JAZ

I read this before leaving for work, and posted my previous comment. Something about it bothered me but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. After contemplating the theory off and on all afternoon and evening, it finally occurred to me what it was, and this is the problem: Our sense of smell is active way before our tastebuds are; that is, our sense of smell is what lets us know there's something edible in the area, and whets the appetite. We smell things before we taste them, not the other way round. Also, if salt really does "wake up" our olfactory sense, then shouldn't that carrot smell more intense (as well as taste more intense) if sniffed after eating a saltine?

At the office where I used to work, we had those packets. You'd open them and the stuff didn't even smell remotely coffee-like -- I doubt it had been roasted within the last decade. We protested and got a professional grinder and decent (if not great) beans, and morale improved considerably. But the worst coffee ever was the stuff my college roommate used to make. She almost always got up earlier than I did, so she almost always made the coffee. First, the coffee was something in a can -- Maxwell House, Folgers, or more likely, the local supermarket's own brand. Second, she was exceptionally cheap, so she'd use about a heaping teaspoon of coffee per cup (she once asked me if you could re-use coffee grounds). The "coffee" was about the color of moderately strong tea when it started. Then, she'd make a whole pot and leave it on the burner all day, so it turned darker and more and more evil smelling as the day wore on. If there was any left over, she'd save it and reheat it the next day. Even the coffee at the Student Union Building was an improvement over her coffee, if you can believe that. It's been more than 20 years, and I still have nightmares about that coffee.

I'm wondering where the author got his theory -- I've read quite a bit on taste and smell and flavor, and I've never heard that one. Not that it's necessarily false, but I'm always suspicious of claims with no citations.

I made miniature tostadas with hangar steak for a class recently and everyone loved them. I didn't marinate the steak, although you could. I sliced it thin, tossed it with chili powder and a little cumin and let it set for 15 minutes or so. Right before grilling (indoor class, so I used a stovetop grill), I salted it. After grilling, I chopped it coarsely. For the tostadas, I cut 2" rounds from corn tortillas and fried them. To assemble, put a little finely shredded iceberg lettuce (for the crunch factor and to keep the tortillas from getting soggy -- if you have an aversion to iceberg, you could use Napa cabbage), then top with a little steak, a little shredded monterey jack cheese and pico de gallo or other salsa made with your tomatoes. Not fancy or particularly complex, but popular. A combination I love for a steak sandwich is caramelized onions with a touch of balsamic and aged gouda shaved over the steak. I imagine you could make a great bruschetta with that, but it wouldn't involve the tomatoes.

The store I work for started carrying the magnetic base-and-stopper version of this about a year ago. I wrote to Robert Wolke (Washington Post food science writer and author of What Einstein Told His Cook) to ask him if there was any validity to the claims about "lengthening the tannin chains" and he said (and I quote) that it's bullshit. We had a demonstration of the product in which the vendor poured out a glass of very cheap red wine. We tasted it -- it was not good. Then he placed the stopper in the bottle, placed the bottle on the magnet base and we waited for, I don't know -- about a half hour. Then we tasted the wine again. It was better, but not better than it would have been with a glass poured out and left to its own devices sans magnet. The contact with the air softened the wine a bit, but I was the only one in the room who seemed to realize that. I aksed about white wines, given their lower tannin content, but did not receive a satisfactory answer. Then my manager told me to be quiet. So I was, but one of my goals at work ever since has been to dissuade anyone who's remotely interested in them from buying one. As for this version, the clip, it seems even less likely that it could affect the quality of the wine. It would probably demagnetize one's credit cards, though, which might keep one from making any more stupid purchases, at least for a while.

My mother is a very good cook and always encouraged us in the kitchen. We used to get together with her siblings' and cousin's families for vacations almost every year, and my mom and aunts and grandmother would all cook together. So maybe that's why we've all grown up fairly tolerant and cooperative in the kitchen. We somehow naturally take turns being the leader and followers, depending on what we're making. What's a little strange to me is that over the past five years or so I've become the one who's expected to have all the cooking answers. Even my mother asks my opinion when she's cooking. I have bought knives (and other kitchen equipment) for my sisters, brother and parents, but then again, I work for Sur La Table, so I buy kitchenware for everyone. We all have better kitchens because of my job.

Paul Bertolli has a new book out, Cooking by Hand, in which he gives instructions for various salume, including the mortadella. It also includes recipes for many other dishes (pastas inlcuded) as well. At $40, it's not cheap, but it seems to offer a lot of information.

I too have been -- surprised, shall we say? -- when ordering certain drinks. Lemon drops are another drink that vary so widely as to be unrecognizable sometimes. And margaritas can range from sublime to criminal. Bar etiquette could be a whole separate thread, but here are a few pointers. If you have some time, the best way to guage how a bartender is going to do on a drink like a sidecar is to watch him or her in action. The first thing to watch for is whether he uses sour mix out of a bottle or squeezes limes and lemons to order (sometimes bars that use lots of citrus juice will squeeze a lot at once and pour it into a bottle, though, so it's not always a bad thing if they reach for a bottle). Sidecars and other sweet-sour drinks are so dependent on the citrus that I try never to order them in places that use sour mix. If you don't have the time to watch, I don't think it's out of place to ask if they use fresh lemon juice. Of course, you don't want to ask in an obnoxious manner, or if the bartender is swamped with customers. As for the Cointreau, not too many bars will use it except in their "top shelf" drinks, so if you want Cointreau you should definitely ask for it. You should expect to pay more for your drink because of that, the same as if you'd specified a premium brandy. As opposed to asking for Cointreau, or asking if a bar uses fresh citrus juice, asking a bartender to make a drink in a certain way is tricky. For instance, when I order a martini, I've taken to specifying that I want it stirred. Once, at an old established bar, the bartender replied, "Martinis are always stirred here, miss," and acted as if I had impugned his bartending skills. I soothed his ruffled feathers by saying that of course he would know how to make a martini, but so many other, less experienced bartenders did not that I had grown accustomed to asking, etc. He was really nice to me after that. Generally, what I do with a drink like a margarita or a sidecar is this: I ask if they use fresh citrus. If they say yes, then I order the drink, sometimes further specifying a particular brand of the spirits involved. If they say no, I usually just order something else -- my fallback, which is impossible to ruin, is Dewar's on the rocks. Very occasionally, the bartender will reply that they usually don't use fresh citrus, but he'd be happy to make my drink that way. That's a very pleasant surprise, but you can't count on it. In your case, if I were you I'd simply ask how they make their sidecars. If they say anything besides "brandy, lemon juice, triple sec," I'd order something else. I probably wouldn't ask them to make it my way. If, on the other hand, you become a regular at a certain bar, you'll reach a point where, I think, it's acceptable to order a drink made specially the way you want it. It's akin to ordering off the menu at a restaurant.

When I was in college, at a very popular bar, I picked up my (full) drink, which was served in a chimney glass, holding it only with my thumb and middle finger. It was so sweaty it slipped through my fingers, hit the edge of the table, broke in two, and fell in my lap.

That's nothing. I was at lunch once, eating a salad with a vinaigrette dressing. I was attempting to spear a rather recalcitrant piece of lettuce when it flipped off my fork and sprayed dressing so that two drops landed, with perfect aim and symmetry, right on...well, let's just say that for the rest of the day I looked like a nursing mother who'd leaked. Of course my dress was a dark solid silk so it really showed. Another time I was eating at an outside patio on a windy day. The waitress walked by our table with someone else's order and a piece of lettuce from a caesar salad actually flew off the tray and landed on my chest. I haven't eaten a salad since.

Oh yes, I love Sidecars. The Calvados version sounds quite nice. I was trying for something where the Cointreau was the main component, and that's not easy. Can you think of anything like that?

There aren't any drinks that I know which feature Cointreau -- it's usually used as an accent rather than the main player. But since you asked, I did a little experimenting. Because it's so sweet, I figured it needed something acidic for some balance and since it's pretty subtle, I didn't want to add anything overpowering. So, I thought about a sort of reverse Kamikaze and tried it. It's not bad for a first attempt, especially with the addition of a dash of orange bitters. Just make sure it's very cold. Try this: 2 oz. Cointreau 1 oz. vodka 3/4 oz. lemon juice Dash orange bitters Shake vigorously over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. I'd garnish it with an orange wheel. Of course you can drink any liqueur straight, although Cointreau's not one that is commonly drunk that way. Make sure to chill it thoroughly if you'd like to try it -- it's pretty sweet.

If you keep your bottles of spirits out of the sun and heat, they will last indefinitely. Lots of direct sunlight will alter the color, though, and too much heat for prolonged periods of time might result in some loss of flavor complexity, but you don't have to worry about spoilage because of the alcohol content. Vermouth, with its lower alcohol content, doesn't last indefinitely. It should last 3 to 4 months unrefrigerated (but kept cool). If you don't go through it quickly, buy it in smaller bottles and store them in the refrigerator. That should increase the shelf life by a couple of months.

Well, it's not that I don't use mixers such as club soda, ginger ale and tonic. I do, but I just didn't cover those kinds of drinks in the class (I figured it was long enough without them!). But the problem with some other mixers such as Collins mix or sour mix is that they're shortcuts for using fresh lemon or lime juice, and I just don't think you can make good mixed drinks of any type without fresh citrus. A homemade sour mix would really just be a combination of lemon juice and sugar syrup, which you can certainly make, but it will have a short shelf life (a couple of days in the refrigerator) before it will start to taste off. If you like sours as a class of drinks, start out with the spirit of your choice and experiment with proportions of simple syrup or fine sugar and lemon juice until you find the right blend for you. Dale De Groff suggests 3/4 parts lemon to 1 part syrup to 2 parts liquor. I like my drinks on the tart side, so I tend to go with more lemon (maybe 1:1). And since you like sours, you might want to try the drinks I listed in the "sweet + sour" category of cocktails.

Thanks for the great information on garnishing. I have a question about twists. One thing I've noticed is that the pretty spiral twists, while very nice looking, don't actually seem to "twist" without breaking. Usually when I use a twist I want the oil from the rind to float onto the drink. How do you get that from one of the spiral twists? I know I can make the twists as I go, over the drinks, and get the oils that way, but when I'm serving a larger crowd I like to make them ahead of time. Is there a way to make attractive spirals ahead of time that actuall release some oil? Should I just make them thicker?

So, it is your opinion that cocktails do not evolve as does the rest of the culinary world? Or perhaps to consider an adaptation of a drink from, let's make it an even in the middle stab and say the 1800's, into a homage of a classic style of a cocktail to grow into the 21st century? I find it all quite the opposite of pedestrian and rather exciting to see endless combinations to suit as many differing tastes. Gosh, I missed out on asserting a personal rant in my class! Maybe I wasn't clear, but what I object to is not the drinks that are being made, but the fact that they're all being called "martinis." In other words, it's not about the drinks, it's about the terminology. (You yourself noted that it's gotten ridiculous, with margaritas now being called "tequila-tinis.") If I'm creating a drink with (for example), starfruit puree, lime and coconut rum, why should that drink be called a "starfruit martini"? If anything, it should be called a "starfruit daiquiri" -- it's far closer in structure to a daiquiri than to a martini. But why not be creative and call it -- I don't know, a "Starry Night"? That's what I was referring to when I said it was pedestrian: a bartender takes all the time and effort to come up with a dazzling new drink, and can't even come up with a new name for it. I think that for some, it's an attempt to make the drink somehow more sophisticated sounding by calling it a "martini," but I don't think it really does that. It just seems sad to me. Gary Regan's book New Classic Cocktails, for example, features a lot of great new drinks, but he doesn't call them martinis (except when they're strucurally similar). That's all I'm asking.

When you taste the various orange liqueurs plain, you can taste some differences. As Beans noted, Grand Marnier is sweeter; it also has a more pronounced brandy like flavor. Although I like it for some cocktails, I personally think it muddles the flavor of a traditional margarita. On the other hand, I once made margaritas with Meyer lemons, and used a liqueur very similar to Grand Marnier, and it worked very well. Triple sec is one of those generic names that covers every thing from high to low quality spirits. I love Cointreau in drinks calling for triple sec, but it's expensive. I think Marie Brizzard triple sec is nearly as good as Cointreau, and much less expensive (although much more expensive than the low end versions). The low end triple secs tend to be very sweet and artificial tasting, and I try to avoid them. As for the difference between (as a class) curacao and triple sec, it's never been explained to my satisfaction. I've read that the terms are interchangeable; I've read that curacao is flavored with sour oranges and triple sec with sweet; I've read that curacao is flavored with orange peel and triple sec with orange peel and "extract." I don't know if any of those is correct. If you read the label of a Cointreau bottle it reads "triple sec curacao" (I'm going by memory here; I don't currently have a bottle to check). I think the categories are a little hazy.

I can't see that the bruschetta would clash with the rest of the menu (I assume that you're thinking of a pretty traditional tomato topped variety?). In fact, a bit of acidity might be just the thing to set up the palate for the richer courses that follow. If the napoleans are to be served as a plated first course, I would think that you could present a smaller version of the bruschetta as a sort of amuse before or just after you're seated.

You can definitely build a tolerance for the heat of chiles, the same way you build up tolerance for any sort of pain (after a while, the pain receptors need more and more stimulation to fire). Stop eating chiles for a while and you'll return to your original, lower, tolerance level.

Well, ever since I read John Thorne's recipe and then tried the Cooks Illustrated stovetop version of it, I've never gone back to bechamel for my mac and cheese. Basically, you mix up evaporated milk and eggs, plus your seasonings (mustard, cayenne, etc.) and shred your cheese. When the macaroni is cooked, toss it with some butter. Then over very low heat, add the milk-egg mixture and the cheese (I've come to love a combination of monterey jack for the smooth melting quality and aged gouda for the flavor). Stir until the sauce is thickened. This works great but can't be reheated without turning a bit gritty. Still, it's so much silkier and cheesier than a bechamel based sauce that I don't mind not having leftovers. Plus it's so fast, it only takes about five extra minutes after the macaroni is cooked. The drawback is that you don't get the crispy topping, although I imagine you could pour it into a heated au gratin pan, top it with breadcrumbs and run it under the broiler without it getting grainy. Oh -- and something I learned from Shirley Corriher is that a bit of acid will keep cooked cheese from getting stringy, so I always add a bit of white wine or vermouth to any cheese sauce I make.

I just discovered that I have a small fig tree in my back yard. The first inkling I had was when my mother was visiting -- I was showing her the yard and she noticed this fig hanging from a straggly little branch back against the fence. It was, unfortunately, too late for that one, but now I have a new crop developing (very small -- maybe 8 little figlets) and have no idea what to do with them. I've had a salad with grilled figs that was really good. Any other suggestions? These are the black ones.

Thanks, Rochelle. I've always shied away from cooking beans because of the time involved. Now, though, I'm considering getting a pressure cooker -- do you have any experience cooking beans in one?

Yes, I do agree, for the most part, and I probably should have made that point explicitly in the course material. I do think that in certain circumstances you can successfully serve dishes that are "out of season." Living in San Francisco, for example, we can't always count on "summer" weather during the summer months. Sometimes, even in the middle of July, it'll be so foggy and cold that a nice stew seems like just the thing. It's not so much that I'd serve vegetables that are completely out of season, but rather that I'll serve a dish that feels more like winter. But those are rather rare circumstances. Usually it's best to go with the actual season.

Try this: After School Special or this: One part Campari and two to three parts Aranciata (orange soda from San Pellegrino) or Orangina. Serve on ice with an orange twist. Not original, but very refreshing. Also, see the Pimm's Cup thread

Yeah... Like a $365 ceramic rooster! That thing has been in the catalog as long as I can remember. But... WHY??? Hey! We sell that ridiculous ceramic chicken more often than you'd ever imagine. Now, the $1200 duck press is something that to my knowledge we've never sold (at least not at the San Francisco store, where I work).