Katie Meadow

Ah, restaurant oversalting has become my personal misery, but I save a lot of money by not eating out much. Seems to me the American palate is used to a very high level of salt, partly due to reliance on processed food. I like salt, but I have had to cut back on it in the last few years, routinely undersalting everything I make--if you go by recipe specs--for health reasons. As a result, going to a restaurant can be like a visit to a salt lick. The ability to build or lose a tolerance for salt (sugar and hot pepper too) has to be pretty basic. However, I have been to pricey places lately where the food was so salty it was inedible, and it wasn't only me who thought so. I thought salt was supposed to enhance and deepen flavor, not become the dominant character (except maybe on a salt bagel.) Perhaps many eGers who cook at home more often than they eat out are also people who use lots of fresh flavorful ingredients and have naturally cut back on salt because the food doesn't demand so much. Just a few crystals of good seasalt is all a great tomato needs. Is it us or is it the chefs? Perhaps a bit of both. In Provence and Venice this fall I found the food less salty generally than it is here. Interestingly, there was less salt in Venice than in France and the food was by no means bland; maybe they let the seafood speak for itself. I also think certain cuisines tend to be saltier, altho I wonder if they are only saltier in this country. I can no longer eat Chinese out--it's far too oily and salty. The upside is I learned to make really good potstickers! Vietnamese food on the other hand is often not so salty. Japanese restaurants work well too, especially sushi, since the soy is on the side and I just don't dip. Smoking? I don't see how it could NOT affect your tastebuds. It affects mine even when the smoker is ten tables away at an outdoor cafe. The one unpleasant aspect of dining al fresco in Provence. Why are the French still puffing away? Okay, another topic, another time.

Wow, topic has rambled! There's some good info on the subject of tangerines, mandarins, etc on the thread called "Is there a general term for little oranges?" Thanks for all suggestions. Dougal, the downsizer recipes look amazingly thorough.

In eliminating cream from blended vegetable soups I've discovered that the stronger more intense the vegetable the less need for cream or dairy. Soups that are made with very delicate flavored veggies, for instance potato-leek, seem to suffer most from no cream. A sorrel or spinach-sorrel combo is potent, and if made using a chicken stock needs no more than one or two potatoes to give it a velvety smooth consistency after blending. The more flavorful the greens the less the potato changes the flavor and simply functions to enhance the texture. Throw on some toasted garlic crouts or a swish of creme fraiche and it's yummy. Works great using olive oil, no butter. Tomato soup works really well too without the "cream of" by roasting the tomatoes to boost the flavor. I do it with canned Italian tomatoes in the winter and use chicken stock (flavor of the tomatoes is so strong canned stock seems fine). All the tomato juices from the can are used and solids get pressed out at the very end.

I got a teapot for a gift two years ago that solved the bitterness or oversteeping problem. It is ceramic (nice Japanese look too, but on the heavy side like Heath ware) with a wire mesh strainer/basket that sits in the rim below the lid. The basket extends down about half-way or a little more into the pot, so when about half the tea has been drunk the water is no longer in contact with the leaves; it stays hot without getting stronger. This allows for a good second steeping, as well and it is easy to dump the leaves. Doubtless this is not an uncommon teapot design, but it seems like a smart one. I'm so protective of this teapot I won't let anyone else in the house wash it. My husband is an enthusiastic dish washer--sometimes too enthusiastic!

I'm bumping up this thread because I have two marmalade needs and because a lot of posters here are from the UK and might be able to help w/names of mail order sources. 1) I'm working up to making my own marmalade and could use suggestions for recipes. Seville oranges are not very available to me here in Northern California. I deeply love a traditional tangy/bitter orange marmalade, but I like lime too and have also tasted a lemon-lime that I liked very much. (It was a farmers market item and apparently I was the only enthusiast, so that particular marmalade has gone the way of all the other things on the planet that have small fan clubs.) 2) As a back-up I would like to find good options for purchased marmalades. Some brands mentioned upthread I have tasted, some I will try, but maybe if I qualify what I like it would be helpful: I like thin cut not thick. I don't like it sweet; I prefer tangy/bitter, or maybe even a little burnt tasing. I prefer marmalade that is runny and clear, not thick and cloudy. Perhaps some of these qualities are mutually exclusive--dunno. So, if anyone has ideas for either recipes, brands or mail order sources I would love to hear about it. Thanks!

Even if the breast meat is moist on Thursday night, 12 hours in the fridge can dry it out. But hey, no reason to waste it. I like one ritual turkey sandwich the next day: fresh chewy bread, lots of mayo, lettuce and tomato and pepperoncini. Take it for a hike along with left-over pecan pie; after a couple of hours wrapped in foil the sandwich knits itself together, the meat has picked itself up out of the doldrums and it becomes a once-in-a-year treat. If it's raining and you have to stay indoors add a little bacon and make a turkey club. Put some cute toothpicks in it! And if you didn't have a left-over turkey, how could you pick out the remains of the stuffing that's hiding next to the leg or way in the back? Cold or warmed with left-over gravy...not too shabby. No one has ever claimed that left-over turkey was heaven on earth, but if you really are sick of it or it's just too dry after a night in the fridge it's easily tossed into the soup pot along with the carcass, no? Truthfully I'm ho-hum about turkey. My husband and I make a very good turkey after about 20 years or practice, but it isn't the turkey that inspires me--what I'm really after is the carcass. Luckily my husband and his mother carve off and covet the meat; I 'm thrilled they want it, since every slice gets me a little closer to the bone. Saturday night I make stock. Sunday night I make turkey soup. Nothing tastes quite like it. Fabulous.

eG is truly amazing. I think of squirrels as enemies and have put a great deal of time into figuring out how to thwart their interest in my bird feeders and my bird nesting boxes. At one point I was so beside myself I thought of getting a small gun or a bazooka to end their happy lives, but I never once considered eating them. No more would I eat a rat or a cockroach. I even found it disgusting that tourists wanted to stand in the middle of San Marco with 30 pigeons crawling on their heads and arms, which isn't really related much to my point. It was my understanding--gleaned from a hysterical and awe-inspiring article in the New Yorker many years ago--that among those who do hunt and eat squirrel, the best part is the brain. I know that a lot of consideration is given to the best way to bang the squirrel's head against a rock. I wish I had that article now, since I can't quite remember whether the idea there was to deliver the final blow without over-scrambling the brain or to crack open the head enough to suck it out on the spot. Bon appetit!

I will describe the madeleine of my childhood. I can't remember what they were called and I haven't seen them for a million years. I grew up on the East Coast but haven't lived there for 40 years. My mother would buy these almost every week during the 50's and perhaps the early 6O's. What were they called and do they still exist? Here goes: They came in a large flat grid, and were easily broken apart into separate cookies like large tiles--maybe square, maybe rectangular, I'm not sure. The "grout" line was relatively wide and easy to break. The cookie was a very simple, waferish thing with a taste maybe resembling an ice-cream cone (not a sugar cone, the other kind.) There was a smooth peanut butter filling inside. The filled cookie was no more than a half inch thick, uniformly smooth and level on both sides. I believe they were sold in a plastic wrapper, not a box. I don't remember ever seeing this cookie with any variations--i.e. no choc coating, no crunchy style, no nuthin' but perfectly basic. And basically perfect. I would not be at all surprised to find they don't taste as good as I remember, but it's driving me nuts that I can't name them.

Last night I made Devil's Chicken and it was a major hit with my husband and daughter. Having a kid who survives on dorm food and caffeinated drinks is a sure way to get appreciated for a nice home-cooked meal. I confess that I cut the amount of pepper in the mustard slather by a lot, but made up for it with liberal used of the hot oil later. I also used a big chicken--5 lbs--and tented it for the first half hour, adding as well a little chicken broth to the roasting pan at the beginning. I ended up with lots of yummy sauce. The chicken was juicy and perfect and the dish was as pretty as the pictures. The caponata with tuna looks delicious, Tupac. But tell me, what do you think I should do with the six gallons of hot oil left over?

Despite some wildly divergent opinions here I'm getting a sense of how important veal stock is to me personally--a cook of modest skills and even more modest ambition. I don't make sauces ordinarily; I do make lots of soups for which I make my own stocks: chicken, beef and combinations thereof with various types of bones. Whenever I buy veal knuckle bones I split them with my dog; she gets one and I throw one into the pot for no good reason, actually, except that one more bone can't hurt. It sounds like making a stock with veal bones results in something most useful as a texture additive for sauces without imparting too strong of a beefy flavor. So, this has definitely been a useful read for me. I am completely unqualified to comment on either the book or the virtues of veal stock. Did I detect some ruffled feathers? Let me suggest we all hoist a few Dirty Bulls as featured in today's NYT style section. This strange cocktail could just as easily be called the Laughing Calf and yes, I did laugh. Veal stock and enough salt to curdle your cud--in a martini? I would be more inclined to dump mine in the soup pot. Cheers!

I'm sure Margo's husband isn't loud. If he was squawking and complaining the whole time she would return him. I have a 10-yr old Kitchenaid which is not terribly quiet, doesn't clean the dishes very well, and has a shallow upper shelf that does a poor job of securing wineglasses. I'm just being patient and waiting for it to completely busticate. If I were shopping for a new dishwasher now I would take a wineglass with me and see how it fits for depth and snugness.

One more vote for Bombay (not Sapphire) when it comes to a basic martini that doesn't break the bank. I don't find it "masculine." I think of Junipero and Tanqueray as masculine and too overpowering for a martini. I also like a gin no one has mentioned and indeed doesn't seem widely available, and that's a London gin called Juniper Green. It happens to be organic, for what that's worth. It's delicate and very nice for a martini. For gin & tonics perhaps a bolder gin is better? I haven't found one I really like. We've used Tanqueray but it's kinda klutzy I think. I haven't tried Plymouth or Hendricks; anyone able to describe them?

I've taken to adding chocolate to any pot of chile with a red chile base. I suppose that's a cousin to mole, although the result is not identifiably chocolate-y as it is with mole. I don't think most people would ever guess, but it definitely does a subtle thing. Works great with black beans. (I also add a short cup of strong black coffee to same; for some reason that's especially good in chile that has pork instead of beef.) When I add chocolate I use unsweetened cocoa, mix it to a slurry with a little water and just enough sugar to make it interesting but not very sweet. Green & Black's organic cocoa is my current favorite. I also added a small amount to braised short ribs that had tomatoes in the sauce, but I was very timid about it and I couldn't even tell if it made a difference. I considered adding a little bit to a roasted tomato soup but then lost my nerve. That might work really well if you have some kind of spicy garnish on the soup, like maybe floating toasts with smudge of harissa aioli on them? But there it is again-- the chocolate/chile connection. It's hard to imagine what in the savory world besides tomatoes has a natural affinity for chocolate, but if you look at the Nutella threads people combine that with all kinds of wacky stuff. I like Nutella with salted peanut butter, so there must be a whole world out there that capitalizes on the chocolate/salt relationship; it's just ready to stick its leg out and trip the salted caramels.

Can anyone clarify some definitions? What exactly is a demi-glace? Google/Wiki has some contradictory info. Some sources say a demi-glace is a reduction of combined beef and veal stock. Others imply that it is a blend of veal stock and brown sauce. As step #1 of our thanksgiving gravy, my husband and I have always made a brown sauce using an old James Beard recipe which specifies as an ingredient beef bouillon. What exactly is bouillon? Is it basically a reduction of beef stock? Would any intense stock be an equivalent? Last year, in an attempt to get away from any canned and over-salted products we subbed some flavorful beef stock we had frozen earlier. It was fine, but I am thinking that a rich or reduced veal stock might be even better (not that I plan on making it myself.) What do you think?

Scallops and banana bread. Those are the only things I can think of that are generally considered appealing that I really don't like. All other bivalves: bring 'em on. I love raw oysters but I don't much care for them cooked as in chowder. Also I am not fond of really rare lamb, as in leg of, but a small med-rare grilled lamb chop I can get into. I don't like liver, brussels sprouts, or pastis, but generally those are not considered things you are "supposed to like" so I don't think they qualify (well, okay, I know I'm gonna catch a lot of grief about the pastis.) I also don't think crummy junk food or most fast food qualifies either. That isn't a category or a food--typically it's just cheap ingredients poorly prepared. Two treats from my childhood that were rare and coveted: caviar and bone marrow. I love them both; caviar with vodka and bone marrow with salt on fresh rye bread. Oh, not to be wet blanket, but honestly it would be prudent and polite not to compare foods you don't like to something clearly disgusting and negative. Keep it to yourself! Play nice.

Dunno! The texture was fine, they were cooked to the right degree of doneness--knife-tender as you say--and the dish looked lovely in the serving bowl. As far as I know I followed the direx closely, didn't make any gross errors or omissions. I cook with fresh chokes a lot, all seasons, and sometimes they are more flavorful than other times, but I've never had a "bad batch" so I doubt the vegetable was at fault. This method of cooking just didn't seem to bring out the best in artichoke flavor. Maybe it just isn't a good recipe? No one (except of course my husband after the guests were gone) said a critical word about them, but no one said anything good either, and there was some leftover--never a good sign when it comes to a small veg side-dish. I choked those down (aww) the next day out of principle. It was simply... underwhelming. You make it and lemme know what you think.

That chicken is inspiring. My kid comes home from college this weekend and perhaps I will make it! I am relatively new to eG and was pleased to see this thread, since I am very fond of this book. I have no other Mario cookbooks; I've looked at them but Molto Italiano appeals in its simplicity. I've made many of the recipes and so far only one has been a failure. Currently I am completely enamored of that simple little clementine dessert w/balsamic and pepper. I have citrus cravings in the afternoon and this is just perfect. Kevin, about problematic: has anyone made the radicchio pancakes? There's a wacky mistake in the recipe. Maybe he has a lazy editor. The ingredients list calls for 4 tbsps unsalted butter. In the direx there isn't a single mention of this butter. That's fine with me, since I try to avoid butter, but what would it be for? I ignore it and they are wonderful, with or without the ricotta salata. I usually have radicchio and eggs around, so this is a perfect emergency meal. I have made the mostarda several times and served it as an app w/the suggested coppa, always to rave reviews. Recently I served a splurge dinner of the veal shanks and it was really easy (albeit absurdly expensive) and really excellent. I find his simple tomato sauce with thyme incredibly versatile. I keep it frozen and use it for all kinds of stuff--like the cauliflower soup and the shanks, but also for my own lasagne and eggplant parm. The failure, by the way, was the Artichokes Roman Style. It was labor intensive and no one liked it. Could have been lousy artichokes, but I don't think so. Maybe I like artichokes better when sauteed til crispy instead of simmered as these are done. I like his tomato sauce on pasta topped with crispy artichoke hearts.

And they all originated on the island of Tangerina, no? At least that's what I remember from "My Father's Dragon," my childhood bible. I thought a tangelo was a cross between a tangerine and an orange, not a grapefruit. If so it should be called a tangeluit, altho that would trip up first-time pronouncers. It certainly doesn't taste or look like it has a grapefruit for a parent. Early this summer at the Berkeley Farmers' market someone was selling a small object which was labeled "mandarin/tangelo hybrid." I told them they should call it a mangelo and they looked at me like I was nuts. Speaking of clementines, I just discovered a really fun way to eat them a la Batali. He sections them, drops a coupla teaspoons of balsamic vinegar on, a sprinkle of sugar and then a grind of fresh pepper. It's really awfully yummy--and takes four seconds. I used a relatively sweet fig balsamic. He suggests it as a dessert, I'm into it for an afternoon snack.

I imagine that most owners of bars and restaurants have extremely strong personal feelings about the atmosphere they want to create; whether or not they are realistic or correct about their clientele only time will tell. Recently my family and I left a crowded restaurant within about two minutes of sitting down. We had reservations and had heard only great things about the food. We just didn't like the atmosphere. It was cramped, super noisy, with very uncomfortable seating. When we mentioned the noise level to the waitress she shrugged and said that was how they liked it, that they were trying to create an atmosphere where people were having a good time. Indeed, it seemed like they were. I was put off, but my husband reminded me that that was their right and that this type of "buzz by design" is more and more common. We could stay for nothing but the promise of good food, or we could leave and find something more comfortable and conducive to talk. I'm sure Mike could have found a much friendlier way of discouraging your laptop use and not lose a potential customer or get talked about online, but perhaps he was thrown by it, or perhaps he is socially awkward. Not a great trait for the owner of a bar. If you care enough you could go back without the laptop some evening and chat him up about it. It does occur to me though that using a laptop in an eating establishment after work hours may not be looked on kindly except in the most low-key neighborhood type of place. A laptop has too much soothing click and not enough buzz. Perhaps you were nursing where you were supposed to be nursed.

Radicchio. Cut roughly, saute a few minutes, add a little salt and pepper and minced garlic, saute another minute, remove. Top the pizza. My absolute favorite. Fresh artichoke hearts, saute first as well. Sweet onions, sliced very thin and carmelized slowly before topping. Swiss Chard. Saute first with garlic. Mixed peppers of all colors, done same way. Okay, now you can all start to laugh: chunks of fresh pineapple. Hawaiian Pizza minus the ham. We started doing this when our daughter was young and anti-green stuff. I'm not a veg but for some reason I prefer meatless pizza. Husband and daughter sometimes got some Canadian bacon or some such thing on their half, and they were happy, but I think that the pineapple can stand on its own. I admit I have never had the nerve to serve it to grown-up guests, but once in a while it's very fun! If you haven't had Hawaiian Pizza for a zillion years this will definitely send you into a reverie. Well, only if you liked it as a kid. If your guests eat seafood but not meat, clam or mussel pizza is yummy. We now prebake our crust on the stone for a few minutes, then remove and top w/tomato sauce, mozz and veggies and put back in the oven for another few minutes. After recent experiments with pre-baking I'm convinced it's a great thing if you like a crispy thin-crust pizza and don't have an oven that gets hotter than 500 degrees. If using tomato sauce this method helps prevent any sogginess and also keeps the toppings from over-cooking.

Marry me, HV. I fractured my arm and that's the only laugh I've had in three days. Until I saw your slow-roast post I was considering cooking our 28 lb turkey sous vide. I have a plastic bag originally used for a queen down comforter, so that should be big enough. I am planning to do it in the bathtub, keeping the water heater turned all the way up. Do you think that would work? Now I'm having doubts. And yes, it isn't easy to keyboard, let alone manhandle a turkey. For many years I have adopted my sister-in-law's method for turkey, which she claims is straight-ahead Nashville style. We call it "Shake-a-leg Molly." After stuffing every conceivable pocket or cavity and neatly sewing up the bird, place it on a rack in the pan and cover the top half with a double-layer of cheesecloth. Rub with an obscene amount of butter, then sprinkle on lots of salt, garlic powder and paprika. Tent w/foil, add a coupla cups water or broth to the bottom of the pan, and cook at 425 about 15 min per pound, basting after the first hour (although usually it doesn't take quite as long as the math would indicate.) The tent comes off and so does the cheesecloth (carefully) when there's about a half hour left of time, depending upon how brown the turkey is. Molly, now a vegetarian, does indeed come into the kitchen to shake the leg and invariably pronounces that it needs another half hour. This causes an argument between me and my husband, who have different priorities vis-a-vis light and dark meat. However, I always win, and in fact the breast meat is pretty moist and the dark meat is tender and thoroughly cooked. It also comes out dark golden and crispy skinned, very pretty. Is this really a known method and is it in any way traditional Tennessee or southern style? Just curious. And I was stretching the truth about the turkey--it's usually around 17 lbs, fresh, from a small independent Northern California farm, but not a heritage turkey.

I never imagined there were so many ways to pronounce one simple word; where else but eGullet? But thanks for this thread. Now I know we weren't making some hideous mess out of the word when we were in Provence recently, since several posters have confirmed that indeed it isn't a common aperitif in bars or cafes in France. My husband speaks pretty good French, but all the waiters were confounded when he ordered it. We gave up and instead got into drinking Porto, chilled, and then into Martini Rosso over ice with a slice of orange; both drinks have now become my new favorite warm-weather starters. I was introduced to Lillet by a friend who likes to add a splash of lemon juice and a twist of same. My husband likes to make a drink called a Corpse Reviver, which uses equal parts of gin, triple sec, Lillet Blonde and lemon juice. The recipe (from Gary Regan's Mixology) also calls for a drop of absinthe. We subbed Pastis; he likes more anise flavor, I like less. It's a very fun drink, altho the revival potential is lost on me---but then, I'm still alive. Absinthe, however, according to today's NYT, has been revived.

Ling, Vengroff, I never did follow up on my recent trip to WW. Here are a few observations. I checked out the salumeria where Ling found the delicious Petit Jesu. The owner is very nice, a transplant from my neck of the woods, the Bay Area. He has some wonderful meats and cheeses from a variety of places. In the East Bay certain sources seem to be shut out, so I've never before tasted anything from the Batali operation in Seattle--that was really interesting. I also had some fabulous Oregon and Washington cheeses I hadn't tasted either. We ate at 26 Brix and my steak was excellent; tasty and cooked just right for me. I thought my meal was the best--husband and daughter didn't order steak. We also had a reservation one night at Saffron. I have a daughter (student at Whitman) who has a very sophisticated palate but who has also acquired a philosphy that doesn't favor spending a lot of money on food--even when her parents are spending it. Admirable on the whole, but it can be annoying. In addition, she gets overstimulated and can't relax or have a good time if there's too much attitude or racket. Saffron has both. We walked in at about 7:30--all tables except ours were taken--and the noise was horrendous. In addition the chairs were so hard and uncomfortable my daughter balked and we left for a more subdued experience elsewhere. Had the weather been better and had it been daylight I can imagine sitting outside would have been great. This is a restaurant designed with a capital BUZZ in mind--a fact that the waitress had no hesitation confirming; she admitted it was noisy on purpose. It's the "anti-cozy" theory--high ceiling, tight seating, sound reverberating. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, but we really wanted to talk to our kid! Some other time we'll go without her. Two mornings we picked up our NYT at Starbucks and then made a bee-line for the Colville Patisserie. Lovely place! The coffee was delicious and the cakes looked unbelievable. I think I am going to order a cake there for my daughter's birthday. Having just returned the week before from France, I will recuse myself from the croissant-judging.

What is the Feast of Seven Fishes? It sounds yummy. Are there even seven fishes left that aren't toxic or endangered?

My husband and I made lemon curd for many years until I got sick of it and also had to start watching my cholesterol. We tasted many commercial and artisanal curds and we always felt this one compared well. It is an easy recipe and very reliable; believe me, if it was a delicate operation we would be divorced by now. We never used a thermometer. The proportions and timing were arrived at after years of tweaking. It's quite tart. We experimented with using limes instead of lemons and cutting back the amount of sugar, and that wasn't half bad. This recipe yields approx 3 half-pint jars with a few tablespoons left over. The result is very spreadable, medium stiff. Perhaps if you want it very stiff you could cook it another five minutes. The consistency would work for a lemon tart I think, but we mainly used it as a spread for toast. 7/8 cup lemon juice (from 4 or 5 lemons--not meyer--way too sweet) fine zest from 3 of the lemons 4.5 medium-large eggs (okay I know that's a bit strange, but there it is) 1 stick sweet butter 1.5 cup plus 3T sugar Sterilize jars as you like. Grate lemon rind, eliminating all pith, set aside. Squeeze lemons and strain the juice to get 7/8 c. Beat the eggs (I would beat 5 and then pour off what I guessed was about a half an egg. My husband learned to look the other way. When he used all 5 eggs I thought the end product was too eggy.) In a double boiler melt the butter, keeping the water at a modest simmer. When just melted add sugar, juice, zest. When warm but not too hot, add the beaten eggs--all at once, not slowly, so you keep them from cooking too quickly. Simmer uncovered over medium or med-low heat, stirring constantly, about 20 minutes, til smooth and creamy. The consistency may look questionnable the first 10 minutes, but keep stirring and have faith. It should end up smooth and creamy. Ladle into jars. Keeps 2 months in the fridge.