Alcuin

I've always thought that it was mainly because French cuisine is fairly rigidly structured with standard techniques and preparations nearly exhaustively articulated. So you can learn it, just as you say, in a structured way, all the way to the top. If you mean it is a "mother" cuisine from which other cuisines have taken their own foundations, I don't see it as the foundation for something like Italian cuisine or Spanish, though, because I think they developed foundations (traditional style and ways of doing things) of their own. Is the foundation of "American" cuisine (if we think of one and not many American cuisines), then maybe French supplies a tradition for fine dining food where there isn't one (though the relationship between American regional food and American fine dining food is interesting too).

From what I've seen, you velvet the meat, cook the aromatics and build the sauce, then add the meat back in to cook just done. This is done in minutes, and the meat is fully cooked anyway. I'm not sure about restaurants holding half-cooked meat, but I doubt it because it wouldn't really save much time (especially with vats of oil used to quickly velvet meat readily available). I've been doing this for a while and have never gotten sick.

Ummm, 'Green Chartruese tastes like Hell'? Really? Please...as in Two, please. ← I cringed at that too, but I figure she was just hamming it up. Either that or she's never had a Sam Ward.

Sweet sweet Oberon. Twohearted is my favorite, but Oberon's got the goods. I drink mainly local (WI) beers, but I go to Kzoo once a year for about 3-4 days, every night of which is spent at Bell's, sweet sweet Bell's.

You say that liking a hotdog and fine dining aren't mutually exclusive, but following the guidelines you're staking out here they are. If I say "coffee and donuts" from Keller are good and I say the coffee and donuts from my local diner are good, are you saying that I don't have integrity? I wouldn't expect a person to scratch his/her head when I said that, because it's pretty obvious that I don't mean they're "good" in the same way. If I wrote an essay about how ironic, fun, and creative the coffee and donuts I got at the diner were, people would likely scratch their heads. If I wrote an essay about how I went to FL because I was hungry and decided to pull off the road to get some grub, people would scratch their heads. We have different expectations about different experiences and therefore we have different criteria for judging whether they're "good" or not.

It makes sense to me. If we assume that she does like the burger (which we don't have to), then the premise of the ad works: I've traveled the world, tasted lots of things, and even still there's something about a burger with bacon on it that keeps on calling me. People are sometimes surprised, though they shouldn't be, that I like a hot dog or piece of pizza as much as I like fine dining. I have different criteria for thinking about hot dogs and truffle explosions. Both to my mind they can both be called "great." The criteria changes, so that might mean something different in some respects (though not others), but I don't see a problem with it. I'd do this commercial in a heartbeat. How is it selling out when people have been waxing poetic about bacon for years (even if that's an old chestnut by now)? She says she's tasted everything and still loves bacon. I'd say the same thing.

You could unroll, line with pancetta, garlic, herbs (parsley, etc), cracked black pepper, re-roll then braise in tomatoes and red wine. Then you get a delicious sauce for pasta or beans and a little for slices of the meat.

I wonder if this would make it easier to freeze too. I've frozen wine in cubes and you can never quite freeze it all the way so it's a bit messy. If you cook the wine off, this might not happen. Next time...

In addition to the little white part, could it be the amount of white used? My girlfriend noticed this and told me about it and I started using less egg white, trying to approximate the kinds of smaller eggs used back in the day (I keep large eggs in the house). When I use less egg, there's no smell. It could just be that separating it gets rid of the white part that Toby's talking about though too. Either way, it works for me.

If I had a country, that would be my flag.

Why cringe? "Authentic," maybe it isn't, but delicious--it is. It's one way of making noodles with "dan dan noodles" ingredients. The dry noodles are still delicious too, sometimes I just want a little soup.

That says "salted radish" but I thought it was the leafy tops that are called for usually in dan dan noodles. I know there is no one recipe for dan dan mien, so is the use of the root a variation here? There's a good youtube video made by a person name Yeqiang on the noodles (here's a link to part one: ( ), with a separate one on the pork mixture (. Her dan dan noodles are brothy, which I like sometimes. But sometimes I like them drier.

Thanks for the info. From what little I had of it, I really want some but I don't think I'll be finding it around these parts either.

I went to The Violet Hour for the first time Saturday. I'd been anticipating going there for a loooong time, so I had great expectations. Of course, I was not disappointed. We arrived at around 7 and had to wait only a short time to get in and we actually got a seat at the bar which I was sorely hoping for. First, I had a Velvet Fog and my girlfriend had an Eyes Wide. I found the Velvet Fog a bit sweet and I wanted some more bitter to it, but I think that's just my idiosyncratic taste (I likes it dry). The drink was fantastic though and I loved the way the creme de cacao and the nocino underscored aspects of the whiskey. The Eye's Wide was serendipitous: the menu didn't list ginger in the drink, but it tasted a lot like ginger (we asked and found out there's ginger juice in it). This was lucky because she loves ginger (she eat ginger candy all the time and I add extra ginger to dishes for her) so she would definitely have ordered it. I loved the way the grapefruit mixed with the whiskey brought out what I'd have to (maybe strangely) say was a kind of over-ripe fruityness (found in great quantities in a Ward 8, eg) that was a wonderful undertone to the drink. I then had a Hollands sazerac (maybe I should have ordered another drink off the list, but I saw there was a Hollands OF on offer and I couldn't resist--I can't easily get Hollands where I live) which was excellent and my girlfriend had a Tax the Dandy which was fantastic. The Ramazotti seemed to be the prime mover of this drink, but all the elements combined so harmoniously that nothing took over but everything was there. It was a perfect balance. I wish I could have had more drinks, but I had dinner reservations. Even though it was a busy Saturday night, our bartender Kyle talked with us about mixing with Hollands gin, the origins of Old Tom, and he even showed us some kind of gin that seemed to have some age on it (it was dark in color), had some body, but had some definite citrus and juniper notes. I can't remember what it was called (does anyone know?). He even gave us a taste of it when my girlfriend asked. While I was waiting to get in, I overheard a party talking about drinks. One person had been to TVH before and another hadn't. The latter was a bit hesitant and had definite ideas about what she liked, even though it was obvious she hadn't really tried much. The other person though was giving her an education, explaining what bitters were and how she'd had notions about different spirits that her experiences at TVH had debunked. I'm really happy to know that places like TVH exist not only to delight but also to educate: we need more places like this in the world.

I also had a short food-filled stay in Chicago this past weekend. We ate at Tru and North Pond. The food at Tru was excellent but there were a number of service hiccups that got in the way a few times. We arrived early for our 9:15 reservation and weren't seated until 9:30. Then, having ordered, we asked to consult with the sommelier over a wine choice to go with our meal. We waited and waited for him to arrive, which he finally did. Unfortunately right after he left (within one minute) our first course arrived and we were still wineless. Fortunately (!) they had mixed up my girlfriend's order and sent out the wrong plate, saving us from sitting there wondering where our wine was while we ate. For this mix up, they did send us out an extra course of gnocchi, spinach, and morels that was well-made and delicious. We ordered prix fixe because it was late, we'd just come from The Violet Hour, and we wanted choices especially for dessert. When it came for us to order dessert we ordered a chocolate souffle which we decided to split and a cheese plate that we would split. Having selected our cheeses though, we were informed that the souffle was unavailable so we ordered two desserts. We wouldn't have done this if we'd known the souffle was unavailable because we were already verging on being overfull with the addition of the gnocchi course. All in all, the food at Tru was delicious: I had Beef Tartare (theirs was a good example), Lobster tagliatelle (the tagliatelle didn't do much, but the lobster was incredible), Gnocchi, spinach, and morels (delicious, if not extraordinary), and a hazelnut themed dessert with concord grape sorbet (I was a bit full and this dessert was heavy so I don't remember much of it). My girlfriend had a Foie gras torchon with accompaniments (she really liked it), the gnocchi dish, Duck with chard, mushrooms and wild rice (she said it was well-made, if not extraordinary), and grapefruit sorbet (she loved this dessert). The candy cart at the end of the meal is a nice touch and we enjoyed a delicious takeaway apple cake the next morning. I couldn't help compare my experience here with my experience at Alinea about a year ago--I found Alinea to be flawless in terms of service and food (which was consistently exciting). Maybe comparing prix fixe to a tasting at Alinea is a bit apples to oranges, but still. We also had brunch at North Pond. We were initially seated out of the way in a booth, but my girlfriend requested a window seat and we got one in a few minutes. I can't believe the view of this restaurant--it is spectacular, even in early leaf-less spring. The food was also delicious from beginning to end--the only thing that wasn't was the coffee that was weak and tasted cheap. Overall, though, we had an incredible brunch--I love the style of the place from the decor to the super fresh, pure flavors of the food. It was the best brunch I've ever had--the setting, food, and (most importantly) the company were perfect.

The Harry's Savoy in the waterfront area is decent--I'd forgotten about it and it was somewhat new when I was leaving (it's a second location for them, their main one is on Naamans Rd (I think) outside the city. If I recall correctly, it's focused on seafood. From what I remember (I'm sure there's more) there was also a Joe's Crab shack and a Big Kahuna (woooo!) down there. One reason for the dearth of good spots in Wilmington is that I think people go to Philly, DC, and NYC (that's what I did). Philly's so close that it's competition and places in Wilmington can't really compete.

I haven't lived there since 2005, so my info might be a bit outdated. The food scene in Wilmington was pretty lame back then and I would suspect it remains lame now, but maybe not. Wilmington is a city where people work and flee: much of the downtown area shuts down after business hours end. I'd suggest Mikimotos on 1212 N Washington St: it should be pretty close to your hotel, maybe half a mile. They do a kind of "pan-asian" food adjusted for the American palate and they have decent sushi. Their menu is big, so it could satisfy a group with diverse tastes. I've had some good meals there: nothing that will blow you away, but good. The Washington St Ale House is right next to Mikimotos and is owned by the same people. I've never been there, but I imagine it's decent, like Mikimotos.

Well, without getting too far off topic, there's journalism and there's journalism. 60 Minutes is not a passive transmitter of Alice Waters and her project. I don't think they did Waters' project justice by casting it under a shadow of incredulity which is not the same thing as "asking the tough questions" and it's not constructive. On the other hand, I don't think Waters is the best spokesperson for the job: the mayor of San Francisco and Michelle Obama are better. This is an important issue and one that many people in this economic climate might think isn't as immediately important as eGulleters do. This isn't on the radar for a lot of people who might otherwise be interested in it. There are tough questions to be asked about it, but that's not really what Stahl seemed to be interested in, so then what was the point of her segment? Why sandwich the Edible Schoolyard between shots of her buying expensive products and cooking breakfast in a hearth in her kitchen? She was content to sit back, let Waters cook her an egg, and then look askance at the whole thing. Both Stahl and Waters end up, in my opinion, casting it all in a bad light. Good thing Michelle Obama's there to do it justice.

Now that I'm thinking about it again, an ungenerous reading of the "journalism" in this video would be that 60 Minutes is indulging in a bit of cheap populism here. It's too easy to make Alice Waters look like elitist in many ways (which, to my mind, she does seem to be to an extent) so why not hold up the figure of an elitist who pays quadruple for grapes and seems to think everybody should. In this economic climate, that's a narrative people might be hungry for (sorry for the pun!) and one that does damage to the real message: food matters and is important for environmental as well as cultural reasons even in these tough times. All this segment does is say "no" to problems that can't be shoved under the carpet or ideas (like the Edible Schoolyard) that might be worth considering seriously.

This analogy between "modern art" and nouvelle cuisine works. Art produced now is called "contemporary" and the word "modern" has a very specific meaning and refers to a particular historical period, just like nouvelle cuisine does. I don't think we'd call anything we'd brand as nouvelle cuisine "contemporary."

Why should gardening and cooking be any different as far as earning credits than home economics and wood shop once were? ← That is the question. If Stahl is so concerned with efficient use of public money for education, she might consider the fact that cultivation and preparation of food can easily do some of the things that both gym and home ec could do while engaging the students in science, math, reading (recipes and their interpretation), and artistic creativity. That sounds like a mighty efficient use of public money to me, but Stahl didn't seem to be in thinking mode here--she struck me as purely reactionary. edited for clarity

Interesting video. To me the interview looked like two ideologues locked in mortal battle. Two telling moments: when Waters pronounced the idea of using a microwave unthinkable and when Stahl stridently questioned the kids on the value of learning how to garden and cook for school credit. Both of these moments seem out of touch to me, on opposite sides of the problem. Ultimately, I'm on board with Waters' project. I think the "Edible Schoolyard" idea is self-evidently valuable, but on the other hand it would be difficult to get that into every school program. I like the fact that she's trying though and I really hope this picks up some steam. Charges of elitism against her, seem to be kind of accurate, but that's ok too. On the other hand, that's why I don't really think she's the best spokesperson for her own agenda. The mayor of San Fransisco made his point more succinctly and forcefully. Stahl's ultra-pragmatic stance, wherein she appears baffled by everything that Waters is about, is not very helpful though. Why is it ok to treat as a journalist to treat your subject like a yes or no question?

How about by the spokes of a wheel. But seriously, I think this book will be useful to some people. Thinking in terms of ratios is a powerful way to think about cooking and its a way most beginning cooks don't naturally think about the process of cooking. It's really basic, just like much of the content of _Elements_ was. I think it's a good idea for the serious beginner. That said, there's of course a lot more to cooking then what you put in it, but "elements" and "ratios" are a good place to start. Technique, well that's another can of worms altogether.

When I first saw this I thought it would be too simplistic to require a book length discussion. If the idea is that "ratios are the secret to cooking," that doesn't seem to useful and it seems constraining. But I don't think I'm the audience for such a book because I've cooked enough and paid enough attention to it that my head is full of usable ratios or I automatically break recipes down into ratios myself anyway. For me, I always start by thinking of a standard (be it a ratio or a formula--I'd argue that ratios aren't the master code behind cooking, just one useful way to think of it) and then tweak it according to what the ingredients need or what I want to do. I know a lot of people though who don't cook (or obsess about cooking) as much as I do and don't think in terms of ratios at all so they have a hard time when it comes to understanding how recipes work and how to improvise upon them. I suspect this book would be good for them. I found most parts of The Elements of Cooking weren't for me either--but they'd work for a different audience, like someone just becoming serious about cooking.

Even though I probably shouldn't, I'm going to speculate on how writing/reading practices will change as a result of technological advance (something that has been constantly occurring for as long as the technology of writing has existed). I can't count the number of times a week I'm reading a book and instinctively think to use it's search engine to find something, only to realize I'm stuck with an index that may or may not be well constructed or no index at all. Certain index-dependent kinds of books, such as recipe compendia like _The Joy of Cooking_, will probably become or be superseded by internet versions that are fully searchable. I think that books that have a unifying principle (a theme or an author) will still work better in some ways than an internet counterpart could because books can still structure a reading experience better to provide a richer combination of guidance and exploration. The market for cookbooks will be smaller, but I think it will still exist for a while (how's that for a statement of the obvious).