We stayed at Madrona Manor in Healdsburg a couple of nights ago. Grand old mansion with a few outbuildings, one of which was the garden cottage we slept in. Really pretty, comfortable, private, quiet, with a fireplace, and no tv. Really setting the place apart was what went on in the bathroom:

A claw-foot jacuzzi tub. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but there it is, bubbles and all.

And then there’s the commode, funny at first, but then slightly disturbing:

Definitely anthropomorphism gone awry.

In an generous and delicious gesture, Tom took me to Cyrus for dinner last night. In Healdsburg, Cyrus is a rare restaurant, attracting the admiration of restaurant critics, the Michelin Guide and gourmands on Chowhound, Zagat and Yelp. The food is original and sophisticated, yet easily comprehended.

Having made the pilgrimage, I agree. It was one of the best meals we’ve ever had and included some of the most delicious dishes I’ve ever eaten.

If you follow on after the break, you can see the procession of courses.

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On our way somewhere else, we made a stop in Santa Rosa  to see the home and gardens of the great plant hybridizer, Luther Burbank. It’s a lovely place, right near downtown Santa Rosa. If you’re thinking of visiting, admission is free, guided tours are available as well as a cell phone audio tour.

One thing I like about places like this is that the plants are clearly labeled (for the most part.) Here are few of the interesting things we saw:

And just a couple of notes:

• I don’t usually like roses that don’t have much scent, but the Moonstone’s prettiness almost makes up for that defect.
• The same goes for shrub roses…I sort of just don’t ‘see’ them. The Gourmet Popcorn, however, is one I could definitely like in our garden.
• They had the giant burdock next to the artichoke’s close relative, cardoon. Their thistle-like flowers look very similar.
• Luther Burbank was developed elephant garlic. It was surprising how nice (and not stinky) the flower head is.
• Burbank worked on a spineless and edible cactus hybrid, which could be used as forage for cattle in desolate areas and as human food (both the paddles and prickly pear fruit). It’s kind of an unstable hybrid and the spine do come back after time.
• The lemon verbena tree was the biggest surprise for me because I’d never seen a tree form, being used to seeing them as bushes.
  

Blooming this week are two slightly unusual plants. I thought you might like a peek.

Capers… either packed in salt or picked. The giant ones are a great substitute for martini olives. The little ones, fried crisp, are a neat twist to spaghetti alio e olio. Most of us know that they’re the immature flower buds of the caper bush. Here’s what happens when one of those buds opens:

A dwarf natal plum is new to us. Thorny like a rose, with five petals shaped like plumeria, and a fragrance strikingly like jasmine, I can’t wait to taste what the fruit is like.

Tom pulled the keeping onions a few weeks ago and set them out to cure. One of them had other ideas and decided to throw up a flower anyway:

On one of the very last official days of spring, we found some beautiful locally-harvested morels at the Monterey Market in Berkeley. Once home, we pulled a couple of heads of green garlic…

Et voilà, dinner.

Here’s a little recipe:

For each person:

1/4 – 1/3 lb fresh morels

1/4 lb pencil-thin asparagus

1/2 head of green garlic

1 medium shallot, finely minced

2 oz pappardelle

fresh herbs: a little oregano, thyme, (chervil if you have it), and a few basil leaves

butter

vermouth

salt & pepper

grated parmesan

1. Put a big pot of water on to boil. Pappardelle take about 10-12 minutes to cook, during which you should be able to do the rest of the recipe. Put on a small pot of water for the asparagus. You’ll also need a sauté pan for cooking the mushrooms.

2. Prepare the morels: gently wipe the mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Don’t soak them in water as that will mute their flavor and is useless anyway. Cut the larger morels in half.

3. Prepare the garlic: Cut off the hard neck, cut the head of garlic in two, remove the outer skin, and pull out what remains of the hard neck in the center of the head. Place both halves (if making this dish for two) cut-side down and slice across the cloves as thinly as possible, stopping before the roots.

3. Prepare the asparagus: starting from the tip, cut 1-1/2” sections, ending before where the woody part of the stalk starts. Cook in simmering water for 2-4 minutes just until the green brightens up and the asparagus is still slightly crunchy. Rinse under cold water.

4. Prepare the herbs: finely mince the herbs. Tear the basil leaves into pieces.

5. In a tablespoon of butter, sauté garlic and shallot over medium-high heat for a moment. Add the morels and, shaking the pan, continue to cook until the morels still have some crunch and they have given up some liquid. (Note: unlike button mushrooms, don’t cook until the morel juice has evaporated…the juice is the sauce in this dish.) This should take 4 or 5 minutes. Add a splash of vermouth, cook for a minute longer. Salt & pepper to taste.

6. Drain the pasta and put on your plate. Spread the cooked morels over the top, sprinkle with the herbs and a little parmesan. Enjoy.

By the way, when you’re at Monterey Market and want a snack, you couldn’t do better than Gioia Pizzeria just up the block. While there a couple of pizza palaces I have yet to visit (Pizzaiolo in Oakland and Pyzano’s in Castro Valley), Gioia has, by a long shot, my favorite pizza in the Bay Area. De-li-cious. (The slices in the picture are half-sized because Tom and I were sharing.)

Monterey Market

Gioia Pizzeria

Pizzaiolo

Pizano

I’ve added some code to provide a mobile version of chaosweb that easily fits on a cellphone screen. You don’t have to do anything special, it should just magically appear:

If you have a very good phone web browser (like on the iphone and palm pre) and would rather see the regular version of the page, just wander to the bottom of the mobile page and there’s an option to do just that:

Please use the mail link in the right column to let me know of any problems you see.

Another wave of ripening fruit rippled through the garden this week. Here’s what was on deck:

By the way, if you’re looking for a delicious and beautiful basil for the garden, this Red Rubin Basil is a wonderful choice:

Last night I made a Thai red curry with chicken and pumpkin which turned out rather pretty if I do say so myself. Two kinds of basil, tomatoes, cilantro, red chilies and kaffir lime leaves are strewn on the surface.

Also on the menu were Chinese morning glory (ong choy) and white jasmine rice.

Not talking about a cocktail, but rather the newest addition to the garden.

Our lovely weeping cherry which grew in back of the buddha bed bit the dust after its spring bloom this year. Its replacement is the “Summer Chocolate” variety of the mimosa tree (Albizia julibrissin). Wikipedia has this to say about Albrizias in general:

Albizia julibrissin is known by a wide variety of common names, such as Persian silk tree or pink siris. It is also called Lenkoran acacia or bastard tamarind, though it is not too closely related to acacias (Acacieae), let alone tamarinds (Caesalpinioideae). The species is usually called "silk tree" or "mimosa" in the United States, which is misleading – the former name can refer to any species of Albizia which is most common in any one locale. And although once included in Mimosa, it is neither very close to the Mimoseae. To add to the confusion, several species of Acacia, notably Acacia baileyana and Acacia dealbata, are also known as "mimosa" (especially in floristry), and many Fabaceae trees with highly divided leaves are called thus in horticulture.

 

Its leaves slowly close during the night and during periods of rain, the leaflets bowing downward as if the tree were sleeping: its modern Persian name shabkhosb means "night sleeper" (from shab "night" and -khosb "sleeper"). In Japan its common names are nemunoki, nemurinoki and nenenoki which all mean "sleeping tree". Nemu tree is a partial translation of nemunoki.

I don’t know why sellers insist on using brown as a plant color description. (The Hot Cocoa Rose is another example…a lovely flower but certainly not brown.) This Albrizzia is a deep reddish-purple plant which will eventually have those typical stamen-heavy pink flowers. Once we had it in place I realized it looked very vaguely like a red Japanese maple, a plant which I like but would never be able to grow in that spot which can get scorching heat as well as a hard frost. Hopefully the new tree will like where it is. It would be nice if, over time, if it grew to shade the buddha head like the ancient bodhi tree once did.

 

Wikipedia entry on Albrizia julibrissin