Chris Amirault

Scrambled eggs in schmaltz: heaven.

So this one ended up in the sink. Then made this, with ingredients I always have on hand: 2 oz Rittenhouse rye 1 oz Martini & Rossi sweet vermouth 3 dashes Jerry Thomas Own Decanter Bitters Stir with angrily cracked ice; strain; garnish with orange peel and a Luxardo maraschino cherry. That rye Manhattan is my base drink. My "really, you're not an incompetent dork" drink. My "yes, today was hard, but all is well in the world" drink. My "sure, that drink you just tried to invent was appalling, but you still know how to prepare tasty libations" drink. What's yours?

Actually, I think it was the rhum, not the mezcal. But if we're pointing fingers, c'mon.... There's probably two good drinks in there that some dingaling mashed up into a fine mess.

This is probably the most expensive drink I ever tossed down the drain: 2 oz La Favorite rhum agricole 3/4 oz lime juice 1/2 oz demerara syrup 1/2 oz St. Germain 1/2 oz Del Maguey Chichicapa mezcal 2 dashes Scrappy's grapefruit bitters Shake; strain; and, yes, waste a few precious mls of Lemon Hart 151 demerara rum as a float. Taste once; taste twice; toss it and make a Manhattan.

You mean you miscooked two steaks that you're aware of? After all, it's possible that patrons got other miscooked steaks and didn't report them, or decided "Oh, THAT's what medium rare is," etc. I don't at all mean this as a criticism of your claim or your expertise! I merely want to point out that personal anecdotal evidence is notoriously tricky to use in claims of accuracy, consistency, and quality control.

Eager to hear about your reaction to the Spanish bitters. I do believe that my two favorite bitters these days are the Bittermens xocolatl and Adam's Bokers.

It's not a product of your youth. As this topic makes clear, it's a product of happenstance, avarice, convenience, capital, organized crime, legislation, massive distribution conglomerates, and the Most Interesting Man in the World. Well, not that last one.

My brain once decided, through lore, superstition, or a bad experience, that cracking on the edge lead to a greater number of shell fragments.

I couldn't resist clicking on the Food & Wine top 25 burger list. A lot of predictable joints -- In-N-Out, Shake Shack, Louis Lunch -- but some surprises. Let the battle commence.

Looks like Starbucks is joining the K-Cup game. More at the link.

I'm a two-handed, flat surface, sweep the interior with your finger to get all the white sort of guy. I don't really know why I do it this way; I can do the one-handed thing and don't really need that last two grams of white. But it's what I do. You?

Why thank you, everyone. That's very helpful. But no one has addressed the just-as-important chicken skin powder question.

Just found the quotation in the Kitchen Manual, next to the strawberry gazpacho recipe: It's not focusing on stock or cooked plants, of course, but I wonder if there's a similar effect possible here.

OK, a couple of questions. Is there an explanation somewhere in the book of why the team routinely uses a delta T of 1 degree celcius for sous vide meat applications? That is to say, when the recipe wants to hit a core temperature of XC, the water temp is (X+1)C. I should probably just check volume two before I post this, but I don't remember seeing this in there. A more pressing matter: has anyone tried making chicken skin powder?

There's discussion of this technique in the book, though focused on Heston Blumenthal's use of juices, iirc: he adds fresh versions of the prepped ingredients just before service to encourage the enzymatic activity that perks things back up. I don't have the five volumes here -- I now only carry the kitchen manual everywhere I go -- so I can't check, but it's a great technique, and requires no gadgetry or powders whatsoever.

This soul thing seems so strange to me, as if precision and care are somehow anathema to love. Do people feel that their biscuits lack soul because they're measuring out baking powder using teaspoons, paying close attention to the temperature of the dough, and carefully avoiding overworking the dough? ETA: The soulless Kayahara and I posted at the same time.

Got to thinking tonight and grabbed the book. In volume 1, there's a section called "The Rough Start for Impressionist Art." An excerpt:

Lookit that spread and creamy texture. Colicchio would be proud. Was the rice al dente? That's the question I always had about the par-cooking step.

Five minutes with the barbecue section will disabuse most readers of any sense that the book lacks soul, whatever that is. But taking this argument on its face, I must ask: where's the soul in any cookbook that claims a recipe produces excellent food? Cook's Illustrated, Cookwise, Bittman's Best Recipes books... don't most cookbooks claim that they're sharing solid information? If someone can find me a reference to Shirley Corriher, Christopher Kimball, or Mark Bittman exorcising the soul from cooking because they wrote a book describing how to do it well, I'd be shocked. But, thanks to some expensive equipment that seems unfailingly to distract those who haven't seen the book, these sorts of comments can be applied to Modernist Cuisine.

Why sympathetic?

If appreciating this book makes us true believers and knuckleheads, I say "One of us!" Back in a minute. I have to go check the blackstrap ham I'm curing in the basement.

I'm a few weeks into drying the book's blackstrap ham in attempt number two at this recipe, and I realize I'm not quite clear on what texture I'm looking for when it's done. It's still squishy in the middle, no doubt about it, but am I going for firm all the way through like a peperone or something with more give?

Pretty odd exchange about this topic on Ruhlman's blog today. When someone pointed his attention to this discussion, Ruhlman wrote, "those knuckleheads have had it in for me for a long time. i haven’t been to the site in years." Not sure what to make of that non-response, for a variety of reasons. As someone who devoted scores of favorable posts to using his Charcuterie book, I find the name-calling and paranoia counter-productive at best. Surely Mr. Ruhlman, a Society member from way back, would join us for a discussion here about the relative merits and drawbacks of the book and of his review of same?

Man Mai try. I keep failing to bring in the scale, so I decided I should just try what seems to be about a gram or two and try different steeping times in the small porcelain cups. 30s didn't do much for me, so I tried 60s, and only then did I start to get some discernible flavor atop a sweet, woodsy aroma. Decided that was a rinse. Started again a few minutes later with slightly less and slightly cooler water for 45s. Immediately noticed a big difference: much less aroma -- predominantly grassy at first with some smoke coming through after a few minutes -- and a richer brew. As a first real experience with sheng puerhs, I can see that I have a lot to learn. The palate is quite different than my vocabulary permits me to explain, more subtle layers of flavor. I feel like I'm picking up some spice toward the end of the cup, but then it fades in the next sip and I can't find it again. I also feel like "grassy" is inadequate to describe that particular component; there's something older than grass in there and I can't quite get it out. Fascinating stuff. I thought I was going to drink a cup of tea this afternoon, not contemplate the limits of my sensorium while staring into a white porcelain cup.

Legs, yep, they'll get down there, as will whole pork shoulder now and then.