ivan

And would he eat the salad a priori or a posteriori?

If this is genuinely the case, and not your trademark backpedalling, then you must be profoundly religious. If I understood your premise or your parenthetical reference or your conclusion, I would reply It's just that whenever someone bangs on about their faith, that's usually the moment to mentally file them under 'strange' and subsequently make sure they don't corner you on social occasions. Avatars are often good indicators, as well.

I'm making mead. In a few months, my honey will make me high.

I haven't had Ketel One, but people often roll their eyes orgasmically when mentioning it. Performer Bobby Gaylor mentions it in "Suicide" ("There'll be more Ketel One vodka for me..."). I guess I should try it. In the mean time, I'm considering posting a long, self-indulgent memoir of the vodka-drinking culture in the former Soviet Union. I just don't know whether it belongs in this thread, or in Adventures in Eating (because food was certainly often involved), or a separate thread in this forum.

The difference between a good vodka and another good vodka will be subtle to the casual vodka drinker. But the difference between a good vodka and a bad vodka is profound and sometimes astounding. The biggest determining factor is the raw ingredient from which a vodka is distilled. Some cheap vodkas are made from potatos. High quality Russian vodka is made from wheat. One time I had some cheap American vodka -- called Popov, I believe -- that, I swear, tasted of peanuts. But good vodka is not necessarily expensive. My favorite is Moskovskaya, which was unavailable in the US two decades ago. My source of Moskovskaya in those days was the duty-free stores at Charles de Galle airport. In today's world, Moskovskaya is sold at Trader Joe's for less than ten dollars per .750 ml bottle. Mmmmmm...... The people who put this graphic together believe that Moskovskaya is the same vodka as Stolichnaya: I disagree. To my taste, Moskovskaya is smoother, sweeter, and, when chilled, more viscous, a quality I like. Here, for kicks, is a Stoly label the way it looked back in the good ol' days: Finally, if you want a completely different vodka, try some "starka". The word translates to something like "oldy". Starka is aged vodka. It is brown, like brandy, because it is aged in barrels, and also because of added herbs. Polish Starka is made from rye vodka.

Oh, yes.

Mead update: The mead has been fermenting for 3 weeks now, and the signs are all good. The first two or three days were discouraging: no perceptible activity in the carboy. But when I checked it again at the end of the first week, the mead was fermenting rapidly, bubbling like a recently opened bottle of Champagne. It's been bubbling like that ever since. I tasted it, and was not surprised to find that it was still quite sweet, but already with a perceptible alcohol content. As the yeast continues to consume sugars and excrete alcohol (and carbon dioxide), the alcohol level will rise, eventually reaching some maximum level at which the yeast will begin to die, poisoned by the alcohol. This is why one should not use baker's yeast to make wine -- it may die at relatively low levels of alcohol, producing an incomplete fermentation -- a sweet, low-alcohol, and relatively uncomplex wine. For this mead experiment, I used yeast developed from strains produced in the Champagne region. I chose Champagne yeast because, by some accounts, it produces a clearer mead that does not require artificial clarifying. However, I am wondering whether the yeast will be hardy enough to consume a significant amount of sugar before drowning in the alcohol it produced. The result may be an acceptably alcoholic mead, but one that is rather sweet, whereas my ultimate goal is to produce a mead that is as dry as possible.

Every word ever printed (at least 5 times or so) eventually finds its way into the OED. It is not so much an authority on language as a chronicle of usage. Which is how it should be, because dictionary editors don't invent language. This is an article about some of the latest inclusions in the OED. I'll bet "artisanal" is in there, and I'll further bet that, eventually, if enough editors let it slip by, "artisinal" (with an "i") will be listed by the OED as an alternate spelling. Like, maybe in the year 3000 edition.

It's a spell-check/no spell-check thing.

Today: "Gourmet-style Frozen Pizza". Tomorrow: "Artisanal-style Fresh Deli Pizza". Here comes the new boss, same as the old boss.

Whatever it means right now, its future is certain: "Artisanal" is the new "gourmet". It is its destiny. Edit: misspelled "artisanal" again. Somebody shoot me.

I thought it meant it came from artesian wells.

Laduree on Rue Royale in the mid-80s spoiled me for poulet-frites for life. It's strange to think of it as a chain now. edited just to prove that I can.

AHEM....yes we do! Thank you for noticing. Los Angeles, Orange County and San Diego have in the last 2-3 decades become amazingly diverse and sophisticated. Sure, we'll never be another NYC, but if you're a fresh-ingredient-hound, there's nowhere better in the US. Southern California ROOLZ!!!!

Ben, your new avatar is disconcerting. I live in Southern California, so there is no way that I can contribute substantive content to this thread, but I'm down in solidarity with the PNW contingent of eG, because I've been to Pike Place more than once and seen the guys throw the fishes. Yeah, and I also saw Jeff Smith, the Frugal Gourmet Himself, tooling about Pike Place in his motorized wheel-chair. Honest, I have.

I traveled to Inchon about 15 years ago. Inchon, then, was quite un-touristy, an industrial and port town, a bit rough in places. I was hosted by Japanese businessmen on one trip, and local businessmen on another. I can't possibly remember the names of the restaurants they took me, but I will try to describe the types of food I had. Maybe you can find some good restaurants based on that. 1. The seafood palace. We were taken there for sashimi. Huge saltwater tanks near the entryway, aswim with octopi and, I think, fish and plenty of shellfish. Our table was served big platters of raw just-opened shellfish, I think sashimi, and octopus tentacles (still writhing). Our Japanese hosts warned us to chew the octopus tentacles thoroghly; otherwise the still-viable suction cups can attach to the side of your throat and choke you. I don't know if they were serious. Also, as I was eating some kind of blood-red clam, our host remarked drily that "many men die last month" from eating that variety -- some kind of localized contamination. Again, don't know if he was completely serious. The clams and octopus were delicious. Seating was Western-style. This type of establishment probably catered to Japanese businessmen, and isn't quintessentially Korean (my guess). 2. The bulgogi garden. Our hosts led us along a typically narrow and dingy Inchon street, stopped before enormous wooden gates, and knocked. There was no sign that I noticed. A small door opened in one of the gates, and we entered into a beautiful garden, with an artificial waterfall to the right, and 3 long low tables under canopies to the left. In the rustic wooden tables, at regular intervals were large holes. As we seated ourselves (the tables had dugouts beneath them, so we were in effect sitting on low benches), braziers with hot coals were lowered into the holes. Platters heaped with leaves of Redleaf lettuce, whole garlic cloves and various kimchis were placed along the table. The braziers were perforated domes set in bundtcake-pan-like bowls to retain drippings. Restaurant workers (ladies in traditional dress) brought out platters of marinated beef and, using scissors, snipped long narrow strips of beef onto the domes. Diners removed a strip of cooked beef using chopsticks, lay the beef onto a lettuce leaf held in the palm of one hand, added one or two cloves of garlic, some sauce, wrapped the leaf up and ate. After about an hour of this leisurely and casual eating, the ladies removed the top of the brazier, added broth and noodles to the captured juices, and doled the noodle soup out in small bowls to the diners. That was one of the most delicious restaurant meals I've ever had. The kimchi was good, too, especially the (as our hosts described it) fermented hot crab kimchee. It was, indeed, astoundingly hot (in the spicy sense) and radically affected the restaurant's beer revenue. 3. The boiled chicken caffe. This was a small restaurant that served only one thing: a traditional Korean boiled chicken dish (as it was explained to us). That's pretty much all it was -- a family style presentation of chicken boiled in a vegetable broth. Very comforting and delicious. One thing about this particular restaurant -- they had the Korean Roulette Chiles. Each table had a couple of bowls of long skinny dark green chiles, meant to be eaten as is. They were, indeed, sweet and mild, with just a hint of heat. Except for the odd one. One in ten (by my estimate) was a bit of Hades in chile form. The hot ones were indistinguishable from the mild ones. We had a good laugh that afternoon when one of our companions' face turned suddenly red, accompanied by a complete inability to speak for a good 5 minutes. Yes, I had a hardy laugh -- then I was next. 4. The little noodle shop. Simple, delicious broths with noodles. What was great about this place was that the noodle-maker was making the noodles a few feet from where we were sitting -- starting with water and flower, all the way to the finished noodles. These recollections are clouded by time, and, besides, Inchon might be completely different now. If I think of other types of restaurants, I'll edit them in or add another post. I hope this gives you some ideas. My suggestion would be to ask where local families and businessmen like to eat. Deffinitely avoid "American-style" restaurants. Restaurants that cater to Japanese businessmen will be feeding their homesickness. That doesn't mean they'll be bad, however -- just not thoroughly Korean. As for customs, it's good to say "thank you" a lot (I think it was "Komsa-hamnida"). Also, when you're eating with Koreans, someone will always be topping off your drink. When they offer to fill your glass, or if you catch them doing it, hold up the glass with both hands. If it is awkward to hold it with both hands, hold the glass in one hand and touch it with the fingertips of the other, or use the free hand to support the hand holding the glass. You'll see the pourer doing the same. Whenever you see a chance to fill or top off the glass of a dining companion, do so, holding the bottle or teakettle with both hands (or using the free hand to support the pouring arm). You'll see this custom stylized to a graceful touching of the elbow. After a few days in Korea, cavallierly pouring with one arm will appear tremendously rude. I don't think I encountered metal chopsticks, but that could have been just luck.

Lucky bastards. (*sigh*)

Once, returning from France, we had our menacing cutlery stowed somewhere secret by a very nice flight attendant. Upon arrival in the US, the cutlery was handed to us as we disembarked. I don't know if they'd still do that -- depends on the airline, I guess. Also, I wouldn't try that with plastique.

Nick, I assumed exactly that. My remark was hyperbolic for comedic effect. Seriously, this thread you started is nothing less than a public service. Also, I offer my condolences.

The timing of this quite disturbing and eye-opening thread is interesting in light of the recent debates about some members being at a disadvantage in threads dealing with high-end restaurant meals. Is this thread designed to make the people who can't casually afford biweekly $400 per head dinners feel better? Because it's working.

I'd order some, but I don't think they're big enough for me.

before

Yes... yes... It is not the end of the world. When first you spoke those cruel, but true words... "beer soup"... they cut to the quick, and stung. I was brought up short, wrenched from a fool's paradise wherein I enjoyed a false pride, pride for something the world was secretly laughing at. But now, thanks to you and your cleansing, cathartic, khmer rouge-like scourging words of shining truth, I have turned over a new leaf. I have left my family, sold all my worldly posessions, and, clad only in a loincloth and a pair of K-Mart sneakers, have embarked on a mission to seek out the One True HomeBrew. I'm typing this at an Internet Caffe just outside of Soledad. I'll be up in your neck of the woods in a few weeks, just in time for Christmas, so get that spare room dusted. I like my eggs over easy. I am Ivan.

I will post more about the Mead Project, and also about my experiments with natural fermentation. I'm sure it's quite obvious that I'm passionate about using as little chemical intervention as possible in making wine. Here is a farsical account of how I "discovered" natural fermentation that I posted to a wine-making newsgroup some time ago: Click here if you wish to read it.

If you're doing a chili-dog and burger tour, don't forget Carney's. Nobody compares to In-n-Out, however, because In-n-Out stands quite alone as a separate category (I don't have a name for this category -- it's the In-n-Out category). A "Double-Double Animal Style" might well be the best option, but there's something to be said for trying, first, the plain hamburger, then the cheeseburger, then the double-double, then the double-double animal. Like surmounting Everest, the journey enhances your appreciation of the summit. The reason hollywood helpfully offered the "animal style" tip is that it's not on the menu. The In-n-Out menu is very simple -- Hamburger, Cheeseburger, Double-Double (double meat, double cheese). These are assembled with raw onion, tomato, lettuce and a thousand-islands-type sauce. Fries, drinks and shakes. That's it. That's all that's been on the menu since the 50s. That's why you have to know about the Secret Menu. The secret menu items are pretty widely known now, but a few years ago they really were a secret. People found out about secret menu items by overhearing someone's order. That's how we learned about the "well done" fries option -- as soon as you order that, the order-taker turns to the deep-fry person and yells "fries well done!" and the most recently cooked basket is plunged back into the oil. There are two very cool things about the secret menu. One is that it's a real thing, invented by kids, and not a calculated corporate promotion. The official In-n-Out website makes no mention of any secret menu. A real burger subculture, pure Southern Californian. The second cool thing is -- each secret menu item has a button on the cash register. When you order a burger animal style, they press the animal style button, and there it is, right on your receipt. Some day, some day I will order a 4x4. Just to say I did it.