tanabutler
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Posts posted by tanabutler
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I gotta say, I haven't watched the show because I am still having waitressing nightmares from twenty years ago—five fun-filled years at TGI Friday's did me in for life, I think. I'm afraid to watch...but I guess I should see just one show, huh?
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Potato bread sandwich with roasted turkey breast, cheddar and Romaine with mayonnaise. I'm with John Thorne—I love a savory breakfast.
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Ack, Raynickben, you just opened a memory that was better repressed.
This won't top Katherine's little shop of horrors, but it is the worst meal of my life, and my mother gave birth to it one day after she dreamed it the night before.
Into a pan with pork chops, she added apples, sauerkraut, carrots and, I think, brown sugar or something. The sauerkraut alone was bad enough to warrant a phone call to CPS, but the entire meal was an abomination of such disastrous proportions that all four of us girls sat at the table, mournfully poking the ghastly mess with our forks. Plaintive voices: "Are you sure we have to eat this?" "But Moh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-hm. It's gross."
She got madder and madder, and the littlest sister fell into tears because she knew there was strawberry shortcake for dessert, and no chance of getting any unless she ingested the putrid concoction.
I stand on record as being the only child to choke it down—my sisters were not brave or willing, and I think they felt I betrayed them in breaking ranks and finishing my dinner. I was only motivated by the shortcake.
Of course, now it's a family joke, at least to the four daughters that lived through that meal. My mother still insists we were just too coarse to appreciate the subtleties of her cooking, but we insist it was a load of barf.
God, I might need therapy.
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(I edited out this first paragraph. I might cross paths one day and that would be awkward.)
One little thing I noted: in the books she recommends, she says of Lilek's Gallery of Regrettable Food (actually the book, made from the website): "This book is so fabulously snarky it would be easy to write it off as a one-gag wonder: retro recipes can be pretty scary."
I believe, if you look up "snarky" in the dictionary, you will find a photograph of Ms. Schrambling herself. I think Lilek's refusal to be mean-spirited precludes the use of that word. Hilarious, he is. But it isn't as if he's actually pointing out the deficiencies of living people in his encapsulation of Things That Went Very Very Wrong at Mealtime. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so.
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When we chose our contractor, we certainly did not pick him out of the Yellow Pages. In fact, he does absolutely no advertising at all. He has been in business for many years, and he gets all his jobs through word of mouth, that is, satisfied customers -- of which there are many. The person who gave me his name is someone whose opinion I could trust totally. She and her husband are extremely fussy, and all the work that was done for them was done to a "T". Also, we did make financial comparisons with other contractors, and ours was far from the least expensive. But he was not out of sight either. You never want to do these kinds of renovations on the cheap. By making comparisons, we were able to get a good idea of what was realistic. And his estimate was.
A good, trustworthy, responsible builder is worth his weight in emeralds. I know, I'm married to one. I've heard so many horror stories of job's he's had to clean up after, and I cannot believe how some people do business. Bob is so meticulous in his work (I wish he were that meticulous at home!) that he's taught me things about being a professional.
He says over and over, "They pay me the money to do the worrying for them." Anticipating how sub-contractors will perform, making his crews understand the importance of pristine work habits (draping furniture, cleaning up everything at the end of a day's work), and so on, is just part of the responsibility. Unfortunately so many builders are slapdash.
Rozrapp, yours is a great post with so many important little details.
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My husband is a building contractor, and he has said many times that a bad kitchen remodel can break up a marriage.
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I hadn't heard of Fifth Floor until I got to eGullet, among my community of friends in the Bay area or in SF itself. It sounds amazing, from what I've read here.
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I told them they should have little peach bibs at the farm dinner, like lobster bibs.
Careful you don't short out your keyboard, Hest88. (Where in the Bay area are you?)
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Justine Miner (RNM) was the guest chef for one of the farm dinners I'm involved with...I've been to over a dozen and I can tell you truly that not only was her food flawless, gorgeous and fantastic, but that she herself is one of the most modest people I've ever met. My husband, who meets all the chefs, thought she was just a helper. She seemingly has no ego.
When I was researching her work, I found that no less a personage than Patricia Unterman wrote, "Right now I would drive across town just to sit in front of Miner's calm kitchen and work my way through the menu." That is some high praise.
She also included RNM in the San Francisco Chronicle's Simply the Best column (scroll down to Miner's Daughter).
I'm very much looking forward to eating at RNM.
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Russ Parsons, I hold you personally responsible for the ten pounds of Zee Lady peaches (well, slightly less than that now) that are sitting on my dining room table, all comfy and cozy in their little box.
Did I say little? Ten pounds of peaches is a LOT of peaches. It's a big bloody box of peaches.
You can come here right now and get busy with the knife. I can wipe my own chin, though.
(Farmer Al was absolutely delighted when I told him about your peach story—what a nice smile he's got.]
Who wants in?
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She actually got out a meat grinder and ground together sweet pickles and oscar mayer bologna. It was then placed on cheep hamburger buns, topped off with cheese whiz, and heated under the broiler. I can't begin to describe the taste.
"It tastes like feet!" -- Ross Geller, describing Rachel's dessert (half a recipe for English trifle, coupled with half a recipe for shepherd's pie with beef, mashed potatoes and peas)
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Tomato sauce topped with (in this order):
mozzarella
lightly sautéed yellow bells/garlic
bacon
Or leave off the bacon and do peppers/garlic with mozzarella and the fresh basil. I wouldn't put them together: the smoke could clash with the basil.
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A lovely post, Gruyere, and I can't wait to hear about the Italian places.
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Peach gelato, coming up! (Thanks, Russ, for the great piece and the recipes. I'm about to go spend my allowance on peaches at the farmer's market.)
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they had purchased a fleet of all-white Lincoln Continentals...each of
which had a giant six-foot tall plastic chicken affixed to the roof. very subtle.
They'll have to go a long way to beat the Big Chicken.
Chick-Fil-A rocks. The pickles, next to the crusty skin, mmmmmmm.
I hate Taco Bell more than any fast food joint out there. The difference between "what you see" (on the marquees overhead) and "what you get" is astonishing.
And I'm jealous of all your BBQ experiences, Fat Guy.
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I am kind of selfish about leftovers. Since I cook seven nights a week, if I am going to the trouble of making something good, I want it for lunch the next day.
Hands off my salmon tortellini!
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I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a recipe today, Maggiecat.
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Y'all are making me drool.
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A photo sure would be helpful, in that article. I have the hardest time visualizing things in 3-D from written descriptions.
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I have some eerie kind of beginner's luck on new recipes—or maybe I'm just good at choosing things within my limitations. At any rate, I've only rolled one gutterball in the last fifteen years, I think. So no, I don't test recipes beforehand. If something started to go wrong with one, I'd just change courses and simplify.
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You are mighty right, FoodZealot.
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I had housemates several times, and the two most recent experiences were great.
The first, Matt, taught me how to cook with garlic. Previously I'd only lived with hippies who know how to use two things, and two things only: too much garlic and too much cumin. Matt was, and is, a great cook. We became cooking buddies, and that carries forward to this day. He also taught me the importance of good music while I cook. Cowboy Junkies, Lyle Lovett, Mary Black—something I can sing to is very important.
The second domestic situation involved me in a household of four grown women, two little girls, and two female doggesses. Our strategy was that each of us would cook once a week for the household, buying all the ingredients and making something nice. A salad had to be included if it was seasonal. Two were vegetarians, but we never suffered for a lack of good food. If you cooked, you also cleaned, so that we all got three entire nights off.
That worked pretty well, except I was the most enthusiastic cook of us all, and my messes were bigger. I thought it a little unfair in that regard, but oh well.
Labelled shelves in pantries and refrigerators are a "good fences make good neighbors" tactic that I came to believe is necessary.
And as far as living with someone who drinks your good Zin and won't reciprocate?
Never. I would say something about it, and make it clear that a pattern has been detected.
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I think I could eat beets every day and never get sick of them. Roasted beets, drizzled with aged balsamic vinegar and EEVO, a little goat cheese, atop their lightly sautéed greens...heaven!
Pinenuts and beets. I'll stand at the counter and eat them cold from the fridge, if there are ever any leftovers.
I don't use any herbs with them, ever. Their simplicity is their perfection.
Mmmmm. Beeeeeeeets.
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Great piece, Craig.
Okay, I have a question.
VGS on a label?
Does it really mean "Very Good Shit"? Every single person I've asked (elsefora) has answered that way.
Please enlighten me, o fonts of oenophilic knowledge.
Frog Hollow Peaches
in California: Dining
Posted
Hi, BadThings (it feels funny to type that to someone being friendly to me) --
I know the dinners aren't cheap. I took a good friend to the last one—the whole time she was saying how much it cost. "How can they charge so much?!" By the time she sat down to the first course, and saw the set-up, the large staff, the linens and china and everything, she said to my husband, "I don't know how they do it for so little!"
No one is getting rich. For me, it's a labor of love. And it really is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
And on the subject of Frog Hollow peaches, those I brought home are in varying states of being ripe. I slurped up a couple of the ones that were perfect—I love Russ's "melting ice cream" phrase, because crisp peaches, mealy peaches, and cottony peaches are not what I want to eat. Others are firmer, some nearly hard, but I am thinking to make cobbler with those too firm to eat right now. And maybe tonight would be a good night for the grilled peaches I've been reading about elsethread.
I bought both marscapone and crème fraîche to attempt the peach gelato, so I could compare. It's hot as blazes here in Santa Cruz, even for summer. It might be too hot to cook.