Mjx

I have to agree, die-cutting looks like the way to go; searching online, I haven't seen much that's under 3" across in any direction, and nothing at all that size (UK or US).

I forgot to mention fondant: I love working with the stuff, so I make it every year, but since I don't have a marble slab, things can get a bit... overwrought. I've had really good results blending in lemon and ginger (combination of ground, and bits of crystallized ginger), vanilla bean seed and cayenne, and almond extract with small pieces of crystallized fruit. I've throught about trying peppermint extract and... something, but so far that 'something' eludes me. Chocolate is good with it, but there is so much mint-chocolate stuff about, as it is, that I'd rather not go there.

If the pursuit of Michelin stars pushes chefs to shelve their awareness of the spectrum of possibilities of food, then it does suggest that it could ruin meals that should have been enjoyable. Taking a strict line with any culinary approach quickly becomes empty and tedious, because the thought and imagination go out of it. Nouvelle cuisine seems to easily degenerate into a charicature of itself, a would-be intellectual and aesthetic exercise, or worse, pure performance art; when this happens, it fails even as an exercise, because it becomes uninteresting and disappointing. The best meals I've had have inevitably been prepared by chefs who were free of the tunnel vision caused by embracing a single approach, and who took an ongoing, active interest in the overall effect, combining solid and ephemeral, humble and luxurious, homey and exotic, flavours and textures that set one another off, and both traditional and new elements.

I'm doing the cooking for my boyfriend and his family (I like to cook, no one else does, it all works beautifully), and this year I'm slated to prepare a chocolate torte (to go with coffee in the afternoon), some ambiguiously identified part of a deer ('deer back') in an as-yet undecided style, 'brown potatoes' (please don't ask, but it involves a lot of butter and sugar, and is a traditional Danish thing), some other sort of potatoes (I'm planning latkes, if no objections are are raised), an as-yet-undetermined vegetable or two, ditto salad, chestnuts poached in a chicken broth that is then reduced, and crêpes Suzette. I'm probably going to have several surprise requests at the last minute, so I'm not thinking about it too closely. Oh, and I'm planning to make tobacco truffles again (nobody crucify me for this: there is only a tiny bit of tobacco involved, all are informed of its presence, all are adults, no ex-smokers). I usually make a Christamas pudding, but have dragged my feet on it this year, and am running short on time...

Ravioli. No, wait, I'm not out of my mind: If you think about it, wrapping cubes of the (marinated or otherwise seasoned) beef in the ravioli format is a variation on Beef Wellington (and gives you your starch; you needn't confine yourself to wheat flour, either). You could include other traditional components, or variations of them; you could poach them in a very reduced, deeply flavoured broth (depending on how elastic the definition of 'sauce' is, you might be able to use the reductin as a sauce). Something humble, but not too familiar, for a vegetable (some crucifer or bean, perhaps) would make a nice contrast to the central, 'luxury' ingredient. (If nothing else, you now know my plans for the next beef tenderloin I get my hands on.)

I think her approachability, and her way way of making more complex cooking approachable were extremely important; she seemed to take would-be-rarified things out of the rarified realm. I only saw her once on TV, when I was a child (I wasn't born early enough to see the larger part of her TV work, and only got to watch TV at my grandparents' homes). It sure wasn't Sesame Street, but it held my attention to the end: I recall that there was some sort of moulded gelatine thing involved. Her appearance, delivery, and relaxed attitude when the unmoulded dish slumped, all combined to imply that I too, could do this, and you weren't an incompetent yob if you failed: these things happened.

When I'm feeling exhausted or run down, I will never [again] do anything in a kitchen that involves equipment more dangerous, fragile, or complex than a spoon. When I first went off to university, I got a job working at a diner. Originally I was supposed to wait tables, but after half a day of serving families whose children had apparently been raised by wolves, and which left religious tracts as tips (yes, really), I asked the manager whether I mightn't fill the currently vacant position of busboykid. The manager agreed reluctantly (it meant paying me minimum wage, instead of two dollars an hour), and said the position was mine, if no one else came along. The diner was a busy one, and that afternoon I didn't once stop clearing tables, or loading and unloading the dishwasher until nearly 23.00. Have I mentioned that this wasn't an exciting job? Also, I didn't want too look like a baby or a whiner, so I didn't ask for a break at any point, and after an hour or so, I was running on autopilot, my mind far, far away. As a result, I brought my first day to a dramatic close when, near midnight, I went into the back, opened the dishwasher, and began unloading it, starting with a full tray of glasses, which I set down on the top of the machine. The problem was that while I was out front bussing, someone had dumped a large heap of plastic spoons onto the top of the unit. I saw the spoons, realized the problem, but was still in Stepford bus-kid mode, and, with my brain saying 'OHnononononononoooo...' somewhere off in the distance, I precisely placed the tray on the heap of spoons, stepped back, and watched the whole thing crash to the floor in an avalanche of smashing glass and bouncing spoons. To make things worse, I reflexively dropped to the floor in a crouch, and brought my hand down on a spike of glass. The racket brought a rush of staff to the back, and they found me still crouching on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, plastic spoons, and arterial spray, too tired to be upset, or even think of anything more than 'Huh, that's a cut artery, it's squirting rhythmically.' The lesson about not doing things in the kitchen when fatigued was reinforced (I tend to need reinforcement, evidently) some years later, when I was way too tired to tie back my long hair, but was good to bake bread. Using a mixer... Ouch.

Before committing to a new bottle, try Mozart Black liqueur: I find it much more complex and intense than Godiva, which I find insipid, flat, and aggressively sweet. Mozart also makes a clear chocolate spirit, if you want something potent and sugarless to flavour sweets. I'm afraid I can't remember what it costs in the US (it runs the equivalent of about USD20 in Germany, including tax), but I don't imagine that it would cost more than the Godiva, since both are imports. I also have a bottle of some Italian stuff called 'Plaisir Noir', which is fine if you like your chocolate liqueurs on the thick and heavy side. I'm not a huge fan of creme de cacao, but that may be because those I've tried were not necessarily intended to be sipped straight (I don't just use my chocolate liqueurs in baking, I drink them, too).

I don't think even quite violent arguments among people who know each other well (as, say, Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley did) would come under the 'bullying' heading; that's more something I associate with the random shopper at Whole Foods who begins haranguing you over the animal product you're eating (yes, that's happened).

I've never tried this, although I've reheated and fortified other gelatine-based desserts, so it should be doable. Your panna cotta will probably be fine, although the result may be on the soft side (I use 6 g. gelatine--three 2 g. sheets--for a half litre of cream/milk). Unless it seems unmouldably soft, it may be best to stick with whatever you get; just make sure you give it plenty of time to set up.

I'm experiencing a bit of a rush! Only disappointment is that I did not get to do a trial run on the 'deer back', and am still in the dark as to what it even is.

So pretty! I'm not being sarcastic, either. But those are some wee portions, and several look more like garnishes than full servings. I'm all for beautiful food, but it's a shame when visual aesthetics kick the actual experience of eating to the curb. If this is what the hunt for a Michelin star is bringing about, I have to agree with your subtitle.

I bully bullies. Only occasionally, but I have been known to snap. I'm perfectly okay with orgasmic raving, meltdowns over something not meeting precise expectations, and maddening food restrictions... as long as it doesn't get mean. Everyone has their own code of ethics, their own set of tastebuds to consider, their own way of prepping, their own aesthetics. I read 'chop finely' as 'Reduce to tiny pieces'; my boyfriend interprets this as 'Reduce to the smallest pieces possible before losing interest'. I leave the kitchen when he preps, and usually throw him out when I do. I could try pushing him to see things my way, but it seems pointlessly dictatorial. If I must have something done a certain way, I do it myself. I was raised in Italy, which tends to be a great place to acquire a taste for craftmanship, and the best the table has to offer: I adore exquisite ingredients, sensitively composed into breathaking preparations, assembled in menus that that appear to have been designed by particularly thoughtful gods. On the other hand, as an undergrad. I went through several rough patches that forcibly brought home the fact that in the complete absence of food, you starve, and 'tough luck, Mjx, you're lucky you have those instant mashed potato flakes and (on a good week) instant coffee (ooh, it says 'great with milk', too bad you hate dairy in you coffee) made with hot water from the tap.' Nothing like starvation to give a girl perspective, but I'm afraid it made me militant about keeping a grip, and not harassing those do not (or cannot) appreciate the nuances that make the 'best' (an arbitrary designation, after all) foods and beverages so special. I too am fed to the teeth by those who try to cram their ethics down other people's throats, not least because it actually undermines the very issues being raised. I like my food animals humanely treated, my produce grown organically and locally, and do my best to not use disposable packaging, but much as I'd love to see everyone doing this, I have no intention of forcing this stuff on those who aren't interested, and hate it when I come across those who feel that they must make a convert of every person they meet. However, I must confess to having taken gross advantage of several caffeine-innocent people in their moments of weakness, and having introduced them to espresso. All are now hardcore junkies. But I didn't bully... I just said, 'Here, try this...' and they were lost.

I tried the wet method of caramelizing sugar--I'm fairly certain that this is what you're talking about, not making the sweets known as 'caramels'--once only (the recipe stipulated it, but did not indicate why), and it called for an amount of water that just made the sugar wet, but not soupy (I'm sorry this is imprecise, but it's been a long time, and I never revisited the method). It took longer than the dry method, and the end result was identical, so it doesn't seem to have anything to recommend it. If you aren't comfortable with the dry method (which only requires you to use a pan with a heavy bottom, and not get impatient and crank up the heat), I'd add just enough water to make the sugar look thoroughly wet, or you'll be hanging over the pot for ages, muttering at it to hurry up.

Have you tried adding a little pectin? Or a couple of ounces (about 60 g) of chopped cranberries? Apples, particularly those that are on the underripe and tart side usually have a decent amount of pectin to begin with, but perhaps the ones you have are not as pectin-rich as would be useful. The golden delicious apples may be the problem; they always strike me as lacking in crispness, and I'd expect them to cook up mushy/runny. I think flour, corn starch, and even tapioca would sort of dull the flavour.

For up to six people, I simply pick the biggest bird I can find, since two of these people are guaranteed to include my boyfriend and his brother, who eat like they have holes in their necks. For eight or more people, I'd get a second bird, and not worry about what to do with leftovers (they'd be gone in under three days, thanks to the same two chow hounds). I learned this the first time I roasted a large bird (that one was actually a goose) for six, using a recipe intended for eight to ten people: there was nothing left but the skeleton, which was being picked apart and by gnawed at by the carnivore brothers. From then on, I went with the biggest specimen available.

Please tell me this is a joke..? That sounds like an emetic, not a sweet. No, I don't have a TV, long (not interesting) story.

I gave up on paying attention to projected total cooking times a long time ago. The time discrepancy doesn't seem to have anything to do with my organization, because I'm ruthless about not having useless crap in the kitchen, and everything is close together and easy to find, and I'm systematic about my approach laying out equipment and ingredients. But there isn't a recipe written that includes the time I need to locate and read some steps in a recipe three times over, because the first two, I evidently looked, but was thinking of something else, or that accounts for the time I spend waste, trying to decide which prep step to do first, and whether or not it even matters. Recipes never account for the time I spend washing up--or at least rinsing--as I go, so I don't have to face a mountain range of dirty dishes when I'm sick of being in the kitchen. The times certainly don't include the text messages or phone calls (always urgent, naturally) I end up replying to, and which always seem to come when I'm up to my elbows in a mixture of lard and flour. By now I know from experience how long various types of things will take, depending on how I distribute the work (e.g. 'all afternoon' or 'all day, a few minutes now and then'), but I never mention these times when I share a recipe with someone else: its highly unlikley that even a vague estimate it would be accurate for someone else.

You may have a point, Chris. But I'm a copyeditor and copywriter to the bone, and (possibly because I have to deal daily with spectacularly misguided efforts at 'creative' word usage, and have written ridiculous copy for various things) whenever I see would-be-creative efforts to describe menu items, I usually pass (sometimes, on the restaurant as a whole). I think it comes down to my having become over-tuned with regard to anything that has even a whiff of hype, which is clearly my problem, not that of the to-me-questionably-named items.

I'm very picky about my food, but I actually like my cooking. I allow myself this, because I attribute my successes to good recipes and good ingredients, rather than any brilliance on my part. Normally, I won't make something unless I have a good sense of what is involved, and have the right ingredients/equipment. My fiascos are almost inevitably due to my bad judgement: improvisations I don't really believe in (e.g. substituting bran for breadcrumbs), selection of an iffy recipe, settling for poor ingredients because that is all that is available, and so on. I spend a lot of time in a place where food tends to be bolted, and caring about food is considered a bit snobbish, so meals outside the home can be a little... startling, since I grew in a place where caring about food is a given. When I do the cooking, I know pretty accurately what I'm going to get, and tend to enjoy it. I usually give my cooking a lot of attention, though because my boyfriend is remarkably appreciative, and I'd hate to fall below the standard.

How about 'Seasonal selection of artisanal vegetables'? I recall seeing that (and related labels) on menus, with offerings in the same style as those at Gather.

Apparently, this item is actually not even pretending to mimic charcuterie ('In fact, the only similarity to a typical charcuterie plate is the wooden board Baker sets the food on.' http://www.foodandwine.com/articles/10-best-restaurant-dishes-of-2010), so calling it that seems fairly pointless. (No one get me started on any sort of vegetable 'carpaccio'; frankly, limp slithers of veg. really don't cut it, regardless of how they're tarted up... but that's just one opinion, obviously.)

I realize that this is academic by now, but I think the idea of using an unalcoholic malt beverage (and cutting back on the sugar) is the best bet under the circumstances, if stout really isn't an option. I've made a number of recipes (some of which use a significant amount of alcohol, e.g. a cup/quarter litre or more of red wine or beer), and those that are long cooked or baked have no residual alcoholic presence, nor a distinct note that suggests beer, wine, neutral spirits, what-have-you. Alcohol doesn't seem to survive lengthy cooking, although it can enhance flavour by acting as an organic solvent, and is important in that respect. I realize that the use of alcohol in food is a serious matter for recovered alcoholcs, but when this sort of issue arises, the simplest thing to do might be to first make a trial run with all the original ingredients, take a slice from the middle, and take a good deep sniff. If you smell booze, go with substitution; if not, then have a clean and dry friend do a blind sniff test (the recovered alcoholics I've known seem to pick up the slightest traces of alcohol much more easily than I can). I've known several recovered alcoholics, and they were all comfortable with being consulted about alcohol-related topics.

Thanks, Jane, that's actually breathtaking. It also confirms my suspicions that many of the ingredients would need to be specially grown, or harvested from the wild. Some of the recipes look intriguing (others look like they're trying way too hard). Lokks like a beautiful book, anyway.

This must have something to do with the legal drinking age in public places in Scotland being 16 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legal_drinking_age#Europe ). Must be a response to some sort of crack-down on reinforcement, although when I scanned news items, I didn't find anything specifc regarding September 2009 (I did think it was odd that it applied to dinner hours only, then noticed that don't serve lunch).