Chris Amirault

I agree with Bruce: start with too much paste and keep some extra coconut milk on hand. When you're done tasting and adjusting, all you'll have is too much sauce. And there can never be too much sauce.

I also wonder whether modulating intensity of flavor can be a useful tool. I know many people who would hate a teaspoon of shrimp paste or a single fried chicken liver, but they might love a sauce that's been enriched with the same things. Over time, if you put that liver into a terrine, and then into a pate....

I think that Dave is right in some respects. At some point a few years back, I decided that I didn't dislike tripe: I just disliked the bad preparations I'd had and committed to trying it when I could. Now I find that I like tripe dishes about a third of the time. Those quality and technique arguments definitely apply to other things. I remember the first time I had a first-class sea urchin, forever dispelling the notion that I hated that, and I've turned a few dozen haters onto gin with the right cocktails prepared properly. But tripe is tricky, because I'm not even sure I could say whether all examples were "well made" or "high quality." I've enjoyed dried out versions sitting in street vendor's hotel pans in Thailand and found it inedible coming out of good kitchens run by people I respect. There's just something about that ingredient that for me can shift from flavorful to somehow "off," and I can't put my finger on what it is. But at least I can detect some variability. My father would say that there is nothing whatsoever that will make him like cilantro, which he believes tastes like soap, and my wife hates the tingling effect of Sichuan peppercorns. That suggests to me that there are chemical, olfactory, or tactile (?) aspects of certain foodstuffs that are dealbreakers for certain people 100% of the time.

No bechamel, just the ricotta, parm, and red sauce. There was enough on our plate for this little father/daughter event without adding the bechamel. As for bolognese, I'm not sure what Batali does, but I went with something along these lines: Saute about 6 oz of diced pancetta in a T or two of olive oil. When it's just browning, add a large chopped onion and then a couple of celery ribs. Just before they brown add 2 lb beef chuck, 1 lb pork shoulder, and 1 lb veal shoulder that's been ground with a fine plate. When that's lost all pink, add a bottle of chianti, bring to a boil, then add two cans of ground San Marzano tomatoes, a couple of bay leaves, some ground red pepper, oregano, salt, and a pinch of ground clove and cinnamon. Simmer for four hours or so. The spices are a great addition: you can't tell they're there but they really bring out the pancetta.

We got a sample in our last order, and it's great. I'm sure that "single malt" cinnamon fiends don't like these blends, but for those of us who want a potent, everyday cinnamon that can be used for a variety of applications, this stuff is great. PS: Welcome, Mr. Dinkie!

I find this hard to understand. You fan, and you provide more oxygen to the fire. BUT: you fan, and you drive cold air in and hot air out. What am I missing?

Just unmolded a perfect sphere -- though with a few cracks, not splits. I wonder if the rate of freezing causes stress that produces the cracks.... More research to follow.

Ratios? Very interesting....

The instructions that just got recycled? That had to do with removing it, which was pretty easy for me.

Sounds like a good experiment!

That's the sentence that jumped out at me, too. Somebody's waving their Zippo under these inspectors' butts, and it isn't John Q. Public.

My 12-year-old daughter, Lulu, got me a $50 gift certificate to Whole Foods for Xmas with a note saying that she'd spend the day shopping and cooking with me -- a great present. She chose lasagna, so we recently did the deed using fresh pasta, a three-meat sauce, parmigiano reggiano, and fresh ricotta. Mincing onions for the sauce: Sautéing the homemade pancetta and onion: Grinding the pork, beef, and veal: Tomatoes, meat, herbs, spices, pepper, bottle of chianti...: Ricotta draining: Getting ready for the pasta dough: Sister Bebe: "But where's the bowl?!?" Rolling, rolling, rolling, keep that dough a-rolling: I didn't get a shot of the final dish, so here's a shot of the leftovers:

Freeze slowly means what exactly? Fridge, then warm freezer, then cold freezer?

Bought a nice bottle of Asyla on the way home, got to the freezer, and... Um... Er... So, I'm trying round two, with a smaller amount of warm water, in the hopes that my pictograph literacy is decent.

Anyone who references drinking at Kowloon is a true believer! Now you're hooked, and you can start improving here and there with wee investments in homemade orgeat, some killer rum, and so on. Meanwhile, I want to know where you're finding nips of Trader Vic -- I assume "joe" above is a typo -- rum!

I'm enjoying a Hoots Mon (or a Hoots Mon Cocktail -- I never know when to add or drop the suffix) and wondering why I've never made one before. I have all the ingredients on hand regularly: 1 1/2 oz scotch (Asyla) 3/4 oz Lillet blanc 3/4 oz sweet vermouth (Punt e Mes) Lillet now lacks the bitterness of Kina Lillet, of course, so I thought that the Punt e Mes would work better than Martini & Rossi rosso: good call.

Next up, the glass I refer to as the curlicue: It's a squat 5 oz class with a really terrific design etched into it. I'm not sure if "etched" is the right word, but it's not cut the way that, say, these bamboo guys are cut: Does anyone have a guess at the era of these curlicue glasses, or a sense of the method used to do that complex etching?

Cocktail glasses. Lots and lots of them.

I made great Tokyo turnip pickles using the Momofuku recipe, and a few of those guys found their way into a Gibson. I'd think that wee onions would also be tasty pickled in that brine.

Pork belly leaps to mind. My ton bor pork is usually a 6"x2"x2" slab.

They are flat on the bottom, but the mold is very thick, and the interior is spherical.

I just got my Muji balls too. I wasn't sure what this meant: is that tea kettle illustrating that the water should be warm/hot? I'd be grateful for anyone fluent in Japanese who can help explain. I went with tap water the first time around: More tomorrow.

Sprinkle in flour or cut a round of parchment, sit back, and watch.

I've tweaked this lavender honey syrup from Art of the Bar to include Yunnan black tea. It's pretty simple: measuring by volume, 1 c hot water brought to the boil, steeped with 1 T tea leaves for 4 minutes. (No longer or you'll get ubertannins.) Add 1/2 c honey and 1/4 c dried lavender Stir and let cool, then strain. It needs more sugar, I think, or to be supplemented by rich simple, but it's a very interesting combination. Trying out possibilities, like this.

I've got a nice bottle of lavender honey tea syrup that I've been playing with, and I came up with this funky work in progress: 1 oz Batavia arrack van Oosten 1 oz rum (I used 10 Cane; see below) 3/4 oz lemon juice 3/4 oz lavender honey tea syrup 1/4 oz gum syrup 1/4 Luxardo Maraschino 1 T egg white 5 drops Fee's OF bitters Dry shake everything with a Hawthorne strainer coil; add ice; shake; strain. Dust with nutmeg. I think that this needs a stiffer, darker rum; I'll use my precious Inner Circle green next time, and I think Smith & Cross would be terrific. But it's worth working out the final tweaks, as it has all those great elements of tea-based pun(s)ches.