Holla! Look, proof that I sat at the same table as Ruth Reichl! Looks like you could slice the tip off my chin and dip it in barbecue sauce. Whatevs, they spelled my name right!
I didn't actually do any chef stalking, sadly. I came, I saw, I concurred. And then I went home with a pocket full of mini tabasco bottles and moisturizer samples.
Want to watch people get squinty and possessive? Serve up Truffle Tremor, Cypress Grove's latest and greatest cheese hit. Wasn't enough that they gave us the ever popular Humboldt Fog. This one's not a thinky cheese, it's more of a sexy crowd-pleaser -- snowy, crumbly goat curd is shot through with musky bits of black truffle, enveloped in a thin, melty layer and encased in a soft white rind. The half pound hunk I got was gone in a flash, the hind rind practically licked down for oozy goodness. I'm sure they weren't thinking of earthquakes when they came up with the name -- this is the kind of cheese you could seduce someone with. Throw in some oysters and a bottle of champs and you'll have to beat them off (with a stick).
Truffle Tremor is $22.99/lb. at Murray's.
Who wants to be cooking all night at their own party? I tried to design a menu that could stand on its own at room temperature for the whole evening. I set up a Make Your Own Crostini table (which negates the problem of soggy toasts) with four topping choices: roasted beets with parmigiano and basil (adapted from the Babbo recipe), the chicken liver paté with red onion confit, blackened eggplant puree with red peppers and garlic, and the surprise hit, this roasted butternut squash topping. A little sweet, nutty and bright, it smacks of autumn.
Roasted Butternut Squash Crostini
1 large butternut squash
2 tbsp. chopped sage
olive oil
salt
pepper
1/2 c. pumpkin seeds
hazelnut oil
toasts
Peel and chop the butternut into small dice. Toss with sage, salt, pepper and olive oil. Roast in 400 degree oven on a baking sheet for 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until squash is caramelized and tender but not quite jammy. Place into your serving bowl.
While the squash is in the oven, toast the pumpkin seeds in a dry pan over high heat. Throw the pumpkin seeds on top of the squash and anoint the whole thing with a splash of hazelnut oil. Serve at room temp with toasts.
I don't know a ton about how to cook offal, so I've been experimenting with chicken livers lately. Raw livers have a really gelatinous, delicate texture which would probably really freak out those puritans who don't like to touch raw meat. (As I ran my fingers through the bowl of livers, I thought, Maybe the only people who know what this feels like are cooks who like offal and surgeons.) I don't have a whole lot of chicken liver recipes in my cookbook collection. But I did find one curious recipe in Madeleine Kamman's massive tome, The New Making of a Cook, for a Mousse of Blond Livers and Figs. The notes say, "Any good butcher can order the pale-colored livers for you."
While going through my pound of Bell and Evans chicken livers, I noticed that some of the livers were a pale, blondish color and some of them were a darker maroon. This wasn't the case with the tub of chicken livers I had bought from Flying Pigs Farm at the Greenmarket. None of their chicken livers were blond.
Today, I asked Jennifer of Flying Pigs what the color difference meant. She wasn't sure, but she said she'd look into it and let me know. I did a little googling and found that yellow livers are fattier (sounds good to me) and, according to Jacques Pepin, "they tend to have a mellower, richer flavor than deep-red ones."
Jennifer said she'd been chucking the paler livers. I asked her if she'd pack the blond livers and sell me the first tub. Flying Pigs Farm sells 1/2 pint tubs of chicken livers for $4. Note: Bell and Evans livers from Whole Foods were cheaper, but Flying Pigs' livers were a lot cleaner.
This chicken liver paté was a huge hit at my birthday soiree. I served it with olive oiled crostini, cornichons and red wine onion confit. To serve as a civilized lunch or light dinner, add a bit of bittersweet salad like frisee vinaigrette or puntarelle with anchovy lemon dressing. It's easy to make, improves if made ahead of time, and it looks impressive even though it's pretty cheap. I adapted this Epicurious recipe and added elements I liked from a bunch of other recipes; I also adapted a Saveur recipe for the onion confit. For the crostini, I recommend the not-too-holey peasant loaf from Bread Alone's Greenmarket stand.
Chicken Liver Paté
1 lb. chicken livers
1 cup milk
1/3 brick of French butter
2 shallots
1 clove garlic
1 bay leaf
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
1/4 tsp. dried marjoram
1/4 tsp. dried sage
pinch of allspice
a good glug of madeira
2 tbsp. creme fraiche
salt and pepper
fresh parsley and sage to decorate
another 1/3 brick of French butter
Clean the livers well, trimming away fat, membranes, veins and green bits (which could be bitter from bile). Soak them in the milk and set aside.
In the meantime, finely mince your shallots and garlic. Melt the first 1/3 brick of butter in a saute pan. Saute the shallots and garlic over medium-low heat til soft but not brown. Add herbs and allspice to the pan. Drain the milk off the livers and add them into the saute pan. Cook over medium heat til livers are browned but still pinkish inside, about 7 minutes. Add your generous glug of madeira and cook 2 minutes more. Remove from heat.
Let the livers cool for five minutes. Put the pan contents into a food processor and pulse til pureed but not too smooth. Add creme fraiche. Season aggressively with salt and pepper, tasting to make sure you have enough seasoning. Use rubber spatula to scrape mixture into a terrine. Smooth the top very well. Melt down your second 1/3 brick of butter. Skim the foam. Lay whole sprigs of parsley and whole leaf sage over the top of the paté in the most artistic manner you can muster. Pour the clarified butter over the top of the paté til you've sealed it in. Refrigerate at least one day before you serve it. According to the Epicurious recipe, it keeps for two weeks, sealed in butter
Note: if the clarified butter top scares you, you could also make an aspic glaze as described by Jacques Pepin here.
Red Wine Onion Confit
Melt a generous chunk of butter and olive oil in a pan. Add 3 thinly sliced onions, a tsp. of sugar and some salt & pepper. Sweat down til the onions are translucent and silky soft but not brown, 40 minutes. Add 3/4 c. cabernet or other heavy red wine. Reduce til most of the liquid is gone, 40 minutes. Add another tsp. of sugar if the onions are too tart. Finish with another hunk of butter at the end. Serve warm with paté.
Name: Jonathan Manto
Occupation: student
Borough: Manhattan
Relationship status: married
What did you eat today?
It’s 6:46 am and I’ve just started my day with my usual: a bowl of my oatmeal, lentil, oat bran, flax meal concoction – I whip up a large batch every two weeks or so. [Lentil?! --Ed.]
What do you never eat?
Hot dogs -- they disgust me.
Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:
Milk -- it does the body good.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
My milkshake machine – of course.
Where do you eat out most frequently?
The Deluxe – it’s close by and serves up a decent breakfast, my favorite meal of the day. [With lentil?! --Ed.]
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
I’m not much of a meat eater, but I’d have to say, in this case, a really good steak.
This morning, probably just as I was turning 30, I felt a little sting on my eyelid. Sure enough, at about 7:00am, I heard the distinctive buzz buzz of a skeeter in my ear. I managed to smash the little fucker, but now I look like Forest Whitaker. My eyebrow is perma-cocked because my eyelid is so pink and swollen. I'll take a picture when I get home. HAPPY FUCKING 30TH BIRTHDAY QUASIMODO.
Anyway, why the fuck do I have a mosquito problem at the end of October???
It's my 30th birthday. I'm into it.
"Well, as I was saying, it costs a lot to be authentic, ma'am. And one can't be stingy with these things because you are more authentic the more you resemble what you've dreamed of being." -- the drag queen in All About My Mother
"I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it." -- Marguerite Duras, The Lover
"Extra sugar, extra salt, extra oil and MSG." -- Cibo Matto, "Birthday Cake"
3 reasons to watch this clip:
1. Who knew peanut butter and powdered milk could save malnourished children?
2. It's interesting to learn that food allergies are much less prevalent in developing countries. Why do you think that is?
3. It's funny to hear Anderson Cooper say "Plumpynut" over and over again.
1 warning:
Unless you want to hate yourself, do not watch this after eating a big meal.
Great round table of women chefs on NYMag.com. If female chefs are so rare, I think it's statistically interesting that so many of my favorite eateries in New York are helmed by women. Anna Klinger of al di la, Ilene Rosen of City Bakery, Rebecca Charles of Pearl Oyster Bar, Chika Tillman of Chikalicious, Gabrielle Hamilton of Prune, etc. At the Julia Child panel, Dan Barber revealed that he prefers to hire women in his kitchens because they're in it for the food, not the glory, which makes them better cooks.
As I've said before, I think David Chang cooks "male" food, and that's what's so appealing about it -- it's brash and unapologetic. So is there such a thing as a feminine palate/palette? In the article, Rebecca Charles says, "Women’s food is, for the most part, more accessible, it’s easier to understand, it’s friendlier, it’s more comforting, and it doesn’t get bogged down in all these nutty freaking trends." I would say that's true of the chefs I love. Chikalicious is a perfect example of the gender divide -- several of my male friends really don't understand why I love it so much, and most of my girlfriends worship at Chika's altar. On the flip side, I don't really get why Will Goldfarb has gotten so much more ink for his powders, gels and foams.
What about the idea of assigning gender to a dining experience? I ran into my friend Miho at Rai Rai Ken the other night. I had slipped in solo with the idea of slurping up a quick bowl of chahan and soup. Miho said that ramen joints in Tokyo were generally testosterone havens, and that a woman would have to have pretty big cojones to walk into one by herself. But New York women think nothing of it. (Because we have balls or because we don't give a shit if people think we have balls?)
The feminine food associations I can think of aren't exactly flattering to the sex. A deli by my work has a sandwich board which displays their AM offerings, including two kinds of omelettes -- a "hungry man" and a "skinny woman" -- how much you want to bet that the skinny woman means some wan egg white and spinach monstrosity on a cold wheat tortilla? Or "girly drinks", by nature fruity, sweet, and headache inducing. "Mom" and "grandma" associations are generally positive, but they're usually "comfort" foods -- heavy, sleepy dishes designed to knock you out.
Anyway, how about a quick assessment of your favorite restaurants -- are they led by women or men? I'm curious.
In case you were wondering, the "sri" in Sriracha and Sripraphai is pronounced "see" -- not "shree", not "sree". The "r" is silent.
Who cares, right? Well, I care.
Alex Witchel covers the re-opening of the 2nd Ave. Deli in this article. If you're like me, and you miss that deli like you miss your (goy) bubbe, it'll break your heart and make you hungry for some matzoh ball soup (with noodles and carrots).
I am pretty thrilled that it's opening just one block from my work. Here are just a handful of the article's really cherce quotes:
Abe Lebewohl to a conference of food writers: "'What am I gonna tell you?' he said. 'My food will kill you.'"
One employee on Abe: "[He] came to this country with a dollar and a dream except for the dollar."
Russ and Daughters' Mark Federman on keeping it all in the family: "I just think it’s right that there’s a Russ angsting over every piece of fish that goes out the door.”
Steve Cohen, general manager for 2nd Ave. Deli on who's in the kitchen: "They are Puerto Rican, Chinese, Haitian, Indian and from Central America. It’s the U.N. back there.”
Cohen again on the clientele: "But my favorite was when we had five nuns eating matzoh balls served by a Lebanese waiter — in a kosher deli. That’s New York.”
Quoted by Tim Russert this morning on Meet the Press:
"A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water." -- Eleanor Roosevelt
The details at The Spotted Pig make the place -- grease markered menu on a giant mirror, brown butcher paper on the tables, jade brocade booths, potted flowers hedging weathered French doors, exhaust-free breeze from a lovely Greenwich St. corner. I don't know if it was the PG Tips or the barrel-shaped mug of warm Six Points Bengali, but to me, the place feels as endearingly British as a tea cozy.
I'm a sucker for chicken liver, and their bar toasts are ideal -- warm, chartreuse olive oil-doused croutons with a friendly roof of finely chopped, herb-speckled liver. I think I tasted pancetta in there. Creamy smoked haddock chowder, brightened with a touch of vinegar, came with the most gorgeous crunchy pillow crackers. But $15 for the radish salad with parm? With a smattering of wild arugula and radish sprouts? Don't get me wrong, it was good, but it's definitely in the DIY department. It's hard for me to stomach paying $15 for a whole wedge of parm, let alone a salad whose main component, French breakfast radishes, sell at the Greenmarket for $1.50 per bunch.
Looking forward to the next visit, but I'll probably stick to the heavy stuff next time.
The Spotted Pig
314 W. 11th St. at Greenwich St.
A, C, E to W. 14th St., L to 8th Ave.
212-620-0393
I was a little worried about turnout for the Gourmet Institute panel on blogging -- I mean, who wants to listen to a bunch of bloggers when Masaharu Morimoto is down the hall doing a cooking demo, and wine is being liberally poured into shiny crystal in the tasting room? As it turns out, we had a healthy audience of about 30, mostly young people in casual garb. Before we settled in the auditorium, Ben Leventhal of Eater wondered if anyone was going to throw tomatoes.
It was a fun discussion, and I'm glad there were no tomatoes -- though it might have been fun to parry a little. Some highlights:
Ben Leventhal (Eater) revealed that Eater's readers are half male, half female, are mostly 25-34, go out to eat 5 times a week on average (!), and have 2-5 cocktails every time they go out. "So they're drunk when they're reading Eater," he joked. Adorable. He also thinks that blogging has already become a legitimate job and speculated that strong bloggers, like those at Gawker, could be making $100K/yr.
Tyler Colman (Dr. Vino) doesn't allow wine advertisers on his blog because he wants people to trust his recs, and pay-to-play is the fastest way to lose that audience. He makes a pittance on advertising and makes more from the business that has grown out of the blog -- private wine tastings, classes, etc. I really enjoyed his friendly, inclusive demeanor. He's the opposite of a wine snob. I'm looking forward to perusing his archives (and finding an appropriate wine for my upcoming birthday.)
Ed Levine (Serious Eats) had a lot to say on the topic of the WSJ blog payola exposé. He made the strong argument that old media has been taking freebies for much longer than bloggers have. When asked what it was like to go from print to blog, he said that he was born for the blog medium.
The panel also discussed Gawker, Restaurant Girl, Yelpers, the speed of publishing, how blogs are changing new media, and more. I've never been on a panel, and as I said to the panelists before we began, who doesn't like to hear themselves talk? I hope I didn't come off as a total jerk. Doug says I did alright, but he's on my side, of course.
Biggest thrill for me: during introductions, Ruth Reichl announced to an entire room full of people today that this blog was the first one she started reading regularly.
!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was plotzing. I must have been as red as a beet.
Name: Marina Zurkow
Occupation: artist / animator
Borough: Brooklyn
Relationship status: would you like to have dinner?
What did you eat today?
OG yoghurt and maple almond granola
An apple turnover from the farmer’s market
Risotto with mushrooms and asparagus
Steamed spinach with butter and salt
What do you never eat?
Cow’s tongue. Otherwise, it’s open season.
Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:
red and white miso, grainy Dijon, cold brewed coffee, coconut water, prosecco, unsalted organic butter, and lemons.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
My good sharpened knife and a microplane.
Where do you eat out most frequently?
I cook often, and I have no regular joints, but I love Minca on 5th street and B (homemade ramen), Zabb Café (Issan Thai) on 13th street and 2nd; Diner, Wild Ginger and Oasis in Williamsburg, and would always opt for Raoul’s on Prince Street. I’d be a regular at Le Bernardin if I could…
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
Tomorrow- not next week:
Cedar scented sake with
Uni, shiso, hamachi, mirugai, + ika
then
A perfectly charcoal broiled hangar steak, rare inside
Wild arugula with radishes and toasted pumpkin seeds in hazelnut lemon vinaigrette
Broiled string beans in olive oil with grey salt
With a bottle of Cortes de Nuits
then
Flourless chocolate cake with vanilla hazelnut homemade ice cream
And afterwards, some Calvados, dark chocolate, and candied lemon rind.
(if the world doesn’t end tomorrow, I’ll skip dessert)
I meet La Doug at Ollie's tonight (check!) for fake Chinese food (check!) before going to watch Le Nozze di Figaro at the Met (check!) where we are subscribers (check!).
Over sesame wontons and shrimp chow fun, I tell La Doug that I'm thinking of finding a psychiatrist (check!) because I'm having this anxiety problem (check!) where, well, I won't go into details because it's TMI (check!).
The guy next to us, who's sitting just twelve inches away because the tables are crammed so close together (check!), gets up to leave. He deposits a card on the table. "Hope you don't mind, heard you were looking for a therapist. Here's my therapist's number. She's very good. Give her a call." (Check, check and check, please!)
How New York is that?
Name: Katherine Tasheff
Occupation: Web content person, wanna-be photographer
Borough: Park Slope Brooklyn
Relationship status: Singleton
What did you eat today?
Ronnybrook Mango drinkable yogurt, GoLean crunch, coffee with milk and brown sugar.
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich - Skippy Super Chunk and Phillips Farms’ Strawberry-Rhubarb spread.
Blue corn tortilla chips and fresh tomato salsa from the 5th avenue farmers market.
Buttermilk pancakes with fresh peach compote. (Yes, for dinner. When the going gets tough, the tough eat breakfast for dinner.)
What do you never eat?
Any obvious animal parts. Sweetbreads and brains scare me (even after Comfort Me with Apples, I can’t do brains). Oh, and overcooked eggplant gives me the creeps.
Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:
organic milk, lemons and limes, beer (usually Stella), leftover pasta of some variety, at least one unfinished drinkable yogurt. Something that’s gone fuzzy in the vegetable drawer.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
My stovetop espresso coffee pot. Although I really need a new one.
Where do you eat out most frequently?
Hmmm. I’m realizing that I’ve been getting into cooking at home more than going out (bought a grill this summer). But, my friend Lisa and I have a semi-monthly tradition of Monday Night Margaritas at El Centro; I have a soft spot for the burgers at Johnny Mack’s; You can’t exactly call it eating out, but Russo’s in my neighborhood has great fresh pasta, sauce, and prepared Italian food -- and I’m a complete fool for Italian food. (Plus, they have Ciao Bella gelato and sorbetto. Mmmmm.)
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
Start with aged gouda, sharp Vermont cheddar, gruyere, some salami and bresaola, olives and peppadews – serve with baguette toasts, and a nice appetizer-y wine. (I’ll ask my friend Kerry for a recommendation.) Then, for the main event -- Chicken and Noodles the way my mom makes it – it’s like a thick chicken and pasta stew with lots of cracked pepper. A giant green salad with tomatoes, roasted beets, herbs, and just a little bit of goat cheese. Warm and crusty sourdough bread. Multiple glasses of a big, friendly red wine (see Kerry again). And finally, after a little break, homemade vanilla ice cream with my very own chocolate-chip cookies for dessert . Or maybe my apple and cranberry pie.
And if the world is really ending the next day, I’d like to follow it up by watching a movie with my friends and family -- something like The Princess Bride.
Cliffs notes from the discussion last night:
Julia Child thought Alice Waters was nuts. Molly O'Neill, who lived across the street from Child in Cambridge, A.) said that Child preferred male chefs and B.) did a very funny impression of Child saying derisively that "a peach is not dessert.!" The panel then started to veer in this weird jokes-at-Alice Waters'-expense direction, though Dan Barber did try to defend her. But Alice is hardly the anti-Julia. They both love food, they both want to share that love for food. I would hope that Julia Child would have been able to turn her wrath on a more appropriate adversary, like the people who make Uncrustables.
Child was also apparently a big supporter of agribusiness -- The French Chef was sponsored by Safeway for many years, and she didn't give a hoot about where her ingredients were coming from.
Molly O'Neill says she wasn't a very good cook! She was a great teacher, and a great cheerleader for good food, but that her food was just meh.
Laura Shapiro says she preferred the glossy, perfect shows of later years over the funny "Remember, you are alone in the kitchen and nobody can see you" years. (In case your memory fails, she dropped half a potato pancake on the stove, not a chicken, or a turkey, or a turducken or whatever.)
***
I must admit that I had hoped in vain to see a French Chef segment Judith Jones talks about in The Tenth Muse (pg. 72):
"Another memorable Julia moment of truth came when I was on the set as she was preparing suckling pig. She was explaining how the ears and the tail could easily burn while the piglet was roasting in the oven, so the thing to do was to wrap a piece of foil around each. Then she paused, looking at the creature in front of her, and said that there was an even easier method for the tail. Fortunately, she pointed out, there's a natural little hole below the tail, so just tuck the tail into that and it won't burn."
Sushi is the Marsha, Marsha, Marsha of Japanese cuisine -- the prettier, sexier, more popular star of the show -- so it's always a pleasure to be reminded of the subtle glories of Japan's other culinary arts. At midtown east's Aburiya Kinnosuke, you can indulge in the magic of izakaya, small plates nosh you can down with a few bottles of Sapporo or shochu, or robata, charcoal grilled bits and bobs. I went for the first time last week and I have to tell you, every dish transports.
First of all, the Japanese know from pork. I'd take a good Japanese pork dish over raw fish 70% of the time. I could happily curl up in the small earthenware dish of fatty brown sugar soju cooked berkshire pork, paddle around in the satiny but not greasy caramelized sauce and lay my head on the velvety daikon cylinder. Grilled loin of black pepper kurobuta (black pig, aka more berkshire pork) comes with the most delicious yuzu pepper paste. Just a dab makes every savory slice of swine surprisingly invigorating and refreshing -- not a feeling you often get from pork.
The menu's full of surprises. Anago tempura is nothing like those sugar syrup drenched eel sushi bites -- it's fresh and snowy white with the most delicate dusting of crisped flour. Ladylike fish cakes are silver dollar sized patties, gently sweet and perfumed with yuzu. I'd have resented having to share them if I didn't like my dinner companions so much. Grilled sticky yam wrapped in seaweed was a totally new texture to me -- the crispness of water chestnut or jerusalem artichoke combined with the slight tackiness of flash-fried okra. I loved the drama of the houba leaf presentation -- the waitress set a black cauldron filled with burning wood charcoal on the table. A wire rack lay across the top of the cauldron, and on top of the rack sat a papery, brown prehistoric-looking leaf. Nestled on the crackly leaf were slippery slices of Eryngi mushroom, a small mountain of julienned negi (giant scallion), and sweet miso. Tasted great, but the smell! -- caramelized miso and campfire embers wafting up to the heavens. I'd like to try the beef houba leaf next time.
Don't miss the not-too-sweet black sesame pudding -- it's a square-shaped slice, the chic speckled gray of nubbly chenille. It looks dense, but the texture is somewhere between a mousse and a light cheesecake -- the intensely nutty and creamy bite gives easily against the roof of your mouth. That dish could bring out the ugly in me -- thankfully, nobody put up a fight for the last bite.
It's not a date place, it's more of a meet your friend after work place. It's quite civilized to go with a group of five or six and shoehorn yourselves into one of the shoji screened private rooms. (I did worry about putting an elbow through the paper, though.) And though we're talking about casual bar food, it's not super cheap. Be prepared to drop about $50 if you want to have fun with the menu. (Maybe more if you really get into drinking the elegant, refreshing grapefruit sours -- shochu and fizz on ice, served with half a grapefruit which you juice on a reamer and pour into the glass.) I'm not sure there's better non-sushi Japanese food anywhere else in the city. And since I'm not sure, I look forward to going back there and continuing my research.
Aburiya Kinnosuke
213 E. 45th St.
near 3rd Ave.
4, 5, 6, 7, S to Grand Central
212-867-5454
Thanks to Cutlets for standing up for the broke ass food blogger. And Regina Schrambling, as usual, nails it. For the record, I have never asked for a free meal, and I've got the credit card debt to prove it. I'm too neurotic about owing people money or favors, and it mortifies me to ask for something for nothing. I also don't want to tell people I'm writing about them because I can't promise I'm going to be nice. And I'm not so egotistical that I think I need to worry about being recognized. Besides, the best maitre d' in the world couldn't possibly keep track of all of the small fry food bloggers in New York getting their yap on. We multiply exponentially every day.
For all of my reviews, I've paid for the meal (for NYMag.com, I paid and they reimbursed me) and I've been anonymous. I even have aliases for making rezzies, and I don't put my name on my outgoing message in case the reservationist calls to confirm with my alias. That's not to say I've never taken a few freebies. I do know a few chefs by now, and If I've reaped the benefits of being friends with a cook (extra dishes, special treatment from the waiters), I'll tell you.
You, my dear audience, are small in numbers but smart. I'm sure you'd have no problem calling me out on bullshit. I'm still low profile and I'm happy to keep it that way.
Is anybody else insulted by this guy's bug-eyed chop suey act on Iron Chef America? I mean, I know peeps gotta make a living, but it's 2007 -- Asian men don't have to do karate chops to be watchable. B. D. Wong on L&O SVU -- no wax on/wax off business AND his English is perfect. Look at that dude on Lost -- he's never done a roundhouse kick to get off the island. Alright, that guy on Heroes has a samurai sword, but it's a comic book show so it kinda makes sense. The whole Chairman's nephew as martial artist is not charmingly eccentric the way the pompadour and yellow pepper were. It's not hot. It's just vaguely racist and kind of embarrassing.
I did enjoy the first episode of The Next Iron Chef, though. It's fun to watch professionals who can actually cook on the Food Network instead of shlocky candy product placement and pointy haired chili dog assemblers. But I can't believe Traci Des Jardins got cut so early.
Bonus, because I'm feeling so judgy judgy tonight -- Is Alton Brown going through a midlife crisis? The whole motorcycle road trip thing complete with tattoo is so Wild Hogs.
I'm immersing myself in Julia Child this week -- first by reading the new Judith Jones memoir and next by going to this panel discussion on Julia Child at the NYPL this Wednesday, Oct. 10. Judith Jones' book is a fascinating read for anyone who enjoys reading cookbooks. She discovered Julia Child and championed her masterwork, Mastering the Art of French Cooking; she was also the editor for Madhur Jaffrey, Lidia Bastianich, Edna Lewis, Marion Cunningham, and lots of other cookbooks you probably have in your kitchen. Jones talks about how Mastering the Art of French Cooking and The French Chef really changed the culinary climate of the country -- whereas before, home cooking was a chore best knocked off in as little time as possible (sound familiar?), Julia Child encouraged people to indulge in spending time, energy and brain power in the kitchen.
So I've been thinking, what will be the next culinary revolution in the home kitchen and who will be its hero? Will it be the gastrolabs of Wylie Dufresne, Will Goldfarb, Grant Achatz? The slow, local romance of Alice Waters and Dan Barber? The real world test kitchens of blogging home cooks like Chocolate & Zucchini, 101 Cookbooks, The Wednesday Chef, Smitten Kitchen?
I'd like to predict that the next revolution will happen when every kitchen gets a computer. Soon, you'll be able to put recipes together for a meal or a party and have the computer not only spit out a shopping list, but know which ingredients you already have in the pantry, order the other ingredients for delivery, or tell you the nearest place that has the obscure ingredient in stock. You'll be able to program the dietary restrictions and allergies of all your friends so that red flags will be sent up for incompatible recipes.
You'll be able to adjust all recipes automatically for number of servings, altitude temperatures, or to fit the equipment we have on hand. The computer will be able to give you a minute-by-minute game plan for every dish in a single list of directions, complete with hands-free, eyes-free audio recipe instructions. It'll show at the touch of a screen how to tournedo a vegetable, how to butterfly a chicken, etc. How about cooking seminars, where you can follow the audio and visual of a pro chef in real time, with TiVo style pause and rewind? Or family recipes, recorded and handed down as video clips?
Does the idea freak you out? It's a total Jetsons fantasy which is so close to becoming reality. Don't get me wrong, I totally believe in slow food cooking methods. I mean, I still can't really bring myself to trust the food processor. But I would love having a computer in the kitchen for auxiliary memory and computation.
***
This is the only clip I could find of The French Chef in a lazy YouTube search. It's hard to believe that roast chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is now. They're apparently going to show lots of old clips at the panel on Wednesday, which I'm looking forward to.
Name: Deb Perelman
Occupation: Reporter
Borough: Manhattan
Relationship status: Hitched
What did you eat today?
One of my miniature bagels with a tiny bit of butter. [Your husband is a lucky, lucky man. --Ed.]A small coffee from the cart outside my office.
What do you never eat?
Fish. I thought I'd get over my aversion to it one day but I'm beginning to think it will squick me out for all eternity. Also: beets, chai, 99 percent of teas, cilantro except in rare circumstances, power/cereal/luna/anything bars and those tri-colored pastas. Wow, I better stop here or people are going to think I'm picky or something.
Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:
Eggs, butter, yeast, some fruit my husband has determined inedible because it has actually ripened and a few containers leftovers of an indeterminate age we're in a standoff with, waiting for last month's blog entry to throw itself out. Hasn't worked yet, but we're a hopeful bunch.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
It's like asking me to choose a favorite child! Cover your ears, okay? Mommy loves you all equally: Mandoline, digital scale, our g'normous Staub cocotte and its twin, a one-cup version that does nothing but sit there looking cute all day.
Where do you eat out most frequently? Le Singe Vert or Momoya on 7th Avenue, though lately it's been Tia Pol on 10th.
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
I want to eat at the Bread Bar at Tabla. I want one bite of every single dish on the menu, a bowl of spiced popcorn, two pomegranate gimlets and a vanilla bean kulfi pop. Would it be great to leave this world buzzing with inspiration? Or at least gin?
Why not both? Visit superstar Deb at her incredible, edible website, Smitten Kitchen.
I'm really more of a center cut girl, but this is genius -- every piece is a corner piece. Looks like a good pan for baking Thanksgiving stuffing, or a crispy potato galette, or maybe a nice, crunchy mac and cheese.
