feasting on berkeley

after a food year in portland. inspiration begins to sag, resources founder, imagination droops like gravity tumbling my belly.
so, feasting on berkeley's old (and new) haunts renders arousal, evoking my palate, carousing my tongue, oozing my spout. (i do get carried away). what can i say? i've turned inventive again, fusing compounds i haven't attempted before. like this, young ginger and wasabi root, crushed, melded in hazelnut oil. glazed on scarcely grilled opa. shaved myoga, to top the fish, fresh, crisp textured, a taste scantily of ginger. i served a portion of fish placed on soft hokkaido kombu, and as an aside offered cranberry beans in wakame. this, impossibly unconventional recipe, has as it's base a lusciously creamy vinaigrette of hazelnut oil mulled gently in a sweet sherry vinegar.

if all this sounds far-fetched, well, really, it ain't. the stuff was obtained from the various markets round about gourmet gulch. the combo turned out delicious, as invented and discernibly tasted and tested in my, if not home kitchen.

most of you will know, cranberry beans only look that wonderful way in their shell. once hulled the are artless, even drab with some small striping. they'll attempt the color of what they're cooked with, in this case green, the color of wakame. but aren't they beautiful picked of the vine?

i get the occasional request to supply t-spoon and cup measures. hm. well, i don't really use those in my kitchen. stephanie has me blindfolded, but she allows the use of my tongue. and that of my nose. that roman emperor's extrusion, seemingly getting bigger and more fragrance concerned by day, but beyond doubt in the night. so i taste and i whiff, i sniff and i snuff. i attempt to scent an aroma and should it please my noctuolent  sense (hint: i braise my cuisine mostly at night), i'll go for it. unlike at baking, there's virtually no need to take trouble with t-spoons, nor measure with cups. lick your spoon, graze that fork, have at your cup, taste, breathe and inhale. use your nose and your tongue, and that three fingered grasp as your guide, own the delight of detecting what your senses will tell you. practice. always, morning, noon or night.