Street Food Market Comes to the San Diego Public Market

Did you absolutely love Taste of the Market? Did you (for shame!) miss it? Well, no matter, here's another opportunity to be wowed by our new Public Market and wowed by San Diego's and Baja's best chefs, who are turning to the streets for culinary inspiration.

Yes, come to Street Food Market on Sunday, March 24th, from 6 to 8 p.m. at the San Diego Public Market in Barrio Logan. Chefs Andrew Spurgin and Melissa Mayer are teaming up again to create a playful, energetic culinary fiesta featuring authentic street food, craft beers and cocktails, and all that makes up street market theater. We're talking chickens, goats, bicyclists, car clubs, street dancers, musicians, Lucha Libre, street art, chess, and much more--all under one crazy roof.

Chefs Andrew Spurgin, Chad White, and Melissa Mayer. Photo by Maribel Mareno

So, who's joining the party? The list keeps growing but let's start with:

Javier Plascencia - Misión 19 | Erizo Baja Fish House & Market | Romesco
Miguel Angel Guerrero – El Taller | La Querencia
Mirta Rodriguez – Mariscos Ruben
Sabina Bandera Gonzáles - La Guerrerense
Kevin Ho and Juan Miron - MIHO’s Stand and Deliver
Jason Knibb – NINE–TEN
Diego Hernandez – El Corazón
Hanis Cavin - Carnitas’ Snack Shack
Chad White - Plancha Baja Med
Jeff Jackson & Jennifer Costa – A. R. Valentien
Jack Fisher – Cucina Urbana | Jack Fisher Confections
Ricardo Heredia - Alchemy
Hector Casanova - Casanova Fish Tacos
Craig Jimenez - KAEN Noodles
Flor Franco - Indulge
Noriyoshi Teruya – Sora
Donald Coffman – Culinary Concepts
Dawn Parks - Wild Thyme
Matt Gordon – Urban Solace | Sea & Smoke
Antonio Friscia – Gaijin Noodle & Sake House
Shihomi Borillo – Azuki Sushi
Lisa Altman – Viva Pops
Ryan Studebaker – The Hopping Pig
James Rauh – The West Bean
Katie Grebow – Café Chloe | Oliver & Rose
Nathan Coulon -- True Food Kitchen

Photo by Andrew Spurgin

Between them, we'll be enjoying tacos, TJ dogs, churros and barbacoa, Salvadoran pupusas, Vietnames pho, Japanese udon and yakitori, French crepes, and food on a stick from every corner of the globe. Plus, craft beer, regional wines from California to the Guadalupe Valley, aguas frescas, and custom cocktails enhanced with ingredients from our local farms.

All this, of course, is to support our Public Market. While many of the guests will be enjoying the evening as a reward for donating to the market's Kickstarter campaign last year, there are a number of tickets available to the public, with the proceeds supporting development of the Market Kitchen--a micro-business incubator and community culinary education center at the Public Market--and the Front Burner Fund.

Early bird general admission tickets are $55 dollars. There are also $85 limited VIP tickets that offer early access, along with the all-inclusive food and alcohol also offered to general admission ticket holders. Purchase tickets now at Brown Paper Tickets.

The San Diego Public Market is located at 1735 National Ave.

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Spring Garlic with Purple Sprouting Broccoli

As I sit here writing, the weather in San Diego is cold and a bit blustery. It's the middle of February, after all. Underground, white bulbs of garlic are slowly maturing, but at Chino Farms, some of these bulbs--still slender and tender--have been harvested, perhaps to thin out the crop. They're treasured by chefs and home cooks alike, as a harbinger of spring and as a perfect ingredient for a wide spectrum of dishes that call for lighter flavoring than robust, mature garlic provides.

Spring garlic, or green garlic, look rather like green onions/scallions.

Here, you can see that they're just beginning to develop a shapely bulb. Look closely, though, and you can also see that their green stems are tougher than a scallion. Cut them off and save for flavoring stock;      you won't want to use them in a sauté.

Inside, these very young spring garlic, still haven't developed individual cloves. Check back at Chino in a few weeks and you'll see cloves just forming. And their flavor will be slightly more pungent.

Use these babies as you would mature garlic, taking into account their milder flavor. You can also substitute them for scallions or leeks. They're delicious roasted, minced into a vinaigrette, turned into a sauce or soup, or added to sautéed vegetables or a stir fry.

While I was at Chino's I also bought some vibrant purple sprouting broccoli, so last night I gently sautéed thin slices of the spring garlic in extra virgin olive oil to release the flavor, then added the trimmed broccoli with its stems and leaves, red pepper flakes, and a pinch of salt. Once the vegetables were "this close" to finished I squeezed in juice from a Meyer lemon from my garden, let the mixture caramelize a little, then took it off the heat. To get a little crunch and sweetness, I topped it off with some freeze-dried corn kernels I'd found at Savory Spice Shop in Encinitas. The result was a colorful, sweet medley of textures and flavor. Spring is coming.

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Taste of the Market: A Sampling of the Future for the Public Market

I don't usually like to write up an event after it's happened. Really, what's the point since you can't attend after the fact? But last weekend's Taste of the Market at the San Diego Public Market in Barrio Logan is the first of a number of community events coming up so if you live in San Diego and are rooting for the future of a public market here, you need to see what you may have missed so you won't make that mistake again.

On Sunday afternoon, more than 230 people ate and drank their way through the two warehouse halls that on Wednesdays and Sundays are the farmers market. But on this late afternoon, the warehouses were transformed into whimsical spaces filled with imaginative eateries created by restaurants and chefs who had been paired with local farmers and purveyors. Andrew Spurgin and Melissa Mayer, who co-chaired and coordinated Taste of the Market, each had their own little hot spots. Spurgin's Broussard's Po' Boy cafe was straight out of New Orleans and featured, what else, a fried oyster po' boy.

Mayer, on the other hand, went south of the border with a vibrant blue cantina, serving a smoked chicken torta.

The list of restaurants and chefs just goes on and on. Plus, there were vendors you'd usually see at the farmers market--Suzie's Farm, Nicolau Farm (chèvre), Cardamom Bakery, Jennywenny Cakes, Viva Pops, and SuperNatural Sandwiches among them. Below is a snapshot of a perfect culinary festival:

Dave Rudie, Tommy Gomes, and Ken Gardon of Catalina Offshore Products

Ken and his octopus salad

Chef Chad White of La Plancha Baja Med

Chad White's Apple brulee, fermeneted Julian Hard Cider vincotto, Gilbert Qunitos Farm kale, lardo, Smit Orchards apples, sesame nori gremolata

Chef Craig Jimenez of Roseville Cozinha and colleagues. He made a luscious goat cheese ravioli (sourced from Nicolau Farms)

Snake Oil Cocktail's Michael Esposito, Andrew Spurgin, and Public Market co-founder Dale Steele

Jenny Williams of Jenny Wenny Cakes

Joanne Squires-Sherif of Cardamom Bakery & Cafe

Katie Grebow of Cafe Chloe

Gina Frieze of Venissimo topping off a slice of Bread & Cie baguette loaded with Gina's house-made ricotta 

Salumi, cheese, and bread: a collaboration that is the goal for Pete Balistreri, Venissimo, and Bread & Cie at the Public Market

Pete Balistreri of Tender Greens and P Balistreri Salumi

Alchemy's Ricardo Heredia and his pig from Da-Le Ranch

The Blind Burro's Sara Polczynski making these beautiful veggie tacos below

Tony Nguyen and SuperNatural Sandwiches' variation on their Harpy sandwich

George's at the Cove's Trey Foshee and (below) his  slow-roasted Maciel carrot salad 

The Red Door and The Wellington's Trish Watlington and Chef Miguel Valdez with their seared local yellowtail over pumpkin uni bisque

Hurray for Viva Pops!

As I said, this was just the first of the big market events the Public Market will be holding, according to market maestra, Catt White.

The next Taste of the Market will take place on March 24th, and, says, White, "will be a celebration of our ethnic diversity, with chefs showing off Japanese, Filipino, and Chinese specialties, German sausage, tastes from Tijuana, and more, teamed with local farmers for ingredients, of course."

Between now and then they'll be hosting a movie night with local chefs' takes on snack food. As White says, "Think popcorn, hot dogs, and Junior Mints kicked way up." The tentative date is March 8.

All this, of course, is hand-in-hand in anticipation of the market going full time in spring or summer, with permanent stalls and artisan cheese making, salumi curing, a tortilleria, coffee roasting, and baking on premises. Indeed, the proceeds from ticket sales at Taste of the Market are going toward the development of the Market Kitchen, a commissary kitchen for vendors and micro-businesses that will also feature community education classes on cooking and nutrition.

So, really, pencil in the next dates on your calendar. This was just the first of many special public events at our Public Market. You'll want to be there.



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Charred Meyer Lemon Chutney with Chef Pablo Ibarra

Virtually every talented chef has their version of a Dr. Watson, Sancho Panza, and Alice B. Toklas at their side. It's usually the chef de cuisine or sous chef. At San Diego's Terra, over in the College area, chef/owner Jeff Rossman mentors and has come to rely on 23-year-old sous chef Pablo Ibarra, who has worked at Terra for three years, starting out in the pantry.

Pablo Ibarra (l) and Jeff Rossman (r)

A native San Diegan, Ibarra comes honestly to professional cooking. His dad is a longtime corporate chef. And, he says, his mom is a very good home cook of traditional Mexican dishes. Ibarra was quick to then say that he isn't into cooking Mexican food, preferring a more global, gourmet approach in the kitchen. His ambition took him to National Culinary School, from which he graduated four years ago. And he was among a dozen young San Diego chefs awarded a scholarship in 2012 from the Chef Celebration Scholarship Foundation to go to the Culinary Institute of America's Greystone campus in Napa for a week to attend special intensive courses.

"It was an amazing experience," he recalls. "I visited farms, learned sous vide techniques, some molecular gastronomy techniques, and concentrated on sauces." Ibarra is now experimenting with gastriques, a syrupy reduction of caramelized sugar and vinegar to which he's bringing in other flavors like mango and honey.

The afternoon I visited with Ibarra at Terra, the lunch service was winding down and he was concentrating on writing the evening's specials menu. Ibarra is big on seafood, especially fish, which was apparent in his list of dishes: dill salmon mouse, coriander seared albacore, golden sea bass with a porcini crust, and white sea bass marinated in lemongrass. What caught my eye as he showed me his handwritten notes was the planned accompaniment to the albacore, charred Meyer lemon chutney. I'm a fool for Meyer lemons, and have two dwarf trees in my garden that are heavily producing right now. When Ibarra saw my eyes light up at the chutney, he said that we could make a batch together.

One caveat--Ibarra had already made the chutney for the evening using Meyer lemons Rossman had brought in from his garden; and he had used them all. But there were still conventional Eureka lemons in the pantry. So, he tossed me a white apron, took me into the large, bustling kitchen where cooks were prepping for the evening service, and we got started.

The recipe calls for just half a dozen or so ingredients. Ibarra pulled out minced shallots, sliced green onions, some sugar and salt. He neatly cut a couple of Eureka lemons into quarter-inch slices, held each slice up to the light to track down seeds, then used fork tines to pop them out.

With that task done we headed over to the burners, passing a massive bubbling stockpot brimming with large red lobster shells and dill before we found a couple of free burners. Ibarra pulled out two beat up sauté pans, one for charring the lemons, the other for sautéing the shallots, and poured a bit of canola oil into each before firing up the burners. Once the pans got good and hot I tossed the lemon slices into one and flames shot up. Cool! Ibarra had me tossing the lemons around to get both sides blackened and sizzling while he worked the shallots, and then added the now beautifully caramelized little pieces to the charred lemons.

Then came the sugar and salt--and because we were working with Eureka's, he added a little extra lemon juice and sugar that the sweet juicy Meyers would have provided. (I can also imagine adding some chopped, sautéed chiles for heat.)

Just before removing the mixture from the heat, he tossed in the green onions. The chutney was almost done, but there was one task left: chopping up the rings of lemons. Here, you can see they're still fairly firm, but Meyer lemons would collapse. In this case you might choose leave them alone. At the restaurant, for presentation's sake, Ibarra told me even those peels get chopped.

Both versions of the chutney are terrific, yet as you'd expect, quite different. The Meyer lemon version is sweet and tart and a bit mellow, reflecting the lemon variety's thin skin and sweet juice. The Eureka lemon version has a surprisingly marvelous bitterness to it--not unlike marmalade--thanks to its thick harsh-tasting skin. I'd make either and serve it with fish--sea bass, halibut, grouper, or other meaty white fish--or pork tenderloin, or chicken. In fact, I did take some home and enjoyed it with biscotti-crusted grouper on a bed of brown basmati rice with lentils.

So, here's the recipe:

Pablo Ibarra's Charred Meyer Lemon Chutney
(printable recipe)

2 Meyer lemons, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds, seeded
2 shallots, minced
2 tablespoons green onions, sliced
1 tablespoon sugar
salt to taste
(whole grain mustard)
Canola oil

1. Add oil to sauté pan (not nonstick) and heat to high temperature. Carefully add lemon slices and cook on both sides until browned.
2. Sauté shallots in a second pan until caramelized. Add to lemons, along with sugar and salt. Once the mixture begins to turn soft, add the green onions.
3. Remove from heat and chop the lemon peels. If you want to add a little spice or boldness, you can add a teaspoon or so of whole grain mustard.

Serve with tuna, any kind of firm white fish, pork tenderloin, or chicken (or spread on toast).


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Chill Out with Home Made Winter

San Diego's tourism folks have spent a lot of time and money cultivating an anti-winter mentality for the region. We're the place you folks in the frozen hinterlands come in January and February for respite. So, back in October when I received the book Home Made Winter by Yvette van Boven ($35/Stewart, Tabori & Chang) and we were having a bit of a last-ditch heat wave, I had a hard time seeing the relevance. van Boven, a recipe writer, food stylist, culinary editor, and illustrator, is Dutch and grew up in Ireland, so naturally much of the emphasis in this book is on dishes that anyone in northern Europe would thrive on as fall segues into harsh winter. But I wasn't looking for warmth. I live it.

Then December hit and the temperatures had a freakish drop--for us. Frost warnings, highs in the upper 40s, brisk winds. Rain. We were cold. And, even now as January melds into February, the weather continues to chill and the heat in my house is still on. So I've found myself more than in the mood for some home made winter.

van Boven's cookbook follows her previous book Home Made. It's wonderfully quirky, filled with stories about her Irish and Dutch heritage, her time in France, and celebrating winter holidays. Some of the recipes appear in your standard rendition; others, like her Quince Jam with Star Anise & Cardamon, are casual illustrations, replete with arrows, little warnings, underlined emphases, and, of course, sweet drawings. There are recipes printed on brown paper and others have the typeface running alongside the side of a building. Combined with the lavish photography, mostly by her husband Oof Verschuren, that melds food porn with inviting travelogue, you truly are transported into a dreamy old world tableau. Certainly not bright and tidy suburban San Diego.

And the recipes? Many of them have very traditional Irish roots, such as Bannock bread and Flapjacks, a chewy oatmeal bar filled with butter, honey, and brown sugar. I made this recipe, adding toasted walnuts, dried fruit, and 70 percent chocolate. It's easy and it's divine.

Other recipes update traditional ones from Ireland, France, and Holland. Tartiflette with cod, a very French dish, substitutes cod for bacon and Comté cheese for Reblochon for a beautiful fish pie. There's a more traditional Daube Provençale with brisket, the Dublin Lawyer (lobster in a cream and whiskey sauce--"Because lawyers from Dublin are fat, rich, and always drunk..."), and Irish stew with lamb and Galette Des Rois. And, there are outliers--pulled pork, pizza, white chocolate and star anise mousse. And the one I'm going to try when my willpower is at its lowest ebb: Sticky Chocolate Cake in Your Coffee Mug in 3 Minutes. Unreal!

All of this is to say that even in sunny San Diego, Home Made Winter has won me over. I have recipes to turn to when the chill here is making my toes cold and my body crave hefty, warming meals. Now I'm looking forward to van Boven's next book Home Made Summer.


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Traditional Japanese Soy Sauce a Flavor Changer

Those of us who love sushi probably believe we know all there is to know about soy sauce. As in simply choosing regular or low salt. Probably Kikkoman. Then we likely absently blending it with wasabe paste so we can dunk those precious pieces of raw fish and get a rush of salt and heat.

The problem is that most of us have never actually been exposed to true artisan soy sauce, made using traditional methods of extended fermentation instead of by machine and chemicals, and having only three ingredients: soybeans, wheat, and salt. Japanese soy sauces, called shoyu in Japanese, that have been slowly fermented for months, often in cedar casks, have an altogether different flavor and texture than the synthetic ones we in the U.S. tend to experience at the neighborhood sushi bar or off a grocery store shelf. They're also different from Chinese soy sauce, which, according to Shizuo Tsuji in the classic Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art, is very salty and has a dense flavor. Japanese soy sauces, he explains, have a relatively bright taste and aroma, and tend to be sweeter and less salty since they use far more wheat. They're also thinner in texture and clearer in color than Chinese-style sauces.

And those synthetic soy sauces? First, the manufacturing process cuts the natural brewing time of four to six months to develop flavor down to three to four days. And, instead of natural ingredients, you get hydrolized vegetable protein and hydrocholoric acid to get the chemical reaction going. Plus caramel and corn syrup is added for coloring and flavor. The result is a thick, black sauce often sold under a Chinese-sounding name. So, yes, check the label before you toss a bottle into your shopping cart next time. You'd be surprised. (As a side note, Kikkoman's soy sauces are made with the three traditional ingredients and is, according to author Tsuji, quite dependable, with the correct flavor and quality for cooking Japanese dishes--compared with Chinese type soy sauces or the chemical versions.)

Years ago, my friend Mineko Moreno, who teaches Japanese cooking locally, got me hooked on traditional soy sauces. She explained that these are sauces intended for dipping, not cooking--much like high quality olive oil. You want to experience the flavors of the soy sauce, not bury them in a Chinese stir fry or soup or other cooking preparation.

"I always tell my students that soy sauces like these should be used where the true taste of the soy sauce shines," she told me. On a tour of Nijiya Market, she pointed out several and I have been enjoying one made by Chiba Shoyu called Shimousa Shoyu.

Usually soy sauces are considered light (usukuchi) or dark (koikushi). Dark is more commonly used (think your basic Kikkoman). It has a deeper brown color and greater body, is less salty and used more expansively, say in marinades, to baste meats, and for simmering. Light soy sauce, on the other hand, is more caramel colored, clearer and thinner in consistency, and much saltier and more intense in flavor. So it's used more sparingly. Because it will darken over time once the bottle is opened, buy small amounts to use up more quickly.

I recently received two bottles of traditional soy sauces from the large Mitsuwa Marketplace grocery chain. Among their stores is one near me in the Kearny Mesa neighborhood of San Diego. They also  have an online store which sells a greater variety of products, such as these artisan soy sauces.

Indeed, these sauces are alive with flavor. I opened the bottle of Marushima's Kijyouyu Washi and took a whiff. What struck me was how much it reminded me of a good sherry. Because it's fermented, you get a slightly alcoholic sugary rush--even though it contains neither alcohol nor sugar. The flavor, though, is round and deep, matching the deep color of the liquid. It is the essence of umami, that hard to describe fifth taste.

According to the notes I had from Mitsuwa, Marushima has been brewing soy sauce for over 400 years, using organically grown Marudai soy beans. It's handmade and additive free.

Then I opened the Ohara Hisakichi Yuasa. It comes from the city of Yuasa in the Wakayama Prefecture, which is said to be the birthplace of Japanese soy sauce, dating back to the 1600s. This soy sauce also gets a long fermentation time, giving it plenty of umami. It's a little lighter than the Kijyouyu Washi, and I found it much saltier.

This led me to think I had both light and dark shoyus, but it turns out that while the brands both make light and dark varieties, these two are what could be described as medium--or all purpose.

For both, be sure to refrigerate them after opening. You can mix them with a little sesame oil and and seasoned rice vinegar to create a dipping sauce. You can enjoy them blended into a bowl of rice, most typically with a raw egg. This combination creates tamago kake gohan, a popular Japanese breakfast dish. Of course, as my friend Mineko notes, "Never pour any soy sauce over a bowl of rice. It is considered very bad manners. You can add soy sauce to an egg, mix and pour onto the rice, but don't pour it directly on the rice."

Mineko also suggests using the good stuff as an accompaniment for sashimi, adding a few dots on a beautiful cold tofu dish, or brushing it on grilled scallops for a finishing touch.

"I love good soy sauce," she says. "They give such a pleasure to the dish. It's also a lovely gift for a person who enjoys good food."

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Tofu Shirataki Noodles to the Rescue

Every since I was diagnosed almost two years ago with Type 2 diabetes I've said goodbyes to a host of high-carb foods. At the top of the list? Pizza and pasta. I've never been a huge pizza fan, although I've had my moments. But pasta? That was devastating. I've found some good whole wheat pastas but they still tend to raise my blood sugar so I don't eat them often. It can be frustrating to crave something so basic and have the no be so resounding so when I stumbled across shirataki noodles I hoped I'd hit pay dirt.

Shirataki noodles--the original version--are made with yam flour and have negligible carbs. For those who are gluten free, they're perfect for you, too.

I headed over to Mitsuwa Marketplace, which is the largest of the Japanese supermarket chains in San Diego and found myself dizzy with possibilities. Not only are there several brands with several choices of shirataki noodles (which are wet and in the refrigerated section of the market, near kimchi and tofu), but there's a whole other choice you can make--tofu shirataki, made with tofu and water with a little yam flour. And these, made by a company called House Foods, are going the extra distance with varieties in shapes like spaghetti, angel hair, macaroni, and fettuccine. Crazy! They also have no cholesterol, 0.5 grams of fat per serving, are extremely low in sodium, and are all of 20 calories per serving.

Now are they truly like wheat noodles in terms of flavor and texture? No. Let's not make them into something they're not. But if, like me, you've been craving traditional pasta and simply can't have it this is not a bad substitute. You can add them to soup; mix them up with vegetables, olive oil, and Parmesan cheese; make mac and cheese; or, as I did with my package of macaroni, add them to turkey chile.

The noodles have a distinct odor to them, acknowledged in the package's preparation directions. But all you need to do is rinse them under water, put them in a bowl, and heat them in the microwave for--get this--a minute. The smell goes away and you have warm noodles with a bit of chew to them and a neutral flavor. Ready for pretty much anything for which you'd use regular pasta.

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