Smithy

I assume the photos you provided of making the colada morada were from this year. When do people start drinking this? Is it rather like a Tom and Jerry, or possibly eggnog, in the USA where people start drinking it whenever the holiday spirit moves them? Or is it more of a ritual drink that is consumed only during the festival days? If the latter, how long does this drink keep? You're making it well in advance. Thanks for the information about the naranjilla. (Now my mind is moving along tomatillo lines.) I appreciate greatly your including botanical names for your ingredients along with uses, tastes, and so forth.

Thank you!

More even cooking. Also I perceive a bit quicker.Perhaps because the convection dries the veggies' surface more quickly than in a non-fan oven?

This is lovely stuff. What's the charge for shipping some of those guaguas to Minnesota? I've gone back through your glossary to no avail, and haven't gone to Google with regard to ingredients. (1) Which are the naranjillas? That name tells me they should be orange, or look like oranges somehow. I've struck out. (2) Something there looks a lot like persimmons. Are they? By what name are they known there?

Y'all are making me think I need to check out the garage sales and thrift stores more often!

I love those comments: the oversized pretty but flavorless strawberries have no soul, and if you're using imported blueberries you're cheating your ancestors. Good for Fidelina. That colada looks like quite a drink. I love the color. What's in the plastic wrap in the next photo down? Sorry if you said and I missed it.

I haven't thought about baking stuffed mushrooms for quite a while. Most summers I do a few grilled portabellas. Brush with olive oil, grill gill-side down briefly to start them cooking; remove from grill. Stuff with a mixture of herbs, bread crumbs, maybe some crumbled sausage; sprinkle with grated cheese (usually something fairly dry like parmesan), and grill until mushroom is soft and cheese has melted. It's been a while. I like the sound of the flavor combinations y'all have posted upthread. Hidden back in some cupboard is one of those impulse buys I do from time to time, and then wonder what to do with it: in this case, peeled chestnuts. Mjx, you've given me an idea. Thanks!

Wow. Wow! Maybe I'm going to have to get one of these. Please, keep the stories and photos coming!

What a wonderful idea! Do you do anything extra to the moussaka - for instance, chop it finely, or separate the layers - or do you just spoon it as-is onto the focaccia?

I've never before grasped the idea of what a good bouillabaise could be. Thank you for that insight! I'm struggling with the image of peeling and deveining shrimp one-handed, never mind the implements in question. The mind, she boggles. My best French dining experience was the evening my friends had gone to bed already, exhausted by travel and jet lag. It was our first and only night in Paris. I had traveled more time zones than they, and should have been more tired; on the other hand, they were traveling with their 18-month old son. They had all retired. It was July, and though it was late the sun was still up, and I was single and in Paris. I went for a stroll. Some blocks away I found a sidewalk cafe in the Montmartre district, or arrondisemont, or whatever it's properly called. I chose a table and chair from which I could enjoy the passersby. In short order, a nice-looking waiter came to welcome me. My French was, and still is, quite limited, but I used my best to say, "I'm sorry, my French is very poor." "Oh no," he said with typical Gallic courtesy, "your French is very good!" At that point, what could I do but order coffee? The coffee came, and it was excellent. I sipped, and enjoyed, and marveled as the light faded and the colors drained from the day. I had known, from sitting out in the woods after dusk, that there's an imperceptible transition from the colors of day to the greys of the evening. One moment there's color; the next moment, the light is flat and the color has gone. I had seen it in the woods, but never in a city. I will always remember Paris.

Thank you for that glossary. It would be nice to "pin" it to the top of the topic (Heidi?) but barrin that, I'll just remember to keep referring back to it. Guagua = "wahwah" = baby: onomatopoeia, perhaps?

I remember loving it back in my California childhood. Although it never measured up to my mother's fried chicken, it was a good sight better than the Kentucky Fried alternative. This summer I was "treated" to "the best fried chicken in Fresno!" per my cousin. It reminded me a lot of broasted chicken, but I was underwhelmed. A couple of the Duluth grocery delis do a much better job. When Broasted Chicken first hit the stage in our central California town, our family decided that the name came from a combination of 'broil' and 'roast'. Now it seems that linguistics would be the only reason to think so. Edited for spelling, although "good sigh" instead of "good sight" wasn't bad in its own right.

Oh, so would I have. It's a software issue. There's a bit more info on the Moderation discussion topic. Meanwhile, all I can do is laugh, or say "wow", without posting it. Sylvia Lovegren, you've given me my first laugh of the day. So...this is my father's and mother's story, not mine, but it was one of their favorites. World War II had broken out. She, a South Florida girl, he a California country boy, trying to impress her. He took her to some fancy restaurant, nice atmosphere, great reputation, with the prices to show for it. He ordered a steak done medium. It arrived barely warm. The waiter came to check on them. Dad, in an attempt to make a point with humor, said, "you know, if I slapped on bandage on this thing it would moo and walk away." The waiter huffed a bit and took the plate back to the kitchen. It came back as near-charcoal. I doubt he laughed then, but they certainly laughed about it for many years after. Edited to add: the "like" button is back! Yay!

We stopped in Owen Sound at KW Surplus - a store with a huge collection of strange and wonderful items - picked up a few things and tried to add them to the well-packed car. You recall the 'wafer thin mint'?Please explain the "wafer thin mint" to me, because I don't get the reference...although I can probably guess the implication!As a veteran of the "clear out the condo after lots of fun" schtick I can believe those pictures, but I also appreciate what goes into the process. I'm very glad that you're collectively so good at having fun and, er, leaving no traces...except possibly at the waistlines of Kerry's co-workers!

This will be wonderful, I'm sure. I look forward to learning about the ways other cultures honor and incorporate the memories of the people gone ahead. This summer my sister and I participated in a Japanese ceremony honoring the spirits of our departed family members; that ceremony was in August. I'm more attuned to the idea of ceremonies in tune with All Souls' Day, and with All Hallows Eve. It feels like the turn of a new year to me, Panaderia Canadiense, you refer to "the setting of the stone fruits" in connection with this time. To me that would signify the blossom time - as in, spring in the Central Valley of California. What does your phrase mean? Also (another question for PC): what are the coladas to which you refer? Nancy in Mexico: so glad to see you're stepping forward! I look forward to hearing your take on the Mexican aspects. Finally: my "like" button has disappeared, too! Quick...where's the "unlike" button?

Andie, you're always a great resource. Does this sink stopper allow a good seal over an in-drain strainer? I don't have a garbage disposal and I really don't want bits of greenery or rice going down the drain to clog the plumbing when I'm draining the wash water.

I don't have a garbage disposal, but I have been plagued with the stopper problem. My stoppers have drain baskets with stoppers built into them. In theory you turn and drop the stopper into position, or you do...something that isn't clear to me...so that the stopper stays up when desired to allow water to drain out via the basket, or sits tightly in the hole when you want it to be a stopper. So far it seems to work the opposite way: when I want the sink to hold water I made 2 or 3 or 5 attempts, then finally get the stopper to hold. That's fine until it's time to drain the water; then I have to stand and hold the stopper up or else let the water bypass the drain basket. Very frustrating. I have one strainer/stopper that came with my new sink, and one off-the-shelf model. Can't say one works better than the other. I hadn't thought of Grainger either. I'll go see if they have something that would expand the stopper properly but has a built-in strainer basket. Anyone else?

The packing and storing and moving make my head and back ache even at a distance. How cool that the two of you can go indulge your friendship and love of cookery like that...and it's doubly cool that you've been willing to share it with us. Thank you both!

OK, I couldn't stand to wait any longer. My copy is on the way; I won't likely have time to actually cook from it for a few weeks, but I expect to love the writing. I may keep a copy of Shakespeare's plays close to hand while I'm at it. ;-)

Here's a couple of stories from the other end of the finances. My best friend and I were traveling around Europe, on a budget of $20 per day for everything. Meals tended toward the inexpensive; we often ordered based on the price. 1. Somewhere in Holland, on a beautiful sunny day, we opted to eat from an open-air cart in a park. The entire menu was in Dutch, a language which neither of us could read or speak. (I had already learned that my German was no help in deciphering Dutch, and was very unwelcome for communicating.) I strolled up to the counter and asked for the cheapest item - cost all of 1 gilder - name vaguely familiar-looking but unknown, and handed over my gilder. The guy at the counter gave me a funny look, reached into a jar, and produced a giant dill pickle. It was very tasty, but not much of a lunch. 2. In Barcelona we'd just gotten off the train when we found a cafeteria that met our price requirements. As we passed down the line looking at dishes, I asked the server about a dish that seemed to have little curly beans and short round beans. "What's that?" I asked in Spanish. "Pulpo," he replied. It didn't mean a thing to me, but the price was right, and I like beans, so I ordered it. After I'd paid and sat down to eat I realized that the curly beans had little suction cups running down them and the little round beans each had 8 stubs. I've had octopus before, but this smelled bad and tasted worse. The next morning, Susan said, "that must have been some dream you had last night. You kept yelling 'pulpo! pulpo!'" Great thread idea, Dave!

A thermocouple was the first thing that came to my mind too, but he doesn't want a wire. The revolving spit does pose a problem with wires, unless one can mount the transmitter on the spit far enough from the heat source that it (the transmitter) doesn't overheat. Given the advances in telemetry that allow humans to swallow a capsule and have it transmit information (including images) of the alimentary canal as it travels its course, there may be something available. But if it exists, it's likely to be astronomical in price. What about the turkey doneness probes that you stick into the meat and wait until they pop up? Or do you especially want something that can be monitored from another room? Edited for clarity

This has been lovely, Dave, and it's over entirely too soon. Thanks very much for talking about your life before now as well as your life now. If I may be permitted another question - I'll try to keep it easy :-) - is there a big difference between what one might consider Paris cookery (or perhaps big French city cookery) and what you get in the southwest of France? Or would the bistros and brasseries in your region serve more or less the same as their big-city counterparts? Thank you so much for sharing with us! It's a big job and you've done it beautifully.

I see your point.

If you can build a basic wooden fence, you can wield a drill and bit long enough to do a stress-relief hole. Trust me. I can drill till the cows come home, but I wouldn't trust myself to build a fence. And nothing is going to survive the heat of your griddle to be able to grow in the crevice. If it were my griddle, I'd do that stop-drilling and continue to use the griddle; as a precaution, I wouldn't pick it up with a load of hot food.

And it isn't just the initial expense. Speaking as someone that has a lot of Waterford, and uses it, I'm sorta nervous every time I drag it out. And when the inevitable guest breaks one, and insists on replacing it even though I insist he/she doesn't, it's awkward for them. After insisting that they are going to replace it, and discovering the cost, they have to demur. Although I did have one funny thing happen a few years back. I don't like for anyone to help me set or clear my dinner table when I'm using all that Waterford. I prefer to handle it, and I do it gingerly, one glass at a time, etc. So a friend, Macy, said, "Here, I'll help you set the table; I'll get the glasses!" and before I could stop her, she had gathered up two or three in each hand and headed for the dining room. I could hear those delicate rims crashing together, so I blanched and said, far more excitedly than I had intended, "Oh, no, Macy! I'll get those!" and leapt across the room in her direction. "Well, okay, fine!" she said, clearly taken aback. "I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like they're Waterford or something." As a matter of fact, Macy, they are Waterford, I thought. But even if they weren't, I'd just as soon they weren't all chipped and broken. My point here is that even though I spent all that money so long ago, I can't really afford to replace them now, and am hesitant to use them. So it isn't just the initial investment that you have to consider. That's a good story, and I can certainly appreciate it! On the other hand, I've watched so many friends and family members - including myself - cherish these possessions, never using them, until it's too late. A recently-widowed friend who'd lost her husband abruptly at age 50 looked at her china and said, "what was I saving it for?" So my addition to your investment advice is to consider risk tolerance versus the pleasure of using something truly beautiful. It's different for everyone. I'm careful with my "good stuff", but I'm using it...crystal and all...and I'm glad to have it to use.