tanabutler

Come on down! It's the new "Price Is Right"! (Only in this case, with a malfunctioning "free" refrigerator, the phrase, "Whadda ya want for nothin'? Your money back?" doesn't apply. I want our frozen steaks back.) Off topic but nonetheless important: Everyone here does know that you mustn't transport a refrigerator on its side or back, right? Our friends delivered a refrigerator to us, gratis, but it was on its back in the truck. Bad idea. It works like a swamp cooler now. Remedy, which might or might not work: unplug it for 24 hours to see if the liquids don't co-mingle. Meanwhile, I've moved the entire contents twice, and had to clean them both.

Hands down favorite: summer. While soup is one of my favorite things to make (hooray for autumn and winter), there is nothing that beats grilling in the summertime. It's also more communal cooking for me. Since I pretty much cook seven nights a week here, a barbeque is my chance to foist off work on someone else for a change. Grilled corn turned into soup with green chile/lime cream....caprese salad with fresh buffalo mozzarella and heirloom tomatoes from our garden...zucchini fritters with feta...baby carrots tossed with tarragon...potato salad.....mmmmmmmmm. Even just one perfect salad can make me feel holy sometimes, offsetting the guilt of bingeing on rich foods. (I'm not Catholic or Jewish...where did I get all this guilt?) The most refreshing cocktail is the mojito, but please don't do what they did last night at Gordon Biersch. They used Bacardi Limon as the rum, and it tasted like Lemon Pledge. UGH! Limes, folks. Real limes and lots of fresh mint, and lime soda water if you can. It's like jumping into a swimming pool when you're hot. Tonight's football spread is going to be vast, as our freezer died and we've got twenty steaks and a dozen hamburgers that have to get cooked. Where's the beef? HERE.

I think it matters where you are in the country. Here on California's elbow (the central coast, the Monterey Bay), fresh fish is abundant. We're having a glut of tuna, for example—a record year. It's probably different elsewhere, especially if you are landlocked. But here, the fish has that glistening, live look Russ mentioned in his article. I don't buy dull-looking fish. Costco's pretty good here. Your mileage may vary.

I had mac salad on the first visit, but on the last one I had green salad. I suppose it's possible it was from the salad, as well, but the pork seemed to be the culprit. I don't want to get too graphic, but in a similar vein, when tequila made me puke, we weren't on speaking terms for ten years. I just couldn't bear the thought of it. "Self-important tone" describing Longhi hits the nail on the head. His joint is plastered with newspaper articles and celebrity photos. And I got so excited this last visit to Maui to find spicy cuttlefish for Bob, too. Mmmm! I need to get myself to a Ranch 99 Market in the very near future.

You funny, Mayhaw Man.

I love pulled pork from a little strip mall in Kihei, though I fear I will never be able to eat it again. I was in Maui at the end of February, and on my last day, stopped there again for the mac salad and pulled pork. Alas, in the middle of the night I realized I had gotten food poisoning—either on the pot or on the way to it for hours. Luckily I had most of the day to recover before our overnight flight back to California. I love the pork but man, oh, man. As for Maui in general, I am fondest of Hana—as far from those condos and Blockbusters and crowds as possible—and Hasegawa's general store where you can buy dried cuttlefish. My husband is a complete nut for that stuff. It's where we discovered the Island Organics "Lemongrass Ginger" marinade, which is my favorite condiment on earth. My husband and I were in Lahaina in March of 2000, and I'd done my homework before the trip. We went to Longhi's for brunch after hearing all the praise. Well, guess what? The owner of Longhi's ruined our meal. I, of course, knew it was Robert Longhi at the table next to us, surrounded by sycophants and sheep, yessing him up one side and down another. He sat there, bragging and profane and completely obnoxious— "F--- them!" and "S--- on them!" over and over and over. In front of children and babies, at top volume. He was holding court, and felt that profanity was clearly the missing spice from everyone's meals. At one point, Bob turned around and said, "Sir. You are profane and you are obnoxious. Would you please keep it down?" and turned back to his meal. Of course, little goodie goodie me, I wanted to fall through the floor even though I was a customer of that braying jackass. Longhi turned to his table and said in a stagey voice, "Oh. I see. I should talk to the owner about that!" and they all laughed in that nervous and polite way that suck-ups do. They were probably hoping he wouldn't start swearing again. He laughed at his own anemic joke, and we finished our meal and left. (He was noticeably quieter after Bob took the wind out of his sails, thank God.) What he should have done was apologized and made amends—bought us a drink or dessert or anything that indicated he knew he'd made a mistake. But no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o. Not Robert Longhi. Clearly he's got an ego the size of the pre-combusted Hindenberg. Later that day, we were at the grocery store and I got out of the car only to come face to face with you-know-who. GASP! I threw myself back in the car—he recognized me and suddenly got very busy with something in his back seat. Bob was howling with laughter at my nervousness. Finally Robert "Longh-ego" drove off and I could get out of the car. We told our hosts at the inn where we were staying, and she got the biggest kick out of that. "Nobody likes that guy! He's just awful!" She loved the public upbraiding from Bob, and I bet she told everyone she knows. So. I don't eat at Longhi's. And I miss pulled pork and sweet cuttlefish.

Rachel, I'm in Santa Cruz, California, and will only be coming to upstate New York for the weekend of October 11-12 and perhaps another day or two on either end of that window. But thanks for the nice invitation.

The most important thing I've learned about painting is how important it is to tape off and prep the area. I'd pay someone to strip them–I'm fairly confident of my own painting skills. But stripping is something I'm not interested in at all, unless it's say, Brendan Fraser doing the stripping.

That's what pet anteaters are for.

I didn't see it mentioned specifically but potatoes should always go into the cold water and then be brought to a boil, otherwise they cook unevenly (the outsides cook first, rupturing their skins). I recently started turning them down to medium heat after bringing to a boil, and cooking around 7-8 minutes. This has been very successful in preventing overcooking and split skins and watery potatoes. My potato salad evolved from one of those "there's nothing in the refrigerator" days. It turned out to be a family favorite, and an often-requested recipe when we're invited to a potluck. Into a bowlful of chopped, cooked, and cooled (not necessarily chilled, but at least room-temperature) potatoes, I toss: mayonnaise (do not even utter the words "Miracle Whip"—it's an abomination of ghastly sweetness) fresh, shelled English peas diced red bell pepper Cardini's lime-dill salad dressing minced fresh tarragon salt and ground black pepper It's unconventional but it's delicious. Promise. And it's pretty with the red peppers and green peas and tarragon. I just bought some peas at the farmer's market and they're headed for potato salad. (Frozen, thawed peas will do in a pinch. Not as good, but they'll do.)

Amen, sister. Tell it!

Tommy. My husband is a general contractor and I read him your question. Bob says this: There are a number of alternatives. They are probably finished with a lacquer of some kind. To get new paint to hold, they need to be stripped or sanded. Typically, if you have a painter do them [which Bob recommends here], they can spray them with oil-based enamel or lacquer. Those are damage-resistant finishes that are tough. Then (he dictates from the bedroom) the other alternative is to do-it-yourself with a brush. They will need extensive prep work so they look good. Do not use latex paint on cabinets—it peels and doesn't hold up well.

You're cracking me up, Fifi. I'll trade you some Meyer lemons for some of those oranges. Our tree's loaded and they're slowly getting ripe. I've never seen so many lemons on this tree since we moved in seven years ago.

Flossing and brushing, honey. Flossing and brushing.

The line cooks at TGIF taught me how to do the flippy thing, and y'all have said it all. Nonchalance makes it look better. Whee!

Suvir, how long/what temperature do you toast the almonds? Just once before summer is over, I want to make the mixed berry cobbler that we had at the farm dinner. The addition of framboise is something I'd never have thought of, but I'll try it. The weather just shifted here. We had the hottest summer I remember here in Santa Cruz—I've lived here fifteen years. Then this week, a freak thunder/lightning storm came (it hardly ever lightnings on the coast of California)...now the morning fog is back and I'm afraid the window of summer is closing. Time to get the berries that grew in the heat—they always taste better. Tomatoes, too. Which reminds me, I want to make the recipe for an heirloom tomato tart—it's got parmesan cheese in the crust. Mmmmmmmm.

Jonathan, I sent a link to this thread to the chef who does the farm dinners I'm involved with. The whole thread is fascinating, the pictures are wonderful, and it's exactly the kind of thing he likes to read about. How far are you from NYC? I am coming in October for a brief visit.

When I was a little girl, my grandfather put ketchup on his scrambled eggs and I wanted to vomit. It's still the worst. The worst use of mayonnaise: peanut butter, mayonnaise and banana sandwich. I think it's what killed Elvis.

A few years back when I first got the Food Channel, there were two shows on there. One, "Ready Set Cook" (I think that was it) was hosted by Sissy Biggers, whom I loooooooooooooathed. She was snarky to the contestants, and neither witty nor warm. I called her "Bitchy Scissors." I think I saw her pointy little head on another show on TV recently. Perhaps on the travel channel. There was also a show with a guy named Michael Italian-Last-Name, not Chiarello. I thought he was perfectly horrible, and I have no doubt blocked his name. I called him "Nonna," because he just acted like a little old lady. Ugh. Beyond those two, these are my dislikes: Martha (cold, cold, cold, and mean to her mama, besides). (Gossip: friends who've been there say you can't go to the bathroom at a Martha party without being photographed. Cameras. Every. Where.) Martin Yan: fake accent only adds to the already abundant dislike Bobby Flay: That jumping on the cutting board at Iron Chef? Someone should have administered a bare-bottom spanking to him on television. Yes, I have his cookbooks, but I have no respect for him any more. Too damned brash. LIKES: Alice Waters: meeting her was a sweet dream come true. She's absolutely lovely. Lynne Rosetto Kasper: I listen to her show on NPR. She's very inclusive, warm, knowledgeable and what a lovely speaking voice. Anthony Bourdain: the wit more than anything, but also the depth, breadth and passion. Derring-do. Irreverence. Lively writing. Sexiness is a bonus that, obviously, no one here cares about. John Thorne: I had him on my list as I scrolled down. His writing is so earthy and calm. He's so present. Julia: Can't wait to read her memoirs. Her TV show was weird to me when I was a little girl, but when I grew up, I appreciated her salt and vinegar. Emeril: I love the enthusiasm and can ignore the sheeplike audience stuff. He just seems like he's all heart. Michael Symon, Michael Ruhlman, Thomas Keller: all because of The Soul of a Chef. I have not seen Rachael Ray yet, nor have I had the balls to watch Rocco's show. I waited tables for nine years, and I'm still having nightmares where my station's so big I have to ride a bike from table to table, or that the whole restaurant emptied at once (of customers and staff) and I had to bus/clean the whole thing. It's been fifteen years and I don't want to add new fuel to the fire. I used to dislike Wolfgang Puck, but an article I read in "Wine Spectator" changed my heart somewhat. It was something he said about his sons. It touched me. And you know who is very very very scary? The owner of Kitchen Stadium. He's like the cryogenic lovechild of Donald Trump, Liberace, and Michael Jackson.

While living for one week on a boat with many other people, I wanted to share one of my favorite condiments—Annie's Sesame Shiitake salad dressing. Everyone was so excited when I brought it to the table. I shook the still-sealed bottle only to learn that even a still-sealed bottle (with the black plastic wrapping on the top) can lose its lid and the wrapper in mid-shake, thereby coating the shaker and the person nearest her in, um, a really aromatic and intensely oily substance. He was such a good sport. I'm not much of a spiller, but when I do, the twins take the brunt.

There are at least two other threads about CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) including "Organic Produce Delivered" started by JFLinLA and Local Harvest (cool website) started by Jason Perlow. The latter contains two excellent links to two indispensable resources for CSAs: LocalHarvest.org CSACenter.org Plug in zip codes and DING! Find a farm! I am very jealous of people who belong to a CSA, but it's nothing I can do. I have a fairly big garden and can't use all of what I grow as it is. It's the things I can't grow that make me jealous. On the other hand, we're have a banner year for tomatoes. I wish you would take a picture of your haul, jwagnerdsm. To complete my envy, of course.

David, I'm really enjoying your sense of humor. I just wanted to say so.

Um, I don't know what that is. But see what I mean? hehhehhehhehhehhehhehheh

David, I think your statement that you've been in the arts all your life is telling. It's what informs you as a person, and it's what gave you your basis for having a good site. It's a chicken-and-egg thing: were you drawn to the arts because of your good eye, or did your involvement with the arts give you your sensitivities. Well, that made me laugh! It was actually meant for a food writer I'm going to be meeting soon, I think—I am bringing the cookbook to get it autographed, and I didn't want him thinking I'm a suck-up. Even if I am a suck-up, it's not to get a writing gig. David, I have a question for you. You wrote this: Do you ever get daunted by people who've spent their lives passionately pursuing good food and wine, who know all the names and vintages and importance and context and every little thing on earth? I do. The collective knowledge here at eGullet alone makes me feel very young (not young and lovely, just green) and shallow and ignorant. I have some food writers encouraging me privately, but I get very nervous about the depth of my shallowness. I don't have any formal education, and I don't know how far enthusiasm and passion can carry me. So how do you handle the idea that you might be thrown into circumstances in which your own ignorance might be revealed? Or is that what good editors are for?

Cold, juicy, perfect peaches.