Sound + Vision

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July 25-31, 2007

This is Tom Jones (Shout Factory/Time Life)

Still riding high on his 1965 smash-hit single “It’s Not Unusual,” singer Tom Jones snared a network TV show between 1969 and 1971 when ABC executives needed a sexy but safe showman to spice up its prime-time schedule. That program This is Tom Jones, hosted by the Welsh baritone with the R&B-inflected vocal style, provides the content for this newly released three-DVD collection of the same title. Jones showcased some of the hottest pop, rock, R&B and soul acts around. As a result, this set is packed with sensational, one-of-a-kind performances.

The highlights include Aretha Franklin at the height of her powers during the “Spirit in the Dark” phase of her career; Stevie Wonder, who lays down a five-minute drum solo; Janis Joplin , who had just dumped Big Brother in favor of the tighter, funkier band she used on the Pearl album; Joe Cocker with the Grease Band; and a very sweaty Little Richard.

The show’s format called for duets with Jones and his special guests, and Jones more than holds his own with each of these stars. He knew his limitations but was moved to push himself further when paired with a soul legend like Aretha.

Even his laidback duets with songwriter Burt Bacharach are priceless.Less successful are spots with the Who and the Moody Blues, who deliver canned music and no interaction with the host.

The eight episodes included here also feature such cutting-edge comedy acts as Richard Pryor, Pat Paulsen and the Committee.

Don’t let the tight pants, flamboyant shirts and go-go dance moves fool you–Tom Jones has the stuff!

The Tomorrow Show with Tom Snyder: Punk & New Wave (Shout Factory)
The Tomorrow Show: Tom Snyder’s Electric Kool-Aid Talk Show (Shout Factory)

Late-night talk-show host Tom Snyder was the quintessential square. From 1973 to 1982, his bumbling persona became fodder for then-Saturday Night Live cast member Dan Aykroyd, who spoofed Snyder repeatedly. Still Snyder, who died July 30, 2007, brought some of the most vibrant rockers of his time to the small screen.

With the 30th anniversary of the punk revolution underway, The Tomorrow Show with Tom Snyder: Punk & New Wave gathers the likes of Iggy Pop, the Ramones, the Plasmatics, Patti Smith, John Lydon and Elvis Costello. The first episode, which coincided with Rolling Stone magazine’s first article about the then-fledgling punk scene, features a surreal conversation between Snyder, rock impresario Bill Graham, music manager Kim Fowley, LA Times music critic Robert Hilburn, Paul Weller of the Jam and Joan Jett of the Runaways.

The verdict: Graham couldn’t decide if punk was just a flash in the pan–he would go on largely to ignore the phenomenon; Hilburn offered an overly analytical critique of the genre’s song forms; Fowley, who at the time managed the lightweight pop star Helen Reddy, babble incoherently; and Joan Jett let Snyder know that, no, it wasn’t likely that she one day would become the very establishment she was acting out against since an all-girl punk band like the Runaways was never going to get rich and famous.She was right abouth the rich part.

In a 1980 segment, John Lydon, then on the road to promote his post-Sex Pistols band PiL, seethes with contempt for the talk-show host. A 1981 appearance by a severely drugged out and self-abused Iggy Pop is painful to watch, though he rocks while performing songs from the Soldier album.

The 1981 interview with the Ramones is worth the price of admission. The guest host keeps trying to brush Joey Ramones’ bangs out of his eyes, causing the singer to cringe in sheer terror–evidently she didn’t know he suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder.

The Tomorrow Show: Tom Snyder’s Electric Kool-Aid Talk Show is a suitable companion for the rest of the Summer of Love nostalgia being hawked these days. It compiles various segments that separately featured key figures in the 1960s psychedelic rite of passage known as the Kool-Aid Acid Tests: LSD advocate Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, Tom Wolfe, and the Grateful Dead all share the stage with the penultimate square. The Dead also perform four songs: “On the Road Again,” “Cassidy,” “Dire Wolf” and “Deep Elem Blues.”

Tom Snyder and Timothy Leary–talk about the odd couple!


What a Life

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News of the Food

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July 25-31, 2007

In the seven or so years I’ve been writing about food, I’ve studiously avoided the word “tasty.” It’s a trivial, even silly thing, but my self-imposed ban on the word reminds me to steer clear of pat, empty descriptions and to strive for something better. Restaurant criticism lives and dies on the use of adjectives, and sometimes the lexical cupboard feels a little bare, but I try to reach for more expressive and lively words than “tasty,” “good” or, God forbid, “yummy.”

Lately, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the word “ethnic,” one of the workhorses in my stable of adjectives. Writing about the diverse restaurants in the Bay Area makes the word indispensable. But the term is increasingly useless.

In mainstream white America, ethnic food is foreign food from the Third World–you know, all that spicy, odd, exotic stuff prepared by brown, yellow or black people. But in case you haven’t noticed, mainstream America is increasingly less white. That’s particularly true in California, where one in four people are immigrants. According to the 2000 census, there were 112 languages spoken in the Bay Area.

Given our changing demographics, what’s called ethnic depends on who’s doing the labeling. One person’s ethnic food is another’s home cooking. Where do immigrants from Bangalore or Taipei go for ethnic food? Sizzler?

We have a history of immigration that includes people from Italy, Portugal, Croatia and Serbia, and yet we don’t call restaurants that showcase food from those cuisines ethnic food. European cuisines aren’t thought of as ethnic foods because they’re so assimilated into American life. But food from these cultures represents particular ethnic groups just as much as your local Vietnamese or Eritrean restaurant does.

This isn’t politically correct hand-wringing. The term is ineffective because its meaning is too broad and sets up a false dichotomy between ethnic food and everything else. Trouble is, except for assembly-line-extruded fast food and dishes far removed from their ethnic origins (tuna casserole, sloppy Joes), there is no everything else. It’s all ethnic food.

I’m not the first person to question the validity of the word. Jim Leff, founder of Chowhound.com, dispensed with the term several years ago. Here’s a quote from an interview he gave to Travel+Leisure back in 2005: “I mean, look at French bistros. We don’t call French food ethnic because of a snobbery that assumes French food is real dining. We think of ethnic food as charming little places that are surprisingly good for those who can’t afford high prices.”

What we really have is a division of old ethnic and new ethnic. Old ethnic cuisines are those that have become so assimilated that they’re viewed as “American”; hamburgers, french fries, hot dogs, pizza and spaghetti and meatballs, all foods with ethnic origins, are as American as apple pie, which, it turns out, has its roots in the ethnic Anglo-Saxon tribes of Medieval England. There was time when the use of fresh garlic among Italian immigrants in the United States was considered a display of Old World ethnicity. Now, it’s only a few June Cleaver types in the Midwest who favor garlic powder over the real thing.

New ethnic is the food of recent arrivals from places other than Western Europe. Used this way, ethnic is a stand-in for “other.” The term has the slight odor of cultural supremacy because it’s a way to distinguish “us” from “them.” But increasingly, they are we.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Letters to the Editor

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July 25-31, 2007

Gotta love the internet

Regarding (July 4), I’m a former Boy Scout, old-school style: Leave it cleaner than it was when you got there. I don’t mean logging 1,000-year-old trees. Aren’t there enough sustainable forests to get our wood from? I’m a carpenter and I’m fine with sustainable logging, planting and conservation, but why destroy more of what keeps us alive? Don’t we kill enough people, animals and pristine forest to make our greedy leaders happy? Scum, all of them. Weak-willed, no honor or respect for our earth–our earth, not theirs.

Walter Smith, Higginsville, MO.

Just to be clear, the trees in question at the Bohemian Grove are second-growth and nowhere near 1,000 years old.

The Real Tom Biscardi

I am writing in reference to the story by Stett Holbrook (July 11). I must object to your publication giving such publicity to Tom Biscardi, a man, in my opinion, who is of dubious intent and little credibility.

In addition to the 2005 incident on Coast to Coast AM described in the article, Biscardi has been involved in a number of questionable ventures that leave his credibility in doubt.

In 2006, Biscardi desecrated a Native American burial site near Paris, Texas, and tried to pass off human remains as a skeletal Bigfoot. Biscardi was later compelled to return the remains in compliance with the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act.

Also in 2006, Biscardi paraded around with a pickled bear paw in a jar and tried to pass it off as Bigfoot’s hand. The limb was identified as a bear paw by scientists, including biology professor Alton Higgins.

In my personal opinion, Biscardi is a poor choice of subjects for an in-depth article for any respectable publication. Stett Holbrook seems to be aware of many reputable researchers like Loren Coleman and the people at the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, yet he chose to write about Biscardi.

In addition, Holbrook appears to at least have done some cursory background research on Biscardi, yet either failed to uncover the embarrassing incidents I outlined above or chose to ignore them.

Now that you are aware of Biscardi and what I can only describe as his shenanigans, please do not give this man any more attention. If we ignore him long enough, maybe he’ll find something constructive to do with his time. And maybe Mr. Holbrook will find someone laudable to write about.

Anthony Hartman, Niagara Falls, N.Y.

The real thing?

My wife and I were having dinner one night and we had the chance to meet Mr. Biscardi and his family. Both my wife and I were very intrigued by him and what he does. Had a chance to have a meeting with him regarding other business with a friend of mine, and, yes, he is a bigger-than-life individual, and he seems to be the real thing.

I have had three liver transplants and have all along believed that I would not perish of this great planet we call home. I have to admit that no matter what you believe in, if you are devout and strong-minded about the goal–in my case, living through what most doctors thought I would not–is a real possibility for everyone, including Mr. Biscardi.

In my honest opinion, there is a good possibility that Bigfoot exists. You yourself cannot deny this. Biscardi just believes that this is a real thing and is totally committed to his endeavor. Your article is a good one, but it is a bit biased towards him being a quack. There are many things out there that we just do not understand, so automatically discount them. Mr. Biscardi is an interesting person who will more than likely find or not what he is looking for.

Glad to be alive,

George Plaut, San Jose


Hidden North Bay

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Hidden North Bay

July 25-31, 2007

Arcadia 2007:

Our second biggest issue of the year, Arcadia celebrates the bucolic pastoral landscape, both imagined and real, of the North Bay. For this year’s effort, we sought to highlight the “hidden” aspects of Sonoma, Marin and Napa counties. To that end, we brought model Ashley Allred, photographer Sara Sanger and intrepid photo assistant Josh Staples to Napa’s fabulous funk art wallop the di Rosa Preserve to shoot the images that grace these pages. Follow Ashley as she goes on a journey through the Preserve, traveling along yourself through areas of North Bay food, wine and locales of which you may have been unaware.

–Gretchen Giles

We are greatly indebted to the di Rosa’s Kathleen Gaines for her assistance. Photos by Sara Sanger


Ask Sydney

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July 25-31, 2007

Dear Sydney, any suggestions for someone who is a hopeless prude in the bedroom? It seems like I’m surrounded by sexual go-getters, and this makes me feel like even more of Boring Betty. I feel pretty content with what would seem to others to be a pretty boring sex life, but maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing. Just the idea of doing anything off the beaten path makes me get freaked out. Recently, my girlfriend brought home a sex toy, and it felt like she’d brought a rattlesnake into the room. I kept waiting for it to jump off the table and attack me. Is there any hope for me, or should I just go get one of those Catholic sheets with the hole in the middle and start advertising for a new girlfriend, one who is both sexually conservative and queer. Is there such a thing? And is it possible to be a sexual prude and still be cool? What if my friends find out?–Surrounded by Sex Fiends

Dear Surrounded: You think you’re a prude? Who says? Who defines prudery? You’re looking at things backwards. If you’re surrounded by people who are into far-out sexual exploits (or so they claim; seeing is believing, I always say), and yet you remain petrified of inanimate sexual apparatuses, then maybe you are the one who is far out. Try switching the scale around. On the super-hardcore sex-fiend side put you: a queer, hands on/lights out kind of girl. See, you’re already on fire. On the far end, put whatever your sex-rocking friends allege that they are doing. Then write down on a scale–from least threatening to most threatening to hell-no-I-don’t-think-so–a list of things you think other people do that you don’t do; be sure to include the things that you do. Remember, what may seem benign to you could be utterly horrifying to someone else. There’s no point in belittling your own sexual exploits. You’re a girl who’s into girls. That’s far out. You don’t really even have to do anything else beside that. You’re a revolutionary. But still, try some things on your list, just for fun. Have your goal be to make it somewhere between hardcore you and prudeville everyone else. And in the mean time, I would hold out on that whole Catholic sheet advertisement idea; it sounds pretty kinky.

Dear Sydney, I was reading the paper the other day and saw that China had recently executed a high official. It was the Chinese equivalent of the person in charge of the FDA. This guy took bribes from drug companies and factories and let fake drugs onto the market, as well as allowing dangerous and sometimes deadly ingredients to be used in food products. So I was reading this and thinking that it seemed too horrible, but also maybe not so bad, considering the fact that in this country we kill people for comparably small infractions, and yet someone more powerful, like the president, for instance, can be responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths and in no way be held accountable. So I’m wondering, who is barbaric? The Chinese, for executing a high official for doing what almost all politicians do, or Americans, for executing their poor and insane, and allowing their rich and powerful to do whatever the hell they want.–Pissed Off

Dear Pissed: Zheng Xiaoyu, head of the Chinese State Food and Drug Administration, was executed, as you say, for taking bribes. When I read this in the paper, two thoughts flashed across my mind: Is it still safe to eat those little orange rice candies with the edible wrapper that I love from the Asian market? And, wow, so that’s how they deal with corrupt politicians over there! I wonder if it helps cut back on the problem?

People who disregard human life in favor of money are barbaric, and it’s difficult to find a way of dealing with them that is not equally so. If the United States observed a full ban on the death penalty, then I would have to grant us, for once, the higher moral ground. But the fact that we’re willing to execute our poor and oppressed and yet allow ass wipes like George W. Bush to imperil every living member of his constituency while simultaneously killing and maiming our bravest and blowing up an entire country along with its occupants is pretty low. I say, hats off to the Chinese! If you’re going to execute anyone, you might as well try and be fair about it. And in this context, they were certainly fairer than we are.

Dear Sydney, I’m hoping you can settle an argument between my father and me. As baseball fans, we have been following the Barry Bonds scandal closely. My father thinks that anyone taking steroids should be kicked out of sports. I think, who cares? They all do it. Why make such a big deal about the inevitable? Now they make performance-enhancing drugs that can’t be traced anyway, making it all the more difficult to prove. If this is what it takes to compete, then I don’t see that it’s for us to judge one way or the other. My father, on the other hand, will no longer attend Giants games with me, so offended is he by the idea that someone he once revered could be a drug user. What’s your take on the steroids thing?–Bonds Fan

Dear Fan: Sport games are constructed around a series of rules, and each of these rules is, or should be, rigorously enforced. Otherwise you wouldn’t be playing a game, you’d just be having fun. No rule-breaking allowed in sports. It’s in a book, and there’s a referee; there’s no room for interpretation. At this point, it’s against the rules for a baseball player to use performance-enhancing drugs. If an athlete uses them, then he or she is cheating. Maybe this is an outdated rule, one that doesn’t confront the reality of what professional sports has become, what the audience expects to see and the performance level that is demanded.

We want to see Barry Bonds hit a home run! We don’t care if he has to snort five lines of cocaine before the game, as long as he hits it out of the park. But the rules haven’t been changed, so in this context, your father is right. If the rules say no steroids, that means no steroids. If athletes want to have the right to take performance-enhancing drugs–if they believe this is a necessary aspect to the game–then they should lobby to change the rules. Let the players take the initiative.

‘Ask Sydney’ is penned by a Sonoma County resident. There is no question too big, too small or too off-the-wall. Inquire at www.asksydney.com or write as*******@*on.net.

No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.


Wine Tasting

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BumWine.com is a website dedicated to the appreciation of the subgenre of alcoholic beverage made especially for down-and-out alcoholics, the homeless–or both, as is often the case. These beverages are cheap, powerful and staggeringly foul tasting. The following five twist-cap tipples are the most widely available. The descriptions are provided by the intrepid testers at BumWine.com, especially for what they fondly call “the economical drunkard.”

Cisco Red “Everyone who drinks this feels great at first, and claims, ‘It’s not bad at all. I like it.’ But you really do not want to mess around with this one, because they all sing a different tune a few minutes later. And by tune I mean the psychotic ramblings of a raging naked bum.”

MD 20/20 “This is a good place to start for the street-wine rookie, but beware; this dog has a bite to back up its bark. ‘MD’ stands for Mogen David and is affectionately called ‘Mad Dog 20/20.’ You’ll find this beverage as often in a bum’s nest as in the rock quarry where the high school kids sneak off to drink.”

Night Train “Don’t let the 0.5 percent less alcohol by volume fool you, Night Train is all business when it pulls into the station. All aboard to nowhere–whoo-whoo! Night Train runs only one route: sober to stupid with no round-trip tickets available and a strong likelihood of a train wreck along the way.”

Wild Irish Rose “The thorn in your hangover is a wild rose from Ireland. Like its brother Cisco, ‘Wild I’ definitely has some secret additives that go straight to the cranium. Another web page claims that this foul beverage is a conspiracy by the Republicans to kill the homeless.”

Thunderbird “If your taste buds are shot and you need to get trashed with a quickness, then ‘T-bird’ is the drink for you. Or, if you like to smell your hand after pumping gas, look no further than Thunderbird.”

Also listed but roundly rejected as not fitting the “bum” profile are Boone’s Farm (too little alcohol for grownups makes it better for kids!), Scotland’s own Buckfast Tonic Wine (too expensive at 8 euros a bottle), Ripple (seemingly available only in old Sanford and Son reruns) and the walloping 20 percent ABV Bright’s Pale Dry Select sherry, which BumWine.com sadly reports is only palatable when mixed with ginger ale and is, unfortunately, native to Canada.



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Reticent Restos

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July 25-31, 2007

Arcadia 2007:

In keeping with this issue’s theme of exploring “hidden” wonders of the North Bay, we offer with a flourish our short-list of fabulous overlooked spots that offer surprising outdoor appeal, are locals-only, morph from one vibe to the next or simply shouldn’t be missed. Contributing are Brett Ascarelli, Gretchen Giles, Patricia Lynn Henley and Amanda Yskamp.

Sonoma

Rocker Oysterfellers
“Tell me again where Valley Ford is,” my husband doggedly demands. A Brit who’s lived in Sonoma County for 11 years, reads a map like it’s Dostoevsky and knows that Montana abuts Idaho (a revelation to me), Valley Ford has somehow remained a Valhalla of mystery to him. I impatiently remind that it’s on Highway 1 between Petaluma and Bodega Bay, that the town’s post office is a glory of Running Fence memorabilia and that there’s that super little restaurant with the awkward name smack amid the blink-and-you-miss-it and that he’s to be there by 6pm. Located in the old Valley Ford Hotel, Rocker Oysterfellers is a revelation, a great eatery with a fabulous outdoor space that plays host each Sunday in good weather to free live music. A split-level wooden deck allows visitors to either sit facing the band or enjoy being tucked away behind the speaker’s blast and actually converse. Local oysters certainly abound, but the menu also includes marvelous preparations of wild salmon, Sonoma lamb and pulled pork, the wine list is heavy on North Bay boutiques and the mixed drinks are a steal. The kind of out-of-the-way spot you think you’re sneaking into, Rocker Oysterfellers is very much a place where half your friends are already in the bar when you do sneak in. “You came the long way,” my husband smugly announces when I arrive at 6. “I’ll show you the fast way back.” Rocker Oysterfellers, 14415 Hwy. 1, Valley Ford. 707.876.1983. –G.G.

Stella’s Cafe
Those who go looking for Stella’s Cafe in its former location next to Mom’s Pies on Sebastopol’s Gravenstein Highway will stare into the windows of a vacant building, beholding a reflection of their own disappointment. But don’t be so sad, Stella’s isn’t gone. Not at all. It’s just picked itself up and moved not even a mile down the road. The new digs, on the grounds of the Russian River Vineyards, former site of Topolos, allow Stella’s to stretch its sizeable limbs and achieve a kind of landed-gentry grace it aspired to on that cute but puny outdoor veranda but never quite could.

The new patio is simply splendid, on several levels, some parts shaded by wisteria, others by vast, green market umbrellas, with heat lamps for cooler evenings. What hasn’t changed are Stella’s offerings and the good eye the restaurant has for local wines. Chef and owner Gregory Hallihan continues to blend flavors from Asia, the Middle East, New Orleans and Europe, using the freshest ingredients to please both those who have sought the restaurant out for the first time and those who keep coming back. Stella’s Cafe, 5700 Gravenstein Hwy. N. Forestville. 707.887.1562.–A.Y.

Marin

Drakes Beach Cafe
Although it’s not necessary to circumnavigate the globe, skirmish with hostile natives or brave Pacific storms as namesake Sir Francis Drake did on his Golden Hinde, a trip to Drakes Beach Cafe is sure to be an adventure. Travel over a fog-draped wash through historic ranch land into the Point Reyes National Seashore park to what is arguably the nicest beach on Point Reyes, backed by a stretch of cliffs (so resembling the white cliffs of Sussex that Drake named this place Nova Albion or New Britain).

The food, however, didn’t have to travel so far. Jane Kennedy and Ben Angulo, the young local couple who’ve recently taken on the venture, are dedicated to keeping their offerings organic and local. Their front window bears testimony to their efforts, showing an aerial photograph of where they get their delicious handcrafted bread (Brickmaiden Bakery), organic ice cream (Straus Organic Dairy), oysters and grass-fed beef (Lunny Farm), and fresh produce (Star Route Farms)–all within a few miles of the beach. Bring your own booty of wine along, though; they have no liquor license. Housed in a weathered wood structure adjoining the visitor center and with a view of the ocean that rivals some ships, Drakes Beach Cafe is unlike any other National Park food counter, making it a New World discovery worth seeking out. Drake’s Beach Cafe, 1 Drakes Beach Road, Point Reyes National Seashore. Reservations necessary. 415.669.1297.–A.Y.

Headlands Center for the Arts (Or: Make my Mother’s Day, Punk)
During my mom’s first visit to California, she exhaustively worked her way through two Moon travel guides and one Frommer’s. As Mother’s Day approached, so did her second visit. How to fete her? A discussion on composting toilet art was the best I could offer.

The talk was being sponsored by Sausalito’s Headlands Center for the Arts, practically the only attraction she hadn’t seen yet. We’d go in time for dinner, as I’d heard that the Headlands serves a famously mouth-watering buffet before all of the artist talks there.

Flushed with the impending embarrassment of the night’s conversation topic, we first found our way to the Mess Hall and lined up at the kitchen counter. Wriggling into a couple of empty seats at a long, wooden table, we set in on sesame noodles, greens with a savory dressing, tender chicken and tumblers of wine.

It was awkward at first–even for my mom, who is a social Charlemagne. To one side of us sat a clique of punks, faces drooping with metal, skin besmirched with ink. My mother’s inner conqueror finally emerged when she miraculously found a conversational in with them. The slight young man seated to her left with coarse peroxide locks that protruded from his otherwise shaved scalp, admitted to residing in her native New York.

“Are you an artist-in-residence here?” she asked.

“Well, they pay me to be here,” he sneered, hardly looking up from his fork.

Unfazed, my mom continued to chat with him.

Meanwhile, I turned to the other side, where the diners looked less intimidating. Hoping for warmer reception, I struck up conversation with a clean-cut twenty-something wearing a cowboy shirt who turned out to be Nat Keefe, the guitarist and vocalist for the bluegrass band, Hot Buttered Rum.

The band typically spend about 180 days a year touring in a 40-foot bus that runs on vegetable oil. On a break, Keefe had come to the Headlands to visit the assistant chef, an old high school buddy. Trying to feel out whether it would be bad form to leave the Headlands directly after dinner, thereby sparing my mom the WC-inspired portion of the evening, I asked Keefe if he would attend the composting-art lecture.

He wasn’t sure. He had a party to go to that night elsewhere, but he encouraged us to go; the last Headland’s lecture he attended was mind-blowing.

Meanwhile, my mom was still chatting up the punk. I overheard something about Vegas nuptials for him and his pink-haired companion.

When she asked what media he did, someone piped up that he did paintings and drawings with watercolor. He quickly corrected, “I don’t think I’ve ever done a fucking watercolor in my life!” He uses acrylics and ink.

“His work must be pretty hot shit if they’re paying him to be here,” I later said, making sure he was in earshot.

“Actually, I think everyone gets a stipend to be here,” he conceded.

We said goodbye to our new friends and walked into the salty wind. “That was fun!” mom said. “When would I ever in my life have talked to someone who looked like he did?”

Because this is how life goes, the young punk was Zak Smith, the Yale-educated artist whose work was honored at the 2004 Whitney Biennial before he was 30. Not only is he an artist, but under the name Zak Sabbath, he is also a porn star.

“What!” my mom exclaimed. “And here I was asking him, ‘So, how do you like Brooklyn?'” Headlands Center for the Arts, 944 Ft. Barry, Sausalito. Mess Hall open in conjunction with any artist talk at 6pm. $15. 415.331.2787.–B.A.

Napa

C.C. Blue
By day, St. Helena’s swanky sushi joint C.C. Blue metes out Godzilla rolls like nobody’s business. But on Fridays and Saturdays after dinner service is eighty-sixed, chef Remington Cox and his staff prepare for a quick-change act that they brag is now down to 15 minutes. Hauling out the chairs and tables, they race to a carless hot-rod trailer that Remington leaves parked out back. This is where he stores a second set of furniture. After a few heave-ho’s, along with mood lighting and music, C.C. Blue becomes an octopus’ garden nightscape. Happy, hungry fishies who’ve swum in to chill can devour cold sushi and wildly creative desserts from a special late-night menu. Making do without a liquor license, the staff fill glassware with saketinis and fruit purées, but drinking like a fish is discouraged. This is the only lounge we know of that’s open so late in St. Helena–and possibly the entire Napa Valley. But please don’t tell anyone. The chef isn’t advertising it. C.C. Blue, 1148 Main St., St. Helena. Late-night service from 11pm to 2am-ish, Friday and Saturday. 707.967.9100.–B.A.

étoile
Gen X-ers and Y-ers aren’t usually equated with the middle-aged Napa Valley landscape. But surprisingly, a healthy number of them burrow there, toiling away for the county’s ever-hungry service industry. From time to time, comparative herds of them gather, shedding the stress of side work and wine-spieling. But where to party in an area where nightlife is scarcer than cork taint?

Domaine Chandon, that’s where. Come evening, the Yountville winery and restaurant exhales into a lounge, étoile–a name that successfully attracts Francophiles (and perhaps the occasional e.e. cummings buff?).

As a DJ spun dance-pop one recent night, youthful, glitzy patrons gathered by heat-lamps on the deck and poured bottles of effervescent rosé into flutes for each other.

Naturally, étoile doesn’t have a hard-liquor license, though it can serve any grape-based liquor on the property. So the lounge relies on Chandon’s sparkling productions to fuel the stress discharge. (As a subsidiary of the luxury brand LVMH, the lounge also stocks a glamorous selection of wine from its sister companies, from St. Helena’s Newton Vineyards to New Zealand’s Cloudy Bay.)

Wine cocktails also abound. The California Sunshine, for example, mixes blood orange, vanilla syrup, red brandy and sparkling wine. Noshy minglers can indulge in serious appetizers, like lobster beignets with chipotle mayo ($12), or homey desserts, like a chocolate “gooey” cake ($15, a price which had better include the whole damn cake), while sophisticates whirl brandy snifters and nose cigars. étoile (Wine Lounge at Domaine Chandon), 1 California Drive, Yountville. Nightly from now until November, 6pm to last call. Bubble (happy) hour from 6pm to 7pm. 707.204.7529.–B.A.

Highway 29 Cafe
If it weren’t for its location, Highway 29 Cafe would be nothing special. It’s just an ordinary greasy spoon, where red-aproned waitresses greet most of their patrons by name and call the few they don’t know “honey.” It’s the kind of place where the mugs are all mismatched and where the menu simply offers a choice between Chardonnay and Cabernet. But the cafe–more of a diner, really, considering its reliance on eggs and stacks–carries out its humble business in Napa Valley, and that makes it damned special. Somehow, the cafe has managed to hang on to its small-town feel, despite the valley’s pervasive tourist upscaling.

During a lull one recent morning, “Rhiannon” plays on the radio and a middle-aged man drinks coffee out of a Tigger mug. Nearby, a young woman with a hearts mug plows into a cheese omelet, which has come with some very generously buttered rye toast.

The waitresses take turns eating their breakfast at the end of the bar, hopping up at intervals to check on their customers. One of the waitresses flips through the Napa Valley Register and remarks, “So-and-so got a 4.0!” For a minute or so, they discuss whether or not the student will be able to maintain her grade point average. They hope so.

Then their attention is pulled away by something happening outside. One of their regulars is parking his truck. Badly. He takes several passes, and in the final attempt flattens a large patch of shrubbery. They giggle. Highway 29 Cafe, 101 Cafe Court (off of Highway 29), American Canyon. Open daily for breakfast and lunch. 707.224.6303.–B.A.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Mouse Droppings

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July 25-31, 2007

After watching the feature-length cartoon Ratatouille, a film that resurrects and reinvents nearly every movie cliché, I felt an overwhelming craving for ratatouille itself. As it so happened, I was in London and not at home. Fortunately, the basic ingredients for the dish–onions, tomatoes, eggplant–can be found almost anywhere in the world, and, indeed, I found them in the Tesco Supermarket on Shroud Green Road in Finsbury Park, and fixed supper for my British hosts, who wolfed it down and wanted more.

I have been eating ratatouille since I was a boy, though I didn’t like it in my earliest days. My mother made me eat it along with string beans and beets. As I have gotten older, I have acquired a taste for it; last winter in the South of France, I ate the dish for supper every night of the week, for a week. In Marseille, Aix-en-Provence, Toulouse, Montpellier and Arles, the French eat ratatouille–a staple of peasant and working-class cooking–more often than they eat pommes frites. I had it with lamb and couscous, pork and potatoes, with duck confit. It goes with anything and everything, and just about anybody can cook it, which is, of course, one of the messages in the movie Ratatouille.

I don’t really use a recipe, though they abound. I begin with really good olive oil, which I heat in a skillet, then add diced onions and simmer them slowly, add cut-up eggplant, and when that becomes translucent, I throw in tomatoes and zucchini. For seasoning, I suggest salt and pepper, oregano or basil. Maybe a little red wine. Perhaps a pinch of sugar. Anyone can do it! It’s the ultimate chic, egalitarian dish, and the movie is sure to make it more popular than ever before, except, of course, in the South of France, where it’s practically unpatriotic not to have ratatouille on hand to serve to guests at any time of day or night. By all means, see the movie. It’s guaranteed to make you hungry, not only for ratatouille, but for homemade soup, pasta, fresh bread and good red wine.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Bull’s Eye!

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July 25-31, 2007

Arcadia 2007:

Steve Carlin is a family man in a hardhat. After selling the Oakville Grocery, which he ran for some 20 years, he moved his brood in 2000 to a town outside of Florence, Italy. As romantic as that sounds, a spate of bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or mad cow disease, in Europe had Carlin—not to mention the Italian government—worried. Therefore, once a week, he drove the hour all the way to Panzano, where there was a local butcher whom he trusted to sell his family clean meat.

For cold cuts, however, Carlin patronized a local salumeria, or deli. There, the retailer would ask him detailed questions, the likes of which no Safeway deli counter has likely ever been privy. For example, before slicing prosciutto, the meat cutter wanted to know when Carlin was planning to serve it: that morning, later that day or tomorrow?

“It made me understand,” says Carlin on a recent morning in Napa, “why the experience of getting to know local merchants is so important. There’s a lot about food we don’t know, but there are a lot of people who do.”

Fresh from this revelation, Carlin returned to the United States, and that’s when he got a well-timed call from the developers of San Francisco’s as-then-unrealized Ferry Building Marketplace. He agreed to be the project’s manager, and since the renovated Ferry Building opened in 2003, Carlin has become something of a public-market visionary. He created Oxbow Management LLC in 2004 to bring this vision to urban areas that may one day include Santa Rosa’s Railroad Square. Last fall, he broke ground on his company’s flagship project: Napa’s Oxbow Public Market, which will feature restaurants, a wine bar, a permanent farmers market and other goods.

At nine in the morning, it’s no surprise that the construction site is already abuzz, but so is the neighboring COPIA parking lot, often so quiet. Impatient drivers scan for spots, so they can head to the farmers market underway across the street. Could all this activity portend new energy for the area?

Whirring noisily, heavy machinery fills the Oxbow Public Market’s foundation, which is raised several feet above ground level to avoid flooding. Atop this platform, a metal skeleton structure soars into a pitch overhead. Eventually, this will be the main marketplace, a glass and brick affair done in the shape of a barn. At roughly 40,000 square feet, the whole complex will cost some $10 million to construct.

Stepping over stray bits of rebar, it’s hard to believe that the market is slated to open in just a few months. Instead of giving an actual finish date, Carlin demurs, “We just use the generic ‘fall’ term.” He says there are a lot of things beyond his control, like the whims of some 20 merchants and restaurateurs, plus farm-stand operators, who will soon inhabit the space.

Although the market will only be about one-third the size of the Ferry Building, it shares such commonalities as wine and cheese merchants, as well as the Fatted Calf charcuterie.

Smartly, Carlin has lined up some local businesses, Taylor’s Automatic Refresher, for one. The chefs from Napa’s neighborhood Bistro Don Giovanni plan a new, casual joint, Ria, there. Pica-Pica adds Venezuelan cuisine to the mix. Other purveyors include San Rafael’s Three Twins Organic Ice Cream, Sonoma’s Olive Press, St. Helena’s Model Bakery and Long Meadow Ranch, the Bay Area’s roving Roli Roti rotisserie, Petaluma’s Whole Spice shop, North Bay vendors Tillerman Tea, North Bay photographer Steven Rothfeld’s Kitchen Library and Napa’s Anette’s Chocolate Factory. Ten permanent stalls are being constructed to ensure a daily farmers market in the building.

Convincing merchants to lease space wasn’t easy, especially at first. As this paper has reported, Napa Valley’s prestige hasn’t yet transferred to the actual city of Napa, which has struggled to poise itself as a destination in the shadow of tourism behemoths St. Helena and Yountville. “There was,” says Carlin, “a lot of interest in coming to the Napa Valley, but there was trepidation about coming to Napa and next to COPIA—it’s no secret they haven’t performed to their expectations yet.” But Carlin, who believes that both COPIA and Napa will turn themselves around, comes from a line of visionaries. His father was in the motion picture industry in New York and shopped Gone with the Wind around to some 22 different studios before one decided to risk it.

Grimacing, a construction worker struggles to lay a cement curb between the main hall and the future wine and cheese pavilion. Carlin plants his feet on the gravel nearby and says, “Imagine we’re at the bull’s eye.” Pointing his arm like a compass needle, he gestures in each of the cardinal directions. Eastward lies COPIA and the future home of the planned 351-room Ritz Carlton (if it gets approval). Southward lies Oxbow School, the farmers market and the Napa fairgrounds. Downtown is just a short walk to the west, as are the Napa Valley Wine Train and Westin Verasa condo-hotel to the north. Finally, across the river, the 12-acre Oxbow Preserve nature park is planned. Carlin’s compass routine must be pretty effective: his market is now 95 percent spoken for, with only two spots remaining.

But the real question is whether the Oxbow market will succeed.

Before the Ferry Building project was completed, Carlin says that almost all of the comments he heard came from naysayers. There wouldn’t be any parking, would there? And pedestrians wouldn’t be willing to cross six lanes of traffic to get there, would they?

And indeed, the Ferry Building wasn’t an overnight success. Carlin says it took about two years before it made the list of important San Francisco destinations. Similarly, with the Oxbow market, Carlin says it’s only a question of when, not if.

Right now, Carlin’s biggest challenge is spatial finesse. “This isn’t a traditional retail shopping center,” he says. “There’s a substantial amount of transparency—literally, but merchants expect a high level of privacy. We want it to be a seamless transition from one merchant to the next.”

Carlin expects at least 1 million visitors annually, but thinks that Oxbow could easily draw double or triple that figure. The target audience includes three groups: Napa locals, some of whom Carlin hopes will come daily; neighbors from the region stretching from Calistoga to Vallejo and from Fairfield to Sonoma; and, of course, a share of Napa Valley’s some 5 million tourists. But can tourists be expected to stock up on food and perishables? Apparently, yes. Seattle’s famous public market, Pike Place, ships half of the fish it sells, according to Carlin.

Some North Bay locals have complained that shopping at the Ferry Building for food, much of which is practically sourced from their own backyards, is too expensive. But Carlin thinks that the reverse will be true at Oxbow. Why? There won’t be a middle man, and locals will be able to voice their input (read: bargain) to shopkeepers directly. Therefore, he wouldn’t be surprised if goods actually cost less at Oxbow than at the grocery store. (Considering that a basket of underripe figs were recently going for the dear price of $4 a basket at the Sonoma Farmer’s Market, some are skeptical.)

COPIA, which owns Oxbow’s land, will also provide parking for shoppers in its existing lot. Judging by today’s crowd, it may not be enough. But Carlin is ever cheery. “There’s never enough parking,” he laughs, adding that visitors can park downtown and hoof it to Oxbow. “We don’t want big parking fields here. We want to encourage people to park once and walk around.

“We’re trying to change the way people shop on a daily basis,” Carlin says, underscoring that he wants his markets to become community-gathering places. “It’s all about knowing where your food comes from. Here, you can talk to the people who grew it.”

To learn more about the burgeoning Oxbow Public Market, go to www.oxbowpublicmarket.com.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Sound + Vision

July 25-31, 2007This is Tom Jones (Shout Factory/Time Life)Still riding high on his 1965 smash-hit single "It's Not Unusual," singer Tom Jones snared a network TV show between 1969 and 1971 when ABC executives needed a sexy but safe showman to spice up its prime-time schedule. That program This is Tom Jones, hosted by the Welsh baritone with the...
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What a Life

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News of the Food

July 25-31, 2007In the seven or so years I've been writing about food, I've studiously avoided the word "tasty." It's a trivial, even silly thing, but my self-imposed ban on the word reminds me to steer clear of pat, empty descriptions and to strive for something better. Restaurant criticism lives and dies on the use of adjectives, and sometimes...
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Letters to the Editor

July 25-31, 2007Gotta love the internetRegarding (July 4), I'm a former Boy Scout, old-school style: Leave it cleaner than it was when you got there. I don't mean logging 1,000-year-old trees. Aren't there enough sustainable forests to get our wood from? I'm a carpenter and I'm fine with sustainable logging, planting and conservation, but why destroy more of...
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Hidden North Bay

July 25-31, 2007 Arcadia 2007: Our second biggest issue of the year, Arcadia celebrates the bucolic pastoral landscape, both imagined and real, of the North Bay. For this year's effort, we sought to highlight the "hidden" aspects of Sonoma, Marin and Napa counties. To that end, we brought model Ashley Allred, photographer Sara Sanger and intrepid photo...
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Ask Sydney

July 25-31, 2007 Dear Sydney, any suggestions for someone who is a hopeless prude in the bedroom? It seems like I'm surrounded by sexual go-getters, and this makes me feel like even more of Boring Betty. I feel pretty content with what would seem to others to be a pretty boring sex life, but maybe I just don't know what...
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Wine Tasting

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Reticent Restos

July 25-31, 2007 Arcadia 2007: In keeping with this issue's theme of exploring "hidden" wonders of the North Bay, we offer with a flourish our short-list of fabulous overlooked spots that offer surprising outdoor appeal, are locals-only, morph from one vibe to the next or simply shouldn't be missed. Contributing are Brett Ascarelli, Gretchen Giles, Patricia Lynn...
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Mouse Droppings

July 25-31, 2007After watching the feature-length cartoon Ratatouille, a film that resurrects and reinvents nearly every movie cliché, I felt an overwhelming craving for ratatouille itself. As it so happened, I was in London and not at home. Fortunately, the basic ingredients for the dish--onions, tomatoes, eggplant--can be found almost anywhere in the world, and, indeed, I found them...
Read more

Bull’s Eye!

July 25-31, 2007 Arcadia 2007: Steve Carlin is a family man in a hardhat. After selling the Oakville Grocery, which he ran for some 20 years, he moved his brood in 2000 to a town outside of Florence, Italy. As romantic as that sounds, a spate of bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or mad cow disease, in Europe had...
Read more
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