racheld

Polished pomegranates and golden dates!!! How lovely!! Are these from your garden? I don't think I've ever seen a fresh date before---the sticky brown prune-y ones belie the beautiful gold of the fresh ones.

Eight chunky upside-down widemouth pints cooling on the kitchen counter, all pink and rosy and sweet. Second cooking going---should be about seven in that one. House smells wonderful---as much the scent of a Fall day as the whisper of burning leaves in the air.

I've probably still got stray sugary blips on my arms or shirt, from just now getting the first bushel of sand-pears all cut and sugared down for cooking into preserves tomorrow morning. We thought we'd missed out this year, for no one made the trip either up from or down to the pear trees at the old homeplace in Mississippi this Summer. However, yesterday Chris came home with a bushel-and-a-half from where else??? A YARRRRRRRD SAAAAAAALE!!! He stopped to look around at a house WAY out Highway 74, and didn't see much of anything to buy. He got back in the car and started to pull out into the road, when he saw a huge pear tree, still hanging pretty full, and completely surrounded with many, many fallen pears. He went back and asked if he could buy some, and they said "Help Yourself---we're glad to get rid of them." And then, for convenience, and just to be polite, he did buy a one-dollar bushel basket and a fifty-cent half. It took me quite a few hours to peel and cut the bushel---an old sand-pear is the armadillo of the fruit-world---they give no quarter, aren't any good to eat, and will fend off the sharpest knife, until you let down your defenses. THEN will come a slide and a nip and the knife's bitten YOU. Sly, tough old things. I used quite a generous amount of "Fruit-Fresh" in the water as I peeled and set aside, and there's been no turning of the nice pale color. By morning, the mountain of sugar will have coaxed a lot of lovely juices out of those hard little pellets of pear, and the hour or so of cooking will turn them rosy and chewily-soft, all sweet and the very essence of pear. Sometimes I think about these old pears when I meet or hear a grumpy or loud or curmudgeonly person---they just need a good nap and some sweetening to make them rosy and fit to be in any company. I hope I don't ever stop thinking that.

Oh, Randi, I'm so sorry about your Grandmother. I much admire you for keeping on keeping on in the face of these obstacles, and then to persevere through your sad news---you have my sympathy and admiration. rachel

re: The browning technique suggested in the Carbonade recipe: I find it nearly impossible to brown any kind of meat with vegetables already/still in the pan. There's some sort of steam/sweating effect that is never present when the two are browned separately. And I always get better results by doing the meat FIRST, then any vegetables. That's almost exactly our old family recipe for any kind of beef-and-gravy dish, excepting the ale or beer, of course. And we're a strange family---we especially like Brussels sprouts as one of the vegetables, added late in the cooking.

You DID IT!!! I've been waiting for the schwanns Exactly as I had expected, and better.

Ahhhh, Syllabub. Always capital S. I first encountered the word and the romance of it in a foray into my parents' BOMC shelves, in a Heat-of-the-South bodice-ripper titled A Woman Called Fancy. She crossed the tracks, the river---whatever the Great Divide between her trashy family and the Big House housing the handsome, dashing Heir, and life was all syllabub and parties. The one Grand Ball, with the heat palpable on the page, the blue satin of her evening dress, the magnificent dinner, the cold collation during dancing, the midnight supper, the sweat on the cooks' brows as they whipped that stand-a-spoon-in cream, mixed in the sherry and the Madiera and served it in the crystal glasses with "small spoons"---that was entirely enough romance for my nine-or-so-year-old-self. It was a ladies' confection, and left to the fairer sex to enjoy whilst the males rode herd on all those bottles of whiskey and port. I haven't made it in YEARS, but I have the slender clear glasses and the small spoons. And small spoons they need be---three bites of this stuff, and you feel as if you've eaten the whole bag of marshmallows.

I was born and raised too far Way Down Yonder to have heard of either chip. In fact, my association with the name "Old Dutch" is far different, in that my first thought on seeing the thread title was, "Oh, that will be such a relief to all those King's horses and all those King's men." To wit: http://www.adclassix.com/ads2/31olddutch.htm

I've been wondering what that chain looked like, and if it were big enough and strong enough to have been used as more than encouragement to a friendly rivalry. Perhaps if it were strong enough to be thrown across a cross-beam, as a deterrent to the next-in-line's coming home empty-handed. . . And I would imagine that the day's haul would have arrived way too late for the night's repast, but perhaps the group stayed several meals ahead of the bounty. Salt would have been near to hand, so preserving would have been an option, especially since nearly every man save the Indians would have come by ship, captive to hardtack and salt beef on a long voyage, and they would have been accustomed to the put-by fare. I read of those days of meat and game-for-the-taking, and I marvel that they all did not fall prey to scurvy and pellagra, since notes of the meals of the times ran to meat for all three courses, if there were any. A roast, a joint, a hare, a planked fish---all those I remember from journals of the early travelers of the trails. If the hunter-of-the-day had come back dragging a limb full of beehive, or a coatful of apples, would he have been welcomed sans venison?

AHHHH, Peter! And Bonavista to you, as well.

Are they serious? Outside first listing in the yellow pages, WHY?

Well, it WAS 11:30, and we coulda called it lunch, but we hadn't stopped to eat yet, so we had grilled cheese sandwiches---extra-sharp Cheddar shreds on whole wheat, butter-sizzled in a skillet, with some cold sweet grapes, eaten on the patio under our biggest tree. Little cold tubs of vanilla yogurt for dessert, with birds and leaf-swish and some really loud cicadas for background music. Reggie asked hopefully, "Apple?" so we gave him some grapes, and flipped bits of crust to the flock of sparrows scavenging bits under his cage. We discussed everything from gardens to movies to puns, draining our big tea-glasses and dumping the ice into the hosta bed before getting back to work.

Maybe I should let Caro post in this one, since she's the wok-pro, but we're all goofy over hzrt8w's mapo tofu. Especially for breakfast---waking to the scent of ginger and garlic hitting that hot oil, and then the meat browning and the mixing in of all the sweet and hot and rich---I make the pot of Calrose while the coffee perks and the tofu soaks up those glorious flavors. And it's super-delicious NEXT breakfast, with any kind of eggs---over them or beside them, or simmery in a covered pot with a few nice Jumbos broken in to firm the whites and leave the yolks richly smooth.

I like her, both as chef on ICA, and as judge. I especially admired her perseverance in the face of Alton's got-old-quickly running joke about her cutting her finger. Each time he referred to her grave injury, she took time from her few minutes left to gamely humor his own tired humor with a smile or retort or mime of swoon. I DID think the guinea hen got used up, worn out and done-to-death, appearing like Hamlet in every scene save one, smote hip and thigh and liver, as well, but boy did she make good use of it! (But where did she get that helper who fried those lacy eggs?? I know quail eggs are little, but if you take up the banner, you'd better be able to fly it). And I like her own sense of humor, her sense of who she is , and though I missed the first show, I'm charmed by the fey sparkleness of the effects. I'm such a sucker for magic.

These are enchanting!!! I especially love the mushroom one---you can just FEEL the warmth of the air. I wonder if the Vulcan Fairies are coming to convocation again this year.

Ruth---I'm so pleased to hear of your coup, but PLEASE don't use the words "Duke's Mayonnaise" and "discontinued" in the same sentence. Say it ain't so!!!

AWWWWW, Heidi!!! How nice to be remembered. My favorite small vegetable memory is of a little wedding party of swans, made by Caro years ago as we were putting a bushel of squash into the freezer. She picked out the loveliest crooknecks, small and tender, and cut the bottoms flat, then with a wisp of tulle from an old corsage, some tiny paper cutouts of black ties, a wee circle of white for a clerical collar, and they went skating down a mirror on the salad buffet at a Rehearsal Dinner we catered. Thanks for the memories.

Is there a cut-off point, as in when ladies were of an age to "put up their hair," or is it judged by public opinion, and might a lady suddenly find herself in mid-bite, the amazed and pitying looks of her fellow-diners telling her she's a faded bit, and should not be hanging on to the eating habits of youth? Any glory I might have claimed has faded into the mists of the past, but then, I do not have to worry on this account---I don't care for sushi. But I DO like to go and watch Chris' enjoyment, and HE'S glorious, any day of the week. Or do certain manners not apply to the male?

It's a SUUUUUUPER-MARKET, with a THEEEEEEME. And it's cheese-heaven---I spent about two hours just in the cheese department, on our one trip there. Most of that was just looking on in wonder, at the variety and the amounts. Part of that was because it was a Saturday, and it was cart-to-cart traffic, with one having to get out of the gridlock so anyone else could move. So don't go on the weekend. But the loo is cute---step into a Porta-Potty in the corner, and through into a luxurious Ladies' Room. Neat. They not only DO NOT allow photography, you have to go put your camera back in your car. And we bought fourteen kinds of olives

Most "Doria" recipes include a salute to Italy in some fashion, with the inclusion of specifically Italian ingredients, sometimes from a specific area. Sometimes the nod to Italy in the recipes consists merely of using the colors of the Italian flag, so if the outside is green, perhaps a red layer and a white? Flavors---I cannot tell you---are succeeding flavors listed in your recipe/guideline? Don't mind me---I'm totally ignorant in this subject---my favorite ice cream is vanilla, and my bombe experience is limited to few---I DID make the Martha Stewart replica of a watermelon, which was a great hit. And I was making Creme Anglaise and calling it "boiled custard" for the Summer afternoon ice cream freezer on the lawn, long before I knew the words "Creme Anglaise."

The nervous Benjamin, prepared for adultery by carrying his toothbrush in a paper bag, and the worldly, confident Mrs. R. sit for a moment in the hotel bar. He lifts a meek finger toward a passing waiter, who ignores him. She speaks firmly, “Waiter, Eye will have a martini.” With all this bitterness and the Mrs. R. connections---a Manhattan would have completed the orbit of that particular metaphor, but the film-makers missed their chance.

Should the crisp command to the passing minion then have been, "Waiter, I will have a Manhattan"?

Oh, Randi, I'm so sorry you lost a friend. But you know, I'd imagine that if that were her last meal, it would have been just right---sitting with friends, with a kind young chef to serve and clean up. And the "warmed-up," the "store-bought, the "no-name" and the "you bake it" are such a part of the lives of the retired and the widowed and the home-bound generation that that may have been her favorite of all the dinners, just because of the "same old" familiarity of the dishes. I've cooked for thousands over the years, but I do not envy you this endeavor---I've found that those who pay you most are sometimes less exacting in their expectations than those with a modest budget. And I think this meal completely delivered to her tastes. If weather permits, I'd suggest a meal of comfort food for the next meeting, something warm and homey, as they remember their friend.

Ohhhh, Y'all!!!! This is just like Old Home Week!!!! I'm so glad to meet everyone!!! I can tell that there was SOME GOOD TIME goin' on. Thank you, Thank You to everyone who chimed in to name all the folks---You are all just BEAUTIFUL!

This is akin to looking at pictures at a Family Reunion, and you know how we feel about THOSE Down South. These are MY PEOPLE!!! So, could someone---anyone, put some screen names AND real names to the first, second, once-removed and last cousins? It's such a treat to meet everyone, and I'm anxious to put face and name together. Please---especially on the seated-at-the-family-tables pictures, with everyone looking into the lens. And KUDOS, trumpets, flights of angelsong to everybody who worked and cooked and organized and washed dishes and deep-fried and brought all manner of manna to the proceedings. PS---I'm delighted that Y'all are not of the anti-food-pics persuasion!!! I just LOVE this.