Verjuice

I will be eating at Chez Panisse (the Restaurant) next week for the first time, and when perusing the Cafe menu, I realized that I had heard very little about the food upstairs. Has anyone eaten at The Cafe? What did you think?

When did they come up with that one? I love blueberry muffins, and I love Liberte yogurt... but I'll take your word for it. The Banana Royale flavor is quite nasty as well.

eGullet Q&A with Eric Ripert . He doesn't serve Chilean sea bass.

Have you checked other threads on this board? I got some great tips that way. I have been known to drive several hundred miles out of the way for the hot bagels at St. Viateur. Seriously- you must go. Make sure that they are very hot, though. A couple of minutes makes all the difference. I love Au Pied de Cochon. Not sure if their poutine can be had without foie gras, though (). Go. MBCo is fine for lunch if you're in the area. I think that the torsades there are worth going slightly out of the way for. These are soft pastry twists studded with dark chocolate and glazed in apricot shellac. I've not been to Jean Talon, but I love the Atwater market and when I'm in town I always end up spending a few hours there. Get some Liberte Dessert Yogurt while you're in Montreal, too. Coconut, Fig/Date/Raisin, Orange/Marzipan, Apple Pie... It is sold everywhere and it is remarkable. edited for spelling.

I could've sworn that there was already a thread on this topic, but I can't seem to find it. My mother was only ever in the kitchen around birthdays for one of two reasons: 1)Chocolate-frosted devil's food cake 2)Warm, sticky chocolate pudding cake Both were okay, but we doubly appreciated her efforts because we knew how much she hated cooking. "Ma made the cornmeal and water into two thin loaves, each shaped in a half circle. She laid the loaves with their straight sides together in the bake-oven, and she pressed her hand flat on top of each loaf. Pa always said he did not ask any other sweetening, when Ma put the prints of her hands on the loaves." Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie

I have been reading through this thread for the last hour and a half. This is utterly fantastic! Kevin, you are amazing. And I am famished again, even though I had dinner only an hour ago.

Coming Home to Eat: The Pleasures and Politics of Local Foods by Gary Paul Nabhan is an interesting account of his year spent eating only foods grown or hunted or foraged within 250 miles of his Arizona desert home. I found about the book in one Saveur's 100 issues a couple of years ago. I can't figure out how to provide an eGullet sponsopred Amazon link (where is it in the Help features? A search come sup empty).

Well, I did not imply that it was the absence of photos that made the book uninteresting to me. If anything, I remember it being more like a textbook. And probably more valuable to someone who relies heavily on processed foods? I really am going to have to locate the darn thing before I comment further. Carry on!

When I find that cookbook in one of these boxes, I'm going to look through it to remind myself why I didn't really like it to begin with. I remember really wanting to like it. Maybe the recipes just didn't interest me. I seem to remember it being kind of scattered and eclectic (not necessarily bad things, of course!). I knew a couple of different people who were dedicated to that book. In fact it was the only cookbook they each owned, and they were both private chefs. What do you think of the recipes?

I live in the Gulf, where it is now 122 degrees at 100% humidity. Send a soft. hearty, chewy cookie like molasses clove or oatmeal raisin. Anything crispy is going to end up that way anyway. Avoid chocolate- we're not talking about a little gooey meltage but rather liquid molten mess. It's unimaginably hot here. Really.

Last August I was travelling from New Mexico up to the Arctic via Vancouver, and I swung by Granville Island on my way out out of town (I had picked up some great tips on the Vancouver board here!) to pick up supplies for the road. I love that market. I went alone early in the morning and the place was so calming and therapeutic that I didn't want to leave. I didn't buy anything too perishable or in need of constant refrigeration, but after a breakfast of warm doughnuts from Lee's and some pretty good coffee (forget the name of the place), I stocked up on several different kinds of salmon candy (lasted about fifteen seconds) and jerky, Okanagan cherries, a few savory deli items for a picnic lunch, Liberte dessert yogurt (this was kept in a cooler and eaten throughout the day-- hadn't seen any since Montreal the previous year and it is to die for) and best of all: pastries and bread from Terra breads. I had really been looking forward to trying their stuff, and it did not disappoint (well, in all honesty I wasn't too impressed with the brownie or the green olive bread, and I thought that the cinnamon roll left something to be desired... but the other stuff was great) You guys are so fortunate to have that place.

Behemoth, I just want to thank you for this thread. I was in Lebanon a couple of weeks ago and I found it hard to leave. I had the most incredible meal of my life in Anjar- I know it's touristy, but I don't care. We were on our way to Mdoukha, a tiny, pastoral village in the Bekaa Valley. The nearest town to Mdoukha is Kharbat Rooha- pretty melodramatic. But it's is pretty much how I felt when I left Lebanon. ('Kharbat Rooha' means 'her soul was destroyed' )

Here in the U.A.E., a common traditional breakfast item is balaleet. This involves taking cooked vermicelli noodles and tossing them in an incredibly sweet (4-5 cups of sugar for every packet of noodles) reduced sugar syrup flavored with cardamon, and then topped with fried omelettes. It is one of the most vile concoctions on the face of the planet. My dad loves the stuff.

It has more to do with availability and imagination, methinks. I stay away from foods that are trying to be something that they're not. This includes fat-free versions of foods that are meant to be rich and fatty, and isolated soy proteins fashioned into nasty meat substitutes. This is because there are so many wonderful naturally vegetarian offerings out there in the first place. I'm not a vegetarian anymore, but when I was, I opted for wholesome, self-actualized foods (think Deborah Madison). I made lots of amazing salads and quiche and curries and ice cream. I use the exact same attitude towards my food now, and I eat meat. In those days, I would no sooner eat Tofurkey with soy cheese and Nayonnaise on Atkins bread followed by Rice Dream than I would sit down to a bowl of Spam and processed cheese and minute rice now. Vegetarian-friendly meat substitutes foods aren't any different from paltry real-food substitutes like Splenda or whatever. They're processed convenience foods. How are they different? I say stick to foods that taste like food. Like ribeye steaks...mmm. Or cucumbers. edited for spelling.

Oh, I'll bet. I want to add that the Frog Hollow nectarines were just as extraordinary. After tasting damn near perfect specimens of both, I have to say that I love them equally. Supermarket nectarines are usually even more bland than peaches, in my opinion, so these were an epiphany for me. Sublime. Obviously, I think that they are worth the hype, however I'll be in the San Francisco area next week and I'll be checking the farmers markets for something comparable... !!!

I ordered Frog Hollow peaches and nectarines for the first time two summers ago, after reading about them in Saveur. After tasting the fruit that arrived in July (variety was something like 'nectar queen' or something similar ), I ordered a couple of boxes of Cal-Red peaches for family that I was visiting in Cape Cod. None of us had ever tasted such ambrosial fruit before. It's understandable that those living near wonderful farmer's markets have higher standards. However I never understood all the fuss about peaches before I tried one of these, and I see that as a real gift (albeit one that broke my bank account temporarily and made it impossible for me enjoy other fruit for a long time). I love Frog Hollow peaches and nectarines and I'd order them again if I were still living in the States. If I'd been able to buy more I'd have used them in cooking, but these were perfect on their own and I was afraid to do anything except enjoy them out of hand. I imagine that they'd elevate dessert to a new level. Also, my fruit have always arrived in flawless condition, very well-packed. edited to remove an idiodidic typo

Back when I was a Nouveau Southerner, I would put maple syrup on my grits. Now I stick to adding sharp cheddar and a dash of hot sauce, so consider me chastened. ←

I really want to know: Does your friend cook? My best friend was an unbelievably picky eater until she hit 27, when she moved in with her grandmother temporarily. As she had only lived in cities until then, her twice-daily chicken-cutlet-on-white-bread-sandwiches-with-lettuce-only and iceberg-lettuce-salads-with-lemon-juice-only were easily accomodated by any number of places ranging from Greek diners to pizzerias to coffee shops to chains like TGIFridays and the like. She invariably bought her food at carry-out restaurants. When she wanted to lose some weight, she shed one hundred and fifty pounds by switching from fried chicken cutlet to grilled. That adjustment and also deleting her thrice-daily habit of coffee-cream-sugar were the only dietary changes she made. The only other things I saw her eat in ten years were canned chicken-and-stars soup (had to be stars) and fries that she ordered "soft and soggy"- she had a downright aversion to crisp fries. The sight of a steak or the smell of a lovely, ripe cheese would send her gagging out of the room. So, enter grandma, who eats a lot of frozen dinners and lives in a rural area with no 24 hour take-out joints. My friend realized that she would have to learn to cook her own nursery fare. She started with chicken cutlets, of course, buying them buy the dozen and freezing them until needed. Then she started placing the breasts on her iceberg lettuce salads. When the markets were out of iceberg lettuce, she'd buy romaine, and then one day she tried baby spinach because it looked more fresh. The next week, she heated the spinach in the microwave (no laughing!). Then she tried it in a pan. Then she tried adding a little bit of olive oil. And so forth. It's been ten months, and even though she's gained thirty pounds back, she's ecstatic to have discovered the Kitchen. She says that cooking is "like magic". And her New Year's resolution was to try fish and she started with poached salmon. Last week, we went out for sushi and she couldn't believe that the tuna sashimi didn't smell like cat food, as she had expected. I know that this is an unusual case, but it's true. Nevertheless it was something she needed to figure out on her own, and she wouldn't have if the circumstances had been more forgiving. Take her camping, perhaps? Feed her griddlecakes and berries and fresh trout?

If you shop at Albertson's, you might try checking their 'organic dairy' section for Horizon or Organic Valley brand butters. They're easy to find and they make a product that is superior to the generic. Both companies put out a European-style cultured butter that is quite good for a mass market product. And relatively inexpensive.

Those look fantastic. How did they taste? Did you like the muffin's texture enough to recommend making it without the anko? I love pastries made with green tea, and I have some great matcha in the house, but I'm not a huge fan of anko. So, do you think they'd work plain, or with some sweetened chestnut or pistachio paste instead of the anko? I bet they'd freeze well. Mmm. Matcha muffins.

I actually prefer almond milk to regular milk in my breakfast cereal, provided that it's not too gritty in texture. Hazelnut milk is also pretty good. The almond milk is light and mildly sweet and redolent of marzipan. I can't stand molk cold soy and rice milks because they have a tendency to get chalky and grainy. That said, I will occasionally order a soy latte for sentimental reasons. I got hooked on the taste of hot soy milk a couple of years back. It's good: warm and earthy like a barnyard. There are oat and multigrain milks out there, too.

This is where a well-stocked pantry enters the scene beautifully.

I love blueberry muffins, but I reserve my deepest love for corn muffins; so much so that during blueberry season I either make blueberry corn muffins by just adding blueberries to the batter, or I make plain corn muffins and eat them, buttered, with some homemade blueberry compote or jam served alongside. I just can't think of any better way to enjoy a muffin.

Looking forward to this blog. Wishing you a delicious week for your sake and mine!

I am committed to maple syrup. I know that I am biased because I think that it tastes good with almost everything. When I'm having a bacon, eggs and toast breakfast, I pour maple syrup over the lot of it. I like the toast heavily buttered and soaked through. A little less on the eggs. Bacon must be crisp. This also works with pancakes. I don't think it's strange, but others seem to think differently. My best friend recently started cooking. She says that it is like magic. Her signature dish is the one she that created first and has continued to make adjustments to. I was a total skeptic until I tried it; warm spinach salad nestled under a bed of sweet curried kidney beans, studded with roasted sweet potatoes and dressed with a maple syrup and dijon mustard sauce. The crowning glory is a fragrant mess of fresh raspberries in a cayenne-spiked caramel sauce redolent of butter and sugar. Lots of Maldon salt. Served with buttered corn muffins. I am also obsessed with peanut butter and I wrongly believe that it tastes good on most things. The Binnacle in Orleans on the Cape makes a surprisingly delicious "Thai pizza"- sounds horrid and gimmicky but it's utterly addictive. Good chewy crust, lots of peanut sauce, grilled chicken, green onions, plenty of salt and spice, a mantle of melting cheese. Like an open-faced chicken satay sandwich, but better.