Fuel for Thought

The proof is in the Prius.

A friend recently asked her teenage son what he thought about her buying a Prius for the family car. "Don't do that, Mom," he protested. "Prius drivers are so smug."

I admit he's on to something there. But who wouldn't be smug about getting more than 50 miles a gallon instead of 15 as I once did in our premium-gas-guzzling Audi Quattro? Who wouldn't be self satisfied about driving nearly 500 miles on one 9.5 gallon tank of gas? Who wouldn't crow a little about saving more than $200 a month at the pump? (That's enough for a few dinners at Mozza Osteria or 25 bowls of ramen at Daikokuya.) And who could resist a little strutting around at the thought of reducing carbon emissions by nearly four tons per year?

I have to admit that I'm even insufferably smug around other Prius drivers, who are averaging (as I once did) less than 45 miles per gallon. Thanks to a great article about maximizing mileage on the Rattling the Kettle blog, I've learned how to break the 50 mpg barrier week after week.

I've also learned that it's better to burn calories than fossil fuel. If my destination is less than 1.5 miles away, I leave the Prius in our driveway and hoof it to the post office, pharmacy, grocery store or coffe shop. I'm even trying to institute a "no driving day" once a week.

Prius drivers smug? Can ya' blame us?

Recipe for Maximizing Mileage

• Coast whenever possible
• Cruise along at 55 mph or less on the freeway
• Cut the AC
• Start slow and stop slow
  

I left my heart in San Francisco

I've just returned from a three-day trip to San Francisco, where I fell head-over-heels in love. I feel like a silly schoolgirl because I can't stop thinking about my new obsession. I keep replaying the memory of our first encounter over and over again. I let out a heavy sigh and fantasize about our next time together.

I fell hard and fast for the gougères at Tartine Bakery.

First of all, if you haven't been to this Mission District destination, you MUST go the next time you're in San Francisco. A trip to Tartine is not optional; it is mandatory. ( It's just a half -mile hoof away from the 16th St. Mission BART Station.) After eating at Tartine, you'll conclude that every other bakery you've ever visited and every other baked good or pastry you've ever consumed have been impostors.

After I ordered my ham and leek quiche and latte, I noticed these beautiful, golden-brown breads sitting in the case. The woman in front of me ordered a dozen to go, so I just had to try one too.

Gougères are as light as a cloud because they're made from choux, the same pastry that's used for cream puffs. The main difference is that the choux is savory, not sweet. Tartine 's gougères, which are loaded with fresh herbs and Gruyere cheese, are crispy, flaky on the outside and slightly doughy, eggy on the inside. It was love at first bite.

The object of my affection: Tartine's gougères

I've had love affairs with other carb and fat combos (potato balls from Portos, biscuits and gravy) but now I see that these were just flings. With Tartine gougères, I've found my GUD soul mate.

Heavy, savory sigh. When can I see you again?

Tartine Bakery
600 Guerrero St
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 487-2600
www.tartinebakery.com

Susan's Eggsellent Adventure

What could be easier than making a protein-packed egg salad sandwich for lunch?

Hard boiling eggs can be a challenge for a post-middle-aged woman with traces of chemo brain and ADD. Here's how NOT to make hard-boiled eggs:

• 11:00 AM Place five eggs in a pot. Cover with water. Place pot on stove with flame at medium high.

• 11:01 AM Go upstairs to research on computer how long eggs should sit in simmering water. Bring egg timer to keep self on track.

• 11:02 AM Answer phone. Reply to emails. Answer phone again. Upload photos from digital camera. Stroke cat. Write post for food blog. Sort dirty laundry.

• 12:05 PM Go downtstairs to basement laundry room. On way past kitchen hear two loud POP sounds. Rule out drive-by shooting. Put down laundry basket.

• 12:06 PM Go to kitchen. Follow crackling sound. Discover the "eggsplosion."
  

• 12:07 PM Turn off flame. Grab keys and head to Everest for a pastrami sandwich.

So . . . what's the verdict? Age? ADD? Chemo brain? Or just Susan being Susan?

Springtime has been berry, berry good to me!

In April, the strawberry hits its stride. The popular Vitamin-C rich berries are at their reddest, ripest, sweetest and cheapest this month, and I've been taking advantage.

When the price drops to $8.00 for a flat (12 boxes), I can't resist walking out of the market with my cardboard box packed with a dainty-dozen pints.

My favorite spring and summer time breakfast treat is plain yogurt with fresh berries. I recently joined friends for breakfast at Zinc Cafe in Laguna Beach. The cafe elevated my simple treat by adding a touch of honey (for shimmer and sweetness) and a sprinkling of orange zest (for a touch of bitter). I love these simple touches and have been adding them to my daily dish of berries and yogurt.

A perfect Sunday morning: Strawberry parfait, coffee and the Sunday Times

I came back from a recent trip to West Virginia with a recipe for Shoney's (aka Bob's Big Boy) fresh strawberry pie filling and an easy, idiot-proof pie crust recipe. I make at least two pies at a time and give one to a friend and keep one for the family.

Pies are made for sharing. Always bake two at a time and surprise a friend.

Shoney's Fresh Strawberry Pie

2 tbsp. cornstarch
1 c. sugar
1 c. water
1/2 small pkg. strawberry gelatin (4 T.)
2 1/2 pints fresh strawberries
1 baked 9 inch pie shell, cooled

Blend together cornstarch and sugar. Combine in saucepan with water. Cook, stirring until thick, 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Add gelatin. Stir until dissolved. Cool. (If there are any globules of cornstarch, remove them.)

Spread strawberries in baked pie shell. Pour gelatin mixture over berries and let chill 2 or 3 hours. Garnish with whipped cream.

(Shoney's leaves berries whole, but I hull and quarter mine and mix with the glaze before placing in the pie shell.)

After two pies and five yogurt pafaits, I still have four pints of strawberries left. It may be time for some strawberry shortcake.

Fork or Food?

The name of my food blog is Open Mouth, Insert Fork (a takeoff on "Open mouth, insert foot," something at which I excel.)

It just occurred to me that Open Mouth, Insert Food may be better because "food" is just one letter away from "foot."

What do YOU think? Fork or food?

The Picky Eaters Club

My daughter Cynthia didn't start out life as a picky eater. At eight months, she gobbled down Gerbers like it was gelato. Later, she snacked on canned green beans as if they were wands of licorice. She moved on to devour raw, whole carrots ala Bugs Bunny. "What's up doc?" we'd tease.

But after she turned three, she became a notoriously picky eater. I used to joke that there were only five foods on the planet that she would eat, but we could only afford three of them. Her palate has expanded only slightly since then. And we can still only afford two of her favorite foods, crab and filet mignon, on special occasions.

Not so with me. Except for a brief stage when I didn't like my foods touching, I have never been a fussy eater. Food didn't have to be perfect - it just had to be good and plentiful. I loved to consume mass quantities of food, and, for a few decades, I could get away with it. I'm the only person I know who consistently went back for seconds at her college cafeteria. (I still dream about those Southern-style grits and gravy.) After college in South Carolina, I moved from West Virginia to California where a whole new world of food options opened up - Mexican, Japanese, Thai, Indian, Vietnamese. I couldn't get enough of it.

But now I've finally entered the stage I bypassed as a toddler. I've become a picky eater. Or perhaps it's more correct to say that I'm a particular eater. The old Susan was discriminating but pragmatic. If the eggs were slightly overcooked or the chicken Tikki Masala a little sweet, it didn't matter. And, from the way I would clean my plate, noone would guess that the food didn't meet my standards. These days, after a few unenthusiastic bites of sub-par food, I put down my fork.

It's now official: I'm a member of the picky eaters club. If the temperature and freshness aren't just right, I'm guaranteed to turn into a dining diva. Here are a few of my "rules":

Temperature:

• Hot foods must be served hot and cold foods must be cold. There's nothing worse than lukewarm soup or room-temperature salad.
  

• Sushi and sashimi must be neither hot nor cold. The sushi rice should be room temperature and the fish slightly cool, not cold. That's why prepackaged sushi is a no-can-eat.
  

• All of the foods on a hot plate should be the same temperature. When we were in Seattle last week, we ordered breakfast out one morning. The sausage was hot, the toast and hash browns were warm, and the eggs were cold, making the entire plate inedible. My hat (and wig) is off to Russell's, the Pasadena restaurant that always gets the temperature right.
  

• Bread or pastries should never be refrigerated. That's why I'll only eat cream puffs from Beard Papa's, where they don't fill the pastry with cream until the customer orders. And I won't touch those expensive, refrigerated sandwiches at Starbuck's.
  

Freshness:

• A donut is only edible within two hours out of hot oil. Say what you like about KrispyKreme , but you can't beat the freshness. George, on the other hand, has a "There's no such thing as a bad (or stale) donut" motto.
  

• A French baguette should be consumed within eight hours out of the oven. An eight-minute time frame is preferable and always possible at Lee's Sandwiches. (And at 99 cents a baguette, you can't beat the price.)
  

• Unless home-made or from Europane, muffins should be outlawed. I recently attended a media event where giant Costco muffins were served. We could still see the tell-tale discarded cardboard box with hermetic plastic seal in the nearby trash can. Does anyone actually like these bloated baked goods?

Now that the culinary cat is out of the bag, it may be less of a mystery as to why I'm having trouble gaining weight.

And I feel it only fair to warn you: I've developed the annoying habit of criticizing the food on other diners' plates, a no-no that is more taboo than prepackaged sushi or Costco muffins.

What are YOUR food turnoffs?

Take Comfort!

Think childhood, warm fuzzy memories and comfort, and chances are macaroni and cheese comes to mind. Never mind that the mac 'n' cheese of our childhood may have come in a box with an orange powder.

At my first annual "Take Comfort!" party on Saturday, macaroni and cheese was the star attraction. My rich, creamy version of the perennial favorite requires only slightly more effort than the orange stuff in a box. You don't even need to cook the macaroni in advance; just stir the hard noodles right into the cheese, milk and cottage cheese concoction.

I multiplied the recipe times six to make enough to feed nearly 40 comfort-craving women.

The guests said it was the best mac 'n' cheese they've ever tasted.

This recipe for Creamy Macaroni and Cheese first appeared in the January 4, 2006, issue of the New York Times and spent weeks as the number-one most emailed article. I don't know what this said about the State of the Union, but Americans were apparently in need of the healing power of cheese.

Creamy Macaroni and Cheese
Published: January 4, 2006

Time: 1 hour 15 minutes

2 tablespoons butter
1 cup cottage cheese (not lowfat)
2 cups milk (not skim)
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch cayenne
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1⁄4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1⁄2 pound elbow pasta, uncooked.

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees and position an oven rack in upper third of oven. Use 1 tablespoon butter to butter a 9-inch round or square baking pan.

2. In a blender, purée cottage cheese, milk, mustard, cayenne, nutmeg and salt and pepper together. Reserve 1⁄4 cup grated cheese for topping. In a large bowl, combine remaining grated cheese, milk mixture and uncooked pasta. Pour into prepared pan, cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes.

3. Uncover pan, stir gently, sprinkle with reserved cheese and dot with remaining tablespoon butter. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes more, until browned. Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings


For the ultimate comfort, follow the lead of one Take Comfort! guest and hop into your favorite pair of froggie slippers, slip on your zebra-print socks and pour yourself a glass of Shiraz.