Smithy

That's a WONDERFUL story, and the pictures to go with it are PERFECT. How fortunate: for you, that the fairies were willing to pose for the artist; for Gracie, that's you're so insightful and clever; for us, that you're so willing to share. You've added yet another blessing to this holiday season. May the blessings return manifold to you.

I agree with slo_ted. The worst that can happen is that it's rancid, and then you can pitch it before you wreck the flavor of some food. It might be wonderful still, in which case you'll be glad you tried it first.

Oh, I'm going to have to have kraut and sausage soon. Your version sounds wonderful. Her royal poshness is gorgeous. I can almost feel her fur under my hands, lush and thick and velvety. She reminds me of my Gracie Mu (see avatar), who's gone these weeks, probably out of my life, into the wilds. She was getting cranky, but I miss her terribly. Please tell more about the asparagus casserole! That may be just the ticket for our quiet at-home Thanksgiving!

Oh, Rachel. Your writing always makes me slow down and savor the words. Your posts resist skimming and speed-reading as surely as my bowl of rocky road ice cream demands that I notice and enjoy every bit of sweet or crunchy or savory or cold or soft. We are rich indeed to have you posting, and triply rich that you're willing to blog on Thanksgiving week. I suppose you'd have to say that we who are short of time for our online community are now in treble trouble. I never met my maternal grandmother; Mama Keen died before I was born. Pop, my maternal grandfather, is a benevolent mystery whom I only met two or three times, since we lived on opposite coasts. It was Nana and Papa, 50 miles away, who formed my ideas of good grandparenting, and who cemented the core of our clan. When my sister, the eldest of my generation, was born, Nana spent endless time teaching her to say "Nana" and "Papa", much to the then-disgust of my grandfather. By the time I came along, the names were a done deal for all of us, and Papa had forgotten to mind it any more. Nana was firmly in the "food is love" camp, and it was impossible to drop by without having her try to stuff food into you before the hello's and hugs had been completed. Our family gatherings were feasts of the first order: turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans that broke all the rules and were to die for, stuffing, sweet potatoes, biscuits, jello, and doubtless other things I've forgotten. Then there was dessert. The women of the next generation down were allowed to participate in some of the dessert making, so I can't remember just who brought what - except that my mother generally made the apple pie and a chocolate pie and a mincemeat pie 'specially for Papa. At other times of the year, Nana would have cobbler waiting in case someone dropped by; the peaches often came from our trees, but she had more local sources as well. Those green beans were of the melt-in-your-mouth, army drab variety, with bacon, and they were the best beans on earth. (I stick by that assertion, even though soft green beans are no longer in vogue. ) We kept trying to work out how Nana did it. Bless her, she had no secret recipes and was always willing to help, but nobody could get it right. One year my cousin Sally dogged Nana's footsteps around the kitchen and took notes. Sally is a precise and clever woman, so her notes should have been right. They didn't help. We finally concluded that it was the cooking pot, but really, I think it was the love and Nana's special touch. I did take that cooking pot when Nana passed on, though, and it makes passable beans even if they don't quite measure up to Nana's. One summer when my parents were visiting, Dad looked at that pot where it simmered on the stove and said, "I remember when Mom got that pot." He told me about Nana hosting a Wear-ever party, like the Tupperware parties of later years, and getting the pot set (2 pots, 1 lid, a steamer insert) as a hostess prize. That was right around Dad's 10th birthday. I felt warmed and cherished, and still do, knowing that I'm the 3rd generation to cook in a 1929 set of cookware. The connections go on. Doggone it, now I'm getting misty-eyed. Thank you, Miz Rachel, for hosting this blog.

Quinces have made sporadic appearances in the Duluth-area grocery stores just within the last few years, and I'm still trying to figure out how to find a good one. Those that I've tried here have sometimes cooked into the beautiful rose color, sometimes just turned brown with cooking, but either way have had little flavor to go along with it. I'd describe them as tasting like a pear, with a slight overtone of pineapple. They weren't worth the fuss. I think they probably weren't ripe, or perhaps they'd gone past their prime. I've had membrillo and know it's wonderful. I suspect I'd feel the same way about good quince, but I need to know how to find it. I suspect our local produce managers don't know what to look for either, and are inadvertently selecting substandard fruit. What should I look for, smell for, check for, the next time I have a chance to get some quince?

I don't blanch it. It does turn darker, but for my general uses (the sauce cubes) it doesn't matter, and even with pesto it doesn't seem to hurt the flavor. Some day I'll try blanching to see whether I think the extra step is worth the appearance for pesto. I'd cheerfully embarrass myself to get nickel-a-bunch basil! I forgot to rescue any from the garden and start it indoors before it all froze. Enjoy your find!

I too am glad to hear it's getting better, although it's still plenty bad. Thank you for taking the time to post about this, and for passing the warning on to the rest of us. If I ever know someone who's considering gastric bypass, I'll be sure to send them to this thread. It's truly wonderful that your relationship has gotten stronger as a result of this. AnnaN's right: you've been doing something very right. May you continue to be able to see your blessings!

You just harvested basil? We've already had snow! Much along the lines of what you do, I whirl mine up with olive oil and freeze it, both in ice cube trays (for those tablespoon amounts) and in larger containers for mid-winter pesto. Following the advice of some cookery "expert" I just do the garlic and basil for the pesto before freezing. Now I've forgotten who the "expert" was, but he or she claimed that adding the cheese and nuts before freezing would make it go bitter. (I don't know whether it's true. I routinely freeze nuts and grated parmeggiano-reggiano, and they don't seem to suffer.) I've also mixed the basil in with other compatible herbs before whirling in the food processor, adding oil and freezing. That way you can have a cube of flavoring ready to go for sauce-making. Garlic is a given. Parsley, rosemary, thyme, mint have all made their ways into my flavor cubes.

I second the sour cream. It makes a huge difference. ← Make that three of us. My husband thinks he doesn't like "hot" peppers, but he adds so much "mild" chili powder that it's too hot for me, the inveterate cayenne user. Sour cream is my salvation.

My dad once used a tray as a mouse-catcher. He was carrying the tray full of implements out to the barbecue when he spotted the mouse scurrying away in the kitchen. Quick thinker that he was, he slammed the tray down and pinned the mouse to the floor. He then used the meat mallet as a mouse-skull smasher.

So what makes it a "carbonnade"? The specific addition of a beer? I just made my old standby beef carbonnade, using a Joan S. Harlowe recipe (from The Loaf and Ladle Cookbook) and she insists it must be stout, preferably Guiness. The sauce is finished with molasses and vinegar. Other cookbooks I consulted called for lighter beers. Now in this thread I see assertions for dark Belgian beer or ale - which makes sense, given that it's a Belgian dish. I've never come across the gingerbread recommendation before. I see a world of exploration ahead of me. By the way, I used the Harlowe recipe to beat an old moose roast in to submission. (That is, the roast was fresh but the moose was old and full of gristle.) The final result is wonderfully tender and flavorful. I cubed the roast, making sure to remove as much of the gristly bits as I could, and then used the Southwest France technique of making the stew, letting it cool, reheating the next night, and again the night after that. My husband had been pushing to grind all the meat into burger until this dish; now he's seen the light. Back to my question: to what does the title actually refer?

I have 2 mixers: a tilt-head KitchenAid (fairly new and not nearly as hefty as your 6-quart job) and a Hamilton Beach with all the original equipment that's a couple of years older than I am. I've never entertained the notion of using both mixers at once. I realize they aren't equivalent, but they both do the job. It's just much too much fuss to get both out, and I don't have enough counter space to set them both up at once. Why not get an extra bowl or two and an extra set (or two) of beaters? You don't need 2 motors or 2 stands. Extra beaters are nice, though, so you don't have to clean them when you're switching bowls. The beaters and bowls together would be cheaper and require less storage space than if you get an extra mixer. Remember, too, that if you get a different mixer then you're looking at 2 whole sets of equipment, most of which can't be swapped from one mixer to the other. As for the pink mixer: gaah. Granted, I'm not fond of the color. Aside from that, I have to ask: why not just donate the money directly to American Cancer Society, or to a particular breast cancer research program? For far less money spent you'd direct a lot more money to the institute of choice.

Wolfert, thanks for chiming in! I've been wanting to ask you about the heat source. How long does it take to cook a meal in a tagine using the original clay brazier and coals instead of over an American-style stove? How much coal goes into the brazier that's intended to heat the tagine? Does coal have to be added as the cooking goes on, or is one batch of coal enough for a meal? Finally: over the charcoal fire on the brazier, is overheating and cracking of the tagine still a potential danger?

Here are some basic do's and don'ts, starting after you've cured your clay pot: DON'T heat or cool it quickly. The clay is thick enough that if, say, you have it very cold and you put it on a hot stove, the exterior will expand faster than the interior, and you'll end up with a crack. Similarly, if you have an intense heat source you may be able to heat it up from the center too quickly for the rim to keep up. You can have just as bad effects from putting an intense source of cold into a hot pot. So: - Don't put a cold pot onto a hot burner. - Don't pour cold liquids directly into a hot pot. - Don't put a large pot over a small, intense heat source. DO keep your temperature changes gentle, for the reasons stated above. Here's what I do: - DO heat the pot gently over a burner - for instance, when I crank my electric coils up to about medium heat I do it in stages. I start with about 3 (out of 8 or 10) on the burner, let the rifi and its contents come up to temperature, then crank the burner up to 5 or 6 (depending on burner) - DO keep temperature changes gentle when you're adding ingredients. Liquids can change temperatures quickly. If my pot is hot, I add liquids slowly, and only by pouring them onto something large in the pot instead of directly onto the clay. Dribbling the liquid onto pieces of chicken, instead of in between the pieces of chicken, is an example of what I mean. I also generally heat the liquid first - say, bring it to a simmer over another burner - before adding it. - somewhere around in these threads is a bit of Paula Wolfert wisdom that goes along the lines of "add hot liquids to hot clay and cold liquids to cold clay". If you're feeling a bit overwhelmed with my wordiness, just remember that bit of wisdom and you're home free. - If you have a diffuser, use it on your burner until you get a feel for how quickly or slowly your pot responds to changes in heat source. I started out using a diffuser, faithfully, until I got that feel for my clay pots over my burners. In my (electric coil) case, the burners go low enough that the diffuser isn't necessary. - Most folks will tell you not to clean your pot with detergents, since the clay is porous and may take up flavors from the detergent. They'll say to instead scrub it and let it dry, or at most use baking soda and water to scrub, then rinse and let it dry. I admit, I've been known to use a solution of a little mild detergent and a lot of water, but I never soak the clay in that. I tend to cook stuff that leaves heavily-coated spots that I can't get loose with just scrubbing. I do not use the Approved Method of cleaning. - Don't figure on heating the pot and browning the meat, then deglazing with liquid, as you'd do with a good skillet. The reasons are stated above. What you do instead, most of the time, is cook the ingredients, get the meat done, then start cooking the liquid down, and then (if necessary) brown the meat. (ETA: you can brown the meat first, but you can't deglaze with a rapid application of liquid.) - Do figure on using less liquid than the recipe suggests, unless you're using a recipe designed for clay pots. It's really strange to see how much less liquid is needed for clay, but there it is. I don't know why. Several of us discussed it at great length last winter (or was it the winter before?) and I'm still not sure we arrived at the answer. Those are good basics. I'm sure someone else will chime in with more. Have fun! ...and welcome to eGullet! Edited to add the info about browning meat first instead of at the end. I hope I made it clearer.

Well...er...I'm going to just show my ignorance in the hopes of learning something. What is the purpose of the charger? I'd always assumed it was to protect something (one's hands, the table) from a very hot dinner plate. Marlene's place settings, which are lovely, don't seem to support that theory. Why bother with the charger, except as an excuse for more china?

This is such sad and unexpected news. I hadn't really "met" Flocko until his foodblog, and I thoroughly enjoyed conversing with him then. I'm glad for the short conversation we had, and sorry there won't be more. Enjoy the light, Bill. Thank you for sharing your world with us.

I'm so glad you asked this question; I've been wondering the same thing. I bumped this up to emphasize the question. OK, gadgeteers: how does pushing down on a grid produce dice instead of matchsticks?

This is a fine blog, Kerry, and I want to add my thanks for your time, efforts and lovely photos. The molded chocolate surprised me. I thought you were never, ever supposed to put chocolate in the refrigerator because of the bloom that would develop, yet you put your freshly molded beauties in there to cool off. Are the rules different when the chocolate is still in the mold? That pig is so fun, it makes me want to try out a buy a bunch of chocolate molds and chocolate and make more glorious messes in the kitchen. Love and coffee are a winning combination. Thank you for sharing that excellent story. I'm glad you took the trouble to show your pasta-making in the in-between steps. I'm never sure whether mine is going right. Your photos make a good guide. Thanks! In the sailors' defense: is it possible that they were just leaving the marina and hadn't yet gotten properly under way? What do you suppose the skipper would say to the discovery that the boat and its gaffes are immortalized for all time on eGullet?

I couldn't wait for someone else to make a report. So I asked the company for a review kit, and just posted the review here on Consumer Electronics Network. In short: very nifty. But a product desperately in search of the right price point. ← Nice review, Esther. Thanks for the review and the link. I think you're right about the price point.

This has been great fun, Bill. Thanks so much for blogging for us. And I like your taste in dishes. If you should ever want to part with that bowl - there, on the right, peeking in from the edge, PM me.

California girl that I am, I don't have a dog in this fight - so I'm all for trying the nuke method. My attempts at roux so far have stopped short of something really brown, for fear of burning it. Your method sounds a touch easier to control than the heavy metal pan on the burner. I'll be sure to keep in mind the business about nuking for shorter periods as it gets close to the right color. Thanks!

As an aside, I can't believe you know Moxy Früvous! I thought their appeal was largely limited to Canadian university campuses (and mostly in the '90s), but it's nice to see they have other fans out there. ← They get a lot of play on Minnesota Public Radio, too. Great fun!

Gorgeous. It's all gorgeous. The 'coobeeyon', the scenery, the markets, the SM grill. When/how do you decide which grill to use? Are some foods better prepared on one vs. the other, or is it more a matter of time and convenience? When I look at your photos of the markets and shops, I'm struck by how much the food options in this country have changed over the last, oh, 20 - 30 years. I expect mixing and changing in cities: New York and L.A, for example, have had so many waves of immigrants that the food scene must be fluid. I think the contrast between "then" and "now" in the interior portions of the country - Moab being a fine example - seems much more drastic. What do you think? Finally: it's not nice to tell us you have a secret method of making your roux.... ....unless you want us to beg. So?

If push comes to shove, Anna N, you could food mill it first to get the skins and some seeds out, then use the sieve to get the rest of the seeds. Cheesecloth will do the trick too, but then you'll lose some of the juices. I haven't tried any of this with blackberries, but milling and then sieving worked for me on wild raspberries. I was mighty proud of that puree.