Dave the Cook

I thought the egg looked overdone. And she used imported olive oil. Just saying.

The new menu went into effect the week of 12 April as far as I can tell, so you probably got the last of the old-style Eugene. The she-crab soup and duck are still available (or were as of my last dinner visit on 28 April), but the mushrooms are not -- probably a seasonal issue.

I've eaten at Eugene twice since the new menu has been installed. I'm a fan, with qualifications. The first visit, I was one of a party of eight. With willing companions on firsts and seconds, we got to sample a lot of stuff: the oyster gratin (excellent; Hopkins has a way with oysters -- one of my top ten dishes ever is his Kumamotos with pickled ginger, which are still on the menu); salmon with bok choy, shiitakes and game jus (real salmon flavor matched well with the sauce); peas, crawfish, cream, green tomato (a revelation); asparagus, bearnaise, lobster reduction (sounds like a ton of work for eight bucks, and worth every penny); egg, peanuts, bacon, shallot (reminding me to work with peanuts more at home); sweetbreads, egg, bottarga, arugula pesto (good, but not as good as the sweetbreads anywhere Richard Blais is cooking); foie gras, strawberries, black pepper, balsamic (again, good, but Repast remains my go-to for foie). In all, five out of seven dishes were close to, if not members of, best in class. The other two were really good. That's an average most restaurants can only hope for, so that's not what comprises my qualification. I've also been to Eugene's Friday Flight, an inspired concept that I don't find compelling in its reality. It's three small plates: two savory and one sweet, paired with cocktails, which are often the creation (or the result of research by) of Nick Hearin, Chef Hopkins' bar manager. The cocktails are great, the plates likewise, and the matches are really intriguing (Nick has matched single dishes for me before). The problem is with the weight of the dishes. Two small plates and a small dessert means either you add a course from the main menu, or you scarf the dessert and leave hungry -- and course-disoriented.

I'm not against canned or frozen foods. The outside aisles provide guidance, though: the closer a food is to its original state, the better it will taste, and often, the better it will be for us to eat.

Perhaps I'm preaching to the choir here, but it seems to me that the single most effective step we as a culture could take -- for greenness (whatever that might mean) and wholesomeness -- would be to stay at the perimeter of the grocery store, where the real food lives: fresh produce, meat and fish that's been touched only by a knife, and dairy (and corn) that's not been processed into creamers, soft drinks or packaging. Then, as Maggie and Peter suggest: eat what you buy.

Nothing earth-shattering here, but I realized the other night that yet another way to categorize drinks is by their ability to fool the tastebuds. The one that will probably jump first to most minds is Harrington's Jasmine, which mimics grapefruit juice: 1-1/2 oz gin 1/4 oz Cointreau 1/4 oz Campari 3/4 oz lemon juice But there are others that fool in different ways. I would swear that the Afonso Special had citrus in it: 1 oz gin 1 oz dry vermouth 1/2 oz Grand Marnier 1/4 oz sweet vermouth 1 dash aromatic bitters Robert Hess's Voyager tastes like weak, flat Coke (believe it or not, I mean that in a good way), especially if you use a demerara rum: 2 oz rum 1/2 oz Benedictine 1/2 oz falernum (John Taylor) 1/2 oz lime juice My own invention, the Catcher, has a definite aura of vermouth: 1-1/2 oz cognac (Landy VS) 1/2 oz 100-proof rye (Rittenhouse) 1/2 oz Maraschino (Luxardo) 1 tsp Benedictine Two dashes aromatic bitters Any other cocktails that can amuse in this way or -- perhaps more useful -- be used to win bar bets? Oh, a bonus -- if you make a Sidecar: 2 oz. cognac 1 oz. triple sec 1/2 oz. lemon juice with Christian Brothers brandy, it tastes enough like a Creamsicle to make you think you're nine years old.

Maybe you could manage soft-boiled eggs?

It was one of his first.

If you liked this tale and it's your first taste of Joe Carey, you're going to enjoy the other parts of his saga: Why I Cook: Richmond, Indiana Why I Cook: Berkeley, Paris, Suzan, The Ordinary Waiting for Go & Dough: Why I Cook Into the Ordinary: A Primer on How Not to Do a Restaurant Good Mourning Vietnam: Intermezzo

I'm sure there are some propane units that are twice as hot as some natural gas units, just as I'm sure that there are some electrical units that are twice as effective as some propane units. But as a practical matter, all burners -- regardless of fuel source -- are designed for useful output within a fairly narrow, um, range, based on assumptions manufacturers make about how their customers cook. But the variables that go into the total efficiency equation are numerous: in addition to BTU output (assuming that the burner is properly adjusted), height of the grates, grate material, cooking vessel material, vessel contents, ability and conscientiousness of the cook -- it goes on, and not all of it is under the manufacturer's control.

I don't agree with everything he says, but in his latest book, Michael Pollan convincingly dates the start of the so-called obesity epidemic to the introduction of the food pyramid.

I think Beanie has it right -- that chart is helpful. Beyond that, I wouldn't call these "problems" so much as "choices" made by a manufacturer. If I had to guess why some manufacturers made them, I'd point out that Beanie and baroness are correct that propane is harder to adjust properly, since the jets for propane are about half the size of those for natural gas -- meaning less margin for error. So you've got manufacturing issues (fine machining) and training issues (teaching personnel how to set up a propane conversion). The latter seems like the bigger problem, especially since service for high-end manufacturers is often scarce outside major metropolitan areas.

Without agreeing that a Viking is really a high-end range, or that electric is inferior to gas, I can answer some of your questions: Propane contains more energy than natural gas -- 2500 BTU per cubic foot versus 1000 BTU. Therefore, if propane doesn't work as well in some applications, it's due to engineering and design issues, rather than fuel source. The inconvenience doesn't amount to much; a guy comes around at regular intervals and fills the propane tank. The presence of a propane tank in your yard might be an issue, though.

What happens is --according to a cheap pH meter -- is the pH goes from a nominal 2.5 to about 4.3. That's still low, but my belly wasn't getting any younger. So I calculated this recipe, settling on 4% salt and 3% sugar: 120 oz. water 76 oz. Coca-Cola 317 grams salt 27 grams pink salt Consistent with Chris H's prediction, the pH barely budged -- maybe up a tick, but the scale on the meter isn't very precise. I'll check it every 12 hours for mushiness and keep everyone posted.

Seeing as neroli oil is a buck a milliliter, I'm happy to entertain the current motion a bit longer. Like most carbonated beverages, Coke contains carbonic acid -- so one question is: what happens to pH if you let the cola go flat? Ingredients also include phosphoric acid (according to Snopes, 0.2 to 0.3 %) and maybe citric acid (Snopes says in lower concentrations than an orange).

Aha! I could make my own cola.

Then this seems like a non-starter, unless I can neutralize at least some of the acid. Any ideas? Baking soda? Mentos?

It's a little queasy. But let's try it with better numbers. I'd be diluting 2.5 quarts of Coke with 3.5 quarts of water. Contrary to my earlier numbers, that's not a 60% dilution, it's a 140% dilution. Please run that through your abacus.

Good luck, Rona! Let us know how it goes. Now let's talk about my bacon issues. I'm thinking Coca-Cola bacon. As a flavor profile, it's got a lot of promise: sugar, interesting herbs and spices as well as citrus notes. With some salt, it should be interesting. After all, people cook ham with Coke all the time, and it's great. But let's assume that I've had a great idea and move on to the particulars. I'd like a brine that's 4% salt and 3% sugar. For 1.5 gallons of brine, I'd need about 2.5 quarts of Coca-Cola, diluted with 3.5 quarts of water (plus salt and whatever). It seemed pretty clear-cut, until I related my plan to a friend, who asked "What about the acid?" The pH of Coke is about 2.5 -- roughly that of lemon or lime juice. Neither of us knew how the dilution (roughly 60%) would affect pH, though it would certainly be reduced. Still, I don't want to subject my belly to high levels of acid for three or four days. Who around here understands pH?

Doesn't the heat in your oven come from the bottom? I don't know what your equipment situation is, but a stainless steel or chrome-plated rack in a sheet pan or over a rimmed cookie sheet would work. Having said that, my usual procedure is to cold-smoke, then slow-roast in an oven at 225 F, finishing at 165 F. I've never experienced significant fat loss.

Be careful with aluminum foil and salt-cured meats. I once brined a brisket for pastrami. Since I couldn't smoke it right away, I put it on a sheet pan and covered it with foil. I came back two (maybe three) days later to perforated foil and little drops of aluminum on my beef. The sheet pan gave up some material, too.

Emeril was a New Orleans star when he was at Commander's Palace, as Prudhomme was before him. (Quick: name the current chef at CP.*) Without his own place, though, I don't think he gets the Food Network gig. *Tory McPhail, a name New Orleans foodies -- which is just about everyone in the city -- would have no trouble coming up with.

I have to question the inclusion of WD-50. People can't even decide whether it's a good restaurant, let alone provide evidence of influence outside its own doors.

On that basis, you'd have to include Emeril's. ← On the basis of chef fame only, yes. I don't think the food was as revolutionary to New Orleans as Mesa Grill's was to New York City. This could be one of those cases where Flay and Mesa came before the Food Network, whereas the Food Network probably begat Emeril's fame as both a chef and a restarauteur. ← Both Emeril's and Mesa opened in 1991. The case that Flay "launched" the Food Network is pretty weak, I think. At a minimum, he'd have to share credit with Lagasse, Sara Moulton and a few others. I wasn't aware that influence in New York was part of the criteria. More than Prudhomme, Lagasse (let's not forget that he was the one with the five-nights-a-week prime-time show) brought Louisiana cooking to the country.

Many people besides Neal make a claim to that sort of influence, and I'm not sure I'd pick him. Regardless, there should definitely be someone representative of the "(new) southern" movement on the list.