Dave the Cook

To underscore the last two posts, if you're heating your Teflon-coated cookware to 550F, you're almost certainly in violation of the manufacturer's warranty. (As an aside, you're probably also not using non-stick cookware for its most appropriate purposes.)

Mrs. Dr. Varmint's mother's new kitchen inhabits a completely separate universe from Varmint's kitchen.

(sigh) Clients! Before resigning this Hell's Kitchen to the rubbish heap, I do have a few kind words for it. 1. As Maggie said, there are some fond eGullet memories here. 2. It's very mazeness actually creates a surprising amount of counter space. I recall that at one time -- the same time, as in simultaneously: edemuth, maggethecat, Aurora and I were all working at the marble. edemuth and I were chopping, and Maggie and Aurora were picking thyme and basil leaves and cleaning shrimp. At the bottom end of the Li'l Varmints' bar, guajolote was spatchcocking chickens. On the counter opposite the sink, malawry was bravely subduing lemons. KatieLoeb set up a makeshift bar along the back counter (the one parallel to the driveway). On the grill counter, we had three crockpots going for stock. Over by the wet bar, we were thawing ducks in two stockpots. Occasionally, Heather would wander through to check the greens simmering on the cooktop. Meanwhile, at the living room side of the Li'l Varmints' bar, Blondie and joler were picking the meat off of rabbit carcasses. 3. I'm not admitting to anything, but if frottage happens to be your particular fetish, this kitchen abounds in opportunity.

Is this better?

Varmint can correct me on the details, but here's a floor plan using my (admittedly undependable) memory, as refreshed by Varmint's photos. Maybe this will help folks visualize the situation more easily. Does this look more or less right, Dean?

The maze of flame-tiled countertops; the astounding discovery of the hidden dishwasher and how its door so cunningly interlocks with the lower oven door; the clever but virtually unreachable upper cabinetry; and the idea that someone uses this kitchen to turn out great food night after night (as I know for a fact Varmint does) -- these things combine to completely distract one from the floor issue, I'm afraid. I don't even remember what color it is.

I do remember the bottoms of the cabinets were really low. I didn't look that closely, though -- does the tile stop at the cabinets, or do the cabinets sit on top of it? Must be the former, right?

So Art, what do you want to do the job?

Duh. You're right. In that case, I'd vote for the Waring. OTOH (what, again?), like woodburner, I have a different DeLonghi model, and it has done fine for what I ask of it. It also has a breakaway cord. (I wonder if it's required for UL and/or CSA approval?)

I assume you're sold on an electronic unit of some kind, so I won't try and convince you that a cast-iron pot and a candy thermometer is really your best bet. The smaller oil capacity and higher wattage of the Waring suggests that it will recover more quickly (assuming the units are equally well insulated), and that's important. As Marlene suggests, the slightly higher top temp is desirable, though to my mind not essential. On the other hand, the placement of the controls on the Waring really concerns me. Do you really want to be reaching across the oil reservoir to change the thermostat?

I hang my head, but I'm actually encouraged by what you're saying. It suggests that my knives have been sharper since I abandoned my erstwhile "professional" sharpening guy and ridged steel, and started using the Spyderco/smooth steel combo and doing my own sharpening. Given that this was the first time I had used the ridged steel since reading your course, what I'm experiencing now is presumably similar to the degree of sharpness -- and rapid relaxation -- that I had before. If this makes sense, thanks. I think. OK then. I wasn't sure you were aware of all the qualifications.

Well, at the least you've spared me from some humiliating masculine deficiency complex caused by comparing my blades to someone else's, if you know what I mean. I use a smooth steel for everyday -- before use and intermittently during the marathon beet sessions. Before packing the knives, I pulled used a ridged steel for the touch-up. The thing is, they're duller now than they were before they were touched up -- in fact duller than before the last time I sharpened them. You're right, it's very weird. Do I need to go back to the Spyderco? Hmph. Remind me to revoke your nomination for Smug Scientific Bastardhood.

Just before a recent trip on which I knew I would be doing some cooking, I touched up my three most useful knives. I packed them carefully and secured them in checked luggage (no point in trying to explain to airport security). As it turned out, I didn't need (or in one case, simply forgot) my knives, so after ten days on the road, I retrieved them and returned them to active duty. They're dull. Well, not dull, but I'm pretty sure they're not as sharp as they were when I packed them. Is there an explanation for this, other than my own perceptual error?

Fat Guy on C-30A. Having visited the area nearly every year since 1977, I can attest to FG's findings. And yes, if you haven't been there in five years, you're in for a shock.

I don't mind a few stems, but to minimize them, I leave the rubber band on and hold the bunch stem side straight up/leaf side down, barely touching the board. Then I shave downward, trimming a layer of leaves, turning the bunch about 45 degrees, and "shaving" again. I shave and rotate until I have a sufficient amount of herbage. This technique requires a decently sharp knife, but has a real advantage in that the remainder of the bunch still has a high leaf-to-stem ratio for the next time. Edit to add that I didn't invent this technique; I saw someone on TV do it. If I could remember who, I'd give credit.

As a basis for comparison, the cancellation fee for a reservation at Mix In New York is $20 per person (or was, as of last week), with a 24-hour notice.

XTC: orange and lemon raincoats, pineapple wetheads, apples and cherries varnished in water -- and one thousand umbrellas.

There are a number of fluent Francophones on eGullet. One of them might be willing to help you out. And welcome.

I am humbled. Edit: I had a lot of help, including this thread.

So, did you get the mini-cannoli? And how was the debate resolved. I prefer the minis over the standard-sized cannoli, as that is the appropriate crunch-to-cream ratio. Mrs. Varmint likes the ratio equal infinity -- she only likes the shell. Debates like this are never resolved -- that's part of why they're fun, and silly. But it became clear that the large-shell proponent was merely jesting in argument when she ate all the filling and handed the empty shell to her partner, who had been on the other side of the discussion. This of course threw him out of proportion. The presence of Mrs. Dr. Varmint would have restored a perfect balance. She can come with us next time. Both I and my daughter agree that those mini cannoli rule.

Me too. What's in that onion stuff, btw?

Slaw? That's a new one for me. We always had blackeye peas, which now makes a nicely schizo side dish to sauerkraut and pork. I like to cover all my bases. Jamie We looked around at all that meat and decided that something green was required. On the one hand, it helped us use up a half a head of green cabbage. On the other, the need for carrots (along with, OK, six dozen eggs) precipitated the trip to Fairway. I tried to make BC, but we got a last-minute offer of a guided tour of Chinatown. I can search for the perfect burger vicariously, but nothing will replace the smell of durian and the thrill of having a live shrimp flick seawater in my eye. And I won't get into all the ways the Chinese have found to ensure complete utilization of the noble pig.

You truly are a brave man. I did that on NYE 2000. I still haven't recovered. I didn't make myself clear. I'm not brave, I'm stupid. My cooking buddies (the ones who sent me there) said, "Oh no, it's always like that." But while squeezing through aisles that would make a fire marshall blanch, I overheard several people with NY accents say things to the effect of, "this is nuts." Next door at Citarella, people would walk up to the window, peer inside, and walk away, muttering, "We don't need it that bad."

I took no notes. Without written proof, the authorities have nothing . . . Leaving out the delivery pizza, the Penn Station smoothies and a blow-by-blow comparison of FAO Schwartz and Toys R Us, my NYC food experiences come down to these: - a guided tour of Arthur Avenue, including: a generous sampling of the notorious Jason Perlow Sangweech; some awesome marscarpone and ridiculously cheap parmesan; and a silly debate over the crunch-to-cream ratio of handmade, hand-filled cannoli. - a day and a half with a few friends preparing for New Year's Eve: cassoulet (duck confit, lamb shanks, sausage and white beans) from scratch (OK, they had started without me), devilled eggs with goosefat and a duck crackling garnish, slaw, cornbread. True to my adopted South, I made sure I had beans and slaw just after midnight. - an insanely conceived New Year's Eve trip to Fairway, which I decided was a secret test of my big-city mettle devised by my new York friends. - drinks in the 7th floor lounge at the Times Square W. Terrible service, especially considering the basic tarriff of $16 per mixed drink. The disappointment was partially offset by a possible sighting of Lea Thompson in the adjacent nook. - three glorious hot dogs at Gray's Papaya, the midpoint of a Central Park/MNH walking tour. - being dissed at Carmine's (UWS) for having the temerity to show up at a self-styled family restaurant with a family. - a very nice dinner at Nick's Mediterrean Grill. - excellent pastrami on rye at a frantic Katz. I was told that they are rarely that busy, and it's a good thing. With all the clamor, no one would have heard Sally's big O that day. - the amazing sights and sounds of the East Village, Chinatown and the Seaport (no food in the last, but there were food-related smells -- mainly raw sewage and fish) - a truly memorable meal at Mix I want to thank everyone for their great suggestions. Though we didn't follow many of them -- getting a group of eight, ranging in ages from 11 to 52 to do anything together is like trying to turn the QE2 on a dime -- they still gave us inspiration and insight. A great time was had by all. We're already trying to figure out how to swing it again next year.

How strange! I recently assisted in the assembly of devilled eggs featuring whipped goose fat (a riff on guajolote's beef fat eggs) and a duck crackling garnish. These eggs garnered me a marriage proposal.