Carrot Top

Margy does not sound like a rude person in general, to me, from this post. Nor does she sound really snotty. MIL does sound like she had a thing or two to say about how Margie is, though.

Yes, Cheesecake Factory and its ilk are giving 200% in one particular category at least: portion size (and probably fat content of the food, too). I have to say that I think most nutritional information that can be gleaned and used for informational purposes is gleaned fairly enough and in a good enough form to be of adequate use in these situations. That's another topic, perhaps. And I have to say, when I see (so many) people around who can not fit into their clothes and who have difficulties moving their bodies well without strain at the least physical exertion, the question does arise for me whether they really know what is good for them. Certainly anyone who is in this condition (which I do see lots and lots of at fast-food places and at chain restaurants) has more right than I do, to contemplate whether their personal state of being is a healthy one. The only reason I think of it at all is because the few times I've gained ten to fifteen pounds for whatever reason, above where I usually am, I feel like sh*t. So the question is in my mind whether others would feel like sh*t too, carrying around extra weight. I see nothing wrong with educating the public as to what they are eating. I think it is a fair thing to do and a good thing to do. Put in the form of something that could be read or not, it is not something forced upon anyone who does not want it.

Personally I am for the idea of qualified rudeness when the situation warrants it. Some situations do. And then, it is a beautiful thing.

I thought you were going to cite the "On top of spaghetti all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed. It rolled off the taaaaable and onto the floor and then my poor meeeeeeatball, it rolled out the door" song. I think this song deserves recognition as the historic reminder it was, to an entire generation of Americans, to love and to eat spaghetti and meatballs whenever possible.

It seems to me that if a corporation (which is what chain restaurants are) is able to provide its customers with an abundance of service and goods, above and beyond the expectations of its customers (which is what chains try to do, with big servings, comfort-taste "full"-feeling laden foods, easy access off the highway, quick service, standardization and consistency of offerings for high recognition level, supposedly clean accomodations, etc.) then that same corporation should be able to provide an abundance of information as to exactly what it is doing, if the general customer base has concerns over whatever issue is at hand. There is a high level of interest among the general public today, about the caloric content of foods. Why not be pro-active as a corporation and offer the information in the way most likely to succeed, for its customers, which would be a user-friendly way - not requiring research on a website that is on the computer at home, but information *right there* at the restaurant, available for perusal upon request, with a note on the bottom of the menus that this information is available if requested. Why not? Is there any reason why this should not be done, or a reason why it is not being done now? One of the good lessons I took away from life at a certain corporation ( a corporation often considered one of the "best" by those who measure these things) in terms of corporate culture and management, is that you should never just offer your "customer" one hundred percent. If they expect one hundred percent, offer them two hundred. If they expect two hundred, find a way to give them four hundred percent. Never stop, never quit, trying to please the customer beyond their expectations. That translates into excellence, and that translates into very happy customers. There is opportunity here, for these chains, in this way, to my mind. As long as they can find a way to be honest without being frightening at the same time.

All through this thread I keep wondering if maybe there wasn't some sort of underlying dynamic between MIL and DIL in the first place, a discomfort based on something or a history of power plays . . . that did, finally, come out in this example of ordering food or *not* ordering food. Not that I ever had that problem. I got along excellently with both my MIL's. It was their sons that eventually I could not stand.

Much quicker to make a sauce and serve it with meatballs than to do a long-simmered ragu with other meats as might have been more traditional, for sure. Those neat little packages of ground beef have been a perennial favorite of the homemaker. Time-saving. Inexpensive. I still know people who know how to cook basically only things made with "hamburger meat". ( ) You had me puzzled for a minute with that "M & S" thing, though. Phew. Reminder to myself: Don't flip letters while reading.

Though I can whole-heartedly agree with the notion of people being responsible for what they eat as individuals, and without undue interference, sometimes there are subtexts being played out in the acts of dining, particularly when dining out at chain restaurants where competition for the diner's dollar is paramount, and where marketing skills honed to strike the heart (perhaps in more ways than one, in the final analysis) are silently yet magnificently displayed. The appeals to "eat here" are made not upon quality or goodness, but rather upon a full-range of things that speak to the parts of us that want "more", "richer", "cheesier", "tastier". Is this wrong? Seems to me it is wrong in some ethical way, if our population is becoming more unhealthy because of it, because of burgeoning obesity and the health issues claimed by most authorities that go along with that. The mention of the ice-cream places reminds me of the few times I've been to one of these upscale emporiums of sweet sticky marble massaged creamy delight. The lines were long, and and the people were mostly all obese, to a proportion of thirty to maybe three who were not. At risk of being blasted for not being "fair" to the happily fat among us, I must say that to see a human being with feet swollen and pushing out the edges of their shoes, puffing from the exertion of walking twenty feet or so while carrying two ice cream cones the size of the Empire State building worries me. Maybe its not my place to worry. To each, their own ways, their own pleasures in life. But the fact is that if those portion sizes were not so widespread, so competitive, if the cheesey rich beefiness were not overflowing from the chain restaurants calling the names of those who can be struck to the core of their souls with a desire for this taste, this fullness, this "more"-ness, this bigness - it would be easier for many people to focus in on eating a different way if they chose to. Even from these brief posts on this topic, it is apparent that not everyone is aware of the content of what they are eating when they do eat these things. To me, it would seem a kindness, to offer education in a form easily found, at the places that are selling these sorts of foods. As far as recipes go, the development of a recipe for a usual "upscale" independent restaurant is built on a set of components that speak "taste and quality". That may include butter or cream or cheese, of course. The development of a recipe for a usual chain restaurant is not built on these components. The components are very different. Psychology is used in developing these recipes, with a focused intent of "exceeding sales goals". Here is an interesting site: Mindless Eating The book is an excellent read. Whether one agrees with the idea that public health is being affected by these things or not, and whether anyone needs to be told anything more than what they already know, or not.

Please don't allow this fact to interfere with my hard-earned reputation for silliness, though. It was just pure luck that *that * particular book was in my hands at this moment. But I might see if I can hunt up the book that includes the cited article, as it seems to be mentioned in many places as a reference. On the other hand, last night I was thinking about Adam's proposal that the meatballs on top of the spaghetti are a remainder from a "larger scope" dish that included more meats and it came to me that when my MIL (born in Italy, emigrated to US as a young woman) made meatballs, they were never solo, or the solo meat. They were cooked in a "ragu" (say "urrurru" and you'll have the sound of it ) a tomato sauce that always included pork spareribs and sausage. The meatballs usually ended up on top of the "spaghetti" with the sauce, the spareribs and sausage on a side platter when served. To use the thinking of the author of the book I cited, this sentence or phrase would not be complete with only meatballs. The other meats were a vital part of correct phraseology. ( )

It would seem that the idea of self-denial takes different shapes at different times in history. Here's a menu from a sixteenth century Tudor cookbook (Good Huswifes Jewell): And that is only the first course. The second course includes such delicacies as Roasted Porpoise, and has many more things upon Sops. Thank goodness it finishes up nicely with That way you can clear your palate to suffer through dessert.

I liked those lemons and limes. They are proof, to me, that an alternate universe does exist right alongside this one. Those particular lemons and limes came from the *other* universe, one night, just to visit, and didn't make it back before dawn broke.

There are both specialty cake pans and candy molds made in Pokemon shapes. You can find them for sale on eBay . . .

I read the topic title quickly, and thought it said "feet". That would bother me.

Was just reading something that might apply to these questions, in Aguecheek's Beef, Belch's Hiccup, and Other Gastronomic Interjections . There's about another full page of this in this book, but I would guess that a closer answer might be found within the article cited. Personally I am exhausted just having read eleven pages of this book and am definitely beginning to talk funny. *Judith Goode, Janet Theophano, and Karen Curtis, "A Framework for the Analysis of Continuity and Change in Shared Sociocultural Rules for Food Use: The Italian-American Pattern," in Ethnic and Regional Foodways in the United States.

One of the things I enjoy about this story are the characterizations. The people. Sometimes I feel rather guilty when I read mysteries, or "lighter" reading rather than, you know, Great Literature of the Ages. Though some mysteries or books of their ilk, might sometimes make it into this category of critical assessment, it mostly is a different style of approach. But then, I would hate to have to eat a formal, challenging dinner each and every day. I would rather eat what tastes good and feels good. The serial books with continuing characters, to me, feel good, often. It is like visiting with friends. Peterson and Cosgrave have this sense about them. A potential for being characters that could go on to other adventures, to my mind. An interesting relationship, already. Of course one or the other might get stuck by that famous fork by the time the story ends.

You can make a light "white" sauce, Susan, a bechamel - or you can use half milk half stock to do the same and it will work. A nice touch could also be the addition of a tiny tiny pinch of nutmeg.

fricadelle . . .

Who won? And what did the winner eat before the bout? I don't wrestle, exactly, but need equal amounts of energy in order to deal with my kids. I need a kid-toppling regimen. My energy must blow theirs away. Perhaps maybe one of these wrestling diets would do that?

Estouffeed - The feeling of being stuffed after eating too much etouffee. Estupideed - An etouffee made badly by someone too stupid to know how to cook it right. The term may be extended to other dishes where the balance of ingredients and texture are just plain stupid.

And my goodness, Franci, the foods your child carries forth from childhood and family, into the world will be interesting, though undoubtedly the names of what they are called will be contested at times.

Thinking of Nero Wolfe - and characters who represent the "gourmand" in literature. Is there any other character in fictional literature who represents the gourmand as clearly and intently as Wolfe?

Ah. Tell a "son of an Italian immigrant" that he needs to feel better about himself and you will have quite an animated discussion on your hands. The essence of childhood foods, family foods, is not in their "authenticity". The essence of most childhood foods, family foods, is not in their fineness of ingredient or perfection of technique. The essence is that they belong to the family, *that* family, those people, the people that belong to you and you to them, in that point of time, in that place. Their love and care is brought to the table in those foods, and eaten, and remembered. Then it is *that* sauce, that way of serving meatballs, that reigns supreme. There is no argument against this, for it would be an argument against love, one that can not be won by any logic, no matter how purely wrought or intellectually convincing. This personal essay was about something the author loved, and how she went on an almost archaeological search to find out more about it. To her, the old way, the "authentic" way - was something to be looked at and thought about in reference to *her* Primary Sauce (ha, ha like primary source). Not something to be revered or held as better, but something to examine to understand better the thing *she* loved. It may be that love is blind, and that many if not most or maybe even all of the foods loved from childhood family tables are bastards - not scheming bastards though, not lesser or evil, merely things that have adapted and become of their own time and place. And each person's individual time and place, just like their name, is sacred to them, and important, in close-held ways to the heart. As far as the essay goes, I enjoyed it very much. My first thought was "It's about time we get to read something like this." The title did not bother me because I didn't connect it to popular culture, I just thought "the code (i.e. mystery) of spaghetti". Which was sort of cute and I like sort of cute in terms of titles. It keeps it simple and not perilous in terms of appproach to something likely read while downing the first cup of coffee of the day, or inbetween doing this-and-that, without great intent of focus given. A friandise, a little frill, that's okay. It's like a touch of bright lipstick. It attracts the eye in a certain way, but does not signify idiocy as to the rest of the content of the package. But Pontormo's post gave me food for thought, too. It was a well-reasoned and clear critical analysis, knowledgeable and interesting. Definitely worrth reading in tandem to the essay. It makes the circle of thought larger, fuller. And that, to me, is good.

I put most of invention down to accidents. Something happened by accident, like a tobacco field was on fire, and someone happened to be there inhaling it and they liked it. (That is pure guessing, I haven't read about tobacco in any books whatsoever and it may be not only pure guessing but also pure nonsense, but anyway . . . you get the idea ) Other parts of invention I put down to play, to curiosity. If you have no books as they haven't been invented and no advanced studies programs in universities for they haven't been invented either, what do you do? You poke and prod and twist and turn and combine everything that happens to be around you in the natural world. Why not? What else is there to do except kill the monthly mastodon and take a bite or two now and then? Naturally there likely were always those standing around laughing and making fun of the ones who kept trying to do odd things with familiar things, and often enough probably nothing was "discovered" or invented at all. But we're curious about things, as a species, so how else do you learn? You just play, just to do it. And sooner or later one little thing is learned then another. Play. It's what started every single thing humans invented, combined with its solemn sister neccesity, to my mind.

I guess we could have a conversation about what you considered a "legitimate piece of information" to be, as opposed to what I consider a "legitimate piece of information" to be. Focal point: the word "legitimate". But speaking of Serbs and Montenegro and legitimacy which sounds like "legit" which reminds me of the law and detective/mystery novels, naturally I am reminded of Nero Wolfe, a man as interested in food as he is in solving the mysteries placed before him by desperate clients. Maybe even moreso. Books chock-full of food. There's even a club that meets (in NY, home of NW) and eats. Shad dinner coming up in April, right after a conference at the Greenbrier. The Wolfe Pack It's due to reading Nero Wolfe books that I could speak with some pretense of authority on Fine French Food at the age of twelve, though the most exotic meal I'd ever had to date then was overcooked lamb chops and frozen green peas. (Thank you, Rex Stout! )

You reminded me of something: Meret Oppenheim's Fur-Lined Teacup. . Nope, you're not the only one. (But it also sounds like great fun. )