Carrot Top

Plus that photograph of him with his tongue sticking out right into the camera (with the lovely little diamond F centered ever-so-cutely) was really gross. Why do men do this? Have themselves photographed with their fat rubbery tongues sticking out into the camera lens? I've seen it more and more lately. Is it sort of biologically determined mating behavior? Or perhaps a "I am a dominant male, look at my tongue" thing? Or does it really just mean "I am an ass." (?)

Yes, I can understand that. Watching someone else say things that really need to be said is certainly a pleasure. Personally my own politeness slips often enough so that generally it is others are watching me with a sort of shock and embarrasment (for me as well as for themselves ) that I'd rather spend my free time watching people who seem to be able to restrain themselves. A long time ago someone told me this saying: "There are two sorts of people in the world - those who give ulcers and those who get them." I've been working on being the one who gives them ever since. Not always successfully but I keep trying. (It's not his rudeness that gives me a sense of bad taste in my mouth - it is a seemingly burgeoning sort of greed for media attention that has something to do with media and "celebrity". This bothers me in two ways - first I sort of like to think of chefs as spending their time in the kitchen not with their PR people and secondly I am one of those people that is just rubbed the wrong way by a society that seems to be in love with other people's "celebrity" rather than with other ideas and issues and things that might bring a sense of more fulfillment into their own lives in a real way. But who am I to say? If people actually are made to feel good about themselves by somehow attaching their own egos and thoughts to someone they do not know except for pictures and words in mass media, well -okay. I just "don't get it".) Plus the angle of the story seemed wrong to me. As Shelora noted, it is not just women who are not in the kitchen.

And I have to say, that although I uh. . ."enjoyed" those cheese-deadly entries from that book, I still think the posts of regrettable foods made by eG'ers are much better. Much better. Those photos were deadly. Heavy. Frightening. "Our" photos have vitality! Grinning fish about to jump out and "give one a kiss"! Corn on the cob that traipsed around the world and looks like it! Odd little fairy tale guys laid out on their backs on plates awaiting a fork! And let us not forget milt. I am so proud of you all.

I thought it was supposed to be a Zen-like statement about something - the plate looked like a character from the Japanese alphabet. Food? It was supposed to be food? This needs to be paired with Grub's blackened corn cob, I think.

It's more like those fritters are excellent conveyances for the sauces, I think, Katie, but thanks. Next time a whelk wanders across my path, I'll try to write down the recipe to send along. This may require a Florida Keys vacation. Yes.

Hmmm. What can I say. I am tempted to say "Harrumph." I like to smell things before eating them and I just plain don't like these sorts of smells. ................................................. Nevertheless, your remark is an interesting one. Maybe I'll hold my nose for five minutes or so if he happens to appear on a screen that wanders before my eyes.

I am remembering something someone wrote in another thread recently: I have the same question.

What Shelora said. And the "F" word right back at him with a "U" attached to it, please. As a matter of fact, add a A and an H to that, too.

I've had the pleasure of "catching" both octopus and whelk and really, this idea of "fresh" takes on new meaning when the octopus is slithering off down the dock like a prehistoric monster as you chase it with your knife - and whelk is even more trouble for you have to extract the thing from its shell which is no small task. Makes one appreciate the canning industry. But conch *is* rubbery. Worse than octopus. Gives new meaning to the word "ominivore". Heh. "One who eats anything", perhaps.

Scungilli. Yes, conch (or whelk). It is good with pasta, as you mentioned - but I think even better "caught" fresh from the edge of the sea then taken home to make into conch fritters with a bit of coconut milk added then dipped into a spicy mint-coriander sauce or hot tomato sauce before gobbling down with maybe a beer or two. Yeah. Watch out - those whelks are hard to "catch". They run really fast.

Hi, Sam! Thanks for making your first stop right here on eGullet at the Gallery of Regrettable Foods! I love those cards - they are awesome.

I wish you hadn't asked that question, Pontormo. Now I'll just have to reveal the truth. The Devil is still alive. He lives up in the sky somewhere, residing for the most part behind dark clouds and all the boats lost in the Bermuda Triangle, for they are up there too. The Devil's hair, as you may guess, is quite long - and it grows very rapidly - many many thousands of miles each day. It is important that the world not discover where he lives, (as you can imagine!) and this growing mane would identify the place were it left to prosper. To assist in this ruse he is surrounded by winged bevies of mad little spirits with spiteful scissors, who all chop away at his hair endlessly. These bits of hair fall to the earth. As they tumble rapidly through the sky, they turn into little seeds which burrow into the ground. And spaghetti squash is born. Whoever first found it had a terrible palate, but they were hungry, and they liked that bright yellow color that reminded them of a schoolbus. (Is the Devil blonde, you may ask? My current research has no proof of this, but the question does remain an important one.) So they stuck some little stickers in primary colors onto the global monstrosity and took it to the market. It apparently sells, for it is still there and they keep re-stocking it. The only suggestions I can offer you for using spaghetti squash are to use it as a doorstop till it rots. Alternately, it can be substituted for a greased watermelon thrown into the pool for the kids to play with in the summertime but be sure the dog does not eat it as it lays drying in the sun afterwards, for problems for both you *and* the dog are sure to follow.

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.