Tag Archives: errata

I Miss You / I Miss Your Onion Dip

Everyone was talking about what they were cooking and eating for the Superbowl, our last sports hurrah until Spring Training starts in a few months.  It started me thinking about all the fun parties my family used to have for the Superbowl and how much I miss those days.

My mom would have a dichotomous party at her fabulous Russian Hill apartment, the 49ers hopefully would be one of the contenders, we wore our colors and sipped Chardonnay and Pinot Noir and ate her lavish spread of appetizers and something luxurious to fill in the corners, like lasagna and her Boston cream pie.  Friends from the choir, our blended family, and other family friends would join the sports fanatic side of the party rooting for the teams, while other friends (big wigs in advertising) would root for their commercials and discuss that side of the Superbowl experience.  It was so funny to hear people say, “Shhh! The commercials are on!”

My dear sister would often make her onion dip for picnics and football game watching parties to eat with the ubiquitous ridged potato chips.  It’s a marvelous concoction with the usual ingredients (sour cream and onion soup mix) but it had a special, wonderful nuance to it.  She shared with me one day that it contained a small shot of very fine gin, now isn’t that a brilliant idea? Who would have thought, but it really made for the most perfect onion dip.

I always had sort of an Auntie Mame fantasy of my sister discovering this wonderful addition – her sipping an elegant martini in her tiny SF kitchen while adding this and that to the dip, and then…….

Hmmm, perhaps a touch of dill, a little more cracked black pepper, some onion powder, oooops! There goes the martini!  (pause to taste….)  ((big grin))

I am sure it really was nothing of the sort but you know, it’s a fun “movie” to run in my head and I know she would laugh at it.

My family has moved away and life’s changes has made our getting together a rare experience.  As I had the Superbowl on and was alone eating store-bought salsa and waiting for my humble vegetable soup to cook when I had an epiphany that I missed my sister’s onion dip, and I miss her even more.


My 2011 “Did It'” List

My friend Luna Raven recently posted her 2011 “Did It” List, inspired by one of her friends and I love all the things she got done this year.  Thus inspired I thought I should join the club and write about my accomplishments too.

I went to Mushroom Camp and  learned to mordant yarn and fabric and then dye it using foraged mushrooms.
Green shimmery stems!The red gilled dernacybe makes a gorgeous pinkAmazing spectrum of hues from mushroom dyesRed-Gilles Dermocybes with alum mordant make this coppery hue

I found my first candy cap mushroom in the redwood forests up in Sonoma.
My first mushroom foray, a candycap!

I attended the Fancy Food Show and scored twelve pounds of amazing blue cheese. (no picture, we ate it all!)

I discovered some amazing ramen places, including my current favorite, pork and corn butter ramen at Ramen Club.
*Ridiculous* dinner w @equan55 - butter ramen

I treated myself to some incredible yarn at Stitches West and have actually knitted up a few garments.
Zontee spotting!!The results of our card knitting class! Lorna Miserphoto.JPGChacha shawl

I gathered up all my courage and borrowed lots of courage from friends and had surgery to repair my shoulder from a tragic high fiving injury when we won the World Series in 2011.Two months later I did not listen to my doctors orders and returned to work a month early, which is why one should not make important decisions while taking pain medication!  Major life lesson learned!  (Is that technically an accomplishment?)
The *right* shoulder
(note to the surgeon)

I am still in physical therapy due to yet another accident while riding MUNI.  My  accomplishment there is patience and learning to follow directions and care for myself, and, even though it’s embarrassing, sit in the disabled seats on the bus.

I got to visit with my dearest childhood friend three times! ((Lovi!!))
Me & my BFFGurlzphoto.JPG

My friends and I made ten different kinds of macaroni and cheese on my birthday at a huge blowout party, and we almost ate them all!
Mac'n cheese blowout - in progressMy dear friends...

I celebrated one year at my new job and I am still loving every day. It was great to have health insurance, medical leave and understanding coworkers while I heal. I am so lucky!
Deflating the monkeyphoto.JPGphoto.JPGphoto.JPG

I went to San Diego on the most hilarious girls road trip to BlogHer – the Road Trip of Happiness!
Here it is, on a 20" plate, fried chicken BennieEeek! It's *so* big! @whats4dinnermomGetting reading for #KUYH Party @rubydw is thirsty!Tasering @domesticvalerie while waiting for brekkies is just rude @lunaraven13

I relearned how to embroider after taking a great class from Princess Animal and finished my first sampler.

I knitted my 26th pair of socks and learned how to darn them.
Skew socks in Alchemy's Juniper sock- Summertime BluesLast view, fun heel stripes, love this pattern!Finished my Twisted socks from @knittydotcomForgotten arts: darning socks (done!)

I created a new diet of bacon, chocolate, beef, wine and cocktails, bread and cheese because of weird food allergy/sensitivities – I’m doing just fine on it, it’s not privation that’s for sure!
Vegan chocolate cake ~ Wacky cake ~ with bourbon ganache. Thanks mOmIt's business time...Mmm lardons - thanks @nueskes @inyaku !

I launched a new blog – The Inadvertent Redhead – as an outlet for my non-food related talents, and I love it! And yes, I’m still a redhead!
Irish coffee #2 at the Buena Vistaaaahhhhphoto.PNG

Because of my blog and social media I was invited to a multitude of wonderful parties and events and I feel so privileged to have these opportunities and to know so many wonderful writers, cooks, chefs, photographers, stylists and artistan food producers from many genres.
Chef Corey Lee of BenuSour Flour

Despite all the challenges and sadnesses of this year it has been a really good one and I am looking forward to many fun things in 2012.

I am most especially looking forward to another year with my wonderful family.
Ken and Barbie

Here’s to health and happiness ahead!
Cheers my friends!

Saturday SF Romp

It was a soft Saturday morning in the City, the weather seemed unsure whether it was foggy or cloudy but definitely Spring was showing her cold cheek to the world.

I dressed up warmly in layers and headed to the farmer’s market with D___. Our goal: caffeine and evil breakfast goodies.

Our first stop – a rich chocolately mocha from Blue Bottle, then an evilly buttery, almond croissant. This kept us from dying of hunger while waiting in the eternally snaking line for Primavera. D__ chose the tacos el pastor while I shook things up from my usual order of chilaquiles and ordered crisp chicken enchiladas with salsa verde. Under all that lettuce was shredded chicken in a green chile tomatillo salsa inside their handmade tortillas, fried until crisp with cojita and sour cream.

(I adore their black beans and chipotle salsa)

While we were chatting post-nosh and gazing at the varying shades of grey in the sky, the Bay and the Bay Bridge I showed off my new socks, oooh so soft and squishy!


We cruised through the market checking out a few stalls here and there. I was on a mission for a few items: Meyer lemon rosemary bread from Trattoria, heritage dried beans from Tierra Farms and pork. My plan was to make posole, or pork and corn stew, and was delighted to find authentic Anasazi beans at the Tierra Farms stall. I also grabbed a sweetly fragrant bag of dried Ancho chiles and was enticed to buy a sachet of smoked onion salt. This is one of my favorite farmers at the market and I love chatting with Lee. She recommended using the smoked onion salt on popcorn, in fact she claims it is so shockingly good that you can’t help yourself from gobbling up an entire bowl. Well! How could I resist, right? D___ tried out their new strawberry chipotle hot sauce, sweetly zingy with a good smokey flavor.

We were planning to hit up Sur la Table but was sidetracked by the bins of richly marbled pasture raised meats of Marin Sun Farms. I spotted a fat pouch of pork stew meat, perfect for my SFe Posole Stew.

The gentleman ringing me up, Gareth Fischer, asked what I planned to do with the pork and we chatted a bit about posole and cooking and blogging when Gareth and I remembered we had met before at a wonderful dinner with his wife Maura, Traca of Seattle Tall Poppy, Luna of La Sirene Noir and Luna’s Kitchen Magic and others at the incomparable Incanto Restaurant. I promised to share my recipe and said our farewells. I will be back next week for a steak as their ribeyes looked incredible.

Onto Sur la Table, a gourmand’s version of Tiffany’s.. We felt like kids in a candy store, mock attacking each other with various implements and inappropriately modeling the goods.

(the *other* use for a rolling pin)

(silicone glove handcuffs)

(tweaking the silicone, er, caneles molds)

(a long nosed pestle??)

(the closest I’ll get to playing the harp)

(blender ninja)

And, for our performance art finale, how to kill a chicken.

Needless to say the store’s visitors and perhaps some of the staff were highly amused by our antics, as were we.

We did a bit of shopping inside the Ferry Building and suddenly the urge for a glass of wine sang its siren song and D__ recalled she had a chilled bottle of Chardonnay in her fridge. Full speed ahead!!

On the way we stopped in the Mission and finally visited the charming Pot + Pantry, a cookware shop. They sell unique new and used unusual cookery equipment and delightful art from Alyson Thomas of drywell art. I already own her San Francisco is for Carnivores print which makes me laugh every time I see it, but her current art show, Meat Market totally cracks me up. Her paintings of cuts of meat with racy captions is brilliant, my favorite is “Let’s Bone”.

But onto wine, watching the sunset from a comfy chair (shades of Monty Python) and a kind offer of ebi nabe for dinner, all graciously accepted.

(ebi nabe is a Japanese shrimp hot pot, simple and delicious)

The heavy clouds finally delivered their payload and back at home I was lulled to sleep by the rain and hail rattling against the windows and the hiss of wet pavement under the cars whizzing by down below the Roost. All in all fun Saturday romp!

Annual Peep Show: Easter Food Torture III

Each year a poor innocent peep is sacrificed to appease the Easter Bunny gods…

Behold, the innocent victim, a homemade bunny peep.


Now, witness and be afraid. Be very afraid.


And, sadly, the poor peep’s rabbity outline can still be seen….


Now, we are safe for another year…. (but my poor plate may never be the same!!)

Wordless Wednesday – Emptiness

Oh Winter, how empty you make me feel.

Sometimes though, a small thing brightens my day.


Kindness, The Best Defense and Prevention for Bullying

(Note: this post is non-food related.)

The news lately about children and teen suicides over bullying has me thinking and has touched my heart.

It’s a sad world and it is a beautiful world, all at the same time. When you are in a bad place everything looks worse. All the bad things are magnified when you feel you are all alone.

I think that people become bullies because they are in a bad situation and they are taught that in order to feel better they can put others down. Making someone feel bad to match the bad feelings or fear you have inside yourself can give you a sense of power and control when you feel powerless or scared. It is horrible isn’t it, it is a spiraling cycle of hate and self-hate.

I think the key to healing the world from bullies and to heal those who are bullied or who feel alone to the point of despair is kindness.

I know what it is like to be bullied. And worse, I know what it is like to feel alone.

As a kid I had a good life, we were fairly well off, lived in an affluent neighborhood, we had good schools very nearby and a good community. What I didn’t know was that it was not really real. My parents divorced and suddenly we were pariahs. Suddenly, we had no money for food, clothes or anything. Mom got a variety of jobs and kept us afloat but in an insular class-conscious neighborhood we were alarmingly different. Some of my friends began avoiding me. Some of their parents told me not to come over to play anymore. I was a product of a “broken home” and was viewed as a negative influence or something. I was a happy kid, but this change was too much and it made me sad.

Kids in my neighborhood bullied and teased me because I was sad. No one in my school or neighborhood was divorced and there was no one I could talk to. It never occurred to me that I could talk to anyone.

Times were different then. Can you believe how different things were? My mom couldn’t get a credit card in her own name from JC Penny’s or the gas station, not because she didn’t have income or credit history, but because she was a divorcée. She was the president of the PTA but after the divorce, despite successful terms, she was never invited to hold office again. It really boggles my mind.

The kids from my neighborhood and school used to hit me and yell at me “Heather Heather don’t cry” until, of course, I would. These were dark days. I remember walking home from school carrying my flute when some older kids, the older brothers from the kids in my grade, started bullying me and grabbed my flute and threw the case on the sidewalk. I ran home, crying and terrified, and ran into my sister. I guess I blubbered this story out and she had a grim look on her face, and she stomped off.

We were tall girls, taller than everyone our own age, even throughout high school. My sis was tall and skinny but strong from sailing and climbing trees and all the camping and backpacking we did. She marched over to those bullies who were a little older than her, and took my flute back. She told them to never mess with me again. They taunted her but she stayed strong and did not react. They grabbed a huge rock from a garden bed and heaved it at her, striking her smack in the sternum. She didn’t flinch. She walked away, head high, jaw set. The mean boys were awed. I wasn’t bullied much after that. They told their little brothers and sisters too, or must have, because my classmates pretty much stopped bothering me too. They were afraid my sister would come after them. And she would have. She’s my hero.

What they didn’t know was how scared she was, and how that rock hurt her. She cried once at home, and when mom got home from work she gently put an ice pack on her to help ease the pain. She was horribly bruised but never let on this to anyone except our mom. I was too little to know these things, I just thought she was amazing. I still do! After that day, I didn’t feel so alone.

The kids in my neighborhood were taught to fear anything different, and apparently so were their parents. We were too different and were therefore a threat. If their parents had been able to spread kindness to their children instead of fear, so that they would be kind to others instead of attack someone who was different, perhaps they wouldn’t have bullied me for being different, for being sad.

The children in the news didn’t have a big sister like mine to help them I guess. They felt too alone to reach out or felt there was no use.

Imagine if a little kindness was spread around the world, if everyone reacted first with empathy and kindness instead of fear and scorn every time we experienced something or someone different. If, instead of reacting to a bully with hate and anger about their behavior, we said instead, hey, what is *really* going on? Why are you so afraid or so angry? And, by that kindness, allowing a tiny crack inside to the darkness, it let healing begin. If instead of allowing bullying to happen, we reach out to the victim to say, hey, I have been there too, and it gets better. A lot of celebrities are spreading this message now, and I think it’s important that the common person also spreads this message of hope and kindness.

Today, I don’t care that I was bullied, it’s a part of my history but doesn’t register as important in my life. Those people were fools and I don’t feel upset. I feel sorry for them. I hope they think back on their behavior and feel shame. I hope they think about kindness toward others and try to teach kindness to their children.

A part of me feels this reaching out with kindness is not really “human nature” but human nature is really a learned behavior that can be changed, isn’t it? Perhaps I am the fool in thinking that we can all spare some kindness. But is it foolish to have hope? Hope that we can try just a little harder, a little here and there, to practice being more kind and tolerant? We may not ever achieve it, but perhaps just trying to be more kind can surely help. At the very least, those who feel so alone and so different might be helped to see that they aren’t. It’s hard to feel alone when someone holds your hand.

Wordless Wednesday – A Glimpse of Office Life

Snack du jour: yak jerky
(snack du jour: yak jerky from Tibet. Commodity yak?)

A sliver of warmth between the cold canyon walls
(catching a few rays at lunch; a sliver of warmth between the cool canyons)

My desk drawer
(the holy of holyies: my desk drawer)

I Saw You Today

I saw you today
after being apart for two years.
You looked so at peace
and so horribly still.

I prefer to think of you in my minds eye
“Hi sweetie, it’s me'” and make that funny kissy face
like you were too macho to kiss me
but secretly you liked it.

I saw your daughter today
so tall and so poised
You would have been proud
she was amazing
Were you there?
I didn’t feel your presence at all.

You would have been impressed
all the people who showed up to honor you
The church was so full
full of tears.

Anton said great things for you
You know, despite your not being close to him as a man
he was crying and remembering
how you forgave him
for breaking your front teeth
when you were 10!
so glad you got them fixed so nicely
your happy smile was that much more joyful.

I saw your picture at the ball game with John and Fred
your smile was so nice
hard to see you with her but then
I thought you wanted to be with her
and you were smiling.

I saw you today
through your family’s eyes
you were just who you were
no bullshit and a real man
Everyone loves you so much
Hope you really knew this
when you were alive.

Some of your friends said it
For a while we were all living in a golden age
all of our wonderful parties and outings and events
We did that together
but people came together because of you
when you were not doing well and stopped
people really noticed
they missed you
You were the glue that held so many people together.

I know we were not meant to be
I wanted to grow old with you, remember?
Denise said that today too
I wept even harder
It was so true.
Did you mean it
when you said you were not going to live long
I thought you were negative
but perhaps you really knew

I saw you today
despite all the bad things we went through
I will work harder to see you in the light of our happy times
I will see you sitting in your chair
feet up on the table
chewing that purple cigar bubble gum
the fireplace crackling
you laughing (or cursing) away at the tv
and teasing me and Natalie

I have missed those days and nights so much, Marc,
when we were a family
I mourn the loss of our good times
knowing you aren’t 20 miles away
having some port and checking the scores
I hope you are finally at peace now
no longer angry or sad
finally hanging out with your dad.

Life on the Line

I feel like I have lived my entire life on the 38 Geary bus.

The 38 line runs the length of the City, nearly 7 miles in a straight line. Commuting its distance takes as long as going to Concord on BART or to Petaluma or Sunnyvale by car. It is an intermidable ride.

Throughout the many years I have ridden the 38 I have seen so many sights and changes along the boulevard. With a long ride you can only gaze out the window, if only to distract yourself from the boredom and the many peculiar people that take MUNI. To pass the time you memorize the cross streets and chant them in order: Spruce, Parker, Commonwealth, Jordan… You remark on the change of climate: socked-in fog so thick it is like being inside a cotton ball to the sweltering heat or swirling winds of downtown. Watching the stores come and go is like watching a flip book of change.

Almost every day you say to yourself, “Oh, Park Walker Liquors is gone…” and recall how you used to buy beer and clove cigarettes there underage because the owner liked your long legs. All of the movie theaters I used to wait in line for hours to see all the blockbuster movies are all closed except one. The Coliceum is razed for a new building, the Alexandria is a derelict. The dates I had in those theaters, holding hands in the dark with cute boys and snagging a furtive Red Vine flavored kiss, are only echoes now. Grocery stores and favorite bars and hangouts have all come and gone. The hospitals are still there but some are now merged into the same administration. I think of all the anxious hours I spent inside those buildings and thank all the gods, faux and otherwise, for my current good health. I count up the number of places I have lived along the way.

I have carted many things on the bus: groceries, surfboards, bouquets of flowers, Christmas presents, loads of shoes, clothing and makeup from Union Square. I have even moved apartments on the bus with stuffed black plastic garbage bags full of my belongings.

I have met three boyfriends on the 38; oh wait, four, but who keeps track anyway. I have spent almost as much time waiting for the bus as I have riding it. Before these newfangled contraptions like NextBus and Google Directions there was only the familiar bus rider’s stance of peering down the street, squinting, while dodging cars in the right lane, looking for a sign of a bus in the distance. Everyone at the stop would ask, “Did you see anything?” and collectively sigh when the response was a dejected , “NO….”

If you are not waiting for the bus, you are running to catch it. The drivers fancy themselves as Mario Andrettis, covering one long block in 1.37 seconds flat. I have perfected my sprinting by scampering for the bus, high heels, parcels and all. Most often you arrive just as the doors close, and once that happens you are out of luck. The rarity of a driver reopening the doors is likened to winning the megajackpot, but with more cursing.

I have fallen asleep on the bus, to and from work, missing my stop or being jolted awake by a sudden screech of the brakes for some random reason. I have been in accidents, gotten robbed, seen fights and acts of extreme kindness, witnessed crimes, both felonies and crimes of fashion, observed breakups and hookups and gross instances of self love. I have been propositioned and seen and heard more things I could never tell my mother about.

The neighborhoods transversed by the 38 span every ethnicity. The canyons of yupsters (now hipsters) of downtown give way to hordes of confused and cold tourists at Union Square. Homeless and hookers interspersed with Vietnamese and Thai fade to Japanese, Korean and Black from the Tenderloin to the Western addition. Chinese heavily pack the 38 and exit for the parallel Little Chinatown on Clement street, just to ride a block. Russian shops jostle next to funky Irish bars, Jewish bakeries and the random tiki bar. And, the end of the line, is our own Siberia: chilly, wild and rough Ocean Beach. It’s an entire city represented on one street.

I have eaten and drank my way up and down the line. Truffles fries at the Sheraton Palace; pho and pad Thai at Osha Thai washed down by a tottie at Rye; fish and chips and ale at Edinburgh Castle; burgers at Mels; buffalo stew at Tommy’s Joynt; ramen, soba and sushi at Japantown; HoneyBaked hams; hotdogs at the Cable Car stand; spring rolls with fiery green sauce at Ton Kiang and nachoes and margaritas at Pancho Villas. I could go on and on, not even having reached Arguello yet, but I can’t forget Gaspari’s pizza, Frank’s ice cream and my work towards a diploma in tequila at Tommy’s!

Even though I have lived all over town, it seems like I ride the 38 the most, for better or for worse. It is a major artery for the city and a common thread in my life. It is time to go to work now, on – you guessed it – the 38!

Perfect Reception

When I moved into my beloved Russian Hill apartment years ago, my sis gave me some essential cookbooks, one of which has become a go-to favorite. George Bradshaw was an amazing contemporary writer and in the 50’s he began to write about food. His 1969 book, Suppers and Midnight Snacks, became a novel of sorts for me. I would curl up in a quiet corner and imagine myself preparing his suggested menus while holding a martini and dressed in an elegant caftan. It was the 70’s after all, back when Doris Day and Dinah Shore were the penultimate hostesses. An updo, a caftan and a long cigarette holder were the gracious hostess’s costume of choice.

Over the years I have tried many of George’s recipes and still yearn to try more of them. I especially adore the chapter titled Lonely Pleasures.

“With any luck, one spends a certain amount of time alone. This means of course that you eat alone, and can indulge any outrageous taste you secretly harbor. The pressures are off, there is no home economist or gourmet looking over your shoulder – unless of course, you have the misfortune to be one yourself – and you can let go.”

Better words have never been spoken, George, although I secretly wish you had titled this section Solo Pleasures. As one who has the pleasure of indulging meals at home singularly I prefer not to emphasis the lonely aspect.

His writing is highly amusing, especially where he goes on to describe all the things one can do whilst dining alone, including reading a novel, watching the sun set (obviously he never lived in foggy San Francisco), and telephoning.

“…I have a friend who calls me up the minute she begins to eat celery – the reception is perfect…”

Amusingly enough, and coincidentally, I too have a very dear friend who does exactly the same thing. We will be chatting along on various fascinating but mundane topics, and then Crunch, Crunch, Crunch!!!

“What are you eating, now?” I ask with an underlying chuckle, and think of this book. She will reply, “Celery” or “Tortilla chips with guacamole” or, like yesterday, “Bok choy from the garden. I’m pruning it before the gophers do.”

I recall to her memory this chapter in the book and we break off into peals of laughter, interspersed with crunching. Naturally.

In this chapter is a section of cooking one can do during a rainy Saturday to prepare oneself for the week or weeks ahead when, alas, the servants have departed, never to return, and yet one needs a decent meal after a long day.

George prescribes, and I have frequently followed his sage advice, preparing a variety of entrees that can be cooked and bagged into portions and frozen, but that have panache: crepes, beef stew, and chicken in a veloute with artichokes.

One of my favorites is what he calls Chop Chops. They are a purée of flavors suspended in gelatin and then frozen, to be added into soups, sauces and sautes for a little como se yama zing.

My favorite book

If for no other reason, you must obtain this book, and read this chapter. The story on truffles still has me in stitches. Although it is long out of print, one can find a decent copy on Alibris. And then you can thank me later.


2 envelopes of unflavored gelatin
1 c H2O
6 cloves of garlic
3 medium onions (I use white)
1 bunch of watercress
10 sprigs of parsley (Italian or flat leaf)
Juice of a large lemon (or 2 Meyer lemons)

Special equipment: four mini ice cube trays – if you can find silicon ones that would be ideal, for reasons explained later. They are 1/2″ deep and each makes 90 cubes.

Melt the gelatin in the cold water, then heat gently to dissolve it. Allow to cool. Peel the garlic and the onions and chop roughly. Cut off the stems of the watercress and the parsley and use the leaves for stock another time.

Place all ingredients into a blender and purée until you have a beautiful jade-green purée.

Pour the purée into the mini ice cube trays and freeze overnight or until solid.

Now comes the tricky part. Unless you have silicon mini ice cube trays, no matter how you flex the trays, apply hot wet towels or curse at them, the cubes will not easily part from the trays. This has to do with the gelatin. However, if you use a very sharp small knife and score around the edge with the tip, then plunge the tip down into the tray the green chop chops cube will pop right out.

Store immediately in an airtight ziplock bag. You will have enough chop chops to last an entire year, or to share with a friend!

To use:

  • Add a cube to a saute pan in which you have pan fried chicken breasts or a little piece of filet of sole, add a little white wine for an instant sauce.
  • Do the same but with red wine for sauteed beef medallions.
  • Makes a wonderful sauce allowed to thaw and added to homemade (or store bought) mayonnaise for dipping steamed artichokes or a dressing for asparagus or lightly sauteed fish.
  • Add four cubes to a pot of soup or stew, they will provide almost all the seasoning you need.
  • Melt with butter or olive oil and serve over fresh summer squash or any sauteed vegetable.

The uses are endless and it is amazing what a great flavor one little cube will add.