Brown sugar!

I love my rock n roll, though I've never been a huge Stones fan. But for the past couple of, I haven't been able to get "Brown Sugar" out of my head.

It started when I popped into our local coffee shop, Cafe Javasti, for a sip. Javasti is known for its house-made scones, coffee cakes, and muffins. And I profess they have the best cupcakes in town (move aside, Cupcake Royale and Trophy).

On that morning, Javasti's pastry case had a brown-sugar cupcake with some kind of cream frosting (in my memory, I think it was cream cheese, but it could have been whipped cream or even sour cream and still sound luscious). It was too early in the morning for me to think straight, so I left the shop with only my Americano. I'm kicking myself for not trying one of those cupcakes.

It got me thinking: why don't we use brown sugar as a featured ingredient? It's the only type of sugar I heap, directly from the bag, into my mouth. 

Its moist, sensual molasses flavor and delicate, crumbly texture is screaming for star power.

So, what to concoct?

• There are the classics, like sugar cookies. 
• Perhaps I'll work brown sugar into my daytime drinks, stirring it into espresso -- a little heavy-handed so it comes out thick and syrupy. 
• And maybe there's room for brown sugar in night-time drinks -- like a brown-sugar-based whiskey sour. 
• There's savory: a spicy brown-sugar glaze for salmon.
• And semi-sweet: strawberries dipped in sour cream then brown sugar.
• I also want to take a stab at some of those cupcakes -- visions of swirling brown sugar cakes dance in my head. 

What else would you suggest? It's up to us to set the next trendy, hot ingredient. Let's put brown sugar on center stage.

Breaking news: New Canlis contest!

Looks like those crafty Canlis brothers are at it again. Their chef, Jason Franey, is up for a Food + Wine magazine "Best New Chef" award. They're on the campaign trail, posting daily pictures to their Facebook/Twitter accounts with the guys wearing "vote for Jason" signboards. The black and white photos hark back to presidential campaigns of yore, emitting Don Draper cool.

But, according to a news tip today, there may be more than at first meets the eye. The folks at Eater.com claim there's Morse Code embedded in each photo, leading us to solve a new mystery. Some sort of "pop-up" restaurant headed by Franey. Whoever solves the clue first gets a free dinner.

Looks like it's time to get back in the game!

Sunny days...

I haven't seen this in quite a while:

It so inspired me that I took a walk, sipped a coffee, sauntered slowly home, then took 10 minutes in the Garden of Neglect to take care of unfinished business. Finally, on this 2nd day of February, my fall, close-up-shop work on last summer's garden is done.

Who wants to be outside in the rain and sleet, tugging out barren roots and breaking down tomato cages anyway?

This weather isn't atypical in Seattle. For at least a few days every February, the sun shines brightly, the clouds part, the blue sky spans, and we smile. Things come to life again.

I'm even planning a list of what to do (and what not to do) during this year's growing season. To start: some intoxicatingly sweet shrubbery outside the bedroom windows. My dream is to throw open the windows wide and let the aromas waft in. I've also got to do something about those raised beds (good idea, but not nearly deep enough). Maybe some hanging baskets?

And thanks to Punxsutawney Phil, it looks like spring is officially coming early. Here's to a new start!

San Francisco: A Photo Essay

For my 34th birthday last month, Nate and I flew south to my all-time favorite city, San Francisco, for a long weekend. We've taken quite a few short trips to the Bay Area over the years. Now there's less pressure to see all the sights. Instead, we can relax... Hence sleeping in past official breakfast time and dining on soup for breakfast at farm:table.

Broccoli soup & apricot preserves pie for brekkie at farm:table. The lemon oil drizzle woke me up!

Tangy apricot preserves pie and coffee - this girl's best friend

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On our walk back to Union Square, we stumbled upon lots of green. Like this ivy-covered building...

The big tree in Union Square. So festive!...

This charmingly retro green streetcar...

Old meets new - I love the retro scene of this traincar with the modern lady in front.

And, lots of other "green" wafting through the air. My my, those San Franciscans sure like to puff tough on their "herbal cigarettes."

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One can't take a trip to SF without visiting the Mission for (yes, more) eats. The district swims in taqueries, like the postage-stamp-sized Papalote. The entrees were mediocre. But the specialty salsa - a cream, tangy, spicy concoction - made the BART journey worthwhile. Papalote sells the salsa in glass jars, and had the TSA not banned liquids above 3 oz., I would have stashed several in my carry-on bag to take home.

Papalote's salsa - creamy & spicy. Nate frowns when he realizes we can't bring it home to Seattle.

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We'd already planned a visit to the Ferry Building along the water (I'd been so inspired to visit this indoor market since drooling over Lorna Yee's post and pictures). The weekly farmer's market, held on Saturday mornings, was icing. Here are some scenes:

San Francisco = fog. View from the pier.

Oysters in the a.m.? Not so much. But the display sure is lovely.

Streaming sunshine.

Chicken little.

Inside the Ferry Building.

Moving on to dairy.

Queso, queso, queso!

The wheels of the cheese go round and round.

Beta carrot-ene.

Oh, honeyman. Lots of varietals of fresh honey from this farm stand.

Rainbow of peppers.

Blue Bottle coffee!

Heavenly eucalyptus wreaths. Again, I wanted to tote one home but it wouldn't fit in my backpack. Alas, I found a similar version at Trader Joe's upon return to Seattle.

Intoxicating lavender

Welcome to the Port of San Francisco

That's a lot of meat.

From Rose Pistola - a mahi mahi sammie + tangy lentil salad. Perfect to share on a bench outside with the seagulls and sea air and my love.

All in all, it was a lovely trip. And as the song goes, I left my heart...

Year in rewind: Back to meat

Turkey, bacon, avocado, tomato = a delight

In a world that is heading decidedly meatless (at least here in the PacNW), I am a rebel.

Early this year that my doctor put the kibosh on my vegaquarian ways, sending me home with a Rx for meat.

And so, to begin this new decade, I began adding meat to my menu rather than subtracting it.

It wasn't easy at first. I was squeamish just thinking of eating birds, let alone cooking them. And then, a few months in, a realization dawned: I was starting to enjoy ordering poultry. In fact, I loved turkey.

A few months ago, I confessed another secret to you: eating bacon. The admission only fueled my fire and now I order the slices with reckless abandon; I even cooked some - twice - at home this week.

I still shy away from other red meats, and plan to do so for the longhaul. Vegetarian meals continue to grace our plates a few times a week; they're not going anywhere in 2011. And I need to work on cooking poultry - right now, I'm more comfortable ordering it when we dine out.

In 2010, I've ordered fish from Duke's Chowder House, fried chicken from Ezell's, and bacon from IHOP. We've come a long way.

I look forward to hearing what my doctor has to say come spring during my annual appointment.

Christmas Baking: Buche de Noel

I'm not much of a baker, but my sister-in-law, El Fab, is a master. Every Christmas when she's in town, we spend a day baking a treat for Christmas dinner.









One year it was gingerbreadmen, gingerbreadwomen, and enough gingerbreadcats to concern Bob Barker. Last year, we doled out Santa's Favorite Cake - a red velvet/peppermint concoction. This year, we're looking overseas to a French tradition: Buche de Noel - which is basically an edible yule log. My dear friend Elisa just sent me the Tartine cookbook for my birthday, which contained a recipe; this was the perfect time to test it.

On Festivus, we schlepped to numerous stores to get our ingredients (including some Tuaca for courage). Then we spent three solid hours baking the cake, brewing the espresso syrup, and whipping up an intensely rich coffee-Kahlua-infused buttercream. We rolled the "log" and left it in the fridge to firm.

On Christmas Eve came decoration time. Rather than form meringue mushrooms ala Tartine, we purchased some darling pinecone and hollyberry decorations from Home Cake. We made "moss" from pistachios and "bark" chocolate ganache, then dusted the entire log with crystallized, edible "snow."

Much better than the yuletide logs we used to make in gradeschool, I'd say.

Merry Merry, to you and yours!

Canlis Clues: The Menu Scavenger Hunt that Has Seattle in a Tizzy

I've only been to Canlis once. I grew up in Seattle, hearing about the legendary, low-slung restaurant overlooking Lake Union.


In the 80s, Canlis was untouchable: a luxurious place reserved for the uber-wealthy who dripped in diamonds. In the 90s, Canlis' excess seemed outrageous in the era of dirty combat boots and flannel. By the early aughts, I downright dismissed the notion of ever wanting to dine at Canlis. After all, it was a place for grandparents and outdated, out-of-town tourists.

But for some nagging reason, my curiosity was piqued. I'd driven over the Highway 99 bridge all these years, looking at Canlis, wondering what it was like inside. I'd entered the foodie scene in Seattle -- and, for some reason, its community was still talking about the staid restaurant. And well-timed Tweets from the restaurants' marketing team -- beautiful photographs of colorful, artful, modern dishes -- helped me realize my impression of Canlis may have been wrong.


So after 33 years, I finally asked to go to Canlis for my birthday last December. I figured I'd be let down. And, truthfully, I was.

Don't get me wrong -- the service, Canlis' hallmark -- was impeccable. The dining room was pretty, if as predictable.

But my expectations were simply so high.

I wished we'd been seated at a window table.

When I ordered a cocktail off the featured-drinks menu, the waiter explained that they were out of one of the ingredients. Isn't Canlis' staff supposed to scramble into its helicopter and hustle to locate items on guests' request list? I wished that they'd gone out of their way to fix this.

We both ordered fish entree; when they arrived, my salmon was tasty but the garnish -- a pea-sized dollop of potatoes -- made me chuckle. Honestly, I wished we had gone to Duke's Chowder House.

It was a nice treat -- a chance to finally witness what all the fuss was about. But, I didn't expect to be back.


So here we are, nearly a year later, and all I can think about is Canlis. Why? Because they're in the middle of one of the best marketing campaigns I've ever seen.

A few weeks ago, Canlis' third-generation of family ownership -- brothers Mark and Brian -- began a city-wide scavenger hunt that has me aflutter.


Each day, the restaurant posts a cryptic clue on the restaurant's Facebook page and Twitter feeds. The clue leads the finder to a spot somewhere in the city that hides a menu from 1950. The finder of the menu can then dine at Canlis for 1950's prices.

Why does the campaign work?

The chase: The contest plays on our culture's obsession with winning. It's why eBay is so wildly successful -- have you ever entered a bidding war on an item you don't even really want? You just wanted to win. On Wednesday, convinced I had solved the Canlis riddle, I drove in an adrenaline frenzy toward Greenlake, visibly shaking as I hunted the trees for the clue (I was wrong). As I write this post, I'm constantly flipping back to Canlis' Facebook page -- refreshing it constantly -- to see if they've posted today's clue. I just want one of those menus!


The price: We all love a good deal -- especially in a recession. I haven't yet seen a copy of Canlis' 1950 pricelist, but given our country's skyrocketing inflation rates, I'm sure it's a doozy. I imagine dining for a fraction of the cost. It's a smart move for Canlis, too: new customers get to sample Canlis' fare at an incredibly low price; they're bound to be wowed -- and return to pay full price. Thus Canlis establishes a new generation of customers.


The audience: By tapping in to social media -- the campaign is entirely run on Facebook and Twitter -- Canlis reaches out to a new target audience.  One that's young and hip. No longer is this your grandparents' restaurant.
 
The connection to the city: Canlis has done an impeccable job of positioning itself as impossibly local. Each clue ties in to a Seattle-area landmark, historical site, or beloved secret spot. Clues have been hidden at the Fremont Troll, Memorial Stadium, and the Arboretum, and local personalities including Starbucks' Howard Schultz and the Seattle Sounders' Sigi Schmid are getting in on the game.  By aligning themselves with the city, Canlis is (re)establishing itself as a hallmark of Seattle.

The community: When a new clue appears, the Canlis Facebook page's wall explodes with comments. It's fun to be on the hunt, working together to solve the clue. I love the threaded conversations -- friends exchanging theories and sending out a representative on the chase.

The fun: Canlis' campaign is a great escape from the daily doldrums. Every day around lunchtime, I open my Twitter feeds and Canlis' facebook page and wait. Refresh, refresh, refresh. Then scramble! Stop in the  middle of a project, grab the keys, and go! We joke, but I truly wonder how workers' productivity is impacted by this campaign? 

Excuse me, I've got to run. Canlis is about to post its next clue...