After plating for 250

Off-premise catering is hard work, especially weddings.  Please don’t misunderstand, I love my work.  I have done quite a few things in this life to bring me to the place where I work for myself, doing something I love; preparing beautiful food for life’s celebrations.  There is nothing in the world like working with a couple to perfectly match food and presentation to their cultural heritages, personal tastes and aspirations for this special day.  Often times, this means bringing the celebration to places where someone would not ordinarily go to enjoy a meal, which leads me to the point of this discussion.  We, as caterers, recreate an incredible dining experience for each and every client, and we make it look easy.

The wedding industry is a multi-million dollar machine today.  Just take a glance at all the glossy magazines, blogs and websites that provide inspiration to the newly engaged bride-to-be.  Catering is just on piece in the puzzle of planning and executing the “perfect” wedding celebration.  Some of the talented professionals that come together to create a wedding are wedding planners and coordinators, caterers, floral designers, musicians, artists, videographers, photographers, entertainers and bakers.  Today’s bride must budget for all of these services in order to match the dream weddings as portrayed in the media.  Each takes a slice of the pie both financially and emotionally.

Caterers are magicians and miracle workers at heart.  We often find our way to the business through being exceptional hosts; planning and executing parties of our own that make our guests feel loved and indulged, as if every element of the event was planned for them alone.  We must be creative, but intuitive, quietly figuring out exactly what would delight our guests and clients.  When we execute large and complex events, no one sees what goes on behind the scenes, before, after and during the party itself, to allow this magic to manifest.  We make it look easy.

One of my colleagues, Dine by Design, described what we do in a recent blog post (http://dinebydesign.squarespace.com/imported-20111031231628/2012/2/19/why-it-costs-what-it-costs.html) detailing a day in the life of an off-premise caterer.  The underlying reality of this narrative is not only what we accomplish, but that we make it look easy.  And by making it look easy, we make our value proposition very hard to sell.  A floral designer can show photographs of intricate and exquisite décor, each component having specific, demonstrable value.  No one can go to Costco or Traders Joe’s and duplicate what they provide.  Anyone who has tried to take photographs with their phone cannot deny what a professional photographer is worth.  A good wedding coordinator knows every perfect venue, vendor and detail that is unique to their geography and speciality.  No one is going to find those things using Google on a Saturday afternoon.  Anyone who has gone to karaoke night knows the value of a professional musician and what that adds to their event.

Caterers, on the other hand, compete on a different playing field.  Food, quite often good food, is something many people enjoy on a daily basis.  They can prepare it at home, buy it to take out, enjoy it in a restaurant, or sample it at a party when prepared by family and friends.  On the surface, it seems like a pretty simple proposition.  I can’t say how many times, after presenting a menu that has taken hours to research and develop for a couple, I am confronted by the opinion that “…we could do this a lot cheaper ourselves.”  When we sell a proposal, we offer tastes of our food, many times at no charge (which is another topic altogether), photographs of our food, and testimonials from others who have enjoyed our food.  We neglect to sell our prospective clients on what is required in order to integrate this food into their wedding celebration.  Perhaps we need to show before and after photographs of the “back of the house” at their wedding site.  Or of the prep cooks scooping and forming the 800+ mini crab cakes their guests will enjoy from the service staff’s passing trays during cocktail hour.  Heaven forbid we show them photographs of the towering racks of dishes and glassware in the dishwashing station, sorted and rinsed to go back to the rental company, long after the last guest has departed.

Instead, we sell them on the beautiful photos and video (if we are lucky enough to get them during the event) of the finished product.  Perfectly garnished trays of passed appetizers, bountiful and inviting buffets, fun and exciting chef stations and exquisite plates dropped magically in front of each of their guests by a smiling server.  It is no wonder we have difficulty “justifying” the cost of our services.

I am not advocating that we take away the magic.  I am suggesting that we do a more complete job of telling the story of what we do.  The only picture a prospective bride gets of a caterer is that reflected in the wedding media.  Since we usually represent one of the largest pieces of the budget pie, a lot of column inches are devoted to getting the best value out of your caterer.  We as an industry must do our part to explain the complex package of products and services we provide.  Only in this way will our prospective clients really understand the value of what they are purchasing.  This also means resisting the temptation to give away what we do for free.  Whether it is setting a fee for tastings (usually applied to the total event cost if booked), refusing to provide a no-cost overage guarantee, avoiding adding in items and services as an incentive to book with us rather than our competition and truly assigning a value in our own minds for the magic we perform.  If we don’t believe we are worth the money, how can we convince our clients?

Let’s be proud of what we do.  A good magician is able to convey the complexity and difficulty of their performance without giving away their secrets.  Today, I plan to challenge myself to tell the story of what I do in such a way that the prospective client is intrigued, curious and a little bit awed.  To be sure, I will make it look amazing, fabulous and magical, but I will try not to make it look easy.

The value of good service.

I have recently been put in the position of assessing value. Not necessarily dollar value, but the value of intangible benefits like service, honesty, loyalty, fairness, empathy and commitment. Is it any wonder that these attributes are often referred to as a person’s or a company’s values?

After over fifty years of life, if there is one thing I have learned. There is great value in being true to your values. I have seen mentors and colleagues, competitors and rivals come and go, but the sole constant has been those people who have embraced their values and remained aligned with them, no matter the cost in dollars. I have seen many exchange personal values for the value of a dollar, the value of celebrity, the value of “winning,” often with unanticipated longer term costs. Today, I choose not to alter our core values for the sake of today’s fashion.

When I chose to leave the security of a traditional job and found a company, the calculation of intangible social values was part of the business planning process. Call it idealistic, but I wanted to run a company that valued people over profit. Not to say that profit is not essential. We define the three E’s of sustainability as Environment, social Equity and Economics. Without all three being in balance, nothing is being sustained. The economy is the value “ceiling” I am bumping my head up against today. I have found that the personal and social values of my company compete with our economic value. Competition in our industry is harsh; the price tag for what we do is high. The emotional quotient of what we provide is often off the charts for many of our customers. Buying decisions are sometimes based on little or no information about the person with whom you will be doing business. Competitors will use every trick in the book to win the business, and I must ask myself if I want to let them define the rules of engagement. Am I satisfied with what business comes my way based on our company’s core values? Is the business economically sustainable if I continue to rank our core values higher than the need to compete? Do our customers and potential customer share our core values and are they important enough to them to be part of their buying decision? Tough questions without easy answers, and yet they must be addressed.

It is much easier to speak of our core values. The value of service; in our industry, it is essential. Yet who defines good service? We are traditionalists. If a customer barely notices our staff’s role in their successful event, then we have provided exceptional service. Exceptional service does not mean saying “yes” to everything. When we receive a gratuity for our service, we know we have delivered on our promise. Some competitors take the decision out of the customers’ hands and add a “service charge” to their proposal. We believe that it is essential that this feedback mechanism remain in the hands of the customer, and not be assumed as rightful compensation. Yet for those customers who do not share this value, our position is confusing at best and an opportunity to bypass an additional cost at worst. In spite of this, we value our staff and pay a wage that takes this into consideration, sometimes adding a gratuity for their efforts from our own pockets.

The value of honesty is intrinsically tied to the value of service. We are often placed in a position where we have to tell a customer “no,” sometimes when the customer does not want to hear that response. We will not directly or indirectly withhold the truth from a customer or potential customer in order to influence their buying decision. We bring up potential issues with a customer in the beginning of the process, knowing that if we do not, they will inevitably surface at a later time, rendering us unable to fulfill the customers’ expectations. We also do not subscribe to the industry-wide practice of soliciting testimonials. This is not to say we do not maintain or value references and praise from our happy customers. But we do not “encourage” them to publicly proclaim our virtue. The quality of our work must stand on its own right. This also often puts us at a disadvantage when our potential customers look to public forums for feedback on our work.

Loyalty is a value we hold high. When we commit to working with a customer, that customer is assured that they receive 100% of our time and attention while we are working on their event. Despite the temptation to book multiple events in a single weekend or even a single day, we remain true to our commitment to the customer who booked with us first. My grandmother used to say, “…dance with who you brung (sic)…” and this holds true. Each event we do is an ongoing relationship with that customer, and it is extremely important for that customer to trust that we are there for them, even when the going gets rough. This is a value we have found to be important to many of our customers, and it has paid us back time and time again. Our desire to exceed our customers’ expectations means we cannot allow ourselves to be spread too thin. Our customers’ expectation is that we are committed to their event, and only their event, and it is important to us to honor that commitment.

Fairness and commitment are also tied to loyalty. Decisions in our company are based on the principle of considering all stakeholders; be they customers, staff, colleagues or our family members. Most importantly, these decisions are also based on what is fair and equitable in terms of our own quality of life. If we chose to, we could be booked with multiple events over all fifty-two weekends of the calendar year. However, this is not the reason I abandoned the corporate catering business and founded our company here on the Mendocino Coast. After over twenty-five years in the business world, I choose to value my own time and quality of life. Do my customers understand and embrace this? Likely they do not, nor do I expect them to do so. However, if I am stressed, exhausted, frantic or otherwise out of balance in my personal life, I cannot deliver exceptional service to my customers, and in the end the business suffers. As a sole proprietor, like it or not, I am my businesses’ most valuable asset. It would be irresponsible to treat a key employee in this way; so why would it be acceptable to treat myself this way?

Commitment to our staff and our community are also important to us. Our team is not just hourly contract workers, but a valued asset of our company. We mentor them, educate and train them, invest in their knowledge and expertise. We donate our time and expertise to our greater community in a variety of ways, including mentoring new colleagues rather than considering them to be future competitors. Fairness, honesty, dignity and professionalism come first.

Of course, after all this discourse, we must return to the question of economic value. How do we monetize our core values, and communicate that to our customers? We are a boutique service provider that prides ourselves on a level of personal service and quality that is rapidly disappearing in our industry. Size matters in pure economic terms, and our commitment to remaining “right sized” does impact our ability to compete. Our competitors, in most cases do not share our values. Our industry colleagues often do not understand or appreciate our values. We do believe that money comes and goes, but reputation and values endure.

Sweet snacks on my FoodBuzz

As I return to the office after a long season of bidding, planning, preparing, serving and cleaning up after events, I renew my interest in blogging on a regular basis in order to connect with the food community at large. I logged back into FoodBuzz after a long hiatus, noting that my last post was something along the lines of “….too busy to even check in, much less blog and share…” dated somewhere south of last May. As I plowed through the 200+ messages from fellow “Foodies” on the site, I noticed an alarming trend. Recipe after recipe was for gooey, sweet, elaborate baked goods! Are the cookie makers, cake bakers, pie aficionados taking over the world? I searched in vain for a savory recipe, finally working my way down the list to someone’s mother’s wonton soup. Have the food bloggers of America and beyond run out of ideas for delicious foods that are not breakfast pastries, snacks or desserts? Or is something more sinister afoot? Could this be the hand of corporate America, gently guiding the thought processes of these bloggers and cooks by sponsoring bake-off’s, dessert recipe contests and the like? Is this the result of companies giving away sets of baking pans, stand mixers and convection ovens?

A friend of mine recently posted a recipe from CHOW for, of all things, a Thanksgiving Turkey Cake. The recipe calls for baking seasoned ground turkey in cake pans, which is then layered with stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and pureed sweet potatoes, all “frosted” with more mashed potatoes and topped with toasted baby marshmallows. The entire dish has the appearance of an oversized layer cake with a strangely matte finish. Are we Americans so jaded that we have to turn even our holiday meals into something else?

Now I am all for the elevation of food and eating above the singular status of fuel for our bodies. The joys of sharing the table with family and friends are a big part of what I teach when instructing my cooking students or clients on reclaiming their culinary heritage. I do, however, find the trend toward obesity amongst my fellow foodies disturbing. In subscribing to various food-related news sources, I am bombarded with stories about new and exciting prepared foods, chock full of unpronounceable ingredients and dubious preservatives, all wrapped up in visually appealing packaging. As I prepare to attend the annual Fancy Food Show in San Francisco this January, I continue to be overwhelmed by the increasing number of these types of foods; all are laden with empty calories, but designed to entice volume consumption.

Today’s food scene has become a microcosm of our American economy. We are harangued daily to buy and consume, buy and consume; or face the next Great Depression. Most experts agree that in order to avoid obesity and the associated health risks, we must reduced our overall caloric intake, especially the engineered fats, carbohydrates and sugars that form the foundation of these prepared foods. Yet I see very few food bloggers or celebrity chefs touting the virtues of a perfect whole roast chicken, accompanied by a few artfully prepared seasonal vegetables. Where are the simple preparations that depend solely on the quality ingredients? The other night, my husband and I shared a single small T-bone steak, seared in a cast iron skillet, topped with caramelized sweet yellow onion and served with fresh steamed Yukon gold potatoes mashed with a little bit of truffle butter. The entire dinner took less than half an hour to prepare and cost less then $10 for the two of us, yet was as flavorful and satisfying as any expensive restaurant meal. The added value was that I knew exactly what we ate; a 4-6 ounce portion of lean protein, about ½ cup each of the potatoes and one large onion. The “additives” consisted of salt and pepper to taste, a tablespoon of truffle butter (ingredients: white truffle shavings and sweet butter) and a couple of tablespoons of whole milk. The meal featured simple ingredients, simple preparations; and was a whole lot healthier than the “convenient” prepackaged alternatives.

Our food community must take a more responsible, and albeit frugal view of what we promote. A life of consuming snacks and desserts, accompanied by the latest cocktail concoctions is certainly sexier, absolutely more exciting and promotes the illusion of economic and physical health through excess. A life of balanced, thoughtful consumption is much more mundane and ordinary. I personally promote eating and cooking with all of our senses, and perhaps we should add our common sense as well. I’d love to see my fellow food advocates debate the merits of extra-virgin olive oils, or explore innovative ways to serve locally produced meats and vegetables. The food community has enormous reach, via television, the internet and print media. Imagine what we could do if we use that influence to improve the foods that our fans and readers consume every day. It is not about the next contest we can run to drive a specific number of “clicks” to our websites. It is not about how many “likes” we can collect. It is not even about attracting advertising underwriters to our blogs or selling our concepts to cookbook publishers or the Food Network. It is about being endowed with the gift of influence, communicated by the written word and by images, to impact the health and well-being of those who look to us for guidance.

A fitting motto for the Eat Real Festival

Doing something out of the ordinary seemed like the thing to do this past Saturday.  Rather than spend the day running the usual round of errands, I packed up the car with a water bottle and a few snacks, and drove to Oakland to attend the second annual Eat Real Festival in Jack London Square.  Eat Real is the brainchild of my friend and colleague Anya Fernald.  After cutting her teeth on the inaugural Slow Food Nation, she decided to take good food to the streets, literally.  Eat Real brings a multitude of food trucks, artisan producers, restaurants, and food stands to the Oakland waterfront.  The festival itself is free.  It pays its way through sponsorships and sale of beverage tickets.  The food vendors are paid cash by the patrons, and nothing cost more than $6!  How can I lose?  I parked the car in the underground garage, stuffed my pockets with about $30 in cash, and ventured into the already busy street.

First stop was the event office, to trade in my VIP pass for a logo Mason jar and six drink tickets.  I received an invitation to attend a tour and coffee “cupping” at the popular Blue Bottle Coffee Company, a block and a half up the hill from the festival itself.  I had a few minutes to spare before the noon start time, so I wandered over to the “Wine Barn,” where my friends from Mendocino County were setting up.  The prior day’s tastings had been well received, and the group was gearing up for the second day of the three day festival.  With a promise to return later in the afternoon, I wandered off to the south end of the grounds in search of my favorite 4505 Chicharrones.  I found the stand, immediately recognizable by the fluttering paper pig cutouts, strung across the front of the service counter.  Three dollars would buy me a small bag of the delectable savory bits of fried pork skins, and I asked the girl for a bag.  “Only one” she asked.  “Two then” I replied, as no one could possibly eat just one.  Munching on a handful of the sweet, spicy and salty puffs, I wandered up the street to Blue Bottle.

It turns out that “cupping” is exactly what it sounds like.  Freshly roasted and ground coffee is carefully measured into a cup, and topped with steaming water, heated to a specific temperature.  The idea is to replicate the exact same brewing conditions for each batch of beans to be evaluated.  The first of three cups remains dry in order to allow you to inhale the aroma of the freshly ground coffee.  The second cup steeps for four minutes, and then a spoon is used to break the foam crust on the coffee and inhale the first whiffs of the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee.  After that, the foam is removed from the second and third cups, and the coffee is actually tasted with a clean spoon.  The coffee is tasted just like wine or olive oil, drawing air in across your palate with your mouth open in order to experience the flavor and the aroma combined.  Who knew that coffee could be as interesting as wine?  After the “cupping,” we were served another batch of the same coffee, brewed in a Chemex, for drinking this time.

Returning to the festival grounds, munching on the second bag of chicharrones, I realized I was finally hungry enough to brave the lines for some real food.  The smells were amazing.  Behind Chop Barn’s stall, a row of Caja China grills were set up with whole pigs roasting over the coals and flatbreads toasting on the grill above.  Unable to resist, I joined the line and handed over another $6.  In exchange, I received a warm flatbread, topped with both moist and crispy bits of pulled pork.  On the adjacent table, I had a choice of freshly grilled peach salsa, watermelon rind pickle, tomatillo salsa or chili oil with orange peels.  After dressing the pork with peaches and the orange chili oil, I took my first bite.  Belatedly remembering the camera, I found a concrete wall to sit on, and snapped a quick picture before polishing off the entire thing.

Roast Pork Flatbread from Chop Bar

After surveying the long lines at the more popular taco trucks (traditional Mexican, Salvadorian, Philipino and Korean), I chose a piroshky stand.  Three beautiful young Russian women were heating and serving a choice of chicken, beef and onion, or vegetarian spinach and cheese.  Being the unabashed carnivore that I am, I opted for the traditional beef and onion.  The crust was golden and flaky, and the filling almost hot enough to burn my tongue.  Once again, the photograph was an afterthought, as I captured the image with a bite taken out of it.  Since I was close to the Wine Barn, I swung by and picked up a glass of Navarro gewürztraminer.  It was perfectly chilled, and the fruity spiciness was a perfect counterpoint to the rich piroshky.

Beef and Onion Piroshky

A friend was finished with her shift at the Meet the Winemaker booth, so we struck out to further peruse the food offerings.  Her goal was the Beer Shed, at the far south end of the festival grounds.  On the way, we passed by what had to be the largest paella pan I have seen to date.  The vendor had several staff members tending the over 8’ diameter pan, with its specially-constructed gas burners that allowed the paella to cook slowly and evenly.  The line wound around the booth and up the aisle, so we deferred, pushing on through the crowd.

Custom Paella Trailer

Our next stop was the falafel truck, where we purchased a “sampler” cone of two falafels, hot from the deep fryer served with tahini and a fresh herb puree.  Biting through the crisp crust, I encountered a creamy yet toothsome center, owing to the fact they were made with freshly cooked favas and chickpeas, rather than the ubiquitous ground mix.  They were vegetal and savory, and went perfectly with the microbrew beers procured when we finally reached the Beer Shed.

Falafel Cone

We couldn’t leave that end of the festival until we sampled the marvelous pork and beans served by Rancho Gordo New World Beans and Boccalone.  The huge and tender cannellini beans were stewed with nduja, a soft Calabrian pork sausage and favorite of local chefs who frequent Boccalone’s stand in San Francisco’s Ferry Plaza Market.  The creaminess of the beans offset the spicy bite of the sausage, which literally melted into the sauce.  On the way back, I also sampled a sweet potato-Thai tea popsicle from Fat Face, and an incredible spoonful of pistachio sorbet.  Even though I was trying to avoid the multitude of sweets, I succumbed to temptation for these two, which were worth the splurge.

Returning to the main square, we entered Bocanova, the restaurant hosting the VIP reception and cocktail hour.  More delectable goodies awaited us, along with a great selection of our favorite Mendocino County wines.  I was able to sample a variety of empanadas, meatball sliders, olive-oil confit pork on a crostini, and incredible deep-fried Japanese mini peppers.  They literally burst in your mouth, with a balance of heat from the pepper and heat from the frying, with a slightly salty finish.  I couldn’t resist popping several more into my mouth, even when warned that eventually, I would encounter a spicy one.  When I finally rolled down the stairs of the parking garage to the car, I was surprised that I could even fasten the seatbelt.  I was stuffed, and yet, had not even begun to taste everything available at the festival.  Even if I had attended all three days, I doubt I could have tried all the dishes.  Some of what I missed, I circled for next year; artisan dim sum, Philippine Sisig tacos, lobster rolls, and a miscellany of dessert items.

Empanadas

Our favorite Mendocino Wines

In retrospect, examining whether this flavorful mélange of food offerings served to encourage patrons to “eat real” is the point around which the entire concept revolves.  Truthfully, many of the food cultures represented support a tradition of artisan or hand-made foods.  In addition, these traditions are not always well known to the average American.  By broadening the patrons’ horizons a bit, new possibilities are explored.  In reality, it takes a truly adventurous home cook to attempt to replicate some of these dishes.  However, food trucks and stalls bring variety and breadth to the urban eating experience, and offer real alternatives to American fast food.  Here in Mendocino County, where even Mexican taco trucks are not widespread, it presents somewhat of an insurmountable challenge.  My departure was somewhat bittersweet, knowing that if I wanted to experience these dishes again, I would either need to duplicate the recipes at home, or return on a regular basis to the San Francisco Bay area to stalk the food trucks.  I was particularly impressed by the demographic diversity of the attendees, and the presence of so many young families.  This next generation is the foundation of fundamental change in our food system, and will become the evangelists that carry the message beyond the urban landscape.

Where do I look to find more time? One of the reasons we moved to the Mendocino Coast was to pursue a more manageable lifestyle. Today, I can’t imagine what it would have been like to keep up with the schedules I maintained when I was urban. That was then, this is now. Then, I had a one hour minimum commute to work; now I work in a home office most of the time. Yet, I don’t seem to have been able to recoup that hour. Then, I worked 8-10 hours a day, not counting travel time. After work, I worked out or met my running group for a couple of hours on the trail. Sometimes I even squeezed in an appointment with my chiropractor. Dinner was something I grabbed on the run, on the way to an evening meeting. Weekends were consumed with picking up dry cleaning, grocery shopping, haircuts, or maybe a facial or massage; and let us not forget the weekly Saturday morning ritual of housecleaning. Today, I work 10-12 hours a day, mostly at the computer and on the telephone, at least during the week. Weekends are for catering events during the season, which runs May through October. Workouts, grocery shopping and other errands are sandwiched in on weekdays, usually mid-morning to noon.

When I lived in the city, I managed to still cook 2-3 dinners per week from scratch, bake bread on the weekends, and even make home-made biscuits for the dog. Now that I live a “relaxed” country lifestyle, I can’t seem to find the time. Perhaps it is some cosmic law that we are destined to fill every single minute of every single day given to us.

Not that I am complaining, really. Today I work for myself, in a business that I love. Since I spend a lot of time talking about, writing about and preparing food for others, I am often too tired to cook for the fun of it. When you own the company, you are the salesman, the manager, the receptionist, the janitor, the purchasing agent, the inventory specialist, the bookkeeper, and the publicist. In my case, I am also the chef, the handyman, the delivery driver and the dishwasher! No wonder I can’t find any extra time. This time of year, there are a lot of menus and proposals to work on for catering customers, blog posts to write, ongoing work for consulting clients and the periodic conference call or meeting. Add to that ordering, shopping and prepping for the week’s events and an entire day can get away from you in no time at all. I hear the little dog start barking, look at the clock on the computer, and am amazed to see that it is after five and my husband is home from his job and wondering about dinner.

I still yearn for the “country” life that I fantasized about before moving here. I dream of leisurely hours spent puttering in my garden, a sunny afternoon spent picking wild blackberries, fabulous Italian-style late lunches on the deck with everyone pushing their chairs back to sip Prosecco and nibble on freshly baked bread dipped in olive oil. Instead I am eating yoghurt from the carton in front of the computer. I suspect that no matter what I am doing or not doing for a living, I would find it difficult to sit around and do nothing. I am slowly learning to take large blocks of time off for myself. Perhaps, at some point, I will find all those hours that appear to have slipped away like so many unmatched socks in the dryer. Then, I might find myself reminiscing about the joys of working every day.

I live in a place where others come to spend their vacations. Ironically, when they are vacationing, I am most often the busiest. Yet, I adore my work. Every new event or job I book, I am as enthused and energized as I was the first time. Sharing all that is special about this place with my clients and their guests is undeniably rewarding. We manage to bring the food, the wine, the setting, and the people who are the living spirit of the community together to give our clients a memorable experience. Yet, at times, I yearn for the predictability of a “day” job; the ethereal “nine-to-five” that seems to exist only in the imagination and on daytime soap operas. But, if I were really given the choice, I know that I would not be tempted to go back. If I did, I would be forced to return to the reality of trying to fit my work style and personal clock into someone else’s template, harder, I think, than squeezing my size ten body into size six clothes. It is less about how it looks on the outside and more about how it feels. And, if I did, I certainly would not be sitting here contemplating time!

 We had both goat cheese vendors, our grass-fed beef rancher, local honey, albeit last fall’s, the Garden Bakery, our egg vendor, and a whole row of the usually packed vegetable sellers who’s tables were laden with rows of garden vegetable and flower starts.  Of course, my garden is no more ready for seedlings at this early date than I am ready to prepare it.  There are redwood roots to be dug and separated, fava beans to be harvested and the green matter dug in, and irrigation to be tested, unclogged and set.  Of course, there is that pesky issue of sunlight on the beds.  This early in the year, shadows cast by the tallest redwoods begin around 2:00P, especially in the lower beds.  Tomatoes?  Peppers?  I don’t think so, as the purple sprouting broccoli is just starting to sprout!  The compost bin sports its spring growth of weed seedlings, and the clay-laden soil is just waiting to compact into its cement-like summer form if worked too soon.

 Where are the perennial greens such as kale and chard?  Where is the tender spring lettuce, showing colorful heads in the hoop houses?  Where are the bright red yet tender strawberries that are the sweet harbingers of spring?  Where are the over-wintered onions that are sending up new spring shoots, both delicate and rich, especially when roasted whole?  This is not to say that I do not love the fresh new goat cheese, the rich and savory grass-fed beef short ribs, the fabulous pies and cookies baked fresh for the day’s market.  All of these offerings augment the locally grown veggies that bring me to the stalls every week.  A vibrant and successful market is a diverse market, pleasing the customers’ every whim.

 I must table my enthusiasm for a few more days.  The Friday Mendocino market has a collection of farmers that we do not usually see in Fort Bragg.  I will make a stop tomorrow outside Ukiah to pick up freshly picked, hand-sorted strawberries at Saecho Farm.  It is unfortunate that today, my local farmers’ market disappoints.  However, I continue to be blessed to live in an area where I can procure locally produced seasonal specialties at roadside stands and market farms. 

 It is yet early, and the cold northwest wind whistles between the trees, and the fog lingers on the western horizon.  It is that in-between season that promises so much and yet delivers so little.  The sun will come, the ground will dry and warm, and the beautiful rainbow of produce will again populate the tables at the market, inspiring meals to come.

One of our favorite fall events is the Mendocino Wine and Mushroom Festival. This annual event is slated to occur during the height of our wild mushroom season. That is, of course, if the weather cooperates, which it manages to do about one in every three or so years. This year, early rains guaranteed a bounty of wild mushrooms, and thus, as successful festival.

My mushroom adventures started in earnest around the end of October. I took to wandering up and down our old logging roads with my shoulders slumped and my eyes on the ground, hoping for that flash of color amongst the forest duff. My first mushroom of the year was a 6” white Chanterelle, found at the side of the road just down the ravine from the house. Sliced and sautéed with butter and a little brandy, it made a wonderful topping for our Sunday pasta.

The golden Chanterelles were the next to emerge. These are generally found in patches, in and around tan oak thickets. The trees are considered a weed in our largely fir and redwood forests, but provide the perfect environment for the mushrooms. While smaller and more colorful than the whites, many say that the flavor of the golden is superior. They command a hefty $17.00 per pound at our local market, so are a real treat when found in any numbers. The great thing about Chanterelles is that they seem to remain worm and grub free, even in the dampest weather.

The next mushrooms to poke their heads from the ground were the Boletus, or porcini, as they are known in Italy. In our neighborhood, we see the giant King Bolete, the darker Queen Bolete, and a smaller, more colorful variety called the Zeller’s Bolete. These are the mushrooms most sought after by the commercial hunters, and often the most ridden with small worm holes unless found within hours of emergence. This year, I was lucky enough to receive a gift of a large box of gigantic King Boletus, some with caps measuring over 8” across. I was picking up my order of mushrooms for the cooking class, and my local purveyor offered them up to use as props for presentation, since they were far too large and wormy to be sold commercially. The upside of this arrangement was that, once we were finished with the class and the tasting event that followed, these could be cleaned, sliced and dried. The almost six pounds of mushrooms were reduced, the following weekend, to about twelve ounces of prime dried mushrooms and six half-pints of concentrated porcini stock for the freezer.

The Magic Mushroom cooking class we presented, and the food and wine pairing that followed, were the highlights of the week. Seven students arrived at the kitchen, ready to prepare six different mushroom appetizers. Aprons were assigned, hands were washed, and four hours later, a beautiful array of food was enjoyed, paired with a 2007 Paul Dolan Sauvignon Blanc and a 2003 McDowell Valley Vineyards Coro Mendocino.

After seeing the satisfied cooks on their way, we plated the balance of the appetizers and packed them off to The Beachcomber Motel for our ‘Shrooms and Sunset at the Beach, with Handley Cellars wines and some of the Mendocino coast’s best views. Mother Nature cooperated once again, and our guests were treated to a spectacular sunset, an amazing absence of wind, and a bounty of wonderful food and wine. Our guests were so amazed with the huge mushrooms scattered around the buffet that one of them even asked us to take his picture holding the giant boletus.

Back in the forest, the cooler weather continues to advance the cast of fungi making their appearances. Now we are seeing the Lactarius or “Milk Caps” named for their milky juices, the Russula, which are rosy pink on white, and an occasional white Matsutake, the famous full moon mushrooms of Japan. Later frosts will bring the Yellow Foot, also known as the Winter Chanterelle, and one of my personal favorites, the Candy Cap. The Candy Cap, when dried, smells and tastes just like maple syrup, and can be infused into milk or cream for the most decadent desserts. For grins, try the Candy Cap Ice Cream at Cowlick’s in Fort Bragg, available only during the mushroom season.