Hedonia

Clambake!

Ah, the Fourth of July, the quintessential summer holiday. For most, this day means sweltering midday sun followed by a balmy night with a spectacular fireworks display; the smell of burgers sizzling on over the coals commingled with the acrid smoke from sparklers.

But here in San Francisco, as with most things, it's different. In nearly 20 years living here, I could count the number of fog-free Fourths on one hand that has lost digits from a temperamental firecracker. I can scarcely remember the last time I actually saw fireworks on the Fourth, as opposed to eerie colorful glowing fog.

But that's okay; I like our quirky, often blustry weather, and wouldn't trade it for the oppressive heat and humidity of the other coast for all the Roman candles made in China. Still, I do find myself occasionally pining for nostalgic tastes of the Northeast. Last year, I finally sated my craving for lobster rolls. This year, on a recent visit to my mother's place in San Diego, we undertook another New England classic, the clambake. 

Wordless Wednesday: Tranquility

Hillcrest Farmers Market, San Diego

A cursory glance through the rambling list of sites in the right sidebar of this site will quickly inform you that I have a very small universe. I have a special focus on fellow Bay Area food bloggers; beyond that, I regularly monitor a handful of others around the world. But by and large, of the bloggers outside my own backyard, I am not terribly concerned with their geography.

The exception to that rule is San Diego. I began paying closer attention to food bloggers there because it's where my mother lives, and hence a place we visit with relative frequency. I became entranced with the vibrancy of the blogger community there. And on a visit down there last week, I reached out to a handful of my favorites (many of whom I had met personally before) to arrange a get-together.

Lucky me, all were available, and a plan was forged, beginning with a pass through the Hillcrest Farmers Market with Alice and Caron, after which we would connect with Kathy, Nicole and Susan for brunch at Farmhouse Café.

Wordless Wednesday: Flamingo

The Eatsdropper wants the full sugar and fat version

As I sit here putting together this quick little Eatsdropper, I am watching DPaul systematically shred an 11.5-lb pork shoulder that we slow-roasted in the oven overnight. Neeners! I'll make a deal with you: I'll consider sharing some of our well-gotten goods if you send me some delicious aural satisfaction to eatsdropper-at-seantimberlake-dot-com. Deal?

---

Man 1: "Oh, that German Chocolate cake. THAT'S what I want right there."
Man 2: "It's vegan, though."
Man 1: "Oh, no! No, no, no. I don't want that vegan stuff. I want the full sugar and fat version."
Man 2: "Just because it's vegan doesn't mean it won't be full of sugar and fat."

- Eatsdropped by Genie at Whole Foods

30-something daughter to 50-something mom, as they peruse the menu:
    "You know, I think I'm brioche'd out"

- Eatsdropped by Anita at Dahlia Lounge

Woman smelling spice: "Mmmm ... jerk"

- Eatsdropped by yours truly at Penzeys Spices

Misty Meadows Farm

Meet Ralph and Kathy Packard.

Ralph and Kathy run the Misty Meadows Farm in Payneville, KY, about 50 miles southwest of Louisville. They grow "everything but okra" on their bucolic 28-acre parcel of land; on our visit, broccoli, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and blackberries were just beginning to come up. Heavy rains delayed the start of their planting season, and only now in late May are they getting a start in earnest on their crops.

Roosters cockily patrolled the chicken coop. Happy, inquisitive pigs came up to us in the barn to check us out. The two most recent were born on inauguration day, a male and a female inevitably named Barack and Michelle. The pigs come in black, red (with hair that shines fiery like copper filament in the sun) and one spotted pig that instantly became my favorite. Cattle are kept at a nearby Mennonite farm. The Packards' two dogs, Maggie and Timmy, keep watch over it all.

Misty Meadows has the longest-running CSA in the state of Kentucky (ten years strong); started the local farmer's market in nearby Brandenburg, KY; and were among the first farms to do organic gardening in the state (albeit not certified). As well as their produce, they sell farm-fresh eggs, various cuts of pork, beef and lamb, and homemade sausages including chorizo, sweet and hot Italian, and Kentucky-style breakfast links, redolent with sage. Their efforts have stood in defiance of the indefatigable encroachment of corporate and fast food that has all but crushed any semblance of local, indigenous foodways in this part of the country and others. It's a glimmer of hope of a food renaissance, a return to the old ways of raising and eating honest food.

But their way of farming is at risk.