Jaymes

How long will you be there?

I'm curious as to what yo' mama's recipe is for....a cake or cookie? Or artisan bread? Or other baked good?

When I lived in Hong Kong, I noticed that Texas-style chili was very popular. Served over rice, of course. But still...since you've been living in Texas...

I only have three recipes that I never gave out. Two of them came from a famous chef -- at Gaddi's Restaurant in Hong Kong. I'd gotten to know him, and he gave them to me and when he did, he asked that I not. So I haven't. The third was from a woman that regularly entered that particular recipe in cooking contests, usually winning, if not first place, then in the top three. She asked that I not share it with anyone, so I didn't. A few years back, she died. I have given it out since then, but as long as she was alive, I didn't. And when asked for any of those recipes, I declined, saying "I'm sorry. I'd love to give it to you, but I promised that I wouldn't when I got them." I got all three recipes back in the early 70's and because of that experience, when I get a recipe from a professional source, I ask them up front: "Do you care if I give these out, or would you rather I didn't." I know it's a little late for those of you that already have recipes from famous chefs, etc., but you might remember that for next time. If you have any doubts as to whether or not they'd care, ask them. And as for recipes of my own, my policy is that I'll give them out, but I make people ask more than once. I think often people aren't really that interested in making them, but ask for the recipe more as a way of complimenting me. I say, "Sure...I'll write that out later when I have more time and drop it off." And then I don't. If they bring it up again, and I'm convinced they really do want it and might actually try it, I'm happy to comply.

Boy, that's the truth. Just give them a genuine and friendly smile and say, "I don't usually mind sharing recipes, but this particular one I prefer not to give out." That's it. Easy. Nobody worthy of your friendship would be upset. Especially if you're a professional and that's how you earn your living. Telling someone that you'll give them a recipe and then intentionally leaving out a key ingredient is dishonest. And cowardly. And pure-D mean.

One thing that makes champagne cocktails particularly romantic to me is the luxury of it, and anticipation of things to come. Even moderately expensive champagne is not usually mixed with anything, so it seems very extravagant, even decadent, to pop the cork, pour some fizzy bubbles into a glass, and then add a little bit of this or that. Kir Royales come to mind. But the most impoprtant aspect is that with other cocktails, you pour one, and you know that you can always seal up the ingredients for another day. With champagne, however, once you pop that cork, you're committed. You're saying, "We're here for the evening, we're drinking the whole thing. Are you with me? Good, let's lock the door."

When I think 'romance,' I think Champagne Cocktails.

Someone gave me a bottle of Texas Pecan Oil. I loved the nutty flavor it gave to my salads.

I've been making this congealed Cranberry Salad for years. I don't usually make it at holiday time, however, because I have a whole berry sauce that we prefer with our traditional turkey dinner. What I do is that at Thanksgiving, when turkeys are on sale as a loss leader, or even being given away as an enticement, I buy one or two extra, and have the butcher saw them in half. (There is kind of a trick to this...the butchers have powerful saws that can cut through the frozen turkeys, and they go right through the little bag of giblets and everything. They cannot, however, get through the metal thing that holds the legs together, so I take my turkey halves home and cut through that with a metal cutter.) I wrap the halves separately, and put them in the freezer. The turkey half makes a great (and extremely economical) meal cooked out on the barbie on a warm summer evening. With it, I serve this salad: Cranberry Salad 2 3-oz pkgs Black Raspberry Jell-O (or other berry flavor) 1 1/2 C boiling water 1 1-lb can whole berry cranberry sauce 1 8 3/4-oz can crushed pineapple (do not drain) 1 red apple, chopped 1/2 C chopped pecans 1/2 C fresh orange juice zest of 1 orange Optional garnish: Miracle Whip or Mayo & grated cheddar cheese Dissolve 2 packages of Jell-O in boiling water. Add remaining ingredients. Pour into 5-cup mold & chill. When firm, spread thin layer of Miracle Whip or mayo over, and sprinkle with cheese. Annecros, I think your family will enjoy a salad like this in the summertime, when you're not messing with tradition. And, once you get them to like something other than what they're accustomed to, it should be much easier to transition them to something more adventuresome during the holidays.

Well, that's true enough, Jaymes. But since they didn't have vehicles or highways, they would have had no way to kill 'em.

And armadillos.

Probably everybody is different, but that's not been the case for me. It did take several years, maybe even so many as five or six, but I not only no longer have the urge, the thought of intentionally sucking smoke down into my lungs makes me want to vomit. And it also makes me feel very, very stupid.

Banana pudding.

Huachinango a la Veracruzana (red snapper Veracruz style) is not only a well-known preparation in the Veracruz area, it undoubtedly would appear on any list of the top ten traditional dishes of Mexico.

"...To him, the word 'deckle' is a common butchers' term that applies only to the cut of meat on the brisket." So, is the "deckle" in this article the same thing as what those of us that like fatty brisket at our BBQ joint are referring to?

I smoked two packs a day from the time I was fourteen until I was twenty-four. That's been a long time ago. I used to keep a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, right by the bed. In the mornings, literally before I opened my eyes, I was reaching for the ciggies. I had one in my mouth, lighted, puffing, before my feet hit the floor. So I decided one day that maybe I couldn't quit for good, but I sure should be able to at least get up and out of bed before I lighted up. I did that until it was easy -- about a week. Then I decided that, well, okay, maybe I couldn't quit for good, but I sure should be able to wait at least an hour after I got up before I lighted up. I did that, too, until it was easy -- about a week. Then I decided that, well, okay, maybe I couldn't quit for good, but I sure should be able to wait until lunchtime before I lighted up. I did that, too, until it was easy -- about a week. Then I decided that, well, okay, maybe I couldn't quit for good, but I sure should be able to wait until dinnertime before I lighted up. I did that, too, until it was easy -- about a month. And finally I decided that, well, okay, maybe I could quit for good. And I did.

A few more thoughts for newbies... Try to have one dish type of thing, with a salad and bread for first-timers. If it's winter, go with a hearty pasta, or something that can be simmering on the stove and ladled up, such as stew, or chili. There's a reason why so many neophyte dinner party hosts in their twenties fall back on spaghetti, or lasagna, or coq au vin. If it's summer, do something on the grill. You can even have a main as simple as hamburgers, and throw your creativity into several unusual and interesting sides and accompaniments. And perhaps a terrific dessert. It is a must, though, especially for newbies, to be certain to have some kind of appetizers ready to go when the guests arrive. I've been to dinner parties thrown by young people that offered nothing when you first got there. And since timing can be hard to learn, the dinner wasn't ready until after ten. By then, we were all drunk and starving. Of course, maybe that was her plan all along. It certainly made for an appreciative bunch of diners.

I assumed you were asking for a newbie. Hence the "don't try too hard to impress advice". I'd absolutely agree with giving newbies that advice. Here's what I used to tell folks that seemed so nervous at giving their first dinner parties: Ask yourself how you feel when you're invited to someone's home for dinner. Happy and flattered to be invited? Looking forward to the company? Or mentally packing up your clipboard so you can make critiques. And if a dish or two stumbles, how do YOU feel? Are you furious that your host/hostess was so inept, or are you more inclined to just have another glass of wine and still be happy that you're there. The fact is that most folks are just pleased and complimented to be thought of, to be included. They're not expecting the French Laundry. And usually, whatever they're served is going to be different and most likely tastier than the "same ol' same ol'" they would have had at home that particular night.

Here's a tip I find invaluable for the success of any party. Adjust your lighting. Arriving to a party and discovering the place lit up like a high school gymnasium kills the mood. Your living/dining room need to be softly, but evenly lighted. And you can't judge that after being in your brightly-lit bathroom. So, until you get the hang of it, after you think you've got it 'right,' go stand on your front porch for a few minutes until your eyes adjust, and then step inside. Inviting? If not, try replacing the high wattage bulbs in your table lamps with softer, lower wattage. This works much better than simply leaving some of the lamps turned off. That creates some too bright 'glarey' spots, and some dark holes. Much better to have all lamps on, but softly glowing. And, if you don't have a dimmer on your dining room light, get one. Candles are, obviously, always a nice touch after sundown. I'm currently living in a retirement community. These old folk have every light in the place on, with bulbs as strong as that particular fixture allows. And their parties end at 10pm. It's impossible to get that happy, mellow feeling until you're home in your own bed. With the lights down low.

That's a nice luxury, but sometimes one finds oneself in a position where entertaining is required for professional reasons. Sigh. Although it was fun, and I did get very good at it.

Lordy, Shalmanese... There was a time when I was giving at least two or three dinner parties per week, and usually a luncheon or two. For 8-80 guests. In my home. I shudder to think what would have happened to me had I tried to keep up with that standard. I'd still be writing menus. Oh, and ps, regarding sending them the menu beforehand. That would be the exact opposite from my advice. I usually advise not even telling them what they're going to eat until after they've had half of it. The conversations often go like this: "My, something smells good, what is it?" "Fiesta Bake." "Fiesta Bake? What's in it?" "Oh, this and that...here, can you put some ice water in the glasses for me?" It's been my experience that if you tell them in advance, sure enough, they'll hear an ingredient they think they don't like. Butterflied leg of lamb on the grill is a favorite summertime dinner party main for me, and I simply cannot tell you how often people have said, after they've eaten a goodly portion and discover what it is, "Lamb? This is lamb? But I don't like lamb." I'm absolutely certain they would have turned up their noses and refused to try it had I told them in advance what it was. By not doing so, I allowed them to approach it with an open mind. I'll ask if there are any allergies I should know about, but if they say no, all bets are off. And if they inhale a couple quarts of spinach dip, thinking it's some sort of guacamole, good on me.

"This valley is a monoculture, which can invite pests and other problems. The potato famine in Ireland was brought on by a lack of genetic diversity." -- Sando Smarty. Congratulations, Steve, on a brilliant idea, well executed.

We Austin folks actually had a get together, the theme of which was deep frying everything one could think of. The weirdest thing was probably Peeps -- soft little yellow chickies, etc. The weirdest thing that actually tasted great was pickled ginger. It was battered and then deep-fried. It was served with a basil aioli for dipping. It was absolutely delicious.

Yes, they did mention See's, which fared very well among the mass-produced brands. But you had to click on the link that showed all the ratings. Here it is: Ratings.

For those interested, here's a link.