Dim Sum. Hazelnuts. Cooking ahead.

You’re wondering about the featured image, right?

Last Sunday, some friends invited us out for dim sum in San Francisco. We took Bay Area Rapid Transit to the Montgomery Station, then hopped the 38 Geary MUNI, riding all the way across town to Ton Kiang Dim Sum, which is on Geary between 22nd and 23rd, should you be so inclined. And believe me, you should.

Anyway, this fellow:

Lives across the street from the restaurant, high above the street. Actually, here’s the shot, uncropped:

It takes a certain kind of weirdo to look up instead of straight ahead. But it takes another kind of weirdo to think three of these gentlemen were needed at some point to look down at the rest of us–and at what is now an office supply.

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Most people are inordinately addicted to nuts. Put bowls of salted peanuts or mixed nuts in front them and man, they cannot control themselves.

I am not one of these people. John, however, is.

I do enjoy almond-flavored food, and am very fond of marzipan. I adore hazelnuts. Nutella? Gianduja?–I never realized it was hazelnut hiding behind all that buttery, calorific chocolate. Now, I’m busy making up for lost time. Life’s a path for us hand-wavy California types. (I was driving behind this great van today–“Goddess on the loose” bumperstickers, “fantastic older woman,” stuff like that–and even more cosmically great, about four hours later, as I was driving home, I ended up behind her again. There are millions of people here. What are the chances?)

Where were we? Hazelnuts. So I went out and bought myself some, only to realize I was missing a nutcracker. They’re kinda necessary if you wanna get at nuts.

It is evident from the photo below that better nutcrackers are to be had. Why? Note all the loose nutshell dust.

Not shown above are my aching hands. I have tendonitis, carpal tunnel, tennis elbow, and depending on which doctor is asked, three different shoulder diagnoses. They all mean the same thing: it hurts. What was I thinking?

The cat loved her new toys. As she batted bits amd pieces of hazelnut shell around the living room, I cracked just enough–3/4 cup–to bake these lovely little cakes:

The recipe is modified from one in David Tanis’s One Good Dish, which thoughtfully calls for ground almonds–you know, bought that way–and browned butter. I didn’t brown the butter, because all that hazelnut cracking ate my patience and quite a bit of time. They’re good anyway, and I hope to blog about them shortly.

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Final kitchen note. Tonight, in a rare display of social behavior, I am attending a reading in San Francisco. This leaves John on his own for dinner. There is a slight problem with this. Joke though I may about my impairments, his are even more significant. On the occasions I’m not around to cook for him, I prepare his meals in advance.

This pork chop will be neatly cut up, slipped into some lightweight storage (it’s all about being lightweight) and partnered with salad greens and tortilla. A beer will be placed in easy reach, along with a bottle opener, fork, spoon, and butter knife. That bone on the right? The remains of my lunch.