maggiethecat

I've been around here for a long, long time, seen friends come and go, but the Heathland Gathering is a given. The first Heartland Gathering took place In Grand Rapids, Michigan, in, what, 2002? Maybe twenty people hanging at Matthew Beaverson's house after enjoying the night before, a tremendous dinner at the best local restaurant arranged by eGullet member Alex. It was such a funky small gathering that we crashed at local friend's houses, and cooked straight from the Farmer's Market. In a friend's kitchen. Matthew had a wall of Maker's Mark and the good times rolled. The Gathering is much more organized, better attended and frankly, freaking amazing. But as a history geek, I feel I have to describe the beginnings. And as I've thought, year after year, why doesn't another forum take on something so glorious?

My husband ,for a few years, literally hand-crafted boutique upscale kitchens. People still ask him, now and then, to do a project. Without fail, he directs them to Ikea. Quality, style and price can't be beat.

Cool aprons.

As God is my witness, I'll start a Heartland Gathering Fund, and never miss another. Bluestem, BBQ tour, the Main Event, the brunch: kudos to the organizers. Another thought for next year's locale: Toronto. It's central and I can beg a room from my rich foodie cousin. And there's a lot shakin' in TO.

Two-inch squares of pumpernickel, spread with cream cheese and topped with a cucumber slice. They were drizzled with Kraft Italian dressing and I loved them.

mamgotcha: Thanks for the terrific review. To all my Heartland Posse, party on and tell all. I can't tell you how much I wanted to be there. (Lookin' good, Kerry!) Heartland Rules.

Yes, the sodium levels are scandalously high, but even the least enlightened diner knows he's getting a shitload of salt at Denny's. And elsewhere. Denny's is a scapegoat.

David, having been to a few Heartland Gatherings, I can assure you that people eat more than they ever thought possible. I groan, happily, in memory. And I so wish I could be there. Keep reporting for the Little Match Girl with her nose pressed against the window. And love to all my Heartland buddies. Ronnie, those are fab pix of Q. Thanks!

Rover, you're welcome. Although I'm Canadian, not British, my grandparents were from Lancashire and I know the glory of nursery tea (I have a Royal Doulton porringer , Bunnykins, which I use when I'm scooping out a couple of soft boiled eggs over toast points with much butter, salt and pepper.) Perfect soft boiled eggs are eminently doable, but require timing and care. But oh, so plain and eggy and good. And cheap and somehow luxurious. Kim et all, enjoy.

I agree that good medical care, not foster parents is a better solution.As I said, N.'s father is a good man (a high school teacher) but handling his son's mental disability and his eating problem is too much for him. When does Social Services or the State get involved? And N. isn't anywhere near as heavy as the young man in question. Many of us have struggled to lose 30 or 20 or 10 pounds. Imagine being 14 and trying somehow to lose over 300 pounds? My mind is darting back and forth. I don't want Mom to go to jail, or lose custody, but how in the name of God did this happen?

Here's a story I received when I booted up. There's a 14 year old in South Carolina who weighs way over 500 pounds, and his mother is being taken to court for possible child abuse. It ain't pretty. That's unimaginable to me. Sumo wrestlers don't weigh that much! It hits home because my husband has a job taking a mentally disadvantaged man out for fun and recreation for 25 hours a week. My husband has goals set for him by the agency that employs him, and one of them is to try to regulate N.'s weight -- he's 5"2' 270. My husband tried to buy him a belt, but none would fit. N. has gout and diabetes -- he's 47. N. (a very sweet man) will cadge food at food courts, delis, his dentist office, when he sees that the dentist receptionist has a candy jar. Because , although he is a gentle soul, he's made off with coffee cakes, pre-made lasagna, an Ikea employee with two kernels of popcorn when he asks for it. And gets it. He's big and scary looking. Tonight my husband lowered the axe. N. and he had gone to a favorite grocery store and N. escaped by paying for a big box of Little Debbies before my husband could prevent it. Husband said: "N. We're never going to go to a store that sells food." The State of Illinois says that you can't tell N. what he can or can't spend his money on. They're quite right. But if my husband 's work goals include looking after N,'s dietary guidelines, that requires a rating for the State, my husband is basically handcuffed. N. lives with his elderly professional (slim) Asian father, who loves all you can eat buffets, buys Popeyes, likes the buffets on The Boats, He is a good man. N. is a flawed enigma. Should his father be sued? Should my husband lose his job because he can't legally prevent N. from buying Little Debbies? Well, as you see, this story resonated with me. What think you?

Do whatever you do with good eggplant, with one change. Slice them, put them on a paper towel lined plate, and nuke them for, oh, a minute and a half. They won't be watery, won't be bitter and will be slightly pre-cooked for the recipe of your choice. All that salting standing stuff will be blown away, the flavor will improve, and they'll cook faster.

markk: I'm with you. I'm paying for my dinner, I probably won't sit longer than 90 minutes, and the chef can kiss my patoot if he tells me what and when I can order. "Chef prefers" my Aunt Fanny! What the heck? Aren't chefs and cooks trained to accomplish this stuff? You're telling me that you can't get apps and mains out in 45 minutes? You're a goof. Alinea can do it. If some poor waiter gave me "The Chef prefers" line, I'd pay my bill and head to the nearest Vietnamese (or pizza, or Thai or Chinese) place.

Something brown, reeking of peat, two ice cubes, one ounce of tap water.

I'm a sunny side up girl all the way, except in Eggs in a Hat. Covering the egg will soggy the bread. Gotta do that flip.

Lapin: I did the same thing today. I made two glorious quarts with nothing but a thermometer and a couple of towels. I'll make David Leibovitz's Strawberry Frozen Yog with one quart, and use the other for breakfast, baking, and various chicken dishes. (It works beautifully as a substitute for buttermilk when prepping fried chicken.) And in salad dressings, smoothies, etc. I can't rationalize buying yogurt any more, except for the occasional cup for starter.

I've always made Egg in a hat using a slice of toast.

My father has mad skillz as a shucker, even though he's never been a cook. He managed enormous paper mills for a living, mostly in Quebec. Every year the Pulp and Paper Makers Union had an Oyster party -- 100 barrels of oysters. Management were the shuckers. He can open an oyster quicker than you can say "Shuck" and always says: "It's easy, just find the hinge." He's in his 80s now, and his hands are still scarred with many long-ago oyster scars. I mean a road map of scars. (As many many cases of Molson's and Labatt's were consumed at these amazing parties, I'm sure alcohol might have contributed to the wounds.) But he learned. I doubt if there are many octogenarian gardeners reading through Herodotus for fun who can tame an oyster faster than Daddy.

This dish was a specialty of my father's -- he grew up in Ontario and served them up to us in Quebec. Name: Egg in a Hat.

Either, depending on the potato; in general I've had better luck with baking.

Thanks, Janet. Yes, you can achieve an almost shatteringly crisp skin in the oven that stands up well to stuffing and a five minute reheat.

After you've split and emptied the cooked potatoes, rub a sheet pan with olive oil, place skins on it, drizzle them with a little more oil , bake until crisp. Remove from oven and stuff in the ordinary way. The skins should stay crisp through reheating.

That's likely. The cashier or bagger opens every carton of eggs and checks for cracks.

I make this mistake all the time. I can't stop myself. ← I've done this too, with equally dismal results. I have nothing but praise for the teen cashiers and baggers at Caputo's. The cashiers can identify produce -- most Asian and Mexican -- that, um, even I can't, and they can know before you open your mouth if you're a native Spanish, Italian, Polish or English speaker. Heck, they can look at your basket and figure out if you're Vietnamese or Thai. And the baggers -- actually more like boxers, because we always go for the box rather than bag option -- are like acned hormonal physicists, so beautifully do they pack. Trader Joe's has good baggers too, as well as the "Bag or box" option.

This is nonsense. ← Freakin hilarious. Dawn is a standard cleaner. I have a bastard bunch of pots and pans, Mauviel through Ikea. (Not bad.) My recent faves have been from Target and TJMaxx. Stainless steel with the stacked booties, glass lid, cheap and versatile. A pan doesn't make a cook. Those stupid gizmos for veining shrimp: Not worth the three bucks thay ask for them. Use your fingers.