Intoxicated by Buddha’s Hand

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Forgive me if I’m a little tipsy as I tipe, er, type.

Remember that gnarly looking fruit that my friend Damian grew? That yellow citrus fruit that’s a dead-ringer for a sea amenomee, uh, anenome…um, you know what I mean? Yes, that Buddha’s hand that he gave me in January? Surely, you remember my post on that unusual gift.

You can probably guess what I made from it, after seeing the photo above with the bottle of Everclear lurking dangerously in the background. Yup, Buddha-cello. A version of the classic Italian liqueur, limoncello, but with Buddha’s hand rather then lemons.

After heeding some useful advice about making limoncello from Lisa at Learning To Eat and Hedonia — (I think it was them. I dunno any more. My mind isn’t so good now.) — I set off for BevMo to buy my first bottle of Everclear.

My husband says he remembers stirring up punch with this stuff at college frat parties. I wonder how he’s still walking now, let alone how he managed to graduate.

To say this stuff is strong is an understatement.  It’s P-O-T-E-N-T! It’s natural grain alcohol that’s 151 proof or 75.5 percent alcohol. Cough, cough. Good gawd.

Limoncello afficionados swear it makes a far superior product than mere vodka, because it has a more neutral taste and can therefore better absorb the flavor of the citrus that’s being infused.

Nothing but the best for my Buddha’s hand, I say. So I toted home a 750ml bottle, hoping it wouldn’t spontaneously combust  in my car on the ride home. Hey, ya never know.

In my kitchen, I set about taking apart my Buddha’s hand, which is definitely more work than just zesting a lemon. You have to cut off the individual fingers, then zest each one separately.

Into a sterilized glass jar went the zest, the entire bottle of Everclear, and the seeds from half a vanilla bean pod. Once the lid was secured, I set the jar on a back counter and waited.

It didn’t take long. In only about two days’ time, the once clear alcohol had taken on a deep yellow color.

After six weeks, I whipped up some simple syrup by heating 1/3 cup water with 1/4 cup sugar. Once the simple syrup cooled, I added it to the jar, along with 2 cups of vodka to help mellow the mixture. Then I set the jar back on the counter and waited again.

Two weeks later, I strained the mixture, then decanted it into bottles, which I stuck into the freezer so they would reach the optimal frosty temperature to enjoy my Buddha-cello.

Then, I poured a little into a shot glass and took a sip.

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Chicken and Waffles in An Alley in San Francisco

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Psst…I can hook you up with a fix at a good price.

Primo stuff, too, bro.

This way. Come on. Come on. Down this alley.

In San Francisco, if someone beckons you down an alley like that, don’t be afraid. They’re just leading the way to Little Skillet, a lunchtime walk-up window serving Southern-style fried chicken and waffles that is indeed located in an alley.

Little Skillet, 360 Ritch St. (at Townsend between 3rd and 4th streets), a short drive from the W San Francisco, is an offshoot of Farmer Brown restaurant in San Francisco.

The to-go window is open Monday through Saturday, 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Get in line, then place your order for fried chicken, waffles, “BBQ pork sandwich,” Cobb salad, or Red Velvet cupcakes.

If you’re lucky, you can take your cardboard box of goodness to enjoy at the lone bench on the sidewalk in front of the window. Or do what most people do — grab a foam cushion from a stack nicely provided at the condiment stand — and cross the street to take a seat on a loading dock to chow down on your grub. Packages of wet ones also are conveniently available to clean your hands afterward.

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Get Ready for Star Chefs & Vintners Gala in San Francisco

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It’s time to pull out that glittery cocktail dress and bespoke dark suit to mingle with celeb chefs, stuff yourself silly with gourmet food and drink, and help a worthwhile cause.

The 23rd Annual Star Chefs & Vintners Gala is the place to be on May 16, when more than 70 top Northern California chefs will converge on Fort Mason’s Festival Pavilion, a short hop from the Fairmont Heritage Place.

Chef Nancy Oakes of the esteemed Boulevard restaurant in San Francisco, returns as gala chef chairperson, to enlist the culinary skills of such chefs as Mourad Lahlou of Aziza in San Francisco, Staffan Terjer of Perbacco in San Francisco, Richard Reddington of Redd in Yountville, and Chris Cosentino of Incanto in San Francisco.

More than 75 leading vintners also will be pouring wines, including J Vineyards and Frog’s Leap Winery.

The evening starts with a walk-around reception, featuring creations at stations manned by more than 30 chefs and vintners. Afterward, enjoy a three-course, sit-down dinner, with each course prepared by one of 27 different chefs.

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A Delicious Mother’s Day Remembrance

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My Mom was like the Chinese-American June Cleaver.

For those of you too young to remember the 1960’s black-and-white television comedy, “Leave It to Beaver,” actress Barbara Billingsley played Mrs. Cleaver, a devoted wife in suburbia, caring for her hard-working husband, and two sons — the elder, Wally, and the younger, mischievous, Theodore “Beaver” Cleaver.

No matter what scrapes Beaver got into, Mrs. Cleaver never had a hair out of place.

And no matter if she was just vacuuming or tidying up the house, June Cleaver was always decked out immaculately in a fitted shirt, bouffant skirt, heels, and pearls.

My late-Mom may not have gone that far. But she was close.

My cousin Gary jokes that at a family barbecue at his house years ago, where everyone else turned up in T-shirts, jeans, shorts or chinos, there was my Mom — in a smart skirt and blouse ensemble, with a jade bracelet on her wrist.

There were no “Casual Fridays” back when she was working, so this was my Mom’s uniform, so to speak, whether she was at work at her office in San Francisco, or chatting with visiting relatives in her living room at home.

Even when she did housework, my Mom dressed in a simple shift, with buttons down the front or a zipper up the back, which she often had sewed, herself.

The idea of sweats or shorts on the weekends never entered her imagination. I don’t recall her wearing a pair of jeans. Nope, not ever.

In fact, I rarely even saw her in slacks. I think she only owned a pair or two. And they came out of the closet only to be packed in a suitcase when she and my Dad would take a cruise.

I look at old snapshots of her now and that’s the Mom that I see. Graceful, delicate, dainty, and neat as a pin.

Which is why whenever I make her dish of “Prawns with Pork and Black Bean Sauce,” I can’t help but smile, because it’s a bit messy.

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Ma(i)sonry in Yountville — Not Your Typical Tasting Room

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Are you so over those crowded winery tasting rooms caught in a time-warp with that tired,  faux Mediterranean look?

Then, step inside a very different kind of tasting room at Ma(i)sonry in Yountville (just a block from the French Laundry), where I was invited to take a tour recently.

The historic, stone building that was once a private home is decorated with giant, glittering bird’s nest-like metal light fixtures, vintage Louis Vuitton suitcases, and modern, hefty acrylic tables by Alexandra von Furstenberg (yes, the former daughter-in-law of fashion designer Diane). Practically everything is for sale in this eclectic gallery and wine tasting collective.

There are two small tasting rooms inside, each outfitted with a table and chairs. Feeling parched on a sunny afternoon, the hubster and I took a seat in the  courtyard, an artsy oasis with a fire pit, carved stone pears and pigeon sculptures. At a massive wood table decorated with a bust of Einstein, we kicked back with a flight of Blackbird Vineyards wines, made by Ma(i)sonry’s owner, financial planner-turned-vintner, Michael Polenske.

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