enrevanche

I radically cut back on my alcohol intake a few years ago, and decided, well, if I'm going to drink less, I'm going to try my damnedest to enjoy it more. So I embarked on a gradual study of small-batch bourbons. I really must not have much of a palate for liquor, though, as I couldn't tell a huge difference between the high-dollar bottles I was tippling from and my old reliable Maker's Mark or Wild Turkey. So these days, my bourbon of choice is actually Maker's.

I often stuff warm pita bread with scrambled eggs, and add a big thick slice of raw Vidalia onion. For breakfast. Yes, I know I'm weird. But it's really pretty good.

Wow, Varmint. What a lovely photo essay. Made me a little homesick and wistful.

"Leftover barbecue?" What's that? Chopped or pulled pork barbecue actually freezes beautifully, so if I had a bunch of leftover 'cue, I'd package it up in an airtight container and bung it into the freezer, to be reanimated at a later date and served with freshly made coleslaw. Reheating tip: it's important to add some moisture, at least a few drops of water, to the pan, as barbecue tends to dry out a little. You can also re-awaken the flavors somewhat by adding a touch of your own vinegar-and-pepper based sauce after reheating (1 cup good cider vinegar, 1 tbsp brown sugar, red pepper flakes to taste.) If I had just a couple of servings of leftover 'cue (the usual situation), well, I've used barbecue as the meat (instead of sausage or bacon) with scrambled eggs and grits, have made highly acclaimed barbecue burritos (add seasoned rice, black beans, and guacamole, wrap in a fresh flour tortilla) and barbecue pitas (grilled pita bread stuffed with 'cue, sliced tomatoes and sliced sweet onion. Regarding Varmint's ideas, I think I am going to put "barbecue ragout" and "barbecue shepherd's pie" on my list of possibilities. Oh, and about the article you linked above... Much as I respect Alex Julian, the only proper beverage accompaniment to a plate of 'cue is a tall glass of sweet iced tea.

Smalls, the dear departed jazz club on W. 10th Street in the West Village. A little basement space. Rarely if ever did they attract the big names, but for a couple of years it was *the* place to hear up-and-coming young jazz players in the City, who would often show up and jam after their gigs. For a $10 cover you could stay 'til dawn and the non-alcoholic drinks (no liquor license) were free. The best nightlife value in NYC, hands down.

Pricing on that site was not readily available. Would would it cost to get one of those sweet sweet hams? Yeah, sadly they leave something to be desired e-commerce-wise, but the hams are great. The price will vary with size and type of ham, and whether you are buying whole hams or slices, but figure in the $40-60 range for a nice-sized ham, price includes shipping if you're east of the Mississippi. I recently bought a 12 lb. ham there for about $50. You can spend a lot more or a lot less depending on what you buy. Here's how their interface works: To view some sample prices, click on the category you are interested in (e.g. "Whole Hams") and then click around on the pictures of the products; you'll get a popup window with more info, including estimated prices. Very intuitive, no? Is there an information architect in the house? Best advice is to call them @ 1-800-543-HAMS(4267) when Monday morning rolls around and talk to one of the (very friendly & knowledgable) operators. Tell them what you want and they'll hook you right up. First time ordering you might want to go for a cheaper option like a package of slices until you know for sure that you like their ham. Personally, I can't get enough of the stuff. Country ham, biscuits and cantaloupe... them's good eatin'. Interestingly, some NC country ham producers have started to make Italian-style prosciutto. I have been sorely tempted to give this a try, but I generally wimp out and stay with the tried and true. Besides, with Faicco's Pork Store right down the street from me, it's not like I'm in dire need of a reliable prosciutto connection.

http://countryham.org/ The National Country Ham Association provides a a directory of small, artisanal producers of country hams. My personal favorite resource is Johnston County Hams of Smithfield, North Carolina, available online at http://www.countrycuredhams.com/

Varmint asks: Not a rum drinker, so can't speak to that, but when it comes to bourbon: go hot. Two fingers of good bourbon, add ice, fill with Blenheim's Old #3 Hot. Best bourbon-and-ginger you ever tasted. Also, I totally agree with the poster who recommended Blenheim's with hot and spicy foods. It's wonderful with Szechuan, Thai, Indian... It's also pretty great with a country ham biscuit.

Pirates would want to take advantage of the opportunity to resupply their larders from any handy nearby tropical island. Thus... roast suckling pig (wild boar seems to enjoy a wide geographic distribution), sliced with a saber whole saltwater fish, broiled or poached or fried, eaten with fingers tropical fruits: pineapple, breadfruit, papaya, etc. citrus fruits (as noted above, proof against scurvy) to be eaten whole or juiced for drinking or for use as an ingredient in other dishes Of course, pirates also live to board and plunder other boats. Assuming that they might happen upon, say, a yachtload of wealthy boaters, you could incorporate seized booty into pirate cuisine: good French champagne top-shelf liquor (yo ho ho and a bottle of ultra-premium rum) caviar foie gras truffles Belgian chocolate ...all of which should be consumed indiscriminately and lustily, especially the alcohol.

Another happy Ting drinker here. By the way, you haven't lived until you've experienced Ting mixed with Cane Spirit Rothschild (CSR) - an extraordinarily emphatic (read: tooth-enamel-dissolving) sugar-cane liqueur distilled in St. Kitts. A friend who often traveled to St. Kitts introduced me to this magic combo years ago, saying it was in essence the official cocktail of St. Kitts and Nevis. For regional/domestic soft drinks, I'm very partial to Blenheim's Old #3 Hot Ginger Ale. I have problems with chronic heartburn, usually but not always well-controlled with medication, and paradoxically when my stomach gets roiled a bottle of this very spicy ginger ale always calms it down. I like it even for non-medicinal reasons, though. It's the absolute perfect accompaniment to spicy Szechuan food or a takeout curry (speaking of heartburn...)

This will help you keep the peace, brining-tub-wise. At your favorite big-box discount store, buy the largest plastic garbage can (yard-waste size) you can find. Even if brand-new, give it at least a lick and a promise with a scrub-brush. Put a pile of clean bricks in the bottom, for added stability. Place your pig in the can, headfirst. Fill with brining solution. Soak until ready to cook. Enjoy.

Yup, good idea. Vornado fan (Bed Bath and Beyond has them, around 40 bucks if memory serves.) They're tiny and move an amazing volume of air. If your apartment configuration permits it, sit one of these little fans on the floor in the doorway of your kitchen, hopefully pointed at an open window. You will be stunned at the difference it makes. Obviously, no filtration, but just moving the smoke out of the kitchen will make things at least 90% better.

We broil chicken breasts all the time; works fine for us. We put the broiling pan in the "middle" slot (we have a choice of high, middle, low, each setting an inch and quarter or so apart.) Wash, pat dry, season with salt and pepper, broil. For a normal thickness, bone-in, skin-on chicken breast, allow seven or eight minutes a side (start rib side up, then flip it over.) The skin will take on a little light charring in spots, but will be crispy overall; meat is fully cooked and juicy inside. You will obviously need to experiment with your broiler a little to get the timing right, but once you have the kinks worked out, this is a reliable way to quickly cook a chicken breast without drying it out too much.

Great article, great project. Kudos to that enterprising young man. I was born and raised in North Carolina; have lived all over the place and now am settled in New York City. I never make a trip to NC without coming back with a cooler full of 'cue... NYC has experienced an explosion of so-called barbecue restaurants in recent years, but none of them hold a candle to even a mediocre barbecue shack back home, much less a gastronomic temple like Allen and Son. My wife is from Kansas City, home of its own important regional barbecue tradition. There is a very active "Kansas City Barbecue Society" (see http://www.kcbs.us/ for more info) with a membership entirely comprised of barbecue fanatics and boosters, which exists to celebrate and promote their regional style of cooking; they hold contests all over the country, publish a newsletter, and so forth. I have often wondered whether fans of North Carolina 'cue could support such an organization. I think so. Respect for the Carolina-style cooked pig is strong across the country; even in NYC, several of the "barbecue" restaurants claim to offer "Carolina-style pulled pork." (It is a pale imitation, or to be charitable, an homage, at best.) The local foodies know the score; my friends clamor for invitations to dinner when they learn I'm coming back with a load of the real deal. So why not a Carolina Barbecue Society? We could be magnanimous and include the Western NC folks, too. Maybe even the South Carolinians... those mustard-based sauces are weird, but otherwise they get the flavor and texture of the 'cue right.

Add me to the list of people with fond memories of Ratner's. I also miss Sun Lok Kee. It was the first Chinatown restaurant I ever visited in New York... my girlfriend, now wife, took me there. It was dingy, a little seedy-looking, but oh, man, the food... the fresh whole fish cooked with ginger, the sauteed bitter greens, wow. Closed after a fire. I understand it has reopened in Flushing ("New Lok Kee" if I'm not mistaken) but I haven't been able to bring myself to go as of yet, fearing the Thomas Wolfe effect ("you can't go home again...") I was delighted to learn, on arriving in New York, that Sloppy Louie's was still around (having read the Joseph Mitchell books in which it figures prominently.) Used to eat down there semi-regularly when I worked in the Financial District. Haven't been in years, though. When did it close?

balmagowry writes: Ah, this is but one of the many, many reasons that I'm lucky to be married to her. We get along remarkably well, especially considering that we're a mixed marriage, culinarily speaking: she's from Kansas City, where they think "barbecue" means ribs, brisket and burnt ends; I'm from North Carolina, where every young child knows "barbecue" means pulled pork. Fat Guy writes: Very interesting. Of course, we have slathered Luger's sauce on our tomato and onion salad since being instructed to do so by our waiter on our very first visit, but we have also used it with the steak; we really like it. (Difference of opinion is what makes horse races, after all.) In re: the steak sauce vs. salad dressing issue, I note that the Peter Luger folks seem to think that what they're selling is steak sauce: http://www.peterluger.com/petlugsauc.html

I, too, have heard mixed reports about Wolfgang's (some people really like it, others are unimpressed.) Count me in the "really like it" camp. My wife and I had a perfectly delightful meal there a few weeks back. The steak (porterhouse for two) arrived at the table cooked a perfect medium-rare with a light char, just as we like it, and the first words out of my mouth after tasting were, "Looks like they've cracked the Luger's code for buying and aging meat." Sides (creamed spinach and German-style hash-browns) were great. The only criticisms of the food that I can offer: (1) the chopped salad, aka "Wolfgang's Salad," that I started the meal with wasn't anything to write home about, and (2) Wolfgang's steak sauce isn't as good as Luger's. One cautionary note, which may actually be seen as an advantage by many: the bartender pours with a heavy hand. I ordered a bourbon before our meal, as is my usual habit in steakhouses, and the drink I got was almost big enough to swim in (it would have been a double, or better, most places.) I radically cut back on my alcohol intake a few years ago, and found this to be almost a little more liquor than I wanted. (Tough problem, I know. )

Growing up, I hated hated *hated* asparagus. The problem, of course, is that the only asparagus ever served in our house was the slimy, nasty canned stuff. I was a couple of years out of college before I ate a few bites of lightly steamed, fresh asparagus, at a dinner party, to be polite. Revelation! I was instantly hooked. Now, of course, I can't get enough of the stuff. When the local asparagus hits the greenmarket, I am one happy camper.

"The Art of Eating," by M.F.K. Fisher. Just stunning. Of exceptional historical interest, and some of the best writing and philosophizing about good cooking I've ever read.

Ah, a total Southern classic. They are really dead simple to make. We used to make them at the beach all the time, often after having downed several beers, and serve them along with boiled-in-the-shell shrimp. If I can make them successfully while drunk, you can certainly do it sober. There are only a couple of tips/tricks to relate to you. One, if you have a choice between larger scallops or smaller scallops, go with the larger ones, as they are easier to wrap (small ones are kind of a pain to work with but can of course still be used.) And obviously you want the freshest scallops you can possibly find. Two, it helps if you pan-fry the bacon strips a little bit first, just enough to render some of the fat out but not enough to brown the bacon or get it crisp; you still want it to be limber and flexible--a few minutes over low heat at most. The reason for this is that you don't want to overcook the scallops and make them tough; cooking the bacon a minute or two means that it will brown up that much faster, reducing the risk of turning your expensive scallops into miniature hockey pucks. (Some people slice the bacon strips longitudinally, making two narrow strips out of one normal-width strip, but this is really only important to do if you're working with smaller scallops or are obsessive about a little bacon-overhang; the bacon, obviously, will shrink somewhat during cooking.) So. Wash your scallops, season them with some freshly ground black pepper. (No salt; the bacon is plenty salty enough.) Wrap each scallop in a partially-cooked bacon strip and spear with a toothpick to hold in place. Then stick your bacon-wrapped scallops under the broiler. Broil, turning occasionally, until the bacon crisps up nicely all over. (If you'd rather, this also works pretty well using a grill.) Serve with wedges of fresh lemon. A little squeeze of fresh lemon juice over the cooked final product finishes it off nicely. For god's sake, if you've used good ingredients, keep your guests away from the cocktail sauce. (shudder) Nothing to it. Make about twice as many as you think you'll need, because they are real crowd-pleasers.

For what it's worth, rumor has it that Dinosaur is going to open a New York City outpost in the near future.

For authentic North Carolina (Eastern-style) pulled pork by mail, try the Oink Express at King's Barbecue: http://www.kingsbbq.com/ or 1-800-332-6465. Thrak, mustard-sauced barbecue is an abomination. And by the way, no self-respecting barbecue chef in North Carolina would dress their 'cue with white vinegar... it's always *cider* vinegar, with red pepper flakes and maybe a touch of brown sugar added in.

I wouldn't leave the cookies out overnight. Take them off the cookie sheet, transfer them to wire racks for cooling and they'll be at room temperature in an hour, no more, and ready for storage. If you're storing them in a plastic container (e.g., Tupperware) line the bottom with wax paper first, and put wax paper between the layers of cookies. I have sometimes noticed an "off" flavor from baked goods stored in plastic, and this practice seems to prevent it.

I, too am a big fan of the chopped "Israeli salad," either as a falafel topping or by itself. Also, though I know it's not exclusively Israeli, I'm a sucker for good halvah.

Anyone interested in Fulton Fish Market history would do well to pick up a copy of Joseph Mitchell's "Up In The Old Hotel." Mitchell, a revered writer for The New Yorker back in the day, used to hang out down there, befriended a number of people who worked in and around the market, and wrote some brilliant stuff, both fiction and non-fiction, about it.