SethG

I love onions. Yellow onions, Spanish onions, white onions, green onions, red onions, shallots, leeks (God, I love leeks!), you name it. I love onions in the springtime. I love onions in the fall. I love onions in the winter, when they're sizzled. I love onions in the summer, when they're drizzled. I love onions raw, on a burger or a bagel with lox. In addition, I love onions cooked. I love hot dogs with sauteed onions on top. I love French onion soup. I love smothered onion sauce. I recently made a Nicoise tart with red onions, olives and anchovies. Loved it. Just last night, I made Indian chicken with an onion-based sauce. Loved that too. Onions are great in these starring roles, but they're also essential as a supporting ingredient in, hell, just about everything. I love onions' ubiquity. I love the smell of onions raw. I love the smell of onions as they cook. Onions with garlic in a pan, isn't that heaven to you? It is to me. I love the way onions make you cry. People always talk about tricks they use to render the chopping of onions painless, and I always wonder why. I love that feeling. There is no sweeter pain in all of cooking. I couldn't do without onions, and I can't say that about any other ingredient. Don't you agree? (Baconistas, please note-- your opinion has been heard elsewhere. No need to think that every thread has to be about bacon. So let's keep any onion-bacon debates to a minimum.)

I've been considering posting about my mother's cooking. I have a good story to tell about how she cooked a turkey, very dry with no gravy, and expected it to see us through a weeklong visit. I could talk about her attempt at chili-- this from a woman who cannot tolerate anything spicy at all. At least there was some meat in it. I could talk about a staple she's offered us numerous times-- boneless, skinless chicken breasts baked in the oven until dry, with a jar of mushrooms poured over the top. And I could talk about how, in desperation, I've demanded that I cook for us on several occasions when we're at her house, using the explanation (which happens to be true) that I love cooking and get itchy if I don't cook at least once every few days. I could tell you about how I once made such a demand on Christmas Day because I just couldn't take it anymore. No stores were open. I defrosted some boneless, skinless chicken breasts, browned them in a skillet, then finished them with a half-cup of 12-year-old white wine that originated in the Finger Lakes region of NY (it had turned into something halfway between sherry and cider), some dried rosemary that had to be at least 20 years old from the spice rack, and some mushy garlic that we found in the bottom of the crisper in the fridge. It sounds like an atrocity, but it was by far the best meal of our visit. I could tell you about all of these things, but then my mother would hear about it. I'm just certain she'd find out. And she wouldn't understand, and her feelings would be hurt. So I'll just keep my mouth shut, like I always do. Great chicken, mom! What are we having tomorrow?

Tuesday dinner: Indian food, courtesy of Madhur Jaffrey. Murgh rasedar, or chicken in fried onion sauce. (This is my favorite Jaffrey recipe. She describes it as her family's "everyday" chicken, and for a while it was ours too.) Gujerati sem, or Gujerati-style green beans. These are blanched, then reheated with garlic, mustard seeds, and a little chili pepper, salt, and sugar. And I can't stop eating tomatoes. The weather in NYC is so lousy already; I'm grabbing up and eating every tomato I can before they're gone. Today I got a bunch of heirloom tomatoes. I didn't want to cook them, but I wanted a salad that made sense with the meal I was making. So I peeled them, cut them into wedges, and sprinkled them with salt and a little garam masala that I'd just ground together. So good.

Have I been here long enough to say "Welcome, fendel?" Welcome, fendel! Today we thought we'd be spending the day relaxing with my in-laws in the Berkshires, but we hadn't realized they had to be out of the house they'd rented by noon. So we helped them clean the house. Then we drove to New York many hours ahead of schedule and into the middle of a parade that ran right by the front of our building in Brooklyn. So we couldn't get anywhere near our building in Brooklyn for almost two hours. So it was turning out to be a pretty cruddy Labor Day (the weather was bad too). I thought for dinner we'd eat the three-day-old leftover pizza from the fridge. But then some friends showed up with live lobsters and steamers they bought this morning in Maine! The holiday was saved. (Don't read this and think that we take holidays in the Berkshires and have our friends from Maine deliver lobster on a regular basis. This type of thing has NEVER happened to us before. And this was the first time we'd ever been to the Berkshires, and it wasn't our house.) We ate the lobsters and steamers with what we had on hand. Our millionth tomato salad of the season. Corn on the cob. And a bottle of Muscadet.

I'm going on a family vacation to Kiawah Island. Besides what's posted above, do y'all have any restaurant recommendations? Also: I want to cook! Any good grocery/farmer's market recommendations convenient to Kiawah Island? Any markets that might have international (Asian, Mexican) stuff, or is that insane?

I never get tired of Chunky Monkey. For years I took it for granted. Then one night I realized just how great it was. It was a hot summer evening in 1996, at the Central Park Zoo. It was my law firm's summer outing. (Some of you were there, and you know who you are!) My date was a woman I'd been interested in for years, but there wasn't nothin' happening there. The event was hot, boring, long. Then they served Chunky Monkey. It made my night. I'll be forever grateful. They had a "smooth" gimmick a few years ago. I thought White Russian was great-- it had coffee and something else in it. There was also a caramel "smooth" flavor that I thought was pretty darn good, but I guess no one else did.

I've been sitting on James Peterson's Glorious French Food for a few months, enjoying it as bedside reading, and dreaming of making Pissaladiere, the Nicoise onion, olive and anchovy tart. Tonight I finally made it. It was the first time I'd ever gotten a jar of whole anchovies packed in salt. I soaked them and filleted them-- and the improvement in taste over the fillets in oil is significant. And the filleting, while somewhat time consuming, is not at all difficult. I thought I was going to end up with a pile of shredded fillets, but they come away from the backbone pretty nicely. Along with the tart, I served a tomato salad, and (another first for me) sauteed duck breasts over greens (all from Peterson's book). The duck breasts were so easy, came out so nice, and were so good for my young cast iron skillet that I'm going to have to do more duck sauteeing. And needless to say, the tart was great. Onions. The other bacon. Had my friend Jennie over, and she brought a bottle of Cotes du Rhone.

Thank you for what is surely the authoritative answer to my question! The next time I'm in Sahadi's, Ill ask them what lemons they are using. The ones I saw there were not canned, but were instead sold individually in the same section of the store as the olives, pepperoncini, and the like. Seems unlikely they were lamsayyars, but I'll let you know if I've really stumbled on a find.

I have a jar of preserved lemons I made several months ago by the Wolfert method, using just salt and lemon juice. I am aware that you can use several different spices with the lemons as well, although I did not. I just made a dish with the preserved lemons and I thought they tasted great-- pickled, almost candied. But I've seen some preserved lemons brought back from Morocco and at a local market (Sahadi's in Brooklyn) and those lemons have almost a tan color, and a slightly bloated appearance. Mine, by contrast, remain bright yellow. What causes this change in color in the purchased lemons? Are mine "wrong" or "inauthentic"? Please advise.

I see durians hanging for sale in markets in Manhattan's Chinatown all the time, but I've always resisted the temptation to buy them, because I've always assumed they must be inferior to the real thing. So I'm surprised-- and excited-- to see favorable references in this thread to those same New York durians. Does anyone know: are these Thai durians, and thus at the less stinky end of the spectrum? Is there anyone who is familiar with durians of fine quality who has tried the variety found here? And if such a person is here, what is the quality level of the specimens found for sale in NYC?

I was given some beautiful fresh serrano peppers from the Brooklyn Grand Army Plaza greenmarket, so I made Diana Kennedy's Pork in Veracruz Green Mole. I love any sauce based on tomatillo and serranos, and I got to work with chayote and a Mexican leaf called "hoja santa" for the first time. (I was shocked to find "hoja santa" right here in Brooklyn. I thought I would likely have to substitute something, although Kennedy says with characteristic ambiguity that "in some recipes the flavor [of hoja santa] may be replaced by avocado leaves, but for others there is no substitute.") In the end, the sauce was great, but I wasn't as thrilled with the pork and vegetables underneath. I think my pork may have been too lean. My wife wouldn't eat the chayote, but I thought it was pretty tasty. I also made mexican rice, which is always wonderful. And I had one chayote left over, which gave me the opportunity to create an original, unstolen avatar for myself.

Thanks! I use the instant stuff all the time, but didn't know there was anything else. I'll have to look for it. Near East is actually the brand of instant I made. There's nothing wrong with it; I just felt a little guilty using it while I was holding a book full of good couscous recipes. These couscous recipes, however, require hours of work that I didn't have time for.

Suzanne's got it! Asia Market Corp. is the "other market" I was talking about. It's just three storefronts north of Bayard on Mulberry. I first discovered the place because they sell fresh coriander (cilantro) with the roots still attached, which is good for some curry paste recipes. I'll have to check out Udom Thai. I've heard of it before (right here on eGullet) but I keep forgetting where it is when I'm actually in Chinatown looking around.

Oh, I love Bangkok Center Grocery. I go there all the time. I can try to pinpoint the other place's particulars tomorrow, or soon thereafter; I work in the neighborhood. It's a little less clean and organized, but I do think it's generally a little cheaper.

So I had this jar of preserved lemons in my fridge that I made over six months ago, and they didn't look bad, but for whatever reason I hesitated to pull the trigger on using them. I made them using a Craig Claiborne recipe, and I wasn't sure they were really done right. There must be a thread on eGullet somewhere on preserved lemons. How come mine haven't turned the shade of brown one sees on the preserved lemons at Sahadi's (or your neighborhood Near Eastern store)? Anyway, then I got a copy of Paula Wolfert's "Couscous and Other Good Foods from Morocco," and not only is her recipe exactly like Claiborne's (he probably copied his from hers), she says you can keep them for up to a year on your countertop! So tonight was Wolfert's chicken with eggs, lemons and olives. The chicken is poached in water with a bunch of spices, then finished in the oven with the reduced poaching liquid, eggs, olives and the preserved lemons. Very tasty. Nice saffron color. Olives, eggs and preserved lemons say all you need to know about the flavor. Forgot to take a picture. Oh, and the preserved lemons were really good. God forgive me, I made instant couscous to go with it. I promise next time I'll do the real thing. My daughter's sick, give me a break.

In Manhattan's Chinatown, they are very easy to find. There is a Thai grocery store on Mosco Street (between Mulberry and Mott). There's also a small grocery on Mulberry just north of Bayard that specializes in Thai items-- they also have them. You buy them in a bundle, and they freeze well. There's probably a bunch of other places in Chinatown where they are available. Edit: Curse that Perlow! Beat me to the punch on the Bangkok Center Grocery-- but the other store I mentioned is cheaper!

I want to add, by the way, that I'm so relieved people are finally replying to this thread! The Special Occasions category doesn't get that many new topics, so this thread was just hanging there, HANGING THERE, right near the top, with a big zero next to it. Made me want to just erase it. Or move it to Adventures in Eating. But I take it this thing is foolproof? Most of the replies are just saying go for it, it's great. No tips? No pitfalls?

Having friends visit this weekend-- a couple and their two kids. I took off from work early and made a Tortilla Espanola (correct spelling this time around) to offer them when they arrive, along with some cheeze 'n' crackers. Tonight I'm serving them a Panzanella salad (thank you, Guajolote), some steamed broccoli, roasted leg of lamb with an anchovy/basil sauce (from Amanda Hesser's column this week in the NY Times), and maybe some rice.

By "good folk" I presume you mean "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan?" And is pensive the same as 'spensive?

All NYC eGulleteers: await the signal. The whole pig has been acquired from Lobel's. Friday, at dusk, we meet in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. In the Vale of Cashmere. From there we will move to the location we discussed. We shall dig, we shall light the fire, we shall roast. And we shall enjoy whole pig for Saturday brunch, eating only with our fingers. This is a time for patience and fortitude, for within 48 hours we will achieve the greatest feat of urban guerilla cooking in the history of the five Boroughs. Quiet! Somebody's coming! N.B. The above is a feeble joke. Do not attempt to meet in the Vale of Cashmere. No pig has been procured, sadly. Digging a hole and starting a fire in Prospect Park would be both unsafe and illegal, and nothing written above should be interpreted as an endorsement of such foolish behavior.

I've considered the pancetta chicken before, but these pictures... I can't stop staring. I must try it. Anyway, I made shrimp risotto tonight (Thursday). Incidentally, not with the risotto: had the rest of my Madhur Jaffrey stewed tomatoes and they were much better when they weren't competing with a Thai dish. They were pretty wonderful, actually-- I think they improved in the fridge. The cumin infused everything.

I don't want to be paid.... I'm very flattered they asked me, although I question my basic competence. And I don't want to give a misleading impression-- they don't want me to just, like, cater their event for them. They want me to to try to take a leadership sort of role in coming up with ideas WITH them, and they'll be very involved in preparing the food. They plan to draft a few other folks to run plates back and forth. I do agree, however, that buffet style is much less ambitious than actually serving people and it might be wiser. I'm not sure what you mean, WHT, about time limitations, but the thinking is that the event will be in the evening, and there may be a very relaxed pacing of things so that there's plenty of time for circulating, talking, and getting the goddam food ready. Dietary restrictions: I dunno. We've thought of a few things which might work for this event as a sit-down dinner. For example: there's a leek tart that I like. I could get a huge batch of pate brisee and a bunch of cooked leek together the night before, bake four or five of the suckers in the morning or the early afternoon, and make a simple but refined salad with a viniagrette. That could be the whole first course and it could be done (minus the salad dressing) hours before the start of the event. Or I could make one of those Nicoise anchovy/onion/olive tarts, which would be baked on a sheet and thus serve many people, and that could replace the leek thing. Or hell, why not do both? (There are always ignorant folk who claim to dislike anchovies.) Then for the main course we could figure out some sort of roasted something that could be served warm or at room temperature, so that timing doesn't become a crisis ala "Rocco's." But enough about me. This is supposed to be about YOU, telling me what to do! Please, don't burden me with these foolish (if entirely necessary) questions!

I have a couple of close friends who recently eloped and they're planning a "hey, we're married" party in their apartment for 20 to 30 people. They've asked me to help with the food, and they pretty much want me to plan the food. Now I love cooking, but anyone who's tripped across a few of my posts here at eGullet can tell you what an amateur I am. So I'm looking for good ideas. I've thought about picking up a couple books that are geared toward this sort of thing. Barefoot Contessa? I've heard good things about it, but I have a rather ingrained suspicion of anything associated with the Hamptons. The couple in question isn't really looking for party platters, anyway. They're thinking sit-down dinner, keep it to a fairly limited number of courses, make one a salad, and it should be doable. I'm worried. All ideas appreciated. Books, particular dishes, whatever. I have until the beginning of October. (Oh, and before you say it, I will: Larb! Maybe, just maybe....)

I have made this recipe quite a few times and love it! I tend to make it when I have a lot of tomatoes just past their salad eating prime and don't feel like tomato sauce Exactly! This was my first time making it, but I'll definitely come back to it. And there's lots left over, Torakris. If you'll be in Brooklyn in the next few days, feel free to stop by!

Tonight: leftover larb. Larb, larb, larb, where have you been all my life? And I had a bunch of tomatoes bought before the blackout. Had to do something with them or pitch 'em, but had trouble coming up with something larb-complimentary. My Thai cookbook (Vatch) was at my office. So I made a stewed tomato recipe from Madhur Jaffrey. Came out very nice. Cumin and chiles matched with the larb lemongrass/lime/chiles thing. It wouldn't receive approval at the eGCI menu planning course, and I think going pan-asian is generally a mistake, but I didn't find it to be a problem. If I'd been smart or creative, I would've dropped the cumin from the tomatoes and added some lime leaves and a squirt of fish sauce. But I wasn't really thinking.