byrdhouse

Citric acid. When you don't want more liquid or a particular fruit flavor, just sour. Sumac powder (Penzey's) works too. TJoe's Savory Broth packets (come in a box of 12). Pickapeppa Sauce or Bufalo Salsa Chipotle for a mystery kick. Frozen orange juice. I keep a can in the freezer to add to sauces (especially tomato-based) or dressings (fruit salad). Just scrape off some from the top to add a fruity tang. (Do not dilute, the point is more sweet/sour/orange flavor, less water.)

The double-boiler method reminds me of "Eggs Francis Picabia", a recipe he contributed to The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook. Beat the eggs well, put them in the pot, and start stirring. Every couple of minutes add a dollop of good butter. Keep doing this for 30-40 minutes, and eventually they form tiny curds the size of caviar. Labor intensive, but amazing. I suspect that's what Nero Wolfe was talking about, since the cook book was published in 1954, and The Mother Hunt in 1963.

Maggie, I am writing a column about my own experience recreating the "true" Ratatouille as presented in the movie. May I have your permission to reproduce your very colorful third photograph? I'll send you my column and the photos from my own experiment. BTW this permission doesn't imply that you don't fully own the rights to your photo, just that I have permission to publish that one in my column and reproduce it in the online edition. The publication is The North Coast Journal (local to Humboldt County, CA). If you agree, please let me know how you'd like the photo credited. Joseph Byrd (please respond to byrdhouse.ltd@gmail.com)

Cole is on the mark about Rogue River Blue, easily the best American blue ever made. The reason I didn't mention it is that it is produced in small quantities, and not sold commercially. You must go to the Creamery in person, and sign up for a subscription, with 1-day delivery by FedEx when the cheese is released (needless to say, this is not cheap). And then you need to stay on top of it, or risk losing your place! This is cumbersome for most people. What's the use of praising something few can taste? That said, it won the gold medal for the world's best blue in London in 2004, and you can imagine how French cheese makers loved that! And while it is a special cheese, spectacular at its best, it is not equally good every year. We have had Roquefort that was better, and Blue d'Auvergne that was equal. That's part of the glory of the great cheeses, that they are active, vibrant, and not routine or necessarily "consistent". But if you are traveling to southern Oregon for New Sammy's, it might be worthwhile to stop at Central Point, and get your name on that list. Being on it does not obligate you to purchase, simply offers the opportunity. Joseph

This is encouraging. We're planning what may be a regular Xmas week trip. Over the mountains from the coast via 199 from Humboldt. It's four hours, about the same as it would take to Napa or Sonoma, and about half the price, to say nothing of accommodations. In the same county is Jacksonville, which has a Kosher Jewish deli that makes their own corned beef, pastrami, matzo ball soup, all splendid and distinctive. MacLevin's, downtown, next to a big cooking supply store. A perfect after-Sammy's brunch. On the way there you pass Central Point, home of Rogue Creamery, which features some of the best blue cheeses in the country. Try their Oregonzola. There's also an excellent breakfast place in Ashland, with fresh-squeezed juice, original concepts, and perfect execution, Morning Glory, across from the college.

Now we wish we'd planned a week! "some of the finest curryhouses in Europe!" Who'd have guessed? Thanks to everyone who helped us plan this excursion, and we certainly will report back....I'm supposing it will be to this same thread, yes? Check back the second week in July, when we've had a chance to compare notes.

We're starting in Haworth, then heading toward Leeds in search of pork pies and ale. Anthony's is a possibility if we want to spend the money. But we've three or four days, possibly more, and we are quite ready to go anywhere...there's so much to see, so we might as well do it with good food along the way. We sense that the coast is pricey, though, and we live on the coast, so it's not particularly special. We've had our share of high-end dining experiences, including two visits to The French Laundry, which is almost local (actually 5 hours south of Humboldt County, but California is very big). "Interesting" is the key word here; we'll happily change our itinerary to find something special or unusual.

Exactly what we'd hoped (but not dared expect) to hear. The 2006 pub book is available on US Amazon, which will give us time to plot and plan. The Star Inn looks like a prime candidate. My wife may have found a place run by a couple of chefs with stages at El Bulli, Anthony's in Leeds http://www.anthonysrestaurant.co.uk/ ....have you heard anything? Sometimes the restaurant trying for their first star can be amazing. Le Clos des Gourmets in Paris was such an experience, better than any of the three 1-stars we tried.

We have a week to spend in Yorkshire, both town and country. We will have not much money, so our dining will probably be pub. Some research has revealed the Pork Pie Appreciation Society and Timothy Taylor Beers, which we hope is a good start. So we are appealing first for word about interesting inexpensive food you've had in Yorkshire (pubs included)... ...but our second question is if we go (just one night) to a really special place, where shall it be?

I don't seem to be able to edit the original post, but I've been informed that the correct area code is 535, not 541.

No, there was no hint of shell. I don't know whether the shell might have been baked before filling. Of course, the top fourth of it was removed (there are tools for doing exactly that). I have a hunch the custard might have been filled in the shell first, then steamed. Here in Humboldt County, the problem is crab shell in your picked crab. Sometimes it even gets past both of us into the crab cake.

We've been hearing about New Sammy's Cowboy Bistro in Talent, Oregon, for about a year, and finally organized a short Oregon trip to conclude with a visit on New Year's Eve. All we knew in advance was that there would be a special menu costing more than usual, and that the restaurant was hard to find. A restaurant that plays hard to get naturally attracts attention, as with Ma Maison in 1970's LA, whose phone was unlisted. But an unlisted phone can't compare with invisibility. When we passed through Talent on our way in, it was mid afternoon, and, fore-warned, we decided to locate Sammy's while there was light. But after passing through town once each direction, we asked a cop. To all appearances, it is an abandoned roadside bar, paint peeling, with an ancient electric-bulb arrow above the entrance. There is no sign, indeed no indication of habitation at all. Returning that night, however, there were cars parked around, and the arrow sign was operating, albeit with several burnt-out bulbs. Still, there was a moment of doubt, as opening the door, we stepped into a dark little chamber the size of a walk-in closet. Bravely, we pressed on, and entered a low-ceilinged cluster of tiny dining nooks. Much about Sammy's is funky, in the way one might expect a back-country café to be. But nothing in the ambience prepared us for the meal. Drappier Carte D'Or, a French champagne, was the only wine served, and flutes were refilled by Vernon Rollins as soon as they were empty. A blanc de noir, it was perfect for the meal, except perhaps for the amuse bouche, a perfect single sushi of flying fish roe scented with cucumber. In the six courses that followed, Charlene Rollins moved in a careful orchestration from complex to simple, but always with the deliberation of a master chef. First, in an egg cup, an eggshell was filled with custard laced with white truffle, topped with a splash of California sturgeon caviar; on the plate, a thin crisp wafer of potato pancake was accompanied by a savory purée of celeriac, a dollop of crème fraîche, and more caviar. Served with a tiny spoon for the custard, it was at once magnificent and delicate. Flavors chased each other across the tongue. Shellfish consumé was amazing. A distilled essence of crab, mussel, clam, and shrimp, the shells oven-roasted, a near-black, evil broth that spoke of storms and surf-battered sea cliffs and shipwrecks. Floating in it was a delicate waif of crab cake, almost nothing but crab shreds bound with a little egg, topped with saffron and cayenne scented mayonnaise. An adventurous, dangerous course. A striking way to shift the palate spectrum was a salad of pear, with baby greens, spiced walnuts, and dried sour cherries reconstituted in kirsch. Dressed with a truffle oil vinaigrette, this was as light and vibrant as the previous dish was intense and dark. And topping it was one of the most remarkable things we've yet tasted: a quarter-inch medallion of foie gras that Rollins had cured in brine – uncooked, pink, and needing no condiment. We've tasted a fair amount of foie gras, and this was in a class by itself. From complexity the meal descended to simple, at least to the casual diner. Beef tenderloin was plain, but perfect: rare, oven roasted Niman Ranch beef, sliced into butter-tender steaks, with a chanterelle wine reduction, served with fingerling Japanese baby sweet potatoes, and a rather amazing risotto of pearl rice and tiny black eye peas (from the Rollins's own garden), whimsically called "hoppin' john." (Hopping John is a traditional New Years Day dish in the South – rice, black eye peas, and ham hocks.) An effective concept, with "al dente" texture provided by the baby peas. And of course, "simple" in the hands of a master chef is never really simple. Dessert was at once simple and more complicated: "Italian nut torte with passion fruit sherbet and honey ice cream." Totally counter-intuitive. It almost doesn't work. But if you carefully take one small bite of torte, then a dab of the sour sherbet, and finish with the same amount of honey ice cream, it's a dazzling experience. In other words, follow the specific order of the menu description; any other sequence fails: the honey is too cloying to start, the passion fruit too sour. After-dinner truffles were delicious but unneeded. Espresso was served with clear shards of crystallized sugar. Despite the lavish nature of the meal, the true luxury was in concept and labor, not food cost. To our thinking, the meal nominates Charlene Rollins as one of the most imaginative chefs in the country. Thomas Keller is the proper peer for this cook, even though it's a league she may not want to play in. Vernon Rollins is reputedly equally imaginative with wines, and it's certainly to his credit that he chose to accompany the meal soley with a good Champagne. I've called to ask their hours, and they limit dinner to Friday and Saturday until February, when they will expand to a Thursday-Sunday schedule. 541.539.2779. Plan on staying in Ashland, just south.

I-5 is a wasteland, and finding good, nay, edible food within a few miles has been a life-long frustration. One notable exception is Woolgrowers Hotel in Los Banos. Since it's pretty much dead in the center of the state, we try to time trips south from Humboldt County so that we spend the night there, because Basque is not eat-n-go food. Recently, though, we found a place that has been right under our nose. Louis Cairo's, 558 7th St in Williams is just a few blocks off the highway (the intersection of I-5 and 20), and we had a superior road lunch there in September. For those who are looking for exotic, I'm not sure it will be the ticket, but they butcher their own local Angus beef and lamb, and they make everything in-house. Like Woolgrowers, you have to bravely walk in through a working-class bar, and the dining room is not fancy, although the brands of local ranches on wall plaques adds a nice touch of local color. Cairo's has been around since 1945, and Patty Jo Cairo is the daughter of the founder. Besides steaks and chops, there are chicken livers and sweetbreads on the dinner menu, and two levels of intensity for garlic bread. There's also an appetizer called "Garlic Bulb and Brie." Italian, not Basque, but the soup we had was definitely in that league. Clearly, though, beef is what's for dinner. We're on our way back on Jan. 1, and we'll stay over, have supper, and report back.

We have a morning appointment on a Friday, so breakfast suggestions are welcome. Regarding dinner, there are a couple of positive postings on Le Provence, and it's close, so that sounds like a worthwhile experiment. (See also this review in the Sacramento Bee.) There are some very negative reviews of it on Chowhound, but they don't give the impression of sophistication. El Dorado Hills looks to be a 40 minute drive, a bit far for us.

We have a medical appointment in Roseville in early September. The restaurant pickings look pretty grim. Does anyone know of an interesting place in the vicinity, maybe Rocklin, Citrus Heights, etc.? Any cuisine, just not processed chain-type. And it needn't be fancy. A good Mexican cantina would be fine.

Does someone have a technique for making rice noodles? I'm unable to find a recipe for chow fun noodles. Not recipes using them, recipes for making them (GOOGLE is no help except for one photograph of a Vietnamese noodle factory).. We make perfectly wonderful fresh pasta with semolina flour or durham wheat, but rice flour has less gluten, if any. Also the house-made noodles I remember from Hong Fat in New York were pale in color, which probably means no eggs. If not, what kind of binder, corn starch?

1) Yes, there are regions of Latin America where fresh corn husks are used. I have no experience with them, so I can't advise how the tamales would be different. Banana leaves and avocado leaves are also used, but they would likely be even harder to work with. (There is one state in Mexico that instead of individual tamales, features one huge platter-sized one.) 2) and 3)If you substitute "dumpling" for "tamale" you will always be on the right track. Dumplings (a tamale is a corn dumpling) can be put in soups, or served with sauce or other accompaniments. A home-made roasted pepper sauce sounds like it would be fine. I personally would make a salsa and a "pico de gallo" (which in my case would include minced tomato, pickled chiles and carrots, onion, cilantro, and Mexican oregano, with vinegar and salt - a kind of relish, rather than a fresh salsa). You could also use creme fraische, which is similar to (though thicker than) Mexican "crema." A resource we've found invaluable is Native Seeds/Search in Tucson, AZ. I particularly recommend their Sonoran Desert oregano, which has a sour, pungent flavor quite different from the Italian kind. Also a good place for chiles and chile powders.

We had decided to find a provincial one-star restaurant for New Years Eve, hoping we could get away with under €150 each. We found Chateau des Reynats (really the large house of a 19th Century Périgueux landowner, who built it in the faux-chateau style, large but not "chateau-large," with 6 luxury suites on the second floor. Most of the ground floor - social rooms, dining, library, study - has been turned into restaurant seating), which has a former stable that houses modern rooms at €77/night. They were charging €130 for the evening, which was within our budget. The meal was one of the 3 stunning ones we had on our trip, and one of the most luxurious we've had anywhere. The chef is a stocky, working-class type, whose appearance belies his artistry. Of course, not every meal is going to be at quite such a level, with expense almost thrown to the winds in making un beau geste. I'm not sure this forum is the place for a blow-by-blow description of the event, but since I wrote it in my journal (and have shared it with friends) here it is. New Year's Eve 2003/4 at Chateau des Reynats, Restaurant L'Oison, Chancelade (outside Périgueux) This restaurant (the word means gosling) was our second 1-star meal in France. (The first was by happenstance, and not by any standard our idea of what Michelin's Guide Rouge ought to award a star.) This was a brilliantly conceived and executed menu, easily worthy of comparison with the best San Francisco restaurants like The Ritz, The Fifth Floor, and Fleur de Lys. Many dishes defied description with a cornucopia of strata and complexity. Three tiny seafood "amuses-bouches" - served on toasts - began the meal: Medallion of galantine scallop around monkfish foie gras, topped with a tiny piping of crayfish mousse. Salmon and gravlax tartare with salmon caviar and dill. A tangle of crab and julienne asparagus salad The soup was served in a miniature bowl that punctuated the intensity of flavors. Think cream-of-mushroom from reconstituted cêpes, with bits of boletus edulus (King Bolete), topped with a lightly whipped truffle cream. So potent that the small portion was exactly right. Two ¾-inch slabs of rare goose foie gras, topped and separated by crisp sweet crepes, the whole wrapped in paper-thin slices of sauteed potato. Simple, intense, creative, allowing the rich foie gras to shine instead of complicating it with other flavors. However, the plate was decorated with reductions of balsamic vinegar and winter squash. The fish course was another lavish luxury item - half a Breton (Brittany) lobster - literally, split down the middle. It was poached in fumet, and the large tail meat filet was wrapped in a "chemise" of sauteed zucchini, then covered with a gratin of Reggiano Parmesan, crisped under a salamander. The two pieces of claw meat were placed on top, then finally the intact shell, complete with eye and antenna, a striking presentation. The whole was on a seafood emulsion, reduced with creme frâiche. As remarkable as this dish was, it did not for us seem to unify all its constituent elements. The palate-cleansing ice was a Sauternes/grapefruit granité, flecked with tiny bits of lavender leaf. Not a good idea. It unnecessarily complicated the delicate flavor and left an unpleasant medicinal aftertaste. The chef was back on track with the "viande," a perfect inch-thick filet of venison, with wine reduction, quince chutney, and a little cone of potato puree, laced with black truffles (we were in Perigord), and studded with almond flakes. The meat, which was "bleu" (or very rare) without our having to request it, was sinfully tender, like deer sashimi, and each bite, combining a bit of venison, sauce, chutney, and truffled potato, was heaven. The balance of multiple flavors and textures was magical. There was nothing to be said; we simply looked at each other and glowed. The cheeses were three local chèvres. While we are converts to goat cheese (particularly two wonderful local Humboldt County varieties, Midnight Moon and Capricious), we don't care much for chèvre, the chalkiest and most "goaty" of styles. The French, of course, adore it. These three, served with a bright red "confit" of fresh fig, were exceptional. Two were tiny whole patés, and the third was a teeny cone of "baby chevre," as sweet and delicate a cheese as could be imagined. We were pretty full at this point, and shared one plate, saving the other to eat for breakfast. We were later to find the cone of baby chevre at Marie-Anne Cantin, across the street from our Paris hotel. A plate of sweetmeats arrived next: coffee creme, caramelized hazelnut, a maraschino faux-mascarpone, and a rum-tinged essence of midnight-dark chocolate. To call these miniature creations "candy" is like calling Le Tour Eiffel a flagpole. The official "New Year's Dessert" was quite curious: a parfait glass filled with spiral froths of egg and cream - a kind of eggnog-lite, with a dollop of tangerine sorbet on the bottom. It was flecked with the same lavender we hated in the granité, but here it worked! Who knows? And after a long and sumptuous meal, it was an inspired choice. With the meal we'd chosen two relatively inexpensive wines, Montravel blanc Moulin Caresse and Domaine de la Métairie, if one can call €40 and 35 "inexpensive." Neither was very good, tending toward immature and alcoholic. This we found to be overwhelmingly the case in otherwise distinguished French restaurants: despite what we've read in the New York Times, good wines sell for €80 and up; consequently we only had one memorable wine in 12 days (a Morgon 2000 Beaujolais). The rest of the time, €20 to €45, we had wine that was inferior to almost any California wine costing $25. That practice, we think is a major error, and a disservice to the French wine industry. As a result of pricing so inflated relative to the quality of the product, we are now motivated to avoid French wines. Moreover, it is something no California restaurant of quality would allow to happen. Rest assured, if you choose a $28 bottle at The French Laundry (and they do exist), you will get a delightful wine that the sommelier found, possibly a Washington or Oregon vintage that was a good buy, which they passed on to their guests. Wine people find such bargains because they taste a lot of wine. The French practice of putting inferior wines on the carte we think unworthy. "Punishing" your patrons for not having a bundle to spend on wine is stupid. But what can I say? They all do it. It was midnight. We'd been there since 7:50 (we'd postponed our arrival so as not to appear too gauche, we failed: we were still the first ones in the dining room, with the entire staff of 6 hovering over us). Somehow we expected champagne and...well, whatever we imagined the French do. Nothing happened, though, and we were too sated to pay attention to the little mignardises. With the small quibbles I've mentioned, it was spectacular. It was by a factor of 3 our most expensive meal in France. And well worth it as a culinary experience.

My mate just reminded me that we were first recommended to Le Clos Des Gourmets by oakglen. In the hurly-burly of Paris, we had so many places to try: overkill. But credit where it's due, and thank you oakglen, as well as loufood. One cannot have too much information. eGullet's members were a wonderful resource for us. I should mention that our New Years Eve meal was at a truly amazing 1-star in Perigueux, if anyone's interested, quite likely the bargain of the year at €130 each. But Le Clos is simply amazing, and unless you must have truffles and foie gras and Breton lobster and venison filet mignon, it is a must - the best bargain in France, while it lasts. As I said, I'm confident it will get its star this year, and the inevitable price inflation will happen. So we advise going now; it won't get cheaper.

Our last night in Paris we went - on loufood's kind advice - to Le Clos des Gourmets, which for some reason has not yet received a star. As a bonus, it was even in the neighborhood of our hotel, a 10-minute walk. (A great dining experience feels more virtuous bracketed by brisk walks ) It was one of the most special meals in our two weeks, spectacular food at only €32 for an entree/plat/dessert. But beyond that, it has the only chef who gave us two utterly original dishes that were not only great, but employed wit as well as culinary style. I'm going to devote this entry to those two dishes. I should add that we were hampered in choosing from the 6 to 8 choices (which were described in detailed French) for each course, as the staff spoke no English. The first thing that caught my eye was an entree, "Pressé de coq au vin rouge corsé choux chinois croquant au vinaigre de xèrés." "Coq au vin," of course is a cliche of French bourgeois cooking, and was in Julia Child's first book; indeed, I seem to recall that it was the subject of her first TV show (there is a famous photograph of Julia holding a plucked chicken by its legs). To put it on a sophisticated contemporary Paris menu is like Thomas Keller's elegant visual/culinary pun dessert called "Coffee and Donut." What was served was a slice of terrine en geleé, "pressed chicken" in a red wine gelatine, over what was not bok choy, I believe, but a lightly dressed salad of Belgian endive. The chicken was probably capon, which has moister flesh, and whose flavor would not be compromised by being pressed. The gelatine was slightly sweet. The three textures were vividly complementary, and the whole dish was completed by a truffled vinegar reduction around the salad. It was not complex, but worked beautifully. The other special dish was a dessert, "Millefeuille d'avocado, confit citron." Appearing on the plate was what appeared to be a small "napoleon," with a light green filling. But oh, my. The millefeuille was sweet-sour, but with a distinct avocado flavor, puff pastry separating and topping the two layers. Citrus notes were everywhere: the top pastry had a grapefruit glaze, and drizzled over and around it was a lemon sauce with flecks of candied lemon peel. This is work by someone with not only technique and inspiration, but humor. This is the kind of thing The French Laundry has done, but to find it at a prix fixe of under $40 is amazing. The co-owner/chef is named Arnaud Pitrois; he is 28 years old, and I am betting on his getting his first star this year, and going very far indeed. 16 Avenue Rapp, 7° Arrondissement 01 45 51 75 61

Thank you, Chefette. The WholeFoods husks (6 oz.) pictured look similar to what I ended up ordering from GourmetSleuth.com, which were 8 oz. The price was even better, $3.25/package. They have arrived, and we are delighted: big, 7-8 inches wide, bright and clean, with a substantial feel to them. With shipping, 5 pounds came to $43, but I'd guess there are 70-80 tamales per pound. There's a nice sheet of tamale hints with them (Ex., "the tamale is cooked when it separates easily from the corn husk"). We've been preparing by hitting up our local meat markets for free pork and beef fat, which I'm rendering. It browns slightly while cooking, which adds more flavor than the commercial lard. I'm not sure what I'd use as a substitute if we were making vegetarian tamales; probably Crisco, which will whip up nicely, although I have seen recipes for butter. The problem, of course, is that fat and broth give the flavor to the masa, and make it more than a bland casing for the filling. Another useful hint I've picked up is to cover each layer of tamales with extra husks during the steaming, and even to wrap the whole layer with a few more. The subtle flavor is thus intensified. I'm looking forward to making the last batch with the remains of the masa and no filling at all (an alternative would be some crumbled añejo cheese or a few rajas de chile verde). And having multiple cooks not only means an assembly line, but we'll each get a variety of tamales to take home and freeze. For those who are beginners, note that tamales are not supposed to have sauce over them, since the sauce is part of the filling and on the interior of the tamal. One of the reasons bad Mexican restaurants pour canned enchilada sauce over their tamales is to compensate for lack of flavor in the tamales themselves.

I was able to get a direct line to one Karen Brody at USDA, who is in charge of imports of fruits and vegetables, and she said unambiguously that NO potatoes can be imported into the US from any nation but Canada, citing the dangers of pest contamination. I've been to the excellent French web site French Potato Varieties, which seems exhaustive in its discussion of botanical prophylaxis, but this seems to be a godblessamerica cultural thing. On the other hand, we've been blindsided by Asian fruit flies, so maybe the paranoia is justified. All that notwithstanding, I'm told that truffles (we're going to Perigord) are fine (so long as there's no soil attached). Why? "It is considered a processed food." And of course, we've been importing unpasteurized French cheeses for over a year, no problem. We're expecting to find an export source with less "attitude" than fromages.com near our Paris hotel, Hotel du Champ de Mars.

We are thrilled that we have a rising star. Please keep us posted. Bux, can we have a special forum for Louisa's adventures?

The Pompadour is a variety I've not seen locally (and Humboldt County is an excellent region for potatoes, with many types). Does anyone know if it is legal to bring back seed potatoes?