russ parsons

using parchment paper (or aluminum foil) reduces the headspace in teh pot, allowing less room for evaporation and keeping the surface of the cooked food more moist.

there's an old expression that goes something like: "don't let the perfect become the enemy of the good." (one of you erudite e-gulleters can probably correct the language and cite the source). but i think that's something we run into a lot in talking about home cooking. i'd say anything that gets folks making their own food is a step in the right direction and we can gradually improve from there. i've got no problems with compromises as long as we recognize that that's what they are and don't mistake them for the real thing. still beats the hell out of the drive-up window.

i had talked to michel about that during christmas. that sounds like a very close approximatin of what i remember. i have to say that while it wasn't bad, it wasn't anything close to good fresh sprouts (apologies to mr who is a very old, very dear friend)

yes, but first he chases it down and kills it, ripping out the little quiche's throat with his bare teeth.

the basic recipe works fine for fluted pans. but you REALLY need to try the 2-inch version. it really makes a big difference in the final dish. i agree with tk on this, that you don't really get the full impression of teh custard without it.

just fyi: my piece on quiche ran this morning, including stuff on tk's version here it is

it's very complicated and tangled. sabatier is not a company, and neither is it a style of knife (they make everything from detail parers to huge "hachettes" and in a wide range of materials). so who are "they"? the best way to explain it is that sabatier is a very loose organization of individual companies that share a master trademark. each organization also has its own sub-trademark ("elephant brand", "au carbonne", etc.). these organizations also have extremely different quality standards (as with laguiole). so buyer beware. in general, vintage sabatier chef's knives follow the french pattern rather than the german--their cutting edges tend to be flatter and less rounded, more designed for detailed mincing and dicing than chopping. i love my japanese gyutou (misono ux10). but i also love my old sabatiers ... i picked up a raft of them several years ago when a tool catalog found a bunch of them in a warehouse. sweet. in fact, my "go-to" paring knife is a french housewife's knife from between the wars. it's about 5 inches with a thin blade. carbon steel, of course. does everything well and fits in my hand like it was made for it. and that, of course, is the most important question for any good knife. knife geeks (a term i use affectionately and referring to myself as well) are like geeks for anything else and they love to debate incredibly fine points of doctrine. but what your choice of knife should ultimately come down to is: do you love it? i used to be a wusthoff guy for most knives until i tried japanese. i am converted, but i recognize that others might feel differently with some validity--as long as they've actually tried the japanese before passing judgement.

one of my new commandments of cooking: never EVER bake a quiche without a jellyroll pan.

having now cooked 3 of the 4 quiches from thebook, having talked about them with thomas, susie heller and michael ruhlman, a few observations: 1) it is absolutely imperative that you do NOT roll the dough any thinner than the recipe calls for (and 1/4 inch is probably better than 3/16). 2) transfer the dough to the pan in the manner described (draped over rolling pin); the dough does tend to crack and when i did it my customary way (folded in quarters) i had the worst leakage. 3) add the filling ingredients to the crust while both are still hot. this is different than what it says in the recipe (cooled crust), but actually what it implies in the intro. the hot crust sets the custard more quickly, reducing leakage. 4) i do think adding the filling and custard in layers makes a difference: i think it keeps the solid filling ingredients better distributed throughout teh quiche, rather than settled to the bottom. 5) the slightly flared removable-bottom tart pan works well, but thomas does believe that the ring mold is superior. next time i see one, i will buy it and try it out. 6) i do believe that this is one of the trickier recipes in teh book (oddly enough for quiche), an opinion shared by susie. it is not a beginner's quiche recipe. but it is very good and quite different from the norm. the deep custard filling really adds a lot of luxury to the dish.

they don't include weight measures, so i measured by the cup.

i did use a mixer, but i'm not sure that's what's going on. i had some leakage on my first quiche, too (and it was the leek one ... mmmm good). one thing i learned is to bake quiches on a jelly roll pan! the second time i tried it, no problem. i've got another one i'm getting ready to try right now and i'll let you know how it goes. my problem with the first one, i'm willing to bet, came from a) rolling the crust too thin (keller recommends just under 1/4 inch [or, in keller-speak, "3/16-inch"]) and then not vetting it carefully enough to look for any possible leaks. that said, i quickly transferred the tart to a jellyroll pan and finished the cooking. it was delicious. also, these make a tremendous amount of quiche. he says 8 servings. i'd say more like 10 to 12 for normal people. one of my favorite things about them is they reheat so well. cut it in a slice, reheat in a 350-degree oven for 15 minutes and it's perfect.

weird stuff. i can't really tell you what happened with any degree of certainty. i can offer a couple of possibilities. 1) i don't think a month or two should have been enough to make all of the difference, though it could possiblyhave made some of the difference in combination with other factors. 2) oven temperature: how accurate is your oven? this, too, can change over time. ovens especially tend to be wobbly at low temperatures. 3) difference in lid? it sounds wierd, but having a tightly sealed top makes all the difference. i don't have my notes in front of me, but the difference between cooking time for beans with the lid on and with the lid off was something like 2 1/2 hours. i know you wouldn't cook them with the lid off, but if it was ajar, it might have made a difference. 4) water? one of the biggest factors in over-long cooking is the alkalinity of the water. and that changes all the time. from time to time, i've had split peas that absolutely refused to soften, no matter the cooking time. it might be that the alkalinity was slightly higher. i guess the bottom line is that there are so many possible variables, i always allow for plenty of margin of error when i'm cooking beans. in fact, i usually do them in advance and then reheat them (they actually taste better this way).

actually, they recommend a ring mold, which is one of those things that seems to be in every professional kitchen, but unavailable to home cooks (i know ... not unavailable, just scarce). a ring mold is like the side of a springform pan, but without the bottom. the problem is that most springform pans are 3 inches deep and most removable-bottom tart pans are only 1 1/4 inches deep. i found a removable-bottom 2-inch-deep tart pan and it worked perfectly (and yes, it flared out--and had fluted sides, to boot). you could also use a regular cake pan (they are usually 2 inches deep), but getting the quiche out could be a problem.

i thought it was just me! i'm notoriously pastry averse, but this is a great dough. rolled out like a dream.

that's the first book by my buddy matt kramer. i edited him for years. he really is one of the best wine writers in this country and i'm glad to see it's doing well on the used market, at least. he is a really terrific writer and is deserving of all the attention (and more). two of his other books have been revised and updated (thoroughly): making sense of wine and "matt kramer's new california wine" (formerly "making sense of california wine" i believe).

ms melkor, do the quiches. i'm working on a piece and looked at that chapter and it's like a doctorate in quiche-making. i learned so many tricks. i love it when i learn something from a cookbook, rather than just collect another recipe. not that the recipes are bad: i made the leek and roquefort quiche and it was really amazing.

also remember that "meat isn't meat". different meats have different flavors at different temperatures. the sensory guys describe the flavor of rare pork as "metallic" and I agree. I've tried the really low temps and while i have no doubt they are safe, i don't like the way they taste. i prefer my pork at 155 to 160 with a rest. at this point, the meat is still juicy and faintly pink, but the flavor is more developed. also, i should be clear that i am referring to lean roasts such as loin. With a fatty roast such as my beloved Boston butt, you can push it much higher and get really great flavor while still being juicy.

actually, if i recall correctly, acidic ingredients don't have much of an effect at all. alkaline ingredients really do (that's why you add molasses to boston baked beans after the beans have already softened).

fat guy toss bombs? ya think? (edited for complete disclosure): alice irritates me sometimes, too.

i do want to try to make one thing clear: making the food choices i make is not some kind of noble act of self-flagellation. i'm sure if i saw something that looked really good and i wanted it, i would buy it. i guess if you want to put it in theological terms, my philosophy is not one of refusal, but of wider acceptance. there are so many good things to eat, it's much more interesting for me to take the seasons as they come and eat what they offer.

fat guy, what an amazing collection of straw-man arguments you have set up! truly, the legal profession must be in mourning. 1) arguing that trying to eat seasonally is somehow suspect because major ag firms on the west coast don't support it is truly a fascinating twist. i don't even know where to start ... maybe "that's the problem, exactly"? 2) arguing that because plant species have been imported, that there is no such thing as eating locally ... again, WTF? i'm not talking about some back-to-nature bs, i'm talking about eating the food that tastes best when it tastes best. 3) (as with no. 1) to equate california growers with any idea of seasonality is whole specious. california agriculture grows more than half of the fruits and vegetables consumed in this country. they are the problem (well, as far as seasonality is concerned ... on the other hand, they have been tremendously successful at growing cheap food, which is not something to sneer at). 4) actually, i suspect in the 21st century the ag distribution pattern is going to look offer at lot more options than the 1970 model you described. if you look at the way high-end groceries are changing their buying, i suspect we're going to be a lot closer to the farmers market model. already places like whole foods and fairway markets are contracting with local farmers to supply some of their produce. will this ever be the dominant pattern? of course not. it's a little more expensive and most people don't really give a shit. but i think that people who love food should support it as much as they can.

well kim, actually, i don't buy asparagus in january. sorry. i don't see the need. as for lamb being slaughtered in spring ... well, no, sorry, that was true 100 years ago but not now. california lamb is slaughtered in fall; furthermore most lamb that we buy today would actually be more appropriatedly called "young sheep". beyond that, it's important to remember that my defense of seasonality is not totally "woo-woo", but is based on buying what is best in its time--there is a big difference to me between asparagus, which is at its best in the first flush and which degrades quickly during shipping, and meat, which is relatively constant (fish is a different story).

i'm heading back up at the end of the month. let me clarify what i meant to say about eating in mendocino: it's not a place you go for GREAT food. there's not french laundry, or even someplace like the farmhouse in sonoma. but i do think the average restaurant is pretty good if you order simply. i'd make a point to stop in noyo harbor and get some dungeness crab. and mendo bistro is pretty good, too. there's this one guy who seems to do all the wine lists in the area and he's great. i can always find good stuff to drink. as far as tastings, i second/third/whatever roederer. they are terrific and i think they make the best sparkling wine in california. i also like to visit milla handley.

Fat Guy is probably right. I can think of no clearly convincing rational reason for eating seasonally and locally--particularly if you think your only choice is between crappy trucked-in Safeway produce and crappy shipped-in Chilean. The standard arguments are full of holes. Eating seasonally and locally is not better for you, at least not in any medically measurable way. It’s not always necessarily cheaper, though I think in the long run buying things at the peak of the harvest usually is. And it doesn’t always taste better—there are plenty of mediocre farmers at even the best farmers market. In addition to eating seasonally and locally, you have to spend the time to find the good ones. Furthermore, I have found that even trying to argue the point only gets up people’s noses. (This seems to be particularly true for New Yorkers, who believe themselves to be a unique race singularly blessed by a just and discerning god to receive the very best of everything. When something happens that hints otherwise, they begin hurling imprecations and shrieking heresies. It all gets so tiring.) That said, and admitting in advance the futility of my effort, there are a couple of reasons that I find compelling for doing buying locally and seasonally. The first is structural, the other aesthetic. The reason there is so much crappy produce in the stores today—honestly, wherever you live, not just in Manhattan—is complicated, stemming from historic, artistic and economic factors. But the single overriding factor it is there is that people continue to buy it. It’s like watching Fox or, god forbid, The WB. You watch because there’s nothing else on, the ratings go up, and good lord, here comes “Who’s Your Daddy.” Every time you choose an out-of-season cherry from Chile, you are encouraging someone to ship more of them in. At the same time, you are discouraging someone else from growing something better (it is always easier and more cost-effective to do shoddy work than good and agriculture is a zero-sum game). The aesthetic argument is harder to pin down because it deals with notions of connoisseurship (which sounds so much nicer than the equally descriptive “geekiness”). Connoisseurship is not about consumption, but discernment. It’s not about satisfying your appetite, but educating it. And doing that means eating widely as well as deeply. A connoisseur is not someone who drinks only great Bordeaux; he also loves good Beaujolais. It’s not about loving truffles, but also appreciating a perfectly cooked Brussels sprout. Eating without regard for the season, your food choices naturally fall in a fairly narrow range of things you already know you like. You never discover anything outside those boundaries. You never stretch to understand. You may love something, but it’s only because you don’t know any better. I have no ill feelings toward someone who chooses to eat Chilean cherries in January, but frankly it would never occur to me to do that. Why would I want cherries when I can have Meyer lemons, Oro Blanco grapefruits and those great little mandarins that are just coming in, or the last of the gala apples or Comice pears. Which brings me to a third reason for eating seasonally, one that I really hesitate to bring up, since it verges on the theological. Maybe it’s just me turning 50, with the years seeming to whiz by, but I really find it comforting the way eating each of my favorite foods in their own time slows down the clock. Cherries will be here in due time (about the middle of February, in fact). I can wait. And then will come good strawberries. Before you know it, we’ll start getting Blenheim apricots. Why in the world would you want to rush things?

tana, you are so funny! is anyplace snootier than carmel? well, ok, i did see the baccarat chandeliers on rodeo drive, but aside from that.