maggiethecat

q: Thanks for the reviews of both the art and the food. The exhibition's worth the trip, I see. God. Haven't eaten at Neuvo Leon for yonks. Possible non-official Chiago Chapter lunch in there?

Can't we all be friends? Both, please.

No, you are not alone. The Brussel Sprout is one veg that seems to have been ignored, mostly, by food scientists, geneticists, etc. They still have that crazy sprout taste and texture. Like adorable, cuddly baby cabbages. But all that cabbage taste is sweeter and more intense. Pasta sauce. Hmmmm.

Thanks! Haven't seen it either.

Actually, Sorel boots, big S. Name after Sorel, the town in Quebec in which they were invented, or manufactured. Sorry to be pedantic. I just happen to know this one.

I wish I had written this, Snowangel. Every word true and pure. Sprouts are like edible (and cuter) Bells of Ireland.

Well..I'll drink most stuff. Don't have the palate or the bucks you have, dear Tommy! The chardonnay was picked out of nowhere. Still prefer the vermouth. Go on: Try It! Please say you'll respect me in the morning. Prefer whites in tomato based sauces. But hey, red's good too. And although I can usually find something better in my kitchen, my husband's Nonna made ragu to die for, and simple pomodoro, with a gallon jug of Gallo.

My short answer is: whatever you have handy. Why? 'Coz it's handy! And in a tomato-based sauce, why waste the good stuff? My fall-back white wine for cooking is white Vermouth. But in a pasta sauce, you might want something less assertive. One of those Chilean Chardonnays? Or whatever you have an inch leftover from last night.

Mon cher, That would be a lot of bagels! And you're right. We have a lot of excellent Mexican here. When next you come by, let us eGulleteers in Chicago know. Maybe we can get together. If you haven't figured it out already, you will. eGullet isn't just a food site, it's a way of life. And we love to meet each other and eat. And talk.

So Tommy my dear, how much of a kickback is Jason giving you? And I absolutely agree with you. eGullet forever!

Identifier and quanneur: Welcome. And why don't you post your bios on the bio thread? You are making an ex-Montreal girl incredibly nostalgic. Trust me, here in the great city of Chicago I have yet to find a bagel which comes even close to the bagels , which, in my student days at McGill I scarfed at 6:00 am. On Durocher? Pins? (Sidebar: Is Pines Pizza still there?) Thanks to Leslie for bringing in so many Montrealers. And yes, Montrealers work to live. Perhaps alone in North America.

Tommy: You are so wrong! The pic was great. And the chops look wonderful. 'Ya did good. I think I might make your dish tomorrow. Thanks.

Well, dear Tommy, not from a dearth of suggestions. With sprouts, as others have said, slightly overcooked is better than slightly undercooked. Let us crazy B. sprout fanatics know what happened.

Two skins? Not sure 'bout that, but it's true that some turnips have thickesh skins. And sometimes the crust of a roasted turnip pulls away from the meat of the t'nip, so it looks as if some skin has been left on. Never found it a problem. Just peel well.

Yes! Thanks, Joe. It's been a long time since I did this, and it it wonderful. Maybe tonight.

Just looked at one recipe. Er, Creamy Thighs. Again, all sweet and nasty. Blechhhhh! Hmmmm. "Sweet and nasty." The third eGullet cocktail. Or maybe a new sig line.

Everything Nightscottie said. But don't simply saute them in bacon fat, add the crumbled bacon.. Pretty good as well with some thinly sliced apple and/or pear sauteing along with them. I've always been afraid to bake them because I fear that they would get overbrown and funky tasting. Zenfoodist might have the right idea, viz: blanching them first. If you ever see them growing, they are the dang cuteset things. Imagine a plant that looks like the Green Giant's arm, covered with tiny tiny cabbagey things. Hm....I hit a thousand posts today. Gaining on you, toms!

Ramen noodles straight from the pack, uncooked, unflavoured. ( I kinda like them this way!)

Hmmm. The Slippery Slope. Next exclusive eGullet cocktail?

Men, too. We all -- men and women, and we were all old enough to know better, but it had been a very rough few months, and we needed to blow off some steam -- kind of walked around looking at nothing but our shoes for a couple of days. Figuratively, anyway. Philosophy and stress-relief aside, did Slippery Nipples make it as a cocktail? Nevermind. Your posts provide the answer.

To : 1) Absolutely. And funny. 2)Chicks who make a habit of imbibing sweet drinks are on the slippery slope. Need drinking lessons.

Obviously, you needed my parents' drinking lessons. No butterscotch/alcohol combos. Ever! Well, not out of a glass. (And may I mention, Slippery Nipples is in the top five list for most offensive drink names. I am shocked and appalled! )

From How we ate growing up, here's part of maggiethecat's post: I'd love to learn more about this. For you, Rachel, anything. Backstory. We were solid middle class with (fairly valid) pretentions. My parents believed then, as now, in the end of a day being a time of rest, wit and celebration. My father kept his tie on when he returned from work, and my mother always slipped into something sexier than her daytime garb. Makeup and perfume. (BTW, when my cousin Kim caught them in a darn steamy embrace last March, she rolled her eyes. "Auntie Marilyn and Uncle Ian. The impossible mark beside which other relationships are judged!") Cocktail hour was as important as a canonical hour in a monastery. Work was done, dinner simmered. The younger kids got a bowl of chips and were allowed to watch TV. Downstairs. I believe that I had, somehow, mentioned that a girlfriend had drunk a rum and coke and liked it. From that day on, I was not eating chips and watching Roger Moore in "Ivanhoe," a Brit TV series that might have been his first job. I was upstairs with the parents and had to discuss politics, literature and music. And learn how to drink. They started slowly, with drinks my grandmothers liked. Sherry and Dubonnet. In small quantities. But I was getting the idea that a glass of sherry could make me more forthcoming, wittier and prettier. A short move to Old Fashioneds. A drink I still adore, and which my father makes very well. Too bad: Bourbon was almost unknown in Canada at that time and he used rye. CC or Crown Royal. I graduated to Scotch, and I flunked for a week or so. Yuck! You want to drink something that smells like wet dog and tastes like dirt? Shudder. But with lashings of soda water, I gradually came to like the taste. To this day, my favorite drink is : Three (no more) ice cubes. Scotch and water in equal quantities. Kingsley Amis says that this proportion scotch to water is the most effective drug delivery system. Then the test. After being introduced to gin and tonic, a superior drink, I was deemed ready for martinis. Daddy made a very dry Beefeater martini with a twist. I remember thinking: "People would spend money and time on something that smells and tastes like nail polish remover?" But eventually, I was seduced and Saw the Light. My second favorite drink. This was the good old days, and suppliers looking for my father's company's business would send us holiday baskets. Packed with wines that would make even Steve Plotnicki bend the knee. Those Petrus and Chambertains and Lafittes were cheerfully served up with Sunday dinner. I drank better wine than I ever will again. When I was seventeen. Note: My parents never served me more than one of these cocktails a day. And though a Margarita or Dacqeri have their powers to charm, I am still a conservative drinker. Then I went away to college and for the next few years enjoyed the tipple of every Montreal student of my day. A pitcher of Molson Ex. No Zombies. No Mudslides . No rums and coke. Another parental duty dispatched.

God, in retrospect, this explains so much! How can I have been so,er, Blind all these years?

A cottage garden refers to the tiny plots that the "lower classes" in England had attached to their, well, cottages! In gardening style, it implies a kind of unplanned, old-fashioned profusion of flowers, vines, vegetables all grown higgeldty-piggelty together. Poppies seeds need to experience real cold in order to germinate and bloom. I could have planted them last fall, even here in Zone 5. (I have learned this from oh-so-bitter experience!)