Christina Waters

Maybe it’s just me, but it’s going to take more than three bright green patio umbrellas and a glut of signage to convince me that Mex-Italian cuisine is a sound idea.

When a restaurant, for all the good will in the world, is consistently empty….it might occur to the management that “it’s the concept, stupid.”

Cupcake freaks (you know who you are) will want to check out the luscious array of cupcakes on offer at Starz‘ new outlet. It’s inside the Yogizmo located at 1717 Mission Street (next to Avanti).

Imagine getting to wrap your mouth around cupcakes, made-from-scratch, totally decadent —even the non-sugar ones, and the gluten-free ones. Here’s the “Elvis” - a sweet, creamy tribute to bananas and butter.

Yes we all know that the world is scheduled to bite the dust on the 21st of December, 2012 (according to those playful Maya astronomers).

Better sit down for this one.

Combining the edgy visuals of comic cult legend Charles Burns and the micro-brews of Seattle’s Elysian Brewing Company, a series of twelve beers will be released on the 21st of each month in 2012 featuring the uneasy label artwork of Burns and the well, unusual herbs, spices and rare yeasts used by the Elysian brewmasters.

January will bring the release of Nibiru, named for the mystery planet beloved of conspiricists the world over. See for yourself.

A spectacular presentation of pan-roasted black cod utterly festooned with spun daikon, carrots and cucumbers, and sauced with soy, mirin, sake and mustard. The secret weapon was home-grown red chiles and cilantro, plus caramelized garlic and shallots.

Where did I dine?  At the home of Steve Spill, a home chef willing to tackle just about anything.

Here’s a vintage portrait of the highly independent woman whose fruitcake recipe I used, with much variation, in my own recent effort.

According to her niece, Lisa Jensen, this portrait of Anna Augusta Kirstine Jensen was taken in 1920 or 1921, “when Chris would be 18 or 19 years old.”

Her fruitcake heyday happened much later, when she retired to Hermosa Beach, California.

Thanks Aunt Chris!

This was how the Magdalene must have felt, anointing the body with precious spices and elixirs, carefully wrapping it in clean linens before placing it in the cool dark place where it would wait—preserved and guarded—until its ultimate appointment with destiny.

As I watched my fruitcakes slowly cooling on their racks, the mythic significance suddenly hit me. Since the dawn of time, women’s hands had carefully wrapped such precious bodies—in some cases a dead loved one, in others a symbolic cake—the bearer of costly ingredients, memories and hopes for the future.

All such creations were intended to undergo a transformation. To wait until the moment when they would grace the center of the ceremonial table. I considered how many hearths, through how many centuries, had witnessed this preparation.

Mixing the ingredients of two bowls (there was just too much to manage in a single bowl) laden with chopped figs, More…

David Kinch - guru-in-charge of Manresa.

Read the GQ piece here.

Kudos David!

When my sister and I were little, we would make the annual trek to Aunt Mariana and Uncle Doodle’s house for a holiday visit. Aunt Mariana would reach up high into her pantry and take down the fruitcake we were forced to eat each Christmas.

My sister and I would politely taste a forkful of this brown crumbly creation studded with eerily bright red and green fruits. We would take one bite and then cover the remaining bits with our napkins. Reading each other’s minds we would both think, “yes, but where’s the frosting?”

Children hate fruitcake. But many decades later, those early negative impressions were replaced by a romantic afternoon’s experience, on a rainy October day looking out over Lake Como, consuming the local fig and nut cake washed down by grappa. What a difference time (and grappa and a romantic companion) can make.

This season —after years of building a fan base on two coasts for my labor-intensive Christmas cookies—I’ve decided to wade into deeper, more mythic culinary territory. Yes, I’m making fruitcake this year. More…

Little did I know that I would grow up to consume a breakfast liquid that closely resembles industrial effluent, or rain forest mud mixed with compost.

But I do. And I love this stuff. It’s loaded with carrot, celery, cucumber, collard greens, kale and parsley. It’s organic. It’s delicious in a strange manner that quickly becomes addictive. Bursting with anti-oxidants, magnesium, lutein and other de rigueur minerals, this fabulous morning cocktail will positively eradicate all memories of mere orange juice.

Plus it helps balance your pH, which if I’m not mistaken is probably much more acidic than it should be. It runs somewhere in the neighborhood of $3 and it will change your attitude about waking up.

Actually, it could be about any packaged product on the market today. The incredible shrinking product.

It started with the size of the cardboard roll inside toilet paper rolls.  The cardboard cylinder is noticeably (i.e. MUCH) wider in diameter than it used to be. This means the manufacturer can put less actual product (toilet paper) on the cardboard roll. BUT it will look the same size from the outside. It isn’t. It’s less toilet paper. More air, less product.

But I really went ballistic when More…