H. du Bois

I think of these as being the politics of plenty. Until quite recently, famine has been a fact of life, and debating whether it is more ethical or more moral to avoid eating meat, or certain types of meat, or to support certain types of farming and not others is, in a sense, a luxury we could not afford until now. I think of the reminiscences of a southern soldier during the U.S. civil war who managed to steal a raw ear of corn from a field around which armed pickets were posted - he was starving, and never had anything tasted so good, nor meant so much to him. He risked his own death for those few calories (and he was risking death without them). Not so very long ago, in the general scheme of things. I have friends who classify themselves as vegetarians who will eat fish and seafood (hell, I've met people who call themseves vegetarians but who eat poultry, which I believe to be utter bullshit). These are people who claim to be vegetarians for moral purposes. And yet I've stood ankle deep in blood in a fishery and watched red snapper die while looking me in the eye, and I don't understand why or how my "vegetarian" friends classify their death as meaning anything less than the death of another animal. I have another moral "vegetarian" friend who refuses to eat lobsters "because they mate for life," but who'll consume shrimp by the pound. A buddhist would say that a life is a life. So is she more morally reprehensible for causing the deaths of many creatures? Should she instead be responsible for fewer deaths, and eat turkey? Or should she, as I believe, stop eating all fish and seafood altogether, if she's going to take a moral stance about the consumption of flesh? I spent a year as an ovo-lacto vegetarian when I was young, and it did not serve me well, health-wise. I now eat meat, without apology. I consume foie gras, veal and lamb with pleasure, though I do not eat them often - they are luxuries. I don't know, when I sit down to meals at restaurants, what the provenance of the flesh before me is - did my pork chop come to me after having lived a happy life, and did it die a painless death? They don't tend to mention that on the menu (and god forbid my waiter should add that fact to his recitation of the specials ...). So what's a modern man or woman to do? I've been through the "I should be able to kill it myself" debate, by which measure I can eat fish and seafood. I haven't offed any other creatures (living in New York City renders that debate rather moot, unless I decide to consume free-range rat, squirrel or pigeon). I do think that true awareness is, and should be, a part of everyone's approach to the food chain. Take responsibility for what it is that you are consuming. If you cannot eat any meat other than the boneless breast of chicken that comes on a styrofoam tray because skin or bone makes you realize that it was once an animal, then don't eat meat. Period. And if others wish to eat meat, let them. I don't see eating veal as any less moral than eating beef (the same with lamb and mutton), but that's just me. As soon as you start applying the sliding scale of ethics to "which creatures it's all right to eat" as my so-called vegetarian friends do above, you enter a murky territory in which there are no absolute rights or wrongs. I do think though, that we need to reintroduce respect into the food process (and that comes with the true awareness above). Everyone who eats meat should know how it came to their plate in the general sense of the word. And I would apply the same principal to eating anything from the plant kingdom, as well.

Don't even think about it as rabbit. Call it Lapin, and all will be better. (I ate ragout de lapin once, loved it, and then realized afterward that I'd broken my number one food rule - never eat anything you've once kept as a pet).

I suppose it's how far they go with the chains. After all, no one minded Staples or Gap when they opened their first stores in town - but no one wants them on every fucking corner. I don't have much interest in Trader Joe's beyond what I've heard about their prices on things like dried wild mushrooms or Belgian baking chocolate. From what's been mentioned upthread, those prices are genuinely worth a stop off at 14th Street. And that wouldn't take trade away from my neighborhood, per se. Dried wild mushrooms are too expensive at the stores where I shop, and I usually end up at Dean and DeLuca or someplace else high end for the chocolate. Would much rather pay less. But that doesn't mean that I still won't be buying my meats, fish, cheese and fresh produce in my neighborhood. I received an education in cheese from the woman who's been selling it to me for years. I like having a good close look (and sniff) at the fish from my fishmonger. And these people aren't just shopkeepers - to me, they're my neighbors. I guess it's just another piece in the patchwork quilt to me - I don't shop for everything in one place here, and I don't mind having one more option open to me. Whole Foods is evil, though. Ugh.

I'm presently separated from my cookbooks, but one of them, The Best of the Best - has a recipe from Daniel Boulud - his potato gratin forestier. It was selected as "the best recipe" of that year, and each time I've made it, it's been spectacular. I didn't recommend it before because I think of it as a cool weather dish - but here we are, with cool weather. If you've got access to fresh wild mushrooms, it's very good - and very easy.

Thanks for posting this - I was going to make a stop there this week to check them out. Guess I'll get around to it some day. If. Big if.

Most of us living in New York would feel lucky to have a full sized refrigerator! Can only dream of a freezer filled with D'Artagnan.

I vote for chips. If anyone ever made me home-made potato chips, I'd swoon.

It ain't fresh by any measure, but Union Square Cafe is a pleasure - sit at the bar, and don't feel shy.

Wow, thanks for the clarification! Perhaps in the translation we mistook squilla for squealer. By either name, they were delicious.

That's interesting. I didn't know langoustines looked so much like crawfish. Do they have "fat" like crawfish and is it used in the cooking? It's used in Cajun cooking, but gone are the days when you could buy a pack of tails with a little container of fat on the side. Today it's all mixed together, and if I remember there's not as much in the pack now as their was in that separate container. Langoustines don't really look like crayfish. They do resemble shrimp, but are flatter, and have a larger head-to-body ratio. I've only ever eaten them in Europe, and the amount of meat you pick out of them seems little by compare (if you're comparing them to shrimp of a similar size). As far as I know, prawn is a British linguistic distinction - not common here in the US. I've eaten (and loved) another crustacean not of these waters - in Japan, a creature known as a "squealer." Shrimplike meat, but they look something like a cross between a shrimp and a centipede. They make the coolest shimmery sounds as their shells click in the fisherman's baskets.

I own neither (though I've cooked in others' LC), but it's the Staub that I've been yearning for. Just as the right cooking knife feels at home in one's hand, those Staub pots just do it for me.

Glad you added the musical analogy - I've not yet been to Saul or Ici, so it would have been difficult to picture the differences between the two. (Pondering, with pleasure, a gastronomic version of the Clash ...)

Hmmmm. I'm one of those adults who's peevish about ill-behaved children ruining my restaurant meals. But I'm perfectly happy to cook for and entertain children at my home. I suppose it's the psychological barrier between what I consider to be "family" occasions (my friends do constitute family), and what I consider to be adult occasions - and socializing with other adults over certain types of meals would be one of them. I'd be upset if I were to present an elegant meal with sophisticated fare and fragile china and crystal, and someone brought a cranky little one without checking with me first. But I'd happily accept a child if it were a less formal, family-style occasion. I suppose it all comes down to communication between the host/hostess and the prospective guests as to what is acceptable. In the end, as with the restaurant scenario, it's all about manners.

I'm with you on the pumpkin pie! u.e. ← I'm with you on your other choices, too. As an adult, I'd say that key lime pie is almost as good as sex. * * Please note that I said almost ...

Maybe this isn't the right thread to ask this question, but the quote above made me think about it. Would we really want Brooklyn restaurants to be like Manhattan ones? I prefer the not-ready-for-prime-time ambience to the haute-er than thou atmosphere that some have attempted. One of the worst dining experiences of my life was at Vaux in its early incarnation, and it wasn't the fault of the food or the wine (the waitstaff were colder and ruder than they were incompetent). The food/decor/ambience were far more suited to the upper east side than to Park Slope, and they just plain got it wrong. Their transformation to bistro food and atmosphere was closer to the mark, though it was, alas, unsuccessful. I like the less edgy atmosphere of Brooklyn restaurants - it works for me. And all the bastions of haute cuisine in Manhattan are only a train ride away. As for Ici, I've not been yet - but I'll have to check it out.

Whatever its provenence, it's white, gooey and ... sweet.

I'd have thought I'd said cake, as it was the first thing I learned to cook, and I still take great pleasure in baking them, though I rarely ever do. But then I remembered what I requested each year for my birthday when I was young (we were allowed our absolute favorite cake for dessert): pumpkin pie!

Very interesting point.

I once, somewhere off the highway in the midwest, ate from the salad bar at a family style restaurant. The owners were on hand, bursting with pride at their offered fare. When I went to dress the salad, I mixed my own dressing, after asking for olive oil and red wine vinegar (I cannot bear the thick glop that most of the US puts on its greens). The cruets looked like they contained the appropriate liquids, but I discovered that what was masquerading as red wine vinegar was actually distilled white vinegar with a substantial abmount of red food coloring added in - the stains it left on the items on the plate looked like the remains of murder and mayhem. To this day, I can't imagine why they did what they did. Was it out of ignorance? For the purposes of teetotalling? (It was a bible-thumping region). Still boggles the mind.

I can't believe anyone else even saw that movie... ← Did you?

All right, I'll bite. Since my favorite food films have already been mentioned, I offer an obscure one: Motel Hell (1980), a horror film starring Rory Calhoun as a sausage-making tycoon a la Jimmy Dean. It's what he uses (or shall I say, who?) that makes his sausages so special. His motto? "It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent's Fritters."

My grandmother had those Blue Willow plates, too! Loved them. I eat with conventional cutlery, but after spending long spells in England, have acquired the fork in the left hand, tines down method for cutting & eating meat. But I think I switch back to American style when eating pasta. If I'm eating rice with chopsticks, it has to be Japanese style (in a little bowl, held in the hand), although I don't see people eat that way here - somehow it feels rude. And though in Japan I was always instructed to slurp my noodles with gusto, I never got the hang of it (and always burnt my mouth!). As for ice cream, I stir it till it melts, and then I eat it like soup.

Klary, love the blog! I've enjoyed your posts on the dinner thread, and this is a wonderful window into your world. Amsterdam is one of my favorite towns, and I feel like I'm back there, having a stroll through that enchanting place.

Ever read recipe comments over at Epicurious? They go something like, "... and I substituted Molly McButter for the butter and Eggbeaters for the eggs and I didn't have any french bread so I used Wonder Bread and my husband hates fresh basil so I used Mrs. Dash, and it was wonderful!!!" I sometimes wonder if what they're rating with their stars bears any resemblance whatsoever to the dish as originally conceived. My mother is a woman who is constitutionally incapable of following a recipe as written - she substitutes all over the place, for reasons that I cannot begin to fathom (nor can she fathom why I would follow any recipe as directed). She once served me something that turned out to be from a Joy of Cooking recipe that I'd made several times myself. It wasn't bad at all, but it was so profoundly different from what I'd cooked, I didn't even recognize it as the same dish.

I was at Rocking Horse the other night, and the food was terrific (margaritas weren't bad, either!). I didn't experience any of the issues mentioned upthread, which were posted a while back. I'd go there again.