A Southern, Italian Menu

Red-neck Italian



One of my favorite bloggers is Amy Glaze whose blog is named Ms. Glaze's Pommes d'Amour. She's a classically trained chef who's worked in some of the best restaurants in Paris and New York. And I love reading her eyes-inside posts about the cheffing game. They're as much fun as Kitchen Confidential to read and much more immediate as befits a blog. Over the last three or four years I've developed a great affection for her. And that she's cute as button doesn't hurt. That she calls me "chef" doesn't either.

Anyway, she's moving to San Francisco to take charge as supreme chef of a restaurant named Le Club. She's driving there in a rental truck with another chef named Eric and all her possessions from NYC. Having wisely (given the time of year) chosen the Southern route, she asked if any of her readers who were on the way wanted to put her up. I immediately raised one hand while quickly scribbling menu ideas with the other.

The closest I've ever gotten to working a line is my first job as a pizza cook at Shakey's Pizza Parlor.

Let's back up a tad. I'm not in any sense a chef — nor do I claim to be except when it makes my clients happy. I simply cook for a living. I've been cooking since I was six years old (50 years, now) and for the past six years I've made my living from cooking. But although I've studied cooking in books and magazines, the closest I've ever gotten to working a line is my first job as a pizza cook at Shakey's Pizza Parlor. I have less formal training than Michael Ruhlman, a writer, and less actual experience on a line than your average cook at Waffle House.

There is a large degree of brashness in someone like me cooking for Ms Glaze. Much more so than a home cook offering what they serve their families every night. After all, I make pretensions about my abilities and when called "chef" I seldom demure the honorific. I offer advice on things like best meat cuts or mise en place. But a genuine chef? No. Nevertheless I've been reading her blog for a few years and I think I know her tastes so as soon as she said she was coming I knew the main dish I wanted to make her, and then everything else fell into place.

I didn't want to spend time in the kitchen while they were here and I didn't know when they'd arrive so it had to cooked in advance or be ready in minutes. I wanted to reflect both my primary culinary roots (the South) and primary culinary influences (the Mediterranean). I ended up with Red-neck Italian.

I planned to begin with a bowl of Cece Fritos — fried beans — as something to munch on during a brief unwinding with a glass of wine. After all, beans? Fried? Italian recipe? Oh yeah.

Then for a main course Arrosto di Maiale al Latte. This is a purely Italian recipe for pork roast braised in milk. A truly marvelous dish that can hold in an oven for a couple of hours and just get better. But we're talking slow-cooked pork in what becomes a cream gravy. If more Southerners knew about it would be more popular than biscuits and gravy. Except they'd keep the biscuits.

But instead of biscuits I decided to serve it on fried medallions of grits. Grits are the Southern progenitor of polenta and I could make them the day before and fry them up at the last minute. Some provolone and a pinch of nutmeg gives the grits Italian savor and the medallions add a lovely crispy/creamy texture and a bit of height to the presentation.

So what else? Greens. Turnip, specifically. They're in-season, highly Southern, nicely but not overly bitter (so a good foil to the pork), and I have a wonderful Italian recipe for sautéed broccoli raab (olive oil, garlic, anchovies, pine nuts) that would suit the turnips just fine.

But what for dessert? This one I had to think about. Dessert isn't one of my strengths. But I settled on an apple crisp touched with chipotle and topped with sherried mascarpone.

A good menu. Red-neck. Italian. It could be made in advance and served at a moment's notice. Perfect. But Amy didn't make it.

She and her driving companion made a wrong turn in southern Virginia. I know exactly where it happened and how because I've made that same wrong turn. I saw my mistake within 30 minutes, but I knew where I was going. Amy ended up in Charlotte before realizing the error. So she and Eric didn't make it.

I had my neighbor over for dinner the next night to help me eat it. I was happy with the results. The particular menu was designed, as I said, to give Amy a taste of my cooking, but the truth is there was nothing special in it. No big deal. Nevertheless I wish it had been Amy and Eric I fed instead of Richard, my neighbor. It was food for friends and family and Richard told me several times to thank Amy for getting lost.

(For Amy's tale, go here.)

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Seriously Useful

A couple of weeks ago I signed up for OpenSky, a merchandising venture that I first heard about when Michael Ruhlman signed on. Ruhlman was pretty enthusiastic but beyond reading his blog post I ignored it — just another marketing/advertising scheme. Then a couple of weeks ago my friend and colleague, Chef Jim Gray (The Kitchen Guy), announced he'd signed up for Open Sky and I decided to check it out.

For the first two or three years after starting Seriously Good I summarily dismissed any commercial taint to SG's noble purpose of promoting seriously good food. And then I found myself needing to earn income from SG. Furthermore, as a writer and cooking instructor I found myself often questioned about my tool and ingredient preferences. I certainly had evaluations I could offer, and I've never been shy, so...

I don’t have any illusions about income potential — if I can generate enough to cover part of my Internet connection bill I'll be happy.

Google Ads was a boondoggle, I had no say over what appeared. Amazon Stores was better, but if I thought the Carlisle loaf pans were superior to Chicago Metallica (I do) and Amazon didn't carry Carlisle pans (they don't) I was stuck. OpenSky promises to find a source, if at all possible, for any specific product I want to recommend. Ok, this sounds good to me.

I started making a list of products that have made a big difference in my kitchen as both a home cook and a professional and was appalled at how much time I spent searching out sources. For example, there's a particular set of dry measuring cups I like. The handle and cup are a single piece so there are none of the cracks between welded handles and cups that collect food debris. Unfortunately my set has no brand stamped on them so I spent a couple of hours (seriously) going through Web sites and image files looking for them. I did find the cups and hopefully OpenSky can source them (they offer other products from the same company).

It's all well and good for me to say, "Use single-piece measuring cups because there's no crack between handle and cup for food to catch in," and then leave it to you to find them. Far better if I can say, "Use the Amco one-piece measuring cups because... and here's a source." I can't say that in the case of these cups yet, OpenSky still needs to make arrangements, but I hope to shortly.

I hope to make a few bucks off of this, and I could use the money. But I don’t have any illusions about income potential — if I can generate enough to cover part of my Internet connection bill I'll be happy. But I'll be happier still if you find a tool or two in my list that makes your kitchen life easier, happier, or more successful. This blog will never be profitable, I write it because it's become a central part of my life. But there's nothing in my list I don’t or haven't used and I stand behind every recommendation.

Although some of my recommendations are expensive (copper ain't cheap), many aren't (cast iron is cheap).

The store is just getting started and while I'm still calling it Seriously Useful it's already more useful than when Amazon was my host. And as OpenSky arranges sources for the 30 or so tools that aren't already listed it will become even more useful.

So check out my link to Seriously Useful in the left side-bar. Keep in mind that Jeff Bezos (Amazon) is rich and probably can't cook while I'm not and I can. And if there are other tools you wonder about and I haven't mentioned, drop me a note. If I can offer advice I will, and if I can't I'll say so — no charge either way. I really am here to share.

And as for sharing, the first five people to make a purchase from Seriously Useful will get a free phone consultation on (almost) anything cooking related. I can help create a special menu, offer advice on cooking problems, or even create a recipe just for you. Just keep in mind that I'm not a pastry chef (although I do know bread).

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Sardines & Crackers

Sardines and crackers, some cheese, and a shared bottle of beer — LaBatt's Blue, as I recall. I've had fancier and more interesting picnics, but in this case I was smitten with my traveling companion. There was something almost unbearably romantic about the two of us, perched on our respective guitar cases just outside of Halifax, Nova Scotia sharing this simplest of meals before putting our thumbs back out to catch our next ride

We'd sit around the fire eating supper — good solid French Canadian fare — and afterwards sip hot chocolate or coffee.

It was the summer of 1972, I was 18, and I'd known my traveling partner for two days — a slender, dark-complexioned girl from Brooklyn with an accent you could cut with a knife and a wonderfully clear singing voice. We'd met at the tented youth hostel on Prince Edward Island a few days before and the people sharing her tent "conspired" with the people sharing my tent to get us together. We only had a few songs in common, but we managed a couple of impromptu concerts.

I was on my second great adventure.

The summer before I'd hitchhiked through Europe eating pastries in Venice, schnitzel in Salzburg, wurst (and the most amazing French fries I'd ever had in my life) in Munich, amazing cheeses and wine in Switzerland. Croissants and espresso in Paris, and Cornish pasties in England. I was 17 and I liked to cook and could turn out a decent meal, but I wasn't looking for food. It found me - but, clueless post-adolescent that I was, I didn't realize how much the food had formed my memories.

When the dark-haired girl and I discovered we were both planning to go to Nova Scotia next we decided to travel together and so we found ourselves, on a gorgeous summer afternoon, brushing cracker crumbs from our shirts and trying to avoid dripping oil on them.

Back in those days, hitching was fairly safe for single men, but less so for single women. So it behooved a woman to find a male to travel with — a choice that carried its own risks. On the driver's side, picking up men was considered somewhat risky, but not picking up women. Picking up couples was also considered reasonably safe so both the girl and I benefited from our partnership. In fact, in our case it paid off almost immediately that day.

We only been trying to get a ride for about 30 minutes when a ramshackle old army bus pulled off the road for us. We grabbed our packs and guitars and piled up the steps to be greeted by a man in his late 30's. The bus had been converted to an camper (this was before the days of off-the-shelf RVs) and there were bunks in the back, a small galley, and seats in the front. There was also an older woman (50's perhaps?) and two small, blonde-headed girls about 9 and 10. It turned out we had the girls them to thank for the ride.

The youngsters had spotted us and our guitars and convinced their father to stop for us. We learned they were on vacation from Montreal and the mother/wife had ended up having to work at the last minute and was joining them a few days later in Halifax. The older woman was the man's mother-in-law.

We'd barely sat down before the girls, excited as they could be at this adventure with hitchhikers (and chattering away in a mixture of French and English), insisted we pull out our guitars and play for them.

Our plan had been to circumnavigate the Nova Scotian peninsula and this was also what the family was doing, so we ended up spending a leisurely three days with them. Each evening we'd find a campground, my companion and I would pitch her tent to sleep in, and Madame Belle-Mère would cook dinner in the galley while the father built a fire. Then we'd sit around the fire eating supper — good solid French Canadian fare — and afterwards sip hot chocolate or coffee and practice some of the songs the girls knew. Eventually we arrived in Truro and went our separate ways. The girl and I spent another day together before she had to head back home and I began my trip to Vancouver.

I seldom eat sardines and crackers these days, I just never think of it. But when I do I can still feel the guitar case under my butt and hear the cars passing us on the road while the girl and I shared lunch. I can still taste oily fish and the saltines. I can also still taste those fries in Munich, the gruyere in Switzerland, and the pasties in England. Almost 40 years later my memories of those adventures is reduced to a sparse collection of flavors and scenes. Actually, that works for me.

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Ingredient: Roux

Roux is a French word and refers to a combination of a lipid (fat or oil) and flour and is a key ingredient in, probably, thousands of dishes involving some sort of sauce. Roux is the thickening agent in Mornay sauce (the basis for mac-n-cheese), brown sauce (beef or turkey gravy), and, though it isn't obvious, beef stew.

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Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | cooking for two | sauces

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Ingredient: Anchovies

The odds are you hate anchovies. I don't have a formal survey, but anecdotally I suspect about 80 percent of Americans do. I did. When we think anchovy we think salty, salty, salty and fishy, fishy, fishy. And usually you're right. Salt is used to cure them and they tend to have a fishy — in the worst sense of the word — flavor and, when eaten alone, they're pretty bad. Or, at least those packaged for the American market suffer from these sins. But that needn't be the case.

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Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | cooking for two | ingredient

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Bouillabaisse

Just the Two of Us



My ex-wife was a Southern, even a "country," girl. And while our marriage was a mistake, our relationship wasn't as we had deep affection for each other, and only slowly and gently unraveling ties, for almost 20 years after our divorce. And I'm not going to be so arrogant as to claim I taught her to cook. She was fine a cook before we met. But she did simple, Southern cooking. Her biscuits were awesome, but she had no concept of pâte choux. She had a wonderfully light touch with scrambled eggs but had never eaten a genuine soufflé. And although her mac-n-cheese was good, she started with a box and goosed it rather than starting from scratch. She'd never made a pizza from dough to sauce.

So rather than say I taught her to cook, it's more accurate to say I introduced her, Pigmalian-like, to foods and techniques she didn't know existed. On the up side, she took to it like a pig to mud — reveling in new flavors and techniques. On the down side, I no longer owned the kitchen. But I loved collaborating with her on meals.

I introduced her, Pigmalian-like, to foods and techniques she didn't know existed.

The last thing we made together was a fish stew. It was some 10 years after our divorce and I was moving across the country. She called me up and asked, "If I get the fish, can we make bouillabaisse?" She showed up with boatload of fish and clams and shrimp. I provided everything else.

As we worked on the stew — chopping tomatoes, dicing onion, sautéing garlic Cindy commented at one point, "Amy asked me why I was coming over here to make bouillabaisse instead of asking you to my house and I told her, 'Because Kevin will have saffron, and I don't.'" And she was right, I did.

I have no idea what bouillabaisse recipe we began with that Saturday afternoon — recipes aren't really a significant part of bouillabaisse — you use "what the boat brings in" and what you have. But Cindy and I did a lot of butt-bouncing in my little one-ass kitchen, chatting and rubbing shoulders and just being cooking buddies. Then I spread a tablecloth on the living room floor Cindy poured the wine, and we sat cross-legged to eat some seriously good fish stew, a salad, and some good sopping bread — a picnic of sorts.

But if you've never made bouillabaisse you need a starting point. This recipe from Elise at Simply Recipes is a great beginning. I like some finely diced tomato in mine. I also add fresh basil at the very end instead of including fennel.

A lot of people think cooking for two is a waste of effort. But it never is. It's a chance to spend time together sharing a task and a pleasure — even with an ex-wife it's precious.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good

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Breakfasts of Christmas Past

My parents recently sent out an email asking ten specific questions about what my siblings and I remembered about our childhood Christmases. "How tall was our tallest tree?" "Who was first to get up Christmas morning?" "What's the most number of branches we tied to a tree to fill it out?" (Our trees were always natural trees that had the misfortune to grow on their own on our farm — cosmetic branch-adjustments to improve their shape was SOP — "donor-limb" trees were also misfortunate.)

As we chimed in, our memories reflected each of our different takes on Christmas and our positions in the hierarchy of childhood. The only detail we all agreed on was we'd gather in my parents' bedroom at 5:00 AM (it was strictly against the rules to arrive earlier so we all gathered in my room beginning about 4:00 until it was time). Then we'd rush to my parents' room and sit on the bed with my mother while Dad went into the living room, "To make sure Santa had been there" — and if I remember correctly start the coffee for Mom and him.

Our memories reflected each of our different takes on Christmas and our positions the hierarchy of childhood.

Note, this business of gathering in my parents bedroom first continued long after we'd all ceased believing in Santa. Even after my youngest brother (10 years behind me) had given up on the Santa myth because he continued to wake up at 4:00 for several years and gathering on Christmas morning meant we all had to enter together. We were all happy when Kerry learned to sleep in on Christmas morning.

"Santa" never wrapped presents when he visited us and so those unwrapped gifts would distract us while the coffee finished perking. Then, once we'd completely explored Santa's gifts it was time for the real gift-giving. My father would hand out the wrapped gifts, one-by-one, calling out the name of the giver and recipient one at a time to each of us. No other gift was given until the current one was unwrapped and properly appreciated by everyone as something extraordinary, something deserving of special note — with appropriate sounds of appreciation for each gift given by everyone.

Each gift meant some shuffling around on hands and knees and even getting up off the floor to give the giver a sincere "thank you" and a hug. Christmas morning was a long, drawn-out affair of appreciation and to this day we open gifts the same way, one-by-one, person-by-person, with heartfelt thanks whenever any of us can manage to get together for Christmas.

And then all the gifts were opened. All the oohs and ahhhs done. And it was coming up on 7:00 AM and time for Christmas breakfast — and likely another pot of coffee for my folks. This was the best breakfast of the year as a rule (although my parents also had a fondness for Shit on a Shingle — creamed, chipped beef on toast — on Christmas morning). Planned in advance and often involving treats like coffee cake or waffles with homemade strawberry jam or even Welsh Rabbit. Hot cocoa wasn't unusual and neither was hot cider with butter and a cinnamon stick.

Those Christmases are mostly a blur more than 30 years later. But I still make a point of planning breakfast on Christmas morning. Even when it's only me. And I still open each gift Christmas morning, one at a time, with love and appreciation.

I hope the gifts are good, but breakfast is more dependable. Merry Christmas everyone.

Here are a few breakfast ideas...
Apple/Ricotta Coffee Cake
Welsh Rabbit
Basic Cheese Souffle

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | christmas

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Human Society and People for the Ethical Treatment of Farmers

In Kitchen Confidential Anthony Bourdain made a reference to, "...vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans…" Harsh? Yeah. But hard to argue with unless you too are a vegan/Zealot. On the animal rights front I've always considered PETA to be al Qaida to the Humane Society's Fatah. In other words, PETA are extremist wackos while the HSUS is essentially a political organization attempting to prevent cruelty to animals. That PETA would froth at the mouth about gavage (the process of over-feeding ducks to produce foie gras) is expected, that the Humane Society would try to shut down a farm is unexpected.

I bring this up because currently HSUS is suing Hudson Valley Foie Gras, one of this country's few foie gras producers for polluting the environment. Note, this suit isn't over animal cruelty — an issue HSUS would probably lose — but pollution. You can read about the lawsuit on Salon.com, but HSUS is stretching.

This is about a political organization exercising power in an effort to gain more power.

The 11 million members of HSUS ganging up on a (relatively) small farm in New York that works hard at treating its animals gently is anathema to me. There are loads of far more egregious examples of animal cruelty — Tyson Farms anyone? — they could devote their resources to thwarting. But Tyson has even deeper pockets than HSUS and so the Humane Society picks on the little guy — while admitting that doing so opens the market to imported sources of foie gras that may not be as "humane" as Hudson Valley. This sends the message that if you're big enough we'll leave you alone, but if you're puny you're just a chicken in a cage.

But the lawsuit isn't really about right or wrong, humanity or inhumanity, if it were HSUS would be devoting all the resources at their disposal to the genuinely vicious treatment of animals in Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations like Tyson. But no, this is about a political organization exercising power in an effort to gain more power. It's not about animals, it's about people.

And in case you haven't made the connection, PETA exploits naked women — using them as sexual objects — to make its points. Hurting ducks, bad, hurting women, good. I'm going to quit now before I drift into a profanity-laced comdemnation of air-headed, clueless, hypocritical, self-rightious, anti-deluvian, specie-centric, self-absorbed posturing... It's sad HSUS has decided to join PETA's delusions.

Update:
Possibly I should have mentioned this earlier in the interest of full disclosure, although I've never purchased foie gras from Hudson Valley, I've been buying legs and duck fat from them for several years. I chose them as a mail-order source after reading reports by chefs who have visited the farm and wrote that the operation was as concerned with it's animal's welfare as any farm they'd ever been on. I would certainly buy from them before I'd buy a chicken from Tyson farms.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | foie gras

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Ideology

Ideology



I just filled out a survey directed to professional cooks/chefs. For the most part it was fine, although there were some stupid questions such as:

"What's your favorite spice?" — Depends on what I'm cooking. And do herbs count as a 'spice,' and what about flavorings such as lemon or capers?

"What's your signature dish?" — Everything I associate my name with. What? You want me to pick a favorite child?

But there was one question I really liked: "What do you think about molecular gastronomy in terms of introducing chemical elements into dish preparation?"

Recently an article in the Times On Line wondered if E! Bulli chef Ferran Adria was "poisoning" his customers.

This is a great question — not least because of the ignorance it presumes. After all, everything is composed of chemicals — salt is sodium chloride (a combination of two elements that are individually poisonous to humans) — MSG (mono-sodium glutamate) occurs naturally in soy sauce, tomatoes, and Parmigiano Reggiano. Recently an article in the Times On Line wondered if E! Bulli chef Ferran Adria was "poisoning" his customers. A German food critic, Jörg Zipprick, had asserted that:

"These colorants, gelling agents, emulsifiers, acidifiers and taste enhancers that Adria has introduced massively into his dishes to obtain extraordinary textures, tastes and sensations do not have a neutral impact on health," says Zipprick, adding that some have a laxative effect.

Jeez! Three glasses of iced tea gives me the runs. So does too much orange juice. And drinking too much water causes me to urinate frequently.

I understand Zipprick's point, the random addition of ingredients to create an affect when the effects on our bodies isn't well known is a bad idea. I agree completely with that thesis. I minimize the amount of processed food I consume with the presumption that by doing so I minimize the ill-effects of added chemicals on my body — not that I come even close to considering my body a temple: It's more like a Mayan pyramid swallowed by jungle.

Nevertheless, point taken. However, that distinctive bitter note we like so much in almonds? Cyanide — prussic acid. And the bitterness in winter greens? The same. Cabbages and onions contain sulfur — yet another element and chemical. Everything except energy is composed of chemicals even water is hydrogen dioxide.

If the chemicals are benign in the quantities used then I have no objection. I personally prefer adding anchovy paste to my tomato sauce rather than pure MSG, but I prefer adding MSG to my chicken soup to anchovy paste. I also prefer that my food look like food and I'm no more a fan of oyster foam than boneless, skinless chicken breasts. But that's my preference.

But whatever your no-doubt thoughtful preferences about local versus imported food, organic versus conventional food. Cooking should never be about ideology, it should always be about flavor. Think I'll have a Quarter-pounder and fries for supper tonight — chemicals and all.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good

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Anniversary

Looking Back



Six years ago today I posted my first piece on Seriously Good, a recipe for Sangria. It consisted of a short paragraph and a recipe. At the time I didn't even know food blogs existed. Most of the blogs I'd seen really were what Pete Wells infamously called "grilled cheese blogs" or "what I had for lunch." In fact, it wasn't until nine days later that I posted my first grilled cheese sandwich.

I'm not sure what prompted me to begin with a Sangria recipe, but the grilled cheese recipe is anything but a what-I-had-for-lunch post. To begin with I began with a recipe for the bread. A loaf that to this day I consider the perfect bread for a grilled cheese sandwich. The recipe is followed by a very precise description for making what I called the Ultimate Grilled Cheese Sandwich including which cheese to use and how thickly to slice it. It's an ode to one of the simplest and most delicious meals you can make.

Seriously Good is about food that makes you sit up and take notice because it just plain tastes really good.

In fact, I think it was the grilled cheese recipe that set the tone for what SG has become. This blog is not about fancy food (although it includes some), it's not about technique or ingredients (although these topics, as the grilled cheese piece reflects, inevitably come up), it's certainly not about a particular cuisine such as low calorie or Greek. Seriously Good is about food that makes you sit up and take notice because it just plain tastes really good.

An unexpected aspect of blogging is that I've become part of a community of bloggers. The first thing I do every morning, after pouring a cup of coffee, is logging on to bloglines to see what my favorite food bloggers have been up to. Some of these bloggers are working writers such as Michael Ruhlman at Ruhlman.com, others are professional teachers like the recently retired Kalyn at Kalyn's Kitchen, some write short essays on meals made a la Cookie Crumb (CC as I call her) at I'm Mad and I Eat, while others are professional chefs (Ms Glaze's Pommes d'Amour) or talented home cooks (The Culinary Chase). My list has almost 100 blogs in it and all but ten are food blogs — fortunately not everyone posts every day.

It's humbling to know and read so many talented food writers. It's invigorating to be able to ask them for advice and suggestions. It's fun to see food trends build from the ground up and it's exciting to make my own contributions. I wish I had time to mention every blog I follow now from Elise to Lydia and the many that have disappeared over the past six years. But I don't.

So to celebrate this anniversary, I'd like to invite every food blogger to post a description and link to one of their favorite personal blog entries in the comments here. It needn't be a recipe (CC almost never posts recipes, just approximations). Search back through your posts and find one you're particularly proud of or fond of and share it with us.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | anniversary

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Namesake

My friend Bob del Grosso published a piece on his blog, A Hunger Artist, about a tomato sauce named DelGrosso. He says he doesn't know if there's a familial connection, noting that the family that produces the sauce came from a village hundreds of miles from his own ancestral home. But his post reminded me of my namesake.

My parents are from Birmingham, Alabama and shortly before they were married my father helped a friend of theirs, an Italian immigrant named Joseph Daole, open a restaurant. The night before it opened, my parents got married in it. And they promised to name one of their children after the owner. He demurred, pointing out that both Joseph(e) and Daole Weeks lacked a certain resonance, so instead they named me after the restaurant — Dale's Cellar. My middle name is "Dale."

Dale's Cellar has long since closed but during it's hay-day Joe Dale (as everyone called him) developed Dale's Steak Seasoning, a delicious soy-sauce-based sauce/marinade. The sauce is still being sold — it can be found throughout the South and I've also found it in New Hampshire and California — apparently by the descendents of Jake Levine who was Joe's partner in the restaurant. I've usually got a bottle in my pantry and I also have a bread plate from the restaurant. I sometimes wonder if, perhaps, I was destined by my namesake to become a cook.

Addendum: This recipe for Dad's Dressing is based on the original recipe for the sauce — although I'm sure Dad's recipe had changed by the time I got it.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good

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SG Archive: Sourdough Bread

Pet Food



Owning a sourdough starter is a lot like owning a cat: It doesn't require a lot of attention, but you can't completely ignore it either.

Although I love baking bread I avoided sourdough for years because of its need for attention. I had been under the (false) impression that you had to use it once a week or more to keep it going and, because I like baking bread more than I like eating it, that sounded like too much trouble for too much bread.

My tenure in Sacramento, California resulted in an addiction to sourdough bread.

In addition, my first bread cookbook was James Beard's Beard on Bread and he pooh-poohs sourdough as seldom being as satisfying as that archetype of American sourdoughs made in San Francisco. He notes: "Jeanne [Voltz] agrees with me that it is a most fickle process. … I have even found variations in its performance from one neighborhood of New York to another. … I am not sure it is worth the trouble."

However, my tenure in Sacramento, California resulted in an addiction to sourdough bread and so last fall I bought a starter from King Arthur Flour and gave it a shot.

I've been pleased as punch.

The bread was good to start with but it has now "gone native." By this I mean that local yeasts have taken over from the Vermont yeasts it arrived with giving the bread its own unique character. It has a delightfully tart flavor that I've learned to maximize producing some of the best sandwich bread I've ever eaten.

It also does well with additives such as olives, dried tomatoes, and, my favorite, grated gruyere.

And bread isn't the only thing it's good for. It makes dynamite pancakes -- particularly blueberry pancakes — and excellent biscuits. And one of these days I'm going to make English muffins with it.

Although it does require some care, its demands aren't great. There's no litter pan to clean and empty and no cat hair to vacuum off the couch. It does need food and water. But this is satisfied by adding a cup of starter to a half cup of water and a cup of flour every two weeks — and I've gone as long as four weeks without touching it with no ill effects to the starter. Try that with a cat.

Some people even name their starters. I'm not prepared to go that far, but I do have a certain mild affection for the jar of flour, water, and yeast at the back of my refrigerator.

At least it doesn't throw up on the carpet.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | bread

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Hamburger Heaven

Hamburger Heaven



Those of you who have followed this blog for a year or more (and if you've been following it for more than three years - please let me know, SG is approaching it's seventh birthday in October this year) will have noted that I'm a fan of simple cooking. Simple doesn't always mean quick or easy or cheap. A lot of food requires long and slow cooking to become luscious. It requires chopping up onions and carrots and celery to produce taste. It requires wine to produce richness. It might even require anchovies to create depth. But the most complicated kitchen technique you'll find in most of my recipes is a pie crust. The most outlandish ingredient is the afore-mentioned anchovies. The most work is peeling and dicing.

When you eat a burger like that you understand why hamburgers achieved their universal popularity prior to the era of Burger King and McDonalds.

Oh sure. There are exceptions to this focus. I adore soufflés and they can be fussy. Fondue requires some time spent over the stove. And cassoulet - peasant dish that it is - isn't made in most American kitchens from the pantry ingredients and leftovers found in the French kitchens where it originated. But often seriously good food is quick, easy, and cheap.

I made hamburgers last night.

I bought some ground beef (pasture-raised) at the farmers' market and shaped it into patties (Tip: press your thumb down into the center of the patty to keep it from shrinking into an elongated softball). Gave the patties a couple of pinches of salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Then I grilled them in a cast iron skillet. When I turned them over I topped them with a chuck of good cheddar cheese and covered the skillet to promote melting.

In the meantime I made a sauce of 3 tablespoons mayo, 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard, and 1 tablespoon A1 Sauce. The sauce went on ordinary hamburger buns followed by fresh tomato, lettuce, and the burgers. By the time I finished eating a burger the juices had turned the bun into a soggy mess and I was using all ten fingers to hold it together.

But damn it was good! When you eat a burger like that you understand why hamburgers achieved their universal popularity prior to the era of Burger King and McDonalds.

Go make a hamburger. A basic hamburger with no additives like minced garlic or curry powder or feta cheese, just the best meat you can buy. Dress it simply with local tomatoes and lettuce - onion if you like. Toss on a thick slice of cheese and let it melt. Add the condiments you prefer to a decent bun (I screwed that one up on this effort). And when you bite into it reflect on how easy, quick, and simple a complete meal (because it is a complete meal) can be.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | burgers

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Taste

Seriously Good: A Definition



I've touched on the topic of taste in the past (most recently in Maine Fries with Duck Confit: Over the Top) but I don't think I've ever addressed it head on in Seriously Good, and I really should because it's central to creating seriously good food. So I'm rectifying that lapse.

Food lovers (even chefs) typically talk about flavors, and when they use the word "taste" they really mean flavor. Flavors arise from commingling two senses: taste and smell. Of these the most immediately noticeable is smell. We can detect thousands of different smells and, although we may not have the sensitivity of a dog, our sense of smell is still potent. Additionally, we perceive smells slightly differently when they hit our olfactory nerves from the front (through the nose) and back (through the sinuses). This means smells use a lot of brain power for analysis.

I won't go into why (hypothetically) we have these five tastes instead of five others — or fifteen.

Taste is much simpler. Our taste buds can detect acids (typically sour), alkaloids (typically bitter), sweet, salty, and savory (also called umami). That's it as far as we know at this point (and no, we don't "taste" spicy in the sense of hot — that's a chemical stimulation of nerve cells in our mouths by chemicals like capsicum). Taste is a much simpler proposition than smelling.

I won't go into why (theoretically) we have these five tastes instead of five others — or fifteen. But knowing about them is essential to creating seriously good food. We're programmed to love food that incorporates at least three of these tastes. Look at a Big Mac: you've got sweet (in the sauce), savory (in the beef, fat, and tomato), and salt. Balance these tastes properly and add in the odors that enhance the tastes and you've got however many trillion "Burgers Sold." If you can incorporate four tastes even better, and five tastes is golden.

However, successfully getting all five tastes into a single dish is difficult. But not so hard for a meal with two or more dishes. Look again at my post on Maine Fries with Duck Confit. I got sweet, savory, and salty into the fries, then paired the fries with a sweet, sour, and bitter salad. I also added some heat with black pepper — remember, that's not a taste (although pepper has tastes, and odors) but instead a bit of direct nerve stimulation.

Good cooks understand this play of tastes implicitly and speak of adding a spritz of lemon juice (sour) for brightness or dollop of soy sauce (savory) for depth. Returning to dishes I came up with 20 years ago I can see that implicit understanding at play. But these days I find I myself more often substituting my conscious knowledge of activating the five tastes for my implicit understanding.

Asian dishes are particularly good at combining four or five tastes in a single dish. Think of Sweet and Sour. Yes, those two tastes tend to dominate, but in conjunction with the savory meat and soy sauce. And the soy sauce also brings in salt while the bell pepper and onion provide sour and bitter notes. Done well, Sweet and Sour pork, chicken, or shrimp are delicious, done poorly (meaning the tastes aren't balanced well — and "well" doesn't mean equally) it's horribly cloying or sharply biting.

"Seriously good" began as a phrase I'd used for years to describe the best dishes I made and had become a catch-phrase my cooking friends understood as meaning "exceptional." When I began this blog I named it "Seriously Good" both because of my past use of the term and because it was dedicated to creating seriously good food. I don't always succeed. But over time, particularly since I've started making my living writing about and teaching cooking, the "seriously" bit has become as much a reference to thinking about food and cooking as about a synonym for "very." The next time you imagine a dish, think about taste as much as about flavor if you're serious about creating something good.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | taste

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Chef Blog Biz

I've recently agreed to mentor a fellow chef on her new blog Holly Hadsell - El Hajji. Holly and her husband have a catering company in Hawai'i and she's been blogging since last fall. Her focus is on recipes and from what I've looked at so far they're fun and imaginative. As you might expect from her location her recipes take advantage of tropical produce, but as you might suspect from the blog's name there is a Moroccan admixture - Casablanca meets Honolulu.

And even more recently (since April 7th of this year) a chef and colleague at ChefsLine.com has been writing a blog named rad*kitch. Erika's tagline is "adventures in healthy food: maybe quirky, always awesome." Erika is also focused on recipes, but she's providing photo-tutorials with them. If you're image-oriented this should be a great site for you because Erika is undeniably a talented chef (I've never eaten her food, but we've talked/chatted quite a few times over the past three years and you can't fool a fellow chef - you either know your shit or you don't).

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good

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Spot-On: Fighting What You Eat — The Diet Cong

Think of your body as a machine and adapt your energy input to your energy output. This is basic science, verified over 100s of years. But the current funky diet "theory" isn't even "theory" in the scientific sense - it's a guess based on hopeful correlations, if that. Matching caloric input to output always works and it's generally healthy if you're careful to eat a balanced diet. But it requires discipline.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: DIY - Making Lard That Lasts

My stomach is rumbling. Well, not really rumbling so much as gurgling, burbling, growling, and I could swear it just made a barking kind of noise. (Frankly, the barking has me a bit worried.) You see, my house is innundated with the smell of porcine protein and fat - and has been since 9:00 this morning, five hours ago. It's got about two hours to go.

I'm rendering lard.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On:The Rain in Spain

About this time ten years ago I had little stickers all over my house giving the Spanish word for various things such as lamps, tables, and the toilet. By far, though, the preponderance of stickers were in the kitchen labeling such things as pasta, canned tomatoes, pork chops, and shrimp. Each evening I'd spend some time reading travel books and making notes on places to see. I was going to be in Spain for two weeks, celebrating my parent's 50th anniversary, and I planned to absorb every ounce of the experience - and the food.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Damnit, I Didn't Need This!

I've never had much of a taste for sweets and when it comes to desserts my preference runs toward things like lemon tart (on the "tart" side) or fruit pies and crisps with a minimum of sugar. I lost my taste for soft drinks years and years ago - these days a root beer or ginger ale once or twice a year (mainly when I can't get unsweetened tea) is my limit. And fortunately I'm not big on junk food either. I much prefer a bit of cheese on a cracker or chunk of bread, perhaps a couple of slices of salami, or even a banana is my idea of a perfect snack. So you can't imagine my horror when I tried the Lays Lightly Salted potato chips.

Most chips are so salty that I find them inedible. So I never buy them and when I'm served them I seldom eat more than one or two. But the other day I was introduced to these chips and loved them. They're still very salty, but you can actually taste the potato and I'll be jiggered if the potatoes aren't excellent. In fact, they were so good that I bought a bag a couple of days later just to see if I was mistaken. Nope. I ate the whole bag in two days.

Damnit, I didn't need something else fattening to like.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | potato chips

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Spot-On: The Myth of Sustainability

When foodies use the word "sustainable" they typically mean a system that doesn't require outside inputs - no chemical fertilizer or herbicides, no purchased feed for livestock, and only water that falls from the sky or flows on the surface. In other words everything needed to produce vegetables, fruit, and meat over the long term is either already available (water, for instance) or can be produced (manure fertilizer) on location.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Left-Left-Overs

Left-Left-Overs



Like so many of my fellow bloggers, I've been trying to clear some of the detritus out of my freezer. So far I've eaten freezer-burned chicken thighs with rice, freezer-burned Italian sausages in a ragout, and freezer-burned peas and beans. I just threw out the freezer-burned shrimp. (By the way, confit doesn't get freezer-burned - a very good thing). These efforts have made a dent in the ice-box, but I still have a ways to go until I can see the back wall.

I've been wanting to get one of those food sealers, but had trouble justifying the cost. But a friend recommended the new hand-held vacuum sealer from Reynolds ($9.95 + special bags) so I'm checking it out and will post a review here in a month or so.

I was inspired by Dr. Biggles posts on cooking pork roast in his clay cooker, but I seldom use mine and when I pulled it off the shelf it was moldy inside.

This week I pulled out a two-pound pork shoulder roast (not freezer-burned) and cooked it. I was inspired by Dr. Biggles posts on cooking pork roast in his clay cooker, but I seldom use mine and when I pulled it off the shelf it was moldy inside. I'm going to try cleaning the cooker, but in the meantime I still needed to fix supper. So I rubbed the roast with a paste of lemon zest, crushed garlic, oregano, salt, pepper, and olive oil and let it marinate for about six hours. Then I roasted it at 300F for a couple of hours covered with foil, pulled off the foil, and continued cooking for another hour and a half until it was nice and crusty.

The roast was good, but the rub was undetectable - so I put some freezer-burned Romesco sauce on it. I'm going to try this again but plan to give it 24 hours to marinate wrapped tightly in plastic.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | left-overs

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Spot-On: Seriously Goodand Simple Food

I recently spent some time in the hospital. I'd forgotten just how bad food can be. Among other things I was served scrambled eggs with the texture of soggy cardboard and flavor of feathers, pork loin cooked until it was barely suitable for making shoes, and frozen vegetables seasoned only with water. I lost ten pounds and if I hadn't persuaded a visitor to smuggle in some salt I would have lost even more.

Read the complate article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: For Appearances' Sake

Because the catering I do is for small special events, there's more room to stretch and experiment in the menus, which I like. Also, I get to be on hand when the meals are eaten and so get to observe the reactions to the food. It's hard to beat standing in the kitchen and listen to "oohs" and "ahs" from the dining room. But perhaps most enjoyable is that when I cater an anniversary or birthday party I get to do "plating."

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Benton's Country Ham

Road Trip



It was a gorgeous winter day — or at least as gorgeous as any winter day in East Tennessee meaning the hills were brown, the trees were bare, and the sun was shining but with that watered-down light that seems to make colors duller rather than brighter. It was also warm (mid-50s). So I finally made the trip out to Benton's Country Ham that I've been meaning to make for the past year.

It's a long drive (two hours round trip — 80-plus miles) and because my father lives closer and makes the trip regularly, I usually just ask him to pick up an order for me that I get the next time I visit my folks. However, I've been wanting to take photographs of the low, concrete building and the wooden racks on which hams and bacon hang. I forgot my camera the last time I drove out there, but a chance comment on Facebook yesterday (someone was wishing for a Benton's ham room freshener) prompted me to put today's plans aside and head out there.

There was fellow there ahead of me buying a big bag of stuff. Heavy set, 30ish, blue-collar type in a safari jacket (of all things) who seemed a tad out of place so I asked him if he'd been there before. "Nope." So I told him to be sure and get some sausage: "Benton makes the best sausage in the world." He ordered some and while we were waiting I learned he'd been sent on a six-hour round trip to pick up an order for his boss — and I thought I had a long drive.

My father is the one who first introduced me to Allan Benton's products some 15 years ago and it was love at first bite. Even when I was living in Oregon, New Hampshire, and California I'd get him to bring me a ration of cured meat whenever he and my mother came for a visit or I'd make a run out to Vonore whenever I visited them. At first this was the only way to get the stuff, but even after Benton started selling mail-order on the Web it was still the only way to get his sausage.

Having lived all over the country I'm convinced that the only place you can find decent country sausage is in the South. Southern sausage is meaty and it seems like everywhere else it's mealy - the texture reminds me of something made using bread crumbs, or, worse, oatmeal. And everywhere else the flavor is one-dimensional lacking depth, breadth, and subtlety. Southern sausage, even poor Southern sausage is chewy, fatty, and brilliant on the tongue.

Benton goes a step beyond ordinary Southern sausage. He offers four varieties — hot and mild, smoked and non-smoked. As I said, this is the best damned country sausage in the entire world — or at least that I've ever eaten. Over time I've come to prefer the hot having decided the smoked hides the nuances of the seasoning (and only wimps eat mild).

The oddest thing about the sausage is its slightly grainy texture. I finally decided Benton adds a bit of ground country ham to the sausage. This explains both the graininess and the depth of flavor. I've experimented with trying to duplicate the recipe and with a fresh batch of the real thing on hand for comparison I'll try again. It isn't that I'm not perfectly happy buying from Allan Benton, but there's a puzzle there I want to figure out.

At any rate, I came home with a pound and a half of sausage, a half-pound of bacon (you really don't need more than a slice per meal), a few ham steaks, and what they call Benton's Prosciutto — by which they mean thinly sliced country ham. It may not be Prosciutto de Parma, but this so-called prosciutto makes one of the best panini I've ever eaten. Along the same lines, I often do a variation on Pasta Carbonara using country ham instead of pancetta. Its character is completely different from the original dish and absolutely delicious.

Benton sells his products to some of the best restaurants around the country and you can order the ham, bacon, and prosciutto from his Web site. But if you want to taste the best-damned country sausage in the world you'll have to come to East Tennessee and make a run to Vonore (just down the road from Madisonville) to pick some up. But wait until spring, the countryside is a lot prettier then.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | Bentons ham | pork

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Spot-On: Cheap Eats

I made fondue a few weeks back. The gruyere and emmentaler cheeses cost $9.00 and $6.00 respectively for a half pound of each. I used a California Sauvignon Blanc at $13.00 a bottle. The bread (a good artisan French loaf from a local bakery) was $4.00. Kirschwasser (cherry brandy) was $8.00 but I only used a bit - call it $2.00. Assorted pickles, olives, and sliced sausages on the side - $5.00. So altogether I spent $39.00 on dinner for a dinner for two. There was a bit of fondue and bread leftover, so let's assume it was more like $35.00 for two. Not so cheap, but cheaper than the $70.00 the Melting Pot charges - and probably better tasting.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: St. Valentine Prep- Aphrodisia

Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me. ~ Sarah Bernhardt

It's nearly St. Valentine's Day when a young chef's thoughts turn fondly to foods that will spike the libido. In fact, Valentine's Day is one of the two biggest days of the year for restaurants (the other being Mothers' Day). If you're planning on going out to dinner next Saturday and haven't made reservations yet, it may be too late. Personally I prefer the intimacy of preparing (or sharing preparation) with my loved one. Then pile the dishes in the sink, toss a towel over them, and settle in for an evening for two.

You can read the complete aricle at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | spot-on | valentines day

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Spot-On: Eating Dirt and Staying Healthy

Last summer I spent a week in the hospital after developing a severe staph infection on my lower belly. I drove myself to the emergency room one Sunday evening after having reached the conclusion there was something seriously wrong - this wasn't just a heat rash. The doctor's reaction on examining me was ("Holey Moley!!").

Perhaps I have a sensitivity to staph. I've had three staph infections in my life (although this was by far the worse), but I don't have much sensitivity to anything else infectious - or autoimmune either.

You can read the complete article on Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | spot-on | health

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Spot-On: The Troublewith Truffles

Editor Chris Nolan recently sent me a link to a contest being conducted by MarxFoods, a gourmet mail-order company specializing in fresh foods. They're giving away 1/4 pound of fresh truffles - worth about $250. Nolan's subject heading on the email was, "...while Rome burns?"

As it happens, I was arranging a visit to a truffle farm. Was I fiddling while Rome burned? Nolan's snark aside, I don't think so.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Politics as Usual?

It appears that former Iowa governor Tom Vilsack will be our next Secretary of Agriculture. By all accounts, the choice is as carefully considered, intelligent, and unimaginative as President Barack Obama's other cabinet appointments. When naming him Obama said, "As governor of one of our most abundant farm states, he led with vision promoting biotech to strengthen our farmers in fostering an agricultural economy of the future that not only grows the food we eat, but the energy that we use." The food community has responded with thunderous, "meh," - "big f-ing deal."

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Resolved - To Eat, Cook, Enjoy With Care

I don't make New Year's resolutions, for most of us they're empty promises just waiting to be broken by the second or third week of January. That's because resolutions are usually negative - especially the food-related resolutions:

I will lose 20 pounds (eat less)
I will cut down on diet Cokes (deny myself that pleasure)
I will eat more healthily (avoid the foods I like best)

Bah! In modern American culture food is an enemy, it's something we loath ourselves for enjoying and under a mistakenly puritanical impulse attempt to deny ourselves to somehow become more pure and deserving. I'm not saying we should overdue the ice cream before bed or eat a bag of pork rinds every day. But denying yourself is just begging for failure.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Happy New Year!

We Begin Again

J.D. Hildbrand, my friend, mentor, and ex-boss, used to sweep into the office on Monday mornings with a cheery, "Happy Monday!" According to J.D. the great thing about Mondays is that you aren't behind yet. It's a new week and you're starting fresh, whereas on Friday you've completely failed to achieve some of the things on the week's list, failed to complete others, and in general have to admit the week wasn't as productive as you'd planned.

J.D. never quite convinced me of his approach. For one thing I never went to bed looking forward to getting up early on Monday and always went to bed looking forward to sleeping a bit late on Saturday. And besides, Saturday was my shopping/cooking day. It was the one day a week that I really made an effort to relax from my typical 10 - 12 hour days. I even usually worked on Sunday for a few hours, but while I might do a bit of work on Saturday it took a back seat to food and cooking.

I'm not a fan of New Year's Resolutions. The only one I've ever kept was to quit making them.

These days, self-employed, getting a day off is even harder. A few months back I decided to make a real effort to take Wednesdays off, but that hasn't worked so well. I end up saving errands for Wednesday instead of doing them now and then during the rest of the week and so instead of relaxing I become frazzled from dashing about town.

Nevertheless, as my friend Bob del Grosso noted today in A Hunger Artist, "Billions measure their lives and behavior against abstract ideals that they know they can never reach. I don't see why I need to be any different." Then he sets out to delineate a set of propositions for eating well, thoughtfully, ethically, and healthily in an article named "A Fanatic's Proposition."

Bob is a careful thinker, beautifully educated, articulate, a trained chef (and trainer of chefs), and a bit of a fanatic on food. What more could one ask for in a colleague? And he's entirely right in his general proposition: Simply because I haven't yet succeeded in taking Wednesdays off, doesn't mean I shouldn't continue to make the effort. And that brings us back around to J.D.'s "Happy Mondays."

Calendar beginnings, however arbitrary they are, have a certain power. How many people begin a voluntary diet change on a random Thursday compared to a Monday — or the first of the month? How many people make Easter resolutions? These arbitrary but dependable calendar demarcations matter.

I'm not a fan of New Year's Resolutions. The only one I've ever kept was to quit making them. But the New Year, more than any other calendrical boundary encourages both reflection and anticipation.

For me, the past year was a period of solidification - of a foundation curing and setting. The goal of making my living as a personal chef essentially came to an end as both the economy and my own inabilities as a salesman/marketer left me only teaching classes and catering small parties. But in point of fact, I enjoy these two activities far more than spending a day or so alone in the kitchen preparing too-many dishes that I then cram into containers and freeze. I'm a show-off and teaching and catering support this inclination.

And, too, my food writing has expanded. Trying to make a good living as a food writer is probably a fool's errand, but I'm managing to survive (with the occasional cooking class and party) and it's clearly time to make a more concerted effort to increase the number of one-off articles I write.

I will continue my only successful resolution and make no new ones, but as Bob suggested I can aspire to more, set higher goals or refine existing ones. And, as always, I can love those I love, laugh at every opportunity, and, above all, eat well celebrating that particular aspect of the universe I have some control over.

Bon appetit.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | New year

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Spot-On: Milk - The Raw Deal

A few days ago I received an offer to purchase unpasteurized milk for my pets from a local organic farm. For $103 I'd receive a gallon of raw milk once a week for 12 weeks. I'll save you the trouble of doing the math: that's $8.58 a gallon. I'm really fond of my cat, but not $8.58-a-week fond. Which is why I'm pretty sure this offer is an end-run around Tennessee's laws preventing the sale of raw milk for human consumption.

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | seriously good | raw milk

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Spot-On: Yo! Nick! - A Cook's Christmas List

Polls are indicating that people are eating out less, and when they do it tends to be at fast food joints. For example, Applebees sales are reportedly down about 15 percent while McDonalds are up by eight. But people are also doing more of their own cooking in order to economize. So this Christmas, I thought I might offer some suggestions for practical gifts to make home cooking more economical, easier, or both.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Girl's Night Out

By the time I got to Sonoma it was dark and drizzling rain - a really unpleasant December evening. I had printed out a map and directions to my bed and breakfast from MapQuest but for the first (and only) time Map Quest had it wrong and for the life of me I couldn't find the place and no one I stopped and asked for directions recognized the street. Finally I spotted a UPS truck, followed him to his next stop, and then asked the driver for help. He knew the place and I arrived there about 7:00 PM, two hours late.

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Politics on Wry

As a sandwich-lover from way back, I always celebrate the Earl of Sandwich's birthday with a carefully planned sandwich, but this year I thought it might be fun to consider what sort of sandwich the presidential candidates might choose. The easy one and first to occur to me was Sarah Palin, the "real" American.

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Eating Oil

On October 12 Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food took over the New York Times Magazine for his polemic, "Farmer in Chief" framed as an open letter to the next president. Pollan writes: "what's needed is a change of culture in America's thinking about food ... focusing the light of public attention on the issue and communicating a simple set of values that can guide Americans toward sun-based foods and away from eating oil."

You can read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Selling Obesity

Most of us think we're immune to the blandishments of marketing droids. And perhaps - when we notice we're being blandished - we are. But marketing messages are such a pervasive part of our culture that noticing every "buy" message would occupy our attention full time; we wouldn't even have time to think about sex (except, of course, when sex is selling hamburgers) or our jobs.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Something Cool

This past Tuesday (October 1) we finally saw something good for consumers come out of the federal government: Country Of Origin Labeling (COOL) for food. Grocery stores have six months to comply and then most meat and produce and some nut producers must specify the origin of their products (exceptions include roasted nuts, mixed vegetables, and a few other items).

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: A Fortunate Man

I eagerly anticipate the arrival of the Fall season every year. It marks a new, warmer phase of my cooking. Tired of the light, quick meals of summer, I want the deeper, darker, more savory flavors of stews, braises, and soups. I crave the edgy flavors of winter greens like kale and chard and the heartiness of Brussels sprouts and broccoli.

This year's first genuinely fall-like day - also my birthday - called for a celebratory feast.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: Reading Periodically

I just renewed my subscription to Cook's Illustrated, my favorite cooking magazine. For years and years before the World Wide Web and before cookbooks had become one of the largest categories in book stores I subscribed to Gourmet and Bon Appetit, because those magazines were the best bets for a varied collection of recipes. In those days the first step I took in planning a dinner party was to sit in the middle of the living room floor with all my back issues and a note pad and go through every issue - often multiple times - putting together a menu.

Read the complete article at SpotOn.

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Your Government Makes You Fat!

Sounds like a headline from the tabloids, eh? But in fact it's to some degree accurate - although it's not a deliberate act - to say your government makes you fat. It's another one of a case of unintended consequences that so bedevil our increasingly complicated world. But in this case we know who to blame: former Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz.

Read the complete article at Spot-On.

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Spot-On: An Extra Pound or 50

More people die in America of too much food than too little. ~ John Kenneth Galbraith, economist

Myriad factors contribute to the increasing obesity of Americans - too much sugar, too little exercise, too many fries and too few Brussels sprouts. Even the company you keep influences your weight, which means obesity (and leanness) is to some degree communicable. But Galbraith cuts to the core problem: We eat too much.

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Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | spot-on | obesity

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Spot-On: Kitchen Spirits

I came home the other day with a bottle of grappa. If you're unfamiliar with it, grappa is a sort of clear Italian brandy made from the grape skins and pulp left over after making wine. Until recently it was thought of as a peasant drink, but it was "discovered" by someone - probably a marketer - and rapidly went upscale. I had my first taste on an Air Italia flight to Rome and quickly acquired a liking. It tends to be harsh, but the better grappas offer subtle complexities. I've found I like it better than brandy.

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Technorati: Food | essay | kevin d weeks | spot-on | booze | wine

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