Verjuice

I couldn't wait to try Chick-fil-A for the first time, so when we drove past one on our trip to Austin last weekend I insisted that we pull over (we were on our way to dinner at Hudson's on the Bend after pigging out on bbq in Lockhart) so that I could have a taste. I ordered the classic sandwich and when I got back to the car, we each took a bite-- it was so disappointing! Just a plain, dry, lukewarm, underseasoned chicken patty with soggy breading on a flabby buttered bun. It was so dry, actually, that I had trouble swallowing it. I'm sure it was a fluke, but I almost burst into tears. I didn't know what to make of the pickles, which I would normally love. There were three of them. I ate them and gave the rest of the sandwich to my pup. Has anyone else been underwhelmed by Chick-fil-A? I'm getting prepared for some chilly draughts on my isolated island.

I just bought half a pound of lamb sweetbreads from the farmer's market this morning. I love sweetbreads but I've never tried cooking with them, and I'm not sure I've even tried lamb sweetbreads. Any suggestions?

Well, three days in Austin turned out to be one day in Austin; it took us forever to drive there and back and we had to make a few adjustments, but we definitely didn't go hungry. We rolled into Lockhart at 6:00 pm on Saturday and made out first stop at Black's. The brisket was incredible. We had ribs, too. Left with a bunch of that amazing sauce. We got to Smitty's at 6:35 pm, just as they were shutting the doors for the night. Brokenhearted, we raced to Kreuz. We begged and pleaded for a shred of brisket, but we were minutes too late. A very good man who was just leaving the Kreuz parking lot with a few fragrant wrapped packages in his passenger seat offered us some of his brisket upon seeing our dejected faces as we got back into the car. We declined the offer, he insisted, our tears were dried. Great stuff. Sped over to the Luling City Market to see if we could find any meat there, but they had just closed, too. Such a bummer. We cheered ourselves up with a wonderful dinner at Hudson's on the Bend and left Austin at the crack of dawn. I'm still full.

A friend and I will be driving from Santa Fe to Austin this weekend (yes, very last minute) and we are determined to eat ourselved into a coma while we're there. I've read through a bunch of posts and we're pretty sure we want to get bbq in Lockhart and eat at Hudson's on the Bend, but we're flexible. Where should we eat and drink? Any suggestions for not-to-be-missed bbq, light restorative breakfast fare and Tex-Mex? Where can we get some great coffee? We also want to find a couple places to enjoy music and beers later on. Any ideas? Thanks in advance!

I can't recommend these guys highly enough:Upton Tea Imports Unbelievable selection, tons of informations, and best of all, customer reviews. The most exhaustive selection of excellent teas I have ever encountered. Some you might consider: A full-bodied Ceylon for the English Breakfast types. My favorites for naturally decaffeinated teas are Rooibos (red tea) and Honeybush. At least one type of green tea; something less commonplace than your usual sencha. Gyokuro is my favorite-- it's bright and sweet but can be hard to find. Genmaicha is nice too, but a lot of folks don't like it. I keep mugicha and kukicha around for making iced tea. I don't know much about Chinese green teas. If I were you, I'd probably venture into a tea shop and do some tasting or order a sampler. White tea is wonderful and surprisingly few people have tried it. The best flavored tea I have ever had is the Honey Pear Black Tea (loose; comes in one of those trendy black tins) made by Golden Moon. It sounds gimmicky, but it's utterly amazing. Hmm. If you have the right ingredients on hand, you could whip up homemade spiced chai, which always goes over well. Lady Grey beats Earl Grey anyday. It has citrus peel added, and is divinely aromatic.

Ah, see? You're on to something. A great theme = endless permutations. Eat more dressing. Hell, make it yourself if you want to feel industrious. Toss with raw vegetables and toasted nuts of choice. Minimal effort, really. You could go with cauliflower and pine nuts, for a change. Cukes and sesame seeds. Zucchini and sunflower seeds. Carrots and peanuts. Snap peas and crushed cashews. Bell peppers and almonds. You get the picture. Go to town.

I live for Arrowhead Mills natural peanut butter (100% Valencia peanuts). Marantha makes a superior product, as well. I get them at either Whole Foods or Wild Oats. Big, rich peanut flavor-- so good. The separation of the oils is totally natural because of the absence of stabilizers. I think that Jif and all the other peanut spreads on the market have the flabby consistency of cake frosting; I really like the lip-smacking heft in the natural peanut butters. Think of the oil separation as sort of like the pools of whey you get in yogurt; avert your gaze if you must and mix it back in. Arrowhead Mills now makes a peanut butter that has either honey or cane syrup (can't remember) and soy lecithin added; it's meant to be more spreadable in order to appeal more to the skeptics and Jif-wielding types. It does not need to be refrigerated if you use it within a few weeks.

Actually, you don't have to buy that green chile frozen . Most supermarkets around here carry at least one brand (I like Cannon's) of jarred plain New Mexican flame roasted green chile with absolutely nothing added. I think it's great stuff. I recently brought some to some friends in Japan who used to live here. It was easy to carry, and it made great stews and sauces. If you're coming up to Santa Fe, definitely hit the Farmer's Market on a Saturday or a Tuesday morning (go early!) for everything from locally made salsas and preserves to buffalo jerky, dried chiles, cajeta made from goat's milk, pickles, small and portable breads and cakes... you name it. You might also want to check out The Chile Shop on Water Street. Hm. It wouldn't hurt to pop into the local Whole Foods (here in Santa Fe) if you have the time. They have an excellent selection of local products, ranging from posole and blue corn flour and masa harina for making tamales to lots of powdered chiles.

Most of us scientific types don't really believe in "vitality". We think that what we derive from the food is nutrients -- and that these can de divided into various macronutrients, micronutrients etc. I'm with you. And most, if not all, of the foods we have listed on this page are more nutritionally sound than the foods that are banned from this diet, none of which have anything unique and vital (meaning essential) to contribute nutritionally. As a general and not-so-general rule, foods that are higher in nutrients and micronutrients tend to be the ones that would be classified as "vital" anyway. By the way, the Latin root of the word "nutrition" is nutrire, which means to nurture, which means to support and promote growth. We're really talking about the same thing.

I don't agree. I think that the diet is premised on the idea that we derive vitality from the vitality of the foods we eat. The more highly processed something is, the more it is drained of these so-called resources. It isn't astonishing at all. It just makes sense. We put our bodies through the mill digesting all the refined crap we take in over a lifetime. The goal of most restorative, regenerative diets is to give the digestive system a breather in order to redirect our energy reserves to where they are needed most. Jeez, why must it all sound so granola-flakey? Take it from the acupuncturist who encourages her vegan patients to try carpaccio.

That sounds incredible. Thank you for sharing. I sure do wish that I lived nearby!

-Hot cereal (ten grain, seven grain, single grain, doesn’t matter) makes a fantastic breakfast whether or not you are on a diet. In your case, you could get crazy with the freshly toasted organic nuts and seeds, the whole milk or the cream… can you have dried fruit? How about maple syrup? -Omelettes are another loophole, aren’t they? You can add just about anything, plus cheese and chives, and serve with a big green salad, and/or a slice of wholemeal bread. I like lots of mushrooms and a knob of white truffle butter myself. Corn tortillas are even better, if you can find them. -Speaking of eggs, quiches and tarts made with a whole wheat or spelt crust (if you’re using butter, you’ll never notice the difference) are always restorative and delicious. Leeks, goat cheese, smoked fish, asparagus. Crusts will freeze well, as will some breads, so make plenty: when you’re feeling deprived, the sense of abundance will delude you into thinking that you’re not in hell. -On the subject of bread, breads loaded with carrot or zucchini with perhaps some organic pecans or walnuts thrown in and a crust studded with flax or hemp seeds (packed with essential fatty acids) make good breakfast food (toast and slather with cream cheese or sweet butter) and they freeze well. You can make or buy all kinds of wonderful dark rye, spelt or wholemeal, or brown rice bread. -Homemade aioli, tarragon or basil mayonnaise, various Mexican salsas, hummus, tapenade, pesto, harissa, ajvar: these will all make crudités taste delicious, and are wonderful on a hunk of bread with maybe some tomatoes or red onion. -Roasted cauliflower, cold broccoli salads. If bacon is not banned, remember that it will get you out of all kinds of trouble with vegetables. Any cold pureed vegetable soup thickened and made delicious with some cream is always welcome at my table. Do you have a juicer? Do you like vegetable juice? -Bread and whole fruit and nuts and cheese to keep around the house for anytime. The options are endless, and you can include things like melon and figs and blackberries, prosciutto, buffalo mozzarella… -I know that a few people have suggested salads, but they really can be amazing: I often make a Caeser salad for dinner and add grilled chicken or shrimp. With bread and some of your cheese board treats (see above). Other combinations that I love include the old clichés like pears/walnuts/Stilton cheese. I also like a salad with roasted beets, Roquefort cheese and chile-dusted pecans. A good Greek salad. Obviously this all eaten on a mountain of good, organic greens, but then again, you are in Tasty Organic Hell… -Black beans are great in everything from soups (what wouldn’t be good with a dollop of sour cream and some cilantro?) to cold salads (spectacular with edamame or corn and leftover salmon). Goes so well with brown rice, too. All the other grains you might become familiar with, such as buckwheat, wheatberries, millet, amaranth, barley, kasha and my favorite, quinoa (which is not technically a grain but is so high and protein and so very tasty) make fabulous warm side dishes (think olives, crumbly cheese, grilled chicken, green herbs, artichoke hears) that stand up well to refrigeration and make lovely cold rice salads for lunch. -As for fish, the best salmon you can find, grilled or broiled with a good, thick crust of either pesto or caramelized onion, sprinkled with parmesan or gruyere (and browned) and served with horseradish cream? Bring on that side of brown rice or plain steamed greens, no problem. How about really good bangers and mash? Piquant flavors bow to nothing. -Thai and Indian chicken/tofu curries. Biryani. The Turkish dish Hunkar Begendi can be made with chicken instead of lamb. Basically, this is a bed of smoked eggplant puree with lots of cream and some cheese (though I often make mine without). Absolutely divine. Speaking of eggplant, who doesn’t like baba ghanouj? With homemade falafel? Tabouli is a great one to have around; parsley is so good for you and it helps reduce sugar cravings. Keep a Tupperware of that in the fridge at all times (it keeps well) and you’re set. You have probably already considered all the weird and wonderful permutations of potato salad that you can play with at will. In addition, there are countless variations on the mashed potato theme. Oooh, watercress. Mascarpone. Mustard. Capers. I won't get started. There is life between steaks. I’m surprised that you are allowed dairy, but this is probably a huge blessing, no? I went on a very restrictive ayurvedic diet last year that banned all of the foods that you listed , plus fermented and/or yeasted foods (everything from soy sauce and tempeh to bread and Marmite), acidic foods (such as citrus and tomatoes), dairy (with the exception of homemade plain yogurt), all cooking fats with the exception of ghee, all spices and seasonings with the exception of black salt. I was allowed raw, organic nuts. A maximum of one piece of whole fruit per day. All sweeteners except Grade B maple syrup (which contains all the B vitamins and some essential minerals) were forbidden. The only desserts I was allowed were either half a tablespoon of raisins (which had to be followed by a half tablespoon of raw sesame seeds) or a brown rice risotto made with coconut milk and maple syrup (quite tasty, actually). There were some seemingly arbitrary restrictions, as well, such as corn and avocado. Peanuts and sprouts were out of the questions. Obviously all processed foods were not happening and my food was organic whenever possible. I made my own soy and almond milk because it is nearly impossible to find commercial versions of either that don’t contain cane sugar. And so forth. It was totally worth it, though. My ailment began to reverse itself, and went into complete remission within five weeks. Some may think that it is unfortunate that diet has so much to do with it, but I feel profoundly grateful that I was able to work so intimately with my body. I hope that you feel better after making these temporary changes, at the very least! You probably will. I wish you every success with this—good luck.

Any plans on making the grueling journey (about 45 minutes) to beautiful Santa Fe? It's delicious up here.

Oh, I already knew that. I meant 'sweet-potato' lady rather than sweet 'potato lady' ... And Torakris, they were hot and fresh... she also had thinner, crispy ones out for sampling, but they didn't thrill me. The texture just wasn't all that interesting and there wasn't enough surface area to carry that wonderful, crunchy caramelized crust... Damn! They were tasty. I can't say it loudly enough: I love Japanese food! edit to fix a spelling error. Yeah, I cracked open that bottle of daiginjo and my reflexes are a little slow. hehe.

I’ve just returned home after ten days in Japan. Oishii… A quick introduction, before I launch into it: I speak no Japanese. None. I recently went to Mexico without knowing how to speak a shred of Spanish, but found it fairly easy to improvise using a combination of my familiarity with Latin and emphatic body language. Communication isn't quite so easy for a foreigner in Japan, but I found people to be extremely courteous and accommodating despite the fact that I continually made a gaijin rube of myself, dropping sushi rice in my shoyu and getting stuck in the rain repeatedly without an umbrella. For the most part, I was politely ignored, which worked out great. A little about me: I’m 23 years old and female. I was born in New York to a Lebanese-Bostonian mother and an Emirati father. I spent my childhood in the United Arab Emirates, scarfing down grilled sardines at the dinner table while my macrobiotic vegan mother and unapologetic carnivore father tried to seduce me with platters of brown rice or goat brains (I’ve always been more of a fish eyeball girl myself). Other favorites included eel, raw kibbeh and steak fat. I was sixteen when I accidentally ate pork for the first time; it was so good that I burst into tears. I have a B.A. in Art, but should really have a degree in New Haven pizza, since that’s where my head was most of the time I was supposed to be cranking out photographs. I have lived in Santa Fe for three years, and I’m ten weeks away from my M.S. in Oriental Medicine. Red or green, I love ‘em both. I was on my own for the most part, but I visited for a couple of days with an old colleague who is currently starting his acupuncture apprenticeship in Tokyo. He’s gaijin, too, but he speaks Japanese. And he likes food, too, but not as much as I do. The first day, I wandered through Hiro-o, hungrily sniffing my way through a couple of patisseries before deciding on Boulangerie Burdigala, where a beacon of warm croissants glowed in a window display. Giddy, elated and jetlagged, I filled my tray with croustillant croissants, quiche legumes, frangipane and honey danishes, tarte aux pommes, chocolate almond croissants, raisin bread filled with cream cheese, florentines and a small but delectable apricot tart. While paying, I noticed a basket of unfortunate-looking mashed potato and bacon foccaccia sandwiches, which invited the first of many bewildered musings on Japanese interpretations of Western food. Fortunately, eating in public isn’t something people do in Japan. Otherwise, I’d most likely have relished my bounty on the curb outside the place. I didn’t like Kobeya baked goods at all, but I found another patisserie whose name I have forgotten (turquoise and yellow awning, two words, at least one of which begins with the letter ‘p’? ) that I liked. I stopped at Meida-Ya on my way to visit my friend and picked up Fuji and Mutsu apples the size of babies, loquats and figs from Nagasaki, and a small container of black sesame ice cream. I threw in a few cucumbers as an afterthought, and because cucumbers were made for slathering with rich, dark miso. I found two wagashi-yas and ogled the selection of namagashi. I ended up with anko-filled sakura (cherry blossom) mochi, ankoro (mochi rice cake filled with sweetened azuki beans), kusa-mochi (made with mugwort) and daifuku (mochi rice cake filled with anko) from one shop, and moist, fresh matcha manju (sweetened bun of leavened flour and powdered green tea, stuffed with sweetened azuki beans) wrapped in bamboo leaves, along with a bag of huge, dark and knotted karinto (soy flour biscuits fried in sesame oil and glazed with caramelized brown rock sugar) at the other. May 5th was Children’s Day and the sweet shops were selling lots of kashiwa-mochi wrapped in oak leaves. I also stopped at a senbei shop in search of salty-sweet senbei (I adore the combination of sweet mochi and the salty leaf in which it is wrapped), made an educated guess, and settled on five humongous crackers whose surfaces were auspiciously gleaming with a shoyu glaze and sparkling with granulated sugar. That evening, my friend turned me on to chilled mugicha, and I can proudly declare that I now have a frosty pitcher of it in my fridge that I plan on refreshing several time a day, forever. On a walk from Hiro-o to Shinjuku the next day, I stopped for semi-portable chow at Earth-Health-Family (“organic!”) and grabbed a few mini-bentos; eggplant blanketed in a pork and tempeh sauce, kinpira gobo (burdock root salad-- who doesn’t adore its toothsome woodiness?), hijiki salad, cucumbers and wakame marinated in rice vinaigrette. I also brake for dumplings; more specifically, the irresistible aroma of Chinese chives and the holy trinity of garlic, ginger and scallion, so I picked up a few plump, succulent gyoza from a street cart vendor and ambled on. I stopped at Natural Lawson for sea salt gelato (actually, the label read “sea sart gerato”) and lotus root chips. The next morning, I walked from Shinjuku to Roppongi; a winsome endeavor that left me feeling charged and very light on my feet, a rare and regrettable state which was corrected when I spied L’Atelier Joel Robuchon in the View Tower and gleefully bought myself a basketful of pastries to scarf in alleyways and Zen gardens and parks en route to Asakusa. The macarons were particularly delectable, though they are decidedly fragile and don’t take well to being in handbags, as it turns out. I made it over to Miyako Sushi near Asakusa for an early lunch. The place is tiny, and there were just three people running it; the sushi master, the waitress (his wife, I believe) and the much younger assistant chef (their son?). The lunch menu gives diners the option of choosing between five different sized edomae (nigiri) sushi flights, and I ordered the largest: 17 pieces, and a bottle of chilled daiginjo. The sake was brought to my table in seconds along with tiny plates of sweet, browned tamago (egg) and baby marinated tako (octopus). The sushi master came over to my table holding a huge wooden tray on which he had placed the seventeen pieces of fish that were about to become my lunch. I was given a tour, so to speak, of the different types of fish I was soon to enjoy. Some that I remember include aji (horse mackerel), anago (saltwater conger eel), awabi (abalone), katsuo (bonito), otoro, toro, chutoro (medium fatty tuna, my favorite cut of tuna), salmon, hamachi, more tamago and tako, hamo (pike conger), and smelt. The most crackingly stupendous raw fish I’d ever had, hands down. I sat glued to my chair, chuckling listlessly and reeling from the sake and the quantity of food I had just consumed. Great stuff. I spent the afternoon scoping out Kappabashi Dori. I’m glad there isn’t anything like it here in NM; kitchenware amusement parks are insurmountably challenging danger zones for folks like me. My pulse quickens. The blinking starts. I could’ve blown my entire budget in an hour if I hadn’t been overwhelmed and paralyzed into indifference. Later, I stopped at the Hilton in Shinjuku to make a phone call, and decided to have tea at the Marble Lounge, which is in the lobby. The cafe was hosting its daily “Crème Brulee and Fruit Tart Buffet” and although I would normally run far, far away from any all-you-can-eat function, I was too tired to move on. And I was hungry. The matcha-sake crème brulee was good if a little rich, but the hazelnut crème brulee was awful, as was the Orange-Windex Sponge and the Would-You-Like-Some-Gluten-In-That-Apple-Cake. The bread and butter pudding was mostly butter, which was, unfortunately, mostly salted. The apple crumble was okay, but chock-full of raisins (yeah, yeah, the raisin thing). The only ice cream flavor on the menu was rum raisin (did I miss something?) and all the tarts were identical in crust and frangipane filling; only the fruit toppings varied. And the requisite inch of mucilaginous glaze was everywhere. Tragic, but I guess that’s what I get for taking tea in a hotel lobby. I knew that I wanted to experience kaiseki-ryori (classic Japanese haute cuisine evolved from tea ceremony) while in Kyoto, along with yudofu and ramen. I had my kaiseki meal at Hyotei, which is where Jeffrey Steingarten had the kaiseki meal he wrote about in Kyoto Cuisine (The Man Who Ate Everything). Steingarten ate there at the same time of the year over a decade ago, and I was surprised to find that my meal varied only slightly from the one he describes. Since only fresh, seasonal ingredients are used in a kaiseki meal, I suppose that this explains most of the similarities and/or parallels. It was raining lightly when I arrived and I was led through the garden to a four hundred year old tearoom lined with tatami mats. I thought that the dampness brought out more of that “hamster cage” odor from the mats, which I actually appreciate. I was served seven courses, with the order of the meal following the traditional sequence of courses defined by cooking technique; beginning with zensai (appetizers), suimono (clear soup), and sashimi and moving into yakimono (grilled) and/or mushimonto (steamed) and nimono (simmered) and then on to agemono (fried) and rice and sunomono (pickled) and cooked vegetables (aemono), traditionally ended with tea and dessert. Everything about the meal was thoughtfully considered, beautifully orchestrated, and flawlessly executed. The presentation was exquisite, but best of all it was lots of fun. I was started off with a cup of sencha and a warm towel, and then ordered daiginjo when I was offered a choice between sake and beer. The first course, presented on a bright lapis-colored plate shaped like a flower, was tai (bream) sashimi; three overlapping slices on an edible leaf, with the delicious pine bark patterned skin attached. A tangle of green pea shoots, a baby cucumber still with its brilliant, edible yellow flower and a delicate, pale lavender shoot of myoga (Japanese wild ginger) were perched alongside. Next came a light dashi in which floated a silky rectangle of yomogi (mugwort) tofu studded with black sesame and a pea-sized dab of wasabi. The broth was brimming with junsai (water shield), which are gelatinous little pods that burst in the mouth and taste pleasantly of pond scum. Their texture is one of the most interesting I have ever experienced, with a mouthfeel that compelled me to emit a few childish giggles as they burst and popped. Next came more fish, rolled this time and filled with uni and abalone, and poached in a sweet white miso broth which contained a few strips of yuzu zest and three decorative rings of unidentifiable green vegetable that looked like olives and tasted of nothing. This was followed by a tai chimaki, which is a sort of Japanese tamale of non-glutinous rice rolled, along with the raw fish, into a cone and wrapped in a bamboo leaf. Each of the four corners of the tray that held the chimaki carried its own treasure; three bright, tempura-fried fava beans, a sweet. tender morsel of the much-loved and highly coveted hamo (pike conger), a halved boiled egg with a creamy, liquescent yolk, and a translucent slice of yuzu sandwiched by two thin slices of Japanese mackerel. The next course was a bowl of grass-green matcha congee in which rested a tangle of fresh yuba and about a teaspoonful of a coral-hued and mild-mannered ama ebi (sweet shrimp) paste. What made this dish extraordinary was the undeniably potent whiff of yuzu that hits as soon as the lid is lifted from the bowl but doesn’t seem to interfere with the subtle flavors of the other ingredients. This was followed by panfried suzuki (sea bass) with a few springs of something that reminded me vaguely of dill. After this, I was poured a cup of hojibancha (a Kyoto specialty) and served a dark miso soup with five short celery sticks and a single fern-like vegetable hiding in its depths (gotta love dark miso soup for that reason alone), warmly spicy myoga-infused rice and two kinds of pickle; one of shiso and cucumber and the other of enoki and tiny silver fish. Dessert followed; some sort of broken jelly in which two ambrosial slices of strawberry and two of grapefruit were suspended. This was garnished with a single candied black bean, and followed by usa-cha (thin whipped green tea) and a lavender-tipped mochi sweet filled with smooth white bean paste. The next thing I really wanted to eat was tofu. Determined to avoid desecrating the memory of the previous night’s kaiseki meal by having burnt coffee for breakfast, I ignored my throbbing caffeine-deprivation headache, drank four cups of sencha and another of konbu-cha, and then went to the old tofu house Tousuiro for an early kaiseki-style tofu lunch. The lunch menu consists of five set courses: The first course, as with the first course served at the kaiseki meal the night before, was served in a brilliant lapis blue dish shaped like a flower. I really wanted to ask more questions about this, but the language barrier made this nearly impossible. The dish held a cube of raw tofu topped with the merest smear of wasabi on a scant splash of shoyu. This was followed by cold yuba served over crushed ice, with shiso and ginger and ponzu dipping sauce. Next came a cavernous bowl filled with scoops of oboro tofu under a tangle of shoga, egg strands and scallions. It was garnished with shiso leaves, a single tiny prawn and a maple leaf perched on top to symbolize the season. The oboro tofu was a revelation; rich, almost eggy, with the texture of a barely set custard or flan. This was followed by two meltingly warm, charred, miso-slathered slabs of grilled skewered tofu. Both the white and the dark miso were bright and sweet. This was followed by three perfectly golden pieces of tempura; a tiny eggplant, a strip of green chile, and a pillowy, nori-wrapped cube of tofu. This came with cumin salt for sprinkling over, but no dipping sauce. The meal ended with two pieces of inari sushi- the best I’ve ever had- and a bowl of dashi with inari curls and a single mouthful of savory, soft tofu at the bottom. Dessert was a small scoop of musk melon- tofu sherbet. Lots of steaming hot hojicha. Afterwards, at the Nishiki-ichiba market, I enjoyed sahleb (ground orchid root) ice cream from a Turkish vendor, yokan, and fragrant, freshly baked kawara-senbei, but hated mitarashi-dango (rice flour dumplings). I saw a lot of food-on-a-stick, which I thought was odd considering the fact that nobody in Japan eats on the run. I gorged on soft-serve matcha-aisu and three kinds of roasted chestnuts, and bought a few unctuous fillets of my beloved unagi (in different marinades), which I packed with dry ice. Thus sated, I headed towards the hills surrounding Nanzenji. After hiking between temples, I started off again in search of a place to sit and have a drink. I was thirsty for cold sake when I stumbled into Okariba, but after chatting with the chef/owner for a bit and learning that he is keen on hunting and fishing, and forages for and kills just about everything he serves, I asked to be fed and gladly went along with whatever he dished up. Admittedly, some of it, like the candied bees and grasshoppers, didn’t do much for me, even before the novelty had worn off. It’s a textural thing, I guess. The horse sashimi was pretty standard izakaya fare. Ditto the chicken sashimi, even the venison. But poached bear butt? This was served draped in thin, pink, overlapping slices beneath a mountain of scallions and drenched in a bracing, lemony soy sauce. The house specialty is barbequed inoshishi (wild boar), and it’s just awesome. His marinades and sauces are, I think, what really set his food apart; I must have tasted seven different kinds of miso alone that night, and each was more robust and piquant than the next. Hoba miso was one of the great highlights of the meal. A sun-dried magnolia leaf is spread with miso, heaped with three kinds of mushrooms and chopped leeks or scallions, and transported to cook over a charcoal pit in the center of the table. It’s ready when it begins to bubble and is unbelievably delicious heaped on the nori-wrapped grilled mochi and the grilled o-nigiri. Fresh ayu (river sweetfish, not unlike trout) was grilled to perfection. A massive salad loomed over all of it; mountains of shaved lettuce dressed with shoyu, whole cucumbers with an utterly amazing dark miso, tomatoes with homemade mayonnaise. I was brought a glass of well-chilled homemade ume-shu for dessert- by far the best I’ve ever had. In the morning, I picked up some warm anpan at a bakery and a miniature container of ogura bean ice cream at a natural foods store, found an inconspicuous bench, and constructed a Kyoto-style version of my favorite Sicilian breakfast. For lunch, I had yudofu near Sagano, then reluctantly ambled in the direction of the train station to catch the train back to Tokyo. Standing motionless in Kyoto means watching its rhythmic and gentle fanning. I was completely enchanted by it. Next mission: Kobe beef. I had been looking forward to this moment for a long time, but I’d come across a lot of conflicting advice on where to go. The restaurant that Mitchell Davis recommends, Shima, no longer exists. In the end, I decided on Seryna’s Mon Cher Ton Ton for my steak. My meal began with an amuse of venus clams, and the first course was teppan-grilled scallops, nicely browned and caramelized on one side and served with anchovy butter, and one gigantic shrimp, which was pretty unhappy about the hot grill; why don’t people just deliver a mercifully quick stab to the throat immediately before cooking instead of entertaining this unnecessarily brutish ritual? Makes no sense to me. The shell of the shrimp was flattened and fried until deeply savory and crispy enough to eat. Then, abalone, followed by seared katsuo with scallions and afterwards, salad; a julienne of raw vegetables in a soy ginger dressing. The chef asked if I wanted garlic with my steak, and I answered yes, knowing it would be roasted and sauteed separately and then served alongside and not on the steak (medium-rare, of course). He let me have a long look at the super top sirloin steak before slapping it onto the grill. I ended up with ten thin pieces of steak that seemed as though they were melting as fast as I could eat them. The fat from the seak was trimmed off and fried into cracklings alongside the steak. As for condiments, I was given three small plates; one contained salt for the cracklings, and the others contained shoyu with chopped raw onion and a sweet almond shoyu. I get the whole “foie-gras of beef” thing now. The meat is remarkable: velvety, buttery, delicate, even- but incomparably lusty, beefy, rich and robust at the same time. And the cracklings were soulfully good. This was followed by cold dashi with noodles and Seryna’s marvelous garlic rice, which is basically a lot of chopped garlic, quickly sauteed and then improved upon by the addition of a generous fistful of those ubiquitous tiny dried fish that snake around on hot rice (and, as it turns out, on a hot grill). Cooked rice is added, then the lot of it is nicely browned on the grill, seasoned, and given a healthy drizzle of sweet soy sauce. The next day, I hit Mitsukoshi in Ginza. The spread was dizzying. I moved slowly. For those of you that live in Tokyo, get down there and visit the sweet potato lady near the Italian yogurt and ice cream station. I wish I knew what these heavenly treats are called; sweet potatoes cut thick like steak fries, fried in sesame oil like karinto and coated with several layers of caramelized brown rock sugar and black sesame seeds. The insides are magically transformed into a satiny, starchy custard and the texture is sublime. Her other treats include sweet potato matcha cake and various kinds of sweet potato karinto, some hot and fresh, other packaged and made with purple sweet potatoes or colored with seaweed extract. And the Satie chocolates at the counter where everyone walking by is encouraged to have a taste? Wow. The whole place dazzled. I’ve never seen such beautiful, artful sweets before. I hadn’t realized how tired I had grown with the ubiquitous plastic displays of white, pink and green daifuku with the wet looking anko filling peeking out like an angry cyclops. Hmm, namagashi: I loved the fudgy, dense resilience of mochi sweets as long as the portions were small enough (has anyone seen those sakura mochi the size of tennis balls? Eek!), but my distaste for gelatinous foods had me drawing the line at plenty of other Japanese sweets. The worst, however, were the ones that rudely masquerade as delicious chocolate truffles when in fact they are squidgy, flimsy, formless little rice flour blobs, coated in an astringent, parched brown soy flour (I think but I don’t know for sure). I liked one or two varieties of yokan that I tried (steamed chestnut, and a gorgeous marbled matcha/ogura), but some of the ice cream sundaes I saw people eating looked downright harrowing, with their dango balls and anmitsu and matcha syrup and sweetened condensed milk and shaved ice. Also, the upright cream-filled crepes that the young girls appear to go nuts for looked pretty, er… intense. In Shinjuku, I made it to Mitsukoshi, Isetan and Takashimaya Times Square in Shinjuku. I visited the dagashi-ya in the basement of Studio Alta and realized, once again, that I don’t much care for junk food but I do love the packaging. I cruised down to the hopping, bustling Mikuni’s at Tokyo Station for kaiten sushi (Mikuni’s Sushi Train), mostly because I was curious and needing to take a long but purposeful walk. In addition to the rotating temptations (which begin to develop an unappealing dullness and pallor their third time around), there is an a la carte menu for those who like their nigiri sushi to really glisten. Diners also get a choice between the foie gras bowl, which comes with salad greens and enoki mushrooms, or chirashi sushi with toro. The spicy seafood roll was butter-rich, made with smoked whitefish and plenty of garlic and mayonnaise. Some really top katsuo, as well. My last meal in Tokyo was at an izakaya; Alambique in Hiro-o. As usual, I started my meal with a few icy glasses of daiginjo, then slowly shifted focus; octopus and avocado in a sharp wasabi dressing, Sanuki udon noodles dressed in cod roe, topped with kimchee and nori (this was divine; I ordered seconds), spicy harusame (thin, transparent Indonesian-style gelatin bean noodles) wrapped in lettuce leaves, a salad of mixed greens and fresh tofu in a the brightest, most engaging soy dressing I’ve ever had (it was so good, in fact, that I was unable to stop eating it, and ordered thirds), yudofu, “Korean-style” okonomiyaki, a slippery Okinawan stir-fry with bean sprouts, and a hotpot of short-necked clams and mizuna. There were so many things I didn’t have a chance to try, like nishin-soba and ramen at Kyohei in Kyoto, monja-yaki, shabu-shabu, sukiyaki, yakitori, and nabe. I went to the 5th Annual Thai Food Festival at Yoyogi Park, but really wasn’t into the crowds, so I turned on my heels and left. I realized that franchises aren’t necessarily a bad thing in Japan. Umenohana, Tousuiro, Seryna, Boulangerie Burdigala… all these places have several locations and the food is still good. This gives me hope, or destroys all hope. I haven’t decided. Another issue for me was that cafes and markets open seriously late in the morning. Being made to wait until 9 am for a cup of coffee or something other than soba to eat is a cruel hardship to endure, but it did compel me to break my addiction to coffee (well, temporarily). I loved that every hotel room comes equipped with an electric kettle for tea. Besides, what’s up with all of the nasty coffee out there? Doutor, Veloce, Excelsior- all awful. Segafreddo makes a passable espresso, however, as does Café du Pres. What did I bring back with me? Let me assure you that the empty duffel bag I had the foresight to bring along was packed. Ocha in all its many varied and wonderful forms: matcha, sencha, hojicha, gyokuro, hojibancha, mugicha, kukicha. Fresh wasabi tubers wrapped in wet newspaper (these will keep for a couple of weeks in my fridge). Yuzu-koshou, furikake, different kinds of senbei in my carry-on bag. Bonito and other dried fish, bamboo leaves, pickles and other toppings for chirashi-sushi, all conveniently sealed in plastic. Candied black beans, umeboshi, matcha soba, matcha chocolates (these look like Andes mints covered with a fine dusting of matcha and turned out to be scrumptious; wish I’d brought more), Yoku Moku cookies and biscuits (because they are so overpriced in the States), Pierre Herme macarons, chocolates from La Maison du Chocolat, jams from Fauchon, one bottle of daiginjo and one of ume-shu. I had a great time and can’t wait to go back. Thanks for the suggestions, everyone; I would've been lost without the information I found here. ________________________________________________________________________

I got back from Japan a few hours ago, and the first of my treats that I tore open was the jar of honeyed umeboshis. I'm sitting here sucking on the seeds. I think I'll go try and locate a nutcracker.

Well, she offers suggestions at the end of all of her recipes for creating composed desserts using other recipes found throughout the book. I'll check my book but I think she recommends Caramel Blood Oranges and maybe Earl Grey Ice Cream? I could be wrong. She also mentions that it's great on its own but can be served with coffee, tea or beer!

Claudia Fleming's recipe for the Guinness Stout Ginger Cake makes the most marvelous ginger-anything I have ever known. I'm not really sure how to answer your question, but I can confirm that she knows what she's talking about; the cake is wonderful and has a delightfully springy, moist quality to it that is deceptively rich. How did yours turn out?

It is a great little place, isn't it? Folks just call it 'Dave's'. Also in Santa Fe: the now defunct Thai It On (slogan was "Thai it, you'll like it!"); the same owners have opened a place called "Eatery" in its place- comfort food. Then there's the Hidden Chicken. Er thanks, but I prefer it when its unearthed... other place in town include Bert's Burger Bowl (I know it refers to the joint itself, but I can't resist thinking of what a burger bowl might look like) and The Bull Ring (steakhouse), with Senor Murphy's being the local Santa Fe candymakers. I keep envisioning a robust Irish man in a sombrero sweating over a pot of caramel.

I remember inhaling huge quantities of raw kibbeh as a child. One summer in the States, I mentioned to a camp counselor, who was asking about what sorts of foods my Middle Eastern family ate, that one of my favorite foods was raw ground meat. My mother was called and questioned. I quickly learned that the "no rare is too rare" approach doesn't work for everyone. When I moved to the States to begin college, I saw a tray containing 200 uniform chalk-white chicken breasts in the dining hall my very first day. I was so disgusted by the sight of their petrified lifelessness with no hint, no indication that the meat ever came off of a bone or from a live animal for that matter (or, more disturbingly, how long it had been frozen for) that I went into a sort of de-animalized meat revolt. To this day I can lick my lips and think "oooh, lunch" at the sight of a live chicken before I can look at shrink-wrapped frozen stryrofoamed fillets at the market and feel tempted.

I just finished Women Who Eat: A New Generation on the Glory of Food edited by Leslie Miller and passed it along. I had it out on my desk one day and every woman who glanced at it while walking by stopped to check it out. Juicy topic. I am about to start Let Us Eat Cake : Adventures in Food and Friendship by Sharon Boorstin. I am halfway through Monsoon Diary: A Memoir With Recipes by Shoba Narayan, and I'm going to put it away for a while. I'm just not finding it compelling anymore. Untangling My Chopsticks : A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto by Victoria Abbott Riccardi- I'm in Kyoto right now and I still can't really get into this one. Jeffrey Steingarten's Kyoto Cuisine in The Man Who Ate Everything is however something I read again and again. On the plane ride to Japan I read most of: Slow Food: Collected Thoughts on Taste, Tradition, and the Honest Pleasures of Food by Carlo Petrini (Editor), et al and Villas at Table by James Villas. On my nightstand at home: Never Eat Your Heart Out by Judith Moore Pass the Polenta: And Other Writings from the Kitchen by Theresa Lust South Wind Through the Kitchen: The Best of Elizabeth David The Epicure's Lament by Kate Christensen Kurlansky's Choice Cuts I loved Patricia Volks's Stuffed and Sallie Teasdale's book. I found Perfection Salad too dry for my taste. Any of Nigella Lawson's writing can really work up my appetite. Nigel Slater, too, though I hated his autobiography. I have never liked Ruth Reichl's work; I find it mostly eh, and sometimes exhaustingly self-congratulatory. Also, I think that the writing itself is pretty weak. edit to add I adore Laurie Colwin.

Fool is fresh, crushed ripe fruit with whipped cream, piled into a parfait glass. Swirled or not. Sweetened or not. You can flavor the cream with some booze if you like, but it's really not necessary. Impossible to screw up. Garnishes optional, but I find that toasted nuts and a sprig of something generally make things look waaay more laborious. An idea from some of the English cookery writers, like Nigel and Nigella and Delia. Works particularly well if you've got tart fruit; raspberries, mangoes, passion fruit, gooseberries. Minimal washing up is key.

wow- thank you all so much for all the great input. this trip to tokyo is seriously benefitting from the help i've gotten from egulleteers. had matcha-sake creme brulee this afternoon at the hilton, by the way. wish i could bring some of that with me! i am really looking forward to looking for stuff to bring back. i'm sure that i'll be able to find somewhere to deposit whatever doesn't make it into that duffel bag... thanks again, guys!

tokyo is delicious! i have been wandering around for a few days now with not a shred of japanese in my repertoire, but i have eaten remarkably well. i had lunch at miyako zushi yesterday- unbelievably good. unagi at obana. the french pastries are awesome (i love boulangerie burdigala in hiro-o and the macarons at l'atelier joel robuchon) and i have been inhaling senbeh and karinte (sp?) like they are going out of style- all in the name of looking for a better product, of course. any sweets flavored with matcha or sakura or black sesame are taken under careful consideration. i am even snacking well- bentos and apples the size of small children. i visited a couple of depachikas and found that there were very few samples offered, but no matter; street food in tokyo is great and i was able to console myself each time with a delectable treat. fortunately it is frowned upon to eat in public so i have had to restrain myself somewhat; otherwise i am sure i would be eating much more- and much more frequently. i am probably one of the first people to gain a pound a day while visiting japan, but there you have it. in a moment of desperation, i gulped down sea salt gerato in an alleyway yesterday. at some point today i will wander over to yoyogi park for the thai food festival. tonight i will have kobe beef for the first time... still haven't decided between shabu-shabu, sukiyaki and teppan-yaki but i am leaning towards the latter. i leave for kyoto in a couple of days and look forward to a good kaiseki meal there. anyway, my question is: i have honestly seen more delicious food here than i can wrap my greedy little eyes around. i wisely brought a small empty duffel bag with me to fill with good to bring home, but i am totally overwhelmed. so, what are some good food gifts and where can i get them? i just don't have any idea where to start. suggestions?

good cliches: figs--prosciutto--gorgonzola--buffalo mozzarella--melon... play mix and match with the above and serve with prosecco. margaritas made with alternative citrus fruits. key limes, blood oranges, grapefruit etc. tuna sashimi, seared tuna, tuna carpaccio. caprese salads. bad cliches: margaritas made with alternative fruits that are non-citrus; prickly pear, strawberry, mango etc. portobella mushroom/roasted red pepper dishes and/or many-sheets-of-layered-vegetables as the token vegetarian entrees on restaurant menus. i'm not even vegetarian; i'm just tired of reading them. also: enough with the flourless chocolate cake with raspberry coulis. and "blackened cajun" fill-in-in-the-meat as a salad add on. particularly when tuna is the meat in question. speaking of salads, enough with the bread bowls and the taco shells, the mandarin oranges and other supposedly innovative twists such as fruit vinaigrettes. chipotle? yeah it's great sometimes. let's move on. the worst, however, is cookie dough.