Oh happy Fourth! Independence Day falls on a weekend this year, but with fewer fireworks than usual. Don’t know about you, but we’ll be reining in some of our irrationally exuberant patriotism in favor of judicious activism: homemade burgers, perhaps, topped with tomatoes fresh from the market.
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Speaking of markets, a revamped, community-sponsored Queen Anne Farmers Market will operate on Thursday afternoons at the corner of Queen Anne and Crockett, replacing an earlier enterprise that had become mired in politics and recrimination. Julie Whitehorn, its chair, and Patty Spahr, its director, have assembled an eclectic cast of local farmers (Tiny’s Organic, Full Circle Farms, Mt. Townsend cheese) and prepared-food vendors (Skillet, Sorrentino’s, Secret Stash) despite hefty obstacles (street use, parking, health inspections, etc.).

Very much the in-thing, these farmers markets. Dogs of all sizes, on leashes and mostly muzzled, compete for right of passage with baby strollers and their pushers, resulting in amiable, well-fed gridlock. Smores (from Skillet) and strawberries (from Hayton Farms) to all!

Er, except that Hayton was selling strawberries at $4, while Metropolitan Market, across the street, was selling them at $3. We mentally chalked it up to the surcharge of political correctness, of “Eating the Right Thing,” until we tasted the fruit, warm from the sun; they were, in fact, the sweetest, lushest strawberries we’ve ever eaten.
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Seriously, we like avocados. They’re smooth and delicious, not nearly as hard to enjoy as, say, artichoke hearts. Without avocados, there’d be no guacamole. But what, pray tell, is that thing advertised on KING-FM and local billboards, the “hand-grown” California avocado? Does a farmer really stand under the tree all day, holding the fruit? Do Americans really need to feel that coddled?

Look at this handsome website, avocado.org, which must have cost gazillions. Listen to these stories, especially the guy who climbed a mountain thanks to a lifetime of healthy avocado farming. But who, pray tell, held his hand-me-down avocados while he was out on the trail? Some hired handyman? Sure, we like to buy handmade stuff at street fairs and such, maybe a hand-woven handkerchief. We like to think our foie gras comes from handfed geese. But fruit and vegetables?

California’s avocado growers aren’t living hand-to-mouth; they’re in the agribiz biz. Unlike bankers, though, they’re not asking for a hand-out.

And now comes word that the executive chef for Tom Douglas Restaurants, Eric Tanaka, has been selected as Washington’s “chef spokesperson” for these self-same avocados by the California Avocado Commission. He’s already created an exclusive recipe: an avocado steamed custard with crab, daikon and shiso salad.
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One could argue that cocktails are the mark of a civilized society. Therefore, Jamie Boudreau, barman at Tini Bigs, can be viewed as an angel of western culture, the sort of artisan foretold by our contemporary (and local) cocktail prophets, Robert Hess of Drinkboy.com and Paul Clarke of CocktailChronicles.com. This week Jamie was working on some new recipes, including an item named Chrysanthemum #2 (a very fine amalgam of vermouth, Benedictine, lemon juice and absinhe). At Tini Bigs, the half the bourbon lineup is B’s—Basil Hayden’s, Baker’s, Black Maple Hill, Blanton, Bookers, Bulleit. On his website, SpiritsandCocktails.com, Jamie shows you his true colors: green, pink and orange drinks of stunning complexity.

Cocktails are at the center of Kathy Casey’s new book, Sipps & Apps, with more than 100 recipes, plenty of photos, and an infectious sense of fun. I’m not sure how many readers will go to the trouble of making the Luxury Mary Mix, given the number of bottled preparations, but it’s not that difficult to make your own (ya gotta have horseradish). As for my favorite cocktail, the Negroni, Kathy’s version includes grapefruit juice (heresy!). Still, her taste buds are in the right place, so it’s worth a shot.

Another cute cocktail book is Bixology, born at a trendy supper club in San Francisco named Bix. It’s full of trivia, recipes for classic drinks, and quotations from famous writers and musicians. Co-author “Bix” Beiderbeck owns several other swanky joints in that city.
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Late on a warm Seattle night, nothing’s as welcome as sitting in a flowered garden, discreet lighting in the shrubbery, the sounds of live music coming from within, the buzz of lively conversations rising around you. Waitresses in black tops and floor-length beige aprons glide by, effortlessly picking up and dropping off plates to contented diners. It’s as pretty a scene as you could find in Italy, and it’s in Eastlake, at Serafina.

It’s been a couple of years since we visited, and the previous chef, John Newmark, has become an independent wine consultant. Newmark’s replacement, Dylan Giordan, is no less ambitious. Serafina puts out a seasonal menu of a dozen appetizers and salads, half a dozen “pasta rustica” and another half-dozen “Specialita della casa,” along with a daily fresh sheet: cocktail, soups, cicchetti (Venetian-style snacks), pasta, fish, meat and desserts. There’s a separate menu for late-night nibbles (fritters, panino, sausages) in the bar. The wine list goes on forever, with special attention to famous (and pricey) names from Piedmont. And there’s a hint of the frantic about Serafina’s roster of special events—cocktail tastings, wine tastings, jazz music.

Serafina’s owner, Brooklyn-born Susan Kaufman, may admire the charm of the Italian countryside, but you can’t learn authentic Italian cuisine from a cookbook. Or teach your staff to reproduce “rustic” flavors, for that matter. In fact, the kitchen seems to suffer from a severe case of “flavor removal.” An order of roasted olives was simply microwaved (hot pits!). A dry plate of linguini with prawns and tuna bore no trace of “Sicilian caper sauce.” An order of plin (hand-pinched pasta) filled with pork and cabbage arrived in tasteless cream. Oh, a question for Serafina’s bartender: How did you remove the taste of Campari from our Negroni?

And yet, Serafina has prospered for nearly two decades, thanks to an ambience that suggests Italian romance. Atmosphere trumps cooking, it would seem, and that’s a bitter truth for true believers.

Ronald’s blog: cornichon.org