JAZ

Elizabeth Schneider, in Vegetables from Amaranth to Zucchini, gives these suggestions: A salad of sea beans (blanched), shrimp, apple and belgian endive, tossed in a dressing of lemon juice olive oil, fennel seed and chives A frittata with potatoes, sean beans, onion and dill (saute the potatoes and onions until tender, then add the sea beans and cook for 2 or 3 minutes. Fold mixture into beaten eggs and sprinkle with dill). Sea bean tempura A slaw of Savoy cabbage and sea beans, with orange and lime segments, and tossed with a dressing of the citrus juices and hazelnut oil.

The amount of alcohol in most home liqueurs is sufficient to preserve them indefinitely, refrigerated or not. The exception would be anything made with cream (like Irish Cream), or anything diluted with water to less than about 40% alcohol.

Damn, and I thought I was bad with a couple of wooden crates of vinyl (mostly bought when I worked for a record store in the early 80's; maybe 500). My excuse is that I still have a working turntable and actually play them. Truth be told, I probably play my albums more often than I cook from my cookbooks.

Four more for me, since I last checked in. Cesar, from the tapas restaurant of the same name in Berkeley (never look at pictures of fried potatoes when you're hungry, unless you plan to buy the book); The New American Chef by Page and Dornenberg (I was resisting, but it went on sale); a surprisingly good effort from the CIA and Weight Watchers (yeah, sometimes I kid myself that I'll start to cook healthy food, and it was on sale too); and The Joy of Mixology by Gary Regan (my personal cocktail god, who will actually be doing a Q&A on eGullet in a couple of weeks).

Would it be feasible to give a few basic lessons on cooking techniques to the assistants? They might enjoy it, and it would make their learning process (and the cooking process) faster.

I just found that my dough stuck to it, making it difficult to slide it into the oven. The fault may lie with my dough but, nevertheless, the wooden peel worked much better. Busboy Have you tried a light dusting of corn meal or flour on the peel before you place your dough? I don't think your dough is at fault. If you are doing a really thin crust pizza and its not all tacky, then I believe that the dough is not going to be up to your expectations. Here's a trick I learned from Cooks Illustrated, which works especially well for thin crusts (which is my preference): Roll or pat your dough out on a sheet of parchment paper. The dough sticks to the parchment, which makes it really easy to get a nice thin even circle of dough, and very easy to get into the oven. Then, as the dough bakes, it releases from the parchment. It helps keep your stone clean too. The only thing about this method is that the exposed edges of the parchment will burn. You can get around this by trimming the parchment, or you can do what I do, which is to prebake the plain crust for 5 minutes or so until the crust sets and releases from the paper, then take it out, then add your toppings and return it to the oven, minus the paper. As for the "peel" -- I'm with Sam. I use a cookie sheet at home. At the kitchen where I teach my classes, I use either metal or wooden, because with the parchment paper, it really doesn't matter. I find the metal one gets under the crust a bit more easily.

How weird. I've been experimenting with a new cocktail for a class I'm giving next month -- it's for a Junior League class, and they've asked for something in along the lines of Cosmopolitans. I saw the Pom Wonderful at the store and thought it was just right. I'm still playing with the exact recipe, but the base is white rum, with lemon (or lime -- can't quite make up my mind) and a splash of triple sec. One version has a touch of orange juice as well. After I get the recipe down (and after the class) I'll post the recipe. But I already have dibs on the name -- it's a Pomeranian.

What a great list of links, beans! Thanks so much for taking the time. And don't forget the ever-important garnish: Olives Minor point, though, about your post: It's not that I dislike vodka. I think it has a definite place in the bar, and I like some vodka based cocktails very much. That being said, it's definitely true that overall I prefer gin cocktails to vodka cocktails, and for martinis, there's no contest. On to other points, in no particular order. Sam, another thing about the naming of cocktails as "XX-martini" is one that really bugs me, as a lover of language as well as cocktails. That is, it used to be that if you created a new cocktail, half of the fun was coming up with the cool name to go with it. Imagine a world without drinks like the Monkey Gland, or a Satan's Whiskers, or the Delilah. Jeez, even the Gibson got a separate name, just for having a different garnish. Now, even if a bartender creates a really great drink, he or she always seems to just punt and call it a fill-in-the-blank martini. It just seem so lame to me. (But, you got me on the panini thing. I had no idea. Now, how am I supposed to sell "panini grills" at work?) Rancho/Dave: I already know I'm old, okay? I can remember Beany and Cecil. Do you have to make me feel even older because I want my martini made the "right" way? (BTW, my preference is Boodles, but Plymouth is damn good too.) Finally: Who are going to be special guests in a Q&A in a couple of weeks. I'll pin a longer post about them and their background soon, but anyone who's interested in talking to a couple of cocktail masters should definitely check this out. If you don't know their work, you're in for a real experience.

How about a savory custard? I have a couple of recipes for onion custards (haven't tried either one, but they sound good). I'd think they'd be good with a roasted red pepper puree.

Slightly OT, but I have to share this story. Some years ago, we were at a neighborhood pub-type bar where most of the drinks are pints and shots. The bartender was a very young woman who seemed to be fairly new. Two customers walked in and ordered a scotch and soda and a martini on the rocks. She made the scotch and soda and started to make the martini: she filled the cocktail glass (a very small one, incidentally) with ice and set it on the bar, then poured the ingredients into the mixing glass, mixed it, and strained it into the cocktail glass -- without removing the ice! She was so confused, because she had all this martini left in the mixing glass, and she clearly wanted to give it to the customer. My companion (a bartender) leaned over and softly told her to pour it into a rocks glass. She was generous enough to comp us a drink for that bit of advice.

Technically, a vodka martini, even a "dry" one, has vermouth. In reality, today there are a lot of bartenders who make "martinis" (both gin and vodka) with no vermouth. In any case, there was no reason for the bartender to display a bad attitude, even if he or she had been correct. In another thread, beans posted a link to an article on vodka in Las Vegas (Article Here) and provided this quote: That, to me, is the perfect example of an unfortunate but all too typical drinker who really does not like the taste of cocktails but wants to drink them anyway. The answer? Tasteless, odorless vodka, served ice cold and without vermouth to ensure a complete lack of flavor. Weird, but true. Like Sam, I always specifiy that I want vermouth, and that I want my drink stirred. I see he's listed the basic differences between shaking and stirring, so I won't duplicate them, but will make one additinal observation. Even if a shaken drink is not visibly foamy, it will have more air incorporated into the liquid than the stirred version, which results in a different "mouthfeel." The stirred drink will be smooth and "heavier" on the tongue; the shaken drink will be, not fizzy, but lighter and sort of bubbly. The air bubbles dissipate quickly, however, so that effect goes away after a minute or so. Edit to add parentheses.

The International Association of Culinary Professionals is holding its annual conference in Baltimore in April. I'm going to be attending for the first time. Is anyone else going to go? Any good suggestions for dinners (it's being held at the convention center)?

but you're wrong. On tuna melts: A long time ago on Chowhound a poster was wondering what the attraction of the tuna melt was, and I described it this way: Now, I'm aware of all the Italian "no cheese with seafood" rules, and although in many cases I agree, I have to admit to loving the whole 50's style hot crab dip thing, as well as the grilled style tuna melt. (The broiler style is fine, but not my preference.) What I really don't care for is a cold tuna salad sandwich with cheese. Now, that's wrong.

I think Fat Guy's got the right idea. Other meals that lend themselves to that approach are pasta (vegetarian marinara sauce, plus meatballs and chicken sausage on the side); fajitas/tacos; enchiladas (one pan of cheese, one pan of chicken, and one pan of pork or beef). Not as upscale as cassoulet, but perhaps more feasible for weeknight cooking.

My sister used to work at a place where they did this too. She won one evening with a tequila and buttermilk mixture.

I said this upthread, but I really like Safeway's "Select" Tongol tuna. It's somewhere between albacore and chunk light in price and flavor as well, and reminds me of the chunk light you used to be able to find. I've gotten enamoured on the Italian oil packed for some uses, like Nicoise salads and tuna mixtures that are oil based, but for my old fashioned mayo based tuna salad, I prefer the water packed (my cats like it too, as they get the tuna water runoff), and that Safeway stuff is it for me. Edit: Oh, and like many others, I succumbed to the lure of the tuna can myself today.

Bad things? Like it starts to taste like something? Like (god forbid) a martini?

St. Blaise: the patron saint of wood fired ovens St. Crispin: the patron saint of rotisserie chicken St. Blanche: the patron saint of perfectly cooked asparagus

My current favorite is oil packed mixed with "olive salad" made by Jimtown Stores. The olive salad is chopped green and black olives, with garlic, lemon, pimento, capers and the like. If I have them, I add extra capers and roasted red peppers, along a little anchovy paste. It's pretty easy to made a similar olive salad, but Jimtown's sure is faster. Like others here, I also like a more tradiitional mayo-based tuna salad, which I mix with chopped onion, celery, capers (sour cornichons if I don't have capers), celery salt and dill. If I'm looking to cut the fat, I substitute drained low fat plain yogurt for about half of the mayo. For that version, I like (gasp) Safeway's Tongol tuna packed in water.

Nice article, beans. I'd totally forgotton about that Warren Zevon song. Thanks! Oh, I love that! Truer words were never spoken. I use the margarita in my classes to demonstrate the difference that good ingredients can make -- fresh citrus and decent tequila are an eye opener to most novice drinkers.

I just used this in an aphrodisiac class: mix grated gruyere cheese with a little garlic and parsley in a food processor until it holds together when pinched between the fingers. Then take an artichoke quarter (I used canned ones for this) and top it with a little of the filling, then another artichoke quarter. Wrap with a thin slice of prosciutto and run under the broiler for a couple of minutes on each side, until the cheese melts and the prosciutto gets crisp.

In last quarter's "Slow" -- the quarterly journal of the Slow Food organization -- there was an article about this distillery and its eaux de vie, particularly its "Pear in a Bottle." This is pretty much what it sounds like -- the growers cover pear buds with bottles, so the pears grow into them, then use the bottles for a pear eau de vie. Apparently it's based on an Alsatian tradition. (Damn, as if lawyer-cum-food writers weren't bad enough. . .) Very interesting article (in fact, the whole issue is devoted to wine, beer and spirits) but it's not online. The distillery has a website though, so check it out here. I haven't tried any of these; has anyone else? St. George Spirits of Alameda CA (the makes of Hangar One vodkas) make some very nice eaux de vie that I've tried, and I could definitely see making a trip to Oregon to compare the qualities.

Although I've never been a fan of Canadian (I prefer Scotch, Irish, rye, and bourbon, in that order, before Canadian), I do have great memories of standing around under a full moon with a couple of friends outside a ski cabin, pouring Crown Royal over packed snow for a very adult snowcone.

I've tried the Cascade Mountain, which I described in this post in an earlier Martini thread, but not the Desert Juniper. The Cascade Mountain was very good -- smooth (especially considering it's 95 proof) with a definite but subtle juniper note. I'd forgotton about it -- I'll have to go out and buy another bottle, with one of the Desert Juniper to compare.

In what world is every piece of writing expected to be all those things? "Food writing" covers such a broad spectrum, that I find it impossible to generalize about it. That is, I want very different writing in a cookbook than I do from a review, which, in turn, will be different from what I want in a book of essays, or a book on food science. "Good" food writing is out there, in all sorts of books, journals and magazines. I personally find Fine Cooking magazine to be beautifully written, given its audience and purpose. Is it "entertaining"? Hell no. It's invisible, which is perfect, in my opinion, for a magazine that instructs its readers and provides workable recipes. It's good writing, for me, because it's meticulously edited, the articles tell me things I want to know, and the recipes work. On the other hand, I truly enjoy Calvin Trillin and Jeffrey Steingarten, but I'm not convinced I'd buy cookbooks by either of them (were they to write one), because I'm not sure they'd give me what I want in a cookbook, which is recipes that work (well, actually, it's not -- I'm weird that way -- but it's what most cookbook purchasers want). Personally, I cannot stand to read restaurant reviews; I'm not sure why, but they bore me to tears, regardless of the quality of the writing. The exception is Dara Moscowitz, who writes reviews in the Minneapolis area. I don't live in Minneapolis, so I'll never use the infomation in her reviews, but she's really entertaining, which is why I like to read her. But her local readers, I'm sure, have very different standards for judging her writing -- they're going to want to know if her judgments are generally valid, and they're going to want her to provide the information they need to predict whether they will like a particular restaurant. I could go on, but my point is there are different criteria for evaluating different types of writing, food or otherwise. Concerning newspaper food sections, they usually don't interest me much. But that's not because they're badly written; it's just that newspaper writing in general doesn't interest me much. It's the nature of the beast. It's easy to criticize food journalists, but trying to strike a balance and put out a section that appeals to all varieties of readers, from the gourmet to the novice -- and having to do it with a strict limit on space, and having to do it with a very quick turnaround -- is very difficult. Kpurvis hit the nail on the head -- you might hope for brilliance, but, in reality, you do your best and go on to the next article, or column. So the San Francisco Chronicle food section doesn't appeal to me (and it doesn't)? So what? That doesn't mean it's bad. I actually think it's pretty good, for a newspaper food section. If it appealed to me, it would likely lose its appeal for 95 percent of the rest of the population. Yes, the writers you mention are good writers, but for the most part, they aren't newspaper writers. Maybe it's just that you, like me, don't like newspaper writing. So do what I do and skip it. Read Jeffrey Steingarten in Vogue, or Corby Kummer in the Atlantic. Read Nigella's books, if that's the kind of writing you like. There's a whole world of food writing out there, and because it covers such a wide range of styles and subjects, there's bound to be something for just about everyone.