russ parsons

there is a difference in breast meat and the legs, of course. the legs have a lot of connective tissue in them and to my taste they need to be cooked to a little higher temperature in order to be palatable. chicken isn't the only case, either. though rare lamb is the fashion, i prefer the leg cooked to the medium side of medium-rare (pink and juicy but definitely set).

since practically speaking you can't specify temp for both breast and thigh, i cook until the thigh is about 155 to 160. that's measured deep near the joint. it's sometimes slightly pink, but not bad.

i've got to agree. there are valid reasons for choosing organic: farmworker health concerns, groundwater contamination, etc. but any rational assessment of personal health risks would have about 999 factors rated above pesticide residue on produce. in the first place, for the most part it's not there--less than 1% of produce tested by usda over the last 10 years has residue above the legal limit (the legal limit being established by taking the lowest dose shown to cause damage and then reducing it by a factor of 100). and the vast majority had no detectable residue at all.

that's true, but using a heat-curve is a lot easier: the water cools at just the right rate that the yolk doesn't overcook. and, of course, it's really important to start the eggs in cold water, not hot, so the air inside the shell expands slowly enough to bleed out through the pores, rather than just popping out a chunk of shell.

that's pretty much the way i do them, too, and i've never had a problem. in fact, i love that you never get that copper ring around the outside of the yolk and the center of the yolk is always deep orange, not yellow.

i've been knee-deep in this thing since Thursday. Oranges look to be the worst, followed by avocados. but that's far from the whole story. lemons will be bad and so will tangerines (over the last 3-4 years there have been extensive orchards planted in the southern san joaquin valley, which got hit really hard). strawberries will be bad for a couple of weeks--the growers lost all of their fruit and most of their flowers, but it looks like most of the plants survived (for the record, at this time of year most of the strawberries come from north san diego county up through ventura county. vegetables will also suffer in a short window--especially leaf lettuces, which are extremely tender to frost. but also broccoli and cauliflower. one thing that's kind of interesting is that this is far from a california-only story. rather, it points up how much the rest of the country depends on this state for its fresh fruits and vegetables. even oranges--there are huge groves in Florida, but they go almost entirely to juice. california grows about 85% of the lemons, avocados and fresh market oranges in the US.

the whole pasilla thing is sticky. in most of mexico, a pasilla is a long dried red pepper but in one region (can't remember which) it is the same as a poblano. the ones at super-rica are poblanos. rob walsh did an article on this a couple of years ago. i, too, have been going to super-rica for more than 20 years. i love it and make a point to eat there every time i'm in, or passing through, santa barbara. but i have weaned myself of the bad habit of taking the 101 to san francisco rather than the 5 so i can stop in (about a 4-hour difference). it is what it is and it's perfect at it. but it certainly isn't a fancy place. julia did love the restaurant and did frequently say that it was her favorite restaurant in santa barbara, but julia was ... well, not lying, but hedging. she didn't want to pick a single "fancy" restaurant and hurt the feelings of the other chefs in the area. so she chose super-rica because a) it was "fuore classe"; and b) everybody could agree with it, at least as far as it went.

it's worth remembering that there are different varieties of blood oranges. the moros that we're getting now have great color, but sometimes are a little low in sugar. later this winter we'll start seeing taroccos, which have lighter color but (i think) much better flavor.

i think the key point here is that marbling determines the official grade, but it is only one indicator of overall quality. despite the aphorism, fat does not equal flavor (though more times than not it is a very good indicator of it). as others have noted, grass-fed beef has a very specific and appealing flavor, though it is leaner. different breeds of cattle have different intensities and types of flavor as well. another point is that a lot of the fat that is rendered when you're braising an especially fatty piece of beef ends up being skimmed (or should be). you want just enough intramuscular fat to lubricate the muscle strands, but not so much that you wind up having to spend an hour spooning it out of your sauce. still neither one of those factors completely answers fatguy's initial question about whether it is worthwhile to buy prime meat for braising.

refrigerating tomatoes deserves a death sentence (says parsons, the produce ayatollah). it will kill any tomato, no matter how good. i do also think that there is an expectation factor at work, too. at first, we're pleasantly surprised by something with good flavor, then the next time we buy it, we want it to have great flavor. we kind of take good for granted. then, of course, there are the usual caveats: different farmers do make a difference, as do different years. remember, all this stuff is grown, not manufactured (appearances to the contrary).

ahem, insert plug of your choice for upcoming "how to pick a peach" this is a highly abridged account from the book: grape tomatoes are a pretty fascinating fruit. they were introduced from Asia in the late-90s. they took off like crazy. between 1999 and 2003, sales increased by more than 300%. Originally there was just one dominant variety, the Santa Claus (red, of course). now there are dozens in all kinds of colors. Why are they so good? really, 2 factors: 1) they have extremely thick skins. this allows them to be picked later and still survive shipping. 2) they are picked at much higher brix than other tomatoes. most tomatoes go 4 to 5%, grapes go 8 to 9%.

How so? I've found that when brining shrimp (as an example of something with a short brining time) that if you brine too long, it's way too salty. Brining time, in my opinion, is a balancing act. Or are you simply saying that at some point it's just not gonna get any saltier, despite the fact that it may be too salty at that point? ← Imagine a dry sponge soaking up water. If you only put the sponge in water for a brief time, the the amount of water soaked up depends on the time it was immersed. But after some point, it's going to stop soaking up additional water and it doesnt matter how long you leave it in. ← OK, I'll take a kitchen-science stab...we're talking steady-state equilibrium, under a closed system. Salt and water will move across the cellular membranes of the meat via osmotic pressure. Those substances with a high enough molecular weight, from inside the meat, will not pass through cellular membranes, to the brining solution; nor will similarly weighted substances move from the brine into the cell. Once the pressure built via internal breakdown and cellular buildup ("plumping," I guess, for want of a better word - the buildup via osmotic transfer from the outside and protein degradation/breakdown products built up within cell membranes, internally) reaches an equilibrium with osmotic pressure exerted from outside, no further "brining" will take place. The brine is at a steady state equilibrium. How'd I do? ← sorry, i was off-line. yeah, what he said.

i had to laugh when i read your post. i got the same kit a couple of summers ago with the aim of writing a story about making mozzarella at home. i had about the same amount of luck you did, most of the time. it was probably one of the most frustrating cooking experiences i've had in a long time. one out of three batches would turn out great. then when i tried to replicate what i had just done, i'd get another disaster. and this was all done with a story deadline staring me in the face. in the end--literally 4 or 5 gallons of milk later-- i wound up subbing another topic. when i started researching how to REALLY make mozzarella at home, i found that it is a far more complicated process than citric acid and rennet. and as for all of those delis that advertise "homemade mozzarella"? most of them buy already made curd and then just stretch it (not a bad thing, but not the same as homemade).

brining longer does not make the meat saltier, but the meat does begin to break down in the water. if it was me, i'd pull them Sunday morning and refrigerate them tightly covered until monday.

Example A. Yet another taste-impaired chain-smoking celebrity chef perpetuating the myth of brining. ← wow, that must be true. but what does that mean about all the good recipes i've cooked from that book? am i a latent smoker?

if it's good crab, even butter is a sacrilege. boil it in heavily salted water (put crabs in pot, fill with cold water, bring to boil, cook until done--the meat will be firm when you pull out one of the back legs). if you've got leftovers, do this: Dungeness crab puffs Servings: About 4 dozen 1-inch puffs Note: This dough is my standard savory pate a choux, which I learned from Madeleine Kamman. Pastry dough 1/4 cup ( 1/2 stick) butter, diced 1/4 teaspoon salt Pinch sugar Pinch white pepper 1/2 cup sifted flour 3 eggs, lightly beaten Butter 1. Position a rack in the upper third of the oven and heat the oven to 400 degrees. In a small saucepan, bring one-half cup water, butter, salt, sugar and white pepper to a boil, and simmer until the butter is completely melted and the mixture looks milky, about 2 to 3 minutes. 2. Remove the pan from the heat and all at once dump in the flour. Stir until a rather firm ball forms. 3. Dry the dough by returning the pan to medium-low heat and cook the dough, stirring constantly, flattening the ball to expose as much of the surface as possible to the heat. Cook until you see little bubbles of butter oozing from the paste and a sandy film of paste appears on the bottom of the pan, 5 or 6 minutes. 4. Remove from the heat and beat in the eggs, about a third at a time, stirring briskly to incorporate the egg into the dough as quickly and thoroughly as possible before adding another portion of egg. Stir vigorously. At first, the mixture will loosen and separate, but as you continue beating, it will come back together, thicken and become shiny and sticky. 5. Butter a cookie sheet generously and rinse it under cold water. (The water will evaporate while the puffs bake and prevent the bottoms from scorching.) Fit a plain nozzle into a pastry bag and fill the bag with the dough. Pipe balls about 1 inch in diameter onto the cookie sheet, leaving about 2 inches in between for expansion during cooking. You can also use two spoons to scoop out the dough and form it into balls. 6. Bake the puffs until they are dry and brown, about 30 minutes. Use a paring knife to cut a slit in each puff, then return them to the oven for 5 to 10 minutes to finish browning and drying. Do not let them scorch. 7. Remove the puffs to a wire rack and let them cool. The puffs can be prepared 8 hours in advance and stored on the wire rack at room temperature. Dungeness crab salad 6 radishes 1/2 pound Dungeness crab meat 1/4 cup mayonnaise 1 tablespoon snipped chives 1 1/2 teaspoons minced tarragon 1/2 teaspoon tarragon vinegar Salt 1. Cut the radishes in half and then cut them crosswise in moderately thin slices. They should be thick enough that they crunch, but not so thick they dominate the crab. Combine the sliced radishes, crab, mayonnaise, chives, tarragon and vinegar in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. Taste and add salt if necessary. You should have about 2 cups of salad. (The recipe can be made to this point and refrigerated, tightly covered, up to 8 hours in advance.) 2. Slice the top third off of each cream puff shell using a serrated knife. Pull out any moist dough from the center and discard (the better you dry the dough after you've added the flour, the less you'll have to throw away). 3. Spoon a heaping teaspoon of crab salad into the center of each shell and replace the lid. It should sit jauntily on top. Serve within an hour.

all the uncovered refrigerator time does is dry the skin (and any exposed meat). this makes it crisp better. this is particularly important if you've salted or brined, because there is so much moisture left on the skin. and i do think if you try the salting again ... and put it in a bag this time for a couple of days ... you'll find the meat will be moister!

so vervain, just out of curiosity, how did your experiment turn out?

i have several editions of larousse and like the one from the '50s the best. that said, i rarely use it anymore--even though at one time i probably would have considered it indispensible. i think mostly it's a change in the kind of things i'm researching. only a couple of times a year am i looking for the "authentic" french version of something. I'm much more likely to be interested in how something works ... and that's in "on food."

i'm very much an advocate of a slow sear, especially when flouring. you get a much more even browning and much less chance of scorching. high-heat is impressive looking, but braises aren't about drama. again, though, it really depends on the final result you want.

hiya, there shouldn't be any dry salt by tomorrow. if there is, just brush it off, don't rinse it. i'm a little puzzled: the recipe calls for it to be salted and sealed, then removed from the bag to dry. if you don't put it in the bag, the salt won't penetrate as well--the moisture that comes to the surface will evaporate.

just out of curiosity, have you tried this? or are you arguing from theory? because it seems improbable to me that a thin layer of flour could provide enough of a thermal barrier to prevent browning. In fact, in my experience, it can even promote browning by absorbing surface moisture on the meat. i commonly flour some meat before browning when i'm making certain kinds of braises and i have never found a shortage of "brown" flavor. (one thing that does happen is that the flour does lose much of its thickening power in the browning because of dextrinization.) all of these suggestions are good ones, it just depends on your taste and what kind of finished product you want. personally, after a few experiments with it, i've gone off of thickening the braising liquid with the braising vegetables. in my experience, the resulting sauce was somewhat grainy and "muddy" tasting.

cornstarch works as a thickener under certain very specific situations. if you're going to be thickening it at the very end and serving it immediately, cornstarch will be fine. but if it stands or if it is re-heated, it goes gluey in a hurry. also, since cornstarch is purer starch than wheat flour, cornstarch-thickened sauces tend to be (what seems to me to be) weirdly translucent, even transparent. then again, maybe i've just eaten too much bad chinese food.

slightly off topic, but has anyone else noticed that good beef seems exorbitant this year? I was considering a prime rib for Christmas, but it looked like getting a decent one for 6 people was going to run more than $300 (niman). Instead, I ordered a pork crown roast for less than $100.

i find that it works well to knead butter and flour together then whisk it in bit by bit, bringing it to a simmer in between. that allows you to thicken more closely to the exact texture you want. i think the modern aversion to flour-thickened sauces is silly. anything can be done to excess, but flour works wonderfully if used with discretion.