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I dunno, fending off stray males by quoting nerdy movies is pretty amusing in my book, though it's perhaps not as clever as coming up with that criterion on one's own. But, hell, if she'd taken herself hostage to get away, a la Blazing Saddles, I'd be madly in love.

Is... Is that from Real genius? I can hear it, but I can't place it in a movieland context. Well, obviously, I have to watch Real Genius tonight. O well. It was inevitable, I suppose.

A few years back, before I even became as food-addled as I am now, I dated a girl who, one night as I was describing to her the most magical cheeseburger I'd ever had, asked in an exasperated voice, "How can you care so much about *food*?" I think that might have been the first time I ever realized that some people were just going to be incomprehensible to me, no matter how well I tried to get to know them. She was not quite as picky as NeroW's ex, though. I'm sure I once saw her eat nearly raw bacon. That has to count for something, right?

No, no. It's just like a grapefruit, just without that characteristic grapefruit bitterness.... So, yeah, not too much like a grapefruit.

I bought ugli fruits last year. They were, you'll not be surprised to learn, a lot like sweet grapefruits. They're a fairly mild, pleasantly sweet citrus. I ate mine straight, using both my hands and a spoon, and I never figured out which way worked better. The thin skin and asymmetry of the things baffled me. I suppose, however, you could use them in sauces and salsas or to infuse liquor. ...I seem to remember marinating tuna in ugli juice at one point, though that may have been an idea that never came to fruition (no pun intended). There some more information way down this page. My only qualm is that I'm beginning to see them marketed as "uniq fruits," a bit of preciousness that kinda makes me want to vomit.

Dona Flor and her Two Husbands by Jorge Amado. It's a novel about a woman who loses a husband, remarries, and, through divine intervention, brings back the first husband to obtain, er, well, the best of both worlds. I'm liking the book immensely, though I'm struggling with it a tad. It seems I only get to read, these days, just before I fall asleep, so I read a chapter, go to sleep, and the next night I have to reread the previous night's chapter to remind myself what happened. The author's style is to weave past in with present, so being sleep-addled can get you lost if you're not well-rooted in context. But, no matter, it's a good story, and the slightly dated translation keeps me grinning at all the anachronistic, "hip" slang. It's even food related: the protagonist of the novel is a cooking-school teacher. Dende oil anyone?

Would it be a waste to try to make meyer lemon limoncello? I recently had the mixed pleasure of attending a cooking demonstration by Giuliano Bugialli during which he made limoncello, or, rather, started off the prodecure. His method was as follows: Find a cookie jar with a hollowed-out spot in the underside of the top, where the knob/handle of the lid is. Cut a cork to tightly fit that hollow. using cheesecloth secured by the tightly fitting cork, suspend the lemon inside the cookie jar. Pour 4 cups of grain alcohol in the cookie jar, and replace the top. The lemon should not touch the booze below. Secure the top with tape, and put the cookie jar full of proto-limoncello somewhere safe, where it won't get jostled and splash the lemon. After a month, the limonello is ready to be mixed with simple syrup to your taste. I'll admit, this looks like an awful pain in the ass, but, in practice, it'd probably be quite easy. At the very least, it could become a conversation piece: Q: Um... Why are you suspending a lemon in a sack over clear liquid in that jar? A (Said with a dark scowl): So it'll finally LEARN!

Damn. All that in one bed? Sounds... messy.

Friday night was spent preparing food for a friend's party on Saturday night, so dinner was simple: grilled, spatchcocked game hens, grilled eggplant with garlic oil, and a salad of arugula & romaine with sherry vinaigrette. Saturday night was food for a fete, and my girlfriend and I prepared: sesame pork tenderloin with scallion biscuits not-really-rillettes with toasts cherry tomatoes halved and stuffed with yogurt, "sharp-provolone," and basil phyllo tarts filled with goat cheese and olive tapenade or sauteed shiitakes dixie cup shooters filled with chilled cucumber and red pepper soups Evil Death brownies and Tiramisu. In addition, others brought cheeses, marinated tuna, and a noodle dish. There was a *lot* of food for what turned out to be no more than 15 people.

I often saute whole, bone-in, skin-on thighs in butter, and finish them in the oven. Then, I remove the thighs from the pan and throw in a handful or two of minced shallots. After a moment or two, when the shallots are soft, I add a cup of white wine vinegar, and a half cup of water and reduce it a bit. When the sauce is a consistency I like, I add salt and pepper to taste as well as a tablespoon or two of butter. Stir the sauce well, and serve it over the thighs with minced parsley to garnish. I think I stole this from Mark Bittman, who credited someone else with the idea, but, in any event, it's a great quick meal.

I once roasted an unpricked eggplant in the oven and absently reached into the oven to grab it with a pair of tongs. The resulting BANG! wasn't too terribly messy (if you don't count my pants), but it scared the living hell out of my girlfriend and send my cat into paroxyms of unbridled terror. Exploding veggies are a menace of which we all must be wary.

Er... Is it really smuggling if you tell the authorities what you're doing?

I thought about that, but neither of us has a huge sweet tooth, and I was pressed for time. Besides, skipping dessert gave me license to use extra duck fat. Dieting requires sacrifices, you know.

Snuck home early to cook dinner for my SO, who celebrated her 28th birthday yesterday. The menu had to be quick and simple, so: Veal loin chops cooked in a cast-iron grill pan and topped with dollop of a gremolata/chimichurri-thing composed of finely chopped fresh rosemary, lemon zest, parsley, garlic, and olive oil. asparagus simply sauteed in duck fat fingerling potatoes halved, par-boiled, and quickly crisped in duck fat and served with heaping amounts of sea salt and black pepper. I usually serve lemon zest and chopped rosemary with potatoes when I do them this way, but I thought that might be overkill at this point. Too much of a good thing. You know. Spinach salad with orange and yellow pepper confetti and a tomato-sherry vinaigrette. Pretty, till I threw it all over the floor. All this was served with a cheap but serviceable Spanish red whose name escapes me, prolly because I consumed too much of it.

But, wow! Just think! If you could grow things in typos, the Internet would be the greatest source of fertilizer ever! My emails alone could feed my herbs forevermore. edit: I am not unaware of the implications of Internet = fertilizer. I'm just not going there.

The thought of this will haunt me always. I suspect this might be served in outdoor cafes in Hell. And, even worse, in an effort to one-up raisin mayo, my brain sputtered out "grilled steak with raisin chimichurri!" Gah.

Cooked Sunday night after a particularly grueling 7 hour drive. I was too tired to do anything but roast a chicken and wilt some spinach and fall over in my food. Last night was better, but I was still groggy enough to serve a meal in varying shades of brown: pan-roasted duck legs, sauteed shiitakes with scallions and a hint of gomasio, and fried eggplant with garlic and chiles. Ugly as a dog's butt on the plate, but it tasted pretty good. I think I'm going to be very happy now that I know I can buy fresh duck legs on a regular basis at a place not too far from my work. Now, if they only sold fresh duck breasts as well... makes me wonder, where do all those legless ducks go?

I was wondering about that myself. I think "gadget" implies something gimmicky, while a tool is a straightforward, shooting-from-the-hip, no muss, no fuss, everyday sort of product. At any rate, I think it's agreed that the microplane is well nigh indispensable. When the gadget police come looking for mine, they'll need to pry it from my cold, dead fingers. And I'll take a few of them with me -- I intend to go down zesting.

Hrm. Using Jin's criteria as I understand them, my gadget use is mostly limited to blenders, mixers, mandolines, and the like, but I must also confess to more than occasional use of the controversial rice steamer. It makes having a tiny stovetop less of a burden. I also own, and have even used once or twice, an olive/cherry pitter (it's nowhere near as good as the side of a knife). In my defense, it was a gift from my mother, who got three of the things for Christmas that year. In my mother's defense... well, her friends are obviously from outer space. Also, I want an ice cream maker. And room to keep it.

And the coffee goes all over the keyboard. Thank you, I needed that.

I've been looking for game myself. The best place I've found so far has been Whole Foods (at least the Arlington one), which has the occasional frozen squab, quail, and/or pheasant, as well as duck, rabbit, and venison on a regular basis. I've seen wild turkey there 'round the holidays, and I *think* they had wild boar cutlets and/or sausages at least once. Sutton Place (boo! *spit!*) also has the occasional game bird. Super H Mart in Fairfax has fresh duck legs (no boobs, though ), as well as frozen quail and squab, but, sorry, no boar last I looked. I've always wondered if A. M. Briggs in DC will sell to the general public, or if they sell to caterers/restaurants only. I strongly suspect the latter, so I've never tried. Your other option, if you can bear the shipping fees, is to order from D'Artagnan. Hell, if you buy game from Sutton Place or the like, you're likely getting meat from D'Artagnan anyway. Let me know if you do find game, though. I'd love you forever.

Or the light of your life and the fire of your loins?

O dear. Is this one of the "conspiracies" Tommy mentioned in another thread?

Been awhile since I read Revelations, but aren't they the ones Jesus spits out? I must say, though, that I give my love to all three lilies indiscriminately and with abandon. Must we choose one before the others? It was a good essay, though, and the bit about the fear of a flaky pie crust rings true. My pastry skills are improving, but I still approach the flaky pie crust in fear and trembling.

Just discovered Dogfish Head's 60 Minute IPA. I bought the first six-pack off my local store's shelves and consumed most of it in joy and wonderment that very night (it was Friday, I was allowed). The bits I didn't greedily guzzle went to my girlfriend, who liked it almost as much as I did, but backed off in defrence to me when I began to sob and moan and kiss the bottle. For those of you in the middle parts of the east coast of USAia, this beer is a must have. It may have caused to me forswear even my beloved Hop Devil. It's a bottle-conditioned real ale with a great, mildly citrusy hop flavor with a slightly-roasty malt flavor right behind. (I'm not a trained reviewer: I liked it, it was good, go try it yourself... unless you live in the Northern Virginia area, in which case keep your mitts off it, because it's mine, MINE! DO YOU HEAR?) It's nowhere near as overpowering as Dogfish's 90 Minute IPA, if you were put off by that stuff. And at a mere 6% ABV, it might be my new session beer of choice.