Carrot Top

All of you have written such interesting, heartfelt and beautiful words about this subject.... I've struggled to try to sort out what it is to me. I thought that the common thread that ran through it all these years was basically the giving and nurturing part...but it is not just that. In ways that play more minor parts are the ideas of creativity, artistic outlet. That is what first drew me to it. The colors, the textures, the tastes and aromas of food...the endless techniques and combinations, the vast amount of culturally related creative ways of doing things.... and then of course as time went on it was a great way to make a living...for a while...till the purity of the original intent was distorted by the nature of the business I was in. To have to look at it in this formal cutthroat business-like way unfortunately made for an eventual loss of savor. I found I had no blood-lust for competition at high stakes...no matter that the underlying focus and beauty was food. There was a period (perhaps others have experienced this too) where I lost my vocabulary in the subject. It became dull, and though I knew a lot there was just plain boredom. Then, to add insult to injury, I married someone who had no taste for good food. How could I do this? Can't claim I was drunk, but maybe I was stupid... All of you, with your love of food, have been inspiring to me...as I go quietly back up the path of re-defining my own vocabulary of food...and my gratitude goes out to you. But here is the nugget of what I found 'a good meal' is to me, after all. It is safety. I think Rogov brought this initial seed of thought to my mind, as I read his answer and thought about where, geographically, he was writing from. A good meal, food, cooking, to me is safety. It is something I can create and feed my children, so that along with other memories, far into years hence, they will smell an aroma, taste a taste, and feel the care that was put into the dish when it was made for them at home (Mayhaw Man spoke of this briefly in another thread...these memories...), a feeling that should give them a sense of sure-footedness and security. We can not count upon the corporations and businesses for financial safety as perhaps some other generations did. We can not count on safety in our homes, really. And...unfortunately...sometimes we can not count on safety even in the choices we make in marriage...that institution that we vow will 'last forever'. In an unsure world, a good meal can provide a simple safe comfort. The egg will cook if you put it on heat...the tomato sauce will smell of herbs and garlic, giving an aromatic security to whomever is stirring it. Yes, and even the lettuce will rot if you leave it in the fridge for too long...but all these things provide a small sense of safe harbor just in the fact that they do happen. We eat within our traditions, the foods we know, and that helps define us, it shores us up to walk out into the daily world which sometimes is loud and battering. It helps us know ourselves and be pleased. Reminds me of something A.J. Liebling wrote: "A good meal in troubled times is always that much salvaged from disaster." A beautiful safe harbor of comfort...that's what it is to me.

You've been doin' a bit of drinking this week, girl! That takes practice..I admire your perseverance all in the goal of getting the reviewer's job done! Nice review. Sounds like a highly entertaining book. The review itself was an entertaining read, too. Loved the paragraph about 'Sex and the City' in TV...made me laugh out loud...

If the idea of looking outwards toward the audience is not giving the creative impetus you are looking for in this 'name game'...and if you do not want to take the time of the FOH people for whatever reason...it might work to look inwards. Your pastries are your creations (even if they are adaptations). You have seen them, felt them, played with them, thought about them. Each one will have a different 'core idea', a specific feeling, to you, if you focus in on it...even variations on a Black Forest Cake will have different nuances. If the external wording is not coming, think about what the particular and personal qualities are of each piece. This may seem silly. Simple words like 'soft and creamy', 'intense and fruity' and those sorts of words will probably come to mind first and naturally they sound sort of...well...both repetitive dull and ridiculous, like packaged goods. Write them down anyway, as you focus on what the thing really IS, to you. Then go to the thesaurus and find words that can subsitute for what you originally came up with. Thesauses are little worlds of wonder for words. Just an idea, anyway.

There is an article on msnbc.com today about two scientists who just won a shared $1 million-plus Nobel prize for work on aromas/scents and memory. And what did one of them say when asked what the first thing he was going to do now? "Go have a cup of coffee".

Never went to the CFN that far uptown, Pan. Probably the space costs were less so they could allow a bit of leeway in actually allowing a customer to have a table! The one(s) I would go to were mid-town...crowded at lunchtime but still you could eat in about the same time it would take to grab a slice of pizza and walk with it... I really hate to think of how many years ago this was, but it must have been around thirty years ago (the only satisfaction one has in getting older is knowing that nobody else can escape it, either! )...I was a teenager working at various office jobs midtown and CFN left enough time at lunch hour to eat and then stop in one of the local junky clothes stores to shop a bit, too! The culture of tipping was not so prevalent then. It was done by most people but not everywhere as it is now. Life and economics were just simpler, a bit. Now I feel badly if I don't tip 20% even to baristas but then, it was not like that. There were people who worked at CFN or at gas stations as attendees or at other (what would now be considered transitionary or low-level jobs for the average American) for years...and nobody really tended to look down on them too much for not having "it all". They were just a working part of society. Well...I shouldn't paint too pretty a picture of those times, though. That was NYC in the seventies and you could get mugged leaving the subway as likely as not....

LARB. I like that name. Is he a movie star? Sounds hunky.

Yes, isn't it pleasant! Wait a minute...what did you write?...I can not seem to see beyond the end of my nose.... A cup of coffee will fix that, I hope. Must go to the Coffee Forum to learn how to make one....with.... well, you know. The A word.

One day in Philly. A Sunday. Coming in from the airport and leaving the next day on another flight. What would you want to see and where would you want to eat if you were me? (I did read the Best Eats listing...but would like to hear more from your own personal recommendations!) Not really interested at the moment in the Haute Cuisine thing...but any other ideas would be appreciated!

It sounds vaguely familiar somehow. Of course Chock Full o'Nuts was an extremely inexpensive place to eat...all counters, no booths, really fast service, just basically coffee and five or six pre-made sandwiches available. Could be that in order to eliminate some book-keeping chores, they just paid the servers a higher hourly wage than usual and left it at that. Zum-Zum was a chain quite similar, but with a German slant to it....

Thank you for telling me that. I feel much better. But you must realize that now you have said this on paper, you cease to be 'an authority' and have become The Authority.

A wonderful book of fiction with a thread running throughout it of coffee as 'The Devil's Brew' is "Memoir from Antproof Case" by Mark Helprin. The protagonist, who leads an...extravagant...life to say the least, wages life-long war against 'the world's most insidious enslaver: coffee'.

I don't see why an adult decision would be any better than a childish decision, in this case. Right now, I am going to throw my cup of coffee upon the floor in a fit of childish rage...and then demand help...help... ............................. I guess academics need to earn a living somehow, too, huh? Great idea for your study program, Lalitha. Please include me in your list of participants...I am sure you will find a grant!

Basil, yes. There is surely a reason its name in other languages translates so often as 'The Holy Herb'. It is incredibly life-giving to breathe in the aroma of a large bunch of fresh basil! More....(I have not escaped my previous imaginary walk through NYC yet and have run into some other good things)... The Sabrett hot dog carts. Wait in line and you become pleasantly anxious to hurry up at the smell of the hot dogs combined with the slight aluminum and sugar 'nose' of cans of Coke popping open. The ultimate moment of happy intensity of scent occurs right when the guy is layering the toppings on your own hot dog...those Greek-ish stewed onions...or sauerkraut and yellow mustard... I do believe the sides of my mouth squirt out excited anticipatory tastebud juices at this exact moment. Well. Yes. Let's move on, shall we? Pretzels covered with kosher salt steaming from racks....the earthy serious smell of chestnuts roasting in a steel pan sending out hot steam into the winter air of a city street....let's not forget honey-roast nuts, now, either! With their caramel smell that also reminds one of fresh warm cotton candy. Sauerbraten. With sweet and sour red cabbage and potato dumplings. That aroma is a sure hook...I don't know why restaurants don't make this very much anymore.... Linzertorte. One that I do not like. It took a lot of memory- searching to find it. The smell of brandy combined with the lesser aromas of various meats and aromatics. This terrible dislike happened after a three-day exposition into making a ballontine of duck, about a hundred years ago when I first started cooking. Boned duck...forcemeats of (I can't remember...something meaty though)...slivers of ham...god I think there were even pistachios in this burdensome recipe...white wine and brandy were also involved. I grew to hate ballontine of duck (though it turned out gorgeous) and the smells that had anything to do with it during those three days. Couldn't eat meat for a week. Yuck. Please, someone...post something delicious-smelling again soon...let me forget about this terrible memory.... Oh. Let's not forget taco trucks. I hear they are quite wonderful...

This is just too much to bear. How could you ask these things?! This night is going to go on endlessly with my mind filling with sublime aromas...aromas are sometimes better than the food itself (especially with untried restaurants...) Yes...a gently weeping onion on its way to caramelization in sweet butter is at the ultimate top of the list. Then just take a walk down a NYC street. Curries, sweet and punguent come from one window...garlic-y tomato sauce cries for attention from another. The not-to-ever-be dismissed smell of fresh bread baking wafts from the back of a bakery to capture your attention till the next step brings the aroma of roast lamb from the Greek place. Enticing dark roast coffee giggles out from the Cuban place and the so-many coffeeshops...and to top the whole thing off there is Hardees doing its Big Boy Angus Steakburger thing out the side vent. You are leading us into thoughts of temptations, Melissa. Naughty, naughty... Oh. Before I go, let me just mention Little Italy and the bakeries. The Lower East Side and the pickles and pastrami. Sausage and peppers grilling at whatever Italian Festival is ongoing. Roast duck from Chinatown around the corner. Please. Stop me, someone. I am going to go have a cup of tea...mint of course...and forget about all this. I hope. P.S. Barbecued ribs. Simmering greens. Cornbread fresh from the oven. What's not to like?

That is an excellent and thorough analysis of the more 'global' aspects of what the Slow Food movement initiators are up to, I think, FG. And the Italians who write about these things are more ardent and pushy about 'what should be done'... but that may be due to a cultural style of expression perhaps. (And it is also a way to grab attention for a food 'movement' in a country and in an environment -Europe- where most people have a good knowledge and their own educated ideas about food...and who really have no great personal impetus in listening to anyone else tell them anything about it!) It does not seem truly feasible that (if the core goals are as you perceive them to be) , these goals will be able in reality to be furthered too much in the realities of this agri-business world we live in, and eat by and that some, if it were not here, would go truly and in actuality hungry from lack of its existence. The philosophy has some good things to offer in ways of looking at things, but I can not see this movement becoming mainstream. I wonder if there is anybody out there that truly does believe this could? Would be interested to hear the how's and why's, if so...just for another exposure to thought.

Yes, "and if it tastes good". A philosophy that involves food would not be worth its salt without invoking the sensual marvels of tastiness!

Soba made me think of this with a thread he started in the Southern Food Culture Forum. Aside from fresh ham...let's see how many sorts of hams we can list...cured, salted, smoked, seasoned, whatevered...from around the world (or the universe, if that's where you hail from). Please, also, if the ham is unusual, tell us a bit about it!

Good question, Soba. In your original listings of 'hams' let's not forget though all the hams from other countries...I wonder how long that list would be...Italians make an enormous variety..so do the Germans...and even the Chinese. Having moved to the South as a 'grown-up' (yeah, right ) I find that I don't have the appreciation for 'country hams' that people who are from here do...the flavor is too strong for me, even in general cooking use sometimes. But I wonder if the Southerner's love of 'ham' is not another evidence of how close many people here still are to their agricultural roots. Country ham is not a nicely-packaged up taste-emptied product. It is real, it is strong, and it is something that lots of people still have in their memories as being made at home, or close to home, by someone they knew...following the rural tradition of living on what was nearby and available.

That is what my understanding of the 'movement' is, also, Danielle. It is more a philosophy of food, a gathering of ideas for consideration...on how 'we' and 'food' relate in natural, caring, connected, and 'real' (in terms of where food actually comes from, which is not a can or a plastic package) ways and terms. The philosophy encompasses the notion of not just taking and eating...but of thinking in a heartfelt way about what is going into the mouths of you and your loved ones (and hopefully anyone else, too, that is not included in this 'loved ones' category!). It is about grace and thankfullness and giving back, in a internal emotional sense...to the food and all that surrounds it....what it has given to you. Not a bad idea, seems to me. But as with all good philosophies, not always easy to implement...but worth striving for if the idea appeals to you.

In the search to bring proper southern culture to me (a northern girl) a friend from West Virginia (born and bred) decided I needed to visit several 'beer joints'. The night started with cans of beer provided on the floor of her car to warm up my feet for the upcoming event of the evening (along with beer beer beer) which was flatfoot dancing. We went to a uh, well you would call it a hamlet I guess...way off the side of the road...where everyone had the same last name. The parking lot of the...shed? shack? garage? was full of pickup trucks so in we wandered. Cover charge collected by the guy who was also selling milk, cigarettes and probably also fishbait in the front room. (After all, one can need these things at any time of day and night and why not be neighborly?) Jenna told me of how this place looked like where she lived, her first five or six years. Live band. Good. Loud. Bizarre. No sooner had we slid into our seats than at least three beers were bought for us and lined up in a neat line for the little ladies to imbibe. (Hopeful fellows, southern guys are...almost as hopeful as the French.) Lots of dancing, too much beer to drink but it kept appearing along with a lot of nice smiles. Dancing!...the Yankee learned to dance flatfoot to some happy hoots of the customers (gee I don't know how they could tell I wasn't 'from there' but they knew) and in return the down home folks learned a bit of salsa. Later, we tottered out into the night. I still have memories of the lady who owned the place...who kept sitting in the booth and falling against me laughing...she was a large lady with very very short cropped hair...and the dancefloor where sixty year old men with checked shirts and cowboy hats held their own with sixty five year old skinny determined women in tight fake leather pants. Would I do it again? Yep. Oh yes. Cigarette smoke and pool table under one really bright light.

Anything is possible in life. The things one plans for and thinks will surely happen often don't, and the most surprising and odd and sometimes wonderful things often do happen...and they are things that nobody, absolutely nobody, could ever anticipate. You won't know till you try. Go for it! Sure there are rules. And rules are sometimes made to be broken by the exception. Call someone...maybe even today...and let us know how it goes. Bon chance!

Thank you, sparrowgrass...

Congratulations, Chris! Each post a marvel of thought and finely worded expression, too, if I may say so. I enjoy your capacity for a 'global' sort of thinking process. I didn't focus on the index...children were with me gathering piles of too-many too-expensive books so could not focus...but I would bet it is as you suggest. This thing weighs six pounds at least.

I saw this book today at the bookstore...it is huge, with a bright yellow cover. It is a true book of recipes, and I would guess that most are just plain wonderful. A solid tome. One that people might grab for consultation in future times rather than 'The Joy of Cooking'. That is how complete it seemed to be to me.

My first instinct was to reply 'Malaysia' or 'Tibet' but then the realization hit that you said money was not an issue...that it was unlimited. My little greedy heart right smack then decided Paris. I would stay at one of the top hotels....or maybe spend one week at each of the top four. Shop, shop, shop...from those hotels haute couture is walking distance! and oh yes and a bit of eating inbetween. (Yeah, right where on earth would a Mom with two kids wear these clothes when she had to come home to Blacksburg, Virginia? Hah! ) For food, the choices are innumerable of course. Haute cuisine to market streets. Sigh. Would not avoid a single thing foodwise but for the tourist places and the horsemeat shops (if they are still there...they were when I lived there...) And all this eating would be okay because it is such a walk-able city (after you learn enough rude French to dissuade those Frenchmen who are Frenchmen and act like it that truly you do not wish them to keep doing their Frenchman thing following you along the street).... and you can claim with great pride the calories you are losing by walking, walking... Paris. Paris.