Fat Guy

Boiling a sweater is easy; it's cleaning the pot afterwards that's hard.

It could get simpler: you could wrap it in a sweater, like FoodMan does, instead of in that high-tech contraption.

So you don't have to heat the milk at all beforehand?

Presumably, margarita mix has a low enough alcohol content to escape the requirement, so one would use a mini-bottle of tequila plus margarita mix (which has triple sec in it) from a large bottle. Is 1.7 ounces really such a large drink? Most everywhere I go in New York these days they're making drinks based on double shots. Indeed the gimlets Ellen had in Charleston seemed quite small compared to what most bars here are serving.

I was just in South Carolina and ordered various drinks while there, and talked this issue through with the GM of one of the major hotels. The thing that sucks about mini-bottles from the consumer perspective is that most of the better boutique brands of liquor don't bottle themselves that way. Thus -- surprise! -- the big manufacturers are very much in favor of the current law.

I just followed the instructions that came with the machine, and used the lowest species of supermarket milk. I figured I'd start with what the manufacturer suggests and then experiment going forward.

Fresh herbs definitely add a dimension to clam chowder -- thyme and bay leaf in particular -- but there's a certain purity to real New England cuisine where the primary flavoring agents are salt, pepper and butter. I'm relatively agnostic on the chowder issue but I definitely see a place for a pure, no-herbs version.

Post-WWII, I think.

So, I've finally started my first batch of yogurt in Suzanne's old Salton yogurt maker. I brought 1 quart of milk to the boil in a Pyrex pitcher in the microwave, let it cool until the plastic thermometer/spoon device said it was in the right range to add culture, added a scoop of Stonyfield Farms plain yogurt, stirred, distributed into the glass jars, put on the lids, placed them in the machine, plugged it in, and set the dial to remind me to take them out tonight at 9pm. More later.

The similarity between the two words both spoken and in definition, combined with the heavy French-language influence in Maine, Vermont, New Brunswick, etc., would seem to make "chaudiere" the leading candidate. Merriam-Webster says "French chaudière, kettle, contents of a kettle, from Late Latin caldaria."

I'm going to need to study up on UK cracker/biscuit terminology before I can figure this out, but yes they're typically served alongside the chowder these days because they're not hard enough to withstand actual cooking. There are some traditional brands like Westminster that can sit in the soup for awhile and still maintain some texture, but the standard-issue ones are light and get added at the last minute. They're not crumbled, though -- oyster crackers are smaller than bite-size so they get added whole by the fistful.

The hardtack has been replaced by oyster crackers, which are pretty much universally served with chowders in the US today. There are actually quite a few variants of New England clam chowder, but the most basic recipes tend to include clams (duh), salt-pork or bacon, diced onion, celery and potatoes, scalded milk, butter, flour, salt and pepper. The aromatics are cooked in the pork fat, the butter is added and thickened with the flour, and then the rest of the ingredients go in and cook until the potatoes are tender.

"Queequeg," said I, "do you think that we can make out a supper for us both on one clam?" However, a warm savory steam from the kitchen served to belie the apparently cheerless prospect before us. But when that smoking chowder came in, the mystery was delightfully explained. Oh sweet friends! Hearken to me. It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit, and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the whole poached with butter, and plentifully seasoned with pepper and salt.

Without diving into the whole question of authenticity and evolution of dishes, I'll say that the Rhode Islanders probably have the best claim to a pure chowder. The version in a relatively clear broth, with no milk or tomatoes, in my opinion offers the most direct clam experience. It's worth bearing in mind, however, that the word chowder comes from the French chaudiere, which I believe just refers to the big pot in which fishermen make stews and has nothing to do with clams. And I've got no problem with corn chowder either; I'm able to intuit what that means without too much trouble. Ultimately I think you're barking up the wrong tree by resisting the label "New England clam chowder" because the only region in which "chowder" by definition equals "New England clam chowder" is New England. In the rest of the English-speaking world, the term is susceptible to a variety of meanings and the geographical designations are helpful. Plus this is one of the few legitimate long-standing European-style regional dish rivlaries we have here in the US -- we should milk it, as it were, for all it's worth.

If I may take that question, I had quite a few of them later that day, at Hank's restaurant. They were meaty, fresh, and free of grit. Unlike farmed salmon, clams farmed using these "mariculture" methods taste completely wild -- at least to me they do. The conditions under which they grow are quite "natural" and the environment around Charleston -- the Folly and Kiawah waterways -- offers high salinity and nutrient content with temperatures that seem to strike a good balance between productivity and flavor. These clams were much better than similar ones I've had from Florida, for example. I don't think Blanchard's is currently set up for direct shipping to consumers, but it's something we discussed on the boat. They've been researching the ways in which other local businesses use FedEx to ship fresh foods. Shoot them an e-mail; maybe they'll be willing to do a small shipment. Here's the Web site, which contains contact info. Tell them we sent you: http://www.stellamarisclams.com

I'd be concerned about how it would affect the consistency. Despite the many creamy bisque-like concoctions which are often perpetrated in its name, a true chowder is a poor fisherman's dish, and as such should have a thin thin broth, slightly milky and intensely clammy. Seems to me that the real problem with the puree idea is that it would cloud and thicken the broth to an unacceptably un-chowder-esque degree. There's a difference between thickening chowder with soup base and other crap on the one hand, and with pureed clams on the other hand. In the former instance, one is changing texture at the expense of the great flavor of the original dish. In the latter case, one is improving upon the original "peasant" dish -- which is what chefs are supposed to do. I should add, we are currently all talking about New England-style clam chowder.

I thought only the exported Berthaut Epoisses was thermalized. I suspect the lack of "lait cru" or "raw milk" on cheese labels is an attempt to avoid scrutiny by customs inspectors. Especially in the US, where these cheeses are technically illegal even after 60 days, the manufacturers benefit from introducing as much ambiguity as possible to their labels. If Laiterie de la Côte is stating that its cheese should be aged for 10 weeks (as is implied by the best-by date), there must be some departure from the traditional Epoisses cheesemaking process which, as I understand it, takes about 5 weeks. Whether that difference involves storage, heat treatment, or something else, I don't know.

The regulations in the US and Canada are essentially the same. You can use the "lait cru" designation if your cheese falls short of the definition of pasteurized by one degree or one minute. Most "lait cru" cheeses have been heated to some extent, and many are virtually if not technically pasteurized.

Today is March 22. If the best-by date on the cheese was March 12, it's hard to imagine it wouldn't still be quite edible today under normal circumstances. I'd have to know more about the manufacturing process, but presumably this is one that is stored at a very low temperature in order to get around the 60 day rule for unpasteurized cheeses. Such cheeses are usually, in my experience, too young to enjoy on their best-by dates and require additional affinage at home after purchase. It sounds like something went wrong with this cheese beyond a simple re-labeling.

I'm not sure I can swallow the notion of defining Babbo, Craft, or Gotham as "not fine dining." The overwhelming majority of restaurants with even one New York Times star would be considered "fine dining" restaurants not only by 99% of Americans but also probably by 98% of New Yorkers. I think the industry would define fine dining as beginning at the level above TGI Friday's and the Olive Garden: restaurants with sommeliers, pastry chefs, a certain staff-to-customer ratio, ambitious food, etc. Were I to distinguish between Babbo, Craft, and Gotham on the one hand and ADNY, Atelier, and Jean-Georges on the other, I'd say it's the difference between fine dining and "luxury dining."

You basically figured it out. What you're supposed to do is peel back the "sheath" (usually called skin) to the "tail" (aka the neck) and then dip the clam in the broth and swish it around to rinse it. Then you hold the tail and bite off the clam.

I buy Edda extra virgin first-cold-pressed olive oil at Teitel Bros. in the Bronx for $16.99 a gallon. That's what I use for cooking and salad dressings (assuming I'm using olive oil at all; I also rely a lot on grapeseed and other oils). I supplement that with premium olive oil brands, which I use for drizzling or dipping. But given that you can get respectable stuff at $16.99 a gallon -- a quantity that lasts me about a year -- I can't see the need to go with a cheaper olive oil. How much do you save by using flavorless crap? I'd rather see you use standard vegetable oil for applications in which flavor is irrelevant.

Farmer's cheese and pot cheese are just cottage cheese that has had extra moisture drained or pressed out of it. There are, however, many variants of all these cheeses. One of the problems with reproducing dishes internationally is that the basic fresh cheeses vary so much from place to place. My guess, however, is that your best bet for this recipe would be to take some medium-curd cottage cheese and tie it in cheesecloth over a bowl overnight. This would probably give you something closer to a Central European farmer's cheese in texture and moisture content. Ricotta is a completely different product, usually (in the US) made from a combination of whey and milk.

Best friend growing up had Roumanian parents.

I'm sure Paula or someone else familiar with the recipe mentioned here can comment specifically on any tricks related to kale, but just some general thoughts on deep frying: As Owen indicates, the really big issue separating home from commercial deep frying equipment is heat retention. A commercial fryolator-type device contains a large quantity of fat and has powerful thermostatically controlled heating elements. As a result, when you drop lots of cold stuff into the fat it hardly alters the temperature at all and the rebound is quick. At home, where quantities of fat are an order of magnitude smaller, adding food to the fat can drop the temperature quickly -- and when that happens you get soggy, oil-logged food. The solutions are all related to the heat equation: fry in very small batches just a few pieces at a time, use as much fat as possible, use a heavy metal vessel that retains heat well, and use a thermometer to monitor temperature carefully. In terms of the actual fat being used, most commercial operations don't even use oil -- they use various shortenings and frying blends. But for home frying I think good old "vegetable oil" works quite well, and it's much less expensive than peanut.