by Clark E. Nesselrodt

          There’s nothing quite like returning home after an extended period of travel.  This is why a feeling of hesitance was out of place a few weeks ago as I touched down at JFK after a week in San Francisco.  Something had changed in San Francisco.  I found myself absorbing my surroundings and drinking in the tiniest details of every situation.  And the beauty of the trip is that this so-called change didn’t occur over the course of several days – it happened in an instant, in a finite, distinct moment.  It happened with the consumption of a single Sun Gold Tomato.

          For someone who truly loves food, strolling through a farmer’s market is a coveted pastime – and I’ve been to my share.  And so it was quite appropriate that my inaugural visit to San Francisco’s famed Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market would take place flanked by Bay Area favorite chef, Elizabeth Falkner, and a crew from Food Network Canada.  As we perused the rows of vendors, I wasn’t sure whom I envied more – one of the many farmers calling her name – or the chef, who not only knew the produce so intimately, but obviously had deep relationships with the noble people who bring the bounty to us.

          And then there was the tomato.  To this point, I had not been aware of Lycopersicon esculentum.  I thought I was merely looking at a tiny yellow tomato – and so it was without ceremony that I popped one into my mouth.  In an instant, I was flooded with the sweet and juicy, green and earthy flavor – garnished with a warmth that reminded me that this had been connected to the earth not so long ago.  This was the first day of my trip, and the subsequent week was peppered with Sun Golds.  They appeared in an omelet at Citizen Cake along with summer squash and fromage blanc.  They graced the bottom of a tumbler filled with heirloom tomato water and Square One Organic Cucumber Vodka at Orson’s Square One Summer BBQ.  They were pulverized into a chilled soup at Boulevard that delighted someone, who even on summer’s most divine day craves a warm sweater and a bowl of piping hot, creamy, red bliss.

          Along with the Sun Golds came a different way of thinking, moving, scheduling one’s day.  A client back on the East Coast commented that it was easier to work with me that week – apparently I was speaking more slowly.  I came to adore San Francisco, its people and its ways.  It became apparent that divine though they were, the Sun Golds were merely a symbol for California’s bounty, and it goes far beyond produce.  And so I was back in New York, in a jerky taxi barreling across the Triborough Bridge toward Harlem, and for the first time – truly wondering if New York were the best place for me.

          With no lack of trepidation, I set out the following Saturday to source ingredients for a meal that I would host in my home.  How could I possibly create something that wouldn’t pale in comparison to my San Francisco meals?  It wasn’t just a matter of having experienced the best – but having experienced new varieties I didn’t know existed.  With a chip on my shoulder, I set out for my neighborhood’s best grocery store.  Halfway there, I saw something new.  The corner of Morningside Park was filled with small tents – cornhusks lined the sidewalk and I could smell basil.  It was a farmer’s market – and not one I had ever seen before.  Pleased, but still skeptical, I began crossing things off my list.  I even avoided a trip to the grocery store meat counter, having spied a three-pound rack of spareribs and pork belly to boot.  And then – as I was about to head home – there they were…Sun Gold tomatoes. 

          I spent the day giddy as a child on Christmas morning – something about the experience had moved me.  Perhaps it was the lack of structure surrounding this small market find.  While obviously not impromptu, its location and the diligence of its workers gave it something that the Ferry Building in San Francisco lacked.  For what its produce lacked in sheer quality – the market made up for in soul.

          The meal was divine.  My friends raved.  The Sun Golds made their appearance floating in a chilly puree of corn and Serrano pepper with cilantro oil, topped with a piping hot soft shell crab.  And what did these tomato-filled two weeks teach me?  It isn’t about finding the one place or situation on earth that offers everything.  It’s about living, experiencing and tasting one’s way through life and being able to use what is given to us in any given moment to create something magical.  And sometimes if you’re lucky, it’s as easy as eating a tiny little tomato.        

What I’m:

By Julie Fox

As summer draws to a close and the sound of crickets fills the night air, I still get that feeling of excited anticipation that I got as a child knowing fall was around the corner.  I used up the last of the summer’s tiny blueberries in fluffy pancakes and crisps this weekend, also the gooey jam made from the tristar strawberries I waited for all summer is gone. 

I’ve recently moved back to the area after living in Boston for several years.  This summer I had a chance to visit a lot of old friends and haunts and eat some of my favorite foods.  Even though Boston isn’t geographically that far away, in terms of food memories for locals, it may as well be on another planet.  Here is a brief run down of what I consider some of the best foods on this planet from my home state of New Jersey.

Sloppy Joe – No, not that tomatoey messy thing.  I am talking about the triple decker sandwich you can only find in NJ delis.  One of the best is Lakeside Deli in Verona. It’s made on three layers of rye bread, with ham or roast beef, Swiss cheese, Russian dressing and cole slaw.  Writing this makes my mouth water now.

One of the most remarkable creations from New Jersey has to be Taylor Ham.  For those of you unfortunate people who have never had it, it’s a sausage-like pork product made from coarsely ground pork shoulder and was the handiwork of John Taylor of Trenton, New Jersey late in the 19th century.  The tried and true NJ way to eat it is with a fried egg and melted cheese on a kaiser roll.  One bite and I am in grease laden haze.

Crumb Buns – Those may argue that these cakey moist gems come from NY or a box marked Entenmann’s at the grocery store, but NJ is the home of these in my book, especially from Muller’s Bakery in Bay Head, which has been around for over 100 years.  They will actually ship crumb buns anywhere in the world - 732-892-0442 / http://contact@muellersbakery.com.  What are you waiting for?

No NJ boardwalk would be complete without Salt Water Taffy.  That gooey, sticky candy is addicting and has nothing to do with salt water except something magical happens when it’s eaten on a bench on a boardwalk.

I hope you enjoy the last of the summer (Jersey) tomatoes, corn, beans……….

What I’m:

Reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Listening to: Ricky Gervais Podcast

Watching: Charlie Rose

Drinking: 2006 Gilbert PICQ & Ses Fils Chablis

Eating: Neil Manacle’s incredible food at Apiary