Verjuice

Absolutely fantastic blog. Thank you very much!

I've known quite a few people to do that. The last time I visited a McDonalds, which was probably nearly ten years ago, I ordered fried and a shake. I tried to pretend that it didn't make my knees weak, but it did. Killer combo.

Daniel, thank you for this; I've got goosebumps. I miss the States so much sometimes. Such beautiful land, and eating one's way around is surely among the most delicious of experiences known to humankind...

I haven't ever thought of adding any kind of oil because it renders so much of it's own fat while it's cooking. Do you recommend adding a small amount of oil? I might give that a try. I stick it under a roaring broiler for a few minutes, then I turn the oven off and let it sit for another five or so. This seems to seal in the juices and crisp up the skin, while leaving the center the way I like it; barely cooked, almost gelatinous. Like fat custard. I once marinated some in my usual salmon marinade of soy sauce, maple syrup, rice vinegar (the merest drop), water and scallions, but it was a complete waste of time; the fish is perfect on its own, plus salt. This is my first time out of the States during YRKS season and I'm sad to miss it, but when it's around I eat it as often as I can. It's so good that I try not to worry about justifying the cost to myself. And it's so rich that I'm happy with less than a half-pound serving. Normally I'll eat a lot more salmon in one go. And when the flesh is all gone, I eat the skin.

I'll occasionally make myself a tuna melt on fresh rye with cheddar and fontina, pesto and aioli, bacon and tomato. The sandwich is pressed and subsequently fried in a foaming panful of butter. I like to add alarming quantities of Maldon salt as I eat. And after every crisp and oozing bite of sandwich, I munch on dill pickles. Cleanses the palate. Here in the Emirates, when the garlic in the markets is in too poor of a condition to make aioli with, I'll often hit up shawarma joints for a tub of the invariably delicious garlic mayo that they slather on sandwiches. The guys are more relaxed in the mornings because shawarma-making never begins before 5pm, and they're usually happy to fill my Tupperware for tuppence. Then, I'll make a platter of bacon to dip in it and call that breakfast. I also can never get enough kibbeh nayeh (a velvety mezze dish of the freshest raw minced lamb with bulgur wheat, garnished with raw onion and a generous splash of olive oil. Scooped up with warm pita. It's wonderful but now that I'm back in the Gulf after a long hiatus, I'm eating it four times a week. Lipitor, here I come.

I second that. I suggested Chocolatesmith with artisanal/local chocolates in mind; but the guys at Todos Santos know what they're doing, and they carry products similar (or identical) to those that one might see in a Dean & DeLuca catalogue. Wonderful selection and great for gifts. There's also a Teuscher counter at Cookworks on Guadalupe. ChocolateSmith, by the way, only does dark chocolate, but the hand-wrought green chile pistachio bark (and the red chili bark, too) is worth the trip alone. Then there are the peanut butter fingers (I prefer the plain, but the 'Pecos' version comes infused iwth ancho and chipotle) and the chocolate pates... oh, the pates. And don't knock white chocolate until you've tried their fragrant and epiphanic version with almonds, lavender and lemon. Plus, their mint patties are studded with fairy dust. Okay: crushed Altoids. Pretty clever, eh? I miss Santa Fe so much sometimes. I love that place.

Especially the cheese quesadillas at the place near the ATM machine.

Yes. These guys (S.Fe) are amazing. Chocolatesmith

In the spirit of gilding the lily, I'll admit to occasional forays into plain and literal hot chocolate: Simply begin as directed above, then promptly delete all steps following the first. Pour warm, melted Valrhona into a warm mug. Swirl of cream optional. Drink deeply. Very Augustus Gloop, I know.

I'm chiming in with a "bravo!", cheering you on in your compelling and utterly inspiring foodblog. Thanks for doing this.

Is your friend looking specifically for ingredients i.e. chicken, or can we cheat and say something like "chicken and vegetable soup"?

Generally, yes, I think it is a silly and flawed philosophy. And those people who eat only windfallen fruit? Fine, whatever, knock yourselves out. But don't even get me started on the vegans who raise their children on a vegan diet. And, for that matter, the vegans who put their pets on a vegan diet. Now that really upsets me. Provided I don't have to travel long-term with a vegan and/or cook for one on a regular basis, the only thing that really disturbs me is the blatant and absurd amount of self-deception that occurs in so many vegan kitchens. Living in denial is silly, sure. The vegans I know who live on processed foods made of isolated soy proteins and smoothies made with frozen fruit are going nowhere with the health argument, as far as I'm concerned. I love animals. I live with some. I eat other animals, with gratitude. Somehow, I have managed to convince myself that I am less hypocritical than a vegetarian wearing a leather jacket. But uninformed vegans who abstain from animal products due to ethical priniciples have a responsibility to be consistent and knowledgeable about their lifestyle. I like to know, for instance, where my chickens come from and how they were raised. So, maybe start by doing some research to make sure it's the cows who are benefitting from their statement, and not, well, someone awful. And scary. I have a hard time believing the folks who claim that they do it because they feel better on a vegan diet. Show me a veteran of veganism with good skin and hair, and I'll start believing. Vegetarians are an entirely different species, methinks. I am more forgiving when it comes to them.

Cookie dough. What gives? Whipped cream. Or anything with a similarly mousse-like texture. Noodle soups, such as minestrone or chicken noodle. Hate the mushy noodles. Chocolate-dipped strawberries. Any strong-tasting honey. I can barely tolerate acacia or orange blossom. But I'm a maple syrup junkie, the darker the better. Croutons. You know, the kind that make your mouth bleed. Scones. They're like bombs of sawdust. Meringues, for the same reason. Beef stews. I hate beef that's browned throughout. BBQ brisket is an exception. Milkshakes or any ice cream once it's half melted. I hate the viscous, soupy texture. Papaya, which I enjoy -- and only with a squeeze of lime-- does smell to me like a cross between ashtrays and feet. But I'm over it. Custard apples give me the creeps, though. Purulent fruit. Pasta salad in general. It's the corpse-like texture of cold, overcooked pasta. Waffles. They smell great, like warm paper and pipe tobacco and toasted sugar but I've never gotten excited about eating one. They're like a harmless, tender cardboard pastry. Hard-boiled egg yolks. Whole raw egg yolks. I adore eggs prepared any other way. Cooked bananas (as in banana cream pie, which sounds utterly revolting to me) or fresh bananas with the merest speckle of brown. I don't mind a bite or two if they're still green and firm. I'm lukewarm about banana bread. Maraschino cherries in mixed drinks or as a garnish on fresh juices or whatever. The color alone makes my skin crawl. Lager beers. Vegetable juice. Bloody Marys look appealing, but they don't do it for me. Ditto any sort of jarred salsa or queso dip. Sweetened condensed milk. I don't understand how folks can eat the stuff straight. Blondies, brownies and most bar-type desserts: I find them to be pretty dense and uninteresting most of the time. I prefer something self-actualized, like penuche fudge. Or pie. Lastly, I'm not convinced by the mild-mannered, clumsy, anaemic nursery snacks that my sisters and friends swoon over. Macaroni and cheese. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Mashed potatoes. Rice pudding. Whatever. These so-called comfort foods don't do it for me either. ETA: Disclaimer: I eat most of these foods every now and then, anyway; I can always eat most of a dish, provided it's safe to eat, even if it's not something I particularly like. For instance, I won't lick cookie dough off a spoon, but my little sister likes it in ice cream and we like to share sundaes once in a while. That sort of thing. I just push the maraschino cherries over to her side, of course.

At first, I couldn't have been less interested in food, and the image of my swollen body stagnating in front of the tv with a pint of ice cream between my legs and a bottle of scotch balanced on one thigh was repulsive and terrifying to me. I spent a few nights a week sobbing at the kitchen table of a supportive, wonderful old friend. Afterwards, I would smoke cigarettes in silence. I sometimes managed to eat a bite or two of whatever she was having. I craved acrid black coffee. I lost a pound a day for three weeks, and I wasn't overweight to begin with. A few weeks later, this approach was no longer helping me, so I started forcing myself, one or twice a week, to clean myself up, get my hair in order, slip into something ravishing, and start re-gaining some self-respect (and some weight) in the sexiest and most imaginative way possible. I took myself out on long dates. I walked to restaurants; all of the movement felt counter-intuitive but I knew I needed it. I luxuriated over food that I didn't really have an appetite for, before I realized that it was the light-hearted and celebratory aspects of life (and food) that my body was starved for. Sometimes, I ended up going out to dinner at an upscale restaurant only to realize that all I wanted was scotch and dessert. So I'd sit at the bar and order just that; whatever I wanted to eat. I don't know if this "eat whatever" approach is as beneficial for the self-esteem of someone who is inclined to binge on junk food day in and day out, but for me, it worked well. It wasn't an expensive ritual, either; I usually ordered only one or two things off the menu (either two appetizers, or an appetizer and a dessert, or perhaps just an entree) and one, sometimes two, drinks (I'm a big lightweight). Highly recommended. Along the lines of the old Woody Allen quote, "Don't knock masturbation! It's sex with someone I love." Oh- and I avoided attention from men in the beginning, but eventually the occasional smile starting making me feel better, too.

I live on the Cape and drive to Bellingham once a month to shop at Whole Foods. It doesn't hold a candle to the one in Santa Fe (which is where I moved from), but it's a heck of a lot better than WF in either Framingham or Hingham. Seriously, try the raspberry corn muffins at the bakery there. Just as good as something you might pick up on a stroll through Pike's Place, or at the Macrina Bakery, or the Dahlia Bakery in Seattle... man, I eat well whenever I'm in Seattle, too. Besides, Bellingham's Whole Foods carries Iggy's bread and water buffalo milk yogurt. And that makes me happy.

I often use gingersnaps in my cheesecake crusts. Lime and gingersnap sounds fantastic; I think Claudia Fleming combines those flavors in a parfait, but I'll have to check. You could still add the coconut; coconut and ginger work well together.

There isn't really anywhere to eat lunch in Bridgewater except for chain restaurants; Friendly's, Papa Gino's, D'Angelo etc. Actually, there are a bunch of mediocre pizza houses near Bridgewater State College, and there's also a diner downtown called "My Sister and I", I think, but I've never tried it. Not sure if The Chatta Box (755 Bedford St.) is open for lunch, but they make an okay Thai curry. Then, there's the StoneForge, nice for lunch, but just outside Bridgewater.

Corn muffins.

Thank you. Beautifully written. Thank you.

I enjoyed a wonderful solo dinner tonight at one of the only formal dining venues here on blustery Cape Cod. But it took me a minute or two to recover from having the hostess/owner pronounce loudly upon my arrival in a quiet, crowded dining room, "Ah... one? A single girl? Aww... that's too bad!". I would have walked out but I was so stunned that I followed her to my table and tried to stifle my shock with a mouthful of bread. I ordered so many dishes, though, that I think they thought I was a food critic. They were (or attempted to be) really, really nice to me. When the hostess came by to check on me and saw that I'd ordered foie gras and sweetbreads, she said something like, "Ah! A woman who eats like a man!" before scurrying away to annoy someone else. I think I'll write a letter. I just found that unbelievably innapropriate.

Well done.

I am crazy about the Liberte Dessert yogurts. The Coconut is best, but the Fig-Date-Raisin, Apple Pie, and Orange Marzipan are extraordinary as well. I've driven several hundred miles north to Montreal just to bring some back for myself in a cooler. Because of said cooler, I was interrogated at border patrol and all I could think about was the yogurt staying cold. Today, an unusual breakfast for me: Hot, toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with maple walnut raisin cream cheese. Warm but cool. Crispy on the outside outside, creamy within. Chewy. Substantial but melted in my mouth. Sweet and a little salty (I added a pinch of sea salt to the cream cheese). Exactly what I wanted.

I bought the book while I was in Alaska in August of '04, and read it in two sittings on a very long ferry ride from AK to WA. One week later, en route from NM to MA, I drove fourteen hours out of the way in order to eat at Lola. It was a fantastic night. Michael Symon wasn't there, but Doug was thoroughly entertaining. I'll drive to Cleveland for a night or two if Michael Symon is opening a new place. In a heartbeat. I had a great time. It was the best solo dining experience I've ever had.

This is cute. Kettle Chips is taking votes for the next new flavor. Strawberry cream potato chips, anyone? I really like some of the Kettle Chip varieties I've had in England; Stilton and Port, Mature Brie and Cranberry, Sweet Chili, Mediterranean Feta and Olive... I like a thick, juicy-with-fresh-vegetable-oil chip myself. That's why I like these.

Are we talking about just Anchorage, or all of Alaska? In Anchorage, I loved my meal at Sacks Cafe. And call it pedestrian, but dinner at Orso and the amazing IPA at Glacier Brewhouse made me a happy camper. Also, those reindeer sausages from the carts on the main strip there... jeez.