slkinsey

Pegu Club. Although one of the nice things about the tightly knit cocktailian community in NYC is that there are lots of places I can go where my friends work and I'm treated like a regular.

To the best of my knowledge, it is incorrect to use "tallow" to signify "rendered cow fat" the way we use the word "lard" to signify "rendered pig fat." The various references say that tallow is the rendered fat of either cattle, sheep or horses (etc.) with a certain composition of fatty acids and certain properties that is used industrially to make candles, soap, lubricants, etc. Vegetable fat with similar properties is also called "tallow."

Why would you want to print it if you have a printed copy?

I like palm sugar, which has become one of my go-to cocktail sugars. The other day I made a very dark caramel syrup thinking that it would be good in cocktails. But alas, the early reports are that it brings too much bitterness to the table to us useful. So now I have a pint of dark bitter caramel syrup I have to use for something.

I largely share Moopheus's thoughts. Using frozen vegetables that are combined with other ingredients and cooked passes the sniff test for "cooking." So does using leftover rotisserie chicken to make enchiladas. So does using prewashed lettuce in a salad. And so on. Rewarming food that you have cooked yourself, I think, also qualifies as an extension of "cooking" and can be considered a "home cooked meal night" whereas rewarming restaurant or prepared food leftovers does not, unless those foods are substantially repurposed/transformed in a secondary preparation. What does not pass the sniff test for "cooking" are foods that are prepared to such an extent that the "cook" does little more than apply rewarming heat, and sometimes not even that. And sometimes it can be a pretty fine line. If, for example, you tear up some pre-washed romaine lettuce and combine it with some pre-sliced mushrooms, pre-sliced red onion, boxed croutons, pre-crumbled blue cheese and salted pecans from a jar... to me that counts as some form of "home cooking" even though you did very little work. If, on the other hand, you unzipped a bag that already contained those ingredients and simply dumped it out into a salad bowl? Not so much.

I understand what a wolf range has. But in my house with the cooking I do I cannot justify the expense. The issue to me is one of value. Lots of people drive Mercedes and Lexus. I am lucky enough that i could afford both a Wolf range and a Mercedes if I want them. But I don't see the value in either one of them. Well, that of course is another story entirely. I can think of a great many things I'd like to do on a pro-style stove that I can't do on my Crapmaster 9000 NYC apartment stove. If I were able to get one, I'd do it without hesitation. But these things of course come down to preference, priorities, practices, etc. As a generality, it's true that as one gets into higher quality "things" that you start spending a lot more money on increasingly small improvements. The upgrade from a $1,000 stove to a $4,000 stove is not as much as from a $250 stove to a $1,000 stove. Different people spend money on different things that are important to them. I'd much rather, for example, have a $5,000 stove than spend $5,000 on a fancy vacation. But there are plenty of people who feel exactly the opposite. Neither of us is wrong.

Depending on the range, there are a LOT of things you can do with a Wolf-type over a Sears-type. First of all, and mainly, the Wolf stove is going to be able to crank out way more BTUs than the Sears stove and have a larger burner radius. This means that you can use a larger pan, get it hotter, throw in more food and have way better recovery. Many of the Wolf-type stoves have an option where you can get a center burner that's "extra high heat" for wok cooking, something that frankly just isn't possible on a Sears-type stove. In addition, many of the Wolf-type stoves have things like ceramic infrared broilers that make the broilers on regular residential stoves look like a joke.

If "75% say they very often or occasionally will use pre-prepped and/or frozen ingredients" then that means that only 25% do most of their cooking from scratch. 25% of 70% is 17.5%. That's why I said above that the survey is not nuanced enough. They lump together "very often or occasionally." Most of the best cooks I know would say yes to the "occasionally" part of that. While over-reliance on pre-prepped products is on the whole a problem for good cooking, there's a certain amount of it that's fine. So I don't think it's possible to get a good measurement from those data. Right, I agree. But, one could also point out that respondents to surveys often portray themselves more favorably than reality. Also my 70% included the 29% who prepared food at home "3 or 4 times a week," meaning that for some number of them it was only three times a week, meaning that on four days out of seven they were not preparing food at home. All of these things mean that my (probably meaningless due to the lack of specificity in the data) parsing of their figures to 17.5% "from scratch" cooks might be too generous. My anecdotal experience suggests that it's probably not more than 20%, though.

I keep hearing about the lack of time, but seriously, I can put together a good dozen cheap, from-scratch meals in a half hour or less each, from prep. start to serving. I'm not talking about the more elaborate things I make when I have the time, but the stuff I put together when I've been working all day, have no desire to do another thing, and my boyfriend comes in the door, beams, and says 'So, what's for dinner?' Really? Something that's actually cooked. Like what, for example? I mean, I can do something like spaghetti cacio e pepe in around 30 minutes, but that's hardly something I should be eating 4 nights a week.

If "75% say they very often or occasionally will use pre-prepped and/or frozen ingredients" then that means that only 25% do most of their cooking from scratch. 25% of 70% is 17.5%.

So what these statistics suggest is that not very many people are doing much "real cooking" at home. Around 70% prepare meals at home with any regularity. And only around 17.5% do a lot of "from scratch" cooking.

At the risk of steering this discussion inappropriately political, but still focused on one of the core reasons behind this trend, I think a lot of this has to do with the transition to the two-income family becoming standard. Part of this, of course, has to do with increased opportunities for women in the workplace and other things that can be deemed "good." And the other part of it has to do with the fact of the increasing economic stratification of American society and the fact that the only reason we still have a middle class is the transition to the two income model (i.e., that two incomes are now required in order to provide a similar middle class standard of living compared to what was possible with a single income 40-50 years ago). It is a fact that real cooking from scratch takes time, and someone has to take the time to do that cooking. If both parents are out of the house at 8:00 AM and not getting home until 6:30 PM, it's hard to imagine where they're finding the time to do a lot of cooking. There was a time (as in my own childhood) when this was solved with lots of casseroles and reheated leftovers during the week. But popular tastes and health concerns have moved American dietary practices away from that kind of eating, and I think there are now plenty of families that believe they should be having something "freshly made" and different every night.

There is a meaningful question to be asked, IMO, as to what constitutes "home cooking." For example, if you go to the local supermarket and buy a raw chicken, some broccoli, some salad greens, button mushrooms and assorted vegetables which you then turn into a roast chicken, broccoli with cheese sauce and a garden salad, I think we can all agree that this constitutes "home cooking." But what if you go to the same supermarket and you pick up an already-cooked rotisserie chicken, frozen "broccoli florets in cheese sauce" and a bag of "salad fixings" which you are able to slap in the microwave or dump out of the bag... is that "home cooking"? Not in my book, it isn't. But is this difference captured in a way that makes a statistical comparison possible? I don't necessarily think it's the case that a huge amount of this shift is explained by people trading eating at home for eating in restaurants (although I think people do eat out far more now than they did in the 1970s), but all you have to do is look at the departments in your local supermarket that sell fresh unprocessed ingredients (e.g., meat and vegetables) and compare that to the size of the departments selling foods that have been prepared to one extent or another. The number of families I know that eat most of their meals at home but don't really know how to cook because they rely mainly on prepared foods is astounding. I would be willing to bet that the average American 40something parent doesn't know how to roast a chicken. I might not win that bet, but it wouldn't be a stupid one to make. I think it's a mistake to assume that people like us represent normality for Americans when it comes to a relationship with food and cooking. It says something, I believe, that people in America who have an interest in these things that would be considered absolutely normal in France or Italy are considered exceptional and called "foodies."

I think it's pretty obvious that, while it may be true as a generality that people are putting fancier stoves in their homes, it's also true as a generality that people are doing less and less cooking and their expertise and experience in cooking is becoming less and less. Yes, there may be an increase in people who have a great interest in food and cooking. And some of them account for some of the money being spent on Viking stoves and stainless steel refrigerators. But I don't think it's new news that the great majority of those Viking stove owners are still buying already-roasted chickens at the local megamarket, etc. I recall being flabbergasted to see that a company was doing a brisk business in packaged envelopes of "salad add-ins" you could unzip and dump onto a pile of lettuce, like it was too hard to dice up some chicken breast and tomatoes. That products like these are flying off the shelves, and that roasted chickens and other fully prepared foods are commonplace in supermarkets whereas they were virtually unknown in that context 20 years ago are a sure indication that most people just aren't doing much real cooking these days. Honestly, even I am doing a lot less cooking than I used to do, and I'm trying to figure out ways to cut down on my time in the kitchen. At some point, I realized that if I was getting home at 7:30, spending 90 minutes getting dinner on the table, eating dinner and then cleaning up... well, I didn't have much time left in my average day to have a family life. And so I bought a chest freezer and started looking for ways that I could make my own reheatable prepared foods for dinner so I could have food I liked on the table in 30 minutes with minimal mess and cleanup. And I'm someone who lives cooking and has a dedication to cooking and cuisine. Someone else is just going to load up the freezer with stuff from Trader Joe's that they can bung in the oven to reheat. You don't need a combi-oven for that -- not that any of these people would have the slightest idea how to use one anyway. To get back to the topic of ovens, this is all compounded by the fact that the oven is the least-used cooking apparatus in the American kitchen. Many of the things one cooks in the oven are the foods that are often considered the most mysterious and challenging to cook well: baked goods, roasts, etc. (casseroles having fallen out of favor, at least in the demographic likely to have an expensive stove).

Yea, sure it is. If you have the right equipment, expertise and, perhaps most importantly, time. Let's say you're making bourbon or rye whiskey, for example. And let's say that you have the expertise and experience to put together a great mashbill and get your hands on some top quality grains that you malted and fermented yourself. And let's say that you have the kind of equipment that is available to a pretty good moonshiner, and you know how to run a still. At this point, you can run your still and (hopefully) get out something fairly low proof and fairly "dirty." You may think this is a bad thing, but really is wouldn't be. Why? Because you have also got your hands on a nice new charred oak barrel. You're going to dump this raw, dirty distillate into that new charred oak barrel and you're going to stash it in the corner of your tool shed where it gets pretty hot in the summer and pretty cool in the winter. You're going to keep that barrel in there for around 15 years, during which time the dirty stuff will be transformed or filtered out by aging, and the wood is going to add plenty of sweetness, smoothness and flavor. If you have all these things, plus the 15 years to age the product... yea, I think you could wind up with something at least as good as Jim Beam (which is a pretty good product). But this is all a pretty big if, and it seems highly unlikely to me. Theoretically possible, though. I think there are some traditional home distillers out there making pretty awesome products. Just not very many of them, and they're not schmos who picked up a bag of oak chips and a $1,000 column and went to town. Keep in mind, by the way, that plenty of great products start out with crap basic ingredients (you wouldn't want to drink the wine they use to make Cognac). Aging makes a big difference. Really? I have. My landlord in Italy made and barrel-aged his own vin santo that flat out blows the doors off of any other examples I've tried.

Hmm, in Seattle? Surprising. Here in Sydney, rocket is pretty ubiquitous in every supermarket. Though the quality does range from the stuff that has the taste and texture of dry grass clippings, right up to my favourite, the tender large leaf rocket more commonly sold in bunches with their roots and found in the herb section than the salad section. In the US, rocket is more commonly known by its Italian name, arugula. Actually, the Italian name for this leaf is rucola. I'm not sure how or why the American name came to be "arugula." The online etymology dictionary suggests that it came into American English via Italian immigrants from Lombardy dialect (arigola) rather than from Italian per se, and given the similarity that makes sense. Before about 1985, most Italians spoke a regional (or micro-regional or local or micro-local) dialect in the home as a "first language" rather than Italian, and plenty of early 20C Italian immigrants didn't speak any Italian at all.

I thought I was the only one who did this. When I broke the glass piece of my (inherited) father's shaker, I started "temporarily" to use a quart canning jar--and never went back. For one drink for myself, I use a pint jar. Me three. I have a regular shaker, but usually don't use it unless we have guests and I want to put on a (purely amateur-level) show. I use one of these for a crowd.

Yes! If for no other reason than the fact that, back when the Bacardi Cocktail was in vogue, Bacardi white was the very best rum in its style. I recently had the opportunity to sample some Bacardi white from the early 1950s, both straight and in cocktails, and it was a revelation. Tasted alongside it, modern era Bacardi white tasted like rubbing alcohol. Absolute dreck. I'm not sure that there is a Cuban-style white rum available today that would measure up to that 1950s-era Bacardi white (maybe Banks?), but I would argue that a cocktail made with modern-era Bacardi gives not the slightest indication of what the Bacardi Cocktail is supposed to taste like. Sounds like that would significantly increase the sweetness.

I think there are several good reasons to prefer an all-metal Boston set over a glass-and-metal Boston set. First, as others have pointed out, there is the breakage issue. An all-metal set won't break. Second, I find the seal in an all-metal set more reliable, in part because it's easy to have your index finger over the top of the cheater tin when shaking whereas in a glass-and-metal set you have to rely upon the strength of the seal. I've never had or seen an all-metal set fly apart mid-shake. Not so for a glass-and-metal set. Third, although I find it a more reliable seal, I also find it significantly easier to break the seal of an all-metal set. This is because of the flexibility of the metal. You can simply squeeze the large tin and force the cheater to the side until you get that cool "pop" sound only an all-metal set provides. I've never had a "stuck" all-metal set. Not so for a glass-and-metal set. And lastly, although the difference may be subtle to some, especially depending on the ice and other things you're working with, you can get a colder drink with an all-metal set (this was actually the original reason NYC bars started using them). This is because the thermal load of a room-temperature all-metal set is less than the thermal load of a glass-and-metal set (if you freeze the pint glass in a glass-and-metal set, the thermal advantage swings to that design). I actually find this last reason the least compelling reason to use an all-metal set. The ease of use and the fact that you can slam them around without worrying about breaking them is enough reason for me to prefer all-metal.

Adding some form of bittering agent to to classify them being branded as bitters would be a good start... You have it all wrong. These are simply "New Eastern Bitters." It's an emergent conception in the evolution of what we call "bitters" that de-emphasizes the bitter part and focuses on the other elements.

I'm lucky enough to live near one of the few remaining NYC bagel makers that makes the old style that's hand-rolled and fits in the palm of your hand: Absolute Bagels. Why mess with perfection? I never toast on the first day. Day old or defrosted, I usually toast.

These lamb meatballs from Beacon are hands-down the best meatballs I have ever made. Something about the addition of Greek strained yogurt makes them incredibly moist, even through multiple re-heating and refrigeration cycles that would turn lesser meatballs into sawdust.

I'll have what Dave's having. Complete with miniature rowboat for the ladle-boy.

Well, Juan Gallardo is the protagonist of the movie Blood and Sand, while the composition of your drink is roughly modeled after the drink of the same name (Spirit, Vermouth, Cherry Brandy, Orange Juice). Yes, exactly. And credit to Chris as well. One of the things I like doing is taking sweet cocktails and making they dry, or taking dark-colored cocktails and making them light-colored, and vice-versa. So, the idea of this one was that the a light-colored smoky spirit (mezcal) stood in for the dark-colored smoky spirit (scotch), a light-colored dry spirit (kirschwasser) stood in for the dark-colored sweet liqueur (cherry brandy), a light-colored bitter aperitif (Aperitivo Americano) stood in for the dark-colored herbal aromatized wine (sweet vermouth) and the orange juice stayed the same. The Aperitivo Americano proves to be the lynch-pin to this drink. The sweetness and richness it brings is critical, and substitutions of Lillet, blanc/bianco vermouth or dry vermouth are progressively less satisfying.

Mitch and John certainly outdid me on this one. Although, in my defense, I would point out that I was taking a voice lesson on La forza del destino in the evening and didn't even get started on prepping for dinner until after 8PM.