Mudpuppie

This is great. Thank you. Keep 'em coming.

Er, there is. And if your imagination is active enough, you could almost convince yourself that it means what you think it should.

Hops are flowers of the hop vine. They are grown in North America primarily in the Northwestern US and Southwestern Canada. A hop barn full of freshly cut hops is one of the most wonderful and aromatically pleasing places on the face of the earth. It is unbelievable what a couple of thousand tons of these things smell like. What's unbelievable is that hops smell sort of like my dad after a full day of mowing the lawn, six pack in lap.

Yum. I love the collard greens dish. Will give it a try. I expected it to have lots more spices and stuff. Thanks.

Duh. Just carefully read your post. My first answer was definitely not correct. I agree about the borers. I think the only thing you can really do is watch the stems. Check them every day to look for entry points, then dig the suckers out. BT isn't all that helpful. Pyrethrums sprayed on the stem might work if you start really early in the plant's life. Edited again -- saw memesuze's post. Injecting is a good way to go. The reason BT doesn't work so well on the borers is because they're inside the stem and don't come in contact with it. An injection, though, now that's sneaky!

America's Test Kitchen recently did a taste test with different kinds of broth. Swanson's vegetable stock won. (Can't remember if they included homemade stock in the tatse test, but I'm thinking they did.)

This surprises me, because it is the exact opposite of my own experience. There is something invariably off about either the texture, the temperature or both in the restaurant risottos. (I have heard from chef friends that they are notoriously difficult to maintain for service, and my experience bears this out.) I'd much rather do this dish at home and eat it at once when it's just done. Hmm. Maybe I just like horrible risotto? Maybe I'm actually an expert risotto maker and didn't know it. Thanks for the link, agnolottigirl. (That has to be one of the hardest usernames to spell.)

Link! Please....

My risottos never turn out as well as the great ones I've had in restaurants. That said, I love making them. There's a real zen thing to making a risotto. Despite the fact that you've got to stand in one place for twenty or thirty minutes (or maybe because of it), I find it very relaxing. It's sort of a nice, slow way to end the day. Of course, when the process is finished and the risotto sucks, the zen thing rapidly disappears. The missteps make the chickens happy, though.

I'm a big fan of Ethiopian food (and a vegetarian) and would like to learn how to make it at home. Sources I've found on the web haven't been all that helpful. Anyone have any recipes/techniques to share, or other suggestions? Thanks a lot.

There was a report about the patent on today's edition of The World (NPR/BBC). Listen to it here.

Actually, that was addressed in the first link I found: http://www.living-foods.com/articles/rawfoods.html

It certainly does. Thanks much.

But it's so crunchy and good! Don't care if I can digest it or not. Ha.

Uh-oh. Now you tell me....

jariggs, I set out to debunk you, but in the end I can't really tell if the 15% is true or not. Found an interesting link about how much nutrition is available in a raw potato, though: http://www.madsci.org/posts/archives/Jun20...50086.Bc.r.html

just curious: where does taking out patents on traditional knowledge fall in this continuum? Good (rhetorical) question, Mongo. Another thing -- Monsanto isn't really driven by "profit incentive." I mean they are, but they're driven by so much more. Like monopolizing world markets. Maybe MSG is right about the damned-if-you-do thing, but I think Monsanto is the Microsoft of the ag world.

I'm making a cutting board in a woodworking class, but don't know what kind of wood is best to buy. Instead of asking the wood people, I've decided to ask the food people. Class is tonight. Thanks for the help!

They are absolute world-champion generators of gas. Think beans squared. Think "beer and saurkraut festival" for a week. Think "Hindenburg." Oh, the humanity! (PS I love 'em, but avoid them to spare my loved ones the consequences) Ah. One of the benefits of living alone is that you don't notice things like that. Also, I always know who drank the last of the orange juice.

FREAK!!! Must admit I had to look up "pica" when you accused me of having it. Didn't ever eat reinforcements, but I did munch on the pieces of paper created by hole punching. This wasn't a craving, though, so much as an attempt to be bad and make spitballs. Always having too guilty of a conscience to spit the spitballs, I just ended up eating the paper. I'm pica free. Raw potatoes are good food.

Maybe stick a toothpick or chopstick under the lid to vent just a little? Edit: And then send the irate email.

Babe, I can’t help it. I’ve got to see you. You were so cold last time – so stiff. I must have done something wrong. Was it the way I poured myself over you like a gooey bottled salad dressing? It was a bad night. I wasn’t defatted right and the fat came to the top and…. You know me, baby! I’m not like that! I’m usually smooth and satiny. I’ll treat you better, I promise. I love you, babe. We go together like cream and sugar. Like oysters and Rockefeller. I don’t mind that you’ve got lumps. I get lumps too, baby, especially when I’m around you. I love your lumps. I’d like to put my lips on one right now. You’re a beauty, babe. A goddess. To think that Idaho could produce someone so hot and steamy. Usually those people come from California, or Texas -- but babe, you make me simmer. One look at your golden Yukon beauty and I boil with passion. You boil me right down to a syrup, babe. Around you, I’m reduced by at least half. I can’t take it anymore. You’re so soft. So warm. You’re like a steaming pile of velvet. (And I mean that in the best way, baby!) You fill me up. You complete me. Without you, I’m just a pool of sauce. I need you. I’ve been on a full rolling boil since I saw you last. I’m sizzling for you, babe. I feel like I’ve been dumped into a hot pan. If I can’t touch you soon, I’m going to burn up. I’ll disappear like a puff of steam. The only thing left will be a nasty, burnt-on stain. I need to top you like a crater lake tops a volcano. Except this volcano’s active, babe, and it’s about to erupt. Your ever-faithful lover, Gravy

I love raw potatoes. Discuss.

What about this:

On behalf of cilantro haters everywhere, thank you for your consideration! Don't have the book. What's up with sunchokes? Are you allergic?