PurpleDingo99

i got two pairs of tongs in my stocking (why why why!) a rolling mincer AND mesaluna (why why why!) a frying spatula (plenty of em already) and hotpads (bakers hotpads, which are obnoxiously large and impossible for the range. It must be noted that i am the cook and she is the baker.) One of those tongs was a high-quality grip and flip. Surprisingly, i love it. Its thin enough to wisk without loosing too much time or batter in the center and is perfect for frying tempura and other things of similar size. the lock is actually rather solid and should last for a few years no problem.

ive never tried it, but shredding it and saucing it for empanadas/tamales may be a possibility.

I will never again roll out pasta for ravioli at setting 7 to make them more 'durable' and put them on the table without testing them. i immediately put them (with sage butter) in the nuker and gave a few minutes, but no go. some cut them open and ate the filling, although the majority became deep fried the next night. I will never again overlook the 6 pack of soda that inevitably ends up in your freezer after a party. that was fun to clean.

funny you should mention that too. i keep meaning to try to find a good butcher around here, but most of them have been kicked out of business. Last i checked, kelley's meatmarket is still around (it used to be owned by our friend's family back in the day, but i heard the current owners are sort of letting the place go.) I think even the first street fruit stand may not last much longer. all we have left is PW market on the far end of town, which is a fantastic supermarket. They even have wild salmon steaks (which is rare for the area,) although they cost a small fortune.

you must not have been there for a while. housing tracts everywhere and i even try to avoid mainstreet from the traffic. now, they opened a connection near our house that has become a straight shot to the highway as well as a giant country club you can almost see from our backdoor. its crowding up fast, but i still like it.

A very affordable menu ($15-30 entrees) of americana cousine sits in the center of my hometown. its been open for less than a year, and i must have eaten there five times by now. Headed by Nick Musser from the Icon in washington, the menu seems to be standard steakhouse affair. Upon closer examination, you will discover that the steak takes backseat to the pastas and fishes. So far, i have heard people not liking the fried chicken or meatloaf. Others say the steak isnt too impressive. otherwise, its a great taste and value (although the menu itself isnt too inspired.) It is obviously our town's first attempt at a wine town high-class joint. The wine is great (although, for whatever reason, i have heard several waiters reccomend out of state wines. Most of them do not stand up to our locals,) the service is great, and if you end up anywhere near livermore, just go in and try the parmesan lemon sole (with sweet corn mashed potatoes and lentils with a lemon butter) for the rather affordable $19. Its not exactly the most noteworthy joint in the world, but its one of the best wine town grill ive come across and probably the best restaurant in the tri-valley. Im not telling you to go out of your way for lunch or dinner there. But if your in the area, nothing comes close. The Website

Im a lot of things, but little aint one of them. thanks for all the kind words, although im not sure if i would ever want to write professionally. After seeing how much work goes on, im not sure i would necissarily want to own a restaurant either. Its things like this that have made me a party magician, camp counselor, private investor, guitar player, artist, tae kwon do student, and a halfassed foodie. Maybe if i show up a couple more times, i can snatch your job next. Unfortunately, i can see from some extent where jeff is coming from. I really overlooked the fact that the procession of entrees feels downright unnatural. Beef, veal, squab, and lamb in rapid fire, instead of building on the previous dish, seem to belittle the preceeding. The flavors of the beef and oyster tartare could have done better as something with crunch (like a croquette.) Next comes the abalone 'cracker' which seems to poke fun at the tartare by being too hard and crunchy. Then, the squab comes up and gives you something one-piece, but too soft. Then, the lamb shoulder finally gets it right. In this instance, i think the usual sea-to-land progression should be thrown to the wind and the dishes should be more intermingled so that they can all stand alone. Things like the milkshake, while appreciated by the palette, dont make sense on the menu. Even a thick McDonalds shake would have done better there, as more textural tricks could have been done with it. the lychee-chocolate petits fours are literally a rehash of another dish, which gives the impression that your being cheated. Ultimately, if i were playing yahtzee with this menu, i would keep 14 dishes and reroll the other 7. take it how you will.

The verdict is in: Holy Shit. Im in awe right now- A dazed euphoric state so comfortable that kinch must have worked some sort of illegal substance into the meal. We arrived at the restaurant two minutes before our reservation (for six.) There were probably only four occupied tables at the time. Kean was at the front counter maitre d'ing (no big surpise.) A little smalltalk during a coatcheck promted my mother to mention it was my birthday (no big surpise there either.) He showed us to our table and made with a little introduction ("Our menu is a little different here. Take a look.") I said "We actually know about your menu already Mr. Kean. Weve most certainly done our research." He looked a little amused. So, i had my camera in my pocket expecting to take some pictures. Bread and drinks came along immediately and, of course, we all ordered the tasting menu. our waiter looked strikingly like a very talented magician that i used to work with back when I was a magic camp counselor. within five minutes, the first dish was out (red pepper-black olive petits fours.) The olive 'cookie' was perfectly salty and was somewhat comparable, strangely enough, to a pecan. The red pepper 'gummy' was perfectly sweet and very little (if any) red pepper acidity showed through. litliterally through the first bite the next dish came out: Carrot- orange cocktail with hibiscus. The orange was frozen down and slushed to a crunchy ice. At first, i thought the carrot juice was too strong and the the ice tasted more like strawberry or even raspberry, but the feeling wore off. Next was a parmesan churro. Light like vine charcoal, the parmesan took a backseat to the flakey texture which provided incredible mouthfeel. Fatty bluefin belly tartare with meyer lemon came next. My mother is not a particular fan of fish or raw meat, although she had loved everything up to this point. A hint of meyer lemon carried this dish away from ground sashimi, although it could have done well to go a ginger route. Especially with the creamy cucumber sauce which accumpanied it. It was somewhat out of place in the amuses, but good nonetheless. Next were chestnut croquettes with liquid center. This was easily in the top three dishes. The crust was flawless. It had crunch right under the level of being audible and a wonderfully nutty flavor. The filling was even better. It probably contained brandy, Grand Marnier, or perhaps even rum against a buttery, custard-like body. By this time, my mother was probably through her first beer (served out of a very large glass.) I couldnt hold back a smirk when the exalted Egg came out. I had mentioned the egg to my parents before but would not tell them what was in it. I should not even have to mention its excellence, and any description i could give would fail to compare to what has already been said about it. So ended the nearly flawless amuses at about 45 minutes into the dinner- It felt like five. Unfortunately, the entrees did not fare as well. First was foie gras and cumin caramel flan. If I were to have ordered this at any lesser restaurant, i would have sent it back. Entirely too salty and bitter, it was a glaring blemish on Kinch's record. Just shucked scallops with celery root and truffle came out next. The scallops were sliced to about 3 mm and had a tendency to stick together, although the mouthfeel was incredible. Supposedly a new dish made from some leftover white truffles from another dish, a creamy and fresh celery root puree further brought out the delicate nature of the scallops. My mother usually likes shellfish, although she has never liked scallops. She only had a bite or two of this wonderful dish. I havnt had risotto for years before last week at our country club's buffet. sticky and grainy like a pilaf, it wasnt worth the free price. I questioned if there was such thing as good risotto. Tonight, they brought out spiney lobster on apple risotto. What a stellar combination! Remarkably tender, the lobster melted in my mouth faster than any scallop ever has. The apple risotto was downright voluptuous and carried a distinctly granny smith tartness that spoke 1,000 words more than any picture. I have yet to have good risotto, but I have now had great risotto! Speaking of pictures, notice how I dont have any? I was far too busy with the food to bother with pictures. I figured I can draw anything that you really want to see, anyways. My mother, who can usually enjoy good lobster, only had a couple bites and claimed she was already becoming quite full. Spanish mackerel with steehead roe was next. I expected the fish to be more tender and nearly capsized it while trying to cleave off a portion. The roe was far too large, plentiful, and powerful. The fish itself was the ideal of fish in terms of flavor but could have been flakier to compliment the taste. My mother tried one bite and then claimed, once again, she was full. By then she had finished her second beer. I told her to slow down on the beer or she wouldnt even be able to touch the deserts. She went on to claim that beer makes you hungrier. Then I died- just a little. I have been a salmon fiend for as long as i can remember and have had a few copper river fillets in my day (and im not even 17 yet. ) Warm smoked salmon with lentils and (what i think was) savory cabbage. the texture of the finest sashimi and a light smoking kept the fillet creamy; perhaps the texture was closer to that of tuna, although the taste was most definitely salmon. The cabbage was a little salty and very crisp while the lentils were downright foreign without the bottled taste of vinegar. Any better and i would have licked the plate. By this time, we were probably on our third waiter as a procession vaguely reminiscent of soldier ants on the discovery channel scurried in and out of the kitchen . We had all used the facilities and my parents were rather fascinated by the individual napkins that were being used in lieu of paper towels. I made a much more startling discovery: there are pictures of the food hanging next to the urinals. Sort of a strange message, although the urinal cake looks like the foie gras flan and probably tastes as good, too. Shortly thereafter, my nosy mother discovered that there is a busboy in the kitchen who individually polished every piece of silverware. At that point, we had probably used eleventy-billion pieces of it as our waiter presented each new piece with a flourish. The restaurant was, by then, filled with a mass that only left a single table left unturned and a birthday treat was already making its rounds. Beef and oyster tartare and horseradish 'chaser' sauce with toast was next. My mother usually likes oysters- usually. She tried a bite and gave a high-pitched grunt. "What is this? it tastes like salmonella. Were all going to get sick" she exclaimed while drowing the taste out with her third beer. There are reasons that she refers to herself as a "classy broad." This dish was something different. The oyster wasnt truely detectible in the tartare- it played second fiddle to the beef, yet seemed to make the beef into something else entirely. The horseradish sauce could have been more bitter , but it was fine as it was. the toast with it was thin and buttery. I am glad they did not use something like bruchetta or even caviar triangles, as the crunch was much appreciated and the butter on it took the raw edge off the beef. Abalone and braised veal cheeks landed next with the first lapse in syncronization by our meticulous albeit very busy waiters. My mother exclaimed "aww. I dont know if i can eat a little baby cow's cheeks," to which i replied "well i can!" the abalone was ideal although it was perhaps too crispy and tough. Without a knife in hand, the abalone simply did laps around the plate. The veal cheek was shredded and marinated into a bed for the abalone which tasted and was structured much like a tamale's filling. nice and salty. Mom ended up having about four bites of it before dropping her fork. "Its not the fact that the past few dishes were fish," she insisted, " I am just getting really full." The roast squab "salmis-style" with turnips caught us off guard. The waiter had said the name entirely too lightly and ran off before we could ask him to repeat it. We were presented with what resembled a kidney and frog's leg. the kidneylike breast was discustingly soft although the flavor was that of a nice, rare steak. It was like chewing on a delicious cut of fat. The wing was very similar to a frog's leg and was golden brown with a delicate poultry taste. My father has a reputation for cleaning bones off with amazing precision and spent no time polishing the remains. When the waiter came out, we had to ask him what we just ate. he replied squab, which my parents had no idea what it was, which in turn caused for elaboration. Then came Kinch's 36 hour lamb shoulder with sweet garlic puree. I wouldnt consider my mother to be a bad cook- I would consider her to be an aweful cook. She cooks as she was raised: around a single piece of meat. Actually, thats what prompted me to start cooking. If she could cook meat like that, she would still be cooking. That lamb fell apart in places where my fork had not yet ventured due to the tenderness. It was exactly what lamb can and should be. The garlic needed more acidity, but it was unnessicary next to that godly meat. The entrees ended much better than they began. An amazing thing happened as the Pineapple soup with lemongrass came out: my mother miraculously recovered her appetite! fancy that. Upon the first taste, I decided that kinch's desserts and amuses are years ahead of his entrees. Powerfully sweet with a floating lime slice and suspended pineapple bits, it was a masterpiece. The gripe, strangely enough, was with the seviceware. The glass was clear and resembled the top of a wine glass without a stem. it curved at the bottom upwards and tapered from 3 1/2 inches to two without a flare. The top part could tip, therefore, nearly parallel to the table. seeing as that the bottom was wider and the portion was small, it required a look to the ceiling to consume it all. Rather awkward, seeing as that we wanted to savor it with many sips. Another amazing thing happened there. It was probably about that time that my mother went out for a quick smoke. Before going out, she mentioned how crazy the conditions and quality of the kitchen must be. Michael Kean decided to come over to our table. thoughout the night, my parents pondered a few things aloud while busboys cleaned our table. comments like "Kinch must have a lot of experience, dont you think??" to which i automatically replied "two years executive at Ernie's in san francisco, executive at Silks, and plenty other places abroad." I mentioned the observer article in conversation too, as well as a few other tidbits. Kean must have overheard a few of these comments. Or maybe it was my mother's mention of my first dinner party the night before, or the mention of my birthday, or the mention that i am currently aspiring to own a restaurant. Who knows? Anyways, he came over to our table and invited us to see the kitchen after dinner. Wow! My mother comes in and we pass the message along. She nearly hits the ceiling. Right as we are telling her, our next course comes: Coconut brulee with sour cherries. My mother doesnt care much for creme brulee and neither parent likes coconut, but it its unanimously opulent. I could have eaten a tub of it right then and there. The cherries were nice and sour, but not enough to warrent a pucker and the brulee was only somewhat flavored with coconut. Instead, it was gloriously rich and was frothy enough for the remains to distinctly peak with every move of my fork. Then, a third amazing thing happened. My dad requested some coffee, and my mom ordered a cup too. While they were clearing the previous dish, i decided to try some too. now, i have never been a coffee drinker. In fact, i cannot recall the last time i finished a cup. I drank that coffee like it was going out of style. Jesus that was some coffee. If it were any better, i would have reccomended adding it to the menu to make sure noone misses it. Then, a fourth amazing thing happened. What a night. My mother has been using the same joy of cooking apple pie recipe since before she was born. Nothing has even come close. Pain perdu with caramel apple manifested on our table and I regretfully informed my mother that it beat her apple pie. she sighed, "I know," and gave a content smile. Buttery beyond poundcake, the perdu was wonderfully airy. The two tiny apple slices were much more sweetened than spiced and sat in a thick, dripping sauce. It disappeared faster than it appeared. Throughout the night, my father had rubbernecked at chocolate souffles which waiters paraded around through the establishment. Childhood comfort food is always blown into epic proportions, but noone can overblow a memory like my father. He has always been vocal about the milkshakes and chocolate souffles of old with endearing terms that fit them into a checkboard diner somewhere around middle earth. Bittersweet chocolate souffles of our own, coupled with condensed milk ice cream, a dot of milk chocolate sauce, and a bittersweet chocolate cracker of sorts were placed before us. My father and i were probably heard moaning. The ice cream was simple, rich, and dense while the cracker was impossible to get to your mouth before it became a powder, which made the perfect bittersweet chocolate even a bigger treat to get into your mouth. The souffle itself was gorgeously light with a barely crunchy crust and hot chocolate sauce sulking around the bottom of the container. Even the little dot of chocolate was great and sweet. Even the little damn dot. As if on que from my father's childhood, fig milkshakes were wisked to the table. These were nonexistant according to the souvenir menus, further romanticising them to some extent. Although the fig was entirely too slight and slightly grainy, the rest of the shake was a godsend. It was served in a tall shotglass with a straw barely long enough to reach the bottom. The shake was, in order of appearence, cold, frothy, sweet, and chocolate-flavored. In a fraction of the time it took to type that, it was gone and we were polishing the remains as if we were slurping udon. Out came petits fours lychee-chocolate in the form of the very first dish, but with a single birthday candle. the lychee was much sweeter than the first , as it well should be, and tasted of mangos. the chocolate was light and crumbly with a slight hint of what could have been brown sugar. By that time, we were all stuffed. Just at that time, Kean came by and asked if we were ready. He escorted us to a corner of the kitchen as we watched in awe. He explained in rather thurough detail about their fantastic range, which (from what i could make out over the noise) seemed to be some hybrid convection contraption that had to be imported and brough in in a single piece, which required the wall be dismantled. Kinch was mixing away on the stove and barking out orders as waiters scrambled about. It was a surprisingly small kitchen- probably only triple our own. In the middle of our conversation, Kinch snuck up on us and introduced himself. I thanked him for what i assured was the best meal of my life, and he was definitely pleased. My dad decided to snatch the camera and snapped a picture. I dont exactly want a picture of myself online (especially due to another forum i frequent) and it was a bad picture of myself, but here it is anyways: We thanked them more thuroughly than japanese dignitaries and gave our farewell, very full and very happy. And here i am, posting this all from my neon cave somewhere in the east bay. Fin.

as i said, theyre already individual. :(

HKDs idea sounds pretty good right now. Ive only done salmon before with a teriyaki marinade, and most recipes disreguard the possibility that people may have individual fillet steaks. Now i have to decide between a straight-up broiled recipe and HKDs, because i found some unusually good salmon for around here so i dont want to use foil and over-handle the fish.

personally, i love making 'intresting' french toast. Orange juice and brown sugar mixed with the eggs work well. Ive even had it coconut 'fried' with pineapple syrup (and yes, its good.) makings cinnimon rolls into french toast is no-miss, too.

Im cooking my biggest, most elaborate dinner tomorrow. As crazy as it sounds, im not sure yet what i should do with my salmon fillets. They are skin-on, and i believe with bone. the dinner is italian, but im not afraid to deviate to some extent. I really dont have any way to smoke. I have a crappy little 'smokeless' indoor grill (open face, not panini ) and of course I can always broil. Ill probably end up putting an aioli on it unless i find (or am given) a better idea. Any suggestions?

I love the Socratic Method opening. At this point, there is no ideal of gastronomy on any level, personal or otherwise. For one thing, a perfect texture must be achieved in order to not mar the rest of the perfection. Most palletes (of the layman at least, which makes up the society in question) are more familliar with textures than tastes. Give a layman a bad dish and ask what tastes wrong, and they may have some difficulty expressing it. Ask then what is wrong with the texture, and i would wager that most of them could tell you. Originally, americans looked to a big, juicy, and meaty as 'perfection.' In the 1800s, give a man the 'perfect' steak, followed by the best in today's international cousine, and he may very well abandon the steak. I think of perfection as a center of an ascending spiral. When you have something great, the next step closer to perfection may be the total opposite. I think you have seen great success in this - like your parmesan spaghetti. As long of history as the hamburger has in america, it seems like paninis are starting to gain popularity to some extent. Soon we may see american burgers with aioli hit the mainstream. If there is an ideal of gastronomy, i think we have already reached it, somewhere. We will not find it, however, until society's palette has progressed far enough to appreciate perfection when they taste it. Futhermore, personal perfection can only be reached under abnormal conditions. having the 'perfect' dish twice, for example, will ruin the first experience by giving you expectations. another nearby smell that is only there once may add to the dish. pehaps its the mistique of traveling far off the beaten track or in the middle of an unforgettable vacation due to other forces. who knows?

Weve all heard of hundreds (thousands?) of little throw-together snacks that people stick out for sporting events and lazy get-togethers. From freezer buffallo wings to nacho dips. I doubt many of you have touched the stuff in years. For those of us who do: are there any crappy snacks that really stick out in your mind? a nuked can of hormel chili mixed with a container of cream cheese as a poor man's bean dip is one of the better ones that comes to mind. For me, frozen california pizza kitchen pizzas take the proverbial cake, however.

Heh. i just remembered when i got deathly sick off a shake at cold stone in vegas. Missed lance burton, back when i actually cared about magic. Oh well. *eats more coldstone*

I actually found a caterpillar in a cooked pile of green beans a while back. surprisingly, ill still eat them.

Of course, being a HS junior - can you do this without attracting too much attention? Its great being in a public school with more geeks and freaks than preps and jocks.

Everyone usually has one food that have a "phobia" of. usually because they either got food poisoning off it or just had an absolutely aweful version of it. My mother wont touch scampi anymore because she got horribly sick off it once. Last night, i found my first. Our local country club had its weekly italian buffet last night (always a mixed bag. their on-the-spot pasta station sucks, but they have some great amuse-ish things like prochuitto and cheeses and occasionally good cuts of meat.) I was starving last night and ended up with three or four plates of food- all filled to various densities. I hadnt had osso buco or risotto for a while, so those ended up on my plate. I dont remember when the last time i had osso buco was (or if i ever liked it,) but that grizzly meat was the most revolting thing i have eaten in months. I literally took one bite and put it on my bread plate so i could forget about it. It was so bad that that taste lingered in my mouth to such an intensity that i couldnt even enjoy the lemon grass salmon. The texture just stayed on my teeth. Its almost as if my teeth went numb. Do you have any dishes that you cant even touch any more?

I have a harder situation. im still a highschool junior, with no reliable access to a microwave. Every time i pack something with vegetables, they always end up pretty nasty by lunch. Lettuce gets soggy and tomatoes get crushed, leaving their juice everywhere. usually wax paper, ziplocks, or ziplock boxes- nothing really works. any suggestions?

horrible. they should have sliced the entire thing up after a day or two of display, which should have been done in an airtight so-and-so. Hopefully it will spawn lots of new truffles like the article said.

Hey- Kinch sounds pretty willing to improvise/rearrange his tasting menu. Think it would be inappropriate if i specifically requested foie gras and The Egg?

I dont think that cardamom i bought for those afghani cookies will be used again anytime soon. i really dont even want to know WHAT i have in there.

While were on the subject, anyone have a recipe for a carmelized chex-based mix? I had one a while ago, and i cant even remember all of whats in it.

my worst meals were definately, and sadly, at my own house. My mother has made some particularly gnarled pieces of meat before. The worst, however, was one of my own. Adobo porkchops with adobo stir-fried squashes. It was utterly unedible. i had three bites, followed by a double quarter pounder with cheese.

Have you considerend making some sort of savory dish into a long, hard, skinny shell? sort of like a taquito, but perhaps out of a hard and crunchy shell (flakey?) fill it with just about anything and stand it up either straight or at a diagonal. you could do dungeoness crab, shredded apricot, and peanut or veal, truffle, mushroom, and bamboo, or any such crazy combination. I think, properly done, could be a medium all its own (like a carpaccio or fajita)