Jaymes

I'd also suggest you look over some of the many previous threads we've had on eGullet. There are enough excellent ideas there to fill a cookbook: Previous eGullet threads about lamb

Um...."texture"?

Unfortunately, the words don't seem to really matter that much. Folks that want to categorize other classes of people as being inferior in some way will manage to do that. I've certainly heard many, many people deride "gourmet" as having most of the negative aspects that some people here ascribe to "foodies." Although "gourmet" doesn't seem to summon the groupie aspect, I know many people that, when asked if they are a "gourmet," will say emphatically, "Oh, no. I HATE that term. That implies that I'm trendy, fussy, pretentious, etc., and only interested in haute cuisine blah blah blah...." So what are you gonna do. As I said, the nomenclature doesn't seem to really matter. People that want to look down their noses at others are going to figure out a way to do it. Myself -- as I've said, I have no problem being labeled a foodie. Or gourmet or gourmand or any of the rest of them, either. To me it just means that I enjoy and am interested in food. Which in my view, is a very good thing.

Rachel Lauden offers some comments at the bottom of that article.On a related note Spanish Colons who came to Algeria with the French also brought a version of migas to Algeria. There is a recipe in a Pied Noir cookbook from Oran. Although this is all extremely interesting, I must confess I find the most fascinating bit to be the part about "the consumption of couscous was banned after the Moors were expelled from Andalusia...." Why would they have banned the consumption of couscous? I do have a Mexican recipe for migas that calls for bits of leftover bolillos that you soak in water, and chorizo, that you scramble in with the eggs and the salsa fresca, etc. The first time I had what we call 'migas' was thirty years ago in Tucson, AZ, in the kitchen of a neighbor. Her family had settled there generations ago, back when it still belonged to Mexico. She had invited me over one morning so that our toddlers could play together. As we watched the kids, she said, "Have you had breakfast?" When I replied that I had not, she took out a skillet, put a little lard into it, tore up some tortillas, fried them until barely crispy, set them aside on paper towels to drain, then chopped some tomatoes, onions, garlic and chiles and put that in the skillet, sauted briefly, beat up some eggs with a little cream and dumped that in on top of the vegetables. She stirred, scrambling them for a few minutes, then added the tortillas and kept scrambling until the eggs were set. She spooned them onto two plates and then crumbled a handful of Mexican white cheese over each. As she placed the plate before me, I asked, "What is this?" She gave me one of those what-color-is-the-sky looks and said, "Scrambled eggs." I said, "Well, I know you scrambled the eggs, but I've never made them this way...I mean, sure I've added tomatoes and onions and chiles and all, like with an omelette or something, but with the tortillas?" She said, "Okay, then, 'scrambled eggs Mexican style.'" She went on to tell me that that's how her mother and her mother's mother made them and that she didn't think they had a special name. Although, she added, she never really had thought about it. I will say, though, that nowhere have I seen migas as often on restaurant menus as in Austin, so the locals have certainly taken to the dish. I just think we're on a pretty slippery slope when we start trying to pin down the exact time and location of origination of a combination so obvious, available and ubiquitous as eggs, seasonings and that region's most popular leftover starch.

I thought of this while perusing the "No Reservations" thread. Somebody over there posted this link: Weekend America. I found this bit particularly interesting: "Bourdain talks to Bill and Alex Cohen about the two blissful days he had in Beirut as a foodie, and the subsequent week he and his crew spent trapped in their hotel." "Bourdain....as a foodie," eh? I wonder if they intended to be insulting. I wonder if Bourdain took it that way. I'm bettin' the answer to both questions is no.

What's wrong with "Tex-Mex"? It refers to a specific, regional American cuisine. I noticed in Dallas that some restaurants advertised "Mex-Mex" when the food served was closed the real Mexican.Well, that's right. TexMex does refer to a specific region and its cuisine. Some places (like for example in Texas where there are literally tens of thousands of "Mexican" restaurants), people want to know what specific style it is before they go. What sort of "Mexican"? Tex/Mex? New Mex? Interior Mex? Michoacana? Fogata? What? That's kinda like saying I'm sick of places advertising themself as "Thai" because it's so trendy.

Yes, and he's taking quite a skewering on the NYT chat page. Wonder if he reads it.

yeah, as long as they pronounce "bruschetta" correctly. and they know exactly what it is. Damn straight, bucko. I do make an exception for that. (Maybe next time I'll ask if they put zu-SHEE-nee on their bru-shetta.)

"Poke-N-A-Pig"? "Hot Butts"?

Funny, but very few words set me on edge. Guess my life has too many real problems to get all worked up about something like an overly-cute term used by someone that means no offense. But "cooked to perfection" seems a little over-used.

Yes, I'll bet Mexicans born and raised in Mexico are often surprised to discover how many of their traditional dishes they've been eating since before recorded time are supposedly a "gringo-invented food"! In fact, not only do I think migas were not invented in Austin, I think that putting torn strips of corn tortillas into seasoned, scrambled eggs is so ingrained into the Mexican culture that in many areas, there is no specific name for that dish. It's just "huevos revueltos" -- scrambled eggs. And obviously they're going to add tomatoes, onions, chiles, etc., to flavor them, like they do with so many dishes. I've got a couple of Mexican family-style cookbooks that have recipes for plain ol' huevos revueltos and they suggest adding the tortillas. Along with the usual salsas, etc. And if you think about it, and you go back several centuries or more, and you're a mama with a hungry family of eight, and the chickens only laid 4 eggs that morning and you've also got a bunch of stale tortillas, what would you do? Call a Texan?

Chilaquiles in Mexico seemed to be a dried chile sauce and then topped with something fresh. But the recipe is as individual as each chef. I like New Mexican and Southwestern cooking a lot but I think using chile powder over whole dried chiles is not as good. But it's somewhat easier. ← Baking chilaquiles.... Although I'm just guessing at what the originators of chilaquiles did centuries ago, I suspect you're right, and that they started off as just a 'hash' made with some sort of moistener, like whatever salsa they had handy, or chicken broth, or whatever, and torn, stale tortillas left over, stirred in some sort of pan over an open flame. Some inventive cooks probably then tried to come up with variations on the theme, and that's when cooked meats, etc., got added. That might have been baked. Today, I've seen "main dish" chilaquiles with added ingredients like chorizo or chicken, etc., that are baked. I know that cookbooks have those sorts of more involved recipes (partly I suspect because it seems unnecessary to say, "saute stale tortillas in salsa and add a little cheese and/or sour cream if you'd like and serve"), but in the average Mexican household, since this is basically a quick and easy dish, baking it completely defeats the purpose. Like my friend Lita in Queretaro for example. As I've said elsewhere, she makes chilaquiles for her family for breakfast. I'm sure she's not about to get up early every morning and make up some sort of complicated version that she has to stick into the oven for a half-hour. She either makes them in the skillet, or the microwave.

Here's my favorite light summertime drink. And it looks absolutely gorgeous in a pitcher: Peach Sangria 2 ripe peaches, peeled & sliced (in winter, I use frozen) 1 lemon, sliced thinly, seeds removed 1 orange, sliced thinly, seeds removed 3 T sugar (or to taste, depending on size of lemon) 1/4 c Peach Schnaaps 750 ml dry white wine (about the size of one standard bottle) Combine all and chill well, at least one hour. Serves two very jovial people at two generous glasses each. As is immediately apparent, there is no brandy, so this is a pleasant, light, fresh-tasting summertime drink. And on occasion I have, at the end of the evening, fished out any remaining peaches (now wonderfully marinated) and served them over pound cake and ice cream for dessert.

And Sam's in Austin. Lots of folks think that's the best "in town" BBQ.

You're right. Sliced tomaotes on the table are certainly one of my fondest memories of Kansas. My nephew just moved to Salina, so I guess I'll be heading back up that way sometime again soon. I also used to live in Manhattan, but those were college days, so my fondest memories of food there run to pizza and fishbowls of beer. I suspect that's a fairly universal memory, though, and not specific to Kansas.

If you "never ever realized that the term had slightly negative connotations," you're lucky. It shouldn't. It should be a fun and inclusive word describing fun and inclusive people that enjoy a fun and inclusive activity. But unfortunately, after you're on eG for a while you'll realize that every time this subject comes up, which it does about once a year, the same crowd of "usual suspects" arrive to tell you how much better they are than those awful, trendy, no-nothing, pretentious, chef-groupie, lemming-like foodies. That's okay, hungryCAT. If you're a foodie, you can hang with me. I'm one, too. And damn proud of it.

Mulvane and El Dorado, eh? Boo on y'all. And Joiei...I also used to live on a farm in Nebraska, and that's what we did. Mom would get the pot boiling and only then send the kids running out to pick the corn and race it back. It was so good and fresh. Dad preferred to roast it, though, so same deal when Dad was holding court at the BBQ grill. After the coals got hot, he'd send the kids off to the cornfield.

You're coming now? I sure hope that little gal o' yourn don't have her heart set on the Bluebonnets.

This native Missourian gotta back you up on this, though...I should have added, "And nobody....that hasn't been to Kansas, and stood facing west in the ruts of the wagon wheels, watching the sun go down on the far horizon, imagining them themselves heading into it day after interminable day..." And without sunglasses, too.

I would not describe it as a baked dish. It may get a quick trip to the broiler to melt the cheese, although I kind of doubt it. It's a hash made in a frying pan. The tortillas are the star. I had migas all over New Mexico. But my memory was that the sauce was a rich, dried chile sauce (most likely from chile powder), not a fresh salsa, more simillar to Mexican chilaquiles. Regarding the salsa, I think the main thing with the stale tortillas is to soften them some way, so whatever salsa is the most typical of that region is the one that would get used. I used to live in New Mexico, and even the most-common table salsa there is the kind that is, just as you describe, made from reconstituted dried chiles. Frankly, I never got used to it, and it's still my least-favorite. Although that is how I make my enchilada sauce. It is a deep and rich red sauce made from dried chiles and chile powder.

I used to live in Kansas, and I'm not sure there was nothing there but 'quitters.' After all, that's where the great cattle trails ended. And there were folks passing through on their way west that needed goods and supplies. So enterprising souls would have arrived to service that market, much like today one might build a gas station, convenience store and restaurant out on the interstate. And if you were heading west to you-didn't-know-what, and suddenly you found yourself passing mile after mile of what looked like pretty fertile grasslands, you might think that the wiser thing to do was to go with the bird in the hand. As far as the food, what I remember from my days at good ol' Derby High, proud member of the Chisolm Trail League, was the excellent chicken fried steak, terrific hamburgers and onion rings, delicious steaks, and the afore-mentioned pies and other baked goods. And plenty of beer at The Flame. And canned corn. Something I still don't understand. I do 'wander the Kansas roadways' from time to time, most recently a few months back. And took some recomendations from Roadfood. Couldn't understand why, after driving for countless miles past fields of ripe corn, in the restaurants there was nothing but canned. I like Kansas. And nobody that thinks they understand this country, but hasn't been to Kansas, really knows who we are.

When are you going? The last time we drove back south from Prince Rupert the cherries were in season. It's a wonder we didn't make ourselves sick from all the cherries we ate. And then, as if that weren't enough, we bought an additional big bag right before we crossed the border into the US. And discovered we couldn't bring fresh produce with us. So we sat by the side of the road and ate that entire bag in another half-hour. Smithers is one of the most beautiful towns on Earth.

Well, it sounded great to me. And I do visit Atlanta from time to time, so I appreciate the tip.

Well, Adoxograph, it's been a year. What do you think? What were your experiences? Any favorites? Surprises? Disappointments? Overall impression of Hotlanta? Are you saying "y'all" yet? And how are those Atlanta gyros?

Where are they from? Other side of town, other side of country, other side of planet? If it's from a distance away, I'd try to focus on local dishes and ingredients. A kind of a "welcome to our town" sort of thing. But if they're local, then something more exotic, a sort of a "welcome to my hobby" sort of thing.