maggiethecat

I think that a covered roaster is an oxymoron -- I think roasting means naked cooking with no cover. Crispy skin is just not a happening thing if you're cooking a turkey covered, though I'm enchanted with the blowtorch finish. That said, a huge covered pan could be useful for enormous braises, and you can always roast your turkey uncovered. Dry breast? So what -- that's why we have gravy.

I read the article with real pleasure. I'm astounded by the dismissive comments. She was writing about her experience, and her that of her family's, not posing as Marcella or Lidia. For the record, my husband's Nonna made very similar meatballs and served them on the side. (The "Times" might have provided the title, you know.)

The day after I was married I bought a couple of olivewood spoons. I was married a long time ago, and I use these spoons almost every day. I also own my Nonna-in-law's wooden spoons -- she bought them for her wedding in 1910. They're aging better than I am. Somewhere on the Christmas present thread a member tells about woodburning designs on inexpensive wooden spoons. That is just dope! Three for a buck spoons with ink. I was so enchanted with the idea that I just might buy a woodburning kit. It's not a real kitchen without a couple of wooden spoons. When I visit my parents I see , sitting in the utensil crock, the self-same wooden spoon Mummy took to out bad bottoms when we were kids. Bring on your pretty silicone spoons, but wooden spoons will never die.

I believe in supporting my wonderful contributors in any way I can. Ivy's hard at work on a piece about stock-making as practiced by several Toronto chefs, but if you need your Ivy fix: Buy a copy of the current National Enquirer. She's on page 8, I'm told, battling Eiffel Power.

Now, that looks wonderful! Cantonese food seems to have become unfashionable, as other wonderful regional Chinese cooking became the rage, one region at a time. But I still love Cantonese. (I am a doubter, and a rational person, mostly. I just discovered that I'm a Rabbit and the Rabbit traits are so me I'm kinda spooked. The seem to be the Cancers of the Chinese zodiac, and yeah, I'm a Cancer.)

When you're recruiting memebers you've never met. My daughter's boss is married to the kind of obsessive home cook we know and love here. The boss mentioned her husband's sous-vide jones, my girl mentioned eGullet -- he joined the next day.

Busboy my friend, it is all about the apple and the tree. I majored in that madly marketable double major: English/Art history, so did my daughter. She grew up thinking that the most important part of a parent's day was making dinner and doing recreational cooking in the spare moments. She could probably parse the differences between Ligurian and Umbrian at seven. First job out of college? Sales for a large, high-end Chicago caterer. Current job? Working in special events for a major LA cultural institution, parsing menus for galas, listening to the quirky menu desires of the Rich Committee Ladies, fighting with the uppity caterer to bring them to life . She put herself through college baking bagels, flipping burgers and checking groceries. Kitchen culture never took her to the dark side, even while dealing with the Exec Chef at the catering company, a notorious rake and despoiler of innocent young things. Try to remember that restaurant life has actually been the redemption of many a young man, and try to forget the sheenanegans you got up to!

I like Gladware and find the sizes very thoughtful. I don't think anyone's mentioned canning jars here -- I love them for storage and all kinds of other kitchen stuff. They're cheap, they last forever (unless a cat decides it would be fun to nudge one off the corner) and do well in the freezer. They can't be used in the microwave, of course, unless the seal and lid are removed, but I can work around that.

The Mouli is a tool past price -- I've owned the identical one for thirty years. I use it mostly for "mashed" potatoes, but if you're into making spaetzle it's the best -- it produces, via the disc with the big holes, perfect wiggly things.

Lor' love a duck! I spill things all the time, and pay for my own dry cleaning when I do. The restaurant has behaved honorably here. Some peeps don't have enough stress and tragedy in their lives, I guess. The lining of a coat? Pfui.

Susan, you are a terrific friend and a clever girl. That's a heck of an idea for a busy pal, and I love her request: "Something to make my life easier." If someone asked me that I'd probably dump a couple of bags of laundry on her front porch every week. Dividend, there is nothing like homemade jam, and I urge you to post your recipe for the pear vanilla jam in RecipeGullet so we can all make it, likewise the cannable crockpot apple butter. Your friends were lucky. (I quilt too.)

I agree. And I think that the only person who might taste it would be the baker, becuase he knew how much he added. I think next time I'll cut it back to 3/4 ounce -- I bet it will still be plenty red.

We went from 122,025 to 244,884 in two weeks? Someone must have added a heck of a collection. ← Blush. Perhaps I'm not the pro at the ten key? Yikes, I'll have to back and recalc. And yeah, I'll talk to Mr. Amirault about moving the thread to the cookbook forum. One more for me: Mrs. Rowe's Restaurant Cookbook , a cookbook from a Southern diner. OK, we'll make that 144, 885.

The first time I cooked beans (I was. like eighteen) I hadn't read a recipe, and didn't know I was supposed to soak them. Yes, 90 minutes to perfection. I've never soaked bean one.

The condition of my cookbooks is directly connected to how often I've used them, and for what. The two volumes of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," bought when I was a newlywed, likewise Hazan's first book, are missing their covers. Sure, I could replace them, but these books, and "Joy" (replaced once) taught me how to cook. They are diaries as important as those I kept while I was using them, and trust me, much more interesting! I do a little better now -- and I try to remember to slap the book on the printer -- but you can still judge my cookbooks by their covers. I find that baking books suffer worst: all that splattering batter is better than bookbinder's paste. Cookbook holders are all very well, but if I have to turn a page, and I'm cookin' , the corners are besmirched and besmattered. Brooks could make stock boiling a few of his books; I could whip up a mess of pancake batter.

OK, I'm reporting the post with the foie nuggets. Steven, Dave and Chris will hear about this, you betcha. That is XXX porn dear Megan, and Daniel needs to put in some time in solitary, far from the prison cookies he might corrupt. Or he could put in six month's community service by cooking for me.

Excellent topic, Susan, and I am so with you on all your requirements for a good, working cookbook. I hate white type on a pastel background, a la Martha, although I think Martha Stewart's cookbooks are fabulous. On the flip side, Julia Child's cookbooks are part of my personal canon, but the indices make me crazy. I don't like books where you have to flip back to an ur recipe before you proceed. And I love English cookbooks of the Elizabeth David era: no vertical ingredient list -- she just writes you through it, as a mother or Granny would.

And rhubarb. It's a casserole. And having just typed that word, can any of the many smarties here give me the etymology of casserole?

Dear Sue I so agree about both the background list and grocery shopping as improv. But: But folks: List? List? I don't use no stinkin' list! Cleaning supplies and catfood, sure -- that's my background list. We hit Bobaks for meat every other week and buy what looks good and is on sale. We have a couple of good places for fruit and veg, and we stop by a couple of times a week, and perforce we hit a local independent grocer for bread eggs and toilet paper. Every other week we hit TJ's for wine, cheese and frivolity. I guess I'm saying that we never plan meals before we shop. And yes, after buying some serious protien from Bobak's last Saturday we ripped open the packet of Westphalian ham and gorged. Five o'clock on a Saturday night is a dangerous time to shop.

Butter and a sunny side up egg which has been fried in bacon fat. Scrambled eggs. Poached eggs. Egg salad. Corned beef hash. Poached salmon and a dab of mayo. Smoked salmon and cream cheese. Creamed canned salmon with peas. Baked beans for sure. Melted cheese And the breakfast of champions: a schmear of mayo and a thinnish slice of leftover meatloaf. Not that I don't love good jam (my mother's Damson Plum is the platonic ideal) and as a teen I thought cinnamon toast was the world's most nearly perfect food. It's just that I've become a serious protein for breakfast person and toast with sweet is something I'd enjoy more with a cup of tea at four in the afternoon. I think I made cinnamon toast in an unorthodox way when I was cramming for finals: 2 T. soft butter 2 T. brown sugar cinnamon Beat together and spread on toast that has popped up in the last two seconds. I wonder whether I'd like it now?

If you want "wild harvested" oregano come stay overnight here in August. I'll provide the machete -- as Susan indicated oregano is wildly invasive. I cut down huge bouquets of it in the summer, wet it down under the garden hose and throw it on the coals of the grill to flavor a spatchcocked chicken, a burger or a couple of porkchops. I want a mother-in-law who lives in Capri. The short answer is that if you want dried herbs that pop, don't taste like sawdust or musty hymn books you have to grow yer own, and dry yer own. Thyme is extremely successful done the old-fashioned way; harvest the sprigs, tie bunches with kitchen string and attach to your potrack to dry. I treat rosemary, sage, savoury and tarragon the same way. If you can buy good herbs at a greenmarket buy extra and dry your own. If you can't, Penzey's does mail order and ships good product.

I've buttered a baggie, inserted an egg and herbs, tied it with a twist tie, coddled it in shimmering water and produced an amazing "poached" egg. Props to Arzak and Bourdain who described it in "Cook's Tour." It's fun. Re Manifold Destiny: My brother Ian and his rugby buds were on an extended road and head trip for most of the seventies. They fried eggs on their manifold, and they're all alive, though prone to the occasional acid flashback.

Yeah, this is just shooting chum in a bucket for Bourdain, and he's done it forever, since he sodomized Legasse in "KC," and lived to repent in "The Nasty Bits." Fun reading as always. Hey, I think "Typhoid Mary" is an important book.

I own it alas, on cd, because I can't afford it any other way. Piece on Ranhofer in the works (Liked your peice on the book, Russ, and Keller is a lucky man, though no Charles Ranhofer.)

We actually bought a food slicer because of this book. It's a blast. But for low-tech bright flavor I recommend the romaine bouquet salad. Just amazing.