Lady T

If in fact our gentle Nero does like Chardonnay and wants some on a given night, she need not resort to those musclebound overoaked brutes we all try to avoid. Lindeman's Bin 65 sells at $6 - $8 per bottle, and somebody's always got a sale going on it, at least in Chicago; it's nice and juicy -- fine for summer -- and not bound to grow acorns out your ears.

"Food, glorious food..."

At the time I attended, the Chicago "concrete campus" of the University of Illinois had been built in a wonderful old Italian neighborhood; in fact and unfortunately, a sizable chunk of that neighborhood was condemned and razed by the City to build it. I rarely, if ever, went to the campus cafeterias (though the Behavioral Sciences Building -- BSB for short -- had superb grilled cheeseburgers!), because the pickings were so good in the 'hood just off campus. I still go back now and then to get a sub sandwich from the original Fontano's -- the salami-and-provolone with mild peppers is one of the wonders of the world.

And a happy 91st to Julia, in any case. May we all live as long and be as adventurous, and do as much good for cuisine as she's done. *raises glass*

I ain't Hillary. I ain't even close. 9/19 - 21: No. 9/26 - 28: No. 10/3 - 5: Yes. 10/17 - 19: Yes.

Yep, Dave. We like pie. Come to think of it, I make pie. Hmmm.

Hang tight, Aurora. If we don't have a recipe, or don't get one soon, we can always experiment and sample, and experiment and sample, and... And Jinmyo? If or when you ever visit Chicago, or if I ever get over there, I guarantee personally we'll find a thick prime Porterhouse with your name on it, and split a bottle of fine red wine. Better? No 'gah'?

Sweets may not be food, Jinmyo, but if they're personally baked for you by someone you know, I think they often qualify as medicine. The happy memory of Aurora's birthday cake (as prepared by Nightscotsman and shared around a table of 8 like-minded eGulletarians, this past Tuesday night) is one of the dangerously few things keeping me from strangling my boss bare-handed at the moment. Sugar and fat as mood elevators? You betcha.

Sommeliers do it Moet? (Dang. Gotta learn to work those diacriticals...)

There is precious dang little on this site that is ever beyond comment, Priscilla!

"We have learned with some pains, that bacon is not only compatible with civilization, but is absolutely essential to its highest development." (Aldo Leopold, in 1918)

Only three?

Looks like you're up, Maggie. Why, "caviar" is three syllables all by itself...

Didn't eat the stuff before. Won't eat it now. Simple solution.

One day it was suddenly revealed to me that everything is pure bacon. (Ramakrishna)

No can do on the afternoon of the 17th -- prior commitment with a dear friend. Let me know if the scheduling changes, and I'm there.

Haven't seen the article yet. I've had some at-home success with reconstituted masa harina and a rolling pin, though: I should probably just give in and get a tortilla press. If you can get hold of a tape of the pertinent Mexico: One Plate at a Time show at www.fronterakitchen.com, Rick Bayless does one of the best demonstrations I've ever seen short of a home teaching session at a Mexican neighbor's house. He really makes it look foolproof.

Still checking my calendar, Gentle G (more correctly: still at work on moving an obstructive appointment out of the way). This definitely sounds like something I should do. Will you be making the tortillas or buying them? Later --

Now that reads like a celebration and a half! Many, many happy returns to you, Ronnie, and may every one of those returns be marked with a meal that wonderful!

I'm with you, Tina, and with some seafood preparations I will even reach for that buttery Chard.

Well, yes and no, Hobbes. Hopleaf is the only place in town where you see the dancing pink elephants while you're still sober...

October is a magnificent month in Michigan, with the trees in color and all. Remembering that Varmint's pig pickin' is October 11th, it'd be neighborly to schedule for any weekend but that one, though...

Us? Take St. Maggie's name in vain? Gentle innocent us??

They made Guajolote put the cheese away. Other parties took care of the actual beer drinking (I drank a really nice dryish Prosecco and ate more than my share of a double order of mussels with frites), and I'll let Gentle G (those dancing elephants haunted my dreams last night, boyo) and Nightscotsman and Hobbes (mead?! neat!) and Aurora deliver those reviews. Much fun was had; I only regret that Paul had to leave before Aurora and Nightscotsman and I could get up there (dratted Clark Street bus!)

As TV, the show was okay, I guess, but maybe I've spent too much time around the construction trades: I kept thinking about how long it takes to negotiate a lease in NYC, and how long it takes to get a building permit in NYC, and how long it takes to get a demolition-and-buildout job done in NYC (particularly with an expensive union crew, the only kind you dare use for safety's sake!), and that must have been why I kept yelling at the screen: "You can't DO that!" I simply can't call this a "reality" show.