By root on July 16, 2007 10:18 AM
I spent Saturday involved in very un-French pursuits—no petanque, profiteroles or pommes frites for me, unfortunately. Years ago, when I was working at a cooking school in France (an experience that was in equal parts miserable and glorious) we celebrated Bastille Day by producing 1,000 gougeres (cheese puffs) and 1,000 palmiers (elephant ear pastries fashioned from puff pastry that we made from scratch) for the celebration in the town square. By the end of it I was so tired and so sick of pastry that I didn’t even attend the party.
By root on July 03, 2007 3:42 PM
As the 7x7 food department’s editorial assistant, I was asked today to do a little guest blog, so here it goes …
I’m really picky when it comes to baked goods. Blame my mom. She’s the pastry chef. Her sour cream scones have ensured that I have rarely, if ever, found another scone to be worthy. The fact that such a great pastry is often executed as a bland, baking-soda-flavored hockey puck has led me to skip the scone entirely unless it’s mom-made.
Sunflower, poppy and sesame pretzels
As you might’ve guessed from my last blog, I’m pro-carb. In fact, I’ve always had a soft spot for bread, rice, bagels, pasta—you name it. And when the country was Atkins-diet crazed, I was personally offended.
Much to my dismay, I had to turn down an invitation to a dessert and dessert wine pairing event at Lark Creek Steak last week. I’m not sure if that’s the culprit (because I need something other than my sweet tooth to blame) but as it turns out I ended up “dedicating” my entire week to dessert.
Here’s how it broke down:
Here’s how it broke down:
Barrista Robin Satterfield at Liberty Cafe in Bernal
Heights shows us her muffins.
I know Spring has sprung when the wind about bowls me over and I start seeing rhubarb-strawberry combos all over town. A bit grouchy on Sunday morning, I lugged my NY Times to my local bakery, Liberty Cafe, thinking endless refills of coffee, a good Sunday Styles read and something sweet would brighten my mood. I like to sit at the bar which faces the open kitchen and watch the bakers roll out pie crusts and pull pastries out of the oven. It's kind of like a Happy Hour—just from 9 to 11 am.
The Grove: home of one really good bran muffin.
photography by Stefanie Michejda
I happened to find myself in on Fillmore yesterday and stopped in to The Grove (2016 Fillmore St., 415-474-1419) with a mission in mind: I wanted to see if their bran muffins were still as good as I remember.