I’m a beer girl. I always have been. Not to say I don’t appreciate a nice glass of wine, or a well mixed cocktail; but when it comes down to it, a pilsner in a cold glass is always going to be my go-to drink. At the start of the year I attended an Oakland Urban Path walk through the area of town once known as Brooklyn. I learned that Oakland has a history full of lagers and porters. From Oakland Brewery to the longstanding Golden West, our town was overflowing with producers of “steam beer.” Sadly, this part of our history fizzled out completely in the 1960’s as doors were closed and buildings were demolished. 50+ years later it is coming back. Linden Street Brewery carved the way, with respect for the working man roots of our past. Paying homage to old favorites, and reviving Oakland’s brew laden past, with a modern twist.
Local
It’s a little white lie to call this Irish soda bread. Any true Irishman or Irishwoman will tell you that a traditional Irish soda bread is strictly flour, buttermilk, baking soda, and salt. There is even a whole website dedicated to the preservation of traditional recipes. In Ireland, you will often see it simply referred to as “brown bread”. As the rest of the world strives to honor the Irish on the day chosen to celebrate St. Patrick, many of us have taken the traditional and gussied it up. We owe Ireland an apology. I tried to stick to the classic version, I really did. However, my tendency to complicate things took over; my desire to do justice to the lovely sample of local flour I had been given by Community Grains got the better of me. So here sits a whole wheat Irish soda bread done my way; with a touch of honey, a shaving of butter, currants soaked in Irish whiskey, and chewy apricots scattered throughout. To the Irish, I say I am sorry.
My hike through Oakland’s Dimond Canyon last week put me in a melancholy mood. It was unexpected. Walking the amazing trails of our urban wildlands is one of the things I love and appreciate about Oakland; it’s how I decompress and unwind. Getting over to Dimond Canyon had been on my local bucket list for quite some time; I have not walked the trail along Sausal Creek for as long as I can remember. It had been on my mind since I had heard of a local documentary being screened around town, Trailhead. After a couple of recent trips into the Oakmore neighborhood, crossing over the canyon on the historical Leimert Bridge, I was inspired to move it to the top of my list. It coincided perfectly with a screening of Trailhead I was able to attend last Thursday. So Friday morning, I was able to spend some time exploring the area, and my concern with how it’s being treated arose.
I love pizza, I always have and I always will. I also believe that pizza can be part of a healthy and whole food lifestyle, I have proven that over the past year. My memory is filled with pizza related anecdotes. I used to wait tables at an iconic pizza shop off the Syracuse University campus where the owner slung doughs in the window for 40 years. I have eaten classic versions on the piazzas of Italy. I’ve grinned watching my son eat half a margherita at Boot & Shoe Service. I’ve had my eyes opened wide by squid, cherry tomatoes, and aioli on a version at Pizzaiolo. I have sipped a beer while eating kale & pancetta with my kids at Jules Thin Crust, pointing out the animals in the pictures draped across the walls. All these memories connect pizza to my heart and put a smile on my face. When I heard about a group of local Oakland guys bringing half-baked artisan pizzas to the doorsteps of our neighborhoods, I knew I had to give Pizza Matador a try.
Today is February 26th, there are 3 days left before March arrives. I have spent just about every day this month thinking, researching, and then overthinking how to honor Black History Month. We live in a city of diversity, a city famous for its role in our country’s African American history. As an Oakland native and voice representing things I love about Oakland, I knew Oakland’s critical role in black history was an important topic which I was excited to tackle. However, I struggled with how to do it “correctly”.
There is something nostalgic about a cafe tucked into the back corner of a local market. It feels reminiscent of times when the local general store offered a lunch counter to stop and enjoy a quick bite, or a fountain shop to grab a scoop or two. Grocery shopping used to be less of a chore, but part of a daily routine; taking time to grab ingredients for the evening meal, saying hello to neighbors, stopping for a cup of coffee. So many cultures around the world still treat shopping this way. I think of grocery shopping as a tedious task I try to get through as fast as I can. As our culture sees a shift towards local, sustainable, organic, and small producers, a secondary movement is taking hold, reviving the corner market in an refreshing way. Just across the historic Leimert Bridge in the Oakmore Neighborhood of Oakland, Rocky’s Market is a great example of this shift; and just past the produce aisle, Two Local Girls is a wonderful and inviting addition.
Staircases serve a purpose. They get us from one level to another in our homes; from one floor to another in a building. They can be short or long, curved or straight, steep or gradual. Some of us use then by choice, some of us head straight for an elevator if its available. I have a love/hate relationship with stairs. I am not a fan of uphill climbing :o) The strenuous monotony that comes with putting one foot in front of the other on a steep set of stairs doesn’t typically appeal to me. However, the nostalgic notion of hidden outdoor staircases tucked in our cities hillsides, leftover from a time of streetcar suburbia, was enough motivation to get me in the car early in the morning on the President’s Day holiday. The combination of the beautiful weather, the sights, smells and sounds of spring, and the lovely hillside setting was enough to keep me moving. It was even enough to turn me around at the bottom to head back to the top.
Double Batch of Love Found at Mother’s Cookies…Part 2
Continuing my romantic and nostalgic tribute to Mother’s Cookies today with a sweet filled trip down memory lane to recreate my favorite types of Mother’s Cookies in my own kitchen. My floor is specked with rainbow sprinkles, my counters are a bit sticky with white icing, and my shoulders are a bit tight. As I mentioned in Part 1 of my Mother’s Cookies love story, I have a hard time letting things go. I was determined to try my hand at these iconic favorites. So, when my daughter went down for her nap today I got to work and brought them to life, in my own way.