QuinaQuen

Ah, whole wheat and whole grain are a whole 'nother story. And this is not a comment on the results of these low-carb diets, I know they get people thinner... Do any of these diet books describe the actual difference between whole wheat bread and white bread? In any form you're likely to eat them, whole wheat and white bread are essentially the same - especially when it comes to carb content! Any commercial (or even edible) wheat bread is composed mostly of white flour with a little bit of whole wheat flour. No-white bread is available, but it tastes and feels like the squishy cinder of which running tracks are constructed. If the bread is noticeably yeast-risen, it contains flour that has had most of its germ removed. Otherwise, the gluten remains bound and insoluble. Any wheat flour that can be used on its own to make palatable bread has been processed to the point that both the gluten and nearly all of the carbs have been released and made available to your jigglin' nalgas. Go ahead and convert your lipids to toxic esters if you want, but take the time to find out how to do it right. Whole wheat and whole grain breads are certainly more nutritious and more delicious, but they are not low-carb, no matter what some snake-oil salesman in a lab coat tells you.

How much water the distiller adds often depends on how long they intend to age the booze in wooden casks. In the case of Mezcal, at least, cask aging demands a little bit of dilution to minimize the leaching of flavor-bearing particulates. Since the only aging that counts is actually the controlled capillary action of fluids and trace amounts of particulates through wood fibers, alcohol-borne particulates draw off too quickly for easy control. The addition of water helps to slow this process so it can be easily controlled.

For those of you who are interested enough to maybe want to give distillation a try ( I would reccomend homebrewing first, they are not really similar except that you produce something alcoholic, but home brewing does require a fair amount of applied scientific method and is a fairly inexpensive way to find out if you have the patience for the hobby) this website is an excellent resource. When I first started looking into this there were no materials available to me (internet did not exist in a useful way 15 years ago) and we used lots of folkloric type material. In fact the first still we built was straight out of The Foxfire Book-Volume 1. We built a very nice, but highly improved, still based on the design in the book. It is a classic still and a great story in the book goes along with the building of it. There are also a bunch of very safe, very small units that look much like the one that Beans remembers from TV. I believe that Sharper Image had one at some point, but the problem with distillation is that you are only going to get <10% alcohol out of whatever you distill (generally speaking it will be some kind of beer or wine or something else made from fermentable sugars) so those table top things are basically working you to death for a couple of shots. That's the genuine truth. Stovetop distillation really is more trouble than it's worth if you really just want to get f'd up, or if you even want to yield more than a few ounces. But it is fun and easy, especially if you go the MacGyvered route. A certain degree of caution is always advised, of course, but the lower the yield, the lower the danger. Mayhaw Man makes a valid point about the flammability of alcohol. However, the ideal stovetop rig gets the distilled alcohol as far away from the flame as $10 at Home Depot will allow, which is quite a ways. Since the flame itself is tiny at best on a home stove, even if the hooch does ignite, it will not go any further than a flash in a saute pan. Alcohol burns fairly cold, too, so the danger of wood or paper ignition is infinitesimal as long as you're in the same room at the time. Chemical compound cautions, however, are well worth noting. That's why I declined to describe the more detailed setup in my original post; you really should do a bit of research before setting up a pressure cooker still. That bit about going blind from bad moonshine? That's because some Sons of the Soil weren't particularly concerned about the sources of their hardware. Alcohol may not be the world's strongest solvent, but it sure can draw some wacky compounds out of contact surfaces.

Wasted parts, like the placenta and stem. Potheads might not be good for much, but they did come up with a good term for wasted vegetation.

A sweet reply, brotherman. My folks in Kerala would heartily agree, were they not part and parcel with the slightly disturbing neo-raj that has been going on since the early 70s. Is George Harrison @#$ dead yet? 1,000 apologies, but I have not yet encountered even the faintest traces of heat in any Indian food. Any region. Any dialect. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but Houston has the largest Indian population in the nation. However, I have been knocked over by excesses of cardamom. And turmeric. And cumin. Why compete for capsaicin supremacy when only the Thais can offer a lovelier canon of different spices? Maybe I'm missing something, but from the Bay of Bengal to the Chinese border, only Mexico can offer such a wild variety of cuisines as India has been dishing out for thousands of years. Only the British could consider it hot enough for distinction.

Yeah, they are cheap. Big Bloo is curretly selling them for about 30 cents a pound, with about 9% schwag. Thing is, jalapenos are only 2-3 cents more expensive, and that's with far less waste. The schwag percentage goes down with serranos and still more with frutescens varieties like arbol, thai, and mirasol. In other words, it's not really the bottom line at issue here. To paraphrase Walker Percy, bells are "as strong as meat." They offer a certain depth attached to undeniable bulk. There can't possibly be a region where they're the only pepper available, so it must be their inherent tastiness when prepared properly. What I want to see? a juegon some roasted and peeled poblanos in a Thai dish. Let it come full circle, baby!

Fair enough. And 99.9% of Thai joints in this country are simply laying down bull@#$%. Just don't dismiss a dish because it's obviously unfamiliar or inauthentic.

According to his scale, Indian food would normally get one to five stars, depending on how a particular dish ought to be made. These patrons would request fifty stars. I'll confess to the same peccadillo, though without apologizing. Undeniable gueroness triggers such abysmal of blanditude in so many establishments that... In other words, it's hard to get waiters and cooks to take you seriously when you ask for the onthafurealla' good stuff. When I'm taken seriously, I go for the gusto. The restaurants that take me at my word get repeat business, the ones who do not get shined. If a Korean joint actually serves me the raw skate wing in chili sauce, they gain my continued business. If a Thai restaurant tries to kill me with capsaicin, there goes the rent check. And each time, the temptation to go further is irresistable. Call it a combination of machismo, elitism, and plain old endorphin addiction. Chef Pym almost killed me once with an absurdly-spiced Yum Pla Muk, but a cook who will accept a challenge will also accept a respectful capitulation. Besides, capsaicin is the ultimate flavor enhancer once you develop a certain immunity. Report back to me when you are able to discern apricot-tinged habaneros from nectarinified scotch bonnets.

That's the crux of the flux, and MR dux or RNot dux. What you use for ritas is mighty different from what you'll sip on. And if you're talking ritas, the booze isn't nearly as important as what you're mixing it with. Would you believe Jager ritas going undetected because of a great mix?

Forget the budget tequilas, unless you're making fruity umbrella drinks. Girl! Drink! Drunk! For good old-fashined sippin' and shootin', you can't beat a good midrange mezcal. Don't worry, the frathouse myths are bull@#$%. Mezcal is not hallucinogenic or mystical. In fact, the halfway decent ones are closer to tequila than, say, Christian Brothers is to Hennessey. Most of them are even smoother than the price-comparable tequilas, and each one has its own unique notes of honey and black pepper (not that these ingredients are used in the distillations; they just show up on their own). Give Lajita or Monte Alban a try if you can't find anything else (these are the most common brands at least in Texas) or Gusano de Oro/Rojo if you can find it. Mighty fine sippin' for $20 a bottle! Oh, by the way, there a few out there that are simply foul. Think soy oil mixed with rubbing alcohol. Anyone had a bad experience with one? I'd love to hear about it.

Tum podex carman extulis horridulum. Sorry, that's the only Latin I remember and I'm sticking to it.

Half of the brands use real durian, and the others use a very convincing synthetic. You're actually safer with the real stuff, since the synthetics try a little too hard to emulate the strong notes (alright, the stench). No need to be chicken, either way, though. It's all highly fragrant, but nothing like the intensity of, say, a ripe cabrales or gamey pheasant. Take the plunge, already; durian is one of life's great pleasures, and there's no shame in starting in the shallow end.

They're not cheap here in Houston, either, but you get plenty of yumyum out of one durian. We usually get them frozen, then they have to thaw and sit for a while to achieve a bit of stinktitude. Then it's just a matter of busting them open and grooving to the tire-fire custard! You gotta' love a day and age where a machete is a kitchen necessity.

I'm a little more lenient about the prik ki nuu, since I'm in the Canadian prairies and there's only so much we can do with Thai food here . However, the one Thai restaurant I do frequent uses prik ki nuu so I've not had to deal with substitutions in that department. I don't mind the use of zucchini when makhuea is not available, but I do mind it in my Pad Gkaprow Gai, which is where I found the zucchini. Pad Gkaprow Gai is such a simple dish and calls for no bell pepper or zucchini or even makhuea. While I understand why some "Thai" restaurants add vegetables to it, I wish they wouldn't. To me it's like taking a grilled cheese sandwich and adding tomatoes, bacon, and lettuce--it's no longer grilled cheese but becomes something else. My friend who owns the Thai restaurant I go to said she originally served Pad Gkaprow Gai with just the chicken, basil, and chile but customers complained because other "Thai" restaurants had a lot of vegetables in theirs. She eventually began adding vegetables to hers, too, because people wouldn't eat it otherwise. If I ask, she'll make it for me the usual way though. Another subsitution/addition that irks me is carrots. That one is far worse than bell peppers, in my opinion, and should I find them (or broccoli, for that matter) in my curry I know I'm in the wrong place. So what do you want from your local Thai restaurant? The purest authenticity? Think of it this way: Four hundred years (give or take) ago, there were no chiles in Thailand. Tomatoes had not been introduced to Sicily but a few years before that. Cheese was a rarity in Veracruz and entirely unknown in Monterrey. No enchiladas in San Antonio, no Kung Pao in Guangdong, no polenta in Tuscany, no Nam Sod in Bangkok. Or if there was, it sucked because there was no capsaicin to differentiate it from Dinty freakin' Moore. Let it evolve. That's what cuisines do when they meet new materials and new environments. For every weak little bell pepper (and they still taste good in spite of their wussiness) in your pra lard prik, there is a touch of blessed rosemary in your tom kha. Enjoy it, tolerate it, or pick it out.

Barbecue sauce in Houston is not regionally definitive, like the molasses you might find in Memphis or the unseasoned ketchup that passes for BBQ sauce on the grills of Kansas City. Since we are at the crossroads of South Texas, East Texas, and Central Texas (not to mention our high immigration rate from less important parts of the country,) every barbecue joint in town has a different style of sauce and a different heat level in both the rubs and the sauce. Outside of chiaparro strongholds on the southwest side of town and Korean restaurants in the near northwest, however, the jalapeno is probably the strongest chile you'll find in restaurant barbecue. Which is not to say that Houston doesn't have the highest per capita capsaicin tolerance in the nation. We just get our arbol, japon, dundicut, habanero, etc.etc.etc. kicks in other dishes. Oh yeah, the sweet thing. No, our sauce tends more towards vinegariness in mom&pop BBQ joints, due to the influence of the Czechs and Germans in Central Texas and the Nortenos from whom they learned the style. Even our East Texas freedmen-style (i.e. Deep South) sauce goes more for acidity than sweetness.

No hills around here, so what do you call them...refinerybillies? On a less ethno-taxonomic note, it's the easiest thing in the world to brew extremely small batches of moonshine out of anything alcoholic. All you need is a stovetop, a pressure cooker, some JB Weld, some copper tubing (plumbing grade, please! No automotive!), and a bucket (busket!) full of salted ice water. The ATF is very unlikely to bust down your door for this process, and it's even legal if you just ask the government to let you brew small batches for "scientific purposes". It's a great way to experiment with distillations of already-fermented rotgut. Some of the best grappa I've ever had has been cooked up on my stove from Carlo Rossi jugs o'. The Marthas among you could even use it to constructively dispose of unsuccessful homebrewed beer and wine.

no touch. rules out a lot of 8" knives for most of us. ahhh i use the edge of the chopping board cuz my knuckles will bash the board when i'm using my 6" Santoku. i've always had to use a modified awkward pinch grip cuz my hands are Large. No kidding, it does seem like the vast majority of knives are made for pudgy little cartoon chef hands . The pinch grip sure does make for some nice callouses, though, aside from the far greater control it gives.

(The full travelogue is here for the curious.) My theory on durian: like cilantro, the ability to taste the horrific bits may be a genetically inherited trait. You might very well be right, though it is genuinely fascinating to think that my Tex-Bohonk genome intersects with those of Malays and Thais right at the tastebuds (hey, why not!). I've been eating Durian ever since I decided to find out for myself just what those wacky sadists'-football-looking Sau Rieng thingies at Cho Que Huong were all about. A decade later, the decadent custard with the tire-fire whiff is still a major comfort food.

Yeah, you either had a bad one or somebody didn't rinse the dishes enough. Of all the gripes I've heard about Durian, that's an original.

Damascus has its charms for prettiness, but its fabled flexibility has been largely bred out over the centuries in favor of visual dazzle. For just about any hardcore use, you're going to get far better results from plain old steel.

This is a great article on tweaking and customizing knives, a skill which I've found almost mandatory for cooks whose boss will only spring for those punk Dexter Russels and whose co-workers are more enthusiastic than skilled with the whetstone. With just an angle grinder and a belt sander, a swayed-out chef's knife can be transformed into a far hardier santoku. Whoever invented the bolster should be doomed to an eternity of fixing concaved blades, that's for sure. Making a good knife from scratch, however, has proven far more skill-intensive. Starting with ATS-34 bar stock and shaping with a combination of forging and abrasion, I've been able to make some mighty fine specialty knives. None have felt as good as my Global G7, though, so back to the old drawing board.