12.31.2003
Quote of the Day
"Every time there is a food disaster -- genetically engineered corn or E-coli -- we see a spike, we see a bump in sales," says David Cole, chairman of Sunnyside Farms. "It's been said that war is the way that Americans learn about geography. Well, in the same way, food disasters are how we find out about where our food comes from."
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A41247-2003Dec30.html
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"Every time there is a food disaster -- genetically engineered corn or E-coli -- we see a spike, we see a bump in sales," says David Cole, chairman of Sunnyside Farms. "It's been said that war is the way that Americans learn about geography. Well, in the same way, food disasters are how we find out about where our food comes from."
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A41247-2003Dec30.html
12.30.2003
Rebuttal
As the moderator of this blog, it has come to my attention that certain members of the Wild Thyme community are not sticking to the subject matter that we've all come together to discuss and promote. I have assessed the problem and can assure you that you may leave your concerns behind. I promise to get to the bottom of this.
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As the moderator of this blog, it has come to my attention that certain members of the Wild Thyme community are not sticking to the subject matter that we've all come together to discuss and promote. I have assessed the problem and can assure you that you may leave your concerns behind. I promise to get to the bottom of this.
Happy Hour Oysters
To ward off the post-holiday blues, I propose a Monday get-together for Jan. 5. Check out this Chowhound posting.
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To ward off the post-holiday blues, I propose a Monday get-together for Jan. 5. Check out this Chowhound posting.
Blessed is the Peacemaker!
Funny how the Beastie Boys are a recurring theme on this blog.
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Funny how the Beastie Boys are a recurring theme on this blog.
More Crock, More Pot
Ladies and gentlemen, watch out. For the holiday season I have received a 6-quart crock pot, an upgrade of 2.5 quarts over my previous model. A six-quart crock pot (or I should say, Crock Pot®, which is the brand made by Rival; the appliance is called a slow cooker): Wow! you could practically fit a human head in it.
First test of the Crock Pot® is, like, what a surprise, a chicken stock. This time, I've been saving up the scrapings and cuttings of a couple weeks of cooking. Parsnip tops; Italian parsley stems; green bean tips; onion peels and skins, plus an entire onion, quartered, for good measure; one well-picked-over organic chicken carcass.
Tomorrow, after all is well strained, in goes the 17 variety-pak (remember the mini-Kellogg cereal Variety-Paks? No?) of beans that are now soaking for the night. In go fresh carrots and celery. In goes sausage, the crumbly spicy Italian variety if I can find it within walking distance of the Bistro Hugo. In go some pesto tortellini.
As our esteemed (eh-steamed) President likes to say, "Bring it on."
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Ladies and gentlemen, watch out. For the holiday season I have received a 6-quart crock pot, an upgrade of 2.5 quarts over my previous model. A six-quart crock pot (or I should say, Crock Pot®, which is the brand made by Rival; the appliance is called a slow cooker): Wow! you could practically fit a human head in it.
First test of the Crock Pot® is, like, what a surprise, a chicken stock. This time, I've been saving up the scrapings and cuttings of a couple weeks of cooking. Parsnip tops; Italian parsley stems; green bean tips; onion peels and skins, plus an entire onion, quartered, for good measure; one well-picked-over organic chicken carcass.
Tomorrow, after all is well strained, in goes the 17 variety-pak (remember the mini-Kellogg cereal Variety-Paks? No?) of beans that are now soaking for the night. In go fresh carrots and celery. In goes sausage, the crumbly spicy Italian variety if I can find it within walking distance of the Bistro Hugo. In go some pesto tortellini.
As our esteemed (eh-steamed) President likes to say, "Bring it on."
12.26.2003
Caffe Museo and Arbus
The only thing I recommend more than the Diane Arbus show at the SF MOMA is the ham and cheese sandwich at the MOMA café. Like my other favorite museum cafe, the one at the top of the Musée D'Orsay with the view through the translucent clock face, Caffe Museo is reasonable -- $10 entrees, $7-8 sandwich, $5 soups -- brisk, and scrumptious.
Perhaps it's what I call the Ski Lunch Effect. Even the humblest boloney -- that's right, not bologna -- with mayo on white bread tastes incredible after a morning of skiing. Two hours on one's feet at a museum, especially when the subject matter is as pervasively intense as Arbus's photography, has the same effect on me. I was ravenous. The pink, succulent Niman Ranch ham and melted cheese on a crunchy foccacia hit the spot. Also excellent was the celery root soup, served with a subtle garlic-cheese baguette stick. The Fanch had the mixed green salad, which was crisp, fresh and well dressed with what seemed to be a raspberry or perhaps champagne vinaigrette with chopped shallots. Yum.
Did I mention the Arbus exhibit? If this weren't a food blog, I'd go on for a few more paragraphs. But you'll have to wait til you see me in person.
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The only thing I recommend more than the Diane Arbus show at the SF MOMA is the ham and cheese sandwich at the MOMA café. Like my other favorite museum cafe, the one at the top of the Musée D'Orsay with the view through the translucent clock face, Caffe Museo is reasonable -- $10 entrees, $7-8 sandwich, $5 soups -- brisk, and scrumptious.
Perhaps it's what I call the Ski Lunch Effect. Even the humblest boloney -- that's right, not bologna -- with mayo on white bread tastes incredible after a morning of skiing. Two hours on one's feet at a museum, especially when the subject matter is as pervasively intense as Arbus's photography, has the same effect on me. I was ravenous. The pink, succulent Niman Ranch ham and melted cheese on a crunchy foccacia hit the spot. Also excellent was the celery root soup, served with a subtle garlic-cheese baguette stick. The Fanch had the mixed green salad, which was crisp, fresh and well dressed with what seemed to be a raspberry or perhaps champagne vinaigrette with chopped shallots. Yum.
Did I mention the Arbus exhibit? If this weren't a food blog, I'd go on for a few more paragraphs. But you'll have to wait til you see me in person.
12.23.2003
Alex: From the New Yorker
an excerpt from Tables for Two, Dec. 1, 2003
Nice Matin
201 W. 79th St. (212 873-6423)
...Nice Matin differs from Aix and Ouest, its principal rivals on the Upper West Side, in that it serves breakfast, lunch and dinner largely without sticker shock and aims fora steady local crowd. The strategy is well served by the easygoing wait staff; the sommelier, Guy Goldstein, sent over a flight of dessert wines, and the Scottish waitress, Fiona Pryde, explained that the chocolate-banana tart was so good because the dessert chef was "a chocolate anorak" -- a native phrase meaning choco-geek.
******
Nick Morgenstern, high-school buddy of Aaron and all-around good guy, is the chocolate anorak in question.
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an excerpt from Tables for Two, Dec. 1, 2003
Nice Matin
201 W. 79th St. (212 873-6423)
...Nice Matin differs from Aix and Ouest, its principal rivals on the Upper West Side, in that it serves breakfast, lunch and dinner largely without sticker shock and aims fora steady local crowd. The strategy is well served by the easygoing wait staff; the sommelier, Guy Goldstein, sent over a flight of dessert wines, and the Scottish waitress, Fiona Pryde, explained that the chocolate-banana tart was so good because the dessert chef was "a chocolate anorak" -- a native phrase meaning choco-geek.
******
Nick Morgenstern, high-school buddy of Aaron and all-around good guy, is the chocolate anorak in question.
12.21.2003
Lash 'n' Fanch: Inna Pizza My Sunset
File under: I told you so. We have just completed the Inner Sunset unholy pizza trinity, and the results are not pretty. Anyone probably could have guessed, clucked a tongue and scolded, "Why even bother?"
Pasquale's, Milano's and Villa Romana, our three main neighborhood pizzerias, are not worth the walk down to Irving, and certainly not worth the chewing once you get there.
A quick rewind: We tried Pasquale's soon after we moved into Bistro Hugo, one late-summer evening after a long day painting the living room. We ordered for delivery, and it was baaaaaad. Thick, doughy, lukewarm, sodden with vegetal liquid. We also ate on the Pasquale's premises a few months later, a humble pie with anchovies and olives. Edible, but it sealed our determination to find better.
Soon afterward, we tried Milano's just up 9th toward Judah, and it took us back to the days of, well, Pasquale's. Thick, doughy, spongy, tasteless. And everyone else eating there seemed oblivious to how bad it was. It was the kind of place where exhausted parents take their kids and stare into space past each other while the kids stuff their faces because it's pizza. Think Nighthawks at the Diner, throw in a few kids, line with fake wood paneling and photos of local bygone celebrities.
Tonight was the final straw: Craving pizza -- fools! fools! -- we went to Villa Romana, even though in our hearts we knew it would only turn out badly. Worse, I had promised many years ago never to eat there, when Marcela worked there for "The Tonies" (Big Tony and Little Tony) and would come home savaging their callousness, their cheapness, etc. No word if the management has changed. Certainly the quality of food has not.
It got off to a bad start when our waiter approached to take our order. We asked a question: Was the prosciutto listed under "extra toppings" actually real, Italian prosciutto? The good stuff? "Yes, if you want it to be." Um, OK. Always the cheapero, the Fanch asked how much it cost, suspicious because the "extra topping" list didn't list prices. Indeed, our combined investigative reporting skills uncovered that it was twice the price of the other toppings.
If they had listed it outright, we probably would have gone for it. But on principle, we opted for the linguisa. Oh, no, said the waiter. "We have discontinued the use of the linguisa." He actually said that, as if we had asked for a chemical solvent recently outlawed by the EPA.
We were back on our heels, grasping for options. The waiter sensed our weakness, offered to come back later, and before we could say, "No, no, please, just a large with mushrooms and sausage," he wheeled away. At least we got in a salad order. $6.95 for a simple dinner salad with the requisite kidney beans and garbanzos. It *did* have frisee, no doubt a grudging concession by the chefs.
We tried to stay open minded, but our pizza arrived and the inevitable rivulets of mushroom juice ran riot over the slices and onto the pan. Sigh. Soggy again. Any gnarly gourmet will tell you that mushrooms should be sauteed to release most of the juice before adding to a pizza, dude. Why is this so hard?
This leaves us with the Front Room, a San Francisco institution with a few other locations scattered about. I might have eaten there once after baseball practice in middle school. I have no desire to rekindle any nostalgia.
Of course there is Arizmendi, which sells half-baked pizzas for $10 or $13, I can't remember which, that are absolutely scrumptious. But not to have a good old solid pizzeria with pizza you can feel good about before, during, and after, and where you can sit with a Diet Coke and a big shaker of hot chili flakes, well, it hurts a little bit.
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File under: I told you so. We have just completed the Inner Sunset unholy pizza trinity, and the results are not pretty. Anyone probably could have guessed, clucked a tongue and scolded, "Why even bother?"
Pasquale's, Milano's and Villa Romana, our three main neighborhood pizzerias, are not worth the walk down to Irving, and certainly not worth the chewing once you get there.
A quick rewind: We tried Pasquale's soon after we moved into Bistro Hugo, one late-summer evening after a long day painting the living room. We ordered for delivery, and it was baaaaaad. Thick, doughy, lukewarm, sodden with vegetal liquid. We also ate on the Pasquale's premises a few months later, a humble pie with anchovies and olives. Edible, but it sealed our determination to find better.
Soon afterward, we tried Milano's just up 9th toward Judah, and it took us back to the days of, well, Pasquale's. Thick, doughy, spongy, tasteless. And everyone else eating there seemed oblivious to how bad it was. It was the kind of place where exhausted parents take their kids and stare into space past each other while the kids stuff their faces because it's pizza. Think Nighthawks at the Diner, throw in a few kids, line with fake wood paneling and photos of local bygone celebrities.
Tonight was the final straw: Craving pizza -- fools! fools! -- we went to Villa Romana, even though in our hearts we knew it would only turn out badly. Worse, I had promised many years ago never to eat there, when Marcela worked there for "The Tonies" (Big Tony and Little Tony) and would come home savaging their callousness, their cheapness, etc. No word if the management has changed. Certainly the quality of food has not.
It got off to a bad start when our waiter approached to take our order. We asked a question: Was the prosciutto listed under "extra toppings" actually real, Italian prosciutto? The good stuff? "Yes, if you want it to be." Um, OK. Always the cheapero, the Fanch asked how much it cost, suspicious because the "extra topping" list didn't list prices. Indeed, our combined investigative reporting skills uncovered that it was twice the price of the other toppings.
If they had listed it outright, we probably would have gone for it. But on principle, we opted for the linguisa. Oh, no, said the waiter. "We have discontinued the use of the linguisa." He actually said that, as if we had asked for a chemical solvent recently outlawed by the EPA.
We were back on our heels, grasping for options. The waiter sensed our weakness, offered to come back later, and before we could say, "No, no, please, just a large with mushrooms and sausage," he wheeled away. At least we got in a salad order. $6.95 for a simple dinner salad with the requisite kidney beans and garbanzos. It *did* have frisee, no doubt a grudging concession by the chefs.
We tried to stay open minded, but our pizza arrived and the inevitable rivulets of mushroom juice ran riot over the slices and onto the pan. Sigh. Soggy again. Any gnarly gourmet will tell you that mushrooms should be sauteed to release most of the juice before adding to a pizza, dude. Why is this so hard?
This leaves us with the Front Room, a San Francisco institution with a few other locations scattered about. I might have eaten there once after baseball practice in middle school. I have no desire to rekindle any nostalgia.
Of course there is Arizmendi, which sells half-baked pizzas for $10 or $13, I can't remember which, that are absolutely scrumptious. But not to have a good old solid pizzeria with pizza you can feel good about before, during, and after, and where you can sit with a Diet Coke and a big shaker of hot chili flakes, well, it hurts a little bit.
12.19.2003
BACK IN ACTION!
Good to see you guys kicking it into gear again. I'm going to order a pizza tonight. Mmm. Pizza.
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Good to see you guys kicking it into gear again. I'm going to order a pizza tonight. Mmm. Pizza.
12.11.2003
Links
Strong work as usual, SR. You leave me in stitches and nearly speechless, except to say that I keep hearing in my head the Beastie Boys line, "Like Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat."
Also: if any of you have suggestions for sites we should link to on the right -- food sites and nonfood sites alike -- please let me know. other blogs/sites affiliated with Wild Thyme members get top consideration.
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Strong work as usual, SR. You leave me in stitches and nearly speechless, except to say that I keep hearing in my head the Beastie Boys line, "Like Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat."
Also: if any of you have suggestions for sites we should link to on the right -- food sites and nonfood sites alike -- please let me know. other blogs/sites affiliated with Wild Thyme members get top consideration.
12.10.2003
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Alex: Best Burger
I highly recommend Slider's, at least the fairly new one on 9th Ave. next to Le Video. (I've never been to the Castro outlet, which always seemed more than slightly mangy.)
The patties are thick, juicy, flame-grilled, and a copious array of fixin's are at one's disposal. Sprouts, onions, jalapenos, shrooms, even salady items like cukes and red beans. Trick: in your burger basket, but to the side of your burger, pile the iceberg lettuce with shrooms, sprouts etc, as if you'll put them on your burger when you sit down. eat your burger. Then when your basket's clear, rip up the iceberg, toss the other goodies, mix ketchup, salt, a little mayo and burger juice to make a salad dressing -- voila -- free side salad!
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I highly recommend Slider's, at least the fairly new one on 9th Ave. next to Le Video. (I've never been to the Castro outlet, which always seemed more than slightly mangy.)
The patties are thick, juicy, flame-grilled, and a copious array of fixin's are at one's disposal. Sprouts, onions, jalapenos, shrooms, even salady items like cukes and red beans. Trick: in your burger basket, but to the side of your burger, pile the iceberg lettuce with shrooms, sprouts etc, as if you'll put them on your burger when you sit down. eat your burger. Then when your basket's clear, rip up the iceberg, toss the other goodies, mix ketchup, salt, a little mayo and burger juice to make a salad dressing -- voila -- free side salad!
Barry: BrO's First Blog!
Shya: Excellent blast blog. You're never better than when you're indignant. Go girl!
Two items:
Has anyone else noticed the rise in our twon of burger-only joints, including Burger Joint, which is fairly characteristic? These venues seem to be modest local operations, with two or a few outlets around town.
Dan and I eat burgers maybe a couple times a month becaue they fall within the affordable range, though, of course, the whole point of burger boîtes is to fetch a $10 minimum from every patron.
So the ancient question: Where do you get the best burger in town? Dan and I both like the aforementioned Burger Joint. In ancient days, when it was young and I was younger, I liked Johnny Rocket, mainly for the conical paper water cups. but retro's passé. Now Tower Burgers at the top of Market has caught my tongue. You?
Item #2. New Restaurant Report
Dan's--my bf for noncognoscente--company's holiday dinner was last Monday at Town Hall, a just-opened restaurant on Howard between Fremont and Steuart. It's an ambitious bid for big-time biz, housed in most of a handsome pre-quake brick building, fully refurbished, in a part of town that will be unrecognizable in 10 years with the coming, probably to be welcomed, of residential towers à la Vancouver, and a new transporation hub, possibly including the northern terminus of California's proposed high-speed rail. The little pocket-park, as they're called in New York, adjacent to the restaurant is a fetching outdoor room, with granite boulders, one caboose-sized and awesome, projecting out of the textured granite surface, providing places to sit, smoke, schmooze, and worship nature in the middle of the city.
But back to the subject. Because the dinner was a banquet for 40, the menu was limited. The standout choice: a delicious pumpkin-apple-gingery soup, lots of loft, not too sweet. But then, I love spicy flavors mixed with fall fruit, not, probably, to everyone's taste. The salmon I chose was simply good, by which I mean unadorned and not overcooked. It wasn't a sauce-apalooza, mercifully (Not that I object to that rara avis, a good sauce, but come on, sauce on good fish misses the point. That's what I always like about fish at Zuni--it's usually swimming in a tasty, fishy broth, not to be confused with froth, that has a Venturi effect on flavor.)
The service was all around us all the time inspiring my nearest tablemates and me to nod approvingly given the size of party. The banquet room itself, which is upstairs, is very plain, with a big view of a Schwab window wall across the street. It was fun to sit at one very very long table like puff-shouldered, red-faced courtiers in a Holbein painting. I didn't have time to inspect the main restaurant but will be interested in any reports from those who go out for more than a $10 burger these days. Shya, I'm pretty sure this means you!
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Shya: Excellent blast blog. You're never better than when you're indignant. Go girl!
Two items:
Has anyone else noticed the rise in our twon of burger-only joints, including Burger Joint, which is fairly characteristic? These venues seem to be modest local operations, with two or a few outlets around town.
Dan and I eat burgers maybe a couple times a month becaue they fall within the affordable range, though, of course, the whole point of burger boîtes is to fetch a $10 minimum from every patron.
So the ancient question: Where do you get the best burger in town? Dan and I both like the aforementioned Burger Joint. In ancient days, when it was young and I was younger, I liked Johnny Rocket, mainly for the conical paper water cups. but retro's passé. Now Tower Burgers at the top of Market has caught my tongue. You?
Item #2. New Restaurant Report
Dan's--my bf for noncognoscente--company's holiday dinner was last Monday at Town Hall, a just-opened restaurant on Howard between Fremont and Steuart. It's an ambitious bid for big-time biz, housed in most of a handsome pre-quake brick building, fully refurbished, in a part of town that will be unrecognizable in 10 years with the coming, probably to be welcomed, of residential towers à la Vancouver, and a new transporation hub, possibly including the northern terminus of California's proposed high-speed rail. The little pocket-park, as they're called in New York, adjacent to the restaurant is a fetching outdoor room, with granite boulders, one caboose-sized and awesome, projecting out of the textured granite surface, providing places to sit, smoke, schmooze, and worship nature in the middle of the city.
But back to the subject. Because the dinner was a banquet for 40, the menu was limited. The standout choice: a delicious pumpkin-apple-gingery soup, lots of loft, not too sweet. But then, I love spicy flavors mixed with fall fruit, not, probably, to everyone's taste. The salmon I chose was simply good, by which I mean unadorned and not overcooked. It wasn't a sauce-apalooza, mercifully (Not that I object to that rara avis, a good sauce, but come on, sauce on good fish misses the point. That's what I always like about fish at Zuni--it's usually swimming in a tasty, fishy broth, not to be confused with froth, that has a Venturi effect on flavor.)
The service was all around us all the time inspiring my nearest tablemates and me to nod approvingly given the size of party. The banquet room itself, which is upstairs, is very plain, with a big view of a Schwab window wall across the street. It was fun to sit at one very very long table like puff-shouldered, red-faced courtiers in a Holbein painting. I didn't have time to inspect the main restaurant but will be interested in any reports from those who go out for more than a $10 burger these days. Shya, I'm pretty sure this means you!
12.09.2003
Alex: Sugo on Hugo
Saute 1 chopped onion in olive oil over low heat til translucent and slightly brown. Add a bunch of chopped mushrooms, preferably brown criminis. Avoid white cardboard mushrooms at all cost. Stir vigorously so shrooms and onions intermingle and shrooms heat evenly. Once they're hot with a little sizzle, shprinkle a bit of sherry or white wine, let reduce. Add salt, pepper, rosemary in subtle yet flavorful amounts. When shrooms are nice and soft and the onion flavors have mixed in well, spoon onto a dish and set aside.
In same skillet, add more oil and sliced garlic, about three decent sized cloves. Just as garlic starts to brown, add one package of ground pork. With a wooden spoon or spatula, vigilantly reduce the ground pork to small crumbles (in the package I bought, it was more like strands). When pork is just about cooked through, add mushrooms to skillet and stir. Let them simmer for a while. Meanwhile...
In a big pot, dump a can of whole peeled tomatoes. (Or pureed, but I didn't have.) Shmuschle them with a schmuschler. A potato masher, I think it's called. Get them nice and schmuschled, add a little more sherry or wine, a little salt, pepper, whatever herbs you got, anchovies, maybe a little lemon and a little fish sauce -- whatever tastes good! the trick is to reduce the acidity of the canned tomatoes without going overboard on the citrus or the salt -- and start to simmer. When the tomatoes are hot, dump the pork-shroom mix into the the sauce pot. Simmer, stir, relax, have a glass of wine. Reduce. Listen to Terry Gross interview someone left-wing.
Boil your pasta.
Keep stirring the sauce. Add more rosemary and herbs near the end.
Eat alone because your honey bunny is working late.
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Saute 1 chopped onion in olive oil over low heat til translucent and slightly brown. Add a bunch of chopped mushrooms, preferably brown criminis. Avoid white cardboard mushrooms at all cost. Stir vigorously so shrooms and onions intermingle and shrooms heat evenly. Once they're hot with a little sizzle, shprinkle a bit of sherry or white wine, let reduce. Add salt, pepper, rosemary in subtle yet flavorful amounts. When shrooms are nice and soft and the onion flavors have mixed in well, spoon onto a dish and set aside.
In same skillet, add more oil and sliced garlic, about three decent sized cloves. Just as garlic starts to brown, add one package of ground pork. With a wooden spoon or spatula, vigilantly reduce the ground pork to small crumbles (in the package I bought, it was more like strands). When pork is just about cooked through, add mushrooms to skillet and stir. Let them simmer for a while. Meanwhile...
In a big pot, dump a can of whole peeled tomatoes. (Or pureed, but I didn't have.) Shmuschle them with a schmuschler. A potato masher, I think it's called. Get them nice and schmuschled, add a little more sherry or wine, a little salt, pepper, whatever herbs you got, anchovies, maybe a little lemon and a little fish sauce -- whatever tastes good! the trick is to reduce the acidity of the canned tomatoes without going overboard on the citrus or the salt -- and start to simmer. When the tomatoes are hot, dump the pork-shroom mix into the the sauce pot. Simmer, stir, relax, have a glass of wine. Reduce. Listen to Terry Gross interview someone left-wing.
Boil your pasta.
Keep stirring the sauce. Add more rosemary and herbs near the end.
Eat alone because your honey bunny is working late.
Alex: Bottled Water is Bullshit
http://www.enn.com/news/2003-12-09/s_9212.asp
The number one (Aquafina) and two (Dasani) top-selling brands of bottled water in the U.S. both fall in the category of purified water. Dasani is sold by Coca-Cola, while Aquafina is a Pepsi product. As U.S. News & World Report explains, "Aquafina is municipal water from spots like Wichita, Kansas." The newsmagazine continues, "Coke's Dasani (with minerals added) is taken from the taps of Queens, New York, Jacksonville, Florida, and elsewhere." Everest bottled water originates from southern Texas, while Yosemite brand is drawn from the Los Angeles suburbs.
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http://www.enn.com/news/2003-12-09/s_9212.asp
The number one (Aquafina) and two (Dasani) top-selling brands of bottled water in the U.S. both fall in the category of purified water. Dasani is sold by Coca-Cola, while Aquafina is a Pepsi product. As U.S. News & World Report explains, "Aquafina is municipal water from spots like Wichita, Kansas." The newsmagazine continues, "Coke's Dasani (with minerals added) is taken from the taps of Queens, New York, Jacksonville, Florida, and elsewhere." Everest bottled water originates from southern Texas, while Yosemite brand is drawn from the Los Angeles suburbs.
12.08.2003
Alex: A Clarification (But Not a Reduction)
Gastrique: A reduced mixture of vinegar and sugar used in the preparation of hot sauces accompanying dishes made with fruit (such as duck with orange). Gastrique is prepared by heating the ingredients together until the liquid has almost entirely evaporated.
Also, according to le Petit Robert:
GASTRIQUE: [gastrik]. adj. (XVIe; du gr. gastros). De l'estomac. V. Stomacal. Artères gastriques. Suc gastrique. Ulcère gastrique. -- Par ext. Subst. Un gastrique, malade qui souffre de l'estomac.
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Gastrique: A reduced mixture of vinegar and sugar used in the preparation of hot sauces accompanying dishes made with fruit (such as duck with orange). Gastrique is prepared by heating the ingredients together until the liquid has almost entirely evaporated.
Also, according to le Petit Robert:
GASTRIQUE: [gastrik]. adj. (XVIe; du gr. gastros). De l'estomac. V. Stomacal. Artères gastriques. Suc gastrique. Ulcère gastrique. -- Par ext. Subst. Un gastrique, malade qui souffre de l'estomac.
Alex: Lock, Stock, and One Smoking Pot
OK, it's more like a steaming pot. After roasting a chicken Saturday night, the Fanch and I have stripped the carcass nearly bare for leftovers and (yum) sandwiches. For the latter: A little mayo, mustard, arugula, and one sliced cornichon; reheat the chicken in the mike and don't forget a couple pieces of fat to get it all juicy-like; and toast the bread lightly. Sourdough's OK; a dark rye is better.
Now the carcass is burbling on the stovetop, on a two-day journey to Stockland. The Stockade. The Stock Market. A date with Stockard Channing. You know what I'm saying.
One onion, roughly quartered. Half a lemon, rind and all. A couple cloves. I didn't have any celery or carrots, which otherwise would be in there, but I did have a sheaf of Italian parsley; off went the stalks right into the pot. Salt, pepper. A green pasilla pepper which was about to go bad. Not sure what this will do, but what the hell. (I'm a bit worried it might make for bitterness, though.)
The stock will simmer all day, filling my apartment with a wonderful smell while I try to work.
Upon my whim, I will either strain it clear tonight or wait until tomorrow. (Gotta make sure it's right, so, until tomorrow, good night.) It might need another day of simmering, though, just because I like the smell so much. Once it's clear, though, I'll add carrots, potatoes, celery, mebbe a can of cannellini, more s + p, and, if necessary, a can of chicken broth to boost the sodium levels. I am no purist.
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OK, it's more like a steaming pot. After roasting a chicken Saturday night, the Fanch and I have stripped the carcass nearly bare for leftovers and (yum) sandwiches. For the latter: A little mayo, mustard, arugula, and one sliced cornichon; reheat the chicken in the mike and don't forget a couple pieces of fat to get it all juicy-like; and toast the bread lightly. Sourdough's OK; a dark rye is better.
Now the carcass is burbling on the stovetop, on a two-day journey to Stockland. The Stockade. The Stock Market. A date with Stockard Channing. You know what I'm saying.
One onion, roughly quartered. Half a lemon, rind and all. A couple cloves. I didn't have any celery or carrots, which otherwise would be in there, but I did have a sheaf of Italian parsley; off went the stalks right into the pot. Salt, pepper. A green pasilla pepper which was about to go bad. Not sure what this will do, but what the hell. (I'm a bit worried it might make for bitterness, though.)
The stock will simmer all day, filling my apartment with a wonderful smell while I try to work.
Upon my whim, I will either strain it clear tonight or wait until tomorrow. (Gotta make sure it's right, so, until tomorrow, good night.) It might need another day of simmering, though, just because I like the smell so much. Once it's clear, though, I'll add carrots, potatoes, celery, mebbe a can of cannellini, more s + p, and, if necessary, a can of chicken broth to boost the sodium levels. I am no purist.
12.07.2003
Welcome To Wild Thyme
This blog is for all manners of musings about food from me and my friends. Recipes, critiques of recipes, restaurant reviews, trends, essays and observations: all are welcome.
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This blog is for all manners of musings about food from me and my friends. Recipes, critiques of recipes, restaurant reviews, trends, essays and observations: all are welcome.
