mamster

Thanks, skchai. We do indeed get fiddleheads here, although I can't say I'm a big fan of them. Perhaps in the right context, though. And next time I'm in Hawaii I will definitely try Yummy's during a break from my intended saimin binge. (I have no idea when this will happen, but things come up.)

FYI, I have class at 12:30 on Friday (and I can't skip, because it's quiz day), so I can do either 11am or 2pm for lunch. Luckily, Bandol is right next to the bus tunnel. My class is actually food-related: I'm taking Thai language so that next time I go to Thailand I can ask cooks how they make stuff.

I can't say what the best variety of garlic is, but the season is definitely late summer and fall. That's when you find hardneck garlic, which is unquestionably superior, at least to softneck supermarket garlic. (There may be some heirloom softneck varieties that I don't know about). My question is: is garlic truly seasonal, or is it reasonable to prod the supermarket to get better garlic in the spring or dead of winter? I've actually returned old, sprouted garlic, which made me feel rather petty, but if they can only get junk, I'd rather they just admit it and not sell any garlic. I can certainly live on onions for a few months if need be.

Bandol, from Jef Fike of Cassis fame, will be opening in the Smith Tower mid-month, but their web site is up now. The menu sounds spectacular. "Baked Eggs - White beans, roasted red peppers, garlic, olive oil, and morcilla (house made Spanish blood sausage with onions and cayenne) are placed in a baking dish, topped with an organic egg and heated in the oven. This dish evolved as part of the peasant cooking in Spain, and uses flavors native to the dry, hot southern half of the country." Full disclosure: I found out about the site from a PR mailing.

I don't get Greek food. I've had mediocre Greek food, but I've also had Greek food that everyone else seemed to be quite enjoying, and I'm thinking, great, feta cheese and overcooked meat. Fried squid is fine, but I find it to be one of those foods where even when it's really good, it's still just fried squid. I like Vietnamese food, but most of it seems like they tried to invent Thai food but failed. People who prefer Vietnamese food to Thai boggle me, but if they're from Vietnam, I can make an exception. But like Jinmyo, middle American food is the one I really don't get, especially the weird salads.

I always knew deep in my heart that I was a controversial figure.

I can't answer those questions, but I can tell you that the one time I was in Hawaii was in sixth grade, 1987, and every day for lunch my friend Alex and I went to a saimin stand and got the one with gyozas tossed into the bowl. Not only was it fantastic, it was pretty much the main thing I remember about Hawaii. There was a little boogie boarding, and I bought a Zippo lighter, but basically the noodles were what it was all about.

I hope someone will jump in on this, because I've been wondering about the macaroni salad myself. There's a Hawaiian plate lunch place in Seattle called Aloha Plates (there are probably others, but this is the one inside Uwajimaya, the big Asian supermarket). If no one responds soon, would you be willing to follow up with a brief introduction to Hawaiian plate lunch? I'd love to understand the form better, and I think a lot of other people would, too.

The Zeitgeist/Top Pot on Summit still makes its own donuts, doesn't it?

Here's how I said goodbye to summer last night (even though today it's 75 and sunny again; I guess I failed to sway the weather gods). There's this great book called Stanley Park. It's been discussed a bit on eG, although not enough. The book is about a Vancouver BC chef and his restaurant. I am about to quote the best part of the book, so consider yourselves spoiler-warned. When the pan was hot he added a knob of butter and some oil from a plastic, red-nozzled bottle, let it heat through and foam while he vigorously salted and peppered the chop. He dusted it with flour, then gripped the protruding bone with tongs and pressed it down into the foaming fat. When it was browned on both sides, he tested its firmness with his thumb, pushing gently on the flank of the hot chop, pulled it out and onto a small plate that he slid into a low oven. A few onions went into the pan, a grind more pepper, chanterelles and shiitakes sliced thin, some minced parsley. He tossed the mixture, letting it slide to the far edge of the pan, pulling it back and up towards him, which made it break loose from the slick surface and turn over before landing. He let it cook through, whistling with the music -- they had segued from Tom Waits to Tom Jones. When the mushrooms were starting to brown, he added a bit of garlic and the beer, swirling the contents of the pan to mix them while they boiled. A knob of butter to thicken the sauce. A new dry side-towel before grabbing the chops out of the oven. Back they went into the sauce, half-covered and slid just slightly off the flame. He chose new potatoes for her, much better with the beer. He laid down a bed of the browned mushrooms in their sauce, nestled the chop on top, triangulated with three of the waxy yellow potatoes, sprayed the plate with more parsley and carried it out himself. "Grenadin de porc au beurre La Fin du Monde," he said, sliding it onto the table in front of her. I've been thinking about that scene for a long time, and then last night I was at the supermarket and pork rib chops were on sale. Back at home there was a bottle of La Fin du Monde (a marvelous, high-alcohol ale on lees from Unibroue in Quebec) in the fridge. Surely chef Jeremy Papier gets better pork than my local QFC and can forgo such tricks, but I brined the pork with kosher salt, brown sugar, black pepper, garlic, and bay leaves. Instead of mushrooms, I was in the mood for red cabbage, which I cut into small chunks and set to braising with nothing more than olive oil, salt and pepper, and a dash of beer. I grated a russet potato, heated some butter in a skillet, and formed the potato shreds into two ovals, letting them cook while I dried the pork and seared it in a hot pan in a bit of olive oil. Ninety seconds on each side and it was ready to finish in the oven. I added onions to the fond in the pan and cooked them down a bit, then deglazed with about half the bottle of beer (I drank the other half while cooking). S&P, and then when it had reduced a bit, a drizzle of cream and a pat of butter. By the time the sauce was done, the pork was out of the oven and resting to a final temp of about 140. I put a potato cake on each plate, a scoop of cabbage, a chop, and a few spoonfuls of sauce. The potato cake absorbed the juices without getting soggy. Have you ever made a beer pan sauce? I hadn't, and why not? "You've made some kind of Germanic autumnal supper," Laurie observed, and she was right. Screw summer.

Yeah, the Starbucks pastry lineup is unbelievable crap. If I'm remembering right, 'bucks used to carry local pastries in each of its markets but now have an internationally standardized lineup. Bad move. It's probably theoretically possible to have good standardized pastry, but their lineup does not support this theory.

Maybe you could hold the state of Minnesota hostage and cut off the smoked meat supply until officials promise to run ads in major Chinese publications touting the hospitable climate of Minnesota.

See what I mean?

I'm certainly in if Laurie is up for it and we can get a ride. MsR? heyjude?

mb7o, you're right. Pike Place Nuts 97-A Pike St Seattle WA 98101 (206) 623-8204 Now, where's my pie?

Laurie and I had lunch at PK with Jim Dixon a while back. Jim and I both had the hot dog, which was not terribly hot dog like (it's a homemade sausage on a brioche bun) but good. I thought the bun was a little too rich. Laurie and I both thought the desserts were incredibly appealing--there were five or six desserts on offer, all of which sounded good. Now I can't remember quite what we ended up with, though. There were some unannounced substitutions with the desserts, but I don't think the place had been open very long, so they're probably having less of that sort of problem today. Anyway, it was an interesting place and I'd like to go back. More reports, please.

Was it the stand pushing the fresh-roasted cashews? If so, I can't find their contact info online (since I only know it as "the stand pushing the fresh-roasted cashews"), but I'll be down there within the next couple of days and will get the address.

Let me know how it turns out, please!

I would never abandon you, fifi. If you enjoy your supermarket peaches, by all means use them. I'm thinking about other fruits. You don't want something with a subtle flavor. Pear doesn't seem like it would work at all. How about a nice, tart plum? I see possibilities there, although you'll want to skin it. Banana could work, although this would play up the baby food angle, I think. You know what else I can imagine? Squash. Slices of steamed kabocha squash. And sesame seeds.

This summer I went crazy for fresh shelling beans. The best thing I did with them, I think, was make "Tuscan Mountain Supper" from Lynne Rossetto Kasper's book. You cook the beans with olive oil, onions, tomatoes, parsley, and sage, and serve them alongside a salad. Pretty much everything in it was fresh from the farmer's market--it's the perfect end-of-summer meal. Only after enjoying this did I realize: the entire meal is (gasp) vegan. So if you have any of that sort of person coming over, give this a try. Shelling beans are winding down, but now I have a bag of freshly dried shelling beans from earlier in the summer. Cuban black beans can also be wonderful, and I have some andouille sausage in the freezer, which I think I'll stew with red beans, like fifi suggested.

Are there any steakhouses with really good side dishes (say, more than one signature side)? I've grown tired of the "sure the spinach sucks, but the meat is perfect" rationale. That's my biggest beef with steakhouses.

Every year the Seattle Weekly does a Best of Seattle poll, and every year the results consist of the readers picking something old hat, or a chain, and the editors printing the result with a comment like, "Come on, people! Can't you do better than the Cheesecake Factory?" It was funny the first few times. If you go by the Red Robin next to the University Bridge, they have a big banner up proclaiming them best casual or best family restaurant (something like that) in the Weekly poll.

A big cheer here for the Vermont Butter & Cheese brand. I just finished off a chub of it, and it's wonderful stuff, partly because I like cultured butter, partly because of the high butterfat, and largely for the post-production freshness that FG talks about. I don't know whether this butter starts out better than the French guys, but by the time I pull it off the shelf at Whole Foods, it's better. Not cheap, though.

The Cap Hill Top Pot is open till midnight, I think.

I didn't think the prices were any higher than, say, Siam on Broadway. Our off-menu noodle salad, loaded with goodness (I forgot to mention there was also ground chicken), was $7.95.