slkinsey

I've read comments here on eGullet and elsewhere that bamboo is too hard on knives but if it's only 16-percent harder, it seems that concern would be mute. I rather like that chopping block. ← I'm guessing, based on observation, that there are both different varieties of bamboo (that we all know) and that, as FG has said, different parts of the bamboo are used for different things. For example, you don't see exposed grain on scaffolding (as you do with the cutting board) because it would be too soft. Going on deductive reasoning, I'm guessing that the discussions about bamboo being too tough on knives are in reference to either a different variety or a different part of the bamboo--interior versus exterior. I have some pictures from Yangshuo of buildings with bamboo scaffolding and I’ll get one up later today. I may also have a photo of one of these cutting boards after being “broken in” -- and while a cleaver is the “knife” of choice in most Chinese kitchens I saw, the cutting boards had a healthy depression in the center from the use. ← Bamboo would be hard on knives when deployed in "cross grain" rather than "end grain" fashion in a cutting board. Indeed, most any wood will be bad for a knife's edge in "cross grain" orientation. My superficial examination of Ellen's bamboo cutting board suggests that it's harder than my maple end grain cutting boards, but still somewhat softer than the typical "cross grain" cutting board. Ellen's last remark may be a telling one. The Chinese cleaver is the typical cutting implement used with this style of cutting board, and the typical action a chopping one. This style of use may benefit from a harder cutting surface material.

Sounds tasty, and who could resist something so old as to be called a "sangaree," I ask you?

Actually, Calvados sidecars are mentioned, and ultimately brushed off by none other than King Cocktail Dale DeGroff himself: "The don't lend themselves to cocktails," he said. "They just come through too strongly." The same paragraph then goes on to assert that the Jack Rose calls for Calvados. Seems to me I've always thought the Jack Rose calls for Apple Jack. That's how I always make 'em, anyway. As far as I know, calvados, Cointreau and lemon juice was named the Royal Jubilee back in the day by none other than Harry Craddock. And, yea, also as far as I know, the Jack Rose is made with applejack. I don't know about using calvados as the sole base spirit in a cocktail, but the calvados boost in Audrey's Tantris Sidecar makes a world of difference without overpowering. Very cool article, though. I agree with the authors that some of the younger, less expensive calvados bottlings can actually be better and taste more strongly of apples.

So... I purchased a copy of this book a few weeks ago and have read through it a few times. It's a good book and well-written for the most part. In essence, it features short descriptions of 100 bars, including a number of restaurant bars, along with a description and recipe for what the author feels is an outstanding cocktail from that bar. One good reason to buy the book is that it brings a lot of NYC bars to one's attention that might otherwise be overlooked. With a list of 100 bars, there are sure to be a few off the radar of even the most dedicated barhound. Featured are hotel bars like The King Cole Bar and Lounge at the St. Regis and Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle, restaurant bars like Calle Ocho and Beacon and standalone places like Flatiron Lounge and Boxcar Lounge. Notwithstanding what is, in my opinion, the unfortunate omission of Angel's Share, wd-50 and Milk and Honey, Cocktails in New York is a nicely comprehensive survey of most of the cool places to go for a well-crafted drink in the City. The book is divided in to 8 sections: Proven Classics, New Standards, Cosmo Capital, Mixologist Made, Creative License, Secret Ingredients, House Spirits and Liquid Desserts. The Proven Classics section, as one might imagine, includes such cocktails as the Martini, Manhattan and Sidecar. Most any cocktail enthusiast will be familiar with all the cocktails in this section, so it is mostly interesting for the descriptions of bars like The Four Seasons bar, Old Town Bar & Grill, the bar at Patroon and others. My only quibble with this section is that it includes Campbell Apartment's Prohibition Punch, which due to its recent provenance hardly belongs alongside the true "proven classics" in this section. It was also disappointing to the purist to see the Monkey Bar's non-classic Manhattan made with Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Whiskey rather than bourbon or, preferably, rye. That said, one assumes that the author was (rightfully) obliged to write the recipes the way the bartenders mixed the drinks (more on this later). Next is the New Standards section. This features drinks like Suba's Spanish Manhattan (Maker’s Mark, oloroso sherry and Peychaud's bitters) Tribeca' Grill's Greenwich Fizz (gin, maraschino, lime juice and ginger ale) and Fifty Seven Fifty Seven Bar's Bigger Apple Martini. There are several great new drinks in this section. In particular, the aforementioned Spanish Manhattan and Greenwich Fizz caught my eye, as well as Schiller Liquor Bar's New York Sour (blended whiskey, lemon juice, simple syrup, red wine and a touch of orange juice) and Blue Ribbon's Pear Martini (Belle de Brillet, Absolut Citron and lime juice). I'm not quite sure why this section is called "New Standards" though. Several of the drinks, notably the Mojito, Rum Julep, Pisco Sour and Caipirinha, hardly strike me as "new" cocktails, and I would hesitate to call the others "standards" (with the possible exception of the "Dark and Stormy"). This is not to say that they aren't appealing drinks, however, just that their placement in this chapter seems odd to me. Strangely, in the section on City Hall's Rum Julep, the author writes: ". . . this isn't a 'proper' Julep in the Kentucky Derby sense -- where bourbon is mandatory . . ." As far as I know, mint juleps have been made with bourbon, rum, applejack, brandy, rye and even gin since the very beginning. Other than the use of a flavored rum (Bacardi Limón), the version presented seems relatively traditional. Next is the chapter called "Cosmo Capital." As one might imagine, it consists of seven variations on the Cosmopolitan. Interestingly, the Cosmo is the only post-Prohibition cocktail that so far seems like a "new standard" with staying power. Following is a very interesting chapter entitled "Mixologist Made." All cocktails are "mixologist made" when it comes down to it, but I suppose this title is an indication that the drinks were conceived by noteworthy figures in today's NYC cocktail world. Featured are Audrey Saunders' Tantris Sidecar at Bemelmans Bar, Julie Reiner's Cherry Smash from Flatiron Lounge and Jerri Banks's Indian Rose at Taj. among several other interesting concoctions. A very interesting look at what some of the "new old school" are doing in NYC. The Creative License chapter is another one where I'm not quite sure about the organizing principle. Nevertheless, there are some very interesting drinks here. The Spring Fling from Mark's Bar (silver tequila, triple sec, orange juice and pineapple juice on the rocks) sounds like a winner to me, as do Beacon's Kentucky Pear (Jim Beam Black, Poire William, simple syrup, lemon juice and splash of cranberry on the rocks) and Craftbar's Basil-Mint Mojito. I'm even tempted to try Cherry's Wet Water Martini (Beefeater Wet, Chambord and Power-C Vitamin Water) despite the "club kid" last ingredient. Moving on we reach the chapter on "Secret Ingredients," featuring drinks with unusual or unsuspected constituents. Among the standouts for me were Town's Convent in Chile (kumquats, brown sugar, lime juice, Charbay Blood Orange vodka and splashes of grapefruit and cranberry), Biltmore Room's Way of the Dragon (Hangar One Mandarin Blossom, kalamansi lime juice, honey, mint leaves, sour mix and cayenne pepper) and Babbo's Cin-Cyn (Junipero gin, Cinzano sweet vermouth, Cynar, orange bitters and a splash of orange juice). Coming into the home stretch is a chapter on House Spirits with twelve house-branded cocktails from various watering holes, and the final chapter on Liquid Desserts which features sweet cocktails. Some drinks that caught my eye were Stone Rose’s eponymous cocktail (Woodford Reserve bourbon, Grand Mariner, cranberry juice and a touch of sour mix and simple syrup) and First’s Apple Core (apple vodka, Berentzen Apfelkorn apple schnapps, lemon juice, a splash of cider and a top of apple foam). If I have one criticism of Cocktails in New York it is that I didn’t find quite as many cocktail recipes that appealed to me as I had hoped I might. This is undoubtedly a reflection of what people are making rather than any fault of the author. The book opens with a nice forward by Tony Abou-Ganim, who writes: “A cocktail should, first and foremost, focus on the base spirit.” This accords one hundred percent with my own preference when it comes to cocktails. Unfortunately for me, cocktails like Cibar’s Suffering Bastard, which contains Captain Morgan’s spiced rum, Malibu rum, Myers rum, high proof rum, pineapple juice, orange juice and cranberry juice were not all that uncommon. This is, needless to say, not a cocktail that focuses on the base spirit. Another disappointment for me was that around forty percent of the cocktails had a vodka base and vodka is, I think, the least preferred liquor upon which to found a cocktail. Some of the vodka cocktails were interesting, but it’s hard for me to get excited about something like Jean-George’s Frostbite, which is simply vodka mixed with icewine. On the other hand, Cocktails in New York is really only half about the cocktail recipes anyway, so there was still plenty there to hold my interest. All in all, this is a very nice book for those seeking new spots of interest in NYC’s cocktail scene. Not for nothing is New York an epicenter of the new cocktail renaissance. But beyond that, Cocktails in New York should appeal to most any home cocktail enthusiast with well written, interesting vignettes and a wide variety of recipes. The various indices at the back of the book are, as one would expect, informative and easy to reference. Anthony Giglio is an eGullet Society member, and I’d love to hear his thoughts. NB. Although I provided some ingredient lists for various cocktails, I deliberately did not post any formulae from the book. You gotta buy the book for those.

At this point, I think we've sufficiently touched on the issue of Scalini Fedeli posting the Zagat review from their NJ restaurant in the NYC location, which seems to have happened more than a few years ago anyway. So let's move on.

Interesting. Dave's book credits the Cairo hotel as well, but gives the bourbon/gin version.

I'll go you one further and suggest that it is pronounced: ma-ra-SKI-no (with a "ra" rather than a "ri" on the second syllable). The more common term in an Italian bar would be latte macchiato, which means "stained milk" -- the idea being that the milk is "stained" by adding a tiny bit of coffee. There is also caffè macchiato, or "stained coffee" in which the coffee is "stained" with a tiny bit of milk. Somehow in American Starbucks-speak, "macchiato" has come to mean a large mostly milk drink with a little coffee and various syrups added, and "latte" has come to mean "a gigantic latte macchiato." Starbucks has also promulgated the misconception that macchiato means "marked" instead of "stained" (in fact, "marked" is probably best translated as segnato).

jgould, I wouldn't have put in "IMO" and those other qualifiers you cite had I not meant to express something that is my opinion as it relates to me. If you don't want to address my points as to slavishly reproducing in NYC a French bistro as it is in France, that's your own call. But it's not as interesting as not taking offense and continuing the conversation.

Hmmm... interesting list, jgould. Especially interesting that you call for a number of what I would call "faux French" affectations (viz. accents, music, curtains, etc.). To my way of thinking, these specifications call more for a "Disneyland bistro" approach, trying to duplicate the real thing in a foreign environment. One can only truly have a French bistro in France, of course. A New York French bistro should IMO naturally reflect the fact that it is in New York. Anything else is, to me, an artificial "bistroland." To my mind, if a restaurant is serving classic French bistro fare in a setting that is appropriately evocative of the important elements that define the French model, without slavishly imitating it but rather translating those elements into the NYC milieu... this is the kind of place I'm looking for.

Yep. This is entirely possible. I wonder what the economics are with respect to rye and corn -- which one is less expensive. Interesting note: my mother and I were talking recently about booze, and she mentioned an interesting piece of data that she had uncovered doing research for a class she's teaching. Back before Prohibition (most likely we're talking about data from the late 19th century) when this country was producing an overabundance of corn, most of the surplus was eventually turned into corn whiskey. American adults drank something like 1.5 quarts of corn whiskey a day on average! Then Prohibition happened. After Prohibition and the War had passed, eventually we found ourselves in a situation where once again we were producing an overabundance of corn. Only this time, instead of turning the surplus corn into whiskey, we've taken to turning it into high fructose corn syrup. Personally, I think we were better off the other way around.

Do the ones in the Savoy cocktail book count? Some are numbered or otherwise differentiated, such as Rose (English) and Rose (French Style No. 1) and some just have the same name such as the two Queen Elizabeth cocktails which I first noticed when I just opened the book, but none of the same incredients. Actually, the French versions of Rose cocktails are not that different but at least the Corpse Revievers are :) I think some of this may have to do with the fact that a corpse reviver at that time wasn't considered a name for a specific cocktail, rather it was considered the name of an separate class of drink. This is to say that a corpse reviver was not a a cocktail (or a flip, sling, etc.), it was a corpse reviver. Viewed this way, it is not surprising that we have many different corpse reviver recipes just as we have many different flip, sling, toddy, etc. recipes. What makes corpse revivers different is that they don't seem to have been individually named like the others (e.g., Boston flip, rum flip, etc.). On the other hand, to return to my original example, I don't think "suffering bastard" is an old-school drink classification.

Could be five spice powder, could be Sichuan peppercorns, could be organisms growing on/in improperly stored ingredients, could be a certain kind of pepper, could be the oil they're using, etc.

I was recently reading through Anthony Giglio's Cocktails in New York, an interesting book on which I shall have more to say anon. Therein I read a recipe for a "Suffering Bastard" that included four kinds of rum, pineapple juice, orange juice and cranberry juice served up in a cocktail glass. Notwithstanding the fact that this sort of concoction is not my cup of (Long Island iced?) tea, this struck me as a very strange recipe for a Suffering Bastard. The recipe with which I am most familiar is a tall drink made with bourbon, gin, lime juice, bitters and ginger ale. This is the recipe found in Dave's Esquire Drinks, and other places. But then I decided to check Dale DeGroff's The Craft of the Cocktail. Dale says it's a "Mai Tai with orange juice" and calls for two kinds of rum, orange curaçao, oregat, orange juice and lime juice served in a tall glass with ice. What gives? Any other examples of radically different cocktails with the same name?

See? That's what I'm saying. I would have a hard time making any justification for including Canadian blended whiskey in my liquor cabinet.

The general concensus (which is not without vehement detractors) seems to be that there "MSG allergy" and "MSG syndrome" don't really exist -- or at least don't exist for the vast, vast majority of the population. It is worthy of note that many foods, such as aged parmigiano-reggiano, contain plenty of glutamate. One also wonders why the entire nation of China isn't awash with headaches and other symptoms associated with MSG in Western countries. I suppose it is possible that there is some adulterant or impurity in certain brands of MSG used by Chinese restaurants that causes these symptoms. It is also possible that there are some other substances used in Chinese cookery that causes these symptoms. And it's possible that it's mostly psychosomatic.

I think we're confusing a few separate concepts here. To start, I will say that I'm right there with Russ in considering the talent and facility portion first and foremost. It strikes me as a simple fact that some people are more talented at coming up with fabulous dishes than others. The old saw that 'genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration" is correct in this case because talent depends on education, practice, experience and hard work for its full expression. However, the more one is around any creative field (or perhaps any field of any kind) it becomes apparent that even though 100 people may accumulate the same experience and education, and even though they may all work just as hard, one or two of those guys will turn out product that is far superior to the other nintey-nine. This is talent. In the professional kitchen, talent is most easily demonstrated in the creative arena: coming up with the dishes. This is like Verdi writing an opera, which we all agree is a more significant aspect of the art form than the interpretation of his compositions by performers. There is also a talent aspect to executing the composition (singing/playing the opera, cooking the dishes, etc.). Again, it is a simple fact that some people are better able to do these things than most other people, despite equal education, training, commitment and hard work. If this weren't true, then anyone could play in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra if he worked long and hard enough. This is where it makes sense to narrow the comparison a bit. It really doesn't make sense to compare restaurant cooks to singers, because so much of what goes into a singer's talent is genetically/physiologically mediated -- this is not true for a restaurant cook. Similarly, it doesn't make sense to compare a restaurant cook to a soloist, because a big part of being a soloist is interpreting the composition in a highly personal and individual way -- this is also not true for a restaurant cook. It does make sense, perhaps, to compare a restaurant cook to a musician in an orchestra. A violinist in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra does not "interpret the composition" himself. His job is to assist the conductor in executing the conductor's interpretation of the composition, and the more skilled the orchestral violinist, the better he is able to perform this function. If the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra plays 1,000 performances of La bohème with 100 different conductors, there will be 100 different interpretations. Still, however, out of many hundreds of equally hard working violinists, only very few can play in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. The difference? Talent. In many senses, the head chef of a restaurant is like a composer and conductor all combined (this was fairly standard in classical music as well, back in the day). The cooks are the orchestra. I am not sure why we assume that playing in an orchestra demands talent and cooking in a restaurant kitchen doesn't. I find it interesting that most of us in the "creative arts" readily assume that four-star-caliber cooking requires talent in addition to expertise and experience. Most likely this is because it is readily apparent to us in our daily work that expertise and experience only aren't good enough to reach the highest level. I would never suppose I could execute a Charlie Trotter dish as well as a cook on his staff. In fact, I would never suppose I could execute my own Thanksgiving dinner as well as a cook on Charlie Trotter's staff. A lot of this is experience, of course -- that Charlie Trotter's guy has cooked thousands more high-level dishes than I. But I also have to consider the fact that, even if I had cooked the same number of high-level dishes, there's a good chance that the Charlie Trotter's guy is simply a more talented cook than I. This, also, is a barrier to cooking "four star" food in my home kitchen. Unless we suppose that "most anyone" can execute music on a level with a Metropolitan Opera Orchestra violinist with enough training and experience, why should we suppose the same thing is true with respect to a four star restaurant cook? For someont to say that they "don't believe that the line cooks at The French Laundry have much of anything that a talented and experienced home cook does not" is just like saying "I don't believe the violinists in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra have much of anything that a talented and experienced amateur violin player does not." Even that ignores the fact that the cooks at the French Laundry and the violinists at in the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra have infinitely more experience than their amateur counterparts.

Yup. Plus it seems that quite a few people (or the ones I know anyway) are squeamish about sausage in general and take a don't ask don't tell approach. Serving them a stuffed pig's leg, hoof and all would put them over the edge. For the record, the "stuffed pig's leg, hoof and all" is a zampone, not a cotechino. Cotechino is just a large, highly spiced pork sausage. The filling is, I think, pork shoulder/neck/cheek and pork rind from the snout and cheek. It's got a lot of rind in it -- around the same amount of rind as meat. In fact, the name "cotechino" comes from "cotica" (pork rind).

What?! Next thing you know, they're going to replace the Citgo sign. Do they at least still have the good falafel truck over by MIT?

Well, I tried it. Reaction? <shrug> I wonder if the published formula is not entirely correct. 2.5 ounces of gin to a whopping 1.5 ounces of fresh lime juice (with only a half-ounce of simple syrup to balance) makes for what I would call a "new school gimlet." It's very sour, although just balanced enough to be drinkable. It also tastes so strongly of lime that even the gin barely comes through. The orange blossom water makes its presence felt every so often, but as a very mild aftertaste that tends to be lost in the overwhelming flavor of lime. I'd like to try this drink with half the lime juice.

A lot of fish is imported into the US fresh. Whether the restaurant chooses to cook it or serve it raw is another matter. I don't think it's that simple. Whether something looks fresh, tastes fresh and can be called fresh depends on a great many things... and never having being frozen is not necessarily among them. In any event, we are straying too far from discussion that is relevant to Masa. If we would like to continue to discuss the use of frozen fish for sushi, etc. there is a thread referenced above that would be more appropriate.

In re to bourbons: For mixing my "house pour" is Maker's Mark. I think you'll be hard pressed to find a better combination of price and quality in a bourbon -- just good enough for sipping, excellent for mixing. Jim Beam Black is also a very good and reasonably priced bourbon if you want to go in the rye direction instead of the wheat direction. In re to blended American or Canadian: In my opinion, there is no such thing as a "sipping blended American or Canadian whiskey." To me, these are mixing spirits only. With that in mind, you could taste Seagram's 7 for American, and Seagram's VO or Canadian Club Classic for Canadian. Personally, I'd rather use Makers than any of these, though.

From today's Shaken & Stirred column by William L. Hamilton: When I first saw the name of this drink, I was expecting to see a cocktail that used capers. Pantelleria is famous for capers, and most dishes "alla Pantelleria" feature capers as a primary ingredient. The cocktail was developed by Pace beverage director Peter Botti. 2.5 oz : gin (Plymouth is recommended) 1.5 oz : fresh lime juice 0.5 oz : simple syrup 4 drops : orange blossom water Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with orange twist. I think I have all these ingredients at home, so I'm going to give this a shake later tonight.

From Marsha (zilla369) Lynch's excellent eGCI course on basic knife skills are these two pictures of a "pinch grip" on a chef's knife: Is this pretty much a universally accepted way to hold a chef's knife? Or are there variations? Just curious... As far as I know, the pinch grip is the "classic" way to hold a chef's knife, and is what is taught in culinary schools, etc. This is the grip you will see most professional cooks using, as well as the pro-trained cooks on television programs, etc. In my experience, the pinch grip offers a lot more control and confidence with a chef's knife than holding the handle. This is especially true if the "handle holder" puts his or her index finger on the spine of the knife, which makes the grip even more unstable. I firmly believe that most people who are uncomfortable with a large (e.g., 10-inch) chef's knife are made uncomfortable due to an inherently unstable and unwieldy handle grip.

Sorry maybe this is a newbie question, but if you don't hold a chef's knife by the handle, how do you hold it? From Marsha (zilla369) Lynch's excellent eGCI course on basic knife skills are these two pictures of a "pinch grip" on a chef's knife: Front view View from the other side of the knife

See, this is where the whole question of "what is four star" food comes into play. In the context of this discussion, "four star" means "the kind of food as executed in the top-rated, fanciest and most expensive restaurants in the world." There is simply no way a four star restaurant would serve an insalata caprese. Or, if they did, it would be tweaked in some unique and fancy and complicated way. And it would involve specially grown and absolutely perfect heirloom tomatoes and microbasil. And the mozzarella would be life-changingly fresh, made in house from organic milk just out of the rare breed cow. That kind of thing. A tomato fresh from the garden with a drizzle of oil and a sprinkle of salt is delicious. But it's one star cuisine at best.