Smithy

I have a le crueset and love it--you can actually cook in it. I think the clay ones are for display or serving and low heat warming. ← You can actually cook in the unglazed clay tagines; they are intended for that specific use. I have a Rifi tagine and like the results I get with it, as well as with my other clay pots. I have gotten up to medium-high heat on my (electric) stovetop, but that's usually overkill. As a rule I keep the heat to medium. After some experimentation I've decided that the diffuser isn't necessary. You can also use the tagine in the oven. The trick is to make gradual heat changes - no cold liquids into a hot pan, gradual warming to your final burner temp instead of just blasting it on high right off the bat, and so on. There's a lot more information in the above-mentioned thread on Moroccan tagines. The painted and glazed tagines are generally intended for serving only. (There may also be tagines that don't have a food-safe glaze, that are intended for display only. I haven't looked.) I have a number of heavy metal pots as well as clay pots, but I don't have a metal tagine, so I can't comment on how the LC would compare to a true clay tagine. I think there's likely to be some difference in the taste and texture of the final result (clay better), but I have no doubt that the LC is harder to break and easier to hurry along.

The description of Estoril's location sounds more or less right. I don't remember rafters that would support cats, rats or knickknacks, though. That sounds more like Felfelah. That place is in the same general area, and has amazing decor: several rooms, alcoves, uneven flooring, plants and fountains and tilery and doodads in unlikely places, and yes, rafters. I don't recall cats or rats, but it seems possible. The food there is quite good, and that place is well worth checking out for the sake of a travel guide. We like the atmosphere and food at Estoril a bit better. If you like garlic, be sure to try the thomeyya at Estoril. As I recall it's one of those things you have to ask for because they don't bother to list it. Their fetta shamy is also wildly good. I haven't found too many places in Egypt where I can get fetta at all, and now that I've made it a few times I know why. (I refer to the warm dish with bits of fried broken bread, meat and sauce, in this particular case with chicken and a yogurt sauce. I can't remember whether they have other fettas to offer as well. Some people may pronounce it as fattah.) My husband says the only time he's been sick from food in Egypt was when he ate from the salad bar at a Pizza Hut ("Bitza Hut") there. His erstwhile boss says the only time he's been sick there was eating a salad at one of the upscale hotels. It doesn't seem that hotels necessarily will have the best or the safest foods. Oh, and our resident ex-pat friend there often goes to the Greek Club. Same general downtown area but upstairs. Unfortunately, I find it by following my friends.

I am very, very fond of Estoril. It's a good sit-down restaurant with an interesting mix of Lebanese and Egyptian food and hilarious English signs; the food is excellent; it's been around for decades. Unfortunately I can't tell you exactly where it is. The address is 12 Talat Harb Street, but you actually get to it by going down an alley first. It's in the general vicinity of downtown Cairo: within easy walking distance of the Cosmopolitan Hotel. The sign outside, when we visited last year, said "... Experience the best + the worse as in Aesop's Fable Eat unpronouncable and undescribable dishes at the oldest restaurant" My husband and I are also fond of Khoshary Tahrir, for the best khoshary to be had. It's cheap, it's filling, and it's excellent. My Egyptian teacher informs me that we are "very brave" (translation: extremely foolish) for eating there, and at places like it, because of the increasing incidence in hepatitis C in that country and the appalling lack of sanitation in places like Khoshary Tahrir. You pays your money and you takes your chances. We're also quite fond of the roasted sweet potatoes you can get from the wagons in the Khan El Khalili. It's hard to see how one could go wrong with those. My Egyptian teacher loves Hussein's, or is it Hassan's?, near the mosque end of the Khan El Khalili. It's another time-honored establishment. There's a Lebanese place in the Garden City district that we've always loved, by the name of Tabbouli. The last time we went (2006), it was quite good but not as wonderful as it once had been. Somewhere - probably here - I read that there had been a change in the management, and the original owner had opened a restaurant of the same name in Maadi. Finally, during our 2005 trip we discovered a place on the river in Maadi that was well worth the visit. Here's what I wrote in this post, from (can it be so long ago?!) 2005: If you're staying in Maadi, the Sofitel there has a nice bunch of restaurants in the hotel, but they're all foreign cuisine (Tex-Mex, Italian, etc.) except for the breakfast buffet upstairs in the morning. (The breakfast buffet caters equally to foreigners and locals, and does justice to all its food.) For other meals, if you wander down the Corniche (river street) about a half mile you'll find a restaurant that's right down on the Nile - for a while I thought it was actually on a barge. Sorry I don't remember its name, but it was a grand discovery last year. Walk down the Corniche until you pass a big plant nursery, then a little farther you'll see a private club, then this restaurant. You have to go down a flight of steps toward the river to get to it. I have no idea whether that place is still in business, but it would be worthing seeking out. My information about Estoril, Khoshary Tahrir and Tabbouli are as recent as 2006. Have fun!

Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! With or without the mangoritas (however you spell them ), that sounds fabulous! Rosemary mayonnaise, eh? What a concept! I'll have to try that, and soon.

We, the spaniards pronouce it pa-el-ya. ← Really? In my Spanish class we were taught that two ll's together is a different letter (eyye), and that the word would be pronounced "pa-EY-ya". No sound of an L, anywhere in the word. Did my teacher lie to me, or give me a Mexican spin on the language? Pronunciation or no, those are gorgeous photos and a wonderful tutorial. ← I think you're right Smithy, my fonetical english is not that good. ← Well, I'm relieved that I won't have to go track down Señor Padilla and take him to task for misleading us. Thank you for that. Meanwhile, I'm still fascinated and gratified by your beautiful photos and marvelous instructions! I think this may be the first time I've seen rice left uncovered while it cooks. If I'm seeing this correctly, the paella is left uncovered while the stock evaporates and cooks the rice at the same time. In a pilaf, the rice is left covered until it cooks. I wonder what difference that makes with texture? Any ideas, anyone?

We, the spaniards pronouce it pa-el-ya. ← Really? In my Spanish class we were taught that two ll's together is a different letter (eyye), and that the word would be pronounced "pa-EY-ya". No sound of an L, anywhere in the word. Did my teacher lie to me, or give me a Mexican spin on the language? Pronunciation or no, those are gorgeous photos and a wonderful tutorial.

What sweet-looking babies!!! I used to take care of my class' pet rats during weekends, and thought them grand fun. I don't think rats would be such a great idea in our household now (see my avatar) but they sure can be fun. What's a Rembrandt year? Is genever the same thing as gin? If not, what is it? Recently I heard about making a rhubarb margarita: you make a simple syrup from the rhubarb, and mix it up otherwise the same as for a margarita. It sounded luscious, but I haven't tried it yet. I'm so glad you're blogging again, Chufi! Your writing and photos are always wonderful.

Your kitchen is beautiful! That is, what I've seen of it so far. I love that particular color of green, and the counters and floors and wall paint and tiles look lovely together. I'm looking forward to the finished-product revelation shots. It's fortunate that you really could plan out the layout of everything. You're right: most of us adapt to the kitchen. I once moved into an apartment that met my basic prerequisites of affordability, short commute, cats allowed. and a walk-in closet big enough to stow all my clothes and camping gear and bicycles and other toys. After I moved in, when I was unpacking, I realized that there wasn't a drawer to be found in the place: not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen. No drawers. My flatware lived in baskets on the counter that year. (It's funny now...) I'm not sure whether your blog will still be open by the time I'm near a computer again, so I'll say it now: thanks for blogging for us! This has been an enjoyable week - for us readers, at least - and it's been wonderful to share your triumphs as well as get some spring shots!

Marlene, that is flat-out GORGEOUS! Or should I say gorge-us? I wish I could be there to help gorge on it! Makes me wish we hadn't opted for ribs tomorrow night, but of course we'll be pleased with those - not a Molly Stevens recipe, so I won't go farther OT. Gorgeous.

Oh, you do have my sympathies!

Well, ah, actually, some of us prefer OJ in the cereal to milk in the cereal. At least, I do, and I picked up the habit from an English friend, so there are at least two of us. I do love lemon. Lemon in creams, lemon in sauces, lemon juice, lemon garnish, lemon curd, lemon custard. What is lemon macaron? That's a new one for me. Well, I'll be perverse and guess differently: Borscht quiche!

It's so nice to find someone else who knows the term "clabber"! I usually get blank looks with that word.

I loove the look of that soapstone counter, with the green tile trim stripes (and squares) above it on the wall! Gorgeous! I haven't really thought I'd like soapstone in my kitchen before now. Despite all the conversation on the soapstone thread, my mental image has been of the flat black lab benches that are near and dear to my heart, but that don't belong in my kitchen. You, my dear, may be changing my mind. I don't know whether to thank you or curse you. You're making me re-think pizza-making, too. I have trouble using rolling pins like yours. To me, the type with handles with the ball bearings make so much sense. What's the trick to rolling that pin under your hands, without benefit of a separate axle? What's the advantage of your type, other than size?

No, it just wouldn't be right. There are many items I believe I make as good as, or better than, my Mother or Grandmothers, but a few things are sacrosanct. Even if I had the time and patience to develop the skills needed to make these dishes, and thought I might, by chance, produce versions equal to theirs, I wouldn't want to do it. I'd rather savor the memories than the flavors. ← Hmm. This is the way traditions die. (Do guilt trips work on you, Steve? ) Add me to the Tollhouse Cookies camp. Can't imagine wanting 'em any other way. I also stuck religiously to the fudge recipe on the back of the Jet-Puff marshmallow creme jar, since it was Dad's absolute favorite. At some point Mom started playing around with simpler fudge recipes and found one that, in truth, we both preferred since it leaned more heavily toward the dark chocolate realm. But as long as Dad was alive, I kept making Fantasy Fudge for him. I'd do it again today, if he were around to enjoy it. I still have the recipe. In the "never take it for granted" section: at some point I realized that the Fantasy Fudge recipe was no longer on every jar! I made a point of getting that recipe and the Tollhouse recipe, and putting them in my own collection.

Looking at your cannelé - the molds and the finished products - reminds me of a surprise I got last week. I took a class that demonstrated, among other things, those little molten lava cakes that were all the rage a while back (and still are, out here). The teacher used baba au rhum molds due to their taper and height. What surprised me was that he didn't just tip them over once, as you obviously did with the cannelé. He had to tip each little cake out of its mold, then set it back upright so that the fat end was on top. It had never occurred to me that the cake might be oriented that way. In our case, the top was puffy enough that it probably wouldn't have balanced top-down, as I'd originally figured, even though the top was wider than the base. The one time I tried this at home, I figured the little cones would be oriented with the fat end down. I did not use baba au rhum cups. I suppose my question is whether you've ever encountered that sort of situation, where you have to do a double-flip of a baked good: once to get it out of the mold, and again to orient it properly? Cupcakes and muffins are an obvious example, but they're so stable you can flip them out and let them cool a bit before reorienting them. What else? And do you do those molten lava cakes? Or baba au rhum? Edited: spelling, and I probably still didn't get it right. Grr.

I frequently use the same vacu-vin system, although I'm more likely these days to just use the cork without pulling a vacuum. One of the eGulleteers on the Wine forum asserted that pulling a vacuum on the wine pulled some aromatics out of solution. I never found out whether that was true, but when I realized that I could see bubbles on the surface of the wine when I was pumping that bottle, and that I could smell the results, I decided not to be so aggressive about the vacuum. I'm a zinfandel, syrah or Rioja sort myself, although a nicely balanced GSM (grenache/syrah/mourvedre) can also be a fine experience. I wish we could find good ones for under $10 here, but it's difficult. I keep forgetting how much less wine costs in California. The high prices in Minnesota seem to be more taxation than transportation. That is one beautiful-looking brew, and I'd say that even if the Big Guy didn't know how to wield a sword! The rest of the meal is very pretty, too. Did that beer's taste live up to the promise of its looks? That counter top is gorgeous. 'Fraid not. "Eye-key." After practice, I am frequently achy, though in nine years (knock on wood) no breakies... ... What do you know, GC got his butt to the job right early this morning, but not before I left, so we had a little chat, and confidence is up again. That may be the worst part, the roller-coaster inconsistency. That, and hiring a surfer to do work for very detail-oriented people... ← Ducky already beat me to the comment, but I am laughing at the mental picture of detail-types trying to work with a surfer. It sounds like the basis for an excellent comic sketch, as long as someone else is in the sketch. If it isn't too far off-topic: does the sword work go with aikido? Or is kendo another of your belts?

How convenient that your posts are in sequence! Kathy, I get exactly the same results: the brine gets really thick with time. I figure it's just a natural effect of the brining process, and that juices continue to concentrate with a certain amount of evaporation out of my jar, just due to opening and removing lemons and closing it. No, I've never noticed a problem. I can't imagine why there would be a problem, from a health standpoint. The salt is getting more concentrated. shelly59, because of the issue above, I don't try to replenish my batches. I think I've read of ways to do that, but my brine always concentrates down to a syrup long before the lemons are gone. I just start a new batch when I'm getting down to the bottom of the old batch. You can see how fast you're going through the stuff, so you should be able to figure how far in advance to start your fresh batch. It's great to see new interest in this topic!

Oh, maa-aan! We have another snow storm headed our way! What I love about driving along the Central Valley at this time of year is the rows and orchards of blossoming trees. I grew up farther south than the cherry blossom area, but your cherry blossoms make me think of it: groves luminous with blossoms, on the branches and already fallen, setting the orchards and grounds aglow. Give me citrus (especially orange) blossoms for the perfume, and stone fruit blossoms for the light. While you're marveling at the attention to personal detail in the food blogs, don't forget that we've gone beyond just refrigerator and kitty and renovation shots. We also need to see hands in action, and handwritten shopping lists. In your case, the hand-written whoop-ass checklist will do as well.

Oh, I love orange cats! Actually, I love most cats, but I have a special soft spot for the orange ones. With regard to the refrigerator door: since your contractor's guys were the ones who didn't install it properly, I'm thinking he owes you a new handle, or a slight price break. You haven't fully settled up yet, have you? And do you have definitive information (yet) that the freezer isn't malfunctioning? 'sFunny about the rice. In some Middle Eastern cookery, the rice crust on the bottom of the pan is considered the very best part, to be divvied up among the honored guests. Thanks for the spring shot! Too bad about the traffic but you've reminded me why I live out here. The clear blue sky is a beautiful sight, though. Ahh, that's the kind of information I was after. Thanks, Pan.

My darling wanted to celebrate tonight. My darling wanted pork back ribs....fall-off-the-bone, tender, meaty ribs like he loves. Ribs like I made a couple of weeks ago, using the braising techniques I learned through the eGCI's seminar, The Truth About Braising. My darling wanted to simplify the recipe, since I wasn't there to do the "rocket science". His simplification went along these lines: "Oh, what the heck. The pan isn't important." He put the ribs in a shallow lightweight baking pan, instead of one of my prized heavy braising vessels. "Oh, what the heck. Liquid isn't important." He doused the ribs in his preferred barbecue sauce, but didn't add any other liquid. "Oh, what the heck. A cover isn't important." He put the uncovered pan in the oven at 200F or thereabouts, and left it for a few hours. Low and slow, long cooking. That's the ticket. What else could possibly matter? Sometime a few hours into it he reconsidered and added liquid. When I got home, he informed me that he'd wanted to see whether he could simplify the recipe and still get good results. I refrained from expressing surprise that braising is considered rocket science, and did not ask how difficult it is to put aluminum foil over a baking pan. I am a loving wife, and although I love to cook, I do not want to do all the cookery in the household. Dinner tonight was...well, about as good as we get at a lot of rib joints, but hardly the falling-off-the-bone tender meat we could have expected at an excellent rib joint, or if he'd just covered the doggoned pan. The meat is flavorful. It's a bit chewy - not stringy, but a bit dry and not very fatty, either. My question is, how can we save the remainder? Right now I have the remaining ribs covered, with a spot of water thrown into the pan, for another couple of hours of cooking at 200F. Will that work to tenderize the meat? Does anyone have any better ideas?

So is Barnes&Noble.com. It isn't the web site itself, it's those darned promotional coupons they send out in the email. I know I could still get the book cheaper if I waited, or perhaps on Amazon, but...but... *sigh* ...add Giada DeLaurentis' Everyday Pasta for me. I'm sure I've forgotten to update my count for a while, but this is the weekend take, so it's the one I'll add. I so do not need another cookbook...!

It's called a glass lid.

That's so funny. I braise in the oven because I get better control that way! The food looks and sounds lovely, Chufi.

As I was preparing for Easter this year, I came bang up against a double standard in my cookery. As a rule, I like to mess with recipes unless I'm testing them for the first time. Sometimes I veer from a recipe by necessity, born of an emergency substitution for a missing ingredient. At other times, I just can't be bothered to follow 10 zillion steps: it's getting late, the family is yammering too much for me to think, and I'd best just throw things together and go. Finally, there's the category of dishes that I make because they're mine and I'm cooking by feel instead of a set series of steps. Theme and variation is the way to go. Not with lemon meringue pie. Don't mess with my lemon meringue pie. The family recipe for lemon meringue pie comes to me from my mother, who got it from the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, vintage 1940's or '50's. Our family ate countless lemon meringue pies over the years, made from that recipe with lemons from our ranch; when I finally started making it - learning, to my surprise, that it wasn't as big a production as I'd been led to believe - why, it was a success! And so it remains. Every so often I see another recipe - blueberry lemon tart, for instance - that's worth trying, and I'll try it. Or a Meyer lemon tart. But they aren't intended to be lemon meringue pie. When I want to make that particular pie, I go to that particular recipe. Don't mess with success. I may never try another version, despite having plenty of variations to choose from among my not-recently-counted cookbooks. If I think about it long enough I may find other sacred cows in my repertoire. Right now, I'd like to know whether I'm the only one here, unwilling to try changing something deeply loved, convinced that there can be no other version worth trying? What say you all? Anyone else got sacred cows lurking in their recipe boxes?

I'm in the "use dish towels unless it's really, really icky" camp. Dish towels for dishes and greens and hands (not the same towels at the same time); paper towels for blotting washed chicken or fish before sauteing, and for some of the very worst messes on the floor; mop or sponge and shop towels from their bin for most of the worst messes on the floor. Our kitchen towels are either terry or cotton; there may be some linen, but it really seems to me that woven cotton is also a good lint-free substance. Cotton-poly blends are to be avoided, though; the synthetic fibers really cut down on absorbancy. Some were gifts, and I think of the givers fondly. Others cost me a few bucks, but hey - they're cheaper than paint! The dish towels add color and variety to the kitchen, and launder easily. (I'd like to see some supporting data that significant bacteria will survive a good hot-water and bleach wash.) (And in our household, with nature close by and animals of the 2- and 4-footed variety tracking it in and out all the time, it's probably a moot point anyway.) We're big into waste minimization in our household. I think one roll of paper towels lasts 2-3 months in our kitchen. JAZ, you started this topic just in the nick of time. I thought of this thread in the midst of my glorious Easter cookery messes, and realized I had far more towels than mess potential. This towel soaked from draining dishes? Off it went! Pull out another from the drawer! Then I did one dedicated, hot water wash for the whole lot.