Carrot Top

Pranksgiving comes but once a year, and it is the duty of all to celebrate this national holiday. There remain some people who argue that the old traditional holiday “Thanksgiving” should remain in place for everyone, unaltered, stable, full of tradition and lore. This partisan approach has led to undigested holiday dinners for those who wish for something different. Thanksgiving can be a problem for some when it comes to dress code, due to an underlying sense of guilt that hints one should dress up a bit. Pranksgiving outfits help solve this problem and even make dining more pleasant. For children, Quaker serving outfits are advised. Large aprons with pockets to catch falling food, with bonnets or large black high top hats which cover the head entirely including the eyebrows will both keep chocolate and pies from being smushed into the hair. These outfits also keep the children busy trying to balance well enough to stand up, thereby avoiding some of the traditional holiday bickering. Once the children are dressed this way, of course they can be encouraged to enter even more into the spirit of things. Mother should sit at the table, directing the children as to how to feed the ravening hordes (i.e. “the family”). Some of the newer dress options offered for grown-ups on Pranksgiving include The Fur Trapper (torn old dark-colored t-shirts and ragged dungarees complete this outfit, though the effect is better if the clothes are so old and unwashed that they seem to be growing some sort of fur); The Missionary (any old dark-colored sheet will do, draped around oneself then tied with a bathrobe cord. If you can find a graduation ceremony cap, it will add a touch of immense drama). Some adult Pranksgiving celebrants who choose to have their dinners as twosomes without the madding crowds might enjoy The Chief (one of those little triangle things around the bottom, with a feathered headdress and nothing else but bodypaint) and The Chiefess (tie some chamois around your waist with a shoestring for a skirt. Simplicity itself. More than Thanksgiving, though, the Pranksgiving menu can be challenging. Whatever is served should be a complete surprise to those who dine, and where possible it should make reference to old traditional menus. One of my more successful Pranksgiving menus is as follows: Roast Giant Squid Ink Gravy Grits with Hoop Cheese, Peanuts, and Canned Fried Onion Topping Sweet Potato Foam on Apple Peels Cranberry and Corn Chip Brittle Small menu, yes – but it made its point with the beauty of that roast giant squid as it sat towering in the center of the dining table, a glistening icon of delight! There is only one rule must be honored on Pranksgiving: Invite who you really want to, and nobody else. Guilt should play no part in giving real thanks, nor does it belong in the realm of fun pranks. If this means that you dine alone, that's okay too. Enjoy your holiday, however you celebrate it. Much, to be thankful for and so many ways to show it!

Here, of course, in the US, Thanksgiving is our harvest festival. I just came across an incredible site: Harvest Festivals that has a fantastic list of harvest festivals worldwide, complete with the traditional foods prepared and eaten and the histories and myths attached to the days. I would love to hear stories about harvest festivals in other parts of the world, if you have one to share.

Really, I don't see why you would not try this. I could find many many sayings and quotes to induce you to try. Why not just pick a subject you think would work and start on it? It would seem to me that your knowledge of Serbian specialties would be something that would work there. . . (Take a look, at alacarte's successes in the past few years. Her article list is available from her website. Proof. It *can* be done. ) Of course if you did try to write an article to submit to Gastronomica, we might lack for adequate posts *here*, and I might get blamed for the subsequent loss of fun. Oops.

A dangerous attraction, those leavings, indeed. Happy Thanksgiving, Rachel!

I think I know that guy. .......................................... There once was a Man of the World Who ate caviar till his hair curled Silver spoons used as shovels For fish eggs he grovelled Till the day that he finally hurled.

I look forward very much to reading all these stories shared, by those who put pen to paper with heart in hand, wishing to offer up a perfect apple or peach or pumpkin pie in essence of generous care but not in form of factual thing to put into one's mouth, so am glad to hear that more of your own story will be arriving here soon. Ouch.

Teff is difficult to source. I have an Ethiopian friend who developed her own injera recipe without teff, still using sourdough techniques. *I* can not taste but a very slight difference in injera made as she makes it without the teff, from the versions I've tasted in Ethiopian restaurants that one assumes will be using teff, but of course my palate is not trained to years of the taste of teff, so how would I know? She is not satisfied, ever, completely, with the injera without teff. Sometimes her brother will send her some teff from home, but not ever enough to last long enough. Which spices she uses *exactly* she refuses to ever tell anyone - claiming that families each have their own spice blends that must remain a closely guarded secret in the family. I have no problem with this, as it adds a sense of magic to the thing. There are only two cookbooks widely available in the States where one can find Ethiopian recipes, both available on Amazon. I find this one to be the best and the most complete. It is definitely not a "coffeetable" sort of cookbook, though. Lots of recipes but no gorgeosity. The recipes work, though, so I guess the gorgeosity lands on the table and in the mouth.

The Portugese language always sounds to me as if it were filled with kisses when spoken. I can understand this more fully after gazing upon those pastries.

Some of the nicest meals I've had recently based solely on vegetables have been Ethiopian. Injera topped with different things - potatoes, cauliflower, green beans, and other blends cooked with traditional Ethiopian spices - mounded onto the warmed injera in little treasure piles with yet more injera torn and used to gather up between the fingers, bundles to pop into the mouth. Satisfying in all ways, including the method used of eating with one's fingers. My children and their friends seem to love it too. It has the fun of pizza and the thrill of intense spicy savory flavors.

Well. . .read this book first then decide: Reay Tannahill's Flesh and Blood. I don't have any recipes to offer you myself though.

Yes. . .rather goes along with humoral concepts, doesn't it. Foods that have certain personalities of their own attached to them which can then be transmitted to those that eat them. Yin/yang theory too, though that seems more complex to me, more difficult to grasp in full than the humoral concepts. I spent my career feeding (mostly) men at table of this sort, though there were a few women here and there that peopled that world. Careful and planned useage of Power does go into how a meal is planned, served, and eaten, every step of the way. It is sort of like background music, and it can affect whatever is going on at the table between those dining in large and small ways. Fascinating in some ways. Yucky in other ways. Definitely Macchiavellian when done to the hilt. Some men who wish to exercise power really focus on this, others might not. An issue of personal style and desires. Mostly there were men at the table when I was there as executive chef. I do have a friend though, who as a private chef had to deal more with the female side of things, with dining at home (though needless to say often for business related dinners), and my understanding is that it can be quite as intensive, the power plays with food, with a female in charge who wishes to exercise power using food. Doesn't surprise me a bit. Only once saw one fellow who actually acted quite like a zebra - close to the kick bite spit thing. But he had a bad back so I had to forgive him. Treated him like a patient rather than as any other thing. That worked. (Strange that this wierd behavior never affected his career, he went on to be some Presidents's Something-or-Other in High Office.)

I just have to say that I love your screen name, BeefCheeks. Compelling, in all ways. P.S. And since this is a limerick thread, it should be noted that the name would be a great start to a limerick.

A creamy shrimp and corn chowder enlivened with a big handful of fresh mint and a generous shot of hot sauce. Would have added a swoop of brandy, too, if there had been any here.

I still think the answer to all this really lies in the photograph that accompanied the story. Look at the photograph. Does anyone really believe after even the closest look that that guy is really *alive*? I think Liza is applying the zebra milk to his complexion as enbalming device. And indeed she looks proud of her work as she gazes up at him. Sigh. So romantic.

I'm sure I'll think of something, Janet. Nothing came directly to mind but of how interesting history is. Charming little tales those are.

Actually since what you are discussing seems to rather poor overall behavior, with a subtle intent underlying which infers that the readers are at the bottom of the barrel in terms of whom they have responsibility to (the advertisers being of paramount importance) I would call them "dickheads". A subtle distinction based on which ethical thing one considers the worst, I guess. Personally, to me, any whore is better than any dickhead. Regardless of the gender of the person being discussed. Edited to add smilie. Heh.

Fennel bulb is finocchio and anise sometimes is the word for fennel bulb, depending on where one has learned the words attached to the thing. Whatever it's called, it is very good. My only complaint is that I wish the bulbs were about three times the size they usually grow to. Foolish dream for a spoiled consumer.

I do believe that any discussion of "whores" should always include those that lurk nearby. The johns and the pimps. A merry threesome in the game that never ends. It also seems that it might be almost impossible to *really* discover who is a "whore" and who is not, in the world of critics. Certainly the johns (the readers?) might not have access to ways of finding out. And the pimps wear the same nice clothes as everyone else in this world. Nice and clean, with all hidden and tucked away that might not seem suitable for public knowledge. I could be wrong here. Maybe there is an accurate way of measurement. Karen (who dislikes the word "whore" based on its uh. . ."gender" component. Yeah. )

Wow. Wow. Wow. Felipe - please insert one wow for each photo, at least. The monastery looks like one is inside a huge beautiful cake that is floating in the clouds, with the pink color coming through from the wall hangings, the light reflecting off the arches and ceilings. The costumes - are they traditional? Worn daily? Or is this specially for this gathering? The colors! Truly divine. The pastries look as if they come from an Arabic or Medieval basis. Do the monks (and nuns? or is it only monks that participate in the cooking?) make these on a regular basis to sell for profit that goes to the church? Are there specific pastries that belong to each monastery? Wow. Astonishingly beautiful.

Photo op here, r. Photo op. Get those gloves out, grrrrl. Put 'em to good use. White gloves, grits, and a blank page to write upon. Yeah! P.S. Does your daughter mostly love spicy food? And does she love to bake too?

My batter wasn't entirely mixed when I wrote that. Two articles, same magazine. One about blogging and money, one about other very fascinating food stuff. Two authors, different people. One eGullet member. As far as I know. Can I blame my confusion on the fact that I was drinking coffee at Starbucks at the time? (Blech) I hope so. Anyway, here is a link: The important one, about food of course , is here. Written by Kara Newman aka alacarte in these parts. The other article is in the same magazine and probably can be accessed online. Need to go continue trying to mix this batter. Not always easy.

It's true that at times I've had a suspicion that you really could not be *real*, Rachel. Daring furbelows, fantastic fritters, flights of fine fancy and elfish fun and all. But if you are going to tell me that you ate this: Then gosh darn it, I'm gonna have to believe in you. It's a New Moon today, good auspices - and I woke up with the song "Rock On" running through my head for some reason. So, "Blog On"! with all fine things coming your way this week as you show us You.

I like waffles. The Pilgrims knew about waffles, for they had spent time in Holland before coming to these shores. They used to have waffle parties. I think it's doubtful they put ice-cream on their waffles, though. But I could be wrong. There used to be a favorite waffle recipe used in Baltimore in past times - waffles with kidney stew. (Source: The Oxford Companion to Food) Sounds delicious.

Double post. My apologies. But that reminds me, anyway, of someone who used to make grits often but swore they were just not the right texture unless a double boiler was used to cook them, slow. So delightful they were, indeed, that probably they should have been against the law.

On the other hand, the power of grits can be frightening, as Al Green learned: I love Al Green, but doubt if the story of an assault would have stuck in my mind for this many years if it hadn't been for the grits involved. From Al Green Biography. Got some powerful imagery going on with grits. ........................... Must run - time to cook some grits with . . .with. . .well gosh. There's so many good recipes. But what indeed should one add, besides. . .at best. . .more grits. Sigh.