Carrot Top

Strangely enough, it was accidental. No plans really made, but the hotel I had chosen was in the eaves of St. Stephans. Just chose it by intuition, two weeks ahead of time. Didn't even know there would be a boys' choir but wandered over at the urging of the hotel clerk. Whew. Yes. All I was looking for in Vienna was a slice each of sachertorte and dobostorte. Ah, but I was surprised with so much more. .......................................................... The day after Christmas we drove into what was a dying East Germany (this was 1989), taking as passenger a woman who wanted to cross the border but who had no transportation and the trains were not running well. She had not seen her brother or his family since their separation as children when she was sent to live with her aunt on the other side of the Wall. That was a part of Christmas to remember too - the small coal-heated home, her reunion with her brother and his family that she had never seen - the dreadful ham they had that was the best thing that they could offer as refreshment and how they did so with deep warmth - her fourteen year old nephew who wanted to be an "astronaut" and who spoke English (translating for his parents and aunt), and the Christmas tree glass decorations, manufactured in that small East German factory town by her brother and others - given as gifts to take home. I still have my piece of the Wall, those glass decorations, and the taste of perfect sachertorte from the Hotel Sacher mit lots of schlag, plus the view imprinted in memory of well. . .what else. . .the Lippinzauer stallions dancing on a winter's eve, swooping back through Vienna just to see them, on the way back from East Germany before going on to Czechoslovakia.

I looked through some books and could not find anything specific on why the difference in "idea of pie" but here are some things that might have bearing: Cambridge World History of Food says (in speaking of New England, C early 1600's) Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America has this to say: and goes on to detail various region's economies - molasses-sweetened influenced by the molasses trade with the nearby Carribean; maple syrup across the north; cream and cheese on the dairy farms of the midwest; pecan and black walnut in the southwest; fish and tart berry pies influenced by the Swedes who settled the upper plains; and pasties and meat pies from the Cornish and Finnish in Michigan's upper peninsula. Florida- limes; Kentucky bourbon, sugar, cream, egg; north - pumpkins because they grow well; south - sweet potatoes for the same reason.The only thing I can think of, beyond this, might be to wonder if the difference between a growing economy that was so varied agriculturally, with such largesse of fruits and vegetables as a boon - would influence the shapes pies took after leaving the somewhat less agricultural economy of the Old Country, where cities and towns had been a reality for ages, and where I think formal "industry" of various sorts was in place before it was in North America. My history is patchy (and I like it that way, gives me a certain freedom of time-travel silliness ) but didn't the Industrial Revolution start in England, move to parts of Europe then finally land in America? Meaning that the economies in those places were less reliant upon what actually grew there, as transportation of foodstuffs was more commonplace and where possibly the growing of livestock was "industrialized" to the point where it was not just the family pig or cow that was slaughtered or the few head grown for the family, but that farmed livestock as a business was a reality, therefore more meat was actually available to all for such things as pies.

I remember some people used to call them "tomato pies". First-generation Italian-Americans mostly. Here's a link to some history about that: A History of Pizza in America.

One can never have *too many* books.

On another thread, Janet (The Old Foodie) asked a question about pies. Honestly, I don't have the slightest idea. Does anyone have any ideas?

I'll go start a topic on it and we'll see what happens.

I'm afraid that's classified information, Janet. We don't talk about these things. Not easily, anyway. Goodness knows what might be unleashed. (Shudder.)

Partially the democratization of high culture, partially the post-war availability of "conveyances that took you to and around them" that has grown by leaps and bounds since then (allowing travel to all places in the world fairly easily if one has the $ - and desire - to do so), partially by the fact that when the magazine was first published, those that read it probably had within their lives a place in the kitchen that they knew and understood, i.e. they knew how to cook for the most part, or had spent time around people that did in their homes. That is not so today. Many people do not grow up knowing the basics of cookery. The place where people come into the home to spend time is no longer in the kitchen, around the table. It is in other rooms, in front of the computer or television, or outside the home at planned weekly self-improving activities. Even dining out could be said (and is) to fit in this category. Kitchens themselves got smaller for a while, not seemingly needed for large tables where people would loll and nibble and do homework and maybe even help cook a thing or two, "just because it was there". Then they got bigger and showy. Sometimes, now, it's all about the buzz, baby. This is what I notice in the difference between some older publications on food and some of the newer. Buzz buzz buzz pretty pretty. Somehow, the actual work of cooking has been cleaned up and made doll-like. The recipes are no longer written for an audience that presumably understands concepts of cooking - they are written to be idiot-proof and codified to a place sans personality, sans *any* potential error by the inexperienced (for there are so many). That's okay, I guess. It is what it is.

From Herbarium: That explains it. Gotta keep those dragons at bay.

Yet when the Latins ergo hoc bicycle in an easterly direction, they would find themselves facing the ancient traditions of Chinese philosophy, balancing the yin and the yang (which of course correspond to the sexes though each person is both yin/yang) but yet, from what I can gather, there *are* specific foods recommended for women when they are expecting a baby, etc. . . Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

Actually opened the book - it's called "Crunchy Cucumber, Celery, and Red Bell Pepper Salad with Cumin and Fresh Mint". Several others I've tried before that were excellent: Roasted Broccoli Florets with Gremolata Potato-Green Chili Gratin (run, don't walk, to do this one ) Cherry-Almond Twist Pastry (very very difficult to go wrong with cherries, almond paste, and puff pastry in any form, and this one hits all the right notes in the right ways ) Italian Shortbread with Almonds and Jam

Dear Manly Meatball OOPS I mean rough tough bulletproof SB, Here is the recipe rewritten for copyright purposes in Carrot Top language: 2 crusty baguettes (2.5 " in diameter each is specified) 1 lb. ground chuck (this is usually 20%, don't skimp on the fat) 1/4 C dark soy, tamari, or low-salt soy sauce 1 tsp. firmly packed dark brown sugar 5-6 scallions, chopped white and light green parts Preheat oven to 450F. Cut off ends of baguettes then cut each loaf into 36 slices about 1/2" thick. (Note: the specificity of the measurements for everything in this simple recipe is so very pronounced. Very engineer-like. I am assuming you will be pleased. ) Lay the slices on baking sheets. Blend together meat, soy sauce, sugar, and scallions in *large bowl with your hands*. Knead thoroughly! Thoroughly! Shape into 36 meatballs, each about the size of say. . . a walnut. Yes, the book specifies "walnut". Place each walnut sized meatball on top of each of the baguette slices and press down a bit to force adhesion. Bake for 7 to 9 minutes or till meatballs and bread have become one. ...................................... The book notes that Alan Richman "launched" (heh) these meatballs at a - - -Manhattan party!- - and that it is Arthur Schwartz' recipe. I like Arthur Schwartz's recipes, usually. These remind me of two recipes I do myself - one is almost the same flavor mix but uses ground pork rather than beef. They are served with rice, steamed or fried. Also remind me of some aps we used to do for parties where there was to be a rather dullardly traditional menu so as not to frighten anyone. Basic, seasoned ground beef pressed onto a thick slice of white bread, an indentation made in the center of the meat, a bit of cocktail sauce (yes, indeed, I did say dull ) dabbed into the indentation, the entire thing broiled quickly till done. One of those things people seem to gobble up without question. Politicians from Washington in particular always enjoyed these very much. .......................................... Enjoy those manly meatballs, do.

Yes, hints of "how things are" and "how things are *supposed* to be" are often found in bits of writing that go beyond the simple recipe format. It's rather wonderful and sometimes scary. I'll PM you when I finish reading this book, to send it along.

You're absolutely right, Sandy. I was just writing along there and didn't stop to think of all the possiblities in that moment. It was the words I was thinking about, not the reality. Often a problem with me. It was that cigar/cigarette thing. The diminutive of the word seems to follow along unquestioningly. *Maybe* (heh) what should be asked here is why the diminutive of the word always infers "female"? But anyway, after I read Secret Ingredients - Race, Gender and Class at the Dinner Table which just arrived yesterday I'll probably be more in shape to find the right words. Maybe. Wanna borrow it after I read it?

I ran across it at the library, too, Lori. The series in general has been excellent, but this one is well. . .*fabulous*! Nothing complicated to cook in these books, which is good for most of the time when one has children around. Nice little touches and ideas in most of the recipes. Two days ago one of the salad recipes seemed nice. My usual cucumber-tomato with red onions and lots of parsley salad morphed into a recipe from the book (or close to it, anyway ) using cukes, red peppers, celery, red onions, and the most important touch, fresh mint and cumin. Well. What can I say. *Fabulous*! (Yes, the children devoured it. )

I've met women who would make that sort of statement. Actually I remember one in particular who used to try to get me to go out drinking and dancing with her (the dancing being flatfooting and the drinking being in places she insisted that I needed to experience called "beerjoints" in WV). I also remember trying to get my feet into her car through the empty beer cans on the passenger side floor of the car. Takes all kinds. Anyway, I am not sure whether to say "be glad" or not, that you do not live in Kazakhstan, for there we can see both "lettuce ladies" and others who are very blunt about what they feel about men and salad. The Lettuce Ladies of Kazakhstan (Hmmm. Love those outfits. ) But then, of course: Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

The only thing that can top the Christmas markets in Vienna is the midnight mass at St. Stephens Church. The choir, all boys, must be angels in those moments. A traditional seven-course Christmas Day dinner that *must* be eaten, every course, brings one back to earth in a solidly satisfying way. The visions of the markets with gorgeous glittering baubles in the bright cold daylight, everyone bundled in hats and heavy coats and scarves and boots, the puffs of breaths showing when anyone spoke. . . the sounds of the singing angels in the warm high-ceilinged, crowded church where one had to stare at pillars reaching daintily yet with great strength soaring upward to the artwork that filled each tiny inch of the walls, the table that sat so very firmly ready to hold course after course, wine after wine, of hot savory things to be finished at the finale with that most wonderful thing in the world - a cart full of Viennese pastries rolled to the table, served up, dolloped with cream, sidled with hot bitter coffee. That was my one Christmas in Vienna.

But if those trees do not grow in your area, here is a recipe. Most grocery stores have fresh wonton wrappers available (in the produce section), unless you really want to make those yourself from scratch.

Well. . .if spaghetti grows on trees I don't see why wontons wouldn't.

Yeah. . .there goes that idea I had for taking myself out for dinner at The French Laundry. Oh well. Another time. If you want to really see the difference between the older Gourmets and the newer ones, zeffer81, find some of the old issues for December and compare them with more current issues. I think you'll see a big difference not only in overall content but also content amount. . . also tone. . .and finally, recipes - in tone, amount, *and* content or "style". December 1971, for example, has articles on Christmas in Vienna (by Lillian Langseth-Christiansen); Christmas in Cornwall (by Derek Tangye); A Dutch Celebration (by Dale Brown); The Bachelor Chef (Donald Aspinwall Allen); Foods for Holiday Giving; Cooking with James Beard - Frozen Desserts; A Thai Christmas (by Elizabeth Lambert Ortiz); Dark Rum Cookery (Elizabeth Lambert-Ortiz); Gourmet's Christmas Gifts; Gourmet's Menus Christmas Dinner; The Art of the Mandoline; and Stuffed Potatoes for "The Last Touch". I'm wondering what this year's December's issue holds. Might have to go out and get it to compare. (It's possible that I am just enamoured of a certain style, and that there *is* just as much and just as good in the current issue. Eh. How could that be?) P.S. I'm actually getting a bit spooked by these 1971 magazines, because there is a guy I used to date (a few years after that, 1975 or so) who was one of the most popular male models then, smiling at me here and there in ads through the issues. There is Jim with a martini glass, holding it up with a demure grin. There he is again, waving a hello to someone out over the side of the yacht where of course one drinks gin. He squints out in a macho sort of way from behind a cigarette. Yikes. Grownups were so very grownup then.

Or of course you could always make something from orange lentils. . . a nice Indian soup filled with warming spices perhaps. . .

The sturdy Dandelion arrives at any greens fight lickety-split dressed up with bacon and slivered onions. Having pushed up through tough rocky soil, a sidewalk crack or the aggravating neighbors yard where the everyday killing of Dandelions is rampant and seen as a given Right, Dandelion is a tough street-fighter sort. Arugula, on the other hand, pulls up in a Porsche. Delicately, the door is opened and Arugula steps out. A scent of the finest balsamic vinaigrette wafts out and a tiny sliver of exotic mushroom is worn tilted sideways on the head. Arugula has been coddled in the neat fields of Organic Snootyville Farm, where even the dogs talk to the plants to assure happy growth. Which one you gonna bet on?

Depends on the place and the guy. Dear real rough, tough, buff and sexy SB: Salad used to be called "rabbit food". Guys don't usually take to being called rabbitty. Quiche. Well. Just listen to it. It sounds like Peter Sellers trying to speak French. Amusing.

Mango Smoothie? Orange Sorbet or Sherbert? Grand Marnier for the Grownups? Marmalade or Orange Curd Tartlets?

Daresay if you sat down and wrote "The Cake and Okra Bible" that would succeed, too. Never saw a book like that before.