Dave the Cook

Over here on the "House" selections topic, the term "gold rum" is invoked. I've got a number of rums on my shelf, and they run the color-transparency gamut from water-clear (Mathusalem) to those that would give wastewater sludge an opacity challenge (Cruzan Blackstrap). But what's gold? Is it anything between Flor de Cana 4-year-old and Gosling's? Is it a style, as Dave Wondrich alludes to in Killer Cocktails (what is Barbados-style rum?) Maybe I already have some. But until someone gives me some examples, I'm rum-blind, and I don't like it.

There's been some expansion in availability, but -- and I don't want to speak for everyone -- I think there's also simply a greater awareness of what's available. When I look at people's lists, I don't see so many new products as I see products that in 2004 might have been considered obscure but are now the focus of cocktail enthusiasts' interest. Isn't Luxardo Bitter a Campari knock-off? Not that there's anything wrong with that. Dutch gin, aka "Hollands" is a lightly sweetened, old-fashioned style of gin made in pot still on a base of what is essentially unaged whiskey. Or so I'm told. None is currently imported to the United States, aside from Boomsma, which those in the know say is not terribly indicative of the style. ← Damrak? To get back to campus five's original inquiry, here's what I keep around as "standard house pours" (like everyone else, my sheves have accreted a lot of crap that doesn't get regular use): Gin - Beefeater or Citadelle; I've started keeping Plymouth around, too, for softer drinks. Bourbon - I've got Wild Turkey 100, but I haven't touched it in months. I don't care for bourbon all that much. Rye - Wild Turkey 101; Rittenhouse BIB White Rum - Flor de Cana 4 yr Gold Rum - I'm not sure what this is. Someone give me a clue! Dark Rum - Bacardi 8 (why does no one else mention this? It's the one objectively great product Bacardi makes); Inner Circle 115 Cognac - Landy Apple: I keep both Laird's Applejack and Laird's Bonded on hand. I think they serve different purposes. I've also got a bottle of decent Calvados (cant' remember the name right off hand), but I'm not sure where it works better than one or the othe of the Laird's products. Tequila, silver: Milagro. It's not as good as Herradura, but the Herradura is not $10 a bottle better. When I can find it, I buy El Grito, a 100-proof silver that beats anything short of 40 bucks per 750 ml. Tequila, reposado: Milagro or Cazadores. Sweet Vermouth - Carpano Antica Dry Vermouth - Noily Pratt Orange Curacao - I've been working through Prunier, Grand Marnier, Creole Shrubb, MB Grand Orange and MB Orange Curacao. I think I'm going to settle on the last. Triple Sec - Marie Brizard typically; Citronge or Cointreau if MB isn't available, depending on how business has been going. Apricot: Marie Brizard Apry Maraschino - Luxardo (not that I have a choice) Herbsaint, Regan's and Fee's Orange bitters, Angostura, Fee's Grapefruit and Lemon bitters, Campari (and a bottle of Luxardo Bitter that I bought for comparison), Lillet, Taylor's Velvet Falernum. Oh, a bottle of Belle de Brillet that gets tapped regularly for experiments.

I teach the cheek-chin-nose-forehead method. But along with that, I tell students the method doesn't matter so much as correlation to standardized results, meaning use a thermometer for a while and cook to temperature. Check that against the touch system you're using and eventually you'll develop a reliable system. Finally I tell them that none of it is worth much if you don't practice a lot. As for carving, the direction isn't as important as that you make a single clean cut. Sawing creates an unattractive portion. I guess salting over the grill (I assume it's a gas grill) might eventually corrode the burners. But if the grates are cleaned properly every night, they should be fine, whether they're steel, iron or some porcelain-coated metal.

There are some foods -- I'd number blue cheese among them -- that are likely to be more repellent the better they are. The qualities that connoisseurs appreciate tend to be more pronounced as you go up the scale, making them even less pleasant for the reticent. Olives also come to mind. My kids grew up knowing olives as those dime-sized black Os on take-out pizza, and they claimed to love them. Wanting them to experience the real thing, one day I brought home a selection of honest olives from a decently stocked bar. They not only hated them, they quit ordering them on pizza.

Thanks for breaking the silence on this terrible affliction, Chris. I worry about any bit of charcuterie. The meat, the money, the time: all those investments create terrible and terrifying responsibility. I've got a 15-1/2 pound belly in my fridge right now that's doing nothing but scaring me to death.

I was reminded of this lovely piece (and ivy's post) the other day when my son came to visit. I had just pulled some stuff out of the smoke box, which sits in the carport. Sean raised his nose and sniffed. "Your neighbors must be really jealous."

Wow. I'd never heard of Hal's, even though I drive by the location twice a week. Definitely worth a try. I like the Creole-steakhouse vibe, but it's not quite what I'm after. Bones is closer to the experience I'm after. And though I'm not a chain fan, what about Palm, Morton's and Ruth's Chris? Or (not a chain) Rathbun Steak?

Fifteen months later, I have a fairly steady supply of Laird's Bonded Apple Brandy, so I've been able to experiment. But as often happens, the solution I now prefer was the result of an accident -- not to mention presented to me by someone else. A friend was mixing a couple of Jack Roses, and asked me for the recipe. I scuffed my feet a bit (still indecisive) and ventured "Two ounces Bonded, half-ounce each lemon and grenadine." She mixed up the drinks. They looked a tiny bit pale, but that could have been the frost on the glass. However, it didn't taste like any Jack Rose I'd ever made. It was powerful but balanced. The apple came through, with the citrus and pomegranate finally playing proper supporting roles. Of course, what had happened was that she added one drink's worth of lemon and grenadine and two's worth of brandy. After a little more experimentation, I offer my apologies to BigboyDan, whose ratios I once thought extreme. 2.5 ounces Laird's Bonded Apple Brandy 0.5 ounce lemon juice 0.5 T grenadine (1:1 sugar:Pom)

I can't imagine even the most knowledgeable wine person being able to pair wines better than Alinea's staff. Even if you're familiar with the wines on the list (unlikely, given its length), the food is so unpredictable --and I mean that in the best possible way -- you're as likely to miss as hit, just because you'll have the wrong target in your sights.

I'm working on a project about steakhouse dishes, and I need a little help with the research. Where in the Atlanta area am I most likely to get the classic experience: wedge salad, creamed spinach, Lyonnaise potatoes -- that sort of stuff? Chain or independent -- doesn't matter.

I'm giving this a bump because I was going through the Bertolli calculations (described up here) for a 15-1/2-pound belly and realized (d'oh!) I could put it in a spreadsheet and quit wearing out my pencil. Here it is, for anyone who cares: bertolli_displacement_method.xls

Right, no additional fat is needed. Here's the actual recipe we used: Pan-roasted duck breast. Again, 120 F might work for wild duck; that seems mighty rare. At 150, domesticated duck is nice and pink, but has lost the gelatinous quality that raw meat has.

Pan-roasted duck breast Serves 2 as Main Dish. Salt 2 Long Island or Pekin duck breasts Preheat oven to 350 F. With a very sharp knife, score the skin side of each breast, cutting through the skin and fat, but trying to avoid cutting into the flesh. Space the scores ¼ to ½ inch apart. Turn the breast 90 degrees and score at right angles to the first series of scores. Sprinkle with kosher salt on both sides and set aside until ready to cook. Heat a heavy pan (cast iron or clad stainless steel) over medium heat until a drop of water bounces across the surface of the pan. Lay the breasts into the pan skin-side down. Cook until the skin is medium brown and crisp, about six minutes. Turn the breasts over and cook on the flesh side for one minute. Remove to a rack set into a quarter sheet pan. Insert a probe thermometer lengthwise into one of the breasts. Put pan in oven and roast to a temperature of 150. Let rest for five minutes. Slice and serve. Keywords: Main Dish, Easy, Duck ( RG2101 )

Your first step should probably be to read the eGCI course Understanding Stovetop Cookware. It will explain the difference between straight-gauge, clad and disk-bottomed pots and pans, as well as illuminate the properties of the various material used. What most restaurant supply stores carry is aluminum, aluminum, a little blue steel, aluminum with non-stick coating, and aluminum. Occasionally, they'll carry some Sitram and less occasionally one of the high-end copper lines. But when it comes to quality and variety, home consumers have much better choices than 95% of restaurants.

Like the back of many liqueur bottles, Marie Brizard's Apry boasts a recipe. We should be thankful, I suppose, that it's a recipe for an actual cocktail and not a suggestion to dribble the contents over ice cream, sub them into Zabaglione or insert them into a batter for brownies. But the drink that's detailed is not very good: Paradise 1 part orange juice 3 parts Apry 6 parts gin It's as cloying as a Hallmark movie, and even less restorative. After a bit of citrus-switching and rebalancing, I came up with this variation: 2 ounces gin 1/2 ounce Apry 1/2 ounce lime juice The Paradise Regained.

A food mill is far more versatile, I agree. I use mine for tomatoes, chiles, apples, etc. But a tamis will yield a finer puree.

How expensive is too expensive? You can buy a tamis from Bridge Kitchenware for $30 to $40. There are some really inexpensive (like $10) Chinese-made tamis (tamises?) coming into the market, but there's no consensus on the quality yet, as far as I know.

I think it's a meat grinder. But Dave the Cook did the artwork. Dave? As I mentioned in the recipe, and Keith Orr reiterated, grinding your own beef makes an amazing difference. It's kind of a pain, but if you only make these once in a while, I think it's worth making them as well as you can. ← Thanks- you gave the right perspective, and now I can't figure out why I would have thought it was anything else. Agree also on the grinding your own meat. It gives you such control and always seems to result in a more "meaty" as opposed to "mushy" tasting product. ← Yep. Here's a reduced version of the original: Freshly ground beef is a revelation, whether it's in a burger, a patty melt or a meatloaf.

Duh. Of course you're right, and you identified the trap I jumped into before I bothered to have an intelligent thought: Cajun = Louisiana, which is incorrect. But while I appreciate the desire to maintain some sort of purity with respect to defining "Cajun chef," it seems to me that doing so risks trapping the craft in somewhere in the past, not to mention limiting its practice to a specific geography. It's like saying that Batali can't be an Italian chef because he was born in Seattle -- or that he can't be anything but an Italian chef because of his last name. Marcelle Bienvenue is an excellent suggestion.

As I said, it depends on your definition. There are chefs who have Cajun roots, there are chefs who have roots elsewhere who cook Cajun food. There are chefs who cook other cuisines but are clearly influenced by Cajun ingredients and techniques. If we're going to clamp down hard on the meaning of "Cajun," the group that qualifies is going to be uselessly small for anyone who doesn't live within 40 miles of Lafayette. And please don't tell me that one must work in Louisiana to be a Cajun chef. Some of the best Cajun food I've had was the product of Vietnamese and Chinese cooks a time zone or more removed from the bayou.

Just to be clear: 1-1/2 cups of white sugar to 1 cup of water, then macerate one pineapple (peeled and cored) in the solution, then strain and add a tablespoon of overproof rum?

It depends on your definition of "Cajun." After Prudhomme, the foremost exponent of the craft is almost certainly Emeril Lagasse, though his roots are in Portuguese Rhode Island, not the bayou. Then there's Susan Spicer, Frank Brightsen, Ann Cashion, Leah Chase, Austin Leslie, John Besh. And more, which I'm sure others will add. Googling any of those names will bring up tons of information.

In cases like this, my usual solution is to simmer some bones and trim in white chicken stock, or even canned chicken broth. Lamb and pork bones-trim both can sway the base flavor substantially in 20 to 30 minutes.

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution's John Kessler hates the word "foodie." In this week's column, he comes right out with it: After recounting the history of the word (most of which I didn't know), he suggests and discards alternatives: gourmet, chowhound, food freak and the like. He makes a case for "epicure," but settles uneasily on "gastro:" I'm with Kessler -- we need to lose "foodie." I'm not sure about "gastro," though. Can we come up with a better term?

Further to what Pam says, here's what the US Copyright Office has written: Source: FL-122, Revised July 2006