1033 views • Categories: Announcements 
I often worry about being asked to make a speech in the company of friends or family. I find that sometimes these speeches of mine border on trite, that I sound insincere and that I am not saying anything of significance or consequence. I have thought about my last post as a guest-contributor to the Accidenal Hedonist for awhile. What should I say? What would be a good ending vignette?
Being at the tail-end of the holiday season, I hope that you all have had a wonderful celebrating month. Or longer if you dive into the holiday month starting with Thanksgiving. And I wish you all a festive, joyous and the happiest of New Year - may it bring you happiness, prosperity, health and that elusive peace of mind.
The truth is I have nothing witty or wise to offer, other than thanks to all the readers through the last six months, and to Kate for giving me an opportunity to contribute to her excellent site. It's been a lovely and wonderful process to come up with weekly content for the posts. I hope to sometimes drop in to scribble a few words here and there, leave you with a photograph or two and a recipe. If you made anything from any of the recipes I have written about, I'd love to hear if you liked it, if you had a favorite post, if you had a least favorite post, if something didn't come out the way I explained in the recipe, or if you wanted me to write about something and I never did. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thank you all and thank you Kate for this terrific six month opportunity! All the best wishes in the New Year! And starting with 2008, I am hoping to return to a more regular posting schedule at my virtual home, the SassyRadish. Do stop by and say hello!
On Christmas day I was asked to lead a little whiskey tasting. As I generally enjoy being the center of attention, I graciously agreed to their request.
Some things I found out -
My question to all of the above observations is as follows: How prevalent are these point of views?
(Promoted from the diaries to the front page - Kate)
One of my resolutions last year was to drink more sparkling wine. During 2007 my dear drinking companion (husband Ed) and I have sipped from bottles of bubbles priced from $7 to $150.
We usually have a few bottles of Cava or Barefoot Bubbly in our wine rack. And, we always have one sparkler chilled and ready just in case there's a reason to celebrate.
On the other end of the price spectrum, we welcomed the holiday season this year, by popping a bottle of Krug that we had cellared for five years. We shared that with some special friends. (On a sad note- we had to open two bottles of Krug. The first one was way, way off. It made us wish we hadn't waited so long.)
As the months passed, we began to realize how many perfectly wonderful values there are in this category.
Gruet Blanc de Noirs ($15) from New Mexico is delightful. Proseccos, like Nino Franco Prosecco di Valdobbiadere Rustico ($15), open a whole new world of Italian joy. Cavas are worth an OLE! And, our own Massachusetts neighbors at Westport Rivers Vineyards are doing us proud. Although, their prices have skyrocketed as demand for their wines has grown.
For our rooftop, July 4th Fireworks party we served magnums of Argyle Brut from Oregon's Willamette Valley. That runs about $75 now but we bought it long ago at a special case price from our value-seeking wine mentors at Bauer Wines here in Boston.
Now the time has come to choose our New Year's Eve selection. A drum roll please! And the winner is a lovely bottle of Champagne Billecart-Salmon Rose NV. ($100)
We've tasted this against a few other rose sparklers over the years, and it seems to come out on top each time. We'd like to taste it against at least one great contender on the 31st. I'm turning to my new friends at AH for suggestions.
Do you have a favorite rose sparkler to propose?
I'll let you know what we chose and post tasting notes on New Year's Day.
When I was a wee little child, it was my father who introduced me to the world of teas. This would have been in the mid 1970's, and at the time we did not know that we had been hampered in our explorations by the restrictions of the tea industry.
Until very recently, America had been a tea bag world, and Lipton was the ruler of the kingdom. Sure you could find some herbal teas, and there were some brands that actually sold specific varietals, but it was Lipton who had a large chunk of the market place. At many of the restaurants and diners across the land, if you asked for tea, you were given a cup of hot water and a Lipton Tea Bag.
Lipton's ubiquity lead to two distinct problems. First, people began to equate tea with the specific blend that Lipton had provided to their consumers. Their tea wasn't a specific type of tea, but rather a blend of different teas from around the world that were designed to elicit a very specific "Lipton"-ish flavor. It didn't matter which teas were added, as long as they tasted the same from year to year, from harvest to harvest. Lipton's competitors, instead of offering different types of tea, began to create their own blends that replicated the flavor of Liptons.
The second issue was the quality of tea leaves that were being used. Producers of tea used in tea bags tend to use smaller, broken fannings and dust bits from the tea leaves. These pieces are often more inefficient in their ability to translate their taste without releasing an overwhelming amount of tannins. There's a rating system (Orange Pekoe, which I'll touch upon later) for the quality of leaves used in teas, and the tea bags are often filled with those of the least quality.
These tidbits of information wasn't well known to many Americans in the 1970's. Some folks were lucky enough to be able to find Twinings or Celestial Seasonings in their supermarkets, who at least provided different flavors and blends of teas, both of the herbal and regular varieties. But they are also hampered by the scourge of the tea bags - the lower quality product used in the bags themselves. (I'm also ignoring the fact that most herbal teas don't actually use "tea", in their blends, but, again, I'll cover that at a later date).
If you want to enjoy teas at their best, loose leaf is the way to go. Flavors are bolder and less susceptible to excess tannins. Loose leaf teas also are easier to blend. With loose leaf tea people can and do create their own blends, whether individually or as part of a larger business. If one wants to truly explore tea, loose leaf is almost always the way to go.
716 views • Categories: Site information Welcome to AH version nine. The layout has 4 columns, familiar AH colors, a static width that fits within a 1028 window. New features include a feed on the front page of the latest AH food journal posts, updated RSS feed buttons, and two right-hand columns so that all banner ads are on the right and all content is on the left.
We're using a text banner at the top right now, so things seem a little bland. That will likely change soon. I'm hunting a few images to try a sort of shadowed transparency thing. It hopefully will be very cute when things are ready.
In the past two days I've made a duck dinner, and then created a cheese and cracker "buffet" for our Christmas plans. Add the cookies on top of this and the various holiday parties and foods that had been consumed, and the end result is "The Dreaded Weight Gain".
The Dreaded Weight Gain typically leads to guilt, which in turn leads to a vow to lose the weight that one has put on over the course of the past six weeks. This vow takes form in the "New Years Resolution".
So, todays post-Christmas poll to the left asks, how much weight are you planning to lose with your New Year's resolution?
As for myself, I try not to play the numbers game, as I don't want to have my life dictated by my scale. So I make it easy on myself. My vow is to weigh less at the end of 2008 than I do at the end of 2007.
As always, feel free to leave any comments and exclamations on this post. Note that your answers are anonymous unless you feel the urge to tell us who you are.
[SassyRadish goes to Texas, gets sick, eats barbecue]
Well, we're right in the midst of the holidays, aren't we? On the heels of Christmas, New Year's is around the corner, latke-filled Channukah is a distant memory. In my industry (finance, that is) - most people take off in the last two weeks of the year. I had 4 days of vacation left (from my annual 2 weeks) and so KS and I decided to go to Texas and visit some friends in San Antonio.
My camera finally was working and since I wasn't going to be cooking and sharing a recipe with you, the least I could do is share some Texas pictures, particularly of the barbecue. Of course, nothing ever goes completely according to plan. The weekend before we took off, I got a cold - and KS made me chicken soup. I thought I would beat the bug in a few days, but coupled with my tired and weak immune system and a long flight, the cold morphed into a bronchial infection and laryngitis (I know how to party!). And so on the second day of our sojourn in Texas, I completely and totally lost my voice. I couldn't speak above a very faint whisper, and KS and our friends affectionately referred to me as the Christmas Mime for the rest of the trip. Apparently my gesticulations and whispering were quite animated.
Nonetheless, while down, I was certainly not out for the count and I refused to be bed-ridden on my vacation, in seventy degree weather, and with barbecue so close within my reach. I'm convinced that besides azythromycin, I owe my health to Rudy's special barbecue sauce and succulent brisket. Thanks to our friends who kindly obliged to our cravings and drove us from a food joint to food joint where we stuffed our faced with Mexican delicacies like fish tacos, tortilla soup and other local food. But Rudy's was the epicurean highlight for me. Barbecue this good was worth waiting for!
What can I say about Rudy's? It's definitely some of the best barbecue I've ever had. And it's mostly hungry locals too, which is a great sign. Everyone was so gracious about me taking pictures, I was doubly grateful. We ordered pretty much every meat we could: brisket, baby back ribs, turkey, sausage. Of course we had to get sides too: potato salad, cole slaw and the best baked beans we've had in awhile! I only wish I could have accompanied my meats with a cold Lone Star beer, but I had to abstain being sick and all.
There are a few locations in Texas - so while it's not the one and only, it's excellent and makes you crave it afterwards, especially at 10AM on a Sunday morning!!
As my Holiday break nears ever so closer, I wanted to wish all of my readers a wonderful season full of joy and love. Meanwhile, I'm taking a few days off, and will return to posting on the 26th of December.
Merry Christmas everyone!
"These don't seem like Holiday cookies."
I was taken aback by the statement, uttered by my room mate. While I acknowledge that there are some cookies that seem more "festive" than others, I hadn't realized that only some cookies could be seen as "Holiday Cookies". This led me to a very philosophical question: What, exactly, makes a cookie a "Holiday Cookie"?
While the simplest answer was that a "Holiday Cookie" was one that would seem inappropriate at any other time of the year, it still didn't get to the root of the question. Certainly holiday shapes were part of the equation. A cookie looked like a candy cane would seem silly to eat come April. But this was a question of aesthetics, not of content. One could reshape a sugar cookie to look like an easter egg if need be, as an example.
Certain ingredients may be more "Christmas-y", I suppose. Anything with a mouthwash flavor (peppermint, cinnamon, spearmint) may give a cookie an aura of the Holidays, as would any traditional Christmas ingredient such as figs or cranberries.
By this time in my meditation, I had realized that I was once again over thinking a questions. Holiday cookies are whatever you wish them to be, even if they are simply peanut butter cookies withe a miniature peanut butter cup smashed on top.
The recipe, found on the back of a package of Miniature Reese's Peanut butter cups called these Peanut Butter Temptations", but I refuse to call these cookies by that name. To me, the only "Temptations" come from Motown and have the name Eddie Kendricks associated with them.
Pre heat oven to 375 degrees F.
In a mixer, combine the butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, peanut butter, egge, and vanilla. Mix until fluffy. Add the flour, baking soda, and salt.
Roll dough into 1-inch balls and place one in each recess of a miniature (no stick) muffin pan. Do not flatten.
Place muffin pan into the oven and allow to bake from 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and top each cookie with a peanut butter cup. Place in refrigerator or freezer for 10 minutes to allow to cool. Remove from pan. Repeat until all the dough has been used.
Makes 40 cookies, give or take
Originally posted at Minimally Invasive. (Promoted from the diaries to the front page - Kate)
I'm not usually the most pleasant person during my commute -- not that I'm particularly unpleasant, but I typically don't go out of my way to socialize with other people on the bus. In fact, I find it really annoying when I'm sitting near people who won'tjustshutupfortheloveofgodandlettherestofustakeanaporread, so I try to do unto others, etc. But one evening, I happened to sit next to a woman who, like me, was reading and dog-earing a cooking magazine; well, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were trading recipes and sharing stories.
Gawd, I can be SO annoying.
I've thought about her often in the months since -- how she doesn't bake bread anymore since a sudden onset of psoriatic arthritis left her in near-constant pain, about her love of Italian food, and of her passion for finding healthy recipes her brother can test, given his own health woes. One of the recipes she shared with me was for salmon with an orange marinade and smoked paprika that sounded divine, even though, she warned me sotto voce, "It's a McCormick's recipe." It slipped my mind until I saw that very same recipe in an ad in this month's Gourmet magazine, so I gave it a try last night before I could forget about it again.
Gil defrosted the salmon we'd bought on our last Trader Joe's run and started the marinade before I got home, so all I had to do was assemble the dry rub (though I didn't use McCormick's spices), pat down the salmon with it, and set it in the oven to roast for 10 minutes. While that was cooking, I quickly sautéed some baby spinach in olive oil and garlic, and dinner was on the table in about 20 minutes.
I guess sometimes it pays to venture out of my circumscribed little world. The routine of commuting can be wearying and it's always easier to conserve energy than to make a connection, but I'm happy that at least in this one instance, it really paid off. The salmon had wonderful depth of flavor. The ingredients didn't mingle together so much as wash over the tongue in waves; the bright, sunny citrus gave way to sugar and smoky paprika which morphed into a puff of cinnamon before leaving only the flavor of the salmon behind. I'll keep this recipe handy for quick, healthy dinners.
Smoked Paprika-Roasted Salmon with Wilted Spinach adapted very slightly from McCormick Recipes
The only thing I'd change next time is maybe to use a little less cinnamon than the recipe calls for, but it's really terrific as-is.
1/4 cup orange juice
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon olive oil, divided
2 teaspoons thyme, divided
2 pounds salmon fillets
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon smoked paprika (I used bittersweet pimentòn)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 bag (10 ounces) fresh spinach leaves
1 garlic clove, minced
Mix orange juice, 2 tablespoons of the oil and 1 teaspoon of the thyme in small bowl. Place salmon in glass dish. Add marinade; turn to coat. Cover. Refrigerate 30 minutes or longer for extra flavor.
Preheat oven to 400°F. Mix brown sugar, smoked paprika, cinnamon, orange peel, remaining 1 teaspoon thyme and sea salt in small bowl. Remove salmon from marinade. Place in greased foil-lined baking pan. Discard any remaining marinade.
Rub top of salmon evenly with smoked paprika mixture. Roast 10 to 15 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.
Meanwhile, heat remaining 1 teaspoon oil in large skillet on medium heat and sauté garlic until golden. Add spinach; cook 2 minutes or until wilted. Serve salmon over spinach.
One of the more surprising things about being up at 3 am is just how quiet the city can be. Without the constant din of traffic, other more subtle sounds become apparent. For example, some traffic lights, once they turn over into their "flashing yellow" mode, emit a barely perceptible "click-click...click-click...click-click". Streetlights in lesser states of repair often have a constant buzzing sound. But as soon as a car drives by, these sounds are instantly muffled.
Once so long ago, this was the perfect time for me to write. I'd bundle whatever relevant books were needed, as well as a yellow legal pad, and head off to a place where the coffee was hot and the food was merely passable. The quality of these places never mattered much. The fact that they were open at all was all that was needed as a selling point.
A restaurant during the early hours of the morning is a different world from the one that exists during what one might term "regular business hours". Once the post-bar crowd leaves, solitude starts to weigh heavy upon the patrons. Most customers arrive alone, and those who show up with a party more than one tend to speak in hushed tones. Much like the outdoors, sounds normally not noticed now get amplified. A radio being played in the back can be easily heard, and coffee cups clinked together become their own symphony.
Ah yes, coffee - the beverage that rules the early morning. Beer or liquor may have dominated the night before, and orange juice will often become more popular as the third shift evolves into the first, but the time between 3 and 6 am is coffee's domain. Quality rarely matters at these hours; as with the restaurant, the fact that coffee exists is welcome enough. There are no gourmands at this time of day. In fact, a day could be made based on the mere whiff of the dark, earthy aromas that come from the pot.
The wait staff is versed enough to leave the customers alone. A look at the coffee cup and a refill without a word is the best possible customer service. If a patron needs anything more, they usually know enough to speak up.
This temporary stasis lasts only for two, maybe three hours if one is lucky. The meditative state of this scene is easily broken by a simple conversation. Typically someone comes rolling in between five a six o'clock, usually a regular. They speak louder than the 3 am crowd, and start talking with their favorite waitress about the state of their lives. Often they complain good-naturedly how "gawd-dammed early" it is, oblivious to the fact that out of everyone in the restaurant, they are likely the one who was most recently asleep.
Once the din of the day begins, the 3 am crowd has to leave. The sanctuary of the night has been destroyed. But this is acceptable to them. In 21 hours or so, the church of early morning will re-create itself. It always does.
One of the more interesting aspects of my whisk(e)y research is just how many people feel that Canadian whisky is, if not irrelevant, at least inconsequential. This perspective is not just fostered by the Scots, Irish, and Kentuckians, but in some instances by Canadians themselves. There seems to be this sense of inadequacy that's applied to many of the whiskys from the Great White North.
Which is a shame, for a variety of reasons. There are good whiskys to be sure, once you know where to look. But there is also a history there that is equal to any being highlighted Bourbon country. All one needs to do is look at the life of Hiram Walker, or turn to the city of Windsor during the period of American Prohibition. When talking about the history of whisky, it's impossible to avoid bringing up the influence of Canada.
But I do recognize why many folks feel that Canadian Whiskys are not important. Many of the whiskys that were popular immediately following World War II weren't that good, especially when compared to the quality of whiskys being produced nowadays. But as I said, there are good whiskys to be had.
Centennial is a good whisky. It's not a great one, but it certainly holds its own against other more popular industrialized brands such as Jim Beam, Dewars or Jamesons. What these three brands have that Centennial does not is a marketing department with a million dollar budget, which leads to my much bigger point - Because there is much less hype surrounding this product when compared to the other three, it's comes across as more of a discovery than a disappointment. Of course this may be due to my own lack of experience than a great insight.
Nose
Well.. it smelled like light grains. A bit bitter, and a little earthy. Not much here beyond that.
Taste
A very brown sugary/molasses type of taste, with the rye making itself aware,as well as a bit of pepper. Of course, every time I call something "peppery" what that means to me is that the alcohol is also making itself quite apparent (i.e. I could have added a touch more water). The mouthfeel was very oily.
Finish
The finish ended surprisingly quick. But what was there came across as sort of a pecan pie minus the pecans..sort of a dark corn syrup. that's probably why the taste of molasses is still there.
Overall
Why, with all of the positive descriptions above, is this not better? It seems to lack any depth. What's there is there, and then leaves rather quickly.
Here's where it ranks on my list of preference.
Very Good
Bushmills Black Bush
The Macallan - 18 yr old
Redbreast
Good
Bushmills
Centennial Premium Rye 10 Years Old
Jameson
Tyrconnell
And if pressed, I'd say I like it better than Jameson, but not as much as Bushmills. That puts it on par with the Tyrconnell.
If the House of Representative's cafeteria is good enough to remove high fructose corn syrup from the menu and to add locally grown, organic, seasonal and generally healthy food, why can't the congressritters suggest the same for the many publics school cafeterias across America?
...Just wondering.
(Promoted from the diaries to the front page - Kate)
Originally posted at my site, Minimally Invasive.
Because of my need to give homemade food gifts for the holidays, this is traditionally the weekend I atone for my lack of baking throughout the year — all at once. But instead of saying two dozen Hail Marys and 10 Our Fathers, my personal penance was making THREE batches of pralines, a few POUNDS of spiced nuts, and TWO types of cookies. Oh, my friends, I’m on a sugar high that would do Beavis proud. (What? You’ve never heard of quality assurance?)
For the pralines, I dug out my dad’s recipe which adulterates the traditional praline with marshmallows, but you’ve never tasted anything like them; they’re really creamy instead of gritty the way straight-sugar pralines can sometimes be. Gil would chime in to agree, only he’s shoving broken praline bits into his mouth and banging his head on the wall in the kitchen. Don’t worry — he’s wearing a bucket for protection. The sugar crash is going to be ugly.
But the real surprise of the weekend were the cookies, primarily surprising for the fact that I baked them and did not burn even one. I normally bring in savory treats for my co-workers (last year — bacon brittle and gougères), but I suspect people appreciate the sweet stuff a little bit more, so I was willing to go that extra mile for them. And we weren’t disappointed; I really hope they won’t be, either.
Here’s the really soft and sticky sugar cookie dough, cut and ready to be moved (CAREFULLY) to the parchment paper-lined baking sheet.
As it turns out, I didn’t really need to be SO careful because these cookies s-p-r-e-a-d in the oven.
But dressed up with chocolate and nut toupées, they turned very suave, indeed.
So I’m really looking forward to a well-deserved break from baking this week. Maybe I’ll be chained to my desk at work, but at least I won’t be in the kitchen, forced to bake and sample delicious sweets!
Are those tiny violins I hear in the distance?
For anyone who has followed the food industry for even the shortest amount of time, Michael Pollan's recent article in the New York Times Magazine regarding unsustainable practices in the food industry covers little new ground. But what it does is put a fair amount of the facts together and paints a disturbing picture of what the food industry has wrought.
First, he covers the pork industry -
Recent studies in Europe and Canada found that confinement pig operations have become reservoirs of MRSA. A European study found that 60 percent of pig farms that routinely used antibiotics had MRSA-positive pigs (compared with 5 percent of farms that did not feed pigs antibiotics). This month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention published a study showing that a strain of “MRSA from an animal reservoir has recently entered the human population and is now responsible for [more than] 20 percent of all MRSA in the Netherlands.” Is this strictly a European problem? Evidently not. According to a study in Veterinary Microbiology, MRSA was found on 45 percent of the 20 pig farms sampled in Ontario, and in 20 percent of the pig farmers. (People can harbor the bacteria without being infected by it.) Thanks to Nafta, pigs move freely between Canada and the United States. So MRSA may be present on American pig farms; we just haven’t looked yet.
Secondly, he touches upon the colony collapse disorder from the bees.
In 2005 the demand for honeybees in California had so far outstripped supply that the U.S.D.A. approved the importation of bees from Australia. These bees get off a 747 at SFO and travel by truck to the Central Valley, where they get to work pollinating almond flowers — and mingling with bees arriving from every corner of America. As one beekeeper put it to Singeli Agnew in The San Francisco Chronicle, California’s almond orchards have become “one big brothel” — a place where each February bees swap microbes and parasites from all over the country and the world before returning home bearing whatever pathogens they may have picked up. Add to this their routine exposure to agricultural pesticides and you have a bee population ripe for an epidemic national in scope.
To get the full scope of his take on these events, you should read the article in its entirety. I highlighted these two sections to demonstrate the severity of the issues that he touched upon.
As I read his article, a wave of cynicism washed over myself. This feeling isn't a new one. In fact, it is one in which I have had a fair amount of late. Because so much is riding on these two issues, there are people out there who will no doubt wish to bury the significance of them - partly due to fear of culpability, but mostly because of fear of short term financial losses that will have to be incurred in order to fix the damn problems.
This burying will be done in two parts. The first part is easy enough: through inaction of the USDA, who has yet to show any level of seriousness in pursuing an adequate level of governance that would require financial sacrifices on the part of corporate-owned farms.
The second part will be a smear campaign against anyone who brings these items to the attention of the public. This would be pretty much anything from press releases from the Center for Consumer Freedom (whose name is amusingly ironic, as they rarely have little to do with the actual consumers) to co-ordinated PR efforts from various relevant companies who will try to paint themselves "green", and use this as evidence of the messengers lack of credibility surrounding these findings.
Perhaps I'm overly cynical in regards to this, and perhaps a little paranoid, but I cannot deny that this is how I feel. I wish that someone who has some level of accountability would just own up and fix these issues.
Perhaps this is simply too much to ask. At this point, I'd be better off buying a lottery ticket and waiting for my winnings to come in.
(thanks to Jack from Fork & Bottle)
This weeks poll has to do with Christmas - namely, which food tradition best represents the Holiday?
For me, it's leaving the cookies out for Santa. First, it has the elements of giving, which is really what the holiday is about. Second, it does hold some memories for me.
Once we were old enough to understand the secret of Santa, we started leaving new and more interesting items for him, aside from the cookies - specifically, bottles of Scotch, which, while not traditional, I'm sure he appreciated all the same.
As always, leave your opinion in the comments, and if I've missed any, let me know.
(Promoted from the diaries to the front page - Kate)
For many years when I was growing up, my family would spend the day after Thanksgiving baking. My grandmother from Norway would come over with my grandpa and my mom and I (and sometimes my brother and sister would join in for a time) would bake from early in the morning until supper time. We'd make 10 to 12 different kinds of cookies and not all bar cookies either!
Every year, the highlight of the baking for me was making the Norwegian cookies. Here is grandma's krumkake recipe and some pictures of the process.
Krumkake (crumb cake) are thin waffle like cookies baked on an iron and then rolled around a dowel while still warm to form a tube. They are not filled, although grandpa and my uncle were known to take the ReadyWhip to a couple when grandma wasn't looking.
3 eggs, well beaten
1/2 C. sugar
1/2 C. melted butter
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. crushed cardamom
1/2 C. flour
Combine ingredients in order listed. Bake on a Krumkake iron and roll around the dowel while warm.
Do not store with other cookies or they'll get soft.
Step-by-step pictures at Flickr!
It's funny how necessity is the mother of invention. Just yesterday morning, I was trying to think of what to write for you today. I had cooked nary a thing since Thanksgiving - I've been working late and from home. My camera, now fixed, has no battery as the battery decided to expire during the time the camera was in the shop. Perfect timing, I thought, not that I had new dishes to photograph. Around 3pm yesterday, there was a funny tickle in my throat, and by the time I left work around 7pm, my throat was hurting and I was getting chills. We went to bed around 10pm, my body achy, feverish, having taken Airborne and Tylenol. I had a hunch it wasn't going to be gone by the morning.
Well, I awoke this morning and could barely swallow. I think it's safe to admit I am sick, though with what is yet to be determined. I haven't had a throat this sore in ages, and I'm hoping it's just a cold. Hoping. And this is where the dish of today is going to come in.
Whether it's really true that chicken soup cures colds, or it's a dish of comfort from our childhood, it's something I instantly crave when I realize I'm sick. It's a soup that makes me feel cozy, warm, even stronger. While I won't be cooking it for myself (I'm sick and all and will probably spend my day lying on the couch), KS has volunteered to make it for me. The only decision I'll have to make is noodles or matzo balls?
Some months ago, KS and his mom went to the Tenement Museum in the Lower East Side (which I've now joined as a member) and brought me a gift - The Second Avenue Deli Cookbook!! With traditional Jewish recipes like brisket, latkes and chicken soup. Now, of course, a lot of us have made chicken soup before from scratch and without a recipe! It's a basic. But the chicken soup here is a good building block. Especially if you have never made one from scratch and wanted a good recipe to start. You can play around with flavors, herbs, seasonings though - it's a difficult thing to ruin.
And so while I won't be making this myself, I can tell you - it's a great-tasting soup! And I'm certain that a few bowls of it, will surely make me feel better!
Chicken Soup
Adapted from The Second Avenue Deli CookbookMakes 8 servings.
1 pound chicken parts
2 stalks celery, including leafy tops, cut into 3-inch pieces
1 whole chicken, thoroughly rinsed
Salt to rub inside chicken
1 large whole onion, unpeeled (find one with a firm, golden-brown peel)
1 large whole carrot, peeled
1 medium whole parsnip, peeled
2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 bunch of dill, cleaned and tied with a string
Note: The Deli's recipe calls for both a whole chicken plus 1 pound of chicken parts. You can, however, use just 1 large chicken and cut off both wings, the neck, and a leg to use as parts.
1. Pour 12 cups of cold water into a large stockpot, and throw in the chicken parts and celery. Bring to a boil. While water is heating, rub the inside of the whole chicken with salt.
2. Add the chicken to the pot, cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. Test chicken with a fork to see if it's tender and fully cooked; then remove it from the pot, and set aside on a large platter. Leave chicken parts in the pot.
3. Add onion, carrot, parsnip, salt, and pepper. Let soup simmer for 1 hour and 15 minutes.
4. When chicken cools, remove skin and bones and cut into bite-sized pieces. You can add it to the soup, just before serving, or save it for chicken salad.
5. Strain the soup, and discard everything solid except for the carrot.
6. Drop in the dill for a minute before serving and remove. Add salt and pepper to taste. Slice carrot and toss into soup. Also add the chicken pieces if desired. Other options: Add cooked noodles, rice, kasha, or matzo balls.
The primary reason I picked whisky as a book topic over a plethora of other food topics is that I believe whisky demonstrates how far reaching certain foods can insinuate themselves into a society. This insinuation can take form in any way, from government policy, to tradition, to a simple story told to another person. Whisky has stories in spades.
For example, I'm doing a bit of reading about the Canadian development of their national railway system, their answer to America's transcontinental railroad.
This occured about 1880, and the development of the Canada's railway was a long, arduous process. Much of the land in which the railway would go through was unpopulated, leaving the workers with little to do. Enter whisky, which was cheap and provided many the ability to get drunk -their only form of entertainment. However, a drunk workforce makes for an unproductive one, and companies responsible banned the drink. And once an institution bans an in-demand item, it immediately becomes a highly profitable black market item.
It wasn't just the companies that banned the drink. Towns that the railway did go through banned the drink as well, for the drunk workers would often end up breaking one law or another, from the more minor ones such as breaking the peace, or a simple assault charge, to more serious ones such as destruction of property to even murder.
Since there was often very little in the way of major police forces, the constables assigned to the companies were often given the right to enforce the laws even outside of the company camps. One company constable by the name of O'Keefe seized four barrels of whisky. Instead of dumping it, as was policy, he took it back to his office and treated his friends to a bit of a party. A local magistrate found out and proceeded to fine O'Keefe and confiscated the liquor.
O'Keefe immediately paid his fine, and then proceeded to arrest the magistrate for possession. Presumably, O'Keefe took back the liquor and saw to it that it was disposed in a more discreet manner.
I love stories like this, because they are both a bit tragic and yet an equal amount comic. The history of whisky is full of stories like this.
(pulled from the diaries - Kate)
I live in San Diego, so there's not too many times when the weather changes my mood. Every once in a while though, we'll get an especially chilly day, or a surprisingly prominent drizzle, or a slightly humid evening, and I'll find myself with a weather-related craving. You know--lemonade in the heat of summer, a steaming bowl of soup on a windy, rainy day. That kind of thing.
I know it's snowing on the East coast, so excuse the mildness of the occasion. But it was cold today (a whopping 51-degrees), mostly because I forgot my jacket, and I found myself walking around for an hour between work and meeting up with a dinner date with little but a scarf and a sweater. By the time I headed to the restaurant, I had worked up quite a chill.
I didn't even realize I was craving anything until I stepped into this gorgeous new restaurant downtown and found myself sitting at a marble bar, surrounded by new mahogany and festive Christmas decor. I'm not one to usually order red wine before dinner, but when I scanned the wine list, it just popped out at me: syrah.
It was Kenwood's Jack London 2003 Syrah and it was perfect. One whiff and my chill was gone; one sip and my scarf was tossed to the chair behind me. Looking around, seeing the dark wood, the crowded room, tinsel and evergreen and ribbon, and holding this rich, heavy glass of wine, I realized it finally felt like winter.
They say you don't get to experience the seasons in Southern California, but I disagree. You can encounter the seasons, you just have to try harder to seek them out, and perhaps savor the moments you accidentally find. Today, winter was a glass of lush, velvety Kenwood Syrah. It was just as satisfying as sliding down a powdery slope, and just as comforting as a glass of hot chocolate around a fire.
It took me two hours to finish that glass--I carried it with me to the dinner table and didn't take the last sip until just before dessert arrived. With each swill, it felt a little more like winter. It was the best glimpse of a season I've had all year.
My guess is that if you wish to endear yourselves to your customers, this is not the way to do it.
The question of just how long it should take to eat fast food is being answered by the burger giant McDonald's, which is making customers finish within 45 minutes or face a charge of £125.
Motorists who care to linger over their McMeals for any longer at some drive-throughs are receiving demands from a private company that manages car parks for the burger chain.
Okay, so it's technically not McDonald's, bur rather the car park authorities that are issuing the fines. But still, they still represent McDonald's.
I have two comments here:
Still, I can't imagine that Corporate McDonald's is pleased of the negative press this is getting.
(via BoingBoing)
It has been a long time since I have posted a recipe. Life has had me extremely busy of late, keeping me out of the kitchen, and when I have ventured into our food room, the results have been less than stellar.
Luckily, the Holiday season almost demands that people cook and bake, and last night I was able to find the appropriate amount of time. The results? My first holiday cookies of the season. *small cheer*
Updated or Completed:
Under Construction:
There are times when I believe myself to be a complicated person. I tend to over analyze situations, and look for subtext in anything from books to every day conversations. I put a fair amount of time into thinking about my philosophy surrounding all things food and drink.
And then? Then there are moments when I realize that I enjoy the little things...things deemed "unimportant" by the food illuminati. For example: Liquor Bottles. I love 'em.
Not all of them, mind you. They have to have a certain aesthetic about them. They may be distinctive in some way (like the Disaronno bottle with all of it's sharp angles, or the conical shape of the bottle of Galliano). Or perhaps they may have very simple lines to them (such as a bottle of The Glenrothes).
I'm also attracted to bottles that illicit some measure of nostalgia. Strega Liqueur does this well with their labeling, which I think works very well with what is typically a very generic bottle design. Bulleit Bourbon uses a bottle which seems steeped in the lore of the past.
I'm not the only one who shares this affinity towards bottles. Malt Advocate magazine recently had a cover story based on this topic in their Third Quarter 2007 issue, where they start their article by writing:
Remember that feeling of letting a cool, heavy whisky bottle slip out of a new carton, cradling it in your hands, slowly rotating the bottle round to examine the thick, vellum label, watching the color spill from the bottle when held up to the light? Remembering the thrilling zip of rupturing the seal perforation?
I'm no psychologist, but my guess is that there's enough information in the above passage to make Freud blush. This...this is the level of obsession that I have with packaging.
I will admit to purchasing liquor based off of the bottle alone. My recent purchase of Maraschino was based off of which bottle looked better. Most of the herbal liqueurs I have purchased were decided on the fact that the bottles looked like they had a tradition to them.
Does this make me weak? Does this make me shallow? *shrug* I don't know.
But I do know that the bottle of Sortilège that I purchased on my recent trip to Canada looks really spiffy in my liquor cabinet.
Having run across several recent posts on Absinthe (okay...only two articles), now is as good of a time as any to dispel some basic misconceptions.
First and foremost, absinthe has technically been legal to sell in the United States since 1972. However, since 1972, any product sold in the U.S. must be thujone free (See section 172.510 of the FDA Code regarding food additives). It was presumed that all absinthe had thujone, thus, no one decided to make it here in the States. Since it was illegal to import Absinthe (rather than simply products containing thujone) into the States, Absinthe became extinct due to the legal process.
However, it was finally understood in May of 2007 that there was an acceptable margin of error in thujone analysis of 10 parts per million. Thus, any Absinthe that found its way into the States and can prove that they have between zero to ten parts parts per million of thujone in their drink are now legal by FDA standards. It is still illegal to import Absinthe today, so any importation will need to jump some legal hurdles if you need/want to declare said importation.
Unless you have your own still, you cannot make Absinthe at home. Absinthe recipes that call for you maserating herbs x, y,and z in grain alcohol, Barcardi 151, or vodka result only in grain alcohol, Barcardi 151, or vodka tasting like herbs x, y,and z.
Absinthe is made from macerating herbs in alcohol, directly distilling the maseration, and then coloring it by the adding even more herbs.
Setting sugar on fire and letting it drip into your absinthe is based on a tradition that goes all the way back to the early 1990's. In other words, it was a marketing gimmick. Typically all you get from setting fire to sugar and letting it drip into your absinthe is a waste of absinthe.
However, adding dissolved sugar into Absinthe does have a tradition of longer than 15 years.
When it comes to food blogging, I miss 2005.
There. I've said it. I feel a whole lot better.
This has been on my mind for quite some time, partially exasperated by the fact that Epicurious, was voted 2nd best food blog this year in the Weblog awards. We've come a long way from all of the press the food blogs received in 2004/2005. In two years time we've gone from individuals and private citizens getting acknowledged and read for their writing and their passion for food to that bastion of individuality Condé Nast getting kudos.
This isn't to knock the fine folks over at Epicurious, but I've always felt that food blogging was the anti-Condé Nast - the place where you went to when you wanted to get an individual's opinion on food, not an institution's.
But this is only part of the problem. In 2004, there were hundreds of food blogs, and it was easy to pick out the dozen or so that fit your taste and perspective. Now, at last count, there were something like 40,000 food blogs out there. If you are just starting a food blog today, it's far more difficult to get noticed simply because there are more voices out there vying for attention.
We've also lost a fair amount of the sense of community that was around two to three years ago. My perception of this may be jaded by the fact that I pulled myself back from the community back in June of 2006 after I gave up the Well Fed Network, but I also noticed less community events, such as "Is my blog burning?". Thank goodness for Pim's Menu for Hope which has it's roots in the food blogging community of 2004.
Then there are the PR folk, who seemingly treat larger food blogs as their own special outlet for free publicity. I've kept track of all of the press releases, "post ideas", and free sample offers I get for the past three months. I average ten a day. The worst day was just before Thanksgiving where I received twenty seven e-mails from PR companies, extolling the virtues of whatever shitty products they were commissioned to peddle. I haven't answered an e-mail of theirs in 18 months, and I haven't posted anything received from a PR company in twenty. Now they simply go into the SPAM filter. The lack of respect these folks show to food blogs is nauseating to me.
So yeah, I miss 2005. This isn't meant to denigrate anyone who just started food blogging, or anyone who helped the medium of food blogging evolve into whatever it is today (and yes, the Food Blog Awards did play a part in this evolution...I'm aware of my own culpability).
Because of all of the issues I've raised above, I want to change the direction of Accidental Hedonist. It'll still be a food blog, but instead of me talking at the readers (something else that has been bugging me), I want to develop a community on this site. Over the next few weeks, Tara and I are going to introduce new options here, the primary one being that individuals can sign up for an account and have their own "food diaries" hosted here at Accidental Hedonist.
Right now, I could use some help. I need five people to help test out some of the new functionality. You'll get an account on Accidental Hedonist, with your own URL (for example http://www.accidentalhedonist.com/johndoe) and an RSS feed. Some posts will be promoted to the front page, others will not. Soon we should have links to the most recent posts on the front page. I have other longer term goals here, including hiring more writers and paying folks for any post that goes to the front page, but these are still in the development phase. Right now, I need to see if there is any interest in this, and if it's an idea that can be expanded upon. If you are interested in being one of the five, e-mail me at Kate AT accidentalhedonist DOT com.
(For those of you who pay attention to such things, yes, this is the change to Accidental Hedonist that I alluded to all the way back in July.)
I have no idea how viable of an idea this is. What I do know is that I miss the energy that the food blogging community had in 2005. My hope is that I can recreate some of that here.
UPDATE: I've got my 5 guinea pi...er...volunteers. Thanks to all for their interest!
This past Saturday, Tara and I found ourselves at a yet another attempt to recreate New York-Style Deli in the Greater Seattle area. Once again we left sated, yet I was a tad disappointed.
The sandwich I had ordered was fine. It was a decent amount of pastrami with a bit of horseradish upon a light rye bread. Tara and I tried to personify what it's like to eat horseradish, and I ended up with the following:
Horseradish is like a friend who welcomes you into their home, invites you to sit in the most comfortable chair by the fireplace, gives you a blanket and a bit of tea...
...and then punches you in the nose. Hard. And you like it.
After the sandwich was gone, there was a bit of disappointment. Once again, we had a deli claiming to be New York inspired, but in truth it was just another sandwich shop. Dr. Brown and Corned Beef does not a New York Deli make.
What does make a good New York Deli? Yes, yes, the cold cuts are important. There has to be a corned beef you'd kill for, and a pastrami that's cured well enough to make you cry. Salami belongs with out saying, but so does liverwurst, brisket and yes, even tongue. Freshly baked bread of all the major varieties should be on the menu as well. White and wheat, as well pumpernickel and rye should be made available.
And don't forget the bagels...Oh the bagels! To describe the perfect bagel would require words that are just out of the reach of the common man. A good bagel is served toasted with a thick and sturdy crust on the outside. But the inside should be light. Not fluffy, mind you, but light. Too many bagels are made with the density of galvanized rubber and have the texture to match. A great bagel is like biting into a present. It may require a small bit of effort to breach the outside, but once broken, a bagel effortless to eat.
Lox should go without saying, but whitefish is oftentimes forgotten by those on the west coast. To me, a deli isn't a deli without whitefish.
Finally, a good deli should have the traditional Jewish dishes - blintzes and kugel, lattkes and knishes. But the further from New York one get's the lower the odds of ever find these on a menu.
This, of course, is my dream deli. It's one I have thought of opening in Seattle for quite some time. Every time Tara and I have thought about opening a restaurant, it's the deli that always comes up.
Seattle, will you ever learn?
1829 views • Categories: Sauces& Dips So I was hoping to get my camera back before this post so that I could post this recipe and with pictures, but unfortunately it's still in the shop and will only be ready for pick-up tomorrow. I know that Thanksgiving has come and gone, but many of you may be gearing up to cook another turkey in a few weeks for Christmas and wanted to share this easy and delicious recipe with you. The best part is that you preserve all the vitamins of the cranberry by not cooking the berries. The result is a very refreshing, zingy sauce!
My first experience with cranberry sauce in America was with canned cranberry sauce - not exactly a great tasting condiment to your turkey. But subsequent experiments with cranberry sauce yielded tepid results - I liked the sauce fine enough, but never fell in love with it. This recipe is an old reincarnation of something we made in Russia with wild, hand-gathered-from-the-bog-by-my-father cranberries, which tasted quite different with a more intense, tart flavor and smaller berries. Every year, my father would set out with a few friends of his, on a three to four day trek, camping out in the woods and collecting cranberries and mushrooms. What he brought home, we would preserve for the winter and dry the mushrooms for soups, sauces and stews. The cranberries, we ground down with a hand-cranked (do you notice how many manual things we had to do in Russia?) food processor. And while it was a time-consuming process, I remember the texture vividly - much better than a food processor with a motor.
If you are making turkey (or a goose!) for Christmas this year, give this recipe a go! And if you have a go-to cranberry sauce recipe you've treasured and relied on for years, share it with us in the comments section. Again, sorry for lack of pictures, hopefully I'll redeem myself next week!!
1 bag of fresh cranberries, washed and patted dry
zest of 1 lemon
juice of 1 lemon
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp (or more if you like) cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp vanilla extract or 1 tsp bourbon (if you're like me, you'll go for the bourbon)Blend all the ingredients in a food processor until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Don't worry, while the cranberries macerate, they'll produce enough juice to make the sauce actually look saucy. Taste to make sure it's spicy and sweet enough for you - and if all tastes fine, stick the sauce in the refrigerator and cover with plastic wrap. I like my sauce on the tart side, so I keep the sugar amount low. I also like my sauce to have a kick, and so does my boyfriend, so we are quite generous with the cayenne. If the idea of putting cayenne into your cranberry sauce gives you the willies, omit the cayenne. The sauce should keep for up to a week - but is best the day after the preparation.
1831 views • Categories: Tea For those of you who don't know what I do for a living, I work in Quality Assurance. It is my job to ensure that the product my company develops, does so under specific standards. Sometimes that standard is only company wide and written in house, sometimes it is industry wide and written by a recognized governing body, be it a private company or a government. The job itself is sometimes boring, sometimes challenging, and oftentimes very stressful, especially when engineers look to circumvent standards and procedures that they've agreed to. Think of my profession as sort of a lawyer-for-bureaucracies, and you'll have a decent idea of what I do.
Governments love writing standards. I deal with them every day. The food industry as them, as does the airline industry, nuclear industries, and any industry in which it's a good idea to prevent a worst case scenario.
What's this got to do with food?
In 2002, the British Government released a standard on how to prepare tea.
It's called BS 6008:1980, and it literally specifies a method of "the preparation of a liquor of tea for use in sensory tests, by means of infusing the leaf."
So what's their method? Since they are notable Copyright enforcers, I'll simply point you to an uncontrolled copy of the standard.
I will say that they are very specific in their approach. But there is one major flaw in this standard. No, it's not that they don't cover how to taste tea. That's covered in this standard (BS 5987:1980, also a .pdf. You've been warned).
The big flaw in this standard is that it pre-supposes only one kind of tea. From a QA point of view, this standard is insufficient, and if asked, I would recommend to develop in house standards to supersede the BS.
1877 views • Categories: Food The poll this week on the front page of Accidental Hedonist is about the tea you prefer.
Are you ga-ga for green tea? Is Darjeeling your darling? Do you ogle oolong in tea shop windows? Does white tea whisk you away? Or do you prefer herbal mixtures?
1914 views • Categories: Tea If there's one food product that makes me a total and complete snob, it's tea. The reason is that we Americans, for the most part, have no idea about how to make tea, let alone choose high quality ones.
If you think I'm overstating the case, consider the following facts.
This is not to say that great strides haven't been made in the American tea world over the past three decades or so. The fact that I can find loose leaf tea in some supermarkets is testament to that.
But really, we have a long ways to go.
Over the next few weeks, likely into the new year, I will be doing some more research on the various teas of the worlds - what they mean, what the differences are, and most importantly, how to make a perfect cup.
7824 views • Categories: Whiskey/Whisky 
It's been a difficult today, what with our basement flooding. Not much, mind you - just enough to get the bottom of our socks soaking wet, and not much more.
The flooding itself would be a bit of a problem, even if my bedroom wasn't ground zero for where the water is leaking into the house. And in my room, there are enough electronics to make the N.S.A. take notice.
The Landlord? He's off in San Diego. So we were left to our own devices. My room mate Shelly checked and fixed the drainage pipe (apparently there was a hole in the pipe where there should not have been one), and I ran the Shop Vac.
Sixteen gallons of water later, and the room had been downgraded from moist, to simply damp. It was not a fun day, no matter how I try to make it sound.
So I ended the day the best way I knew how. I dived into my liquor cabinet (itself now a small fire hazard), and pulled out this investment. The Macallan 18 year old Scotch whisky.
Everyone I've run into so far calls Macallan whisky "Macallan", even though the label clear states "The Macallan". This is only relevant if you are the type of person who corrects people who that university in Columbus, Ohio "Ohio State". (Technically, it's called "The Ohio State University", which you will learn after talking to anyone who has partied at the Horseshoe.
But I digress.
The Macallan comes from the Speyside region of Scotland, located in the Eastern part of the country, roughly 150 miles north of Edinburgh. I've yet to decide upon which distilleries we're to be visiting, but the folks who make The Macallan are certainly on the short list.
Nose: To me, there was a smell of dried cherries and currants, followed by a sweet spiciness, sort of a cinnamon aroma, but not quite. It's a little smoky as well.
Taste: A quick jab of Sherry, followed by a nice smoky-oakiness, most definitely from the cask. It's not slam-your-head-on-a-table obvious, but it rather apparent.
Finish: A soft finish, very smooth and quite long. Sweet-molasses and a spicy-ginger flavor are both there, more subtle than obvious. I also noted a small hint of cola after repeated tastes.
Probably the most complex whisky I've tasted so far. There were many flavors that I could have listed here, and was finding more and more as the night progressed. The only reason I don't put this under the "Great" heading below, is simply personal preference, as I am not a big fan of Sherries.
Here's where it ranks on my list of preference.
Very Good
Bushmills Black Bush
The Macallan - 18 yr old
Redbreast
Good
Bushmills
Jameson
Tyrconnell
UPDATED: Thank you, Spelling Police.
2107 views • Categories: Beer That's what they will want you to believe according to their new marketing campaign:
Michelob will spend $30 million next year recasting itself as a member of the craft segment. Michelob’s entire portfolio sold 450 million cases, per IRI, for the 52 weeks ended Aug. 24.
Comparatively, craft category leader Boston Beer last year shipped 49 million cases, per Beer Marketer’s Insights.
Michelob’s “Crafting a better beer” ads will even mimic Boston Beer’s Sam Adams ads.
The reason for their new image?
Case sales of craft beers are up 17.1% at food, drug, liquor and c-stores for the year ended Nov. 3 compared with a 0.08% increase for the overall category.
Y'see, according to the Anheuser-Busch's of the world, it's not that the craft beers are selling a better product. It's just that they're marketed better.
Of course, marketing is the only answer they have at the moment. They can't come out and say the craft beers, on average, are better than the Michelob's and Miller's of the world. If they did they'd immediately give credence to the craft beer industry as being the better quality brands. Then they'd have to change their recipes.
And neither of those things are going to happen. So, instead they get cynical and manipulative, hoping no ones notices that they aren't actually small time brewers.
1828 views • Categories: FDA This can't be good for morale at the beleaguered F.D.A. Picture this...You know your company is having problems, so you get some advisers to tell you what is wrong, and what is the ramifications of things being wrong.
The advisers come back and say:
...over the last two decades, the agency’s public health responsibilities have soared while its appropriations have barely budged. The result is that the F.D.A. is falling farther and farther behind in carrying out its responsibilities and understanding the science it needs to do its many jobs.
“F.D.A.’s inability to keep up with scientific advances means that American lives are at risk...
As the cliche states - Either you're part of the solution or part of the problem. According to their own advisers, the F.D.A. is clearly part of the problem.
And there's precious little evidence to show that the advisers are incorrect.
1310 views • Categories: Announcements December is more than the Holiday season, especially for those of us in the food blog community. It also happens to be the month where we look out for our fellow humans, and then celebrate the greatness that is food blogging.
In regard to the former, I'm referring to Pim's annual Menu for Hope. Buy a raffle ticket or two (or ten) and then place your ticket in the virtual hat that corresponds to a prize that you desire. If your name is chosen, you win that prize! The money spent on the raffle ticket will go to the UN World Food Programme.
In regard to the latter, the Well Fed Network is once again hosting the Food Blog Awards. Head over to their fine web page(s) and let them know who you believe to have the better food blogs out there.
