Jaymes

I think the anti-beans in chili comments came from the customers.The Texans. They know what they are talking about. The chefs simply catered to the tastes of the region. Smart. Yes, but remember, the one that lost was the sweet mole-inspired one. Not the one with the three kinds of beans.

Isn't it funny how it isn't 'the holiday' without at least some reference to what you identify with? I've lived here for over 15 years, and I still don't feel Christmassy unless we eat certain foods. And I always mourn our lack of a backyard icerink with compulsory bonfire.... That salad is exactly like what my mother never made, but which I often enjoyed at neighbours' houses growing up, sans mayo or cheese because I was a fussy brat. Actually, I have a vague memory of happily eating a bright green jello salad with carrots and celery in it while my mother watched in horrified fascination. There's no tradition of jello (aka jelly) salads in Australia that I'm aware of, but I think it might actually go over quite well here to accompany the traditional-style cold ham spread. A funny story, at least to me, about that salad... We think it's really good, and doesn't have a lot about it of those qualities that make some people dislike "all Jello salads." At first, I would just stall friends that asked for the recipe, not wishing to admit the pedestrian middlebrow ingredients. But then, years ago, at a work-related holiday potluck to which I had taken it, there was another congealed cranberry salad. I inspected it closely to see if it was the identical recipe, and was just deciding it wasn't when the other salad-maker saw me and approached. "Oh my," I said. "It looks like we've brought almost the same thing." "Well," she said, "I think that's going to be fine, since it's so good, it will probably go quickly. It's a lot of work," she continued, "but I think it's worth it." A lot of work? I puzzled over this. And finally asked for the recipe. It turned out that she had bought fresh cranberries, cooked them, added the orange peel, ground it all in a food mill, added some other ingredients and combined it all with unflavored gelatin. I was much younger then and unsure of myself and hadn't really worked out what matters and what doesn't. So... "Me, too!" I lied. But here's the kicker. Mine, made with the shortcut Jello and a can of cranberry sauce turned out to be much more popular, and was quickly gone. She took most of hers home. I just think that so often, if you don't confess your "tacky" ingredients, the food snobs will inhale bucket-loads of whatever it is. But the minute you fess up, you and your dish are treated like you just hitched a ride in from a trailer park somewhere. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Not for those folks not involved in all the preparations for the cooking and serving and cleanup of the meal. All they have to do is to come up with a prayer delineating those things for which they are thankful. And that's about it.

To many American men, Thanksgiving seems to be even a better-loved holiday than Christmas because, as my former husband put it, "you" (and by that he meant himself) don't have to "do" anything. You don't have to buy presents and worry about wrapping them attractively. You don't have to wander through cold Christmas-tree lots until your wife finally makes up her mind. You don't have to haul home a big ungainly and prickly tree and then lie under it making adjustments while the whole family supervises. You don't have to crawl around on the roof or in the bushes installing lights and plugging in an inflatable Santa Claus complete with sleigh and all the reindeer that you first had to retrieve from somewhere in the attic along with dozens of other heavy Christmas boxes. You don't have to go to church. You don't have to fight the traffic to go sit out in a hot field somewhere and watch fireworks and then fight the traffic again to get home. You don't have to buy any stupid corny heart cards or flowers or candy or jewelry. In fact, you don't have to spend any money at all on anybody else. "All you have to do," he would say, "is to get up and have a really, really great meal and then fall asleep on the floor while you're watching football on TV." This, of course, completely overlooks the fact that, in many homes (and certainly in ours), Thanksgiving is a two-day (at least) marathon cook-in for the womenfolk. And that doesn't even take into consideration the clean-up of the house in preparation for guests, the laundering and ironing of the good linens, the getting-out and washing of the china, crystal and silver and the reverse process afterwards, and the apres-cooking scrubbing of those gargantuan pots and pans, among many other Thanksgiving-related obligations, duties and chores. Interesting about the patties made from leftover mashed potatoes. Many of my Mexican friends do something similar. They season the cold potatoes, roll them into balls, poke a hole in the ball, push in a chunk of queso fresco or other favorite cheese, seal it up, flatten the patties somewhat for easier frying, dredge them in a little flour, and fry them. Delicious.

I find this statement to be so startling as to be absolutely stunned at the inaccuracy of your conclusion. Texans most certainly are not "anti-bean." On the contrary, Texans are among the statistically highest consumers of beans in the nation. I'm sure you've heard of Texas barbecue. All (and I mean every single one) of the barbecue joints offer beans and, in many of them, the beans are considered so essential to the enjoyment of your barbecue meal that they are complimentary. Several of these barbecue restaurants even have soupy cowboy-style pinto beans sitting in large pots at the same place where they have the onions, pickles, jalapeno peppers, and other complimentary condiments. These soupy beans are ubiquitous in the central and southwestern areas of the state, reminiscent of the beans that "Cookie" simmered in large caldrons hanging over chuckwagon campfires on those long cattle drives north to the railheads. And Mexican and Tex-Mex restaurants offer panoply of beans: charro, borracho, frijoles de olla, refried, soups, dips, salsas. We eat gourmet-style bean dishes in our upscale restaurants, where the beans are served in purees, foams, pastes, salads, meat and fish dishes, everything imaginable. And as you enter the eastern regions of our state, alongside "ranch-style beans," you find the sweet baked-bean traditions of the south, served with east-Texas-style barbecue, pulled pork, ribs, or with fried chicken, catfish, pork chops, hot dogs, hamburgers. The supermarkets here have big bins of dried beans that you buy in bulk. They're everywhere. Just not so much in the traditional chili con carne. For you to reach the conclusion that Texas is "anti-bean" based on one episode of a television show is utterly amazing. Although many Texans (admittedly probably in the privacy of their own home) actually do put beans in their chili (and I happen to be one), reacting with feigned indignation is just part of the "schtick." If you saw a TV episode where out-of-towners went to Philadephia and ordered a Cheese Steak with Swiss Cheese at Pat's, and got roundly lambasted for that choice, would you decide that the entire state was "anti-Swiss-cheese"?

I completely agree with your mom. When I was raising a big family and had to come up with different delicious and nutritious and affordable meals every single day, I always had at least one top round steak in the fridge/freezer. It was invaluable, especially when dealing with the legendary appetites of teenaged boys. It was one of the most versatile cuts of beef I could buy. I would get out my big skillet with the tight-fitting lid, season the meat, cut it into cubes, squares, strips, large individual serving-size pieces, whatever, or just leave it as it was, one big piece, brown it, then add some veggies if I wished (onions, garlic, carrots, celery, tomatoes, bell peppers or chiles, etc.), some sort of sauce (either something I'd made or something canned, quick from the pantry - absolutely anything works), a sprinkle of herbs and seasonings, put on the lid, and allow it to simmer until the meat was tender. Depending upon whether I'd gone Italian, Greek, Asian, German, "Swiss," Mexican, American Midwest, American Southwest, American South, Cajun, Creole, with the sauces and seasons and flavors that night, I'd serve it up with rice or noodles or beans or pasta or potatoes. German was a favorite. As a child, I lived in Germany and still love that distinctive sweet/sour flavor profile. A German friend gave me a quick & easy recipe for a top round steak smothered in brown sauce that my family requested often. I served it with spaetzle, red cabbage, roasted potatoes, green beans, and German brown bread. That meal still remains a favorite with my (now grown) kids and they all requested the recipe and make it for their own families. I agree that on its own, top round is not the most flavorful cut. I'd never even consider serving it as a stand-alone main. But it lends itself extremely well to almost any sort of seasoning or sauce or method of cooking. It's affordable. And it has many other added advantages. It gets tender fairly quickly and doesn't require hours of braising, stewing, smoking, etc., to make it palatable. It's easy to deal with and work with. You can pound it into submission for chicken-fried steak, Steak Diane, quick Italian-style mains, and countless other uses, far too many to mention. You can take it out of the freezer and, with a sharp knife working quickly while it's still frozen, shave it into the slimmest strips imaginable, perfect for a quick saute for steak sandwiches, cheese-steak sandwiches, hoagies. And stir-frys. We particularly like Asian-style beef & green peppers, or beef and broccoli, made with the usual Asian flavors, and finished with a tot of gin, as I learnt to do from my British roommate many years back, when I was young and single and living in Hong Kong. More recently, after my children grew and left home and I was living alone, I could take out my frozen top round and shave off only enough suitable for a meal for one, put the rest of it back into the freezer for another time, and do a quick stir-fry for just myself. Malign it if you will. But in this house, it's beloved.

Wow. This is really intriguing. So I'm not going to buy my kishk. Any particular brand of bulghar to buy? I hope I'm not milling my own.

Let me also attest to the quality of Nellie and Joe's Key Lime Juice. Key Lime Pies are a family favorite. I went to stay with my father and help him while my mother was in the final stages of Alzheimer's. She wouldn't eat many things, but she did still love her Key Lime Pies, so when I first arrived, I was making at least one or two a week. My dad bragged about me to the neighbors and said, "If you'd like a Key Lime Pie, too, I know my daughter will make you one, and hers are the best!" So next thing you know, I'm making them for the neighborhood. It was simply impossible to keep up with this demand by squeezing those seedy little limes, so I decided to make one pie with Nellie & Joe's, and one with the fresh limes and see if anybody could tell the difference. Nobody could. And I'm including myself in that. Also, when I've lived places where I couldn't get fresh, at least not consistently (like Alaska), I ordered Nellie & Joe's. There's a serviceable recipe for Key Lime Pie on the N&J's label, although they had to change it a few years back to reflect cooking the pie (with the raw egg yolks) a bit longer than the traditional recipe called for. And that recipe is too sweet for us, so we add more lime juice than it calls for.

We've lived in tropical climates where it's still definitely hot on Thanksgiving/Christmas. We are Americans, though, so we felt the need to incorporate our traditional turkey into our tropical holiday meals. We found that smoking a turkey and a ham out in the backyard was way preferable to heating up the kitchen with a hot oven roasting a turkey or ham all day. With our smoked turkey and/or ham, I always served a cold cranberry and apple 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. Chill just until the gelatin has thickened enough to "heap." Stir in remaining ingredients. Pour into 5-cup mold & chill. When firm, spread thin layer of Miracle Whip or mayo over, and sprinkle with cheese.

Fruit emits a gas as it ripens - ethylene. If you put fruit into a paper bag, it traps the gas, and ripens the fruit more quickly. Some fruit gives off more ethylene than others; hence the advice to add a banana or apple. Or peach or plum. Sometimes the fruit ripens too quickly, so if you're ripening peaches or plums or something, you have to keep a close eye on them. They can ripen and spoil within a day, and certainly within two. Don't try it with plastic bags. You do need the material to breathe a little, and absorb moisture. If you wrap them in plastic, they'll just rot before they ripen. Put your avocados into a paper bag (you don't really need any other fruit if you don't have it) and fold it over. Leave it out on the counter. Your avocados should be perfectly ripe and soft by the next day.

Seems obvious, doesn't it? Also seems obvious that we should be sympathetic with the plight of the exploited servers. Yet it's been my experience that every time a community in which I've lived tries to change the system, it's been the servers themselves that are the most vociferously opposed. For many reasons, most of them delineated above, a great many servers like things just fine they way they are. All I'm saying is that the issue is not as simple, nor the "villain" as easily identifiable, nor the solution as obvious, as they appear to be at first glance. _______________________

I found a website that might interest you: Recetas del Caribe "Recetas del Caribe" was the cookbook published by the Ft. Kobbe Officers' Wives' Club in the 1950's, and is one of the cookbooks in my collection. The website belongs to a woman that is reproducing the book online, page by page. She found the book in a trunk of things belonging to her mother. My copy of the book is falling apart and is now held together with rubber bands, so I appreciate having copies of the pages online. Interesting blast from the past.

I have this one: Cocina Panameña We lived in Panama for four years back in the late 70's. In fact, my third child was born in Gorgas Hospital in the Zone. We lived on the Atlantic side (Colon) for the first year, and then moved to the Pacific side. Like you, I loved living there and have far too many fond memories to count. I have several cookbooks that I collected when I lived there, but now refer most often to Cocina Panameña. It's in English and Spanish, and I recommend it. Here's another: Recetas de Mi Suegra. Smaller, but also with good information about the dishes, produce, etc., of Panama, and also in both English and Spanish. We came back to the US in 1980, so you were there not too much after us. Did you go to the Restaurant de las Americas in Panama City? I hear it's still there. We loved the Corvina Almondine. And how about the Balboa Yacht Club? Legendary. Absolutely legendary to sit there and watch the boats tie up while they waited to transit the canal. It was an open-air bar, close enough to the water that you could throw a stick in, if you had a notion. Large ceiling fans kept the humid air moving as best they could, but never enough to make you forget you were in the sultry tropics. Lots of places claim to be "the crossroads of the world," but the Balboa Yacht Club really was. There was a bulletin board where folks posted notices requesting deckhands for everything from just transiting the canal (you needed four rope-handlers and people with small sailboats, yachts, etc., often had only two, so you could sign on with them for just a day's transit), to captains looking for professional deckhands to sail off to some exotic location on the other side of the world aboard a ship likely named the "Something-or-other Maru." It was hard not to expect Sydney Greenstreet to walk into that bar at any moment. The building burned not too long ago, and I felt as sad in my heart as if I'd lost a close friend. How about the batidas in the shops along Avenida Congrejo? And the Panamanian ceviche is still my personal favorite, although I know the Peruvians say the Panamanians "cook" their ceviche too long. Shopping at the Chinese roadside produce stands will always be a favorite memory. You'd load up the car with just-picked tomatoes, squash, etc. And pineapples, mangos, melons. When you got into your car, the entire vehicle was perfumed with the aromas of the fresh fruit. How about the Mongolian Barbecue out at Ft. Amador? And riding the train through the jungle from the Pacific side to the Atlantic side? Did you know that baseball great Rod Carew was born on that train? And up to the Indian markets in the mountains and highlands around Davao, David, Chiriqui. Poking around the "boot" of the old part of Panama City, and watching the Spanish dancers in the ruins of Panamá Viejo. Hopping a flight in a 4-seater light aircraft over to San Blas Islands to haggle for some molas. Exploring Nombre de Dios and Porto Bello and Ft. San Lorenzo, and imagining what it must have been like for the early Spaniards hauling gold to the waiting galleons. Yep. I loved Panama. A whole lot.

Tecate is also famous for its health spa, Rancho la Puerta. The meals there are said to be wonderful, featuring produce fresh from their organic gardens. They also have a culinary center, with hands-on classes teaching the preparation of healthy foods.

Interesting. I'll look forward to what others have to say but, speaking just for myself, I think it's a great place to start. I haven't had it for terribly long, but my first impression is that it is an excellent choice. Other than the fact it's rather large, heavy and unwieldy and not something I'd like to haul through an airport in my carry-on bag, there are a great many things about the book that lend itself to just such a scenario. My daughter, who has reached her early 30's not knowing how to cook a thing (too busy working on her education and career, interspersed with having my grandbabies, and being blessed with a husband that likes to cook and is wonderful at it), has just decided she wants to learn. She's taking a hiatus from her job and we're beginning our kitchen journey. I bought her a copy of "Family Meals" because it's so precise, with excellent step-by-step instructions, accompanied by photos illustrating each step. The recipes seem simple and well-thought-out, even including time charts and a shopping list for each dish. Ingredient measurements are given to serve 2, or 6, or 20 or 75. Very handy. I think it would be hard to go wrong, if you're following along exactly as instructed. The book also features menus, something that can be a little difficult to get the hang of when one is just beginning to cook and entertain. It has a fairly limited number of recipes, so it's certainly not an encyclopedic, comprehensive reference source, like Joy of Cooking was for my generation, but that can be a plus for a beginning cook that feels a little overwhelmed with a large tome. We're only at the beginning of this journey so this is just a first impression but, thus far, I think it's a wise choice.

And, ironically enough, we actually make homemade ice cream and sorbets (with my limoncello, among other things) all the time.

I don't use my books "for visual inspiration alone." I read through them, and find all sorts of inspiration lurking in their pages - brand new (to me) ideas, thoughts, suggestions, methods, ingredients; even attitudes and ways of looking at life in the kitchen. I find new twists on old ideas as well, often things I've done for decades. And that doesn't even begin to take into account the fact that "best practice" is subjective, an entirely different issue. I said it was probably just me, but I'm sure I've got at least 1000 cookbooks, and likely more. Some are old friends I've had since I got married back in 1969. Some are even older friends, having belonged to my mother or grandmother. And I've lived, traveled and eaten around the world, literally. As I approach 70, it would be tempting to believe that I've done, seen, heard about, cooked, eaten it all, from whole monkey and iguana roasted on an open fire in a Cuna Indian village in the San Blas Islands when we lived in Panama, to creamed rooster testicles at a wedding dinner when I lived in Hong Kong, to balut (fertilized egg) when we lived in the Philippines, to jellied moose nose when we lived in Alaska. But still, every single time I sit down with one of my cookbooks, I find something in it of enough value to definitely make it "worth the paper it's printed on," at least to me. There's nothing wrong with being discriminating. Certainly not everyone wants or needs or could use or find value in 1000 cookbooks. But making blanket, sweeping, condescending statements like "95% of the cookbooks in the market aren't worth the paper they are printed on," seems to me to be pretty-much always unwise, usually saying more about the speaker than the spoken about. And, by the way, it just so happens that I also own Adria's "Family Meal" (both the US and UK versions) and have cooked from it. I find it to be remarkably simple and unpretentious. Amusingly enough, one of his desserts is "Almond soup with ice cream." On page 294 (UK version), he gives quite detailed instructions as to how to prepare the almond soup, but pretty clearly seems happy with the notion of going to your freezer and opening up a tub of previously-purchased ice cream.

I feel pretty sure it's just me but, in my world, what "kind" of cookbook I'm interested in at any given time has more to do with that day's situation than anything else. And I definitely disagree that "95% of the cookbooks in the market aren't worth the paper they are printed on." As the mother/cook/babysitter/housecleaner/dishwasher/grocery-shopper/chauffeur/tutor/clothing-maker and everything-else-that-needs-doing-er for my large family, I often don't give a perfectly-roasted chicken's fat patootey about the "best practice." I want inspiration. And I grab one of those cookbooks you dismiss as worthless to help me think of some good and tasty ideas to put on the table for the 21+ meals I have to come up with each week. Sure, it's nice to occasionally have somebody like Heston tell me what is the "best practice." But mostly, that's a luxury reserved for folks that have the time, money, patience, and accommodating diners that allow it. You appear to be one of those lucky folks. Congratulations. I won't disparage whichever cookbooks inspire you. But I'll be keeping those that inspire me.

Not familiar with your town, but I have lived several places where Mexican ingredients are very hard to come by. Usually I can find a Mexican-themed restaurant there, though. The food is usually not particularly authentic or good, but I've chatted up the owners, and managed to add a few things for me to their orders from their suppliers.

I hope they do brisket. And give them enough time to turn out a properly smoked one. They could make a time exception, and perhaps borrow some offset smokers from a company that would like the publicity. A true brisket challenge would be really great.

Perhaps not everyone has had my experience with Tres Leches, or likes the same kind that I do, but to me, the best ones are really not all that "rich." They have a very similar taste profile to a piece of sponge cake that you dipped into a glass of whole milk. And honestly, I can't imagine serving a milky Tres Leches cake with ice cream. Although, of course, ice cream is pretty tasty, so I suppose it wouldn't be "bad," no matter what you did. But still, serving a cold milky vanilla cake with a cold milky side doesn't seem to me to be ideal for spotlighting the best qualities of either. I'd go with the traditional lightly-sweetened whipped cream (perhaps with a touch of rum, Cointreau, Kahlua, etc.) and strawberries or other fruit. I'm trying to think back through the decades to recall anything that I've ever been served with Tres Leches. Except for the fruit, I can't think of anything. The cake is always the star, and it seems to stand best when it stands alone.

I, too, very much enjoy your posts here, and the uniqueness of your story. I've actually traveled a bit around Ecuador, and really loved Quito. I'm curious as to why you chose Ambato.

You don't mention price. If you would like to invest in some beautiful crystal glasses, you might have an easier time finding the proper size. Of course, they're a lot more expensive.

You know, now that you mention it, I haven't heard a waiter call it a doggie bag in a very long time, although that nomenclature used to be the norm. And I even remember actual bags being popular back in the days before styrofoam - little white paper sacks about the size of a lunch bag, often emblazoned with a cute cartoonish dog, or "Bowser" or "Fido," or something similar. It seems to me that ages ago when this now-ubiquitous practice was just getting started, it was mainly really stuff for the dog - most-often bones from various cuts of steaks. After you had had your way with a T-bone, for example, you'd sit there and look at it, with its bits of meat hanging off, and you knew how much your dog would really love having a few hours alone with it. Hard to resist the temptation to pack it up for your sweet canine buddy that you knew was waiting patiently for you at home.

For me, the fried-food thing depends a lot on what it was, how good it was, and how expensive it was. If it was really good, and especially if it was somewhat costly, I'll take it. A great many things crisp up just fine in a hot toaster oven.