having been forced to attend cake decorating classes as a young girl
by my grandmother. “You missed the boat,” my mother would tell me, and then go on to tell me the stories of how my grandmother made these incredibly crafted cakes–doll cakes with frothy fondant gowns and six-layer wonders that defied gravity and at Easter,
she would mold perfectly oval sugared eggs and inside, create vignettes of rabbits and
chickens...

“In a Jam”

Honey and Nonno; May 2013

I’m obsessive by nature, particularly when it comes to planting tomatoes, and while I especially like the heirloom varieties for their vast differences and uniqueness, after a few bountiful harvests, even I grow tired of tomatoes. Several years ago when my husband was working for an Australian wine importer, he returned from a trip Down Under with an unusual assortment of jams, jellies, and relishes. Among the treasures was a perfectly sweet and savory tomato jam that won my heart, so much so, that I should be embarrassed to say, I hid the jar in the back of the refrigerator where only I could find it...

“Little Ears”

Honey and Nonno; April 2013

When my husband was a young boy growing up in South Louisiana, his family owned a fish camp on the outskirts of New Orleans. Every summer, the family would pack up the car, hitch up the boats and with enough snacks to keep everyone happy during the drive, head out on the old back roads that ran parallel to the bayous and just off of Lake Pontchartrain. Once the cars were parked, the men would unload boxes of foodstuffs and carry them into the kitchen where the women would unpack them and place the goods into the cabinets, all the while catching up on their gossip. As for the children, the first thing they would do was set the old crab traps with chicken and turkey necks and toss them into the water. After that, the youngest boys would check on them until there were enough crabs to boil...

“Picnic”

Honey and Nonno; March 2013

My grandmother packed all sorts of things: hardboiled eggs perfectly peeled and cut into equal quarters, expertly segmented oranges, pickle spears and bread and butter pickles, and sometimes even decoratively sliced cucumbers and thinly sliced celery stalks. There were perfectly ripened cherries and ice-cold purple grapes, three or four different types of chips, an assortment of crackers, sliced cheese–even a miniature set of salt and pepper shakers, their tiny holes covered with plastic wrap to prevent any spills.