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slkinsey

eGullet Society staff emeritus
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Posts posted by slkinsey

  1. when a muddler was called a "toddy stick"

    Slightly off topic here but this brings me to something that's been puzzling me for quite a while now, the connection of the Scottish Toddy to the American Cock-tail.

    Their DNA is very similar, spirit-sugar-water-spice for toddy, spirit-sugar-water-bitters for cock-tail, and both were consumed for their remedial qualities (morning drinks, pick-me-ups and as a cure-all). And then there's the toddy stick...

    :unsure:

    There's not really much question that the Cocktail is inexorably linked in its origins to the toddy/sling is there?

    I shouldn't think so, no. Although I should suppose that there is plenty of question as to whether the Toddy is of Scottish origin or somehow uniquely or distinctively Scottish in provenance.

  2. What do you see as the 3-ply and 5-ply lines?

    We need to understand two things about layers in cookware:

    1. More layers doesn't necessarily equal better. In many cases, it is actually worse because the extra layers may have inferior thermal properties.

    2. The number of layers has become a marketing gimmick (because people don't understand #1 above). Most of the time, they're counting things like infinitesimally thin layers of bonding material as a "layer." For example, the typical "5-ply" construction goes something like this: 1. external layer of stainless steel, 2. thinner-than-paper layer of pure aluminum for bonding, 3. aluminum alloy layer that serves as the thermal layer; 4. thinner-than-paper layer of pure aluminum for bonding; 5. internal layer of stainless steel. Meanwhile, your typical "3-ply" construction is probably exactly the same but simply does not "count" the bonding layers. But supposing it is only three layers with no extra bonding material, it would go something like this: 1. external layer of stainless steel, 2. aluminum layer that serves as the thermal layer; 3. internal layer of stainless steel. If the two pans have the same overall thickness and have the same thickness in the stainless layers, it would be almost impossible to detect any difference in performance. And yet, how much do you want to bet that the one marketed as having 5 layers costs a lot more?

  3. I think that a major element of what makes the Old Fashioned seem, well, old fashioned is the style of preparation. I suppose this might not make much difference when the drink is prepared at a service bar and brought out to the customer. But think back to the Japanese bartending thread where the point was repeatedly made that things such as the bartender's physicality and presentation and the bar's atmosphere can have a profound impact on the perceived qualities of the drink. I should think this applies here as well.

    Also... try making one with demerara syrup and one with an equivalent amount of sugar in the form of a demerara sugar cube. I think you will find that they don't taste exactly the same. I also like using rough sugar because sometimes I like to muddle a twist in with the sugar and bitters, in which case the sugar abrades the surface of the twist and really extracts a lot of oils (I got this idea from Gary Regan).

  4. I do not agree that the fact that alcohol is potentially poisonous and addicting should preclude us from using other natural, organic, or downright healthy ingredients in alcoholic beverages. I know I feel proud being able to tell people that the bar I work in uses all organic citrus, fruit juices, and sweeteners, and I think our drinks are better for it.

    To each his own, of course. To me, it only makes sense to use organic citrus, fruit juices and sweeteners (etc.) in alcoholic drinks if they taste better. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. My point being that if you really care about the healthfulness of that half-ounce of lime juice, what are you doing drinking two ounces of funky country mezcal full of fusel oils, smoke-derived chemicals and who knows what other congeners?

  5. I don't know if Erik was joking or not when he referred to agave syrup as "poison" -- but that's the remark that led to this fork in the discussion. It seems a bit fatuous to complain about the healthfulness of any ingredient used in a cocktails, so long as its supposed effects are somewhere below the level of making you grow nine arms and eleven heads. After all, as I'm sure others have noted, plenty of the things we use in cocktails are known to be at least as bad for you as a teaspoon of agave syrup or high fructose corn syrup. For example, I know people in the booze business who will only drink high congener spirits such as Smith & Cross and funky mezcals in minute amounts because of health concerns. I'm not saying I agree with this outlook, but it's at least as legitimate as being afraid of a teaspoon of agave syrup or high fructose corn syrup in an Old Fashioned.

    I would point out that the real health issue with high fructose corn syrup is not anything having to do with it's composition, but rather the fact that sugar is massively overconsumed and high fructose corn syrup is the most common kind of sugar in this country. But it's not like all these health issues that people attribute to high fructose corn syrup would disappear if we replaced it in every instance with cane sugar. What's really bad is the fact that people are eating tons of sugar (sometimes without knowing it) and also the various ways that the production of high fructose corn syrup is supported by government subsidies. Presumably this won't become an issue with agave syrup because it's too difficult to make in massive quantities.

    With respect to its use in cocktails, I would suggest that the only appropriate consideration is whether it tastes good or not. Personally, I've never particularly liked the stuff, but to each his own.

    I should hasten to add that I do think Erik does make a good point in mentioning that agave syrup isn't as "natural" a product as cane sugar (not that even "raw" sugar isn't extensively processed). I think people have the idea that agave syrup is made in a process similar to cane sugar production, by crushing up agave and boiling down the juice, and this isn't actually true. The process of making agave syrup is more similar to the process used to make malt syrup: the carbohydrate-rich "agave juice" is held at temperature so that enzymatic action can reduce the complex carbohydrates to simple ones (aka sugars). Just as with producing malt syrup from grain, these enzymes can come from the plant itself or they can be added in refined form. Corn syrup, which is 100% glucose, is made by a similar process, except the amylase enzymes are always added in refined form. High fructose corn syrup is the term for a number of syrups that have undergone further enzymatic action to convert some of the glucose to fructose. It is "high" fructose because it has any fructose at all, not because it contains a particularly high percentage of fructose (it doesn't). The blend used in most soft drinks contains a bit more fructose than glucose, but the blend used in baked goods contains more glucose than fructose (sucrose syrup is equal parts glucose and fructose). Agave syrup can be almost exclusively fructose. Agave syrup is, then, a bit more "natural" than corn syrup and right around the same as malt syrup, and people have various ideas as to what they believe about how much fructose (or whatever) is in your diet. Personally, I can't help thinking that anyone who feels that strongly about a teaspoon of sweetener in a cocktail doesn't have any business drinking things like tequila, rum and whiskey in the first place. To me the main knock on high fructose corn syrup is that it doesn't taste all that good and is usually used in products that are not very high quality.

  6. Mauviel is a much older manufacturer that has been supplying high end restaurants with cookware for 170 years. If you can get them at a similar price, I would choose Mauviel in a second. Mauviel also uses (because they developed most of it!) the classical cookware geometry for their pieces, whereas All-Clad often goes their own way on geometry -- sometimes for reasons I can't understand.

  7. I like to blanch them very briefly in boiling salted water, then shock in ice water, then squeeze out as much water as possible, then blend into a thick paste with a bit of garlic and some extra virgin olive oil. This freezes very well. Then you can use it in various things. You can use it straight as a pasta dressing, for example, or thin it out and drizzle over fish. But I find it really shines as a last-second adornment for long-cooked meats. Swirl some into the sauce of a braise, for example. Just a few weeks ago I made a very rich lamb ragu I served with spaghetti alla chitarra. I swirled in some thinned fennel paste at the last second, and it not only contributed an ethereal fennel flavor, but also a welcome contrast of fresh green flavor.

  8. You can easily search this topic for all posts about All-Clad: click here to see the search results.

    I'm not going to bother restating my views on All-Clad, but suffice it to say that while I think it is perfectly good cookware, I think it is egregiously overpriced, and I think it is almost always possible to get equivalent performance for less money or better performance for similar money.

    I also think, as a general matter, that it is a very bad idea to purchase an entire kitchen's worth of cookware all at once -- especially all in one brand/design. Different brands and cookware designs are better for different cooking tasks. And you inevitably end up with a number of expensive pieces you don't use nearly as much as you thought you would.

    But, as I have written many times: While this thread is not about ratifying the cookware choices of people who have largely made up their minds, the most important thing is that you are happy with your cookware. So buy what you want and don't look back. There are certainly plenty of people out there who have big collections of All-Clad Stainless and are happy as clams.

  9. Just to clarify a few things:

    Phil Ward's drink is called the "Oaxaca Old Fashioned" (not Oaxacan).

    I also don't think it's quite right to suggest that it breaks the paradigm of spirit, bitters and sugar, garnished and served on the rocks. Yes, there is tequila and mezcal, but these are both spirits. The prefix "Oaxaca" where one might normally find "Whiskey" or "Brandy" simply specifies that the spirit is a blend of tequila and mezcal (and, I suppose, further to specify the kind of sweetener and bitters used). This, overall, seems very much more in the spirit of the Old Fashioned than something containing significant amounts of, say, St-Germaine, Canton or some other liqueur.

    These conversations inevitably evolve into one of those "what is art?" dialogues, with some people holding to a view that says things can be defined and words and terms have meanings, and other pointing out that meanings languages and definitions can change over time. Personally, I am happy to find myself very much in the former camp. Otherwise, in my opinion, we find ourselves at a point where "Old Fashioned" signifies nothing more than a non-citrus drink served on the rocks -- which, of course, is there the "anything is art" side of the argument inevitably leads. There is plenty of wiggle room on each side of the question, but I have found the boundary line to be a pretty hard one. Interesting conversations and debates can be had among people residing on the same side of the question, but I have not found it ultimately resolvable or useful when the parties are on opposite sides of this fundamental question.

  10. . . . Stregheria is Italian for witch . .

    Strega is Italian for "witch." Stregoneria is Italian for "witchcraft," and stregato is Italian for "bewitched."

    Stregheria, as far as I can tell, is a modern word used or adopted to describe more or less the Italian version of Wicca (much like the spelling "magick" in English) , and appears to be much more commonly used among English speakers describing a supposed "old religion" in Italy than actual Italian speakers.

  11. Well said. When I jump off my accelerator and pull in to the doggery for some liquid refreshment -- never minding that I have to shoulder aside a boodle of the codfish aristocracy just to get a tot of the heavy wet and maybe have a gander at the Cat-heads -- if some self-proclaimed Philadelphia lawyer puts his new fangling into my Old-Fashioned glass of old orchard, I'll wake snakes and dispense with bunches of fives. 'Course I do come out of a fisticuffs at the little end of the horn most tiomes. The point being that a fella doesn't want to be honey-fuggled by some high-falutin saucebox at the bucket shop, he just wants to get a brick in his hat with a proper Old-Fashioned.

  12. This just in: A Cake With Pies Baked Inside of It.

    Ever think, "cake is pretty good, but it would be way better if it had pies inside of it"? This is that cake: The Pumpple, consisting of apple and pumpkin pies "baked inside layers of chocolate and vanilla cake."

    Best of both worlds?

    Or hideous abomination?

    Delicious confection?

    Or Frankencake? Frankenpie?

    Line up outside the restaurant to eat some?

    Line up outside the restaurant with torches and pitchforks?

    You be the judge!

  13. Right. The Old Fashioned from the beginning was meant to be, well, deliberately old fashioned. Thus it didn't cotton to none o' that new-fangled flim-flammery like straining out the ice and dashes of curacao and what have you. Why, the next thing you know, they'll be sayin' it's okay to put maraschino in there, and that it ain't polite to suck it through your beard.

    Sam's got it here. This is exactly why it's called an Old Fashioned. When people started screwing around with the basic formula, trying to make something new, then someone eventually to ask for a "whiskey cock-tail in the old-fashioned style." Old Fashioned is all about no frills. That's kind of the point. One frill, and you've moved away from that category.

    A Whisk(e)y Cock-tail, yeah, but there was good reason why they introduced dashes of Curacao to Gin or Brandy Cock-tails. Adding a dash or two of Curacao does not take it away from being an Old-Fashioned Cocktail.

    I'm not sure this is precisely so, although the argument can be made. The Old Fashioned first appeared in George Kappeler's Modern American Drinks, in versions with Holland Gin, Tom Gin, Brandy and Whiskey. None of them contains any liqueur. In fact, a survey of historical Old Fashioned recipes (there is a nice collection here) shows that a small minority may allow for as much as a "dash of curaçao," but no other liqueur ever seems to be mentioned. Meanwhile, the vast majority of recipes is remarkable for a lack of any kind of liqueur. It's worthy of note that the Old Fashioned was not conceived as an old-timey service of the contemporary state of the cocktail. When it first appears, it represented an attempt to make a deliberate return to an earlier conception of the cocktail -- the one that existed (or was thought to have existed) before the likes of Jerry Thomas fancied it up with their corrupting dashes of curaçao and what have you. Looking at the preponderance of Old Fashioned recipes, and considering the reasoning behind its origins, I still feel comfortable saying that there shouldn't be any liqueur in an Old Fashioned. But at the same time I acknowledge that the addition of a small amount of curaçao has some tradition. Then again, so does muddling the fruit. Doesn't mean it's a good idea.

    I probably wouldn't take as much as a half-teaspoon of Grand Marnier (I can't think of any other brand I'd use for this) amiss in an Old Fashioned, as it more or less serves to accentuate the effect of the twist. But I'd just as soon leave it out. Regardless, this amount is hardly likely to make a major impact, and certainly doesn't open the door to half or whole ounces of strong-flavored liqueurs.

  14. Right. The Old Fashioned from the beginning was meant to be, well, deliberately old fashioned. Thus it didn't cotton to none o' that new-fangled flim-flammery like straining out the ice and dashes of curacao and what have you. Why, the next thing you know, they'll be sayin' it's okay to put maraschino in there, and that it ain't polite to suck it through your beard.

    Okay, Old Fashioned Curacao Cocktail it is then. ;)

    Sure, if you want to make a drink with curaçao as the base. Although I don't see why you'd want to add sugar to that.

  15. There are lots of things you can do with what you already have in your repertoire.

    For example, the Negroni formula is good for lots of variations. Get yourself some Smith & Cross and sub that in for the gin and you have a Kingston Negroni (credit to Joaquin Simo). Of sub in some Bols Genever for the gin. You an also replace all or some of the Campari with Aperol or Cynar. Use a blanco vermouth instead of sweet vermouth. Add a touch of eau de vie to dry it out. This is how you can start with one drink and riff your way into something completely different. For example: equal parts Bols Genever, Dolin Blanc and Aperol with a touch of kirschwasser and a few dashes of bitters.

    A lot of it is also formulas. One almost-never-misses formula I got from Dave Wondrich is 2 ounces spirit, 1 ounce fortified or aromatized wine (everything from vermouth to quinquina to sherry and madiera and more), 1 teaspoon liqueur, 1 dash bitters. So long as you don't pick outlandish constituents, this will almost always result in a nice-tasting cocktail, and occasionally something sublime like the Weeski.

    50/50 cocktails with one spirit and one "fortified/aromatized wine or similar proof/sweetness constituent" are also often really nice, although I find them to frequently be fairly brand-specific when they are at their best. Two of my "inventions" that get a lot of play around here are 50% Laird's bonded applejack with 50% Mirto di Sardegna, and 50% Smith & Cross with 50% Bonal Gentiane-Quina. These are usually stirred/strained, but could be built and lengthened with soda water.

    Also, if you're into built drinks, what about highballs? The possibilities are nearly endless.

  16. Right. The Old Fashioned from the beginning was meant to be, well, deliberately old fashioned. Thus it didn't cotton to none o' that new-fangled flim-flammery like straining out the ice and dashes of curacao and what have you. Why, the next thing you know, they'll be sayin' it's okay to put maraschino in there, and that it ain't polite to suck it through your beard.

  17. As far as the "What's an Old Fashioned" line: Screw it. You're talking about >=2 oz booze + bitters + sugar in a rocks glass with ice. Beyond that, I think anything goes.

    2 oz rye whiskey, 2 oz sweet vermouth, 1 tsp maraschino liqueur, 2 dashes bitters. On ice in a rocks glass. Old Fashioned?

    Really, you want to call any drink served over rocks an old-fashioned?

    Not at all! Which is the point I was making.

    Personally, I don't think there is much room in an Old Fashioned for liqueur, and certainly none for something like vermouth. Spirit, sugar, bitters, ice, garnish. That's an Old Fashioned in my book. If you want to use more than one spirit (e.g., tequila and mezcal) that makes sense to me. But once you start adding liqueur, I don't think it's an Old Fashioned. I could get behind the idea of an Old Fashioned that incorporates a small amount of amaro under the idea that amari can be thought of as potable bitters.

    To me this is all part of the point of having drink naming conventions that extend to a wide number of formulations within a certain framework. It only makes sense to use the convention if you stay within the framework. Otherwise, the naming convention begins to lose meaning. Having expandable naming conventions is a good thing. It allows us to have a Rye Whiskey Old Fashioned, a Genever Old Fashioned, and even something like an Oaxaca Old Fashioned (base spirit being tequila and mezcal) -- and all of these names tell us something important and fundamental about what the drink will be like. Similarly, it allows us to have a number of short drinks appropriately named some kind of Daiquiri, so long as the principal constituents are rum and lime. What this also means is that we shouldn't make a drink with tequila and lemon and call it a Daiquiri and we shouldn't make a drink with vermouth or liqueur and call it an Old Fashioned.

  18. I have the Vita Prep 3. I purchased an additional bowl with an ice blade, just for blending smoothies and ice drinks. It works great, I think it was around $100, for the pitcher, top, and ice blade.

    Interesting. In doing some googling on this, I saw the following post from a VitaMix rep on a VitaMix customer service discussion board:

    The Ice blades contains four blades that are square at the ends with blunt or squared edges that are designed to pulverize and crush ice or frozen fruits.

    The Wet Blade also has four blades but they are pointed at the ends and have a tapered sharp edge for cutting through a wide variety of foods.

    I note that the BlendTec blade is square at the end and has some squared edges, rather than being all sharp and pointed, which may explain some of the differences in areas of strength between the two brands.

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