Lady T

Kona coffee and choral concerts: two of my favorite topics any time, ever. May I ask what you sang, and for whom? I am loving this blog.

I am *so* ready for strawberries with flavor, and new asparagus. Yum. Waiting patiently.

H'm. Traditionally, the Classical Singer's Five Food Groups are: Caffeine Sugar Salt Fat Alcohol Once one has consumed far too much of most of the above, it's time to go home, rehydrate deeply, practice, and sleep.

It's really hard to maintain a foodie reputation when covered in flourescent orange encrustations. Not that that's ever happened to me....... ← Freshly made cheese popcorn, from Garrett's in Chicago's Loop. It's addictive, and I only buy some when I know I'm going home and I'll be alone...because I'll be covered, mouth and hands, in glowing orange after I've indulged. Delicious. Embarrassing.

My own guess is that there is no gustatory difference between Eastern and Western dragons: all that armor from the various would-be St. Georges would have been neatly (?) excreted long since. Much smoke flavor, though...slaw to go with it, I think, and sweet tea? I admit to puzzlement. What wine goes with dragon plus fixin's? Or shall I think in terms of mead, or straight on to beer? Which beer, at that?

And I had to sing an Ash Wednesday service instead of sharing the enjoyment of...that. Ooohhhh man. Ever have a day when you feel God owes you one?

One of the greatest combinations ever in my life: good cultured unsalted butter plus brunoised fresh organically-grown garlic plus dry white wine plus good homemade chicken stock: risotto beginnings. Glorious. Another one: brown button mushrooms, marinated liberally in extra-virgin olive oil, seasoned liberally with sea salt and fresh-ground pepper, crowned with a couple or three sprigs of fresh thyme and "roasted" (steamed, actually!) in a tightly sealed baking dish for about 20 minutes. Mind-blowing aroma. Another one: roasting chicken, rubbed with lemon and EVOO and chopped tarragon and parsley and sea salt and fresh-ground pepper (in the cavity: sprigs of thyme and parsley, quarters of fresh lemon). One of the most ghastly things I ever have smelled: dead ends of garlic and/or shallots the next morning, moldering in the trash along with mussel shells and denuded herb stems, after a Friday evening of mussels steamed in white wine. There's a reason I toss the trash, without fail, on the night I cause it to exist, and fire up the dishwasher the instant everything's scraped/rinsed/ready to wash: I don't want to smell the consequences the next morning, and I do want a clean sweet kitchen awaiting me, ready for breakfast!

Ziplocks, the moment dry goods come in the door. Freezer. One week. Bay leaves. I don't have moth problems.

LOL! Many folks from other areas of the country (or other entire countries, to be fair) don't 'get' the American Midwest. We truly do have whole dead-flat (inter)states worth of miles and miles of NOTHING but...miles and miles, bisected by roads straighter than God's own ruler, and utterly empty (think about Nebraska, for example. Briefly, please. A fuller consideration will take you a week.). These are truly the roads where a dainty l'il nosh -- or a seven course banquet -- can be consumed with nobody killed or injured. Try that on the Outer Drive in Chicago's morning rush hour, on the other hand, and one can only hope your affairs are in order and pray you won't take too many innocents with you.

The church I attend (same church as the one where I sing) in Evanston, IL was forced to upgrade its kitchen to commercial standards after a caterer made her headquarters there; the City came down like a hammer in regard to licensing, and therefore now the kitchen is gleaming stainless steel, with two industrial-grade high-temp dishwashers and two immaculate refrigerator/freezers. You can eat off the floors if the damn-near-sterile china and flatware doesn't suit you. As a result, I'd eat anything produced by the Kitchen Guild at our church. I've never had a problem with anything of a pot-luck nature that was supervised by Kitchen Guild members, not even the room-temperature dip/chip offerings or the chili competition at the most recent Super Bowl party in the church basement.

Awwwwww fooey. Cheese is one of my favorite things in the entire Western universe (along with fondues and souffles and all the other glorious things one can do with cheese!), and I really wanted the concept of Artisanal to work, and work sensationally well. I wanted it, at least, to get better. When last I was at Artisanal, the staff were working their gracious and conscientious tails off to offset an inconsistent kitchen, and I hoped that that would improve. Nuts. Drat. Unwashed diapers.

Marvelous! It's been nearly three years since I visited NYC. I look forward to an update. Artisanal (speaking of gorgeous cheeses) didn't impress me immensely when I last tried it. Have you been there? May I hope for better, more recent news?

Oh, Lord. By the standards of this board, I'm barely holding my end up. By the standards of the rest of grab-it-at-Starbucks-and-run American society, I'm spoiled sick, living far too high on the hog, and riding for a justified fall, I'm sure. I don't generally do more than four eggs per week for caution's sake, but by damn they are organic free-range eggs -- and I poach 'em on toast made from my own homemade bread, with a little sea salt and fresh-cracked black pepper added. Superior. I won't back down and do less. I just won't. What accompanies these is Peet's Kona coffee, with cinnamon sugar and half-&-half. There isn't much I can't face with a breakfast like that onboard. Every now and then, just to make myself remember that hotshot sauces aren't the last word, I do a supper of linguine tossed (quickly, to stay piping hot) with nothing but fresh-ground pepper, European-style organic butter, hand-shredded real Parmegiano-Reggiano, and finely chopped organic parsley. Sounds hopelessly precious, I know, but it tastes like heaven. Have a glass or two of good Riservo Chianti with it, and a simple green salad. You will have dined, believe it or not. I rejoice in a local wine shop down the street barely half a block away, where the owner is French-born. We argue politics, mostly in English. We argue wine, occasionally in French: I have a periodic jones for good champagne/cava/sparkling wine, and that's always good for at least a ten-minute discussion. I wind up frequently answering detailed questions about what I'm going to cook, as a function of letting what seems like half the block's denizens vote on what I'm going to buy to drink with it ("You're roasting a chicken, yes? And roasting a potato with it, in the pan, yes? For that kind caramelization, you must have good rouge -- I have a Tempranillo you should drink. The chicken will thank you!" "Are you nuts?!?! She's roasting a chicken, not a buffalo! A nice French Chardonnay, like a Jadot, will do fine!" "Ehhhh -- don't bother the lady! Champagne goes with everything! Lady! Take a look at this blanc de blancs I just got...only $11 a bottle this week, and I'll make you a deal for a little less if you buy a case or two..."). It isn't that I'm spoiled, I think, or that the rest of us eGulletarians are. It's that whole bunches of other people aren't taking the time to be a community any more, or to weave relationships with each other born of occasions where wonderful food and drink cause fun to happen. We just have to get on about spoiling a whole lot of other people the same way, that's all (!).

Legitimate line of inquiry, I think, sir. I sure as hell don't understand the point of not eating good chips, but I'd guess it has a sort of horrid fascination for other folks. Never attempted such a thing in all my days myself, though.

I did that once while attending a movie with a friend. It wasn't the sound of the cork coming up that turned heads, it was the gorgeous fruity aroma... The cheese and cut-up apples we enjoyed with the wine were sooooo good.

I...definitely wan to go with the soup.

Fish. There's been plenty of hearty red meat in this blog, but we need some seafood. If not just fish, how about a quick cioppino or linguine with clams? ← Dayum. I missed you by a day, Dave. I did a truly wonderful mess of moules au Lady T last night -- mussels steamed in butter/shallot/garlic/white wine, tossed briefly in the pot with diced tomato and chopped parsley. Drank a cold cava therewith, and followed with buttered steamed asparagus for salad course, and sliced apple with sliced Havarti for dessert. Heaven.

*Invokes blessings on all smokers quitting here* Persevere. It's worth it. It's worth not stinking. It's worth the renewal of your palates alone; the next solid, structured red wine you sip will knock you halfway across the room. Maggie: I've got a bottle of big honkin' Chilean red that says you can do this. PM me to collect.

Depending on your recipe, risotto is always a good excuse to (a) indulge in cheese, (b) indulge in good white wine, © think up something luscious for dessert afterward. (Hint: a baked apple, with thick cream, is one of God's gifts.) And I have said it before on this site: the aroma of simmering broth/butter/white wine/garlic and/or shallots, just before the rice goes in, is enough to heal a whole lot of hurts all by itself, even before the risotto is done.

God of Wisdom. Fresser -- are you still employed?!? As to me: I'll tell you some other time about combining Three Onion/Three Cheese Casserole and Brussels sprouts. Baaaaaaad idea, but at least I was alone at home and not abroad and a menace to innocent bystanders.

Can we have it in Philly? I'm willing to supply some accompaniments... and none will involve 'person'. ← You really need to extend that party to Chicago. I'd be there, believe me. As a child, I loved the meatloaf, mixed, with its egg and onion and crumbs and herbs, before it went into the oven...but I loved the raw beef straight from the butcher, just with salt and pepper, just as much. I do much the same thing now, although I'm waaaaay hell more careful about the sourcing and handling of the meat. But damn it's good.

Konditorei Lutz (albeit a bakery/cafe and not a full-scale restaurant), on Montrose, is still going great guns. So, now that I think of it, is Mader's in Milwaukee.

Recently, the cashiers at the Whole Foods near me were -- obviously -- instructed to scan each and every item individually, even where there were obvious duplications: four entries for four smoothies, rather than the swift scan of one item and a "x 4" multiplier entry. This is a time-consuming pain in the tail, but it uncovers all sorts of fascinating BS as to what kind of lint-brained scanner labelling happens before we, mere customers that we are, get our hands on the product. I check my Whole Paycheck receipts religiously before I leave the register,even if it causes a delay, because all too often I find errors that never seem to be to my advantage. Can't imagine why, can you?

I'm aware of two in Chicago: one (Halal) on Granville (6200 N), east of the L tracks, and one (Kosher...I think) on Western (2400 W), just north of Devon (6400 N).

I'm acquiring this book shortly, along with Rick Bayless' Everyday Mexican. I will be interested to see what the comparison-and-contrast will be like; I expect some overlap, perhaps, but not much actual duplication. Fun.