chromedome

Anything we watch that isn't just a random "oh hey, what's that?" is recorded. I hate sitting through commercials, so I don't. I've never been one for "appointment television"...for a couple of decades I just didn't watch TV, full stop. Now I do, thanks to streaming and full-season drops (yay, Netflix, boo Disney+). I don't mind watching the odd plot-free program (ie, home-reno shows) or movie that's recorded, so I can skip the commercial breaks. I only have so much time available, after all.

This is right up there with the "contains peanuts" warning on the peanut butter jar, but Health Matters organic apricot kernels are being recalled for containing higher-than-usual levels of cyanide. I can only assume that most here know better, but... https://www.inspection.gc.ca/food-recall-warnings-and-allergy-alerts/2021-03-11/eng/1615498625763/1615498631819?utm_source=r_listserv

https://www.eater.com/2021/3/1/22214044/fermented-foods-industry-whiteness-kimchi-miso-kombucha

I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work. Much of the difficulty in making conventional gnocchi lies in using a light hand to prevent gluten development, so I expect an all-purpose GF mix would work well. The singular GF flours (oat, rice, brown rice, quinoa) all have different characters, so you'd need to probably experiment a few times to see which of those was best-suited.

1) It was a "birds, stone" sort of thing...we already had these pieces, and were paying to store a lot of our stuff because we'd downsized from a large house to a small apartment, so shoehorning as much of our existing furniture into this space as possible was a solution to both problems. The situation is similar in the tiny "master" bedroom, where the oversized suite of furniture she and her ex had chosen (he was 6'5") leaves just enough floor space to squeeze through and get to the door. 2) Organized? No, not so much. There's a reason I didn't show the inside of any of those spaces. They're overdue for a sweeping (re)organization, but it hasn't happened yet. The things I use most often are readily discoverable, but finding ingredients I use less often sometimes takes longer than it should. 3) As I mentioned above, I've already done several purges. At one point I could have equipped a small restaurant with what I had in my own kitchen. I know this to be true without hyperbole, because it was the stuff I *had* used in my restaurant (including a full-sized deep fryer, rigged for mobile use). There are some things that may yet get weeded out, but others see minimal use by their nature (like the serving trays that only get used at holiday meals, or the fondue pots my GF cherishes which have been used just once in our six years together) and are likely to remain with us. 4) The timeline is pretty nebulous at this point, but probably 2-5 years. My GF leans to the former, I think the latter is more likely. I'll have finally put the financial hangover of my restaurant closure to rest by next year, at which point we can begin saving seriously. Right now we're only two months into having an actual account dedicated to saving for a down payment. Land and housing are cheap here, but unconventional building methods and energy efficiency drive up the cost and make many things harder/more time consuming than they might otherwise be. In the short term, our plan is to budget for periodic purchases of cabinetry (probably from IKEA) which can be used as a coherent, freestanding replacement for the existing, mismatched flat-pack furniture while we're still here in the apartment. Then they can be built into the kitchen, once we construct the house. Remember that buffet/sideboard I'd mentioned, to the left of the standup pantry? We plan to replace that and our current TV stand with a bunch of IKEA stuff that will later become the lowers for much of the kitchen. Basically we're trying to make sure that the short-term choices we make to improve our apartment feed into the longer-term vision.

My personal nadir was a little apartment in Regina, upstairs in a 1920s-vintage house. My choice of prep areas consisted of the counter occupied by the two-burner hotplate (settings: Off/Max) or the slanted dish-drainer built into the sink, or alternatively I could just use the top of the (folding) table. I had two cupboards over the sink but none below, because of the plumbing. The entire affair would have fit into a decent half-bath in a modern home.

It was actually built as a bar for the ex-teacher's basement. Getting it out of said basement was a real challenge, because it went in before the basement was finished. As you can imagine, he installed a lot of decorative woodwork which we needed to navigate around in order to get the piece out. You can't really tell from that photo, but it has an L-shaped upper counter as well as the main counter. It's roughly 5 feet wide, 2 feet deep and 4 1/2 feet high, and it's made mostly of inch-thick plywood. It's a beast.

Okay, here's some followup. This is Real Life, unvarnished, so please excuse the daily detritus in various places. It's also an exercise in cramming Far Too Much Stuff into a small space. First, we have something approximating the above shot. The IP is currently turning the carcass of a Costco chicken into broth for tonight's meal. In the near front left you'll see a whiteboard where I keep my shopping list, and then there are two purely decorative copper pans (a pretty feeble effort, but it was that or storage...). Up top you'll make out some cast iron, a paella, various roasting pans and baking dishes, and my KitchenAid pasta accessories. Below, the aforementioned jumble of stove-side stuff, plus a random phone charger, Motley Assortment o' Knives (TM), and some magnetic spice tins. Here we have the small space between sink and microwave, and the microwave itself. Cleaning stuff on a lazy susan atop the microwave, because grandkids. Mason jars, lids and other assorted clutter, because me. Beside the fridge you'll see a standup freezer, and we've put flat-pack cupboards on top of the fridge and freezer to create more storage. Those contain a Food Saver machine, a Zojirushi breadmaker, a Vitamix and a few other odds and ends. In behind, past the random clutter of pet and human meds, spare fuses and such, sharp eyes will spot the Cuisinart toaster oven I scored at Value Village for $9.95 a couple of weeks ago. Continuing our tour, this is actually a flat-pack wardrobe I bought from Walmart a couple of years ago. It has been repurposed, and now contains my KitchenAid, the Cuise, the IP when it's at home, a number of lesser appliances, several plastic totes containing baking supplies/equipment, and hanging mesh bags of garlic and onions. Please note that we will not be looking inside any of these pieces of furniture, because even my candor has a limit. Next we come to The Awkward Corner. The metal rack you see there was intended to straddle a toilet, but it's an equally good fit over our blue bin. Those tubs mostly contain coffees, teas, and treats for the grandkids, though in the top left you'll note the styrofoam cake forms I used for my stepdaughter's wedding cake back in October. The island you see with the breakfast station on it was built for a retiring high school wood-shop teacher by his students, and it weighs a FREAKIN' TON. Have I mentioned that we live on the third floor of a building with no elevator? The Calphalon-branded toaster works well, but may be giving up its spot to the newly-purchased toaster oven. We'll see. The cupboards under the island hold grains, pulses and noodles of various kinds (on the left) and an assortment of vinegars, condiments and such (on the right). Yes, that's a bar fridge sitting up on top (we had no other convenient spot for it after the last redistribution of furniture). It contains mostly condiments, pickles and jams. The salmon on the wall behind is an original artwork, purchased from a fellow vendor at the farmer's market. He bought up panel doors from old houses, painted his fish on the actual panel, and then painted the beveled edge in a contrasting colour. Boom! Canvas and frame, all in one. Now we're looking the opposite direction, away from the wall containing the breakfast station. This is an actual freestanding pantry I bought at Walmart a few years and addresses ago, and it's holding up well (much better than the wardrobe). The upper half contains further baking ingredients, a selection of cereals and crackers, dried fruit and other healthy snacks for the grandkids, and my steel-cut oats. The bottom half contains the remaining spices and seasonings, mostly. Sitting on top you'll discern one of my two waffle makers (the other is a 60s-vintage Sears model), a brown box with some of my Christmas baking paraphernalia, a dehydrator, a (gifted) French fry cutter, and (just visible behind everything else, in the blue box) a big honkin' cabbage shredder for making sauerkraut. Just to the left and out of the frame is a buffet/sideboard sort of affair, holding a large mirror and vase of cut flowers on top and two cupboards of canned and dry goods underneath. Disclosure: I also have an armoire in the spare bedroom filled with home-canned pickles and applesauce, as well as the rest of my empty Mason jars and lids (the ones on the counter in the earlier picture are newly washed and waiting to migrate back to that room). Also several boxes of kitchen stuff still in the basement storage locker(s). ...and that's after donating a pile of stuff, and setting up our respective daughters a few times with enough gear to outfit their kitchens. There you have it. Not the worst kitchen I've ever had in a rental, not by a long shot, and it's actually reasonably functional for what it is. Things are usually within reach!

I don't have any current ones, but I took this before move-in: The little space to the left of the stove now holds two small tubs with utensils in them, a bottle of olive oil and a bottle of vegetable oil, a mortar and pestle, and my salt pig and a terra cotta garlic storage pot. The space to the right of the stove now holds my cheapie induction hob, since the range has only one full-sized burner. The fridge has shifted one fridge-width to the right, and my portable dishwasher occupies the space where it used to be. My microwave lives on top of the dishwasher. The shelves in the cupboards are of course fixed and only 9 inches high, so they won't accommodate most appliances or large pots. They're also quite high, with the bottom edge being five feet from the floor. On the plus side, that means I have lots of clearance between the countertop and the cupboards. The space above the cupboards is now filled with serving trays, Kitchenaid attachments and Cuisinart discs, currently-unneeded freezer packs, and various other detritus. Working space between the sink and the induction hob is sufficient for a cutting board, a few ingredients and a bowl or some other container to accumulate the trim and suchlike. There is no under-cupboard lighting (though I could put in the stick-on kind) and no natural light. The builder-grade fixture you see is what I've got, and there's another in the small dining area behind where I stood when I took this shot. There's also no active ventilation, just a passive chimney-type flue which you can barely see in the ceiling over the stove.

Not quite that bad, no. I'm in a mid-60s vintage, on-a-budget building not unlike the base married quarters where I spent part of my childhood. It's basically a half-galley kitchen, except where the other half of the galley should be I have instead a blank wall filled with plumbing and electrical. There's about 20 inches of counter to the right of my sink, and a few more feet to the left, then an apartment-sized range at the end with another small hunk of countertop (and corresponding cupboard below) taking up the space between the range and the blank wall. Fill in the blanks with ugly laminate countertop, vintage 60s cabinetry with many coats of landlord-grade paint on them, and cheap vinyl flooring.

Maybe I'll take a few photos of my apartment's kitchen at some point. Those of you who are currently suffering from "kitchen envy" will be greatly soothed.

Some fat is innately flavorful and some is less so, but many flavor compounds are fat-soluble (not water-soluble) and therefore have little presence in a dish that's very low in fat.

It's from the Portuguese marmelo, meaning quince. That was originally the main ingredient, before citrus spread from the Moorish-conquered areas of the peninsula.

Sorry, I'm late seeing this. Ovens that don't have self-cleaning expect you to use a chemical cleaner, and are made of appropriate materials to withstand the caustic chemicals (as spelled out previously by dcarch). Ovens that do have self-cleaning expect you will use that, instead. This is GE's explanation: https://products.geappliances.com/appliance/gea-support-search-content?contentId=17569 In my case my oven could handle the chemicals but I can't, so I generally use steam to do the job. I set my electric kettle on a sheet pan on the bottom rack position, lift the lid so the auto-shutoff won't kick in, and let it boil for about 10 minutes (it takes 20-ish to boil dry, so I have lots of margin...and I set a timer). You need to block the vent with a kitchen towel, to keep the steam in. Let the steam work its way into the gunk for 15-20 minutes, then just wipe it out. A few nasty stuck-on spots might require a bit of a soak with hot water and dish soap (or scrub baking soda into it and then hit it with vinegar and hot water, if that's your thing), but they'll generally come off pretty easily. If you don't have an electric kettle, just use a different method to steam it up, ie, turn the oven to 225 F, put a roaster on the bottom rack, and fill it with boiling water. Don't fill it first with boiling water and then try to move it (ask me how I know...). There are thousands of these "natural/less harmful cleaning methods" articles online, and I've actually written a fair number of them myself. Steam is one of the more effective options, and I use it in my microwave as well. As the GE link notes, many newer ovens (and microwaves) have this as a built-in feature. (I wrote this a couple of hours ago, but apparently forgot to click "Submit Reply"...)

Salmon and halibut are both denser than the usual haddock, but you can use your regular batter and technique. I was using the tails from 1-1 1/4 lb lobsters, which were about the right size to cook in the same time as the halibut and salmon. I would guess that the standard 3-4 oz tails would be about the same size. If you were doing them alongside haddock instead, or had larger tails, splitting or butterflying them might be necessary. I occasionally split the thick end of a larger-than-usual tail, just the last inch or inch and a half, if the "eyeball test" gave me pause.

At my restaurant I sometimes did "millionaire" fish and chips: one piece halibut, one piece salmon, one lobster tail. It sold well, when I had all three on hand and felt like offering it.

(PS, if you have an interest in history check out her "Queens of Infamy" series on Longreads. They're about notable women through the centuries, and they're a lot of fun to read.)

Well, that's a tough one. Certainly it's not hard to adopt a cynical view, and think of it as a revenue generator for the manufacturer. That being said, manufacturers at the end of the day need to sell product, and that means incorporating features customers want even if they're counter-productive. Self-cleaning was introduced in the days of analog controls, and it's a genuinely popular feature, so leaving it out would cost them sales. Failing to shield the electronics to at least some extent would make them really failure-prone, but that would be a short-sighted way of driving repair revenue. Reputation is an important part of a manufacturer's marketing strategy - hence Dyson selling at a premium over Shark or Hoover, and Wolf and Bluestar over lesser brands - so they need to be mindful of that as well. My feeling (and I'm not an industry insider, and have no stats to back that up) is that manufacturers know self-cleaning increases the likelihood of failure by [x] percent, and are comfortable that it's not a high enough number to significantly impair their reputations.

It's pretty universal advice, yes. Heat is the enemy of electronics, and self-cleaning generates a LOT of heat.

As it happened, I walked into the living room a little while ago where my GF had left Food Network on TV. The restaurant on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives was serving...banh mi pizza. What're the odds?

I routinely season them after the initial sear, and (now that I've had them all plain for comparison/evaluation purposes) usually give them a lick of soy and Worcestershire sauce as well, for added umami. Same thing I did/do with beef burgers, as far as that goes. If I'm working with the loose faux-ground to make my patties, I incorporate those into the "meat" before shaping my patties.

We found we favored Beyond over Impossible, though that may simply be because Beyond has been available much longer in my neck of the woods and our taste buds have acclimated. Both are better than the LightLife, to our palate, though we tend to use the LightLife faux-ground more often for non-burger applications (go figure). No ethical/vegetarian motives at play, just that my GF can't eat red meat because she's on an anti-inflammatory diet for medical reasons. She misses beef more, I miss pork more (I can still eat it, but it hardly seems fair to have the smell of it in the air when she can't partake...).

Yes, but if you're having jim-jams do you butter the toast as well? or is it just toast with jim-jam? My father was not one for the delicately fine scraping of jam over the toast. He grew up in a large family in a remote part of Newfoundland back in the day, and the only sweets they saw with any regularity (jam and molasses) were rationed strictly, as the thinnest manageable scraping over the bread (or toast, or whatever). As an adult, he mounded on as he could fit for that most human of all reasons...because now he could. I fall into the un-triangled camp, myself...on the (rare) occasions when I have breakfast in a restaurant, I'll invariably request that my toast not be cut. The jam (or marmalade), like the butter, must go from crust to crust.

I first encountered those in the pages of "Lorna Doone," when I was a kid. From the description of young John stalking them I drew the conclusion that they were some sort of crawfish, and it wasn't until a few years ago that a chance mention sent me to Google to see what they actually were.