WHAT WE DO
Damage Control (i.e. Six Months in Food Truck Ownership)
The following entry is intended for cathartic reasons, and is not meant to deter aspiring street food entrepreneurs.
- Day 1: Truck stops working after 15 minutes of ownership. 2.5 hours & 3 vehicles later, batteries jumped. Batteries replaced. Old owner feigns ignorance.
- Day 2: Truck is crashed into tree. Tree sustains no visible damage. Truck is sent to shop for 5 weeks and $5K worth of work.
- Truck visits mechanic #1, who supposedly overhauls systems and charges $40 to replace windshield wipers.
- Month 3: Truck drives like hell. Suspension replaced. One truck buck (= $1000)
- Truck visits the oven shop, gets a new hearth oven. Manufacturer assures us that venting oven inside truck is the proper installation, despite our concerns. Old deep fryer removed, but not before oil is spilled all over floor and stomped on by 3 sets of work crews.
- Month 4: Suspension is better. Truck brakes aren't really working. Truck weighs 15 tons. On second thought, brakes REALLY REALLY aren't working. Immediate detour to break shop. One truck buck.
- Lots of stuff is still not working. Truck is taken to truck builder, where all actual and potential problems are fixed.
- Month 5: Truck gets a purty new exterior. Yay!
- 9 man hours and 1 pint of nasty degreaser later, floor is visible again.
- Vesta crew enters truck, deep cleans inside and begins to do things with food in truck.
- We launch! No problems. Thanks to Linden St. Brewery for helping forget if there were.
- Enter: electrical problems.
- Subsequent four weeks: fans working, lights not. Lights working, fans not. Some lights working, others not. One fan out. Two fans out. Enter electrician #1 with fuses.
- Passenger side door does not lock from inside. Three times in two days it comes swinging wide open. Last time is going 60 mph on freeway.
- On a lovely Sunday morning before service, fans are not working. On this particular day it triggers fire suppression system which deploys, dowsing all food and some owners in nasty battery fluid-like chemicals. Rest of day is spent cleaning truck, throwing out food.
- Just to add to the fun, we decide to start fueling with biodiesel.
- Quote to replace fire suppression chemicals: one truck buck.
- Daily attempts to fix electricity are interrupted with major fuel leak causing cab to fill with smoke while on freeway. Enter mechanic #2. Mechanic plugs leak.
- Weird transmission stuff. Return to mechanic #2.
- Rotisserie stops spinning. We hand rotate it to bring you delicious pork sandwiches.
- While driving from mechanic #2 to electrician #2, major fuel leak on freeway.
- Electrician #2 spends all day trying to find source of fan/light problems. Discovers oven venting inside truck is one source. Does some weird electrical work which will soon need to be replaced.
- Enter mechanic #3: Billy the Biodiesel specialist. Replaces all rubber in motor with material that will not corrode.
- Fuel leaks third time. Fourth time I get under hood and fix it.
- Month 6. We work an evening event by candlelight because nothing electrical is functioning. Vanilla sandalwood scents mingle with citrus pork. Brand new fridge starts blowing hot air.
- Today: Electrician #3 has been deployed four times in a week and a half. Battery charger was replaced. Replacement is defective. Re-replaced. Now that it is working, fuses starting burning like crazy. Fuse box electrician #1 installed is replaced.
- Tomorrow's solution: refrigeration
- Next week: ?
--Traci
The magic's in the oven
One of the amazing things about the craft of artisan bread making is the endless variation we can get from the same three ingredients: flour, salt, yeast. We baker-geek types play around with temperature, mixing technique, time, water amount, flour type, and cooking method to end up with an endless array of finished products---all from what's essentially the same dough.
There are a lot of different ways to bake bread, but the most ancient one--the hearth oven--is still the best method for achieving the taste and texture artisan bakers prize. There's many variations on the hearth oven theme, from wood fired to all-electric to propane powered on a food truck (see where this is leading?) but they all work because of the same basic principal: radiant heat from all sides, and lots of it. The bread gets a fantastic initial rise in the oven, giving it an airier crumb, and finishes fast, allowing it to retain its moisture and keep fresh longer.
For example. Here's a photo of our flatbread dough baked as a crusty loaf in my home oven:
Same dough, different method.
We started out cooking our flatbread on a griddle because of the limitations of our pop-up setup: we needed something portable.
But then we got the opportunity to throw a piece of our dough into the lovely wood-fired oven of Pizza Politana, and we were hooked. Thus, our mobile hearth. Here's what happens to the same dough in the brick oven on our truck:
Same dough, different method.
We started out cooking our flatbread on a griddle because of the limitations of our pop-up setup: we needed something portable.
But then we got the opportunity to throw a piece of our dough into the lovely wood-fired oven of Pizza Politana, and we were hooked. Thus, our mobile hearth. Here's what happens to the same dough in the brick oven on our truck:
Not only is that cool to watch, but we now are getting a real, old-world pocketbread, and we really like the way the sauces of our sandwiches soak into the crumb inside. And of course, we hope you do too!
The Mobile Hearth is here!
Behold!
Photos courtesy of Mark Becker, thank you.
Our official launch date is August 25th. Stay tuned (via FB, Twitter) for info on her whereabouts.
In the meantime we'll be busy testing our new cooking equipment; a stone hearth and spit rotisserie!
Photos courtesy of Mark Becker, thank you.Our official launch date is August 25th. Stay tuned (via FB, Twitter) for info on her whereabouts.
In the meantime we'll be busy testing our new cooking equipment; a stone hearth and spit rotisserie!
We have a truck!
At long last, Vesta has found her mobile hearth on wheels, a lovely boat we decided to call Ceres, after the town she came from (it's near Modesto) and the Roman goddess of agriculture.
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| She won't look like this for long. |
She's only been in our possession about a week and we've already had a few adventures together, not only on the road but also at the DMV and my neighbor's tree. Nonetheless we are over the moon about her, and can't wait to get her all tricked out and purty, and on the streets making food in time for the good weather.
If that wasn't cool enough, we're building a real (gas-fired) hearth oven aboard our ship, courtesy of local ovencrafters Pacific Coast Brick Ovens, and guess what? We need your help. Please take a moment to check out our Kickstarter project, linked above, and pass the word along to all sandwich-loving people!
Happy New Year!
Here's the thing. We may be making sandwiches while bouncing up and down to keep warm in the frigid January morning, but this is California---the absolute center of the universe for fabulous produce---and the farmer's market still rocks. I walk around and see an explosion of leafy greens, that cute little baby broccoli from Happy Boy Farm; mandarins, lemons, grapefruit, oranges of all types; rainbow carrots, radishes, winter squashes, salad greens. You can get humanely raised, pastured meats from Prather Ranch Meat Co., stock up on preserves from Blue Chair, sample some of the best cheeses available from the attractive maidens of Cowgirl Creamery, buy super-fresh seafood from that seafood guy over there whose name I forget, get your knives sharpened, bounce around in the bouncy house, have a hot chocolate at Barlovento, and check out the flavors at our new neighbor Scream Sorbet, for whom I have invented a new tagline: "Sorbet that makes ice cream jealous." And after all that, you've probably worked up an appetite and it's time for a Vesta sandwich on flatbread off the grill. See you Saturday, brave foragers!
I leave you with a link this handy seasonality chart on the Agricultural Institute of Marin's website.
Real Mercantile
We'll be branching out into the world of sandwiches on not-so-flat bread this Wednesday at this lovely little gathering of talented local makers and craftspeople. Gorgeous handmade jewelry, skin care products, clothing, gifts and much more abound.
For our part, we'll be serving up our carrot hazelnut pate, Traci's (new) meltingly delicious slow-cooked, citrus-marinaded pork on a with a fennel slaw, hot spiced cherry-apple cider, and a dessert or two we've been messin' around with. Do come!
For our part, we'll be serving up our carrot hazelnut pate, Traci's (new) meltingly delicious slow-cooked, citrus-marinaded pork on a with a fennel slaw, hot spiced cherry-apple cider, and a dessert or two we've been messin' around with. Do come!
Join us this Sunday, Oct 17th at Berkeley's 8th annual Spice of Life Festival in the "Gourmet Ghetto" (what exactly is ghetto about it, I've never understood) on Shattuck between Vine and Rose. We'll be grillin' near the Long's.Sexy photo of flatbread by Christina Liebner.
Events, Events, Events
It's the height of the season at the farmer's markets, and it rocks. Stands explode with color, overflowing with stonefruit, berries, peppers, zucchini, and greens like a painted tableau of abundance. Summer in the Bay Area may bring fog and fickle weather, but you sure can't complain about the produce.
It's also festival season, and we've been so busy preparing for last weekend's Eat Real Festival in Jack London Square that we forgot to blog about it. Suffice it to say, the sun was out, the streets were packed with the beautiful people of Oakland, and we're pooped.
Speaking of rock, though, we are looking forward to sell at the Webster Street Jam in Alameda. The festival is the weekend of Sep 11th and 12th, 10-6 on Sat and 10-5 on Sun, on (guess what) Webster Street between Central and Lincoln. Come on out y'all, because this is a really fun street fair that includes food, crafts, beer, wine, jumpy houses for the kiddies, rock climbing walls, and two stages of live music---one of which will contain yours truly (Jenya) playing in a Tom Waits cover band on the afternoon of the 12th. That's right, I'll make your sandwich and entertain you as well. See you there!
It's also festival season, and we've been so busy preparing for last weekend's Eat Real Festival in Jack London Square that we forgot to blog about it. Suffice it to say, the sun was out, the streets were packed with the beautiful people of Oakland, and we're pooped.
Speaking of rock, though, we are looking forward to sell at the Webster Street Jam in Alameda. The festival is the weekend of Sep 11th and 12th, 10-6 on Sat and 10-5 on Sun, on (guess what) Webster Street between Central and Lincoln. Come on out y'all, because this is a really fun street fair that includes food, crafts, beer, wine, jumpy houses for the kiddies, rock climbing walls, and two stages of live music---one of which will contain yours truly (Jenya) playing in a Tom Waits cover band on the afternoon of the 12th. That's right, I'll make your sandwich and entertain you as well. See you there!
Della Fattoria visit
We have both been courting Della Fattoria for years. I was first introduced to the bakery through my weathered Artisan Baking Across America book, which lovingly details a quaint brick oven bakery in the backyard of Petaluma couple Kathleen and Edmund Weber.
While I don't remember the restaurant I ate at, I do remember the revelation experienced when I unknowingly tasting their bread the first time. It was the best I'd ever eaten. I inquired of it's whereabouts, and later discovered that the Whole Foods in Mill Valley carries their products.
One of the most exciting (and dangerous) discoveries at our Thursday San Rafael Market has been the Della Fattoria stand. Their morning pastries are VERY hard to resist. Even when I bring my own oatmeal, it often goes uneaten, a sad second compared to almond croissant. Their breads are gorgeous works of culinary art. Since we can be found standing in their line a few times a day, we got to talking to Edmund, who invited us to come shape and bake bread one afternoon.
First off, the place is just as idyllic as it sounds on paper. The bakers shape bread on two enormous marble tables set in a converted barn filled with sunlight, enjoying pastoral views complete with sheep and roosters. The Webers have a huge plot of land with several edifices, including their children's homes and a dorm for visiting interns from the Culinary Institute of America. Their home and bakery breath life. The people who work there, the milling of friends coming in and out throughout the course of the afternoon, the pot of dinner cooking in a cooler nook between the two giant ovens. While clean and professional, it lacks the soulless, sterile aesthetic of most commercial bakeries. Can we live here?
It is not surprising that such sublime bread would have sprung up organically. The oven was originally constructed with help from friend and brick oven-builder Alan Scott, as a vehicle for neighborhood BBQs and cookouts. About 15 years ago, when son Aaron was working at the Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa, Kathleen got to know Aaron's executive chef, Mark Vann. Mark offered feedback on Kathleen's bread, and soon offered her the restaurant's account. She went from baking forty loaves three times a week (for pleasure) to sixty to one hundred loaves every day.
Working with the baking staff of Della Fattoria was like stepping into the middle of a performance by a well-rehearsed dance troupe, moving with quick grace and precision. We tried not to get in the way of their choreography, but they patiently showed us their methods and by the end we'd learned some nifty new techniques. Their style of shaping and baking is unlike any other we'd encountered, and watching the loaves loaded on long peels into the ovens as the sun sank low, we had the feeling of watching a ritual unfold just as it's been practiced for thousands of years: baking with only wood, stone, and fire. The next day as we ate our beautiful pan au levain we marveled at how good it still was; as we dream about baking our flatbread in a hearth oven, we discovered one of the many benefits: the high heat radiating from all sides cooks the loaves quickly, allowing them to stay fresh and moist for much longer than gas ovens would. That's our theory, anyway. The rest is all magic.
http://www.dellafattoria.com/
- Traci and Jenya
While I don't remember the restaurant I ate at, I do remember the revelation experienced when I unknowingly tasting their bread the first time. It was the best I'd ever eaten. I inquired of it's whereabouts, and later discovered that the Whole Foods in Mill Valley carries their products.
One of the most exciting (and dangerous) discoveries at our Thursday San Rafael Market has been the Della Fattoria stand. Their morning pastries are VERY hard to resist. Even when I bring my own oatmeal, it often goes uneaten, a sad second compared to almond croissant. Their breads are gorgeous works of culinary art. Since we can be found standing in their line a few times a day, we got to talking to Edmund, who invited us to come shape and bake bread one afternoon.
First off, the place is just as idyllic as it sounds on paper. The bakers shape bread on two enormous marble tables set in a converted barn filled with sunlight, enjoying pastoral views complete with sheep and roosters. The Webers have a huge plot of land with several edifices, including their children's homes and a dorm for visiting interns from the Culinary Institute of America. Their home and bakery breath life. The people who work there, the milling of friends coming in and out throughout the course of the afternoon, the pot of dinner cooking in a cooler nook between the two giant ovens. While clean and professional, it lacks the soulless, sterile aesthetic of most commercial bakeries. Can we live here?
http://www.dellafattoria.com/
- Traci and Jenya
Vesta Flatbread's Alameda debut!
This afternoon, for the first time in Vesta history, we'll be taking Bessie the trailer through the Webster street tube. Why? To feed wild revelers at the Crab Cove concert series tonight. The free concerts are presented by the West Alameda Business Association. Today's is the first of the year, a duet by Open Opera, a group dedicated to bringing opera to the public.
Music and flatbread for the people!
In Defense of Wheat
A gluten FAQ
First, a little history. It's thought that the cultivation of wheat began in Turkey, 11,000 years ago, though the cultivation of barley probably predates that. The first breads were actually unleavened, pastes made by Neolithic people from pulverizing wild grass seeds and sun drying them to form the first flatbreads. Leavened bread was invented (or discovered) by the Egyptians, who had already figured out the fermentation of grains for the purpose of beer-making; and found that same wild yeast could create a leavened loaf. Beer and bread are ancient buddies. The wild yeast (what we refer to as "sourdough") organisms break down the starches and proteins in the wheat flour, producing carbon dioxide gas that makes bread rise. The rest is history: bakers have been producing countless variations on this concept ever since, from the simplest recipe containing only wheat, water, and salt, to every imaginable combination of grain and enrichment.
I could wax poetic over the properties of bread for hours (especially if you buy me a beer), but let's skip to the gluten part. What is this stuff, anyway? Glutenin and gliadin, the two proteins predominant in wheat, link together during mixing to become the chains of proteins we call gluten. This combination has the special properties of strength and elasticity necessary to support the structure created by the expansion of yeast-produced gas----or in other words those big holes and airy crumb of your favorite baguette. Which is why, as anyone who has tried can attest, it's really hard to get a good texture in a wheat-free bread. Recipes typically include everything and the kitchen sink: potato starch, cornflour, tapioca starch, eggwhites, cellulose, Xanthan gum. I had to look up Xanthan gum, which, according to Wikipedia, is a "highly efficient laxative." My knee-jerk reaction: could this recipe really be healthier than flour, salt and water?
Complicated recipes with mysterious ingredients are the hallmark of our modern nutritionist culture, and a sign of our disconnect from ancient food traditions. I believe when we're told something has to be created in a laboratory and added to food, because it's "good for you," we should question. By the same token I distrust removing something that is naturally part of a food, especially one the ancient Greeks were making and probably digesting just fine.
If gluten isn't really bad for you, then why do I feel so much better when I don't eat bread? I do believe people when they say changing their diet makes them feel better. I also think we should take a closer look at some of the reasons. How is our bread now different from those loaves made in ancient Greece? I may be ignorant of the science involved, but I don't see how we can figure that gluten is the guilty party when so few of the other critical elements have been addressed. For instance, the way we farm: where and how was the wheat produced? Was it doused with herbicides, pesticides and chemical fertilizers, or bleached before getting to the shelf? What about additives and preservatives? And what about the baking method? Here's an interesting perspective from a second-generation Australian baker who points out a correlation between gluten intolerance and the additives and yeast formulations introduced in the 1950's that allowed bakers to speed up the traditionally slow fermentation process to produce bread in half the time. Bread production went from 8 hours minimum, to 4 or even less. He claims the longer fermentation is necessary to break down the complex proteins into more digestible nutrients. Artisan bakers also know a longer fermentation time makes for tastier bread, developing flavor, color and texture.
There's a West African word, "Sankofa," that literally translates "Go back and take it." It's often represented by a symbol of a bird taking an egg from its back, signifying the importance of taking what is good from the past to guide one's progress in the present. It's a concept that resonates very strongly with the craft of baking, which in concord with the Slow Food movement has been turning back to the age-old, time-consuming, supremely-rewarding methods of creating that symbol of ultimate comfort: fresh-baked bread.
---Jenya
Why don't you make something gluten free? I get a lot of questions about whether or not our bread contains gluten. Gluten's been getting a pretty bad rap nowadays. We bakers weathered the storm of the no-carb fad, shaking ourselves off only to get slammed anew by the seeming epidemic of gluten intolerance. Many folks, spooked by the same nutritional-information apparatus that gave us Fat Free Everything twenty years ago, have a general impression that gluten, whatever it is, must be a Bad Thing, and that if bakers would just not put it in their bread we'd all be better off. So, at the risk of upsetting a lot of people who blame gluten for a myriad of health problems ranging from mild discomfort to the extreme (miscarriage, autism), I'm going to get on my soapbox and say my piece in defense of the basic ingredient of my craft---the magical wheat plant.
First, a little history. It's thought that the cultivation of wheat began in Turkey, 11,000 years ago, though the cultivation of barley probably predates that. The first breads were actually unleavened, pastes made by Neolithic people from pulverizing wild grass seeds and sun drying them to form the first flatbreads. Leavened bread was invented (or discovered) by the Egyptians, who had already figured out the fermentation of grains for the purpose of beer-making; and found that same wild yeast could create a leavened loaf. Beer and bread are ancient buddies. The wild yeast (what we refer to as "sourdough") organisms break down the starches and proteins in the wheat flour, producing carbon dioxide gas that makes bread rise. The rest is history: bakers have been producing countless variations on this concept ever since, from the simplest recipe containing only wheat, water, and salt, to every imaginable combination of grain and enrichment.
I could wax poetic over the properties of bread for hours (especially if you buy me a beer), but let's skip to the gluten part. What is this stuff, anyway? Glutenin and gliadin, the two proteins predominant in wheat, link together during mixing to become the chains of proteins we call gluten. This combination has the special properties of strength and elasticity necessary to support the structure created by the expansion of yeast-produced gas----or in other words those big holes and airy crumb of your favorite baguette. Which is why, as anyone who has tried can attest, it's really hard to get a good texture in a wheat-free bread. Recipes typically include everything and the kitchen sink: potato starch, cornflour, tapioca starch, eggwhites, cellulose, Xanthan gum. I had to look up Xanthan gum, which, according to Wikipedia, is a "highly efficient laxative." My knee-jerk reaction: could this recipe really be healthier than flour, salt and water?
Complicated recipes with mysterious ingredients are the hallmark of our modern nutritionist culture, and a sign of our disconnect from ancient food traditions. I believe when we're told something has to be created in a laboratory and added to food, because it's "good for you," we should question. By the same token I distrust removing something that is naturally part of a food, especially one the ancient Greeks were making and probably digesting just fine.
A last thought: other possibilities aside, physical and emotional well-being are inextricably linked, and often our food choices represent the ways we find to control our lives when we feel helpless. Cutting certain food categories out of one's diet usually makes one eat less overall, which also can feel good. Cutting carbohydrates and sugars can help the body regulate its insulin response, which can also be related to stress. And there's always good old fashioned weight loss mania, which will take any form given to it by those that profit from the culture of body-image.
There's a West African word, "Sankofa," that literally translates "Go back and take it." It's often represented by a symbol of a bird taking an egg from its back, signifying the importance of taking what is good from the past to guide one's progress in the present. It's a concept that resonates very strongly with the craft of baking, which in concord with the Slow Food movement has been turning back to the age-old, time-consuming, supremely-rewarding methods of creating that symbol of ultimate comfort: fresh-baked bread.
---Jenya
Adventures with Turkish Coffee
For the most part, we make our Turkish coffee in the traditional style. I say for the most part because we do it in a big batch, and I've yet to find a giant cezve to heat it in. So a big stock pot it is, at least until Jenya fishes her welding tools out.
Coffee is so important in Turkey that the word for breakfast, "kahvalti", literally means "before coffee." Word. Turkey's got it going on.
To prepare our iced Turkish coffee, we begin with finely ground espresso beans (from Equator Estate Coffee in San Rafael, an awesome woman-owned business that deserves its own blog post), water, the finest ground cardamom from Whole Spice, and a little bit of sugar. We refer to our version as "slightly sweetened." In Turkey this is called az şekerli. In fact there are four different levels of sweetness to Turkish coffee with specific measurements: sade (plain; no sugar), az şekerli (little sugar; half a level teaspoon of sugar), orta şekerli (medium sugar; one level teaspoon), and çok şekerli (a lot of sugar; one and a half or two level teaspoons). If you haven't already gathered, these people take their coffee seriously.
The cezve (or in our case, giant stock pot) is heated until the whole mixture begins to foam. If it boils, dump everything out and start over - you haven't put enough coffee grounds in. Once the mixture is completely foamed over, remove from heat and stir for the first time. If serving in small portions hot, as the traditional method dictates, the whole mixture is poured into a cup, where the grounds will settle to the bottom. After a few failed attemps at straining, we learned that the grounds would eventually settle to the bottom of our big pot, in essense straining themselves.
In Turkey and around the Mediterranean/Middle East, the leftover grounds can be used for a kind of fortune telling called tasseography. Once the ground-filled cup is covered with a saucer and turned upside down, the symbols can be interpreted. Some examples: Flying birds = good news, candle = enlightenment, kite = wishes will come true, raven = death or bad news.
Because we don't have access to running water and electricity at the markets, we make our turkish coffee iced to maintain high quality and fresh taste. Though we do dream of opening up a restaurant and offering a hot version some day.
Full disclosure: This blog post was written in a Starbucks. Where's a girl to wait for her mechanic?
--Traci
Coffee is so important in Turkey that the word for breakfast, "kahvalti", literally means "before coffee." Word. Turkey's got it going on.
To prepare our iced Turkish coffee, we begin with finely ground espresso beans (from Equator Estate Coffee in San Rafael, an awesome woman-owned business that deserves its own blog post), water, the finest ground cardamom from Whole Spice, and a little bit of sugar. We refer to our version as "slightly sweetened." In Turkey this is called az şekerli. In fact there are four different levels of sweetness to Turkish coffee with specific measurements: sade (plain; no sugar), az şekerli (little sugar; half a level teaspoon of sugar), orta şekerli (medium sugar; one level teaspoon), and çok şekerli (a lot of sugar; one and a half or two level teaspoons). If you haven't already gathered, these people take their coffee seriously.
The cezve (or in our case, giant stock pot) is heated until the whole mixture begins to foam. If it boils, dump everything out and start over - you haven't put enough coffee grounds in. Once the mixture is completely foamed over, remove from heat and stir for the first time. If serving in small portions hot, as the traditional method dictates, the whole mixture is poured into a cup, where the grounds will settle to the bottom. After a few failed attemps at straining, we learned that the grounds would eventually settle to the bottom of our big pot, in essense straining themselves.
In Turkey and around the Mediterranean/Middle East, the leftover grounds can be used for a kind of fortune telling called tasseography. Once the ground-filled cup is covered with a saucer and turned upside down, the symbols can be interpreted. Some examples: Flying birds = good news, candle = enlightenment, kite = wishes will come true, raven = death or bad news.
Because we don't have access to running water and electricity at the markets, we make our turkish coffee iced to maintain high quality and fresh taste. Though we do dream of opening up a restaurant and offering a hot version some day.
Full disclosure: This blog post was written in a Starbucks. Where's a girl to wait for her mechanic?
--Traci
What is Harissa?
This is the single most asked question at our stand these days.
Harissa is a staple sauce in North African cuisine, a condiment as well as an ingredient. The ketchup, if you will, of countries like Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria. In the Sahara region it often has a smoky element. While it is typical quite spicy, we keep ours accessible by using Urfa and Aleppo chiles from Turkey, which have great flavor but not much heat. In Northern Africa and even Spain and France, the stuff abounds in grocery stores - sold in tubes, tins and jars.
It's roots go back to the spice traders who returned to North Africa with chiles from the New World.
Vesta's harissa is made from scratch using roasted red peppers, sundried tomatoes, onions, garlic and a myriad of spices including cumin, coriander and sumac - a sour-sweet dried bush berry culitivated in the middle east.
Perhaps the most classic use of harissa is in Merguez au Harissa, a spicy lamb sausage slathered with harissa and served in a fresh roll. This North African staple has become a fixture on the streets of Paris as well.
Harissa can be mixed with olives, added to tagines for heat and flavor, or served with eggs, as we do in our farm egg flatbread with yogurt, feta and herbs. We also pair our beef flatbread with harissa and carrot jicama pickle, the intense earthiness from the sauce balancing nicely with the sweet tartness of the carrot pickle. Coming this summer we will feature a grilled eggplant flatbread with harissa.
If you do like your harissa spicy, check out our Laszlo sauce. Named after Jenya's fiery doberman, we offer it to the folks who like to heat it up a bit, just like Laszlo does.
-- Traci
Harissa is a staple sauce in North African cuisine, a condiment as well as an ingredient. The ketchup, if you will, of countries like Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria. In the Sahara region it often has a smoky element. While it is typical quite spicy, we keep ours accessible by using Urfa and Aleppo chiles from Turkey, which have great flavor but not much heat. In Northern Africa and even Spain and France, the stuff abounds in grocery stores - sold in tubes, tins and jars.
Vesta's harissa is made from scratch using roasted red peppers, sundried tomatoes, onions, garlic and a myriad of spices including cumin, coriander and sumac - a sour-sweet dried bush berry culitivated in the middle east.
Perhaps the most classic use of harissa is in Merguez au Harissa, a spicy lamb sausage slathered with harissa and served in a fresh roll. This North African staple has become a fixture on the streets of Paris as well.
Harissa can be mixed with olives, added to tagines for heat and flavor, or served with eggs, as we do in our farm egg flatbread with yogurt, feta and herbs. We also pair our beef flatbread with harissa and carrot jicama pickle, the intense earthiness from the sauce balancing nicely with the sweet tartness of the carrot pickle. Coming this summer we will feature a grilled eggplant flatbread with harissa.
If you do like your harissa spicy, check out our Laszlo sauce. Named after Jenya's fiery doberman, we offer it to the folks who like to heat it up a bit, just like Laszlo does.
-- Traci
Why Vesta?
Vesta, goddess of the hearth, was worshiped during Rome's empire. We were drawn to the symbolism behind her name; just as she represents the fire required in each home to nourish its occupants, we hope to capture her essence by honoring the most basic, oft forgotten elements of a transformative meal.
A transformative meal at Vesta begins with the cultivation of ingredients. How each farmer treats his/her soil, what the animals raised for milk and meat are fed, how the vegetables grown are protected from pests, and so on. Most of the magic happens before they reach our kitchen, and we are curious about the details.
We care about the ingredients for two reasons. One, it is true that a finished dish only tastes only as good as its worst ingredient. Secondly, our goal is to converge inspiring farmers, respectable ranchers, phenomenal cheese makers, and outstanding millers around our kitchen. One of the most rewarding elements of this work is the relationships we forge with our suppliers. What do they represent? By carefully choosing we can create a rich community and a wealth of knowledge around us. Without intention, we may find ourselves surrounded by empty commercial transactions and little connection to those with whom we work on a weekly basis.
Because of the elevation of the feminine within her circle of worship, Vesta's name resonated even more with us. The Vestales, woman who pledged 30 years of celibacy to focus their energies on tending Vesta's fire, were a highly regarded order in Roman society: unlike other women, they were free to own property, make a will, and vote; and were given the power to free condemned prisoners and slaves with their touch. Being a woman-owned businesses, we wanted to pay homage to the amazing things that can transpire when woman and essential life forces like fire get together under one roof.
I have worked at many kitchens in my days, just as many run by woman chefs as male. But I have stayed much longer in the kitchens where other woman dwell, spending the majority of my culinary career in predominately female-run operations. While it is rare to find female-chef owned restaurants, I have always sought them out. In my experience, there is more harmony among the staff, and the cooking tends to be more soulful, less architectural.
We pay homage to the worship of Vesta and the hearth by honoring what is sacred in food; how it connects us to the earth, the seasons, our senses, and through it's bearers, the greatness that surrounds us.
-- Traci
Somos pocos pero somos locos! (We are few, but we are crazy!)
As I look over our menu, I realize we are on our way to becoming locavores. While some of our ingredients originate outside a 150-mile range, all of our suppliers are in close proximity.
Local - meats, dairy and produce
Our meats come mainly from ranches in the North Bay. We are still trying out purveyors, but this week you'll find Fulton Valley Poultry and Niman Ranch Beef in our sandwiches. While Niman Ranch originated near Pt. Reyes, they've grown so large that they now source from family farms all over the country - we don't actually know which farm their beef comes from each week. We do know that they are organic, GMO-free, and all that good stuff. In the near future, we hope to begin using the grassfed Prather Ranch or Marin Sun Farms Beef, when the season changes and demand for the cut of beef we use loosens up.
Straus Family Creamery concocts our whole milk yogurt. Head northeast from the Straus farm, and you'll land at Sebastopol's Redwood Hill Farms, our source for feta. As for eggs, we've been picking them up at our markets each morning. We are looking for a steady supplier of fresh farm eggs.
Aside from jicama (can't find) and limes (prohibitively expensive), all our produce is organic. We've been shopping at Berkeley Bowl because we can't yet meet the minimums of Veritable Vegetable, a vegetable middlewoman that sources from local organic farms. Once we get our bearings with the market schedule, we also hope to search out more direct relationships with farmers.
Not so local - flour, olive oil, vinegar and spices
Central Milling, supplier to Acme Bakery, the Cheeseboard and other fantastic bakeries around town, provides the wheat and white flours used in Jenya's master flatbread recipe. Most of this grain is grown at high altitudes in Washington State.
Pantry ingredients like oil, vinegar and spices are also harder to source. There are several excellent producers of olive oil and vinegar in the Bay Area, but I've yet to find any we can afford. I will keep searching.
Dried coconut and sugar are two well traveled ingredients we're resigned to using. Soon I will begin to look for fair trade and organic versions of both.
Since Vesta's culinary inspiration comes from the Middle East and Mediterranean, spices are the vehicles which transport our sandwich lovers to another place, sending their tastebuds on a mini vacation. Whole Spice, a company which I discovered at the Oxbow Market in Napa, provides all our spices, from the cardamom in our iced Turkish coffee to the sumac in our harissa. They carry, hands down, the highest quality spices I have found in the Bay Area. I was first won over by their urfa chile powder. Urfa is named for Turkish village where the peppers are culivated. They are dried in the sun and then sweated beneath leaves at night, giving them the earthly flavors of tobacco and smoke. Whole Spice's Urfa, along with their Aleppo peppers and a slew of other spices, are tools of culinary alchemists and the secret to our harissa. Given our desire to keep prices accessible, using Whole Spice is a bit of a luxury, but one we feel is well worth it.
-- Traci
Our meats come mainly from ranches in the North Bay. We are still trying out purveyors, but this week you'll find Fulton Valley Poultry and Niman Ranch Beef in our sandwiches. While Niman Ranch originated near Pt. Reyes, they've grown so large that they now source from family farms all over the country - we don't actually know which farm their beef comes from each week. We do know that they are organic, GMO-free, and all that good stuff. In the near future, we hope to begin using the grassfed Prather Ranch or Marin Sun Farms Beef, when the season changes and demand for the cut of beef we use loosens up.
Aside from jicama (can't find) and limes (prohibitively expensive), all our produce is organic. We've been shopping at Berkeley Bowl because we can't yet meet the minimums of Veritable Vegetable, a vegetable middlewoman that sources from local organic farms. Once we get our bearings with the market schedule, we also hope to search out more direct relationships with farmers.
Not so local - flour, olive oil, vinegar and spices
Central Milling, supplier to Acme Bakery, the Cheeseboard and other fantastic bakeries around town, provides the wheat and white flours used in Jenya's master flatbread recipe. Most of this grain is grown at high altitudes in Washington State.
Pantry ingredients like oil, vinegar and spices are also harder to source. There are several excellent producers of olive oil and vinegar in the Bay Area, but I've yet to find any we can afford. I will keep searching.
Dried coconut and sugar are two well traveled ingredients we're resigned to using. Soon I will begin to look for fair trade and organic versions of both.
Since Vesta's culinary inspiration comes from the Middle East and Mediterranean, spices are the vehicles which transport our sandwich lovers to another place, sending their tastebuds on a mini vacation. Whole Spice, a company which I discovered at the Oxbow Market in Napa, provides all our spices, from the cardamom in our iced Turkish coffee to the sumac in our harissa. They carry, hands down, the highest quality spices I have found in the Bay Area. I was first won over by their urfa chile powder. Urfa is named for Turkish village where the peppers are culivated. They are dried in the sun and then sweated beneath leaves at night, giving them the earthly flavors of tobacco and smoke. Whole Spice's Urfa, along with their Aleppo peppers and a slew of other spices, are tools of culinary alchemists and the secret to our harissa. Given our desire to keep prices accessible, using Whole Spice is a bit of a luxury, but one we feel is well worth it.
-- Traci
Urfa Peppers drying in the Turkish Sun
Geeking out with the millers
One of the aspects of this venture so far that's been the most fun for us foodie geeks has been finding our ingredients. This may seem like a mundane task, but it's opened up worlds of knowledge and community by way of making connections with the local producers of our food.
This week I was privileged to have the opportunity to get in on a three-day baking intensive at the SF Baking Institute, given by Keith and Nicky Giusto of Central Milling. We baked piles and piles of gorgeous crusty loaves in their beautiful deck ovens. Keith Giusto---a down-home character under whose country twang and off-color jokes lives the methodical soul of a true baker---is also a savvy businessman and master miller. While we waited for our breads to rise he proudly showed slideshows of heirloom wheat varietals, farmers in their wheat fields, the Yorkshire Terrier that he named one of their custom flour mixes after ("Herbie"), and machinery like the "farinograph" which analyzes properties of flours. For a bread nerd like me, it was hog heaven. Of course, now I have to bust my flatbread formula open again to test the five or six flours I came home with. I'm kind of rooting for Herbie. ----Jenya
This week I was privileged to have the opportunity to get in on a three-day baking intensive at the SF Baking Institute, given by Keith and Nicky Giusto of Central Milling. We baked piles and piles of gorgeous crusty loaves in their beautiful deck ovens. Keith Giusto---a down-home character under whose country twang and off-color jokes lives the methodical soul of a true baker---is also a savvy businessman and master miller. While we waited for our breads to rise he proudly showed slideshows of heirloom wheat varietals, farmers in their wheat fields, the Yorkshire Terrier that he named one of their custom flour mixes after ("Herbie"), and machinery like the "farinograph" which analyzes properties of flours. For a bread nerd like me, it was hog heaven. Of course, now I have to bust my flatbread formula open again to test the five or six flours I came home with. I'm kind of rooting for Herbie. ----Jenya
We're In!
As most of you may have heard, beginning the first week in March, Vesta will debut at a farmers market near you.
The markets are:
* Thursday San Rafael Civic Center, 8 am - 1 pm
* Saturday Oakland Grand Lake, 9 am - 2 pm
* Sunday Walnut Creek, 8 am - 1 pm (approval still pending)
Can't wait to see you there !!!
- The Vesta gals.
Oh, by the way, check out our new pimped out trailer:
The markets are:
* Thursday San Rafael Civic Center, 8 am - 1 pm
* Saturday Oakland Grand Lake, 9 am - 2 pm
* Sunday Walnut Creek, 8 am - 1 pm (approval still pending)
Can't wait to see you there !!!
- The Vesta gals.
Oh, by the way, check out our new pimped out trailer:
Winter Brews Festival: A Recap
We are so proud to have debuted at this first rate Oakland event. Many thanks to Adam at Linden Brewery, the one man show who made it all possible. A few thousand friendly Oakland folks turned out on a sunny winter day to taste killer local microbrews, listen to live music, check out locally made clothes and bikes, and behold the flaming snail car.
We were one of three food vendors: Emergency BBQ turns tri-tip and more out of a gutted EMC vehicle. And the Home Brew Chef encorporates craft beers into all his menus. Can't say much more than that, as we were so focused turning out flatbread sammies that our reporters filled us in on the happenings.
After 5 non-stop hours, and 250 flatbread hot from the griddle, we were sold out!! Some celebrating with friends and local Porter ensued. By the light of the flaming snail car, we loaded Bessie up and took our happy selves home.
We were one of three food vendors: Emergency BBQ turns tri-tip and more out of a gutted EMC vehicle. And the Home Brew Chef encorporates craft beers into all his menus. Can't say much more than that, as we were so focused turning out flatbread sammies that our reporters filled us in on the happenings.
After 5 non-stop hours, and 250 flatbread hot from the griddle, we were sold out!! Some celebrating with friends and local Porter ensued. By the light of the flaming snail car, we loaded Bessie up and took our happy selves home.
Vesta Flatbread at the Winter Brews Festival
Woo hoo! We gals of Vesta Flatbread spent the day maniacally shopping and prepping for our debut this Saturday, Jan 30th, from 1-8pm at the Winter Brews Beer Festival at Oakland's own Linden Street Brewery. You should go, because the $25 admission gets you a commemorative glass, 5 pours from a selection of no less than 38 west coast microbreweries, and the opportunity to eat some awesome food, hear live music and rub elbows with your fine fellow Oaklanders. Linden St Brewery is near the Port of Oakland, in the shadow of the iconic gigantic dog cranes (or horses, or whatever you call them). Hope to see you there! Oh, and serve you a sandwich, of course. Help us to sell out early so we can start drinking.Our (99% sure) menu for Saturday will be three sandwiches on our grilled-on-the-spot rustic flatbread: (1) grilled Marin Sun Farms short ribs, harissa, and carrot jicama pickle, (2) grilled chicken, spiced carrot hazelnut pate, and savoy cabbage slaw and (3) vegetarian with carrot hazelnut pate, fresh beet relish, and feta yogurt sauce. We will also offer homemade ginger limeade, turkish coffee to balance your beer buzz, and chocolate stout mini cakes for dessert (made with Lagunitas Cappucino Stout).
Trial Run Part One
Today was our first outing with the trailer and all our equipment: we had a tasting over at the Marin Farmer's Market headquarters. It was also one of the biggest storms of the year, and a test of our determination to cook up a mean lunch for all the Bay Area to enjoy.
Jenya and I met in Oakland dark and early to load the trailer and head over the Richmond bridge. We were both excited and nervous about our first assignment, a feeling that was compounded by the thunder, lighting and inches of rain being dumped on our heads as we struggled to liberate all five locks on the trailer. The locks seemed to think that rainy days were vacation days, and requiered a bit of prodding, pulling and pleading to release. By the time we'd freed them all, the water was three feet into the street, making it impossible to avoid without trodding straight through. Not as much fun as crossing a river while backbacking, but kinda fun in a bad girl way.
Within 20 minutes our feet were totally drenched, as well as most of our clothes. And I was wearing heavy duty sailing foul weather gear. We finally pulled out of the driveway and made our way to the freeway. Our attempts towards 580 West were almost thwarted by a giant puddle under a bridge on MacArther Blvd, but we plowed ahead. Just when we thought we were in the clear, the high wind alerts appeared for the Richmond Bridge. We weren't free yet!
With minimal tossing about on the bridge, we arrived at the MFM offices and got our first break: the rain let up, and we were offered a spot to park under a covered ledge. We began to unload the trailer and set up our goods. Things seemed to be turning around. Then the wind kicked in, providing us with yet another lesson in Running a Concession Stand 101: tie EVERYTHING down. Well the weather was particularly unforgiving today, providing us lots of learning. And for the grand finale: the grill wouldn't ignite. After trying just about everything, a lovely gentleman who works for MFM tried turning the propane tank upside down and then righting it. That seemed to do the trick??!!
Well, it was a bumpy ride, but at noon, as promised, our flatbread sandwiches were hot off the grill and waiting eagerly for tasters. A lovely crew of market managers and support staff came down to try and talk. What a great bunch of people, and a fun place to work at that! I for one am very grateful to all the hardworking folks who make these awesome farmers markets possible. Hopefully we'll get invited to join them for a market or two!
Jenya and I met in Oakland dark and early to load the trailer and head over the Richmond bridge. We were both excited and nervous about our first assignment, a feeling that was compounded by the thunder, lighting and inches of rain being dumped on our heads as we struggled to liberate all five locks on the trailer. The locks seemed to think that rainy days were vacation days, and requiered a bit of prodding, pulling and pleading to release. By the time we'd freed them all, the water was three feet into the street, making it impossible to avoid without trodding straight through. Not as much fun as crossing a river while backbacking, but kinda fun in a bad girl way.
Within 20 minutes our feet were totally drenched, as well as most of our clothes. And I was wearing heavy duty sailing foul weather gear. We finally pulled out of the driveway and made our way to the freeway. Our attempts towards 580 West were almost thwarted by a giant puddle under a bridge on MacArther Blvd, but we plowed ahead. Just when we thought we were in the clear, the high wind alerts appeared for the Richmond Bridge. We weren't free yet!
With minimal tossing about on the bridge, we arrived at the MFM offices and got our first break: the rain let up, and we were offered a spot to park under a covered ledge. We began to unload the trailer and set up our goods. Things seemed to be turning around. Then the wind kicked in, providing us with yet another lesson in Running a Concession Stand 101: tie EVERYTHING down. Well the weather was particularly unforgiving today, providing us lots of learning. And for the grand finale: the grill wouldn't ignite. After trying just about everything, a lovely gentleman who works for MFM tried turning the propane tank upside down and then righting it. That seemed to do the trick??!!
Well, it was a bumpy ride, but at noon, as promised, our flatbread sandwiches were hot off the grill and waiting eagerly for tasters. A lovely crew of market managers and support staff came down to try and talk. What a great bunch of people, and a fun place to work at that! I for one am very grateful to all the hardworking folks who make these awesome farmers markets possible. Hopefully we'll get invited to join them for a market or two!
Meat day at Star Meats
Today was Meat Day. Jesse, the man behind Star Meats (in Star Grocery) invited us to the other side of the counter while their crew broke down a whole side of gorgeous beef. These guys (and gal) have such a blast at work. And they do their jobs well. Not only did we learn the intricacies and merits of the chuck, but we were mesmerized by their knife skills, slicing up bavette steaks and other meat love for the better part of the early afternoon.
We left with a delicious cut of chuck steak, new ideas for our business, and a whole lotta love for Star Meats.
What a gem this place is, the quality of their products is fantastic, prices reasonable and customer service beyond friendly. As I wandered through the grocery store I was struck by their committment to small local producers. Can't wait to thank them with some juicy flatbread sandwiches.
We left with a delicious cut of chuck steak, new ideas for our business, and a whole lotta love for Star Meats.
What a gem this place is, the quality of their products is fantastic, prices reasonable and customer service beyond friendly. As I wandered through the grocery store I was struck by their committment to small local producers. Can't wait to thank them with some juicy flatbread sandwiches.
Da Trailer
We are ready to roll, literally. Trailer day was an all day, four person extravaganza. It began Saturday morning. First we fueled ourselves with Arizmendi Emeryville's caramel latte, pastries and savory yums. After we spent some time admiring some of our new wares, we got to work. Matt and Eddy set to installing the hitch on the car while we tackled assembly of the griddle. A few hours and greasy shirts later everything was installed.
We looked over Jenya's business card designs ( I highly recommend getting yourself a business partner with design skillz), and then hit the road to Gilroy and the offices of Trailer's Plus. There she was, the last on the lot... a pristine white trailer name Bessie, waiting for a good home. One mark on the company credit card and a few signatures later, she was all ours. We drove her proudly in the slow lane til nightfall hit near San Jose.
In San Jose we pulled off the road to install the trailer lights, and just so happened to park near La Chalateca 100% Guanaco, a Pupuseria. The restaurant is run by a rock star Salvedorean family, all with multiple unique face piercings. And they bring each table a huge vat of Savladorian slaw. Awesomeness. I looked up the word Guanaco later, and the dictionary definition is: a wooly, reddish-brown, wild Andean llama. My housemate David, who lived in El Salvador, says it just means 100% Salvadorean.
Another hour or two later, belly's full, and lights installed (Thanks Matt and Eddy, you guys are the best!), we pointed ourselves and Bessie towards Oaktown where she now resides, eagerly awaiting word from some farmer's markets.
We looked over Jenya's business card designs ( I highly recommend getting yourself a business partner with design skillz), and then hit the road to Gilroy and the offices of Trailer's Plus. There she was, the last on the lot... a pristine white trailer name Bessie, waiting for a good home. One mark on the company credit card and a few signatures later, she was all ours. We drove her proudly in the slow lane til nightfall hit near San Jose.
In San Jose we pulled off the road to install the trailer lights, and just so happened to park near La Chalateca 100% Guanaco, a Pupuseria. The restaurant is run by a rock star Salvedorean family, all with multiple unique face piercings. And they bring each table a huge vat of Savladorian slaw. Awesomeness. I looked up the word Guanaco later, and the dictionary definition is: a wooly, reddish-brown, wild Andean llama. My housemate David, who lived in El Salvador, says it just means 100% Salvadorean.
Another hour or two later, belly's full, and lights installed (Thanks Matt and Eddy, you guys are the best!), we pointed ourselves and Bessie towards Oaktown where she now resides, eagerly awaiting word from some farmer's markets.
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