Carrot Top

This is a good book to reference All Things Southern: UNC Press - Encyclopedia of Southern Culture

You forget I used to be executive chef to top investment bankers. They require all sorts of feeding sometimes, so I am used to it. I did wonder if he would be able to sit down, but became quite entangled in the how-to's of it all. I might have to sit on his lap. That's okay.

I'd also advise that they read/study the top trade journals for at least a year preceding their final decision as to whether or not they want to "really do it". Something like this one in the UK might be useful. Trade mags always tend to put a different "face" onto a business than one would see otherwise.

Michaelangelo's "David". Seems like an interesting sort of guy.

Two things: *Made in-house by either a pastry chef if the labor budget allows or by a cook who has a good hand with desserts rather than shipped in and defrosted/sliced/served, which seems to be so prevalent. . .* *Some "different" things offered. Chocolate lava cake, creme brulee, apple tart or key lime pie, cheesecakes that all resemble each other are only the tip of the iceberg in terms of the variety of sweet things that *could* be offered at the end of the meal, but so often dessert is left as afterthought to the main menu, it seems, and then the choices offered are the mundane. Perhaps they are more easily sold, but they are mundane nonetheless. *Need to add here and *not* put together from the contents of a box, an opened can upended and a scoop from a plastic bucket please.

I love this line. I hope that this is not going too far off-topic. . .if it is, perhaps a moderator could set up a different thread, but this question arises directly from all the thoughts posted above and from the original question about opening advice. . . What do you think is the reason most restaurants fail, that do fail? I am sure that the NRA (the restaurant association not the gun people ) has statistics on this, but it's always worthwhile to hear ideas directly, too.

Gosh, Rachel - It's funny that you should post right now. . . on the way home from the grocery store just a while ago I was putting together a limerick on Fairy Tea.

On the positive side, Jack, there are some fairly standard tools (measurement tests) used by restaurant consultants that can give some very good information as to whether either a specific business plan or a specific location would prove better rather than worse. It's no assurance of success, but it is a good stepping stone to start off on - a bit more data can be assessed beyond the nice soft fuzzy stuff. These tools are available in some textbooks that focus on restaurant management and/or opening a restaurant.

There once was a man from Cancun Who used his tongue just as a spoon His soup he slurped up Like One Hungry Pup Till it wrinkled and looked like a prune. ................................................................. There once was a man in Taiwan Who wanted to make saucisson Fine meats, up he ground Then squeezed tied and bound Then served it with soy sauce splashed on! .................................................................. There was an old vigneron from Reims Who put butter on all of his stems "Zut alors!" said the tourists "Bah humbug" said the purists He responded: "It works with les femmes!"

"Deadline" is November 1st, Simon. Wednesday. Five full more days where work can be avoided. I intend to try very hard to avoid all work. Hope you join me in this important task.

Hmmm. So the link on formalizing the "how to's" of limericks says that anipestic, amphimacers, and feet have something to do with it. Sounds like a disease. And here all this time I thought limerick writing had to do with spending liberal amounts of time in pubs drinking lots of beer and singing when the spirit struck one.

A question, Maggie - as this is the first time I've ever tried writing a limerick. (And am loving it - I find myself chuckling over stupid rhyme schemes as I drive along in the car, and people look in the windows at me and break into grins themselves to see the obviously crazy yet happy woman. . . ): The "scan and rhyme scheme" above has a certain number of syllables in each line. Is this supposed to be a set number or is it flexible? Also is a Legal Limerick (ha!) supposed to be only one verse? Please forgive the stupid questions. I will try to ask more intelligent questions at some other time.

I am curious, if anyone would care to share their thoughts, in the ways in which people get their inspiration to start on writing a limerick. Take, for example, Simon . It appears that Simon can start from any old word or idea whatsoever, then go flying about with it, and very quickly too. I seem to get stuck on the name of a "place" then have to fit everything else into that. Do others have other ways they get started?

It's true that my children are *experts* in the impious art of alternately embarrassing me in public and/or making me laugh so hard that tears fall down my cheeks and it is hard to stand up. It's interesting to imagine how they each might answer this thread, some years forward, when they too are what we call "grown up". Lovely story, Rachel.

You silver-tongued devils, you. Thank you for making my day!

I am really longing for more people to post limericks here. May I hope to persuade you to give it a try with the fact that limerick-writing is good for your health? You will laugh or giggle, either outwards or internally based on your disposition, as the silly thing becomes itself, and everyone knows that laughter is every bit as healthy as science now tells us a glass of red wine is with dinner. Then we will all laugh and be happy, too. Do give it a try! At the very least, so that those around you will ask "What are *you* laughing about?" Pretty please, with caviar and toast points on top. P.S. Sorry, Maggie, if this is posted in the wrong thread, not being a limerick itself, but my mind got tumbled about in its state of limerick love lust.

I LOVE your idea! Just too adorable and too delicious. What will you call them - Cabbage Patch Dolls on a Scary Night?

Yes, clean up as you go is my style, as is a firm belief in temperature control. Then again, the few times I've ever gotten sick from food it was at fast-food places where one *knows* that sanitation policies and procedures *must* be in place and supposedly (apart from human laxness) they are being followed. (Yes, I do fast food once in a while though that, too, is obviously an alien plot foisted upon us!) Yet where food and family and the past converge in talk, so much rises in our hearts, really - whether we are focusing on realizing that fact or not. In the hearts where family interaction was full and good in these past times, a warming glow extends beyond the mundane. And where family interaction in the past was perhaps not all that one could desire, the food and the foodways take on shapes of their own that define and represent as proof in memory of "how things were". A biggie here - I did not learn at my mother's knee that food could show love. Food was fodder to her, and love itself in her life was something that was not easily accessed. I did learn it at my mother-in-law's knee, though, and every time I think of that, my heart swells and tears start to my eyes (eh. What can I tell you - I cry easily ). *That* is the one thing, technique, recipes, foodways aside, that I feel truly blessed to have learned. What's odd is that it is not held in the recipe or the technique, this sense. It's held in memory. The food *might* be frozen veggies (though that is something less possible than if the care was taken to work with fresh good things) but the warmth that the food carries comes through. That warmth and love was palpable in the posts about the food held in the ovens. And *that* is good.

I am sensing from these reports that Foods Themselves were a bolder, braver, stronger sort back then. Science. Always trying to trick us into buying new refrigerators and plastic wrap. Pah. P.S. ( )

Thank you! It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it. Okay, so here's the next idea. Little scary guys all in a row on a plate, ready to be eaten. Make enchiladas - bake them "blind" without sauce - here's a link to a site that has a rather nice photo: Enchiladas Place them on a serving plate all in a neat row, then top them with scary heads made of the top part of some parsnips that have been peeled and cooked so as to be easily edible, but *do not* remove the dead sprouting greens - leave them as hair. Faces can be made either by cutting out eyes and such, or by using a tiny round pastry tip to draw on the elements with taco sauce. Or even with Velveeta. Heat in oven, serve, and dine. Ahhhh. P.S. Even the parsnips alone might be scary enough.

We should request that the title of this thread be changed to "Guinea Pigs and Guns" maybe. There is an absolutely wonderful personal essay/"creative nonfiction" (sic) in the current issue (#2) of Alimentum, by Lynn Levin with the title "How to Eat a Pet - A Gastronomic Adventure in the Andes" that is all about how she dined on our subject at hand, the humble Peruvian cuy whom she continues to think of at odd moments as Fluffy, the pet she had as a child. Worthwhile reading.

If you could only get Chufi to say how to make these little things, that would be wonderful, too. I've never quite forgotten these little guys, the upside down happy frog guy with his murdered companion stuck in a bookbag: (See Post #31). Gallery of Regrettable Foods Adorable yet so. . .well. . .*frightening* in a fairy tale sort of way. They have made a home in my heart forever.

That's great! ← Now *that* takes a brilliantly twisted mind, to develop Velveeta as a sculpture material. Kudos! .................................................................. Thinking of Velveeta-Cheese-Sculpted Heads, how about a Cornered Rat Meatloaf? You could shape a big rat out of a good meatloaf mixture, bake it then glaze it with a shiny glaze. I guess if you wanted to make him look furry, a swiss meringue baked, broken up into small bits then dusted with cocoa might be stuck onto the glaze. . .His face would have to be mean looking, with big whiskers angling up sideways, his head low with horrid little raisin eyes. His whiskers would be made out of Pocky, perhaps. Ears swiss meringue or maybe even a Frito cornchip would do. A long tail extending in an angry curl could be made out of cooked perciatelli and he could be in repose on a grassy bed of julienned cooked zucchini/yellow squash. If you wanted to have a Murdered Cornered Rat, a small sharp knife could be stuck protruding from his side with some chili sauce oozing down from it. More chili sauce to be served on the side for bloodthirsty types. Ah well. It's quite made my morning, thinking of it all!

I was just wandering among the shelves of the library when a book peered out at me. It is titled "Cooking with Grace" by Grace Pilato. It's about Italian cookery. I am not sure if this might be an answer to your question, but it seemed close enough so, there it is! Wonderful phrase, though. Even from reading your topic title, it's been lurking around my edges of thought. In a story recently I read the line "You can not summon grace with a whistle." Indeed not. But how wonderful when it does appear.

Ah, no no no no! Of course I did not serve vegetables like that. Simplify, simplify, simplify! I merely took the butter slices themselves, placed them smack-dab on a lightweight flexible metal spatula, and when the guests sat down to dine, I would come to the table, say "Open wide, dearies!" and fling the chilled butter slices from the top of the spatula with a whizzing sound directly into their mouths. Yum. But whereas your mother was always on the outlook for salmonella and/or donkey meat, I once was very surprised when I arrived one afternoon at the home of a woman I knew - our children were in pre-school together, and we were going to put together some sort of dinner thing for some function. I was going to cook, she was going to provide the raw ingredients. Raw indeed. On her kitchen counter was this slab of reddish purple meat in a zip-lock bag, soaking in a strange-looking puddle of its own uh. . .juices. . .to be polite about it. It looked really wierd and I did not want to approach it - it was scary - but I did, and felt it. It was very very much room temperature. "Sandy", I said. "When did you take this meat out of the refrigerator?" "Oh, last night!" she breezily replied with a smile. "I wanted to be sure it got defrosted." Um. She could not understand, really, why I said that I could not and would not cook that meat. Her mother had often left meat to defrost on the counter overnight - at least when she did cook something not from a package. I would have had to use A LOT OF seasonings to avoid having that meat taste like donkey meat. Besides the possiblities of the all sorts of lovely buggy things that could have grown in it.