Jaymes

I think it was not one word... I believe it was "something and something," although it's been so long ago....who knows. That ain't the only thing I've forgotten. By far. But it is annoying. I think it was the company started by the character in that novel about the founding of Hong Kong. The one that talked about the "hairy Western whores." What was the name of that book... Chow Fan? No, that's the rice. Anyway the book was about a Brit who went out to Hong Kong in the early days and started a shipping company and fell in love with a beautiful Chinese and supposedly it was based on fact. Any of this sound familiar?

When I was a young, single girl, I lived in Hong Kong. My roommate was a secretary with one of the big British shipping companies, the name of which I have forgotten (unbelievably to me - it was such a famous, revered name and so instrumental in the founding of Hong Kong - I never thought I could forget it). She had been reared in India and made this fabulous curry one night for a dinner party. She told me it had been the specialty of the Indian cook in her home when she was growing up. Western women in Hong Kong in those days had very lively social lives, and ours were fabulous. We dated many of the young men who worked for that shipping company. The company kept luxurious flats (complete with quarters housing entire families of servants) in the most chic part of Victoria for these young single Brits who had "come out to the colonies." On this particular night, we were entertaining our current beaux at our place. My roommate started the night before, stewing up a whole chicken, and cutting up items to use for the condiments. It is her recipe I use and, while I am certain it would impress none of the expert Indian cooks on eGullet, it suits me well. I no longer start with the whole chicken; but rather, deboned chicken breasts. She made her own curry powder; I do not. But I do add 1 TBL 100% New Mexico red chile powder to considerably punch it up. The recipe also calls for coconut milk that I make by scalding whole milk in a pan of shredded coconut (an unsurprising ingredient that many recipes call for) and a jar of duck sauce (that I have not seen in other recipes). I kind of go overboard on the condiments. I just enjoy the looks on the faces of my guests when they see such a complicated, lavish and grand display. They're much too agog to say, "But I don't LIKE curry."

There is obviously only one solution. You must at once send me a jar of this walnut oil so that I can sample it and see for myself. So that I can compare it to the very finest of hot dogs and evaluate the impact both have upon my life. Of course, I'll be needing some of that tomato paste and balsamic vinegar as well so that my research will be complete.

You are comparing THAT walnut oil to ALL walnut oils. But if there WERE only one obscure village in France that prepared hot dogs, and you were the first outsider to discover it, you'd return home from that gustatory revelation a new man. You’d have a pig epiphany. You’d buy a sausage machine. You’d research every hot dog possibility. You’d wax rhapsodic about this fabulous new dining discovery. You’d go on endlessly about this casing, or that seasoning, or which part of the hog is the absolute very best to use; which mixing methods produce the finest, the most-desired texture and, indeed, what texture is the most preferred by connoisseurs. Is it better finely ground, or more coarse, with bits of meat and herbs and seeds. You'd contemplate which fillers were the best or if any fillers were required, or if fillers only adulterated the purity of the final result and what is the tastiest fat level. You’d lecture everyone who asked about which spices impart the most delicate nuance… infusing flavor but not overpowering the delicate taste of the animal itself. The animal, by the way, that only feeds on French clover and lavender and that, if one wishes to produce the authentic French Hot Dog, one must import from that region of France, and one would know it by the name of the prestigious village stamped upon its rump. Food writers, as the news got out, would make the de rigueur pilgrimage to the little village to report the latest food fashion. They'd speak of how difficult it was to reach the little village, how they had to hire "native guides" and four-wheel drive vehicles to transverse the narrow, rutted mountain roads, but how it was "worth it." They'd publish their findings with scholarly articles complete with glossy pictorals of the colorful local workers with big fat black French moustaches, wearing berets and bloodied aprons and standing outside the picturesque and quaint "hot dog factory." And I don’t even want to get into the endless condiment possibilities that everyone would soon be debating. Oh yes, it would be a much different experience than just wandering up to the hot dog stand and saying, “Hey, Bud. I’m next. One, all the way.” And when I say, “you,” Steve, I don’t mean YOU, Steve. I mean foodies all over the world. Including myself. I’m just commenting on how we take the commonplace for granted. And elevate the unusual, the difficult, the costly to revered status, sometimes deservedly so, sometimes not.

You might feel differently if the only place in the world one could get a hot dog was in some obscure little village in the mountains of France. One thing that makes hot dogs less interesting and intriguing to write and read about is its ubiquitousness. And that came about, of course, because of its universal appeal.

Thank you. I worship at the Church of St. John Coltrane. We were at the St. Louis last time in NO, but I've also tried the Royal O and the Monteleone. I haven't really found a hotel worth devoting my total loyalty toward yet--still experimenting. If I had unlimited funds, I still don't think I'd stay at the Windsor Court or the Ritz-Carlton, since they're not in the FQ. Your church sounds interesting. Probably a hell of a choir as well. I'm serious about the next time you head to New Orleans... There's an excellent chance I can set you up with some good contacts.

Oh - just had this thought. This is something that CABRALES might be interested in. I also used to live in Panama. We went deep sea fishing fairly often. The crews of the fishing boats consisted of the skipper and one or two young male helpers. When you hauled in something (and it was just like you used to see it on TV, strapped into your swivel chair on the end of the boat) one of the boys would grab your fish, squat on the tail of the boat, immediately fillet the live fish, scrape the guts into the water to attract more fish, drop the filets into a plastic bag, mark your name on it, and then look up expectantly at you. You were supposed to indicate whether you wanted it frozen or just refrigerated, whereupon the boy tossed it into the appropriate receptacle. This entire procedure took about ten seconds. I've never seen anyone who could finish up so quickly (with the possible exception of my ex-husband, but that's another story). This was as blazingly easy as it sounds (the fish thing; not the ex-husband thing which was not easy at all). You'd exit the boat with your plastic bags (usually half fresh and half frozen), go home and fire up the barbie. Man....good eating. I should add that these fishing trips began as couples' outings. Husbands and wives. But all it took was one time with the men for the wives to get together and plan subsequent fishing trips without the husbands. It turned out that deep sea fishing was grand fun (who knew?), but with the men along, the women would sit in the chair until they got something on the line, then their husband would immediately appear as if by magic, push the wife out of the way and announce, "I'll take it from here." The only acknowledgement the wife got after that was her husband saying (as he strapped himself into the chair), "Hon....bring me a beer." We left them behind next time. The next ten times, actually. We figured if they wanted to go, they could plan their own damn fishing trip.

In Alaska when they pull up really big fish, like a halibut or large salmon, the fish get shot in the head. On a busy day somewhere like Katchemak Bay, off of the Kenai Penninsula by Homer, it can sound like a war.

I think they should just change the name to, "All Emeril, All The Time."

Yes, MYoung. It's a great thread. I've been keeping up just for the halibut. But, MYoung. What is your avatar? I can't figure it out. Somehow it looks vaguely obscene. Do you live alone?

Tanks guys. My faith is restored.

"flatten"? You flatten them? Boy if I'd tried that, I'd a gotten whupped upside the head with a spatula. Doesn't that force the juices out?

Oh they like alcoholic beverages all right. They love fine wine. Just don't like beer. In fact, they're wine connoisseurs and when I invited them, they said (as they always do), "we'll bring the wine" and I said, "I'm serving curry and always serve beer with it" and they looked at each other like I'd just peed on their shoes. But I've gotten lots of good suggestions and I thank everyone. I'll probably have a choice of things, including things you have suggested, and of course, beer.

If you don't remove the membrane, people have to bite and chew through it. And I don't have any fancy smokers either, so that's why I thought I'd offer my suggestions. As I said, I just have a little gas grill and my ribs turn out pretty darn tasty. (Of course, it could be the silly dances. I'm a big fan of silly dances, as will probably come as a surprise to no one.) PS - Want to add that putting in wood chips is no big deal. Just pick up a bag of some that have a nice BBQ smoke aroma, like hickory (they probably sell them at your grocery store) and put a few in your gas grill on top of your brickettes. It's really easy.

Tommy - I've hesitated to enter into any of the "BBQ cooking" discussions because I know there are much finer smokemasters on eGullet than I. And, because I live in a city where where BBQ restaurants are on literally every corner, I have no desire to buy a big, wood-fire smoker. So, I've got a little gas grill out on the back deck of my bachelorette condo. But, everyone brags on the BBQ ribs I make, so - here's what I do. I do start them in the oven -- especially in the summer when it's 100 degrees, I don't like standing out there sweating over the ribs. Sometimes I even cook them in the oven a day or two before, so I have more time to sit around swilling Sangria with my guests. And, I don't have a hot oven heating up my kitchen during the party. Night before: remove membrane from ribs (very important and many people - often even restaurants - skip this step). For one rack of ribs, marinate overnight in mixture of: 2 C apple cider 1/2 C bottled Teriyaki sauce 1/4 C brown sugar Bake ribs slowly in 250 degree oven, basting frequently. Pretty darn good that way but for BBQ ribs, finish off on outdoor grill. (Can add flavorful woodchips of some kind to coals if using gas grill.) Can baste with some sort of traditional BBQ sauce last few minutes of grilling to caramelize sauce, or just serve as is with sauce on side.

BOUILLABAISSE - At Le Skipper in St. Jean Cap Ferrat (I think). BUT you must call a day ahead and order it. Also fine....the fish soup and the marinated anchovies. Seaside cafe... very simple, unpretentious. Wonderful atmosphere.

Okay, I'll bite...............

We are truly lucky to have someone who is not only willing to do this, and who has such a wonderful eye for nuance and detail, but who is also a great writer. Good job! Now go do your homework.

I'm having people over for curry next week. The one I make is chicken, very hearty, very spicy. When I first started preparing this recipe for dinner parties (about 30 years ago) I thought that at a "proper grown-up dinner" I absolutely had to serve wine. Otherwise, the evening would be cheap and low class and everyone would know I was an inexperienced, unsophisticated ninny. About that time, on TV Graham Kerr (speaking directly to me, I know) informed me that in his opinion wine just doesn't work very well with curry. Much better, said Galloping Graham, was a heady, cold beer. And since then, that is exactly what I have served. And it's delicious. A big mouthful of spicy curry washed down with cold beer seems, to my mind, just about perfect. Of my dinner guests next week, however, one couple just does not like beer. I am at a loss. Although I have continued to experiment, even after the Kerr revelation, I have never found a wine that I think goes as well as the beer. Any suggestions?

Deacon - First: May I say it's so nice to see a religious man here. Second: Where do you stay when you visit New Orleans? Third: When you get ready to go again, look me up. I may have some good names for you....waiters, etc.

How about breakfast tacos in Austin? I vote for Ken's Tacos & More. Any other suggestions? Go Horns - and now we get to watch Lance!!

Root beer float. Of course, that's not really unusual. I crave root beer floats when I'm NOT sick, as well.

Homemade mayo. With some additional seasonings. Chile powder, or garlic, or shallots, or dill, or tarragon, or curry. That way, you could also give a demonstration on making their own mayo. And the mayo can be a starter for the remoulade Fat Guy mentioned (depending, of course, on the recipe you prefer).

In my house (just like Southern Girl), it was hot honey, lemon juice and bourbon! That was if my grandmother or father was in charge. With Mom, it was "vitamin C tea" - crush several vitamin C tablets and add hot water and honey to taste.

Wow. That sounds wonderful