This is the 50-50 burger at Big Bob’s Burgers, 447 Hildebrand Ave. Half beef, half bacon. All good.

I don’t remember my first taste of a hamburger. Considering its lofty post on the national foodie consciousness these days, this moment would seem to have seared some imprint on my brain that this, this was what food was all about.

The fact is, burgers weren’t even close to claiming the defining moment of my nascent foodiehood. What I do remember is eating ice cream at the kitchen table in my parents’ first apartment, finishing off the one scoop, then asking my mom for another, specifying that it should be served in a clean bowl.

Burgers did enter the scene a few years after this. It was during the long, fierce blast of an icy winter in Missoula, Mont., while my parents were finishing master’s degrees.  We were, undeniably, poor. The only burgers we ate for months were venison burgers. And venison meatloaf, roasts and casseroles. For Christmas, it was a big, greasy goose. My mother also received a beautiful buckskin jacket that Christmas from the hunter — my grandfather. I recognize now that this food was his gift of love and great care for us, and one of the only ways he could help with our support. Nevertheless, offer me a venison burger now and I’ll probably say no, thanks.

Smashburger’s Mushroom and Cheese

Somewhere between those days and now, the burger rose from staple to superstar, from a bagful of sliders to monstrous concoctions garnished with gold foil and selling for more than $1,000. We’ve endured seemingly endless television, print and digital discussions of the perfect mix of fat to beef, the perfect grind, the perfect cut to grind, the best cheese. We’ve debated the ultimate toppings, from guacamole and fried eggs to wild mushrooms and bacon jam; we’ve argued about the must-haves when it comes to buns — and possibly even ate (God help us) a burger on a Krispy Kreme doughnut.

Considering all of that, it’s not surprising that I breathe a little sigh of relief just to be served a freshly made burger, half-wrapped in white paper, on a decent buttered and grilled bun with a slab of cheddar cheese, good dills, sliced (unsweet) onion. A great mustard is called for, but in a pinch, plain old yellow American ballpark will do. Ketchup? It’s for the fries.

We don’t go into which we consider the “best” burgers in San Antonio here. We all have our favorites. Here are a few questions, though, to tantalize your burger quotient — and may you enjoy burger month any way you like it.

1. Who said, “When people pile seven things onto one burger, it drives me nuts!”

a) Giada De Laurentiis
b) Alton Brown
c) Bobby Flay
d) Martha Stewart

2. Who said, and where did he say it, “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!”

3. For best results when cooking burgers on a grill, you should only flip them once, and not press down on the meat with the spatula because that squeezes out the juice.

a.  true
b. false
c. false and true

4. In what year and what city did Richard and Maurice McDonald open up the first McDonald’s?

a) 1921 in San Francisco
b) 1953 in Kansas City, Mo.
c) 1940 in San Bernardino, Calif.
d) 1948 in Philadelphia

5. A Tex-Mex-style burger was born in San Antonio in the 1960s, called the bean burger — a burger embellished with Cheez Whiz, refried beans and Fritos out of the bag. What was the name of the restaurant where it was introduced?

a) Chris Madrid’s
b) Tink-a-Tako
c) The Malt House
d) Sills Snack Shack

6. Which burger below most qualifies as trendy?

a) Pub burgers
b) Bacon- and cheese-stuffed burgers
c) Kale burgers
d) Burgers sous-vide

7. The English love their fish and chips as Americans love their burgers. But, according to research in Britain, the average English pub sells 160 burgers a week, compared with 90 servings of fish & chips.

a) true
b) false

Answers:
1. c
2. Wimpy, a character in the Popeye cartoon, a glutton for burgers who rarely had the money to pay for them.
3. c. Flip the burgers over a couple-three times if you want, but don’t press them with the spatula.
4. c
5. d
6. a
7. a, true (according to burgerbusiness.com)

(Burger on the cover of SavorSA today is from Feast, on South Alamo Street.)

This information has been in the wind for the past few years: The best way to roast a chicken is to cook it at high heat, 10 minutes per pound, let it sit for 10 minutes after the roasting. Carve and serve.

The high-heat method of roasting chicken gives you golden skin, moist and tender meat.

Could something this easy be the “best” way to roast the bird?

If I’d listened, roasted and learned instead of continuing to baste, roll the bird over on its breast, brine, truss, stuff — and anything else one can do to roast a bird, I’d have saved myself some time. As it is, we tried the high-heat method this week and it was a success.

That golden, crackling skin, blistered here and there, the tender, cooked-just-right breast meat … even the pan juices seemed to be superior in this method, as they sizzled and reduced to a thick, sticky mass in the bottom of the pan, begging to be used for gravy.

I used what was described as an “all natural” chicken, with no antibiotics or hormones added. I seasoned simply with black truffle salt and pepper. I didn’t do a full truss on the chicken, but I did tie together the feet. I don’t think I’ll do that next time.  As you can see in the photo, the wing tips got burnt — no big deal to us.

I’ve seen this method, along with similar recipes calling for a few more ingredients, such as garlic cloves stuffed under skin, or lemons and onions pushed into the cavity — so look around the Internet if you want something a little fancier.

Barbara Kafka is often credited with teaching us this method. Chowhound has a recipe and accompanying article that is a little more complex.

However, this is the easiest way I’ve found to go about making this Sunday dinner classic — and the results were gratifying.

Link to Barbara Kafka’s recipe

High-Heat Roast Chicken

A little vegetable oil
1 4-5 pound roasting chicken
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
A few peeled garlic cloves to tuck here and there, optional

Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

Rub a little oil at the bottom of the roasting pan. (I sometimes use a roasting rack, but not with this recipe). Let the chicken sit out to bring to room temperature. Put the chicken in the pan. There’s no need to truss. (I tied the feet together, but won’t even do that next time – I think the leg and thigh skin would get more gold and crackly if just exposed to the heat.)

If using some garlic, you can put a clove or two in the cavity, or tuck some under between the leg and the body of the chicken.

Put the chicken in the 500-degree oven for 10 minutes per pound. (Barbara Kafka’s recipe specifies putting the chicken into the oven feet first.) If you don’t want burnt wing tips, wrap them in a little aluminum foil.

When the time comes to take it out, set the chicken in a warm place on the stove and let it rest for 10-15 minutes. Carve and serve.

Makes 5-6 servings.

San Antonio loves its burgers, as the turnout at the Point Park and Eats Burger Brawl proves.

Saturday was a fine day for a burger or three — or even five. And it was a great day for a competition that any food truck devotee would love: A burger brawl, complete with cold beer on tap, families and kids, a dog or two and live music.

Burgers. Any questions?

But the burgers reigned supreme, as far as the judges were concerned. The Point Park & Eats Burger Brawl pitted five trucks and their best efforts against one another — and only one of these five delicious burgers, judged on a surprisingly long list of attributes, would win.

John Griffin and I were among the lucky judges who had the onerous task of tasting each of the burgers, which we did over a period of an hour or so in the early afternoon. With us on the panel were Lauren Madrid, restaurant writer for The Current; Jason Ard, owner Branchline Brewery; and Shawn Gordon, well known to Yelpers, food truck and Twitter followers as the Food Truck Stalker.

If you haven’t been to the Point Park, it is set in a good-sized lot off Boerne Stage Road, west of I-10. It has a comfortable sprawl, plenty of picnic table seating under the trees, a mass of sail-type canopies stretched high above the ordering area, a comfortably sized deck with chairs and tables, an order-up bar and a bit of indoor seating as well.

Jason Ard, whose new brewery will be offering its first commercial release in January, showed off a couple Branchline’s brews. An Eggnog Stout, hinting at sweet spices and even notion of rum, charmed us all and made us wish we could take some home for the holidays. The Rye IPA, heavier-bodied than usual, had a viscous mouth feel, a deep, long-lived head and left just a bite of bitterness at the back of the tongue. These were great burger beers — something we’ll be looking forward to after the holidays are over.

The winning truck, at least with the judges, is Grills on Wheels.

What do judges look for when choosing a great burger from one that’s just really good? The same thing all burger-lovers do — at least those who want to sit back and ponder, taste, talk and consider some more.  We discussed the heat, the aroma, the appearance of the bun, its toastiness or lack thereof, the quality of the meat, its thickness, texture and flavor; the right cheese in the right amount — the list does go on.

Everyone admitted to a few prejudices, likes or dislikes. (But as seasoned burger tasters, we set these aside to judge each sandwich on its own merits.)

Gordon admitted one standard burger ingredient left him cold. “I don’t like pickles,” he said, offering no apologies. “I don’t know why, I just never have liked them.” He also had a general complaint about burger makers these days. “Why don’t they season the meat?” That very good point came into play during the judging. Burger makers, listen up; even just salt and pepper make a difference.

Madrid made threats about tossing sub-par burgers on the floor and stomping on them (this did not happen). John said the make-or-break quality to look for in a burger was inside the bun. “For me, it’s the quality of the patty and how it’s made,” he said.

A Christmas touch at Gourmet on the Fly.

After tasting and re-tasting, and much discussion, we made our choice. It all came down to the top burger, which was from Grills on Wheels, a relatively new truck on the scene.

The Burger Brawl draws crowds.

How it won: The burger (Angus beef) was thick and well-seasoned — as in, salt and pepper, a hint of garlic. Its two slices of Texas toast were buttered and toasted gold. The bacon was smoky and crisp, and the ketchup was spiked with just the right amount of hot-peppery sriracha sauce. All of it, flavors, texture, taste of the meat, finger-warming temperature of the burger itself and that lingering burn made it a winner.

Later on, the people had their chance to choose, and the People’s Choice was a burger that the judges had all liked as well. It came from Chillin and Grillin. Other trucks in the competition included Skinny Cat, MARS Mobile Kitchen and Gourmet on the Fly.

After the morning’s judging, we checked in with Denise Aguirre, who said that the Burger Brawl wasn’t a cinch to pull together. “It was a lot of work,” she said.

Her effort appeared to be worth it. The park was filled with people early in the afternoon and the event was scheduled to last late in the evening.

The promo material for the event billed the Point Park & Eats’ Burger Brawl as the “first annual.” So, if you missed it this year, put it down on your calender for next year.

A cashier hands a customer a free Trader Joe’s shopping bag on opening day in San Antonio.

After years of San Antonio begging on collective bended knee for a Trader Joe’s, that shopping dream came true this morning.

Customers make their way carefully through opening-day crowds at Trader Joe’s.

If you thought there would be mob scene at 8 a.m., you might have done what I did and waited until … noon. Which was, of course, a mob scene. But the officers in the parking lot directing traffic did a fine job of making sure it was not an unhappy experience. And, once inside, it was a happy mob.

“I haven’t had to haul out the pepper spray yet,” joked one employee as she guided shoppers through a particularly knotty intersection near the cheeses.

“I thought it was fine, it’s going very smooth,” said a shopper.

Mary, who moved to San Antonio from the northern Midwest, has yearned all the while for a Trader Joe’s to open. “I’ve waited five years for this,” she said. Her shopping cart was only half full, and I saw her still shopping as I made my exit.

Open at the Quarry Extension, across the street from Quarry Market proper, the store is “about average size for a Trader Joe’s,” one of the busy employees told us. (He didn’t know if Austin’s store is bigger.)

When I finally got in line to pay up, my basket was just under a quarter full. Judging it with an eye well-honed by some of the city’s other stores, I figured I’d purchased close to $100 worth of stuff. I was going to be surprised.

Into the basket (not in this order, necessarily) went wine. No, there was none of Trader Joe’s label of very good reserve pinot noir on the shelves. “Try around February. We don’t get much and it sells out in less than a month,” said the wine clerk. “Oh, and our employees tend to grab up most of it.”

Duly warned, I promised I’d be pestering him again after the first of the year. In the meantime, I picked up another passion, a very dry, pink sparkler from Bourgogne at a little more than $10. A slab of Compte cheese to go with that and a black olive demi-baguette kept this lovely, movie-time snack for two much less than $20.

From shiny eggplants to nicely trimmed leeks, the produce attracts crowds.

The fresh produce aisles also drew the crowds. They were moving through single file, more or less patiently. My eye caught on the $1.19 Hass avocados, the package of two fat, already trimmed leeks, salad mixes, Persian cucumbers and Trader Joe’s own salad dressings. The creamy cilantro went into my basket.

I bought food gifts for buddies not as fortunate as I, who were at work instead of shopping. A bag of Trader Joe’s organic popcorn, some stone-ground, whole-grain crackers and an Italian soda went into the cart for my husband. Another friend will get a hefty bar of Trader Joe’s chocolate with hazelnuts. I even bought some of Trader Joe’s cat food. We’ll see how that goes down with my picky feline tasters.

Fresh flowers at value prices.

Fresh flowers are a luxury that I had to cut back on when the $4 bundles of fresh alstromaria went away at my neighborhood supermarket. Here, though, I picked up a bouquet of alstromeria — plus zinnias and one fragrant lily, for $3.99.  That offer, right there, will bring me back on a weekly basis.

Finally, for dinner, I picked up a full Indian meal for two of Trader Joe’s Chicken Tikka Masala with rice, Baingan Bharta (Eggplant Curry) and Channa Masala, a spicy stew of vegetables and garbanzo beans.

I did not buy any Cookie Butter. Despite months of watching every foodie geek on Twitter rave about this product, I managed to pick it up, then put it back down. This, after checking the calorie count. Doing this once, though, doesn’t mean I will resist next time.

My total at the cash register, or the digital equivalent thereof, was a little more than — surprise — $62.

As I made my way out, I heard one customer ask a clerk, “When will it slow down?”

“Oh, try back in January of February,” he responded.

Photographs by Bonnie Walker

One of spring’s marvelous crops is fresh fava beans. So, imagine my surprise to find fava beans at Central Market, in the produce section, in the pod and yes, in the fall.

Fava beans inside the pod.

I bought a bagful of the large and ungainly looking bean pods, shiny green with a few brown spots. My bag cost $3.50, and would yield (after preparation) what I considered a modest-sized serving for one.

An agricultural site on the web told me that when you can find fresh fava beans in the pod, it’s a good idea to buy a pound per person. Which is one reason I’ve looked into growing them in my backyard garden. Another site said that one can grow fava beans in Texas, but the plant doesn’t tolerate well temperatures over 80 degrees. It’s late October now, and it’s still getting up into the 80s.

Fava beans, called broad beans in Britain and also in many other parts of the world, are legumes and one of the world’s oldest cultivated crops.

I’d love to hear from anyone who has successfully grown favas in South Texas. (My guess would be that now might be a good time to start seedlings in the cool of the house, and put them in the ground sometime in November. Or, put them in the ground if you have a likely spot in the Hill Country!)

The preparation of the fresh beans is not difficult, but you do have to work your way through two layers of shell that protect the tender beans, which are a fabulous shade of green and as delicious a bean as one can find.

Fava beans, still inside the secondary shells, blanching.

The method is basically this: With a sharp little knife, snip off the tip of the pod and pull at the string, which sometimes helps split the long bean open. More reliable is to split the seam with the knife a little ways, then insert your thumb and run it down the side of the pod. Inside will be the thick, roughly ovoid beans, which you remove. Toss the empty pods.

The creamy colored shells contain the smaller green beans. To get to them, you should have a pan of boiling water ready and toss the beans into it. Let them cook for 30 seconds to 1 minute, then drain and either put into an ice bath or run cold water over them. When you can handle them, slit open this second shell on one end, then gently squeeze, and the bean should slide out.

Some say that the creamy outer shells are edible as well, just a little bit chewy.

Now, you have a pile of green favas. Taste one – if it is tender, it’s ready to add to a recipe, or dress with herbs and olive oil and serve. If the beans are bigger, you can simmer them in a little water, not too long, to the tenderness you want them. Or, saute in a little oil.

Shelled beans: simmer in a little water to tenderize if needed, or saute in oil.

I’ve served them with fish, with roast chicken, put them in salads and just dressed them lightly and eaten them from the bowl, happy that I’d found them – and thinking, for the 100th time, why don’t I grow them? That’s plan B.

Here is a recipe that I found on Huffington Post. It’s a fine idea for party finger food.

Fava Beans, Herbs and Avocado Bruschetta

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for brushing
1 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoons red-wine vinegar
1 tablespoons pure maple syrup
1 small shallot, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Fine sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 cups shelled fava beans
4 ounces mixed baby greens
1/4 cup parsley leaves
1/4 cup mint leaves
8 slices French country bread
1 large garlic clove
1 large avocado

Eat fava beans in a recipes, such as this one, or lightly dress with olive oil, salt and pepper and have as a side dish.

In a small bowl or measuring cup, combine oil, lemon juice, vinegar, maple syrup, and shallot. Season with salt and pepper. Whisk to emulsify. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add fava beans and blanch for 2 minutes. Drain and shock in ice water. Remove outer skins and place beans in a large mixing bowl. Add baby greens, parsley, and mint.

Heat a grill pan set over high heat. Rub bread slices with garlic clove and brush or drizzle with olive oil on both sides. Grill until charred with grill lines, about 2 minutes per side. Set grilled bread onto a platter or individual plates.

Cut open avocado. Use a large spoon to scoop out flesh halves. Place on cutting board and slice lengthwise. Top each piece of bread with a few slices of avocado.

Whisk dressing to reincorporate. Drizzle over bowl of favas, greens, and herbs. Toss gently to combine. Divide salad among each piece of bread with avocado slices. Serve immediately.

Yield: 8 appetizer servings.

Adapted (slightly) from Huffington Post recipe

Peppercorn, the culinary shop, is tucked into the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, Colo. It comprises three levels of jam-packed culinary delights from dishes to cooking equipment, linens to a well-chosen trove of cookbooks. It’s a treasure-hunter’s dream and my sister and I make a pilgrimage up there every time I visit.

This year, one of my  scores was a 4-ounce jar of Fusion Black Truffle Salt from the Artisan Salt Company. It was made in Washington State, it combines only sea salt and black truffle. I had to have it, and I paid dearly for it.

Black truffle, as most foodies know, has a powerful aroma and flavor. Use too much (and I believe there is such a thing) and the richness can bowl you over. (I would add, that’s a nice way to go!)

Use an inferior quality truffle oil or salt or a truffle that is not fresh, and you’ll wonder what all the excitement is about. I haven’t gone on a truffle hunt, I haven’t yet gone to Italy in truffle season and had it generously grated over my handmade pasta (though I did have this experience at Lydia Bastianich’s Felidia  in New York recently). But I have become intimately familiar with it’s singular aroma, the earthiness, the deep fragrance that makes you close your eyes when you breathe it in.

There are several types of truffles: the white truffles are rare, and thus very expensive, coming from Italy’s Umbria and Piedmont regions. The black truffle, found in the Perigord region of France, are, not surprisingly sometimes called Perigord truffles. There are other types, such as summer or grey truffles, used in both Italian and French cooking.

Slow-Scrambled Eggs with Peppato and Chevre.

My little jar of salt didn’t say where the black truffle was sourced, but opening the paper seal, just the tiniest bit, let out a cloud of mushroomy fragrance that I knew boded well for some truffle-accented dishes. I started with some buttery Slow-Cooked Scrambled Eggs with Pepato Cheese and Chevre — and a healthy pinch of truffle salt to finish.

Black truffle is  indispensable in the French pâte de foie gras truffé or for spreading on crostini or inserting under the skin of a roast chicken. Or, as herb and spice expert Aliza Green also suggests, in her book “Field Guide to Herbs and Spices,” “Serve beef carpaccio dressed with fine olive oil and shaved truffles.”

White truffles have a more delicate flavor, are harder to come by and, says Green, are “best enjoyed by shaving paper-thin slices raw onto eggs, pasta and risotto, just before serving.”

Truffle salt, on the other hand, seems to me to be an expedient way to get some of that wonderful flavor into your food any time of year, and at a fraction of the price.  If you have truffle salt, or decide to find some, look for an ingredient list of only two items: truffles, sea salt. (Locally, you can find it at GauchoGourmet, 935 Isom Road, or at www.gauchogourmet.com.)

Here are some things to try

1. Truffle-salted cantaloupe or other sweet melon: The truffle gives the salt a heady, savory aroma, which might make it work well sprinkled on honeydew melon.

2. Portobellos on the grill. Portobellos are big and meaty, and if you’ve ever lightly oiled one and sizzled it on the grill, you know it’s a worthy accompaniment to steak, or sliced and served on a platter with other grilled vegetables. I might try stirring together some browned onions, cream and a cheese like Compté, season with some truffle salt and let it melt into gooeyness on the grill, inside the bowl of the portobello.

3. Use as a finishing salt for steak or lamb. Or make a flavored butter by mixing unsalted butter with sauteed minced shallots, a bit of lemon juice and a pinch of truffle salt. Shape into a cylinder and chill it, then slice into thick rounds to garnish the grilled or roasted meat. We’ve also found the truffle flavor wonderful with chicken, and why not with wings? Here’s a wings recipe that we’ve tried — and loved.

4. Popcorn. We’ll try a generous shaking of truffle salt with our popcorn soon, definitely with a drizzle of truffle oil.

5. Here are some other foods whose flavors have an affinity for truffles, from Aliza Green: Almond, chipotle, cilantro, cinnamon, coconut, cumin, duck, eggplant, ginger, honey, mango, mint, orange, star anise, sweet potato, tomato and tuna.

There is a profusion of premixed herb, spice and seasoning blends out there, and it’s sometimes hard to choose just the blend you want.

We suggest making your own, for several reasons:

Put together your own spice mixes for specific ethnic cuisines, barbecue rubs, salad seasonings and more.

•  The cost will be much less.
•  You can fine-tune the blend to your taste.
•  The blend won’t have any filler in it or a lot of added salt or sugar – which is something you end up paying for with many commercial blends.
•  You can mix in small batches, so that the spices don’t lose flavor by sitting around on your spice shelf for long periods of time.
•  Spice and herb blends are easy to do, and make good gifts. Check out craft stores, art shops, etc., for packaging ideas, or use your imagination and make your own.

With no further ado, here are a few that we like.  Use them as they are, or start customizing!

Lavender, a good addition to a summery herb blend. (Photo courtesy Becker Vineyards)

Herbes de Provence

This is a fine-tuned blend, from the South of France, that alternates stronger herbal flavors with lighter.

It adds a wonderful, summery flavor to casseroles, game or poultry — even steaks. Also, add some fresh parsley to a couple of pinches of this as a dry blend, and whip it into the eggs for an omelet. Fold a little crème fraîche into the omelet just before you serve it.

This blend calls for dried herbs, but not ground (except for bay leaf). If you don’t want to grind the bay leaf, you could put a small, whole leaf into each blend, but not add the whole, dried leaf to food. (The edges are sharp, unless you grind it down some.) You can also make this blend with fresh herbs, if you have the herbs on hand. We don’t suggest mixing fresh and dried, though.

4 teaspoons dried leaf thyme
2 teaspoons dried marjoram
2 teaspoons dried parsley
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
2/3 teaspoon culinary lavender flowers
½ teaspoon celery seeds
½ teaspoon lightly ground white pepper
1 crushed bay leaf (take leaves off dried stem, and grind in a mortar)

Mix together the herbs. For using, 2-3 teaspoons is sufficient in a recipe for three-to-four people.

Adapted from “The Spice Bible; A Cook’s Guide” by Ian Hemphill

Fines Herbes

This “delicately balanced bouquet of finely flavored herbs … is found in French cuisine,” writes Ian Hemphill in “The Spice and Herb Bible.” This recipe may be made with fresh or dried herbs.

Flat-leaf parsley

Here’s a sidelight I found amusing. In my vintage (1961) edition of the English translation of the French culinary bible, “Larousse Gastronomique”, the entry for fines herbes is typically terse. However, the writer also allows himself (and, surely, it was a “him”) a little crabby comment to chefs of the time.

“Generally speaking, this term is used not of mixed herbs, but simply of chopped parsley. Therefore an Omelette aux Fines Herbes is an omelette containing only parsley, in addition to the usual seasonings.” (Probably a reference to salt and white pepper.)

The writer goes on: “Actually, fines herbes should be a mixture of herbs, such as parsley, chervil, tarragon and even chives. Indeed, this was the original meaning of the term. In earlier times chopped mushroom and even truffles were added to the list of herbs above.”

We give our firm approval to adding truffles to a fines herbes mix!

Hemphill’s recipe follows. In addition to the herbs mentioned above, he adds green dill tips and lovage. While the Hemphill doesn’t add chives, fresh chives would be fine, and it is included in this slight adaptation. Again, if you wish to make this blend with all dried herbs, it’s fine.

Fines Herbes (for fresh or dried herbs)

2 tablespoons parsley
1 tablespoon chervil
1 tablespoon lovage
2 teaspoons green dill tips
2 teaspoons French tarragon
2 teaspoons minced chives

This blend goes well with any egg dish, and is also wonderful in a creamy salad dressing, blended with a half cup each of mayonnaise and heavy cream.

Adapted from “The Spice Bible” by Ian Hemphill.

Texas Herb Rub

Lamb, beef, pork -- all will taste better rubbed with spices!

Here’s an herbal rub with a Texas twist, from Tom Perini. Put it on meat (of course).

1 teaspoon dried oregano leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper

Combine all the ingredients and rub over the surface of the meat.

From “Texas Cowboy Cooking” by Tom Perini

Wild Willy’s Number One-derful Rub

This is a good, all-purpose barbecue rub, from Cheryl and Bill Jamison’s “Smoke & Spice.” Use it on ribs, brisket, chicken and more.

¾ cup paprika
¼ cup freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup coarse kosher or sea salt
¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons chili powder
2 tablespoons garlic powder
2 tablespoons onion powder
3 tablespoons cayenne

Mix spices thoroughly in a bowl. Store covered, in a cool, dark place. Makes about 2 cups.

Tunisian Tabil Rub

This is a spice mix that’s become somewhat trendy in the U.S. in the past few years.  The  aromatic, spicy blend known as tabil is generally used with lamb and imparts a pungency that will give your barbecue an exotic flavor. Tone down the hot spice (hot pepper flakes) if you need to do so.

2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons cumin seeds
2 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 tablespoons hot pepper flakes
2 tablespoons coarse (kosher or sea) salt

Combine the coriander, cumin and caraway seeds in a dry skillet and cook over medium heat, shaking the pan to ensure even cooking, until toasted and fragrant, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and let cool.

Place the mixture in a mortar and grind to a fine powder with the pestle, or use a spice mill. Store in an airtight jar away from heat and light for up to 6 months. Makes about ½ cup, or enough for 3-4 pounds of meat, poultry or seafood.

From “The Barbecue Bible” by Steven Raichlen

John Griffin contributed to this article.

When Foodista on Twitter sent out the question “what is your favorite kitchen tool” I thought about it for a moment. My first response is somewhat obvious — my hands — and the next obvious answer, my chef’s knife, aren’t particularly original answers.

Whisks, in many shapes and sizes, are must-have kitchen tools.

In short succession, I thought of the rest of my must-have items: kitchen tongs (and plenty of them), heatproof spatulas, steel bowls from huge to small, whips and various spoons. The other knives I keep close are the thin-tipped boning knife, a paring knife (expensive) and knife with a serrated blade (cheap).

There were things I used as a working cook, years ago, that I learned to love – then learned to live without when my cooking was confined to my home kitchen. A huge, copper pot that had its bottom replaced several times was my love in an Italian kitchen I worked in. I loved the heavy, workhorse buffalo choppers and stacks of indestructible sauté pans we’d fling around on the line each night.

As a home cook, I’ve found that more of interest now are the unlikely things that have found their way into my kitchen — some almost by accident.

I’d never seen much use for a Kitchen Aid stand mixer, for instance. If I wanted to whip up eggs or knead pasta dough I could jolly well do it on my own power, I told myself.  Then, early one December, I started making biscotti and could not stop. I was obsessed. As the days went by I went from chocolate hazelnut to almond to dried cranberry orange peel –  it suddenly occurred to me that I could make so many more versions if I just had a stand mixer. Suddenly, there it was. I am happy I have it still, though the biscotti frenzy did come to an end.

The world’s smallest melon scoop is in the kitchen drawer full of other small, specialty tools. I rarely use it, but would never get rid of it. First of all, I bought it in a famous chef’s shop in Paris. My one and only trip to Paris.  The inspiration for buying it was a salad I’d had that consisted of a bowl full of cool, fresh watercress garnished with caramelized onions and tiny rounds of cucumber, all perfectly dressed with a Champagne vinaigrette. I had to recreate it, and I did. And, found out how long it took to scoop out all of those little tiny pearls of cucumber. It is a special-occasion salad for sure.

Tongs, for cooking and serving, are tops on many cooks' lists.

I recently realized that I’ve been using another unlikely item almost daily — to the point that I’m wondering how I’d gotten along so many years without it.  I don’t even remember how I came to have it.

This is a battered but sturdy, 16-inch pizza pan. I’ve used it for making pizza, of course. But it’s come to play a larger role. It is perfect for ferrying prepped food from counter to stove, or meat from kitchen to outdoor grill; for holding  pecan halves or slivered almonds, spread out for toasting in the oven. It’s handy for taking food from the freezer to counter, and holding it while it defrosts. It is there when I need a flat, heat-proof surface on top of the stove to hold foods I’m frying or sautéing in batches, like a stack of softened tortillas for enchiladas.

It’s more versatile and useful, easy to clean and is pretty much indestructible. It will probably stay close at hand in the kitchen for the duration, while shinier, more expensive implements sit unused in a back drawer.  Utility, in the end, is what it’s all about.

Blue pumpkins looking exotic among the orange.

Big orange pumpkins tell us fall is really here. Above, blue pumpkins add exotic color next to the green and orange.

While the calendar told us that fall began on Friday, I had my first taste of this welcome season a day early.

A visit this time of year to Central Market has become as traditional for me as picking out a Christmas tree or driving downtown to see the holiday lights on the River Walk. It’s time for the pumpkin display.

This sprawling array of amazing colors, shapes and sizes of pumpkins, as well as squash and ornamental gourds at Central Market, is one of the best ways I know to get a big, beautiful eyeful of fall color. Giant orange pumpkins for impressive jack-o-lanterns, a big crate full of eerie,  pale-as-a-ghost white pumpkins, gnarled blue pumpkins and pumpkins so intensely orange as to be almost red; pumpkins so big they’d probably take up the passenger seat in a Smart car. How much more fun it is to gaze upon this splendor, I thought, than it is to stare at those masses of poinsettias coming up in a couple of months.

The label called this a 'blue warted apple pumpkin.' Apple-shaped, but is more green than blue.

Each year, I choose one “pet” pumpkin to display as living sculptural art on the coffee table or mantel. For the past few years this has been a blue pumpkin. This year I strayed, however, and fell for a lovely Blue Warted Apple Pumpkin. At least I think that’s what its name is. It was more pale green than blue, but the shape was right on.

On Friday, fall announced itself by a temperature in the actual 70s as I left the house late in the morning. I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and, to my amazement, I wasn’t dripping wet by the time I was settled in the car.

So, here’s to fall. We’ll be gratefully looking up fall recipes and sharing them in the next weeks. Honest. We are determined to wallow in a good measures of fall, Halloween and Thanksgiving spirit before getting into the coming “C” season.

Blue Bell Natural Vanilla Bean Ice Cream beat out a panel of contenders at a Bon Appetit.com taste test. The results were published Sunday on Yahoo’s home page and Blue Bell was described as a “cult” favorite. Bon Appetit.com mentioned where it was distributed, but not that it originated in Texas, in Brenham, where it has been produced for more than a century. We thought we’d point that out.

Dear Bon Appetit.com editors, Julia Bainbridge and Supermarket Standoff participants:

I write to you with some amusement and just a bit of chiding.

In a recent article entitled Supermarket Standoff, you sampled 10 vanilla ice creams.Your taste test winner (and in fact No. 3 in relative healthfulness) was Blue Bell Natural Vanilla Bean Ice Cream.

We applaud the results. But, here’s a fact that you left out:  Blue Bell Ice Cream originated, and still is made, in Texas. (Only in the 1990s did the company open additional production facilities in Broken Arrow, Okla., and Sylacauga, Ala.)

It has been a favorite here in its home state for more than 100 years. It is still produced in its original location in Brenham, a little town northwest of Houston. It is delicious (as you discovered), and it is sold in grocery stores all over the state at a reasonable price and in plenty of flavors.

How would this make it a “cult” ice cream?

This is not homerism. I believe you’ve misused the word. You do mention, in fact, that it is available in some 20 states. To me, “cult” is a word I’d use for a product that was not readily available to the general public — perhaps it is hard to find, or it is hard to afford. I think of the term “cult” wines and my first thought is that I probably can’t get them in my favorite wine shop, and if I could, I probably wouldn’t be able to afford them.

I also wonder about your sentence: “We included it because it is such a cult favorite …” Why the dismissive (or even grudging) note here? Did you, perhaps, use the word “cult” because it was preferable to using the word “Texas”?

Blue Bell has a venerable history. The ice creamery was established by a cooperative of farmers to make good use of their excess milk and cream back in the early 1900s. It has long been the everyday, go-to ice cream for Texas ice cream lovers and families. Oh, and probably lots of families in those 19 other states you mention.

When I moved to Texas from Arizona years ago, I would joke to my husband that Blue Bell Ice Cream and ZZ Top were the main reasons I moved here. (Actually, I moved here to marry him.)  Not only was the flavor and texture of Blue Bell excellent, I loved the fact that they rotated flavors by season. For instance, when summertime comes, they take advantage of the bounteous crop of peaches grown in the Texas Hill Country and elsewhere to make one of their rotational ice creams.

Texas (as did other agriculturally rich,  food-producing states) actually had that “seasonal, local” thing going many years ago — maybe even before it was recognized as a hip restaurant concept “originating” in that politically correct state, California.

I am really glad that you did choose Blue Bell to test, and that your taste test discovered what we’ve known for years. You might even want to send a writer out to Brenham — it’s a great topic for an article.

Sincerely,

Bonnie Walker,

Editor, SavorSA