Also known as my kitchen last night. I was in the middle of cooking up a portobella mushroom-polenta-spinach dinner when I decided to add a little oil to my hot-hot pan, courtesy one of those great new aerosol cans.

Bad idea.

A giant burst of fire and a loud scream is all it took for me to remember — a bit too late — the warning on the side of the can. It says something like, “Do not spray pan over an open flame.”

Ooops.

Thankfully, my eyebrows are intact and the kitchen didn’t suffer from the flame-throwing incident. Note to self: Heed warning labels. They are there for a reason.

– Jolene Thym

Over the weekend, someone asked me a question that I had to answer honestly.

“Are you one of those people who can taste every flavor in a dish?”

I wish I could have said yes, but I had to answer no. My tongue is not that connected to my brain. I can taste complexity, but too often I can’t name it. A few weeks ago, I mis-tasted a bright yellow oil — I thought it was saffron, but it was flavored with curry. Yikes.

The good news is that I firmly believe that my tastebuds are entirely teachable, so long as I feed them a steady diet of new, different and delicious flavors.

Of course there are immediate rewards in this kind of taste-education — filling my mouth with great tasting food — but even better in my opinion is being able to apply what I learn in my own kitchen, thereby improving what I eat all the time, not just when I am at work.

I love being able to make a good soup great, a tasty salad worth going for seconds, and a pasta dish so delicious that people want to lick their dishes. Note that this is the goal; I am still in training. For now, I will have to be satisfied with being a cook who doesn’t have good taste but is a great student of making things taste good.

–Jolene Thym

Every year, foodies of all kinds look forward to the annual Fancy Food Show, a massive expo that features all that is new to the food world. Moscone Center in San Francisco is packed with exhibitors who are eager to share samples of everything from apple chutney to smelly cheese.

What I find especially fun about the food show is how the feast changes from year to year. Several years ago, the Atkins diet craze brought a landslide of low-carb products. Bread was out. Fake sweeteners were in. It was a terrible year for food. Other years seemed to be all about tea or all about chocolate.

But this year was different. In some ways, the show seemed to be a sea of sameness. Olive oil, cocoa and tea, tea, tea. Chocolate in every form. Nuts galore, cheeses from every corner of the world, and enough sauce to slather the globe.

About half-way through the show, a fellow food writer suggested that this seemed to be a “me too” year. I think she’s right. We saw healthful waters last year. This year we saw lots more. We saw lots of tea last year. More this year.

We saw lots of pomegranate last year. More this year, even more than I expected, since the trend is at least two years old. I tasted pomegranate drink mixes, pomegranate tea cakes by Luna, pomegranate-maple syrup by Sonoma Syrups, and pomegranate marinades.

But as a plodded my way through the rest of the show I realized that there was a distinct difference in this year’s show. Not a sexy new trend, but a difference nonetheless. What I realized is that most of the foods grabbing attention — whether it was dessert or dinner — seemed to be purposefully made to taste good AND to promote good health.

I tasted several kinds of huumus, at least a dozen whole grain cracker breads, and just as many products made with some sort of nut or seed. Other products were infused with antioxidants of some sort, or made with heart-healthy oils. Some of those so-called benefits are laughable, such as the antioxidant benefits of chocolate in a calorie-laden cup of super-sweet cocoa. But overall, this is a great trend. I, for one, hope it sticks.

– Jolene Thym

This, in case you don’t know, is a VERY special season for food writers. December is fun, don’t get me wrong. But January is the REAL DEAL. This is the time of year when our mailboxes are crowded with invitations to the most irresistable dinners and lunches. People send us little samples of their newest and best. We are treated to sips of this and that.

Thanks for our season goes to the Specialty Foods Association, the folks who sponsor the Fancy Food Show, which fills every inch of Moscone Center in San Francisco every year at this time.

Don’t get me wrong. I fully understand that all of these wonderful mailings and invites are mere ploys for free advertisement. I am not confused. But the best part about the whole circus is that some of the products that people are pitching are really terrific. Two years ago, I went to a sumptuous dinner prepared by Basque Chef Gerald Hirigoyen to learn about the lovely spices being introduced by Spice Hunter. Two years ago, and I still remember the courses that were served. Even better for Spice Hunter, I remember the spices they were pitching, Fresh At Hand, a line of spices that deliver flavor on contact with oil or liquid. No simmer time needed.

I will never forget those great parties hosted by Mezzetta. Those Italians know how to throw a party. The drinks flow, but even better is the food prepared using only Mezzetta olives, peppers and sauces. Yum. (And this is a year after the last party.) Hang on. It’s time for a kalamata olive break…

Not that covering the annual Fancy Food Show is all fun. I am already stressing about which shoes will be able to make the 30-mile (seemingly) trek through the halls. I am trying out bags, fully aware that carrying a purse is out of the question. And the coat. We are really hoping for nice weather. A coat can become very heavy at mile 12.

If all goes well and my strategies work, I intend to uncover at least 100 new products that all of you need to know about. I promise to do my best. But please don’t hate me if I have a little fun along the way!

I hate onions!

Not me, personally, but I have to roll my eyes at those people who do. OK, if you’re allergic or food-intolerant, you are excused. But the rest of you, sorry.

Every time I start cooking dinner, say 10 minutes into the deal, invariably some onion-hating teen or other will saunter in the front door and comment about how great dinner smells. I say nothing. It DOES smell good. Onions are the single most important ingredient in most dinner dishes.

They are great in a burger. They are indispensible in a quiche, a casserole, a soup, a stock, a sandwich, anything beef or lamb, or let’s face it — EVERYTHING. And, after the first 2 minutes, they smell divine. In fact, if you’re just a little behind in your dinner-fixing, it’s a serious quick-fix. Chop it up, throw it in the pan with a little olive oil and in 3 minutes fast, anyone, and I mean anyone, will be convinced that you’ve spent at least 30 minutes, if not an hour, in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

What I especially love about onions is that you can cook them a little, until they are just soft, or A LOT, until they are nearly black, as Indian cooks prefer them. When your onions turn black, in case you don’t know, they are NOT burned. Taste one. They are perfectly delicious, carmelized slices of heaven, as it were.

I hate to be a bully, but I seriously believe that no one hates onions. Again, those who are allergic and intolerant are excused. But those who say they hate onions are simply confused, their taste-buds un-educated. I suggest that all who believe as such sit down to a series of onion samples. I will even prepare them if you like. The onions will range in color from white to black, and will range in flavor from sweet to caramel-salty-sweet. Then, and only then, would I give onion-haters permission to say WHICH onions they really do not like.

– Jolene Thym

I just went through a McDonald’s drive-thru for a Diet Coke (they’re tied with Arby’s for the best fountain soda mix around) and am feeling rather discontent over something weird they’re doing.

Apparently this particular McDonald’s (and with two kids I’ve visited just about every one in the Bay Area), in Castro Valley, is trying out some sort of “personalized face service” thing.

You pull up like usual to the menu, complete with its enticing pictures and prices and specials and such. You stare at said menu as usual, telling yourself you’re only getting a Diet Coke while wondering if you should get a caramel sundae to go with it.

However, when you’re ready to order, you notice a sign screaming at you to pull ahead to the window for face-to-face ordering. OK, I think, they’re trying something new.

I pull up, order a drink and pay without too much excitement and then drive to the second window to pick it up. All’s well until I start thinking about this concept.

So what’s the big deal, you might say? Well, what if you’re not sure what you want and you want the option of being swayed at the last minute by the juicy color photo of a Big Mac? Or say you want to change your mind and get a dessert, so you check out the selection. (Apple pie or a shake? Hmmmm).

Or maybe you weren’t going to get fries, but you see they’re only $1 on the bargain menu, so you throw in an order of those.

With the face-to-face service, it’s just you and the face, baby. No menu. No disembodied voice waiting while you make up your mind or change your mind or spontaneously add an order of grease sticks to up your cholesterol.

Doesn’t McDonald’s realize that the anonymity of the speaker box is a good thing? That we don’t WANT to look someone in the eye while ordering such naughty food?

I can just see it. You’re alone in the car, you pull up to the window and then, rather sheepishly, order enough food for three people while the order taker looks at you like you’re a piggy.

“It’s for my family at home,” you stammer. Yeah right.

Or what about the easily confused among us? The people ordering for three kids with all of their pickiness. Having a menu to gaze at can give method to the madness of Happy Meals with apple dippers or fries or milk or three kinds of soda. What if you forget your soda choices? Will the order taker recite them to you as the kids scream out their choices? No thank you!

I actually don’t eat many things at McDonald’s, but when I need a DC, I’d rather just get it the easy way.

It’s the kind of dinner you start craving the day after just before lunch: Sunset Magazine’s turkey pot pie with apples. It’s the perfect cold winter supper.

I definitely cursed the thing a bit during the extended making, and that was even cutting corners using a store-bought crust.

But nevermind. It was worth it in the end. You combine cooked ground turkey with onions, caraway seed and dried sage and simmer, then adding two (crosswise) sliced golden delicious apples and two onions. I forgot to buy the 1.5 pounds of yams, but it didn’t hurt a bit. I made it last year with other apples, but I think this is a case where golden delicious make a difference.

(How many of you are chronic grocery store forgetters? You read or think you read a recipe through, make your list, go to the store and come home to cook, only to discover you didn’t get some key herb or something. I blame my sometimes-sloppy handwriting, or maybe my children for distracting me. But that’s what husbands are for. To be sent back to the store for random items.)

Back to the pie. Once your concoction of apples, onions, meat and spices simmers covered for 10 minutes (apples soft, onions browned), you add about 1 1/3 cups of apple juice or sherry mixed with a couple tablespoons of cornstarch and bring to a boil for a few minutes, stirring of course. You’re left with a wonderful, thick filling that you could serve atop biscuits if you’re really lazy.

It’s supposed to cool for 30-40 minutes, making this a pain to do the night of eating. (You can make a night ahead if you want.) I toughed it out, sipping my $2 Trader Joe’s Chuck, dealing with the kids and snacking on a couple spoonfuls of Annie’s Mac leftover from their dinner.

Then I dumped the filling into a 10-inch pie pan, topped it with the store-bought crust and cooked it at 375 until bubbly and browned.

I had only 10 minutes to eat until I had to be somewhere else, but oh they were a lovely 10 minutes. I can’t wait for leftovers tonight.

When I saw the news item about the cupcake dispute — regarding cupcakes served to school children back East — I got tweaked. Not about cupcakes per se, but about treats that are served to our children who attend public school.

This is what I don’t understand. Principals, teachers and alarmist parents have decided that all treats to be served to children in public schools must be store-bought or store-made.

Under no circumstances are fresh, homemade cookies or cupcakes to be served to children in public school. Treats made at home from fresh eggs, oil or butter, flour and milk, real vanilla and real chocolate, the authorities have decided, put our children at risk.

Much better, they reason, to get treats from a commercial source.

I can’t help but wonder if they realize that these commercially made treats are almost always laced with not-a-bit natural preservatives.

Do they know that these treats are very often made with transfats that are known to raise cholesterol and contribute to heart disease? Are they, aware that the bulk of these treats are made from mixes that contain imitation flavorings, imitation eggs, and imitation colors? Do they realize that many of these imitation ingredients have been fingered as carcinogenic?

I also wonder if they realize that these treats taste like what they are — imitation food. They have no real food flavor, which means children (and adults) tend to eat more and more of these treats in an effort to feel satisfied. Eating more imitation food puts our children even more at risk for obesity and dozens of other diseases.

The reality is that these new rules barring mom’s baked goods from school are seriously misguided. I suggest that those in authority take a good long look at the nutritional information their next store-bought treat, then read it out loud before they serve it to their children.

– Jolene Thym

Warning: You may not want to read the following over breakfast:

If one sees someone throwing up into their bread basket at a nice restaurant, what’s the proper response?

1. Jump up and ask if they need your assistance.
2. Turn away and try not to get sick yourself.
3. Continue eating as if nothing was going on.

I was presented with this dilemma during a recent family dinner at the Ideal Cafe at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk.

And, as a testament to how much I love to eat, I must admit I chose door No. 3.

I guess having two young kids has made me immune to the grossness of any and all bodily functions — even during mealtimes.

Sorry, but I was really enjoying my salmon on a bed of spinach and mashed potatoes. And the gorgonzola salad with candied pecans was tasty, too.

My husband, who bless his heart was kind enough to gleefully point out the barfing woman, said he knew she was trouble when he saw her wearing Jackie-O sunglasses at the table. And it was dark outside.

My guess was she and her dude date were a meth couple. You know, the kind with missing teeth who laugh a little too loudly? At the least, they seemed already drunk, and it was only 6 p.m.

Now, one would think that after one ralphed into the bread basket, one might, ahem, retire to the ladies room to at least freshen up. Nope, not this chickie.

She sat right down, laughed over the barfing incident and happily began sipping the pomegranate cocktail special the waitress had just delivered. (They were making ‘em a double for only $2 more!).

But the real trouble started when the dude disappeared, and we saw Ms. Bread Basket Barfer nervously talking to the waitress, who called over a manager and then stalked off.

Oh yeah. Somebody was trying to talk her way out of a bill.

We cleared out with the kids, my husband rolling his eyes at what we spent ($130 — guess there’s no discount for barf-witnessing), and there she was, chatting with a cop out front. Maybe she was trying to claim she shouldn’t pay because the food made her sick?

Who knows. But I really did enjoy those chipotle crab cakes.

It seems that the winning recipe for our December candy contest has kicked off a bit of a controversy all over the Bay Area, especially amongst longtime bakers who know their recipes. It turns out that a lot of our readers are quite familiar with the basic premise behind our first place winner’s recipe, a candy made by dipping chow mein noodles and cashews into a mix of butterscotch and chocolate chips. Starting the day the story ran, we began to get calls, emails and letters; about a dozen in all.

Jim Sutherland from Tracy informed us, “The recipe is even on the back of the Chinaboy brand bag of Chow Mein Noodles available at Savemart Supermarkets. This candy is often called ‘Noodle Clusters’ or ‘Haystacks.”’ He went on to provide no less than six other versions of the recipe that he found online. Thanks, Jim! Another reader wrote to tell us that the winning recipe is exactly the same as one she has been making for 40 years — except she uses peanuts instead of cashews.

The most interesting thing is that not a single one of those who called or wrote had a bad word to say about the taste of Tina Armagost’s winning candy. In fact, they all agree that it’s a great recipe. In case you missed the recipe online, it’s simple enough to memorize: 6 ounces each of chow mein noodles, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips and cashews. Melt the chocolate, stir in the nuts and noodles and spoon them out into haystacks and you have perhaps NOT an original candy, but certainly a much-loved American classic.

– Jolene Thym