Going Whole Hog in the Foothills

When Sous Chef Edgar first started at Rumbo Al Sur­ in Oakland, CA, it was serendipitous that his boss, Executive Chef Matt Colgan, had begun a tradition Edgar knew from back home. That is, smoking a whole pig and leaving little to waste. In Yucatán, Mexico where Edgar’s from, all the smoking is done underground. The pig is first covered in spices, wrapped in banana leaves, and then eased into a casing of metal sheets that are perforated to let in air­. No flames are visible above the surface. Stone and wood keep the fire going. 

Inherently, the roasting process looks a bit different on busy Park Boulevard in the Glenview District. Is there some sort of regulation against cooking underground? I’m not sure. Whatever the case, Rumbo plays it safe with their above-ground outdoor oven or Caja-China, available for about $300. Or, let’s call it $150 each if we go Dutch on it.

Pig in the oven

The afternoon of the roast, I’d walked by the parking lot several times before I found out what was in the big wooden box. I’ll be honest: I had to blink once or twice to get Wilbur out of my mind. But somehow, all my pseudo-vegetarian neurons pardoned me and I went for it. After all, what was in the Caja-China had been marinating for two days in more than twenty juices, spices, and herbs. And it’s true that a whole pig roast is far off the beaten path. I, for one, endorse this kind of big-picture-dining: I’m a waste-not kind of eater these days.

Rumbo’s servers don’t present the whole pig on a platter,­ as is done in say, a luau. Instead, the chefs plate both dark and light meat­–shoulders, thighs and all­–along with moist corn tortillas. Garlic, oregano and epazote black beans jibe nicely with coconut rice. Fresh chicharones­–or fried pork skins­–round out the offering, along with pineapple salsa. It’s a savory, spicy, and mildly sweet dining experience, and if you’ve never eaten the thigh of a pig, a mysterious one as well.

Everything but the tortillas

After such a hearty meal, most people would be satisfied and skip dessert. But I just couldn’t leave without trying their Margarita Pie, which is better than any Key Lime I’ve ever had. I even offered some to a new neighbor seated at the bar. Some. Not all. A final sip of a margarita and I was on my way home after my first pig roast. It was an education.

The night before, when I was still reluctant to dive in, a front-house manager named Erin put me at ease. “I’ve seen my fair share of smoked pigs,” she said, “and [Matt Colgan’s] is definitely the best.”

If you won’t take her word alone, I’m sure her colleagues Elmer, Rick, Ali, Patrick or Matt B. would back it up. Even at their busiest–with customers like me asking for a drink, a meal, and dessert to go–the staff fulfilled my wishes with a smile. It's the food and the service. No wonder they're so packed Tuesday through Sunday. (They're closed on Monday).

Enjoy Rumbo's 'southbound journey'
4239 Park Blvd
Oakland, CA

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Urban Gardening for Justice

President Obama took the Oath of Office today, placing one hand on the Bible used by President Abraham Lincoln at his first inauguration, and the other on the Bible used by Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.

Given the 2009 inaugural snafu when Chief Justice Roberts and the President weren't on the same page, and including yesterday's Constitutionally-adherent ceremony, Obama will have been sworn in four times, all told. I congratulate him, and ask that he keep at the forefront his commitment to Reverend King's hard work.

While I'm enticed by the various online recipes proposed to honor MLK–chocolate pecan pie, crawfish etouffee by a Birmingham chef, and various soul food dishes–today, Odyssey (Mookie's) highlights micro-movements forward, beginning with our young people.

Eat GRUB started with four helping hands and a tiny seed. As students at Mandela High in Oakland, California, Salvador Mateo and Julio Madrigal wanted to eliminate community food deserts: areas where residents have more access to liquor stores and fast food chains than produce markets. So, with the help of Ashoka's Youth Ventures Dream It. Do It. Challenge, they built a raised-bed garden and planted ten trees on their school's campus. And then they got funded to do it elsewhere. With income from people who can afford to pay full price, they hope to donate to people who can't.

Hopefully, at the first Kid's State Dinner held at the White House last August, First Lady Obama had our East Bay entrepreneurs in mind, too. Young chefs are a creative inspiration. But, arguably, stakes are highest for our inner city farmers.

Lessons from the 'Other' Gourmet Ghetto

In North Berkeley a restaurant collective called the Gourmet Ghetto offers walking tours where foodies can chum it up with chefs while tasting homemade salami, cupcakes and specialty chocolates. Sounds enticing, right? It's $75. In other words, a dollar a minute. As I contemplate the outlay, I draw inspiration from other more accessible ghettos, starting with rapper Coolio's kitchen, by way of his cookbook, 'Cookin' with Coolio,' 2009.

In its original incarnation, the word ghetto–a friend reminded me–wasn't necessarily synonymous with poor. Coolio's a lot better off than he used to be, but he does have six children. So, when he throws a dinner party, he's feeding at least seven. Eight including his woman. In his cookbook, which I grabbed today from the library, the rapper calls himself "The Ghetto Gourmet." But shouldn't he be lauded the Ghetto Gourmand? I guess it doesn't matter. He had me at his opener: "..my specialty is making something out of nothing. That's a direct result of growing up poor as a mothe$f*@!#er." In real life I try to correct people's foul mouths, but swear words in a cookbook put me in stitches.

Coolio's Table of Contents offers a glimpse into the tone of his oeuvre. How to Become a Kitchen Pimp; It's Hard Out There for a Shrimp; Vegetarians? Okay, Whatever!; Sweet Treats for that Sweet Ass. 

When I opened his cookbook, I'd already made tonight's delicious meal on the cheap. But his Hot Fruit Sandwich tempted me. He created it in a panic just minutes before TV executives–he was shopping out his cooking show–arrived at his house for dinner. Hot Fruit Sandwich was a kitchen sink dessert. And it looks good! Sometimes, the book is part memoir. It's as if the rapper's talking straight at us.

For the men out there, cooking Coolio's way almost ensures you'll snag that fine woman you're after. But he doesn't neglect his female readership in the slightest. "Nothing's sexier than a woman who can cook," he says.

Which brings me to the summer of 2008. I remember eating a lot of pasta with putanesca sauce–tomatoes, black olives, etc. My then-boyfriend who was making many of the dinners–or rather, heating them up–told me that putanesca is 'Whore's Sauce' or 'Streetwalker's Sauce' because Italian prostitutes used to leave it as an enticement in bordella windows. I'm quite sure my boyfriend had never visited Italy, so he probably learned this tidbit on The Daily Beast. Or perhaps he was trying to tell me something. Too late to find out now. God knows who he's eating pasta with these days.

Tonight's theme is culinary boldness amid austerity, and if Mookie's Blue Ribbon actually existed, there'd be a tie between self-supporting Italian putas and Coolio's get-down attitude in the kitchen. Try their recipes and decide. See you with a spatula in your hand. 

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>>Rachel Ray's recipe for Putanesca Sauce 

>>Find Coolio's book on Amazon. You can buy it for me if you'd like. We'll share.

Dinnertime with Headache Powder

To follow up on my last post in which I linked to a Dupont pamphlet for farmers, I have to admit that I haven't quite answered just when or how the use of dynamite in agriculture fell off. I wore my waitress hat most of today, trying to ignore the sour smell of tar at the construction site next door. A headache began brewing at about 2 p.m.

And yet, like a dog sniffing tree roots blasted with gunpowder, I found a thing or two. Last week, I visited Point Pinole, the former site of the Giant (Atlas) Powder Company which used to manufacture dynamite and gunpowder. The company's first site was at Glen Canyon in San Francisco. There, it experienced a dangerous explosion and moved twice more, taking over its last location on the shore of San Pablo Bay at Point Pinole. I'd forgotten dynamite (Greek for powder) was invented by Alfred Nobel. As in the Nobel Prizes.

But what's this got to do with headaches, or more importantly food, you might ask? Stay with me. In 1888, when Alfred's brother Ludvig died while visiting Cannes, there was a mix up in the French media. The newspaper mistakenly prepared an obituary for Alfred Nobel, writing 'Le marchand de la mort est mort (the merchant of death is dead)'. This had to have been unsettling to Alfred. The prizes undoubtedly helped him ensure a better legacy.

It's curious: nitroglycerin–the explosive part of dynamite–is both capable of blowing apart concrete and effective in treating agina: pain due to coronary heart disease. It doesn't work, however, if a heart attack's already underway.

When Alfred Nobel's doctors wanted him to eat nitroglycerin to ameliorate his own angina, he refused. He said he'd skip what he knew as the yellow liquid's nastiest side effect: headaches. He'd suffered plenty during explosions in laboratories.

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I sure hope that if–like me–you find yourself eating medicine for dinner, you'll look to Goody's Headache Powder, around since 1935. It works! It's aspirin, acetaminophen and caffeine in one slick packet. But, if you don't want to look like you're carrying cocaine in your wallet, perhaps you'll come drink a mug of coffee at the restaurant. People rave about it. It wakes you right the hell up. "There's a little rocket fuel in here," one customer said.