Lilija

My bagel joint, which up till last Sunday had a great reputation, with me, for great bagels, dense, chewy, crunchy, no nonsense BAGELS. Their 'everything' bagel is to die for. My husband came home with a NEW FLAVOR (cue echo) Called "Super Cinnamon". They took a perfectly innocent bagel, mixed raisins in it, then ROLLED THE DAMN THING IN CINNAMON SUGAR. It was like eating a very dense doughnut. Yes, I tried it. I'm slightly ashamed, but it was like a trainwreck. It wasn't even good toasted, and it got my hands all sticky

I think I know this kid's sister. Somewhere around age 2, she began rebelling against high chairs, and especially when her parents secured the straps that hold the child in. When my co-worker picked up his little daughter and began to lower her into the high chair in a restaurant where they dined often, she began yelling, "No, Daddy, don't tie me up again!" ← Hahahaha! Yikes!!!

I have the same problem. ;-) ← For this exact reason, I wear either black shirts, or busy shirts. My "Parent of the Year Award" moment, at a busy resturaunt comes from when my son was about 2. We were in a very popular neighborhood Mexican joint, eating a little late that night. My son was verging on meltdown, he was squirmy, in one of those standard wooden resturaunt high chairs, and getting a little whiny. We were waiting for our check. Our places hadn't been cleared, and the service was really slow coming, so we were getting antsy, ourselves. The scene was going from "resturaunt" to "bar" pretty fast, and it was noisy and crowded, so we wanted to get the hell out of there. Boy Wonder figured out how to do exactly that. He leaned waaay back, arching his back like only toddlers can, so much so that I put my hand on his back, to steady him, and as I leaned forward, to support his back, he switched modes and plunged face first into his dish, in front of him. SPLAT! Right into his plate of beans, rice, broccoli, and melted cheese, hands'a flailing, he cleared a water glass, as well. He sat up, with the food plastered to his face, with this look of abject horror, and at that moment...the resturaunt seemed to go silent, many eyes were already on us...and then he burst into this lovely siren wail. It ascended, even, starting with a low ahhhhh and cresting at a glass breaking shriek. I'm still horrified, I think people thought I smashed him into his plate, because I leaned forward with my hands out, the moment he swan dove into his quesadilla. The check arrived with the 3 waiters, and the towels they brought to help us clean up. Edit: I forgot to add, the kid, with the tickly drink. I laughed long and loud at that one, so much so that I had to read it out loud for family members, thank you so much, we all got such a chuckle. Sometimes, it's nice to know that things like this happen universally.

Eggs...god, I wish I could like them, I try but the texture and smell...argh. Mushrooms, to the point of sheer phobia. I've mentioned this here, before. I also seriously dislike ketchup. It's so sweet and gloopy, and ugh, way to ruin a good burger. Speaking of burgers, I dislike lettuce, tomatoes, and raw onions on anything hot. No lettuce on my tacos, no tomatoes on my burgers, hot stuff, cold veggies grosssss.... Not a big fan of iceberg lettuce, anyway. I also dislike most shellfish. I have a hard time eating the whole body of something, like someone mentioned upthread...digestive system, reproductive system, the whole bit, turns me way off. Lobster is too rich, but I like the flavor of crab, and will eat it in stuff. I also like the flavor but not the texture of shrimp. I'm not a fan of slimy, so lots of that has something to do with texture, I'm sure, but the sight of a wobbly raw phglemmy looking oyster makes my stomach curdle. I agree with the apples thing, too, anything mealy-mushy, ugh. I dislike boiled potatoes, but most other preperations are ok. Dark chocolate, in very small doses, but I really like milk and white. I do, however LOVE coffee, and cheesecake, together, no less! I love this thread, people hassle me, for being a picky eater...I feel so much better about things.

My mom said, my first word after "mama" and "dada" was "drambouie". True story. Apparently, I was teethed on it. That doesn't make me a foodie, though, that makes me an appreciater of fine booze, and that hasn't changed one iota, since I was 12 months old. My mother also fondly relates a story from when I was about 2. She woke up early one morning, to noises in the kitchen, to find me, sitting on the lineoloum in a small heap of flour, with a bowl nearby, some sugar scattered in it, 2 broken eggs inside the bowl, and one outside. She said everything in the whole kitchen from the countertops down, was pure white, dusted with flour. The night before, she laid out the dry ingredients and cooking implements for a cake she wanted to bake that morning. Apparently, I got a head start. So, I would say it was somewhere around then, when I took my first baby steps into foodieness. As I got older, I would sit and eat my crappy prepared dinners, and pore over my mom's cookbooks (that she never used EVER) and dream about the wonderful stuff in them. She had one really fancy red one, from Europe, she got as a wedding present, had like 400 recipes in it, and 400 color pictures. That one was my FAVORITE. I would look longingly at the pictures and study the ingredients. I was maybe 8-9 years old. Then, looking and salivating turned into cooking. I started trying things, simple things, like instead of making normal basic rice-a-roni, I would throw in some cheese, or something. Basic, but, baby steps. My favorite shows, growing up, were The Frugal Gourmet (I love that guy, I don't care what he was accused of) Julia Child, Justin Wilson, and Yan Can Cook. I watched a lot LOT of public TV. By the time I was 11, I was cooking full-fledged dinners, for my mom and I. I was actively using her long forgotten cookbooks, and feeding myself very well, with the stuff she brought home from the grocery store. A huge triumph for me, looking back, was making the leap from studying all these wonderful European recipes, to actually cooking them. I made lots of stuff from that book, like linzertorte, lemon souffle, some wacky appetizers. I would often cook, out of boredom on weekends. She would invite guys home, for dinner, and have me cook for the two of them. When I was 12, I made a huge dinner, including a soup course, from scratch, raspberry chicken breasts (marinated in raspberry vinagrette, with fresh berries as garnish, we had an enormous raspberry bush in the garden) steamed broccoli with buttered breadcrumbs, and burnt almonds, and I think, boiled new potatoes, with parsely. I also made dessert, too. Something with layered chocolate pudding, and more raspberries, and cool whip. I made that meal for her and my now step-dad. He said, the merit of that meal was one of the reasons he married my mother. I took over ALL the cooking, soon after, including holiday meals. I started cooking for my friends, too, simple stuff, that could be scooped into bowls, like chicken stew, and pasta saute dishes. I got to be famous as "the cook" among my peers. In school, we would turn class meetings, into potlucks. I got lucky, for a few years, my 9th -11th grade classes were very small, and very food-oriented. We would meet once a week, for a fancy dinner somewhere on the town, or plan huge picnics, on school time. There were about 15 of us, and we were pretty close. Private school has its benefits. I moved in with my dad, and more the same, all through my teens, I would get home before my folks, and cook dinner. When they got home from work, I'd eaten, and there would be warmed plates, or a pot of something bubbling happily on the stove. I learned a lot, there, too. My stepmom came from Georgia, so I inherited a ton of great southern cooking, from her. My dad, ever the eclectic, got me into cooking Indian, pan-Asian stuff, and native foods (they lived on Guam). We would go out for Indian, and he would say "This curry is damn good, I bet you could make it at home" and, he would find the stuff for it, and I just would. It all just sort of snowballed. When I was 17, I got a job, working for a caterer/Italian deli, within a year, and a massive employee turnover, I found myself, at 18, as the manager of the deli, and in charge of scheduling catering events, etc. I didn't do all the cooking, but I planned the menus and specials, did the deli stuff, prep work, and short order. The owner did most of the real cooking, himself. In short. I just am. I have been from birth, I think. Food has always interested me, as long as I can remember, and I have been cooking for as long as I've been able, and realized I could change the outcome of my meals.

Yeah, I think I'm going to drop off that card, you folks inspired me. I don't know if it will do any good or not, pull what could be an awesome place out of a steady decline...but it's worth a shot, right?

Backstory: Tonight, we went to a local Irish pub-type place, that we've eaten at about 4-5 times since they opened, late last year. The first three times, we were blown away by the food. The attention to detail, the quality and freshness of the ingredients. Simple pub fare, done *really* well, with some knock out dinner specials, like coq au vin, etc. The lunch menu was no less outstanding. Really generous, creative sandwiches, fresh-cut fries... I was thrilled at having a perfect little 'joint' like this open up within a mile from my house. The third time we ate there...no more fresh fries, standard frozen diner stuff...the service sorta missed here and there...and the portions were shrinking. The 4th time, the food was ok-not-great, and we were starting to notice real shortcuts, and cheap ways out, a fresh berry trifle was made with frozen soggy fiberous berries, and dry stale tasting cake. Prices seemed to be going up? $7.95 for three oversized mozzarella sticks? It's a bar, we were taken aback. Tonight was *really* dissapointing. My food came out cold, I had fish and chips, their specialty, which I've boasted was the best I had... Fish and chips is lousy, cold. Coleslaw, no longer the fresh, perfect house made kind...now that pre-chewed looking deli-tub stuff...and warm. My husband had a special, and the portion was miniscule and bland, to the point of being almost watery tasting... The appetizer came out not cooked through (cold, again, inside), and we had to send it back... So, the honeymoon is over, and we're not gonna go back. Apparently, they did the bait and switch, thing. Lured us in with greatness, switched for mediocrity, with the same hefty pricetag. Today, the waitress said they got comment cards in, it was a new thing! What luck! I snatched up the card and pen, and wrote how I felt, filling the three little lines, and then the whole back... I was polite, and constructive, I promise. My husband talked me into not leaving it, saying they maybe were having a bad day. I still have it, I might go drop it off, tomorrow. I really feel like I should let them know what's wrong. OK! All that lead in, to this question: Comment cards, in casual resturaunts. Do you use them? Do you tell them how you *really* feel? (This was a partial vent, too...dinner really sucked, and I guess it's still fresh in my mind).

Actually, Cointreau is the very best triple sec known to man, distilled from sweet and bitter orange peels. Grand Marnier is sweeter and has vanilla and Cognac in the base as well as getting some oak ageing. The cheap triple sec is both less flavorful and less viscous in a drink and usually a LOT sweeter. Adding Grand Marnier to a margarita usually makes it what's called a "Golden Margarita" and the flavor profile is slightly altered (for the better in my opinion). If you want that really good flavor of a Golden Margarita then use the Gran Gala instead of cheap triple sec. If you don't care, then use regular triple sec. If you want really intense flavor you can also use Luxardo Triplum which is very similar to Cointreau but like the Gran Gala, a bit less expensive than the high end and better known product it mimics. A little bit of actual lime juice added to the jello dials back the sweetness a bit and makes it tastes more like a real margarita. Obviously, I've done this a few times... ← I learned something, today...

Wow. That really sucks, I'm sorry to hear it. I don't have any advice, to offer, I just had to post my condolences, and I will never bitch about getting a cold for Thanksgiving again.

It doesn't even say how much lettuce to use!!! Who do they think we are? We weren't ALL privileged enough to go to cooking school! *freaks out*

Diet 7-up is sweetened with Splenda, it's easily hands-down my favorite diet soda.

Yeah, I was gonna try it with some basic triple sec, first. Grand Mariner is triple sec....just really fancy. Fancy and lime Jello...not quite. I didn't think of adding the actual lime juice...that's a fine idea.

The other Jello thread got me clicking through...wow, this thread brings back many memories. We camp a lot at a state park...which doesn't allow alcohol. Undaunted, we make quarts of booze laden Jello, and serve up our grownup dessert. No clinking bottles, no evidence...just some harmless cherry Jello, mister park ranger. Makes those late night camping card games even more fun. I serve it in tiny bowls (TINY!) with a spoon, and a shot of whipped cream. For parties, another way to shoot it, instead of pouring it and letting it set in the mini cups, is to pour it in something wide and shallow (I did this for a barbecue once, for over 100 shots with a jelly roll pan) cut it into shooty-sized cubes, and distribute them among the disposable shot glasses. They slide right down. I think, this weekend, I'm gonna try the lime/tequila/grand mariner combo, margaritas are my favorite casual drink...

So that's what happened! I always wondered why you stopped calling. Funny, they like the trifle here in D.C... P.S. I still have your bowl. Want it back? ← Hey, as long as someone likes it! Hell, you can even keep the bowl. (And, I know you're kidding, because not only is my neighbor still there, large as life...she would NEVER EVER EVER read egullet. EVER)

Must be a dumpling thing, because we used to do it with pierogi, I do it with home made ravioli, and I ALWAYS drag the family in the kitchen to help me fold wontons.

*cringecringecringe* You're right too. What is this world coming to?

Oh, you were so right. It's an incredibly accurate analogy.

I actually had this exact thing happen to me. A friend asked for a good, easy dessert recipe to fill out the dessert table, at her Aunt's birthday party. She wanted some extras, to have besides the cake... I gave her my old-time favorite trifle recipe, layers of booze painted, jam spread pound cake, with custard (for her, I said vanilla pudding would be fine, she is NO cook...) layered with fresh berries, and fresh whipped cream. She squealed that it was PERFECT! Store bought cake, instant pudding...perfect for her. This is a forgiving recipe, to be sure. She really wanted to do SOMETHING special for her aunt, and this would be it, she said. I'd done a lot of the rest of the cooking for this party, having done time as a professional caterer, I was always called on, to lend a hand for friend's parties. I wound up doing about 90% of the food, for this one. At the party, I asked her how the trifle turned out, looking around for the deep glass bowl that I loaned her... What I saw, instead were two rubbermaid storage bowls filled with glop. One beige, and one darker brown. Apparently she glanced over the ingredients I listed, and said "I can do this!" And, stirred the whole lot of them together. Cake cubes, raspberry jam, amaretto, orange juice, heavy cream, almond extract, vanilla pudding powder, milk...etc...stirred together, in a bowl. No berries, too expensive. She said it looked kinda gross, so she stuck it in the plastic dish and covered it with a layer of Cool Whip. THEN, heartened by how easy THAT one went together, she committed the same atrocity with CHOCOLATE, pudding, syrup, heavy cream, Cool Whip. If that were the worst, I could forget that day ever happened. She proceeded to proudly tell everyone at the party to be sure to try the bowls of "truffle" that they were MY doing, and she just loved my cooking, and she was positively gushing about how awesome they were, and patting herself on the back, all over the place, because she was able to cook like a "pro" following my recipe. I got a lot of funny looks. She failed to mention that the rest of the food there was also mine, cooked by me. I never cooked for that family again, never gave her any more recipes. Come to think of it, after that party our friendship sorta dissolved.

I read this whole thread, and I was -almost- swayed by mention of gingerbread...Almost. Carrot cake has me by the short hairs, too, come to think of it. Then I remembered...icing. Frosting... "buttercream"...dry birthday cakes, gussied up with tooth breaking sugary embellishments...PHLEGH. (I really dislike most icings-frostings-whatever.) I vote pie. I could sink face first into a good pumpkin or sweet potato pie. I would sell family members into science for the perfect piece of chocolate-burbon-pecan pie. Lemon, blueberry cheesecake PIE, a GOOD cherry (not gloopy...) Strawberry rhubarb, coconut custard. Ok, I'm dying. Buttery, tender-crisp golden flaky crust...is there anything more divine than cold/melty ice cream swirling with the still-warm filling of your favorite fruit pie? Pie doesn't have to suffer the indignities of silly decorations, or be hidden under tons of sugar-glop. Pie is pie. Pie is honest. Pie for me.

What was your family food culture when you were growing up? From when I was 5, my mom was a single parent, and not inclined to cook. Meals were indifferently slapped together, often consisting of prepackaged convienience foods. Lots of fast food, as well. My father was the cook, and when I lived with him, briefly, I learned an appreciation for food, and cooking. After that, I handled most my own meal prep, and took over cooking for my mother and I. Was meal time important? No, we often ate at different times, often eating different meals. Was cooking important? Not at all. My mom viewed it as a chore, as well as my grandmother, and there was no real love for food, or cooking. I developed that, myself, as I grew up. What were the penalties for putting elbows on the table? Not really, but I was taught table manners, at an early age, and it never really occurred to me not to behave. Who cooked in the family? When my dad lived with us, he did, mostly. What my mom provided as meals when I was growing up, I wouldn't call 'cooking', but around age 12-13, I took over the detail. Were restaurant meals common, or for special occassions? Besides frequent visits to McDonalds, and Burger King, resturaunts were for special occasions, only. Did children have a "kiddy table" when guests were over? Very small family, I'm an only child, so no. My first time actually getting quarantined to the "kiddy table" was a catastrophic dinner, at my paternal grandparents' house when I was 22, and had a child of my own. We're still talking about that one. When did you get that first sip of wine? I remember all throughout growing up, both my parents would let me sip whatever was in their glasses, so I would guess around 4-5. Same with beer, coffee, anything like that. I remember sampling a strawberry margarita, around that age, by licking the bottom of the straw...I was smitten. Was there a pre-meal prayer? No. Was there a rotating menu (e.g., meatloaf every Thursday)? We ordered pizza every Friday, but besides that, not really. How much of your family culture is being replicated in your present-day family life? None. Cooking, for me, is a form of love. I do it because I love it, and I do it because I love the people I cook for. My mother never made those connections, and viewed food indifferently (like she viewed many people, but that's another topic, for another board). I don't use "convenience foods", at all, and even fast weekday meals aren't indifferently slapped together. Our housemate once said "You even make boring old hamburgers and hot dogs, into an event" I try, heh. I shop almost daily, and use fresh ingredients whenever I can. Me and Whole Foods are great friends. I have a handful of favorite things that I cook, but I try new ideas, new cuisines, and new ingredients as frequently as I rely on old standbys. We eat out semi-frequently, but almost never fast food. My 7 year old has had McDonalds, perhaps 10 times in his short life... Our "fast food" nights are trips to the local Italian deli for sammiches. Growing up, "ethnic food" was a trip to the local Chinese takeout place, for some chow mein, and that was regarded as a wildly different thing, saved for birthdays and whatnot. Now, my family favors Indian and SE Asian cuisine, and we're always looking around, trying to find great little dives to eat at. I'm strict, almost fanatical about meal times, and eating together. My husband works very long hours, and we have very little "us" time. Our mealtimes have almost become a ritual, he gets home showers, and changes, as I'm setting the table, and thus kicks off our evening together. Since we eat so late (8:00 pm, during the landscaping season) my son eats with us, then gets ready for bed. I view it as an important practice, to ground and connect us. No TV, no distractions. It's the one time of day we can share 20-30 minutes enjoying food and each other's company. Many problems have been resolved during this time, and many life-changing discussions have happened over dinner. This thread is incredibly theraputic, and it's nice to know that as diverse of a group as eGullet is, many people share common elements, from growing up. It's definitely a journey, to read these, then write my own account.

I used to work at 7-11, and like the Subway creativity, we would get sick of eating write-off hot dogs, every single night. Some popular meals that come to mind were the frozen burritos, warmed up, and covered with chili, cheese, and japapenos, then finished in the cookie oven till the nacho cheese got a little browned. We'd also take those pre-made subs apart, and fix them up, by "frying" the ham and fillings, in the cookie oven (it was a small convection oven, made for baking those frozen dough lumps real fast), and putting the sammiches back together, all toasted and heated up. Cutting up hot dogs, mixing it with frozen mac & cheese dinners, pints of Ben & Jerry's sacrificed for sundaes... I too, experimented with beverages, my favorite combo was a half Cherry Slurpee, half Cherry Coke mix. We made "double" pots of coffee, for ourselves, using twice the coffee, for one pot...that stuff was the BEST. I still love 7-11 coffee, but nothing compared to that extra strong stuff. Another good one was the orange soda flavored Slurpee, with a shot of vanilla flavored creamer mixed it. Many months of midnight shifts, dire boredom, and hunger, drove us to invent a whole new form of cuisine.

If the show Fear Factor is any indication, the answer appears literally to be 'nothing.' ← It's true, it's true. I read an article recently that talked about people in Indonesia eating tarantulas. It broke my heart. Something about them tasting very much like shrimp.

Man. What won't people eat?

I'm mushroom-phobic. I *despise* them. I don't like the way they look, smell, and godforbid I ever accidentally bite into one. Last time it happened, over 15 years ago, at a fancy Thai resturaunt, my dad said I screamed so loud, people in the next building probably heard me. I don't remember, I blocked it out, pretty much. People who say "Oh, there's mushrooms in this, but you can't even taste them" drive me crazy. No, I taste them. I smelled them when you brought the dish to the table. I SENSE them. Yes, I could pick them out of my food, but then there's the psychological trauma of eating things that were cooked with and/or touching mushrooms for an extended time. I'd rather not. I feel like I can still taste their taint. Evil, hateful fungus.

I always liked the names of these two (VERY) local joints, Barb's Big Burrito, and Big Bertha's Weenie Winnebago. Barb's Big Burritos are good, served up by Barb herself. Never tried Big Bertha's Weenies, though. It literally was a Winnebago, and you'd catch Bertha hanging around outside in her mumu and support hose. *shiver*