Busboy

Seems to have the opposite effect on the homeless, the deranged and the silently menacing, though.

We bought a KitchenAid and have not been pleased with it, though it's largely our fault we have learned two things to watch out for. 1) Beware anything electric. We have a electric touch pad on ours which, as far as we know will allow us to access the Internet and download recipes directly into the overn and which we occasionally use to turn the oven off if we're braising something and want to do something else as it cooks. Mostly, though, what happens is that we'll spill water on the range top or something will boil over and the thing will go into error mode and shut itself down, and nothing bakes or roasts until the liquid in the works evaporates. Sometimes merely wiping the range to with a wet cloth will trigger this. 2) Maximize cookspace. On ours, the knobs and display are horizontal, that is facing the ceiling on the last few inches of cookspace. This makes them easy to see (the error messages are plainly visible), but takes up critical room needed when trying to use three or four burners at once. That last couple of inches is sorely missed on many an occasion. We were seduced by the BTUs of the main burner, after moving into a house with a covered element electric that took forever just to boil water. If I had to do it again, I'd just look for the most stripped-down models I could find. FG's recommendations looked pretty tasty to me.

Which brings up an interesting question . . . Do you prefer your gin to taste like gin or your gin to taste like vodka? Interesting question. My father in law recently retired from his job as a liquor distributor, and visits to his house were often marked by tastings of (by which I mean swilling of) new products his company carried. Once they were trying to break two new brands of "super-premium" gin, Van Gough and I forget the other. You know, the frosted bottle, understated label etc. The stuff had no taste -- it was as though they'd cut the gin with vodka so as not to offend anybody. I cast my vote with Lan4Dawg and regular Bombay, not the too-sweet Saphire.

Scotch and ice cubes. Adds a nice earthy taste, but a little sweet, too. So I hear. Warning that you've spent too much time with the water pipe is when you begin discussing straining the scotch and drinking it. Yeah, a "water pipe."

DC had its own variation on White Castle called Little Tavern (Buy 'em By the Bag!) for many years, but the chain closed down for good in the 1990's. Every now and again you stumble across one of their distinctive green-roofed buildings still standing, coverted to other uses. I worked the grill at the overnight shift for a few weekends before the odd hours got to me. The onion/burger/steaming combination makes them somehow addictive. Rather than "sliders," the preferred nickname was "deathballs," at least after the bars let out.

What doesn't kill you makes you a stronger cook. -- Julia (Nietzsche's) Child

I think homemade sorbets work out even better. The technique seems simpler, an amateur is much more capable of going toe-to-toe with a professional. And the real soul of a good sorbet is the fruit, and a home patissiere who wants to can essentially get fruit as good as any 4-star, if they're willing to go to the market and buy what's best, as opposed to deciding beforehand what to serve.

I once worked with a very knowledgeable and very correct waiter in a swell French place. A customer asked for a "California Burgundy." He replied, "Burgundy, sir, is in France," and walked away.

What throws me on this is the vinegar. None of my recipes for tarragon sauce ('sauce estragon') call for it. The 'classic' tarragon sauce is a simple infusion of tarragon in a sauce veloute (stock/butter/flour). I also see one in Peterson's sauce book that is a white wine/tarragon infusion, with demi-glace added, reduced, and strained, and finished w/ the tarragon leaves. Depending on the wine, I suppose that could be confused with vinegar. Maybe this is a "traditional" French sauce, rather than a "classic" French sauce. In other words, rather lifting something directly from Escoffier, maybe the chef did what French chefs a housewives have been doing forever - taking the stock or pan drippings, adding a flavoring (vinegar, cream, wine, garlic etc.) that complements the dish and they have on hand, and chopping in the terragon. The waitress goes back and asks the chef what the sauce is and, since there is no official name, he says -- as others have suggested -- "sauce estragon" or "terragon sauce," which is accurate but, for purposes of trying to reproduce it at home, not altogether helpful.

The other weekend I had the somewhat emberassing experience of telling a friend who'd asked the "what can I bring" question as he was leaving for dinner at my house that I needed ice cream to accompany the cherry clafouti I was planning for dessert (egg overload)...I had just published a freelance piece on making ice cream at home, so he thought it was pretty funny that I was asking for store-bought. I'd forgotton to freeze the cooling portion of the ice cream maker the day before. He brought over some premium vanilla at it tasted great. But last weeked, with cherries still in season, I made clafouti again and made some cinnamon ice cream at home and it was extraordinary -- creamy, fresh, the cinnamon exploded but didn't overwhelm. Definitely better. I tried to finish it off last night, but it had fallen out of balance. Still good, but not the same. So, I like both kinds. But fresh homemade can be extraordinary. And the control over flavor is great -- whatever strikes your fancy, and whatever looks great in the market that day.

How to make cream sauces and soups without the stuff breaking half the time (it would be less frustrating if it either always broke or never broke).

Thanks, folks, for the good ideas. Jackal 10, I'm one of the few people who will say with a straight face that I've been meaning to try a ballotine for about 5 years now...I think I'll try it this weekend when we're looking for something to make early Saturday for easy eating that evening, after returning from a concert, quite possibly in no condition to play with knives -- and when we can get the grinder out and make some good forcemeat. Currently discussing aliwaks' bricked pepper (what is aleppo?) chicken, the lavender marinade and the and bloviatrix's soy/5-spice with the wife. Whichever we choose, I'm sure we'll be through the others (and more) before long. Thanks again. Aside: I was once reading Saveur or some such glossy and they had a chef saying something like "show me someone who can roast a chicken properly, and I'll show you someone who has a chance of being a pretty good cook, someday." Anyone else struggle for years to be able to get the dark mean done while the breast is still juicy, only to discover a breakthrough technique or recipe (or, like me, have their SO/roommate discover one) that made all the difference?

We always buy nice free-rangers, we always roast it with garlic, rosemary and lemon and it's always delicious. So, of course, we're looking for something different. Will trade artery-clogging ice-cream recipes for a new chicken recipe that uses the whole chicken, and isn't too much hassle. We'd like not to have to look out of the 'hood for ingredients, but we have a bizarre assortment of stuff in the cupboard (almost anything for Indian, Italian or French) and can walk to Latino and Vietnamese grocers. Thanks.

My kitchens always look like hell after a decent dinner. After any dinner really. My wife complains that I learned to cook (as a waiter) by watching chefs who had an endless supply of dishwashers to cover for them. Pretty much the only time I drink coffee after dinner is when I'm going to be confronting a war-zone kitchen and dining room once the guests leave. Get the first load of dishes in the washer as soon as possble -- even before dessert. Get your friends gone before the caffeine wears off. Then, hunt through the CDs for something old and fun -- some Dead, some Beatles, something fun and undemading and mostly uptempo. Save the leftovers first, separate the wine bottles into the recyclables and the ones that still have a glass or two in the bottom, so you'll know what to sip while cleaning. If present and not asleep on the couch, divvy up the first phase with the significant other, clearing versus rinsing or whatever. And then change out of your party wear, roll up your sleeves, turn up the tunes, savor the wine buzz, and get ready to get wet. If you've ever washed dishes in a restaurant, you know the drill. I usually make a deal with myself. "I'll keep going at least until the end of (what used to be called) the first side of Exile on Main Street" By then, the dining and the living room are livable again, and there is tangible progress in the kitchen. That usually is energizing enough for another 20 minutes of tunes and cleaning, by which time you can go to bed guilt-free or power on to the end. Actually, after a really nice meal, the kind that really leaves a wreck, I kind of enjoy doing the dishes. It's something to do with your hands while you drink wine and listen to old music, once you've quit smoking. A chance to chat over the meal with my wife, our first exchange since she yelled "what the hell am I supposed to do with the buerre blanc!" as the fish course was coming out. A little self-congratualtion and a little self-criticism and a little gossip in the steam and the clatter. In the "Myth of Sisyphus," Camus wrote that he imagined Sisyphus taking pleasure in his absurd and endless task (just like keeping my kitchen clean), enjoying the physical toil of rolling the rock, the textures and the smells of the work. I like getting all soggy and wrinkly after trying to look respectable for the guests, and I like doing something mindless and repetitive after spending all day planning and executing. Then "drink a glass of water, take two aspirin and hit the old sackaroo." In the morning, congratulate yourself on your enterprising nature, and have the runny cheese and now extra-crusty bread you forgot to put away for breakfast. Do not drink the champagne, it is ghastly.

A lot of dry cleaners will handle linen tablecloths, but it's expensive (my mind has blocked it out). Another tip, if you don't need creases, is to lay the cloth out a couple hours before, and mist water on it from a spritzer. Don't soak it, but do a heavy mist and let the wrinkles settle. Also, fold the thing while it's still a little damp after you launder it.

I'm a strong believer in small patterns (to hide splatters) red- and burgundy-dominated color schemes (to camoflauge the wine), Clorox II and low lighting.

My wife has a tablecloth fetish -- we probably have a dozen and only their expense keeps us from acquiring more. Most recently, she spent two hours at a market in Provence agonizing over a new one. Or two. They are glorious, though, the craftswoman incorporates traditional Provencal motifs into beautiful cotton fabrics. Very Provence, but nicely understated compared to most of the stuff at the markets there. Once we had our car stolen after having picked up a wonderful Irish linen tablecloth and a dozen napkis from the drycleaner -- the same day I was having my boss and some friends to dinner. They recovered the car, but the tablecloth was never recovered. I think it was worth more than the care, at the time.

It's hard to think about eating someplace when just clicking through their website makes you queasy.

Now that you mention it, ours had apples, too. Came from a delightful book (as much for the vignettes as the recipes) called "When French Women Cook" by Madeleine Kammen, which I mention because it deserves a plug.

I once had sauterne with a chicken that I'd browned and then braised with a couple of cups of sauterne, stock, onion, thyme etc. Kind of an uptown coq au vin. I didn't like it enough to justify the expense> My wife loved it but she may only be looking for an excuse to drink sauterne with the main course.

Peas and favas...earthy and green before the rest of the world catches up (except this year). Nectarines. The first really good florida grapefruits of the year. Teeny yellow mangos that sho up at the bodega just about the time the farmers markets get strawberries, and that stay just about as long.

At least once a summer I splurge on a decent sautern and serve it as dessert with fresh farmer's market peaches and the best farmhouse cheddar I can find. Whether this combinations is kosher as far as the more experience wine/food matchmakers on this site, I don't know, but to me it says summer. And the first peaches are just coming in, here in DC... Chilled, yes, but closer to cellar temperature than fridge temperature. A question of my own along these same lines: more than once I have regretfully stuck a corked, unfinished bottle of young sautern into the fridge, assuming that it will be shot by the time I get around to finishing it off in a day or so, only to find that it tastes as good or even better the second day. Anyone else notice this or have a plausible explanation?

Towels. Of course, I also use them to dry things and sop up spills, so every now and again I get reminded that a wet towell is a much better conductor of heat then a dry one. That horrid choice -- dropping dinner or second degree burns.

Picked up a tamis -- a drum sieve -- from a kitchen supply store in Pensacola Florida. Appears to be made of bamboo and window screen. Works great, and a finer screen than the $200 one that I found in a cooking gadgets store. Now I can cook just like Keller

Cote du Ventoux, just down the road from Gigondas - fairly burly but not as complex as the better stuff from the area. Picked up a couple of bottles while in that area and during the tasting though they actually had a better flavor than the AOC Gigondas La Patronne poured for us. The good stuff went to the "cellar", the cheap stuff to the fridge.