This is pastry chef Marit Kaszubwoski making her decadent Chocolate Truffle Cake at Tapawingo, a restaurant so good, it lures Chicago diners to tiny Ellsworth, Michigan -- a six-hour drive from The Windy City.

Even unbaked, the recipe makes me long for a spoon.

Going behind the scenes at restaurants like this inspires me to try new dishes, but also leaves me in awe. Despite having just whipped together a dessert that involved melting chocolate, fly-away cocoa powder and beaten egg whites, the kitchen -- and the pastry chef -- remained immaculate. When I tested the recipe? My counters ended up dusted in cocoa powder and dribbles of chocolate stained on my apron and face. Kaszubwoski might not sample the batter like I do, but how does she defy gravity?

During my travels, I've found most chefs to be as generous as they are tidy. Without hesitation, Kaszubwoski shared her recipe with me, passing along a few baking tips as well.

Here is her recipe for Tapawingo's extremely dense truffle cake. Your kitchen might be messy by the time you're done, but dark chocolate lovers will find it's worth the effort.

Note 1: The recipes calls for dark chocolate couverture, a coating chocolate available at specialty shops. If you can't get it, substitute equal amounts of dark chocolate and add 1/4 to 1/2 tsp of butter for each ounce of chocolate.

Note 2: Like most chefs, Kaszubwoski weighs her ingredients for accuracy. In case you don't have scales, I've put measurements in brackets, but keep in mind, these are approximate since scales can vary.

Tapawingo's Chocolate Truffle Cake

12 oz dark chocolate couverture
14 oz (about 4 1/2 cups) pure cocoa powder
10 fl oz (1 1/4 cups) water
12 oz (about 1 3/4 cup) sugar
18 oz (2 1/4 cups) soft butter, at room temperature
12 egg whites
6 oz (1 scant cup) sugar

1. Melt the dark chocolate couverture (or chocolate and 1 tbsp butter) and combine it with the cocoa powder in a metal bowl.
2. Bring the water and the first amount of sugar to a boil.
3. Remove sugar water from the heat and pour it into the chocolate.
4. Add the butter, in small pieces, and stir until the chocolate is smooth.
5. Whip the egg whites with the second amount of sugar until they form soft peaks.
6. Gently fold the whipped egg whites into the chocolate mixture.
7. Pour the batter into a cake pan and bake it at 350F for about 25 min. (Note, when I tested the cake, I made it in one pan as the recipe suggested. The resulting cake was twice the height of the dessert served at Tapawingo. It took 45 minutes to bake. Based on Kaszubwoski's timing, I would make two 10" pans the next time or halve the recipe.)

KASZUBWOSKI'S TIPS:
1. The chocolate needs to be still warm, but not hot, to produce a smooth consistency of batter.

2. Try not to incorporate too much air into the batter, as it will make the finished product crumbly and difficult to work with.

One aspect of food establishments that is often overlooked is how a place that is ostensibly designed for retail transactions becomes a community center. This happens all of the time.

Here in the states, I've seen it in three types of establishments. The local bar is the most obvious example. Coffeeshops also fit the bill in many of a locations. And for some reason, I've seen diners that serve breakfast become the de facto hang out joint for folks before they head off to do the days chores. In the latter group, they are often discernible by waitresses who address customers as "Hon'" There's restaurant not three blocks from my house that fits this bill. Of course, in typical Seattle style, they are also tattooed and have brightly unnaturally-colored dye jobs. I love these types of places.

Seattle, infused with taverns and bars, coffeeshops, and these ironic post-modern breakfast diners, seems to have more than our fair share of these types of places. Introducing a new food establishment is tricky, often because of the dearth of other similarly-minded locations. Things are getting so odd, that places like The Bohemian (pictured above) is both coffeeshop AND bar.

More than any other type of restaurant, I feel these types of locations are far more important to the food world than the highly-rated, Beard-winning, Michelin-Star having restaurants. These are the places that we go to on a regular basis, drawing us into, and eventually allowing us to feel as if we are part of our community.

With all of this talk about local foods, and maintaining regional identity, I have to conclude that an integral part of establishing "local food" credibility includes finding a place that allows you to feel a part of the community.

The truly great establishments on this planet do exactly that. One of the maxims that is heard while traveling is that, if one wishes to eat well, avoid the tourist traps and head to places where the taxi drivers/policemen/reporters hang out. "Hang out" is the operative phrase. If it is a place where one hangs out, it is sure to be a place that develops or defines a community.

So while we talk about local food, remember that this concept goes beyond simply eating from a farmers market. It means heading out into your neighborhood and getting to know those who live near you. Take a book, hang out, get known.

Out of all of the odd coincidences that have occured in the history of food, the one that sticks out in my mind revolves around a small piece of dough with some filling placed on it, and then folded in some way that it becomes a small little treat.

Think of an individual piece of ravioli. It's really not all that complicated to create. So easy is this type of food that we see some variation of it all across the world.

The Russians have pirozhki, little half moons of pasta-like dough, filled with potatoes, or onions, or cheese. It is then baked or deep fried. The pierogie of Poland is a direct descendant of this Russian dish.

India has the tiny pastry called the samosa, but this is but a relation of the middle eastern pastry called sanbusak. Filling can be anything from meat to cheese to raisins. The samsas of the Turkish regions and the sambosa of Afghanistan can all trace their lineage to the sanbusak. These are distant cousins of the ravioli, the dough being far less glutenous.

However, when I look at jiaozi of China, I often wonder if there is a historical connection between it and the stuffed pasta of Italy. The dough looks similar, although being a little larger in size and the dough being a little thinner in width.

Directly related to jiozi is the mantou, also found in China, but likely originated in Central Asia where it can be found in Iran, Afghanistan and other coutries in the area. Sometimes mantou can be as large as a fist. And if we're going to look at larger stuffed pastries, I could create a post that lasts for another two thousand words. And I didn't even touch wontons, mochi, or the multitude of other smaller stuffed pastas/pastries that are out there.

What I love about all of these items is that, while you can trace some of the influences throughout food history, many of the foods mentioned above were introduced without influence from one another. It might not be a big deal to some. After all, sticking a filling in a square of dough isn't really that big of a stretch of the imagination, it does show that people do think alike, even when they live thousands of miles apart. When it comes to food, we should celebrate those foods that bring us closer together, whether it is in a communal, or (as in this instance) a historical context.

My camera died.

Yes, the beautiful Nikon Coolpix that has been with me since my backpacking trip to Europe in the summer of 2005 has finally snapped its last shot. I'm taking it to the camera doctor tomorrow, but it has been a long and slow death, and I don't have high hopes for its future.

For most people, the death of a camera is not such a big deal. Most of us just pull out our cameras for crazy nights out or trips, and the rest of the time it gathers dust somewhere on your desk. For me, however (and most of the food blogging world), my camera is an integral part of my daily life. I take pictures of all of my dinners, some of my lunches and the outsides of every restaurant I ever visit.

Food bloggers usually think of themselves as writers, first and foremost. I know that I do: food writing is one more way that I express myself in written form, next to travel journalism and the fiction writing that I do in my spare time. But food blogging has also turned me into a photographer of sorts, and as I look through the last two years of posts, I've come to realize that blogging has taught me a lot about food photography.

I'm no whiz... there are a lot of people out there in the food blogging world that have a knack for food photography that I have never been able to achieve. But I've learned that natural light is best and that all food looks better on a plain white plate. I've also learned where my macro-close-up button is, which turns any photography novice into a whiz.

But most importantly, I've learned that food is a visual experience as well as a tasting one. I now make sure that all of the food I make, even if it's just for me, looks as appetizing as it can before I start eating. It's an important lesson to learn for anyone interested in cooking, and I look forward to continuing to learn more about it.

As soon as I get a new camera.

emily
Tomato Kumato

For some, it not the type of toppings that matter, it's the amount of them. Today's poll asks you to defend your topping amount preference. Do you go for a cheese and Sauce only, or do you prefer those deep dish monsters that have a multitude of options within?

My preference is for one topping, although about 5% of the time, I'll get all crazy and up the topping amount to two. It's usually a meat product (depending upon the place where I order...and yes, I do consider anchovies meat), with mushrooms or onions providing the supporting role. Yes, I am aware of the California style pizza, and find it amusing that they believe that artichokes on pizza is revolutionary. I also find Hawaiian pizza quite wonderful. But even with these new options available, I am, for lack of a better phrase, an American Pizza traditionalist.

So, what's your pizza choice? How many toppings and which ones? Add your preference to the comments of this post.

Jon Eick over at So Good had a post a week ago that said....well, this:

Pepperoni pizza is not that good. I mean, yeah, it’s good, but it’s not THAT good. Seriously, it’s not. If you think it is, it’s time to get over it, and get over yourself. Wake your boring ass taste buds up, there are many delicious pizza options out there, and the pizza world doesn’t revolve around pepperoni.

If pizza is high quality, a mere slice of cheese is delicious. If pizza is mediocre, I understand the need to add toppings. But I have news for you pepperoni: you ain’t all that and a bag of chips. Pepperoni, while ok, is simply NOT good enough to have earned it’s place as the default pizza order of choice on merit alone.

There's so much here to talk about. Firstly, from a pure historical POV, Jon raises an interesting question. How did pepperoni become the default choice of topping? My guess is that we Americans migrate towards the spicy and flavorful over the bland and subtle, and pepperoni simply powered its way over other mediocre offerings such as hamburger meat disguised as sausage, second rate cheese, and canned, CANNED, mushrooms. With offerings such as these, pepperoni wins by default.

Second, Let's stop playing up the Italian influence on Pizza, because for the most part, we Americans have rarely tasted a truly Italian flatbread. I'm talking pizza from coal or wood burning oven with minimal amount of toppings, toppings which, by the way, could stand on their own. Great pizza makes me weep with joy. American pizza mostly makes me sigh with disappointment.

Part of the sadness with American pizza comes from the fact that we treat our pizza dough so horribly. Much like hamburger buns (which we also ignore taste-wise), the crust of the pizza should works in concert with the toppings, and not merely be an edible plate on which toppings are served. A great crust is a work of art. A mediocre crust is just sad. A mediocre crust requires toppings on top of it that make up for the crusts lack of flavor. Hence, spicy pepperoni.

We here in Seattle have a very odd problem. There's a lack of really great pizza joints that deliver. On the East Coast, I had dozens of options in each major city in each of the cities where I had lived. Here, it's less so.

Now most people here will point to Pagliacci's as perfectly acceptable. But in truth, their crust suffers the same fate as most American crusts. It's tough, and after a few minutes outside of the oven, it becomes difficult to chew. So how do they compensate for this failure?

Their toppings - which includes a pepperoni made by Salumi. Yes, that Salumi. This ends up being sort of the inverse of putting a lipstick on the pig, where in this case the pig improves the mediocre product.

So, I'm with Jon in this. Listen America! Stop settling for the merely average. Quit accepting canned mushrooms, and horrible, horrible, pizza cheese as an option. And for the love of all that is holy, please understand that a mediocre pepperoni can never save a terrible pie.

This might be a short post, because there are few things about cooking I actually hate. But the things that bug me, bug me a lot.

Peeling potatoes. It’s not just because the only vegetable peeler I have right now is made for left-handed people. My left-handed sister gave one to everybody in the family, claiming anyone can use it. But I think it was just revenge on her part. No, I’ve always hating peeling potatoes. They’re slippery, and I always lose the side of at least one fingernail. It’s the main reason I don’t make mashed potatoes, the second one being I’m not that crazy about them and don’t think they’re worth the trouble.

Cleaning lettuce. Despite my undying love for the salad spinner, I hate this job. It’s for a completely bizarre (but no longer embarrassing) reason: I hate to touch lettuce. It makes my face twitch. I make myself do it on occasion, in a “facing your fears” kind of way, but I generally leave it to Logan.

Grating cheese. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Does anyone actually like doing this? If ever there were a reason for me to buy another the food processor, this is it. Alas, sometimes I have to suffer for my principles, because there is no universe, this one or an alternate, in which I would live without cheese.

Cutting up vegetables and fruit. Dicing veggies for a mirepoix is no big deal, even if it’s a huge amount. But cutting veggies for a vegetable plate or fruit for a salad is a big old pain in the ass, and I don’t have the patience. I usually just forego them for parties, or assign them to someone who’s crazy enough to volunteer. I made all the food for my wedding, but don’t think for a second that I spent valuable time putting together a veggie plate. God made grocery store delis for a reason.

Peeling tomatoes. It’s time consuming and messy. However, I do it when I think it’s necessary. The salsa recipe I use calls for fresh, peeled tomatoes, and, while I don’t mind some tomato skins in my red sauce, I don’t want them in my salsa.

Those are it, and considering how many things I will happily do to make a great meal, I don’t think that’s too bad a list. One of my on-line food friends, who is a professional chef and a cooking instructor, says that being a real cook means being willing and able to do anything and everything required. But I think we all have our limits, don’t we? We can’t do everything all the time, but that doesn’t negate our credibility as home cooks. Even having all the time in the world doesn’t mean I’m going to spend it peeling tomatoes if I don’t have to.

I’m riveted by the idea of what makes a real cook. My chef friend says that, in addition to being willing and able to anything and everything, being a real cook means doing it even when you don’t want to; that you’ll gladly stand on your feet for hours at a time, and put up with the heat and the aggravation and the mistakes. If you can’t or won’t do that, then you need a qualifier before the word “cook”. I was really put off by the suggestion at first, but I thought about it for a while and I can’t say I disagree with him or that I’m insulted by the suggestion. I think I do need a qualifier, and that would be “home”. I’m not a professional, and I have neither the skills nor the desire to be one. It would run all the fun for me. If being unwilling to peel potatoes means I have to call myself a home cook, I can live with that. It’s not a putdown, it’s just reality.

Look, I like and respect French cuisine as much as the next gourmand, but I think this is simple arrogance on the part of the French.

...around a half-dozen French chefs and culinary experts from the ad hoc “French Mission for Food Heritage and Cultures” are preparing for war with weapons they know best.

They ate and drank their way through a three-hour strategy session recently to help their country face the daunting task before it: to persuade the United Nations to declare French gastronomy a world treasure.

Let me make this very clear: Gastronomy is an important part of each country's cultural heritage. To imply or outright suggest that one is superior to another is the height of both arrogance and ethnocentrism. From my point of view, it also misses the point of gastronomy.

Food provides context, a historical reflection if you will, into a nation's heritage. A great example is America's fascination with the Dutch Oven, which gained popularity during the pioneer days 100 plus years ago. Or the Italians use of bread in their soup, providing evidence that the lower classes had to learn how to extend their foodstuffs. Or beer became prevalent in European countries that couldn't grow grapes efficiently. I could go on, but I think you get the point. All food is culturally significant. From the article:

So by the time the roasted figs, the wine-macerated prunes, the chocolate mousse and the Earl Grey sorbet arrived in the private dining room of Guy Savoy, a chef with three Michelin stars, the men were in deep discussion about the magic of their country’s cuisine.

“It’s everything!” Mr. Savoy said. “France is the only country in the world with such diversity!”

Except, Mr. Savoy, that figs and plums came from the Middle East, chocolate came from South America, Earl Grey came from South Central Asia (with a little help from the British), and sorbet came from Italy. The only French item listed above is the mousse, and even that has influences that extend beyond French History. Whipping eggs whites into a froth and adding flavoring is hardly a unique discovery.

Sometimes I think my own predilection for writing about anything except French cuisine is the result of the sheer arrogance they have about their food. This article only goes to cement that feeling.

Hi all! I'm in the midst of planning a two week trip to London over the Holiday season, and could use some help in finding food related places in the city that are worth going to. I'm not just talking about restaurant recommendations here (although those would be appreciated), but also specialty shops along the lines of say, Cybercandy, Books for Cooks, and of course, Harrods.

Any recommendations do not have to be of a quintessential British experience, but they would certainly be appreciated. For example, I'm just as happy finding a good kosher deli as finding a great place for an English Fry-Up.

And yes, I know this may seem a bit premature, what with the trip being three months away, but this is my modus operandi when planning long trips. It gives me additional time to look forward to my journey.

Those of you who read the comments have come across Leisureguy before. He's a regular here, and I find his contributions to the discussions often insightful and spot on. He sent me an e-mail, about two weeks ago, extolling the virtues of pie recipe that he was fond of, made of chocolate and soy. He ended the e-mail to me by saying "you probably won't try it."

I can guess why he wrote that, as I am not a fan of soy. I am, however, a tremendous fan of pie, and am also curious enough to see if I can get it to work.

The result? A very interesting pie, with a lighter chocolate taste, especially when compared against a typical chocolate silk pie. Dare I say it? This pie has nuance.

It's also a breeze to make, once one is able to find the key ingredient - soy. The site from which the recipe first appears recommends a specific brand, as others tend to be less silky in texture, a key aspect of this pie.

The recipe calls for a no-bake pie shell, which I also purchased rather than made myself. This was intentional, as I wanted to replicate Leisureguy's take on the recipe. For those of you who feel I should lose my pie-making license over this, I humbly apologize.

• 2 boxes of low-fat Mori-Nu silken tofu (12.3-ounces each, any firmness)
• 1 10-12 ounce package of semi-sweet chocolate chips
• 1/2 tsp. sugar
• /2 tsp. water
• chocolate-cookie no-bake pie shell
• raspberries (for garnish)

Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler until the chips retain their shape but are soft as warm butter. Remove from heat and let stand a couple minutes.

Puree the tofu in a food processor (about 2 minutes) frequently scraping down the sides of the mixing bowl to ensure that all of the tofu is converted from a soft brick into a warm-pudding consistency. Add the water to the sugar, then mix both into the tofu. Add the softened chocolate and stir until thoroughly mixed. Pour into a chocolate-cookie pie shell and swirl the top to make soft peaks, like frosting a cake. Garnish with berries. Then chill to set. Ready in 1 hour.

Serves 8 - 10

Veggie Burgers

Veggie burgers are the odd-man-out when it comes to meat substitutes. There isn't any interesting ancient history behind them nor any particular tips or tricks to their preparation. Most people will probably choose to buy a prepackaged, frozen variety. But it is also very easy to make your own. Let's review the options.

Frozen Veggie Burgers

Frozen veggie burgers come in several types, falling into two main categories: those made primarily from veggies, and those made from soy protein (sometimes called "textured vegetable protein" or TVP). The veggie-based burgers are more varied and are generally derived from beans, mushrooms, or mixed veggies. On the other hand, the soy burgers look and cook more like meat. Other veggie burger-ish products, such as "chickn" patties, are also available.

The Products

All of the following brands are national here in the United States. From my experience they all have something different to offer in both taste and texture. Like I've said before if you don't like one brand just try another. And if you live in a big city, be sure to check out any local (often completely homemade) veggie burgers at nearby natural foods markets and restaurants.

LightLife Patties - Light Burgers, Veggie Burgers, Mushroom Burgers, Chick'n Patties.

Yves Veggie Burgers - Meatless Chicken, Meatless Beef, Lentil & Veggie, BBQ Rice & Beans.

Dr. Praeger's - Bombay Veggie Burgers, California Veggie Burgers, Gluten-Free Veggie Burgers, Italian Veggie Burgers, Tex-Mex Veggie Burgers.

Amy's - All-American Veggie Burger, Bistro Burger, California Veggie Burger, Cheddar Veggie Burger, Quarter Pound Veggie Burger, Texas Veggie Burger.

Morningstar Farms - Asian Veggie Patties, Cheddar Burger, Garden Veggie Patties, Grillers Original Burger, Grillers Prime Veggie Burger, Grillers Vegan Burger, Mushroom Lover's Burger, Philly Cheesesteak Burger, Spicy Black Bean Burger, Tomato & Basil Pizza Burger, Classic Burger Organic, Tex Mex Burger Organic, Vegan Burger Organic, Veggie Medley Burger Organic, Tomato Basil Burger Organic, Thai Burger.

Boca - All American Flame Grilled Burger, Original Vegan Burger, Original Burger, Grilled Vegetable Burger, Cheeseburger, Vegan Burger Organic, All American Burger Organic, Garden Vegetable Organic, Roasted Garlic Burger Organic, Roasted Onion Burger Organic, Bruschetta Tomato Basil Parmesan Veggie Patty, Original Chick'n Patty, Spicy Chick'n Patty.

Sunshine Burgers - Original, Garden Herb, South West, Barbecue.

Wildwood Foods - Original Tofu Veggie Burger, Shiitake Mushroom Veggie Burger, Southwest Veggie Burger.

Gardenburger - Original Gardenburger, Sun-Dried Tomato Basil, Portabella, Veggie Medley, Black Bean Chipotle, Garden Vegan, Flame Grilled, The Classic, California Burger.

Homemade Veggie Burgers

The real fun with veggie burgers begins in your own kitchen. There really is no comparison when it comes to the taste and diversity that you can create.

If you missed it the first time around, my article on squash contains a recipe for a squash-based veggie burger. Delicious!

Other great veggie burger recipes can be found in one of my favorite books, Vegetarian Burgers by Bharti Kirchner. In this relatively small paperback she shares an unbelievable array of veggie burgers, ranging from "Beet and Mushroom Burgers" to "Tempeh Walnut Burgers". It's a must-have for the vegetarian kitchen.

Here are a few great looking recipes from around the web

Mango Power Girl: Veggie Burger Number 1

The Leftover Queen: Homemade Veggie Burger Experiment

Ventures With Veggies: Homemade Walnut-Oat Burgers

The following picture is by Flickr user roboppy. Now THAT's a tasty looking veggie burger!

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: The Language of Cities by Maserati.

I think I may have found the one product which challenges my "To each their own" point-of-view. After the past few posts in which several people have advocated for Pabst Blue Ribbon, I decided to toss down five dollars for a six pack and see if maybe, perhaps, I am missing something.

It turns out that the five dollar price tag is the only redeeming quality about the beer. But I can't say that I wasn't warned; several people also made the same observation.

Now before you PBR fans start getting all in a tizzy about my re-discovery of the beer's quality, there is a larger point to be made here. Namely - does it really matter what I think?

I know, I know, it's not often that a food writer will tell you that their opinion is worthless in your own context, but that is essentially what I am about to do. If you dig PBR, then please, go forth and down a few. What I find interesting when it comes to disagreement in taste is why that disagreement occurs in the first place.

There's a few presumptions that need to be addressed. The first is in regard to quality - I think we can all safely assume that some products are simply better than others. There are good beers and bad beers, just as there are good restaurants and bad ones.

The second presumption we need to make is that people's definition of quality will differ from another. And therein lies the conflict.

When I critique any product, including my own dishes, I try to only focus on three main components - aroma, initial taste, and finish. These are what I deem important. But this may not be what others deem so.

For example, any chef worth their mettle will notice that I excluded appearance as a criteria. Yet in the restaurant world, presentation plays a fairly significant role. In reading people's joy for PBR, both price and nostalgia played a part in their appreciation of the brew.

Who has the right perspective here? Should I take nostalgia into consideration when critiquing PBR? Should others place less emphasis on appearance when doing restaurant reviews? Of course not. People have and will always judge products based on their own interests. In fact, most people while use different criteria in judging different products.

My point here is that, while I have my own predilections and preferences, they may not speak to your own (or anyone elses for that matter). If you're curious to see if PBR is a decent beer, feel free to plop down five dollars and find out for yourself.

If you already have a good opinion of Pabst, then you and I will have to respectfully disagree. For while you may find it a light and fruity reminder of your youth, I find it more akin to lightly carbonated corn-flavored water with a hint of acid reflux.

Kate is going to love me. Today I'm talking pie. Both crust and filling.

I'm being a bit sneaky by posting the pastry recipe here and the recipe for Marty's Big Ass Muskoka Maple Pie on my blog. But this pie is so big it requires two posts.

Let me start by saying that I have been known to make pastry so bad I wasn't able to roll it. The rock hard lump I'd somehow conjured from flour, fat and water was the closest I'll ever get to owning granite counter tops. I sent my attempt to landfill and used a "no fail" pastry from then on. It was perfectly fine. Two damning words for pastry.

Then I found a recipe in Marty Curtis's book, Marty's World Famous Cookbook: Secrets from the Muskoka Landmark Café. I'd heard about Marty, aka The Michelangelo of Buttertarts, for a while and figured if the pastry was good enough for him, I should give it a try. I'd glad I did. This pastry is more than perfectly fine. It's perfect.

And the proof is in the pudding, or in this case, the pastry. I tested this dough when I was tired, cranky and rushing. Even my mood couldn't ruin it. Marty says this old family recipe originated from an order of nuns in Quebec. It's a hundred years old and nothing works better. Maybe the sisters gave it a special blessing?

Or maybe Marty put some good karma into the mix? Not only has he published the recipe in his cookbook, along with his previously well-guarded butter tart recipe, he's provided step-by-step illustrations and a video on his website.

While Marty's buttertarts are good enough to serve to the legendary Maple Leaf goalie Johnny Bower on a hockey stick, out of loyalty, I'm sticking to Mom's version -- although I'll be using the following crust.

Century-Old Nuns’ Pastry Dough

Excerpted with permission from Marty’s World Famous Cookbook (Whitecap Books)
by Marty Curtis

Makes enough dough for 3 10-inch, deep dish pies

Marty writes: We use this pastry for our buttertarts, pies, strudels, and apple dumplings. People often wonder what makes our pastry so flaky and tender. Wonder no more! This is the recipe used by La congrégation des Soeurs grises in Quebec, and was passed on to my family in Montreal, the Desjardins, then to me, and now — with my pleasure — it’s being passed on to you. It amazes me how a recipe can survive so long, but there’s a simple explanation. Love.

When I’m making the pastry for our buttertarts, I often visualize myself living in a monastery and imagining the peace and tranquility the lifestyle instills. This may seem odd to some but the pastry turns out perfect every time. Coincidence? You decide.

Ingredients:

4 cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp kosher salt
rind and juice of ½ a lemon
1 lb lard (we recommend Tenderflake)
1 egg, separated

Directions:

Sift the flour into a large bowl. Add the salt and lemon rind (reserving the juice), and stir with a whisk. Cut the lard into small cubes. Use a pastry knife to chop the lard and flour together into smaller pea-sized pieces until the mix resembles a light, floury crumble.

Separate the egg white into a bowl for whisking and the yolk into a measuring jug. Add the lemon juice to the egg yolk, top with ice-cold water to the 1-cup line, and stir well.

Whisk the egg white until foamy and white.

Make a well in the flour mixture.

Add the egg yolk, lemon juice, and water mixture to the flour mixture and gently fold 7–12 times by hand. While the mix is still a bit floury, add in the whipped egg white and gently press, fold, and press again until all the flour combines into a paste-like ball.

If you’re making buttertarts, divide the dough into 2 balls, wrap with plastic wrap, and chill for 1 hour before using. If you’re making 10-inch pie crusts, divide it into 3 before wrapping and chilling. If you’re making 1 Big Ass pie, divide two-thirds of the pastry into one ball, and the remaining one-third into another before wrapping and chilling.

In response to today's somewhat political piece.

The phrase that seems to be prevalent in food retail and food politics of late is called supermarket deserts. It is generally used to describe urban environments which have lack of access to major chain supermarkets. It is a bit of a misnomer however, as it gives the impression that there is no access to any food. What it really means, at least in my opinion, is that urban areas have limited to no access to supermarkets with both diversified stock and consistent quality control. As much as I dislike the Safeways and the Walmarts of the world, I do concede that they do strive to meet those two qualifiers, even if, to them, diversified stock means having eighteen varieties of potato chips and twenty-four brands of soda available.

The San Fransisco Chronicle recently addressed their own issues regarding the supermarket flight from their region. When it comes to access to food in retail markets, San Francisco has nothing upon the folks in Detroit. Yes, the environment is changing and large retail shops are closing. But smaller brand name markets are moving into the various neighborhoods.

Compare that against Detroit, which, by all accounts, has no major chain food retailer within the city limits. Most are independently owned. The quality of the food, at least according to the article linked, has suffered.

Is this a class issue? Absolutely, in both San Fran and Detroit. Trader Joe's and Whole Foods, which seem to be the markets of choice heading into San Fran, aren't exactly aiming for the fixed income clientele. While in Detroit, no one is moving in, mostly due to the added costs that come with running a market in lower class neighborhoods (higher crime, higher employment turnover).

At the moment, there seems little in the way of progress in dealing with this issue. As the wealthier move back to the city (after spending the past two or three generations in suburban enclaves), this will come to light more often.

I have been a coffee-addict for a very long time.

I first started drinking it in high school as a response to several factors, namely, my addiction to Gilmore Girls (both main characters were completely addicted to coffee), my new insomniac tendencies (I preferred staying up all night writing to sleeping) and the fact that drinking black coffee made me feel angsty, and every teenager growing up in the early 2000s needed to feel angsty at least once in the course of his/her high school career.

Since then, my relationship with coffee has been tumultuous. I've gone back and forth, from taking the New York subway down to Porto Rico, buying pound bags to get my fix, to giving up coffee entirely for several months last year when I was convinced it was giving me chronic headaches.

But now we're back to being friends, coffee and I. There's the morning mug, made strong and black with the French press, the occasional afternoon espresso, and, of course, my vice: iced coffee.

Iced coffee has become much more popular ever since the Starbucks invasion, but iced black coffee has been common in New York for years. I never knew that putting the morning beverage on ice and sipping it with a straw was uncommon in other parts of the world until I moved to Canada and found that, upon ordering coffee over ice, I received the strangest of stares.

Since then, I've grown accustomed to people looking at me strangely when I ask for my coffee cold, but to me, there's nothing better on a warm afternoon than a cup of coffee that can be sucked through a straw in a record 10 seconds, or even just lazily sipped as I window-shop.

So I guess I'll put up with the strange looks I get from people working in coffee shops when I ask them to make me a café americain (watered-down espresso) with cold water and over ice. Maybe I'll get over the fact that Alex likes to report this habit to fellow Frenchmen with all the awe and disbelief of someone talking about a circus freak. I'm perfectly happy to continue hanging out with my friend of six years, iced black coffee.

Anyone else out there as addicted as I am?

Mimi Sheraton recently posed a hypothetical question to Anthony Bourdain, Heston Blumenthal, and Marco Pierre White:

If you had to choose between first-rate ingredients prepared by a second-rate chef, or second-rate (but not spoiled) ingredients cooked up by a first-rate chef, which would you choose?

I've been thinking about this question for well over a day now, because something about its premise is bothering me. I think what it boils down to is this: Part of variety of skills needed to be a top level chef is to recognize the quality ingredients from the merely adequate. In my mind, a second rate chef would only come across quality ingredients only by happenstance or by guidance from a first rate peer.

But Ms. Sheraton's point as it relates to the restaurant industry is quite relevant. If you go into a Mario Batali restaurant thinking that he himself is cooking today, you run the risk of being highly disappointed. So, if we're running under the assumption that the highly praised chef's kitchen may not actually contain said chef, why are we going to their restaurant to begin with?

It's this question that makes me believe that, while we think that we're going for the chef, what we are going for is the quality of the ingredients and, more importantly, the quality of the recipes. For while the first rate chef may not actually be on site, we know, through both experience, accounts of others, and good ol' fashioned PR, that the food is still top notch, because the chef has dictated that the quality of the food must be of a certain quality, and that the dishes must be prepared to specific set of instructions (the recipe) even when the chef is not on site.

So, getting back to the initial question, it does come this. Since the question didn't take into account the idea of recipes, I'm going to side on choosing second rate food with a first rate chef, for the following reason: A great chef knows how to do more with less, and has more options available to them in order to create a good if not great dish. A second rate chef simply may not know how to get the most flavor out of their ingredients.

But of course, I may be wrong. What do you think?

After the responses to last week’s post, the machines I use in the kitchen have been on my mind. I’m contemplating everything I use, short of the range. Herewith, a list of machines I use regularly and/or find useful, and a couple I find iffy, if not completely unnecessary. (For the sake of simplicity, everything is referred to as a machine, even if it doesn’t have to be plugged it.)

The coffee grinder. I love coffee. I don’t drink a lot of it, but it’s my lifeline in the morning. I always use whole beans. I can’t say that, in a blind taste test, I could tell the difference between coffee that was made with previously ground beans and coffee made with beans that are freshly ground. However, I like the idea that the less my food has been manipulated before I buy it, the better it is. If there's even the slightest chance that our power will go out, I can be found in the kitchen grinding beans so I'm guaranteed to have coffee the next day
As a bonus, an extra coffee grinder is great for grinding spices.

The immersion blender. These things rock. All the chopping and hand crushing in the world won’t give you the results an immersion blender produces. You can also process hot food right in the pot. (Tip: An immersion blender works best in food that’s at least a few inches deep). It can’t, however, do everything. So…

The blender. I don’t have a blender, but anything that can crush ice and produce a frozen margarita is OK in my book.

The salad spinner. It’s second only to air conditioning as the greatest invention of the 20th century. You'll never get greens dry as quickly and efficiently as with a salad spinner.

The crock pot. I’m not sure this is a time saver. The food has to be prepped before it goes into the crock pot, and I assume that people with jobs and kids and actual lives are as hard-pressed to find time to do prep work in the morning as they are in the evening. But after you get everything in the pot, you can walk away from it for a good 8 hours. I use mine primarily for red sauce with Italian sausage (long, slow cooking makes the sausage tear-inducingly tender), but a crock pot is perfect for countless foods.

It seems that, for some reason, they fell out of favor for a couple decades (maybe with the appearance of haute cuisine?), but the return of old fashioned food to the table (food that, in some homes, never disappeared) has made the crock pot popular again. Rather than disconnecting us from our food, the crock pot keeps us close to the food of our past. It’s not unlike the cast iron pot over an open fire, except it gets plugged in and it doesn’t weigh a ton.

The pasta machine. I don’t have one, and won’t be getting one any time soon. I’m kind of obsessed with learning how to make pasta entirely by hand, but I admit it scares me. It’s a slipped disc just waiting to happen. Our grandmothers made pasta by hand, but weren’t our grandmothers tough old broads? My grandmother was a Mafia wife, and I'm just not that tough. Any machine that can help the modern household have homemade pasta gets a (not at all required) pass from me.

Not exactly a mea culpa, but:
The mixer. Despite my contention that it makes us lazy, I won’t deny that the mixer can be a great tool. I never use my hand mixer, but I refuse to get rid of it, because it’s possible that some day it will be hard for me to mix something as thin as popover batter with my beloved wooden spoon. I’m convinced I don’t need my standing mixer, but I've stopped thinking about selling it. (I’m still firm, though, on not using it for bread or biscuit dough.)

One machine I will never understand:
The bread machine. What’s the point? It’s a one-job machine, and it takes up too much space. If you can throw everything into a machine and walk away from it, you can throw everything into a bowl, mix it up, and walk away from it. You might actually get an idea of how flour, yeast and water turns into one of the greatest foods ever created.

My goal with last week’s post was not to insult anyone. I want us all to think about how much food and food preparation have changed in the last 40 years. I think it’s important to understand the similarity between always making a 30-minute meal and always using a machine. The former is considered the downfall of western civilization and the latter is championed as advancement of the best kind. I think they’re all of a piece, and detrimental when taken too far. That doesn’t mean I want everyone to cook like Wilma Flintstone. I just don’t want technology to take over the kitchen. Although the idea of using an elephant’s trunk to rinse the dishes is rather appealing.

So says the Guardian Food Blog at any rate, and if there was any paper out there that I'd trust to talk about tea bags, it'd be a British one. However, they lose their credibility with this bit:

Loose leaf or tea bag? Tea gourmets will tell you that loose makes a better cup. Luddites and snobs, I reckon. Tea bag tea tastes different from tea pot tea. And better. The proof is in the brewing: 96% of households now use tea bags.

Loose leaf tea makes the better cup of tea, by far. No question. Most of this has to do with the quality of the tea leaves used in tea bags, which are often no more than tea fannings and sometimes even tea dust that have been left behind in leaf sorting process. Larger leaves provide more surface area, and thus more of the biochemical compounds that provide flavor found within the leaves. Luddites? Hardly. Fans of loose leaf tea are just more patient than fans of tea bags.

I've been a huge fan of TVTropes.org. The premise of the site is to catalog the various memes and tropes that one can find in movies/television/literature so that people can recognize these meta-concepts when they see them elsewhere.

Never one to shy away from somebody's idea and repackage it in a food concept, I thought how this could relate to the food community. This was particularly relevant in regard to our recent discussion on the definition of Foodie a few weeks back. Below are a list of some of the common themes I see when dealing and talking with people about food.

This list is not comprehensive, and deals with generalities, and perhaps even a stereotype or two. This is not a bad thing, as in fact, stereotypes in of themselves are a trope. I will note that, my added opinion aside, a trope in of itself is not a bad thing.

Feel free to add any categories you see that I've missed to the comments.

Internally Focused: These are the food folks who care mostly about how food affects themselves as individuals.

The Hedonist: They want to enjoy food for the sake of the bliss that great food creates. They wish to replicate that bliss as often as possible. These folks will go anywhere their resources allow for a great meal or a great product.

The Bookworm: These are the folks who are information savvy, and look various media in order to understand the context that the food has been created. The collection of information can border on obsessiveness. People who collect cookbooks also fall into this category, often in pursuit of knowledge.

The Food Porn Aficionado: Buys the mags for the pictures, and watches food TV for the visceral thrill. Rarely pursues these foods in real life, as the fantasy of the food is often far more effective than the reality. Sometimes people resort to food porn simply because they do not have access (either through lack of resources or lack of proximity) to shops and restaurants.

The Perfectionist: Out there, somewhere, is the best barbecue pork shoulder/porter stout/ratatouille/whatever. The perfectionist is likely the person who created these products. Their worst judge is themselves, and their food has to be perfect. Oftentimes these folks can make tremendous chefs, as long as their passion/neurosis doesn't get in the way of the business.

The Mad Scientist: The first person to eat a raw oyster was a mad scientist. The first person who decided to try Guinness in an ice cream recipe was a mad scientist. If you've ever wondered "I wonder what taste I would get if I added pickles to chocolate" and then acted upon that question, then you're a mad scientist as well. Driven by curiosity, a mad scientist looks for new flavors or tries to coax old flavors out of new food products.
The sub-category here is the Novelty Taster. These are the people who tend to look outside of their own culture and into others for new taste experiences. I would say that some Absinthe drinkers fall into this category, as well as people here in the States who put mayonnaise on their french fries. Sometimes these folks are innovators in the food world who can initiate changes in culture.

The Dieter: Sees food as either their key to weight loss, or their anchor that keeps them heavy. Relates to food purely in a body-image aspect.

Externally Focused: These are the type of people who look toward how food affects, not only the person that they are, but the people around them.

The Family Person: Are you looking for ways to introduce new culinary experiences to your children? Perhaps your partner is getting tired of the same eight dishes your prepare, and you are looking to increase your menu repertoire in order to liven things up at the dinner table.

The Budget Gourmet: These are the types of people who are looking for ways to extend their paycheck, yet still eat well. Often these people are looking out for their family, and research various cookbooks and recipe sites in order to find culinary short cuts.

The Bandwagon Rider: These people who show up at the latest trendy restaurant. They never seem to visit places that haven't been reviewed in the newspapers. The make sure to be seen by their social circle as being "in the know" in regard to restaurants. For them, it's not the food of the restaurant that's important, but rather that status of being seen at the restaurant.

The Know-it-all: Knowledge can be a dangerous thing, and there is a fine line between being knowledgeable and being a know-it-all. The people who fall into the latter category want others to recognize their vast array of trivial tidbits regarding olive oil, wine, (ahem) whiskey, or cheese. These are the type of people who often do not care that most people simply aren't interested enough to want to know how balsamic vinegar is made. They will force their knowledge on you. The sub-category here is the faux-know-it-all; people who pretend to know about food, but really don't know jack about it. Another sub-category here is the celebrity know-it-all: Think Alton Brown or Anthony Bourdain (remember, neither of these folks are famous for their cooking).

The Food Snob: Relative of the know-it-all, these folks are more dangerous and more annoying. They use their knowledge to establish status. To these folks, their food choices are better than your food choices simply because they know more and thus can "appreciate" the food better than you can. This manifests itself in so many ways that it would be impossible to list them all. Think of people who only eat at Michelin-rated restaurants, drink only single malts, or only eat out at non-franchised places. It's not these choices that make them a snob, it's that they make these choices and then belittle others when they don't make the same choices.

The Activist: These are the people who think that the world could be a better place if only... (fill in food cause here). They could be a locavorist, vegetarian, organic food advocate, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that they wish to institute some measure of change upon the world in regard to food. The sub-category here is the Food Fundamentalist. These folks often reject any other food philosophies aside from their own, often with great vigor.

The Farmer: This is the person who is passionate about how the food comes out of the ground, or how livestock can be raised to provide higher quality meat. They don't mind getting their hands dirty, and are unfazed by the site of blood/worms/filth/excrement. It comes with the territory, and in some cases, are worth their weight in nitrogen. There is one sub-category - The Gardener, the farmer on a much smaller scale. These folks can typically be discerned by their generosity (they always seem to be giving away their excess tomatoes and zucchini). I would put people who own a few chickens for the eggs into this category as well.

The Celebrity Chef: People who enjoy cooking for other people. They could work the line at a restaurant or run a efficient grill at a barbecue party. If they have control over the food that gets into people's stomach and bask in the glow of the subsequent compliments, they fit into this category.

Seitan

Seitan (pronunciation: SAY-tan), often called "wheat meat", is a very convincing vegetarian meat substitute. It can be made from scratch by washing and rinsing regular wheat flour until all of the starch is gone and only the sticky gluten remains. Of course, if you've been following along for the last couple months, you know I usually opt for the easy way out. When I make seitan I use a special type of flour called vital wheat gluten that is ready to go and can be found a nearly any natural foods store in the bulk bins. No washing and rinsing necessary.

Unlike tofu and tempeh, which are rather laborious to make at home, seitan is simple to prepare in your own kitchen. I'll show you how.

Pre-packaged Seitan

Mass-produced seitan can be purchased at most natural food stores where it is often pricey, especially considering how cheaply and quickly you can make your own. The exceptions are the canned varieties available at Asian food stores. These are cheaper, tastier, and more varied than American brands (see the picture below for examples).

At this point I would be remiss not to mention the vegan Horizons restaurant in Philadelphia. If you ever go there you absolutely MUST try the Grilled Seitan. It is the best I've ever had and I kid-you-not it would probably fool the most ardent carnivore. It's $21, that's how serious they are. Horizons gets their seitan from a Philly company called Ray's Seitan, although the Horizons "cut" is custom made. If you're ever in the area, go.

Seitan Product Examples

Primal Sprit Seitan Jerky Strips

Lightlife Meatless Tenders (contain seitan)

Common Asian Canned Seitan:

Make Your Own Seitan

Fortunately and unfortunately, I have tried many seitan recipes out there. Over the years I have figured out what works and doesn't. And trust me, when it doesn't work you end up with something that you really, really, don't want to eat. Think about eating a bicycle tire and you won't be far off.

Thankfully I have come up with a recipe for seitan that is -- so far -- foolproof. And every one of my meat eating friends loves the results. I've had comments like "You mean this isn't meat?" and "Wow! What IS this stuff?"

Click the link for my blog post that guides you through the process.

Country-Fried Seitan Steaks

[If you try the recipe, let me know how it turns out!]

Other recipes follow below the picture.

Other (Untested) Recipes

FatFree Vegan - Barbecued Seitan Ribz

Have Cake, Will Travel - Crispy Baked Seitan

Vegan Yum Yum - Crispy Sweet and Sour Seitan

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: Know By Heart by The American Analog Set.

I'm no beer fan, but names like Über Goober, S'mores and Cup A Joe, convinced me to belly up to the bar and give hops another try.

Joe Short and Scott Newman-Bale have turned a former hardware store into one of the most intriguing brew pubs in the state. Not only does Short's Brewing Company in Bellaire, Michigan, serve a range of traditional ales and lagers, they aren't afraid to break with convention. Don't be surprised to find Peaches & Crème or Black Cherry Porter on the menu alongside Bellaire Brown and Autumn Ale. After all, Short's is Stroh's spelled backwards.

While Huma-Lupa-Licious IPA pays a punny tribute to the botanical name of its main ingredient, hops (Humulus Lupulus), Short's beer is a serious contender. They've been voted second best beer in America and consistently place well at national beer festivals. And their customers love them so much, they're expanding operations after less than five years.

How does Joe come up with these combinations? "Something puts a taste in my head," he says. He also admits he constantly needs something new to refresh his palate.

Despite the unconventional ingredients required to produce fruit, spruce, peanut and black licorice beer, they've had to dump only one batch -- due to a technical failure, not Joe's idea.

With such a wide range of flavors, there's something for everyone. Local's Lager is smooth and light with a hint of honey. Black Cherry Porter is heavy with a tart cherry burst. Little wonder. They put 1500 pounds of the fruit in a batch of only 14 barrels. Some are meant to be sipped, some quench a thirst, others, like Soft Parade were developed to please wine drinkers. I'm up for anything Joe creates but Imperial Carob Stout. After all, I have a reputation to maintain.

While these beers pair well with food, I'm thinking spicy marinated olives would be nice. What do you think?

In a recent post, I alluded to the fact that the Zagat books lead to a form of food snobbery. A few people have taken me to task for this, with most citing the fact that the books are based off of a large segment of consumer opinions rather than that of a select few, and thus is more of a socialist institution than that of the elite (or something to that effect. Forgive me, as the caffeine has yet to settle in).

I'm going to avoid the infamous bits about the guidebooks, and instead focus on my first insight that interpretations of the Zagat Book lead to some very silly behaviors.

This must have been around 2000 or so, while I was still living in the Washington D.C. area. For those who are from the region, most know it to be both a big restaurant town, but perhaps not a thoroughly knowledgeable one. I chalk this up to the fact that for many residents, D.C. is a temporary stay, depending upon the administration and other various politicos that are there for short periods of times.

My friends and I were looking forward to going out to eat at our favorite Italian place in Adams Morgan and found, to our surprise, a line going out the door. This was odd, as we had never encountered a line of this length there before, as previously one could get a table with a wait of no longer than fifteen minutes, even on a busy Friday night. When we went in to inquire on the length of the wait with the line out of the door, we were told ninety minutes. Ninety! When we asked why the suddenly popularity, the beleaguered hostess said to us "Zagat came last week." Apparently they had scored well, well enough to have a sudden and dramatic increase of popularity.

Huddling with my friends to decide our next course of action, we decided upon having a meal at a very nice Indian place a few blocks to the south. Within five minutes we were there, and another five found us sitting at a table, anticipating a meal that would be quite wonderful.

Here's the point. Waiting ninety minutes for a seat for a restaurant is asinine.It is doubly-so when there are dozens of other of equal quality alternatives within walking distance.

Now is it Zagat's fault that people will wait ninety minutes, most of it outside, in order to have a decent plate of Risotto Milanese? Of course not. But where were these people a month prior, when the food was just as good (if not better, as the restaurant didn't have to deal with the strain of an excess crowd)? Where were these "food aficionados" in regard to the wonderful Indian place we settled at, where the food was equally as good, but was off of the Zagat radar?

Again, this isn't Zagat's fault, but the readers of Zagat's that cause this dissonance. Guidebooks make people do weird things. A place that was nearly forgotten about can become an overnight sensation. This is a good thing.

But conversely, it makes people forget or ignore other places that are almost right before them. And it means that some people would prefer to stand outside for an hour (or more) than go to another restaurant.

Not that anyone is asking me these sort of things. Nor, in fact, is it a question that one might ask. But if pressed to name my favorite article from a glossy food mag this year, I would point them to the April 2008 issue of Saveur, with the beautiful picture of Bolognese on the cover, telling the world that the cover story is about the deep and wonderful ecstasy that is Bologna's favorite meat sauce. The primary reason I enjoyed the article so much is that it gave six different recipes for Bolognese, essentially repeating my mantra about how Italian food is about improvisation (which itself provides stark contrast to traditional French cuisine, which is seemingly about precision).

When I decided to write about pasta, I vowed to use on of these recipes. In the end I chose the one below, and noted that this would have to be a weekend dish, as the time needed to make it work would end up being around three hours.

But which pasta to use? Here in America the spaghetti noodle seems to win out time after time, but I knew that this would not be appropriate. Well, not appropriate for me. I've done spaghetti noodles to death.

My eventual choice was the pappardelle. These are the wide, flat noodles, about three times the width of a fettuccini. According to wikipedia, pappardelle is used traditionally used in savory meat dishes. Additionally, it has the added benefit from being popular in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, in which Bologna (home of the Bolognese) happens to be the capital. It was the perfect fit.

On the evolutionary timeline for pasta, pappardelle would likely be a relatively old one. A person would only need to cut a pasta sheet into several near-uniform widths to get pappardelle.

• 4 cups beef broth
• 2 Tbsp. Tomato Paste
• 1 cup whole milk
• 3 whole cloves
• 1/8 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 2 Tbsp. Unsalted Butter
• 2 oz. pancetta, finely chopped
• 2 medium-sized carrots, finely chopped
• 2 stalks of celery, finely chopped
• 1 medium sized yellow onion, diced
• 3/4 lb ground veal
• 1/4 lb ground pork, the fattier the better
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 1/8 tsp. nutmeg
• 2 chicken livers

In a small sauce pan that has been placed over medium/medium low heat, bring the broth to a simmer. Place the tomato paste into a small bowl and add one cup of the heated broth. Whisk together, ensuring the paste has been dissolved, and then set the tomato-beef broth aside, off of the heat. Keep the remaining beef broth at a simmer (185 degrees F).

In a separate sauce pan, bring the milk to a simmer. Add the cloves and the cinnamon, remove from heat, and allow the spices to steep in the milk for at least one hour.

While steeping the milk, take a stock pot or Dutch oven and place it over medium heat. Melt the butter into the olive oil. Add the pancetta, stirring occasionally, allowing the pancetta to render its fat (between 6-10 minutes). Add the carrots, celery, and onions, carmelizing the onions to a light brown color, about 45 minutes.

Stir in the veal and pork, browning the meat and breaking apart any clumps. Allow to cook for 15 minutes before salting and peppering to taste. Raise the burner to medium high, and pour in the white wine. Allow the alcohol to evaporate, about seven minutes. Lower the heat to medium/Medium-low and add the nutmeg. Pour in the tomato infused broth and stir in until fully absorbed (much like adding water to risotto, for those of you rice makers out there). This should take about five minutes. Add 1/2 cup of the broth, and repeat the stirring/absorption routine. Continue this add-1/2-cup-broth-stir-absorb routine until all the broth has been used.

Add the chicken livers to the sauce, and allow them to cook for 8 minutes. Remove from the dish and place in a bowl with a tablespoon of milk. Mash with a fork until a paste is formed. Return to the sauce along with the remaining milk. Allow to simmer for another 15 minutes or so before using on pasta.

(Makes 4 cups)

So... those of you who guessed that I would try to make riz au coca were right. Alex showed up at my apartment a few nights ago, hungry, and since my roommate and I had already had our dinner, he suggested that we try riz au coca.

We checked the cupboards, and sure enough, I had all the necessary ingredients... except for the ham. Since the host of the show (which I've since found out isn't from an Internet channel, but a real television channel, No Life, that is about a year old), said that the ham was easily interchangeable with other ingredients, we decided to use cheese. As Alex says, anything is better with cheese.

I started out by helping, but then Alex wanted to do it himself. Here's a photo of his expert cutting skillz.

The rice cooks in a combination of Coke, water and a bouillon cube.

We added cheese when the rice was cooked. We started with two slices, but then Alex decided that it wasn't enough. It's like they say: you can never be too thin, too rich, or have too much cheese.

In the end, riz au coca wasn't for me. Alex was eating it and really enjoying it, so I decided to give it a taste. It tasted, as I expected, like rice and Coke. It was sweet. I was not a huge fan.

Alex, however, finished the leftovers for breakfast. The combination of sweet and salty is something that a lot of different chefs are trying out more and more. Sometimes I like it, but I'm still very sensitive to it, especially when the sweet is not fruit-related.

In the end, I personally didn't like riz au coca, but it wasn't quite as inedible as I had expected. I guess some people really like that sort of thing. Go figure.

Comedian Jim Gaffigan...

...who is clearly on the side of cake (Damn him).

(This is a youtube post, for those of you on the RSS feed who cannot see imbedded video)

Okay, two different people brought it up in yesterday's post, so perhaps someone can explain it to me...

What's the deal about Pabst Blue Ribbon? Why are people a fan of the stuff, as I can recall it tasting like ...well, let's just say that I've had better.

This post by Mike Pardus on Bob del Grosso’s blog, A Hunger Artist, got me thinking (good or bad, I’m always thinking) about what tools we use in the kitchen. If there’s anything I’m a little snooty about, it’s relying on machines when your hands will do.

When my large food processor broke down two years ago, I thought it was a major kitchen disaster - how could I make biscuits or pesto without it - until I had one of those eye-rolling, “you’re an idiot” moments and realized that people had cooked for centuries without one, and so could I. When I started making biscuits entirely by hand, both the texture and the taste improved markedly. Ideally we cook with all five senses, and we should know that something is ready just by looking at it. But it’s also important to know how something feels when it’s ready. As a bonus, it’s a legitimate way to play with our food.

Because the subject of Pardus’ post is bread, and because I’m obsessed with it, let’s talk about that for a bit. The basic ingredients for bread are flour, salt, yeast and water. Mix them together, knead the dough, let it rise, punch or stir it down, knead it again, let it rise some more, put it in the oven and bake it. Unless you have a problem with your hands, do you really need a standing mixer to do any of that? Making good bread is a long process, but it only requires about 20 minutes of actual labor, and that’s kneading the bread. It’s not even 20 uninterrupted minutes. del Grosso says:

For whom is kneading dough a problem? Or put another way, if you cannot knead dough you probably should not be in a kitchen for any reason other than to loot the icebox.

Too harsh? I don’t think so. There’s a lot of fuss made these days about 30 minute meals, cutting corners and the dumbing down of cooking in America; and how no one wants or even knows how to cook anymore. It’s a common theme in the posts and comments on this very blog. Read the comments to Pardus’ post. There’s very little mention of kneading by hand, other than to suggest that it’s too hard. Pardus, an instructor at the Culinary Institute of America, recommends using a standing mixer. What do I make of that, when even our experts have succumbed to the allure of the machine?

Lest I be called a judgmental scold, full disclosure is required. I have a Kitchen Aide and I use it on occasion. It’s great for whipping cream, because it allows me to do other things that require more attention, such as melting chocolate. I use it to mix cookie dough because I have a chronic, debilitating back condition that makes it very hard for me to mix heavy batters by hand. But cooking for any extended period of time can put me in bed with a slipped disc for a day (or a month. The unpredictability of it makes my life very adventurous.), so I’m not sure I even need my standing mixer. I’ve considered getting rid of it more than once, but Logan keeps talking me out of it.

I’m not advocating that we get rid of our stoves and start cooking over an open fire in the back yard, or smashing garlic against a rock to make pesto, although that might appeal to you. Still, I think food processors and standing mixers can make us lazy. They’re useful, but are they necessary? Instead of bringing us closer to the food we make, we take another step away.

There’s a burgeoning movement that encourages us to know where all our food comes from, whether it’s an apple or a side of beef. We’re told it’s important, even necessary, to shop locally. Gardens have become more popular, perhaps even trendy. These are all good developments. But shouldn't we stick to the true essentials of cooking and baking when making something as basic as bread? If we don’t know how the dough should feel as it develops; if we just can’t be bothered with a few minutes of actual labor; and if we’re so afraid of getting our hands messy that we let machines do all the work, then I think we’ve lost something precious. We’ve truly lost our connection to what we eat.

Over the course of my life, I have had dozens of lively discussions with people debating a wide range of topics relating to foods. Some of these were as short as a minute long, others lasted well beyond thirty minutes. Some of you will recognize these as recent polls.

Coke or Pepsi? Neither. Gimme an RC Cola made from cane sugar.

Thick crust or thin for your Pizza? What, are you kidding me? Thin crust is the only way to go.

Rare or Well Done for you steak? Medium Rare please. Only a hamburger is acceptable as well done.

Hot Dogs or Hamburgers? Hamburgers I can eat any time. I have to be in the mood for hot dogs.

Ketchup or Mustard on your hot dog? No matter how much one may argue, ketchup never belongs on a hot dog. *shudder* blech.

Cake or Pie? Are you mad? Pie.

Brownies with a fine, glossy crust, or soft cake brownies? Soft cake brownies are not brownies, they are, in fact, a soft cake.

Nuts in the brownies?Hell yes. But only walnuts, and only a limited amount. Anything else is pretentious.

Vanilla or Chocolate ice cream? Vanilla, as it can be used as a base for so many different flavors and toppings.

Blue cheese or ranch dressing with your Buffalo wings? What, do you want to make the people in Buffalo cry? Blue cheese is the only way to go, no matter what Pizza Hut tries to foist upon you.

Soup or Salad? I'm only choosing salads because I'm over forty and roughage is now a concern.

Butter on your Popcorn? Only if it's real butter. That crap they use at movie theaters is not butter and is best used in 4-cylinder engines.

Pork or Beef barbecue? Pork shoulder makes a far better barbecue.

Coffee or tea? Dude. I live in Seattle. Coffee.

Beer from a can or a bottle? There is no circumstance where I can see me purchasing beer from a can.

Oreos or Hydrox? Hydrox if memory serves, but they've been off the market for so long, I can no longer be certain.

Little Debbie or Hostess? When I was younger, Little Debbie won out, although I do miss the Tastycakes that came from Eastern Pennsylvania. Alas, this is another taste lost to childhood.

Bacon or Sausage? I'm leaning toward sausage here, mostly due to chorizo.

Eggs Scrambled or Fried? Fried, over easy, dippy if you know how to do it.

...and Splenda to boot.

Ladies and gentlemen - In continuation of my long running series of posts detailing foods we do not need, I bring you...

Capri Sun Roarin' Waters Fruit Flavored Water Beverage, Tropical Fruit

Ingredients?

Water, High Fructose Corn Syrup, Citric Acid, Sucralose (Splenda Brand Sweetener), Natural Flavor.

Granted it only has 35 calories, but c'mon..can't a parent simply served watered down Kool-Aid? It worked for my siblings and myself when we were young.

(via MeFi).

I am a self-proclaimed food-history junkie, with a joy for any book, television show, or magazine article that deals with most any component on how we ate in the past. My current consumption is a book called Food: The History of Taste, a tome that often reads like a college textbook. Each chapter deals with one era of human history, be it pre-historic man or the creation and development of restaurants.

There's so much in this book that it nearly makes me weep with pleasure. For example - There was a bit of a mystery regarding the dissonance in the theory that Paleolithic and Mesolithic man ate seafood and the lack of archaeological sites that held any evidence suggesting this. While there were many locations that one could find bones from horses and wild cattle and even cave paintings that illustrated the importance of these creatures (most famously from Lascoux), there were little in the way of equivalent evidence for seafood locations.

That was until people realized, relatively recently, that due to the sea level rising, most of the locations that contained such evidence would likely be underwater. By 1991, the Cosquer Caves were discovered, and showed similar paintings to that of the Lascoux caves, but instead of cattle, they depicted animals such as fish, seals, and jellyfish.

I have no idea how many people get a kick out of trivial items like that, especially those of us who think about food on a daily basis, but I love them.

Tempeh

Although not as well-known as tofu, tempeh (pronunciation: tem-pay) also makes for a great culinary addition to the vegetarian kitchen. It has a sharp, pungent taste that is immediately identifiable. That's because its made from the fermentation of soybeans paired with a grey mold, Rhizopus oligosporus. Here are two great articles that detail how to make tempeh. The first is shorter, the second is much more informative.

Too Many Chefs: Homemade Tempeh (howto)

Mother Earth News: Tempeh Down on The Farm (howto/info)

Background

Tempeh is thought to have originated in Indonesia at least several centuries ago but the first written reference goes back only to 1815. Commercial production in Europe and the United States did not begin until after the 1970's, with tempeh gaining a more wide ranging popularity only after the early 1980s. It is commonly sold as a thin (2 cm) slab about 25 cm long and 10 cm wide. Some companies also market tempeh packaged as either natural or flavored varieties combined with grains, flax, vegetables, or other spices.

Since tempeh is less processed than tofu, it contains more protein, fiber, vitamins, and minerals. It also has more of its own unique flavor, unlike tofu which is generally flavorless. There are many varieties to try, so if you don't like it the first time, don't give up. I really enjoy the LightLife Garden Veggie Tempeh, but your preferences will be different, and I have not tried all of the various brands and combinations out there.

What to look for at the market:

LightLife Tempeh (product)

WhiteWave Tempeh (product)

Turtle Island Foods Tempeh (product)

Cooking Ideas

Tempeh is very firm and visually appealing. Little chunks and halves of soybeans can still be seen, giving it a rough, textured look. A slab of tempeh can be cut into strips and pan fried, cubed and added to a salad, or marinated and grilled whole. The only limit is your imagination. For dinner the other night I threw some cubes of tempeh in my small food processor to make a vegan substitute for feta cheese. Of course it didn't taste exactly like feta, but the pungent flavor was in the ballpark and the texture was just right.

One thing that I love about tempeh is that it excels as the main ingredient in sandwiches and stir fries, two of my favorite types of meals. (Which is funny, because when researching this article I noticed that the packaging for White Wave Tempeh says exactly the same thing!)

With that in mind, here are a few tempeh recipes that look delicious.

Brownie Points: Teriyaki Grilled Tempeh

VegCooking: BBQ Tempeh Sandwiches

FatFree Vegan: Golden Potato + Tempeh Casserole

I Eat Food: Tempeh Reuben Sandwich

Last But Not Least

Finally, here are two pictures of tempeh. The first shows tempeh in its raw, uncooked form, courtesy of The Adventures of SuperWife. The second photo features tempeh as part of a meal, courtesy of Flickr user wockerjabby. Looks delicious!

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: Surfer Rosa by The Pixies.

I'm devastated. Blazing Star peaches are over for the season. All my life I've been perfectly happy gobbling generic peaches. And then last week the nice lady at the Farmers' Market sold me a pint of ultra-peachy Blazing Stars and got me hooked.

Only she didn't tell me they've an incredibly short season -- a mere two weeks.

I must have caught Week Two because when I returned on Saturday, she told me they were gone. For another year.

I'll give the woman credit. She offered me a nibble of White Lady. This pale-fleshed peach is luscious, but tastes more like a combination of peach, pear and apple. No dice. The best she could do was Red Haven, but even she looked disappointed when I bought them.

On the way out I saw another vendor had Lorings, with a sign suggesting you can eat them right from your hand. I bought a pint of them too and headed home to conduct a taste test. The results are in: Blazing Stars beat Lorings. Lorings beat Red Havens. Red Havens beat White Ladies.

But they all beat tinned.

Do you have a favorite peach?

It's difficult to talk about one's love for drink due to the fact that oftentimes it's interpreted as "having a problem". But reality forces me to come clean.

I love to drink.

Now before I get eight gigs of e-mail telling me that I need to seek help, let me state for the record that rare is the night that I have more than one glass. Rarer still is the night when I become inebriated. In fact, the last time was when I had one too many glasses of absinthe, and I'd think I'd like to keep it that way, purely for the anecdotal pleasure that it gives.

What is it about a glass of bourbon or Scotch whisky that comforts me? Why is it that I have a desire to seek out and explore new and untested liqueurs and shots? The answer is simple. Subtlety.

The taste of alcohol does nothing for me. In fact it actually is a detriment in some measure, for it hides the flavor of the drink. The sweetness of a bourbon, or the dark richness of a well made schnapps comes not from the alcohol, but from the tastes that the alcohol seeks to cover. And therein lies my joy.

Every drink is a treasure hunt, hidden pleasures of finding out things like "Oh, was that elderberry on the back of the palate?" or "Wow, that coats the tongue like syrup." These are rarely obvious moments, one has to know how to look for these epiphanies. Drink...good drink...contains the beverage equivalent to subtext. There are rarely wrong answers, only individual interpretations.

I haven't posted about HFCS in a long time, for a variety of reasons. But you should be aware that the folks who profit most (That'd be Archer Daniels Midland and other companies of similar ilk) are in the midst of a campaign to alert consumers that "No, really, honest, there's nothing wrong with the stuff".

Here are a few of their campaign spots. Yes, these are political ads for food, which in of itself is noteworthy.

If you want to key on any phrase in these spots, it's the "when used in moderation" line, because, as we know, HFCS is in damn near everything, including products that don't need sweetener, such as yogurt, bread, and cough syrups.

But, if you want to push the issue, if anyone ever asks what's wrong with HFCS besides the fact that we indulge in way too much of the stuff, here are a few other talking points.

1) There is debate going on HFCS's role in the upswing in diabetes cases. In may be related to our increased consumption of the sweetener (as per above), or it might be something else. The science is still working this argument out.

2) It isn't natural. Oh, they may meet the letter of the law in defining itself as natural, but they haven not only broken its spirit, they stepped on it, jumped on it, and ground the law into dust. Unless a person has ready access to centrifuges, hydroclones, ion-exchange columns, and buckets of enzymes, there's simply no way for a regular lay person to make high fructose corn syrup. None. Zero. It's not natural, no matter how they dress it up.

3) They didn't perform long-term tests on the product before putting it on the market.

4) It tastes different than cane sugar. Compare Jellies made with sugar against those made with HFCS. Or Cola.

But really, regardless of these four points, the overabundance of the sweetener is the one that truly needs to be addressed.

Thanks to Ken over at Fast Food Facts

I wasn't sure at first if I should share this with you: I mean, it's in French, and I don't know how many of our readers out there speak French. But after seeing several episodes and cracking up, I decided I could manage some sort of post with minor translations and explanations (if any of you are really that interested, I could be persuaded to provide a full transcript... or at least a recipe translation).

This is basically a mini web-based cooking show that Alex (aka my geek-French-boyfriend) introduced me to after weeks of reading my food blog, Tomato Kumato, and of course my guest blogs here. A sort of... "Hey, you like food. Here's this food show I sometimes watch. Could be fun," type gesture. At first, I thought it was terribly bizarre, but it's grown on me.

The premise of the show is to create recipes that geeks could manage to eat, i.e., people whose lives revolve around computers, as the show sometimes says (the show is produced by a site called NoLife. That's the target demographic.)

The recipes are supposed to be real recipes that can be used by those who have a hard time getting around a kitchen, which is why this first video surprised me: you're not confused... they're actually advocating making a sort of fried rice-esque dish with Coke. Coca Cola. Sweet, carbonated beverage.

Huh?

I know you're not supposed to knock it til you try it, but come on! There's something about this that just makes me feel queasy... And I guess negates all of the ranting and raving I've been doing about French cooking culture: there are some things that seem like American inventions that have been "testé et approuvé" by French bloggers... like adding Coke to rice. I'm sorry. It just seems so weird.

The second video is for a recipe I may actually consider recreating: a sort of ricotta breakfast/dessert dish with berries. I haven't gotten around to trying it yet, but the second I do, you can bet it will be going up on my blog. The story behind this episode also cracks me up: he's supposed to be cooking a romantic breakfast in bed for his girlfriend, and at the end, he remembers he's single. Because he's a geek.

Poor geek... I'm a fan of the nerdy boys. Even if they have No Life.

Any of you who have had some high school French may get a kick out of checking out some of these videos. I really like the premise... too bad it's not translated into English for those of you who took Spanish instead...

I'm fairly sure I've talked about this before, but I am currently too lazy to go digging into the archives.

The folks over at Chowhounds are currently debating what defines a foodie. These types of questions pop up on the various food forums year after year, and never has anyone come up with a qualitative working definition.

There's a reason for this. Labels (and let's be honest here, foodie is just a label to apply to a person) are restrictive and limiting. Coming up with a definition will inevitably leave someone out who has more knowledge/experience/skill than many folks who do fit the definition. Is a farmer a foodie? Is a restaurant critic? Are people who only visit Beard-award- winning restaurants? There is no good criteria for the term.

This is the type of question that speaks more to the people who ask the question (or answer it in all seriousness) than it does to the question itself.

Look at it this way. I've heard (and read) some people talk about losing their foodie credibility when purchasing a type of product, whether its instant coffee (as mentioned in the Chowhound forum thread), Big Macs, or aerosol cheese (all of which have dedicated fan bases, as anyone who is paying attention to the sales of these products can tell you).

Screw that. Do you really want to hang out with people to which you have to defend your food purchases? Not me. I'd rather buy what I want to buy and enjoy them without any social stigma, thank-you-very-much.

So I'll ask this question again in regard to the foodie label: Can we stop asking this question? It is pointless, and does as much to contribute to food snobbery as Zagat Guides and Gourmet magazine.

(h/t The Food Section)

The poll this week has to deal with dining out alone.

This is something I do regularly, to the point that several restaurants close to where I work, as well as close to home, know to point me to the same table. It is, in fact, one of the things I look forward to during a hectic work week - a book, a restaurant and an hour to kill. It is a luxury to have a period of time when I don't have to socialize, interact, or work. Getting fed is almost an added bonus.

Yet when I tell some people of this predilection, they look at me as if to say "Awww, Kate. How sad!". No amount of me saying "But, no, y'see, I like to do this," can change that perception.

So I put it to you, dear readers. How often do you eat out alone? What aspects of eating out alone make it an enjoyable experience?

As always, the poll is to the left, the comments are to be added to this post.

I hear a lot about regional differences in cooking and eating throughout America. I won’t dispute that there are marked differences between the kind of food you’ll find in large, metropolitan cities and what you’ll get in small towns. Although anyone here would probably be hard pressed to find someone unfamiliar with Julia Child, I’m willing to bet I know people who haven’t a clue who Alice Waters is.

Besides the changes that started in Berkeley in the 1970s, changes that created the divide between big city and small town cooking, there are foods unique to different areas of the country. Scrapple is a staple in Pennsylvania. It’s not only hard to find anywhere else, but most people outside of PA have never heard of it. In the south, both grits and hush puppies can be found pretty much anywhere, and all will agree that they're southern food. You might be able to get them in other parts of the country, but I’m not sure they’d be worth eating.

I think there’s a case to be made, however, that there are as many similarities throughout the US. Because I spent most of my life in Pennsylvania and I now live in North Carolina, my comparisons are focused on Central PA and The South. The south is famous for its fried, heavy food, and is often the target when someone goes on a rant about unhealthy eating in the US. But anyone who’s spent time in PA Amish country knows the food available there is similar: It’s heavy on starch (not carbs. Starch. None of them there fancy names for us), a full meal is considered meat and two or three vegetables, and there’s a lot of food on your plate. Butter and cream play a big part in both types of cooking, and lard makes a regular appearance. Desserts are mandatory, and, in both places, the sweeter the better. You’re not going to find tiramisu in a restaurant serving this kind of food. In PA, you’ll find shoo-fly pie. In the south, you might want banana pudding or red velvet cake*.

The south supposedly has a corner on biscuits, but I can attest that biscuits made by a good Pennsylvania Dutch cook can stand up to any good southern cook’s biscuits, crumb for fabulous crumb. Watching the Amish women in Harrisburg’s farmer’s market make biscuits was like watching an artist at work. Thirty seconds of barely touching the dough, no rolling pin in sight, results in biscuits that could make you cry. And down here, there’s a restaurant that serves biscuits fried in butter. Biscuits that are no doubt made with lard. (Oh, Heaven, your breakfast spot is a place named Big Ed’s.)

However, even with these similarities in cooking, there are differences in the terms we use. The classic argument over “sub” and “hoagie” (an argument that will never end) is a good example. In NC, and perhaps all the south, cheese crackers are referred to as "nabs". It apparently comes from Nabisco, although it’s used for any brand of cheese cracker. And in a good part of PA, if you want a Yuengling Lager, you just ask for a lager. The bartender will know what you mean.

This is the one I find most interesting. In the south, there’s a dish called chicken and pastry, which is chicken stew with egg noodles. The same dish is popular in Central PA, but, up there, it’s called chicken pot pie. If ever there was an example of a food colloquialism, chicken pot pie is it. Growing up there, I assumed that’s what everyone called this dish. I was in my 30s before I realized it was peculiar to PA, and was mighty confused the first time I heard it used to describe a thick chicken stew that’s covered with pie crust and baked in the oven. We called those meat pies, and they came in a box marked “Swanson’s”. I actually had an argument with someone over what food “chicken pot pie” referred to. She was very strident, while I, naturally, was the picture of logic and objectivity.

I love that there are foods that can only be found in certain parts of the country (although that love didn’t extend to my inability to find Yuengling Lager for the first few years we were in NC. We would return from trips to PA with as many cases of it as we could fit in the trunk.) America is often criticized for its proliferation of fast food joints and its dependency on products like Lunchables and Hamburger Helper. It’s good to know that people still cook pierogies and collard greens, and that you can try food you’ve never had before, whether you’re in Pennsylvania, North Carolina or Alaska. But regional differences aren’t always as cut and dried as the food world would have us believe. Try some chicken pot pie, and you’ll see what I mean.
--------------------------------
* The origins of red velvet cake are a mystery, but it is considered to be primarily a southern dessert.

Balancing the Omnivores 100 is Barbara's Vegetarian 100, to which I am glad to fill out, because I need to improve my vegetarian credibility.

Oh wait, these lists don't work this way either.

Anyways, for your reading pleasure. And as always, feel free to comment below. And give Barbara some love by filling it out yourself.

1. Real macaroni and cheese, made from scratch and baked - Absolutely. And made it myself.

2. Tabouleh

3. Freshly baked bread, straight from the oven (preferably with homemade strawberry jam) - Many, many times, but not recently.

4. Fresh figs

5. Fresh pomegranate - A tremendous pain in the ass. All that work? Feh.

6. Indian dal of any sort - I tend to go the Aloo routes in Indian restaurants.

7. Imam bayildi

8. Pressed spiced Chinese tofu - With apologies to Ben, Tofu is a turn off.

9. Freshly made hummus With olive oil drizzled on top? Mmmmmm.

10. Tahini - I worked at a Persian counter fast food restaurant in Columbus back in '89. Had Tahini there.

11. Kimchi - Recently had Kim Chi at a Teriyaki restaurant here in Redmond. The owner came out of the back room to see who the heck ordered it, because it very rarely sells there. She was quite amused.

12. Miso

13. Falafel I love Falafel. With a bit of Tzatziki sauce? Yum!

14. Potato and pea filled samosas - Almost a standard order when I go to Indian restaurants.

15. Homemade yogurt - Made my own.

16. Muhammara

17. Brie en croute - Hells Yeah!

18. Spanikopita - Greek foods were not well represented on the Omnivore's list.

19. Fresh, vine-ripened heirloom tomatoes

20. Insalata caprese

21. Stir-fried greens (gai lan, bok choi, pea shoots, kale, chard or collards)

22. Freshly made salsa - Made my own.

23. Freshly made guacamole - Also made my own. You should too.

24. Creme brulee - C'mon. This is a standard dessert for most restaurants.

25. Fava beans - in a dip.

26. Chinese cold sesame peanut noodles - With a but pf peanut sauce too boot.

27. Fattoush - At Greek restaurant in DC. My guess is that while many Koreans get into the Teriyaki biz here in the PacNW, many Arabs run Greek restaurants, sneaking Arabic foods onto the menu. Just a guess (and my own stereotype).

28. New potatoes

29. Coleslaw - Way too many times to count. Last night the most recent.

30. Ratatouille - I feel as if I have to apologize for this one.

31. Baba ganoush

32. Winter squash - Not often enough, however.

33. Roasted beets - Not roasted, no.

34. Baked sweet potatoes - Hell yeah! With a bit of sour cream!

35. Plantains - Fried, of course.

36. Chocolate truffles

37. Garlic mashed potatoes

38. Fresh water chestnuts - Not fresh, no. I'm guessing they were always canned.

39. Steel cut oats - with cranberries.

40. Quinoa

41. Grilled portabello mushrooms

42. Chipotle en adobo - Here in Seattle.

43. Stone ground whole grain cornmeal In many different ways.

44. Freshly made corn or wheat tortillas - Also here in Seattle.

45. Frittata Not my typical preference for serving eggs, but still will do.

46. Basil pesto

47. Roasted garlic

48. Raita of any type - Mint, served with naan.

49. Mango lassi - Much preferred to the salted.

50. Jasmine rice (white or brown)

51. Thai vegetarian coconut milk curry

52. Pumpkin in any form other than pie - Pumpkin soup, thank you very much. And the seeds too.

53. Fresh apple pear or plum gallette

54. Quince in any form - Baked my own.

55. Escarole, endive or arugula

56. Sprouts other than mung bean - *shrug*, never gave sprouts much thought.

57. Naturally brewed soy sauce - At a Sushi bar in Las Vegas.

58. Dried shiitake mushrooms

59. Unusually colored vegetables (purple cauliflower, blue potatoes, chocolate bell peppers…) - Orange Cauliflower.

60. Fresh peach ice cream - Oh. I just realized I can die a happy person. It's been a long while, but yes! Made by my mother back in the seventies.

61. Chevre

62. Medjool dates - We've some on our counter at home right this instance.

63. Kheer

64. Flourless chocolate cake

65. Grilled corn on the cob - Many times long ago.

66. Black bean (or any other bean) vegetarian chili - Meh. Not a fan.

67. Tempeh - Just to see what it tasted like. This would have been back in 2000.

68. Seitan or wheat gluten

69. Gorgonzola or any other blue veined cheese - !!!

70. Sweet potato fries - again, !!!. Love these!!

71. Homemade au gratin potatoes

72. Cream of asparagus soup

73. Artichoke-Parmesan dip

74. Mushroom risotto

75. Fermented black beans

76. Garlic scapes - Just this past summer for the first time.

77. Fresh new baby peas

78. Kalamata olives - Way too many times to count. My olive of choice.

79. Preserved lemons - Does sugared count? I'll say it does.

80. Fried green tomatoes - Most recently in Louisville.

81. Chinese scallion pancakes

82. Cheese souffle - Made at home.

83. Fried apples

84. Homemade frijoles refritos - Not made at home. However, I've had some made on site at a few restaurants.

85. Pasta fagiole - I survived on this stuff after major surgery back in 2000.

86. Macadamia nuts in any form

87. Paw paw in any form - Many, many years ago. Offered to us by our Italian neighbors.

88. Grilled cheese sandwich of any kind

89. Paneer cheese

90. Ma Po Tofu (vegetarian style–no pork!)

91. Fresh pasta in any form - Heh heh. Just recently.

92. Grilled leeks, scallions or ramps - Not grilled, no.

93. Green papaya salad

94. Baked grain and vegetable stuffed tomatoes

95. Pickled ginger - Sushi requirement.

96. Methi greens

97. Aloo paratha - I'm going to say no, but my memory says "Maybe".

98. Kedgeree - Alas, the kedgeree I've had contained fish. So, not vegetarian.

99. Okra Friend Okra with Tobasco!

100. Roasted brussels sprouts - Much better as an adult. I hated these as a kid. They're acceptable now.

A quick count gives me 75 of these. Not bad. One observation. Most of the items I noted on the Omnivore's 100 came from restaurant purchases, many of these I made myself. I think that means something but it's still too early here on the West Coast for me to make any sense of it.

I've been meaning to do this for weeks, and many others already have. Very Good Taste has put out a list of 100 items that every good omnivore should have at least tried once. My job here is to bold the ones that I have tried, and then feel inadequate for those that I have not.

What, that's not how this works?

Feel free to address any of these in the comments of this post.

Yes it's link bait, but it's interesting link bait.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison - This is nearly a Western Pennsylvanian staple.

2.Nettle tea

3.Huevos rancheros

4.Steak tartare - At Emeril's place in the Venetian in Las Vegas

5.Crocodile Many years ago at crab shack outside of New Orleans.

6.Black pudding - On therecent trip to Scotland.

7.Cheese fondue

8. Carp

9. Borscht

10. Baba ghanoush

11. Calamari

12. Pho

13. PB&J sandwich

14. Aloo gobi - There's a restaurant in Herndon, VA which used to make a kick ass version of this.

15. Hot dog from a street cart - in Columbus, OH, of all places.

16. Epoisses

17. Black truffle - shaved on top of mushroom soup counts, yes?

18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes - Blackberries.

19. Steamed pork buns - Hum Bows here in Seattle.

20. Pistachio ice cream - Made my own as a matter of fact (and record).

21. Heirloom tomatoes

22. Fresh wild berries

23. Foie gras - Several times.

24. Rice and beans - Also in New Orleans. With hot sauce. Yum.

25. Brawn, or head cheese

26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper - Never again.

27. Dulce de leche

28. Oysters - There's an oyster bar not three blocks from my house.

29. Baklava

30. Bagna cauda

31. Wasabi peas

32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl

33. Salted lassi - I'm not a fan.

34. Sauerkraut

35. Root beer float

36. Cognac with a fat cigar - What's a cigar have to do with food?

37. Clotted cream tea

38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O - From my misspent youth.

39. Gumbo - Made as a gift for me with a bit of king cake. That was a good day.

40. Oxtail

41. Curried goat

42. Whole insects - I have no problem with this in theory.

43. Phaal

44. Goat’s milk - Raw goats milk, to boot. And yes, I'm bragging.

45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more - Let's just say yes to this.

46. Fugu

47. Chicken tikka masala - In Glasgow, of all places.

48. Eel - Hell yes. I loves me some eel.

49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut - Hot. Of course.

50. Sea urchin - Fresh Uni makes me weep.

51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi

53. Abalone - in a chowder.

54. Paneer

55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal - Most kids in America can lay claim to this I'm guessing.

56. Spaetzle - At a German restaurant in Whistler, BC.

57. Dirty gin martini - First made for my by Krysta back in 2002.

58. Beer above 8% ABV

59. Poutine

60. Carob chips - Just to try them. Purchased at our local food co-op. Not a fan.

61. S’mores

62. Sweetbreads

63. Kaolin

64. Currywurst

65. Durian - I want to, but am actually a bit reticent. I want to make sure I get the best durian experience possible, which is not always possible when all the fruits are imported.

66. Frogs’ legs - Am I the only person who thinks these don't taste like chicken?

67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake - Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

68. Haggis - Good Haggis is a thing to savor. Bad Haggis is another way to describe paste.

69. Fried plantain - At a Cuban Restaurant in Alexandria, VA.

70. Chitterlings, or andouillette

71. Gazpacho

72. Caviar and blini

73. Louche absinthe

74. Gjetost, or brunost - I eat so much cheese that I may have without knowing. But I'll leave this as a no for now.

75. Roadkill

76. Baijiu

77. Hostess Fruit Pie - As a kid, these were highly coveted. Today they remind me of foods farmers use to fatten their pigs. How times change.

78. Snail

79. Lapsang souchong - There may be some left in my cupboard even now.

80. Bellini - A brunch without a bellini is like a cookout without hotdogs.

81. Tom yum - At a Thai place here in Seattle.

82. Eggs Benedict - Of course.

83. Pocky

84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. - I have not had the opportunity to visit a Michelin rated restaurant. I have eaten at several Beard award winners though.

85. Kobe beef - Hard to say. I've had Wagyu beef, but it's unlikely they were raised in the Kobe style (regardless of what the menu said).

86. Hare - Rabbit, yes. Hare, no.

87. Goulash

88. Flowers In both soups and teas.

89. Horse - Nothing against eating horse, I just never had the opportunity.

90. Criollo chocolate

91. Spam - I do come from humble beginnings.

92. Soft shell crab - Deep fried, of course.

93. Rose harissa

94. Catfish - I had a catfish sandwich just last night, oddly enough.

95. Mole poblano - First time was at a decent but short lasted authentic Mexican restaurant in Columbus, OH. They used chocolate.

96. Bagel and lox - Too many times to count.

97. Lobster Thermidor

98. Polenta

99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee - I've never splurged.

100. Snake - Made chili with it. Quite good.

So that's 70 out of 100. Is that good or bad?

I've known people in my life who will only eat two types of pasta - spaghetti and elbow macaroni. Everything else was considered too exotic for their taste. What they are missing out on is a whole spectrum of pasta shapes and sizes, each bringing their own purpose to the world. Some work better in casseroles, others with heavy sauces, and still others with nothing more than a light coating of oil and some garlic. What I'm trying to say here is that pasta is versatile.

Types of pasta are often based on nothing more than how they are prepared. Let's start with the basic

Sheet Pasta: Think lasagna noodles as the great-grandfather of the Mediterranean noodle world. It is from sheet pasta that all other pasta comes. This would include ravioli, which is essentially a dumpling made from a square sheet of pasta. If you don't want to make dumplings, you could simply pinch 1-inch squares of sheet pasta to get farfalle.

Speaking of lasagna, here's a bit of trivia: The wavy edges found on some commercial noodles is more popular in America than it is in Italy, at least so I've read.

And if you have a bunch of mismatched pieces of sheet pasta around, that's called maltagliati.

Strip Pasta: So you're sitting there with your sheet pasta, but you're getting tired of lasagna. What to do? How about slicing the sheet pasta into strips? Sometimes the strips can be thick, like pappardelle, to really thin, such as with the taglionlini all'Uovo.

Rolled Pasta: Okay, so maybe cutting pasta ain't your thing. Perhaps rolling it will provide a different sort of pasta. Sometimes you can roll pasta into a big tube, such as with cannelloni, or roll the pasta up very tightly, such as with strozapreti. If you're feeling very fancy, you can twist strip pasta to get troifette.

Extruded Pasta: Maybe the world of flat pasta does nothing for you. You could always put pasta dough into an extruder. Think of an extruder as sort of a Play-doh Fun Factory for pasta dough. The easiest shape you could make is by forcing dough through a small hole, getting a simple "rod" of sorts, 8-inches long. This is better known to the rest of us as spaghetti. Using a smaller hole will get you spaghettini. Or you instead of using a round hole, you could use a straight line, getting a bavette, which seems sort of redundant, when you could simply cut a piece of sheet pasta to get the same result.

If long strands of extruded pasta isn't to your liking, you could always cut the strands into 1-inch pieces. Using this method with a circle instead of a hole will get you your pasta cylinders which we so love. This includes the gomiti rigati, which we Americans call elbow macaroni. Using a wider circle will result in penne pasta, technically called penne rigate. Using an even wider circle will give you rigatoni, which happens to be my favorite noodle.

Change the die plate from a circle to one the produces a corkscrew result will give you fusilli.

Grated Pasta: Or you can simply take a grater to your ball of pasta dough and get different shapes. Finer holes in your grater will result in midolline, larger holes will give you orzo, with different names for the results for everything in between these two sizes. These types of pasta work very well in soups.

As you can see, there's all sorts of pasta out there. I've mentioned seventeen, yet there are dozens, if not hundreds more. I've barely covered the amount of shapes out there, choosing instead to focus on how they are made.

But the most important lesson I can convey to you about pasta is this - they are a delivery system for other flavors. While pasta can be, and should be, delicious in its own right, it works best when it works with a partner. I'll touch upon that in a later post.

Tofu

When asked to name a food that vegetarians eat that is not eaten by meat eaters, most people think "Tofu!". And like my mom would tell me while I cooked dinner for the two of us, "Don't you dare put any of that tofu shit in my food!" Well, she eventually tried it and liked it -- I hope you will too!

What is tofu made of? How is it best prepared? What can it be used for? The answers may surprise you.

Background

Tofu originated in China long ago but the exact date is still debated. Most likely it became popularized around 500 A.D. Its use has spread globally, yet tofu is still most commonly associated with Asian cuisine and presented in its basic, cubed form. In the United States and other Western cultures tofu has taken on other dimensions as veggie burgers, pies, milkshakes, and more.

Tofu is nothing more than a compressed block of curds derived from the coagulation of soy milk (using salts or acids as the coagulant). In some Asian recipes it is simply called "bean curd". This process shares similarity with cheese making, although unlike cheese, tofu doesn't really have a distinct, rich flavor of its own.

Types of Tofu

Even some vegetarians are unaware (as I once was) that tofu comes in more than one form. I will describe each below and list some types of cooking or preparation methods that each is good for. Links are for information purposes only, I do not endorse any particular product. I encourage you to explore the world of tofu on your own; if you don't like the first brand that you buy, try a different one next time.

Most tofu is available in soft, firm, or extra-firm variations. I prefer extra firm for most purposes because it holds up well and I like a more chewy, meaty texture. You may like soft or firm better.

Sample recipes, courtesy of the linked sites, follow each description.

Firm or Regular Tofu

Regular tofu, generally sold in hand-sized blocks, plays many parts. It can be cubed and thrown in a hot stir fry or cold salad, sliced into strips and pan fried, or cut into slabs and grilled for a sandwich. For most applications it should be gently pressed to remove excess moisture.

Find it in the refrigerated section. Commercial tofu comes in plastic packaging and is surrounded by a thin layer of water. Keep refrigerated until ready to use. Homemade tofu, found refrigerated at local Asian markets, should also be kept in water. Just make sure to change the water every day and use it within 3 days.

Link: Nasoya Extra Firm Tofu (product)

Link: How to Prepare and Press Tofu (info)

Recipe Examples:

Everybody Likes Sandwiches: Green Beans and Tofu

Herbivoracious: Tofu in the Style of Southeast Asian Steamed Fish

Silken Tofu

Silken tofu has a consistency somewhat like jello. It is very dense, a bit slippery, and falls apart easily. I have most often seen it used blended or mixed. It whips nicely and makes a great base for soy milk shakes, or as a thickener for soups and stews. The absolute best use for silken tofu? A chocolate pie that will have your non-veg friends scratching their heads and begging for the recipe! I'll present it later in December -- just in time for the holidays. Stay tuned.

Find it on the shelf, in unrefrigerated aseptic packaging. With a stable shelf life you can keep a few boxes in your cupboard.

Link: Mori-Nu Silken Tofu (product)

Recipe Examples:

Fat Free Vegan: Mini Crustless Tofu Quiches

Husband-Tested Recipes from Alice's Kitchen: Pomegranate Smoothie

Other Types

At many natural foods markets and larger grocery stores you can often find tofu in italian, curry, thai, and I've even seen "aloha" flavored tofu (whatever that means). Of course it's all a gimmick but sometimes the results are pretty good. At Asian specialty stores many more forms of tofu are available. You can find pre-fried versions with a skin on them (the Japanese version is called agedashi), tofu sold as "mock chicken", and pickled tofu.

The main point here is that tofu comes in many, many forms, varieties and flavors. Be adventurous! Somewhere out there is surely a tofu for you!

Link: Pickled Tofu (info)

Link: Agedashi Tofu (photo)

Link: Tofu Veggie Burgers (product)

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: Go Forth by Les Savy Fav.

When I moved into my own apartment during university, my mother gave me an assortment of used cookware, a full set of hand-me-down dishes and a brand new copy of The Better Homes and Gardens Complete Step-by-Step Cookbook. I was in heaven. So much so that I spent more time studying the secrets of homemade bagels than the basics of microbiology, which explains why I'm now a food writer and not a food scientist.

During my first semester in my own kitchen, the pages of this cookbook became dog-earred and splattered with grease and batter. While the black and white photographs proved useful for most techniques, for the life of me I couldn't debone a chicken breast without mangling the results. And no matter how I tried, my onions refused to hold together while I diced them. Still photos were better than verbal descriptions, but they weren't always enough.

Years later, lack of space forced me to give this book away. Until recently, I regretted this cookbook purge. Fortunately, Rouxbe (pronounced ROO-bee) presents an online solution for anyone who wants to learn solid cooking techniques and discover new recipes, but hasn't the shelf space for 384-page tomes.

I admit, I was hesitant when I heard about an online cooking course. I wondered what gimmick they'd use to distinguish themselves. An overly-enthusiastic chef? Tilt-angle photography that would make me motion sick? Outrageous competitions?

Nope. Rouxbe videos put instruction first. The unseen narrator is calm and pleasant, almost hypnotic. The music, if any, is non-intrusive. The camera shoots from the angle that gives the clearest view, not the most artsy shot. And most impressive of all, the information is clear and concise. While the script tells you what to do, it also addresses common mistakes.

But it's not learning in a vacuum, either. Most techniques are tied to recipes. Each recipe video offers "drill down" options, highlighting a specific skill needed to create the dish.

I originally thought a membership would make a great gift for students heading off to college. Then I realized I had a few gaps in my own education. So far I've learned why my knife is always dull, that my wrist action impedes my rolling knife technique and the missing step in my chicken deboning.

Rouxbe is continually rolling out new techniques and recipes. With any luck I'll learn how to make a decent creme brulee.

Here's some more food porn to make up for the food politics post.

Brooks calls me to the floor in the recent post about Hershey's chocolate:

It is certainly true that Hershey's is intentionally lowering the quality of their product to save money. But that misses the bigger picture: Hershey's is in financial trouble. They needed to make some decisions.

Now, I love quality products, and if it were me, I would say "let's rebuild brand equity, increase the quality of our product, and significantly increase prices." Maybe that was discussed, maybe it wasn't.

But the much more neutral and complete way of reporting this would be to say "faced with a choice of increasing prices or lowering quality, Hershey's oped to lower quality." They didn't do it for the sheer joy of making crappier chocolate, after all.

Kate, I love your writing, and I read your stuff religiously. But if you're not happy with Hershey's lowering their quality, or with Breyer's reducing the size of their products, what you're left with is championing price increases which many people simply can't afford, and which could be even more disastrous for manufacturers (it may well be that the Hershey's bean counters decided that increasing prices by 5% would cut sales by 20%, resulting in an even greater financial problem).

I love gourmet food, and I pay for (too much of) it. But in the face of a tough economy, I don't expect companies to operate at a loss to subsidize my taste. I'm certainly disappointed to see Hershey's get even worse, but look at the numbers. What would you have them do?

There are several points to be made here, and Brooks is quite right in bringing them to the discussion.

First, let's address my bias. I am currently working in Quality Assurance, so I have a predilection for maintaining the high standards prescribed by a company (for those not familiar, these standards usually take the form of requirements, although I have no idea whether Hershey's uses this sort of nomenclature). Additionally, I am currently unaffected by the recent economic downturn (tho' this could change in the coming months). Both of these positions directly influence my own perspective. Your point of view may differ.

Also, I have no inside information beyond what I am able to find on the Internet. In common terms, this means that I could quite possibly be talking out of my proverbial ass. Due take all I say with a grain of NaCl.

In regard to the Breyers issue, I think I was questioning the practice, rather than out and out denouncing it. I hope that came across in the post.

Let's be clear about this - What Breyers (and others) are doing is a form of deceit. It's not on the level of, say, making up stories about weapons of mass destruction in order to justify invading a country, but it still involves intentionally missing a perceived agreed-upon level of expectation with the consumer. Yes, the consumer should be more label savvy, and should approach any product in the supermarket with a bit of cynicism, but the Breyers deceit is still there.

What Hershey's has done is even more egregious. They've taken the respect that they have earned over the past 100 years, and have leveraged it to change the recipe notably for the worse. Of course the company line will be something along the lines of "We deliver the same level of quality that Milton Hershey did back in his day." or something else filled with similar corporate-speak. It's in that corporate-speak that one level of their deceit takes place.

The other level is recognizable to anyone who is familiar with Hershey's as an institution, rather than a simple seller of chocolate. Hershey's, as a company, had a far different set of values a generation or two ago than they do today. Hershey's used to believe in their community, and the people who worked for the company. Those days are long gone.

Now I do recognize that all of these changes are economic in nature. I don't wish to see companies that I love go under, nor do I expect them to meet my own standards of quality. There's a mass market that they have to reach, and trying to please an individual, whether its me or the CEO, is the surest way to doom the company.

But I do expect them to respect their consumers, and to not treat them like idiots. Both Breyers and Hershey's are guilty of this, and it bugs the hell out of me. This is my line in the sand. Your line may be different. Breyers could have just as easily provided a smaller version of their product and called it "Economy Sized" (or some other similarly named item). Hershey's could have not overextended themselves by trying to purchase and run so many different brands. It's damned expensive trying to run an oligopoly. Perhaps they should stop trying to be one? I don't know if these would work. But what I do know is that they shouldn't take their consumers for granted. Ever.