Mjx

Would someone please remind me why restaurants or shops should be obligated to provide loos to the public?

Quinua... something. Or 'something' quinua. The 'something' providing the appropriate descriptor (I wouldn't imagine you could get that consistency from quinua and liquid alone, though, since you have to rinse it, and there goes any external starch, too). But if rice isn't the predominant ingredient, it wouldn't be regarded as risotto by most Italians.

Although risotto does involve a basic technique – keeping the starch (rather than rinsing it off) and long cooking in liquid, so the starch gelatinizes, making for a creamy consistency – if it doesn't involve rice, it isn't risotto, but 'risotto' (in Italy, anyway).

Here is an image of the rava: I left it in the bag, since the size of the price label (these seem pretty universal in size) is likely to give a better idea of the size of the grains than if it was in a bowl or in my hand.

@Jenni: Brilliant, I had a hunch you'd have great suggestions! The Kuzhi paniyaram are something I definitely want to try. I'm hoping the æbleskiver pan is not currently being used to start seedlings, or something. I'm going to take a picture of the rava, and post it. It looks about the coarseness of semi-refined sugar, coarser than plain sugar, but not so coarse as turbinado. @bague25: Thanks! I'm thinking of using it on the chops I have marinating for dinner tonight; I have high hopes.

Hmmm. When you consider the thickness of most of the meat on a chicken, you have to figure that ten minutes in the oven is going to have some sort of effect beyond crisping the skin. I'm really happy with the approach of roasting a brined chicken 15 minutes per side at 190°C, followed by 20-25 minutes on its back at 230°C, which I got from 'Cooks Illustrated' (yields deeply flavourful, moist, tender meat, and skin that is deliciously browned and crisp, not greasy), or I'd be tempted to do a side by side of my usual approach and the Blumenthal one.

The rib eye may be terrific low and slow, but chicken... eh. I've made a couple of low temperature braised chicken dishes that use legs/thighs with the skin surface above the level of the braising liquid the entire time, and they're excellent. Roasting a whole chicken at a low temperature conjures up images of lots of flabby skin; even at the lower end of standard temperatures, I've been underwhelmed by the results (I guess you could torch it, though). If the chicken was so athletic that only low temperature cooking is going to make it tender, I'd go with a strightforward braise, not a low temperature roast.

Hushpuppies are the three tasty-looking items in the upper part of the polystyrene tray: I've never eaten them but have heard they're extremely tasty (maize is involved); they certainly deserve a proper explanation from someone who know them well! In the US 'cider' is generally a non-alcoholic beverage, essentially cloudy apple juice; 'hard cider' is alcoholic (but not very).

Over the weekend, I picked up a bag of idli rava (rice semolina). I had no specific plans for it, but I do love my starch, and wheat and potatoes are problems for me, so I enthusiastically seize any fresh iteration of rice. Even if I have no idea of what to do with it. I doubt I'll be making idli, since I haven't seen anything that looks like it will work as an idli pan, let alone the real thing (the wells in an æbleskiver pan seem too small and deep), but I'd love to find other things to do with this stuff. I could experiment, but I'm using someone else's kitchen, which restricts my more flamboyant efforts just a bit. I took a peek online, and there seem to be a quite a few of confident-sounding recipes, but honestly, I'd much rather hear about what you've tried, and how it worked out.

An added two cents from me: Recently had lunch at Osteria Francescana, and did take pictures. I asked first, although the one early arrival from the party at a nearby table already had his iPhone out, and was snapping away. The waiter looked surprised, ever-so-faintly amused that I asked (and this place has three Michelin stars, it isn't a scenester hang-out/packed with Yelpies). We didn't fuss over the pictures, just pointed and shot, so they aren't brilliant images, but they were taken simply as something to reminisce over, to show friends and family, when we were enthusing about the meal. No one showed any sign of being bothered by our taking pictures (I particularly watched staff--especially the chef--for the tiniest sign of even suppressed displeasure, and was cheerfully prepared to stop, should it manifest; it didn't), but then again, three of the four parties present were taking pictures (for those curious about the demographics: all appeared to be between 35 and 55, and were French/Italian speaking), and this was lunch, which tends to be more casual than dinner. The diners' photography behaviour was consistent with their general behaviour: The quiet table was unobtrusively taking pictures of plates, the more exuberant (this is relative, no one was actually making a row) table was a bit more obvious, took more pictures of the members of the party, the decor.

teonzo, thanks! My initial reaction to the eucalyptus+others combination was that it might play out a bit like licorice+chocolate (i.e. interesting, yes, but not altogether satisfactory), but it sounds like the flavours actually harmonized well.

So, question for those of you in a position to comment: How do you feel about/react to people who come in to your establishment, make a small purchase, then ask about the loo... that being pretty clearly their objective when they walked in the door?

A cocktail with a hotdog makes sense to me, because, oh, I don't know, maybe because hotdogs are sort of meat cocktails..? But sparkling wines and hotdogs just don't seem like they'd bring out the best in each other. Obviously, this is completely subjective (and, full disclosure: I prefer hotdogs from a stand, early in the morning, with beer).

You really think? It just seems that hotdogs (not to mention, more than a few of the garnishes) will bring out the thin, sour aspect of a sparkiling wine, hardly a service to the growers being 'showcased'.

Am I missing something, or does this just seem like an off-the mark combination? I can certainly appreciate hotdogs and champagne, but the don't really seem to mesh (I'm thinking, 'Why not port or madeira? Those make sense.'). I'm fine with irony, but this just seems like something you'd have to pretend to enjoy.

Too right! . . . . I think that regional dismissive prejudice is so pervasive and strong that, sadly, it would have carried more weight to say that "He lives in New York City where he is a day laborer" than "He lives in Chicago where he writes for the Times." It also stuns me that, in this day of instant information, when it would have been so easy to discover the credentials of "Marilyn and family" (credentials that include not only a son that writes for the WSJ, but a daughter who was a practicing attorney in Hong Kong and probably fluent in Cantonese, among other lofty and sophisticated and intellectual accomplishments) before sneering and jeering at them, one wouldn't take five minutes to do enough research to know exactly at whom one is sneering and jeering. Oh, please. Enough already the 'us and them' regional nonsense. No one but a hick (by which I mean a state of mind, undefined by place of origin or socioeconomic status) living in a major urban area on one of the two coasts dismisses Chicago as insignificant, and who cares about these people? Regional prejudice and contemptuous dismissiveness of other groups' food preferences are by no means confined to major urban areas. I know heaps of people who reflexively smirk at and mock restaurants that fall into the 'fine dining' category associated with big cities, but attempt to justify it by saying they're 'just folks', they're 'real'. Please. Inverted snobbery is at least as nauseating as straight-up snobbery. Ms. Hagery seems to be an intelligent woman with a keen sense of irony; she must be laughing her head off at the entire brouhaha surrounding her piece on the OG.

Well, there's this: And You Call Yourself a Journalist: Wrestling with a Definition of Journalist in Law. I didn't see anything more recent than this article, although I have trouble believing that this hasn't been formally addressed since 1999 (but haven't done any serious digging, either). There are countries (I believe Denmark is one) where you can only be hired as a journalist if you have received a degree as one in that country.

I think that about nails it. There doesn't seem to be any definition for 'journalist', certainly none that is consistent from one place to the next, and even for those who hold degrees in journalism, and work for some media outlet in the country in which they received their degree, there don't seem to be any consistent standards for their out. Being paid for writing (regardless of the form it takes) doesn't make for a journalist either, since there are almost certainly bloggers (some of whom may have degrees in journalism/worked at some point in their lives for a media outlet) whose writing meets the most stringent standard anybody might require of a journalist, yet not be compensated for it in any way, and do not refer to/think of themselves as journalists. It seems like 'journalist' is more defined by what it isn't than what it is, and that what it is tightly bound to place (e.g. how many US states have the shield law that Oregon has?).

Would you mind elaborating a little on the eucalyptus mousse? The rest of the flavours I can definitely see together, and sound delicious, but I'm curious about the flavour dynamic between the eucalyptus and the coffee+sherry+tobacco grouping.

Amazon seems to offer quite a few different options in silicone trays, if you use the search terms 'ice cube tray silicone'.

One of the great things about prosciutto and culatello is that, knowing the names of the particular ones you've sampled, you can go out and get some to bring home with you!

For dessert, how about panforte? Meets all the restrictions, easily made, keeps well, so can be made in advance. There's a little plain flour in it, but it only serves a thickener, and potato starch/flour would work just as well (I always use rice starch/flour, since I tolerate wheat – and potatoes, for that matter – poorly). The only fat involved is that used on the parchment/pan and dusted with confectioner's sugar (I know I've seen kosher versions without corn flour) or cacao, so margarine can be used. Best of all, it tastes really good, and isn't an 'Almost, but not quite' version of something better. I tweaked David Lebovitz's recipe, and the results were excellent. I've also made gnocchi using rice flour (again, I think potato starch should be usable) and winter squash, instead of wheat flour and potatoes, and they were extremely tender and delicious. RE:coconut oil, Spectrum's is kosher for Passover.

How many and what courses... and mayn't the Jewish forum members shove in their oars, too?!

Last Thursday my boyfriend and I made the trip from Florence to Modena, to lunch at Osteria Francescana. We went with the Traditional tasting menu, partly because nostalgia features large in any trip I make to Italy. The Proust quotation referring to Madeleines appears at the top of the menu, and, although I felt like I should regard this as a bit contrived, the moment the amuse arrived, it kind of made sense (even if I still don't care for Proust). Some pictures (sorry about the poor quality, but we essentially took them to reminisce over, and to be able to illustrate our enthusiastic descriptions to friends and family): 'Memory of a mortadella sandwich' amuse bouche; the mortadella is a mousse, and the pistachios and garlic appear separately at the right, ground and as a cream, respectively, so all the flavours stood out very cleanly and intensely Massimo Spigaroli Culatello (42 months), Modena Prosciutto (30 months) with a mostarda 'Little finger' tortellini in capon broth Tagliatelle in ragù 'Bollito misto non bollito' (a deconstructed bollito misto; clockwise from a bit past the 18.00 position are head [amazing gelatinous consistency, my favourite, I think], tongue, a bit I forget, trotter, tail, and cotechino; there was an incredibly evanescent parsley foam in the centre, and underneath it all was a reduction of red bell peppers) Pre-desert consisting of a wafer sitting on a dab of yogurt, and topped by a disk of goat milk ice A deconstructed warm and chilled Zuppa Inglese Array of small sweets, including a raspberry gel with rose crumbles (unless I'm very mistaken), some very glossy Madeleines (a nod to the Proust quotation?), and some tiny baba Each course was accompanied by incredible bread, and we shared a bottle of 2009 La Stoppa Rosso, which we were too stuffed to finish. We did manage to fit in coffee, then concluded that remaining seated would mean we'd lapse into a coma, so we paid up, then wandered about Modena until it was time to take the train back to Florence. It's difficult to describe a largely visceral reaction that accurately evokes memories I'd believed were unduly rosy. I don't love dining experiences that verge on performance art, so I particularly appreciated the serene and evocative nature of this meal, but I do realize that for someone who did not got to school in Italy a few decades ago, the impact must be quite different. A moment that stands out clearly is when Mr. Bottura began discussing the amuse, as we began on it, and my spontaneously exclaiming 'Oh!', then briefly reminiscing with him about school merende, savouring a bit of a collective memory. It was remarkably personal. I'd do this all again in a heartbeat.

Seems simpler to just use a big enough pot for the amount of water you want to boil, but the colour is kind of cool, and I can see it doubling as a spoon rest and a few other things, so why not?