kpurvis

Most days, it's lunch at my desk, usually frozen Lean Cuisine-type stuff to save time and calories that I happily blow somewhere else. But last Thursday, while driving around looking for Mexican Coke in Charlotte, N.C., for a column, I stopped at one of our local loncheras in the parking lot of a large Mexican supermarket and grabbed a marinated-pork torta, packed with slices of avocado, lots of lettuce and white cheese. Thus answering the musical question: Can a woman driving a 5-speed Honda Accord eat a large, sloppy torta in lunchtime traffic? Yes, she can. But not well. Next time I'll ask for a fork. I never cell-phone and drive. But eating and driving is fair game.

Sorry, guys, I'm back. I came in Monday to find myself deeper on deadline that I expected, so didn't have time to report back until now. OK -- here's my report on the lobsters. They kept just fine in a box with gel packs and a wet paper sack over them. I followed the method first described: I placed one on a cutting board facing me. I placed the tip of a knife at the back of the head, then plunged straight down and pulled it forward, bisecting the head. It may have killed it instantly. BUT IT DOESN"T STOP THEM FROM MOVING. It was "Night of the Living Lobster." Their legs keep waving. Their tails kept curling. Even when I chopped off their tails and flipped them over, their little swimmerettes kept swimming. Quite frantically, in fact. Even when I clipped them off, the little stubs ... OK, I'll stop. You get the picture. I wish someone had warned me. Since the last couple of posters assumed I'm male (I'm not), I guess I can assume it wasn't a trick played 'cuz I'm just a girl. The sauce with the Martin Yan recipe was lovely, but I'd question its claim that two 8-ounce tails would feed four. Not the four of us. We used four tails and the claws and still had plenty of room for dessert, and that was in a dinner that started with sui mai, followed by salad, and included rice. Thanks again for all the advice. But I'll stick with steaming. At least I can put the lid on them.

Just to clarify: That's facing me? With their waving claws facing me as well? Thank heavens for rubber bands. And thanks all for your fast replies. I'll think of you when I'm filling my refrigerate with seaweed and bissecting heads. And if the recipe turns out well and lobsters haven't snipped off my typing fingers, I'll report back on Monday.

I want to try a recipe from Martin Yan's new Chinatown book, Wok-Braised Lobster in Creamy Rum Sauce, for a dinner Saturday night. I have a chance to buy lobsters at a great price if I get them by Friday. But 24 hours seems a long time to keep lobsters alive in my refrigerator. Should I kill the lobsters on Friday and keep their tails on ice? Or kill them and partially steam the meat on Friday? Does anyone have advice? Also, I've never used any method of dispatching a lobster besides dropping it into steaming water. (I've been a coward). Any advice on the method I've seen illustrated, of sticking a skewer into the lobster behind the head? Is that from the back of the neck (so to speak) or from the underside?

I was in Canada recently and discovered the Aero, which I'd never seen. But the disappeared one I really miss is Russell Stover's cashew patty. It was flat, the chocolate had a nice snap, and since it was just nuts robed in chocolate, the cashews really stood out. It disappeared without warning about 10 years ago and I've been looking ever since.

I'd second all of the above, and add: - Acme, less expensive but very good, in Carrboro (Carrboro is actually just a block beyond Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, and Chapel Hill is a 5 minute drive from Durham). -Crook's Corner in Chapel Hill, well worth a try, if only to pay homage to the late Bill Neal and admire the new chef Bill. -Four Square in Durham. Sorry to say I haven't been, but it's getting good marks from several people I know.

Are these are the same people who have outlawed cheese made from unpasteurized milk and told you not to use raw eggs in your aioli? Ron, I'm all in favor of unpasteurized cheeses and I make mayonnaise with raw eggs at least once each spring, to enjoy with fresh asparagus. But those are philosophical choices I make. I go into them with my eyes open and decide for myself whether I want to take the risk. However, as a newspaper food editor, it's also my role to give people the information they need to make those choices. In the case of canning, the idea is to preserve food. If I didn't tell people that to do it safely, they need to add acidity to tomatoes, I'd be irresponsible. When we run recipes that involve raw eggs, we add a note to the bottom, to make sure people know. When I posed the original question, I was checking to see if someone had information that I could learn from. But I was also curious whether anyone else was bothered by that, in an otherwise well-researched magazine.

In the article "Tomato Crush" in the Sept./October issue, the recipe calls for 20 pounds of tomatoes and one bunch of basil, and then is processed in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. Aside from the issue of whether a single bunch of basil is enough for 20 pounds of tomatoes, isn't that recipe missing something, like citric acid? I've always been told that you have to add lemon juice -- preferably bottled, for a more reliable acidity -- to make it safe to can tomatoes in a water bath. Otherwise, you need to pressure-can them. Are there any experts who can enlighten me on that one?

Yes, Cathy L., that's the Southern Foodways Symposium. "The Oxford food symposium" has a whole different meaning in the South. And I never say the "Y" word. I just call them "the regionally challenged."

My apologies, Malawry. No, I didn't know you were vegetarian. Joining in here sometimes feels a little like walking into a block party when you just moved into the neighborhood -- you don't know where the social speed bumps are. I'll try to remember. On butter vs. Crisco, I think things made with butter have a crisper texture, like when you make chocolate chip cookies with butter instead of margarine. They have a great flavor but a harder texture. I'm not a scientist, so I can't explain why that is, but you can taste the difference. Shirley Corriher would probably say it has something to do with water content. I've known a lot of great Southern cooks who made biscuits from Crisco, but not a single one who used butter. Maybe that was because in the old days before air conditioning, butter was more expensive and wouldn't keep as long, but I suspect it was also a matter of texture. Can any food scientists out there explain the difference?

You know, that's an interesting question. I've been involved in plenty of debates on the difference between grilling and barbecue (standard rule here in North Carolina is that barbecue is a noun, not a verb -- "if it's hot dogs and Matchlight, it ain't 'cue"). But the difference between a barbecue pit and a grill isn't one I've heard tossed around. I suppose a grill could be anything made of metal and designed to hold coals. A pit was originally a hole in the ground filled with coals burned down from hardwood. But when people started building those big brick edifices in their backyards, it started to be common to refer to them as pits. Down here, when restaurants advertise "real pit barbecue," it usually means they are cooking over large brick constructions. (I've always thought they bear an odd resemblance to the old-fashioned baptismal founts you used to see in the backwoods. I don't even want to go where that line of thought might take me.) Anyone who's stopped at Lexington No. 1 and wandered back to the smokehouse has seen that kind of pit. I think we started using the term "barbecue pit" to make sure we're not talking to somebody who uses "barbecue" to mean a hibachi and a burger. I'm going to the Southern Foodways Symposium in October, where the topic this year is barbecue. I could throw out the question of what constitutes a pit and report back. And for the moment, I'm just counting myself grateful -- when I threw that reply out yesterday, I figured somebody would have a musket to my head this morning.

Um, at the risk of being one of those obnoxious Southerners, I have to ask: Are you building a barbecue pit, or a grill? If you want to make barbecue, get Bob Garner's "North Carolina Barbecue, Flavored by Time," or Robb Walsh's "Legends of Texas Barbecue," or the late Jeanne Voltz' "Smoked Butts, Barbecue Ribs and Other Great Feeds." All of them have good, clear directions and advice For grilling, I'd second all the other books mentioned, especially the Cook's Illustrated one. (I can vouch for their method for grilled duck breast.) Sorry to get picky. Here in the South, our palms get sweaty when people use "barbecue" and "grill " interchangeably. I'm envious, actually -- I've always wanted an outdoor oven.

I'm surprised how many people are dismissing lard. In the biscuit hierachy, lard would be my first choice, followed by Crisco, with butter a distant third. Lard is no worse for you than butter -- and when you divide it out by the number of biscuits or the number of slices of pie, you're really not getting that much per serving. And it gives a tenderness that butter doesn't deliver. Beyond that, I'd agree with all the people who have included a low-protein Southern flour in their formulas. White Lily is terrific, although here in North Carolina, we can also use Martha White or Red Band. And the handling is key. "Kneading" is a misnomer. As an earlier poster noted, patting is really what you're doing. Watch a good biscuit maker and they pat the dough gently, sort of like putting power on a baby's bottom. You noted that the shapes were square from touching in the pan. That's an important point -- if the biscuits are placed close together, their texture will be softer. If you put them in the pan with spaces between them, they'll be crispier. My aunts in Georgia, all farm girls, were crispy biscuit people. That texture made their cold biscuits perfect for soaking up cane syrup for a snack.

When I saw the name of this thread, I was expecting a discussion on the REAL food channel -- PBS. Remember, public TV was what gave us Julia to start with. I was thinking of that this week when I saw the press release on the new Burt Wolf show, "What We Eat." It sounds promising. Of course, in a perfect world, we'd have PBS food shows for seriousness, and a 24-hour food porn channel for the other 23 hours in the day. It would have lots of close shots of Nigella licking food off her fingers and restaurant reviewers committing unnatural acts with seared tuna. They'd have black bars over their faces instead of their genitals . . . No, wait -- I just pictured that with some critics I know. Oh god, now how do I get that image out of my head?

Turn my back on scallops. Next time, the husband and son can set their own table and get their own drinks.

1. Mayonnaise. I couldn't even stand the smell of it then. Now it's one of my favorite things -- to my fat-gram regret. 2. Grits. Shameful to admit it, as a Georgia native, born and raised in the South. I couldn't stand them as a kid. I was grown before I finally encountered stone-ground, creamy grits and it changed my life. The turning point for me was my first encounter with really well-made cheese grits.

I'd second the blueberry-lemon pie -- blueberry and lemon are one of the most amazing combinations, right up there with chocolate and raspberry. But recently I tried a promising variation -- lemon bars sprinkled with blueberries. The recipe was in the "Foster's Market Cookbook," although pretty much any good lemon bar recipe would do it. Just sprinkle a couple of cups of blueberries over it before you bake it, then top with the confectioners' sugar as usual.

I use a mixture of Crisco and lard for frying chicken. Yes, all lard would be better, but it's hard enough to get good lard without trying to get it in quantity. And when I do get the good stuff, I keep it in the freezer and dole it out for biscuits and pie crusts, where it's really worth it.

The Choco Taco is still high on my list of good/bad frozen indulgences. It's ice cream in a waffle cone shaped like a taco, with chocolate. I haven't indulged in years, but I saw two teenagers eating something that looked suspiciously like one recently, so it must still be out there in junk food land.

My additions to others already mentioned: "Beard on Bread"; Vincent Price's treasury (sorry, I'd have to look up the exact title) for all those original mid-'60s menus; my dog-eared copy of "Charleston Receipts" (no Southerner should be without one); James Villas' "American Taste"; John Thorne's "Simple Cooking"; a dozen others that will come to mind as soon as I send this; and, for sentimental reasons, Cecily Brownstone's "Associated Press Cookbook" because my mother gave me a copy when I got my first apartment.

Sorry, I tried to reply to the cider question earlier, but it disappeared. So, my apologies if this answer appears twice: On the cider, I should have been more specific. I meant fresh cider. In my part of the world -- North Carolina -- there are apple orchards that still make fresh cider, so I usually buy four or five quart jugs every falls and throw them in the freezer. Of course, that also gets into the issue of unpasteurized fresh cider. I travel to the mountains to get it from a farmer I know. I've spent enough time on his land and around his equipment to know his standards, so I use his fresh cider without qualms. If you aren't that lucky, pasteurized cider would work. And, as noted, in a pinch I've used good-quality apple juice.

I'm relatively new to this site, so forgive me if I'm repeating anyone (it's a little hard to catch up on all these threads). I've done quite a bit of experimenting with brining while writing several articles on it. I second all the motions on turkey, ribs, etc. But my very favorite is to soak pork tenderloins in a brine made with apple cider (apple juice will work in a pinch) with maybe 1/4 cup of kosher salt. You don't have to soak them long -- I usually put them in a gallon-size resealable bag and put them in the refrigerator for 45 minutes or so. Rinse well, pat dry and roast as usual Pork tenderloin is often miserably dry, so brining not only adds moisture, but the apple flavor gets into the pork -- nice combination.