srhcb

I don't know why, but this stuff puts Bisquik and every other baking mix product I've seen to shame, especially for waffles! SB (plus, it benefits a worthy cause!)

So, on this branch of the thread, M is for Mad, which I just was, when, emboldened by ignorance, I decided to bake a regular chocolate sheet pan cake in a bundt pan. I found a conversion chart that indicated a recipe for a 9 x 13 pan will fit in a bundt pan, and that only the baking time needs to be adjusted by an additional 5-10 minutes. All this proved to be true. However, when the cake tested done and was removed from the oven I had a problem. How long should I let in cool in the pan before removal, which is always a moment of trepidation with a bundt. I decided to give it a try after ten minutes. Three-quarters of the cake came out perfectly, but the (baked) bottom/(finished) top remained stuck in the pan. I was very MAD Normally the offending food would have been sent flying through the air in the general direction of the sink or garbage pail, much to the delight of our dogs, who enjoy the unexpected bounty of scraps falling from the sky! Today, with supreme effort, I maintained my composure, while a plan formed in my mind. I had intended to frost the cake, and had the ingredients in place. I made the frosting a bit thinner than usual and coarsely crumbled the cake that had remained stuck in the pan. I spread a layer of frosting, patted on a layer of crumbs, repeated the procedure, and ended with a final coat of frosting. It wasn't pretty, but I think if I'd added a sprinkle of nuts, or coconut, I could have maintained it had turned out (pun unintended) just the way I'd planned! SB (P is for Proud of himself)

An excellent point. There is, of course, the argument that knowing more about an author, artist, composer,etc, can give you a better understanding of their work. Perhaps, but understanding doesn't always enhance appreciation, and once you've learned something, it's impossible to unlearn it. Once again, to each, their own. SB (I guess?)

I was also surprised when the vitripution directed toward MFKF approached a level usually reserved in this forum for Rachel Ray! Still, none denied her writing ability, so I just accept it as a matter of "to each, their own". Frankness, when encountered in the first or second person, is often unpleasant, even objectionable. But it's unarguably fair. From my third person perspective, as a reader, that's all I ask. SB

"Ay, there's the rub." - Hamlet, Shakespeare SB (likes rings)

But then again, it can be looked at the other way, too. It may have been her "personal baggage" used well that made her who she was as a writer. Unless that is what you meant but said upside down. At risk of confusing the matter even further; yes, but upside down would have had the other writers ascending from MFKF? Writing without personal baggage is possible. It's called "technical writing". Straight recipes would fall into this category. In my opinion, food writing should contain as much "personal baggage" as possible. Think of it as "distinctive flavor". SB

In my mind, the perfect cup of coffee is served to me in an old brown Buffalo China cup, (the ones with a whole in the handle too small to fit a normal sized finger through), on a formica tabletop in Choppy's, my hometown pizzeria, where I spent so many youthful hours pondering the events of the day and speculating on those to come. SB (their coffee was lousy, but the price was right, and the cups were great )

I completely agree with your analysis of MFK Fishers contribution to food writing in general and her relationship to other writers in particular. By using the word "descended" I misconstrued my own intent. The second definition in the Meriam-Webster Online Dictionary is closer to my desired meaning: "descend - 2: to pass in discussion from what is logically prior or more comprehensive." In other words, I suggest that maybe the others descend, by degree, on the basis of the intensity of personal baggage dragged along by their food writing? SB

Onions don't effect me like that, although they used to. Until you mentioned it just now, I hadn't even thought about it. SB (maintains a stern visage even while dicing)

srhcb, could you expand on that comment? The "invented" part. I think I get your sense of "food writing," but at least one famous antecedent comes to mind right away, maybe more. (Maybe to you too, or to other readers). I'm assuming that Fisher's "food writing" began, to speak of, about 1940. Even if the label is ultimately very apt, comparison to others of that era and earlier might be interesting. -- Max ← I suppose MFK Fisher didn't invent food writing like Edison invented the telephone. She was more like the anonymous Neanderthal who "invented" fire. (I hope I didn't offend the Geico Caveman?) Both fire and food writing already existed, but but the general population was made aware of their use by the Neanderthal's and MFKF's presentations. When MFK Fisher wrote a story it wasn't always specifically about food, or even a mataphor for food. Food may or may not even have been an element in the plot, but its presence was somehow always germane to the story, and the stories connected with readers in a unique and special way. Much of her work was originally published in The New Yorker. Although the magazine wasn't widely circulated in most parts of the country at the time, (my parents had one of two subscriptions in a city of 7,500), under Harold Ross and Bill Shawn it had achieved the reputation for publishing remarkable prose by the best authors. So, although I read MFK Fisher while growing up, I didn't know I was reading something callled "food writing" at the time, and didn't even realize who she was until I started reading her books about fifteen years ago. Since then I've read Elizabeth David, James Beard, Ruth Reichl, Jane Grigson, AJ Liebling, and many others, (even Alexandre Dumas, who I love), who are all easily identified as food writers, but even though it doesn't fit into a real time continuum, their writing, at least to this beholder, seems to descend from the work of MFK Fisher. I'm afraid I may only have served to confuse the issue further with this explanation, but I'm interested in learning what others think? SB (could caveman read MFK Fisher?)

Chris Cognac and Tony Bourdain visiting a location together! SB

If you aren't going to use a whole onion, which end do you cut off first; the stem or the root? Does it matter? SB (root end first)

Sorry to interupt, but this idea came up on another thread, and I wonder if anyone had ever tried it? SB (rolling challenged)

So the pasta machine has better hands than you? It can baby a thing better? Karen (who prefers real to steel and something with a brain attached rather than not, any day ) (Please be sure to loudly sing opera as you roll the dough through the rollers. . . .) ← "E" is for Envious Which is what I am, of those who can roll dough manually. And .... "F" is for Funny Which is what you might think it was, watching my efforts with a rolling pin! "G" is for Greatful Which you would be if you avoided being struck by flying dough and associated utensils! "H" is for Humble Which I rarely am, but I readily admit to being dough rolling challenged. "J" is for Jealous Which is what I am of those with the deft touch to roll dough. (And of those who can sing opera!) SB

Okay, "D" is for Disgusted Which is what I was after two attempts at making puff pastry, once following the directions in the King Arthur Flour 200th Anniversary Cookbook, and the second time according to Julia's instructions. Even with a nice marble slab to work on in the cool environs of my garage, the rolling part proved to be my downfall both times. Not too long ago, I was talking about this with a friend of mine formerly known as "The Teddy Bear Lady", and she had an ingenious idea. She suggested, "Why not use your Pasta Machine to do the rolling?" Why not indeed? SB (may give puff pastry another try )

N is for Nothingness The cousins on the Serbian side of my family and I have decided that when we gather for an Easter feast at Dr Mike’s this year we’ll make a particular effort to pay tribute to our Grandma Baich, who passed away over thirty years ago. She was a twelve-year old orphan when she came to this country in the early 1900’s as a virtual indentured servant. Grandma never spoke much about the old country, but we gather her life there hadn’t been easy. For instance, we know that just before embarking on the voyage she had gotten her first pair of shoes. For three years she cooked and cleaned for the family that had paid her fare. At age fifteen she married my Grandfather, in what we suspect was something like an arranged marriage. He had immigrated several years earlier, and was already a successful local businessman. She raised seven children, (and lost one), and kept house in the rooms above my Grandfather’s clothing store during the school year, and at their farm outside town in the summer. Like most women of her generation, homemaking occupied most of her time, and a good percentage of the time was spent in the kitchen. Grandma’s cooking was legendary. The culinary high-point of every year was the pig she’d roast for Orthodox Christmas. Her apple and cheese strudels, using her homemade phyllo, has proven impossible to replicate. She taught my Mother and Aunts to cook, but nothing ever turned out quite the same as when Grandma made it. I have the cookbook she brought with her from Serbia, but it does me about as much good as it did her. I can’t read Serbo-Croation, (in Cyrillic Script yet), and she couldn’t read any language at all. Oddly, Grandma never are with the rest of the family, but stayed by herself in the kitchen during the meal. My Sister theorizes this was a habit from having been a servant before marrying, but I suspect she may have enjoyed this brief chance to be by herself. Grandma Baich used lots of colorful sayings, even if they probably lost something in translation. Many of them, not surprisingly, had to do with food. If she had to repeat something you’d missing by not paying attention, she would say, “I don’t chew my cabbage twice.” A common saying at mealtime was the self-explanatory, “You want it or not, you got it.” My favorite though, partly because it’s such a typical Serbian sentiment, is, “It smells of it’s nothingness.” While this was generally applied in the case where everyone wanted the last piece of something just because there wasn’t enough to go around, I wonder if maybe Grandma had first heard the expression as a little girl when the “nothingness” referred to was not virtual, but quite literal? Although Grandma had no formal education, that concept of “nothingness”, expressed through an adage about food, is positively existential in scope when applied as an observation about life in general. As we gather for Easter; my Mother, the last survivor among her siblings, and my cousins and their partners, numbering among them a doctor, a nurse, two teachers, two engineers, an international industrialist, a philosopher/caterer, the administrator of a world wide charity organization, an architect, and yours truly, with our fancy educations, will pay homage to the barefoot twelve-year old orphan who risked the only thing she had, her life, to come here and spend that life caring for others, never expecting or asking for anything more. Life may smell of it’s nothingness, but it’s rendered meaningful by the “somethingness” left for us by prior generations. Easter Dinner, as usual, will feature great food, fine wines, and stimulating conversation. None the less, I’m sure all of us who are her direct descendants would gladly trade the experience for just one chance to eat in the kitchen with Grandma Baich.

if? IF! IF! What the @#$%*=& ? Are they nuts? SB (Bourdain can always get you a gig on Travel Channel)

Add a pinch of sugar. SB

I wonder if the first example of culinary fusion, in a more metaphysical sense, was when somebody combined two of the basic natural elements and used fire to boil water? SB

Aroo? Which one? This was an awesome show. He made my quirky little town look wonderful, which it is, of course. Loved the serial killer reference, too. ← http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showto...dpost&p=1341386

I think I just saw the future of fine dining, and Tony Bourdain was there! The Gypsy Chef! Brilliant! SB (and did I maybe recognize one of the diners?)

PLEASE tell me that you found your old Firesign Theater albums in your trip down memory lane! I want a copy, please ! K (happy to pay for it in preserved lemons or any other currency that strikes your fancy ) ← While Preserved Lemons would make a nice contribution to the menu for an Eating the Alphabet Dinner, I haven't run across any Firesign recordings yet. Maybe we could do (Firesign) dinner theatre? SB (Do they still have those, or maybe they're already being revivied?)

I thought it was me who was rude? But, if you want to take the blame, I'll gladly shirk the responsibility! It looks to me like by the time we get to "Z is for ...", we'll easily be able to go back and construct a menu for a complete dinner. Maybe even more than one? SB (thinking of issuing forth a few recipes)

I haven't tended bar for years, but a hearty "Ey", accompanied by a waving hand, always worked for me. SB (sorry if that was just a rhetorical question )

Would this include psilocybin mushrooms? See above-referenced psilocybin link. Oh! Gottcha! SB (We're all Bozos on this bus )