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Mrs. Beeton's book gives very similar ingredient lists and processes for both Scotch and Welsh rarebit: TOASTED CHEESE, or SCOTCH RARE-BIT. 1651. INGREDIENTS.—A few slices of rich cheese, toast, mustard, and pepper. [illustration: HOT-WATER CHEESE-DISH.] Mode.—Cut some nice rich sound cheese into rather thin slices; melt it in a cheese-toaster on a hot plate, or over steam, and, when melted, add a small quantity of mixed mustard and a seasoning of pepper; stir the cheese until it is completely dissolved, then brown it before the fire, or with a salamander. Fill the bottom of the cheese-toaster with hot water, and serve with dry or buttered toasts, whichever may be preferred. Our engraving illustrates a cheese-toaster with hot-water reservoir: the cheese is melted in the upper tin, which is placed in another vessel of boiling water, so keeping the preparation beautifully hot. A small quantity of porter, or port wine, is sometimes mixed with the cheese; and, if it be not very rich, a few pieces of butter may be mixed with it to great advantage. Sometimes the melted cheese is spread on the toasts, and then laid in the cheese-dish at the top of the hot water. Whichever way it is served, it is highly necessary that the mixture be very hot, and very quickly sent to table, or it will be worthless. Time.—About 5 minutes to melt the cheese. Average cost, 1-1/2d. per slice. Sufficient.—Allow a slice to each person. Seasonable at any time. TOASTED CHEESE, or WELSH RARE-BIT. 1652. INGREDIENTS.—Slices of bread, butter, Cheshire or Gloucester cheese, mustard, and pepper. Mode.—Cut the bread into slices about 1/2 inch in thickness; pare off the crust, toast the bread slightly without hardening or burning it, and spread it with butter. Cut some slices, not quite so large as the bread, from a good rich fat cheese; lay them on the toasted bread in a cheese-toaster; be careful that the cheese does not burn, and let it be equally melted. Spread over the top a little made mustard and a seasoning of pepper, and serve very hot, with very hot plates. To facilitate the melting of the cheese, it may be cut into thin flakes or toasted on one side before it is laid on the bread. As it is so essential to send this dish hot to table, it is a good plan to melt the cheese in small round silver or metal pans, and to send these pans to table, allowing one for each guest. Slices of dry or buttered toast should always accompany them, with mustard, pepper, and salt. Time.—About 5 minutes to melt the cheese. Average cost, 1-1/2d. each slice. Sufficient.—Allow a slice to each person. Seasonable at any time. Note.—Should the cheese be dry, a little butter mixed with it will be an improvement. (Source, http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/10136/pg10136.html [this is in the public domain])

I'll be looking out for these to hit Denmark, but I don't really get the point: Cotton candy doesn't taste particularly good, it's one of those childhood disappointments that you tend to wilfully ignore, because it looks so cool, but the taste is just hyper-sweet with a faint backgroud bitterness from the food colouring. I can't imagine anyone who actually likes grapes liking these, but looking at that article, it seems pretty clear that there are actual grownups who want their fruit staright-up sweet with nary note of acidity, so I guess these will be a hit..?

I take your word for it, although I can't get the video to play. Cook's Illustrated has proved quite reliable, but the stuff on their site doesn't seem to be quite as carefully edited, and in this case, it's relatively hard to understand, given that they have the accurate information at their disposal.

The ATK people don't say that, although they do state (in a recipe calling for an 8 to 24-hour soak): 'During soaking, the sodium ions will only filter partway into the beans, so their greatest effect is on the cells in the outermost part of the beans.' (Cook's Illustrated, March & April 2008, p. 15). They also call for draining and throughly rinsing the beans after brining.

From what I've heard, the family element is the only outstanding, special element of a luau, and if that connection isn't there, there's really nothing. The foods that are served you can still sample in other settings, if you're really keen on that.

I think a lot of it has to do with what you grow up with. For example, I grew up in Tuscany, where 'ordinary bread' has an open, chewy structure, hard crust, and absolutely no salt or sugar. When my family moved back to the US, it was all Arnold's whole wheat bread, all the time: compact, soft, compressible, and SWEET. I found it jarring at every level, just horribly, horribly wrong, because it isn't unusual for kids to be conservative about food. I have to admit that I never took to US supermarket bread, or soft sandwich loaves in general.

But we're having such fun! Look at our little faces, glowing with delight! I'd have to add the Italian national dish, coffee (espresso), accompanied by an intense discussion of what defines [insert name of dish], and whether the addition/omission of any given ingredient effectively turns it into another dish. inevitably served on a base of campanilismo.

In the 1950s a compendium like this may still have had some reality, but globalization means that today, a lot of what are regarded as any given culture's 'national dishes' don't really exist as such: they've been modernized to accomodate contemporary tastes to the extent that the resemblance to the original dish may be restricted to name, outside their culture they may be understood so generically that they're charicatures of the reality, or they may simply be museum pieces. I can't think of any food that is exclusive to one country, whether in terms of origins or current availability.\ I'm curious about how you're selecting these recipes: where are you from, and what have you selected as the representative national dish for that country?

Do you calibrate your scales (if they have this feature)? If you don't, how do recipes calling for tiny amounts of ingredients (e.g. in Modernist Cuisine) come out? My boyfriend recently gave me a Jennings JZ115 scale, precise to 0.01g; it didn't come with its own calibration weight, so he also got me a set of weights to calibrate it. And, I can't. The calibration instructions call for using a 100g weight, and I've tried again and again, and the scale stubbornly keeps showing 99.99/8g. Since this is in calibration mode, I suspect the scale has a problem. After discussing this issue with my boyfriend, he contacted the company he ordered the scale from, and today another model of equal precision arrived. Before even bothering to calibrate it, I popped the various weights on the scale: they're nearly all off. The larger weights are a couple points under the stated weights, the smaller weights are a hair over. Looks like there's a problem with the weights, too (these are gifts, which makes the whole situation even more awkward). I've worked with lab equipment, and I do care a lot about accuracy, even more than I do about precision. How finicky do you get with your scales for measuring micro-amounts?

The potatoes look gorgeous! The courgette thing, less so. From the ingredient list, I'd have expected this to be something that is reduced way down to make a vaguely chutney-ish condiment, where the figs, strong acidiy, and very softened texture of the courgettes would make complete sense, and the flavours would have time to blend. No serving suggestions given?

This isn't intended to test your willpower regarding followup, but I think I buried my main point, which is that whereas waitstaff (in the US) tends to be paid below-minimum wages, making tips an essential part of their income, cashiers receive at least minimum wage, and therefore tipping them is purely a nice extra, feeling obligated to do so seems wrong.

I've worked this sort of job, and at one, there was a tip jar. I always put that thing away when I was the only one at the register: all those actions you list? those were part of the job description, I knew exactly what I was signing on for when I took the job. Accepting, let alone expecting, tips for that felt like panhandling (yes, I read too much L. M. Alcott growing up). Apart from everything else, even though the job didn't exactly pay big bucks, it wasn't under the minimum hourly wage, and less-than minimum wage is what tips are supposed to compensate for in this sort of setting (did I mind if someone tipped me anyway? of course not ).

I have to admit that I'm another who is confused by this sort of generalization. I've had a lot of Indian curries, and although some have been murky/harshly-seasoned, with a dog's-breakfast sort of texture and appearance, others were cleanly, beautifully rendered, with a luscious texture and seamless, velvety seasoning. The basic seasoning palette was recognizably similar at both ends of this spectrum, so the handling of the ingredients is obviously key (along with personal feelings about them; if you don't like X, any detectable presence of it is going to be disliked). I once had a boss who was from Northern india, and his contention was that (at least in NYC) the majority of of Indian restaurants served a lot of Northern Indian dishes, but were staffed by poorly paid workers from Southern India, who did not have a good feel for what they were cooking, and were too underpaid to care, anyway, the result being what my boss described as '...disgusting food, don't eat it'.

Marinate/preserve!

And now for something completely different: vanilla flavouring in fruit preserves/soups/compotes/etc. It's very popular in Denmark, but to me the combination generally comes off as disappointing, insipid and oversweet.

If a waiter or waitress is actually involved in the takeaway transaction, I'll tip (in the US), but generally, I seem to find myself ordering takeaway at a register, and part of the cashier's job at a restaurant that does takeaway is having takeaway orders handed to them, then turning and handing them along to customers, so it wouldn't occur to me to tip a cashier, under normal circumstances.

Kerry, I'm going to take your question as not being from an exclusively North American perspective, so... macaroni and cheese. Seriously. I spent my childhood in Italy, so when my family moved back to the US, I was introduced to a lot of traditional American dishes for the first time, and to me they were as 'ethnic' and exotic as the various Asian and Latin American cuisines that I was being introduced to at that same time. People rave to me about how cosy and nostalgic mac and cheese is for them, and I just cannot like it.

This was discussed previously, in a Q& A session with Harold McGee: Corked Octopus.

Oh noooo... why would you want to make a salad with anything less than stellar meat? True, a salad can be easily designed to hide the shortcomings of one of the ingredients, but a simple, perfect salad made with top-notch ingredients and minimal dressing (e.g. a little of a really excellent balsamic vinegar, which plays off beautifully against both beef and intense, delicate greens such as baby rucola or baby mustard) is one of the pleasures of summer.

I'd sear it, slice it thinly across the grain, and use it in a salad or wrap.

"Treatment of cholorophyll-a with acid removes the magnesium ion replacing it with two hydrogen atoms giving an olive-brown solid, phaeophytin-a. Hydrolysis of this (reverse of esterification) splits off phytol and gives phaeophorbide-a. Similar compounds are obtained if chlorophyll-b is used." (http://www.ch.ic.ac.uk/local/projects/steer/chloro.htm)

The chart at the bottom of this page lists the glycemic index and glycemic load of various foods, including agave nectar: http://www.mendosa.com/gilists.htm

What did you bake them on, and at what temperature and for how long?

That looks quite a bit like the first cookbook I started from, when I was 8 (oh, and actually, those drawings are almost certainly vintage 1970s work): the same sort of unchallenging entry-level stuff, unlikely to scare kids off cooking (more likely to bore them a bit, pushing them to seek out a proper cookbook). I once picked up a copy of a work called Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker, while I was waiting for my sister at a book shop, and needed to kill something between 5 and 45 minutes. The cover was perfectly pleasant. However, the contents of the book made me want to destroy all copies of it. I wish I could remember what the problem was (I seem to have firmly blotted out all the details), but I recall my search for anything redeeming in the book left me with the distinct impression that it is a cruel joke.

Do you know whether they share any flavour-bearing molecules, as in the example you gave previously, of caviar and white chocolate? Although I can't comfortably wrap my head around this combination, I'm fascinated by the idea that this could yield something palatable, or even better, delicious.