slkinsey

I don't think it's reasonable to expect that a restaurant or bar have rules posted outside. Gramercy Tavern doesn't have sign reading: "no shirt, no shoes, no dice dude" on the front door.

That doesn't make any sense. It doesn't matter which states produce the veal. It matters who is selling veal. I mean, we can get beef bones up the wazoo in NYC, and New York isn't a beef-producing state. If butchers in St. Louis are selling veal, then there are surely veal bones to be had. Unless every butcher in the area is getting its veal pre-cut and pre-packaged with no bones, there will be bones that have to be dealt with when they break the veal down for sale. Since these bones are generally considered a waste product (unless they're selling the bones to restaurants or companies that use them for stock) they shouldn't be too terribly expensive. I suppose it's possible that there are no real butchers actually cutting meat in the St. Louis area, and that veal is therefore extremely hard to come by. But I have a hard time believing there aren't at least a couple of butchers or meat packagers in the metro-St. Louis area who aren't breaking down whole veal for the trade.

This looks pretty tasty, Steven. This is what they would call pizza casalinga ("homemade" or "housewife style" pizza) in Italy. This style has become popular in East coast pizzerie recently as "grandma pizza." The key to your process, in my opinion, is your careful selection of ingredients (you clearly went through some experimentation to determine which tomato product what kind of cheese worked the best for your process) and also your judicious and austere use of toppings. If I were doing this myself (and I'll probably give it a try) I'd probably throw on the cheese some time around minute 8 or so, since I'm not fond of browned mozzarella. Another style that works really well in a home oven is Chicago-style deep dish, which you can do nicely in a large cast iron skillet.

Well, not really. First off, other than the somewhat incongruous inclusion of Jim Beam Black, the other recommendations leaned heavily towards "sipping whiskey" with higher proofs and more age. Represented were Pappy 20 years at 90.4 proof, Vintage 17 years at 94 proof, Knob Creek 9 years at 100 proof, W.L. Weller 10 years at 100 proof , A.H. Hirsh 16 years at 91.6 proof, Evan Williams Single Barrel years at 86.6 proof, Blanton's Single Barrel 10 years at 93 proof, Basil Haydon's 8 years at 80 proof and Woodford Reserve at 90 proof. Wild Turkey is a little wild and funky for some tastes, although I love it. Maker's Mark, on the other hand, is perhaps a little bland to really stand out. (ETA quote, since Eric beat me to the punch with the list.)

Nice, Steven. Your experience and technique is much the same as mine. I also find, strangely enough, that shaking the pan or flipping the mushrooms too often can sometimes cause them to suddenly shed a lot of liquid.

I think there are a few things to consider here: First, unless I misunderstand, it sounds like we're talking about a plating, not a whole dish. Unless the plating is slavishly copied to the smallest detail and was distinctively unique to begin with, it sounds reasonable that Tri2Cook's plating is "inspired by" and need not give any explicit credit. I would perhaps consider giving "credit" for a notably unique and attention-gathering plating with a high "wow factor." Second, it depends on whether the venue and circumstances are such that there is an expectation of originality. There are different expectations with respect to a restaurant chef and a catering chef, and I don't think there is an expectation that a caterer's food (or, for that matter, most of the food at any middlebrow restaurant) is wholely original.

WRT "ratafia" since I'm home right now, I decided to give a look in the OED, which says the following: This leads me to believe that the name "ratafia" is perhaps not so useful as a catch-all word meaning "infusion that is not re-distilled" since there are clearly a number of traditions that call themselves by that name, and I would suggest that the word "infusion" is both more accurate and more useful, unless the infusion is made in one of these historical styles. This is to say that one might make a "ratafia" by infusing almonds and peaches into brandy, but chai and kumquat infused into tequila is better and more accurately described as an "infusion."

I would take the opposite position -- which I believe is the position that characterizes much of the current cocktail revival -- which is that many traditions are worth reviving. I would also argue that the practice of taking a name which has some historical meaning and perverting that meaning by using that same name to describe a product that has little connection with the originally-described product, is a disservice because it (1) removes a potentially valuable piece of information as to the ingredient being used, and removes meaning from the word; (2) further erodes the great tradition of spirits, infusions and cocktails which many of us are working to revive and expand; and (3) represents a dumbing-down of tradition and a laziness of nomenclature (much like the sad practice of the "-tini"). If we follow this path, where does it lead? Well, at the end of the road we have meaningless nonsense like "potato rum" and "cucumber curaçao" and drinks with names like "tangerine silver fizz" that contain no egg white and no fizz. Why not just call it a raspberry-tea infusion (or "ratafia," if you must)? Or try making a real shrub? Or take the viewpoint of elevating the craft and educating customers by introducing your customers to a drink made with a real shrub?

I suppose one could take that position, Eric, if (1) redistillation is a necessary qualification for "curaçao liqueur," (2) Clément Créole Shrubb is not redistilled, and (3) one uses "ratafia" as a catchall term meaning "infused but not redistilled spirit."

My experience is like divina's: You can make lasagne al forno with uncooked fresh pasta, and it won't turn out bad. But it's a lot better if you blanch the pasta sheets for a few seconds, shock them in cold water and then blot them on some dishtowels. Really, this isn't as much trouble as it sounds. Just don't make all the pasta at once. Make your dough, divide it up, and roll one piece through the rollers to a very thin setting. Gently lower this sheet into the simmering, salted water and stir it around to make sure it doesn't get stuck together. It barely needs to cook. Then transfer to a bowl of cool water with tongs. Then take the pasta out of the cool water and lay it down on some spread out dishtowels. At this point, you can cut the pasta to the size of pieces you want, lay it in the dish, spread on a little ragu, a touch of béchamel and a grating of Parmigiano Reggiano. Then repeat with the next hunk of dough until your baking dish is full. The blanching/shocking/blotting process maybe adds another 10% of time to preparing the pasta.

mbanu's examples both come down to, for lack of a better way of putting it, narrow-mindedness and a sense of entitlement. To look at the last example, I don't think the discussion we're having in this thread is so much like going in to a Chinese restaurant and expecting French fries, or going into a biker bar and asking for a Pousse Caffe -- those are perhaps inappropriate expectations as to availability of certain dishes or skills, but not exactly inappropriate behaviors. Rather, I would say it's like going into Otto and behaving as thought you were at Chuck E. Cheese -- or, for the "hooting and hollering" boys at Milk & Honey, it's like going into Jean-Georges and behaving as though you were at a roadside honky-tonk barbecue.

Perhaps I misconstrued the thrust of your post. I guess I don't understand why else you would make a point of saying that "variety [is] the spice of life" and "isn't a boilermaker in a dive just the thing now and then" in a thread about rules of etiquette and behavior in upscale cocktail bars unless you were implying that the counter-argument had been implied by this discussion. It seems self-evident that different genres of bar can be valued for different reasons, and that different behaviors are commonly understood to be acceptable and correct in different genres of bar. One reason upscale cocktail bars have had the need to resort to actual rules as opposed to the commonly understood "rules" at, e.g., your example of a biker bar, is because the behaviors which are acceptable and correct in the upscale cocktail genre of bar are not sufficiently commonly understood and appreciated. I would also assert that, in most genres of bar, the commonly understood modes of behavior are significantly more rowdy and "lower brow" than what is desired in upscale cocktail bars (the exceptions being things like upscale restaurant bars and upscale hotel bars, where the expectations as to behavior carry over from the superordinate entity).

I don't think anyone is arguing that beer-and-shot neighborhood bars or even frat bars don't have their place. I think it's rather that most cocktailians aren't likely to demand quiet and order a Pousse Caffe at a Red Bull and Vodka-serving pickup bar full of frat boys, whereas the converse is often not true.

I'm on my way right now. I'll bring the grappling hook and lock picks if you can lay in an appropriate supply of ski masks and black jumpsuits.

I would hardly use Clement's Creole Shrubb as the defining standard of "shrub." The Martingue tradition of "shrubb" (note the two Bs) appears to be quite different from the tradition handed down from the Colonial era, as it consists of orange peels, sugar and rum (sometimes including spices). Shrubb from Martinique would then appear to belong in the family of curaçao liqueur. To the best of my (admittedly not definitive) knowledge, the defining characteristic of a shrub is that the fruit juice is preserved with acid (and sugar). My understanding is that shrub was probably already out of style by the time JT's book was published, but if you look at the JT four recipes for shrubs you will note that they are of two kinds: The first kind, represented by the currant shrub and raspberry shrub, conforms fairly closely to the old tradition. The currant shrub will be quite tart and may go through some acetic fermentation, and the raspberry shrub uses vinegar. The second kind, represented by the brandy and rum shrubs, constitutes approximations of the result that would have been obtained by mixing a traditional acid-preserved shrub with some booze. It is likely that, back in those days especially, there would have been some acetic fermentation during the three-day infusion period of the brandy shrub, and I believe it is also likely that the whole business of adding boiled milk to the rum shrub was done to approximate the effect of vinegar's acetic acid by substituting milk's lactic acid. I believe these are the shrub version of the bottled cocktail rather than a category of spirit.

spiced bourbon or spiced cognac is a negligible difference. i use what i have on hand most of the time just like they probably did. this method is potentially less trouble and mainly just do to the fact that for many people, they can predict the outcome because the system for the batter is more popular in present times... so if you read JT's recipe but think its weird i give you can option you may be better able to relate to with hopefully the same outcome. I still don't understand this. Your proposed process involves making a zabaglione, which means performing the time- and attention-consuming process of whipping egg yolks over heat, making sure they are areated properly but do not get hot enough to curdle. Then you have to figure out something else to do with the egg whites. Then you have to make a spice infusion into some liquor, which will be a matter of trial-and-error until the proper spice mix, base liquor and infusion time is determined (otherwise, spice infusions are quite hit-and-miss). This is somehow more predictable and easier to do than cracking a dozen egg yolks into a Cuisinart (or 10 dozen egg yolks in to a Hobart) along with the spices and whipping that into a froth, whipping the whites seperately and combining the two? Again: Your process not only sounds more difficult, but doesn't really sound as good. Here's Audrey's recipe that was published in the NY Times Style magazine some while ago (via): I've seen Audrey make a recipe of this batter, and nothing could be more simple and easy. With all due respect to the pastry chef at your place, beating eggs/whites separately with flavorings and sugar and recombining them is a pretty elementary technique that is used extensively today -- I'd hardly call it a technique crying out for "modernization." Perhaps he has reasons for wanting to tinker with recipes, but sometimes complicating a classic in the name of "updating" it is a step backwards and we should hew closely to what we have inherited lest we find ourselves with a different (and oftentimes inferior) product. See? Now this is part of what I'm talking about. Why call every single hot drink made with eggs and spices a "Tom and Jerry"? Chambord and pine liqueur just don't belong in a Tom and Jerry, or we start to lose track of what it is that we're drinking. Call it a Hot Chambord Flip, if you must.

Dude. How many cases of Malacca do you have back there? You bastard!

Host note: split from the Post Your New Cocktail Creations Here topic. How is this a shrub? It doesn't seem to contain any vinegar.

Sweet! I wouldn't mind giving it a try with my espresso blend.

I was excited to read about the larger capacity and smoke-handling capability. But I read that it's not good for dark roasting, and I roast almost exclusively for espresso.

Yes. This is crucial.

Steven: I'd call the beginning of the frying process of any fatty food that is expected to cook in its own fat "rendering" followed by "frying in its own fat." This is fundamentally different from what happens when one dry-frys mushrooms or scallops, which give off water but no fat. To me, anyway, "dry frying" involves cooking a food that does not render its own fat.

I think it works well, but only with certain foods -- those being ones that have a pronounced tendency to weep liquid. Mushrooms and scallops come immediately to mind as candidates. The technique works especially well with mushrooms because it concentrates the mushroom liquid directly back into the mushrooms. Not so sure there are that many other candidates for dry-frying, though. ETA: I think what makes dry-frying work for mushrooms is that it actually reduces the amount of thermal transfer to the mushrooms. So, since the mushrooms aren't getting hit with a ton of heat, the liquid exuding from them evaporates more or less immediately (that's the squeaking noise) and they slowly dehydrate and Maillardize.

Good point, Steven. I have also never once had a single dish prepared with dragon, lucky or otherwise.

Today's NY Times ran an Op-Ed by Eric Schlosser entitled Penny Foolish: Like I needed any more reasons to avoid eating there.