maggiethecat

So is it the the salty nap that transforms it?

Thanks, Dana -- that's so counterintuitive it just might work! Keep 'em coming.

The local supermercado has whole eye of round on sale for a price so low it could provide semi-tasteless tough protein for a family of six for a month. An eight pound solid red log. The only decent purpose I've found for this jaw- breaking cut is homemade Chicago Italian Beef, and that's only if you own an electric meat slicer. Braises and stews are out, unless you like beefy shoestrings hanging from your molars. Pounding helps, but how many braccioles can two people eat? Please tell me your culinary alchemy to do with eye of round. I'm out of inspiration, but Himself is saying "It's such a great deal!" And no, I don't own a dog.

To me, it's not a neurosis, it's invoking grace. I'm going to take it up.

Yes! I can always find the recipe for Perfect Cinnamon Rolls because the pages are stuck together. And the Braised Short Ribs with Carrots, Parsnips and Red Wine on page 438 ... !

Chef's Dad is a real and I mean real, charmer. I asked about where we could find excellent Lebanese food in Chicago, and the server cocked her thumb and said: "Ask him. He's at the bar." Dad was forthcoming and educational, and so proud of his daughter, whom I think of as Chicago's Gabrielle Hamilton. Or Melissa Kelly. Get into your car, brave the expressways and go: Chef Nadia is cooking with some soul.

David Rosengarten's 2004 Beard winner It's All American Food is a chunky 487 pager, and when I'm considering the contents of my pantry and fridge trying to, well, think like a chef, I often remember it too late. This is a majorly useful book, studded with historical sidebars and useful how- to illustrations. The tone is breezy and proletarian and every recipe I've tried is a winner. By far the longest section is "Ethnic America" and it could replace several single-cuisine cookbooks I own. Soup dumplings, Chicken Parm, Duck a l'Orange, American-style Lasagna, Cholent, Ajiaco, Tex-Mex Rice,Tostones, Liptauer Cheese, Ceviche, Goulash, Crepes Suzettes, Side Dish Dal. I made Chinese Restaurant Sprareribs from this section last Saturday. I thought one rack for two people would be enough. It wasn't. Next up is "Regional America" and it's similarly encyclopedic. Boston Brown Bread, Barney Greengrass's Scrambled Eggs with Cheddar Cheese and Horseradish, Egg Cream, Philly Pretzels, She-Crab Soup, Memphis Dry Rub Ribs, Pickled Okra, Oysters Bienville, Carne Adovado, Granola, Crab Louis. Then there's "Classic America". Tuna Melt, Homemade Sausage patties, Pot Roast, etc. I hope I've given you the scope of the book, but the sheer number and breadth of the recipes is, well, vast. If you can't find something good from this collection for breakfast, lunch, dinner and frequent snacks from the 400 recipes therein I won't believe you. This book provides me quick inspiration when I'm at my most jaded. Dave: "Great topic, man!"

I'm with Serena: "When do I get to go?" Thanks, Peter: It's been a fair treat, as my Lancashire Nana would have said. (And if you ever want to send me something for Daily Gullet , please shoot me a PM. Yet another Canuck who can write!)

I was there a couple of months ago at a media dinner. I reviewed it here.

Doc: Can't wait to see more of the menu, which, of course, has changed since I ate there with Chris, Dave, and Janet late last fall. (You were of course blessed with your own dining companions, Ron and Julie. The smartest and the nicest.) That meal was the greatest in my life, and my way more experienced companions agreed. I look forward to the rest of your dinner.

I get it. We tailor the dinner for movie nite. Pasta in a bowl, a rack of ribs with many napkins, pizza, a meatball sandwich. You should be able to eat it with your hands, or, at most, one implement.It would be a shame to relegate a great meal to a secondary position behind a movie, but you can make a meal movie-friendly.

Thanks David, tell that to my editor - Maggie the cat. She doesn't always like my use of that word. Besides that she is a great editor though. Thanks -- I think --Ivy. I'd never ban the Fbomb, but I follow the same editorial rule on it as I do on adverbs -- one every thousand words. The thing that really made me understand prep was your description of cutting a lemon against a post, because there was no room at the counter. That's crazeeeee. And it shows the difference between getting our mise together at home, and doing it in a professional kitchen. I'll never again complain that I don't have enough counter space.

I know you've all been holding your collective breaths (har!)so here's a picture of the finished product, snapped in front of the tire of a 2001 Tiburon, into it's interior it will reside. I didn't count (I should have) but scores of shopping bags avoided the landfill and I think the result has a certain funky charm. I'll do some things differently next time,and might even consider using the raw materials to make something fashiony. Knitters, this exercise would work well for you too. I'm never really happy unless I have some kind of needlework project handy to calm the nerves, and this one was terrific fun and meditative. My plastic bag mountain has disappeared. Feel free to PM me if you want the hooker details.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Janet. Your mother's fearlessness reflects your own recipe world view and culinary outlook. Constructing Hidden Valley Ranch from the ingredient list on the packet, having the MSG handy -- What a woman! And what a beautiful woman! My mother wasn't the scientist and supertaster your mother is -- in fact she was the opposite. It was all about luxurious ingredients, a wanton healthy hedonism, if that makes sense. I recognize that what I learned from my mother, (apart from the wonders of the Mixmaster when I was seven, )that through thick and thin, health scares, family traumas, political or fashion crises, dinner was a sacred four course. And because your mother is so beautiful, I'm taking the liberty of posting a pic of happier times -- an eight year old kitchen shot of Mummy (the only woman on earth who'd prepare osso bucco in a white cashmere turtleneck) my brother Ian (New Age Caterer, rugby Prop, motormouth) and me.

I think Ruhlman's "Reach of a Chef" does a smart job about the hopes and fears of the CIA as a culinary and an intellectual institution. He also has long pieces with Ryan and Metz. It's worth reading. But the positioning thing -- as if you spent 25 grand a year for a "prestigious" degree, like say, economics from the University of Chicago, med from Johns Hopkins, Harvard Law, Animal Husbandry at Penn State. Last I heard, no students at these schools were complaining the class work wasn't hard enough, but they aren't going to an upscale trade school. I'm all for, say, a BA in Food history, or even Food Media, but if the kids are complaining about Skills, they should walk, posthaste, to the best junior college program available, save their money for stages and travel, and work the line or the pastry station in their spare time. CIA or Kendall College, you're still going to be lucky to make 12 bucks an hour when you graduate.

Miz Quack: You are so right! Chix and rice casserole can be tweaked any old way you wanna, from dead simple, to pushed towards "French" with some mushrooms and asparagus, to "Italian" with some crushed tomatoes, olives and Parm, to "Chinese" with water chestnuts and a smidgen of soy, to "Mexican" with corn and peppers. It accommodates whatever cut of chicken is on sale this week. If the Goldsters don't eat it, it it heats up beautifully for the cook the next day.

I wanted to like JJ's, but I was severely underwhelmed. Not as good as home made, and although I love the idea that they have great delivery, but, why not just make yourself a sandwich? I admit to not buying sandwiches much, because to me it seems like paying for scrambled eggs. Better than Subway, better than Quizno's, not as good as Potbelly. (I feel different about regional hot sandwiches. A French Dip at Phillipe's in LA, an Italian Beef at Mr. Beef here in Chicago, a smoked meat at Schwartz's in Montreal, an oyster po'boy in NO -- I'm there.)

Yes, what do we do? I'm passionate about the dwindling of the fish population everywhere, whether it be West coast salmon, East coast cod, Great Lakes muskie or river-caught trout. I have nightmares about the very last salmon being caught -- like the whack who cut down the last tree on Easter Island. (I don't even know if salmon still rush down the Restigouche or Mirimachi.) I want to do something, and I feel ignorant and helpless. Advice?

My fingers crossed too. In a busy life, sometimes the website can't come first. But when yours is up, please let us know. U da Bomb.

My mother taught me that there were no short cuts. She taught me that if she and Daddy had to cruise in their LeSabre all afternoon for a bunch of watercress, it was work worth doing. She taught me that Georgian sterling and vintage linens bought at auction weren't to be stored away -- they were to be used every night. She insisted that Jamie Oliver wasn't a twit. On our Sunday night phone call she'd tell me about every dinner she'd made that week, every lunch, every tea party. When I was in Ottawa we'd hit the Byward market hard, and all the farm ladies knew her: "Bonjour Madame! "And when she was lying in hospice at Elizabeth Bryuere she opened her eyes and looked at me and my daughter. "Buy some Sauvagine cheese. Go to Les Fougeres for lunch." And she died with a strawberry Ensure in her hand.

We made a couple of pizzas tonight, both cooked on cast iron griddles. My husband was fussing, as usual, about transporting them to the pans, the necessity of very high heat, the stick factor. Duh, I'm just a baker. I recommended moving them on parchment paper, and cutting off any paper that peeked out over the edge of the pizza. (We've had parchment paper burn at 500.) He said I was a genius. A second generation Toscani doesn't say that often.

Here's the place to preen.

At one of those mushy-headed workshops at work ten years ago about team building, self-esteem or whatever the catchphrase of the year was that year, some “facilitator” like Greg Kinnear in Little Miss Sunshine asked us to write down three things that would make us feel complete before we died. We were admonished to avoid things like “end world hunger” or “I want a grandchild” – we were to be as selfish and self absorbed as possible. My scribbles, smacked down eating stale Danish were: 1) I want to christen an ocean liner, wearing a staggeringly expensive hat. 2) I want a rose named after me. 3) I want a dish named after me, and pizza Margherita doesn’t count, much as I love it. Naming a dish after a sleb is, of course, nothing new, from Sauce Bechamel through Peches Melba. If Vatel, Ranhofer or the ‘Scoff were to create in your honor, of what would it be composed? How would you represent? Man, its tough! I’d want pork, fried, sauce, mashed potatoes, asparagus tips, raw Malpeques and quenelles of pike. Your task is to do better than I. Describe the dish that would be your signature, with garnish, plating, even pix. Tell us why it’s all about you. The deadline is June 15th. The three top egomaniacs and wittiest writers will earn their place in the sun at Daily Gullet . Numero uno will win a cookbook. Please don’t post your replies on this topic. Put them here.

Wow, that's impressive materiel, Chris. Congratulations on your new Love Object! If we made sausage more than six times a years that booty would be mine, The temp thing is truly impressive.

I think that many of us are considering the issues you bring up here, and handling them in our own ways. I can't see a perfect solution except maybe if you have 10 rural acres in the Napa Valley where you can grow olives, grapes for wine, chickens, pigs and free range bunnies. And lots of vegetables and fruit. Ain't a happening thing where I live. The last freeze date is May 31st -- I thought that was nuts until I planted out my garden earlier a few years ago and got a snowstorm on May 23rd or thereabouts. The Heartland's food is gorgeous, but it's short season stuff, and my real estate covenant prevents me from having my own hen house, something I long for. I tip my turban to Laura Ingall Wilder's mother, but even she hit the general store when she could. Coffee and tea don't grow in Wisconsin or Nebraska. To your point about variety (and I still cook often from that Time-Life series!) I'm not giving up on goulash because paprika doesn't grow around here. No curry because I can't grow turmeric -- shut up! ;-) Give up oolong or Arabica.? Never. And I think of how much of the exploration of the world happened because people wanted spices, or chocolate or tomatoes. It's difficult. I believe in buying locally, planting a garden, doing everything we can to prevent overfishing. But if I didn't have oyster sauce in my fridge right now, my dinner would be sadder.