Mjx

I don't know... that peck of dirt surely didn't include lots of things, such as cyanide, mercury, and ground glass (yeh, the body can handle these things, but they're not exactly great for you), so I don't see why soap would figure in (did they even use soap much, when that saying was first minted?). I can actually deal better with people using just blazing hot water and no soap at all, then leaving soap suds on. I'm going to have to find a tactful way to ask some more people here about this... what I really want to know is WHY this done.

Could there have been too much fat, even in the 'lite' coconut milk for the gelatin to dissolve easily? It's been a while since I've used powdered gelatin, since the usual form here is the sheet, but my recollection is of sifting it as evenly as possible over cold water, juice, or some other liquid (that didn't have fat), then adding anything else only once the gelatin had gone into solution.

Well, there are other old sayings that warn you against me as demon-spawn, because I'm left-handed, and that assure you that when the moon is 'laying one her back', it's going to rain . Soap isn't dirt (making that entire argument irrelevant), but a chemical cocktail designed to be rinsed away, nothing in it is going to do a spot of good, in term of building resistance to disease. For the record, I find this practice more inexplicable than horrifying. Fortunately, most of the dishes end up in the dishwasher, but the outliers get the 'soap and lay out to dry' treatment.

I'm guessing the missing 3 T starch did make a difference, since it would be included in the recipe to make for a softer/finer crumb (contains no gluten).

The dishes are white, and the cutting boards wooden, so you don't see it so much, just some more matte-looking patches. I'm not the one doing this! But if you don't rinse, the type of soap/water temperature don't even enter the equation GRRRRR... My responses to the non-rinsers' points (not directed at you!): -- Lazy sods! -- Then why are you running the water the entire time you're soaping the dishes?! All the non-rinsers I know do just that! -- It may not be toxic, but I don't enjoy diarrhea, and I'm not the only one who reacts this way to ingested dish soap (I actually thought I was developing IBS!). -- Especially in drinking glasses, you can taste the soap, and you don't wash things just to make them look clean, but to actually make them so. I mean, why wash them at all, just wipe them with a damp cloth.

Absolutely, but I think that a lot of publications care much more about being 'different' than intelligible; I know from aggravating experience that most authors seem to.

Might be a silly/misguided/pretentious effort to make the term 'crisp' sound more interesting. It's also not impossible that the writer is unknowingly a synaesthete, and just thinks that experiencing flavours in this sort of way is common to everyone.

I'm surprised: aren't there all sorts of restrictions on the import of uncured/slightly cured meats in the US? I could swear that once it was difficult to get many of them.

Doesn't seem like water conservation is a concern, since they have the water running fully open the entire time, and just soap everything up while gallons of water rush down the drain (and are amused by the fact that I first rinse the dishes, then turn off the water to scrub and soap, only turning it back on again to rinse). The water is rock hard here, but that isn't the issue (I have no trouble fully rinsing dishes when I wash them): The things just aren't rinsed; sometimes they're passed briefly under the tap, other times just soaped and set on the drainboard. As I mentioned, we're talking a full complement of suds, not just residual scum. It isn't just one generation doing this, either (for whatever that's worth).

What with travelling a lot, increasingly few things strike me as really bizarre, but leaving the soap suds on washed dishes still freaks me out (I'm talking about the full complement of suds, not just overlooked flecks here and there). However, it seems fairly common in Denmark. The first time I saw this, my initial reaction was shock (followed closely by relief, as I thought, 'YES! So that's what it is... I'm not developing IBS after all!'). I figured it was an oversight, so I mentioned it, and was told, 'Oh, we always do that'. So, I shut up, and soon sort of forgot about it, since I was processing lots of other new experiences, such as using a chain saw, smashing apart a fireplace to repurpose the bricks for a road surface, and trying to not lose a hand while helping to slaughter chickens. The last time I saw soaps suds on the washing up was last night, and again, I wondered why. I didn't ask, since I knew the answer, which isn't really an answer. Now I'm wondering whether any of you are familiar with this practice/a cogent-sounding rationale for it. I'm neurotic enough to wash even my fruit and veg with soap and water, but I've always considered very thorough rinsing a crucial part of the washing process, and no matter where I've looked, I can't find anything that suggests that this is a good idea. What gives?

That's so strange: I can't imagine eating pancetta cooked, except when it's part of something else, like a sauce. Perhaps that statement is there to protect against the risk of lawsuits, in case someone makes this with contaminated meat, or isn't careful in the preparation.

My point precisely: Both pronunciations are regarded as correct.

Best not: He or she may (quite justifiably) strike you back with one of the volumes of the Oxford English Dictionary, which disagrees with you

A lot of mispronunciations of Italian words bug me, but one of the ones most spectacularly butchered in Denmark is 'espresso', for which you generally hear ex-PRA-so. Ouch.

This may be a wonderful book, but the title makes me want to scream, and the pull quotes I've seen aren't doing a thing to modify the impression made by the title. There must be a less annoying work on olive oil out there..?

When I can work up a head of steam, I make vast amounts of broth/stock, and freeze that: always useful. Also useful are various meat-based tomato sauces (dinner in however long it takes to get the pasta cooked and heat the sauce), frozen corn and peas (the hold their original integrity on heating better than most other veg), and various largish batches of purees (at the moment I have hokkaido, red lentil, and quince).

You might also tinker with the consistency a bit, and turn it into a white chocolate sauce, or a filling for chocolates. Adding some a little salt (sea salt flakes, perhaps?) sounds like a great idea: The ingredient list, as it stands, seems really, really sweet (and as anyone who's watched me sweeten my coffee knows, the concept of 'too sweet' has almost no meaning for me ).

The results sound great, but... suggestions for what? Using ghee generally? Substitutions? Do those blends actually count as ghee? I thought that by definition ghee had to be made from butter only.

Add my vote for the 3rd version, which is really effective graphically. It also feels the most professional to me, but I cannot explain why.

I only give cook books that I'm certain are on someone's wish list, and The Best Recipe, which is a great choice for a novice who is seriously interested, since it actually explains the processes behind what is being done, and you learn a lot from it. There are a lot of much more exciting and beautiful books out there, but this one really delivers, and everyone I've given it to has used it heavily, and really appreciated it. As a general rule, I don't like being given cook books, and have more or less implored everyone I know to not give me them: I prefer to choose my own, particularly given some of the ones I've been given in the past (then again, you know something about cook books, so anything you give is likely to be a well-informed choice). Don't know how most other relatively experienced cooks feel about this.

Actually, sheet pan vs. cast iron pan could make a significant difference, simply owing to the fact that the latter holds heat substantially better, and is less affected by fluctuations in oven temperature.

I wonder how they would take to being candied, salted, or pickled.

I think one of the most helpful things you can do is to ruthlessly purge your collection of kitchen items of those that you never really use (and find good homes for them), even if they seemed like great ideas when you got them. This makes it easier to manage, when storage and counter space are limited. You may also want to hang some things on the walls, so that only things that must be stored in cabinets or drawers occupy that real estate. I have to admit that I've taken to bunging a lot of things in the freezer, so they don't take up our currently very limited refrigerator space.

I also think the lasagna idea is a great one: I made this for my boyfriend when I was first seeing him (not for the first date, since we never actually had one, but that's another story), and he adored it. I used one of the recipes from The Splendid Table, and it worked hitch-free; it's one of my favourite cookbooks. One caveat: My boyfriend loved this lasagna, in fact he ate enough of it to be able to do little more than sit about after dinner, smiling dreamily, with a glassy look in his eyes (this was pure food coma, since there was no wine involved, because he'd just got done recovering from the hangover of the century). So, you may want to consider a lighter meal, if you have any after-dinner plans beyond disjointed conversation.

Well, if luck is with me, I'll be back in DK soon, and hunting about for this beer, simply because it is such a trivial matter, too trivial to be permitted to continue to pique my curiosity. Since I'm no judge of beer, if I find it, I'll be trying it on my boyfriend's father, without addressing the language back of the name. @Maureen B. Fant: Fika is still there. And, they're producing chocolate bars under the same name, saw them in the Union square Christmas market just yesterday. @Teonzo: No worries about seeming pedantic, it would be hard to top me on that score, unfortunately. ETA My boyfriend's father tried this beer, and loathed it. Described it as tasting like weak, beer-flavoured water mixed with orange juice from a carton; a sourish aftertaste like you find in your mouth when you wake up from sleeping with your mouth open. He'll finish most beers, but this went down the sink.