Friday, June 30, 2006
I’ve been teaching a writers’ workshop in Chautauqua all week, one of the most unusual and interesting spots of the country, a summer resort, an enclave of Victorian gingerbread cottages devoted to intellectual and spiritual pursuits (it has thus made anything good to eat, this many times daily pleasure of the flesh, really hard to come by).
But it’s given me a moment to do something I’ve wanted to address pretty much since I started publishing books. Respond to critics. This was one reason a non-fiction writer told me he blogged. What pleasure, what satisfaction! I thought. To answer the snarky and ham-handed journalistic rabble; until recently one could only sit there, wrists and ankles bound to the chair, mouth gagged, and absorb the mauling. It’s a double-edged sword though because one can easily come off sounding petulant and whiny, especially when the reviews are mainly favorable. But I have wanted to address a couple issues some reviews (and comments from a couple of journalists) have brought up: the notion of enthusiasm for one’s subject and conflict of interest issues for a writer who both works with and writes about chefs.
In his nytimes review of my book, John T. Edge calls me a gusher who's too cozy with his subjects and implies that I hid the fact that I’d worked with Thomas Keller on his books (he had to go to the PR material, he writes, to learn that I’d coauthored these books that I speak so highly of); in fact, I note numerous times in Reach of a Chef my part in these cookbooks and moreover they’re listed on the “other books by” page in the front of the book, and my association and friendship with Thomas Keller is spelled out in the opening pages of the book. But the implication that I’m shilling for my own work isn’t really what bothers me; it’s the slightly unctuous tone of the reviewer. Isn’t he really questioning the conflict of interest in writing about Keller? If he didn’t like the book, he should just say so. It reads as if the Times editors forced him into a positive slant at the end. I say all this, of course, with gratitude to the reviewer and to the book review editors for consideration at all, something not to be taken lightly.
A more generous review (but not without its criticisms) comes from Louisa Thomas in the NYObesrver. Identified as being on staff at The New Yorker, Ms Thomas seems to convey the spirit of my book as I intended it, but even her reading is perplexing. I make a hero out of Keller in the book, she says, adding that I believe chefs are the high priests of the food world. Edge, too, says Keller is my muse. This was more true of the last book, Soul of a Chef, in which I truly could seem to be gushing. In Reach of a Chef, I don’t gush, relative to what I’m capable of when I care about a subject. The opposite really—I’m the most skeptical person there is with regard to the contemporary chef. We are entering an unromantic era with regard to chefs and restaurants. In this new world, Keller has lost his shoes, is out of balance, and says he’s not a chef anymore. And I think this is something that people don’t want to hear. People still want to believe that chefs are artists, which they very rarely are.
In the end, there are genuine reasons to be enthusiastic in today’s chef world (e.g. Melissa Kelly, Masa Takayama—if there’s a hero in my book, it’s him—Judy Rodgers and her smart words, what an observant cook and excellent writer she is)—but it’s more complex now, the chef is in transition, and I don’t know what the next phase will be. There’s simply too many alumni coming out of great kitchens; a finite number can fit into the always moving circle cast by the spotlight of public adoration; we can only have so many celebrity chefs. Those chefs who no longer cook have become in effect CEOs, and it’s hard to maintain celebrity when you’re a CEO, except by becoming a criminal.
About the gushing: I don’t gush indiscriminately (and I wouldn’t call it gushing; over-idealizing is more accurate). The people about whom I “gush” deserve it. And again, I do very little gushing in the new book, because I think a lot of what’s happening in the upper echelons of the chef world are confusing and sad. But I think that for journalists, especially those in the New York food media, being skeptical and snarky (which is the opposite of gushing) is somehow perceived as an asset and somehow beneficial to the reader. Only rarely is the snarky writer talented enough to deliver a truly great read, a really ugly, delightful evisceration. I’d go so far as to claim that snarkiness and talent are mutually exclusive for all but the rarest writer.
Two journalists have questioned how I could have written about someone formerly close with Keller, Adam Block, a businessman, for The Times magazine, which, given the aforementioned reviews deserves a response. It's important and interesting, and I intend to address it, but I’m late for my class...
I'm off for the long weekend. Have a great Independence Day and I'll see you back here on the 5th.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
A while ago I bought tickets for A Celebration of Life's Simple Pleasures at the 92nd St Y in Manhattan. Ruth Reichl, Anne Patchett, Jane and Michael Stern, and David Rakoff/Leonard Lopate will discuss good food and great writing. Now it turns out I'll be out of town, so I'm sitting on two tickets (a $50 value!) for Thursday, July 13 at 8:00pm.
So here's a deal for you. If you'd like to attend I will give you my two tickets, on one condition: You must write up the event for publication on this site. If you're interested in being Megnut's first stringer, send me an email explaining why you should get the tickets and do the write-up. I will select the "winner" based on demonstrated writing ability and enthusiasm for covering the event for this site. You have until next Friday July 7th to get your message to me. Send your messages to "reader" at this domain with the subject "92nd St Y tickets". Good luck!
For reference, see my Notes from Michael Pollan's 92nd St Y talk and Thoughts about The End of the Plate.
It's been raining heavily in the northeast for the past few weeks, but I wasn't aware just how much rain we'd gotten until yesterday. I received an email that my weekly CSA (from Norwich Meadows Farm) fruit and veg pick up was cancelled because a road was washed out and the delivery trucks couldn't make the trip. Bad news to be sure, but today's email contained worse:
"Our lower field was devastated. Our plantings of squash and cucumbers were washed out. Our upper field was flooded as well. It will take a week or so to know the extent of the damage."
With all the rain, they've fallen behind on planting, and with the reduced income due to crop loss, cannot afford to hire more employees. Members are working to arrange trips upstate to help on the farm. It's disappointing as a CSA member to realize we might not get much in the way of a harvest this summer, but that disppointment is nothing compared to what the farmers are going through. So much rain is devastating for the farm. As you can see from the pictures, the fields are filled with water. With rain like this, it becomes easier to see why local products might cost considerably more than those grown and shipped from California's arid Central Valley.
AG muses on the violence in professional kitchens. The worst kitchen violence story I heard was pretty bad: my sous chef reported one of his chefs at culinary school was doing a stage at Daniel. There was some trouble on the line between chefs, one of whom kept screwing up but not taking the blame, thereby getting others in trouble (big no no in the kitchen, you own up to your fuck ups in a kitchen). Finally, the unfairly-blamed chef snapped, and grabbing his chef's knife, he stabbed the other chef! Of course this story came out right after I said, "I've got the card of the person who arranges stages at Daniel. I was thinking of doing one..." I never did follow up.
First the came for the foie gras, then they came for the trans fats. Chicago looks to ban trans fats in all the city's restaurants. Ald. Edward Burke has proposed the ban and says “Why not start here to talk about what government can do to keep people more healthy? If they can't resolve to do it themselves, maybe municipal government ought to step in.” Watch out Chicagoans, up next: government-mandated calisthenics at work!
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
I received the following via email today:
Regarding Jason's letter: Just go vegan. My wife and I did it about a year ago, and it's one of the best decisions we've ever made.
I will admit to being upset and thrown off about what and how to eat after reading The Omnivore's Dilemma. But my distress is not limited to meat but to how all the food we consume is produced, including vegetables. Sure if I'm troubled by meat production, I could "just" remove it from my diet. But do I remove fruits and vegetables and grains as well because I'm concerned about pesticides and pollution and monocultures? I'd be pretty skinny if I followed that diet!
I have been a vegetarian three times, the final most severe phase of which occurred from 1998-2002. During that stint I forsook all dairy products, all eggs, and all meat. I was almost vegan (AV) except that I couldn't give up fish and ate a four to five servings of it a week. This was not because I thought fish had less feelings than cows or pigs, I simply enjoyed fish too much to give it up. Giving up the other foods hadn't felt like much of a sacrifice. The decision to go AV was based on a dislike of meat initially. I dropped the dairy when I realized soy would give me more protein with less fat. And eggs had always grossed me out. It was not a moral decision.
In 2002, a visit to the French Laundry and a torchon of foie gras precipitated a rapid and total collapse of my almost-veganism. I haven't looked back and I don't want to. Being an AV created a very contentious relationship between me and my food. Eating was rarely fun or pleasurable. It was always a series of questions and compromises, trying to find something on a menu that would work when I was out, a frozen Amy's vegan pizza at home.
Since my return to meat, I've learned more about food and garnered more pleasure from eating and sharing food with friends than I had in years. My culinary world has expanded in ways I'd never imagined -- I'll actually order bone marrow and liver when I'm out to dinner. And I'm more engaged and aware of food production methods and practices than I ever was as an AV. I eat with eyes wide open, with the full knowledge that an animal was bred and slaughtered for my consumption. And I am OK with that.
This leads to what angers me about the recent foie gras bans, PETA, and animal rights activists in general. First, there's the assumption you must be eating meat because you're ignorant of where it comes from. I support efforts to educate consumers about factory farming (though I draw the line at the propaganda activists produce that utilize intellectually dishonest methods to support their "arguments") but trying to convince anyone of anything by initiating an argument with an insult isn't particularly effective.
Second, there's the moral superiority that oftentimes accompanies said argument. Great, YOU made YOUR choice because it aligned with YOUR values and beliefs. That does not mean your choice is right for me, and your condescension isn't going to convince me of anything. Keep your veggie burger, and leave me my Shake Shack.
As with everything in life, eating is a series of personal choices. The more education we have, the better choices we can make. I believe in personal responsibility and the freedom to make choices, and I don't think the government should be in the business of restricting them. Factory farms, whether they produce milk or eggs or beef or berries, are environmentally unsound and cruel. And I do not support food produced in this fashion (with I'd wager about a 95% success rate in reality). In my ideal world, everyone would be aware of the conditions under which their food is produced and we'd all purchase humanely treated meat and organic vegetables.
If state and local government want to do something to prevent animal cruelty, banning small scale foie gras production provides a minimal and questionable (many argue that foie gras birds are humanely treated and do not suffer) result. Why not legislate sunlight and fresh air requirements, or set a certain amount of square footage required for a given number of animals? Heck, enforce and update the Humane Methods of Slaughter Act (HMSA). But banning foie gras production has little impact on the suffering of animals in the United States. Leading producer Hudson Valley Foie Gras processes 7,000 ducks a week1. But more than 27,000,000 farmed animals are killed a day in the United States2.
Instead of forcing one's individual choices upon others, everyone should be working together to expand consumer education and improve treatment for all animals on this planet, including fellow humans. Then allow people to make decisions based on their socio-economic and religious reality, not yours.
I guess I could have just said, "Go vegan? No thanks!"
1 Anthony Ramirez, "Animal Rights Groups Ask New York to Ban Foie Gras," June 22, 2006, <http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/22/nyregion/22ducks.html> (28 June 2006)
2 Dena Jones, "Crimes Unseen," July/August 2004, <http://www.oriononline.org/pages/om/04-4om/Jones.html> (28 June 2006)
Foie gras and lobster are not at the heart of the real tough issues of animal welfare, says Michael Pollan. I agree, and that's why I view the recent bans as more of a gesture than anything attempting to effect actual change.
My husband writes an open letter to Michael Pollan about my growing food obsessions. Of course he exaggerates: the lot is in the East Village, not Queens; the cow is really just a calf; and our neighbors aren't complaining, they've all joined my CSA!
A woman lives right by the Union Square Greenmarket and does all her shopping there. More importantly, her column in the New York Times about "using the Greenmarket as a family's larder, will appear every other week this summer." I would like to see one about how much she spends on groceries a week there.
Somehow I missed this until now: predicting World Cup results by a nation's food. Fish & Chips (England) will play Caldo Verde (Portugal) next, though the match I'm looking forward to is Sauerbraten (Germany) vs Matambre (Argentina). I know sauerbraten is delicious but matambres (rolled, stuffed, baked or grilled flanksteaks) sound good too. Who will win the meat showdown?
Hervé This and the cooking of a 67° C egg and other sciencey details about molecular gastronomy from Discover. Coolest article I've read in a while.
Another article about Grant Achatz and Alinea from Wired and I think we've reached a saturation point on this topic. After all this reading, the only way to further your understanding of the experience is to simply go there.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Another from the archives, this time it's Sauté Wednesday's Keller vs Blumenthal showdown, comprised of conflicting quotes between the two master chefs. Very entertaining, and raises some good questions. I salt like Keller; my veg cook in a pot reminiscent of the north Atlantic.
Someone's pissed off about Bill Buford's fact checking in the NYer. What's funny (not ha ha) is I think the New Yorker has far and away the best fact checking of any publication I've ever been interviewed by. But also I thought it was odd in Buford's piece when he mentioned dessert being a modern concept. That seemed wrong to me
From Slate last summer: The Slowest Food: Why American chefs have taken up sous-vide cooking. The answers? You can't overcook your food and your results are very tender. I also think it's just different and I bet that's why more chefs are trying it. That and you're not sweating over a hot grill and/or burning yourself all the time.
Cook at home like Cantu and Achatz with your own anti-griddle or thermal bath for sous vide. Alas the prices are still a bit prohibitive for a home chef, unless you're a home chef who wants to freeze everything you eat so you get your $845 worth of anti-griddle.
Last week I attended a discussion at the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum entitled "Presentation: The End of the Plate?" Moderated by Darra Goldstein, the co-curator of the Feeding Desire: Design and the Tools of the Table, 1500–2005 (on view until the end of October), it featured three chefs Ms. Goldstein deemed emblematic of the avant-garde in the kitchen: Katsuya Fukushima (minibar by Jose Andres, Washington DC), Grant Achatz (Alinea, Chicago), and Homaru Cantu (Moto, Chicago). The chefs were joined by industrial designer Martin Kastner, the man behind chef Achatz's "utensils" at Alinea.
Gerald from Foodite also attended and has a good summary (with pictures) of the talk. I'm not going to rehash what he's already covered and instead will focus on what piqued my interest during the 1.5 hour discussion and subsequent Q&A1.
Kastner talked about design and the versatility that we require of our eating utensils. Forks and knives do many things well rather than one thing perfectly. This makes sense at home, but at Alinea they had different goals, and strove to create instruments that would do one thing perfectly (e.g. the Squid). This allows Alinea to control the diner's experience, bring an emotional level to it, and change the way a guest spends 3-4 hours at the restaurant. I find any discussion of versatility vs. perfection endlessly fascinating.
There was quite a bit of talk about labels. Achatz mentioned "hyper-modern," "avant-garde," and "molecular gastronomy" as the labels people try to apply to his cooking. (Keller recently said MG was a term made up by the media and no one in the industry used it to refer to their cooking.) Goldstein felt "post-modern" was an apt description for the type of cuisine practiced by these cooks, especially as they're given to wit and self-referentiality. While I agree with her, saying you're going to a post-modern restaurant sounds, well, annoying. It's bad enough everyone throws around the word "deconstruct" in culinary critiques, we don't have to whole-hog bring post-modernism into the kitchen, do we?
Asked whether they like to be labeled, the chefs refreshed with their responses. Achatz's said he just cooks, that this is the way he's chosen to do it, it's not intentional. Cantu said he doesn't pay attention, that it's just a collection of ideas and he's trying to find a new way to cook. On the whole it seems the analysis of their cooking is much more intellectual than their pursuit of it. My take? They're driven by their individual imaginations, and by their passion for cooking. If we're going to give a literary label to them, I'd say it sounds Romantic. Maybe I'll call them the nouveau romantiques?
From Achatz, with regards to people who say he's too gimmicky, he asks if they've eaten at his restaurant. Most who criticize have never experienced, he says. Applies to more than just food, I'd say. There was also talk of how one's upbringing influences his/her cooking and Kastner said it's impossible to drop one's "cultural baggage." I liked this term and think it's a good thing to keep in mind when examining anyone's approach or reaction, including one's own. We all carry cultural baggage that influences our experiences, and it's not limited to food.
Two final comments: Achatz said, "It's not dinner anymore, it's something else." I got what he meant at the time, now re-reading in my notes it sounds a little precious or pretentious. Can the new hyper-modern-avant-garde-nouveau-romantique-extreme-cuisine push boundaries and still fulfill us on a basic level? Also there was a lot of use of the word "food stuff." What happened to the simpler "food"? Is "food stuff" somehow different? It sounds more abstract, less tangible, colder, more scientific. I don't want to eat food stuff, which makes me think of mechanically separated meat. I want to eat food!
It was an interesting discussion and though I was familiar with a lot of what was discussed (having eaten at both Moto and Alinea) I found it engaging. And now I want to go to DC and eat at minibar.
1 Dear everyone: When you go to a talk like this and you're given the opportunity to ask questions, please follow these suggestions: 1) Don't ask something that's already been discussed during the lecture. You appear to have not paid attention. 2) Don't ask two questions, and for God's sake don't ask three questions! This isn't your private Q&A with the speakers. Pick one question, ask it, and let someone else ask a question. 3) And finally, make sure your question is actually a question! The Q&A is not your opportunity to expound upon your opinion of whatever you think we need to hear. Chances are we don't. Remember: it's not you we came to hear speak.
Monday, June 26, 2006
An oldie but goodie from the Morning News: The Art of The Cure, or how to cure pig's jowl in a small New York apartment. [via WesFoodie]
This mom makes beautiful bento boxes for her daughter's lunch. I love the smiley unagi stars. What a great way to make lunch fun for kids, I would have gone crazy over this as a child. Since my mom didn't grow up in Japan, we had less designed treats in our lunch. But she always would wrap my milk money (six cents! milk was six cents!) in tin foil and make it into little shapes or sculptures, like a swan. I loved opening the bag to see what shape it was each day. [Thanks Jason]
Related to my greenmarket price griping: New Farmers' Markets to Open in Low-Income Neighborhoods. "Council Speaker Christine C. Quinn has made farmers' markets a centerpiece of her plans to reduce hunger and increase awareness of nutrition throughout the city, especially in lower-income areas." Maybe I'm just wrong about the expense of local produce.
Summer is in full swing at the Union Square greenmarket and everything I anticipated all winter has begun to arrive. Sadly though, I'm wondering if I can afford to buy much of it. Here's what I witnessed for sale last Friday: a small basket of heirloom tomatoes for $7, a pint of raspeberries for $7, a quart of cherries for $7, and strawberries for $6 a quart. It's my first summer living in close proximity to the market, and I was astounded by the prices.
I stopped to get some raspberries for a jam I was making; I needed 1 1/4 lbs for their juice. At greenmarket prices that's $21 for the raspberries! Sad that I couldn't afford local berries, I headed to Whole Foods. People complain about the cost at Whole Foods but it seemed cheap in comparison. I was able to buy three pints of California rasperries for $2.98 each.
I really want to support local foods and farmers, but I don't understand greenmarket pricing. Does it really cost the individual farmer that much more to grow raspberries and deliver them a few hours away? Shipping raspberries 3,000 miles from California can't be cheap. Sure Whole Foods has some economies of scale, but I didn't realize they reduced costs by more than 50%. Or maybe I'm disconnected from the true cost of food. Do the prices at the greenmarket actually reflect the costs of producing such food in our area? Or are items at the greenmarket overpriced because it's hip and trendy to buy local food?
No matter what, I feel conflicted and bummed out now. I'd envisioned buying tons of stuff this summer at the market, eating local and supporting regional farmers. I don't like the idea of buying fruit from California when there's fruit to be had from New York. But it's hard to imagine dropping $50 for fruits and vegetables that we'll eat up in two days, especially when I can get the same stuff for half the price elsewhere. Welcome to Megnut's Dilemma.
Evidence continues to mount that trans fats are the evil fat. In a study at Wake Forest they fed two groups of African monkeys the same percentage of fat. "After six years on the diet, trans fat-fed monkeys gained an extra 7.2 per cent of their body weight, compared to just 1.8 per cent in the control monkeys."
How to make a thermostated waterbath for sous vide for under $150. This article assumes you have more electrical knowledge than I do and sounds complicated. Can't you just put a thermometer in your waterbath on very low heat and get the same result? I still want to try sous vide at home.
Soda Fountain Recipes from the 20's and 30's includes one for a 'Catawba Flip' which sounds like a Purple Cow to me. I love soda fountain drinks (and anything called a 'flip') and whenever I'm on Nantucket I get something from Main Street's pharmacy soda fountains.
Great long list of American road food spots from Jane and Michael Stern. I love these kind of lists: it's fun to spot places I already know and to gather ideas for new ones to visit.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
So attention must be paid. Thursday night a group of about 50 friends and sinister types surprised Tony Bourdain in honor of his half-century on earth. Lured to Siberia on the pretext of an interview with Rolling Stone, Tony had little inkling of the party, judging from the unseemly blubbering that followed the revelation. The heroic drunkenness for which he is highly esteemed, however, was not long in waiting. He’d been out with Mario the night before until dawn; presumably Mario was sleeping it off, but Bourdain himself was as ever in fine form.
Laurent Gras showed and I learned the hopeful news that he’s close to signing on a Manhattan space where he can hang his own shingle. Those who ate at Fifth Floor in S.F. or at Peacock Alley in Manhattan know why this is good news. Gabrielle Hamilton appeared, babe attached like a lamprey the whole time and unfazed by the deafening jukebox. I’d been eager to meet her because she’s that rare creature, a genuine cook and chef who can really write. I love her restaurant Prune and am eager for her memoir. However, she was deeply skeptical of me when I introduced myself, and clearly could not be swayed even by enormous amounts of charm, so I cut my losses moved on to…Bigfoot. Bigfoot, the restaurant guy described in Kitchen Confidential, and Tony’s trauma scars remain raw and sizzling. “To this day I wake at 6 am because of this guy, no matter what country I’m in,” he repeated in front of the man. And Tony’s mom! His mom was there! Gladys. She’s a copy editor on the Metro desk at the Times, clearly suffers no fools, and was unabashedly proud of her son (and surely thrilled that he was here on his 50th rather than in jail, which is what she would have predicted twenty years ago). A delight, actually to speak with her, very elegant lady.
Lots of media folks, his publisher and publicists, his show’s production crew, zeropointzero, finer folks there never were, I worked with them on Tony’s Vegas show, they’re pros and bring some genuine originality to TV food and travel.
And a man named Bulldog had come up from Maryland. Bulldog has a talk radio show there from 6 to 10 am and was due back at what was now this morning. Before catching his limo south, Bourdain insisted on being on his show the following morning. Now Bourdain is a well-known media magnet and resists no opportunity to flog his books (he considers being on book tour to be like running for public office). So it surprised me little that he was angling, drunkenly, for more media even at his own party. And it is exactly at such a moment when I am most eager to loathe the scoundrel—our relationship has been schizophrenic from the beginning owing to the lies he has spread about me in public (people along my street here in Cleveland have actually whispered to my neighbor Betsy, “I didn’t know Michael had a drinking and gambling problem”; I’m totally serious, this is what I put up with)—he turns around and undoes me with an act of unabashed generosity. It wasn’t himself he wanted on the radio, he wanted both of us on and he wanted to extol the virtues of my book. As I learned later from Bulldog, Tony had privately insisted, insisted, that not a single mention of his book be made on the air. The call from Bulldog came at 9:45 the next morning, and so it was to be.
And I didn’t even bring the guy a present. It was very late when I had the good sense to zigzag toward Ninth Avenue and raise my arm for a taxi, leaving Tony, the formidable Grillbitch who’d organized the night’s festivities, and Tony’s Noam-Chomsky-quoting fascist Milan consort, in a giddy haze of cigarette smoke and garbage fumes…. Ah, to be Bourdain at 50…seems he’s having quite a time of it, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Friday, June 23, 2006
If you, like me, have become totally obsessed with high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS is the new EVOO) and are trying to avoid it, you might be interested in this natural cola called Cricket Cola. Says the reviewer: "It's hard to describe exactly what it tastes like, but imagine Coke if Coke was made from natural ingredients instead of in a chemical plant. That's what it tastes like. It's good." I haven't seen it yet but it sounds intriguing, if you like to drink cola.
Maybe you've heard about grass fed meat but still have questions? This page of grass fed basics will answer them for you. I've been trying to limit myself to grass fed meat lately. It's a bit trickier to cook I'm finding, but I like the flavor and I feel better about eating it, so I think it's a worthwhile trade off.
At my grandparents house we had the last of the asparagus with our dinner. I captured this picture before my grandmother tossed it in the pot. And note: I do not have freakishly small hands. It's really that big.
Animal Rights Groups Ask New York to Ban Foie Gras. Of course this was coming. After what's happened in California and Chicago, they're just going to keep going after everyone else. The more they push, the angrier I get about this issue.
The search for the elusive remembered perfect tomato. I am a big tomato fan now and especially enjoy heirlooms. Just yesterday I was thinking about how close we are to getting great tomatoes and how soon nearly every meal of mine will consist of tomatoes and salt and fresh basil. Mmmmm...
I was relieved to see Jason's strawberry taste test post this morning on my site. You see, I did the test but I didn't know the results! He kept it secret from me, so last night I was fretting about which berry I'd deemed the best. Phew! I knew my grandparents grew the greatest strawberries ever. :)
Hi there, Jason here...Meg's husband. Every year around this time, Meg starts jonesing for fresh strawberries. Fresh strawberries and cream, fresh strawberry ice cream, fresh strawberry jam, fresh strawberries prepared every which way. Her preferred dealer in this regard is her grandparents' strawberry patch in central Massachusetts.
Earlier this year, before the strawberry season had begun that far north, I suggested that she hit the Greenmarket for some New Jersey berries to satisfy her cravings. Accompanying a harrumph of epic proportions was her statement that "those berries aren't as good as the ones my grandparents grow". And so, the gauntlet having been thrown down, a strawberry-flavored Pepsi challenge was arranged.
Returning from Massachusetts recently with two quarts of berries fresh from the family patch, we procured single quarts of two competitors: one from Staatsburg, NY and one from Norwich, NY, both recently picked as well. With Meg out of the room, I prepared three berries for her to sample, one from each batch of similar size and color. She then tasted bites of all three while I took notes. Here's the final ranking:
1. The family berries
2. The Staatsburg berries
3. The Norwich berries
The top two were close. The Staatsburg berries smelled the sweetest, but her grandparents' berries were the juciest, had the sweetest taste, and had "good berry texture". The Norwich berries were the clear losers, the "least sweet" by far. And once again, Meg demonstrates that she knows her food...either that or she was peeking around the corner during my secret berry selection.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
I've just published a new feature article about making strawberry jam with my grandmother. This is something I've wanted to write about for the site for several years now and I'm really happy I had the time to finally do it.
My grandmother always uses this crazy chopper to prepare strawberries, making quick work of the hulled berries whenever we need a bowl of chopped berries. My mom has one and uses it for egg salad. Yesterday I decided I needed one and nearly had a panic when I couldn't find it at the local cooking shops. Could something so simple be out of production now, made obsolete by fancier tools and food processors?
The woman at Sur La Table on Spring street had no idea what I was talking about when I described the device to her. I didn't know it was called a "Kwik Kut" until we located one on the shelves and I read its label. Almost not finding it made me realize how much I valued this little gadget, even though I'd never owned it until now.
Previous gadget: Microplane Grater/Zester
A list of 30 meals under $30 in Boston, for anyone looking to eat well and not spend a fortune. I'll try to keep these spots in mind next time I head to Beantown.
Steve Sando emailed to make two things clear that aren't either in my post or Bittman's article—that there's a difference between dried corn and dried corn that has had its skin removed (which is called hominy).
"The Mexicans exclusively use dried corn that hasn't been prepared and it's a lot of work and that's why they compromise and use the yucky canned. My posole/hominy has had the skin removed by being soaked in CaL. It's been done already so it's kind of more than just dried corn.
"And this is the real confusing thing: Posole with an S is American/Southwestern/Indian and refers to the grain and the dish. Pozole with a Z is always Mexican and referes only to the dish.
"There was a study done on why heavy polenta (ground whole cornmeal) eaters in Italy were having bad gastro problems while the Mexicans, who consume much more corn, were not. It was the skin. And it turns out soaking in lime (CaL) adds a major nutrional boost so it's really an example of a processsed food that's better than the whole grain."
Steve also said you could use a food processor to make grits, but that seems like a blade destroying idea. I think a coffee grinder would do the trick.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Fun Q&A with Anthony Bourdain, ostensibly about his new book but mostly about favorite foods, foie gras, vegetarians and Rachael Ray. On Ray, "I find her relentless good cheer terrifying and distrust anyone who could stand in front of a camera and eat mediocre food and say it's good. Be honest and say it sucks." I couldn't agree more.
Alinea's pastry chef Alex Stupak is coming to WD-50. He's due in town by the end of July and will come up with new desserts for WD-50. Yay!
Imagine making filet mignon from a few cells and some growth medium in your kitchen. With synthetic-meat technology, you may be making your own "beef" at home in the near future. I'm all for technology but something about this sounds downright gross to me. Artificial-tissue generation for skin grafts is one thing, but to eat? Ick. I don't care if it tastes the same.
In the course of reporting a story for one of our finer food publications, I learned something so revolting it had no place in the article. I was talking with a leading sausage maker, both of us extolling the wonders of beef and pork and fat, and I asked him what were some of the things that make an inferior sausage. He listed a number of factors and then said, "But the really disgusting stuff is mechanically separated meat." What…exactly…is mechanically separated meat, says I. He explained that animal carcasses from which the main muscles have been removed, that is everything good to eat, are dumped into some sort of industrial strength salad spinner, called a beehive, and whipped around so hard that all the scraps of meat still clinging to bone and cartilage fly off and through a sieve, and are collected as a kind of pink paste and used to pad out any number of meat products.
I said, So that means all kinds of other "material" could possibly be included? He said yes. I said, Like nerves and glands and cartilage and minute bone fragments. Yes, it’s measured for “calcium content” (aka pulverized bone), can only have a certain percentage by weight. The pink came from bone marrow. Spinal tissue? Apparently this is why you can get mechanically separated bovine dirt cheap these days.
I'm not going to judge anyone for choosing an agribusiness processed wurst over an actual pork sausage with the recommended 30% percent pork fat and delectible seasonings, but if you're feeling particularly proud of yourself for opting for that Healthy Choice turkey sausage, check the label for mechanically separated....
And remember, as always, the advice of the great cartoonist B. Kliban: never eat anything bigger than your head.
Why is lamb tasting less lamby these days? Frank Bruni talks a bit about the difference between grass fed and grain finished lamb. It's no surprise that in America we'd feed all our excess corn to lambs was well as cows. And the resulting taste and change in the meat is similar. I imagine the same health issues are present as well.
Over at Ask Metafilter they're discussing the difference between broth and stock. I thought they were the same thing. Consulting Larousse on broth says "see Bouillon" and the entry on bouillon reads "Bouillon (Stock)". There is also a separate entry under "Stock." There doesn't seem to be much distinguishing between the two in the book.
for all those welcomes. I'm grateful and appreciate the comments. I'll try to be spontaneous—which is not a part of my character (glacial is an accurate term)—because that really does seem somehow to be fruitful in this medium. Writing though is a funny business. It's very difficult to "see" what you write when it's still hot on the page. Somehow all the thoughts that lead to one sentence are still connected in your mind to that sentence when you read it. When you come back later, the sentence can seem completely different because all those other thoughts are gone and all that remains is the cold hard sentence. Then you can "see" it. Also—who said this, Dorothy Parker?—how do I know what I think till I read what I write? A fact of writing: the very act itself helps to generate and determine the ideas. once I read what I write, only then can I begin to do the real writing, which is of course re-writing. That's why this blogging is simultaneously scary and thrilling.
And yes I would and will set down some thoughts about kitchen ratios, which is to the cook what the chart of chemical elements is to the chemist.
And my wife Donna, a saint in too many ways to count, points out that maybe, just maybe, there are a few people who don't know who I am, what my books are, or what on earth I'm doing on the faithful Meg's blog. For those people, here is a link to my web site, which has information on my food and non-food books as well as a current bio.
I was delighted to read Mark Bittman's column in The Times dining pages today because dried corn is such an underused but fantastic ingredient. Bittman's columns are one of the few recipe columns I read regularly—they have no frills, just practical information cleanly and straightforwardly written.
I started buying dried corn from Rancho Gordo, Steve Sando's Napa business that also sells extraordinary dried beans and a few other choice goods (like the dried Mexican oregano).
Bittman fries his corn. Dried corn, soaked then cooked like a dried legume, is the backbone of pesole, but it's also good just boiled and tossed with butter, lime and salt. If you have some sort of mill, you could turn it into grits. A great product I wish more people used.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
The Kitchen is looking for some more writers. If you've ever dreamed of food blogging for pay, this could be your opportunity. I'm sure it'll be a pretty fun gig.
A fairly comprehensive list of where to get lots of hard to find ingredients. Includes listings for ethnic ingredients that can be tricky to locate. In case, you know, you're looking for canned tomatillos, artisinal certified organic miso, truffles, or white poppy seeds.
Molly O'Neill came to Cleveland for dinner. She and a friend showed up at my house looking like refugees from a Dead tour—furniture and overflowing clothes stuffed into the back of the car. She was slightly giddy it seemed, manic from the starbucks and too much time on the road. We'd never met; I'd only known her as a byline in the NYTimes where she worked for many years before leaving to work on books.
Last winter an editor at Scribner I'd recently met sent me O'Neill's book called Mostly True: A Memoir of Family, Food and Baseball asking for a blurb. (See more on blurbs below.) I loved it. She's a cornfed Ohio girl, so I've always felt a sympathy with her, and the memoir, which mainly focuses on her family (she's the oldest of six kids, her youngest brother being Paul, who played for the Yankees) and her work, but food is in the background, appropriately so, given the nature of this memoir.
This was a week and a half ago, she was in downstate Ohio flogging her book, and had wanted to see Farmer Jones—she'd been meaning to write about it, this unique grower, for ages, a great story in her home state, and then, lo, a story by Amanda H appeared in the daily Times, which pissed her off—and the amazing produce at the Jones family's Chefs Garden near the lake coast. (My first time there had been a few months earlier, joining a group led by Charlie Trotter who wanted Ferran Adria to see it—I tasted, among other things, garlic roots, and they were fantastic.) Flattered by my blurb, no doubt, and aware of my work, O'Neill had called wanting to meet and suggested we somehow get together since she'd be less than an hour away.
So that's how Molly O'Neill came to be standing in my kitchen.
And I'm writing about it here because it was an amazing thing for me, personally. I had begun to write about food, in an amateurish way (as food writers almost invariably begin) at exactly the time she'd begun writing her column in The NYTimes magazine, early 1990s. I loved her style, her interests, her generosity. I was at the time, an anonymous schmo in Cleveland Heights who only wanted to write books (food was one of numerous subjects I wrote about then). Molly somehow seemed beyond the august Times, seemed to write ultimately out of a personal love of her subject; this quality describes the overarching spirit of her work; for her, food was a way to get at the bigger things, and that ultimately was why writing about food mattered to me too.
It was exactly at that time that I began writing about food and cooking, cooking with chefs, who on a national level were just beginning to get famous in larger numbers (Emeril Live was still a few years off, Thomas Keller was out of work and broke), and reading Molly O'Neill's columns—even doing some of the recipes: I still remember rolling chicken breasts around prosciutto and poaching them in tomato water (excellent), and artichoke gnocchi (an epic disaster in my cooking-from-recipes experience, a waste of artichokes a waste of time, an abomination of my own making...I forgot to ask her about this). At any rate, I was imprinted, if thats how you say it, in the early 1990s on Molly ONeill. And now, fifteen years later, I was like a chick following around a completely different species in my own kitchen absolutely convinced we were related.
Molly turned out to be funny and smart, and she struck me also as mischievous. She was quick on her feet and I could see that she could be an operator in nyc (in a positive networking shrewd and savvy way), but there was also this huge sweetness and generosity about her, which no doubt comes from the same place that informs her best writing.
We went out to dinner and talked shop, mainly, about our books, about how we make our living, about our annoyance with Bill Buford's book Heat (not the book itself, I hear it's terrific; Molly's gripes were political/feminist, mine were and are simply focused on how well it seems to be selling relative to mine, in other words the abject jealousy attending another writer's fame and money ((I cant bring myself to read the book just yet—a writer impersonating a line cook, that's my territory! (((honestly, I froth at the mouth when I see it ((((how the hell is he getting all that press, the bastard!)))))))))), and about the difference between professional cheffing and amateur cooking and how vastly more important amateur cooking is. She was adamant about this point and I know she's right.
Molly is involved in a colossal project called One Big Table, a gigantic cookbook of American pot luck cooking that is also an event. "I've been collecting recipes and food stories for nearly a decade," she wrote this morning from home when I asked for a clarification on a few points of this unusual deal, "and in addition to culling them from my foodie pals, I have for the past couple years been giving potlucks across America to collect recipes for my project—and raise money for America's Second Harvest, the nation's food bank network. I'm currently gearing up to take to the road in an Airstream that, in my mind, resembles a covered dish. So I can drive it to any potluck anywhere." This book to be published next year will have 750 recipes (a huge number, btw, for a cookbook), but will be more than just food and recipes; I imagine it will be a kind of American self-portrait.
She and her friend had to head back immediately after dinner to Columbus because her dog was on death's doorstep down there. But I felt really happy and really lucky that night, and I began hatching a plan to visit her at her home in upstate new york. Often you meet someone who was hero to you at an important time and they turn out to be an asshole. But Molly exceeded even what I'd hoped for, what I'd thought in my best-case scenario. But her columns always had that effect, too.
People not in publishing wonder about the quotes on the back books (especially recently when a couple retracted their blurbs). No one in publishing really knows how effective they are, but they evidently can’t come up with better idea of what to put on the back of a book before it’s reviewed, so there it is. I’m not a fan of them, mainly because they’re boring. Though check out frank mccourt’s almost tipsy-sounding rhapsody to Molly O’Neill, we need more like that; actually all those blurbs are unusually candid and interesting; reading most blurbs you’d think writers who penned them were high school math teachers (that's not a judgment on the later, the best of whom I have more respect for than I do for most of the former). The best chefs are generous with their food and likewise with their words; they gladly blurb their colleagues' books through an assistant, and I don’t criticize them for this. I have met only one chef who I know actually reads the galleys and comments in her own words; she is a great writer herself: Judy Rodgers, about whom I have much to say, but later. My personal blurb rules are basic and seem pretty obvious: only blurb a book you’ve read and only blurb a book you would recommend without reservation. That these obvious rules are not always followed is why, as far as I’m concerned, blurbs don’t mean what they might.
Speaking of using the good stuff, if you want to save your wines, at least find out which ones will hold up to cellaring. Key point: anything that costs less than $15 is meant to be drunk now.
David Lebovitz has a good post about food that's too good to use. I have a similar philosophy that I call "use the good stuff." I swear I even wrote about it ages ago but I can't seem to locate the post now. Anyway, I'd keep bottles of wine and treasure jars of jam for so long they'd be no good once I got around to using them. I decided life was too short and that it was important to use the good stuff. And now I do, mostly. I saved a beautiful birthday gift of 1989 Laurent-Perrier Champagne too long (no situation ever seemed good enough to justify its drinking) and when I opened it, it was passed and I was so sad. It was just the kick in the pants I needed to remember to use the good stuff.
Monday, June 19, 2006
An electronic encounter with a woman named Tana who professed to be a fan began this guest blog; Tana was quirky and engaging with a really genuine e-voice. After a while she told me I should be blogging (she has a blog I admire on a subject that I care a lot about). I’ve got enough to write as it is, I said, it’s my family’s main source of income, I don’t need extra writing. Tana didn’t actually call me a loser, I think she was just quiet. Simultaneously, Meg Hourihan emailed asking if she could get a press copy of my new book The Reach of a Chef. I mentioned Tana’s suggestion and Meg laid out the pros and cons and gave me the names of a couple emblematic blogs by non-fiction writers (stevenberlinjohnson, for example). Then she suggested I guest blog right here to see how I liked it. I’ve long known about her blog, liked it, liked that she’d gone over to food absolutely, and I respected the fact that she’d actually done time in kitchens. That’s not a vanity shot she put on her about page. I also like her straightforward and clearheaded writing. So here I am, and happy to be so.
What’s in it for you, reader, remains to be seen. What’s in it for me, though, I've thought a lot about.
First, I get to write about whatever I want in the way that I want to, immediately. When I write for magazines such as gourmet or most recently the NYTimes, the copy gets heavily worked over. It feels kind of like getting beaten up, and you have to stand there and take it. When it’s over I sometimes feel it’s not a better story, it’s just a different story. I’m sure it’s a better story when the mauling is over, and the editors I’ve worked with have been without exception excellent—I would even go so far as to say they’re necessary! I’m speaking only of my bruised viscera. (My editor at Gourmet just last week emailed a comment from another of her writers, a gentler version and just as true: “My copy is the cat toy of the masthead.”) While we need the many-chefs-stirring-the-soup, heavily worked over, highly compressed newspaper and magazine story, I also have liked the unfinished, untucked nature of the blog. I like people unadorned and in their natural state, too. There’s a credibility to an encounter when the person you’re talking with has bed head and a mug of coffee that simply isn’t there in the more formal circumstance of a job interview, say, or cocktail party.
Blogs also have a thrilling immediacy. I write books. I spend months gathering material and organizing it and structuring a narrative on which to hang all the stuff I’ve gathered, and then more months to do the writing work, which is the work I love best. But to write something and publish it instantly is still a novelty to me. There are dangers inherent in this ability, but also great energy and possibility.
Third, I get to see if blogging suits my writing life. I was a copyboy at The New York Times from 1985-87. Of the many important things I learned there was a reporter’s absolute obedience to balance, to giving all parties their own voice, the fairness essential to anything as powerful as The Times. This checks-and-balance ethic of journalistic integrity has arguably never been stronger there since the Jayson Blair and Judith Miller catastrophes. The other thing I learned there was that I was not a newspaperman, I was physically unsuited to writing daily on deadline for tomorrow’s paper. People who don’t write daily for a living rarely realize how physical the work of writing every day is. Blogging in this respect is an unknown to me.
Fourth, as Meg argued to me, it could be a way of amplifying my other writing, perhaps developing new readers and engaging more immediately with those already out there. Am I doing it to promote my new book? Not really, the timing is coincidental. I don’t expect to sell a bundle of books by blogging (no matter how much I’d LIKE to, but that’s another topic). If I could just let others who didn’t know about my work know about it through this very high-persona form of writing, blogging, that would make it worthwhile. Also, engaging with readers about my books is important to me.
Fifth, there’s so much fun stuff I encounter that could just never fit in an article or a book (a surprise dinner with the writer Molly O’Neill or some really disgusting information about agribusiness sausages). Maybe there’s a reason for that, maybe this stuff shouldn’t be written at all--but you don’t have to read it and you don’t have to pay for it.
In this blog I imagine I will want to discuss food, food writing, books, issues in my new book about the world of restaurants and chefs and about writing about them, not to mention general issues of a writing life. And anything else readers out there might be curious about. I’ll leave the comments on.
With thanks to Meg,
Michael Ruhlman
Pim's blogging from Food & Wine Magazine's Classics in Aspen and boy am I jealous. Moutains? Food? Wine? Need I say more? It's like the event was made for me.
When I converted this site to a food blog, one of my hopes was to have famous food writers visit for guest blogging stints. I extended just such an invitation to Michael Ruhlman a few weeks ago, and to my surprise and delight, he said yes. I've been a big fan of Michael's writing since I read his book, The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection. Long time readers may recall that book sent me into a Thomas Keller frenzy from which I've yet to recover.
It's a real honor for me to have Michael posting here. I look forward to hearing what he has to say and seeing how he adjusts to the world of blogging. A picture will accompany all of Michael's posts so they will be easily distinguishable from my foodish ramblings. Look for his first post later today and please join me in welcoming Michael to Megnut. Yay!
From the New York Times, an article about a great rare Champagne from vines untouched by phylloxera. "Bollinger produces one of the rarest and by most accounts greatest of all Champagnes, Vieilles Vignes Françaises." Not surprisingly, I've never heard of this Champagne, but I sure would like to try it out. Think there's any chance they'll send me a review bottle? I can imagine my take on it already: bubbly and good!
Great long response from Michael Pollan to the letter from Whole Foods CEO John Mackey.
After spending time with you and reading your letter, I've wondered if perhaps I did, as you imply in your letter, present a unfair caricature of Whole Foods in "The Omnivore's Dilemma," suggesting a store where organic, local and artisanal food is just window dressing to help sell a much more ordinary industrial product. Indeed, nothing would please me more than to conclude I owe you and the company an apology. I'm not quite there yet. But I sincerely hope you will prove my portrait of Whole Foods wrong, that the company has not thrown its lot in with the industrialization, globalization and dilution of organic agriculture, but rather stands for something better. For my own part, I stand ready to write that apology, and look forward to doing it.
Mackey's open letter to Pollan on the Whole Foods site can be seen here. Also all of Pollan's Times Select content is now available on his site. [Thanks Eric!]
Friday, June 16, 2006
Last night I made an entirely "original" salad. I put original in quotes because once you see the ingredients you'll realize it's a pretty unoriginal combination of ingredients. But it was original to me because I didn't use a recipe of any kind. For many cooks that's not a big deal, but for me it's pretty symbolic. I began my culinary journey as a baker. All through junior high and high school, I baked elaborate cakes, things that required my mother stop at the liquor store on her way home from work to pick up my requested boozy ingredients.
When I started cooking in college, I was tied to recipes. If I didn't have an ingredient (even something as simple as 1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg) I wouldn't skip it, I'd dash out to the store and buy it so that I'd have everything exactly right. I was nervous if I diverged from the recipe in any way. I'd see those people who'd just sort of instinctively throw things into a pot and wonder how they did it. Beginning as a baker taught me to be structured and orderly about what went into my pot. Baking does not tolerate things just being instinctively thrown around. If baking were a country, it would be Switzerland or Germany. Cooking would be Italy or someplace nice where you could lounge with a glass of wine. In baking country, the trains run on time.
Over the years I've become more comfortable with cooking, able to veer from a recipe if necessary and recently, even able to concoct recipes of my own. So when we had guests over for dinner the other day, I decided on a roast boneless leg of lamb (grass fed lamb, of course). I made this mint pesto from Epicurious. (Notice the recipe doesn't say whether the leg of lamb should be boneless, this made me anxious when I read it, so clearly I still have baker's issues.) I decided it didn't matter, and I rubbed the pesto inside the lamb and then rolled it up, and slathered the remainder on the outside. It was my first leg of lamb roast and it turned out quite well.
The next day, there was leftover lamb to contend with. Then, almost as if by magic, I thought, "Hmm...a sort of composed Greek salad could be good!" So I picked up a cucumber, some grape tomatoes, feta cheese, baby lettuces, and kalamata olives at the market. I dressed the greens in extra virgin olive oil and fresh lemon juice, with a dash of sea salt and some fresh ground black pepper. I sliced the cold lamb very thin, chopped the cukes and quartered the tomatoes. A little crumble of feta, a handful of olives, and a chiffonade of fresh mint across the top finished it off.
I was so pleased with myself when I ate it, freed from the tyranny of the recipe, if only for one evening. I'll always be a recovering baker, but slowly and surely, one salad at a time, I'll become an instinctive cook.
Heidi has some good advice about how to create your own cookbook. I'm a big fan of the Flickr cookbook idea, though obviously printing your own could be lovely too.
Details from an Oregon summer cherry bender in the New York Times, written by my friend Pableaux. Makes me hungry for cherries and wishing I had a pile of fresh ones right now.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Now there's no excuse not to shop local: farmer's markets listed by state for the US. And by "no excuse" I mean no excuse if you find one in your neighborhood. If your state has no farmer's markets, that's a pretty good excuse not to shop at them.
Lance reviews Michael Mina at The St. Regis Hotel, San Francisco. I haven't heard much about this place and I don't know much about chef Mina either, but Lance's description makes it sound pretty good.
Today's entry in my "Gadgets I Can't Live Without" series is the Microplane Grater/Zester. I used to hate hate hate when any recipe called for zest. It seemed like all the zest would just stick in my box grater and none would be available for my recipe. And then I'd spend ten minutes trying to clean it out of the grater. But when I worked in the restaurant, I used the Microplane and now I zest with glee!
The edges are razor-sharp, so you need to be careful. But in a few passes, the zest is off your lemon or lime. It's easy to avoid getting the pith in the mix, and it's easy to clean. I run it under the faucet, quick pass with the sponge and I'm done. There are very few gadgets that can take a most hated kitchen task and transform it into a pleasure, but the Microplane zester is one.
Previous gadget: Cuisinart Smart Stick.
Comments are still open on the Reader Feedback Day post. So if you have something to day about the site, pop in there and let me know. Thanks! Thanks for your feedback. Comments are now closed.
It seems the Chicago City Council can't leave their city's restaurants alone. Last month they banned foie gras, this month they'll consider an ordinance that would let dogs eat next to people in outdoor cafes. Don't they have more important things to do?
From Toronto comes this news that trans fat in fast food varies not only by restaurant but by city. So a KFC in one city or country has a different amount of trans fat than in another. Which leads to this news from the Financial Times that KFC is being sued in the US for using trans fats.
Clearly I'm a little tired this AM because I saw this headline, Thailand upgrading food standards, and thought, But their food is already so good! Of course the article was referring to improving food safety, not making a better pad thai.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
It's been nearly four weeks since Megnut went full-time food. I feel like I've gotten a bit of a rhythm going now and you've got a sense of what it's like as a food site. So now I'd like your thoughts on how it's going. I've gotten some emails about some problems with the RSS feed, those should be addressed now, and I've received some requests to turn on comments.
I'm interested in hearing what you think of things. Are there too many links a day? Not enough? Just right? What would you like to see more of? Less of? Does the design work for you? Can you find what you're looking for on the site? What trips you up? What else do you want to tell me? I see this site as an ongoing process (hopefully a continuously improving one at that) and plan to make adjustments as I go along. Your suggestions will help me to do that and I look forward to hearing them. Thanks for taking the time to share them with me.
Note: comments are open
Someone's asked Metafilter if liquid pectin causes jam to set more slowly. I've never heard that. I've only ever used liquid pectin in my fairly limited jamming experiences, and never had any problem with it.
Buying local food is trendy. Well it's certainly a better trend than Ugg boots or those giant 80s-style belts people seem to be wearing these days.
U.S. Agriculture Department is going to allow grass-fed beef to carry a special USDA seal verifying that the meat is from cattle fattened only in pastures. 99% of the animal's diet must come from grass to get the seal. Earlier propsal would have allowed cow to receive a 20% corn diet and still get the grass-fed label. What a joke, that's like a vegetarian that eats 20% meat! I'm glad they came to their senses and decided to create a label with meaning. [via del.icio.us/sautewednesday]
Monday, June 12, 2006
Martin Kastner actually designed the utensils I mentioned in my Alinea write up. And guess what? You can buy them on his website. So you too can serve your food like chef Achatz on the "bow" or the "squid"! Or just have them on your desk as objets d'art.
Shopper's Guide to Pesticides in Produce (.pdf). I feel like I've linked to this already but I don't think I did. Plus it's so handy. I can never remember what to buy organic. [via A Full Belly]
Here's a BBC article with tips on how to prevent food poisoning. I thought I was pretty good about hygiene in the kitchen but this has some things on it I didn't know (like not putting meat on the top shelf of the fridge). And of course some things I just plain don't do, like cook burgers until there's no more pink.
On Saturday I headed to the 4th Annual Big Apple BBQ with some friends. This year, in an attempt to ease the long lines of years past, the Q offered a "fast pass" that you could purchase in advance and pre-load with money. Then you could use the fast pass line rather than the regular queue. Alas, even the fast pass line was slow and crowded, and I fear the Big Apple BBQ doesn't work well with the number of people who attend.
Every year the Big Apple team does their utmost to address the issue of long lines and crowding at this very popular event, and every year the lines are still really long. Honestly, I'm not sure what they could do to fix this. We discussed the issue in depth as we waited over forty minutes on Saturday afternoon in the fast line for Salt Lick brisket. You could easily spend your entire afternoon just trying to get a plate of brisket, some pulled pork, and some ribs, because each pit serves one thing, and each pit has its own long line. And then there's another line for beer and wine. And dessert. Unless you bring a team of folks and divide up the food acquisition tasks, it's just not feasible to sample any kind of variety of BBQ without committing hours to the process.
I want to love the Big Apple BBQ because it's a great idea and brings great food and people together in the city. But my group didn't have the energy to withstand hours of line-waiting and ultimately we headed home, less full of BBQ than we would have liked.
Feeding America: The Historic American Cookbook Project is a wonderful collection of old cookbooks you can view online in their entirety. The titles of some of them alone are priceless. I like this page of Favorite Dishes of Distinguished Persons. Frizzled? Is that an alternate past tense for "fry"? [via MUG]
Nice article about grass-fed animal farms in Texas. I'm trying to come up with a better term for sustainable, grazed-animal farming like the kind discussed here (better than "grass-fed animal farms" for sure). The article mentions "super natural" and "beyond organic" but I don't think that captures exactly what's happening on these farms, why it's important, or what the value is for the consumer.
Last week I removed the Google ad from the front page of this site and replaced it with selected links to items at Amazon. Since that time I've received some emails from readers asking why I chose some of the things I did, and wondering what my opinions were regarding various items.
When I created the ads, I wavered between simply linking to products or linking to products with some commentary. Ultimately I decided I didn't want to blur the advertising/editorial line by wrapping my thoughts around each ad. I didn't want to set a precedent on this site whereby advertising gets confused/blurred with content.
So I'm not going to tell you all my thoughts about the items, but I will tell you how it will work (for the time being): as I see items at Amazon that I think are interesting, I will add them to the "advertisements" column. It may be because I own the item, or I want the item. It may simply be because I think the item is something I think you guys may like. But as with (nearly) everything on this site, I point you to things. Sometimes I give you my opinion, but ultimately you decide if you agree with/like/want it.
From the New York Times, The Range Gets Crowded for Natural Beef. Lots of conflation between "natural" and "organic" in this article, and very little mention of grass-fed beef. The article talks about the higher cost of organic feed, but doesn't go into the fact that that feed is still corn, and that cows don't eat corn except when we force them to. I guess because it's from the business section its focus is the booming organic food industry.
Taste of the New York Subway System is a pretty comprehensive listing of restaurants in NYC organized by subway stop.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Until recently, all of the world's seafood was wild. Indeed, ocean fish are the last wild food on earth we eat with any regularity. That is all about to change. Paul Greenberg for the New York Times Magazine on the rise of aquaculture, or farm fishing. His asks: "Will all wild fish ultimately be either domesticated or extirpated? Will we prosecute the same war upon diversity at sea as we have on land?"
Friday, June 9, 2006
Ruth Reichl once famously called The French Laundry, "The most exciting place to eat in the United States." Until very recently, I agreed with her. Then I ate at Alinea in Chicago.
Alinea's chef Grant Achatz is a protégé of Thomas Keller, and rose to the position of sous chef at The French Laundry before his departure. Keller's influence is apparent in his food, from menu titles like "Hot potato, cold potato" to the portion size to the perfection of every detail. But at Alinea, chef Achatz takes all he's learned and somehow makes it better. As Jason said during our dinner, "He's out-Kellered Keller!"
I could write paragraphs about the meal itself, the "hot potato" course served with a thick slice of truffle balanced on a warm potato ball, skewered by a thin needle overhanging a perfectly cold potato soup. Or the meaty rich squab, or the lamb buried beneath eucalyptus leaves. But you can read a better description of Alinea's food elsewhere. I'd like to focus on what else made the meal outstanding.
Keller has long focused on the concept of palate fatigue; it's why he limits his portion-size to just a few bites. Though serving small portions, every tasting menu I've experienced makes the traditional migration from light to heavier savory courses and ends with sweets. So even with small bites, I've experienced palate fatigue when presented with multiple rich savory courses in a row.
Alinea, with its twenty-four course menu, broke with the ascending flavors tradition. The menu flowed from savory to sweet and then returned again to savory. Recent research has shown that our taste buds do not experience all flavors, but rather each bud handles a specific taste, e.g. we have buds for salty, buds for sweet. The meal's superb choreography allowed the savory buds to "rest" after early action while the sweet buds handled "verjus lemon thyme beet" and "yogurt juniper mango" in the middle of our meal. Restored, the savory buds were back in action to handle "black cod, vanilla, artichoke, pillow of orange air," kobe beef and squab. This dance allowed each flavor to be enjoyed with a freshness of palate I've never experienced before.
To compliment the unique dishes, chef Achatz's has created his own utensils for many of the items on his menu. I had reservations about this, concerns that perhaps the need to be different would overwhelm the utility of the objects. After all, a fork works pretty well. A contraption that made it harder for me to eat would be more gimmick than innovation. But my concerns were unfounded.
Seeing the "granola" suspended in its rosewater enveloped on a thin wire was seeing food transformed not just to art, but to sculpture. Eating off a pillow as it slowly deflated and perfumed the air with the scent of orange blossoms sounds overwrought; it was intoxicating. The interplay between device and delicacy was uplifting and fun, yet in no way detracted from the usability. In fact it made the experience quite intellectual, as you were confronted not just with the flavors of the meal, but with expectations of how it could be consumed. Why do we need forks again?
With Alinea, chef Achatz is doing what Thomas Keller no longer has the liberty to do, what all the big name chefs lose the freedom to do when they achieve a certain level of fame and notoriety. You go the Laundry or Daniel expecting a certain meal, and that leaves their chefs very little room for the innovation that Achatz can pursue with Alinea. He has one restaurant and he's in its kitchen full time. But it's always this way: the apprentice learns from the best, and then rises up to take his master's place. It's simply how the cycle progresses. One day, a new young chef will rise and displace Grant Achatz. But for now he's on top, creating the most exciting food in the United States at Alinea.
Alinea
1723 North Halsted
Chicago IL 60614
(312) 867-0110
website
Do-it-yourself carbonated fruit using dry ice over at Brownie Points. She's got a recipe for Chocolate Carbonated Banana, which sounds totally amazing.
From NPR, Taking the 'Heat' of Mario Batali's Kitchen. Bill Buford talks about and reads from his new book, Heat. I have it sitting on my desk here next to me to read but have two other books in line to read before it. Why did all the culinary books come out at once?
Thursday, June 8, 2006
This weekend is the 4th Annual Big Apple BBQ Block Party. Yum! I can't wait. Last year 4000 lbs of pork butt was consumed. I tell you this because I think the expression "pork butt" is very amusing. What's odd is that the pork butt is not from the pig's derriere at all, but from its shoulder. Did butchers decide to call it 'butt' because they possess a seventh-grade humor level like me?
It's BBQ time! Don't forget about food safety! says MSNBC! Yes! Food safety is paramount! Especially when it's hot out! Don't eat your aunt's potato salad that's been sitting in the sun for five hours! That's not safe! PS BBQ equals cookout to people not from the South!
Bon Appétite has a Summer Party Planner on their site. You answer two questions (number of guests and style of meal) and it gives you a list of menu ideas and themes. I selected "8 or more" guests and "elegant dinner" and got suggestions such as "Butterflied Leg-of-Lamb Dinner" and "An Elegant Occasion" which featured a roasted sea bass with tomato coulis. The recipes also include a timeline, making it easy to coordinate the whole meal. Seems handy if you want to throw a party but not have to stress about pulling the menu together. [via The BA Blog]
If you only click on one link today, please oh please let it be this one to ESP Systems. Be sure and watch the demo. ESP is a technology solution for restaurants that enables "guests" to interact with their server, and allows restaurant staff to interact with each other, wirelessly. It aims to improve service and turn tables faster, increasing profit for restaurants and satisfaction for diners.
Interesting article by Bruce Cole, Slaughterhouse High: A Brief Lesson in Abbatoirs, about Northern California's slaughterhouse shortage. In The Omnivore's Dilemma Michael Pollan talks about the difficulty farmers face in getting their meat to slaughterhouses. It sounds like the problem is getting worse, not better.
This guy is eating monkey food for a week. "Imagine going to the grocery store only once every 6 months. Imagine paying less than a dollar per meal. Imagine never washing dishes, chopping vegetables or setting the table ever again. It sounds pretty good, doesn't it?" Um, no. I guess I actually enjoy cooking and eating, and would prefer to do that than eat Zupreem primate dry animal food. But maybe that's just me. [via boing boing]
The Old Foodie looks at baked ice creams, which I've always found intriguing. There's something so delightfully contradictory in baked or fried ice cream, I instantly want to eat it whenever I see it on a menu.
The story that will never die: new study raises concerns about mercury levels in tuna. I think I could link to something about this every single day, and every single day the recommendation would be different.
The world's second largest 'dead zone' -- larger than New Jersey -- is right of the shores of the United States. "Here in the Gulf of Mexico, several miles offshore from the Bayou country of southern Louisiana, the waters are strangely empty of sea life...The culprit is 'hypoxia,' a human-caused condition that sucks all the oxygen out of the water."
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
Ed Levine is asking people to vote for the best ice cream in Boston, America's Best Ice Cream Town. My vote is for Herrell's, but I am biased. I used to work as an ice cream maker at the Harvard Square location. I read once someplace that Bostonians eat more ice cream than anyone else, and that they eat more in the winter than the summer. My experience at Herrell's supports that, both in the number of customers I witnessed and in the amount of ice cream I ate every shift.
Delicious Days has a recipe for strawberry cake from her grandma that looks lovely. My strawberry time with my grandparents will be arriving soon, and perhaps I'll take some time to make this cake. Mmmm....strawberries....
Apparently Britain's Prince Charles is really into sustainable agriculture. There's a full story in the May, 2005 National Geographic about his projects in the Duchy of Cornwall.
Diet Tips or How To Lose Weight with a Spreadsheet and a Web Site from Jeremy Zawodny. I like his advice, "Small changes have a major impact on weight loss because they're compounded over time." As with (nearly) everything: consistency and patience pay off.
Hot food is hot right now, and the trend's not cooling off. "While spicy is the in flavor right now, many say teriyaki may be the next big flavor. And, lavender and orange-lemon are developing a following."
Not By Bread Alone is the online version of a 2002 gastronomy exhibit from the Division of Rare & Manuscript Collections at Cornell. It "highlights rare books, photographs, menus, and other early documents that trace the history of gastronomy in America." One of my favorites is this temperance poster about alcoholism and degeneration.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
If you want to kill some time, join this debate on whose cuisine is better: San Francisco or New York? It's a hard comparison to make because the areas are so different but if
