Jaymes

Which brings us back, of course, to Huevos Rancheros. Perhaps eggs not scrambled, but you cannot beat the flavor of eggs and chile peppers. And Breakfast Tacos, eggs that ARE scrambled, with chile peppers (salsa) added afterwards. I tell you, those Latins know how to prepare tasty eggs!!

I soak my cucumbers overnight in salted water. Sounds like it'd make it more watery, but it does just the opposite. The salt draws the extra water out of the cukes. Then, I drain and press between paper towels to extract as much additional water as possible, then make the salad (adding no more salt of course). This extra step keeps the final salad dressing from diluting so much.

Yes Aurora, I second that request.

I feel obligated to add that I NEVER eat from, or taste, foods that I am preparing for others in such a manner that would "spread germs." I always have a small vessel handy (usually a coffee cup) and I place a bit of the preparation in progress into that. It is that from which I take my samples. But I never, and I do mean NEVER, take a spoonful from the dish I am cooking and then put that spoon back into the pot. I didn't even do it when I was cooking for my own family. I was a very busy working mother of three, with a picky, critical husband, and the LAST thing I wanted was for one of us to catch something from any of the rest of us. Including me. It is a very simple matter to taste dishes without contaminating them. This was taught to me by my grandmother who owned several restaurants. "Sure you can help," she'd say. "But wash your hands first, Kid, and don't taste from the pot."

If it's a new preparation, I taste at every step. If it's something I've done for years, I don't bother until I get to the very last. I believe one of the most useful phrases in cooking is Julia Child's directive at the very end of her recipes: "Correct seasonings." When I first began cooking, I'd get to that bit and just laugh to myself: "Well, Julia, thanks a lot for all the assistance. If I could simply 'correct seasonings' with no more instructions than that, I wouldn't need you." But now, a good forty years after I started, at the bottom of all of my recipes I, too, write: "Correct seasonings." When I had a large family at home to cook for, I sometimes did taste and sometimes did not. But, when I am cooking for guests, I absolutely never put anything on the table that I haven't tasted, at least once before the final presentation. I like to do whatever I can to reduce the possibility of unpleasant suprises at the table. Like the time I put 1/4 cup salt in a sweet potato casserole that had called for sugar. That little beauty hit the disposal instead of the dinner table. So no one ever knew a thing about it but me. And my reputation for great food remained intact.

i just want to take this opporutunity to remind everyone that my name is not "alan." Makes you wonder what Alan got for HIS birthday. Probably a plate that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMMY!! Perhaps. But perhaps the chef, having been alerted beforehand that this particular birthday dinner was in honor of Tommy, an internationally-known food writer (which he certainly is, writing daily about food to a worldwide eGullet audience), decided instead to prepare a croquembouche, "choux" (or creampuffs) filled with crème patissière and strategically "glued" together with cooked sugar to form a mountain, and then, before adding the final spun sugar strands, to frost it with meringue at the top and a pale brown chocolate ganache at the bottom to resemble Mt. Vesuvius, and decorate it with small “trees” of candied rosemary, oregano and thyme, fronted by deep-aqua-coloured marzipan in an exact replica of the Bay of Naples, complete with small chocolate fishing boats, then to drizzle it with the traditional spun sugar strands and finally, to top it off with a jigger of warmed brandy shoved down into its lofty peak, which the chef, in a grand flourish and, being careful to avoid his toque, he then lighted, and proudly presented to a stunned Alan. Jaymes, I have been thinking about that : Spectacular Dessert! I have friends who are going to Italy and I want to make it for them. Can I have the recipe?????? SURE!!! First: Get map of Bay of Naples Second: Get bottle of brandy for "flaming volcano" Third: Peruse map while sipping brandy to throughly familiarize yourself with it. Fourth: Throughly familiarize yourself with map, as well. When you've completed these steps, get back with me and I will tell you how to proceed from there.

Where, in the Hill Country, does one find Buddy's chickens? Must one know Buddy personally?

Yeah - this was not the same thing. This definitely looked like a relish. I'm gonna keep looking. Thanks again, Girlfriend.

SANDRA - I got the cookbook you recommended, Madhur Jaffrey's Invitation to Indian Cooking. There are several tomato chutney recipes... One is Tomato Tamarind; another is Sweet Tomato Chutney. Which is it that you are so fond of? And thank you for taking the time to recommend it to me. I'm really looking forward to preparing things from it. Also, several people on this thread spoke of Lime Pickles. I went to the store tonight to look for them and found Lime Relish. Is that the same thing?

"Let's all get together....." Foodie52, assuming you're not talking about you and Will and Sam and Spudboy, why don't you buzz over to NYT's "Austin Get Together" thread and post your preferences???

"Wild Ginger" eh? They certainly have excellent taste in names, if nothing else! When us Austinites do finally get together, that might be a good choice, NYT. Chinese is such fun "family style."

Wow. Thanks for stopping by. You are certainly correct that good publicity keeps the best and most innovative chefs in business. Especially during the current hightech downturn. Obviously, Spudboy is in reality a very busy man. But I hope you have time to stop by occasionally and keep us up with what's going on! Thanks again, (OU? )

Just regular old store-bought-nothing-special jelly or jam or preserves. I agree, it sounds awful now, but as far as us three kids sitting around the table went, it tasted really swell.

I just try to buy the most flavorful and freshest shrimp I can find here in the States. The recipe called for Dry Sack, and that's what I use. And you bet I make a big damn deal out of it! I do indeed prepare it in a chafing dish at the table. And when the fire flames up with a big "whoosh" and all the guests go "Oooooooooh," I laugh nonchalantly.... because, of course, I expected it all along. Believe me, I milk it for all it's worth. It's show biz, you know.

John, Toby, Jaybee... Thank you all for the generous compliments, and also for taking the time to share your own wonderful thoughts and memories. This thread is, indeed, getting poetic. It is remarkable how many of our most vivid and lasting impressions have to do with food. It's obvious that however we acquired our yearnings and taste for food, whether from God, or Mother Nature, or random selection, the job was well-done. Although this most-deepest of human cravings is clearly meant for our very survival; in addition to our bodies, food sustains and nourishes our souls and spirits as well. CABRALES -- Regarding the quality of the food at Gaddi's (as separate from the ambiance) in those days, I considered your question for some time, and have decided to tell you this. I dated a wealthy man who lived, seasonally, at the Peninsula. He was actually a New Yorker, but he attended all of the high-fashion shows in Paris and Italy, purchased items he thought would sell well in the States, traveled to the Orient to arrange the manufacture of "knockoffs" which he then sold to large discount clothing chains. And when he was in Hong Kong, the Peninsula was his headquarters. We ate at Gaddi's at least three or four times a week. Much subjective recollection of what I ate has been lost to time, but two dishes most certainly have not. Rolf Henninger, the Maitre d', was European; the food at Gaddi's was Continental. Rolf's signature starter was the Prawns au Sherry. He prepared it himself tableside. It was not on the menu and you just had to "know" to order it. If it was his night off, you couldn't get it for any price. Some nights, if the restaurant was very busy you still couldn't get it, even if he was there, unless you knew him which my friend and I did. His Steak Diane was the same....not on the menu.... prepared tableside by Rolf.... one had to be "in the know" to get it. But time passed, things changed, I moved away from Hong Kong. About five years later, I still could not get the memory of those two dishes out of my mind. I was living in Galveston at the time. I wrote to Rolf, told him how much I missed Hong Kong and Gaddi's and him and those two dishes in particular. I explained that I lived far away from Hong Kong now, and was not likely to return. I promised that if he would be so kind as to give me the recipes, I would not, upon my solemn oath, ever share them with a single soul, nor use them in any commercial endeavor. I truly thought I'd receive a nice reply saying something like a classed-up, "Are you kidding?" Instead, along came the recipes. I have prepared them all these years, although it took me a while to attempt the Steak Diane; the technique was more difficult and it called for a "tot" of brandy and (other than "small child") I had no idea what that was. But let me assure you, both dishes are still show stoppers. Many people, including dear friends and relatives, have requested the recipes, but I've held true to my word. Regarding the prawns, it is a kind of "shrimp scampi-style" dish. Rolf served it as an appetizer. I serve it as a main course over rice. And his version of Steak Diane has a "tot" of brandy. And that's all I'll say about that. As an amusing aside, though, after I received what I believed to be a treasure -- a great compliment from a great man, I puzzled my pretty little 28-year-old head over what would be an appropriate "thank you" gift. Now here was a man who was a celebrity in the food world, very well-paid, and he lived in a shopper's paradise.... I was a young bride with limited resources. What on earth could I possibly send him? I laugh today when I think about what I chose. I sent him a record album. The most popular in the U.S. at the time... I sent him the Fifth Dimension's God Bless the Child. He was very gracious and I got a nice note thanking me. But still, I wonder.......

For my chicken curry, I scald whole milk, or cream, with dessicated coconut which then I discard, using only the milk.

Well, that triggered a blast from the past. When I was a kid my dad made "jelly omlets." In the center was browned sausage and jelly. Boy, were they good. It was the favorite of all of us kids.

That's a great idea. I agree -- paté is always good. And proscuitto, as you suggest, maybe wrapped around melon balls.

Well, sign me up! When will the car be 'round to collect me?

I was very young and I am looking back now through the rosy haze of time, but I can tell you that I have seen Rolf interviewed and profiled repeatedly through the years, in a great many diverse magazines and publications, as a celebrity of fine cuisine. Gaddi's, in those days, was considered to be the best of the best, and I am certain it was indeed as wonderful as I remember. But alas I am incapable of now dissecting the meal. And only recently did Martha Stewart enlighten me on one thing that had puzzled me for years: I read her dissertation on peas. In it she said that in Hong Kong, as well as some other parts of Asia, snow peas are called, "Holland Beans."

Alas! I know what you mean. But the night view of the harbor from the Regent's triple-width floor-to-ceiling windows of our room was unforgettable. It wasn't the Regent to took the Peninsula's view away though. It was the aquarium or some such sort, wasn't it? You know, Jaybee, it wasn't the loss of the view so much, but more the romance and mystery and intrigue of the trains that I lament. In those days, most people who visited China left from that station. I remember watching a very young Ted Koppel, head of the China Desk for some international news bureau, sitting in the Peninsula Lobby, reading the South China Morning Post, waiting for his train to depart to some exotic location. Most old China hands (at least those who could afford it) arrived into Hong Kong and checked into the Peninsula, then booked passage on the train to Peking or Shanghai or wherever. When they returned from China, the reverse was true. Arriving with much muss and fuss and the doorboys bowing and the bellmen helping with the heavy, glossy trunks of treasures. And when my young friends and I went for picnics in the New Territories, we'd take that train. Sometimes we'd ride it all the way to the border and get off and watch it rumble into "Red" China and look at the guards and imagine life on the other side. It is that atmosphere that I miss. Of course, the Regent is a fabulous hotel. And that spot of land was, in the end, far too valuable for a ratty old train station. It was just a matter of time. That is the way of the world. And as for your comment that you can introduce me to John Peterson and I can write for his catalogue... No. I couldn't possibly. No. Really, no. Okay.

Jaymes, I could get you an introduction to John Peterman. maybe you want to write for his catalog? I was in Gaddi's and didn't want to leave. It was like living a movie, a time warp. I remember when the small uniformed "call boy" walked throught the lobby with his belled blackboard, singing "Call for Mr. Sydney. Mr. Hugh Sydney!" We drank martinis in the lounge of the Regent and ate downstairs there. I regret not having eaten at Gaddi's. The Regent. Where the train station once was. Where the train station should be.

Excellent point, Toby! All of this "most popular" argument assumes (arrogantly, I believe) that the entire world considers French cuisine in the same light as "we" do. In fact, there is a huge planet out there and if I were a bettin' woman (which I am), I'd bet there there are far more human beings on this earth who have never even heard of "French cuisine" in the context used here, than there are who have. And UNDOUBTEDLY there are more people on the planet who (even if they have heard of "the haute cuisine of France") don't give a rat's ass about it. I suspect in order to prove or disprove that theory, all one would have to do is to get oneself to the interior of China and start walking. And along the way ask (in Chinese, of course), "Why do YOU think French cuisine is the most popular on the planet?"

And I never prepare mine without adding a bit of positively orgasmic walnut oil that I travel often to Dordogne to procure. I'd offer to share, but...............