JAZ

I hadn't been following this thread past the tuna salad question (to which I believe I now have an answer), but now that I've caught up, there are too many points to comment on in one post. Regarding the tuna salad thing, I happen to like mine with capers, but I grew up with dill pickles, and those are perfectly acceptable to me. But be that as it may, when I was stirring up a batch (the mayo-pickle-onion style) yesterday I added all the other ingredients first as the tuna drained, and realized that absent the tuna, I was left with something very like tartar sauce. And if tartar sauce with fish makes sense (which it very well may not), then tuna salad with dill pickles makes sense. Not sweet though. That's just wrong. Other comments in no particular order: 1. The ability to smell "asparagus pee" is indeed genetic (it's a dominant trait). And everyone here seems to know this already, but it's the ability to detect the odor that varies, not the odor itself. 2. There was an article on cilantro in an early issue of Gastronomica which dealt with the once apparently common assertion that it smelled like (I'm not making this up) crushed bedbugs. So maybe crushed bedbugs smell like unwashed armpits? I think it definitely smells sort of funky, but think cumin smells more like sweat than does cilantro.

Yes, the visual aspect of the plate is something that definitely requires attention (shame on me for not including that in my class material). Thanks for bringing it up. I think that if you pay attention to variety in flavors and textures, color usually comes along for the ride. I remember reading an article from some women's magazine from the 60's about choosing accompaniments for main dishes. It gave something like the following example: chicken with a cream sauce, mashed potatoes and boiled cauliflower, and went on to talk about adding some color to the plate. Now obviously it's a very monochromatic plate, but that's not the main problem. The bigger problem is that there's very little variety in flavor and texture. If you add some crunchy vegetables to the plate or minced herbs to the sauce, you'll not only make it more interesting from the gustatory side, but you'll get the color as an add-on. Still, it's good to visualize how the food is going to look on the plate. However, there's a danger in thinking about it too much -- I don't think elements should ever be added to a plate just because of their color. Think of the dreaded sprig of parsley we all grew up seeing on every plate in fancy restaurants. And there was a tendency among some chefs, which fortunately seems to have passed, to sprinkle everything (plate and all) with chopped herbs or little squiggles of sauce that didn't have anything to do with the rest of the dish. So, yes, think about the color, but don't lose sight of the flavor. Thankfully there's a wide variety of colors in the foods we eat, so you should always be able to come up with a combination that looks great and tastes good.

Menu Critique Menu submitted by Jackal10 I would definitely not do the potatoes dauphin with the venison; in fact, I think I would just serve the venison with the cabbage. You've already got potatoes in two courses, and overall, it's a heavy menu. I doubt the potatoes will be missed. Beginning at the top, I would drop the mock turtle consomme from the first amuse. Since you're planning to serve that amuse trio with drinks, I don't think a soup is a good match. I'm assuming that you'll be standing around, and not at table, for this course, so from a practical point of view, it's too many glasses to juggle. And it just somehow doesn't seem to me to fit in with the other two components. I've seen recipes for cock-a-leekie soup that are cream enriched and some that are not. Given the richness of the following course (the salmon and chips), I'd stick with a non-enriched version. I'm not sure how well the chocolate and whisky sorbet would work as an interlude between the haggis and the venison. You've got a lot of flavors going on in both the preceding and the following courses, and both courses are quite heavy. I think you need something lighter -- a cucumber/lemon sorbet, instead? Maybe even infused with dill? It would be reminiscent of the second amuse, but not, I think, in a bad way. Is the savory after the desserts a Scottish thing? (I really don't know -- sorry). I'm not sure why it's there. And finally, I realize you're planning a big feast, but do be careful not to go overboard. As it stands, you're on the brink of stimulating the palate a little too much, so, if anything, pull back, either on the number of courses, or the complexity of some of the individual courses.

Menu Critique Menus submitted by Byrdhouse I really don' t have any suggestions for this one, except to say that the Bloody Marys might overpower the food in the second course. It's hard to say without knowing more about the tart, but it sounds like it might be on the more subtle side. Maybe you'd want to start with the Bloodys before brunch and with the first course, then switch to sparkling wine. The idea of doing "international" dinners can be difficult to execute. They always sound great, but I find that in practice they can be a bit disconcerting to the palate. I think this might work, but I would serve the carnitas, beans, and lamb sequentially rather than all at once. It would give the palate a little more of a break, since the three dishes are all strongly flavored and fairly rich. Finally, because they are all so rich and flavorful, how about a lemon or lime sorbet before (or with) the cookies and cordial? That might serve to refresh the palate and cut through the richness.

It can work, with a lot of thought and care. The thing about themes is that they're so often psychological rather than gustatory. And the success of that sort of theme depends a lot on your guests understanding and buying into it. In your example, the food itself is just too much -- it's, um, very challenging; it's very strongly flavored; and it's very eclectic. Some continuity is crucial. Yes, your theme provides that, but your guests really have to "get" the theme or there's nothing there but a bunch of dishes. Another problem I have with this sort of psychological theme is that it's often a made-up theme that's slapped on after the dishes are chosen to disguise the lack of gustatory coherence of the menu (not yours, of course ).

That's exactly true, and it should be factored into menu planning. In my example with the cream-heavy menu (cream of mushroom soup, caesar salad, chicken with a cream sauce, polenta enriched with butter and cheese), that's what happened, and it was very deadening to the palate. All of our senses respond better to changes in stimuli than they do to a constant; it's no different with the sense of taste. I'm not sure if this is the only reason that "small plates" and tasting menus are so popular, but I'm sure it plays a part. On the other hand, as I mentioned in the class material, it's easy to take that to extremes and forget to keep some continutiy in the meal. So it's all about balance.

I think the "rules" can always be broken successfully, if the cook is talented enough to pull it off. Sometimes the dinner is all the more striking and delicious exactly because it does break the rules. But it takes more skill than most home cooks have (more than I have, certainly). One trap that home cooks can fall into, I think, is to try to do the sort of menus they read about or eat at high-end restaurants. So they read about a 10-course mushroom tasting menu at (for purposes of discussion) French Laundry, and think "that sounds great -- I'll try it." All I can say is either consult with Thomas Keller and enlist his help, or don't do it.

Thanksgiving dinners are tough to plan, especially when you want to get creative. What with all the food traditions one has to deal with, it can get tricky when you try to add something new. I think if you switched to a stuffing that was not bread based, the bread pudding wouldn't seem like such a duplication. I once made a Cajun-style Thanksgiving dinner from one of the food magazines that called for a rice and sausage stuffing reminiscent of jambalaya -- maybe something like that would get people more interested in the bread pudding for dessert.

Vintage art deco cobalt glass and chrome cocktail shaker with matching glasses. Early 40's etched cocktail glasses with matching ice bucket (the pitcher broke, unfortunately). 50's martini pitcher and glasses made of smoked glass with chrome trim. A set of virtually unusable, tall and skinny glass Irish coffee mugs with etched shamrocks (inherited from an uncle -- no idea how old or where they were made). And my bar: Vintage late 50's; white formica top, black metal base with a mesh front; chrome foot rest; three barstools with triangular seats covered in white leather.

Great introduction. Will you be discussing the salt issue at all? The reason I ask is that I've noticed that with chicken stock, at least, the addition of a little bit of salt seems to make for a deeper, more complex flavor that can't be duplicated by adding salt later.

I have a four-ounce measuring glass with half-ounce increments that's really handy for cocktails. It's how I learned to measure, and even now I use it when I'm experimenting. I'd go for cocktail shakers, even though, as several people have pointed out, they're kind of a pain. But they look cooler. And it is a gift. And unnecessary but really handy (and different): an olive spoon. They're great for fishing out olives and cherries, and also work well to remove the occasional errant lemon seed that makes its way into the glass.

Not food related (except in a very tangential way -- see below): HappinessTM by Will Ferguson. The story of a low-level editor who receives the manuscript for a "self-help" book that actually works. Hysterically funny if you're at all familiar with publishing; very funny even if you aren't. And you have to love this subplot: the mindless boss of the protagonist, having read several unrelated articles about pork belly futures, the popularity of canola oil, and the statistics on women trying to lose weight, has decided that the book of the year will combine them into the fried-pork weight-loss program (title: Eat Pork! Be Happy!).

Totally with you there on the banana front. I like them when they're almost crunchy. If there's no green tinge to the peel, forget it. And you know, my mother detests coconut and indoctrinated us with her views. I've come to like coconut milk in Asian food, but still can't abide coconut in anything sweet. So there's definitely something to that.

My mother was ingenious in this regard. When we used to travel we only ate at restaurants for breakfast. Mom and Dad would let us kids order anything we wanted. The oldest three kids were old enough at this time to eat what they ordered, but my sister and I would invariably order some huge breakfast that we couldn't finish on a bet. Mom would order toast and Dad would order oatmeal. Then they'd finish everything we couldn't. The problem is, my mother used to continue this pattern when we were in our late teens, and she often went hungry.

I don't follow this. How can something that is not digestible be nutritious? White rice doesn't cause beriberi; a lack of vitamin B1 causes beriberi. That's like saying that brown rice causes scurvy because it doesn't contain enough vitamin C. Very few, if any, single foods can provide all the vitamins we need.

I don't think anyone has yet addressed this point, so I will: The concept of "junk food" is only a possibility in cultures which have too much food available consistently. If, as is still the case in parts of the world, every available calorie is needed desperately, then nothing edible -- and I mean nothing -- can be considered anything but essential. One thing most people from industrialized countries don't usually think about is that the foods that we consider to be "good" for us are not necessarily the foods that are good for underdeveloped populations who struggle to merely get enough calories to survive. I remember reading (in McGee's On Food and Cooking, I believe) that some food organization was giving whole wheat bread food to malnourished children thinking that it was better for them than white bread. It wasn't. Whole wheat bread contains marginally more vitamins, minerals and protein, but the high fiber content dramatically lessens the calories and nutrients that the intestine absorbs. Of course if you don't get enough fiber in your diet, then whole wheat is a good choice. But if what you need is to absorb calories, white bread (especially if enriched) is the way to go. So to say that white bread is junk food and whole wheat bread is healthy is a very narrow view. Most of us do not lack for calories, but we shouldn't forget that this is a very recent development. Our bodies are designed to stoke up on energy rich foods, and fats and sugars are the best in that regard. It's really no wonder that the foods that are high in fats and carbohydrates are the foods we crave. It's also important to keep in mind that all the "processing" that we now seem to deplore resulted in more food and better nutrition for most of our population. We might despise canned vegetables in comparison with fresh, but canned is much better than none, which was the option for most of the population most of the year. Anything that preserved food was a good thing. It may be unfortunate much of the population of the US is consuming too many calories, not enough fiber, too many trans-fatty acids, too many chemicals, not enough vitamins, or too much "artificial" food, but the fact that we can do so is the direct result of the very admirable goal of making more food more readily available for more people. It's ironic that our success in feeding ouselves has resulted in the evolution of the concept of "junk" food. I think the very term should be used with caution, if at all.

Add five more for me (sale at work).

Well, yes and no. Peaches, nectarines plums and apricots won't ripen at all off the tree if they're picked before they mature. If they're mature when picked, they'll ripen to become juicier and softer but will not become much sweeter. What I try to do is to pick out some fruits that are still on the hard side along with some that are perfectly ripe, so that I can enjoy them for a longer period of time.

I'll go out on a limb here and say any kind of expensive sea salt.

This one's pretty basic, but when I finally learned to get all my ingredients prepped and ready (a mise en place, in other words), cooking became a much smoother and more predictable process.

You might enjoy The Book of Salt by Monique Truong, a novel about the (fictional) Vietnamese cook for Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas. Interesting, with some fabulous passages about food.

Oh, yes. Vegetables A-Z is the best. Despite no sections on tomatoes or bell peppers, it's still the best. Although, I've just bought Anatomy of a Dish (Diane Forley), which is a beautiful book with a very different approach -- cooking by plant family. Lots of information in this book, and heart-wrenchingly gorgeous photos.

A chocolate tempering machine.

Well, it does cost thirty bucks. For that money, I think you could buy at least two of any other manual can opener mentioned here. Now, if it came with a holster... I'll say it again. I work at Sur La Table, I can get most anything at a discount, but I think I would have paid full price for the Rosle can opener. Any time I demo it for customers, they buy it. Buy the Rosle. Holster or not.

That's what the Rosle opener does, basically.