Food

Come summer, I look forward to interleaving slices of mozzarella and basil leaves with slices of the first luscious red tomatoes to make a classic caprese . I'll sometimes toss hot spaghetti with diced mozzarella or bocconcini (those bite-sized balls) and raw chopped tomato for a hot-weather supper. I had a wonderful treat once in Naples, a bowl of bocconcini drizzled with gold green olive oil. I think you get the idea: Mozzarella spells summer, and some of our best Italian restaurants take advantage of imported and local varieties of the milky white cheese.

Maybe the hardest thing about cooking with salted anchovies is finding them in the first place. Check your local Italian deli or the deli or cheese department of your local fine grocery. You an also order them online. I get mine at Guidi Marcello in Santa Monica. Most often salted anchovies are sold in the cans in which they come, which means massive quantities, 11/2 pounds or more. Though you can store them in the refrigerator in that can, I prefer to transfer them to a tightly sealed glass or plastic container.

Dear SOS: I'm not a big drinker, but there's a cocktail that Akasha Restaurant in Culver City makes that could make me a convert. It's called a Ruby Red Mojito, made with pink grapefruit juice. I've tried versions at other restaurants, but they're not as good as Akasha's. I'd love to serve this to friends on game night and would be delighted if you could get Akasha to give you its recipe. Katherine Fleischmann Valley Glen Dear Katherine: Bright and refreshing, Akasha's mojito combines fresh grapefruit juice with lime, rum, a touch of agave syrup for sweetness and club soda for a little fizz.

Once many years ago I came across a fish vendor at the farmers market with a whole tray full of beautiful fresh anchovies. On a sudden impulse, I bought them all. Real anchovies - the ones that have been packed in salt to last - are an essential flavoring, the garlic of the sea. And then I repented at leisure, trying to figure out what I was going to do with them. Apparently preparing your own salted anchovies is something that had not occurred to many cookbook writers. I searched through a dozen books trying to find a method before I came to a rough description of a poor Greek fisherman preparing them in one of my favorite cookbooks, Patience Gray's "Honey From a Weed.

It may be time to get back on the Zinfandel wagon. I just tasted the 2010 Limerick Lane Zinfandel from Sonoma County and loved its subtle approach. Instead of the big bruiser Zins that have dominated the market for so long, this one is cool and focused, with very pretty fruit and the tanginess of pomegranates. That mouthwatering quality makes this Zin ideal drinking with charcuterie, salumi , grilled sausages and pork stews - anything rich and fatty. I like it with adobo and oxtail braised in red wine (Zin, of course)

  45 minutes. 6 to 8 servings 3 salted anchovies (6 fillets) 6 cloves garlic 1 cup olive oil, plus more if necessary 2 large (1½ to 1¾ pounds) round eggplants 2 long branches fresh rosemary Salt 1. Rinse the anchovies under running water to remove excess salt and then soak in water to cover in small bowl until softened, about 5 minutes. Remove the fillets, discard the skeletons and soak another 5 minutes until flexible. Cut into approximately half-inch crosswise pieces.

One of the things that makes beer different from wine - apart from the fact that people don't wear funny hats to a wine tasting - is the range of flavorings that can be added to it: fruit, nuts, spices, coffee, chocolate; the list goes on. To make this beer, High Water Brewing throws 100 pounds of graham crackers into the brewing kettle. Yes, graham crackers, which may sound a bit gimmicky but, in fact, are quite successful. This is a stout, so expect caramel and molasses flavors, and like a lot of present-day stouts, its mash includes chocolate malt, so there's a trace of that.

In the restaurant world, being called "a regular" is a badge of honor. Phil Gittelman has been eating at Hugo's in West Hollywood almost every day for 32 years. He is so fond of the restaurant, which opened in 1980, that he is more than a customer; he's become a living time capsule for the place, a faithful repository of its stories, characters and food. The 75-year-old L.A. native lives half a block away from the restaurant, which is at Santa Monica Boulevard and Kings Road. The staff has affectionately dubbed him "Mr. G," and the owners have given him an honorary key to the front door.

This week may be the best of the year for high-flavored fruit that's worth a special trip to local farmers markets, because it's almost never available elsewhere. Start with boysenberries, whose rich, complex, sweet-tart flavor reflects their ancestry, part raspberry, part trailing blackberry. To be at their best, they must be picked dead-ripe, when they're too soft and perishable for supermarkets, and even at farmers market just a few vendors take the trouble. Look for containers in which all or most of the berries are deep purple, indicating full ripeness; less ripe berries are better for baking or making preserves.

Hope was the theme of the day, but unremitting pain was the backdrop when friends and family members of suicide victims gathered in a Culver City park on Saturday for their annual summer potluck. "Survivors After Suicide" they call themselves. It's a label with two meanings: They survived unthinkable, unbearable loss. And some, in the aftermath, contemplated or attempted suicide themselves. These survivors share a singular sort of grief - one that binds them inexorably to guilt, confusion and shame.