Chris Amirault

Not sure it was an adage, but along the same lines as the health inspector line, "Seven-Up?" was BOH code in one job I had for "shoot me some of that crappy white wine from the gun and call it soda, kid."

It's a parochial list (what list isn't?) but, assuming clam rolls aren't a sandwich proper, here goes: Katz's fatty pastrami -- give the guy a buck, man -- with just rye and mustard sits happily at the top. Anyone who claims otherwise is just wrong, criminally wrong. Al Italia with extra hot peppers at Sandwich Hut in Providence RI a distant second. Banh mi at Lu's in Boston's Chinatown third. Grilled cheese (Cabot cheddar) on Olga's pullman with tomatoes and ham, well done, at Red Fez, also in Providence fourth. Memory lane: the Sport Fisher (turkey, bacon, muenster, Thousand Island, a few other things) at the long gone and lamented Leo's, under the bridge down from the old Met Cafe, in Providence.

Lilija, can you say more about your work and its relationship to processed flavors? IIRC, Eric Schlosser argued that there's little difference between artificial and natural flavorings these days, given that "natural" simply means that the chemical was derived from an extremely complicated process starting with a grown ingredient instead of a synthesized one; as a result, there's little to no chemical difference in the two.

Of the many, many, many sweets sitting around the house for the duration of the weekend, two stood out. One was son papdi, which are sweet little squares of ghee, nuts, and sugar. At one point, I was sitting at a table with about ten other people, and I realized that I was eating every other square: which is to say, I was eating as much as the other ten people were eating. I decided I had to cut back after that. I never got the name of the other item, which had a rich, sweet dough wrapped in a ball around browned coconut. If anyone knows the name of these, I'd be eager to know what it is. Thankfully, the stash of those was at the other end of the Valaikappu ceremony hall, and by the end of the cooking/eating marathon it was painful to waddle across the floor, so I only ate about forty of them.

I kept hearing this phrase throughout my stay, not only at Ami's house but in conversations with others over the course of the long weekend: "the downstairs fridge." From the sound of things, most of the South Indian families in the extended family had second fridges in the basement, the better to store their extra food. Indeed, if I couldn't find something in the upstairs fridge (or pantry, or hallway, or dining room, or counter, or...), invariably Ami would say, "Oh, that's in the downstairs fridge." I never saw the thing -- she refused to allow me to get anything from it -- but the copious amount of food that came up those stairs suggests a 400 square foot walk-in. One of the things in the downstairs fridge was a pretty hefty supply of Laxmi brand ginger and garlic paste, which Ami used infrequently but without shame. "On weekends like this, I don't want a blender cluttering up my counter," she said at one point, and given the flurry of activity I can understand why. I dipped a spoon in the jars quickly and didn't taste any off notes, though the intensity of both pastes was, as expected, a bit dulled as compared to fresh.

Kent, what would you want from a culinary tour exactly?

So -- just to clarify -- they are all dumplings?

What are some of the dishes you're trying to create?

In a perfect world I'd use peanut oil too, but lack the budget and thus suggested canola to start. Doesn't that fishy smell develop only after multiple uses?

My last batch was great, and definitely improved with age. Just put up 20 split and chopped beans in 2 cups of booze, half Tito's vodka and half Flor de Cana gold (using both up). Anyone else getting their batches started?

Congratulations! I think that she just doesn't like lamb that isn't well prepared, Steve.

Just made a huge batch of red sauce here yesterday, in fact, along with onion confit and roasted garlic. I needed a calm day in the kitchen....

I'm certainly biased and have never been in a market like the one you're describing, but that looks an awful lot like lop yuk, which is something of an obsession of mine. (Click here for the recipe I use to make it; click here and scroll down for more details on process.) If it is, you're in luck: steam it atop rice, add it to naw mai gaw fon; scramble it with eggs. If it isn't, well, I'm really interested to know what it is.

Fear not. Yes, you can use a dutch oven; I used my Le Creuset ovens for frying for years before getting a dedicated deep fryer. The challenge of high-sided dutch ovens is that they don't allow for the evaporation of the moisture released with the same effectiveness as a cast iron skillet or deep fryer, but that doesn't mean that they won't work. I'm not sure what happened there, but I don't think that the deep frying was to blame. Do you remember what you cooked and with what oil? Did it burn? Cast iron is enameled to prevent reactions with acids, but the implications of that excerpt just seems wrong-headed to me -- and would to generations of cooks who have used cast iron to fry. Why not start with a small project using your enameled cast iron? Grab some forgiving oil like canola, a thermometer, and start documenting. I'm sure that lots of us here will be happy to help out!

Onion confit season is upon us, and I've got five pounds of onions in the oven. I won't recap the many details in the topic above, but I will add a few notes. I've taken to adding no liquid save a splash of water if needed. Today I've added about 1/4 c of sweet vermouth to the onions, butter, olive oil, salt, pepper, thyme and bay. I also took the bay out after a couple of hours; I may be wrong, but I've always had the sense that bay starts to get bitter after a while.

It's only been away from the pineapple for a day, but I am happier with this version. It brings out more fruit and less competition from the now-departed demerara and blackstrap, enabling me to use it in more applications. The previous version was hard to mix with anything but a light-bodied white rum.; this version I can imagine using with some more pronounced rums like the Inner Circle green, a rhum agricole, and, hell, a demerara for that matter.

I agree about the garlic, rosemary, and anchovy. Given that terrific fat (don't trim it!) the ideal set-up for such a big hunk of meat (or a whole lamb) is rotisserie. However, that's not the way to go if you've never dug a pit or have an otherwise usable set-up. Given that you're in Honolulu, though, perhaps some local caterer would rent you one. That assumes you've got the time...! If you can't go that route, note that the delicious fat presents a cooking problem, particularly if you grill: the flareups will be gigantic over direct heat. You should also foil-wrap that shank end (the last third, from the photos) to prevent it from overcooking, no matter how you go. This is one of life's great meat experiences, and your bravery is laudable. Take lots of photos and good luck!

I've not seen any like the vintage one I found (semi-spherical, probably 2" in diameter), so I feel your pain. When I've been in that situation a couple of times, I've used a fine conical strainer and whacked it a bunch of times with the bottom of the mixing glass, which seems to help some. Also useful if citrus bits are clogging the pores.

I'm surprised by the appearance of vanilla, too; it somehow doesn't make sense to me. Does that particular ingredient appear in any historical sources?

There were several other dishes made, some of which I didn't get a chance to photograph during production. I did take notes on method and ingredient, though, and present them here. Green Beans with Coconut Wash, tip, chop (3/4") and blanch 2 lbs green beans. Ice down to stop cooking and set aside. Cover the bottom of a pan with oil. (No butter bc coconut is being used.) Add your aromatics in this order (until this state): mustard seeds (pop), chana dal (toasty aroma and slightly brown), onion (translucent), curry leaves (aroma), salt and cayenne. Add your beans and 2-3 T of coconut, to taste. Stir to combine and heat through. I'm a fan of crunchy beans, though hearty kitchen debate ensued over bean texture. Give everything a final taste for seasoning (salt, cayenne, and acid -- a few drops of lemon or lime perhaps). Sambar I was told repeatedly that sambar, the vegetable (usually vegetarian) stew is a catch-as-catch-can affair, driven by produce quality and availability and by guest preference. The recipe is simple: after sauteeing some onion in oil, you add sambar powder (with cayenne, turneric, coriander, and other spices -- Ami used a store-bought version) and crushed or diced tomatoes. Once they have broken down, add your stock or water, the other vegetables (Ami used chayote squash cut in large chunks), and cooked toor dal. Raita Ami's raita was more savory and complex than the raita I'm used to eating. Along with salt, the yogurt sauce included red onion, mint, green chilis, cucumber, and curry leaves, all minced finely. The curry leaves worked wonders in particular.

Bit of a delay in reporting (had some upgrading to do around here). Here's the photo of the finished dosa that I mentioned above: More shortly, including full Valaikappu coverage.

What do you like about that type of avocado, Dr. J? And why pair it with the halibut?

Norbu Tea has this oolong on sale right now. I just ordered a bunch.

I agree -- and I'd definitely include Kevin. I was going to comment on the pommes souffle as well; you could see Michael flipping out that Bryan was calmly plating them at the absolute last moment. Meanwhile, one contestant can't sauce his protein while another couldn't cook or slice it. Those blatant, embarrassing errors suggest to me that the lines between the two groups not only have to do with skill and creativity but also with execution under pressure. I'm certain my hands would be shaking like a loose muffler pipe if I were slicing beef for that table, and if I tried to fry puffs of potato a la minute for 'em I'd have fingertips souffle....

I don't think there's anything ironic about liking food with more fat.