What I Ate For Dinner

Only in the over-hyped, under-ventilated, inbred and narcissistic world of food celebrity can figs cause a commotion. Perhaps that's a measure of our postlapsarian age, for Adam and Eve deployed figs--or, at least their leaves--out of modesty. Now they're the nukes of cross-continental epicurean chest thumping. New York chef David Chang, as is well known, humorously accused San Francisco chefs of a lack of imagination last year, calling to the witness stand the bay foodie favorite figs on a plate as he did so. One of his SF book talks was canceled. California foodies got defensive. SF was pissed. We're sophisticated, the threatened left-coast cooks proclaimed. It ain't New York, but we're as haute as any of ya'll cuisiniers, they demanded. Chang scoffed, and flexed his religious studies degree with a theologically rigorous retort. SF chefs stood by their plated figs--and the dish became a veritable thumb of the nose across the continent.

Fig confit is a classic French condiment that predates these petty squabbles, while also responding to them: it features the lush flavors and essential qualities of the fig (thereby bending toward the California minimalist crowd) and shows how they can be enhanced with a bit of preparation (perhaps satisfying East Coasters like Chang who stress technique). It's simple really: soak the figs in some booze, use the booze to deglaze an encrusted sauté pan, thicken, and then throw the woozy figs in the game at the last minute. Since the fig season is short, I'm using the dried variety for this one. Fig confit is versatile, so slather it on pork tenderloin (as I am tonight), beef or lamb without reserve, or apology, no matter with which (if either/any) coast your allegiances reside.

Start by searing the tournedos of pork (or whatever meat you're dealin' with) in a sauté or fry pan. The tournedos should be about 3 or so inches thick since you want to sear 'em well in the pan while still leaving the mid-section raw. That way you'll have moist meat throughout. Also, you need that delicious browned encrustation on the bottom of the pan as a base for the confit, so be sure to give the pork a good sear on both sides (n.b., if you cut the meat too thin, serious searing like this could dry it out). I usually throw in some carrots with the pork right around the time I turn the tournedos and start searing the second side. Once the pork searage is complete, put them in some sort of an oven-able dish (fry pan, roasting pan, whatever) along with the carrots. Throw the whole shebang into an oven you've preheated to around 350.

Now for the confit, patterned on Anthony Bourdain's recipe. Traditionally, confitting was a method of preservation. So, this one starts with a nod to that inheritance: soak a few dried figs in about a cup of Port for two hours (keeping it an all-French affair, Bourndain calls for Banyuls, not Port). This is a sort of vestigial step held over from the pre-refrigeration epoch, but it still makes sense as a reciprocal, symbiotic flavor exchange. The Port will get figified, and the figs will get Portified. Win-win, nah?

Now, once the pork is in the oven and you're left with a beautifully encrusted pan, start by sautéing shallots over the brown crusties. Add a bit more oil if necessary. After the shallots turn blonde-brown, indicating some caramelization, add a half a handful of flour. Stir the flour, shallots and oil around on low heat. You're making a roux, big'n.

After a minute or so of the roux roast, deglaze with the figified Port, but be sure to reserve the figs for the end. Allow the port to reduce by half. Then add stock (chicken or veal is traditional). In the video, I cheat embarrassingly with white wine. No, it ain't the same thing. No, it's not something I felt good about. What can I say: I did it. It was bad. Be better than me. Balsamic is optional at this point. Allow this second round of liquid to reduce by half, scratching the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to agitate those encrustations.

By now your sauce should be thick, dark and tasty. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Finish with chopped mint and the portified figs. Throw in a knob of butter and use a whisk to stir it all up.

If you've timed it right, the pork and carrots should be perfect by now. The pork, after all, only needs between five and ten minutes in the oven. You can also throw some of the pan juices from the pork into the sauce. I served it up with balsamic mashed potatoes.

Now you know: the warmth of a mother food canon will protect you from the stupidity of celebrity "debates."

This post has nothing to do with food, unless you like eating concrete. The inimitable Banksy, a world-famous and secretive British street artist, has graced San Francisco's urban canvas with at least six of his not-quite-legal embellishments in the last week. At least, they look like Banksy's stuff--I've really no way to verify. It's not like you always sign a graffito. But they're cool anyway, so I cruised around and snapped up some pictures before the militants of the middle paste them over with beige.

Banksy's earned himself an international reputation as a street artist and critic of consumerism, politics, the commercialization of art, and lots of other things that are kind of a laugh. His style has won him gallery shows and princely sums for his works, sometimes totaling in the hundreds of thousands of dollars for a single piece. How's that for the commercialization of art!

Who am I to judge, but I admire Banksy for his guerilla tactics, humor and force. His work collapses the distance between quotidian life and art, often through the age old play of text and image in a new frame: the public spaces of sidewalks, brick walls and rooftops. If you have the chance, check out his stuff at the addresses below (which I got from Warholian.com. Warholian has far superior pictures and some video about the Banksy above Amnesia in the Mission, too, so be sure to check that out if you're interested).

There's also a new documentary out that's sort of about him called "Exit Through the Gift Shop." I saw it and loved it.

The Baron and I took a little walk around our neighborhood today, so here are some photos of the neighborhood and views from the hill up the street from our place.