Smithy

You and Fifi both? It looks like I'll have to get myself a stainless steel garlic smasher mushroom thingie.

Andie, what do spittle bugs look like? I've had what look like little white flies on my rosemary - kept indoor for the winter - and in some years they've clustered almost as heavily as on Curlz's photo above. This year when I spotted them I used a food-safe bug spray, and judicious washing, and seem to have gotten them to go away. I'd still like to know what they are.

well, susan, guess you REALLY aren't going to be doing anything with that stock for a bit - warm water around the base of the container? ← Hmm. Heat your ice chipper indoors, then gently use it to pry under the stockpot? Edited to add: I came very close to the same calamity last Sunday. By sheer dumb luck, I checked it before the pot had quite frozen to the deck.

This particular recipe was one of two called "fatta shamy". As I understand it, the name comes from the holiday when it's most likely to be made. Considering the amount of work that went into it (I am not an efficient cook) I can see why it's more of a holiday or party meal! Anyway, both fatta shamy recipes involved chicken (the meat and the broth). Elsewhere in the cookbook is another fatta recipe that calls for beef, but I haven't tried that one yet. The tahina sauce was a mixture of tahina, lemon juice, vinegar, and yogurt, with a seasoning of cumin and salt, with water to thin if necessary. (It wasn't, since my tahina was pretty runny.) I may be calling the sauce by the wrong name, since it also included yogurt, but I needed to call it something for the purposes of this post. So far I have two specifically Egyptian cookbooks that I like. The one I was using last night is called "Tastes of Egypt", or maybe it's "Flavors of Egypt", and it's a lovely and fairly low-production-cost book put together using recipes from women all over the country. Think of a very large locally-produced book from your favorite church group, and you'll have the idea of the format. The funds went to help the women and children of the villages, as I recall. I got it at the American University in Cairo (AUC). The book promises a second edition, but I haven't been able to locate it. If you want more information I'll post the production info when I get a chance to look at the book again. The other Egyptian cookbook I have is one I just picked up: "Egyptian Cooking, the English edition". (The same book is available in French, German and who knows what other languages.) I think it may be an AUC production, but I'd have to look again to be sure. I picked it up because it had recipes the other book didn't have, and had photos to boot. No vocabulary, though. "Tastes of Egypt" has a fairly detailed vocabulary list with actual spellings as well as phonetic spellings, both in Arabic and English. Edited to add: the title of the book is Flavors of Egypt from city and country kitchens, by Susan Torgersen. It may be out of print.

Some thoughts, now that I've finally caught up on SIXTEEN PAGES worth of blog started while I was away: Cheers to you bloggers, and to Maggie, and the others who've jumped on the wagon! I don't have direct insight to what you're going through, since I've never smoked, but I've watched other people quit. It can be very difficult. Some friends who tried the harder drugs first (post-college Southern California, don't you know) eventually got around to trying nicotine. They were amazed that it was legal, considering all the illegal "harder" stuff they'd tried that didn't seem nearly as nasty. I've been trying to imagine what you're going through, without having actually done it myself. The closest I can think of is giving up eGullet. Naw. Couldn't do it. Susan, your venison treatments have looked wonderful so far. Here are some other ideas, if you're still looking for them: Gumbo! Shish kabob! Roast, slow cooked, or chops, with mushroom sauce. Take Dave's flank steak treatment above and do that to some venison or elk. Marlene, I would vote against the chicken wing soak because of the timing. Isn't that supposed to be an overnight thing? I'm looking forward to your treatment, though. Mm. I adore buffalo wings. Dave, here's my ignorant question of the day: when you butterflied that flank steak way upthread did you just slice it in two along its thickness? I couldn't tell whether you basically opened it out to make it thinner, or if you put the seasonings in between the layers and then closed them up again. Y'all are doing great. Hang in there. My husband quit about 30 years ago, long before we met, because he'd started running. His doctor predicted correctly that he'd give up running or smoking within 6 months. He's never gone back. My mother took a couple of tries, but she quit and made it stick. You can do it too. ETA: Susan, do consider Chufi's butter-braised beef recipe, with venison or elk instead.

I've no advice for you, but I'm so glad you picked up one of those! I was admiring them recently. You *will* post photos of finished dishes in it, won't you? So's we can enjoy it too.

Last night I was working on a fatta recipe and got around to the tahina sauce. It called for vinegar. Err.. what type of vinegar? My cookbook doesn't say. After some thought I eliminated apple cider vinegar (don't remember seeing apples in Egypt), wine vinegar of either color (although this seemed a possibility), and standard white vinegar (yech) and went with cane vinegar. Given the importance of sugar cane in Egypt, this seemed the most likely type of vinegar they'd use, but I wish I'd checked recently. Does anyone know? Once again I marveled at and lusted after the lemons. They aren't Meyer lemons, and they aren't our standard Eureka lemons. They're quite a bit sweeter than our Eurekas but lack the floral quality of the Meyers, and they're smaller than either. (I can get a reasonable facsimile of the juice by blending Meyer and Eureka juices, but it still isn't the same.) I think they're just characterized as "limoon baladi" (country lemons) by the vendors, but don't quote me on that. I'd love to know (a) what variety lemon is grown there, and (b) whether that variety is grown in the U.S.A. somewhere. Can anyone help me?

Those pots really are pretty! I especially like the ones in Andie's second link. Fifi, I thought lead was most likely to be in the glaze, therefore not an issue for an unglazed pot. Should I be testing my Egyptian pots (one, anyway) for lead?

Really? Is that legal? I don't know why it wouldn't be, it just sound so environmentally unfriendly... but I guess disposal in any sense means returning it to the earth in some form... I guess I just assumed there was a more "friendly" form than just dirty grease... U.E. ← Geez, I hope so. If it isn't somebody speak up! I would never do it if it wasn't food grease or oil. I actually generally mix it with other fats and bird seed and put it out for the birds. And if there is a biofuel plant in my area I would be happy to contribute to it. ← It is legal to put cooking oils and fats in your household garbage, at least on a household level. That sort of thing is expected to go into your municipal solid waste landfill (MSW), and the landfill is designed for it. However, the other uses cited above are more friendly uses of the material. The whole idea of the MSW is to collect all the materials that go into it and keep them forever. The landfill is lined. Eventually it's capped to prevent precipitation from going in. Therefore, the fats aren't going back to the earth in any sense of recycling. Using them for fuel, either for your car (gosh, I like the sound of that) or the local wildlife is closer to actual reuse or recycling.

Bless Alice for helping us increase up our uptake of antioxidants! Isn't that Frank Stitt book just gorgeous? It's the kind of cookbook that makes me sit myself down for a good talking-to. "Now really, just look at all you can learn - and eat - from this one book alone. It's time, truly, to stop buying more cookbooks." I nod solemnly and agree with myself, until (say) Chef John Folse's Encylopedia of Creole and Cajun Cooking leads me cheerfully back through temptation, unto the sin of accumulation. Add Egyptian Cooking for me. I couldn't resist. It's the first of my Egyptian cookbooks to have photos, it has recipes my other cookbooks don't have, and it includes some cookery from farther west as well.

*Bump* I'd forgotten all about Estoril! The given address is 12 Talat Harb street (Cairo), but in fact you have to go down an alley to get to it. Wonderful thomeya, great salads and bread. My grilled chicken was a bit bland but cooked to perfection. Russ' khofta had just the right amount of spice. This seems to be one of those well-known secrets of the area. If I can get these photos downloaded I'll post photos of the food and the sign. The sign outside the door says, among other things, Experience the best + the worse as in Aesop's Fable Eat unpronouncable and undescribable dishes at the oldest restaurant I love Egypt. Edited for spelling.

Ya know, even here in Duluth we have displays like that, admittedly smaller, but they're there. I zero in on those by smell alone. I haven't worked out what that precise smell is that's so distinctive, so tantalizing. It isn't sweet, it isn't hot, it isn't - well, it isn't basil, oregano, chili, or cumin. Or thyme, saffron, cloves or fruit. What the heck is it? I don't know, but it grabs my attention from 2 aisles over, every time. It's luscious. Any ideas what that precise odor combination is? That is soooo California. I grew up in the Central Valley, where orange juice was sold from stands made like giant oranges that dotted the landscape along Highway 99. They're all gone now, but I still see the odd relic, like Bob's Big Boy. Or your cow.

The pot shouldn't break if you drop it. I agree with the above suggestion - try the vendor first - but if that doesn't work for some reason then contact Le Creuset directly. They're very good with the warranty, from what I've seen.

I didn't think you were that far inland. I know the Pacific's plenty cold, but doesn't it help mitigate the desert climate? Or are you farther inland than I'd thought? For instance: Claremont, up in the San Gabriel Valley near the L.A. area, is about 30 miles from the ocean and can get plenty cold (for SoCal) at night. I wouldn't expect that of Santa Monica. I love old cookware, and have my share of it interspersed with the newer fru-fru stuff. Your beloved saucepan kinda looks like something from the Wagner Ware Magnalite line. Is it? I've admired those from afar for years but never been willing to cough up the money on eBay.

I'm so glad I like that song. It'll be stuck in my head for a couple of days now.

Oh, this is going to be fun! Blog on, mizducky! Do be sure to include photos of the sunshine, since some of us are in the middle of winter. Will you be moving into your very own place, or will you have a new housemate whose food preferences and sensitivities will need consideration?

John, your writing is as lovely as your cookery (and Mary's). Thank you, and Mary, for sharing your birthday celebration with us in such a lovely and informative way. I'm looking forward to making both cassoulet and that gorgeous terrine....and the tomatade, and any number of other luscious-looking dishes you've presented for us. Here's wishing you many excellent years to come! Edited as I remembered more of the glories of the week.

That is interesting information! My blocks of tamarind are brown, and the tamar hindi (tamarind drink) I've had in Egypt is a golden brown. I didn't know there was a green/unripe tamarind use. I wonder which "tamarind" we're using?

It shore do. FWIW, it doesn't have to live in the refrigerator, if you're short on space. My block has been kept tightly wrapped in the cupboard for over a year, and aside from being harder (I had to take a very large knife to it to get that chunk) it seems fine. I can't detect a stale or rancid flavor, for instance. I don't know if the refrigerator would prevent that hardening.

I get the blocks of tamarind pulp mixed with seeds. I put a chunk - say, walnut-sized - in a small bowl, pour about a cup of boiling water over it, and let it steep with occasional stirring. The concentration can be adjusted, of course. The liquid can go into all kinds of things, and this treatment is my main use of tamarind so far. Your post is quite timely, even though I'm not using paste, because just last night I hauled out my block of (old) tamarind after a long period of neglect. While it was steeping I washed and patted dry some chicken thighs, then sprinkled them with sweet paprika, salt, and crumbled saffron threads. Into a hot, lightly oiled pan they went. I seared the thighs on one side, added garlic, seared the thighs on the other side, then deglazed the lot with the tamarind liquid. Next I reduced the heat to a simmer and covered the pan, occasionally lifting it to turn the thighs to make sure they were coated as they cooked. Before they were quite done I took the lid off and let the liquid cook down, again turning for coating, and finished the cooking. I was very happy with that experiment. The spices played off each other beautifully, and I ate far more chicken than I should have as a result. I'd never before tried sprinkling crushed saffron threads instead of making an infusion. I was surprised at how well that worked. Hot tamarind drink is another fine use of the stuff. I'd think paste would lend itself well to that.

There's nothing like a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, squeezed from oranges picked just minutes before, still chilled from the California night. I most certainly drink orange juice that way, and I'll go to my grave with happy memories of such ambrosia, both during my childhood and later when I went home to visit my parents, back on our ranch. We'd salute each other with our glasses, and comment on the heavy fog protecting the trees, or the glorious sunrise over the Sierra Nevada, as the case might be, and start the day with good cheer. Each winter, whenever I visit, I come back with as many oranges (navels) as I can manage. Some get juiced. Many are peeled and eaten instead, because it's less messy than in the car. At this time of year, I still wonder whether I did the right thing, not staying on and taking over the ranching activities, but the place is in good hands without me now. (Note to the wondering reader: we called it a "ranch", as did our ranching neighbors. No livestock was involved. Regional dialects, and all that.) The rest of the year, I'll go for the Tropicana Grovestand because it's the closest I've been able to come to the Real Thing. Sunkist tried marketing the same thing for a while, but it didn't last. As for that stuff out of cans - well, it's an obscenity that doesn't deserve to be called "orange juice". I have problems with that Guardian article, but I'll be the first to admit that I may be biased. I'd really like to see the data supporting the contention that citrus is one of the most pesticide-intensive crops. I suspect the organization that funded the study has a bias of its own.

Please, step away from the Velveeta... trust me, it's not worth it to waste your time and effort on that Velveeta Fudge', we're still wondering WHY we did that to ourselves. ← Oh, I'll take your word for it. As for "why", well, it might be the same reason that suckers someone into putting tongue to pump handle in the dead of Minnesota winter. "Aw, it can't really be that bad, can it?"

I don't have such a space now, so can't provide any photos. I looked seriously once at buying a house that had a space, maybe 6 feet wide, maybe more like 8 feet, between the kitchen and the dining room. The divider was a counter/breakfast bar that served as a pass-through between the two rooms. Louvered bifold doors closed the space off to hide the kitchen mess. If we were to add on to our house so I could have my cherished dining room, we'd consider something like that. As I recall, cabinets were hung from the ceiling so that the space was too low to provide easy conversation between the two rooms, unless people in the dining room sat at the breakfast bar and chatted through into the kitchen.

Helen, I've been so ill myself I've barely had time to even skim your blog, and I've still found it wonderful. Thank you for blogging again. Add my wishes for your quick recovery to the rest of the readers' wishes. I'm so fascinated with the table, and it looks like a wonderful way to keep food warm. After a moment I realized that in our household there would be at least one of the 6 cats, at any given time, sleeping there when the heat was on. I waved goodbye to the fantasy. You commented upthread about how difficult it is to bring formerly-live things into New Zealand. What about coming the other way, from New Zealand to Japan? For instance - if you wanted to bring lemons into Japan, could you? This question harks back to a discussion we started in my foodblog. I've always wondered about the answer.

Oh my goodness...I didn't read the entire thread through before posting my query about the Ritz cracker "Mock Apple Pie." I guess this answers my question. ← Actually, my mother made that pie a lot back in the 60's or 70's. I think she tried it for the novelty, and kept making it because it was cheaper, easier, and got a laugh when people were clued in. Please note, my mother is an outstanding apple pie maker, and I'd stack her pies against anyone's (except possibly my own now, using her recipe ). It fooled a lot of people, including our minister; one memorable afternoon I watched my mother struggle with her conscience about whether to inform the admiring pastor that it wasn't really apple pie after all. The crackers weren't as crushed as the recipe seems to imply, and I think I remember a touch of apple cider, or perhaps cider vinegar, in the recipe. We could tell the difference if we were paying attention, but the difference was smaller than the recipe seems to suggest. Having said all that, I'll say that at some point Mom went back to making the real thing, to our great relief. Why have the fake if you can have the real thing? I haven't tried making it myself, and my assessment might be quite different now than it was then. Velveeta Fudge? Yowza! My faves: Toll-House cookies and, back when Dad was alive, the fudge from the Jet-Puff jar. I think that recipe's changed in the last couple of years.