culinary art and antiques maven. sommelier. hunter-gatherer. fisherman. cook. writer. traveler. wanderer.Tumblr (3.0; @heritageartifacts)http://heritageartifacts.com/<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/80fbd96b858393104985384e40777c20/tumblr_mmngjboaAE1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/> <br/><img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/103d68505f9887e19326fd4907f369cd/tumblr_mmngjboaAE1r4rx59o2_r1_500.jpg"/><br/> <br/><p><strong>Clamming on a Weekday Morning</strong></p> <p>Pinky sunrise skid marks across a gray-blue morning sky heralded the day. I layered in sweaters and filled a mug with my daily concoction of Jasmine Pearl tea, its leaves unfurling with the goodness of an entire Meyer lemon plucked from our prolific tree, and a huge dollop of not-too-sweet sweet sunflower honey from a beekeeper in Washington State. The evening prior, I packed my old German tank with rakes and baskets and gloves, knowing there was half a joint in the ashtray and snacks in the glove box. Low tide was still a couple hours away, but as usual, my dear travel mate was running behind and I was getting anxious. As I’ve endlessly lectured, sunrise hunts, whether for antiques, pheasant, fish, or clams, need to begin on-time or one returns home empty-handed.</p> <p>As we finally began our drive to the coast, the fingers of fog began pulling back their thick wet blanket, draped overnight onto the green Sonoma hills.  A peaceful Tomales Bay eventually revealed itself, stippled with exposed mudflats and only the occasional flapping of a goose’s wings breaking the early morning silence.</p> <p>Grabbing a rake, I shimmied down the embankment, which was covered in fat, succulent ice plants blooming neon pink.  My old Danner hunting boots proved useful in navigating the rocky beach, although their camouflage design was lost on the bi-valves buried deep below my feet.  The clams felt every one of my lumbering steps and most managed to dig themselves deeper and faster than my inadequate rake could give chase. I unearthed only four baby clams and had broken a sweat doing so.  I even managed to pull a stomach muscle, as clearly they’ve become unused to having to forage for food further than the plate in front of them.  Knowing Manila clams take three years to reach an adequate size, I carefully buried the four, tiny bi-valves back into the muck and scrambled up to the car to have a smoke and contemplate next moves.</p> <p>I recalled Hog Island Oyster Company, a short drive up the coast,  opened at 9am for those seeking a high protein breakfast or to fill a cooler with their briny trophies for later feasting.  They also raise precious Manila clams from seed and it was there I scored two, beautiful pounds.</p> <p>And they didn’t even ask to see my fishing license. </p> <p>Late afternoon found the clams soaking in lightly salted water sprinkled with a bit of oatmeal, removing sand and grit.  Their warm bath awaited, perfuming the house:  flowering cilantro, fresh ginger, fish sauce, garlic, a whole cayenne, an oxidized bottle of Loire Sauvignon Blanc, and tender sorrel leaves.  Crusty hunks of Della Fattoria ciabatta were grilled until just charred and rubbed with spicy green garlic bulbs.  I pulled the cork on a 1999 Prager Chardonnay Weissenkirchen Smaragd from Austria; the edges rounded from age and its minerality mirroring that of the clams’.</p> <p>We lit the candles and dunked the bread and refilled our glasses, saving the tiny clams for last, like children hoarding M&M’s. </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/50590147803http://heritageartifacts.com/post/50590147803Thu, 16 May 2013 12:33:00 -0600where i wentwhat I eat<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/54c5cdd855641a96fafb70aa39aa5ffa/tumblr_ml7vhrqAHN1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Italian chicories are omnipresent in our garden.  This Radicchio di Verona has burgundy-veined leaves and white ribs.  Vibrant and slightly bitter, these greens are delicious raw; a salad with fat ribbons of shaved Parmigiano is a delightful midday meal.  When wilted in pancetta drippings and topped with poached eggs, these extraordinary greens become positively meaty.    I’ve read bitter greens are a tonic for the liver, which is why I always make an effort to start dinner with an old Barbera d’Alba and finish with a big bowl of chicories…</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47903911441http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47903911441Sat, 13 Apr 2013 17:20:00 -0600what I eat<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/77c7a23c19c2c49680645f85c56e258d/tumblr_ml21ccsioK1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Lupine in bloom in between the Cabernet Sauvignon rows in Napa Valley.</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47638075715http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47638075715Wed, 10 Apr 2013 13:41:00 -0600what I like<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/5619249e03da024ee566934170c84686/tumblr_mkupjuowid1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>It’s empty. And she’s sold out.  Impossible to get jams from a master, small-production artisan.  Who’s even heard of Nippon Mandarinquat?  The name alone conjures up images of hot, illicit sex on a bed of unusual, overripe Asian citrus segments.  The flavor?  Just like it’s name, it leaves you wanting for more.  And more. </p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47303550219http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47303550219Sat, 06 Apr 2013 14:43:00 -0600what I eat<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/23c4758d09262510cb5e9257cc09e1a5/tumblr_mksr4ndPLt1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Springtime in an Italian bowl.</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47209631625http://heritageartifacts.com/post/47209631625Fri, 05 Apr 2013 13:21:00 -0600what I eat<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/bc5af8995999a1970874abda9a3a329d/tumblr_mjpzgvwRS71r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>View across The Thames rivals some of the artwork… (at Tate Modern Gardens)</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/45441361850http://heritageartifacts.com/post/45441361850Fri, 15 Mar 2013 14:55:00 -0600where i visited<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/176ed347483f883ce982508cb3179e0b/tumblr_mjpscva5ki1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Graffiti (at Brick Lane)</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/45431180640http://heritageartifacts.com/post/45431180640Fri, 15 Mar 2013 12:22:00 -0600what I like<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/3e265339c4f25e64fa2a3f27d734976d/tumblr_mhmlflIa2L1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Small, briny winter oysters pulled from the beds of Pickleweed Point in Inverness, California.</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/42157813654http://heritageartifacts.com/post/42157813654Sat, 02 Feb 2013 20:52:00 -0700what I eat<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/a3a7aa8633c8d79bb7db0176bf7bdaa6/tumblr_mh3vrisV6e1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Fresh bread crumb for my garlicky pork meatballs…</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/41321649894http://heritageartifacts.com/post/41321649894Wed, 23 Jan 2013 18:21:00 -0700what I likewhat I eat<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/cf97bde1d20393c5882cda2a28a96ec9/tumblr_mep1qmcm2U1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p><span class="userContent">Mmmmmmmm.<br/> Herve Mons Camembert (Whole Paycheck’s own very gently priced, very high quality label from France), cut in half when cold, slathered in the center with a black truffle pâté, re-jiggered together, wrapped tightly and kept at room temp for a day to integrate.<br/> Like a reverse Oreo cookie for un-stoned adults.<br/> With a bottle of 1990 Chianti Vigna Della Croce Riserva from Terrabianca.<br/> Memorable.</span></p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/37451670607http://heritageartifacts.com/post/37451670607Fri, 07 Dec 2012 20:59:10 -0700<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_me9km2poZ51r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>A rainy, late morning buzz; a thick cappuccino and a raspberry thumbprint cookie at Cafe Trieste in SF’s North Beach.</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/36822043702http://heritageartifacts.com/post/36822043702Thu, 29 Nov 2012 12:25:00 -0700what I eat<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_md4vc9qHYb1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>The outrageous Sienese almond cookies from Market Hall in Oakland…</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/35215762257http://heritageartifacts.com/post/35215762257Wed, 07 Nov 2012 12:55:00 -0700what I eathttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/mobileweb/2012/10/31/food-informants-jenny-mccoy-cisse-trading_n_200909...http://heritageartifacts.com/post/34831986660http://heritageartifacts.com/post/34831986660Fri, 02 Nov 2012 09:17:52 -0600<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc5g6qjkjo1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Waiting patiently for biscuits on a rainy Friday morning in NYC’s Soho.</p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/33899228850http://heritageartifacts.com/post/33899228850Fri, 19 Oct 2012 10:52:00 -0600 Finally sliced into the beautiful log of pancetta made from the fat Berkshire I butchered in late...http://heritageartifacts.com/post/26789826332http://heritageartifacts.com/post/26789826332Sun, 08 Jul 2012 16:42:00 -0600what I eat Floating in the warm, salty waters off Curaçao, watching the pelicans dive bomb for their lunch. ...http://heritageartifacts.com/post/26074396677http://heritageartifacts.com/post/26074396677Thu, 28 Jun 2012 09:43:00 -0600where i wentI can only imagine the ham and cheese croissant from San Francisco&#8217;s Tartine Bakery contains...http://heritageartifacts.com/post/24929099365http://heritageartifacts.com/post/24929099365Mon, 11 Jun 2012 20:39:00 -0600where I shopwhat I eat Shallots are for babies.    Onions are for men.  Garlic is for heroes. http://heritageartifacts.com/post/24076774594http://heritageartifacts.com/post/24076774594Wed, 30 May 2012 13:40:00 -0600what I like   He kept asking if I was able to ‘feel it in my marrow.’   Indeed, I could.  He was that...http://heritageartifacts.com/post/23110377141http://heritageartifacts.com/post/23110377141Tue, 15 May 2012 11:28:00 -0600where i went<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3xqc8VmUZ1r4rx59o1_500.jpg"/><br/><br/><p>Craving tomato bread drizzled with good oil and smothered with thick slices of <em><strong>Jamón ibérico….</strong></em></p>http://heritageartifacts.com/post/22936040275http://heritageartifacts.com/post/22936040275Sat, 12 May 2012 18:21:00 -0600what I eat