slkinsey

Here's a link and a brief quote for posterity:

I suppose it depends on the place. It's quite impressive to see the bartenders at Flatiron Lounge knock out multiple-ingredient-with-fancy-garnish drinks (including flourishes like flamed citrus twists) in volume during the rush. Of course, good drinks don't have 15 different ingredients anyway, and I rather imagine that some of the places mentioned above are mixing some of their ingredients in batch. I doubt it. Although much like anything in a birdbath glass becomes the something-or-other-INI these days, I suspect anything with some mint and lime could be called a mojito variant. But if it isn't a rum based drink, it just isn't a mojito or even a faux-jito. And rum just isn't as popular a spirit as vodka or gin, so I don't think it has the same potential to become as ubiquitous. I don't think it will go as far as the Martini in losing meaning, but "Mojito = rum drink with mint" strikes me as a serious dilution of the meaning of Mojito. And look at the Daiquiri. Here is a very simple drink of white Cuban-style rum, lime juice and a touch of sugar. Now, who the hell knows what a Daiquiri is? Some kind of sweet frozen drink? If you served the average American a Daiquiri that was nothing more than 2 ounces of Havana Club, a half-ounce of lime juice and a teaspoon of simple syrup shaken with ice and strained into a cocktail glass, they would tell you it wasn't a Daiquiri (and don't even get me started on the typical "dack-uh-ree" pronunciation). Note, by the way, that the Sly Honey Mojito above uses honey-infused vodka and ginger ale (and, based on the picture, mint).

Well, iced tea is a natural for barbecue. The tannin cleans the fat and smokiness from the palate. I would suggest starting with a tea-infused light bourbon and go from there. This could easily be used at full strength in "up" cocktails, but also mixed with ginger beer or something like that in a highball, or shaken with some egg white, lemon and simple syrup for a fizz. Mint could fit in there somewhere, too.

New York Magazine has an bit on Mojito variations in NYC. Libation's O'jito uses orange-flavored rum and muddled tangerines; King Size's Negril Sunset uses 126-proof Ray & Nephew rum and grapefruit soda; Odea's Lychee, Strawberry, Raspberry, and Apple Mojito includes a fresh fruit puree; Sly's Sly Honey Mojito uses honey-infused vodka and ginger ale; Soho 323's Pineapple Mojito includes muddled pineapple and brown sugar; Sutra's Holy Moses has citrus juices and tequila; and Cabana at the Maritime Hotel has a Frozen Mojito. Hmm. . . Is the Mojito going to become the next cocktail for which the name of the drink begins to lose all meaning?

This was also mentioned in this week's NY Times Dining Section: Eastern Noodles 28 Forsyth Street (Chinatown) At Canal Street (212) 941-7678

Further to the discussion of things like bouillabaisse (which is not only a discussion about authenticity but also a discussion about nomenclature) is the restaurant practice of giving dishes what I will call "quotation mark names." This is to say, they're not giving you the dish, they're giving you something that they think is evocative of the dish. Thus Keller's salmon "chop" and things like Thai-style salmon "bouillabaisse." Part of what happens, of course, is that too many quotation mark dishes begins to change the public's perception of the dish, and "bouillabaisse" comes to mean "fish soup." Back to the nomenclature thing, I think a lot of this comes out of simply not understanding foreign languages. For example, this is how "bruschetta" is coming to be known in America as "any old thing with chopped fresh tomatoes, raw garlic and basil on it." Likewise, this is how "panini" and "biscotti" are coming to be known in America as names for single items, as in "give me a panini." In fact, there have been plenty of discussions in these forums with members forwarding the argument that this is okay and exactly how it should be -- that "panini" now means "single vaguely Italian-style grilled sandwich" in America. This all seems to get away from the central question of what is "authentic," however. It may be inevitable, or okay in some minds, for "bouillabaisse" to mean "a vaguely French-style fish soup" in America, but there is no way a bouillabaisse made with salmon and without rascasse can be called "authentic" or (which I think is more useful) "traditional."

I'm pretty sure that's the beef hanger steak, also known as the butcher's steak. Demand for those is so high now, though, and there's only a handful of real butchers left out there, so now it's just "hanger steak, $27" at your favorite restaurant. Or "onglet, $31."

That would be Paula Wolfert, and I'm proud to have given her the seed of the idea here in the eG Forums. Her version is much more memorable than mine, of course.

I agree with Adam that "traditional" is much more useful in this context than "authentic." I don't think it's possible to identify something as an example of "authentic boeuf bourguignon" the one can identify something as an "authentic Rossini manuscript" or an example of "authentic painting of the so-and-so school."

A few days ago a friend drew my attention to this article entitled "Bars, liquor companies push weird cocktails." It's all about the proliferation of new gimmick cocktails that have started to appear now that American drinkers have become bored with Cosmopolitans and Sour Apple Martinis. The article opens with a description of a vodka infused with Bubblicious bubble gum and goes on to describe a drink made with green apple and watermelon Jolly Rancher infused vodka. The bar -- Bogart's American Grill in Raleigh, NC -- sells three gallons of this stuff a week! Needless to say, these aren't cocktails of great sophistication. As the author explains, "many bartenders lack the training to develop drinks with the proper balance between bitter and sweet" but are nevertheless "being asked by managers to follow constantly morphing directions." A somewhat typical example was a "restaurant and martini bar" that featured 50 "martinis" on its list, which changed every three months. It's not easy to come up with 20 original cocktails of quality in a year, never mind 200! Now that cocktails are back in fashion, there is pressure for restaurants to use cocktails as a profit center to offset rising food costs. Not all of this is coming from bartenders and restaurants, of course. According to the article, last year alone saw 52 new flavored vodkas and 26 new flavored rums on the American market. One way to drive sales of these products is to get them on to bar menus by hiring a mixologist consultant to create exotic branded cocktails with the new product, which are then demonstrated to bartenders and promoted in advertising. Needless to say this sort of thing is not without a little backlash, and thankfully some of our friends are standing up for all that is good and true and right.

Just got some Shake Shack-related news in my inbox. In the custard department, they are adding a "flavor of the day." It's going to be: • Monday – Peanut Butter Ripple • Tuesday – Strawberry • Wednesday – Mocha Nut Fudge • Thursday – Concrete Jungle • Friday – Coconut Chocolate Chip • Saturday – Blackberry • Sunday – Caramel Peach Evening hours are now extended to 11:00 PM. Four new sausages have been added to the menu: • Spicy Buffalo Brat – buffalo, jalapeño, and cheddar • Usinger’s Bratwurst – Milwaukee-style pork sausage • Windy Wurst – Milwaukee brat in Chicago clothing (10 toppings on a poppy bun) • Bird Dog – smoked chicken and apple sausage More info as always at shakeshacknyc.com

I tried all of Ed's rhums in one night several months ago. For reasons you will understand, I don't have entirely clear memories of each one. There are differences, of course, but they both have that distinctive rhum agricole character, and both are 100 proof.

Adam Platt weighed in on Compass under new chef John Fraser (apparently yet another new chef since Compass was last discussed here) in New York Magazine:

Admin: The discussion thread archive for Mix under chef Doug Psaltis may be found here. The discussion thread archive for Mix under chef Damon Gordon may be found here. The Ducasse/Chodorow collaboration formerly known as Mix and quite good in its original configuration has now been reconfigured once again as Francesco at Mix under Francesco Berardinelli, a chef from Tuscany. Adam Platt has some things to say in New York Magazine: I'm not sure I agree with Platt's premise that Mix "began life as a muddled fusing of French and American comfort cuisines" and that "after a series of harsh reviews . . . the original chef was dispatched." I think it's an oversimplification of the situation that happened there, and I think most participants here feel that Mix took a big step down when Psaltis left the kitchen. The relative size of the discussion threads (265 posts under Psaltis, 20 under Gordon) says something. I'll be interested to see if Berardinelli can infuse new life and interest into Mix's new incarnation as Francesco at Mix.

I was recently reminded by Strong Bad how incredibly annoying this is. I can't tell you how content I would be if I never saw another dessert menu featuring confections named "chocolate decadence souffle" or "chocolate heart attack cake" or "chocolate explosion sundae." And why is it always "chocolate heart attack" or some variant like "mocha cardiac arrest?" Why are the other ogan diseases shortchanged? Why not "chocolate renal failure pie" or "valrhona cirrhosis ice cream?" Can we all take a solemn vow never to name desserts like this ever again? If I see a dessert named "eXXtreem chocolateapalooza" or "chocolate poison" I might do something drastic. Like not eating it.

Yesterday evening, I met dosconz and JosephB at Madison Square Park to hear a concert by our friend Luciana Souza. Afterwards, we walked to Flatiron Lounge for a quick drink and thence to Casa Mono where we had a delightful dinner. We arrived sometime around 9:30 and were offered a table almost immediately. As others have observed, it is a somewhat crowded restaurant by nature and not the most comfortable. Nevertheless, the food really is worth a trip. We started with razor clams a la plancha, artichokes a la plancha and lamb's tongues. These were all delicious. The razor clams were infused with smokey flavor, chewy but tender, drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkling of garlic and parsley. We would happily have had another plate of this. Our only disappointment was that there were only five clams -- or perhaps I should say that it was Joe's disappointment, since he drew the short straw and only got one. The artichokes were also very good: cooked just through with a hint of smokiness and a bit of lemon. We also enjoyed the lengua, which was given an unusual (to us) treatment. They appeared to have been braised until tender, then given a coating of flour and deep fried to order. This made them crisp on the outside and very tender on the inside. They were served with a sweetish piquillo pepper sauce and a little salad of celery and pickled fiddlehead ferns. All in all, the meal started on a very high note. Next they brought over a little dish of tripe stewed with chickpeas and morcilla, and "sweetbreads with fennel al Mono." The tripe was just tender without being gelatinous, and surrounded by a flavorful, porky liquid. Perhaps not as good as the tripa alla parmigiana at Babbo, but very nice. I think we all agreed, however, that it was really more of a winter dish. The sweetbreads, on the other hand, blew us away. I love sweetbreads, I think they're a natural match for anis flavors like fennel, and Batali's places always seem to have a great sweetbread dish. These were three approximately golfball-sized pieces of sweetbread fried with a crispy exterior and a coating of crushed almonds plated on top of several cooked baby fennels. This hit the same high note as the razor clams, and we agreed that we would have been very happy to have a double order of the sweetbreads. Next we had giunea hen with piquillo peppers and some kind of greens, fideos with Manilla clams, fava beans and chorizo, and setas with garlic. The star of this group was the guinea hen. As I know from experience, guinea hen is not easy to cook. At Casa Mono two generous pieces came out just right at around "medium" or maybe even "medium rare" -- juicy, flavorful and tender with crisp skin and none of the chewiness that can be a problem with guinea hen. The fideos and setas, while good, were probably the least successful dishes of the evening. The setas were oyster mushrooms, which I like but do have a flavor that is not everyone's favorite. We also thought the cook might have let the oil flame in the pan to give them some smokey flavor. Unfortunately, it had just a hint of carbonized "lighter fluid" flavor in the background that detracted from the dish. The fideos were okay, but didn't really blow us away. We saw others around us eating some lamb ribs and skirt steak that looked delicious. Next time, I'll order those and forego the fideos and setas. To finish we shared the Mono sundae (plum ice cream with arrope and almonds annointed with Pedro Ximenes) and a kind of ice cream sandwich thing they were offering as a special. All the above, plus a nice bottle of white wine docsconz picked out for us and a bottle of Vichy Catalan mineral water came to about 60 bucks a person with tip. That seems like a good value to me, and I left Casa Mono with the intention of returning again.

Ah, okay. They grow some across the other side of the Adriatic too.

I will have to try this variation as well. I quite liked the drink and while on the sweet side, I did not find it cloying. A sugar rim would have put it over the top but deGroffs book says the sugar rim is what gives the drink it's name. Yea, I think you do want to do a sugar rim. You also want to have an orange peel going all the way around the inside of the glass. If you look on this page you can see the illustration of the Brandy Crusta from Jerry Thomas' book. Here is a more modern picture from our friends at the Museum of the American Cocktail. As far as I know, Maraska cherries are only grown in Dalmatia. The process of making maraschino, at least as employed by Luxardo, is fairly complex. I'm going by memory here, so I may have the details wrong, but it goes something like this: The pits and fruit are separated. The pits (and stems?) are crushed and distilled into what is more or less cherry pit grappa. The fruit is crushed, fermented and distilled separately. The two distillates are later recombined, aged for two years in ash wood vats (which is considered a crucial step in the process) and dosed with cane sugar. (I can't find the material I had on Luxardo's process, so I shot them an email. If they respond, I'll translate their response and post here.)

Maraschino is a liqueur (bittersweet) made from Maraska cherries and pits whereas kirschwasser is an eau de vie (dry) made from the juice of black cherries. Maraschino is usually around 30% abv whereas kirschwasser is often around 40%. IMO, kirschwasser has more of a recognizable cherry flavor than maraschino, and maraschino has a distinctive almond-like flavor component that derrives from the cherry pits. IMO there is a notable drop in quality once you move away from Luxardo and Maraska.

So, nothing's really changed?

The thing about a Crusta or any sugared-rim drink (especially one including a liqueur) is that, if you don't want it to be too sweet, you need to choose a base spirit that isn't too sweet. That's not always so easy to do with bourbon, which tends to be an inherently sweet spirit. So, first you might ask around for a relatively dry bourbon. The other thing to do is switch to brandy and use something like Hennessy. As far as I know, the real classic you'll find in Jerry Thomas, etc. is a Brandy Crusta. Jerry Thomas' formula for a Brandy Crusta also does not contain maraschino. It's more or less 2 ounces of brandy, 1 tsp of orange curaçao, 1/2 tsp of lemon juice and a dash of Boker's bitters. My library is by no means exhaustive, but I don't find it with maraschino until the Savoy Cocktail book, by which time I imagine it was considered fairly old fashioned.

Hmm. I'm not sure I agree, not that our interpretation of the author's intentions is terribly important in the grand scheme of things. Overall Platt seemed to have more bad things to say about RUB than good, and most of the good things were tempered with criticisms. Even the final paragraph which you quoted -- which strikes me as very positive -- says "on this night, at least, and at long last, real barbecue had come to New York City." (emphasis mine). This says to me: "on other nights, it wasn't so good." I came away from this review with the sense that the author thinks RUB is running at about 60% mediocre-to-bad, 35% good-to-very-good, 5% excellent. Whether that reflects reality (or whether the author knows enough about barbecue to make these judgments) is another matter.

Adam Platt reviews RUB in New York Magazine: Later in the recview he describes the Baron’s Down Home Pig Pick’n, which features a whole pork butt, in glowing terms. Sounds like RUB still needs some work according to this author. It's possible, I suppose, that Paul Kirk, who has apparently never owned or managed a barbecue restaurant and who commutes from Kansas City to manage this NYC spot, is still learning how to transfer his competition-winning barbecue knowledge and technique into a restaurant setting. Cooking barbecue for a competition and a restaurant can be very different animals.

Salt cured anchovies and sardines.

I'm with Steven on the double smoked bacon. It's some of the best around. I think Schaller & Weber does a substantial amount of its business selling meats to restaurants and the like. They probably make more money there than they do on retail. It wouldn't surprise me if they are the #1 seller of German specialty meats in the Eastern United States. In fact, bergerka and I were just in a fun little restaurant in Black Mountain, North Carolina called the Berliner Kindl. It's run by a very nice German woman. All their sausages were from Schaller & Weber. If anyone is interested, they have a web site at schallerweber.com.