Jimmy Zhang’s passion was unleashed by a potato. As a teenager in Shenyang, China, he saw a video of a chef carving a rose out of a potato and was instantly hooked. But when he tried to fashion his own spud blossoms at home with an ordinary knife, he discovered it wasn’t as easy as it looked. So after high school, Zhang enrolled in a Chinese Culinary Arts Institute program specializing in the ancient art of fruit and vegetable carving. After assisting his distinguished teacher, winning international competitions in China and abroad, he moved to Northern California. He now teaches locally and nationally, presents live demonstrations and carves elaborate creations for events from birthday banquets to weddings.

Jimmy Zhang carves a rose. Photo: Anna Mindess

Zhang’s parents were supportive of his career decision from the start, but his brother had some complaints. “I had to practice a lot at home, using materials like radishes and potatoes in the wintertime,” said Zhang, “and every night, my mother made the vegetables into a beef stew. My brother would sigh, ‘Stew, again?!’”

“My dream was to travel and see the world outside of China,” says Zhang. A visit to a friend in sunny California, decided his future, but in 1997, when Zhang moved here, he spoke no English. He took ESL classes–where he met his future wife–but didn’t think his English improved much.

When he landed a job teaching Asian art and cooking in the Culinary Arts Program at Oakland’s Laney College, however, his students helped him find the right words. “The students knew I had excellent skills, but my English wasn’t good enough to express what I wanted to say,” admits Zhang, smiling. “So I taught them with my broken English and they gave me the correct words to use, like “cut this smooth and round” and then I repeated what they said and that’s how I learned English.”

Chef Jimmy Zhang creates a bird from carrots. Photo: Jimmy Zhang

Zhang’s favorite subjects are living creatures, since the challenge is to depict their vitality through action or emotion. He has carved rearing horses out of taro, tropical fish from squash and carrots and a feisty dragon out of giant radishes.

A crew from Snapple once came to his house and filmed him carving an entire vegetable tableau to illustrate one of the facts on their lids: “A dolphin sleeps with one eye open.” Zhang fashioned a beach scene, complete with taro dolphin lounging on a beach chair underneath an acorn squash umbrella, the dolphin’s one open eye is focused possessively on his bottle of Snapple.

Watermelon carving by Jimmy Zhang. Photo: Anna Mindess

For awe-inspiring, elegant beauty, Zhang’s exquisitely faceted watermelon flower centerpieces are just too gorgeous to eat. They often require an hour and a half of precise, repetitive cutting with a special knife. Watermelon is the perfect sculptural medium with its translucent layers of green white, pink and red hues. (Traditional carvers prefer to take advantage of the exquisite natural colors that fruit and vegetables already possess, in lieu of dyeing them.)

Zhang, a recipient of numerous medals at professional fruit carving competitions, is in high demand as a teacher and is often invited to present daylong to weeklong courses at culinary schools around the country. He also organizes his own private group classes through his website, Art Chef.

Jimmy Zhang teaches at Veggy Art Studios. Photo: Jimmy Zhang

Future plans include a summer program designed specifically for youth, ages 13-20. “Mostly, I’ve taught adults, both professionals and non-professionals, but young people really love this art too and it’s good to develop your skills at an early age, since it takes some practice,” says Zhang, who began learning his craft at age 19.

Zhang admits that even though he has attained the highest skill level in this exacting art, he no longer competes in tournaments. “I leave that to my students. And if they earn the medals, it means, I’ve done a good job as teacher.”

Facebook: Jimmy Zhang, Art Chef

In summertime, some like it cold and some like it hot. Left photo: Managementboy, wikimedia commons; Right photo: McKay Savage, wikimedia commons

Like a dripping popsicle in an overheated toddler’s hand, I’m melting in Kyoto’s sultry, summer streets. Luckily, my friend Tomoko knows the perfect thing to revive me: a cooling lunch of icy noodles at a restaurant perched atop a cascading mountain stream. The only hitch — and part of the fun — is that we’ll have to catch our somen noodles (with chopsticks, of course) as they whiz down the cold water rushing through a bamboo tube. Nagashi Somen or “flowing noodles” is a traditional treat to cope with Japan’s sauna-like summers. Some families erect a backyard bamboo course to delight the kids — as in this video.

Catch your noodles before they slip away. Nagashi Somen, Kibune, Japan. Photos: Anna Mindess, Tomoko Yoshihara

Near Kyoto, only one restaurant serves this summertime-only, snatch-your-noodle-experience. Tomoko and I take a 20-minute train ride and a 10-minute bus ride to the village of Kibune, nestled in a forested valley. Then we walk up a narrow mountain road, past picturesque inns and high-end kaiseki restaurants set on platforms over the gushing river. Even though it’s an uphill trek to the last eating spot at the top of the path, the forest’s shaded greenery, undulating thrum of cicadas and refreshing river air feels revitalizing — plus it’s twenty degrees cooler than in the city.

This popular restaurant adds a stainless steel gutter inside the traditional bamboo pipe — perhaps for ease of cleanup or added speed? The crowd of diners are seated ten at a time at the noodle bar and treated to bracing breezes from nearby dramatic waterfalls. As the server brings us each a bowl of dipping sauce and pair of chopsticks to nab our noodles, she points out which of the several pipelines are assigned to which diners and the fun begins as slippery strands zoom by hungry patrons. Squeals of delight or frustration are heard all around, followed by murmurs of enjoyment.

Tomoko is seated “downstream” from me, so she can snag a clump of noodles if I miss it, which I do on the first round. Then she shares her strategy: stand the ends of the chopsticks in the water to act as a dainty dam. It works! My chilled nest of noodles, dipped in tangy sauce, tastes even better for having caught it. Once we all get the hang of it, the challenge is to grab your noodles, take a photo, dip and eat before the next bundle comes whizzing by. You can watch all the diners attempting this juggling act. After a dozen or so rounds, a last tangle of pink noodles silently slides by to announce the final serving.

On our journey back to the city, I ask Tomoko what other foods are eaten in Japan’s meltingly hot summers. Besides cold noodles (somen, reimen and soba), she tells me that unagi is supposed to supply strength to withstand the withering weather. Plus cooling sweets such as mizu-yokan (a jelly made with red adzuki beans) and shaved iced desserts like kakigori, flavored with green tea or other syrups.

Even though our rare Bay Area hot spells are short and blessedly dry,” I start to wonder about “cooling foods” in other cultures. So I ask a few Bay Area connections to share their wisdom. (This is just a sampling of cultures. Please feel free to add your favorites).

Sweet and Icy. Left: Halo-halo, photo: tumblr. Center: Kakigori, photo: Chris 73, wikimedia commons. Right: Ice Kachang, photo: Anna Mindess

Sweet and Icy

Aileen Suzara, educator, natural chef and environmental justice advocate, who often writes about Filipino cuisine at Kitchen Kwento,  suggests the classic Filipino icy treat, halo-halo, “literally a mix-mix” with a range of possible ingredients. The layered medley may include jackfruit, kaong palm fruit, pineapple gelatin, red beans, a scoop of shaved ice, toasted rice pinipig or ube (purple yam) ice cream, topped with evaporated milk, leche flan and strands of coconut.

This reminds me of Ice Kachang, a mountain of shaved ice, doused with syrups and toppings, which I sampled on a trip to Singapore, another steamy city. Korean Pat-bing-soo also features shaved ice, topped with sweet red bean paste and mochi. And of course, even a day in the 70’s would be an excuse for San Franciscans to head over to Bi-Rite Creamery for a scoop of their salted caramel or balsamic strawberry ice cream. Ironically, this article in Time reveals that slurping ice cream actually heats up the body, thanks to its fat content. (Oh, now I know why SF is such an ice cream-crazed city — it makes us warmer!)

Soup (cold or hot)

While we’re on the subject of chilled dishes, people in many countries enjoy cold soups during the hottest months — think Spanish gazpachos, Swedish fruit soups, and French-inspired vichyssoise. Yet, on the opposite end of the culinary continuum, diners in other cultures prefer to sip hot summer soups for their cooling properties.

A recent article in the Chicago Tribune featured Korean summer foods, like Sam gye tang (Ginseng Chicken Soup).

“Boiled chicken in a steaming stone bowl may sound like the last thing you crave on a sweltering, 90 percent humidity afternoon. But that’s exactly what Koreans line up for during the summer doldrums. Sam gye tang is young chicken or hen stuffed with glutinous rice, garlic, jujube (a prune-y maroon date), ginseng and sometimes ginger, then simmered in its own fat and juices. The two vital “warming” ingredients, ginseng and garlic, are meant to inject you with nutrients lost to excessive sweating, as well as regulate blood flow and metabolism.”

Wok-wizard and acclaimed cookbook author, Grace Young, grew up in a traditional Chinese home in San Francisco. In The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen she presents “the brilliant harmony of Chinese cooking” as an ingenious system to mitigate the effects of external as well as internal heat. “Unlike the Western practice of drinking iced beverages to cool the body,” Young explains, “hot soups are often drunk in the summer in China.”

Young includes recipes her mother and aunt would routinely make during hot weather, including Herbal Winter Melon Soup with adzuki beans, and Soybean and Sparerib Soup with ginger. She explains that these soups are “tonics” and sipped for their healing properties, rather than consumed as a meal. Young recalls that growing up in her Cantonese family’s home, a bowl or two was drunk at mealtimes, in place of water, milk or soda. She also notes that these  “yin-yang concoctions” are “an acquired taste” and change with the seasons.

Heat from Spice is Nice

It’s not just the warm temperature of the food, but the heat from spices (especially peppers) that many cultures employ to beat the heat. Vinita Jacinto, chef and cooking teacher, who writes at The Spice Whisperer  shares that in India, certain herbs and spices (like cumin and cayenne) promote perspiration to naturally cool the body. “Spicy food is a natural way to keep cool in the tropics,” she says.  One of her favorite hot weather beverages is  Jal-Jeera, a spiced lemonade she prepares with toasted cumin powder, mint, cilantro, black salt and raw sugar or agave.

Vinita Jacinto, the Spice Whisperer, photo: Anna Mindess

Because of its replenishing, high water content, watermelon is a natural hot weather favorite around the world. Jacinto amps up watermelon’s cooling capabilities by sprinkling chunks of fruit with a mixture of dry mango powder, black salt, ginger powder and garnishing with chopped mint. An additional summer drink she suggests is a salted buttermilk lassi with toasted cumin and muddled mint. “Its protein fights off heat exhaustion as it rehydrates the body,” counsels Jacinto.

Another devotee of the power of peppers is Nico Vera, who chronicles the drinks and cuisine of Peru in his blog Pisco Trail.  ”During Peruvian summers [November-March], when Lima is hot and humid,” Vera says, “the most cooling dish for lunch is ceviche: fresh fish, lime juice, onions, salt, hot peppers, and a cold beer make quite the combination. I suspect that the hot peppers also act as cooling agents, in that they make one perspire and cool off.”

Japanese inspired Peruvian Ceviche, photo by Nico Vera

Traveling full circle back to Japan, Vera comments that, “Peru has a tremendous abundance and variety of fish. But not until the arrival of the Japanese 100 years ago, did Peruvians truly become interested in seafood. Thanks in large part to their profound appreciation for fish, the Japanese transformed how Peruvians prepared and ate Ceviche, making it one of Peru’s most culturally significant dishes.” Here is his recipe for Ceviche Nikkei.

With our quirky Bay Area weather patterns, we often get our warmest days in early fall, so you might just want to keep some ice and spice handy.

Frankenstein bento, with cheese ghost and persimmon pumpkin. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

I’ve always loved the spooky aspects of Halloween — its spiders and skeletons — and reveled in the creative challenge of sewing costumes and constructing decorations. But I’ve never been crazy about the forced candy overdose. When my daughter Lila was little, I tried various ideas to part her from her ton of sugar. (Did you know there’s a Candy Monster who will buy back your trick-or-treat loot if you leave it on your doorstep overnight?)

Lila has always appreciated my cute culinary creations. Now she’s away at college, but I still enjoy playing with food and I finally discovered the perfect antidote to candy mania: Halloween bento boxes — whimsical, packed lunches with healthy, attractive food that tempts your kids to taste new things and eat their veggies.

Vampire egg bunny and sausage fingers with red pepper nails. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

Tradition

In Japan, the tradition of charmingly aesthetic food fabrication is taken quite seriously (with more women in the work force, it will be interesting to see if this cultural trend continues). You can read more about this Japanese tradition and view slides at PBS’s The Meaning of Food.  A brief excerpt:

A typical mother spends almost an hour crafting every lunch into a healthful, beguiling blend of cartoon characters, flora and fauna — anything that will make the food appeal to her child. The teacher judges whether the lunch box is prepared according to obento rules (e.g., the food must be as handmade as possible, and it must be appetizing and aesthetically appealing to the child).

Bentos often highlight the season or a coming holiday. Although Halloween trick or treating is not practiced in Japan, the nation that is wild for cosplay loves to dress up and Halloween is sneaking into advertisements and decorations, thanks in part to Disneyland and Universal Studio parks in Japan.

Here’s a video that tells a short history of bento boxes, a vital part of Japanese culture.

Boo!: nori black cat, soba noodles, olives and pickle. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

Not just for kids

The practice of bento lunchbox making has now been adopted around the world. Bentos’ popularity is due, in part, to the fact that they encourage healthy, mindful eating and are environmentally friendly — since there is no extra packaging to throw away. Adults often appreciate the portion control in pre-made lunches for weight loss. And taking the time to prepare an attractive meal definitely is a sign of love,(even for yourself).

Surfing the Internet, I discovered a true lunchbox artist, who goes by the name Gamene. Although she has a different job now, the former Manhattan attorney explained her motivation for making these edible works of art:

“…while at the law firm, Gamene found the work environment to be chaotic and often stressful… by taking the time to prepare healthy, colorful, and artistic lunch boxes, she guaranteed herself at least one moment of harmony during her busy work day.”

Tools

Really, you don’t need any special tools or equipment, just a sharp knife and a little patience. That said, there is a ton of stuff out there either made specifically for bentos or available at your local art, hardware or dollar store. Optional helpers: cookie cutters, hard-boiled egg molds, rice molds, divided boxes, silicone containers, fancy toothpicks.

Optional tools include an Exacto knife, cookie cutters, egg mold and containers. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

Locally, a cheap place to buy bento-paraphernalia is the $1.50 store, Daiso. There’s one in Berkeley, one in SF Japantown and others in the larger Bay Area.

A little more classy assortment can be found at Berkeley’s Tokyo Fish Market Gift Shop.

Mummy of cheese-wrapped raisin bread, turkey patty witch. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

If the Internet doesn’t provide enough inspiration, Amazon lists hundreds of books on the subject. Number one on their list is The Just Bento Cookbook by Makiko Itoh, whose twin websites, Just Bento and Just Hungry, I visit often. They have deservingly won wide acclaim. Here is a Halloween related post by Makiko.

Graveyard with rice cracker tombstones set in hummus, jicama bones. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

You don’t have to make special food items for bentos; left-overs often serve well, with a little decoration. The unwritten rule seems to be that each bento should contain a well-rounded meal with protein, carbs, fruit and veggies.

In making my Halloween bentos, I found the following tips to be useful:

• Persimmons sliced through the middle make great pumkpins
• Pre-sliced jicama is perfect for bones and picket fences
• Nori (dried seaweed) can be used for the bats, black cats, eyes and other accents (most easily cut with a very sharp pair of sewing scissors)
• Olives, pickles, grapes, pimentos can make assorted facial features
• Hummus works well as “glue”
• Even though I don’t usually buy them, sliced cheese in pre-wrapped squares comes in handy
• A slice of red pepper studded with teeth (of cheese or slivered almonds) looks just like “wax lips”

Happy Halloween Lunch making! (Hmm…I wonder if Lila would appreciate a bunny hard boiled egg when she comes home for Winter break?)

Avocado monster with cheese accents. Photo + Bento: Anna Mindess

Goat cheese platter, Berkeley Cheeseboard Collective. Photo: Anna Mindess

I’m gaga for goat cheese. When I saw a little sign at Berkeley’s Cheese Board Collective announcing a goat cheese class, I was all over it. One evening last week, two dozen eager, cheese-maker-wannabes were welcomed by platters laden with dates, pears, persimmons and several varieties of goat cheese to get us in the mood. The Bonne Bouche, with its squiggly gray, ash-ripened crust and pungent creamy interior disappeared quickly among this herd of goat cheese lovers.

Louella Hill, SF Milkmaid. Photo: Anna Mindess

Then we met our instructor, the lovely Louella Hill, better known as the SF Milkmaid, who, in her old fashioned milk maid cap looked like she just stepped out of an illustration from a 19th century book of nursery rhymes.

Hill told us that her love affair with cheese started on a sheep farm in Tuscany, twelve years ago and then waxed poetical on her obsession:

“Cheesemaking is an art form that asks for patience. It’s a puzzle that challenges your brain and asks you to trust time. It encourages us to embrace the invisible microbial world, and that can’t be rushed.”

Then, on to the basics of her simple, but versatile recipe that is suited to making soft, fresh chevre or a complex, molded cheese. The fresh chevre we would go home with could be eaten in a day or so, or left to age with a pinch of added mold spores (geotrichium candidum) to turn it into a distant cousin of the Bonne Bouche.

Scooping the curds from the whey.

With an animal lover’s tender gaze, Hill confided that cheese is better from a sheep, cow or goat that you have a personal connection to. But if you don’t happen to have your own goats and hillside, she recommends buying Summerhill Dairy Goat milk. And the only other ingredients needed are cultured buttermilk, and a drop each of calcium chloride and rennet (both available at the Cheese Board).

That led us into a bit of a science lesson, (including: coagulation, effects of homogenization, temperature, fat globules…etc.) but Hill’s explanations made these technical aspects easy to digest. She showed us an easy method to mix everything in the goat milk bottle, but instructed us to combine by gently tilting the bottle back and forth several times, instead of shaking. In order to help solids clump together and get rid of excess water, the milk mixture needs to rest quietly for about 12 hours (and not near a radio with a booming base, Hill cautioned).

She brought out a pot she had made the day before. And we got to ladle the curds from the whey into cheese molds to let finish draining in our own kitchens. Hill offered us the probiotic-rich, leftover liquid whey to take home and drink, put in our gardens or use to start another batch of cheese. (And I finally understood what Miss Muffet was eating when that spider sat down beside her.)

Plastic cheese mold vs. cheesecloth draining. Photo: Anna Mindess

As an alternative to using a plastic cheese mold, with holes for the whey to continue to drain out, Hill demonstrated the tradition of tying up the cheese in–what else–cheesecloth.

She also showed us how to sprinkle already formed cheese rounds with ash or, for an added treat, wrap them in booze-soaked fig leaves.

Wrapping goat cheese in booze-soaked fig leaf. Photo: Anna Mindess

San Francisco Milkmaid Information:

SF Milkmaid classes
Twitter: @sfmilkmaid
Facebook: San Francisco Milk Maid

Upcoming classes include:
• November 1 and 2, Introduction to Cheesemaking, Relish Culinary Adventures, Healdsburg
• November 6, Cheeseboard Collective, Berkeley, Ricotta and Mascarpone
• January 18, Farmcurious, SF, Bloomy-Rinded Brie

Louella Hill has a book coming out next May from Chronicle Books, called Kitchen Creamery, with 30 recipes for home cheesemaking.

My chevre comes home. Photo: Anna Mindess

New challenge for hosts: pull off a delicious dinner without knocking off your guests. Illustration: Lila Volkas

Illustrations by Lila Volkas

As her friend spooned a ladle of steaming, scalloped potatoes onto Tara’s plate, he murmured, “Oh, I always put a bit of flour in the sauce, I’m sure a little won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Tara, who has celiac disease and had provided her host with a complete rundown of her extreme intolerance to gluten, “if you want me to end this evening in an ambulance!”

Modern menus have turned into minefields, as it seems that everyone and their little brother asserts their sensitivity to something: nuts, wheat, dairy, soy, eggs, fish–even cilantro. Suddenly, it’s puzzling or even perilous to invite people over for a simple meal. What’s the difference between a trendy, personal preference and a life-threatening condition and what can we serve that all our guests will enjoy without a trip to the ER?

Many people are sensitive to bell peppers. Illustration: Lila Volkas

When I cook for friends, I always inquire about their dietary restrictions, because I have a collection of my own: bell peppers make me burp, and dairy, wheat, and soy cause painful bloating. But luckily, my food intolerances are not the same as allergies and thus are easily managed. Lacking the right enzymes to digest these foods, I do best just avoiding them, but I’ve also found some workarounds.

Smaller fat molecules make goat milk easier to digest than cow milk. Illustration: Lila Volkas

Goat milk, for instance, is much easier to digest than cow’s milk because it contains less lactose and its fat molecules are one-fifth the size of those in the bovine beverage. So I only pig out on goat cheese. If someone offers me a tempting slice of their homemade pumpkin bread, I can pop a couple of enzyme pills, which usually do the trick. And even if I unknowingly consume a bite of wheat or dairy, while I might be uncomfortable for the rest of the evening, it won’t send me to the hospital.

Not so for my friend Rachel, who has severe allergies to a host of foods, especially fish and nuts. These extreme allergies run in her family and compel her to carry a self-injecting dose of epinephrine, which might just save her life.

Scientists cannot yet explain the recent rapid growth in the number of people (especially children) who suffer from potentially fatal food allergies. Nearly 15 million Americans have a moderate to severe food allergy. This now includes 1 in every 10 preschoolers, a rate that has more than doubled in the last decade.

These life-threatening allergies are a disorder of the immune system, in which the body sees the allergen as a foreign invader and mobilizes its forces to attack by releasing histamine and other powerful chemicals that trigger allergic symptoms, such as nausea, hives, itching, swelling, and shortness of breath.

Even a sharing a kiss with someone who just ate fish is enough to unleash a vicious anaphylactic reaction. Illustration: Lila Volkas

It only takes a tiny bit of the offending food to unleash anaphylaxis which can lead to death in a matter of minutes. Even kissing a person who just snacked on sushi or polished off a PB & J is enough to spark an onset of dire symptoms.

With more children suffering from severe allergies, their parents try to cope by taking full control of everything their children put in their mouths–a daunting task. But recent news of a new therapy has shown promising results in desensitizing even those with multiple allergies.

When my friend Rachel was in her twenties and had a battery of allergy tests, her doctor noticed obvious positive results for allergies to many fish, but didn’t see a reaction to salmon and so recommended that she cautiously experiment with it. The next time Rachel and her husband went out to dinner, he ordered the grilled salmon and she dipped her fork into a drop of salmon juice run-off, but the minute it hit her tongue, Rachel immediately felt a tell-tale itching sensation on her lips. Her husband rushed her to the hospital and she made it just as her throat was dangerously starting to swell.

Now, Rachel picks her restaurants carefully (avoiding fish-forward cuisines like Japanese or even Thai, where fish sauce is a common ingredient although it’s not always listed on the menu). She informs waiters and friends that she cannot have any nuts or fish or even anything that came in contact with these foods.

“Sometimes people just don’t understand the severity of this condition,“ Rachel tells me. “Last summer, I was invited to a friend’s barbeque and although he assured me he would be preparing chicken and burgers, when I arrived I saw a plate of fish sitting by the grill. I was horrified. My friend had good intentions, but didn’t understand that cooking my chicken next to his fish could cause an allergic reaction. In the end, to my immense relief, he decided not to cook any fish that night.”

For those with celiac disease, gluten acts like an alien invader and tramples the villi in their small intestines. Illustration: Lila Volkas

Celiac disease is another autoimmune disorder, but one that targets the small intestines. Gluten destroys the villi, which are fingerlike projections lining the small intestines, where the vitamins and nutrients from the foods we eat are supposed to get absorbed. Continued exposure to gluten often wreaks havoc on the entire body.

My friend Tara only discovered she had celiac in her mid-30s, after a lifetime of assorted complaints (skin problems, arthritis and digestive issues). After a few months on a trip in India, (with its rice-based diet), her symptoms inexplicably improved. But when she returned to California, they worsened. A clever doctor made the connection and the diagnosis.

“Twenty-five years ago, there weren’t many resources for those who have to eat gluten-free,” says Tara, “but thankfully now there is so much more awareness, gluten-free products even restaurants with gluten-free menus. “And Mariposa Bakery in Oakland,” adds Tara smiling, thinking about their cupcakes.  Tara has become an expert gluten-free baker herself so that she does not have to feel deprived.

For both my friends Tara and Rachel, getting invited over to someone’s house for dinner necessitates preparation and backup plans. They let their hosts know their dietary restrictions and often offer to bring a dish to share. If they are going to a large event where it won’t be easy to know for sure what possible allergens are in the food, they may eat something at home first, or bring an emergency back-up snack, just in case.

Like my problem with peppers, some food sensitivities don’t fall neatly into the categories of intolerance or allergy. Take the great cilantro divide. Genetics seems to determine whether we love the fragrant green leaves or find their flavor reminiscent of soap.

And while the focus here is on medical conditions, strongly held personal preferences and practices — from veganism to the Paleo diet — can be just as fervently followed and thus present their own set of hosting hurdles.

ADVICE FOR THE HOST

What are the best ways to deal with this array of possible food proscriptions? It depends on the size of the group you are cooking for. If it’s an intimate dinner for a couple of friends, you can probably make the whole meal conform to their dietary needs and thus be assured of a relaxed evening for everyone. Here are some other strategies if you are coordinating a large potluck or serving a buffet for 100.

Thoughtful hosting: a “make-your-own” salad bar. Illustration: Lila Volkas

TIPS

• Ask guests re: dietary restrictions before you plan your menu. If you are unsure of the specifics of their sensitivities, ask clarifying questions.
• Keep the labels, boxes and bags of foods you used, so guests with allergies can check them out. Sometimes they will recognize a benign sounding ingredient as potentially harmful.
• On a buffet table: a card next to each dish, detailing ingredients will be much appreciated.
• Since even a small amount of an allergen can make people sick, avoid cross-contamination of utensils, dishes and cutting surfaces with offending foods.
• A “make-your-own” bar for salads, tacos or ice cream sundaes, etc. will allow guests the freedom to include or avoid ingredients.
• Provide questionable add-ins in separate bowls, each with its own spoon, to avoid cross-contamination
• For a potluck or buffet, set aside a corner of the table for g/f, nut-free, vegan, etc. so these dishes can be grouped together.
• Read labels. There may be hidden ingredients that you are not aware of, (e.g., regular soy-sauce contains gluten; while wheat-free tamari does not).
• Don’t take it personally, if a friend declines to try your prize-winning ceviche or sculpted marzipan fruits.

Giant painting at Oakland’s beloved Vietnamese restaurant Le Cheval (French for “Horse”) welcomes Year of the Horse. Photo: Anna Mindess

As the Tran family gathers to celebrate the Lunar New Year, which starts this Friday, they will share wedges of thick, sticky rice filled with peppery pork and mashed mung beans (banh chung), slices of a cold cut made from chopped pig ears and snout (gio thu), pickled vegetables, and perhaps some fish in a caramelized kho sauce. When friends and relatives come by to visit over the next few days, there will be endless cups of tea, served with dried fruits and nutty sweets.

“Happy New Year” proclaims this box of nut and seed cookies, a traditional snack for the Vietnamese celebration of Tết. Photo: Anna Mindess

These traditional foods are specific to the Vietnamese observance of the Lunar New Year known as Tết. The ancient holiday shares the annual date with the Chinese New Year and both cultures cherish similar traditions of buying new clothes, decorating recently cleaned houses and giving gifts of money in red envelopes. Yet at the essential family get-togethers to honor ancestors and exchange wishes for luck and prosperity in the coming year, the treasured dishes enjoyed around the holiday table will vary considerably.

A festive bundle of banh chung, the quintessential Vietnamese Lunar New Year dish. Photo: Anna Mindess

In the Bay Area, with its large Chinese population and their early arrival as immigrants, Tết, (as well as Lunar New Year celebrations in the Korean, Singaporean and Indonesian communities) seems to get eclipsed by the older and more well known Chinese New Year parade and events.

Owner of Oakland’s Le Cheval, Son Tan, was born in the Year of the Horse. Photo: Anna Mindess

What better place to honor the lively equine spirit of the coming Year of the Horse than Oakland’s Le Cheval Vietnamese restaurant? I recently met with owner Son Tran, who was born in the year of the Horse and started the restaurant with his mother and other members of their large family. When they were trying to decide on a name for their restaurant more than twenty years ago, Tran told me, they thought a Vietnamese word would be too hard to pronounce, English would sound too American, and finally agreed that French, the language of the older generation and an artifact of France’s almost century of colonial rule, could convey just the right tone. Son’s astrological sign became the moniker of his family’s popular restaurant, which was sealed by his lucky find of a huge painting of stampeding stallions that defines the proud spirit of this beloved, downtown Oakland restaurant.

Since the “Horse is a highly intuitive animal,” says astrologer Susan Levitt, “people born in Horse year follow their hunches. Their keen judgment and natural intuition often help them make the right decisions throughout their life.” The Horse personality has also been noted for its independence, stubbornness and refusal to accept failure.

These traits undoubtedly helped Son Tran meet the challenges that came his family’s way when, in 2010, after 20 years as a prize-winning, neighborhood institution, Le Cheval lost its lease, was forced to close and had to lay off 70 workers due to a clash with their contentious landlord (who was later found guilty of massive wage fraud and other crimes).

When the building went into foreclosure and then auction, the Trans’ luck finally turned around and they were asked back by the new owner. In 2012, Le Cheval re-opened to the acclaim of neighborhood regulars who couldn’t wait to once more enjoy their bowls of pho, clay pot rice, calamari salad, succulent beef cubes and complimentary creamy carrot soup in the same cavernous space on Clay Street beneath the soulful stares of its iconic herd of horses.

Banh Chung, the must-have dish of Tet, sticky rice stuffed with peppery pork, is eaten fresh, dipped in a bit of sugar or fried. Photo: Anna Mindess

Tran explained to me the story behind the most ubiquitous Tết dish, banh chung, hefty brick-like packages of pork and rice. In the Vietnam of olden times, shops and businesses would close for at least the first three days of the New Year, so townsfolk needed food to last them till the markets reopened. These blocks or cylinders of stuffed rice, were wrapped with banana leaves, neatly tied up, and then boiled for upwards of eight hours. Although some people made them at home, their labor-intensiveness compelled most families to stock up on premade bundles to enjoy for at least three days, either freshly cut or fried until crispy.

Many Chinese New Year dishes represent good luck by their shapes. A whole chicken, for example, symbolizes family togetherness and dumplings resemble golden ingots. Others take advantage of sound puns. The word for fish “yu” can also sound like “surplus” which portends prosperity in the coming year.

The same principle operates in the  Vietnamese language. Tran tells me it is important to have a Tết display in the home with budding flowers and the following fruits: mangosteen, coconut, papaya and mango, because their names also sound like other words that convey a message. For the answer to this riddle, I turned to Professor Dzuong Nguyen, who teaches Vietnamese language courses at Stanford University.

He revealed that:
• The word for Mangosteen sounds like the verb “to pray.”
• Coconut sounds like “barely”
• Papaya sounds like “enough”
• Mango sounds like “to spend”

So this fruit quartet conveys the concept of “Wishing to earn just enough to spend” (or “Here’s hoping you make enough to cover all your household expenses”).

Sweetened dried lotus seeds are another popular snack for Tết. Photo: Anna Mindess

Award-winning cookbook author and cooking teacher Andrea Nguyen, describes many traditional festive foods like banh chung and kho, (simmered meat or fish cooked in a caramelized sauce of sugar and fish sauce) that are prepared ahead of time and preserve well “…because during Tet, you’re supposed to be out having fun not slaving away in the kitchen!”

Son Tran told me about other festive foods, including a kind of sausage made from chopped pig ear and nose, formed into cylinders by packing tightly in cans. Pickled vegetables, such as mustard greens, daikon radish, carrot and cabbage, help with digestion of the fatty meats.

Tea and sweets, like these nutty cookies, are served to family and friends when they come to visit. Photo: Anna Mindess

Since an essential element of Lunar New Year celebration involves visiting friends’ and relatives’ homes, one must have an array of sweets on hand to serve the parade of guests. Nuts and seeds figure in many of these because, Professor Nguyen ventures, in old Vietnam, nuts were seen as a luxury item, so treating your guests to them was a special gift.

Watermelon seeds made even more lucky by red coloring. Photo: Anna Mindess

Both the flesh of the watermelon and its seeds are eaten, for their lucky red color. Dried fruits are also traditional snacks to be shared with visitors over a cup of tea. “Sweet foods are important for this holiday,” Professor Nguyen explains, “ because we are always wishing each other a sweet and happy life.”

This “Sweet Fortune Snack Tray” contains candied winter melon, carrots, yam, kumquats and soursop. Photo: Anna Mindess

Chúc Mừng Năm Mới! Happy Lunar New Year!

Related Information and Events

Le Cheval will host their annual Lunar New Year celebration on Sunday February 9 at 7pm with Lion Dancers and Martial artists entertaining guests inside the restaurant. Reservations are recommended: 510-763-8495

Le Cheval
Address: Map
1007 Clay Street
Oakland, CA 94607
Phone: 510-763-8495
Facebook: Le Cheval

Events:
• Feb 1 & 2: The largest local Vietnamese Tet Festival take place annually in San Jose at the Santa Clara Fairground.
  Facebook: Vietnamese Tet Festival
• Feb 1: San Francisco – Rice Paper Scissors hosts a Lunar New Year Brunch at Brick & Mortar Music Hall

Events at various locations:
• Celebrate Lunar New Year with Chinese, Korean and Vietnamese Traditions (tablehopper)

What does a T-shirt depicting a bottle of Sriracha holding hands with a bottle of Ketchup have to do with a launch party for a new PBS film? It’s an apt image for a documentary soon to be made by filmmaker Grace Lee, with the working title “Asian Chops,” that aims to discover the changing landscape of Asian America as seen through a food lens.

Last Saturday, 150 Asian food fans attended KQED’s kick-off party and brainstorming session for the co-production of the Center for Asian American Media (CAAM) and KQED. After enjoying the crowd-pleasing array of Chinese, Vietnamese, Balinese and Filipino dishes prepared by panelist Tim Lyum of Attic Restaurant, the gathering heard brief remarks from Grace Lee about her new project which has not yet begun filming and is scheduled to air on PBS Prime Time in June 2014.

In an interview before Saturday’s event, Lee told Bay Area Bites that her films often use an unconventional storytelling approach.

“Exploring Asian America through the conduit of food will allow us to examine bigger themes.” Lee hopes to dig deep into communities across the country to find unexpected stories, characters and juxtapositions. She is actively soliciting ideas for people and subjects to include. “We want this to be interactive, because we are trying to do something new. There’s no recipe for this. It’s kind of like Asian America. How do you define that anyway? Part of excitement of the project is using the process to really explore the topic itself.”

After remarks from Lee, KQED producer Louise Lo, PBS food blogger Mark Matsumoto and Chef Lyum, moderator Leslie Sbrocco (of KQED’s Check, Please! Bay Area), invited members of the audience to come to the microphone and share their stories. Some people honored departed members of the Asian American community who had given generously of their time, food and wisdom. Many younger speakers typified a new energy and dedication.

Lisa Murphy, 27, owner of Sosu Sauces and the person wearing the ketchup/sriracha T-shirt, has started her own business making spicy sauces. She told the crowd how she immigrated from Shanghai to the U.S. when she was nine, speaking only Mandarin.

“Learning English in fifth grade was the hardest thing, but everyday after school, when my aunt cooked traditional Chinese food for dinner, I watched and learned. It was a way for me to build confidence. Food was also a way to communicate with my Irish-American step-father who only spoke English.”

Murphy says she did “typical Asian American things,” like attend UC Berkeley and work in banking and finance, but realized that she usually spent her days talking about food with friends. When she told her “very traditional mother” she planned to quit her well-paying high-tech job and do something she loved, her mother was shocked, “A food business?” her mother demanded, “Why are you are going backward?” Murphy explains that as Asians immigrate to the U.S., their first jobs are commonly cooking or doing deliveries for a restaurant. Now that her expanded line of spicy sauces is carried in stores like Bi-Rite Market and Rainbow Grocery, however, she reports that her mother is more accepting.

Murphy’s story of re-invention might be the perfect narrative for Lee’s film. One thing Lee is quick to admit is not perfect, however, is the film’s working title, “Asian Chops.” She hopes someone will suggest a better one. “PBS held a focus group and ‘Asian Chops’ was the best they came up with. It beat out other titles like ‘Wok Across America’ and ‘Chop Suey Nation.'”

Another attendee at Saturday’s launch, Eric Ehler, chef at Gung Ho Restaurant, asked Lee to include stories with regional diversity. “Originally I’m from Iowa and I’m a Korean adoptee. It would be great for this show to connect with other Asian adoptees. We’re still Asian American. As a cook, I feel it’s my duty is to educate and help Korean adoptees understand more about their culture and traditions. When I left culinary school at 18, I went to Italy thinking I wanted to cook Italian and French cuisine. But ultimately I decided I needed to learn to cook Korean, it’s part of my heritage. So two years ago, I took my first trip to Seoul, tried to learn the language, and cooked at a restaurant there. I came back and started a pop-up called Seoul Patch. This show is important; it can inspire people.”

Grace Lee definitely wants her film to explore boundaries beyond the big cities of the East and West Coasts. Lee was born and raised in Columbia, Missouri, where she was afraid people thought her Korean American family was “weird and exotic.” “We had two refrigerators (one was for kimchi) and always worried about offending our neighbors.” She plans to include film shoots in the South and Midwest. “I’m excited to embark on this journey,” says Lee, “but I realize the topic is almost limitless. It’s not specifically about cooking, travel or famous chefs, but more about people we’ve never heard of: farmers, suppliers, the guy who introduced sushi to Texas.” Producer Louise Lo told the crowd, “This unique point of view will hopefully come from people like you, who want to submit ideas. This is the first event to find out what you think should be included in the film. For the ideas that don’t make it into the film, we’ll also have web videos, blogs, recipes, photo essays on PBS.org/Food.”

“I don’t think you can really talk about Asian food in America without talking about racism and identity,” commented Indigo Som, a visual artist, who worked on a project photographing Chinese restaurants in places like Wyoming where there were very few Chinese people.

“One of my pet peeves is the perception that Asian food should be cheap. And it’s supposed to be grungy and dive-y. Then I think, ‘Oh, is that because Chinese people are cheap and dirty?’ And as a foodie,” Som said, “it’s very frustrating to me because I want really good ingredients in my Chinese food and it’s hard to find a restaurant that does that because I guess most people won’t support it. For example, at the Ramen Shop in Oakland, most people are like ‘Oh my God, $14 for a bowl of ramen! It’s a crime.’ No it’s not, it’s because the ingredients are so much better.”

Hyunjoo Albrecht, came to the U.S. from South Korea 10 years ago. “As the oldest daughter in the family, I did a lot of housework and learned to make my grandmother’s kimchi…but thanks to my grandmother, now I make her kimchi and sell it at grocery stores and the farmers market.” “I think every Korean child has this experience:” Albrecht added smiling, “you eat a lot of galbi or barbeque and your stomach gets upset and your grandmother always brings you a bowl of kimchi juice and makes you drink it and it really calms your stomach. So now besides the kimchi, I have the juice left over and I’m selling this and I named it ‘Kimchi Aid.’ My grandmother couldn’t read; of course she didn’t know what ‘probiotic’ was, but she learned from experience it was good for the digestion. Now I have chiropractors and doctors asking me if I have any kimchi juice?”

With one story easily leading to the next, time was for the launch was soon over.  “I know this is a huge project for one-hour documentary,” said Grace Lee, “But maybe it can be a jumping off point for more. It’s important to go to places that we haven’t been before, even if it’s just down the street.”

You can listen to the audio of Saturday’s brain-storming launch party below and participate directly in shaping this exciting project by answering the following questions, which were on a survey distributed at Saturday’s event. Or share YOUR story; you might end up in Grace Lee’s new  film.

1. What’s a great title for this project?
2. What topics or stories or communities are you interested in seeing in this film?
3. If you could only eat one Asian dish for the rest of your life, what would it be?
4. Suggestions for the best/worst named Asian Restaurant. Where is it?

You can leave comments below or share your own story by sending an email to: asianchops@gmail.com

Do you dream of harvesting your own super-local honey to drizzle on your breakfast bread? Wonder how hard it is to keep bees and how to start? Bay Area Bites interviewed some East Bay beekeepers and collected a swarm of resources listed at the end of this post. Considering the seasonal cycle of bees, spring is the perfect time to take off on this new adventure.

Before they got their bees, Nina Carter’s and Mark Hogenson’s apple tree produced a measly five apples, the next year, after they set up a Langstroth hive in their Oakland garden, their tree showered them with hundreds of apples. (And their neighbor’s plum tree had so many plums they had to help her pick them and make jam). (This brings up a good point in beekeeping etiquette: ask–or at least alert–your neighbors about the new brood that will be moving in.)

BAB: Did you have a learning curve?

Nina: Actually, our first hive failed because we weren’t controlling for Varroa mites. We were following a holistic approach and thought the bees would adapt. They were thriving for six months and then became sickly and after two weeks just disappeared. Bees have this altruistic behavior, when they get infected they fly away to protect the hive.

Mark: It was disappointing, but we got advice from experienced beekeepers on several options to deal with mites. One way is to cover the bees with powdered sugar. Since they are very hygienic, that makes them completely clean themselves and they get rid of the tiny mites they might not have realized were eating a hole in their sides.

“There’s a saying in the bee community,” Mark adds with a rueful smile, “If you want to know anything about beekeeping, ask a second year beekeeper.”

So where did you get your next round of bees?

Mark: We got one swarm and one “cut–out,” which means that the bees had invaded an interior wall belonging to–we were told–Spirit Rock Meditation Center. Actually, those bees weren’t too productive, perhaps due to the change in the environment between Marin and Oakland.

What is it like to keep bees?

Nina: Fascinating and therapeutic. We’re in love with them. It’s kind of like having a new baby. We work at home as computer consultants and can just watch the bees and appreciate the scents of honey and beeswax.

How much honey do you get?

Mark: Last year, we got 150 pounds of honey from one hive and now we’re thinking about selling some. (We’re talking with local storeowners about carrying this super local product. We call it Rockridge Honey. We also make a salve and lip balm from the beeswax.)

Any advice for beginning beekeepers?

Nina: When you’re just starting, you hear a lot of rumors and contradictory stories about what you should do and it’s hard to know who to believe. We did research for a year before we got our hives and read a lot.

Mark: I would start with two hives so if any problems arise, you can compare them. The Alameda County Beekeepers Association has a lot of resources and taking a hands-on class helped; in it we also learned about the lifecycle and timing of beehive management. Every few weeks, you have to check and see if the bees have enough room, if not you need to get more boxes (called supers). You use a smoker so you can calm the bees before you approach. You want to get them out of the way before you lift a frame so that you don’t crush any of them.

Nina: If we can, we are always going to have hives. They help us to be more in harmony with the environment.

Ruby Blume has kept bees since 1997. It wasn’t a conscious decision on her part; someone dropped off a Top Bar style beehive in her garden, showed her how to manage it and then just disappeared. Now Blume, whose license plate reads BEE GRRL, teaches beginning and advanced beekeeping classes at The Institute of Urban Homesteading. The classes focus on “how to keep bees naturally” without the use of chemicals or sugar-water and promote the Top Bar system (an alternative to the Langstroth hive) for the small-scale backyard beekeeper. Even Blume’s allergy to bee stings has not prevented her from keeping bees.

Why do you raise bees?

I love bees. I get an incredible sense of joy hanging out with them and feeling their exuberant energy. It’s a privilege to learn from them and through them I am more connected to nature’s cycles and seasons. Bees have such an elegant way of working together and being in concert with nature. They are amazing, highly evolved and, next to humans, the most studied species on earth. It’s easy to get started in beekeeping, yet after 16 years I am still learning!

How did you decide to use the Top Bar system?

Partly because it is what I learned on and what I am comfortable with. But also because it allows the bees to build their comb naturally, instead of on pre-imprinted frames, which manipulates the way they build. I trust that bees know what they are doing—after all they have been doing it for millions of years perfectly well without us.

What are some advantages of the Top Bar System?

If you let bees build natural combs, with smaller cells, it inhibits mites and then there is no need to treat them with pharmaceuticals. I also find the system to be much easier on my body as a beekeeper [full Langstroth boxes often weigh 50 pounds] and to require much less maintenance. Plus you can build a top bar hive yourself at a fraction of the cost of pre-fabricated boxes.

What else do you do to keep bees naturally?

I don’t feed my bees sugar water in the winter. Instead I leave them enough of their own honey to survive. Honey is a much healthier food for the bees. It takes one bee her whole life to make 1/12 of a teaspoon of honey. Bees need one pound a day of honey to maintain themselves in the summer, plus in the Bay Area they need to put away about 30 pounds to last them through the winter.

A bee colony basically acts as a single organism. The inside of the hive is like a womb with its own flora and fauna—sugar, and chemical treatments like antibiotics upset this harmony. I know this might not be a popular perspective, but I believe that animals need to die off sometimes in order to build resistance in the entire colony. So if you treat for mites with pharmaceuticals, then the mites will become more resistant to them. You need to let those bees with weaker genetics cull themselves. Last winter was especially hard and I lost several colonies but with spring, there was a big boom in population. It was an uplifting spiritual feeling to see their resistance and the upwelling of life.

There has been a lot in the news about colony collapse disorder. Do beekeepers know what is causing that?

Colony collapse has been shown to be caused by specific pesticides that interrupt the bees’ ability to navigate. Bees use the sun and landmarks to navigate and then do a “bee dance” to tell other bees where flowers are. When exposed to these pesticides, they can’t find their way home. Of course there are many other factors within industrial apiculture that are impacting the health of our honeybees.

Are there any myths about bees that you would like to clear up?

Yes, a swarm of bees is never an “angry” swarm; it’s a reproductive behavior that happens in the spring when the bees sense it will be a good year with plenty of food. The queen leaves the hive with some of the bees to find a new home. The old colony stays and raises a new queen—in this way the bees “reproduce” and make more of themselves. And the male bees neither sting nor collect pollen, only females. Male bees’ main job is to mate with a virgin queen, a task he gives his life to, as he dies in the process of mating.

Anything else you’d like to share?

For urban beekeepers, two colonies are plenty for one yard; more than that and the bees will be competing for the limited supply of pollen and nectar. If we are to increase the number of urban beekeepers, we need more forage for the bees. If you want to be a friend to bees you don’t have to be a beekeeper, just plant more flowers! They especially like purple, white and yellow flowers; like lavender, poppies and sunflowers. Here’s a list of bee friendly flowers.

Ruby’s advice for Becoming a Beginning Beekeeper
1. Educate yourself by reading and taking classes and talking with other beekeepers.
2. Pick a system (Langstroth or Top Bar)
3. Procure bees (Pick one of the two options)

• Buy a package with a one queen and few thousand worker bees (may be hard to find right now as most packaged bees are bought up in January)
• Catch a swarm or take a split from an established beekeeper.

Resources:
• City Bees
• San Francisco Beekeepers Association
• San Francisco Bee-Cause
• Alameda County Beekeepers Association
• The Institute of Urban Homesteading (Oakland)
• BioFuel Oasis (Berkeley)
• Bee Kind (Sebastopol and San Francisco)
• Ruby Blume’s website with many more resources

Maybe you’ve had your fill of friends posting pics of their latest meal on social media. If you are hungry for something more satisfying than pin-ups of perfectly plated pancakes, sundaes dripping rivulets of caramel or lurid lasagna, feast your eyes on the images in Sip. Savor. Share!, a photographic love letter to San Francisco’s food and drink, markets and mixologists, sponsored by the urban art collective Femme Cartel. The show opens May 9 and runs through May 26 at the Mission’s Roll Up Gallery.

The show features the work of local artists:
• Molly DeCoudreaux (head photographer at SF.Eater.com, frequent contributor to Refinery29, The Bold Italic)
• Aleksey Bochkovsky (contemporary art photographer)
• Andria Lo (documentary and editorial photographer, including at 7×7)
• Anna Vignet (SF Chronicle contributing photographer and cookbook artist)
• Sarah Deragon (owner/head photographer of Portraits to the People)
• Flee Kieselhorst (portrait and fine art photographer)
• Gennesis Gastilo (photoblogger at Mother Cerveza)

Femme Cartel is known for showcasing cutting-edge, urban art, from tough to girly. Its founder, Emily Howe, calls herself  “a community organizer at heart.”  “We started with shows that focused on women artists because they seemed to have second-class citizenship in art world. Now we often include a male artist (who supports feminist ideals),” says Howe. Bay Area Bites interviewed the co-curators of this food photography show and two of the featured artists.

Bay Area Bites: You’ve done graffiti inspired art and a hip take on fashion illustrations.  Why food now? 

Emily Howe: We love San Francisco and Oakland and the food world encompasses social justice, community gardens and feminist foodies. For many years, women were relegated to the kitchen, then they joined the workforce but were  STILL expected in the kitchen as supermoms. Now, there is a return to the domestic arts, but we are reclaiming those domestic arts in new ways: it’s a choice to bottle your own beer or pickle your own vegetables.

BAB: Why a focus on female photographers?

EH: In a perfect world, we wouldn’t have to think about gender, but if you look at who gets in art shows, who wins grants, who are the curators, jurors, art professors, deans of art schools — across the board it’s proportionately more men. The breakdown should be 50/50, but the big names are dudes. One of our goals is to showcase emerging artists and help people get their first show with an exciting launch. Christina Bohn, my co-curator and I  picked images that we loved and would buy ourselves. We also wanted to represent certain themes: coffee culture, cocktail culture, food trucks, Asian food, Mexican food, nightlife.

Christina Bohn: It’s timely now since the Bay Area is so into food and hand-crafted cocktails. And we include a range of images from instagram photos to fine art.

BAB: How did you find the artists for this show?

CB: We have a roster of artists who we’ve worked with in the past, but they represent more fine art, mixed media and collage. Not so much photography. We like to tap into the well of emerging artists. So we hit the Internet hard, Google, Craig’s list. San Francisco is such a beautiful melting pot of people from all walks of life. We wanted to include different threads that make up the whole scene. We pride ourselves on being a launching platform, finding artists who have never had shows and giving them opportunity to get their work out there. We love to connect people. Sometimes we know of a hair salon or pizza place that needs art on their walls and we can match them up with someone from the community.

Professional photographer Molly DeCoudreaux grew up in Oakland. “What got me into loving food was the ten years I worked at Baywolf, moving from busser to waitress.” DeCoudreaux enjoys showing food communities, cheese-makers and chefs at work in the kitchen as well as bringing focus to small upstart companies.  “I can relate to them because I’m scrappy too, I work hard, in a physically strenuous business.”

As for being part of Femme Cartel’s female-focused art show, she says, “Most photographers are men, it’s a gendered profession. There’s a lot of gear and electronics. Sometimes I go into a restaurant with all my bags of gear and some guy still says, ‘Oh, are you here for the waitress position?’ (And I’m 33!)”

DeCoudreaux shoots striking, non-traditional portraits of drag queens, porn people as well as weddings. “Weddings have a certain stress because they only do the ceremony once,” she says. “Food sits still – unless it’s a hollandaise sauce that breaks after 15 seconds.”

She admits the hardest food to photograph is BBQ. “It’s just meat covered in sauce, it can look like a brown mush. You have to light it and garnish it so it isn’t just a plate of brown.” She doesn’t usually work with a food stylist, relying instead on chefs who plate their food artistically. “I like collaborating, being in the kitchen, trying to stay unobtrusive. I like to show real people doing their work.” Instead of a perfect peach tart, for example, DeCoudreaux would prefer something a little lopsided. “It doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful,” she says.

Andria Lo, documentary and editorial photographer and photo director for Hyphen Magazine, grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, where, she says,  “There weren’t a lot of Chinese people. We ate Mom’s Chinese cooking at home and didn’t go out to eat at Anchorage’s Chinese restaurants.” When Lo and her family moved to Southern California’s San Gabriel Valley, she experienced culture shock at the plethora of Chinese restaurants.

Lo caught the photography bug as an art student at UC Berkeley. “It was the magic and camaraderie of the darkroom,” she says, “where people are working individually and collectively at same time.”

Although professionally, she photographs products, portraits, weddings and other subjects, Lo says, “food photography is one of my passions. You get a finger on the pulse of what’s going on in the city. I especially like shooting the great energy at food events — like ForageSF dinners — it’s a challenge to capture the excitement in the air.”

One of the hardest places to shoot, Lo explains, is in professional kitchens. “While the dining room may be gorgeous, the fluorescent lighting, stainless steel counters and dirty dish racks present a challenge. I have so much respect for chefs. I’m visually stunned by the plating they come up with. My favorite perk is getting to eat their dishes. It’s an impetus to work fast, so that the food is still hot.”

Anna Vignet: “There’s a huge variety of world flavors in only a handful of miles in the city. I love trying food from different countries with friends and learning about a country’s food and culture.”

Gennesis Gastilo: “Mother Cerveza is a love for the art of mixology and as in imbibing, a love for the people with whom you share your drinks. In the spirit of an intensely diverse and welcoming community, Femme Cartel’s show in San Francisco has at the heart of it: Love is indeed a miscible thing. (Peace begins with a beer).”

Aleksey Bochkovsky: “I’ve always fed off the energy from streets in big cultural cities. I need to be around people to steal moments of interaction and real feelings, however subtle. Food is a social experience and street food, in particular, interests me for its bouquet of demographic gatherings.”

Sarah Deragon: “One of the reasons I adore San Francisco is because of the dynamic foodie/bar culture. Femme Cartel continues to make history with their unique curatorial projects. I’m elated to be part of this show.”

Flee Kieselhorst: “I am a professional freelance portrait and event photographer and the key to my heart is food. When Femme Cartel (my favorite lady positive art organization) announced the call for entries for “Sip.Savor.Share!” I thought “Yes! An excuse to EAT!” My work in this show represents a few consecutive Fridays walking around San Francisco, meeting and shooting new folks, and of course…eating too much!”

Information: Foodie Photography Show runs May 9-26 Opening reception May 9, 6-9 pm, food provided by Pachamama Cookery Address: Roll-Up Gallery 161 Erie Street San Francisco, CA 94103 Twitter: @FemmeCartel Facebook: Femme Cartel

Illustrations by Lila Volkas (click on any image to view larger versions and activate slideshow)

Last summer, as my daughter Lila unpacked on her return from another year of college in Canada and a stint WWOOFING on an organic farm, she plucked from her backpack a large Ziplock bag encasing a strange, slimy, dripping pancake and held it up to my face, declaring proudly, “Look at my baby!”

I admit I recoiled with a gasp, as I managed, “What is that thing?”

“Oh, Mom, “ sighed Lila, like it was so obvious, “That’s my Kombucha SCOBY!”

Since I was uninitiated to the delights of the fermented, fizzy drink with a long history and the recent surge in popularity, Lila was eager to share her discovery from the organic farm of how easy (and cheap) it is to make your own kombucha with only water, tea and sugar. As we searched our shelves for a suitable jar and a cotton cloth, she raved about the health benefits (still in dispute) and how drinking some kombucha every day made her feel so good.

After brewing a gallon of tea, adding a cup of sugar and letting it cool completely, I watched Lila pour the sweetened tea into our largest mason jar and gently place the slippery SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast) to float on top of the liquid. She covered the mouth of the jar with a cotton dishcloth and secured with a rubber band. “Now we just have to wait for seven days.” Decanting the bubbling golden brew a week later, I sipped the earthy tang of a zingy, apple cider. Maybe I’m suggestible, but after a small glass, I felt re-energized.

A few weeks later, as Lila was packing for her job as an art instructor at a summer camp in Yosemite, she broke the news, “You’re going to have to take care of my SCOBYs while I’m gone for two months and whatever you do, don’t let them die!” As I surveyed the brood of SCOBYs (which, like rabbits, had multiplied and now occupied all of our glass pitchers) I was suddenly flooded with memories of the traumatic summer when I was nine and volunteered to feed my neighbor’s fish, while they were on vacation. One morning, to my horror, I discovered dead fishies floating atop a tank of black water. I don’t think my neighbors spoke to me again.

Luckily, Lila left me with detailed drawings and instructions and all went well during her absence. Seems my maternal instincts are still intact.

When she returned home, however, I pointed out a few worrisome threads hanging off the bottom of a SCOBY, but Lila reassured me they were a normal part of the yeast and not mold.

Last September, as Lila packed to go back to school, she offered me my own SCOBY, but I declined, because of impending trips away from home. (I know now could have set up a SCOBY hotel)

Meanwhile back at UBC in Vancouver, Lila became active in Sprouts, their volunteer-run, organic café and gave kombucha making workshops to curious Canadians, including lists of do’s and don’ts (e.g., only clean your bottles with hot water, never use soap). She had intentionally expanded her SCOBY family in the intervening months so she could give each of the 30 attendees their own baby SCOBY to take home.

While she was away at school, I missed the bubbly, revitalizing beverage and tried store-bought kombucha but nothing hit the spot like Lila’s brew.

Lila is back for the summer now and our fridge is once more full of her concoctions, this time, flavored with ginger and lemon or blueberries and chia seeds. Soon she’ll be leaving for her summer camp job and I’ll be in charge of the little rascals again. This time, I’m ready. Instead of regarding the jellyfish-like blobs with distaste, I now welcome them as a part of the family who inhabits half our pantry. And I thank my daughter for her willingness to let me mother her “kids.”

I’m awaiting the last course of a sublime dim sum luncheon in one of Hong Kong’s most elegant hotels. The menu lists a classic dessert, chilled mango custard. But suddenly, waiters appear and set down large covered glass bell jars, whose contents are shrouded by mysterious swirling clouds. As they whip off the lids with a flourish, huge geysers of white steam erupt a few feet into the air in several directions. Thanks to the dry ice underneath the bowls of mango cream, this dramatic display is the finale for Yan Toh Heen’s succession of exquisite dim sum, served on solid jade place settings, at a table with a sweeping view of Victoria Harbor.

Classic, yet Innovative Dim Sum at Yan Toh Heen

Let me back up a little. I’m in Hong Kong for a week and have discovered to my delight that this vibrant metropolis is not only the birthplace of modern dim sum but also the hub of its evolving innovation. I set a goal to visit a range of dim sum spots and enjoy one of my favorite rituals–selecting eye-appealing tidbits from roving carts–knowing that I can only make the barest dent in a city that boasts scores of dim sum superstars (several of whom have won Michelin stars).

One of these is executive Chef Lau Yiu Fai at the Intercontinental Hotel; his restaurant, Yan Toh Heen, was awarded two Michelin Stars. After one bite of his first course, a crispy lobster dumpling, paired with a deeply-flavored supreme broth, it was clear I was in for a masterful meal.

In an interview before lunch*, Chef Lau, 55, who started working in kitchens when he was 14 to help support his large family, told me that when he was a young apprentice,

“The master chef was very strict and seldom taught us anything. You just had to figure it out on your own. Now it’s totally different and we do teach our apprentices. There are 20 chefs who work with me and I’m friendly with them. Of course, they have to begin with the basics, like shu mai and har gow. It may be boring, but people still request those traditional dishes, so you need to master them.”

Personally, Chef Lau enjoys creating contemporary Cantonese dim sum with the finest imported ingredients, such as French quail, Alaskan crab and Tasmanian scallops, which he fashions into miniature artistic creations that allow the flavors of each element to shine. He cherishes the thousands of years of dim sum tradition, because he says, “it is an enduring symbol of family togetherness.”

Vegetarian Dim Sum in a Charming Setting at Long Cha Tea House

A happy accident brought me to my next dim sum restaurant, while visiting Hong Kong Park for a bit of greenery to offset the overwhelming forest of shiny skyscrapers that dominate the skyline. After exploring a museum devoted to tea ware, I discovered a quaint tea room in the neighboring building. The menu featured more than 100 teas and an all-vegetarian array of dim sum.

To offset the humid weather, I ordered white peony tea, a cooling winter melon roll and a cold salad of organic black and snow fungus with mushrooms. But I couldn’t resist  a warm and wonderful dessert: dumplings filled with black sesame seed paste in sweet syrup.

Finely Crafted Dim Sum at Elegant Lei Gardens

Another morning, I searched for a dim sum restaurant to take my husband to on the only free day he had during his week of teaching. With the help of Open Rice (the Hong Kong equivalent of a Foodie Yelp) I found one near our hotel in the bustling Wan Chai neighborhood,  but I was a little hesitant since it seemed to be part of a chain, with other locations scattered throughout Hong Kong,  Mainland China, Singapore, and Macau. I needn’t have worried. Lei Gardens’ dining room was packed with locals and the food was fresh, hot and tasty. Our delicate chicken and chive dumplings were wrapped in translucent skins and the petite taro puffs almost burned our mouths.

Then it struck me that in these three restaurants I had not yet glimpsed the familiar carts stacked with bamboo steamer baskets that roamed my favorite Bay Area dim sum spots: San Francisco’s Yank Sing, Alameda’s East Ocean or Oakland’s Peony. In Hong Kong, one ordered by checking off a paper menu. I wondered if this was a hallmark of Hong Kong dim sum culture and endeavored to find out.

Dim Sum Favorites with a Dash of History at Dim Sum Square

Later in the week, I joined an excellent food tour* which meandered through the Central and Sheung Wan Districts, and included tastes at six family-run food or drink establishments.

In a cozy corner cafe in an artsy district, over pork and shrimp dumplings and baked BBQ pork buns with distinctive toasted tops, our knowledgeable guide shared the history of dim sum and eventually revealed the reasons none of the places I visited featured those familiar roving carts.

Dim sum, also known as yum cha (literally to ‘drink tea’) probably originated thousands of years ago, in the teahouses that sprang up along China’s Silk Road as rest stops for weary travelers.

Our guide pointed to the black and white poster on the wall, explaining that it depicted typical Hong Kong dim sum in the last century. Men would frequent modest teahouses to read the newspaper, while enjoying a few snacks with their tea. The line of hanging bird cages above the restaurant booths was connected to  a long tradition of men caring for pet birds, which included taking them for daily outings. (The Avian Flu outbreak in 1997 likely shut the door on bringing birdcages into eating establishments.) And teahouses competed for clients by adding more innovative food choices.

As for the missing trolley carts, our guide explained that since space is at a premium and rent high on Hong Kong island, it is better for small restaurants to squeeze in more tables than to leave wide aisles to accommodate the carts. But more important to diners is the food’s freshness. Dumplings that sit in steamer baskets become overcooked and soggy. Cantonese cooking also values serving food piping hot. (Ah, that explained the reason  I saw a waiter at Lei Gardens prepare soup over a large flame in the dining room, right next to the diners who ordered it, so that he could deliver the steaming bowls to their table in seconds.)

My tour guide also described the goal that all dim sum should achieve: a semi-transparent dumpling wrapper called “crystal skin,” in essence, a delicate cloud that delivers the savory contents to your mouth. This is an ideal  by which Hong Kong dim sum is often judged.

Fanciful and Classic Dim Sum with a View at Serenade

On my last day in Hong Kong, a new friend invited me for a farewell dim sum meal at Serenade, a lovely restaurant in the Hong Kong Cultural Center. Serenade not only boasted a harbor view, but cute dim sum as well — in the shape of bunnies, goldfish, hedgehogs and squid. The restaurant’s more traditional dishes again featured dumplings with translucent skin.

Back home, just as I was starting to miss Hong Kong’s innovative dim sum, with its parade of culinary surprises, I received a copy of Michael Bauer’s Top 100 Bay Area Restaurants 2015. As soon as I read about Hong Kong Lounge II, I grabbed my husband and we rushed to the cozy space on Geary Boulevard and our taste buds were transported. No carts, but fresh, hot dumplings, stuffed eggplant and those delectable baked pork buns with the toasted tops that I had fallen in love with. We had found the next best thing to sitting at a table with a harbor view in enchanting Hong Kong.

(*Thanks to the Hong Kong Tourism Board)

Kobani’s succulent chunks of chicken kebab, creamy hummus, moist dolmas, richly flavored lentil soup and generous gyros are a welcome addition to the corner of University Avenue and Martin Luther King Jr. Way in Berkeley.

But there is more to this new casual dining spot than meets the mouth.

The name of the restaurant may be familiar if you follow the news. Kobani, a city in northern Syria, was the site of the biggest defeat dealt to ISIS by Kurdish soldiers. But the four-month-long battle that raged from September 2014 until ISIS militants were driven out in January resulted in the widespread destruction of the 100-year-old city that was famous for its olive-oil and cultural diversity. And in a recent, disheartening reversal in June, Islamic State militants re-entered Kobani, killing dozens of civilians.

The restaurant’s logo features a massive golden sun that in Kurdish culture signifies rebirth and figures prominently on the Kurdish flag, whose red, white and green stripes grace a sign above Kobani. Both the name and the logo are acts of defiance.

“That flag is still illegal in Turkey and the Kurdish language is rarely spoken,” said Emin Tekin, Kobani’s owner, who grew up in Van, a Kurdish city in Eastern Turkey, and immigrated to San Francisco in 1999. Perhaps Tekin’s most daring move is the simple description on his window, “Kurdish and Mediterranean Grill.”

For some historical context, the BBC summarizes: “Kurds received harsh treatment at the hands of the Turkish authorities for generations. In response to uprisings in the 1920s and 1930s, many Kurds were resettled, Kurdish names and costumes were banned, the use of the Kurdish language was restricted and even the existence of a Kurdish ethnic identity was denied, with people designated ‘Mountain Turks.’”

In recent years there have been a few in-roads: Kurdish music, theater and film are more visible in Turkey than they were a decade ago. But tensions still remain high and surprisingly extend to Kurdish cooking, as reflected in this story from The Media Line: “It may seem strange to outsiders that in Turkey, where Kurds represent 15 to 20 percent of the population and boast a century-old culinary tradition, there is not a single Kurdish restaurant. There are however, restaurants with ‘southeastern’ food, referring to the regions of Turkey with a predominantly Kurdish population.”

While we in the Bay Area are under no such restrictions, and several restaurants do serve Kurdish food, it seems Kobani, which opened in May, stands out for its proud proclamation of Kurdish-ness.

Whether taking orders, delivering plates loaded with freshly sliced, marinated meat to the eight tables in his restaurant, or chatting with his already loyal customers, Tekin is a charmer. His position as the youngest son in a family of nine children served him well. All of his older brothers, except one, opened restaurants, which became training grounds for the succeeding siblings. But Tekin is quick to admit that his family’s menus do not exclusively feature Kurdish dishes.

“Being from the Mediterranean side of the world,” he said, “in every country from Greece to Turkey, Syria to Lebanon, Israel to Morocco, people eat almost the same things but with different herbs and spices. In our casual dining joints, the idea is to provide comfort food that people are familiar with.”

According to Tekin, however, a few of the dishes on his menu do carry a subtle Kurdish spin: take, for example, the tangy pomegranate dressing on the beet, arugula and goat cheese salad, the bulgur pilaf with pepper paste; the couscous salad; mast o sir (yogurt and cucumber dip) and the Kurdish baklava layered with cooked semolina flour and milk.

Although gyro spits rotate on many a Berkeley street, the smoky babaganoush, meltingly smooth hummus, and tender, deftly spiced meat at Kobani are definitely a cut above the rest. And the wrap sandwiches are large and reasonably priced for the student crowd who often orders them to go.

One evening, however, I find a large group of international students seated around a table, sharing the “family style mixed grill platter” — a wide, wooden board lined with lavash and topped with a mountain of sliced meats, assorted kebabs, mounds of bulgur and vegetable-studded rice.

“This is the traditional way we Kurdish people eat, sitting around a big platter and all partaking from the same dish,” explains Filiz Celik, a Kurdish woman from Eastern Turkey, who is taking a break from her doctoral studies in Wales to visit friends in the Bay Area.

Celik was attracted to this new restaurant as soon as she saw its name. To her, “Kobani signifies the solidarity and strength of the Kurdish people uniting in the face of atrocity, as Kurdish forces from different countries cooperated to singlehandedly liberate Kobani, a Kurdish town, from ISIS.”

“It is thrilling to see a restaurant that proclaims itself Kurdish,” adds Celik. “In Europe, I’ve seen many Kurdish activists open restaurants that are labeled ‘Turkish food’, although recently there is a momentum to broaden the description of their eateries to ‘Mediterranean.’”

To Tekin, the name Kobani also signifies his pride in other Kurdish accomplishments: “The power of women and the fight against inequality. In Syria, 80% of the fighters are women. To us, men and women are equal,” he says. “For the last ten years, whenever there are elections for mayors, we elect one man and one woman to run the city as co-mayors.”

Tekin is enjoying the success of his new restaurant. But his road to Berkeley was not a smooth one. He saw the Kurdish villages around his hometown burned down by Turkish forces, the men executed, the women and children left to survive on their own.

“Being a Kurdish person living in Turkey was always dangerous,” he said. “There were aggressive words and racist discrimination, with people saying things like ‘Dirty Kurds. You shouldn’t be in our country. Go back where you came from.’”

In 1997, Tekin moved to Marmaris, a Turkish resort town on the Mediterranean, where his brother managed a restaurant. “One night,” he said, “four [plain-clothed] policemen came to the restaurant where I was working.” His gaze switches to look off in the distance, as he recites the disturbing events of that night.

“Two of them were very drunk. They attacked my friend who was working there as a bodyguard and stabbed him 29 times. He died. As I rushed over to try and save him, they stabbed me too, in the spine. Then the uniformed Turkish police arrived. A bystander screamed at them to take me to the hospital. The policeman said, ‘I don’t want to take him in my police car because it will make it dirty with Kurdish blood.’”

Tekin continues, seemingly driven to finish the story, “After lying in the street in the rain for an hour, waiting for an ambulance that never came, a taxi driver saw me and volunteered to take me to the hospital. At the hospital, they never asked me my name or what happened because they didn’t want to write up a report that would make the Turkish officials look bad. So I couldn’t take them to court because I had no evidence.”

Tekin was temporarily paralyzed for three months, but thanks to one brother living in the Netherlands, he received treatment there and a got visa to come to the U.S., where another brother had settled in San Francisco. After sharing the details of these traumatic events, there’s a slight pause, then Tekin returns to his role as congenial host.

While he attended Foothill College in Los Altos, Tekin taught Kurdish folk dancing at the local Jewish community center. He had been part of a prize-winning professional folk dance company in his homeland and in Los Altos brought Jews and Kurds to dance together. “Kurds, Jews and Muslims should all live together in peace,” he says. “All religions come from the same God, so all are equal.”

He later transferred to Stanford University to study finance, but before he could graduate, he eased into the real-estate business.

Today, Tekin is a busy man. He is opening two more restaurants in San Francisco that will also be called Kobani, and is helping his brother to re-open his popular restaurant, Hayes and Kebab, after renovations are complete in 2016. That’s not all: Tekin also owns a parking garage in a densely populated area of San Francisco and has a real-estate business specializing in restaurants and cafés.

“When you are born hungry, and you get some opportunities, you must use them wisely and not become spoiled,” he said. “My intent is to work as much as I can so I can contribute to my communities both here and back home. I have, and will continue to support, several non-profit organizations, like those that provide help for breast cancer, children’s education and abused women and children. I also intend to support associations that are against war — any war that will oppress a nation and destroy innocent civilians. As I have financial success, I will use that to contribute to people in need.”

Kobani Kurdish & Mediterranean Grill is at 1901 University Ave. (at Martin Luther King Jr. Way), Berkeley.

When the woman at the Small Business Administration discovered that 25-year old Tee Tran wanted a loan to open a Vietnamese restaurant even though he had absolutely no experience in the food business, she laughed at him. “You’re kidding me, right? Do you know your chances of getting a business loan,” she asked rhetorically. “It’s zero! Don’t even think about it.” Rather than discourage him, those cutting remarks inspired Tran to prove her wrong.

Monster Pho, his often-mobbed, year-old Oakland restaurant is a testament to Tran’s tenacity. At lunchtime, the airy dining room is buzzing with banter and tables are filled with a blue-green sea of scrubs, sported by numerous Kaiser Medical Center employees. It’s not just proximity that repeatedly brings Kaiser folks, Cal students and locals alike to the restaurant with the cute monster logo, but gracious service and dependably fresh, traditional Vietnamese cooking. Hearty bowls of pho soup, vermicelli noodle plates, crispy imperial rolls, Vietnamese crepes and banh mi sandwiches are served in a welcoming, light-filled room. Unfailingly polite, Tran treats both his customers and employees like family.

Opening a successful restaurant is not the first time this family has beaten the odds. When he was a toddler, Tran, his parents and two older brothers escaped from Vietnam in 1989 as “boat people.” After spending two long years in refugee camps in Thailand and the Philippines, they landed in Oakland–with literally nothing. He remembers the five of them sleeping huddled together for warmth on their bare living room floor.

Tran’s mother, Tina Le, has always been his hero, mentor and inspiration. “She worked four jobs to keep the family afloat [as a dishwasher, babysitter, caregiver and seamstress]. She never took ‘failure’ as an answer,” says Tran. Part of his motivation to open a restaurant was to honor his mother and make sure he could take of her, the way she had taken care of the family. Ironically, his devotion to the family recipes resulted in Le’s insistence on working in his kitchen daily to prepare her sauces.

Tran, now 31, has been an ingenious entrepreneur since the age of eight, when he borrowed money from his mother to purchase candy bars, which he then went door to door and sold for double what he paid. The whole family worked together on paper routes and sewing upholstery samples to earn money for the household. Tran also learned from his mother that no matter the difficulties thrown in one’s path, one should still treat others with respect and kindness.

The Monster in his restaurant’s name stemmed from Tran’s desire to be different and appeal to kids. Its family-friendly atmosphere includes crayons and coloring book pages to keep little diners busy; plus scissors and small bowls are provided so parents can cut up noodles and pieces of meat into kid-sized bites–in the traditional way. Tran has also made his restaurant 100% peanut-free, an unusual move for a Vietnamese restaurant–where peanuts are regularly ground into sauces or crushed and sprinkled over dishes for texture–but one that has parents of children with peanut allergies cheering. Tran aims to cater to a range of diners, so his Vegetable Pho uses a 100% vegetarian broth and his Chicken Pho is made with a chicken broth (without beef).

Using her son as an interpreter, Tina Le explains shyly that growing up in Vietnam she was the second oldest of 10 children and helped take care of her siblings. Those duties, plus the fact that her family moved many times, prevented her from regularly attending school. The reason she wanted to bring her family to the U.S. was so that they could get the education she didn’t.

Monster Pho’s menu is simple and straightforward. “Everything is as Mom and Grandma made it,” says Tran. “If you start playing around with fusion, stuffing the spring rolls with all kinds of things, you lose where you came from.”

“In Vietnamese culture,” Tran says, “you don’t throw anything away; you use every part of the cow and the chicken.” For the soup broth, he daily simmers 100 pounds of beef bones in a 160-quart pot with onions and spices such as star anise, coriander and ginger. Tran admits they are always fine-tuning the broth. After months of trial and error, they also came up with a version of kelly-green pandan waffles, a popular Vietnamese street food, usually eaten plain. But Tran tops his decadent dessert waffle with ice cream and whipped cream.

Prior to opening Monster Pho, Tran worked for seven years at an auto dealership, that’s coincidentally just down the street. His deeply held feelings about honesty and integrity didn’t exactly match up with the standard operating procedure for car dealers. Tran stubbornly followed his own internal compass, but found out that his fellow car salesmen had a wager going, on how soon he would be fired or quit. “That lit a fire under me,” says Tran “and in my third month, I sold so many cars I almost made ‘Salesman of the Month.’” Although Tran did well selling cars, he knew his future lay elsewhere.

While working at the dealership, he kept a notebook of possible ideas for businesses. After he finally decided to open a Vietnamese restaurant, he scouted the Bay Area for a good location and was surprised to see a For Rent sign in a print shop, down the block from the car dealership. When he approached the landlords with his plan, however, they thought he was joking or crazy. “They brushed me off, but that’s always something that motivates me,” says Tran, smiling. “If people tell me I can’t do something, then I have to do it. Six months later, he came back and the storefront was still available.

Now, Tran is riding high. He happily greets his loyal customers and oversees the dining room. At Monster Pho, there is often a waiting list to be seated. Oh, and that woman from the Small Business Association who was so discouraging, Tran would like to find her again – to thank her.

Monster Pho
3905 Broadway, Oakland [Map]
Ph: 510-788-4459
Hours: Wed-Mon 11am-9pm, Closed Tuesday
Facebook: Monster Pho
Twitter: @MONSTERPHO
Price Range: $ (entrees $9-$13)

When I used to walk into even the most elegant pastry shop and ask for something without gluten, I was lucky to be offered a “gluten-free” almond or coconut macaroon, which was cozied up in the case right next to conventional muffins, scones and cookies. The problem for the increasing number of customers who avoid gluten by choice or necessity is that these treats will most likely be prepared in a kitchen which is enveloped by wheat flour: on pans, on hands and in the air. That cross-contamination is too risky for those with extreme allergies or celiac disease, because, for them, even the tiniest bit of wheat can trigger a dangerous allergic reaction.

I have been following a g/f diet for about 15 years, due to a wheat-intolerance. In the old days, there were slim pickings: crumbly, Styrofoam-esque breads, and dry takes on token sweet treats. But oh, how things changed in the last few years! While most local markets now carry a range of g/f frozen breads and packaged cookies, even the finest frozen baked good cannot compare to fragrant, warm muffins, pastries or rolls right out of the oven.

A handful of “dedicated gluten-free bakeries”—where everything is prepared in completely gluten-free kitchens—now encircle the Bay Area, so whether you live in San Francisco, the East Bay, the South Bay, Marin or the San Ramon Valley, you are not far from freshly baked moist muffins, decadent desserts, killer cupcakes or satisfying sandwich breads that you can trust are 100% gluten-free.

A side benefit is that all five bakeries also cater to customers with an array of additional allergies and diet preferences, so patrons with a sensitivity to dairy, eggs, soy or nuts or those who follow vegan or Paleo diets can blissfully munch on sinfully-satisfying brownies, scones, cinnamon rolls, cupcakes, cookies, pies and breads. All five bakeries also make and decorate special-order cakes — enabling weddings, holiday dinners and kids’ birthday parties to be accessible and enjoyable for all. (Prices vary, but generally cakes run about $35, breads from $8-$10, muffins and donuts $3-$4, cookies $1-$2.)

Since each bakery carries scores of sweet and savory products, I couldn’t possibly sample them all (though goodness knows I tried!) but I list a few of my favorites below. You can check out their websites for a full listing, but better yet, stop in for a visit and conduct your own tasting of gourmet gluten-free goodies.

Click to view slideshow.

Mariposa

“Mariposa” is Spanish for “butterfly” and founder Patti Furey Crane picked the name because the transformation that a butterfly goes through reflects the way that “many people who adopt a gluten-free lifestyle transform their lives through food.” Her bakery is the godmother of Bay Area dedicated g/f bakeries. It’s the oldest and largest g/f bakery with two locations: Oakland’s Temescal District and San Francisco’s Ferry Building. But it all happened by accident. Crane never planned to open a bakery café at all. In 2002, after she was diagnosed with MS and researched what she could do to calm the symptoms of her autoimmune condition, she read about eliminating gluten from her diet. The few g/f products she found at the time were, she remembers, “mass-produced, bland, with a texture that wasn’t right.” Since she had baked a lot with her mother as a little girl, she set about converting some tried-and-true recipes (like biscotti and brownies) to g/f versions to sell at natural food markets.

Crane started making her wholesale baked goods in a shared kitchen. When she needed more space and found the Telegraph Avenue location in 2006, it was zoned for retail. She was forced to comply by becoming a retail outlet and Crane and her husband duly installed a counter, but not much else. There was no signage and their door was a heavy, steel contraption. It’s a wonder that her customers managed to find Mariposa, but when they did, they were not shy about offering suggestions of what she should add to her line. “The business stemmed from customer cravings,” says Crane, “including me, too, since I’m a consumer and I have my own cravings.” Mariposa now produces more than 70 items and Crane is always looking to add new things.

Her multi-grain bread has a complex flavor/texture profile with a blend of flours, plus flax and sunflower seeds. The delightful cream-filled Penguino cupcake contains no known allergens but an intensely fudgy flavor. My family loves Mariposa’s seasonal fruit galette, a dessert elegant enough for company, with its balance of delicate crust, tangy fruit and crunch of sugar sprinkled on top. The Oakland location now has a pleasant café with plenty of seating, while the Ferry Building Bakeshop, added in 2012, is more of a to-go spot. For breakfast, try a bagel, cinnamon roll, Danish or pumpkin muffin. Lunch features a selection of pizza, sandwiches, empanadas and more.

Mariposa
5427 Telegraph Ave., Unit 3D [Map]
Oakland, CA 94609
Ph: (510) 595-0955
Hours: Mon-Fri 9am-6pm; Sat 9am-5pm; Sun 10am-5pm

One Ferry Building, suite 32 [Map]
San Francisco, CA 94111
Ph: (510) 595-0955
Hours: Mon-Sat 8am-6pm; Sun 10am-5pm
(for both locations:)
Facebook: Mariposa Baking Artisan Crafted Gluten Free Bakery 
Twitter: @MariposaBaking

Click to view slideshow.

Bacano Bakery

As the youngest, local g/f bakery, Bacano celebrates its one-year birthday this month; its name is Spanish slang for cool, or very good. Founder Laverne Matias started selling his g/f goods three years ago at farmers’ markets (he continues at Oakland’s Grand Lake and Temescal and San Francisco’s Clement), then opened this cozy spot in Emeryville last September. Matias, who grew up in Puerto Rico, also baked at home with his mother. He moved to California in 2000 to become a lawyer after he was accepted into Hastings Law School, but changed his mind about that career path. Deciding he wanted something “more human,” he did a stint as head of HR for a large (conventional) baking company, then branched off on his own to develop some healthier recipes. He also studied existential psychology at JFK University and worked for three years as a licensed psychotherapist. But at the moment, his bakery/café is keeping him tuned in to people’s more earthly desires.

Matias explains his approach: “We don’t use gluten-free flour mixes. We prefer to create unique blends of gluten-free flours to complement each item. I love ancient grains such as teff, millet, sorghum and quinoa. We also use nut flours and meals like almond, coconut and hazelnut.”

Bacano offers a unique bread called “Seeds of Joy,” which contains a complex blend of teff, sorghum and sweet rice flours sprinkled with fennel, caraway and coriander seeds. I keep it in the freezer, and toast to enjoy it with savory spreads like hummus or avocado.

I was wild about Bacano’s “Monkey Paradise” muffins—essentially banana bread plus chocolate chips, walnuts and dried cherries—and found their fig scones divine. The De Young Museum serves another of my favorites at Bacano: their grain-free, cranberry date walnut bites, jewel-like orbs that burst with flavor.

Bacano’s cakes feature some unusual flavor combinations, including rosemary with coconut; and orange, almond and pistachio. Since they use all natural ingredients, the classic mauve roses with green foliage on the icing are colored with beet and spinach juice, respectively.

At lunchtime, Bacano’s café offers soups, salads, quiche, pizza and sandwiches.

Bacano Bakery
1298 65^th St. [Map]
Emeryville, CA 94608
Ph: (510) 250-9751
Hours: Mon-Sat 8am-3pm
Facebook: Bacano Bakery
Twitter: @BacanoBakery

Click to view slideshow.

Zest Bakery

This family-owned bakery in San Carlos is the only one of the five that does not announce “gluten-free” on its store front, as its scalloped green awning proclaims “organic.” But once you are inside, the baked goods in the inviting cases all sport friendly “Hi, My Name is ____” labels which clearly state that every item is indeed g/f as well as often dairy-free, egg-free, soy-free etc.

Cynthia Fleischer is the current manager, baker and co-owner. Zest began in 2009 when Fleisher’s brother-in-law, Patrick Luke, who has celiac disease, and his wife Charissa (Cynthia’s sister), started baking g/f creations at home. In 2010, they found this charming storefront in San Carlos and started their retail bakery. After Cynthia was laid off from Genentech, where she worked as a bio-process-technician, she jokes that she “traded one lab for another” and now develops new g/f recipes as well as baking the favorites that have been there since the beginning. One of these is Zest’s petite almond cake, a must-try fluffy cloud of marzipan. Another winner is their Triple Berry muffin, moist and light, with a hint of lemon and a crunchy topping.

Cynthia Fleischer claims their secret is using a combination of flours and ground seeds for their breads and pastries. When she recently found herself craving something with bacon, she devised the devilishly good bacon maple bourbon muffins.

At lunchtime, Zest Bakery offers quiche and made-to-order sandwiches. They also have ice cream sandwiches, ravioli, unbaked pizza and pie crusts in the freezer.

Zest Bakery
1224 Arroyo Ave. [Map]
San Carlos, CA 94070
Ph: (650) 241-ZEST (9378)
Hours: Tue-Fri 9am-4pm; Sat 8am-4pm; Sun 8am-2pm
Facebook: Zest Bakery
Twitter: @zestbakery

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Miglet’s

Katie Taylor started baking gluten-free when her mother, Elaine Taylor was diagnosed with celiac disease. Her mother also happens to be co-founder and president of The Taylor Family Foundation, which runs summer camps for children with physical and mental challenges. When Katie volunteered at the summer Celiac Camp at Camp Arroyo, her sweet treats were such a big hit with the campers, that their parents encouraged her to begin making g/f birthday cakes. Katie was inspired to expand to a g/f catering business and then in 2010 opened a retail storefront, Miglet’s Cupcake shop, tucked away in the corner of Crossroads shopping center in Danville. (“Miglet” was Katie’s childhood nickname – a combination of Piglet and Monkey.)

If you or your kids have a sweet tooth and need to eat g/f, Miglet’s cupcakes, cream puffs and donuts should satisfy your cravings. Their cupcakes sport a pompadour of swirled icing and sometimes a surprise in the middle. For example, the most popular variety, vanilla salted caramel cupcakes have additional caramel piped into the center. Besides the usual chocolate and lemon flavors, Miglet’s gets creative with their combinations: strawberry margarita cupcakes with key lime frosting; piña colada donuts with pineapple chunks and toasted coconut; rocky road donuts. Be warned that their donuts sell out quickly, often by noon.

They also bake a variety of cookies, scones and sweet breads such as pumpkin, lemon poppy seed and banana bread.

Miglet’s small space focuses on baking sweet treats, but they also offer a variety of salads, chicken pot pies, mac and cheese and quiche  for lunch in their cold case. And if you live near the “680 Corridor” and can’t always trek out to Oakland or Emeryville, their grocery section carries frozen loaves of Mariposa’s and Bacano’s breads plus Bread SRSLY’s sourdough. There’s also a selection of g/f crackers, pasta, cookies, g/f flour and other products.

Miglet’s
480 San Ramon Valley Blvd. [Map]
Danville, CA 94526
Ph: (925) 831-9016
Hours: Mon-Sat 9am-6pm; Sun 10am-5pm
Facebook: Miglet’s Gluten Free Bakery & Grocery
Twitter: @migletsgf

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Flour Craft Bakery

If you are driving out of the city for a day hike in the North Bay, take a small detour to this lovely, light-filled bakery café in delightful downtown San Anselmo for some awesome baked goods that all happen to be gluten-free. After discovering her own severe gluten intolerance 15 years ago, Heather Hardcastle, chef and co-owner of Flour Craft Bakery, decided to change her career as well as her diet. In 2008, she studied pastry at the Culinary Institute of America in St. Helena, which naturally focused on conventional baking recipes and techniques. She then reformulated all the recipes to make them gluten-free. Her professional training is evident in the quality of her breads, pastries and desserts. Hardcastle began her g/f foray by developing a signature granola that she sold at farmers markets.

After a crowd-funding campaign, she and her husband opened Flour Craft Bakery in 2013. “My goal is making delicious food,” says Hardcastle. “The fact that it is gluten-free is just a bonus.” The menu of breads, brioche, muffins, cookies and cakes changes monthly. For lunch, there’s quiche, quinoa salad, lentil salad and sandwiches on housemade focaccia.

I found the blackberry Earl Grey scone light and fluffy, the flourless hazelnut brownie decadent, and the marbled coffee cake with espresso glaze moist and crumbly. But the warm olive focaccia, kissed with olive oil, is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted—period. Even if you don’t have a date in Marin planned, visit Flour Craft. It’s worth the drive.

Flour Craft Bakery
702 San Anselmo Ave. [Map]
San Anselmo, CA 94960
Ph: (415) 453-3100
Hours: Tue-Sat 7am-4pm; Sun 8am-3pm
Facebook: Flour Craft Bakery
Twitter: @flourcraft

Additional Resources:
Top Ten Reasons to Eat at a Dedicated Gluten Free Restaurant

On my recent trip to China in early January, I was surprised to find scads of scampering monkeys swinging on red and gold banners all over Beijing. “It’s weeks before February 8, the start of the new Lunar New Year; isn’t it a bit early to start decorating?” I asked my guide.

“Oh no,” she replied, “it’s such an important holiday, people begin preparations way ahead.”

Although I’m back in the East Bay now, part of me is still in China, wishing I could celebrate this New Year of the Monkey appropriately, with festive decorations and symbolic lucky foods. As I headed to a job in downtown Oakland last week, the clever Monkey spirit must have heard my wish, because I happened to pass the perfect store on the edge of Chinatown, called Chanco. Its personable owners, husband and wife Jimmy and Sandra Lam, were happy to help me find everything I need to warmly welcome this year’s Fire Monkey (who is supposed to usher in a year of passion, creativity, and joy).

Chanco’s long red sign on 7^th Street proclaims it a Housewares and Restaurant Supply Shop – my equivalent of a free ticket to foodie Fairyland. I was smitten the moment I stepped inside the cavernous interior filled with neatly arranged shelves displaying over 10,000 items. Aisle after aisle of kitchen treasures: from elegant Japanese crockery; super-sized soup tureens; teeny teapots; to a profusion of gadgets (such as graters, peelers, curlers, zesters in a range of sizes). Chanco, a year-and-a-half-old, family-owned business, caters to a range of customers, from devoted home cooks to small restaurant owners to the elder residents of Chinatown.

When I asked Sandra what kind of dishes I would need for a Chinese New Year feast, she replied that it is important to use one’s best dishes or perhaps, like the custom of buying new clothes, a new set of dishes. She pointed out a few favorites for these festivities: red dishes with Chinese characters representing blessings, such as “longevity”; traditionally elegant blue and white patterns; or those featuring pink flowers, powerful dragons, or lucky koi fish.

An essential element in the preparation for Lunar New Year is a thorough house cleaning and Sandra directed me to a section of the store stocked with a rainbow-hued range of brushes, brooms and gloves. “Remember to sweep toward the door,” she says, “you are sweeping out all the bad luck accumulated in the last year.”

It’s important to maintain a positive attitude to welcome in a new year of health, family togetherness, longevity, wealth and other blessings. There are lucky foods to eat, and other auspicious traditions to observe.

“I love Lunar New Year because it is the time of year where everybody pauses from their busy lives to spend time with family and relatives, especially the elders,” Sandra says. “Growing up, my grandparents lived with us. My grandmother was kind of strict about keeping the New Year celebrations cheerful, as an omen for the coming year, so she didn’t let us watch any violent or sad TV shows, speak about bad things or eat anything with a negative connotation like bitter melon. ”

Sandra comes from a family of entrepreneurs. If you live closer to San Francisco, visit Kamei, a housewares store run by her aunt for over 20 years.

The quintessential dish on every Chinese New Year’s eve table is a steamed fish. The Chinese word for fish, yu, sounds like “surplus” and heralds prosperity. It is essential that the fish is served with head and tail attached to make sure that the coming year has both a good beginning and ending. In a previous post when Lisa Li showed me how to buy a live fish, she explained, “Another important aspect of Chinese New Year tradition is not to finish the fish course on New Year’s Eve, but leave some to be eaten the next day so that the abundance of the yu will continue into the New Year.”

The classic preparation for the fish is to steam it whole and Chanco carries a range of steamers that appeal to different groups. Sandra has noticed that Southeast Asian customers (Thai, Cambodian, Vietnamese, Burmese) love aluminum cookware, including steamers because they heat up faster.

Chinese cooks prefer stainless steel because they deem it a healthier material to cook in. Yet, bamboo steamers are also part of traditional Chinese cooking and believed to enhance the ingredients being steamed. Chanco has all of these in a range of sizes, as well as fish-shaped molds for lucky fish sponge cakes.

At Chanco, you can also find the red and gold banners that are hung all over the house to usher in good luck, little red envelopes with mischievous monkeys that are filled with money and handed out to the kids and lucky bamboo plants believed to attract positive energy.

All I need to buy now to complete my preparations are fresh flowers, such as cherry blossoms and traditional foods, most of which have auspicious connotations.

As I found out previously, it is essential to serve a whole chicken with head and feet, symbolizing family togetherness. And although many Chinese New Years’ foods vary by family and village, the one universal dish is crescent shaped dumplings. Traditionally, dumplings are made on New Year’s Eve by all the members of the family, working together. Their shape represents gold ingots and symbolizes good fortune for the upcoming year.

Lucky food homonyms abound in the New Year’s menu. Sandra gives me some examples in Cantonese:
• Lotus root, lee nau, sounds like “come every year,” to insure whatever you desire is ongoing.
• Pigs’ feet, chu sao = everything is within reach
• Dried oyster, ho see = good things are coming
• Lettuce, san choi = growing wealth
• Shrimp, ha = laughter or happiness.

Here’s an exhaustive list of lucky-sounding foods.

“These traditions were a bigger part of my parents’ and grandparents’ generations, “ Sandra says with a sigh. “Nowadays, younger peoples’ lives are so busy, rushing around from one thing to another, there is no time to do all the preparations.”

For members of the older generation, part of the pre-New Year preparation  is baking ten or more sweet rice cakes, daikon radish cakes or puffy sponge cakes to give as gifts to family members. Chanco has a huge assortment of disposable foil pans in a myriad of shapes. Perfect to hand out to visiting relatives. “Cooking these is still a big deal for our elders. They give cakes to the younger members of their family and feel very useful again,” says Sandra.

Steps to Prepare for The New Lunar New Year:

1. Clean your house from top to bottom to rid it of any bad luck from last year. Sweep it out towards the door.
2. Clean your internal house as well, paying off debts and resolving any quarrels with friends.
3. Get some new clothes and a haircut before the big day (scissors are to be avoided so you don’t snip off any good luck).
4. Prepare food ahead of time for family and to give away. Knives also must be put away so you don’t accidentally cut off any incoming good luck.
5. Decorate the house with red and gold banners. Red signifies happiness; gold represents prosperity. Red lanterns work well, as do charms with fancy knots that protect from evil and ensure longevity.
6. Set out branches of plum and cherry blossoms (the first fruit of the year to blossom).  Bid farewell to winter and anticipate spring. Kumquat, orange or mandarin trees are especially prized. If nothing else, display a bowl of these orange fruits in your home.

Chanco
410 7th Street [Map]
Oakland, CA, 94607
Tel: (510) 238-8988
Hours: Mon-Sun 9:30am-6pm
Facebook: Chanco Oakland (Housewares & Restaurant Supply)

Chinese New Year events, including San Francisco Chinatown’s Big Parade on Feb 20.

It’s only the second day of business at Nyum Bai, a new Cambodian noodle spot in Emeryville’s Public Market, but owner Nite Yun is sadly putting up a “Closed for the Day” sign after lunchtime. The reason behind the temporary closure is actually a positive one: such a throng of enthusiastic customers came to sample her traditional noodle soups that she ran out of food long before dinner. Pointing to the massive metal pots on her range top, Yun says, “These were supposed to make hundreds of servings of soup. I guess I’ll have to get another pot.”

Yun’s goal is to introduce Americans to Cambodian culture through some of its lesser-known dishes, especially noodle soups called kuy teav, which feature aromatic broths sprinkled with fresh herbs and crunchy toppings and are sold in street stalls all over Cambodia. At Nyum Bai, her new food stand in Emeryville’s Public Market, Nite Yun now prepares them daily.

The Public Market had reached out to La Cocina, the nonprofit that helps food entrepreneurs, primarily immigrant women and women of color to formalize and grow their businesses. Nite Yun learned of the opportunity to try out this temporary space from her involvement with La Cocina and the organization also helped her negotiate an affordable lease.

Yun had a desire to share her family’s heritage through her unique offerings of typical Cambodian street food dishes. Her parents had fled the brutality of the Khmer Rouge and resulting genocide (that killed an estimated two million people) and escaped to Thailand, where Yun was born in a refugee camp. A few years later, with a church group’s sponsorship, her family moved to Stockton, California.

Although they were now safe in America, like many refugees before them, her parents felt more comfortable primarily associating with the Cambodian community around Stockton. Her father never mastered English. Her mother worked as a seamstress at home.

“Even though I grew up in the U.S.,” Yun says, “I felt I was Cambodian. I spoke Cambodian, only ate the Cambodian foods my mother cooked. My family would sit on the floor and eat rice with dried fish. I thought everyone did.” The apartment was so small, that the family of five was basically always together. So when her mother cooked, Yun would join her in the kitchen and help chop lemongrass or garlic.

When she moved to San Francisco to study nursing at San Francisco State, she yearned for home-cooked Cambodian food, but couldn’t find any place that served it. “That’s when I started to really get into cooking. I’d call my mom up for a recipe, but of course, she didn’t really measure things. She would tell me to use ‘a pinkie-size’ of this or ‘a small bowl’ of that.”

As a child, Yun often felt frustrated with her parents’ lack of openness about their earlier lives in Cambodia. They didn’t want to talk about or dwell on the trauma they had survived. It left her with a lot of unanswered questions.

Six years ago, Yun returned alone to Cambodia to meet her aunts and cousins, find out about her parents’ past — and eat. On her third trip to Cambodia, while she was sitting at a noodle stall, the idea came to her: to share her Cambodian culture through home-style food. She returned to the Bay Area, started cooking for friends and eventually entered La Cocina’s food incubator program in 2015.

Now she has the opportunity to serve some of her favorite dishes, including a trio of kuy teav noodles. The Phnom Penh features rice noodles, sliced and ground pork in a rich pork and shrimp broth, garnished with crispy garlic, cilantro, scallions and bean sprouts. Koh-ko pairs hearty beef broth with egg noodles, braised beef, bok choy, crispy garlic, red onion, and cilantro. For vegetarians, Ban Lai combines rice noodles and tofu in a mushroom leek broth, with seasonal vegetables, crispy garlic, cilantro, scallions and bean sprouts.

Yun also serves stir–fried rice noodles with tamarind sauce topped with an egg omelet and a coconut rice plate with fried scallions, pork and crispy egg — a dish she says she would often buy for breakfast in Cambodia for only $1. In the coming weeks, she plans to add daily specials to introduce diners to new Cambodian tastes plus daily Cambodian desserts.

Nostalgic for an era she did not personally experience, Yun says, “I always knew I wanted to share Cambodian culture. But not only focus on the genocide and what we’ve gone through. I want to celebrate the good times, like the golden era (1960-65) when the art and music were awesome, there was abundance and my parents were young and carefree.”

Yun hasn’t graduated yet from La Cocina’s incubator program and is getting a lot of support from them. “Opening a restaurant has been overwhelming,” she says. “There is so much to learn. How to train my staff, how to streamline the production line and definitely how not to run out of food.”

She hasn’t actually told her parents, who still live in Stockton, that Nyum Bai is open yet. “I’ll tell them in a couple of weeks, “ she says, “when I get it all down, so that I’ll be able to cook lunch and speak to my mother at the same time.”

Cambodian people who heard about this venture were so excited that they dropped by the tucked away location in the Public Market before it even opened just to take photos in front of their sign. “Nyum Bai literally means ‘eat rice,’ “Yun explains, “but really that’s the way that you call guests to the table. It’s our way of saying, ‘Let’s eat!’”

Nyum Bai
Emeryville Public Market
5959 Shellmound St., Kiosk 3
Emeryville, CA 94608
Ph: (415) 317-0867
Hours: Mon-Sat 11am-8pm
Facebook: Nyum Bai
Twitter: @nyumbai
Instagram: nyumbai