kpurvis

Chicago Tribune picks the top 50 magazines. Cook's is No. 1, followed by New Yorker. I'm not good with links, but try this one: http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/showcas...0068jun12.story

Barbecue instead of grill. Tumeric instead of turmeric. But my favorite is the local supermarket that keeps labeling its fancy lettuce mixture "mescaline." Man, I tried it and it didn't get me off at all.

Geez, Tony, you're a brave guy. Given the Jason Blair atmosphere, I can't imagine the kind of proof they'll want that you know your testicles. With all the heads rolling, well . . .

I have the 1950s Betters Homes and Gardens Meat Cookbook that was once dissected on the Gallery of Regrettable Food. I was proud as a parent when he featured it. And he's right. The pictures are truly dreadful.

I love my copy of the Vincent Price. It was a gift from an elderly gentleman, given with the agreement that I'd treasure it and never sell it. The recipe collection is good, but my favorite part are the menus. Price included menus from all his favorite restaurants (some of them with prices), making it an amazing time capsule of food around the world, circa 1965.

I wouldn't part with my Italian and Chinese ones for anything. And I'll throw in a vote for the American series, too. After several years of looking, I finally scored both the book and the recipe book for the Southern one, at Bonnie Slotnick's, and they've got a place of honor on my bulging kitchen book shelf.

Hell, we actually have a couple of direct flights to Europe, tommy boy! Had to share this one, just for the amusement of my fellow Southerners: A friend's husband here in Charlotte (home of the second- and third-largest banks in America, including one we lured from some little berg by the Golden Gate) is a free-lance cameraman. A production team from Food Network was scouting for a recent trip and somebody actually asked him "Is the road from the airport paved?" On Andrea, I think it's "OHN-dree-ah," but I rarely hear it pronounced. I see it a lot though -- her folks live here and I get frequent e-mails from her adoring dad. Did anybody see her newest venture -- a set of CDs paired with wine tips? Martha's got nothing on this girl.

Sorry, missed this one in the general flurry. I was distracted by my disappointment at being left off the "chicks" list. No, don't know any Jonathans. My branch of the family is based around Americus, Ga., and is dominated by names like "Tump" and "L'il Bubber." But my understanding is that the name goes back to Ireland, so if you scratch around long enough, we Perverts usually have common roots.

When you've been disappointed by too many restaurants you wanted to love, or you've seen too many plates of cunningly arranged heirloom tomatoes, or you've typed "crunchy" so many times the keys are rubbed down on your keyboard, is there something you do to fall back in love with the job? Is there something you read that reinspires you, or something you cook for yourself? How do you make yourself want to go back for more?

Hey, we drove Davis out of the shadows! I was about to reply that nobody who writes for Gastronomica qualifies as an amateur, but somebody beat me to the punch. Now all I have to worry about is the day Tim's regular employers get smart and set him loose on food writing. The competition will get a lot tougher.

I've been mulling this question over for a day or so, and I started wondering: Is it really wrong to discuss a fabulous restaurant dish in the South that isn't a Southern dish? New York has regional dishes that it's known for. But when great New York restaurants are discussed, no one dismisses Jean-George or Le Cirque for not making "true regional New York cuisine." When the subject is great food in the South, why do we feel compelled to put it into a tradition, rather than just celebrating it as great food? If you go back to the question I posted, it was about food in the South that would surprise and delight people who don't know the South and don't know the variety and diversity of what's going on down here. I find it interesting that we can't get away from the idea of traditional South. The South that I know, here in North Carolina, has an amazing, fast-growing Latino population, a huge Asian population, beautiful chemical-free farms growing heirloom vegetables and working closely with chefs. Those things aren't "traditionally Southern," but they're certainly producing exciting cuisine. No, it's not Southern cuisine because it's located in the Southern tier. But it is cuisine.

Eek -- my apologies to the noble Mr. Varmint. I didn't see you had typed "re-discovered," which I'd totally agree with. Mea culpa -- hadn't had my second cup of coffee yet. On the truffles, I don't have to agree they aren't truffles because I don't know enough to agree or disagree. (My, I AM being grumpy today. I need that first cup after lunch.) When you get a chance, enlighten me. I'd like to hear more.

Sure. You and Colman keep the engine running in the jet and let me sit with Gold. The guy rocks.

I'd agree with you that some awful sins have been committed in the interest of "haute Southern" (and that's definitely a good thread on its own). But why couldn't foie be on a Southern menu, especially when it's paired with a Southern touch like scuppernong jelly? Geese can be and have been raised in the South. North Carolina currently has producers of farm-raised caviar and truffles, too. Does that mean Southern chefs shouldn't use them?

That story about shrimp and grits being discovered by Bill Neal is an urban legend, from what I've heard. Bill didn't invent it, he took an old fisherman's breakfast dish and gussied it up. He did, however, bring it new respect and for that I'm grateful. I also wrestled with which restaurant's shrimp and grits to include. The best I ever had were at a restaurant in Charlotte that has unfortunately disappeared (although the chef, Todd Townsend, is still around and still creative. He morphed into his own catering business, where he's doing very well.) However, the back story on how I missed the s&g at Crooks is that I was there while doing a story on eating in the Triangle and the only way to make the schedule work was to hit Crooks after a three-course at Magnolia and after a day of one breakfast, three lunches and two dinners. So I mourned all the other things I wanted to try, but contented myself with a late-night snack. Still, I do think their Two-Bird Pate is fabulous.

Foie gras with scuppernong jelly? Oh my god, I've got to try that. Another interesting scuppernong sighting: At the Yadkinville Wine Festival, I had a dessert wine that was scuppernong and gewurtztraminer and something else. It was scuppernong, but with some of the flavor notes of a late-harvest riesling.

OK, my first question wandered sort of far afield. I only wanted to raise the issue that the South is more complex than the sum of its barbecue and great Sunday-dinner vegetables. To ward off complaints: I love barbecue. I love Sunday-dinner vegetables. My late, great, Aunt Roselee could do creamed corn better than most angels can sing. But I love so many more things about the South. So: Say your fantasy food team is coming to town. Colman Andrews, Steve Shaw, Jonathan Gold and Ruth Reichl call and they want to do lunch. You want them to experience the South in a way that will surprise them, delight them and make them stop making bubba jokes forever. Oh, and you have a Lear jet, unlimited airport privileges and a way to suspend the space/time continuum. Where would you take them? My first try at a quick list of great food surprises in the South: To Oxford, Miss., for the duck hash at the Yocana River Inn and a small plate of the Shrimp and Grits at City Grocery. To Birmingham, for the Grits Timbale with Country Ham Reduction at Highlands. To Charlotte, for the Heirloom Tomato Plate at Sonoma and the tasting plate at Zebra, with a quick stop by Nova Bakery for a bag of the house granola to pass around on the plane. To Chapel Hill, for the Two-Terrine Plate at Crook's Corner, with a stop at the Carrboro Market for a selection of Chapel Hill Creamery cheeses. To Durham, to finish it all with the Lemon Chess Tart at Magnolia Grill. Where else?

Aw, c'mon. Most we get into another of those "barbecue purity" litmus tests? If it's good 'cue to you, it's good 'cue. This is why I dread and avoid barbecue discussions: Because they turn into "my hickory stick is bigger than yours" spats. You don't like hush puppies? That's fine. But sometimes a hush puppie is just a hush puppie.

OK, I'll almost certainly screw this up. I think there's some form for posting recipes, and I probably need to fill up a space requisition notice in triplicate. But I've never been much of one for following the rules. So here's an angel biscuit, from a story I did on biscuits a couple of years ago. I've also seen them called Bride's Biscuits, because they are allegedly foolproof: ANGEL BISCUITS Angel Biscuit dough can be made in advance and held in the refrigerator for several days until you need it - a guardian angel for busy cooks. This version was adapted from "A Gracious Plenty," a collection of community cookbook recipes, by John T. Edge (Putnam, 1999). Makes about 2 dozen biscuits. 1 package active dry yeast 1/4 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees) 5 cups self-rising, low-protein flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 cup shortening or lard 2 cups buttermilk In a small bowl, dissolve the yeast in warm water and let stand several minutes, until foamy. In a large bowl, sift together flour and baking soda. Cut in the shortening with your fingertips until mixture resembles fine meal. Combine the dissolved yeast and the buttermilk, then stir into flour mixture, just until all the flour is moistened. Turn out dough onto a well-floured surface. Flour hands lightly and knead dough lightly, about 10 strokes. Divide dough into three parts. Wrap each part in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 1 hour. (Dough can remain refrigerated for several days.) When ready to bake, remove one section of dough. Flour hands lightly and pat out dough on a floured surface, about 1/2 inch thick. Cut with a round cutter dipped in flour. (You can also pinch off sections of dough and shape it with your hands.) Place on an ungreased baking sheet. (For higher, fluffier biscuits, place dough so that it's touching; for crisper, flatter biscuits, place it about 2 inches apart.) Bake at 425 degrees until lightly browned, about 14 to 18 minutes. Serve hot.

You know, Zeb, I was actually wondering if you were there this weekend. I was almost there - I went up to Elkin for the Yadkin Valley Wine Festival and thought very seriously about jogging over to I-85 so I could hit Honey Monk's on the way home, and wondered if I'd be able to spot you. But after tasting 25 or 30 wines, in the rain, and contemplating the traffic around Lowes Motor Speedway, I thought better of it. I almost had a culinary fantasy come true, though: When I got to the festival, there was a cooker puffing smoke. I thought, "Barbecue at a wine festival? Ah, could it be?" No, it wasn't -- they were cooking chicken kebabs. But I did get to try the smoked elk and wild boar sausages from Wolf's Lair restaurant. So I got to take a short stroll on the culinary wild side.

There's a biscuit just for that purpose, called angel biscuits. The dough will keep about a week. Hang on and I'll track it down and post it.

I have Cortas, Hedgehog. Thanks for pointing that out, though. I didn't know to watch for inferior brands. Just dumb luck that Cortas is what my local Mideast market carries. I made a mixture with about 2 tablespoons Cortas pomegranate molasses, 2 teaspoons cider vinegar and 2 teaspoons soy sauce, then brushed it on so didn't get enough to cause too much charring. I did have some flaming problems, but that was more because I had to use a smaller grill than my usual one (the wet/cold spring weather won't let go around here and it was too wet to work on my big grill, so I used a smaller portable grill that put the rack much closer to flames than usual.) The flavor was good, but not so much better that I'd do it again. Plain grilled duck breast, using the method I described above, is just fine the way it is. One bonus of that method: I sliced up the skin I trimmed away, pulled some duck fat out of the freezer, and made a little batch of duck cracklings. I could have sprinkled them on salad, of course, but: I have no restraint. So I just ate them while I was grilling.

Thanks, all. I'll let you know how it goes.

Down here, we call them "gimme caps." As in: "Gimme one 'em hats." And we don't wear baseball hats. We wear NASCAR hats. Preferably with a No. 3. And in the winter, we don't wear ski hats or knit hats. We wear "toboggans." Seriously. I still can't bring myself to call them that. Aw, I bet you'd call it "pop" instead of Co'cola, too.

Down here, we call them "gimme caps." As in: "Gimme one 'em hats." And we don't wear baseball hats. We wear NASCAR hats. Preferably with a No. 3.