The documentary film, Chez Schwartz, enjoyed a quiet if savory U.S. premier at the Berkeley Richmond Jewish Community Center earlier this week. It has yet to be picked up for wider distribution, but keep an eye out for it. Or, if you can't wait, order a DVD and see for yourself why this little "Charcuterie Hebraique" is the place to eat in Montréal.



Garry Beitel, a Montréal-based documentary filmmaker, recorded the day-to-day rhythms of Schwartz's Deli over the course of an entire year. He managed to whittle his footage down to a poetic study of its workers. As one season melts into another, Beitel teases out the stories of the diverse men — from the dishwasher in the back of the house to the waiters in the front, from the general manager down to the gentlemanly panhandlers. They each describe their unique role in the extended family anchored by this tiny, 75-year-old restaurant. Through their stories, we see how years slip into decades and how one long-lived business adapts to a changing world.

Unusual in a film about ethnic food, there's an "overcast" feel throughout the documentary. In the end we wonder what happens to individuals such as newly promoted Alex or sweet, ailing Ryan. (Anyone interested in degrees of separation and ground-breaking animation should watch this award-winning short about Ryan.) The power of Chez Schwartz lies in Beitel's understated directing, Marc Gadoury's intimate camera, André Boisvert's amazingly natural sound, Robert Marcel Lepage's music and — ultimately — the simple, direct oral history of the workers themselves.


At the head of the line, hungry pilgrims can catch glimpses of smoked meat, freshly sliced by hand and ready to go at the sandwich counter. Joao (Johnny) Gonçalves, meat cutter, prepares some without the usual bright yellow mustard.

I remember the first time I bit into smoked meat at Schwartz's. Everyone does. In the film, two women gasp in rapture while sharing their first sandwich right there at the counter, and another diner is struck speechless while remembering his own first taste as a teenager. It may seem strange, perhaps even laughable to the uninitiated. But like any religion, only the converted truly understand.

During my year of exile in Vermont, I drove across the border every month to eat in Montréal. While dinner restaurants varied — rilettes at l'Express with my own jar of cornichons or maybe noodles in Chinatown — I always started with an early lunch at Schwartz's.

The neighborhood surrounding the deli draws immigrants from around the world. Historically the heart of Montréal's Jewish community, the road on which the deli sits has also been the symbolic division between the city's east and west streets, its French and English languages.


After five years as the busboy, Alexandre "007" Lebel gets promoted to waiter. To help with the stress of a fast-paced deli, he composes poems on clean paper place mats during precious down time.

If you arrive at 3895 Boulevard St. Laurent anywhere near the middle of the day, you'll stand in line on the sidewalk with a couple of dozen other meat lovers, separated by mere glass from stacks and stacks of brisket still warm from the massive steamer. You'll be able to smell the smoky, salt-tinged meat and listen to the same order over and over again in two different languages: a "medium" with fries, cole slaw, fresh pickle and black cherry soda. Around 400 to 500 other diners a day will order a steak from Peter at the grill; it arrives accompanied by a slice of calf liver and two diminutive sausages. The grill is a relic of the past: open flame right in the dining room, arm's length from innocent diners.


Grill man Peter Christianis (left) has been searing steaks and calf livers at the same station for 40 years, while waiter Mike Nelli has been a member of the Chez Schwartz family going on 7 years now.

Upstairs in the marinating bins and inside the smoker in the back are where the magic happens. The very secret recipe results in über-meat that's juicy and tender, savory and smoky, fatty and flavorful. It's not quite pastrami (there's a dry rather than wet cure) and it's way beyond corned beef (behold that spice-flocked, smoke-lacquered exterior). So everyone just calls it for what it is: smoked meat.


Frank Silva, general manager, knows the business inside and out. He's hefted and sliced so many briskets during his twenty years at the deli that his arm is starting to give out.

Schwartz's sandwiches have no need to rise to Carnegie heights nor does the owner, Hy Diamond, feel pressure to expand the menu beyond one type of meat sandwich, a steak and a few sides. As Peter Levitt and Karen Adelman, co-owners of Saul's Deli in Berkeley know well, this is a rare and precious thing.

After the film's screening on Thursday night, the two moderated an enlightening discussion about the future of Jewish delicatessens in the U.S. How does a meat-centered restaurant survive in a health-conscious, politically aware, option-filled world? How does Saul's modest amount of Niman Ranch beef compete with super-stacked, industrially raised pastrami from tourist-driven, New York delis? And how does a younger generation begin transforming a cuisine frozen in time into a meaningful, relevant, profitable business?


It's not about the size: Saul's uses "clean meat" from Niman Ranch in its pastrami sandwiches.

Anyone who hangs around chefs knows that, generally, they survive on the razor's edge of profit margins and see the cloud behind every silver lining. Peter and Karen were refreshingly honest about the challenges of running the deli, from the need to cater to the economics of not smoking your own meat to the impossibility of guaranteeing a kosher establishment. (People want milk with their coffee, after all, and don't even think about getting rid of the Reuben!)

They named their own favorite delis: Langer's in LA, Katz's in NYC, and Manny's in Chicago all made the short list. Most intriguing, though, were hints of a possible "Jewish bistro" in their future. The two hope to reinterpret and reinvent the vernacular of Jewish food with dishes from around the world using local, seasonal, organic ingredients.

For the time being, I'll continue enjoying my favorites at Saul's. From personal experience, I can vouch for the chopped liver (on both rye and matzo with plenty of mustard), the chicken soup and the pastrami sandwich. I also enjoyed more than my fair share of half-sour pickles and, of course, a bottle of Cel-Ray to wash everything down.

SAUL'S RESTAURANT & DELICATESSEN
1475 Shattuck Ave
Berkeley, CA 94709
(510) 848-3354

Labels: berkeley, canada, film, history, Jewish, meat, montreal, New York City, restaurants, thy tran

If you love produce as much as I do you know that living in the East Bay is better than living in San Francisco. I realize I could start a riot here, but I've lived in 3 out of four directions of the peninsula, in various neighborhoods and cities, and no matter where I was, no matter if I was in possession of a drivers license or not, I made it to Berkeley Bowl and Monterey Market, and/ or the Berkeley Farmers' Markets, because there was more to see, smell, taste, touch and procure in these markets.

And until I moved to North Berkeley myself, I was a tried and true Berkeley Bowl Trooper, from the old school-- back when it started in the old bowling alley. I still love to get there when I have my list in Excel spreadsheet form and the time is early enough before rush hour clogs the insane parking lot and creates lines worse than LA traffic.

But now I have been seduced by Monterey Market. I used to laugh at its size, comparable to Rainbow Grocery but tiny compared to Berkeley Bowl. But then. But then I found its buried treasure. One day two summers ago I stopped by for a few things and bought an entire flat of the best boysenberries I have ever seen, smelled or tasted! I went home and ate about four baskets, made pie with a few more and froze the rest. Returning just a day or two later I found that I had bought something which would not be back again until the following year... Sad...but also something to look forward to.

You can go to the same place day after day, year after year, and find everything ok, get what you need for the price you like and shrug shoulders at the prospect of change.

Until. Until one day you pick the best looking toad you can find for toad soup and when you get through checkout you realize your bag is exploding with a Prince and your car has been moved closer to the horizon, where a pretty sunset awaits you.

A few days ago is a perfect example. I needed some citrus and butter and cranberries. I like to stock up on cranberries before they disappear so I can whip up a batch of my favorite walnut-cranberry-orange bread, which I love to toast and smother with butter. (It really can be whipped up-- it's a one bowl and wooden spoon recipe!)

I'm in love with citrus and I always look at what's going on. Scratch and sniff is the best way to learn about new citrus. Both blossom and skin will tell you what unique flavor and perfume are awaiting you. While scanning high bins of yellow and green and orange globes my eyes did a double-take on a gnarly looking fruit.

YUZU! Fresh, California grown Yuzu were staring at me. Like a collector at a yard sale discovering a priceless chair, I monitored my breathing and tried not to look around frantically. I bit my tongue when I wanted to jump up and down and yell, "Hey?! Do you see what I see?! Look! It's fresh Yuzu, here, in Berkeley, California, yours for the having!! Can you believe such a thing? It's so wonderful!!!!!"

But instead I kept walking and went back nonchalantly, looking puzzled on the outside and then hunkered in and bought at least 5 pounds.

Yuzu is a fruit I only saw one of once, while living in Napa. A famous chef I knew had smuggled one in from a recent trip to Japan. Like Bergamot, it's an ugly mottled fruit, but it's exquisite perfume and flavor lives in every molecule of its being.

Monterey Market is a cold market, mostly outside and seemingly unkempt. But it's a facade, truly, because you never know what you will find there. Bill Fujimoto buys small and large shipments directly from farmers single and corporate. The back room, unseen by the average consumer, is a carefully organized chaos of fruit and vegetable back-stock/ cases, available to restaurants, chefs and caterers who want to buy direct and avoid (or amend as the case may be) produce companies or farmers' markets.

And if I haven't sold you yet, I beg of you to rent or buy Eat At Bill's, a lovingly made documentary about Monterey Market and its beloved workers. Watch it just to see the massive pumpkins, which get brought in on elephant transport trucks and the joy so many people share about cherry season, and one particular cherry in particular.

When we talk about shopping and eating local we often overlook our markets with rooftops. But Monterey Market, Berkeley Bowl, The Food Mill, Rainbow Grocery, Bi Rite market, Farmer Joe's and so many more in the Bay Area are all about shopping locally. These businesses are still independent, many of them family and/or co-operatively owned. If you can't get to the farmers' market, find your CSA box lacking this week or next month, or just want to see that there are a dozen kinds of sweet potatoes, countless citrus varietals, far out and funky shaped mushrooms, head over to a new market for countless fruit and veggie adventures. They await you in one corner of the bay or the other...

Labels: bay area, berkeley, citrus, Eat At Bill's movie, food businesses, fruit, local, Monterey Market, shuna lydon

Last week Tutti Foodie, Scharffen Berger, and Marcia Gagliardi of Tablehopper joined forces and unveiled The Chocolate Adventure Recipe Contest with a number of events at local restaurants featuring pastry chefs and chocolate. On Monday August 13 I went to Campton Place to see what Boris Portnoy {pastry chef of Campton Place, the restaurant) might make and talk about. An innovative and forward thinking chef, Boris's desserts guarantee a challenge to the palate as well as mind.

Much to my delight there was more in store than the same old chocolate thang I, and other pastry chefs, often find ourselves at. The afternoon at Campton Place was spent in a small private room on the second floor with some of California's most dynamic food writers, bloggers, bakers and movers and shakers in the local chocolate scene.

Before we set about eating the arranged chocolate on our plates, John Scharffenberger gave a short but thorough history of cacao and chocolate. If you work for a school, or just love chocolate, give this semi-retired chocolate maker a call! His talk was engaging, funny, compassionate and delicious in every sense of the word. While leading us through the earth's best rain forests for cacao growing, harvesting and fermenting, he directed us to eat the disparate chocolate shapes on our plates, in the order his lesson informed.

Much to the surprise of many of our virgin mouths, we tasted a number of chocolate examples which were not chocolate in the truest sense of the word. We learned that when tasting chocolate in its pure form, tongues met with acidity and tannins most commonly found in wine and bitter edges associated with dark-roasted coffees.

After eating 8-9 versions of cacao and chocolate we listened to Boris talk excitedly about his love for cacao nibs; their texture, flavor and versatility tantalized his sweet imagination. And discovering how to make his own chocolate in a food processor appeared to have changed his life! Yes, he encouraged, go and try this at home. After a short demonstration he motioned with a regal flourish, and quiet waiters appeared with a three component cacao nib-themed plated dessert.

You'd think after three hours of smelling, tasting, eating, talking, inquiring, and listening to chocolate I would have left the hotel without a desire to ponder the chocolate contest... But the truth is that my friend and I discussed what we would do if we could enter the contest. {I cannot, but he can.}

I thought I would share a bit of our conversation. Think of these word formations the way you would poetry, a game, an interpretive dance or maybe like you were sitting near us on BART, overhearing our chocolate-meal fueled crazytalk.

Theme: Bacon & Chocolate

Render bacon fat brunoise or dice, caramelize crispy pork fat cubes and make chocolate with this in food processor with cacao nibs.
Pork cracklins (like the snack food found at gas stations) enrobed in bittersweet chocolate.
Bacon lardons half dipped in chocolate.
Fatback chocolate with quince paste.
Pork belly & rosemary infused chocolate pot de creme, quince paste (?) & sea salt garnish.

Don't worry, these ideas won't end up on a dessert of mine.....

The Chocolate Adventure Recipe Contest website. "You. Dark Chocolate. And A Special Ingredient."

The Rules are simple: pair a list of innovative/ aromatic spices and flavors with any of Scharffen Berger's exquisite dark chocolates. The prizes include both money and fame. If you don't want the Bacon & Chocolate dessert to win, enter soon.

And, as Jen Maiser said aptly, "What could be better than the opportunity to create an interesting recipe using chocolate?"

Related Links:
The Art of Tasting Chocolate
Jalapeno Girl
Ladle and Whisk

Labels: bacon, bay area, berkeley, chocolate, culinary education, dessert, food businesses, games, recipe contest, scharffen berger, shuna lydon, tuttifoodie

Love is in the air: peaches are here, and all is right with the world. Yes, my sunglasses are rose- tinted, why do you ask?

I've been on the road, taking my show with me. First NYC, then Portland and most recently, Chicago. It's been fun, educational, hot, and delicious, but I've missed being home. Home is where the peaches are. Home is where I know the season's signage at my local farmers' market is. I wait and pine for strawberries, cherries soon follow, and after cherries, O Glorious stone fruit arrives, bang! a cornucopia drops out of the sky and lands on my head! It's fast. It's furious. And no one can keep up. Chefs and pastry chefs change menus daily, attempting to think of newfangled dishes to highlight summer's overwhelming, non-stop conveyor belt of tree fruit to farm, to market. It's all about pitting and prepping and ripening, and those of us who really care, trying to keep our fruit out of walk-ins.

We want our diners to get a taste of what we felt when scooping up the first apricots, felt their soft downy skin and licked our chins attempting to keep every last drop of apricot nectar, spilling out like the well which Micky and the sinister brooms let loose in the night.

This past weekend I had the extraordinary pleasure of working for my favorite peach farmer, Carl Rosato of Woodleaf Farm. On Saturday and Sunday I joined an exceptional crew to sell August's first Cassie peaches, pears, a few undercover Pink Pearl Apples (!!!), tiny sweet green grapes, red pears, mixed figs, white peaches, a dozen or so nectarines and Suncrest peaches.

Cassie peaches, in my humble opinion, are a reason for living.

While working at the markets this weekend I gave out a lot of peach advice. Peach advice for ripening, baking, storing, freezing, jamming, eating, and handling. I received a funny email, in fact, from my friend Guy today,
"That was cool running in to you yesterday, selling peaches. Can't imagine what the customers though when they asked, 'Do you have any good ideas what to do with them?' AHAHHAHAH."

A fruit-inspired pastry chef could not be happier having a job wherein he was surrounded by exquisite fruit all the day long. Fruit is an exciting field of study because not all fruit is created equal. One must know the inner workings of the family of fruit when one approaches a new branch.

Some fruit must always be picked unripe from the tree, the best example being pears. Certain fruits will continue to ripen off the tree, two examples are pineapples, and most stone fruit. There are cranky fruits who do not like to be picked with a machine, cherries, for example. And there are laid back fruits which can go either way, they're easy, like oranges or walnuts.

Peaches will ripen off the tree, on your counter, if you so wish. A good farmer will pick fruit right at the moment where she/he can get it to market looking alright and then allow the eater to ripen it a bit more to get it where it's desired. Many fruits will get softer but not sweeter if picked too early; mangoes are a great example of a fruit whose perfume is stolen when picked green or green-ish.

This weekend, in the midst of excitedly talking a mile-a-minute about peaches, I heard some great peach advice from customers. My favorite tidbit came from a fellow at the San Rafael market in Marin named Patrick. It made me stop dead in my tracks and so I wanted to share it with y'all.

What works for me, and so I share it with others is this: place peaches shoulder side down (aka "stem end"), on a flat surface, at room temperature, just until there's a bit of give under the skin, then refrigerate or eat.

But Patrick had a brilliant idea. Refrigerate peaches/stone fruit all at once and take out, placing on counter (or plate) as I've described, a few days before eating. Refrigerating fruit at home, (as opposed to the massive cold storage facilities in the "produce stream" wherein "refrigerators" are the size of private airplane hangers and temperatures are kept between 30-34F), means the fruit's ripening process is slowed down, but not stopped. With Patrick's method you don't have a lot of really ripe fruit in the fridge at once. And, also, you horde a some power over the ripening process, therefore giving yourself more time to relax, find recipes you love, and do with that fruit what you want without the pressure of doing that right now!

Patrick's method also allows you to buy a little more fruit than you might need or want to consume in one day or week. (Which of course makes the farmers happy.)

Every peach is a snowflake. Every varietal is different, every farm growing a particular varietal grows them differently. Every soil and location and method will produce a different peach. Every tree on in that orchard growing that peach will ripen and concentrate its sugars and acids differently. Depending on how much of one kind a farmer has, and which market they're selling them at, will determine or fetch a different price. And every mouth eating that peach like a snowflake will react to it differently.

We all know at what point exactly we like to eat a banana. Even within one family each member will like a slightly more or less green specimen.

My Peach Advice? Jot down the names and details of the peaches and the farmers with whom you interacted with this year so that next year you will leap at the chance to buy your favorites, have mouth notes from which to comparison shop/eat, and ripen gently and slowly the fruit you choose to buy.

And if you see me selling peaches, please stop by and say hello, I'd love to expound further, or just introduce you to my favorite fruit!

Labels: berkeley, farmers, farmers markets, fruit, local, Marin, seasonal, shuna lydon, summer fruit

I've often heard about, but never made it to, the famous parking lot events held in the small parking lot of a Berkeley food triumvirate: Cafe Fanny, Acme Bread, and Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant. The most well known of these events is the Oyster Bliss celebration that takes place in the Spring. This past April marked the 16th Annual Oyster Bliss event. Other annual parking lot events are Provence Day and Beaujolais Nouveau Day.



At Cafe Fanny the other day, I noticed a sign announcing a new event -- one featuring the salumi of Paul Bertolli's Fra' Mani. From the sign, and in Bertolli's words,

"I've been waiting for just the right opportunity to celebrate Fra' Mani in the local community where it was born just a little over a year ago. As luck would have it, we found our home a stone's throw away from our friends at Kermit Lynch, where I never fail to find the right wine match for my salumi. I am proud to share the work of our first year with our neighbors and friends in what has become Berkeley's only center for seasonal outdoor Bacchanalia -- Kermit's front yard."

Marc of Mental Masala and The Ethicurean accompanied me to the salami-fest on Saturday. "I know the last thing you probably want to do is go to a sausage-based event," I wrote to him last week when I invited him. Marc's a vegetarian. But he gamely came along and noshed on Acme bread, Fiscalini San Joaquin Gold cheese, and some pistachios as I dug into my plate of pork.



The menu featured two choices: Fra' Mani Grilled Classic Italian Sausage with Cannelini Beans ($12), and a Grand Salumi Platter with 7 different types of charcuterie from the Fra' Mani kitchen ($16). I chose the Salumi platter and was served dry chorizo, salametto, salame toscano, soppressata, salame gentile, mortadella, and salame rosa. This choice was an obvious one as it gave me a chance to taste all of the salumi side-by-side as well as allowing me to taste two new products from Fra' Mani -- the mortadella and the salame rosa. The salame rosa was wonderful and studded with pistachios that added to the flavor profile. And I can't wait to get my hands on some of the mortadella - it's going to be fabulous in sandwiches.



The event also featured wines from Kermit Lynch chosen specifically to go with the Fra' Mani products which were all reasonably priced at between $5 and $8. Before leaving, we tasted a sublime lemon pistachio cake and a good salted chocolate cookie from the Cafe Fanny table.

All in all, a fantastic event.

Labels: berkeley, fra mani, jennifer maiser, kermit lynch, paul bertolli

It's been a long time since I've worshipped anything beyond dumplings or doughnuts on Sunday mornings, but this weekend I joined Stockton's Sikh community at their historic temple on Grant Street. The act of sharing food as spiritual devotion has deep roots in many of the world's religions. At Buddhist temples, serving vegetarian food to the public is a way to raise money for community work. At Sikh temples, offering a meal free to anyone who asks is an act of spiritual generosity mandated by the religion's founders.

As I research immigrant foodways here in Northern California, I've been struck by how temples have emerged as the center of many of these transplanted communities. In the Bay Area, there are many temples where you can experience the intersection of devotional prayers and delicious meals.

Here's a short list of three worth visiting:



Chua Duc Vien
2420 Mclaughlin Avenue (at Tully)
San Jose, California
(408) 993-9158

Chua Duc Vien is the only Buddhist temple run entirely by women in Northern California. The late Thich Dam Luu and the Vietnamese Buddhists she inspired, from small children to elders, raised money to build this temple by collecting and recycling cans, paper and cardboard for years. (Thich is Vietnamese for "Venerable," the title of respect for monks and nuns.) Serving the large and well-established San Jose Vietnamese community, it offers a place of prayer and contemplation every day of the week. You'll see women bowing with incense as part of their daily regimen next to families posing for celebratory portraits.

If you're exploring the nearby Vietnamese enclaves, it's a peaceful place to rest after the bustle of Lion Plaza to the east or the sheen of Grand Century Mall to the north. For those tempting fate, there's a small room to the side of the temple where you can pray for your fortune. Watch those before you to get the knack of tossing the numbered sticks -- it's all about the wrists -- then find a friendly person to translate the corresponding message.

The temple welcomes visitors, and on Sundays, the nuns erect a tent to serve vegetarian versions of popular Vietnamese dishes and special sweets such as banh cam, perfectly round, sesame-sprinkled "orange cakes." On a recent visit, they were serving one of my favorites soups, bun rieu, with thin rice noodles, tofu puffs and fresh tomatoes. The food is neither fancy nor expensive, but all proceeds go to the nuns' community work.


Sikh Gurdwara Sahib
1930 S. Grant Street (at E. 5th)
Stockton, California

This Stockton temple holds a place of pride for California Sikhs. Built on land purchased in 1912, it was the first gurdwara("doorway to the guru") built in the U.S by early immigrants from the Punjab who worked in the nearby orchards and along the transcontinental railway. Since then, many other gurdwaras have been built, including the Gurdwara Sahib in Fremont and the impressive Sri Guru Nanak Gurdwara in Yuba City. All have kitchens that will serve food to anyone who appears at the temple and asks, no matter what time of the day or night. In Stockton, nearly 1,000 people flow through the lunch line every Sunday, and on important holidays, the temple may feed 10,000 to 20,000 visitors.

One of the central institutions of the Sikh religion is the langar, the communal meal where volunteers help prepare, serve and clean. Sharing food emphasizes the equality and brotherhood of the Sikh religion. Requiring all community members and visitors to eat the same food together in the same room at the same time has special significance within the context of India's historical caste system. Prayers and recitations accompany the meal, a reminder of the importance of a contemplative life.

Simple but well-spiced, satisfying vegetarian food comes from the langar's kitchen, including vegetable curries, flatbreads, dal, and fresh salads. Breakfast might be paratha with fenugreek greens, served with a generous dollop of whipped butter. In the afternoon, you might snack on caulifower pakora, dried dates and a selection of sweets with chai. Within the temple, you may also be offered karah prashad, a rich, sweet pudding made from flour, butter and sugar. Served after a priest has recited prayers, the prashad is holy food. Accept the prashad with both hands and be sure to to ask for a small amount if you don't think you can finish all of it.

There is no charge for the food prepared in the langar, and since Sikhs do not proselytize, you needn't worry that their free meals are an attempt to convert you. When you visit a gurdwara, remember to wear clothing that allows you to sit modestly on the floor. Both men and women must cover their hair and remove their shoes before entering.


At the Stockton gurdwara: Making enough roti for a thousand hungry people involves ten women patting and rolling dough from 6 to 10 every Sunday morning.


Wat Mongkolratanaram
a.k.a. The Thai Buddhist Temple
1911 Russell Street (at Martin Luther King, Jr. Way)
Berkeley, California 94703
(510) 849-3419

If you haven't yet been to Berkeley's Thai Temple, then you're missing one of the best community meals in the Bay Area. It's pretty well established, so you'll need to arrive before 11 am to beat the lines. Tables are arranged in long rows in the shade of the temple complex, built with money raised by these weekend feasts. During holidays, dance and song are background to the meal. On regular weekends, it's one of the best places to experience the food-stall feel of Southeast Asia right here in California.

The Thai monks and the amazing women who cook the food have it figured out, from the handy silver tokens to the separate stations for drinks, desserts, soups, rice plates and -- not to be missed -- the papaya salad cut and pounded to order. (Go ahead and ask for it spicy, and don't forget the little marinated crabs.) Other treats include luscious coconut-scallion cakes and lemongrass sausage. During mango season, remember to save space for the sticky rice and fresh mangoes. Fortunately, the stalls pack food to go, so you can enjoy seconds and desserts later.

If you're expecting the best Thai food in the world and if you don't like eating at communal tables...well, this isn't the scene for you. But if you can appreciate real people cooking and sharing their food with you, then the Thai temple meals are a wonderful experience. Plan on going with friends and sharing. No subdued piety here. Since the dining area is set up outside and since the food is not part of a service, it's a casual, fun meal that still goes to a very good cause.

Labels: berkeley, india, religion, san jose, thy tran, vegetarian, vietnamese