balmagowry

It is cold and rainy here this morning, so I'm not inclined to go and sip a teaspoon of syrup in the fridge -- maybe by this afternoon, so I'll report back. Yet again, let me suggest googling "coffee syrup." Among other things you will find a few articles about the phenomenon, some tongue-in-cheek and condescending as such things are apt to be - but I don't see why they shouldn't be seen as accurate for all that. According to the ones I've skimmed, the syrup is anything but palatable on its own; they describe the transformation when it's mixed 1-3 with milk as little short of miraculous. I speak, of course, as an entirely detached observer....

OK, look - I'm sorry, I'm really not trying to increase Jason's humiliation or anything (though BTW I notice that Jason himself doesn't seem much embarrassed by it all), but I've gone back to the top of the thread and I've read all the posts related to this, and I have simply got to know more about this bagel dog thing. Who knows, it might lead me to join in Jason's iniquity. Anyway, I gotta SEE it. I gotta SEE the vending machine. I gotta... yeah, I gotta TASTE it. I just gotta. Please, someone, tell me there is one to be found in the NY - or tri-state - area. Please! This is going to haunt me.

Chocolate and garlic. Wow, I am impressed. You must really be some kind of pervert! I was also pretty deeply impressed by GG Mora's reference to peanut butter and tunafish - but I think this trumps that.

Ah yes, I see... so - it would then be... SWEET. Most interesting. This would be vaguely analogous to putting sugar in one's coffee, no doubt. How... curious. Yes, yes, in real life I do "get it." And what the hell, if I like coffee ice cream, why wouldn't I like this? Only to me the term "coffee milk" is associated with a quite different taste - hard to get my mind around other people using it for something else. WRM, on a vaguely related tangent - Manhattan Special is back! (Oh, and Carolyn - my version of your Starbucks-or-ilk perversion: double shot of espresso and a tall glass of ice. At self-service additives area, pour the former into the latter and fill with... brace yourself - half-&-half. Wait a minute, why am I telling YOU to brace yourself? You and I both drink heavy cream from the carton!) And I know it's weird, but I've always loved straight cold milk. (I went through a brief chocolate-milk phase, when I was around seven, then could never stand the stuff again.) EDIT to add: I trust you homesick Rhode Islanders have tried googling "coffee syrup"? I don't know what a fair price would be, but there are plenty of on-line purveyors who will happily ship Autocrat by the case. I also found a recipe at this address - won't win any points for originality, but it should make a decent point of departure.

Oh yeah? Bet you wouldn't say that to a Lawn Guylander's FACE. But with a grill like that, sheesh - who needs a kitchen?

Oh, all right. Twinkies.

Syrup? SYRUP? What is this syrup you speak of? I am mystified. When I was a child something we called coffee milk was one of my great treats at breakfast on weekends; it was simply a glass of milk with a dash of coffee mixed in. What more could one wish for? Enlighten me.

Now, someone could take that the wrong way... High time someone did. Sheesh, it took long enough! :hums:... It ain't the meat, it's the motion...

Ooooh - just looked at the list again and saw another old favorite: Taleggio! In fact, any Stracchino, but Taleggio is by far the best - soft, creamy, and with character and aroma to spare. And by way of a nice (actually rather dramatic) contrast in texture and style, I'd certainly second the suggestion of Humboldt Fog. BTW, I've just remembered another cheese worth watching out for; it's not on the list. I've only had it once and I fell madly in love. I don't think it's widely available in the US - I think the piece I met came from Murray's Cheese Shop in the Village. It is called Stinking Bishop, and it is sublime. Google turns up this page, according to which it is the very new descendant of a very old semi-firm Gloucestershire cheese, its rind washed in perry made from the Stinking Bishop pear. Who could resist a cheese that is described like this? Its bio then goes on to invoke a familiar friend from up-thread: Should you ever encounter this cheese, take no chances: apprehend it at once. It is armed and dangerous.

I should only be so knowledgeable! Thanks, Bleu, for such a thorough explanation. From where I stand now I can't remember label shape, so it's quite possible I've had both types; I only know I've never had a St. Nectaire I didn't love. (What this other guy's problem may be, then, I don't know.) But it is clear that I expressed one thing wrong as regards my own experience: I suspect it would have been more accurate to call the two wonderful stages at which I've enjoyed it "ripe" and "somewhat over-ripe." This arose because the last time I was in Paris I bought a monstrous tranche at the Marché Rue Cler, along with some fruit and some bread for tartines (not to mention, wicked wicked me, some rillettes de porc, which I passionately love and should probably be posting about on Carolyn's Confession thread...), and my traveling companion and I more or less lived on that for a long summer day. Subsequently we found ourselves headed southward by overnight train, with our various leftovers tucked away and forgotten in one of the bags - it wasn't until somewhere around the Spanish border that I suddenly remembered, and I dug out the cheese which by now was what John Cleese so memorably called "excrementally runny." Happy underpants and then some! Of course it was absolutely marvelous that way, but it revealed a completely different, unsuspected side of the cheese's personality. The texture was like that of a Brie, but the flavor was St. Nectaire that has died and gone to heaven - and the aroma was powerful enough even to overcome that of the unwashed gentleman who shared our compartment.

Me, I share yours, Carolyn - like it best of all when I can get the good non-ultra-pasteurized kind that clots around the edges if you have the self-control to keep it around the house for a few days. Then you have to kind of rend the carton asunder so you can run your fingers into the crevices and schloop it ALL up. I have others, but right now this is the only one I can think about.

So, Jensen (or anyone else who might know...!), that brings me back to the covering question: when you use the plastic container to incubate, do you cover it with its own lid? or something looser? I seem to remember that the little glasses in the Salton jobbie had snug-fitting plastic caps - but I don't remember whether they were supposed to be in place during the process or got put on afterward.

Not much I can tell you, I'm afraid - actually I only know them through the bottle, which is a distinctive shape and apparently somewhat collectible. Wait a minute... wait a minute... am I confusing Dr. Field with Dr. Fish? Oy, how embarrassing, I might be. If I am, please forget the whole thing...! Anyway, the bottle dates to early 20th century at least, and the good doctor's (whichever doctor he is, eek) name and likeness, along with the word "BITTERS," are embossed on the glass itself. Found one at a yard sale once, bought and cleaned it out well, and filled it with Mrs. Knot's as a gift to a friend who goes through the latter pretty quickly, using it in his own formulation of gin-and-bitters. Fish...? Field...? Fish...? Field...? Uh-oh.

Just what I was wondering. I'm convinced they must make it in the container, because of the way it "sets" in that shape. But that is also a more perfectly controlled environment. Of course, my pilot light is perfectly consistent, so I have a pretty controlled environment myself. Guess I was just having just one of those not-very-logical nervous-nellie qualms. I shall suppress it in future.

Ooooh, yes! one of the many benefits of my divorce is that I am no longer confronted by my former SIL's annual pre-fab box of cheap nasty chocolates at Christmas. I used to go to considerable effort to come up with useful and/or attractive gifts for that whole family; that miserable box of chocolates never varied. To do him justice, even my ex was chagrined by it.

Have to admit I'm amused by those runny-nosed egg-separators - or rather, "amoosed," since the only one I've seen is in the shape of a moose's head. Best food gift ever? The Colony Cup. The only sensible fat separator device I've ever seen. Instead of tilting to pour the good stuff out of a spout attached at the bottom of the vessel the way most of them do (in my experience this never works right anyway - something always gets past it and then you have to start all over again), the CC has a little trap-door in the bottom. It's very solidly designed and built, looks sort of like a measuring cup in heavy lucite. There's a removable strainer-trap at the top. The inside bottom slopes gently down toward the hole in the center, so you get every drop, and the trap door slides shut with one little push, neatly trapping all the fat at the surface. I've only ever seen two of these in my life; mine and the one belonging to my closest friend. Coincidences are funny things.... But you also have to wonder why some of the best ideas fail to catch on and the mediocre ones take over the market. (Can you say "BetaMax"?) Oh - another great gift that should have owned the market and didn't. I wasn't given this - I gave it to everyone the year it came out, and have been acquiring unused ones at garage sales, just in case. Knife whizzes glance aside, please: it's the MiniChop, the first and IMO by far the best of the miniature food processors. For chopping a handful of herbs or a couple of shallots or any such small matter that's too small for the full-scale food processor, you can't beat it. Well, yeah, you could with a well-wielded perfectly-sharp knife, but my knives are seldom perfectly sharp, I blush to report; and my knife skills are fair to decent but no way am I that FAST. Don't know why the MC didn't sweep all contenders off the field - it's much more powerful than any other such machine I've seen - I think there may have been a problem with a technicality about its UL listing. Pity. I swear by mine - and am glad I have three spares in the cellar, in case this one ever gives up the ghost.... One more: the miraculous hot-cold-plate. This thing is slim and flat and requires no power; it's made of some kind of marvelous stuff that retains and reflects temperature (kinda like Nambe pots, but it's actually some kind of plastic and glass, far as I can tell). Put something hot on it, it's a hot-plate. Put something cold on it, it's a cold-plate. Like the old joke about the thermos bottle - how do it know? I'm sure there have been a lot of useless gifts too, but I seem to have mercifully blocked them from my memory.

Aha! FatGuy, we're in sync. (Except that I'm the only yogurt-eater in the household, so I make more modest quantities....) And you've done exactly what I was contemplating with the containers. Water bath - good idea. Would obviate my concern about the containers melting; but then, I don't think they'd melt anyway - pilot light isn't that hot. Are you going to use your own yogurt as starter for the next batch? I'm dying to - going to unless someone here strongly advises against it. (Might try it anyway, even if they do... contrary, don't you know.)

Long live eGullet! If this isn't the grand resource of the world, I don't know what is. Have just decanted (and am about to breakfast on) Yogurt Mark II, made according to the advice above. The phrase "it's only perfect" comes to mind. It's thick, smooth, rich, creamy, tangy, yummy. I used 1/2 gallon whole milk, brought it to full (not quite rolling) boil, poured it into pyrex bowl, cooled it to 110*. Put starter yogurt (1/2 cup Dannon NF, fresh-bought) in a small bowl, ladled in a little of the cooled milk, whisked like mad. Poured that mixture into the milk, and whisked like mad (so much so that the finished yogurt sported a thin layer of foam on its surface). Covered bowl, put in pilot-light-warmed oven. Took it out a scant 9 hours later. Refrigerated overnight. It's so good I may well just eat it plain. Questions. A couple of you have mentioned covering "tightly" during incubation. I've been wrapping a pudding cloth over mine - keeps out any ambient dirt, but doesn't seal out air; I figured the culture would need to breathe while it was developing. The results seem to bear that out; but am I missing something? Should I be covering it more tightly? and if so, why? Also, I am wondering whether it would be safe to do the incubating in the final storage containers - which for the moment are merely old quart containers from those benighted days when I still used store-bought (feh!) yogurt. Somehow it seems inappropriate to use anything so inorganic - but assuming the plastic is sufficiently heat-resistant it would at least be eminently practical. Pros/cons? Oy, I can see it now: next thing you know I will be buying some kind of fancy-schmancy jars to consecrate to the purpose. MORE STUFF. Sigh.

Thread convergence! In American Indian tradition (sorry, don't know which tribes), sumac is called squaw bush and has all sorts of medicinal properties, as discussed in this thread....

And what a beautiful array it is, too. Well, I feel a little vindicated by the realization that the quest really was as difficult as it seemed - but saddened by the loss of so many lovely graceful notes. No wonder you're so excited about the Regan's #6! I note that bottle #4 is labeled Gordon's - obviously the same logo as on their gin bottles to this day. Wow - I had no idea they had ever been in the bitters racket! I'm also curious about the Field's bitters - not that the bottles are at all similar, but the name prompts me to wonder whether they are descended from Dr. Field's medicinal Bitters? Die-hards of the world, unite! Yes, of course I can.

Hey, I'll be damned - there she is! The only other bottle I've ever seen. We still have ours, though there ain't much left in it and I don't ever remember seeing it used, except for my own small experiments. Way too cool a bottle to junk. It's old enough that I have absolutely no idea of its provenance - must have belonged to my grandparents, but for all I know it might actually have come with the house.... No alcohol at all; funny, I didn't remember that. Maybe I simply blocked it from my mind. EDIT to add: How ironic that there should be so many. I began making my own because I couldn't find them for sale anywhere in these parts... 'course that was before the web. I was about to wish that we'd had eGullet back then - but of course if that had been the case I wouldn't ever have had the fun of making my own. Nice to have it both ways now, though!

Hoo boy. If you're at a loss as to uses for the stuff, look on that same site at the recipes for Creole Cream Cheese Cheesecake and Chocolate Creole Cream Cheese Cheesecake. I'm swooning just from glancing at them. (And they should probably be posted on the Tongue Twisters thread, too....)

True, they're not especially bitter, as bitters go, but it wouldn't be difficult to embitter them further if - oh, sorry, I see you've already covered that. Anyway, I was shooting for an old-fashioned sort of flavor; Baker's was about the right period, and it suited my purpose admirably. In fact, the end result came surprisingly close to the sample I was hoping to emulate, the dregs of an old bottle labeled "Virginia Dare." Very fortunately, I never did harbor ambitions of that sort. My bitters-making started out as a joke and continued because it was popular in my circle; I did have some fun with packaging, just for giggles. but Mrs. Knot's Naked Cat Orange Bitters always was, and will remain, strictly private label! I do have another and much, much nastier recipe (no gentian, but wormwood does the trick handily), one which my mother and I wrote for a book of early 19th-century recipes; it is based on recipes from that period and is sufficiently vile-tasting to satisy the ATF or any other equally masochistic government agency. But frankly... I prefer the mild orange. Haven't the slightest doubt I will. I'm sure they'll be wonderful, and I'm even more sure they'll be a lot less work. OTOH, for my own limited uses (and I have to confess they are limited - no bartender I), I don't think I'll be in any hurry to give up the eccentricities of Mrs. Knot!

I bet it is nothing short of wonderful too. Can't argue with you there. They go over pretty well. Haven't made a batch in a couple of years (and I have the dried orange peels to show for it, too!).

To give you an idea of the nature of the spice combinations - the recipe I use for making orange bitters is based on the one from The Gentleman's Companion, and it calls for cardamom, caraway and coriander; 1/2 drachm of each, to 1/2 pound dried orange peel and 1 quart alcohol.