therese

I'm not so sanguine about the all good/no bad potential here, particularly when profit will be the primary motive for food producers. But it will be interesting to see what happens down the road.

No offense, and in any case I was clarifying for scordelia (and don't mean to give offense in that quarter either). My point about engineering the clones such that they would be infertile speaks to the problems we're seeing with engineered/recombinant (but fertile) plants, in which genes from these plants are being introduced into the natural gene pool for the animals. So an (infertile) cloned bull would be a one off, and if it happened to harbor a gene that made cattle susceptible to a newly mutated virus at some point in the future there'd be no problem with it having entered the natural gene pool. There'd also be no question of the patent owner having to worry about somebody crossing their incredibly great bull with a cow and getting progeny with similar traits and possibly thereby avoiding payment of royalties. Unless, of course, some scurrilous sort happened to know the insertion site of the infertility gene and yanked it back out, or inserted some sort of silencer or... As for whether or not the technique will ever be financially or technically feasible, well, we won't know until it is, will we? And there are people working very hard to make it happen.

We go frequently. The ambience is not even remotely what most people would consider "classically southern" (whatever that's supposed to be) but the food's quite good. I rarely get the fried chicken even if we're there on Tuesday, but instead get either the salmon croquettes or vegetable plate. Great wines (about half the space is devoted to retail wine sales), particularly dessert wines. Desserts themselves are way too heavy, such that I rarely bother.

Selective breeding and outright cloning are two entirely different animals. ← I'm well aware of the difference. Touaregsand had asked for an explanation of the (perceived) benefits, and I had explained some of them. That doesn't mean that I support the idea. But there's actually nothing that prevents the cattle industry from producing both cloned and non-cloned herds, so genetic diversity (assuming we haven't backbred every last animal such that they're all so closely related that that's gone as well) could be maintained. In fact, the cloned animals could turn out to be infertile (was this tested?) or engineered to be so (likely an excellent idea from the agribusiness protection of patent point of view), such that there'd be no worries about their genes entering the pool.

She may not be able to boil water, but she sounds pretty cool to me. Probably a great guest at dinner parties, and I'd be happy to cook for her. The only other person I've ever known who really simply didn't cook was the woman from whom we bought our house. A pretty young mother of two young boys, worked full-time (very full-time, an executive), married to a nice guy who traveled a lot for work. The closest she came to cooking was microwaving frozen mac'n'cheese for her kids. One of the nicest people I've ever met. After the closing on the house sale she had as all over for brunch, inviting our new neighbors as well. All of the food brought in, but it was certainly as good I'd generally expect to find at brunch at my friends' homes, much less a complete stranger's.

Friday was our last night in London, and I'd booked the dinner dance at The Ritz. But he was still feeling a bit blah, and so I cancelled (I ended up cancelling 3 of the 4 meals I'd booked in advance). I was rescued from despondency by a couple of local eGulleteers, curlywurlyfi (Fiona) and Suzi Edwards. We'd initially planned to meet for drinks before going on to The Ritz, but under the circumstances they asked me along for dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant, Au Lac. Fiona picked me up and on the way to getting Suzi I listed the restaurant's we'd missed, and one of them was St. John Bread & Wine. So, sudden change of plan, we were on our way to B&W. And thank goodness, because it was a really outstanding meal. Herring roes on toast followed by lambs liver with mashed celeriac and some sort of cured pork product and finally blood orange jelly with sponge for me. Every last item perfectly cooked and seasoned. Fi's starter of courgettes and chickpeas with mint is the other item that I recall as being amazing, though I'm likely overlooking something. The room was very pleasant and service was quite good, and of course the company was outstanding. Overall the best meal of this visit.

Thursday was spent shopping with daughter (and Flat Pierre, of course) in Oxford Circus. As I'd not researched this area ahead of time I was at a bit of a loss---my options included department store restaurants that might very well be lovely, but didn't look even remotely so (at least not the ones I saw) and pubs, and neither one of us was in the mood for mash or chips or brown meat of any sort. We finally came across South Moulton St., which features both nice small shops and several small restaurants with outdoor seating. We chose 43 South Moultonwhich, although not busy did at least list appealing food on the menu. The ground floor is fronted pretty much entirely in glass, with the front half of the room painted deep red and feeling a bit bar-like, and the back half fitted with what looks a bit like a country store. Turns out the merchandise (which ranges from Tabasco to Marmite to small miscellaneous hardware) can be purchased, information conveyed to us by our very pleasant waitress (a student from Poland) who was clearly happy to have somebody to chat with. Turns out that the basement is a discotheque and the upstairs is a bar. I saw the darkened discotheque on my way to the WC but did not bother to look at the upstairs, which I now see is unfortunate if the above link's description of it is correct. Flat Pierre flirted a bit with the waitress and frankly had rather more of my (not too great) wine that somebody without a liver really should. Here he is posing in the restaurant: Anyway, the food was decent. My daughter had mussels in a very nice (if slightly too salty) cream sauce. I had a vegetable salad that featured asparagus and broad beans. She had creme brulee (fine) for dessert and I went for fresh mango in maraschino liqueur. This would have been much better if the mango had been ripe. Our evening meal was at Rules, an early supper so that we could make the show (Mamma Mia) later on. An excellent meal all around, with efficient and gracious service. Daughter had lobster bisque and salmon and crab cake, son had foie gras and braised roe deer shank (which he described as a bit dry, but he liked the marrow---a marrow spoon was unfortunately not provided), husband had salad with duck and lamb chops, and I had a green salad (what was I thinking? no worries, I tried everybody else's) followed by venison loin. I finished with rhubarb trifle; I can't recall the others' desserts.

Wednesday night we were supposed to be dining at Gordon Ramsay at Claridge's. Wednesday morning husband was still snuffly and miserable and, well, a little bit disgusting, so I called and cancel. The nice woman who took my call was very pleasant. I was bereft. I took the children out for dim sum at Chuen Cheng Ku in Chinatown. Basically identical to the dim sum experience everywhere I've done it in the US and Canada, with a particularly nice selection of items, especially strong on wrapped dumplings. I forgot to take photos until the end, so all that's left is some squid: and some coconut pudding with yellow beans: You'll notice that Flat Pierre now sports an eye patch, the eye in question having been lost back on our walk along Regent's Canal on Sunday. I think it makes him look rather dashing. Afternoon spent at the London Transport Museum, followed by dinner at home of roast lamb and salad from Waitrose. Not bad, but not Gordon Ramsay.

You're probably wondering how ever we managed to make it out of Tayyabs without buying sweets. Well, we didn't. We bought some to take home for breakfast the next morning. Even sweeter (if possible) and a bit denser than we're used to here in Atlanta, so we only managed to eat about half of this lot over the course of the week: Husband woke up sick with a cold Tuesday AM, leaving me to get the children to Victoria station, where to take a train to see Salisbury Cathedral: followed by lunch at Reeve's where we dined on a Lancashire pasty (for son, helpfully described by very young waitress as being very like a Cornish pasty), "pizza" (for daugher, a not very pleasant open-faced cheese and tomato sandwich which she ate because she was told to), and an egg salad sandwich on whole grain bread (for me). For dessert we shared a Bakewell tart swimming in custard. Sturdy food that came in handy for the very cold and blustery visit that afternoon to: Dinner that night at home with snuffly father, ready-to-heat chicken korma from Waitrose. Not as bad as you might think.

Monday drear and cold. We managed to make it out of the apartment for sandwiches at the Petit Delice around the corner (on Kynance Place off Gloucester Rd) from our house. No pictures, as the food was every bit as drear as the weather. This place is inexplicably popular, particularly given that it's right around the corner from Cafe Deco. They did offer us extra potato chips (crisps?), which was nice, but I'd have preferred non-browning lettuce in the salad. A tour of Westminster Abbey was followed by a trip in the London Eye, and finally on to dinner at Tayyabs. We arrived relatively early to find a largely empty dining room (very glossy new decor) and take a table on the non-sweet shop side. Realized immediately that we've forgotten to BYOB, so husband ran out to remedy situation while I ordered samosas and pakoras. Both fine but sort of boring, and when husband returned our waiter (very sketchy command of English, but nice) talked us into ordering seekh kebabs and lamb chops, both excellent. We followed up with stewed lamb, pumpkin, naan, and rice. Lamb and pumpkin both particularly great. Ras malai (me) and kulfi (kids) for dessert. We pay up and waddle out into the night through the now packed dining room and a queue of very hungry looking yuppy Londoners.

Sunday was nice weather, so we decided to walk along Regent's Canal and through Regent's park, ending up at The Albert (Primrose Hill) for a late lunch/snack. Nice place with a garden out back. Menu a bit more upmarket: husband had butternut squash soup, daughter had mussels served on the half shell with breadcrumbs, etc., and I had something billed as salmon terrine that was largely what we call cream cheese. Son had something neither he nor I can recall. Very pleasant ambience, and of course there was the most important part of the meal: Flat Pierre had met with a misfortune earlier in the day that will become evident later. He was unwilling to be photographed and spent the afternoon sulking in my daughter's backpack. After dropping the children back home we went out for dinner at Racine. No pics, but we had herring roes on toast with sorrel and rabbit with green beans and potato puree (for me) and bayonne ham with celeriac remoulade and Dover sole meuniere (for husband). Main courses not just swimming in sauce (or butter, in the case of the sole) but very nearly drowning. Very tasty, though, and service was excellent. Too much food to even consider dessert, so we finished with a muscat (me) and coffee (husband).

So, back from London, and here's hoping I can actually remember what and where we ate... London's a direct flight from Atlanta, and I'd booked a late flight so as to increase the chances of our actually sleeping en route (which I did quite nicely with the help of some Ambien, thank you). This meant that we could could eat a real dinner in a real restaurant, thereby avoiding the really really horrifying fare offered by the airline. We chose one of our favorites that happens to be on our way to the airport, Iris. No pics of the food (I've talked about Iris previously here) but I will take this opportunity to introduce a friend who came along on the trip with us, Pierre: Flat Pierre, to be precise. Flat Pierre was my 11 year old daughter's interpretation of a school project based on children's book called Flat Stanley. I swear that I am in absolutely no way responsible for her decision to name her version Pierre, nor with her decision to dress him in the featured, um, attire. Had it been me I'd have added a red neck scarf and a mustache. We arrived in London a bit after midday, found our way to our nice apartment (PM me if you want details) in what our landlady described as the "French ghetto" based on its proximity to the lycee, and went for a walk in Hyde Park. A nice day, but altogether too chilly for boating (to my daughter's dismay, and clearly there were many who didn't agree with us), and we ended up back on Gloucester Rd at a pub (right across the side street from l'Etranger, it seems) that featured French pop music overhead but very traditional fare: Cottage pie (for daughter) Steak and gravy pie (for son) Bangers and mash (for both me and husband) The most important part of the meal. Flat Pierre wasn't very hungry, and the French pop music was making him a bit sentimental, so he skipped supper. [edited to fix street name]

Some of the "desirable traits" that you might select for (that actually are selected for, when possible) have nothing to do with the quality of the meat or milk, but everything to do with production. For instance, let's say you had two potential bulls for cloning, both fast growing animals that reach the same weight and produce the same degree of marbling at the same day of life while eating the same amount of food. But one of the calves weighed less than his competitor at birth by, say, 10%. Which animal is preferable? Probably the smaller one, as the smaller calf is more likely to be survive its birth.

Cloning removes much (but not all) of the crap shoot aspect of putting together an egg and a sperm and ending up with a desirable product. You might assume that if you start with a cow and a bull with certain traits you'd end up with calves that all shared those traits, but of course that's not the case at all: just because Mom produced a lot of milk and Dad had highly marbled meat is no guarantee that junior will do either. So cloned animals would be more uniform, and once you'd selected for (or introduced) particular traits you could streamline the production. Of course, all your animals would be similarly vulnerable to environmental pressures like disease, but that's the chance the farmer takes. There is, by the way, already considerable genetic manipulation of cattle herd composition using techniques that fall short of cloning.

From the size of your party I'll assume that you're not using a caterer, but if you were you could ask your caterer to purchase the glasses (from a supply place where he gets a discount) for you. Mine actually suggested it when I brought up the topic of renting glassware recently, as he knows that I have fairly large parties with some frequency and they weren't much more per stem than renting them would have been.

Just back from a week's visit to London with my family, and caught a few minutes of this broadcast. A bit surprised to see that Racine had done so well---husband and I had eaten there earlier that week and found it nice but not worth a return visit that week (we'd rented a flat in the neighborhood, and we often do return within a week if we've really enjoyed a meal). The broadcast overall a bit surreal from the U.S. perspective, but then so is most television everywhere.

I wouldn't soak them in advance, as they just get all floppy and tear, and I definitely wouldn't do it buffet style (I dislike buffets in general, and when kids are involved it's just not fun). It does work to have multiples of everything (including stacks of rice paper rounds and bowls of hot water) on the table, though. Maybe we use a particularly flimsy sort of rice paper, because I don't find that it takes very long to soften them, nor that it requires particularly hot water. For the inexperienced it helps to use two papers at a time, less likely to tear. They needn't be perfect little rolls, as everybody gets his/her own condiments for dipping (hoisin-type sauce with peanuts and fish sauce both nice). [edit to add that my kids manage to make their own rolls, and have been doing so for several years]

How about Vietnamese spring rolls? You set out rice paper rounds and bowls of hot water (to soften them) and then guests get to decide what they'd like inside, choosing from rice noodles/vermicelli (cold, so you can cook them ahead of time), lots of different sorts of greens and vegetables (you can use both familiar and unfamiliar items), and various meats. Different sorts dipping sauces as well. Fun, economical (because there's relatively little meat involved, and it's easily left out for vegetarians), and healthy. For dessert, I'd tend to do something with a lot of dairy (assuming no vegans in the crowd) to get protein into the meal for the vegetarians.

Really looking forward to your blog, Tammy. Childcare and blogging all at once? Talk about busy...

Great fun, Lucy. A la prochaine...

I use both quinoa and kamut routinely. I've got some amaranth, but haven't gotten around to using any yet. As for whether it's a matter of health or taste, well, they're not mutually exclusive in this instance.

Brocanter (the verb) is apparently originally borrowed from German, as per this reference. It's listed on page 203. A cool paper, particularly (I think, anyway) the doublets listed on 197 and 198, words that entered French twice. Fragile and frele ("frail" in English, so we've got the same phenomenon) are a great example. Anybody out there know enough German to tie brocanter to the original term? I don't know if bric-a-brac is related to brocanter. There is a version of it, "de bric et de broc" that could be related to "bricoler" and "brocanter". Okay, so now I need to get this back on topic somehow...Oh, yeah, wasn't Lucy going to tell us about what school kids eat for lunch? The canteen lunches when I was in high school were better than what was served in most U.S. restaurants at the time. I hope they're still that great. Because you need a lot of energy to figure out obscure etymology questions.

Stuff. Cool, old, weird stuff. Or at least that's what I'm looking for when I go in one. And they are easy to get stuck in---hours pass unremarked. Lucy was probably looking for something unusual and vaguely menacing to use in one of her photos. [edited for punctuation]

Great blog, Lucy. Horse meat didn't bother me when I lived in France (in high school), but the family with whom I lived initially thought it might. After school I'd go into the grandmother's (Marie) enormous kitchen to chat with her and her companion (Fifine), and of course the conversation would eventually turn to dinner. Marie and Fifine had run a deli together in Marseille at one point, so food was big part of our lives. Anyway, occasionally my query re the upcoming dinner was met with nervous hemming and hawing, and finally the answer: "Uh, meat. We're having meat." Which I knew meant horse. I finally told them that eating horse didn't bother me, and they were pretty relieved. Marie and Fifine were pretty cool. They taught me to do Calvados shots.

Thanks for the link. Cool trick about putting a dab of soy sauce on the surface want to "puff" the most. I don't have a toaster over, but the smaller of my regular ovens should work just fine. A recipe using kirimochi to make daifuku would be very cool. Thanks in advance. I've never bought mochi-ko. Would I buy it fresh? Or frozen, or vacuum-packed?