maggiethecat

Jane Grigson's Food With the Famous. It's worth the shelf space for the chapter on Sidney Smith alone .

How about hot running water on demand? My grandmother lived in a very civilized, cultured home, but it was a 200 year old farmhouse. Into the 50's, she had a pump at her sink, and had to heat water on her stove, for cooking and dishwashing. Saturday night was hot bath night (as opposed to the daily cold shower.) There was a huge tin bathtub, which required gallons of hand-heated water. Women girls and babies first, followed by boys, husband and the hired man. Hot water. When Gammy was widowed and moved into town she told me her effortless dishwashing and bubblebaths were simply amazing luxuries.

Shrimp grits, please, swimming in butter with a little Maytag stirred in. After all that shameless eating, a girl's lips could be bare. Last Christmas my impossibly glamorous mother gave me an improbably glamorous (bejewlled, paveed) compact for Christmas, and admitted she's bought the twin for herself. We then indulged in some mother/daughter girltalk about those Bette Davis/Rita Hayworth movies where our girl snaps open her compact at a restaurant, powders her nose, freshens her lipstickand snaps a fag into her cigarette holder. Through the blue smoke, Tyrone Power or Louis Jourdain is putty in her elbow-length gloved hands.

I have a very, very good feeling about this (on the face of it ) insane project. I think that Robin's sale (what a woman!) is a good omen from the get-go. The last party I catered on that scale was my daughter's high school graduation, and I had lists attached to most of the flat surfaces in the house. Er, no deviled eggs?

I keep it simple I guess: I only invite people I love who love me back. With my beloved eGulls, I know that I will be so inundated with fine wines, flowers, gorgeous cheeses and large hunks of meat that the leftovers amount to throwing myself a fundraiser. When I'm invited to dinner with them, I try the best I can, and if I fall short, they are too sweet to say a thing, and we have an evening which, to loosely paraphrase NeroW, is proof that the world is good, and there is hope. With non-eG friends and in-laws: They love me, so they'll put up with my Weird Food and be completely comfortable serving their spiral ham, potato salad or grilled sausages, because they know I'll tuck in. My friend Clive (Mr. Potato Salad) always keeps a bottle of Campari in his bar especially for me. It sounds sappy, but Clive and his wife Sharon bought a "Friendship Basket" which we exchange back and forth. I take them dessert and a plant. When they come to my house, there's a couple of bottles of wine and a bunch of flowers. We'll see them on Memorial Day weekend, and I think the basket will contain a bottle of Madiera and a Lane Cake.

suzi: I have yet to find that perfect hot and sour combo either, but please plug on and keep us informed. I am just a dismal failure: I thought that I really could keep up with this resolution, but I've fallen desperately short. Mea Culpa. But we did thaw some long-ago minestrone from the freezer and make jack/jalapeno grilled cheese sandwiches. What a super supper on a lazy summer night. And yes, tell me your all about summer soups.

Heck, Exeter is Bright Lights, Big City compared to Glencoe, down the road from you, where my father grew up! And you know, I remember some of the best meals I've ever eaten coming from my Grandmother's Southwestern Ontario kitchen. You're right about the disparity in food prices across the border. When I'm in Ottawa visiting my parents I'm stunned at how expensive some food items are, and how cheap others. (But in Chicago, I can't find a selection of Digestives in the cookie aisle. You lucky duck.)

91.519.

I noticed the same thing. And that this question has been asked five times now. How did it taste? What was delightful? What was aromatic--was anything on its own aromatic, or did you have to pierce something for the smells to waft up to you? ← Let's give them a break, please. I'm eager too to hear about how every course tasted and smelled, but thats a whole lot of complex courses, which will require some time and thought to write about. Plus, of course, these lucky diners might have real lives that must be tended to. (But when you're ready, I'll be all eyes and ears.)

91,491. rjwong: for our LA cookbook addicts---which bookstore in Pasadena?)

Well, I'll be dipped. The Times food section was heavily cheese -oriented today, and I checked the latest Saveur at the newstand, -- it was all about American artisanal cheese. Such are the powers of your Dark Lady that she can retroactively set the tone for the food press. And, hand to heart, no lie, I've read better cheese scrivening right here at eGullet. Pull out that sack of cheese curds and start scribbling.

Epicurus wrote: "Send me some preserved cheese, that when I like I may have a feast." No disrespect to The Man or anything, but: you can do better. Post your entries here.

It’s all about theme here, in the smelliest Smackdown ever -- an essay about Ementhaler, a story about St. Andre, a chat about Cheddar, or Cabrales, or Kraft Singles. Give us a limerick about Limerick, a memoire about Morbier., a long scientific piece about artisanal cheese making, your childhood trip to the monastery at Oka… Let’s hear about your affair with Assiago, your passion for Parm, your sneaker for Velveeta, (or it’s Federal giveaway equivalent: “Welfare Cheese,.” or in my cop neighbor’s house “Police Cheese”. I’ve heard Southern food folks call it “Arkansas Brie.” My neighbor gave me five pounds of the stuff and my then- toddler daughter loved her grilled cheese sandwiches. I did too.) Understand: you choose the form. If you’re writing a “Sideways-like” screenplay about Chevre, not Pinot Noir, bring it on. If you have a cheesy cheese joke, it counts -- so does your dissertation about the influence of Grandfather’s raclette on the inner life of Heidi. Or, Fellas: Want to take this quote from Jonathan Swift for a starting point? “Bachelor’s fare: bread, cheese and kisses.” Length: Ten words to ten thousand, as long as it tickles our noses and brain cells. Deadline: May 30th. Post your entries here.

A reader's heart leaping is the best possible payoff for the writer, except for a fistful of filthy lucre. Good luck in your search, ada. Paula Wolfert, you are a perfect duck to troll through your collection and give ada a hand. Although it falls outside my concentration on Carl, is it true that "The Pleasures" was built upon a small magazine founded by Barbara Kafka, who encouraged a budding food writer known around these parts as wolfert?

Your father is my kind of gourmand. And you're my kinda woman. My beloved father has been going thru serious operations about ghastly things for ten years. It has been terrible. The worst thing for him: hospital food. Yeah, he's spoiled: my mother is a cross between Delia Smith and Nigella Lawson. Trust me, a plate of fried chicken has done more for his recuperation than any medical help. (God, those dieticians!) I am sure Mummy's fried chix has done more to extend his life than any post-operative advice he's been ever given. Hang in there, Goddess. (My folks have hit the 53 year mark. Yours will too)

91472, Wlecome to eGulltet, Jean!

91,283. If the drink recipes are bound in book form (as my Mr. B is) sure!

91,005. And I'm with andie about Florence Lin, Toliver.

91,002. 17.23 miles.

LindaK has a great idea about asking a buddy over to share a meal. If you're lucky enough to have friends in whom you can confide, who will buck you up and tell you that it isn't all your fault, it will be essential support. I stop tasting things when my heart is broken. That doesn't mean, of course, that I stop being hungry. Bacon and eggs and toast for lunch and a sundae from Dairy Queen after dinner are life support. Pumpkin: Big hug. Tomorrow try to look your foxiest best and do not attempt to stop cryng. That's for next week. Matsuska: That stinks. That rots. I am amazed that you spent the energy on cooking rather than curling up in the foetal position. Good for you.

Herb gardens! Now you're talkin.' I garden in a climate similar to yours, Marlene, and I have spent many years killing our green friends. But I've learned from their untimely deaths. I have successfully grown basil, thyme, summer savory and dill from seed, but I suggest you go for instant gratification. Hie thee to your local garden center, and I'm sure Oakville has some excellent ones, and browse the herb tables. Here are some winter survivalists for Zones 4-5: Sage. Thyme. Oregano -- a mint relative, so it can be a thug. Surprisingly, and delightfully, tarragon. Chives. Basil hates the cold, so consider it an annual .Rosemary has rarely wintered over for me, and in these climes lavendar is an annual. Period. Do not plant mint in your garden. If there is one message I can get out here it's the herb warning: Two small plants and fifteen years later I have mint literally encicling my house, even though I spend one full day a year in mint eradication. Confine your mint to a nice terracotta pot! If you can wait until August for a bushel of basil, by all means plant some seeds, but wait a couple of weeks -- the ground's still too cold. And I hope your patch is sunny: herbs crave long hours of sunlight. Water your herb buddies well in hot, dry weather. And talk to them -- they thrive on conversation too.

Yack? Yikes. Well, thanks for the heads-up Girlfriend!

90,985. Safran: I've heard so many good things about Frog that it's now at the top of my list.

In Borders yesterday I noticed that there is an updated version of the Sterns's guide. And yes, eGullet is an honest resource here. But get a cooler and pack some food, just in case. A well-planned Road Picnic is a beautiful thing.

Oh, please, please please! Will someone make this for me? Every two years my husband declares war to the death on dandelions, and spreads Weed and Feed with grim satisfaction. Which means that every other year I have a skanky dandelion-strewed front lawn, but I'm terrified that the chemicals are too new. From Marcia's Adams's Heartland: Aunt Oma's Dandelion Wine 2 qts. Dandelion blossoms 1 gallon water 2 oranges, coarsely chopped 2 lemons, coarsely chopped 4 lbs. sugar Place the stemless flowers in a large bowl or crock. Bring the water to a boil and pour over the blossoms. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit for 36 hours, stirring a couple of times Strain through cheesecloth, and return to the crock with the lemons, oranges and sugar. Cover and allow to ferment, in a cool place, for 2 weeks. Strain again and return to the crock to ferment . When the bubbling stops and the wine is clear, it is ready to be bottled or drunk. "How long this takes varies considerably--it can be several weeks more." It sounds like a ratafia, actually. I've always wanted to taste Dandelion Wine--let me taste vicariously.