Rickie Lee Jones Plays "Wild Girl" Live on Soundcheck

For those of us with daughters. For all of us. Thank you Candy for sending me this gorgeous thing.

Arrivederci Maiale

We finally polished off the last of our gorgeous pig.

Our Greek grocer friend Bobby, from Haight Street Market, lent us his mega spit (something like this), which he uses to turn whole lambs on. He sews lemon and herb bunches into them then stabs them with garlic.

We had one huge pig haunch left... the last scrap of our Devil's Gulch side.

We scored, oiled, herbed, poked, screwed, rammed and bolted the thing, then hefted it onto its glowing alter to slow-turn/smoke for seven hours.

It was dwarfed by the spit, but we just kept scooping little red coal dust mountains around it.

Don't ever let anyone ever tell you there's a better way to cook meat.

Our next dream restaurant has seating under sun & stars and about ten of these babies turning in tandem.

The gifts of one single pork side (nothing left untouched):

Spit-Roast Leg

Slow Low Eight-Hour Pork Butt

Braised Fresh Bacon

Head Cheese (foot, head, tongue)

"Party Roasts" (unidentifiable wedges)

Pozole Verde

Grilled Giant Porterhouse

Fried Tail/Ear (thank you F. Henderson and H. Fearnley-Whittingstall)

Cracklins and, by extention...

Luscious Lard

Very, very grateful.

From the Menu: Persimmon Pomegranate Madness

This looks so polished and all, but really it's just one big seed party. Toasted pepitas (which sound so much more natty than just pumpkin seeds), and pomegranate jewels are the sweet little pips that the whole salad is built around.

I love using pomegranate and persimmons together when their short seasons overlap. I mean, the sheer color riot alone...

And just what is it about pomegranate molasses anyway? All that astringent vanilla-tinged goodness. Insanely addictive. It is the perfect tart counterpoint to fuyu/fresh ricotta creaminess. Also its hugely copacetic with citrus, dates, pine nuts, mint, salmon, rice, yogurt... definitely a pantry stalwart.

Persimmon Salad with Pomegranate, Fresh Ricotta, Pepitas and Pomegranate Molasses (for 6)

1/2 cup pepitas

Sea salt

2 tablespoons regular olive oil

2 teaspoons aged sherry vinegar

Virgin olive oil

Pepper, freshly ground

3 cups watercress, about 1 large bunch, cleaned

3 Belgian endives, cleaned and separated into spears

2 cups fresh ricotta, like Bellwether Farms

3 Fuyu persimmons, washed and cut into 1/4-inch slices widthwise

1 pomegranate, seeded for about 1 cup of seeds

1/4 cup pomegranate molasses

Put the pepitas in a medium sauté pan with a pinch of salt and toast over medium heat for 2 to 3 minutes until they start to get fragrant and golden. Set aside to cool. In a medium bowl whisk the sherry vinegar with a pinch of salt and pepper. Whisk in a tablespoon of virgin oil. Add the watercress and the endive to the bowl and gently toss. Use about three persimmon rounds (half rounds if large) per plate, laid down in a triangle shape. Place endive spears between the persimmons, then a good handful of the watercress in the center of the plates. Dot dollops of ricotta around the cress, and sprinkle with pepitas and pomegranate seeds. Drizzle with pomegranate molasses and finish with a drizzle of virgin olive oil and a grinding of pepper. You can also arrange this all on one big beautiful platter, family-style.

Notes: You can grill the persimmon for added smokiness. And this salad is just as beautiful with roasted squash substituted for the persimmon.

Dawn Landes - Young Folks (bluegrass style)

Sunday morning. What sweetness is this -

Foodish Poem Love

She's such a master. You already know this if you read Plague of the Doves.

Advice to Myself

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator

and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.

Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.

Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.

Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.

Don't even sew on a button.

Let the wind have its way, then the earth

that invades as dust and then the dead

foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.

Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.

Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles

or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry

who uses whose toothbrush or if anything

matches, at all.

Except one word to another. Or a thought.

Pursue the authentic-decide first

what is authentic,

then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place

you don't even think of cleaning out.

That closet stuffed with savage mementos.

Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth

or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner

again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,

or weep over anything at all that breaks.

Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons

in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life

and talk to the dead

who drift in though the screened windows, who collect

patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything

except what destroys

the insulation between yourself and your experience

or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters

this ruse you call necessity.

-Louise Erdrich

From the Menu: Chestnut, Farro and Kabocha Squash Soup

Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers of the River Cafe continually inspire me. I especially love their rough soups. Most puréed food seems silly to me anymore, although I understand its kid-appeal. And even when I do go that route - for intense amalgamated flavor - I'll add texture back to what I'm making by finishing it with big chunky bits of whatever is in it, and/or rough-cut herbs, little buttery croutons, crisped cured pork. I want to feel the shape of what I’m eating.

I’ve tweaked this recipe slightly. Crumbly, dense kabocha squash is a favorite, so I’ve substituted it for the onion pumpkin called for. I crave the dark smoky heat of chilies de arbol, so I've used them specifically and have upped the ante... be careful here. And, as all I had in the house one evening was guanciale (cured pork cheeks), I used it for the pancetta and it was wonderful, too. Try it if you have some. Sage also works beautifully for the rosemary, and to me the dish begs for a hard, nutty cheese like parmesan.

Chestnut, Farro and Kabocha Squash Soup

1- 1/2 pounds fresh chestnuts
2 pounds (one smallish) Kabocha squash, peeled, seeded, cut into

1-inch cubes
6 tablespoons olive oil
Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 tablespoon brown sugar
3/4 cup farro
8 oz pancetta or guanciale, cut into lardons
2 medium red or yellow onions, sliced in half lengthwise, then in

1/4-inch slices lengthwise
1 whole head celery, washed well, dried, and cut into 1/4 -inch

diagonals widthwise (save the leaves for finishing the soup)

6 medium cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced
3 mediumchilies de arbol, or other dried chilie, seeded and crumbled (use less if you don't like much heat)

2 teaspoons sage or rosemary leaves, roughly chopped, about 1 stem
5 cups of chicken or vegetable stock
Virgin olive oil to finish
2 oz. Parmesan (optional)

Preheat oven to 375. Lightly score an x into chestnut shells on the flat side, trying not to cut into the nut meat too much. Spread them on a sheet pan and roast 20 to 30 minutes until the shells curl away from the nut. Cool, peel and roughly slice. Set aside. Toss squash with 3 tablespoons olive oil, a pinch of salt, pepper and the brown sugar. Spread on a sheet pan and roast until fully tender, about 30 minutes. Set aside. Place the farro in a small pot and cover with water by an inch. Bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes until al dente. Remove from water and spread out on a plate to cool.

In a large, lined pot big enough to hold the soup heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat and sauté pancetta until rendered and lightly browned. Add onions, celery, a good pinch of salt and pepper and sauté until tender, about 10 minutes. Add garlic, chilies and rosemary and cook until fragrant, about 5 minutes. Add the chestnuts and the squash and cook for 5 minutes. Add the farro and cover with stock by 1-inch (add water if necessary). Simmer about 15 minutes. The squash should melt partially into the soup, making it lusciously orange, yet still remain in chunks. Taste and season if necessary with more salt and pepper. Serve in warm soup bowls with a drizzle of virgin olive oil, celery leaves and shaved parmesan.

Notes:

The amount of celery in the recipe - a whole bunch - is surprising, but its peppery green presence is pure counterpoint to the soup’s sweet richness. Also, in her brilliant Cucina del Sole, Nancy Harmon Jenkins points out that the celery in Italy is a much rougher affair than ours - so don’t be afraid to use all the seemingly tough outer stalks, too, as it is entirely authentic.

The soup is also completely delicious in vegetarian mode: hold the cured meat, add a tad more oil to cook the vegetables, then bring it all together with vegetable stock or water.

November Prix Fixe at the Garden