Carrot Top

My best guess (based on the problems you had, particularly the butter seepage) would be that the oven was not hot enough to start off with. Do you have an accurate oven thermometer that you can put in the oven to test the temp? Home ovens often are not too great at calibration.

Oh. This is much more fun. So now, instead of playing "let's measure our skills against certain formal criteria to rank ourselves" it's "I'm just like a celebrity TV chef"? Whoof. Something is coming to mind. What is it . . . I can't remember. Oh I know. It's from biology class so of course I can't remember. What are those animals called that survive by living off the host animal? Darn it, can't think of the term.

I used to use the Lenotre recipe and the only difference I can see is that he puts a bit of rum in the almond pastry cream. Eh. Nothing wrong with an added bit of rum, at all. There are two recipes for Pithiviers in Lenotre - the usual one is flat with a topping of only confectioner's sugar. The other is the Dutch Pithiviers that has the dome shape, more refrigeration time before baking, and which has the added topping of sugar, almond powder and egg white.

Interesting proposition. A sort of a spiritual or romantic quest of the heart that is answered by food. I've read several things exploring this idea lately - one where a woman who is having an affair turns to fulsomely cooking intensely wonderful things for everyone around her, and how she did not do this before the affair and did not do it after the affair was ended. Another, where a man who is emotionally remote shows that by his eating habits in choosing separation from the "norm" of those around him by becoming vegan who then decides at some point in his life that he wants not to be emotionally remote so then enters into the world of eating as others do around him. These sorts of stories do remind me of religious "testimony", as when people stand up in churches and claim they have been "saved". Worthy of thought.

Has anyone read Bull Cook and Historical Authentic Recipes and Practices?

I think it looks good enough so that your guests tonight *should* offer to be your slaves after tasting it.

Haven't read up on horsey yet but just polished off "Having What She's Having" by Scott Korb, a story that links his life of vegetarianism and veganism and self-denial with religion and religious yearnings that then becomes an upside-down tale when he comes to the realization that he wasn't doing what he had told himself he was doing in his food choices for some long time, in terms of becoming the sort of person he wanted to be "through food". A good story.

I would eat them, my son would definitely eat them , my daughter would try one then give the rest to her brother. At close to two dollars a pack, that's a slightly expensive treat to give out though. Unless, of course, you are thinking of making "home-made".

Oh, yeah. Well, you know. I've stopped giving a rat's ass what they eat at school or at friend's houses or even at home pretty much too as long as they are healthy and relatively happy. But the thing is, they *want* to be the kids whose mother brings something wierd. They are constantly encouraging me to be this way. Therefore I must try to live up to their expectations.

Sounds like an interesting book. Let us know what you find out at the signing. The banquet would be fun, wouldn't it.

Here's a nice recipe for Twice-Drunk Walleye. From Field and Stream magazine. Yeah, dude. It's the place to be for cooking. Especially with beer.

If the proposed "ranking system" is indeed useless, that will show itself soon enough if the system ever gains widespread popularity and use (however that would happen, I don't know). If it bothers those who feel it is hurtful and exclusive rather than helpful and inclusive I guess at this point in time since there's been no legislation passed that demands amateur cooks participate in this, they could just stay away from the club that wishes to give each other rank and go spend their time cooking something good rather than ranking each other and drawing lines to help in whatever way this helps someone understand and categorize what they need or want to understand (mpff, I dunno, but "understanding" is a different thing for different people) so forward movement can then be made in whatever way they wish. Personally, I was having a great deal of fun imagining the various "patches" that could be designed to designate the different levels attained, to be given to the cooks like in Boy Scouts or karate class. That was fun but the most fun was imagining that when one reached the level "10" that (whether they were male or female) they would be rewarded and shown to be at that level by being given the gift of cornrows/braids, just like Bo Derek in the movie "10". So I've enjoyed this thread. Seems like fun to me. If one likes that sort of thing. No reason why they shouldn't. Maybe it will replace talking about sports scores. I could get into that.

Pithiviers are very similar to Twelveth-Night Cakes. I'm not sure whether the mention of slave services in exhange for warm pithiviers brought on any of the excellent responses above. If it did, it was worth it.

I'd bet you're right about that. What a shame. It ruins the decadent luxuriousness of it, doesn't it? You know, I had decided never to marry again. But if I ever found a man who would make me a fresh, warm Pithiviers, who would then serve it to me in bed with a large pot of fresh hot black strong coffee, that would do it. I would become his slave. So to speak. But nothing else would do it. No, no almond turnovers. It would have to be a Pithiviers. P.S. I like your blog, very much.

When was the last time anyone made a Pithiviers? Whose recipe did you follow? What did you fill it with? How was the response to it by those that were lucky enough to eat it? Had they ever had one before? Did they like it? I am longing for a Pithiviers, right this moment, so I figure talking about it will help.

This story is about one-third of the way through the book, and I'm pleased to say I finally managed to eat my required vegetables in the form of historic writings and found myself reading "Fifth Chinese Daughter" among several others last night, and what a trip! For me the ride really begins on page 263 with S.J. Perelman's "Avocado, or the Future of Eating" from "Crazy Like a Fox" (1944). Perfect, deadpan, absurdist humor that could be sold like candy wrapped up in gold cellophane if only it could. Betty MacDonald's "That Infernal Machine, The Pressure Cooker" was an eye-opener. She writes like a rural Dorothy Parker, tied tightly into an apron with wooden spoon in hand, with all that infers. From "The Egg and I" (1945). Where did Ogden Nash come from and how did he manage to write things like "The Strange Case of Mr. Palliser's Palate"? How did those words flow into his head in such a manner, and actually manage to mean something too? This was reprinted from The New Yorker (1948). The details of "Fifth Chinese Daughter" were mesmerizing, and the way the story ends with the scene drawn of the rice pack being opened by the father, the bamboo straps saved, the terrible moment shown of how "who we are", so tightly bound to this food, this reality that is both something known, desired, something to be proud of and then at times something that is both painful and frightening, inescapable and pre-ordained. But in the larger scheme of things, it seemed it was not pre-ordained, finally, forever, in this "new world", as we gaze along with the writer's eyes at a time close yet past. (1950). A deep sigh has just escaped me in looking back at "A Walker in the City" by Alfred Kazin. My god, the tactile elements roused from the street as he walks through it as a boy, back in 1951. Brownsville was a much different place when I lived in Brooklyn twenty years later, a much different place. Neighborhoods can appear and disappear within that time in the city as if someone dropped them from another planet, if one watches from afar, the differences are so great on the exact same blocks one would walk. My father walked those blocks, in that time. How lucky he was. But the taste, the richess, the overpowering exultation of life, in that street, again, but yet always with a nudge of a slightly painful kick to it when you get closer, as a mother urges her child to eat, eat, eat, fix yourself by eating, more. Food, would save you. In those lines I can see the children, naive in ways most children today are not. I can feel the tense maternal desire of the mother to have their babies grow and "do well", with a fear underlying that is not so common in our culture today, a fear of the unknown that might just whisk their child away if indeed, he or she did not "fix themselves" in some mysterious fashion. And the food, was what would somehow make their feet solid on the ground, to move forward safely in a very big world. And then Maria Sermolino's "Papa's Table d'Hote", growing up inside an Italian restaurant, with all the life and exuberance and struggle and generosity shown as she wrote it. (1952). But then, the final story I read, which was simply electric. A passage from Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man", about eating a hot roasted yam on the streets of Harlem in the snow, in 1952. If that story had been a prize-fight, it would have been a rising tide of vital and strong body-punches, none of them meant to hurt, but all of them meant to do what had to be done, knock the opponent to his knees. Astonishing. All in a yam. All in . . . a yam. I'm on page 297, aiming for page 727, to finish the book. The question has risen in my mind as to whether the other periods of time, moving forward, will be as impressively filled with stories this hard-hitting and passionate, this boldly visceral and yet satisfying to the mind at the same time. I'm wondering if it was that post-war era that had something to do with how these stories took shape and definition with such impressive strength, the "newness" of things that were happening in our culture at that time, the rumblety-tumblety of it all, that somehow sparked these magic utterances that hit paper to last forever. I can't wait to find out.

That's the one that most sparked my interest, too. Based on your recommedation, I'll dive in. When I lived in Paris, there was a boucherie chevaline around the corner from my apartment that was on its last legs. (Heh.) It was only open one day a week, Thursdays. I never did buy anything there. Would you eat horse, SB? ........................................... There's also a review of Fat Guy's book in the review section in back. ........................................... I also have to admit to blinking several times in surprise at the back cover, an upscale version of WPA-like art and rhetoric, this time selling slowfoodusa. org.

It's time for end-of-year parties at school here. I used to get upset when the kids were in elementary school at what seemed to me to be the blatant idiocy of the PTA groups who never took up my ideas of pig roasts or pasta "bar" parties for celebrations but who wanted (always) hot dogs instead. But there was always the option, in those years, for one to bring veggies and dip, or fruit, or something-or-other different for a "side". This year, end of middle school, and the parties are fewer and the parties are more tightly controlled. It is always, and I mean always, hot dogs and hamburgers for grand feasts, and pizza for lesser ones. Soda to drink, in large cheap bottles. My kids actually dread the parties for somehow whomever gets the job of cooking the hot dogs and burgers is the sort that likes things blackened, and I don't mean with spices. Dried out dog food is the general taste of things, and I know because I've seen it time and time again. Pizza usually is delivered by someone who forgets their keys to their car and has to have the police come to break open the car door while the pizza sits and gets cold, or else maybe they lose their way on the long one mile drive from pizza place to school. Nothing like hockey-puck cold pizza to celebrate end-of-school or whatever-at-school. The only allowable sides this year have been packaged chips and packaged cookies or cupcakes. Why? Because everyone (at least in school administration) knows that home-cooked food will kill you, or at the least, the fear of all the kids various allergies is enough to disallow it. So, for Monday, every "class section" (there are six) during the day has requested a packaged dessert to go along with the hot dogs and burgers that will be offered mid-day. A day-long packaged sweets feast. I really, truly, feel scared for the busdrivers who have to take those kids home at the end of the day. What are the traditions at your children's school parties? Have you noticed a trend towards their being overtaken by food fears and sugar madness?

That's not only almost exactly what I mean, but has the advantage of sounding Talmudic on top of it all.

It's a question of proportion, perhaps, and definitely of importance in terms of world-wide impact of any stature. I don't want to argue that Aunt May has a cuisine, but yes, do want to insert the note of absurdity, because the attempt to finally, formally, categorize any cuisine seems to approach both the humor and pathos of the absurd. But there's nothing wrong with trying. "The cuisine of Escoffier", certainly, could be another interesting discussion. Preferably with lots of French people involved. As far as the term "cuisine" having no meaning, of course it does. It has meaning in all sorts of ways, though in this discussion it is being used in one particular way. It is even interesting to note that we use the word "cuisine" for the bodies of cookery of many places, most places, even though it is likely they might have their own words for the same thing. That might make for a good discussion, too. "What is this thing, "cuisine"?

This discussion sort of begs the question as to who the ultimate authority would be, could be, or is - in any "cuisine". Is it the writers of cookbooks, is it the heads of state, is it the sociologists or historians, or in this case one could even add is it the religious leaders? Or is it the people that eat it, or the people who cook it, and even then of course one never gets a "single" answer, for there are as many answers as there are people who eat. It's sort of like "Aunt May's Cooking", to use an imaginary example. Aunt May thinks of her "cuisine" as one thing. Her family thinks of it as something else, from their vantage point. It is a part of their lives in close and intimate ways that challenge attempts at formalization, for it is "theirs", through Aunt May, and what belongs to one is often imbued with some lack of objectivity, even when attempting measurement or definition. It is, or is not, one thing or the other based upon who is reading it, or in this case eating it. The neighbors think of Aunt May's Cuisine as something else than her family. The chef that lives down the street thinks her cooking an entirely different thing altogether than all of the above. The recipes can be listed, the ingredients detailed, the techniques of how it all happens can be saved for eternity. But the idea of the thing that is Aunt May's cooking will not be one thing, ever, unless an ultimate authority is put in place to decide, who everybody will then agree to agree with (whatever it is) the ultimate authority says. Close, on any attempt to tie down a cuisine in terms of what it "is", but it seems to be impossible in terms of finally getting the cigar. In my opinion.

I realized what it was about Zhan Wang. It was not the photo in particular, but rather, the work he was displaying. There is another series of his that I prefer to this one, but it is not food-oriented, but rather based on huge silver rocks that he has placed as landing in unexpected places with a sort of gigantic-thing Richard Serra-like tension but with added silliness somehow. Here is something from the Williams College site on him and the particular exhibition covered in Gastronomica. You can also find information on an upcoming exhibition at Williams on Gerald and Sara Murphy, who are covered in one of the other articles in this Gastronomica.

I look forward to getting to the more modern pieces, myself, at the moment. I've been putting the book aside then picking it up again because I do want to read through *everything* and some of the older writings are harder to slog through for me. What a really impressive collection, all in one place though! Incredible job.

No, neither one, though I know the feeling. I'm listening. And I am sure that others are, too. As for me, I'm just taking in what you are saying and thinking about it and how it all fits in. It is very good information.

It would be an easier cuisine to define as "one cuisine" if one could pin down certain flavor profiles or tastes that run through it that would solidly prove a differentiation from other cuisines, no? Or is Jewish food a thing of the heart/mind/memory, something that is flexible, and susceptible to how one reads it or feels it? ................................................ What I've got so far from this thread (setting aside the whole kosher thing, which is something else in terms of wide-based categorization) is that Jewish food is something made by Jews historically, wherever they happened to be. Therefore it has many flavors and recipes, and resembled the foods of the cultures which it resided within. (But if a generalized difference of some sort could be formalized, aside from the rules of kashrut, that would really make the lines straighter in terms of identification). There's something within this definition (to me) that I can not put my finger on, but it seems to have something to do with putting a name on a thing as being one's own, making a place for oneself in a larger context that would not allow a whole lot of differentiation. To name it is to give it a place simply by the name, something subtle imbued by saying "Ours", something that would not dissolve, because after something is named it can not easily be dissolved or swept in with everything else in a mish-mosh. Jewish food does not neccesarily have to be made by Jews today to be Jewish, though it is more legally Jewish if someone Jewish lights the fire for the cooking of it. .................................................. I've loved this discussion, have learned a lot, and hope to learn more from whatever is posted. But I think that my answer to your question about why don't Jews eat Jewish, after sort of getting a handle on what the question meant, would be: Most people today do not eat according to their historic ways of eating. It has become too easy not to, and even in some ways more interesting not to. A global economy, an international and multicultural way of thinking, is where the edible habits of most people are headed. And I guess that Jews are no exception to this, as the communities they live in have become less prone to separate them in any way from the general community due to their religious beliefs. Loss and gain, all at the same time, I guess, in terms of traditional foods and in wider vistas.