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.
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.
Often it's more fun for me to learn about things after experiencing them, than before. You have a reference point, and something tangible to tack information onto.
Weissbier is one example (aka Weissbrau or Weizenbier or Weizen or Hefeweizen or White Beer or Wheat Beer or Wheat Ale - technically an ale). It's an ancient brew, and there are several styles of it. What we sampled in Bavaria was the Southern German style. Never had a better brew, fresh and unpasteurized. Bready, fruity, and just bitter enough. Low alcohol content, so you can have some more if you're thirsty. It's a summertime beer. Here's the Wiki entry.
Blue Moon's Belgian White and Harpoon's UFO are the closest I've seen to it in a supermarket bottled beer in the US - but it's no match and has more ethanol than the fresh German stuff. Beer is not about booze unless you are in college. These beers are good with an orange slice to squirt into them, although they don't seem to do that routinely in Germany.
Have no fear, readers. I will never let myself become a beer snob, although my taste buds have already priced me out of the wine market altogether. I am fortunate to have a pub in town which gets fresh draft beers weekly from Germany, but I do not get there often enough because I work.
Photo: Weissbier is typically tasted from tall 0.6 L. slender glasses or tall slender mugs. Sometimes I like beer in a mug, sometimes in a glass, sometimes from ye olde long-neck bottle.
I like this guy's cooking method. And ditto to him re the ribeye - it's the best cut of a dead cow. Those thick Costco ribeyes are dynamite. Have to be rare, though. If I'm just making one, I do it on a max-heat cast iron pan on the stove, and open the door so the smoke can try to exit. Why bother with the grill for just one fairly small steak?
I like crust on the outside, raw in the middle. You can throw them in the pan frozen, and it's easy to get that result in 20 minutes but you might have to cover it for a few minutes.
Gin for the martini, not vodka - and three olives - not one. After all, that's your vegetable course.
The Mediterranean Bay Laurel (Laurus nobilis), known in Italy as alloro or lauro, is a common flavoring for Mediterranean meats and fish (also used to decorate the heads of victors). It's sometimes called True Bay, True Laurel, or Sweet Bay. Most Italians have one growing near their house, for cooking (and for hedges). It's used mostly fresh, sometimes slightly dried or dried, and is evergreen.
It is not related at all to the California Bay (Umbullularia californica), which is the common supermarket or farmer's market "Bay Leaf" in the US.
The flavor/fragrance profiles are quite different, as these commenters note. In my view, each is good but definitely different. To my American taste, the Med True Bay has a foreign, kerosene-like flavor which takes a little - but not much - getting used to.
Here's how Italians use Laurus nobilis. The excellent Tuscan steaks are always cooked with it, and grilled meats in general.
We wanted our trip to be as much off the beaten path as feasible, and to try to soak up Italy instead of tourist Italy (which I term Disney Italy - been there, done that). After using our delightful tenuta outside Todi as our base for a few days, we headed up over the hills and through the vineyards towards Bevagna in the Valle Umbra because Mrs. BD knew, during her planning, that I wanted some time based in a little old, non-touristy town to walk around in.
On the way there, we stopped by the hilltop walled village Montefalco, where we did the most shopping on our entire trip: She could not resist the famous tessuto artistico - the textiles of Umbria - tablecloths and linens - and I could not resist their heavy Umbrian olive oils and wines. Sagrantino di Montefalco, in particular:
Montefalco is know almost exclusively for its obscure and powerful wine, know as Sagrantino. Sagrantino is a dark bruiting red wine made from the indigenous Sangratino grape that is grown only around Montefalco. For centuries it was produced as a passito, a fortified dessert wine, but today Sagrantino reaches its pinnacle as a earthy and dry table wine.
Well, also known for its Umbrian textiles. She bought a yellow tablecloth with some pattern in it or whatever, taking well over 1/2 hour to do so while I explored around. (It is against my religion to enter clothing stores, shoe stores, or textile shops).
This is a pic of a pic on the wall in one of Montefalco's many vino and olio shops.
We stumbled by accident into a little ristorante in the dreary (and definitely not touristy) medieval hilltop village of Amelia around 2 pm, and found the place in the otherwise dead town packed with jolly Italians chowing down and drinking wine. We were the only foreigners there. The Hosteria dei Cansacchi. A simple neighborhood place with a simple menu: you order either the Mare or the Terra. I ordered the Mare, Mrs ordered the Terra, and halfway through lunch we had to "stop the menu." However delicious, it was just too much. That's when we decided we needed to share meals.
Here's their menu - no choices - they just bring it all, one course after another. The English translations in the fine print are imperfect, eg "Wild Board."
I've lived all over the US, and traveled all over Italy. The gold standard of pizza is New York's, developed by its Neapolitan immigrants to perfection. At least it used to be before all those fu-fus moved in with their taste buds permanently deformed by the chain crap elsewhere, and then added more fu-fu crap on top. Jon Stewart takes Donald Trump to task for taking Sarah Palin to a chain pizzeria, and proves Trump is another fu-fu crapper. If Trump ever visits Alaska, I hope Palin feeds him a mooseburger made from veggies.
The one mistake that you'll see in this video is that Stewart's slice is not dribbling hot olive oil down his arm, olive oil being one of the secrets to good pizza. At least, get your notepad ready, Stewart points out some of the good places in NYC to go for pizza. They used to be on almost every block, but the fu-fuers have chased them out. -- After decades, I found a place in San Diego that was almost up to snuff, but that neighborhood became yuppified and its pizza fu-fued.
There are two sorts of people: those who love breakfast, and those for whom breakfast is nothing more than coffee and a cigar or, some days, a glass of OJ and five aspirins.
Breakfast is my favorite meal, but I rarely bother with it beyond a couple of cups of coffee. If I had breakfast every morning I would weigh 30 lbs. more than I do.
What are my favorite breakfasts?
- Home-made fresh cut-up fruit in a bowl - including Pineapple - Creamed Chipped Beef on toast. Or grits with biscuits 'n gravy - Kippered herrings with (white) toast and grilled tomatoes - 2 eggs sunny side up with bacon, sausage, home fries and white toast. And ketchup. - Blueberry pancakes with sausage and bacon. - Codfish cakes with toast - Smoked salmon on a toasted bagel with cream cheese, with capers - Eggs Benedict - Leftover pizza
I cannot pick a single favorite. Love 'em all.
Please post your favorite breakfasts in the comments.
If you are one of those folks who keep the house at 55 both summer and winter, you can ignore this post. Otherwise, you may be grateful for this reminder about the ideal serving temperatures for red wines - 55-62 degrees F.
That is cellaring temperature, not room temperature. In the summertime, you will enjoy your reds much more if they are chilled a bit, rather than drinking them at 85 degrees. Yuk.
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
Fascinating.
Often it's more fun for me to learn about things after experiencing them, than before. You have a reference point, and something tangible to tack information onto.
The 
There are two sorts of people: those who love breakfast, and those for whom breakfast is nothing more than coffee and a cigar or, some days, a glass of OJ and five aspirins. 