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racheld

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Everything posted by racheld

  1. Beautiful, abra. Word and image AND ideal.
  2. Yesss!! I remember that---it was an American Express raffle/auction type thing, and the offer was for Dinner-for-Two at any restaurant in the world that honored the card. The company had apparently expected two ordinary people to make reservations, even if it WERE in Paris (they would get themselves there, of course, and pay for their own accommodations) and order whatever was the customary fare from the menu. This made quite an impression on me, for I had just gotten my first AX card, and avidly read about the contest in a little enclosed brochure. DearCraig, once a down-the-road neighbor, had a talk with his friend Pierre Franey, and they discussed all the rare and wonderful dishes that could be prepared in Pierre's restaurant, and in early-Seventies prices, the D-F-T was more than $4000.00. And when Craig published HIS piece in the NYT, public outcry echoed up the skyscrapers. The word "excess" got a distinct workout, and "wretched" was bandied about by both those who could spell it and those who couldn't. And the voices expressed a lot of the opinions here---why bother doing all that, spending all that, for mere FOOD? The words on both sides have probably been uttered since the first fire-and-a-stick kitchen, and utility and need acquired a little polish, a little pretty over the ages. One person had a primitive stick, another whittled off the splinters a little, and another banked a few stones around the coals. And that went on and on, with dishes and carvings and garnishes and now here we are, like the Big and Little Endians. I do it for the save-to-savor aspect. I enjoy seeing the work of other people's hands, but I don't care if you click or not. I just don't understand how don't got to be such an important thing.
  3. I snap or not, but only at home. A lot of the meditation is in the preparation, the choosing of a dish, a garnish, an angle. I love the golden light of setting down a dish of food for my family onto the dining table, and I love the fleeting moments when the dish is there and then not, as we laugh and talk and enjoy. And I love preserving a record of the hundreds of dishes I've made for other people's lovely occasions. I don't sing or draw or do any of the lasting, worthwhile, beautiful things that would be considered art. But the enjoyment of arranging a dish in a pleasing way, of seeing the colors and the textures and the shine---that feels like art, the only one I have. I look through my gallery of photographs on the computer, settling in sometimes in the sleepless hours, and just reflect on the times and the work and the people whose enjoyment of my offerings means most. The looking back on the moments, seeing what was missed in the flurry of the crowd or the schedule---I like that. Memories do not eclipse the actual seeing of the thing, and being able to call up the photographs and reminisce or just take in the pretty of it---why not? And I also love a lot of the blogs which show the work of artistic hands, and those which show more love than finesse---they all have a place, and if they're beautiful only to the one who brings them into being---that's enough.
  4. Tell about sculling---is it just back-floating, dreamy enough to sleep right there? I float. I seem to have come equipped with my own personal...um...life preserver, as it were, and could just float off to dry land should my craft ever capsize. I can feel and see the black, silky water, and the emerging with the silvery sheets and drops cascading from your body, with all the senses lulled into relaxation, but the tastes of the chocolate and the cheese so come alive that they're even MORE of their wonderfulness than anywhere else. And you eat the Nicoise with your fingers, of course.
  5. Lovely to meet you, Honor, in such a well-designed and beautifully-written vignette. That grapefruit-plump puppy and the image of small men on roaring motorcycles, ropes whirring like cow-punchers' lariats overhead, is quite vividly alive here, and I hope one never meets the other. I know your Mom is SO PROUD!!! I certainly would be.
  6. I had a similar salad just this past weekend and it was delicious. It was comprised of honeydew melon, red grape tomatoes, yellow heirloom, red onion, mint and dressed with a simple olive oil, sea salt and balsamic vinegar. The honeydew was a little on the firm ,almost crunchy side, very similar to a cucumber in flavor and added a sweetness to the salad. No cayenne was present, but I imagine that that would have added nicely to the dish.
  7. I can't think of a more pleasant way to spend any birthday---family all together and outdoors, bringing home such wonderful bounty, and having such a marvel of a pie ready to eat so quickly. With prospect of a moonlight swim---(I hope you're out there right this minute) WHAT A DAY!! More wishes for even more happy, rachel
  8. racheld

    Gazpacho

    Thank you kindly, Ma'am---it sounds scrumptious. I was hoping it wouldn't call for broth or stock. I think this will look beautiful in clear cups for the lunch, and perhaps in wide clear salad bowls for the patio supper. I've also been known to serve everyone's cold soup in a mis-matched group of clear sugar-bowls.
  9. racheld

    Gazpacho

    Will you share the gazpacho recipe? Our friends the Constant Travelers will be here from one of their sojourns this next week---they're vegans, and I've been trying to think of something else for a patio supper. We've already planned on lots of grilled vegetables and fruits, but a cold soup to start would be such a nice addition. However, they DID write me of the excellent Shrimp and Grits they enjoyed all along the Carolina coasts---some things are just irrestible, I guess. And it would also be perfect for an arbor lunch the next week, when some Brit friends will be here---they've requested chicken/apple salad again for lunch, and gazpacho would be perfect to precede that as well.
  10. I may be mixing two cuisines too much, but Sambal Oelek provides the best-tasting heat I've ever found. Fresh and crisp-tasting and just the right punch.
  11. It's good to hear from someone familiar with the area. Our son just bought a house in the "old Atlanta" area, and it's filling up with little shops and bistros and we had quite a nice brunch at a little "Aussie" place, which served really good toasty bagels, along with Chris' selection, a huge assortment of bangers, breads, potatoes cooked with thyme and cheese, and eggs. It was a go-to-the-counter place, and our Gracie was given the option of any pastry from the considerable case of pretty eclairs, Napoleons, tarts, etc. She chose an immense yellow sun-cookie for herself, with a blue moon-shape for her baby Sister, who would meet us later in the day. We'll be going back often, and will try the barbecue places you suggest. I'll tell DS about them soon, and he can also give them a try. Thanks for the tips!!
  12. These jars were a thick mixture of tomato, peppers, spices, vinegar, sugar, cooked long and slow to a thick spoonable sauce which just settled down over a spoonful of big old Crowder peas like butter on a biscuit. Is it permitted to post a recipe here, or does it have to go in RG?
  13. Sounds kinda like my Mammaw's "Chillie Sauce" as it's listed in her little sheaf of recipes. It's whole, peeled tomatoes, with some chopped onion and bell pepper (optional), some slices of the little keen green hot peppers---the only kind besides banana that I ever knew there were until I had my own kitchen. Some sugar goes in, with about the same measure of vinegar, a bit of pickling salt, and a little cheesecloth-wrapped bundle of McCormick "mixed pickling spices." That's the only recipe I like to use those in---the bay leaves and peppers and maybe cloves give other pickles and relishes too much of a different taste from the way they've been cooked for a hundred years. I can't remember too many times that Crowders, Purplehulls or other field peas were ever eaten without a garnish of chili sauce, pepper relish, chowchow or pickled onions. (Not the Brit kind, but paper-thin slices in a golden turmeric, vinegar, sugar brine). The "chillie" is simmered in a white enamel pan, no cover, stirring most of the time with a flat wooden paddle. It was Mammaw's stated belief that "Tomatoes have too much acid to go bad," therefore no canned tomato preparations were ever even water-bath processed. I haven't made it in a long time. Right after we moved up here, people who came to eat with us called it Mississippi Salsa, and ate it on everything. And I remember one of the first meals I cooked here for company---Chris was friends with two gentlemen from Nigeria, and I remember having pot roast and gravy, rice, and some peas from the freezer, along with several condiments and sauces. The two men solemnly spread a mound of rice over their plates, then anointed the whole mound with gravy and the chunks of beef. On top they scattered the peas, then large dollops of the chili sauce over all. Not as it was intended to be eaten, I suppose, but they were most complimentary, and visited us many times before they returned home. On the last evening of their stay, they came to dinner in beautiful costumes, their most formal attire, with matching pastel pants and tunics and hats, to honor us as their hosts. My Mammaw would have loved the way they liked Southern food.
  14. My mind Clickety-Clacks along too fast for my own good. I was thinking about two separate things: The Eternal Cucumbers eaten at the home of c. Sapidus, and the fact that my Daddy tried to curtail his cussin' after my baby Sister was born. He chose two words that were "safe" and used them in the proper places when he felt like swearing: Thunder was the noun and Everlasting was the adjective; both got a good workout. I was thinking that you may have landed in the Land of the Everlasting Potatoes.
  15. I peek in every time I see a new post, and enjoy every word and picture. The C&D reminds me of a very rich noodle dish, beloved of my Indiana DIL, whose Mom has made it all her life. It's chicken in a very thick sauce, with noodles, and the whole thing ladled over mashed potatoes. Once they happened in when we were sitting down to chicken pot pie, made in a BIG corning ware with puff pastry top crust, and she mentioned her Mom would have served mashed potatoes with that.
  16. I've taken about every vegetable I can think of from seed to table, including asparagus (little gnarly roots to start with), and I'm ever interested in the preparation. That definite line of demarcation is fascinating---mine always have little nicks and chips from the plain old vegetable peeler---I suppose I would have expected nothing less than perfection in planning and prep from such an august place, but that's just so crisp and smooth---amazing. Looks for all the world like my Aunt Lo's ivory cigarette holder. I suppose they girdled it with a knife, then made all the peels from there. Just beautiful---I hope Chufi sees this.
  17. Ron, I'll still scan for that wanderer in the desert, knowing the words will delight and tantalize the tastebuds. Best wishes and much good fortune in stepping out into this new adventure. One day an order will come in for "Do you have that lovely chocolate dessert hushed with apricot?" and it will be me, come to claim a taste of that hauntingly-named confection. I'll be the one in the BIG hat.
  18. I've been meaning to ask: Is the table set with eleventy-five pieces of silverware when you sit down, or is the proper cover placed as each course is set down? And when there are two soups per course, are there two spoons to keep the flavors from mingling? One more thing: Okay. I've been with you all the way. Every bite, every mile, every luscious mouthful. I've enjoyed the prose and the colors and the flavors that just waft off the page. But this is just WRONG
  19. We're having banana pudding soon as I finish this post---it just seemed called for with the crispy-fried chicken wings tonight. There was one lone banana left in the house, and so a two-yolk custard seemed in order, just a small amount. THEN there were no "Nilla wafers, so we made do with two lovely vanilla shortbread cookies, from Chris' Christmas tin. One crumbled into the bowl, another crumbled atop. It's a mighty fine pudding, if I do say so myself. Chris says it's "A-nana pudding."
  20. I can't be the first to channel Laura Petrie---AWWWWW, ROBBBBBB!! This is just lovely. It's charming and interesting and the food looks positively wonderful. That apricot (will any of that be used in the "hush" recipe?---that phrasing will linger for all time) is pure and golden and the very essence of the fruit. And I do believe that's the most elegantly perfect final turn I've ever seen---like it's marked with a ruler all around. Just the purity of those angles and the gleam of the dough---magic. I hope today is a blur of good things and happy customers and glorious food. You're stepping out into a whole new era of your life, and we're honored to be included in the story.
  21. AWWWWW! What a sweet thing to say!! Where are you, Hon? We gotta scout you up a place to go and have some of the Real Stuff. Surprising places and areas will pop up on the radar now and then, and you'll be amazed at some of the wonderful cooks hidden away in rattly storefronts or old service-station buildings. Anyplace with REAL smoke rising could be the one. Just keep your nose ready for any scent of that magical incense that is burning wood---like Bali Hai, (which probably had a quite acceptable version of its own)---it will call you. And once you've tried it, forever after, you will seek.
  22. My goodness---what a honor. I've been in print, but this is the first time I've been folded and carried around. Can't wait to tell Chris
  23. Any and everything I could clear up for you, I'll be glad to translate. Southern Barbecue is a thing unto itself, a long-cooked, Heaven-scented, fall-apart bit of Glory here on Earth. Any shape or size or amount of pork, parked on the rungs of a long-used pit, and given the time and attention of a master pit-man---that's entirely a food group on its own. From the first rub, be it dry with salt and ground pepper and whatever other spices and dried herbs please the cook (and whose esoteric, exacting combination of special flavors have probably been in the family for a LONG time) or wet, with a rag-on-a-stick mop dipped into vinegar-oil-lemon-juice-garlic and any of myriad combinations (but never sauce---not 'til the end; tomato and/or sugar, the basic components of any Deep South sauce will burn black from the get-go, giving even the smoke a tang of bitter regret at the travesty). It makes me shudder to see even Miss Ina, champion cook that she is, douse raw chicken parts entirely in a whole bowl of red stuff, then slap it on the grill. It just 'taint fittin.' And the wood---that's a debate amongst barbecue lovers all over the world. Most swear by a bit of hickory, some by apple or mesquite---but always wood, for the best. We drove up to a much-touted barbecue place in Kentucky a couple of years ago, and got into a quite-considerable line a-waiting. I stepped around the corner toward the scent, and walked between four-foot walls made entirely of bags of Kingsford. Then I knew. It was OK---but it wasn't Barbecue. The meat goes onto those pit-rungs with the care and placement of a ritual sacrifice, and I suppose it's as close as it comes in the modern scheme of things---meat sizzle and the anthem of good smoke rising to Heaven. The time, the covering and uncovering, the shovel-shuffling of the coals and the wood and the blaze into the proper proportions and temperature---all these go into making up a good batch of barbecue. You can be invited over to a neighbor's house for "a barbecue" and be served burgers straight off the charcoal, the unholy aura of starter-fluid tainting each mouthful---THAT'S not a Barbecue---that's a cookout. The only barbecue comes from a real pit; night-long tending for a whole pig that will be served WAY up in the day to follow; conversation and sandwiches and beer and hoopcheese and crackers, beer and more beer, maybe some cans of Viennies or sardines---those are proper sustenance for the pit-folk, age-old tastes for the REAL taste of home. The meat is turned, turned again, with a sissssss of water to the coals now and then when they rage too hot; a sussssshhh of the bellows to re-kindle the red when need be. Ribs are either dry-rubbed to start, then sometimes rubbed again, the seasonings gilding onto the surfaces like brazen armor, or they are swabbed at the last, with the red sauce of choice, then left just long enough for the deep burgundy glaze to meld to the meat in a shiny shellac like the paint-job on a well-loved Camaro. The butt-or-shoulder-meat comes from the pit naked as it went on, the only change the night-long tenderness and the perfection of smoke all through. It can be shaken from the bone, which slips out like fingers from a glove. The great chunks of steaming fragrance are then pulled (my favorite---the long, tender strands separating with the grain, one of the few times true tenderness is achieved that way) or chopped, which means just what it says---sometimes two-handed cleaver-chopping worthy of an Asian kitchen. Meat is piled onto grilled or toasted buns, anointed with sauce, with a little haystack of good crisp, vinegary coleslaw shreds atop. Top on, little salute from greasy grill spatula, and a miracle is born. Brunswick is Brunswick Stew---a conglomeration of lots of kinds of meat (originally mostly game, but could include terrapin, shrimp, beef, pork, or chicken), with too many finely-chopped vegetables to name. It's a hunting-camp dish, sometimes made over an open fire, the boiling mass in the big black pot stirred with a boat paddle. It was usually done well before the meat came off the grill, and bowls were passed around to the hungry bystanders to quell the uprising until the pork was done. Slaw is just the Southern word for coleslaw, of which there are several camps, the main two being mayonnase or vinegar. It's a shredded or chopped head of cabbage, with any additions customary to the locale---green onions or peppers or grated carrot; fancy-dancy folks have been known to add chopped apple or a little can of crushed pineapple or even sunflower seeds. I like both kinds of dressing, and I like it "ON" which means a spoonful actually ON the sandwich, as well as some to eat with a fork alongside. Baked beans are most usually started with a sizzle of onion and chopped bell pepper, then any amount of barbecue sauce and brown sugar that pleases the cook. Beans of choice where I'm from are cans of Showboat Pork 'n' Beans, drained of their extra liquid, and divested of that clammy little white waxy bit of "pork" which they sport in deference to their name. All this is stirred together in the skillet, then poured into a baking dish; top that with a nice lattice of bacon strips, stick it in a 350 oven for about 45 minutes, and you've got the perfect Southern Side for anything from burgers to barbecue to fried catfish. Nirvana is reached when some of the crispins and messy meat from the pulled or chopped pork are stirred in before baking. Potato salad---that's a hard subject to discuss, especially if there's more than one Southern cook in the conversation. Talk gets hot and heavy, always including, "Well, the way I make MYE Potato Salad. . ." and ranging on to pickles, dill or sweet; onion, yea or nay, and if Miracle Whip ever rears its ugly head, the WAR is on. It's usually just nicely boiled small potatoes, skins on or off, cut up warm into a bowl, salted, and left to sit a few minutes while you chop a bit of sweet onion, some sweet pickles, a hard-boiled egg or two, and a bit of cold crisp bell pepper. A big clop of Duke's mayo, a squirt of French's mustard, a little handful of celery seeds, and serve when you want---right now, warm, or cover and chill. And sauce---I won't get into the sauce debate. Every section of the country has their own tradition, and I'm from the darrrrrrk-red, brown sugar section, though I DID have some beef ribs in a place on the Riverwalk in San Antonio that still haunt, dry ribs though they were. And I just now saw Bourdain watching a South Carolina pit-man take off the pork, break it apart with his hands, and pour on what looked like a pint of yellow mustard. My tongue is curling just thinking about it. And I have NO idea what "Lion Ribs" are---that was in Atlanta, two states removed from my raising, so I don't know what-all they do over there. But I'd be honored and delighted to have you sit at our table for barbecue or anything else, anytime.
  24. Today's the DAYYYY!! (breaking out the virtual champagne---Dom, of course---only the best for you) I've been up since OUR five o'clock, and have read this thread start to finish---it's just so interesting and I'm there, right in that kitchen with the anticipation and the prep. I have lots to comment on, the desserts and the sandwiches and my admiration for your stepping out into this new phase. I just wondered about the plate---I know it's a sampling, and neatly arranged, but will your staff be doing a stand-and-serve at the buffet, or will the guests be serving their own plates? There's a big difference between a nicely-arranged dinnerplate, with an entree and two sides, and a plate of beans and brisket, especially when you've mentioned all the hearty appetites the couple expects to entertain. Just from the beans standpoint---I've served beans of every description, to small groups and hundreds, and without exception, bowls are the order of the day. Your plate has a spoonful of nicely-drained, shining beans lying sedately, no juices or seeping to mar the other items on the plate. Self-service, or even extremely neat servers in a 150+ situation is going to give you a ladleful of juicy runoff which is better suited to a bowl. And using spoons with holes for drainage---that may prompt even the most mannerly guests to ask for "something to get the soup with." Considering the price point of a pot of vegetarian beans, a serving thrice the size of the one on the plate (sample though it is) would still give you an abundance of a favorite item, without adding very much to the cost. The usual caterer's half-cup does not apply to pintos, nor to a pinto crowd. And cornbread is always in order---pans and pans of crusty, lush cornbread, with or without add-ins of jalapeno or scallions or corn. And then there are the toppers: Bowls of diced sweet onion, green onion tops, a handy bottle of hot sauce or Tabasco---I even got a jaunty little pair of silver panties for the Tabasco because we served so much of it. These may be too redneck for your crowd, but if they're beans people, they know how they like to eat them. And just one more thought: You said something on the order of "cleanup relating to the food, but not the cake." A canny customer could construe that to include ALL food cleanup, not just the clearing away and the packing up of leftovers and dishes. Tablecloth removal, table folding and chair hauling MAY be in the mind of the beholder---if it's not in yours, get it straight NOW, in the contract. There WILL be tables and chairs, right? Leaving all the rentals and cleanup/haul (including the garbage, if it's such an out-of-the-way site) to the customer is a VERY good idea, but be sure it's not one of the unwritten expectations that will cause you a very late night and a lot of overtime for your staff. Morel season here is short and sweet---are they dried/frozen/available to you in September? And Sun Tea---gallons and gallons of golden tea, sparkling in the sun.
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