Robyn and I traded emails since I posted  Straight outta …Ohio? about her favorite icing for the cake.  Here is her response:

Actually, it occurred to me in high school that a Boone’s Strawberry Hill icing would be *the bomb* on this cake, but as a kid, I generally preferred a basic vanilla buttercream with the ultimate trailer-park-fancy decoration: silver dragees. However, I worked at a bakery later on during my Goth years, and once made this cake in the shape of a bat for Halloween, finishing it with an amazing chocolate frosting dyed black. Robert Smith would have been soooo proud.

Pictured here….Me, Mike Nagle and Robyn….obviously….enjoying ourselves.

Two reasons.

1. Andy Pearson

Because he’s cool and all over the blogosphere and he works at CP+B and everyone and their grandma wants to work there.

2. Brick Lane Curry House

Indian food is awesome. Spicy Indian food, evidently, is even more enticing. And reading about specifically spicy Indian food on a blog is the most exhilarating activity of all, judging by the search terms that brought people here.

Lesson learned: Write more about food. This I can do, since I spend most of my free time reading and watching any and all food programming I can get a hold of.

Stay tuned for culinary word play like you’ve never tasted before. See what I did there?

Robyn Hamaguchi packs a lot of punch into her five-foot frame.  She recently demanded a friend measure her after being doubted that her length equaled the five-foot mark.  She has boundless energy, fills the room with her dynamic presence, has a dazzling personal style, a voracious appetite for good food and wine and most strikingly, an expansive knowledge of all things hip-hop.  So, it’s not at all a stretch to draw a comparison between Robyn and another unlikely, diminutive powerhouse with a hip-hop sensibility, Marshall Mathers a.k.a. Eminem.

I was watching 8 Mile for the umpteenth time the other day when it hit me…”that’s how I can make the trailer park reference without sounding condescending”.  Odd thought, I know, but when Robyn enthusiastically gave me the recipe to what she calls, with her tongue firmly in cheek, “the trailer park version of Silver White Cake”, a personal favorite from childhood, and a plea to have it blogged…I was stumped as how I could conjure up the image she paints without sounding like an insensitive idiot.  Then came Marshall.

Robyn talks about her challenging upbringing with the same pride and growl B-Rabbit attacked the Leaders of the Free World with as he overcame and rap battled his way out of the Detroit streets.  Her ascent from the Ohio trailer park to 16 years of successful existence in the treacherous Manhattan fashion scene is no less inspiring.  I reckon she could rap a much better response than Papa Doc did in the final scene of the film too, if given the chance.  She certainly wouldn’t walk away from the challenge. Like B-Rabbit, she takes the sting out of growing up poor by wearing it proudly and standing at the edge of the stage, middle finger erect as if to say…let’s see what you’ve got, insert expletive of your choice here!

The Silver White cake brings back positive memories amid the struggles of growing up for Robyn. It represented an escape; a pure, sweet bit of luxury that she created for herself.  The cookbook she found the recipe in has long been misplaced but Robyn did some cyber-digging and with some comical asides, seen here in red, came up with this close approximation.

Robyn’s Trailer Park Silver White Cake

2 1/4 cups cake flour

I can *assure* you there was no cake flour to be had in the trailer park, so we used Gold Medal All-Purpose.
1 1/2 cups white sugar
3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup shortening
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 egg whites

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour baking pan; 9×13 inch, or 2 round 9-inch pans. In a large bowl, measure flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, shortening, milk and the vanilla into a large mixing bowl. Beat 2 minutes on high-speed, scraping bowl occasionally.

In a large glass or metal mixing bowl, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold 1/3 of the whites into the batter, and then quickly fold in remaining whites until no streaks remain.  I never mastered the egg white beating. I tried, but either beat too slow, or wasn’t patient enough to beat long enough. In the end, I am pretty sure I just threw in the egg whites at the end and hoped for the best. It could be because of this step that I over-beat the whole batter, in an effort to blend it all really well.

Pour batter into pan(s), Bake 9×13 inch cake for 35 to 40 minutes. If using 9-inch rounds, bake 30 to 35 minutes. A toothpick inserted into the cake will come out clean.

an excerpt from Maira Kalman's Back to the Land post.

I love this lyrical essay of sorts on how and why changing the way we eat could make America sooooooo much better.  It’s a lovely read by Maira Kalman from the New York Times, it first appeared on Thanksgiving.  Click here to read and be inspired.

On Sundays, I have been gathering with friends at Il Posto Accanto on E. 2nd St. Il Posto has excellent food, a great wine selection, a sommelier who is knowledgeable and accessible and owners who are present and proud of what they put in front of the customers. Sunday there feels like a family gathering.  Last Sunday night, after a long day of Christmas shopping I met a friend for a glass of wine (or three)  and a nosh.  He was eating a fish dish he encouraged me to try. It was amazing and I was immediately determined to try and reproduce the dish at home.  I dragged myself to the gym last night and wanted to eat something light and delicious when I returned…so I gave it a go when I got home…and I think I came pretty close to what was being served of at Il Posto.  Here is what I came up with:

Red Snapper with Caramelized Onions and Raisins

1 large fillet of red snapper (or other light white fleshed fish)

salt and pepper to taste

1 large onion thinly sliced

3 garlic cloves thinly sliced

1/4 cup raisins

1 tbsp butter

3 tbsp olive oil

1/4 cup fruity white wine

Season the fish with salt and pepper and set aside.  Heat a large sautee pan and add 2 tbsps of the oil.  Sautee the onions until well caramelized, about 10 minutes over medium heat.  Just before the onions are done add the garlic and cook another minute.  Add the wine and the raisins and cook until all of the liquid has evaporated.  Remove onion mixture from the pan and set aside.  Reheat the pan and add last tablespoon of oil.  When the oil is very hot add the fish, skin side down, butter on top.  Cook until crisp, about 3-4 minutes and turn.  After another 3-4 minutes reintroduce the onion mixture, heat through and serve the fish topped with the mixture.

Serves 2

They may not be glamorous, but they make me happy!!

1. Ho Su (Japanese/Korean)

2. Salad King (Thai)

3. Sea Hi (Chinese)

4. Xu Lua (Vietnamese)

5. The Keg (steak…mmm)

6. Dutch Dreams (ice cream parlour)

7. Swiss Chalet (comfort food)

8. Avenue Diner (greasy spoon)

9. Jump (somewhere fancy)

10. Pourquoi Pas (romantic – French)

Ethiopian
Rating: *** out of 5

Despite being a foodie in the multicultural T.O, I have never experienced Ethiopian food.  So, I grabbed a couple of friends, and we hit up Lalibela.   Named after one of Ethiopia’s holiest cities, Lalibela is a small, cozy restaurant nestled between Christie and Ossington.  We are seated immediately amongst the bright, gaudy Middle Eastern décor and the pastel murals covering the walls.

The menu is extensive – mostly unrecognizable to us except for some Western staples – spaghetti and burgers.  I order the only starter available: lentil soup ($4.50).  The hearty, homemade soup warms the soul on this chilly night and is filled with brown lentils, hot peppers and crispy carrots.

Lentil Soup

Our waitress recommends that we split the Meat Combination ($23 for two) and the Lalibela ($14) platters.  However, when they arrive the lights dim suddenly and we are squinting to see our food.
Both platters are served on one tray – which might have been a problem for vegetarians.  Each item is laid out like a huge painter’s palette on top of fresh injera – a slightly sour pancake-like flatbread that is used to scoop up the food.
Through the dim light, we dive in blindly and start scooping.  It is an interesting combination of textures and tastes that are well balanced from spicy to sour.  The platter consists of key wot – a tender lamb stew in a red lentil sauce.  Doro wat – a sweet and spicy fall-off-the-bone chicken reminiscent of Chicken Vindaloo – is the first to be polished off.  The assortment of split peas and red and green lentils provide a nice break for the palette while crunchy cabbage and gomen – shredded collard greens – add a sour kick to the mix.  A garden salad tumbling from the centre of the platter is simple, but crisp and refreshing.

Meat Combination & Lalibela platter

We inquire about two unidentifiable dishes and I discover that the stuffing-like dish I’m enjoying is dullet – a combination of lamb, tripe, green chile and onion.  Also, a cold, lightly spiced and chewy mixture is called kitfo – minced raw beef, a sort of Ethiopian steak tartare and despite my claim that “I will eat anything!” – this raw surprise is a little off-putting.

For five minutes we try to flag down a waitress.  I order Baklava for dessert but the waitress has to check if it’s available, and never follows up.  When we ask for change, she says they can’t break a bill.  Even though the food was fresh and well presented, for our first Ethiopian meal, the service and atmosphere felt a little alienating.
869 Bloor Street West – east of Ossington.  Toronto, Canada  T: 416-535-6615; Open everyday from 10AM to 2AM

Please note: below is an example of a recipe review I wrote for a food writing class.  In future reviews, I will include the recipe and will most likely only review recipes that turn out well.

Rating (out of five): ***1/2

Chocolate lovers and first-time cooks inspired by the movie Chocolat would enjoy giving this recipe a try.  This Madrileno Hot Chocolate recipe offers a little variety to the classic hot chocolate, but it may be a bit too rich for those who are used to North American instant hot chocolate.  Enjoy this drink on a cold winter’s night or, if you wanted to start off your day like the Spanish, you could drink this for breakfast and start burning the calories early.

The ingredient list is short and the measurements can be adjusted to taste.  Even though I’m a chocolate lover, I still found this drink quite sweet.  The 1/2 cup of sugar together with the semi-sweet chocolate is a bit of an overdose.  If I were to make this again, I would recommend using either unsweetened chocolate or only ¼ cup of sugar.   Also, I found the texture to be quite grainy instead of smooth.

Unfortunately the recipe does not state the length of time it takes for the chocolate to thicken.  I would suggest keeping the saucepan on low instead of removing it from the stove, or perhaps waiting a good 5 minutes or more for the chocolate to thicken.  Adding an additional ¼ teaspoon of cornstarch might help as well, for a Madrileno Hot Chocolate is supposed to be so thick that a churro* should be able to stand alone in your cup.  Perhaps including a simple cookie or pastry recipe from Madrid to accompany the drink would balance out the sweetness.

A note of caution: when testing your hot chocolate, be sure to use a new spoon each time, as the enzymes in your mouth can cause the cornstarch-based mixture to thin out.  And be careful, this hot chocolate is really hot!!

*churro: a Spanish donut, but long and straight with ridges, often served with sugar or honey

After the first fifteen minutes of trekking uphill leaving Chamonix, France with a 40-pound pack on my back, I remember thinking: “What have I gotten myself in to”?  I was on a nine-day trek in the Alps in the fall of 2008 with a GAP adventure tour, and when I planned the trip I had been looking forward to lots of wine, fresh bread and cheese.  Now I was praying I wouldn’t keel over and die.

The first day was an eight-hour trek up and down steep trails. Not only were we carrying our gear, but we also had to divide up the food for lunch.  I was stuck with the melon. We ate lunch inside a little mountain hut, and all I could think about was how to persuade someone to eat this cursed fruit.  While everyone else dug into an assortment of fresh bread, cheese, fruits and vegetables, I realized I was having a feeling I had never experienced before – a loss of appetite.

Making the pass over from France to Italy

The next morning our guide announced that we would be hiking “up four hours, down two hours, up three hours, down two hours.”.  He seemed amused. I wanted to launch my melon at his head.

After a grueling day of trekking, we made the pass from France into a small town called Courmayeur in Italy.  It was a true test of strength both mentally and physically; “ignore the pain and admire the beauty” was my mantra to myself.  Keep pushing yourself, because everything seems insignificant amongst the grandeur of these picture-perfect mountains.  That night after dinner, the bottle of limoncello was passed around, but I couldn’t even fathom taking a sip – I was already dreaming about my bed.

A couple of days later we hiked into Switzerland, trekking through a snowstorm only to be greeted by a sunny, vivid green landscape minutes after we crossed over. We arrived in a little town called La Fouly during “Festival des Alps,” a celebration that revolves around honouring their cows by parading them through the main street in brightly coloured party hats.

Parade of cows arriving at "Festival des Alps"

That was the same day I discovered the wonderful world of raclette: melted cheese, a crispy gherkin, and a couple of boiled potatoes and pearl onions.  Huge wheels of cheese were brought out onto the cow dung-ridden street ready to ooze onto your plate.  The cheese was labeled by altitude and the number of cows used in production. Seven plates of raclette and many glasses of dry white wine later, I came to the conclusion that the higher the altitude and the greater number of cows, the weaker tasting the cheese.  But the relaxing day was memorable for more than just gorging on raclette.  We were able to hang out with the locals, try some moonshine, and finally relax.

We had our last picnic lunch atop a mountain overlooking Chamonix, France. Sitting under a clear sky with a light breeze cooling my face, I finally felt it.

Lunch on top of the Alps

My stomach grumbled for the first time while trekking. I thought about how far we had come, and I reached for a crusty roll filled with creamy Camembert cheese.  I grabbed handfuls of crunchy carrots and overripe tomatoes and crammed them into my mountainous sandwich.  Breathing in a fresh lungful of air, I took a giant bite. It was the same food I had eaten all week, only this time my mouth watered.

Swiss Alps on the last day of the trek

Just like the first explorers to trek these peaks, I savoured that sandwich as if I was eating it for the first time.  I had grown stronger, matured like the wine being past around the group.  My melon was long gone, but I would carry that baby back through the Alps any day.

It’s Black Friday. Our bellies are full of turkey and fixings and we are overcome with the desire to shop for bargains amidst the throngs of homicidal discount hunters. I am trying to avoid the magnetic pull of consumer gratification and the danger of the wild-eyed grandma who would sooner run me over with her walker than miss that sale on a 42 inch Toshiba by sitting behind this keyboard this morning. I have shopping to do, even electronics to buy and saving that extra 25% would be terrific…but not at the cost of bodily harm…so here I write.

One place I may visit today…maybe as the darkness sets in and the Wal-Mart Warriors have returned to their tribes to survey the bounty harvested from aisle 12 and sing songs of their conquests…the local bookstore.

Upon recent visits to Barnes & Noble… in order to make Stephanie Meyer the richest woman on Earth and to fill out my application for Dad of the Year… I saw plenty that caught my eye. New cookbooks.

It seems every food celebrity and entity imaginable has a cookbook. The B&N on Sixth Avenue and 8th Street had an entire window display dedicated to our favorite chefs, TV cooking shows and restaurateurs. I lusted after more than a normal man’s share of food porn as I stood drooling in front of the window. Passersby scanned me with a mixture of confusion and pity.

Among my objects of desire were the new Momofuku Cookbook written by David Chang and Peter Meehan with photographs by Gabriele Stabile and Thomas Keller’s surprisingly accessible Ad Hoc at Home with photos by Deborah Jones.

Some of the other offerings that caught my eye were Alton Brown’s Good Eats: The Early Years, Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy: A Feast of 75 Regional Recipes by Lidia Bastianich and her daughter Tanya and the 40th Anniversary Edition of Julia Child’s Masterpiece Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Also available were books from the Top Chef, Ace of Cakes and Rachael Ray shows, dessert pushers Max Brenner: Chocolate A Love Story and The Magnolia Bakery and the delicious Coco, recipes from 100 emerging chefs chosen by master chefs Ferran Adria, Mario Batali, Rene Redzepi, Alice Waters, Jacky Yu, Gordon Ramsay, Fergus Henderson, Shannon Bennett, Alain Ducasse, and Yoshihiro Murata. Coco is for the experienced, ambitious cook…not for beginners.

So as the madness subsides and the returning heroes of the Best Buy settle back into their alter egos as moms and dads, teachers, cops, lawyers, bankers and students, I will venture out to the hopefully safe haven of the bookseller. The members of my tribe are well worth the inherent risks.

I’m excited for my article on Swedish food in the latest issue of Wend Magazine. Chanterelles + crustaceans + Aquavit = some of my favorite things. Read it here.

The author and her family (minus Santa)

The holidays are upon us, and I’m embarking upon a cross-country journey with a toddler in the pursuit of some cranberries and mashed potatoes with my in-laws.  I love my husband’s family, and I tend to like the holidays if I ignore that fact that half my local newspaper consists of glossy circulars from department stores, but I feel the stress of the weeks between now and January 2nd and have to remind myself to chill out and turn what can feel like crisis (dog defecating on wrapped gifts, toddler terrified of Santa) into humorous memoir.

If, like the flock of wild turkeys frequenting my neighborhood streets this month, you’re not feeling the love for Turkey Day, don’t despair.  And if the thought of December holidays and all that family love and togetherness inspires you to run screaming for the hills (pausing a moment to grab a few squares of fudge before you go), take heart.  Instead of regarding this time of year with trepidation, get yourself a sturdy little notebook, a good pen, and a sense of humor.  Then start writing.  Your goal?  To earn $200 at bare minimum, based on your own holiday experiences.  For added income and appeal, bring a camera to family gatherings and office parties–editors of smaller publications in particular, appreciate (and pay for) good photos . . . as long as you have model releases.

It’s just about too late to submit holiday-related essays and articles to magazines and newspapers, although you could still slip a Christmas-related piece into The Christian Science Monitor’s pages, or into your local newspaper, if you send it this weekend.  But why not start taking notes for a draft to submit next year?  Most magazines with large circulations–those that pay $1 a word, plus–have a long, long lead time.  Sometimes, editors want to see a holiday piece a year in advance.  So if your great-aunt Grace consumes a few too many bourbon balls and launches the Wise Men from your hand-made ceramic creche into the pellet stove, fully immerse yourself in the experience and take notes for a poignant and humorous essay.    Likewise, if you leave the baking powder out of the family fruitcake and accidentally create cookies which people eat instead of slipping into the dog’s dinner-bowl, write it off as a happy accident and craft a how-to article with a photo and recipe.

I really wanted to write about those wild turkeys for the November issue of High Country News which just published my essay about being rescued on a hike by hunters, but my book tour consumed all my time and energy.  Fortunately, Thanksgiving occurs every year, and I can research and write a piece to submit for next year.  Ditto the story behind the classic family photo above.

The moral of this post?  Good writers don’t get depressed over the holidays–they just get good material.

Living in the East Village for the past seven years and having been visiting the neighborhood for many years prior, I have witnessed the dramatic changes that have marked New York’s renaissance.  It took great courage to walk the streets of Alphabet City as recently as the late 80’s.  My inner New Yorker still has a wariness of Tompkins Square Park after dark and of people following too close on the sidewalk. These are remnants of a time the 20-something, night jogging, fashionista with the blaring iPod dulling any street sense she may have can’t relate to.

The businesses that opened here in the late 80’s and early 90’s had a pioneering spirit that was rewarded as those young innocents came pouring into the neighborhood.  Unfortunately in recent days, many of those that had blazed the trail have since fallen victim to the revitalization they helped to create.  Rents went through the roof and many of those leases that were so eagerly offered when times were tough became too expensive as the landlords got hip to the market rate.  The result since the recession has been a spate of empty storefronts up and down Avenues A, B, C and D.

A new wave of pioneers has descended upon the East Village in these difficult times.  Small food businesses are beginning to occupy vacant and troublesome spaces as rents have become more manageable since the ironic twist of economic hardship has hamstrung local landlords. Young entrepreneurs have come to fill the void.

I had been lamenting the lack of a hang out type cafe near my apartment for years. The three that were closest had all closed and nothing had come to replace them.  A few months ago a tall skinny guy wearing a fedora opened the doors to La Bonne Bouffe on the corner of Ave. B and 2nd Street.  I was one of his first customers and sat with him on several occasions just talking about food.  Skander Belbekri is a dreamer.  He had no restaurant experience, and it showed.  He opened without signs, an English speaking staff, menus or any idea how to make food arrive in reasonable time.  It was always unclear if you should order at the counter or wait on table service.  It really was a mess but the food was terrific and the place had charm.  It took a few months of baptism by fire but La Bonne Bouffe, which is French slang which amounts to “Good Eats”, has found its rhythm, signs and menus and seems to be doing fine.  You can find me there daily, reading my paper, eating and drinking coffee at “my table”.

Anthony Fontana is a native New York Siciliano, like me.  He spent his formative years around the restaurant business but found his way in sound engineering.  His shaved head and colorful tattoos were appropriate for his music industry persona but seem a bit out of place in a cannoli shop.  Anthony and his girlfriend, Brielle Dahan, began by rolling a cart around the Feast of San Gennaro selling artfully flavored cannoli.  30,000 pieces later they were opening Stuffed Artisanal Cannolis on Stanton St.  The shop, like Skander’s place, was incomplete when I first visited. There weren’t any tables, chairs, art on the walls and the garbage pail was only big enough to hold maybe two cups and a cannoli wrapper.  It reeked of inexperience but screamed passion and ambition.  I chatted with Anthony and Brielle on several occasions and as much as I liked them both immensely…I keep going back because that young man has a gift and it speaks to my roots.  His cannoli are magical.  They come in crazy flavors like Twizzler, Oreo and Peanut Butter and Jelly (my favorite) as well as the traditional that keeps the menu anchored for the purist.  I always admire the fire people like Anthony and Brielle have for doing what they love.

Tai Deng was a printer at Newsweek for years. He is also a director and performer for an avant-garde theater and a very good photographer.  Tai left Newsweek, went to Vietnam, was married there and returned with his wife and decided to open a Vietnamese sandwich shop.  I attended the opening several weekends ago and revisited a few days later. Bahn Mi Zon, on 6th Street near Ave A is a tiny place that seats maybe 10, tightly packed.  Tai is still working out how much food to order each day and is having a devil of a time with the cash register but everything on the menu is fresh, authentic and delicious.

Sigmund Pretzels opened last week on Avenue B.  I only had the opportunity to meet Lina Kulchinsky, formerly a pastry cook at Bouley, for a brief conversation.  She was cheerful, upbeat and optimistic.  The offerings at Sigmund range from the traditional to the experimental…from your soft, doughy, salty hot pretzel to creations like jalapeno cheddar pretzels served with a cream cheese dip and turkey and brie pretzel sandwiches.  Sigmund’s is in an oversized space for such a business and they are still working out how to capitalize on the late night crowds in the neighborhood but it’s a great location and once again…the product stands out.

The common thread among these fresh endeavors is that the initial focus of the owner/operator is on the food and customer service.  They all understand that the other details, like decor and being able to work the cash register or having menus, will come if you have customers who like your food.  There is innocence and purity to places like these that makes me want to patronize them and forsake as much of the big box mentality that we have about food.  I love that Boulud put the new slick DBGB on Bowery and that WD50’s Wiley Dufresne has become a television star.  These are good things.  But I really relish the fact that new faces, filled with promise and hope are providing good food experiences at reasonable prices here too.  Eat there.  Support these places. Because…when people like Skander and Tai and Anthony, Brielle and Lina stop trying it’s going to be empty storefronts and Starbucks…and I for one do not want that.

This morning’s chocolate craving was fierce, unrelenting, and entirely unexpected. I’m usually the one pining for her own Ikea desktop salt-lick. But the holidays are coming, and my palate is way ahead of the Bay’s Christmas window dressers. How can I concentrate with sleigh-bells ringing in my ears and thoughts of chocolate advent calendars - dose-a-day methadone clinics for chocolate addled brains – getting in the way. No chestnuts though, roasted or otherwise. I’m allergic to tree nuts. Therein lies the problem.

What sick, discriminatory urge drove the first person to mix nuts with chocolate, business with pleasure? What a waste. What a tease. Like this morning… when, just as my craving was peaking, I discovered two boxes of chocolates on our office kitchen counter. Oh sweet relief? One was chocolate covered almonds; the other was the biggest tease of all: Turtles. Ever since that one magical Christmas long ago, when I found a stash of Peanut-Turtles hidden on the bottom shelf of a Shoppers Drug Mart in Ottawa, every ‘pecan’ box has been its own unique disappointment.

I didn’t panic. I just did the one thing I’ve been tempted to do ever since I can remember:  The Loophole. Yes, I nibbled, ever so delicately, around the nuts. In theory, brilliant… In practice? I’m still alive, aren’t I (touch wood). What’s a little lip tingle in the grand scheme of things? People pay thousands for Angelina Jolie’s pucker. My genetics are primed to give me one for free. Nothing like the tiniest hint of anaphylactic action to sweeten a Thursday morning.

Millie: Did you see Palin milking it on Oprah?

George: She must really think we fell off the apple cart.

Millie: She tries to be nice as pie but it always comes off as sour grapes.

George: I still thinks she wants to be the big cheese but she just acts corny.

Millie: I think she is full of beans.

George: She wants to be seen as a different kettle of fish but it’s just pieces of the same cake.

Millie: That book is selling like hot cakes, though.

George: One man’s meat is another man’s poison.

I love Thanksgiving.  It’s my favorite holiday for food…but for me Thanksgiving comes about 3 weeks early every year…so does Christmas, Easter and the New Year…obviously because in order for the images to be current..they need to be shot ahead of time.  In the magazine business…it’s Halloween in August…Christmas in September, etc.

These past few weeks my kitchen has been filled with the smells of turkeys browning, pies cooking and stuffing, stuffing and more stuffing…and did I mention stuffing.  The emphasis this year, for the writers I shoot for, has been side dishes and dessert.  Some people argue that the bird is the distraction from the sides. Julia Moskin and Kim Severson have had some fun in dueling column’s defending their positions on the matter.  I say, it all depends on who cooks the bird…but I digress.

This year, I shot Martha Rose Shulman’s Recipes for Health: Healthy Thanksgiving Recipes which runs all this week, Melissa Clark’s Good Appetite column: A Stuffing Strategy Grandma Understood which will be available in print tomorrow, as will Florence Fabricant’s Taking a Holiday from Rolling Out Dough.

Take a look at the three I shot, plus the Turkey Wars column’s from Moskin and Severson and you will be pretty well set for the big day.  Then, all that is left to do is turn on the big screen, watch the Detroit Lions get massacred yet again and get ready for that well deserved tryptophan induced food coma to set in.  Happy Thanksgiving!

My latest Paper Palate column is out, in print and online, in Bookforum. It’s about Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (okay, I confess: when I used him for a Friday Food writers a while back it was kind of cheating since I was actually dipping into The Physiology of Taste for the column. But it’s so good!).

As it happens, there’s a great piece about school lunches, one of my favorite topics, in the same issue. It’s by Kate Christensen and reviews Free For All: Fixing School Food in America, which sounds like a really interesting read.

November 12th, 2009.

Attention: Lucy Waverman

Dear Lucy Waverman

Imagine a fresh mango salad infused with fresh mint, cubed and on the centre of a white plate. A deep fried spring roll (deep fried in cocoa butter), filled with a dark chocolate ganache, and then placed on top of the mangos. A few sprigs of mint that has been  infused in the mint and mango dressing, and then placed on top of the spring roll.  A spoon smear of sweet and sour sauce on either side of the plate, and paired with a Canadian VQA  icewine. which will enhance the spicy notes of the mint, and tropical flavours of the mango.

This is what I call Cocoa Cuisine, a relatively new concept utilizing cocoa nibs, cocoa butter,  cocoa powder and of course chocolate, with other global ingredients, to create both savory and sweet dishes. This article is about pairing certain wines and spirits with this new way of working with chocolate.

As a long time reader of Food And Drink  magazine, I am very familiar with your publication, and feel that this article would be both an entertaining and educational addition to the “Staples” food section or the “Matchmaker” drink section of the magazine.

The article is roughly 1500 words and is divided into three categories (Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner), in a way that retains the reader’s interest. I have had the opportunity to test these various recipes with the suggested wine & spirit pairing, and feel that any  food enthusiast can create cocoa cuisine, with not much more than the proper understanding.

Having a diploma in Hotel and Restaurant Management at George Brown College, I have worked in the hospitality industry for many years. I now find myself involved in an alternative culinary career, that being the  Food and the Media certificate program, and once again at George Brown College. I am a member of  The Canadian Association of Foodservice Professionals, and The World Cocoa Foundation.

Currently, I am working on a how- to chocolate decoration/chocolate showpiece video, and  an online chocolatiers course. I am also building a content based website that focuses on cocoa and chocolate production,  and  I am  developing a weblog  called The Cocoa Crusader. http://.djanes09,wordpress.com

Thank you for your time,

Sincerely

Years ago when I was still teaching, I was in the school cafeteria eating a salad.  A notoriously conservative leaning student, who happened to be a player on my baseball team sidled up next to me and announces, ” A salad…you are such a Liberal”. It started a debate as to what were Liberal foods (sushi, mesclun salad, Indian) and Conservative foods (steak, potatoes, fast food).  The idea seemed preposterous…but it made me think.

Was there was any truth to his statement…that even the food choices we make are influenced by the way we identify politically?  I don’t particularly like the Liberal / Conservative tags and feel that truly informed political beliefs are much more complex than those monikers infer.  But, our society has increasingly embraced these labels and Madison Avenue has capitalized on it as well.  In advertising, much of our stereotypical social/consumer/entertainment behavior seems to be have been analyzed through the lens of our polarized political beliefs… technology (iPhone/Blackberrry) the music we like (Hip Hop/ Country Western)…the sports we follow (Tennis/NASCAR), etc.  So why not food?

Anyway, I had been thinking about what that student said for many years wondering if anyone had actually done any research on the matter.  I had my own theories based on personal experiences but had no data.  This afternoon, I came across an article titled, How Food Preferences Vary Based on Political Ideology, on hunchblog, outlining this very theory with a link to the entire report and the methods by which they collected the data.  It’s really fascinating stuff, very entertaining and worth a read.

Now of course as with any theory and set of data there will be anomalies and contain the possibility of spin…so read with a grain of salt…but read for sure…you will enjoy it.

I’m in a sort of zany mood, so I’m looking beyond the usual suspects for today’s post. And who zanier, really, than Fitzgerald (at least in his Zelda/speakeasies/jazz age moments)? The below is taken from The Crack-Up, one of my absolute favorite books. First published in 1945, it’s a collection of fragments and miscellany and some letters from other literary luminaries. I love everything in it, but I’m most fascinated by the random snippets from Fitzgerald’s notebooks, all the proto-sketches he jotted down for potential future use in his fiction. They’re listed alphbetically (“F: Feelings and Emotions (without Girls)” is immediately followed by “G: Descriptions of Girls.” Oh how I adore Fitzgerald….). Under K, which of course stands for Karacters, is this fantastic little insight into the cooking and eating habits of a girl named Vivian, a resplendent city creature if ever there was one.

You had to have a head of lettuce and mayonnaise, and she realized vaguely that the latter was seldom found in a wild state. Brought up in apartment hotels and married at the beginning of the delicatessen age, Vivian had not learned to cook anything save a strange fluid that in emergencies she evolved from coffee beans; she was most familiar with the product of the soil in such highly evolved forms as “triple combination sandwiches.” A farm to her was a place where weary butterflies retired with their lovers after the last fade-out in the movies.

The beginning of the delicatessen age. Have you ever read a wittier, more sly description of a historical period? If I can write just one sentence like this before I go, I’ll be at peace.

Happy Friday.

Last fall, I was invited to a party at the home of a couple I did not know after a really long cook and style photo shoot. It was one of those friend of a friend affairs that was ambiguous as to whether it was a Chex Mix and Cheez Itz, stumbling home, starving and anticipating the BIG hangover kind of night or a dinner party. I just didn’t know. I was tired, hungry and hoping to be fed.

I arrived at a spacious and beautifully decorated loft on Bond Street starving and desperately scanning the room for acceptable edibles. I was relieved that there wasn’t a tortilla, potato or corn chip in sight but lovely cheeses, olives, crackers and spicy jellies, good wine and chocolate were all within reach. At the very least I’d earn my hangover drinking too much expensive wine and under filling my belly on gourmet snacks.

When I found my way to the kitchen, the counter was covered with bowls of chopped veggies, cheeses, meats and breads. On the stove were heavy cast iron grill pans, a big cup of olive oil and basting brush…I was at a panini party. I had heard about these but had never attended one and thought…great…someone will custom cook me a sandwich…just what I need.

Of course, my friends had innocently told our hosts all about what I did for a living. I was the only “food professional” there so I was expected to take a turn at the stove and the expectations were high…so after I shot a few gee thanks glances at my crowd, I took my no-longer anonymous skills to the grill. So much for partying after a long day at work. I wondered if accountants ended up at parties where people crunch numbers for fun.

Everyone who had gone to the stove to that point had done well with the available ingredients, but I decided I needed an edge. Feeling the pressure to be creative, I raided the fridge before it was my turn in order to come up with something worthy of the hyperbolic praise my friends had given my culinary skills. I grabbed an apple, a banana, a bar of dark chocolate, some Gruyère, prosciutto and a fresh baguette and surprisingly, I was starting to have a little fun. My first panini was a transition from savory to sweet as I pressed the prosciutto with Gruyère and thinly sliced Fuji apples. This wasn’t so miserable and felt nothing at all like work. I was enjoying the kitchen camaraderie and the foodie dialogue. It felt like a party. My first panini was met with rave reviews and I proceeded to make a dessert panini with freshly sliced bananas and dark chocolate. The banana paninis disappeared so fast I was lucky to get a taste before they were gobbled up. I wiped my brow, took a bow and slipped off my apron…smiling and gratified that cooking could still be fun even after a long day at the stove.

The panini theme was a great way to break the ice with new people and keep a group laughing and having a ball. I spent a good portion of the night lingering in the kitchen tasting other people’s creations, offering tips, getting pointers from some really good cooks and just connecting to newly found friends. The beauty of the panini is that you can put just about anything on good bread, toasted with olive oil and it will be delectable. And, the best part is that you don’t need to be a pro to make a notable panini or an amateur to have a great time doing it.

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