Modern Kicks

more bacteria = more flavor

Of all the endless advice given out to Americans preparing to cook a Thanksgiving meal, the one that bothers me the most is the admonition not to stuff the bird.  Yes, there is a risk of contamination involved.  If that's going to stop you, then I have a suggestion: don't eat meat.  What's left out of the warnings is how delicious stuffing cooked in the bird is, far superior to any baked in a casserole, how moist and tender it becomes with all that good turkey essence.  Just, you know, cook it until it's done.  Not so hard, really.  But those who follow USDA guidelines saying things like poultry needs to be cooked to a dry-as-dust 180 degrees will tell you that doom awaits if you simply try to prepare the meal properly.  I know they have to say it, but we don't have to listen.

The whole thing simply reinforces the obvious fact that, aside from once (perhaps twice) a year, no one cooks whole turkeys.  In a country that knew how to prepare stuffing properly without poisoning anyone, it wouldn't be necessary to set up a yearly hotline to offer advice on how to cook the national meal.

Oh, and - it's snowing.  Happy Thanksgiving to all.

all the turnips you can eat

Last year I posted Edward Hirsch's great poem on "Luminist Paintings at the National Gallery" for Thanksgiving, and it's worth reading again.  Unlike last year, I won't be shutting things down here for the holiday weekend, although obviously there'll be some slow points.  For those travelling, be safe,  stay warm, and check in when you can.  Oh, and a question: what goes better with apple pie, vanilla ice cream or a hunk of cheddar?  And does it matter if it's Grafton Village's Stone House Cheddar, aged six years?  Because that is one heck of a cheese.

bring it

As much as I'd like to bring it this week, it's going to be hard to do so.  I'm destined to spend the next several days in hotel conference rooms, subsisting on stale mini-bagels and trying to take notes.  I'll check in when I can, but computer access will be limited.  Think of me sometime.

However: if you would like to bring some flavor to a weeknight macaroni and cheese, substitute a couple ounces of Sugarbush Farms Hickory and Maple Smoked Cheese for the same amount of the usual.  A bit pricey, but hard to find more flavor for the ounce.  Also good: some diced roasted red pepper, and a generous hand with the thyme.

Otherwise, wait until Monday.  For they will be bringing it to Foxboro for sure (Bugmenot.)  It is so on.

WWTGCS?

Early this afternoon, I see this, though then without that insufferable headline.  Ever since, I've been wondering: what says the Cod?

how do you like them apples?

October at Clyde's Cider Mill:

It's fun to watch the cider press at work.

The cider doughnuts are very good, especially with cinnamon sugar, and I've known people to enjoy the other baked goods and apple butter.  But I have something else in mind.

Perhaps not the absolute best I've had - that would currently go to Metcalfe's Still English Cider from Vermont - but quite appealing nevertheless.  More of an apple wine, but mellow and not sweet.  Just the thing for Halloween festivities, or to assuage oneself in these difficult times.  Did not Van Morrison, a man who looks like he knows a thing or two about cider, advise that we Listen to the Lion?

The Lucky Lion, of course.

Yum.

goin' north, the rush is on

So as I said, this past weekend, we went to Portland.

We stopped at the Maine Diner for a very disappointing lunch.  I'm sad to say that, as I enjoy diners, its reputation is high, many people enjoy it, and it came highly recommended by people I respect.  But it was one of the worst places we'd been in a long time.  Being in Maine, and having heard good things about their other seafood, I went with the scallops.  I can tell you authoritatively that they were previously frozen, for as I mentioned below, they were raw on the inside.  The first one I popped in my mouth actually still had a cold spot on the bottom.  Noticing that it was not exactly cooked to perfection, I began cutting into the others.  Scallops cook fast, but they need more than an in-and-out under the broiler; this isn't tuna, people, seared on the outside doesn't cut it.  I'd like to say it was an aberration, and maybe it was, but their much-vaunted lobster roll, which the SO had, was drab and didn't seem fresh.  A side of mac and cheese we ordered, wanting to test a diner classic, was oily and flavorless.

But what did that matter?  My real purpose wasn't to sample Maine dining, it was to visit the Portland Museum of Art and see the Neil Welliver exhibit.

We did see it, and will have more to say on it and the Museum's collection and displays soon.  But there was a problem here as well.  It was Sunday morning when we arrived at the Museum, only to find that it was holding a Jazz Brunch in the cafe on the lowest level.  The term "jazz" is used loosely here; while I did hear the featured band do a rendition of "Monk's Dream", they also warbled - badly - some Neil Young.  They had a loud and enthusiastic audience; I found the band merely loud.  Really loud.  Coming into the lobby, a floor above where they were playing, one had to raise one's voice in order to be heard.  We immediately went to the top floor of the museum, as far away as possible, in order to try to put some distance between us and the music.  It was still quite audible, at a more normal listening volume to be sure, but we didn't miss a note.  The top floor, incidently, was where the Welliver exhibit was held; it was a great disappointment to have my first viewing of it accompanied by such an unwelcome din.  I'm not criticizing the Museum for the event - an art museum doesn't pay for itself, there's nothing inappropriate about a concert, and a large percentage of the crowd stayed to view the exhibits afterwards.  I just wish they had respected those visitors who were not coming for the mimosas and music by keeping the volume down (please note: I don't know if they actually had mimosas.  If I had known, I might have made my way down.)

But I don't mean to complain too much.  It's a fine museum, and I enjoyed it greatly.  And after leaving, I was able to scratch another sort of itch.  You see, there's a part of me that's always wanted to be a farmer, a desire that burst forth once more on our recent trip to Vermont.

Not that I want to work the land myself, mind you.  A gentleman farmer, say, coming by after breakfast to check up on all the work my men had done since before dawn.  A dream, of course, but such dreams live at places like the Portland Public Market.

There, amid the locally made sausages, cheese curds marinated in olive oil with basil, fresh breads, seafood, and so much more, I felt at home.

We picked up some lovely organic apples - Ginger Gold - some Farnum Hill Semi-Dry hard cider (very excited about that) and - get this - English Muffin bread from a local baker.  It's bread with something of the taste and texture of English muffins!  We  made little pizzas on slices of it once home.  Thank you, Maine!

i want my yuppie junk food!

Since specialization is the order of the day, a blog about Trader Joe's.  Perhaps the author will answer the question of how TJ's could be in the Boston market for a decade (perhaps longer), have markets from Hadley to Hyannis, and expand into Connecticut, without opening a single store in Rhode Island.  Don't they realize how food-crazed Rhode Island is?  Do they not know that crowds pack into the main Whole Foods store on the East Side, making parking there near impossible?  Can they not know that they would totally eat WF's lunch?  Well, maybe not the latter, but they'd do very well.  If it's a matter of dealing with pesky state regulations, open a store in Attleboro or Seekonk, right across the border.  There's plenty of commerical space along the main drags there.  And they would make a killing.

I'm actually over most of TJ's food products, as much as I enjoyed them when I had more steady access.  The lemon verbena soap they sell is a necessity, though.  How long must we suffer?

good question

Faced with a horrifying discovery, the Cod asks

But my god who knew there were so many people within a cab ride of the Meatpacking District who are dead inside?

I sure at least a few people had a fair idea.  But indeed: blueberries are for pancakes, not Brazilian sugarcane liquor.  I do wonder if anything that consists of only hard liquor, limes, sugar and ice can truly be a girly drink, no matter how sweet it goes down.  I wouldn't want to argue the point to a Brazilian man, and the wisdom of crowds doesn't offer much support.  The real test of a girly drink, I've always thought, wasn't simply sweetness or fruitiness but if it made you want to vomit after more than a couple - anything with Schnapps being an appropriate example.  That doesn't seem to apply here.  Absinthe, after all, is sweet as well, tasting like handfuls of Good 'n' Plenty washed down with grain alcohol.  Yet no one would call it a girly drink - or maybe they would.  How about a shot of Captain Morgan in a beer?  Tastes like cream soda, and the beer washes out any girlyness of the rum.  I did notice, anyway, that some people say Brazil's finest is good for chicken.  Does Wade Boggs know?

say it ain't so

I've been known to enjoy a glass or two of wine.  Spirits, I do believe, can have a revivifying effect.  And I bow to no one in my admiration for a fine artisanal cider.  But after looking at the Times this morning, I can only ask, what is this country coming to?

"After thousands of years of compelling relevance, beer is suddenly passé," Norman Adami, chief executive of Miller Brewing, said last week at a Beer Institute meeting in Milwaukee.

Beer is always relevant.  But along with the slicker marketing and the alleged upscale appeal of some of the harder stuff (200 vodka varieties introduced in the past five years is about 200 too many), I'd add the anti-carb craze of the past few years as a reason for the decline in sales.  I've heard liquor ads suggesting mixed drinks made with diet soda for no/low carb lubrication.  Sadly, the beer makers seem to be trying to fight back through yet more attempts to make upscale malt liquor:

Then there are Anheuser-Busch's new malt beverages, BE and Tilt, which are crosses between beer and energy drinks that the company intends to be consumed in place of cocktails. Alcoholic content is 6.6 percent (most beers have 4 to 5 percent alcohol), but also present are ginseng, guarana and caffeine.

Ginseng?  Sounds like a bottle of Phat Boy.  And only a tool would order a drink meant to be called "B to the E."  Wait, maybe there's a market for that after all.  While these new "malt beverages" will never be good, especially if they have some of the detergent that seems to go into each bottle of their lower prestige brethren, a return to upmarket roots might remove the shame:

The family of American-born beers speaks proudly about two of its children. Ask about Steam Beer or the less gifted but very popular Light Beer, and the photos come out, the stories  begin. But speak aloud the name of the other sibling, and the room grows quiet. Dad won't look up from his plate and Mom goes into the kitchen and cries into her apron. How could you mention Malt Liquor?

But even that's probably too hopeful.  I do love this quote (from the same article), though:

The future is not bright for malt liquor. In 2002, beer market analyst and former business school professor Robert Weinberg noted, "Any economist knows the cheapest way to put alcohol in your system is fortified wine."

Yeah, I heard that about them.

UPDATE: Image changed to get rid of annoying watermark, which I hadn't noticed before.  This one seems to be from the same ad campaign, though, so it still kinda look like a Neo Rauch.

tasty milkweed

Now this sounds intriguing.  I've always enjoyed all forms of greens and can check the affirmative to all three of these: "If you enjoy history, admire antiques, and appreciate a substantial meal come visit us."  Such clarity!  And to think I was only two or three hours away this weekend.  Alas, if I were to attempt a visit before the end of milkweed season, it would likely mean a return trip to this weekend's destination.  Which raises the question: what will a man do for creamed potatoes?