JAZ

Sorry for the late reply. I think there are several avenues available in this situation. If you're in a local or regular bar (or one that might become a regular), it's probably worth engaging the bartender in a brief, friendly conversation (when he or she is not busy, of course) about how the bar makes Gimlets. If you ask how they make Gimlets, and the proportions aren't to your liking, it would probably be a simple thing to say, "oh, do you think you could make one with lots of fresh lime and just a splash of Rose's?" If you're going to be drinking there often, it's definitely worth the conversation. If it's not a place where you feel comfortable with such a conversation, I don't think it would be out of place to order a "Gimlet, with half fresh lime and half Rose's." That is, if they seem to be squeezing citrus fresh for drinks. In the worst case dive bar scenario (which, believe me, I've been in), I used to order gin on the rocks with a splash of Rose's and then ask for a napkin full of lime wedges. Not ideal, but not a bad drink.

If you haven't read my eGCI class on menu planning, you might find it helpful. In my experience teaching, beginning cooks tend to concentrate on flavors so much that they forget about texture. It's important not only to pick flavors that go together, but also to match textures so that you have some contrast.

Sometimes, though, there's an element of a dish that pretty much has to be added right before service, such as gremolata on osso buco. Sure, you could serve the osso buco without it, but it adds a fresh note and some acid to the rich dish that couldn't be added in the cooking process. Also, crunchy elements like crisp bacon or toasted nuts often work much better added right before serving, so they don't get soggy. It's not about correcting the flavors, it's about adding a necessary layer of flavor or texture that can't, for various reasons, be done in advance.

I tend to reach for the smallest possible knife to do the job at hand. Since I usually cook for one, this means that I use a 6-inch chef's knife more often than an 8-inch. My Ken Onion 5-inch utility knife gets a lot of use as well. Finally, I grab a ceramic knife for citrus fruit for cocktails, so I don't have to worry about the acid on metal blades.

For two (depending on your appetites), I'd use two medium Yukon Gold potatoes (maybe 1/4 lb. total), peeled and sliced fairly thin (not potato chip thin; more like 1/8 inch). I start them on the stove and finish in the oven, but I'm sure you could do them start to finish in the oven if that's the method you're used to. I put the slices in a small saucepan and barely cover with cream or half-and half (1/4 to 1/3 cup). Add a smashed clove of garlic and if I have a sprig of thyme or rosemary, I add that too. Simmer for 15 minutes or so -- they should be barely cooked through, not falling apart. During the last minute or two I stir in a chopped green onion as well, but you could leave that out. Pour the potatoes into a small buttered baking dish (fish out the garlic and herbs first.) The cream has usually reduced about the right amount by this time, but if you have more than you need, don't add it all. Top with Gruyere or buttered panko. The crucial piece of equipment is a small gratin dish. I have a couple of oval Emile Henry dishes that are about 8 inches at the longest point and 5 inches across; they're great for a serving for two.

Oh, but we love Munchos. Nothing shameful there.

Oddly, considering it's Dave and Nils from Cooking Issues, they don't seem to have done a complete job of testing all the variables. What happens, for instance, if you soak mushrooms, but then don't crowd them in the pan? Or don't soak them, but do crowd them? That is, with two variables (soaking and crowding) don't you need four tests instead of two?

I hate stinky cheese: all blue cheese makes me gag, and goat and sheep's milk cheese remind me of a petting zoo. Those expensive, runny French cheeses? Old gym socks. I sometimes braise meat at high temperatures, with the lid off. Not only does roasted cauliflower not taste like french fries, it's simply not very good.

What you said is that it's wrong for any of Keller's books to be on this list. That is not a fact; it's an opinion. Since none of us have any way of getting inside anyone else's mind, we have no basis for claiming to know what can or can't disappoint other people. Maybe a person didn't know what to expect from a book by Keller, but so what? He or she can still be disappointed.

We made osso buco using the recipe from Boulevard, which calls for a relish of lemon segments, parsley, shallots and pine nuts to replace the usual gremolata. The little bits of lemon were a revelation with the rich meat.

If one is talking about expectations and disappointment, I don't see how anyone's opinions can be "wrong." Certainly the one recipe I tried out of Ad Hoc (the pave potatoes) was a disappointment. They weren't bad, but they weren't worth the amount of time and effort that I put into them. Sure, the recipe "worked," but that's not the only criterion I judge by.

Caramelized onions pair beautifully with roasted red peppers -- in soup, pasta sauce, macaroni and cheese, and mashed potatoes, or on top of pizza. The best cheese I've found for the combination is aged gouda, but a really old cheddar can work too. On pizza, aged gouda and fontina are a good match.

Why do you find it difficult? I often make potatoes dauphinoise or ordinary scalloped potatoes for one or two -- as long as you have the right sized dish, you should be fine.

Over here, we've been talking about cookbooks that we were dying to get but that ended up to be duds. Sometimes, though, it's a single recipe that turns out to be a huge disappointment. For me the most recent disappointment was a recipe for roasted broccoli and shrimp that's been the darling of cooking blogs everywhere. A Melissa Clark recipe first published by the New York Times (click here), it was picked up, altered slightly and popularized by the blog The Wednesday Chef (click here for the revised version). It was highly recommended here in eG Forums as well. I like broccoli and I love shrimp, so I was looking forward to trying this. Lo and behold, it just wasn't that great. As written the recipe would have resulted in crunchy, underdone broccoli; fortunately for me, I anticipated that problem and cooked the broccoli longer than called for. But still, the dish was disappointing -- dry and boring. Do other people love it because it's the first time they've had properly cooked shrimp and fresh broccoli? Do they not already know the joys of coriander and cumin seeds? I don't know, but for me, it was pedestrian. So, what recipes have you tried that fell flat -- those from books, websites or magazines that sounded fabulous on paper (or the screen) but ended up blah?

You've met the wrong Californians. California grows a lot of figs, and I don't know a single Californian who has not enjoyed the local varieties at least a few times. Shel That was my experience too -- I don't even particularly like figs, yet when I lived in California, it seemed that they were on every menu. I couldn't avoid them.

I never boil whole potatoes -- they're too likely to start falling apart on the outside before the inside is done. And once you're cutting them up, her trick won't work.

As I mentioned here, the Sargento Artisan Mexican blend is quite good, especially for a pre-shredded product. It's kind of pricy, but if you can find it on sale, it's worth a try. (Just make sure you get the Artisan and not the regular blend.) Otherwise, I tend to use a hot pepper Monterey jack cheese.

It's interesting that Keller seems to think that steam is the enemy: and

And they don't like chicken roasted without something in the cavity? Do they eat the fruit, too?

Years ago, I read about a technique (I think it was from Marcella Hazan originally, but I'm not certain) for roasting a chicken that called for filling the cavity with a couple of halves of lemons. This was supposed to result in the best roasted chicken ever, and I tried it with great anticipation. The results were disappointing; the chicken was fine, but there was no discernible lemon flavor and it didn't seem any moister than any other chicken I'd ever roasted (I recall that the lemons were supposed to result in an incredibly moist chicken). Recently, it seems as if every roasted chicken recipe I see calls for throwing lemons, whole or cut up, herbs, and sometimes onions or garlic into the chicken before roasting (Michael Ruhlman suggests "a lemon or some onion or any fruit or vegetable you have on hand" but I'm sure that's meant as a joke -- pears? rutabagas? kiwi? a head of cabbage?). So I tried it again with lemon and onion halves, and I still have to say: I don't get it. The onion chunks roasted, but they would have done that outside or under the chicken as well. And if I want to waste a lemon and some herbs, I can think of much better ways to do it. Can anyone explain why this is supposed to be such a good idea?

Really? I got it for Christmas, and while I haven't really gone through it yet, the table of contents looked very interesting from my brief scan. What disappointed you about it? Partly, it was the tone -- way too precious for my taste, and I grew tired of all the name dropping (yes, Ms. Jones, we realize you edited Julia Child and knew James Beard and every other famous cookbook author -- but give it a rest). Partly it's the odd combination of explaining the obvious and not explaining things that really should be explained -- like how to cut the backbone out of a chicken. I also tired of her one-dimensional approach to meal planning -- buy a big piece of meat, and then eat it three different ways during the week. After the first couple recipe groups, it was completely predictable. That's one way to approach cooking for one person, but it's certainly not the only way. Mostly, though, the recipes were just unappealing. She's very old school, and recipes like minced chicken on toast, veal kidneys, blanquette de veau and LOTS of roasted meats with roasted vegetables just didn't do it for me. To be fair, I've been cooking for one most of my life, so maybe I expected too much. For someone who's doing it for the first time (and who likes old-fashioned food), it might be helpful. But I think a much better choice is Joyce Goldstein's Solo Suppers.

Judith Jones's The Pleasures of Cooking for One was a huge disappointment, especially after all the glowing reviews it's been getting.

If you and your husband like chowder, you could make this salmon chowder by Sara Moulton, and just leave out the smoked salmon from your husband's serving. I first made it years ago (click here for some photos) and have altered her recipe. This is my version; it makes about 4 servings, depending on what else you're having. Salmon and Leek Chowder 4 tablespoons butter 1 large or 2 medium leeks, washed and diced (about 2 cups) 1 1/2 tablespoons flour 1/4 cup dry vermouth or white wine 1/4 cup dry sherry 2 medium russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes (about 2 cups) 3 to 4 medium red potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch cubes (about 2 cups) 4 cups whole milk 1 cup cream 2 teaspoons salt 1 teaspoon dry mustard 1/2 teaspoon white pepper 1/2 teaspoon celery salt 12 ounces fresh salmon fillet, skinned and boned 4 ounces smoked salmon, in small chunks 1/4 cup chopped fresh dill 2 teaspoons lemon grated zest In a large heavy pot, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the leeks and cook until softened, 3-4 minutes. Stir in the flour and cook for another two to three minutes. Add the vermouth and sherry and cook for a minute or two, stirring until smooth. Add cream and milk and stir for a few minutes until leek mixture is incorporated into the milk. Add potatoes and bring to a simmer. Cook for 10 minutes, or until potatoes are barely tender. If salmon fillet is thick, cut into two or three smaller pieces. Add to simmering soup and cook until slightly firm to the touch, 7 or 8 minutes. Remove the salmon to a plate and break into chunks with a fork. Add the salmon chunks, smoked salmon, dill and lemon zest and stir gently. If chowder is too thick, add a little milk. Adjust seasoning and serve topped with additional dill, if desired.

I've been considering the purchase of a kaffir lime tree, but what I'm after is the fruit (well, specifically, the rind of the fruit). Does anyone have a tree that's borne fruit? Would I be crazy to expect that?

That seems to be a very high estimate. Granted, it's a group of young athletes, but 12-13 oz. of meat, three-quarters to a pound of rice/beans? Per person? For one meal?