Dave the Cook

The Oxo works just fine (see it here). I prefer the Zyliss, though. It has a perfectly flat top, so you can store (lightweight) things on top of it. The pump on the Oxo locks down, but the top is still rounded. (The Zyliss has a brake too.)

Right. Just go easy on the salt!

Marinades are a surface treatment, for the most part. An hour or two is fine. If the marinade is too acidic, it will actually turn out to be a bad thing. Will you be using breast or thigh meat? The latter would be preferable, since it's more flavorful and survives overcooking with more grace. If you're using breast meat, brine it before skewering and marinating -- it will be juicy, well-seasoned and again, will be more forgiving of timing on the grill.

Not evil, in my book, especially the way you're doing it -- advancing the repertoire and giving credit at the same time. In the Daily Gullet story Sincerest Form, several chefs weighed in on the subject.

Agreed. . . . . . ← Specifically, what pathogens are you talking about?

The stall is the key to perfect pulled pork. At some point in the cooking process, the internal temperature of the meat will stop rising, or at least slow greatly. Collagen converts to gelatin at 160F. It takes some time at or above that temperature to get full conversion; the amount of time depends on how much collagen is present. The stall is a result of energy being diverted to conversion. It's easiest to monitor this with a remote temperature probe, so you aren't always having to open the oven door. When you see the stall, just pay attention, and when the temperature starts to go back up more quickly, you're done. As klkruger notes, it's almost impossible to predict at what internal temperature this will happen. I wouldn't worry about pathogens. When you first start, pathogens are only on the surface of the meat, so you've killed them off. While it's possible that new bugs could have been introduced during the "resting" period you gave it, it seems highly unlikely.

Along the same lines, a bitter whiff of juniper can give the simple Cosmo enough depth to make it interesting: 1-1/2 oz gin 1 oz triple sec 1/2 oz lime juice 1 or 2 dashes cranberry juice Dash orange bitters I hereby propose this, which I think we should call the Anne Bancroft, for your Real-World Cocktail Menu.

Oops, no. It's the smaller piece on the left in the last photo. It's possible that the "chuck tender roast" is a chuck-eye roast (note the nomenclature in judiu's area); that word "tender" gets common and casual use with more regard for marketing than consistency. NAMP only recognizes cut 116B. Follow that link and you'll see that it does look like a mini version of the real tenderloin. There's a video here that shows how it's fabricated -- it reminds me of extracting core samples.

Just in case you're not yet convinced that Chris Amirault takes bitters seriously, check out his fine story in the Daily Gullet.

Dawg, you're on the other side of the retail counter?

Thanks for the heads-up! I was in two stores yesterday, and I'm sure I saw NP dry at at least one of them -- as soon as I figure it out and secure my share, I'll let you know! I don't know about Torani Amer, but lately the Tower on Piedmont has gotten a lot more serious about what they stock -- for example, they're the only place in town that's got R&W Violette and St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram, Junipero Gin and (once in a while) Rittenhouse Bonded. You might give them a call: 404-881-0902.

We discussed pan materials over here.

What's a red seal test?

. . . or a few days . . . The lazy person's guide for cleaning a ceramic cooktop First, older ceramic tops have an exposed gasket around the edge of the top. It's prone to damage, especially from incautious work with sharp instruments. If you have one of these models, be careful. Second, promise you will never let yours get this bad: That's 17 days without cleaning, including a couple of sessions with another avid cook. I let it go just so I could post this lesson; honest, I'm an appreciable slob, but not that appreciable. For later comparison, here's a close-up of one of the burners: First, get the surface goo off, along with any crumbs, seeds, mouse droppings (kidding!), etc. A bench scraper works well: Next, you need to clear out what I call the secondary grime. Soap a sponge and lather up your top. When you've got full coverage, crack a beer, brush the dog or go check eG Forums and let the soap work for a few minutes: Rinse the top (you needn't be too fussy; after all, it's still filthy). Get out your Bar Keeper's Friend and shake it on. Follow up by misting it with water. You want the BKF good and damp, but not so wet that it floats away from your target zones. Again, walk away for a few minutes. Chemistry is your friend. Now comes the toughest part -- scraping of the primary grime. I use a putty knife, but a paint-scraper loaded with a single-edged razor blade would probably work better. The trick to not raising a sweat is to keep working the BKF slurry, scraping in one spot, then moving on to a few others and coming back in a minute or so. Most of the dirt has been softened up, but if you've really burned something in, you'll have to exert yourself. After the initial scrape, you'll have a top full of sludge: Give it a quick wipedown to see where you've missed. Sure enough, some touch-up is needed: Go at it with more BKF and a spritz. These areas aren't any harder to clean than what you've already done; you just couldn't see them through the primary-grime slop. Once you've finished scraping, go around the edge to pick up any goo that got sloshed. On some ranges, there's a gasket just under the rim, so be extremely careful, especially if you're using a razor. Wipe down the top and dry it, and you're ready for the polish. It doesn't take a lot, and you don't need to worry too much about the area outside the burners. This is more than enough for this one: You can use pretty much anything to apply the polish: paper towel, dishcloth, shirtsleeve. Damp sponges don't work very well. Just rub it in -- it's like waxing a car or polishing silver. Keep rubbing until the haze disappears. As you can see, I'm from the circular school of application, but you may use any pattern you wish. That's it. Elapsed time, 16 minutes, about 9 of which were hands-on. Oh, I promised a close-up:

Brining makes the skin kind of flabby. Mitch, you can mitigate the problem by starting a day earlier. Brine the first day, then let the bird sit uncovered on a rack in the fridge the second. Alternatively, someone around here has suggested using a blow dryer to achieve the same effect more quickly (not being troubled with hair, I have no such appliance, and haven't tried the technique).

For the sake of clarity, a convection oven uses a fan to circulate heated air throughout the oven, evening the temperature throughout the oven cavity and pushing cool, insulating air off of the food. In theory, this leads to more even baking. In practice, it's only sometimes true, because of how domestic convection ovens are built and used. Most units I've seen have the fan flush-mounted to the back of the oven. Its air supply comes from return vents at the top of the oven cavity. While this arrangement is often better than nothing, it's not as good as commercial ovens, where the fan is open and the air supply chamber is larger (it usually surrounds the top, sides and back), further reducing temperature fluctuations. The limited circulation capacity of the domestic version can make using them a little tricky. If you put a large sheet pan on the middle rack (or load up every rack with cookie sheets, as the manufacturers suggest you can), you block the ability of the fan to do a good job. Also, placing something in the oven right in front of that fan at high heat will reveal a nasty hot spot. For example, I once seared a two-inch porterhouse steak in a cast-iron pan, then set it upright on the bone and stuck it in a 500F oven with convection on, rubbing my hands gleefully at the prospect of a really good crust. I got the crust, but I also got a large overdone spot -- the one that was right in front of the fan. Having said all that, I love convection ovens, and would hate to be without one. I've quit paying much attention to the 25-degree/20% less time (or whatever it is) guideline. Sometimes it's helpful and accurate, and sometimes it's not. With that in mind, there's a calculator here that might be helpful. It tries to account for different foods, and the results sometimes vary quite a bit from the 25-degree rule. After a while, you'll get used to it, and do the arithmetic in your head. A couple of other things: I hope your new oven is self-cleaning. With that fan flinging aerosolized animal fat all over the place, you'll have to clean it often. Also, preheating is quicker and more even using convection. Even if I'm not going to use convection to actually cook, I preheat with it, then switch to conventional. Those of you that have convection ovens, what are your favorite things to cook in them? One of my best tricks is emulating a low-temp fire: cold-smoke ribs, let them rest a day or two, then stick them in a 200F convection oven for about four hours. Terrific ribs with minimal effort.

What rum did you use, Kathy? I was about to try the Art of Choke, but I don't want to waste ingredients.

Wouldn't you have to see the recipe before deciding to rely on such broad advice?

If you've got the bucks, More Than Gourmet makes a very good base: glace de viande.

Three words: Goodwill. Tax deduction. Someone else will benefit from your hand-me-down, and you can claim -- what? $25? $50? -- as a charitable deduction. Win-win.

You don't sometimes get a fishy smell from canola? I do.

On the other hand, I once ignited extra-virgin olive oil using this same technique. Not recommended.

Actually, it was 1912. I don't mean to be pedantic, but there are so few facts in the history of drink I likes to nail down the ones we do have. ← And now we have a clear example of how the facts get muddled. Thank you, sir.

Like this, Chris? 1905: Herman Rosenthal is murdered in front of the Hotel Metropole in Times Square. At the subsequent trial, Jacob Rosenzweig (aka Jack Rose) commits perjury in order to deflect attention from his own involvement and that of New York World employee Herbert Swope and New York district attorney Charles Whitman. Rosenzweig's testimony successfully frames Lt. Charles Becker, who was in charge of the police department's anti-gambling squad. The Jack Rose cocktail rises in popularity, perhaps thanks to the notorious association.

Oiling grill grates.