fimbul

It's probably pretty obvious, but I should think the livers and/or kidneys of two rabbits would make a great pasta sauce. This is off the top of my head, but my ideas are running in this direction: Saute them until just pink, remove from pan. Add fennel, garlic, and thyme to the pan, then deglaze with rabbit or chicken stock and white wine. Reduce to desired consistency. Chop up the organs, return them to the pan with the liquid for a second, then pour over pasta. I, uh, cooked a lot of rabbit this weekend.

Made it out to Eve Friday night, and it was everything it was cracked up to be. I'm not an experienced diner with a host of notches on my fork, but I hope I can at least tell a damned good place when I see it, and this, messirs and mesdames, is a class joint. My girlfriend and I (we were celebrating our 6th anniversary) were impressed first by the looks of the place. Restaurant Eve is in the spot SantaFe east used to be, and boy has it changed. It's always been a neat space, but "elegant" has never been the word to come to mind. "Elegant," however, now fits quite well. We had reservations in the bistro area, and, upon entering, we were immediately whisked away past a wine cooler and the kitchen into a charming space under a skylight, separated from the tasting room, I believe, by a fireplace. I never can remember anything but the vaguest architectural details. I am a spaz. After we were seated, we were pounced upon by Todd, who wanted to know who the eGulleteer would be. "Um. Guilty." He chatted with us awhile, and proved to be a very companiable host, though one who had an agenda: "Try the martini. You'll like it." We'd already gotten drinks (Jeannie, my gf, was already drinking a saffron-infused Gibson. I'd got a glass of Duvel.), but we took the hint, and, for our next course (of drinks), got one o' them pickle Martinis, and a tomato-water Bloody Mary. The pickle Martini was really very good, despite what Rocks says. The world is a better place for having it. The tomato-water Bloody Mary, on the other hand, is divine. I want to caress it, love it, marry it, and grow old with it. It's strained, nearly colorless tomato juice (well, tomato water), infused with lemon grass, serrano, lime, and, uh, stuff? My memory fails me. It was good. By now, it was time for the first course. They'd run out of the oxtail ravioli, so Jeannie went with the crab cake, and I started with a lamb loin. I remember the crab cake not at all. I do not like crab cakes much, and, though this seemed a fine example of the beast, it was, well, a crab cake. My lamb, however, was transcendant. Equally good was a salad that came with, composed of roasted tomatoes, caramelized garlic cloves, black olives, and what might have been artichoke hearts? (It was dark, and, by now, we'd moved on to the wine, a nice Petite Syrah whose name eludes me.) This salad kicked ass. I've rarely had anything that tasted so salty thatstill remained balanced. I'm not sure how the chef did it. Our main course consisted in veal short ribs (hers) and the confit of pork belly (mine). The veal short ribs were wonderful, but again I was more interested in my own dish which was a simply decadent, beautiful thing: beatifully cooked fat that dissolved on my tongue, providing a coating for the glorious meat that followed. The veggies were nice too. But did I mention the meat? It was outstanding, and the only dish I've ever had that seemed new and interesting at the same time it conjured up memories of childhood meals -- meals I could never have had, of course, but the sensation was extremely pleasant and comforting nonetheless. When I marry the Bloody Mary, I want to keep the pork belly as a mistress. Dessert is a pale blur. Jeannie opted to drink hers in the form of a very nice tokay. I had a glass of Malmsey Madeira, and the cheese plate, which entailed a goat cheese, a piece of ... to tell the truth, I have no idea. I liked the cheeses very much though. I blame the alcohol. Speaking of alcohol, at this point, Todd set us up with tiny glasses of his Mojito My Way, which was one of the kindest gestures imaginable, as long as it wasn't meant to kill us. At any rate, we were delighted, despite our fogginess, and did these delectable little drinks in in short order. I love gestures like this. It was a nice touch before we staggered out to wander around Old(e) Town(e) a bit to try to regain our senses. How a restaurant such as Eve ended up in Old(e) Town(e), I'll never know, but I pray it stays and keeps up this level of cooking and service. And I'm already pining to go back.

You know... as for Philosophically-inspired meals, I *know* I've had at least one that proved god is, indeed, dead. Or, at least, he's not vetting the dishes set on my table very well.

As for meal a la Shroedinger's cat, I suspect you could cook one up easily enough: serve your guests meals in covered vessels; some number of the dishes contain actual food beneath the cover, some have nought. HOWEVER, until the dish is uncovered, everyone is both served, and, uh, not. If you survive your guests' wrath long enough to document the results, do let us know.

naw. I actually live in Del Ray, rather than Old(e) Town(e) proper, so I think I'm too hip (by association and street address) to be an OTC.

Right! I'm sold. As a country bumpkin and resident of Old(e) Town(e) (or thereabouts), I'm thrilled at the idea of a new, fancypants eatery out here in the sticks. I just got reservations for my SO and me Friday night. Hell, at the very least, it'll keep me off them big city streets for an evening.

I've had really rare (RED) pork before due to a combination of accidental undercooking and laziness. I wasn't and am not worried about safety, but I do think rare pork is indeed a touch flabby. I wonder, though, how much of my prediliction for firmer-textured pork is a product of what I'm used to. I grew up thinking pork ought to be medium (pink-ish), and (envelope-pusher that I am) I tend to cook it slightly pinker than my mother would, but much rarer than that just seems... underdone.

*Claps hand to forehead* Damn. I never thought of this. I do it all the time with tomatoes and the like, but never thought to try it with clementines. You're a genius. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen.

Er... these cats, I think. A couple down the page. If you're curious, this here's a nice bit of geekery about the whole Chinense clan. Ediot: I guess I'm seconding the recommendation of tomatogrowers.com. FWIW, My girlfriend and I have ordered from them several years running with no complaints. GF's father turned us onto them after he'd been ordering from them for awhile himself.

If you like the habaneros (or Scotch Bonnets), try the Fatalii chile. It's a West African cultivar of the Chinense species; a close cousin of both habaneros and Scotch Bonnets but fruitier and more fragrant than either. My partner and I fell madly in love with them last summer when we grew them for a lark. Their floral character is so pronounced that we've since found them a necessary addition to every meal. ...Er, their heat is also rather pronounced though, so beware. I made a blackberry-fatalli sauce for duck (a ratio of a pint of blackberries + some orange juice to 1/2 a fatalii) that nearly took my head off.

My fear is that you're right, but hope springs eternal. Perhaps the lemon juice will carry the day. You could maybe butterfly the pork loin and stuff it with the preserved calamondin peels? You could first rub the inside of the loin with spices, either to give it a Cuban/Puerto Rican lilt, or with raz-al-hanout to give it a North African touch, using the flavor of the preserved calamondins to replace the more standard preserved lemon.

I am, as an experiment, trying to preserve clementines, just to see what happens. I've quartered (but not cut all the way through the stem) 4 clementines, rubbed them with kosher salt, and covered them with clementine juice (with a touch of vinegar and meyer lemon juice for acidity). Thus far (2 weeks into Operation Orange Mush), they look a little manky. Where their yellow cousins are sitting sedately in a more or less homogenous yellow broth, my clementine liquid has separated into a liquid and a (more) solid strata, despite my shaking things up on a regular basis. I still hope, but am braced for the worst. (Er. I'm assuming "the worst" will entail inedible orange muck rather than a horrible death for me and mine. I'm lead to believe this is a safe assumption, and will find myself most disappointed if I'm proven wrong. )

"Beware of paper cuts!" is a quote from one of the Quiznos ads in question. An "earworm" is a song/phrase/word/collection of syllables that crawls into your brain (via your ear) and gets stuck in your head. "I have an earworm." = "I have a song stuck in my head." "You just earwormed me with 'Surfin' Bird'!" = "You just got that 'Surfin' Bird' stuck in my head!" "Egyptian Navigators" are new to me. My guess is that they are slang for: A.) French Ticklers; B.) Israeli couscous; C.) Spanish flies; or D.) Jamaican bobsledders.

I feel as though you ought to be able to do something with dried apricots poached in a floral white wine, a pinot gris or gewurz, or the like. Maybe serve it with fresh pears and cheese? Or in a sabayon? Is half an idea better than none?

Qunioa really is grand stuff. For whatever reason, I've taken to it in a way I never took to other grains. I'll occasionally simmer some in stock until tender, then toss it with dried fruits or sauteed veggies and a white wine vinaigrette and serve it at room temp or slightly warmer. I'll also cook it in a bit of fat with minced leeks or shallots, add a bit of stock and cook it like a risotto until it's tender, then top it with confitted tomatoes. Mounded, quinoa's a great base for squab, duck, or chicken. Lefdtover, you can use it to stuff jalapeno chiles before frying them. Amaranth, which is similar, is also fun, but a bit more baffling. I'm still not sure what I think.

If the quinoa ExtraMSG buys is anything like the stuff I get (from bulk bins in Whole Foods and other, local hippie stores), it comes pre-rinsed. Or, at least, it arrives at my home sans saponin (bitter stuff), so I assume *someone's* rinsing it. Maybe you can taste a grain or two of the quinoa before you rinse it to see if you can use it dry? From what I've heard, if it needs rinsing, you'll know it.

That is exactly why I want to debone them, or at least remove the breast and backbones (for only two of us I might make six not the whole dozen). Also my wife is a little put off by their size if they had bones and she will enjoy them much more without them. Thanks for the input, I guess I will go with Pepin's Technique book and learn as I go...hmm I might end up using all 12 I guess due to trial and erorr Elie For two people, 6 will be ample. I generally count on folks eating two quail apiece, and I always make an extra or two in case someone's ravenous.

I've deboned six quails at a time on occasion. It's do-able, but tedious enough so that I try to find partially boned quail when I can. A sharp knife is, indeed, very necessary, as is patience, though, yeah, you get quicker as you go. As for cooking, 12 is a lot to pan-fr. Grilling might be your best bet, or a cast iron griddle (one that fits over two burners) maybe? I always like quail best with vaguely Moroccan/Tunisian spices, raz-al-hanout or something similar.

So, wait... You're both blindfolded, and cramming food toward each other? That's not erotic, that's a food fight!

Jenny, do yourself a favor and pick up The Gift of Southern Cooking by Scott Peacock and Edna Lewis -- absolutely wonderful. Also look for anything by the late great Bill Neal. Cheers, Squeat I also really like John Martin Taylor's Hoppin' John's Lowcountry Cooking. Though, I must confess that Taylor's obvious love of Edisto Island, SC and its environs might bias me -- I've spent a lot of my life there.

Erm. Really dry chicken. My opinion on the things is documented somewhere... here! If you're tempted by the thing, make it into a soup.

-- (Muscovy) duck breast, rubbed with habanero chile powder, meyer lemon zest, and salt, quickly seared, roasted, then served with a lemon-shallot pan sauce. -- sauteed red chard with sumac. -- a salad of romaine and radicchio leaves, julienned scallion, and cucumbers with a champagne vinaigrette. Eh. It was okay. The duck was a bit tough -- is this a hallmark of Muscovy ducks, or did I do that?

Tea and cucumber sandwiches put me in mind of P. G. Wodehouse's novels, particularly any in which the great Anatole's menus are described. I remember, too, that many of Plum's novels make much of the civilizing influences of port, bitter, and liquor.

-- Mussels, steamed in a chile - lemongrass broth -- 1/2 rack of lamb seared, rubbed with chopped mint, cilantro, fish sauce, chiles, and ginger, then roasted and cut into chops -- carrots with julienned lemongrass and scallions caramelized with a bit of mirin and sesame oil -- baby bok choy leaves sauteed with garlic

I'm remembering a truly terrifying bit on the effects of tv dinners in Daniel Pinkwater's Lizard Music. And wasn't there a Calvino story about Mexican food? "Under the Jaguar Sun"?