Yes, I love the guy. He’s formerly from Queer Eye, is a cook, and writes haiku. And he hosts Chopped!, not my favorite cooking show because of the baskets so I quickly (as hubby is about to pick me up for dinner) I wrote this about their ingredient baskets.
Parmesan and eel
Baccala, fig jam and eggs
I’m already Chopped
But I’m ready to slather it with mustard and place it on date-nut bread with some sliced pineapple and liverwurst. Don’t cook this! Dee
Posted in haiku
During my/our travels and work experiences, I’ve met a number of very interesting people. Mary Cech is publishing her second cook book, the first on wine lovers’ desserts and this new one on savory pastries and I’m nervous as she’ll be my first interview. This is a teaser so you’ll have to come back.
Lest you fear I’ve let the capon issue rest (over 60 of you have visited on this issue alone, not the Concord grape but it may be the next wave) I recently got off the phone with the president of Wapsie Farms, an organic farm that raises capons and he’s agreed to be interviewed in a couple of weeks. My mother, God rest her soul, always cooked capon for special occasions outside of Thanksgiving (turkey) and Christmas (prime rib and Yorkshire pudding). Wapsie’s president asked me where I was raised and said capons were often available in the Northeast. I’m on a quest for interviews with interesting food mavens.
So, turn your channel to Dee and let’s find out what makes these culinary stars tick. And why we can’t make that souffle rise, Mary?… Dee
My parents told me that when I cried as an infant, they played Jackie Gleason’s “Music, Martinis and Memories” to get me to sleep, and if that didn’t work they drove me around the block once and I was a goner. I’d like to say that my cooking memories are analogous with my musical ones, but they’re not. I may hit the high notes with some of my dishes, but at my age my vocal range is more limited.
I remember following the bouncing ball and singing along with Mitch, but Sinatra, not Elvis, was my forever love. If Tommy Dorsey taught me breathing and Nelson Riddle did my arrangements, I’d be up there on stage at the Grammy’s! We listened mostly to classical music, and I took up violin and piano early on.
Of course in high school I listened to the Beach Boys in the cafeteria, but at home I listened to the Beatles, Bad Company, Dave Mason and Jimmy Buffet before he became a pirate. Many others, never enough. I never had Pirate Radio, which we saw this past weekend. It was a blast from the past, a past I never lived because I was only seven when Radio Caroline was broadcasting. My family was more concerned with watching Walter Cronkite and keeping the student masses at bay by not allowing them to know the head of the institution was a member of the Manhattan Project.
My tastes still trend towards folk because I love a good story. Yesterday my husband showed me how to use the new iTunes app that allows home sharing. It’s great because it gives me access to my CD’s that are in storage! I love James Taylor, Jackson Browne, Pete Seger, Arlo and Woody Guthrie, Joan Baez, the former Cat Stevens, the Eagles, Burl Ives (in his underwear), Carlos Montoya, Henry Mancini, Tony Bennett and his alter-ego Antonio Benedetto, Diana Krall, The Chieftains, the Clancy Brothers, Juni Fisher, Enya, Marty Robbins and many other artists. Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, Dan Fogelberg, and my friends Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Offenbach, and the great Celtic poets.
When I was home-sharing, I realized that I did it not for what I wanted to hear, but what I wanted to play on piano or guitar. Korky and Douglas, my music teachers, should appreciate that sentiment. That said, I hope you’re not shopping for tons of gifts as you know that your presence is a gift anywhere, and homemade food gifts show that you really love the recipient. Musically yours, jingle those bells, Zoe…. Dee
Joe, my father-in-law, runs a cattle ranch. When he was younger he ran a dairy, yup, a small family farm and I remember bringing a bucket of milk to a twin baby calf that was abandoned by his mama (they usually have one, and if there are two, they generally neglect one).
Both sons have left the ranch to pursue other ambitions, but they are aware of what goes on, giving a shot to de-worm a calf or castrating a bull. I am not a party to it except ordering it at the butcher’s counter or in a plastic package at the supermarket. So, yes, I am a party to it because I prepare it, cook it and eat it.
We currently live in a very wealthy, eco-friendly place. They build an eight bedroom house but think because they used bamboo and cork, it’s “green.” The ultimate hypocrisy (and my favorite Christmas gift in decades) occurred at our local Whole Foods market when I asked for a capon. The butchers didn’t know what one was. I posted this on the blog and got over 60 hits on capons! The head butcher wouldn’t come out to talk to me but just said he couldn’t order one for me because it wouldn’t meet Whole Foods standards. I just thought it was because he couldn’t find one that was organically raised.
After the response to this original post, I emailed the local store/regional manager and in their responses they sent me the entire chain, which is hilarious, especially as most of their meat is steer, that is castrated bull. But they object to capons for humanitarian reasons. First they said, if you can order what the customer wants, do it or if you can’t, don’t bother. Then they must have found out I’ve had 50 hits on capon this week so they told the local store to get in touch with me asap.
They did and said they don’t carry capon because of humanitarian reasons. But they sell chicken, and steer. Ironically yours, Dee
That has a derogatory ring to it. I just read that up to 93% of people are right-handed. I’m a leftie, a southpaw, and according to history you’re dexterous, I’m sinister. Wikipedia has an informative site on left-handedness. My father was left-handed but his knuckles were rapped enough to change him. He swore he would not change or allow anyone to change the two of his four children that followed suit.
At school I was issued safety scissors with a green plastic handle and blunt ends, even though I’ve never been able to use scissors with my left hand. Golf was interesting, in my short stint at lessons I was told by the Pro that I should use regular clubs because all the action is from the left hand, the swing and follow-through. As to guitar, which I just took up a few months ago, I never considered a left-handed guitar. It’s interesting reading as to well-known guitar heroes use their strong hand for the frets, not strumming (the awesome Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits). Perhaps as I take up guitar as a leftie on a rightie guitar, I spend more time learning chords and notes than getting through an entire song on the beat.
Knives are another issue. Kitchen peelers are rightie-based. I have to buy them for me. I’ve never bought a Japanese sushi knife but many of the Japanese knives are only made for right-handers and lefties used to have to special order. I can only use knives, or write, with my left hand. Many other motions are naturally done with the right hand (golf, guitar) and others are required of me, like starting the car with the key in my right hand.
Dad was caned. I was issued safety scissors. Let’s hope our teachers aren’t still penalizing children for being different. All my life, I’ve ended up in situations with groups of left-handed friends. All are smart and creative and my life would be less full without those experiences. Yes, I’ve been to a left-handed store and nothing stood out for me. The one thing I could use is a left-handed or dual-spout ladle. After all, I’ve turkey soup to serve! Cheers, Dee
We were committed to going out for lunch Thanksgiving day and the only restaurant open offered one solution, the family Thanksgiving meal. We brought back the leftovers, a few breast slices and about 1/4 cup of ham. Yesterday I cut up carrots, onions and celery and poured in a quart of chicken stock. Later I added some water and too much stellini (star-shaped pasta). I tried it and it needed salt. Then Jim was resting upstairs so after cooling the pot of soup in ice water several times I anchored a gallon bag in a large measuring bowl to chill/freeze it, it collapsed and I had broth and carrots all over the counter.
Jim didn’t come down to help because he’d spilled his water upstairs and was mopping up as well. All turned out for a family-less Thanksgiving weekend. Perhaps we’re supposed to have our disasters at other people’s homes. No, that doesn’t happen elsewhere, only at home!
As for my easy Thanksgiving soup, I’ll bring it to the boil again, add some fresh herbs and chicken stock, and perhaps a can of drained and rinsed cannellini beans. That could be dinner, with a nice loaf of French bread. Dinner for me. Jim wants meat and potatoes. Hope you enjoyed a long weekend with family and are home and recuperating from your vacation! Cheers, Dee
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