eunny jang

The finished product looked beautiful. The picture on the package looked....creepy. Creepiest of all was they way they went out of their way to coil them up and make them look extra realistic in that entrails-spilling-from-a-recently-disemboweled-creature way.

Oooops, and the always classic: Anyone want to go drinking with me? I know more bad puns, more innocuous bad jokes, more off-color bad jokes, and more downright disgusting bad jokes than anyone else in the world.

Are we allowed to tell bar jokes? A man walks into a bar, plops himself down on a stool, and orders three shots of Jameson's. He lines them up, tells the bartender, "This shot's for me, this shot's for my brother in the Army overseas, and this shot's for my brother the missionary in Africa," and downs the shots one after another. He does this every day for a few months. Then one day, he comes in and orders only two shots. Worried, the bartender asks him, "Did something happen to one of your brothers?" The man downs the shots, and then replies, "Oh, no. I quit drinking."

You're vegetarian or you're not. Just as you're pregnant or you're not. No one's "kind of" vegetarian, just as no one's "kind of" pregnant. So, strike one. Why would anyone want to describe themselves as something they're not, i.e. "I'm a flexitarian - that is, a vegetarian who eats meat occasionally", other than for some cachet or meaning they associate with the label itself? YOU ARE NOT A VEGETARIAN. So, strike two. Third, a word already exists for this exact thing - omnivore. So, strike three. Because I'm generous like that, I'll give it another chance - but then, wait! People who know you well and with whom you dine often undoubtedly already know your habits and choices. The only people for whom you need to concisely label yourself are those who you don't know well. But why should anyone you don't know very well care about your dietary habits and your ethical choices care ANYWAY, at least to the nit-picky extent of distinction the creators and users of the word seem to feel is necessary? Tsk tsk, self absorbed, much? Besides, "flexitarian" sounds like a name for an adherent to a trendy new fusion yoga-pilates-Brazilian kickboxing workout. Oh, sorry, "body management system."

Everyone's food sounds and looks beautiful. Hillvalley - where did you get your tomatoes? Your soup sounds great. Un-traditional fish tacos: Red snapper marinated in garlic and lime, grilled and tucked in corn tortillas with a little charred-tomato red salsa I made, some sour cream thinned with milk, a bit of fresh peach salsa and a healthy squeeze of lime. Green rice, black beans, and more of that peachy stuff on the side. LOTS of cilantro. YUM!

I can't believe no one else saw the "Non Sequitor" comic that ran about a month ago: A man looking at a case of frozen food with names like "Pork-occoli!" "Ham-tatoes!" "Steaked Beans!" and a caption that said something like, "The Meat Industry Bites Back." Alas, the comic is now archived.

Sounds delicious - I am going to stop by before summer's gone. Now I want to open an ice cream shop/internet cafe, and call it, "iCome, iCy, iConquer."

It seems everyone needed comforting stuff this week! Good, I thought it was just me Goodbye to summer Sorry about the soft focus on the picture. A rather obscenely beautiful (when I bought it, anyway) rack of lamb with an herb crust; a dried-sour-cherry and rosemary pan sauce; lemony spinach that turned inexpicably brown after, like, one second in the pan, and a gratin of potatoes, morels and shittakes.

Feeling down-and-out, and poor, and harried tonight. The weather's doing odd things - damp and almost-but-not-quite chilly here. Just for me: Roast cauliflower and red onion, one poached egg, and some dressed watercress to mop the plate clean. Did the trick.

My wonderful boss has given me a (rather overly) generous gift certificate to Palena out of the blue. Never been, been dying to try, trying to contain my excitement. Watch this space for reports and details!

It's to protect innocent eyes from the true colors of Michel's shirts.

I don't feel unburdened. In fact, now I want to go have some (tasty) steak tartare and some (soggy) frites in that unbearably loud stupidly tin-ceilinged room. Ohh, the agony and the ecstacy!!!

Soggy frites

Have fun you guys. Pictures, pictures pictures!!!!!

Runny eggs, corned beef hash, butter-drenched toast, home fries with plenty of onions, everything doused in Tabasco. What's really bad, for me, is when I start cooking, drunk, in the middle of the night: Me: Peanut noodles would be really good right now, huh? Jeff: Mmmmm, peanuts. Me: With some fish sauce and bell peppers and red onions dunked in hot water to make them soft but crisp, you know, kind of squelchy, like a good pickle? Jeff: Mmmmm, pickles. Me: Mmmmm, pickles. I wish I had a big cheeseburger right now with pickles and onions. Jeff: Or peanut noodles.. with pickles and onions and cheese. <extended pause> I think you all know where this is going.

In theory, I live by myself, but usually have company for dinner all but three or four nights out of the month. I save my "projects" for when I don't have to inflict them on anyone else - pasta technique, bread and pastry (which I'm just starting to dip my toe into). As for what I actually eat, I usually just munch on some vegetables or leftovers.

Excellent recommendations from people infitely more well-informed than I, but I just had to give emphasis to this statement: It will be tempting to run across the street and gamble on a place ("there're so many restaurants; at least one of them HAS to be okay"), but it will be money and a meal wasted when there are so many other options. It pains me to say it, since a good friend of mine owns Tono Sushi (on that strip), but none of the spots there are really any good at all.

Thoughts on making dinner on Sunday: Alls I'm saying is, if they're going to sell you organic small-farm watercress fertilized with the shit of vestal virgins fed on gold flakes and lavender honey and watered with their sweat for $4.99! A! Freaking! Bunch! they ought to be able to put the freaking produce bags on the freaking dispensers correctly so they tear properly with a tug, rather than upside down so you have to juggle your full basket and the dispenser and the bag and the twist tie and the aforementioned watercress just to get the stupid freaking bag, and you drop the basket and your heirloom tomatoes roll out on the floor, bruised and oozing and a bottle of capers shatters and the deli tub pops open and sends nicoise olives merrily skittering about the aisles and everyone looks at you over their rectangular glasses and shakes their heads - they ought to be able to do that, is is alls I'm saying.

Welcome back, eeeeeeeegullet! And hooray for the new imagegullet. Retro: To-a-tee salade Nicoise, and a marvelously successful rosemary-and-cracked-pepper foccacia. Thanks, tanabutler and spaghettti!!

Hmmm, it was last fall, rainy and cold - I think it must have been roast chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans (my standby meal; it looks great, i can do it with my eyes closed, and there is no one on earth who objects to a plate of roast chicken and mashed potatoes). I remember more clearly the first meal I ever cooked for my first ever boyfriend when I was fifteen - a chopped vegetable salad with feta; cold fried chicken with Morrocan (I thought, anyway) spices in the crust; orzo salad; and homemade lemonade with rosemary and blueberries, all packed up into a picnic basket and toted over to Great Falls. I read waay too many cooking magazines and watched waay too many cooking shows, and slaved mightily to produce something I thought was unusual and delicious and impressive. He hated it - thought the whole thing was too "weird," particularly the raw fennel in the salad. Hmph.

Oh yeah, also the following: Ollie's Trolley and the Post Pub. I'd say they are crummy-but-good, except they're more crummy and not really good. But I love them dearly, since my first "real" job ever was around the corner on Vermont - I ate a lot of Ollie's fries in McPhereson Square, and drank a lot of Bud with coworkers.

<Cue swelling violins of shame> I love the 17th street "restaurant" strip. I eat breakfast at Trio pretty often; I eat at Peppers or Dupont Italian Kitchen when it's late and I don't want to cook. I drink at the Fox and Hounds all the time. My very first apartment ever was at 16th and Riggs, and I have plenty of fond memories of drinking surreptitiously on that strip, flirting, and in-general pretending I was a grown-up. One is impressionable when one is seventeen! <cue swelling violins of unburdening and catharsis>

Old school: Spaghetti and meatballs; winey, lemony, spicy, garlicky broccoli with a sprinkle of asiago; and a tall, cool glass of milk.

Oh, dear. I just don't think she is all that creative, imaginative, or even barring that, particularly well-practiced at the plainer things. She is dead wrong a lot of the time - if I had time, I'd go back and do an exhaustive little archive review. And maybe I'm just not a good enough cook, but I think making risotto for any size group as the main of a dinner party sounds like a logistical nightmare for one cook trying to pull the other components of dinner together and host a bunch of people, and probably isn't a very good suggestion. Which brings me (roundabout) to my point - I don't think she's particularly helpful - inoffensive at her best - and is actually a source of misinformation sometimes. No one said she didn't work hard; she certainly makes a huge effort and obviously is well-liked by a dedicated group of chatters. I was trying to find out what other people with other opinions have gained from her. Sorry to have offended.

This is an extraordinary thread. Amazing. I love eGullet