Carrot Top

Well. . . if it is chocolate. . . . hmmmm. *That* sort of "food porn" that is that directly outright in its intentions can't be faulted as much as the stuff that sort of slithers around making pretense to high glamour, in my opinion. Especially if it *is* chocolate. That makes penance for any number of variety of sins. But I am not sure (as you say) how I would feel having my city represented to tourists in this particular way. But then again, to eat those chocolate "sculptures" might actually be less "regrettable" than to eat at some of the actual restaurants in my own town here that actually consider themselves to be serving quite fine food. Sigh. Where is that little guy on that plate with his friend in the bookbag when you need them? I am hungry.

I am trying very hard not to respond in *certain* ways to your last post, Chufi. Heh. I still have fond memories of your own post with the funny little guy with his friend in the bookbag. That was one for the ages!

Eh. That's what being in the land of higher education brings, huh jsolomon? Did you have a test planned for the students today and this was your reward for such behavior?! For myself, I like honest mistakes. I make honest mistakes myself on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. If we could not laugh at our honest mistakes, we might have to cry or alternately to go hide somewhere and do nothing. And that's just not an option. My kids *might* like that cake. But as for me, no. No no no. No. Did I say no? ............................................... I prefer that dessert that looks like dirt and worms made from cookie crumbs and gummy worms. .................................................. Forget the turds.

That menu! Lovely. I ate in what sounds like the same restaurant in 1989 in Bratislava. The menu was even more extensive than that. The menu was there, but the food that was on the menu was not. Every time one would point to something and try to work out the right translation, the waiter would say "Fried Ham". After this happened about six or seven times, the point was made. "Fried Ham" was what was for dinner.

I seemed to remember something about our sturgeon population being very low or even close to decimated, Adam. So I actually did a clickey clicky and found this on the subject.

Once upon a time I decided to start a collection. A collection of aprons from the forties and fifties. Wonderful things, kitschy and colorful, angled and ruffled, stylized and bold. I had images of wearing them. I collected about eight of them, all from secondhand stores. Some were pink and silky; some were starchy cotton and bright; some were linen, frighteningly crisp and wrinkled at the very same time. They lived in a drawer in my kitchen cabinet for some time. Well, really - you know they were just too damn glamorous to take out and WEAR. One day I took them all out and decorated the kitchen by stapling them at odd angles all over the walls. Pretty cool looking. And continued to cook, at home, without thinking about my clothes. It takes less time to apply stain remover to this spot and that spatter while pleasantly remembering the cooking and the meal than it does to balance my bank account. And it is a good way to use up time so that one can avoid those nasty little administrative tasks, too. Vive la food-spattered clothes!

I remember seeing a picture of it in a candy-making book some years ago. It didn't look quite as good as your candied sweet potato, but yes, similar. Interesting, the similarities between Medieval and Mexican cookery. If you decide you want some pickling lime, PM me and I'll pop a box in the snail mail. I just happened to see it at the grocery store a day or so ago. (And I doubt if there has been a mad run by anyone to buy it all up in the time since. . . ) "Pumpkin" is one of those things that can be confusing as to what it exactly is, depending on who's doing the talking. It can be a squash, or a gourd, or here in the northeastern US (and across most of the US I think) it is a big round jolly orange thing that is used at Halloween for jack-o-lanterns and pies. It it were me, preparing that meal. . .and knowing how very similar the tastes of sweet potato and a good "pumpkin" are, I would go with what I knew "worked", and use the sweet potato. You know, sort of like in those recipe reviews on Epicurious or similar places? Heh. Just do what happens.

Thank you, Professor. I'll be hoping that your camera is strapped firmly in front of you as either the cooking or the eating progresses.

It sounds like it will be a wonderful treat, Adam. My guess is that the quicklime is used for one of two purposes: that of adding a texture to the finished product (some varieties of pumpkin can be denser or softer than others) or for preservative purposes. But those are just guesses. You know my science quotient.

Pane de muertos Candy skulls Mole Dulce de calabaza Atole

Yes, I think this category just might be considered "anti-porn". And it's a beautiful thing.

There is something particularly joyous about reality, don't you think? Laughter is the great leveller, the great equalizer, the great healer. Plus it is just plain fun.

Sounds like an absolutely perfect day, inny. I'll try to answer your question *briefly* which will be quite difficult. For you just actually asked a mother to talk about her children, you know. I'll probably just have to spend the rest of the day talking to *myself* about everything to do with them that won't fit on the screen here. (So what else is new ). Two kids, two different natural attractions to sorts of food, two different responses to food. Kristen is 13 now, barely. She is tall, taller than me, and built in a way that when I remember reading a book on childhood development was described (and this definition within the book included the note that these children who were physically built "like this" were prone to personalities that were "like this") her as "exo-something". A worrier. A thinker. She was born with a little wrinkle of concern in the area between her eyebrows. Always simmering with energy, but an internal energy. Analytic, watches things and people closely. Incredible drive to succeed. Strong willed. Wants to be "on the go" all the time. She is naturally attracted to foods that are calming, soft - foods that might tend to instantly slow one down, in my opinion. Her three favorite foods are huge bowls of macaroni and cheese, huge bowls of baked beans and huge bowls of spagetti with meatsauce. When she eats these things, she just plain calms down and seems to be content as if a cat while purring. Drew (my son) is 11 and a half. He is the one boy in every teachers classroom who gets the comment written on his report card : "It was a PLEASURE having Drew this year. He is kind and helpful." (No, no, I am not making this up. ) Drew is calm, quiet, sweet. He doesn't worry about a thing. On the flip side of this, he can be entirely forgetful of usual sorts of things - I have to buy three coats rather than one each year for he leaves them everywhere. He daydreams and smiles. He is also intelligent, but in a level way, not a searching way. He would happily putter around the house all day doing this and that and not worrying about - well, anything! He is naturally attracted to foods that have some sort of intensity - something with heightened flavor. Salty crunchy things like french fries or fried chicken. Sweet things like soda, sweet drinks or fresh fruit. Spicy things that include hot peppers as a component. He detests the foods that Kristen likes and won't eat them. When he does, he can get sick to his stomach. Literally. Two things sort of stand in the way of taking this "too" seriously, to my mind - as a useable or clear-cut idea (the food and mood thing with these children). The first is that mothers write myths about their children - we watch and fuss and think and design them in our minds even as they are designing themselves. The other is the effect of sibling rivalry. The tensions between two siblings close in age does come out in ways that show them each choosing paths for the sole purpose of NOT being like their beloved/detested brother or sister. But it *is* fun, and I do think that regardless of the extraneous effects, that there is something to the whole idea of food and mood. Sigh. Do I have to stop talking about my kids now? Oh well.

I thought it quite poetic, myself. It seemed as if all three fish were going to rise from their hiding place within the soft green leaves to SNAP! and BITE! in unison at whatever person brought a fork near them, though.

There is something about the idea of "porn" (in whatever field, which now seems to include food) that removes the reader (or viewer) further afield to an even greater distance from the actual (or usual or general) reality of things than any other metier of disclosure would. It does not strive for reality, nor does it really strive for beauty. It strives to reflect back upon itself in a simplified mirror-like fashion of self-involvement and narcissism. Whatever the thing is that is held in its gaze becomes somewhat demeaned, in this process somehow. It becomes objectified. It becomes the thing that is taken from a natural state and blown out of proportion into the desired shape of the author or media person that is shaping it. And they are shaping it for the purpose of pandering (which means "to cater to the lower tastes or desires of others, or to exploit their weaknesses"). It becomes the thing that talks about the thing that talks about the thing in ways that go round and round in incestuous circles till nobody even remembers what the original thing is - or what the original thing could become. The thing becomes fixed in time, something that has been chewed to death by chat and poking. It no longer glows. Fishnet stockings are wonderful things. They can be lots of fun in all sorts of ways. But I really don't want to see them draped coyly over the apple I buy from the grocery store.

"Food" is coming of age, Pontormo. At least "food" as we know it and speak of it in a general sense, here in our culture in the great US of A. And it is not coming of age prettily, in some ways. It would seem to me that a recalibration in terms of outlook would be desirable for many reasons. But those who are gawking at the apple cart would probably not agree that it should be upset. What can one do in an MTV world?

Porn is also fantasy. It is something the consumer of it dreams of--pure, wild, reckless sex, without any of the effort required to get it or the baggage that may come with it. I chuckled when I read the following passage in O'Neill's article: In other words, the appliance is itself pornography: desire displayed as though the display of it were its fulfillment. I assume the purchasers have hired help to wipe that sticky stuff up off the kitchen floor in front of the range. ← Porn *may* be fantasy - but I've had better dreams that emerged from my own imagination than anything I've ever seen anyone package up in an attempt to sell it for purposes of being able to afford their own "third wife" (a term I remember someone using here recently). And my dreams come without baggage, just as any second-hand media representation that was doled out to the world would. The idea of using the word "porn" attached to food just plain bothers me. I mean, what is next? (Right now, I am having some rather strange images run through my mind. . .phew.) If I were a banana split, I would definitely feel like following Rodney Dangerfield in saying the line "I don't get no respect." ...................................................... Yes, kitchen appliances as porn now, too. Ouch.

And to keep the subject "on topic" I'll add to your thoughts of banana splits, sb. "Food Porn" is something that when you look at it is composed of two words. Once upon a time I went to the dictionary and looked up the meanings of several words. One word was: pornography. The other word was: pandering. For somehow the two words flew together in my mind - I have no idea why it should be so. I forgot to look up "food" but rather based my definition upon my own knowledge. Oh well. ............................................. In reference to the article, I am no good at finding specific quotes to point to then reference this and that to the pointing finger. All I know is that food is a marvellous and sensual thing. That's what *I* know. And my personal feeling is that porn(ography) is a caricature of sexuality - and that there is little or no aspect of the sensual held within it. .................................................. I like words. It pisses me off when they seem ill-fitted to me. For then often, as our world is defined by the ways we use words, the reality follows the words used. Sigh. Must go find some ice-cream. Or a stiff drink.

Not one diaper but many. Many diapers. Ah, how I love this thread!!!

At least they were howls and not hoots! SB (been there ..... ← Why do you think they call that place "Hooters"? It's a righteous shout out to those who hoot. What *is* on that menu anyway?

I am in the midst of a daydream. I am standing in front of a room filled with people. And out of my mouth comes these words: "Improve each shining hour". ........................................................... Naturally, the room falls apart with howls of derisive laughter.

Sounds like the next step is to start up the wild drum music and build a bonfire started with broken pencils topped with 24 hours worth of papers. Roast a marshmallow or two. Hmm. They say warm milk is calming, but I never could stand that idea. My prescription would be a glass of fine old Burgundy for you, inny. And I bet, from the little I know of docsconz, that he would agree.

It was my mistake near the beginning to use the word "fiction" in reference to the book, Genny. I was just getting tangled up in trying to respond to what project said. Why that should happen I have no idea. From what I have now been told, the book is defined as "autobiography" or "memoir". And yes, a worthy thing to hold and look at and ponder as "path". Aside from all the rest of it.

Chefworld Hardball can be addictive.

I noticed that, Culinary Bear. It did raise the question in my mind as to whether they had been sent here to join and post in defense of Poor Dougie by the Empire of the Evil Psaltis Brother Twins, but then decided, nah.