russ parsons

i'd be really skeptical. the butter and cream would be the problem. gnocchi (potato gnocchi anyway) are made by developing hte gluten in the potato starch (the word gnocchi comes from teh same latin root as the word "knead"). any decent amount of fat would interfere with the development of said gluten.

i think that one issue that may be getting danced around here and which, to me, is more insidious than a critic not wearing a fake nose is the tendency of many in restaurant criticism to overly identify themselves with the industry they are covering rather than the readers who are employing them. it is, in part, understandable: we have elevated restaurants to rock shows and made chefs into lead guitarists (who hasn't thought of bourdain as keith richards with a whisk and a laptop? [well, maybe a different kind of laptop]). i do think there is a tendency among people who want to be restaurant critics to do so because they want to "hang with the band." no amount of disguise can make up for that.

Here are two relevant quotes from an article on brining by Joe O'Connell, past president of the California Barbecue Association: Brining denatures (cooks) meat. That's a fact. Whether or not this 'cooking' makes the meat tough is up for debate. My experience has shown it to be true. ←

once again, the disguise thing rears its head. look, in the 20+ years i've been writing about food, i've eaten with most of the major critics in the country, several of them many times. until ruth r. went to the ny times, this wasn't really an issue. but she is brilliant and she turned it into a signifier, a hook for other stories. i have no doubt that she did this on occasion, but i never ate with her when she did. and i have to say, i had some really bad meals with ruth in new york (as in la) "out-cognito". partly this goes to what is to me the essential truth: most restaurateurs who are serving bad food are really doing the best that they can. it's not a matter of them consciously serving bad stuff to one group and good stuff to another. in other words, it's not ethics but talent that holds them back.

just to be clear: is turkey koshering done differently than chicken koshering? because chicken koshering involves rubbing the bird in dry salt (basically, to remove excess blood, etc), rather than soaking it in a brine. the results are very different. as for empire kosher, we had really bad experiences with their chickens in southern california when they were sold through trader joe (i say we non-editorially, as when i took an absolutely rotten one back to the store, they said they'd been getting a lot of returns for that reason; shortly thereafter they stopped carrying them). i was very disappointed because i'd always heard great things about their chicken.

with all due respect, i would love to see this assertion backed up. i'm not aware of any evidence for it. even more, i'm not aware that there is any tenderness added by brining that could not be attributed to increased moisture (as opposed to, say, adding papaya enzyme or something foul like that). i do agree with scott that there is a tendency to a deli-meat character with some brined turkeys, but i think that's because people add so much sugar. in working up my brining recipe many years ago, i repeatedly reduced the sugar and found that each step improved the flavor. the final result includes no sugar at all.

i like the greenbrier. i teach there about every other year (next year, not this year). but it is a straight shot of old south country club-style. picture a place where coca-cola execs dream of going. the main bar is called "the old white club" with no apparent irony. on the other hand, they do search out some great ingredients and treat them respectfully. and i don't think i've ever stayed anywhere with better service.

i love mendo and go every year, but it's not a place you visit for fine dining. i've had some good food at mendo bistro in fort bragg. i really like the little river inn. dinners are ok to good, but breakfast is to kill for (the most unbelievable flannelcakes). i have to say that i've had good dinners at beaujolais. i do like to eat in noyo harbor, but it is fish as fishermen eat it, and they are not generally the greatest judge of cuisine (mainly broiled or deep-fried). i've also had good food at albion river inn. mainly, be sure to visit the botannical gardens, which are one of my favorite spots anywhere and are absolutely incredible for kids.

it is funny (and certainly not politically correct among italian cookbook authors), but i have to say that everything i've cooked out of the wells book has been terrific. and it really tasted italian. i was very impressed.

thanks alberto, i'll look into those. i have to admit that i use my "piccolo talismano" a lot. i haven't cooked out of artusi in the original, just translation, and perhaps it wasn't the best translation. i completely agree about cucina napoletana. i love that book (unfortunately, my only copy was "lost" due to ill-advised lending and it's almost impossible to find here ... maybe somebody smart will translate it ... hey, how about you?). my favorite general italian cookbook is "grande enciclopedia illustrata della gastronomia," published by, of all people, reader's digest. really great information and they seem to have culled good recipes from serious regional cookbooks. i didn't know there was a slow food salumi book, but their cheese one is a great reference.

alberto, i'm most interested in reversing the question: what do you think are the italian books (in italian) that are most essential?

this is an old stunt that is resurrected every once in a while. i remember being absolutely aghast back in the early '80s to find that i preferred markham merlot to petrus. there is great immediate appeal in fresh, fruity wines, and that is not at all intended to be condescending. i remember going out for dinner after a blow-out wine tasting (REALLY old burgundies and bordeaux), and sitting down with a bowl of tripe and a bottle of beaujolais and realizing that in many ways, that wine made me much happier than the more important stuff.

i made this this week: made a stock from a hamhock and chicken stock (plus a half-onion and a couple of cloves). simmered it for an hour or two, strained it and added the stock to the split peas, some chopped carrots, a chopped celery stalk, some bay leaves. cooked that until done. when the hock was cool, i peeled the skin, chopped the meat and added it to the soup along with a little chopped skin. when ready to serve, topped it with chives. served it with cheese toasts (ok, mde from some stravecchio parmigiano that i had left over). nice dinner to watch the yankees lose.

what silliness. lists like this remind me of why i hate baseball fans. next year, it'll be "best left-handed sous chefs".

it's still raining. i've got a big batch of split pea soup (made with smoked pork hock!), and i'm going to make croutons from lb baguette toasted with grated gouda.

those heat retaining qualities are the reason polenta is so good as a base for a ragu: fill a platter with polenta, spoon over ragu and the meat will still be warm 30 minutes later (perhaps a slight exaggeration).

yes, that sounds right. looseness is definitely a better description, and i think you're probably right. i do remember that when i made polenta last weekend for the first time in a long time (stove-top, stirring method), it really struck me how thick and sticky it was ... the proverbial "spoon standing up in it" thick. it also struck me that it wasn't hard to make or even that time-consuming (especially when i only make it a couple of times a year). so why was i worried about finding a shortcut in the first place?

last weekend i poached some quince witha little sugar, smushed them with some mace and powdered cinnamon, folded in some toasted walnuts and stuffed crepes with them. served with cognac-laced whipped cream.

boris, i was quite surprised when i tested this recipe, but it is not at all fluffy. it is a nice, thick, sticky polenta with deep, toasty flavor. the only drawback to the recipe is that it only makes 4 servings (and meager ones at that). it does not scale up. if you want polenta for 8, you need to make 2 pots.

michael, you kiss your kids with that mouth? signed, a concerned friend

this is a very good no-stir polenta that i learned from paula wolfert (hi paula!). many years ago i did a series of tests and this was the only shortcut that offered a really deep, toasted flavor. 2 quarts water 2 teaspoons salt 2 cups coarse-ground cornmeal 2 tablespoons butter 2 tablespoons minced parsley Combine water, salt, cornmeal and butter in 3- to 4-quart oven-proof saucepan. Bake at 350 degrees 1 hour 20 minutes. Stir polenta and bake 10 more minutes. Remove from oven and set aside 5 minutes to rest before serving.

i just made some this weekend and tried something new. i use a 3-1 ratio of water to corn (in this case, plain yellow cornmeal ... couldn't find any coarse or polenta other than instant). I first made a slurry out of equal amounts of cornmeal and water, then when the remaining 2 parts of water came to a boil, poured the slurry in. worked like a charm. when the polenta was done (be sure to cook it until it comes cleanly away from teh sides of the pan ... there is a major flavor change as the corn toasts and mellows), i spread a big pat of butter on top, then pressed aluminum foil on the surface. i put it on very low heat over a flame tamer and it held for 2 hours until dinner. just before serving i beat in more butter and a bunch of parmigiano. worked like a charm.

as a food writer and a mystery reader, i'm afraid i find that most of the "culinary mysteries" leave me unsatisfied. but there are mysteries with great food in them. the first two that come to mind are the relatively new (in this country) series from the sicilian author Andrea Camilleri. he's got 4 that have been translated so far, and more to come. they are superb, both as mysteries and for the food he mentions (who wouldn't want a housekeeper who leaves squid stewed in its own ink in the fridge when she leaves?). i also like john harvey's charlie resnick books on both counts, though the cuisine is of a much more informal nature than camilleri's. think really sloppy sandwiches with beer. but the combinations sound great. there is also good food in donna leon's brunetti series. and, of course, my best buddy phyllis richman's chas series. and, of course, you can't miss pamplemousse ... they are practically meringues.

boris, i'm intrigued by your idea. can you give me a little more detail? i do that with end-of-the-summer tomatoes: cut them in half lengthwise, bake them at 300 with some olive oil and garlic for about 3 hours. there does come a time when the flavor profile changes ... in the case of tomatoes i think it's mainly caramelization (the edges begin to brown). they taste like the very best sun-dried tomatoes you've ever had (something i normally loathe).

thanks pedro, i appreciate it. what i was specifically referring to was the cells in each individual vegetable. different cells contain slightly different chemical combinations (and different parts of the cells, too). cooking softens the cell walls so they combine (and, of course, other things, too, like caramelization, etc.). your technique for the menestra de navarra sounds the same as mine for ratatouille: cook each vegetable separately to the right point, then cook them together just long enough to meld the different flavors.