Margaret Pilgrim

I always smile when I remember enjoying tacos at a truck in Lodi. An ancient Latino man sat opposite us. He watched as husband passed me his jalapeno and I put it on one of my tacos, so one whole jalapeno per taco. He grinned and handed me HIS! I was startled but thought I had little choice, so accepted with thanks and split it onto the two. He grinned with glee as he watched me munch down my jalapeno tacos! A lovely memory. And two great tacos!

Chicken pies Homely but delicious.

Haven't been sure lately that the WSJ HAS a copy editor. Shades of Btight Lights, Big City .

Recalls for ecolli and friends are indeed different from "best by" dates that may encourage the timid to toss viable, even palatable food.

A genius move! Honey is sweet! Granola is sweet! Balancing with a neutral carb is brilliant.

Apologies for the pasta heavy unbalanced plate. I shoot what's in front of me. Sicilian sausage and chard rigatoni. So simple and quite lovely.

We enjoy pear ciders, especially alongside porky things, like grilled white or blood sausages. Here's one. Also Pommeau, a light and less expensive alternative to calvados.

Quoting from a favorite commercial, a border collie refuses to chase a badly thrown ball: "That is just so not going to happen". Good luck. I could never maintain that.

Lovely plating! Happy new year!

A personal funny, no visuals. Our son, maybe 5 at the time, was used to rare meat (chops, steak, roasts, pink hamburger). One night I cooked a pot roast. He grew up accompanying us to antique and flea markets, garage and estate sales. He looked at his plate of grey meat and asked, "Mama, is this meat second hand??

Tangentially, night before last I made chili rellenos There was perhaps a half cup of moderately hot oil in the pan and I decided to save it, pouring it into a French working jar, a kitchen staple for me. Dinner over, I start to clean up, picked up the jar and the top 3/4 came neatly away, spewing some oil, leaving the bottom quarter full of oil. I quickly grabbed a fist full of paper towel, crammed it into the remains of the jar and let it sop up the oil. Sent alll eventually into the trash, and clean up was a minimum, but I had never had that happen before. These jars are (I thought) able to take hot contents and have done so for me. Won't try this again.

I find them (pickled pigs feet) in the deli case at local Italian delis. Decent, but none as piquant as those of my childhood nor musseau in France. To sing, these need a pucker to balance the fat.

When I was a toddler, my father thought it was amusing to share his jar of Wilson's pickled pigs feet with me. I thought they were on a par with chocolate ice cream. Today, in France, I order "museau", sliced pig's snout in vinaigrette and herbs. Can't find it here. But most deli counters have (maybe Boarshead) sour (German style) headcheese. Any port in a storm.

While passing the refrigerator, I heard the German (souse) head cheese calling, I relieved a slice. (Retrieved?) I love this stuff. Straight, in a sandwich, cut up in a brisk vinaigrette.

Our portion size story took place some 20 years ago in Northern New Jersey. We were referred to a popular Italian restaurant. Good welcome, good seats, seductive aromas. We ordered as we normally would, maybe a starter and main for each of us. Then the food started to arrive. Quite excellent but enough for a family. We wound up with a huge take out bag which we put in the back of our car. Fortunately it was the dead of winter and we noshed off those containers for several days. We often wondered about the portion sizes. Were they actually consumed in place?

Particularly when traveling, I am loathe to leave a chunk of protein on my plate. I carry ziplocs and slip the offending chunk into one and take it away. It almost never gets eaten, even by someone's pet. But I feel guilty ordering something and not consuming it.

This photo, from the Bon Appetit article linked above looks a lot like my potato bin. I keep potatoes and onions separately in two 3 gallon crocks, in their original 5 lb bags. Usually by the time I'm down to a couple of potatoes, they are plotting their escape. I just thumbnail out the offending appendage and cook as usual. No off-putting flavor or texture. We go through enough that they don't get past this point.

You really don't need to acquaint yourself with American sweet pickle. No, you don't. Perhaps you can understand if I say that Branston has structure and balance.

This is frequently the practice locally, and, yes, it is weighed at checkout. I often take some handfuls of produce from one of these bags and put them in an ordinary rip-off bag when the quantities offered are more than I can use. Never a question. Just charged as weighed.

IMHO, limited experience with it and American palate, chutney is the best descriptor.

Works for me. Dinners are about being delicious.

Oh yes, the salt water taffy machine at Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk!

Anna, will you share your brand name? and question? How odd would Branston pickle seem as part of a (dinner party) cheese course? In addition to usual fruit accompaniments.

I just found this thread! Thank you, @KennethT for this exceptional report about your extraordinary adventure! We are the richer for it.