slkinsey

Thicker is better. How much a difference a half-millimeter will make in an aluminum pan is hard to say. It would make a very big difference in a copper pan, but copper is much more dense than aluminum. Ultimately it comes down to performance at a price. As for the "induction optimized" -- all this means is that the outer layer of stainless steel is magnetic stainless steel (18-0). This is true of all the All-Clad lines with an external stainless layer, and indeed it is true of most straight gauge pans with an outer cladding.

Ironically, the example from Alinea wasn't even a comp. It was just part of their regular development/implementation cycle. Which makes the woman who left in tears all the more ridiculous. Another interesting side of the equation may be found in the comments to the column. One JBKramer remarks that he was a 5-time visitor to Per Se (and at least a 1-time visitor to French Laundry). He says: In other words, he didn't feel that his repeat business was adequately compensated by the people at Per Se, at least in comparison to this one-time visitor who he apparently thought was not VIP-enough to merit the special attention he received. Presumably he wouldn't have minded seeing, say, Jacques Pepin getting the super-duper soigné treatment, but bristled at reading it had happened to "some precious food blogger." Of course, one wonders who the blogger was...

The whole "5 layers versus 3 layers" thing is, I am sorry to say, bullcrap. Total thickness is the only thing that matters. What does "5 layers" mean, after all? Typically it means something like this: Layer 1: outer cladding of stainless steel Layer 2: minute amount of bonding material (sometimes pure aluminum) Layer 3: main thermal layer (either pure or alloy aluminum) Layer 4: minute amount of bonding material (sometimes pure aluminum) Layer 5: inner cladding of stainless steel Given the tiny thickness of layers 2 and 4, there is no meaningful difference between this "five layer" design and a "three layer" design that goes something like this: Layer 1: outer cladding of stainless steel Layer 2: main thermal layer Layer 3: inner cladding of stainless steel The difference is that "5 layers" sounds like it's more or better somehow compared to "3 layers." The only thing that makes a meaningful difference is: how thick is the thermal layer in between the inner and outer cladding. If it's thicker, it's better. So, for example, if you have a 3-layer design that's thicker than a 5-layer design, then 3 layers is better than 5 layers.

I call it egg in a basket. We cut the hole with a round cutter such as would be used for cutting biscuits (or as a mold for fancy plating). I don't pre-butter the toast, I butter the pan.

I don't think that comment is at all directed at the folks you mention. Evinced by the fact that at least one of them has recipes in the book. Well, then I guess I'm wondering: what laurels?

Part of the problem is their premise that "the international cocktail renaissance is in danger of falling into a state of discontent and stagnation. It seems that many in the community are resting on their laurels, copngratulating themselves for bringing back fresh juices and for stirring Manhattans." There is simply no evidence I can see that this is the case. Not to be cruel, but I suppose I can see how two New Orleans bartenders might get that impression, considering that this is a city which was decried in the cocktailian community as a place where you couldn't get a decent drink as recently as a few years ago. Which is to say that I don't think the state of cocktail books is reflective of cocktail culture, and they may not have had much opportunity to sample the fullness of revival cocktail culture. But anyone who thinks that "many in the community are resting on their laurels" and cranking out formulaic drinks hasn't met most of the bartenders I know. Richie Boccato, Alex Day, Damon Dyer, Giuseppe Gonzalez, Kenta Goto, Don Lee, Toby Maloney, Brian Miller, Del Pedro, Audrey Saunders, Phil Ward. . . none of these guys (and at least a dozen more who didn't happen to spring immediately to mind) are "resting on their laurels." More to the point, all of these people have come up with as many interesting and growing-the-tradition cocktails on an individual basis than are contained in the Rogue Cocktails book. The other problem with their premise is the idea that cocktail books are meant for bartenders. They aren't, and haven't been primarily for bartenders since at least the start of Prohibition. Cocktail books nowadays are written with the home bartender in mind. As such, of course they all have to include a section on how to make garnishes and how to make a proper Manhattan (or the equivalent). To the best of my knowledge, there is no book currently in publication which approaches the cocktailian craft with the professional cocktailian bartender in mind, offering any ideas as to a way to approach mixology in a way that grows the tradition. The Rogue guys are perhaps correct that there is a need for such a book -- but this isn't it and, as good and well intentioned as they might be, it's not clear that they're the guys to write it either. Other than someone like Audrey Saunders (e.g., someone who has spent plenty of time growing the cockailian tradition, and also proactively mentored several generations of cocktailan bartenders who have gone on to grow the tradition, and who has clearly put a lot of critical thought into this particular subject), it's not clear that there is a clear choice for a book like this. More to the point, it's not clear that there is a clear choice other than someone like Audrey to write a book like this that will sell enough copies to interest a real publisher. As for "throwing out the rules" -- the last point of the "manifesto" section says "The roots of this book lie within the 19th century culture of cocktails. The cocktails featured in this book utilize treatments and formulas that have been with us since the beginning: sours, fizzes, bitteres slings, juleps, etc. The ingredients may be different, but the techniques certainly are not." It's unclear to me that any of the drinks in the book are any more forward-looking than, say, the Jimmy Roosevelt. Which is fine... The Jimmy is a pretty forward-lookind drink! But let's not start saying that everyone in the business is resting on his laurels and needs a kick in the pants.

I think that many of the cocktails look pretty good. What I don't get is the whole "rogue" and "breaking the rules" shtick. None of the drinks in there will seem in any way revolutionary, subversive of breaking of the rules to anyone who has spent time in top NYC cocktail bars.

It's actually surprizingly difficult to get a real bead on what Lucali is charging. The menupages listing gives the base price as $18, as does Peter Meehan's November 2006 piece, which says: "PRICE RANGE Pizzas, $18, calzones, $10. Toppings or fillings $2 to $3.50." On the other hand, a menupages commenter in January 2009 says that the base price for a plain pizza is $24. That's a pretty steep increase in price over only 26 months. Let's assume that is the current price. Steep? Sure. On the other hand, the reported prices for Lucali seem to be roughly commensurate with what DiFara is charging. DiFara's base price are $25 for a regular pizza and $30 for a square pizza, with toppings running $3 to $5 depending on how fancy they are. So, for example, a square pizza with artichoke from DiFara will run you 35 bucks. Of course, he's getting 40 bucks for a plain pizza when he sells it by the slice, or as much as $56 for a "specialty topping" pizza sold by the slice at 7 bucks each. I think it's interesting that someone would say it's a cold day in hell before they pay those prices. Pan, I guess you've had your last slice from DiFara?

So, if I'm reading this correctly, DiFara is charging $25 for a whole plain pizza (or $40 if sold by the slice) versus Lucali charging around $19 for a margherita, and we've got people complaining about Lucali's prices?

Actually, I believe it's Lucali that's charging those prices. Motorino's are more in line with the $10 - $15 per pie; as a matter of fact, their menu only shows one pie at $16. On what basis is Lucali charging anywhere near $34 for a pizza? As far as I can tell their base pizza is either 18 or 19 bucks for a large (18-inch) pizza. V&T, a decidedly mediocre pizzeria in my neighborhood, charges 15 bucks for a large pizza. Well, call me crazy, but I think 3 or 4 dollars is well worth the upgrade in quality for a large pizza. V&T also charges 3 bucks for each topping added to a large pizza. Do we have any evidence that Lucali is charging significantly more for similar-quality additional toppings? Of course, if they're making an 18-inch pizza with white truffles shaved over it or something, it's going to be a lot more expensive. IMO, the ridiculously high priced pizzeria is Una Pizza Napoletana, charging $21 for a Neapolitan-sized pizza margherita. Not to mention that, at 5 bucks a slice, DiFara is getting $30 for a pizza. And that's assuming he cuts it into only 6 slices and not 8. If he cuts it into 8 slices, he's getting 40 bucks for a pizza! Surely no one is suggesting that a DiFara pizza at $0 bucks is "worth the money" but a hypothetical $34 pizza at Lucali is a "rip off"? These two positions seem incompatible, unless you believe that Lucalu's product is far inferior to DiFara's (not to mention believing that gold drips from Dom DeMarco's hands).

Can you explain what you mean by "New-Neapolitan", Sam? To me, Keste is pretty darn old-Neapolitan. There are really only a few places in town that attempt to slavishly duplicate la pizza vera Napoletana. UPN is just about the only place that is doing a good job at it. The other places retain many of the features of the Neapolitan, and even larger Italian Neapolitan-inspired traditions (the usual pizza you get in an Italian pizzeria will be single-serving size and baked in a wood-fired oven, but otherwise will not resemble what you would get in a traditional place in Napoli). But they have features that distinguish them from that tradition. For most of them this means decidedly nontraditional toppings (Pan's example from Keste is a good one), and it also means for many of them that the crust treatment is a bit different. It's usually crisper and chewier than the Neapolitan style. You won't find a crust like Franny's or Co.'s in Napoli. Keste's crust treatment strikes me as fairly traditional, but not so much all of their toppings. It's a fine line with Keste, though, I will admit. I put them as "new-Neapolitan" mostly because they don't seem caught up in dogma and creating a replica product.

One thing about the Pegu Club Cocktail and balance: If you are doing the version that contains more than a smidge of lime juice (which is the most common version served these days), the sweetness of the curacao is of paramount importance. For example, I find that a 2 : 3/4 : 3/4 Pegu Club is far too tart if you use Grand Marnier for the curacao, but works rather well with Marie Brizard.

Yea. I really enjoyed Keste when I was there. But I am a fan of this softer style of pizza dough in general. There was, I felt, plenty of good char in spots, but I wouldn't call the crust at Keste "crisp." The other day I happened to be in Williamburg for a skinny-jeans sight-seeing tour (kidding!) (sort of!) and stopped in for a pizza at Fornino. Fornino operates in the same stylistic space as Keste, which is to say new-Neapolitan style pizza. But Fornino's crust is overall more cooked-through and crisper, but as a result a little more dry. Some people might count this as an improvement over Keste, but Mrs. slkinsey and I both preferred the crust at Keste. It's not a style for everyone, though. Keste pushes the envelope about as far as it can go in the soft and wet direction.

"Grandma" pizza most likely derives from what the Italians would call casalinga ("housewife") style, meaning the kind of pizza you can bake in a square pan in a home (read: lower temperature) oven.

The problem is that people seem willing to call most anything "pizza." For example, there is "Armenian pizza" aka lahmajoun and there is "Arabic pizza" aka manakish. One can't even say that "pizza' in the US is defined by consisting mostly of flavors in the broad Italian-American tradition, because that leaves out many of the "California Pizza Kitchen" iterations, not to mention that we call various things "Indian pizza" and "Mexican pizza" that have little or no flavor or culinary connection to Italian-American tradition.

This discussion brings about the whole question of "what does 'authentic' mean?" By what standard of "authenticity" is there such a thing as a species of pizza called "Greek Pizza"? By what standard of "authenticity" is the Chicago "deep dish" product considered "pizza" but, for example, lahmajoun, tarte flambée, pissaladière, Flammkuchen, manakish are not? By what standard of "authenticity" is the style of stainless deck oven pizza most widely represented by Domino's and its ilk not considered an "authentic pizza style"? If we're going to go microregional to the extent that we are actually considering a certain species of NY pizza and a certain species of New Haven pizza and a certain species of Philadelphia pizza distinct styles rather than iterations with one style, why not posit stylistic categories for Milwaukee pizza and Detroit pizza and California pizza and Portland pizza and Lubbock pizza? Does an "authentic pizza style" have to be good? Why isn't "French bread pizza" an "authentic style"? I'm not asking these questions to be contrarian. These are all among the sorts of questions that have to be answered in considering something like this. First among these questions is asking: "What makes pizza pizza? On what basis, other than the name, do we classify 'Chicago deep dish' and 'Neapolitan style' as being party of a common thing that is distinct from, say, pissaladière when Neapolitan style pizza actually has more commonality with pissaladière than it does 'Chicago deep dish'"?

I don't even know if this drink exists, but it's the name I've coined for the prototypical bullcrap "Asian fusian" cocktail: The Shisohito

I wonder about the term "Ahi Tuna" in the first place. Isn't "Ahi" just a Hawaiian word meaning "Tuna." If so, is "Ahi Tuna" just "Tuna Tuna." I know it has come often to refer to yellowfin tuna, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't have to. Actually, I believe that ahi does only refer to yellowfin tuna. Po'onui is bigeye tuna, aku is skipjack tuna, ahi palaha is albacore tuna, etc. (some info here).

If the tuna is truly "fresh" and hasn't been frozen, this is reasonable. I assume that, in the case of "fresh" tuna, this tradition arose to differentiate it from canned tuna -- which is the way most Americans experienced tuna prior to the 90s.. Similarly, all kinds of "fresh" meat are differentiated from preserved (pre-cooked, smoked, salted, canned, dried, etc.) forms. This gives rise to "fresh frozen" which indicates meat that has been frozen but not preserved, in the traditional sense (when it is thawed, it goes back to being "fresh," whereas this is not possible with any traditional form of preservation).

So... if the thermal materials are much better of the Swiss piece, that could explain more about the difference in sticking. Or, the psychologist in me can't help mentioning that it could be mostly a perceived difference because you like the Swiss pan a lot better.

I think if the provenance thing gets out of hand, it becomes a precious affectation. It's one thing to say "Sconzo Farms Cote de Boeuf with red wine reduction and roasted Wemedge Crest parsnips." It's another thing to say, as some places do, "Sconzo Farms Maremmana Côte de Boeuf, reduction of Kinsey Cellars biodynamic Claret 2007 mounted with Fat Guy Dairy grass-fed pig butter, roasted Wemedge Crest parsnips, Raji Meadows heirloom Amish 'speckled' onions, organic Sneakeater Mews parsley."

One of the reasons this is true is because they are not particularly related. The American lobster (Homarus americanus) comes from the Nephropidae Family whereas spiny lobsters (e.g., Panulirus interruptus - the California spiny lobster, and Panulirus cygnus - the Austrailian spiny lobster) come from the Palinuridae Family and slipper lobsters (e.g., Thenus orientalis - the "Moreton Bay bug," and Ibacus peronii - the "Balmain bug") come from the Scyllaridae Family. The American lobster is no more closely related to slipper lobsters and spiny lobsters than it is to hermit crabs. There are some closely-related lobsters out there. Homarus gammarus, the European lobster, has big claws and lives on the other side of the Atlantic. It is not fished particularly extensively. Perhaps because any waters over there cold enough to result in quality Homarus lobsters would be too deep?

I think that surface texture probably does make some difference. If you look at he surface of a pan under a microscope and at high enough magnification, you will see that it appears pitted. These are often called the "pores" of the metal. When you put food into the pan, some of the food goes down into these pores and solidifies, thereby mechanically binding the food to the surface of the pan. This is "sticking." Different material differ to the extent to which they have these pores. One way of mitigating this problem is with a durable polymerized fat and carbon seasoning layer. This is what we do with cast iron. Another way is to use fat, which fills the pores and creates a transfer medium between the food and the cooking surface. Another way to handle this is to make sure that the pan is very hot and doesn't get overcrowded and cooled down. The high temperaature makes sure that the food surfaces solidify quickly, before they can bond with the surface of the pan. The Leidenfrost effect may have some effect here as well. Agitating the pan can also help to ensure that food surfaces solidify before bonding with the cooking surface. Whether surface polish makes a difference if the surface material is the same? I suppose it could make some difference if there were a huge difference in the surface treatment. But more likely than not there are going to be other, much more significant differences. And I suspect that these differences will be minimal compared to the differences between the inherrent porosity of different materials. Edward, in the case of your two sauteuses, are they otherwise identical except for the surface polish? Or does the more expensive one have a *(better) thermal layer, etc? In my own experience, I have several brands of stainless-lined heavy copper, some with a highly polished inner surface and some with a "brushed" inner surface. There is no difference in their "stickyness."

Heh. I was waiting for the first post to suggest replacing one incorrect description with an equally incorrect one. I'd call that "frying" rather than "pan roasting." "Roasting" is cooking (unenclosed and dry) using directional radient heat. Whatever "pan roasting" is, it would have to be starting something in a pan and then keeping the food in that same pan while roasting it. This would usually be an oven, although there is some question in my mind as to whether something cooked in an enclosed oven can be considered "roasted" rather than "baked."

I've always known Tuna fish to be tuna from a can and Tuna to be the fresh fish. I have no idea why I think that. For some reason it has become customary to append "fish" at the end of certain preparations of various fish. It's not just tuna fish. For example, where I grew up in New England, one eats codfish cakes, not cod cakes.