We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Dining in a clam shack can be cheaper, and far better, than eating at home. I love rickety little clam shacks. This one has a more extensive menu than the usual. Place is famous for the best Lobster Rolls in the world (in their opinion).
Why Sea Scallops cost more than Bay Scallops, these day, is a puzzle to me. The little Bay Scallops are much tastier, but the big Sea Scallops make a better presentation, I guess. Lots of people just don't know their seafood. I don't know much, but I think I know my seafood.
Beurre Blanc is for seafood. Dynamite simple sauce for baked cod, haddock, scrod, or scallops. The trick seems to be the (unnecessary for flavor, but useful for the process) dollop of heavy cream in the saucepan.
Our hunting friends all must have pheasants in the freezer at this time of the year.
This may be my favorite Pheasant recipe: Pheasant Braised with Red Cabbage and Apple. I plan to make some soon. A simple dish, but a treat for dinner guests. The meat must be pink in the middle but the skin crispy. Forget the legs - pheasant legs can only be consumed in a confit.
I like to throw a splash of reduced gibier sauce on top, to finish it off. A Pinot Noir is a good idea too - a white wine is always wrong with poultry and/or game birds.
If you have a favorite Pheasant recipe, let us know.
It's generally a good idea not to over-train one's palate, if only because life becomes too expensive if you do. Fine wine, for example, or fine dining and fine ceegars.
I did have an excellent cup of after-dinner coffee recently, and was advised that it was Royal Kona. "Not Kona - Royal Kona." They made it with a French Press. Coarse grind only, for the French Press.
I drink coffee black and hot. Chef told me that Royal Kona is the best coffee in the world, and Jamaican Blue Mountain is second. I see that they can be purchased online.
I'm not particular about coffee, but that was damn good, with just the right touch of bitterness.
What coffees do our readers drink? Our sponsor's Dunkin? Maxwell House? Whatever the minimart has in the pot? Royal Kona? Or, God forbid, Starbucks? (I know we have some closet Starbucks fans out there.)
When is enough pleasure and instant gratification enough?
Oh, maybe never, I hear my readers thinking.
I put the word "addiction" in quotes because I am not referring to physiological addictions such as to narcotics or alcohol, but to the pop culture use of the word, as applied to chocolate, food, sex, money, power, buying, etc. The casual use of the term, of course, refers to the difficulty in stopping the behavior when it doesn't make sense.
Some people are studying the brain to try to understand satiety. Some, interested in overweight, are studying foods. I think they are barking up the wrong tree (Yankees might not realize that that is a reference to coon hunting with coon hounds).
I believe that most of these "addictions" are more subcultural and psychological than physiological. Returning to the topic of food, the well-respected scientific journal Elle points this out in Satisfaction Guaranteed:
As a child, were you encouraged to clean your plate and then go back for seconds? If so, you probably didn’t grow up in France, where children are taught to savor the feeling of longing, or envie, for their next course (just think of the cheese!). Our differing notions of satisfaction were examined in a 2006 study of 133 Parisians and 145 Chicagoans published in the journal Obesity. While the French paid attention to an internal cue, the feeling of fullness, the Windy City-ers relied on the external: when their plate was empty; when their companion had finished eating; or when—quelle horreur!—the credits started to roll on the TV show they were watching.
Many Americans ignore the body’s subtler signals of hunger and fullness, hearing only the clanging gong at each end of the pendulum—Starving! Stuffed!—and rarely pausing to enjoy the much more pleasant midpoint: Ahhh, satisfied.
Some subcultures believe in big eating, some in savoring, some in minimalist eating, and, for some, food is just not a central part of life at all - Northern Europeans, for example. I was raised, for example, to learn that a lady always eats slowly, and never finishes the food on her plate. Not in public, anyway. It's not considered ladylike.
Always surprising to me how many amateur cooks have no clue about how to handle knives in the kitchen. Plenty of knife skill vids here. One basic example:
Ever seen the TV show? I hadn't, but a chef friend who loves the show advised me to check out the YouTubes. It is entertaining and educational. Chef Gordon Ramsey goes into messed-up restaurants and advises them on how to improve.
You'll never want to go to a mid-range restaurant again to eat their thawed crap. Plenty of Ramsey's job seems to be family therapy. It's a study of excuses, blaming, and scapegoating. The family interactions in the Italian restaurants are hilariously hostile. A sample (lots more fun ones on YouTube):
Here's how we keep it simple and organized in the BD household: We store the Christmas stuff in chests of drawers in the living room. Nothing to lug up and down, no boxes, etc.
Another good trick: throw your tree lights in the garbage, and buy new ones each year. Something strange happens to them during a year's storage. Not really worth saving, between the untangling and the dead bulbs.
Our pal Gwynnie makes it even simpler: he has his fake tree pre-wired, and just drags it up from the basement. I am not ready for that level of decadence. Sheesh. Why not just keep the ornaments on it too, and lower it on a wire from a niche in the attic, then spray Balsam fragrance on it? Just email me, Gwynnie, and I'll give you a hand. I like Christmas trees.
We had our family Christmas last night. The kids will be away, all over the planet (Vietnam then Czecho, Birmingham Alabama, etc) on the 25th. We had Lobster hors d'oevres, Butternut Squash soup with my special herb and parmesan crouton on top, Italian pork loin with bay in wine vinegar, roast taters, beets, Brussel Sprouts in oil, and Christmas Tree Cake plus a mountain of Italian pastries ("Don't forget the cannolis"). All with either champagne, or Martinelli's for the teetotalers.
We're planning our little neighborhood Christmas Eve light supper before church, as we always do. Cocktails and Eggnog, poached salmon with dill and yoghurt sauce - then run off to church to sing carols. Nice. I have always felt that Christmas Eve with family, neighbors, and friends is more special than Christmas day. It's like anticipation of a birth. However, with Christmas on Sunday this year, I think we'll go to church then too. Why not? Church always does me good.
Off to the Big City now for a first delivered Christmas present - The Voices of Ascension at the Metropolitan Museum with dinner after with my in-laws (we focus on events and experiences - not stuff - for Christmas treats. Feeding the soul is how I think of these things.)
I buy no things, or almost none. Cool experiences last forever, but stuff is just stuff that takes up space, and I have enuf guns and neckties.) Man, did I get some good, fun tix for this holiday season including some Met Museum Christmas singing tix, some Met Opera Butterfly tix, ballet and dance tix, etc. for the kiddies. There is nothing better than dinner and tix in NYC for memorable Christmas season treats. No NYCB Nutcracker - seen that enough times. Once is wonderful but, like magic, once is enough. OK, maybe twice. Nobody does it better...
Pic is a relaxed Christmas Dog. I need to get a good pic of the BD daughter's pup too. We always pretend to detest tiny dogs, but you cannot help but love them once you meet and get to know them. These little things just crack you up. I just worry that my pup will bite its head off in playfulness.
It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings. Tough to find a 15 year-old Butterfly, so they don't even try:
Readers may not have heard much about Heritage Turkeys. There have been many breeds of farm turkeys over the years, but today the bland Broad-Breasted White breed is the mass market turkey.
Heritage Turkeys are genetically closer to their wild ancestors, have far more flavor, and run to smaller sizes. Their meat is redder than that of the Broad Breasted White. They are growing in popularity because they do not taste like cardboard. In fact, their flavor is similar to Wild Turkey.
It's like the difference between a supermarket tomato and a home-grown variety.
You can buy Heritage Turkeys online at Dean & DeLuca or D'Artagnan. Some Whole Foods have them, but I won't go to Whole Foods, due to a Whole Foods allergy.
Wow. I just found out that D'Artagnan even sells Free-Range Wild Turkeys. Man, that saves a lot of otherwise-wasted time sitting in the woods.
These birds cost a little more, but they are hardly the same animal as the supermarket Broad-Breasted White. They taste like a game bird.
It's White Truffle season right now (Oct-early December) in Italy. Black Italian truffles are often jarred, but the fresh Italian White Truffle is "the diamond of the kitchen" and is only obtained fresh.
At $300/oz., they ain't cheap, but you shave them into paper-thin flakes with a truffle-shaver so just one truffle goes a long way in making ordinary things into something miraculous. One is good for many meals. That incredible funky, earthy fragrance is the thing. The rule is that you never cook truffle: only add it after the cooking. D'Artagnan has them now, until they run out.
My very best truffle experience was Woodock Ravioli in jus gibier, with shaved black truffle on top. Perhaps my best taste experience in my life. My chef pal and occasional hunting buddy made it for us, with Woodcock he had shot. (Non-American readers may not know that wild game cannot be sold commercially in the US. You have to fetch it yourself.)
Some friends treated us to dinner last Weds. night at their favorite Italian restaurant because they were having a special White Truffle Night there. We chose the Carpaccio with Truffle, the Truffle Risotto, and a wood-grilled Tuscan Steak on a bed of Truffled Potato. That's Italian! Not many places I know where you can get a real Tuscan steak. It's not bland like an American or Argentinian corn-fed steak, and it's grilled with Italian Bay.
They even had a White Truffle Gelato, but we passed on that.
I commented that, if I were eaten by a tiger on my way to the car, he would be pleased because I was White Truffle-infused.
Most of the time, when we want a truffle flavor, I just use truffle oil. It comes in either White or Black, and it is wonderful stuff. D'artagnan sells that, too. As with fresh truffle, you add truffle oil after cooking.
I'm going to make up a nice big venison stew to go along with the turkeys this year. I have a few nice shoulders and loins shrink-wrapped in the freezer. Something sort of like this. I will make a venison bone stock for it instead of a veal stock but I will make it with the magical Porcinis.
Best to make a stew a day or two ahead. Better that way.
Do my friends shoot does around here? Darn right they do. Bow-hunting, usually. It's about the meat. Trophies are silly. Where ya gonna put them? We hang the deer for a week or two in the garage, and butcher them ourselves. In parts of New England, White Tails are almost pests. Many areas, no limits on does.
Contemplating oyster stuffing for the oven turkey this year. Seems like a bit of a waste of good oysters, though. I noticed that the Brits sometimes put Parmesan in their bird stuffings. Hmmm. I dunno. Best bird stuffing I have ever eaten had chunks of foie gras in it. Great. I have done cornbread/chestnut/sausage/apple stuffing too long, and got tired of it. Plus it's a pain in the neck to make, chopping all that stuff like a prep cook.
It's close to being the perfect food, containing pretty much all you need to survive. How the Potato Changed the World - Brought to Europe from the New World by Spanish explorers, the lowly potato gave rise to modern industrial agriculture.
What is "lowly" about the sacred Mashed Potato? asks I. We only grow the pre-mashed varieties at my house, genetically-modified to contain the butter, salt, and cream genes.
The premium varieties of potato, of course, come with a thick rare rib-eye on the side.
(It's remarkable to consider all of the things from the New World which changed the Old World: corn - maize, potato, tomato, syphilis, squash, etc.)
I think we're gonna throw a little Oktoberfest party this year.
Cheap and easy: Get a pile of bratwurst, weisswurst, cole slaw, sauerkraut, applesauce, German mustard, German potato salad, and German pretzels at Costco.
Split the wursts and toss them on the charcoal. Boil some of the weisswurst, and grill some of them. Maybe cook up a pile of potato pancakes.
A random selection of German beers - definitely some weissbrau - and maybe some German wine. German chocolate cake too.
After a few brews, get everybody to do the Chicken Dance.
Here's how we cook corn on the cob: After removing the most loose outer husk, we soak the ears in cold water for an hour or so with husks on and silk still present, then toss them on the grill, turning regularly for roughtly 15 minutes.
They steam and char a little. Some of the husk will char a bit, and most of the silk will burn off. That's good.
Peel and eat. For me, no butter, no salt on it. Tastes good the cave man way.
Among the people we tend to dine with, nobody ever orders a dessert.
I am one to enjoy good stinky cheeses with a sliced pear after a dinner, or maybe a tiny bowl of fruit with some creme fraiche, but if nobody is ordering anything except coffee, you hate to be the only one still greedily munching.
Dessert seems to have become a special treat in America, only for special occasions. Nobody wants to act like, or look like, a pig at the trough.
"Red meat and gin" was her rallying cry when the food world's puritans dared to promise long life through nervous nutrition; she scorned grilled vegetables as "burnt and undercooked at the same time". When asked to describe her guilty pleasures [...] she was sure to respond with her usual cheerful defiance, "I have no guilt".
The other day I went into my favorite Mexican restaurant, favorite because it doesn't serve the usual Americanized border food of just tacos and burritos but real(er) Mexican food. I had the goat meat soup, lifting with my hands the flesh covered bones to chew on. Mexican chicken soup is particularly tasty, so I suggested to the owner adding chicken feet to nibble on. He replied that it was also a favorite of his, we both remembering a restaurant in Ensenada that served it and was always packed with locals and foreigners (like my father and me, who like other poor people in our youth made good use of every part of the chicken), but has been displaced by tourist food for the nearby cruise ship port.
There's a post that is circulating that humorously and realistically describes the staples of immigrant Jewish foods. I grew up on them all, and delight when I make some of them or rarely find a restaurant that gets one right. My boys dig in and ask why they haven't had more of this. I joke that McDonalds is not named McDonaldwitz. Many complain that such foods are cardiac arresters. I just finished a series of extensive heart tests, the cardiologist surprised that my heart is much younger than I am.
Lean cuts of beef, like top round and flank steak (London Broil), are not worth grilling, and should not be grilled, without marinating them overnight first. Cooks say 10 hours at bare minimum. Otherwise, these dense, wood-like cuts are like chewing gum when grilled rare, and like leather when overcooked.
In other words, something you could easily choke on, requiring an annoying Heimlich Maneuver.
They have to be marinated in enough acid - vinegar or citrus -to loosen up the meat. Some alcohol - wine or beer - helps in addition to the vinegar. Many people seem to like to simply marinate these cuts overnight in pre-mixed Italian dressing. (I use plastic garbage bags for marinating things in.)
Even with a good 20 hours of marinating, London Broil needs to be sliced thin after grilling.
It's not just for those of the gay persuasion anymore. For her birthday on Saturday, I took Mrs. BD down for dinner at Gradisca and then the last night of the ODC show at the Joyce (her picks, being her birthday).
The gentrification of the meat-packing district (high fashion, now), and the diversification (less gay-dominant) of the West Village and Chelsea (families, hetero couples and jolly groups of young blond gals with cute summer dresses everywhere) was fun to see. And people in the park, forgetting their troubles and woes...
We walked quite a bit - Hudson St., Jane St., Greenwich St., 13th St., etc., where the streets are confusing.
One thing is clear to me: The "fashionable upper East Side" is a dead zone. No fun at all. Stodgy, without vitality. These neighborhoods are not like that:
When I think about marketing genius, I usually think of bottled water. However, maybe the marketing of vodka takes the cake.
Water and vodka lack color, flavor, and odor, so they both present formidable marketing challenges which Madison Avenue has masterfully overcome in the effort to persuade you to part with your hard-earned money.
What's the difference between Bruschetta (pronounced "bresketta") and Crostini? Here's one answer. And don't forget the crouton, which I like made with whole slices, not cubes.
And here's a quote from a piece in The New Statesman on bruschetta, Toast of the Tiber:
"The relationship between bruschetta and "garlic bread" is a peculiar one. In principle, bruschetta is the honest, poor man's original -nothing but charred, oil-soaked bread rubbed with garlic-while "garlic bread" is the embellished pretender. But somehow things have got mixed up. British democracy has confused them. Garlic bread became genuinely democratised, sold in dispiriting packs of two, or even four, for 99p in the brightest freezer cabinets. Meanwhile, the monied torchbearers of democracy - in fact, the elite - went crazy for bruschetta, paying a small fortune for pane covered in broad beans or anchovies at the River Cafe. And so, bizarrely, buttery indigestible garlic bread has come to seem unpretentious "people's food", while bruschetta is the poncy snack of the People's Party. This is an unfortunate state of affairs. Everything that is best about bruschetta -- its power to bestow well-being in one crisp bite -- is betrayed by garlic bread. To begin with, as Marcella Hazan points out: "The most important ingredient in bruschetta is not garlic but olive oil." The garlic on bruschetta is rubbed on, so that you inhale the fresh garlic perfume as a backdrop to the olive oil, rather than eating great lumps of it. The origin of bruschetta was probably the ancient Roman practice of tasting newly pressed olive oil on a piece of bread, with or without garlic -- a practice that has continued in the oil-producing areas of Tuscany, Umbria and Lazio. The name derives from bruscare, meaning "to roast over coals". Alice Waters's version of bruschetta involves frying country bread in large amounts of oil, until thoroughly impregnated, and Elizabeth David recommends baking slices of white bread in the oven."
Thus we learn that American "garlic bread" is not really Italian. The whole piece is interesting, and makes me wonder whether we American garlic-lovers - me, anyway - use our garlic far more heavy-handedly than we should. I will do Bruschetta this way:
Sourdough bread slices lightly fried in oil then garlic-rubbed, chopped fresh tomatoes barely warmed in a little oil with sea salt and maybe a touch of vinegar (plus maybe a little lightly sauteed onion) then fresh basil and parsley sprinkled on top. I think a sloppy Bruschetta is just fine if the oil and tomatoes are excellent, but I think I prefer a little plate of Crostini with a glass of wine.
In Italy we were served Crostini that were simple thin toasted baguette slices (garlic-rubbed with a little salt) with oil and some herbs (including Rosemary), others with a very light smear of pesto or goat cheese, and some others with just a little bit of sauteed shallot. Clearly the oil is the main point - and the wine. The oil has to be the best. Any added flavor should be subtle.
I think I prefer my Crostini lightly salted and fried in olive oil with a bit of garlic without any other flavor added on top. However, that would be properly known as the French "crouton." My family loves these fried slices of Italian bread or baguettes, and will eat them with anything. In fact, the Pupette makes then now, for snacks.
If you Google "crostini+recipe" you can find a ton of ideas, most of which I think are excessive.
Gwynnie went to Rawley's last week because it's close to her favorite gunsmith, just around the back of the Sturm Ruger plant on the Southport border.
Got there at 11:45 and so missed the legendary 20-minute wait for a deep-fried hot dog and fabulous skin-on fries. The booths are so covered with carved initials, names and dates it's hard to imagine they are still standing. Inside and out are signs touting the joint's approval by none other than Martha Stewart, a bit uncommon among weenie joints!!
"Rawley's is located west of the center of Fairfield on a rather plain stretch of road that runs alongside high-tension wires and railroad tracks, befitting the working-class feel of this dining spot. In a way, Rawley's has a similar feel to Blackie's in Cheshire (a ways north of Fairfield), in that it is a classic roadside stand housed in a rather forlorn-looking spot, though Blackie's is admittedly in a much more rural setting. But both reside in structures that look more like houses than commercial buildings, both have very old, dark seating areas inside (including counter seating with stools), and both feature some of the best hot dogs and hamburgers in the area.
"Although Rawley's serves a handful of different items, including chicken sandwiches and burgers, the hot dogs are perhaps the biggest draw, as they are deep-fried rather than grilled (as they are cooked at Super Duper Weenie), giving them an outstanding mix of crunchiness on the outside and juiciness on the inside. They can be ordered with a number of toppings, including cheese, chili, and something called "hellish relish," which is fairly hot and very delicious, with a mix of ingredients including onions and peppers. For those who aren't looking for hot dogs, the griddled burgers here are also excellent, with the high fat content of the thin patties giving them a ton of flavor. The crispy and fresh handcut fries are also decent, and go perfectly with the burgers and dogs. One other item of note at Rawley's is the superb milkshake, which is thick and rich, yet not overly syrupy or sweet."
"Robert Dulka of Fairfield said he started eating at Rawley's more than 20 years ago, when he was in high school. "I come in when I feel like being a little kid and eating everything in the world that isn't good for me," he said. "I'll worry about the fat and cholesterol later." "Another long-time customer, Linda Amos, said, "It's a lot of fun bringing people here for the first time. Everybody always says the same thing -- that it's like taking a trip back to the 1950's."
"Mr. Bielik [ed. the owner] said a number of celebrities have stopped in over the years, including Paul Newman, Dennis Quaid, Meg Ryan, Mike Wallace, Phil Simms and Joe Namath. But Mr. Bielik said he's so busy making sure the hot dog buns are toasted properly that he usually doesn't notice until other customers make a commotion. "I took David Letterman's order a few years ago and I didn't even know who he was," Mr. Bielik said. "Look, even the rich and famous have to stand in line here, like everybody else."
"For all of Rawley's ambiance, customers say it's the hot dogs that bring them back. Bruce Bunch, who helped establish the Fairfield County Chapter of the Weenie Wanderers to search for the perfect hot dog, thinks he has figured out the secret. "Chico uses Roessler's hot dogs, which are 100 percent meat, deep fries the dogs, and cooks them until they are grilled brown" atop the stove, said Mr. Bunch, a public relations manager for General Electric in Fairfield. "He also toasts the buns perfectly, and with some mustard, relish and bacon -- well, all I can say is that our group doesn't wander any more," he said. "We just go to Rawley's, get Booth No. 2, and it just doesn't get any better than that."
I haven't thought about this old-timey Yankee diner dessert for many years, but someone brought it up the other day, and I am now hungry for one.
As I recall, the last time I had a slice of one was at a diner with my grandfather. Cannot think about the pie without remembering that polo- and poker-playing, shootin', fishin' slacker gramps of mine, who preferred shopping for horses, and dealing in sailboats and Elco yachts (leaving his real business to others) to regular work - and who died way too young of a series of MIs, at 63.
Boston Cream Pie is Yankee-simple, unfashionable, unsophisticated, and darn tasty, and it's a cake, not a pie, with potent if short-lasting anti-depressant properties.
You can make it yourself if you can't find it in stores. Easy to do.
I know folks who will drive 40 minutes to the Red Rooster Drive-In on Route 22 in Brewster, NY, when they get a jones for their burgers, fries, and onion rings - all made to order, the old-fashioned way. Slow food. Good hot dogs too. Worth a trip from Great Falls, or Phoenix.
Is it over-rated? Maybe. I love it, though.
The place is unchanged since the 50s. There is really no seating, but lots of picnic benches outside. Or eat in the pick-up and drip juice and ketchup on your shirt in the manly American-style.
Our hunting friends all must have pheasants in the freezer at this time of the year. 
It's generally a good idea not to over-train one's palate, if only because life becomes too expensive if you do. Fine wine, for example, or fine dining and fine ceegars.
When is enough pleasure and instant gratification enough?
Here's how we keep it simple and organized in the BD household: We store the Christmas stuff in chests of drawers in the living room. Nothing to lug up and down, no boxes, etc.
Readers may not have heard much about Heritage Turkeys. There have been many breeds of farm turkeys over the years, but today the bland Broad-Breasted White breed is the mass market turkey.
It's White Truffle season right now (Oct-early December) in Italy. Black Italian truffles are often jarred, but the fresh Italian White Truffle is "the diamond of the kitchen" and is only obtained fresh.
I'm going to make up a nice big venison stew to go along with the turkeys this year. I have a few nice shoulders and loins shrink-wrapped in the freezer. Something sort of
It's close to being the perfect food, containing pretty much all you need to survive.
Here's how we cook corn on the cob: After removing the most loose outer husk, we soak the ears in cold water for an hour or so with husks on and silk still present, then toss them on the grill, turning regularly for roughtly 15 minutes.
Among the people we tend to dine with, nobody ever orders a dessert. 
Lean cuts of beef, like top round and flank steak (London Broil), are not worth grilling, and should not be grilled, without marinating them overnight first. Cooks say 10 hours at bare minimum. Otherwise, these dense, wood-like cuts are like chewing gum when grilled rare, and like leather when overcooked. 
How the flavorless, colorless, odorless spirit became a billion-dollar business
I haven't thought about this old-timey Yankee diner dessert for many years, but someone brought it up the other day, and I am now hungry for one. 
Best Road Burger in the Northeast