Carrot Top

Buy the best pair of comfortable shoes you can afford. No. Change that to buy the best pair of comfortable shoes that you can not afford. Because sometimes the only thing that will keep you going is that pair of shoes.

That's always a problem with puff pastry things - perfect temperature from start to end - isn't it. Hmmm. If your daughter learns to make a Pithiviers, and my son does too, then the only thing they would have to argue about is whose would get served first.

Sliding sideways into the arena of people in politics rather than people at home there is a fantastic article about choices and how they can be affected by "daily life" in the realm of following a religion's laws on food in the latest issue of Gastronomica. This article is one that has been published online - here's the link to "How Caviar Turned Out to Be Halal" by H.E. Chehabi. Reminds me of the saying about laws and sausages.

Ah, Tepee. Even with all the imperfections you claim above it turned out gasp-producing. My thirteen year old son just walked by the computer and saw the photo and almost ran to my side, with a huge "Oh!". I can taste it now, looking at your picture. Fabulous.

Here is a topic on American food that offers some thoughts.

You are such a charming flirt Rogov. Of course we all want to hear the story. P.S. I can't believe foie gras ended up in a trash can! (Unless the trash can was well-lined with a clean bag for some cook to later remove and smuggle that foie out and home. Or maybe the kitchen staff had a feast . . . it's just inconceivable that it would be destroyed without anyone interceding. )

My first job as a chef was at a commodities firm (precious metals and coffee) on Wall Street. Everyone there was Jewish. Or close to it, but the partners whom I fed each day were all Jewish. They each had their own version of your story of "kosher city house not so kosher summer house" at differing levels, depending on where they laid down their cards in their conceptions of keeping kosher and how and when. One would keep totally strict kosher at home *unless* there were important guests to dinner and then all rules went out the window. (Imagine the organization that must have gone into that home kitchen . . . yes, he had a private chef.) He would be semi-kosher at work, with things that he would eat and things he would not. Another one had one day a week where he wanted kosher food served as close to the way it should be as possible in a kitchen that was not "legally" kosher. Another guy was more strict on a daily basis, keeping as close to the rules as possible including eating only approved foods on paper plates. There could be as many as six guys at the same table at lunch, each with their own personal (and very important to them) variation on what they would allow to be placed before them. It was great fun to try to fulfill everyone's personal wishes. One of the guys told me a story one day, a parable. He was the one that kept to the rules as fastidiously as possible and he was goofing on one of the other guys that did not follow the rules so closely. I loved this guy - he was probably the sanest of the bunch though they were all brilliant in their own fashions. "I had an uncle who hated fish", he said. "This was hard on him for so often he would be offered fish and he would have to refuse it and starve for the meal while everyone else was eating. He had been like this for years - keeping to the rules of kashrut and suffering his hunger when fish was served as something that was his burden to bear. One day he went to dinner at an acquaintances' home. He had told the fellow that he could only eat kosher food and the fellow had assured him that a kosher meal would be served. He hadn't told the fellow that he hated fish and when the entree was served, it was fish. Bluefish it was. But he had never smelled any fish that had this marvellous aroma. The plate was set down before him and he stared at it as the wondrous smell wafted from the fish towards him. He decided, against his better judgement, to take a bite. He loved it. This was the most delicious fish he had ever tasted and it was totally astonishing to him. Again and again, his fork bit into the flaky rich fish and he had gobbled up the whole thing before he knew it. When he went home that night, he wrote a note to his host thanking him for the meal and asking him if he could have the recipe for that fish if possible. The recipe was sent soon after, and when he read it he was shocked. This fish had been baked with bacon. The bacon had been removed from the fish before serving - it was only used for basting. Apparently the cook did not know that bacon on top of a kosher fish would render it non-kosher. His mind was in turmoil. He had eaten something trayfe. He had never done this before. But this was the first time he had loved fish and he had *really* loved it. His mind was finally decided. He would keep this recipe, and he would have it made for him by his cook and he would eat it. The reasoning behind this was that as long as he did not *see* the bacon, as long as he did not put the bacon in his mouth, it was not there, really. And God would want him to enjoy this fish." I've thought of this story as the Parable of The Bluefish and The Bacon ever since he told it to me. I don't know if it was a "true" story or not. But who cares? It begs the question of what is real and how we each define our own realities. Is it *not* there if you can't see it, or if someone else can't see it? The mind is a fascinating tool that creates many answers.

Yes, absolutely. Like liquor with a person, the tolerance level of corn cob and dog should be known. And like with a person, the owner should always be consulted before plying with these things.

I wish you the best of luck with your endeavor, Pam. Here we have several places that help people do this sort of thing - here's a link for one of them, which is through the Cooperative Extension. Some very nice success stories. The other option is to look for "Small Business Incubators" which are run through different government programs - they do basically the same things as the program listed above. (In this area there is one in Radford, Virginia - linked to Radford University - it is also very well regarded and very helpful.)

I actually seem to remember a recipe (seriously ) for homemade corn whiskey (cheap moonshine) that was made with leftover cobs rather than cracked corn or cornmeal. A recipe born of poverty - using what one had. It might have been a Depression-era recipe or it might just have been a traditional Appalachian recipe. I've done a quick search on the web and it is not there, sadly. (My search was very brief - it might be found with more patience but I doubt if I'll make this recipe soon so I didn't look too hard. )

Leftover corn cobs are a good way to make friends with dogs. Just take your leftover corn cobs and go to visit any neighboring dog in the area if you do not have your own built-in dog. Offer them a cob or two to chew on then enjoy the slobbery pleasure evinced. They will think you are a Goddess. Or a God if that is merely your goal. Move on up the street to find the next dog. Apply corncobs as directed. You will have a wonderful time. Much more fulfilling, I assure you, than composting or smoking or boiling the leftover cobs. For even the best-made stock cannot smile and waggle its tail the way a dog does. If you happen across certain breeds of dog , they will even waggle their entire bodies at the pleasure the corn cob offering brings them.

Ah. Let me post some more places for you to think of before you arrive, then. Here's some links to places I mentioned before: Ceritano's Cafe de Bangkok (the new Thai place) Smokey's Kabob There's also a new BBQ place and a new Chinese place next to the Lyric Theatre. The BBQ is okay but to my taste the one that is open during the school year in Owens (VT) is much better. The Chinese place is called Happy Wok and the few times I've been there the food was fresh and good but not fancy of course. There's a Cinnabon in Owens now, too. Sigh. And I still think that some of the best sandwiches and definitely the best chocolate croissants can be found at Au Bon Pain in Squires (VT). There's a hookah lounge ( ) that I have not been to. Yet. (Hah!) There are two new sushi places - one in University Mall which is okay and one that I have not tried yet that looks very cute and has been pretty busy since it opened. Here's the link - it's part of Poor Billy's. Interesting and good is the new Ethiopian take-out which is in a small space next to The Chocolate Spike. And I would be remiss if I did not mention Preston's for white tablecloth dining at The Inn at Virginia Tech. I've heard the Sunday Brunch is a remarkable spread for "here" but do not know anyone who actually goes to dinner there from "here" yet - it is mostly for the visiting conference crowd so far I guess. Yesterday I got totally thrilled driving down Main Street when I saw a small shop newly painted and decorated. I shouted "Look, look!" to my daughter, "A new place to eat!" She gave me the fourteen-year old's look of disdain. "What are you talking about, Mom? There's nothing there." I insisted on turning around to drive back past the place. I was sure the sign had said "Blacksburg Taco". It actually had said "Blacksburg Tattoo." Trust me, we need more places to eat than we need more tattoo shops. ............................................ PM me, stringcheese, if you have free time when you visit. I can lead you directly to the cannolis. Ouch.

I just walked in the door from having another cannoli and Chinotto at the Italian place to see your post. That Vietnamese/Thai place in University Mall closed last year. In its place, finally, after much construction woe, a Kebob place opened run by a young Persian couple (and I see Mom and Dad in the back, too, cooking). It is very good of its kind - their chicken kebobs are the best, marinated in a yogurt/spice mix. "Not Just Coffee" is even better than before, on Main Street. Outrageous pitas made to order, huge and pillow-y, freshly baked. Have not been disappointed there at all lately. They've renamed it the Mediterranean something-or-other. Lebanese home cooking - the spinach pie is the best I've had since I lived around the corner from Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. I like the atmosphere, the bantering with the servers who most likely have a stake in the place . . . There is a new Thai place that opened in one of the new buildings on Main Street. Nice upscale cool decor, nice menu, and when they are good they are great but unfortunately there has been some inconsistency and that drives me nuts as someone who used to have to be sure consistency was maintained in the food that exits a professional kitchen. It is worth trying, though - and they have bubble tea which is also nice. Awful Arthurs just opened in another of the new buildings on Main Street and we went there a couple of weeks ago. It could have been that they need to work out some kinks, for the vegetables were not cooked through and the seafood was okay but not stunning and the service was rather confused. To say the least. But again, it's nice to have it here and we'll try it again. I went to the Italian place mentioned above two nights ago and was disappointed that the tomato-mozzarella salad had tomatoes that were almost green. I pushed them aside and ate the mozzarella which was fresh and good, and am trying to convince myself that to some cooks in some cuisines the harder tomatoes are preferred to the riper red ones. That's how much I like the place. Their hearth-baked bread (huge loaves, taste like Florentine bread) are very good, so taking home one of those assuaged the sadness of the tomato debacle. The last time I was at Nerv they had switched the menu to serving "tapas" with a hip attitude attached to the act which were not really "tapas" in the true sense of the word but rather small portions of all the things they offer plated differently and priced to make a killing. The experience was sort of silly not to mention overpriced and I haven't been back since. I like small portions but this thing was something small-minded shaped as something big-imagined and it was wierd. Things are getting better in terms of different places to eat that are good, but of course there still needs to be improvement. Oasis World Market is my most favorite place in town. Friday night the fresh seafood and veggies arrive and it is just plain fun. The stuff is actually better than the Farmer's Market, there is a larger variety, and it is much much cheaper as the Farmer's Market prices are at least twice the grocery store prices and Oasis somehow manages to get the stuff and charge less, often, than the grocery stores but it is fresh and better. A mystery, really. Well, Tautog. You set me off on a roll. If you come through here again, you'll have a longer list to explore.

Then you are more optimistic about the human psyche than I am, Anne. My feeling is that probably about one out of five of those people really have deep feelings about the issue, two out of the five are buying for the "look" of it because it makes them feel hip and a part of things (and this is a pretty good group for they act like they care and can assist the direction of issues until a hipper issue comes along to catch their attention ), and the other two out of the five are buying for potential resale with hopeful profit and could care less about any issue except what money can come out of it for them. * In the long run though it's good when style does reflect issues that matter for at least something is being thought about that brings the mind *outside* of oneself and onto larger things rather than just self-reflection, so I am very glad that Gourmet is doing this sort of thing. Well. I'm glad as long as they do it with style. (*Edited to add afterthought: Those numbers have to be revised for the one out of twenty or so people who are just getting the bag to be arrogant b*astards, like the ones that hop on a plane to travel thousands of miles to get their Badge Bag of Cool Greenness: the green being composed of both the original issues and the $$ they can show they used to prove they have it to spend on their Badge Bag. )

It is both funny and touching, Peter. It shows that really it takes the basics of determination and imagination to make something wonderful to eat from whatever happens to be around or whatever can be found. The feather bed covers. Just like a soft hen warming her eggs. And hiding them, too - from the Big Bad Wolf who was at the door and everywhere. (Actually since you were the Good Wolfs we will have to call him the Bad Coyote I guess.) I like to see my little container of yogurt on top of the cable TV thingie with its woolen cap - it makes me perversely happy. But now memories of *your* story will make me even more so. Thank you for sharing it.

Yes. What is at the core of my questioning about what I would call an easily identifiable "regional cuisine" (even though that cuisine itself would have aspects of fusion from times before our own taste-memories) as opposed to a "fusion cuisine" gathered and born in one's own time from whatever disparate elements seem to work, to the creator (whether a chef or a home cook) is this: To me, there is a different sense of a food that is placed on the table that the cook has a full sense of ownership of (whether the pretense of actual regional ownership is based on actual fact or whether past fusions have simply been forgotten, it does not seem to matter) . . . than the sense of a food that is placed on the table that the cook does not feel secure and long-lasting regional ownership of. This is nothing but a feeling about the food and of course feelings are not easily measurable or defined for what are they, really? Our hearts are not things that one can sift, sort, and measure into a recipe for easy baking. That's the marvel, isn't it? I remember my first MIL as she served her family the food she knew from her mother's hands when she was growing up in Italy. The food was the same yet not the same for now she was the mother and she lived in Bridgeport, Connecticut. But the sense of connection, of giving a part of oneself was there, in a sure and certain way. Maybe it was the touch of ritual that was held within making and serving these foods that gave them this sense, I don't know. But it was there. And I've seen that occur in other instances with food cooked by people who were connected in this way to a regional cuisine. I can feel a difference in the food and can see that those who also eat it (with exception for the gluttonous or emotionally vapid) also feel this. The cuisines that are reached for as a totally separate and new learning experience for the cook have a different sense about them when served. That sense is one of fun and of creativity and of accomplishment - a different sort of delight. The closest word I can think of to attach to regional foods served that have been held close to the heart for times past when their owners can remember is "honor". There is a sense of honor that follows the food to the table. It becomes not just a taste experience, not just something mentally stimulating, but the act of cooking this food and serving it and eating it becomes honorable. But can I measure this or prove it? Of course not. And there lies the wonder of it all. Mmm hmm. I wonder if this happened in other cuisines as well in past times, within their own home countries. I wonder how long the time span usually is for this to happen. My best guess would be that to change ways of poultry handling would incur costs in terms of equipment and training of staff and that won't happen until it has to, as these sorts of things do or don't in business. I understand your feelings, though. Having lived in a rural area where chickens and the other animals we eat are livestock with the focus on the word "stock" (something that produces an income) I've seen different ways of thinking about ways of treating the animals that become our food, and it is fascinating. Last night it came to me that there's another way to look at this, though, as the pages of Gourmet shift into issues rather than styles. At this point in time, caring about "issues" *is* in style. It is a lifestyle thing as well as an actual thing. (It was thecurious one who mentioned thoughts on what we put in our mouths, though, I have to say - and of course you before that - I was only following along after you guys with my thoughts on it so please don't give me credit for the initial thought here ) The great American middle-class is definitely not what it used to be pre-1970's, that's for sure, and that makes for all kinds of social shifts and financial shifts that finally play out in at least one very basic and important way with two parts to it: what people can afford to eat; and what people think about other people who do not eat what they themselves eat. .................................................. Edited to add this article from another current periodical that shows us bits and pieces about style and substance (or "lifestyle and issues") and their interaction and/or interdependence in the world of food and its adjuncts: Just The Thing To Carry Your Conscience In. Gourmet is being smart. Showing you care pays off.

I happened across Hungry Planet - What The World Eats by Menzel and D'Aluisio (Ten Speed Press of course) at the library and took it out a week or so ago. This book is a marvel. It is a compendium. It is a encyclopedia. It is a photography book. It is an adventure book. It is full of information about politics and the earth and economics. It is stories. It is people. And lastly it is all built upon the subject of food. Two hundred and eighty-seven jam packed pages and I am afraid to even start because there will be no end. I will have to keep reading it and referring to it. I am afraid. Very afraid. ( ) I am afraid that I will sink into this book and not emerge for a very very long time. And I have children to feed. I said to myself that I would have to buy the book rather than starting on it seriously and then got ready to dole out forty dollars (the price on the hardcover edition). But when clicking on Amazon it looks like there is now a paperback and it is on sale for (glory be!) sixteen dollars (?). This seems unfair to the authors that I can obtain this so cheaply but anyway, my finger will be clicking to buy the book.

Yes, I think Gourmet readers care a lot about what they put on their plate . . . I think they did too "way back when" but in a different way. The question about fusion is a really good one and could be a topic on its own. And thanks for the very nice comment, thecuriousone. That particular phrase is one that women my age just love to have said about them. (Edited to add: I should not generalize. I like it, anyway.) ( )

thecuriousone, I'm going to try to respond to your ardent and thoughtful post without going over the bounds of discussing "food" for otherwise we will have gone off-topic. As a woman who became an executive chef, I completely understand about perception counting and how it can silently limit opportunity and access. As a person who has a formal education that extended only to the ninth grade (that is, the first year of high school) who with that level of education became an executive chef in one of the places in America that generally hires people starting with the cream of the crop MBA's from top universities for their corporation (where I was their executive chef in their private dining rooms)(and later was a VP for their operations department, showing that movement from hands-on cooking jobs to hands-off thinking jobs can be done in life) I completely understand how perception counts for a lot and how it can silently limit opportunity and access. This is not only true in America, though. I have heard that America is actually the easiest place to obtain opportunity and access for many people - easier than other countries where tradition is more hide-bound. I'm actually one of the few people I know who is not having a mental orgasm over that movie. I actually think it could be re-named "Tripe Soup". Or, to be authentic, as we are copying a French style of food in a traditional restaurant kitchen but the screenplay food was worked on by a famous American chef whose methods include the very traditional and old parchment on top of the pot to concentrate flavor which was not invented in America (yes, I realize I am ranting here ) we should speak in French. We could call the movie "Tripes a la mode de Caen" and substitute "Disney" for "Caen". But regardless of the fact that the story of loss and acceptance and class struggle and identity could in my humble opinion have been (and actually has been) told much better than in "Rattatouille", I understand your point. Absolutely. It can get ugly once the original affiliation feels threatened and it can get ugly when the new affiliation feels threatened by your choices if those choices happen to be different than theirs. The pleasantries of the tribe at table can turn to biting and rotten tomato throwing when the tribe feels threatened by behavior that does not match (therefore subliminally support) their own. That's the downside to tribes. I am old enough to understand this and to have seen it occur in many ways. What I speak of when I speak of home is the idealistic one, the sense of home as a pure thing that gives security and solidity. That it often does not happen in this ideal way is factual. To place the discussion firmly back upon food though, the discarding of tradition in food can leave one with a non-cogent and difficult-to-discern cuisine that is simply mish-mosh. The cuisines that are attractive to people (in general in a wide-spread sense) are not mish-moshes - they are strongly themselves with tradition bound within them, still strong and discernible. ....................................... That Gourmet Magazine is becoming issue-oriented rather than lifestyle-celebrant, to my mind, says that they have reached the next step in philosophic growth. They do not care what people think of their lifestyle anymore as they do not have to or they simply do not want to. They are thinking of bigger things than "how they look". (Well, of course this is based on sales and customer response rather than gut feeling for them. I wonder how their $$ growth is doing as opposed to the lifestyle magazines, for that would say something about our culture that is measurable.)

You can scald the milk in any pot, once you add the culture, the mixture has to be in a non reactive container (plastic, stainless, glass). ← I heat the milk in a glass Pyrex measuring bowl in the microwave. (Half-gallon capacity). Very easy to clean.

Maybe. I still find the ad hilarious, but the dynamic doesn't seem to be playing out as had been feared. Time will tell -- still. Moving this back to the topic, I just unwrapped the June Gourmet (which I had buried) and find there's an interesting article in it about chicken processing called "A View to a Kill." They're taking on the hot topic of industrial animal "husbandry" with this story -- a pretty meaty subject (pardon the pun). This is the sort of story I don't think would have run in the old Gourmet that those bachelor gourmets read -- it's real issue journalism rather than lifestyle celebration (which still appears in Gourmet's pages). I haven't finished it yet; I'll share my thoughts on the piece when I do. Anyone else read it? What was your reaction? ← thecuriousone's thoughts on cooking and social graces seem to me to be spot-on in many ways. The 1,2 method described is a tool that can be well used. *But*. The *but* here that has been left open to imaginative consideration leads me to one place. The place it leads me to is that when one's old traditions are discarded in favor of a batch of new manners of doing and new traditions, where does that leave the concept of (and feeling of) "home"? What is home but something that we intimately know from the parental nest? It is as if a piece of music, close music, music that is known and loved - has been discarded for the entry into another place. I had a discussion recently with a friend who argued that Americans are famous for discarding "home", that we have been doing it with a vigor ever since these shores were landed. I have to agree, but also have to rue the fact of a lost "knowingness" of this thing that is/was home (that is defined by our cookery and by our ways of food culture). Maybe I should start singing "Make new friends but keep the old one is silver and the other's gold" around the campfire in my Girl Scout uniform, hmm? .................................... Anyway. Yes, I absolutely agree with you that the newer Gourmets are meatier in different areas than they used to be, and that the lifestyle celebration has a more muted quality. It is interesting that this is so, as we are living in quite a gilded age at this moment in time - much more so than the post-war era that Gourmet sprung from. It leads to the question in my mind as to which of the food mags does focus on displaying the affluence, manners and morals of our gilded age . . ."lifestyle celebration" as you so aptly put it, Sandy - rather than the "issue journalism" that Gourmet is showing on its pages.

Came across an article today from several years ago that still seems worth reading: How to Boil Four-Star Water Fun reading.

Somehow I came across this site today, and among the other numerous links to associations for a variety of culinary matters there is a good long list of links to online sites of culinary magazines. Here is the link (to ehotelier, the main site) for those who wish to browse. (Scroll down for links to online magazines.)

Word... ← I don't think she should have to, guys. It doesn't sound like it's the sort of thing she enjoys. Many women do not enjoy behaving that way and truly they should not have to become the thing to supposedly stop the thing. Copycat assholes to equal or top assholes? The work is what is important, not the macho environment. Let the boys play with themselves that want to play with themselves - her focus can be on other things if she wants to and she can survive and thrive without bowing to the shithouse asskick culture. The loop will not always be the loop and it is escapable. Oh. P.S. Had to ask myself why I think she doesn't have to do what is advised in terms of copycatting the environment that disturbs her in order to succeed. I guess the answer would be that what I advised her to do worked for me. And when I was then Exec Chef that charming Mine-Is-Bigger-Than-Yours atmosphere was not encouraged or really even allowed in the kitchen. Cooperation and striving for better food and a happier place to work, was. All depends on what one wants. To be One of the Guys or to be One's Own Self.

It depends on whether you want to be one of the guys or whether you want to be the executive chef. If you want to be one of the guys you can try to make friends with the guys - the way that Alchemist advised above is excellent. They will start to respect you (each to their own level of abilities as their personality allows them to, some more than others, some will pay lipservice and be cute-little-boy nasty behind your back). If you want to be executive chef - ignore the psychological set-up they are providing for you, ignore the jokes and just look blank-faced if challenged with them. Simply do not hear what they are saying if it bothers you. Spend your time focusing with a deadly loving charm on what you want and need to learn about producing the food. You say the exec chef does not hold your hand. Then deal with him as much as you can. If the guys want to "baby" you, take their help with a smile and continue to do what you need to do to do "more". With time, they will stop "babying" you or helping you unless they are the ones that have true friendship to offer rather than the ones that offer a simpering coddling that makes them feel stronger than you. It comes down to one question at a certain point: Do you want to be liked? Or do you want to be respected. If you want to be respected play your own game, not theirs. It can be a much pleasanter game in the long run when you win, too, because then you will have the power to not have to just smile at moronic juvenile fisting jokes but rather to set a standard for a more friendly and equitable atmosphere in your own kitchen, the kitchen that you run.