Tentacle Pot Pie

Learning how to cook more things has been on my agenda for quite some time. I really enjoy food and my culinary repertoire is somewhat limited, so I've been on the lookout for recipes I can try.

I've said elsewhere that I have no trouble eating meat, but I will not eat anything with tentacles. Maybe I spoke too soon!

I found this.



The Tentacle Pot Pie.

I'm entranced!

(photo and recipe via NotMartha.org and Megan Reardon)

I Am Completely Doomed

Butter Lane, the bakers of the greatest cupcakes in our fair city have opened a (for now) temporary outpost around the corner from Cabinet Headquarters. Let me explain. Butter Lane cupcakes are only very distantly related to that sugary nastiness over at Magnolia. Their strawberry icing is sublime. I had a bourbon soaked cupcake from them a few weeks ago that was life changing.

I'm going to spend all my money and out-grow all my pants! Look at the variety! Just look!

This Exists?

Apparently, Jones Soda Co. has a limited edition six pack of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 8 soda. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Particularly, as the name suggests, the artwork is from the abysmally drawn Dark Horse Comics.

But I still kind of want a six pack. Though I think the idea is sort of gross. Insane troll logic. I know.

So, Who Do You Have On Your Fantasy Top Chef Team?

BE WARNED: There be spoilers ahead!

I don't have much interest in the very popular running and catching and throwing that most citizens of our glorious nation like so much. I am, however, entranced by competitive cooking. If I'm home, and have the TV on, I'm always happy to watch The Iron Chef (or its stepchild, The Next Iron Chef) or Chopped. I won't, however, watch that awful Gordon Ramsey yell at people. His show is far more about humiliation than cooking. I like food and I like watching people cook. I am severely domestically challenged, but I do enjoy cooking and wish I did it more often.

But enough about me. The crown jewel of competitive cooking shows is Top Chef. Currently, we are being treated to an All-Star version in which they have brought back some of the top competitors from previous seasons, and so far, it's been pretty fantastic. Since it's an All-Star tournament, everyone is strong. And Bourdain is back. And the challenges have been creative and interesting. We're 4 episodes in, 5 chefs have been eliminated, and it's fascinating viewing.

When I saw who was chosen to compete, my picks for final four were as follows.

1. Richard
2. Marcel
3. Jen
4. Angelo
   

That said, the pool of competitors is incredibly deep. There are fewer people I'm certain won't make the finals than otherwise. Honestly, coming in, the only chefs I'm pretty sure don't have a prayer are: Spike (he loses focus, and his decision making skills are pretty much non-existent), Fabio (he's just has no range. He sticks around, but rarely wins), Jamie (her food isn't that impressive. I think she's playing out of her league. And she's a total complainer.), Dale L. (I found the fact that he made it to the finals in his season baffling. Sticking around because you haven't lost is different from winning), Casey (I'm still completely prejudiced against her from the mis en place relay from her season when it took her 45 years to chop onions), and Stephen (he's just completely out of practice. He admits himself that he hasn't cooked professionally in years).

Everyone else, I thought, had a fair shot.

They've aired four episodes (the fifth airs tonight), and there's only been one major upset - But it was MAJOR. It knocked out one of my final four, probably the chef with the finest pedigree in the competition. In the second episode Jen went insane. Her food sounded lackluster, and she argued with the judges in a way that was slightly crazy. Colicchio admired her moxie (or so he said for the cameras), but honestly, she came off like someone who was unbalanced. And she was sent home. Jennifer! How? You were Ripert's sous chef at Le Barnadin! If this were a film contest, that's like if the person trained and chosen by Martin Freaking Scocese was out in the first round. Just shocking.

Elia, Dale L., Spike and Stephen are also gone (no real surprises there). I've found watching the women particularly interesting this season. Both Tiffany D. and Carla are competing very similarly to how they did the first time around. They both started off quiet, and then they began winning and winning and winning. Carla and Tiffany D. are also both lovely people and have similar styles: i.e. they cook fairly simple food that is often underestimated by the competition, but tastes incredibly good. Carla is also extremely adventurous and delightfully strange, and has won her first challenge. Tiffani F. is also impressing me. She was thought to be the "bitch" in season 1 (the famous "I'm not your bitch, bitch" comment was directed at her). She is doing well and is having a nice time and seems quite likable.

One of the things I've always liked about Top Chef is they never seem to choose their finalists on the basis of audience popularity, physical attractiveness or even ordinary likability. This is a show where a belligerent, thoroughly unlikable, physically unattractive lesbian can make it to the end. You have to love it. Many different races, all sexual persuasions, all different sizes (including the women!) are included. Top Chef might be the only place left on television where the women are allowed to be as chubby as the men and it's really no sort of issue. It's so refreshing.

Is it me, or has there been a lot of gnocci this competition? Also, now I want to learn how to braise things. And apparently, Colicchio has a new pork belly BLT at his new joint. Yum.

Scobee Diner: A Lament

Maybe I am a sentamentalist at heart, all previous denials to the contrary. Maybe I do look askance at what is mistakenly called progress.

Today is the final day of Scobee's existence. If you, like me, grew up on the peninsula of West Egg, you too would have spent long hours sitting in the vinyl covered booths of my increasingly distant adolescence. I should have known things would never be the same the moment they removed the jukeboxes.

Diners seem to be disappearing from the landscape all over the five boroughs. Where else can one go at three in the morning and sit with a plate of french fries for two hours? The last diner closing that made me sad was the long lost Astor Riviera. It used to be where that giant Starbucks on Astor Place now sits. I guess that's the thing that has changed the face of this country and now finally the city more than anything: the loss of privately owned businesses. But that's a rant for another day.



So let's all lift a gravy covered french fry and salute the New York City diners of our youth! Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island, Manhattan and The Bronx! Alas! Alas!

Happy Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for lots of things, some important (my health, my inamorato, my brain) some less consequential (my apartment, the internet, the existence of all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD). Good things all.

Which brings me to the news that hit the geekier realms of the interwebs this week. Warner Brothers distributed a press release that announced that a "rebooted" (how I hate that stupid word - unless you're turning your computer on and off it makes no sense) movie version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer would be released in 2012. Hm. With no input or involvement from Joss Whedon. Sigh. With a screenwriter named Whit Anderson who has fewer writing credits on iMDB than I do (i.e. none).

Thanksgiving is the most American of holidays. It's about food, gathering with loved ones and possesses disturbing overtones of cultural imperialism. The Jane Espenson penned, Season 4 episode Pangs embraces all three of these key Thanksgiving points.



Later today, I will be heading to Chez Piper McKenzie accompanied by various Stewarts. I love food, and I like cooking, but tend to spiral into a panic when faced with anything domestic. But I'll try to leave the atrocities at home. In an interview with Ms. Anderson, the woman about to be the most viciously attacked rookie screenwriter ever, she referenced Christopher Nolan's Batman as a good path to take in superhero reimagining. Sigh. I know. Everyone loves those movies. Except me. They're painfully humorless, and among other things, Buffy was always a comedy.




Joss Whedon has been through a lot with Buffy. It's always been his dream project, and the 1992 movie version was abysmal. Needless to say, he had no control over it. In a nearly unprecedented turn, he had the opportunity, five years later, to do it right. The show lasted seven seasons, and although it wasn't perfect, it was wonderful. And only ended seven years ago. Joss Whedon is still a young(ish) man. To "reboot" his creation (one of the uglier points of the Warners' press release is that they refer to the owners of the property, as the "creators")this soon, seems like a terrible idea, and a project that absolutely nobody wants.

But Joss Whedon is a class act. He responded in kind, and here is what he had to say in its entirety:

Kristin, I'm glad you asked for my thoughts on the announcement of Buffy the cinema film. This is a sad, sad reflection on our times, when people must feed off the carcasses of beloved stories from their youths—just because they can't think of an original idea of their own, like I did with my Avengers idea that I made up myself.

Obviously I have strong, mixed emotions about something like this. My first reaction upon hearing who was writing it was, "Whit Stillman AND Wes Anderson? This is gonna be the most sardonically adorable movie EVER." Apparently I was misinformed. Then I thought, "I'll make a mint! This is worth more than all my Toy Story residuals combined!" Apparently I am seldom informed of anything. And possibly a little slow. But seriously, are vampires even popular any more?

I always hoped that Buffy would live on even after my death. But, you know, AFTER. I don't love the idea of my creation in other hands, but I'm also well aware that many more hands than mine went into making that show what it was. And there is no legal grounds for doing anything other than sighing audibly. I can't wish people who are passionate about my little myth ill. I can, however, take this time to announce that I'm making a Batman movie. Because there's a franchise that truly needs updating. So look for The Dark Knight Rises Way Earlier Than That Other One And Also More Cheaply And In Toronto, rebooting into a theater near you.

Leave me to my pain! Sincerely, Joss Whedon.

I'm making butternut squash ravioli with mushrooms and leeks in a white wine sauce. Hopefully we'll leave out the traditional fighting and also leave the less traditional syphilis at home, too.



Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Roger's Crispie Treats

This is a shameless plug.

Last weekend my dashing inamorato and I attended a barbecue where we drank perhaps a tiny bit too much wine and I ate my first steak since falling (more like leaping) off the veggie wagon. And it was awesome. I also ate about 300 of my friend Roger's bourbon flavored Crispie Treats.

You may think: Rice Crispy Treats? A child of six can make Rice Crispy Treats.

But a child of six is less likely to add bourbon. And he has lots of other flavors. America has brought some wonderful things to the world: jazz, pop art, breakfast cereal. And we, as a nation, have invented some seriously disturbing recipes involving packaged food. But Crispie Treats are pretty much universally beloved. As they should be. And Roger's are yummy. And he has a fan page on facebook.

Back in the Bloggy Saddle; or Television Can Break Your Heart

While watching the last regular season episode of Top Chef (i.e. the last one before the two part final) I had a major epiphany. When my beloved Tiffany was sent home, I was appalled. I was furious and sad. I may have even yelled at the television.

Thought no. 1: I think I may be just a tiny bit too invested in this.

Thought no. 2: Hey. Wait. Is this any sillier than all the fuss about the people throwing and running and catching and stuff? I think not.

Maybe I finally get what sports fans feel like, which I've always found baffling. I guess I like people who make stuff and have pretty much zero interest in the big exclusionary business of running, catching and throwing. And I like tennis and the Olympics, but team sports leave me cold. And they don't let girls play so screw them.

Back to Top Chef. Last week's episode had so much going for it. Astronauts. The return of Anthony Bourdain. How could it possibly disappoint? Let me explain. First, there's something so weirdly personal about food. We all have to eat it after all, and to restate a cliché, you are what you eat. Tom Colicchio,Top Chef judge and proprietor of all things Craft, has said when asked why they get so upset when the food the competitors make seems thoughtless and inedible (which considering the caliber of their cheftestants (I know, I know) doesn't happen too often) he said that that the judges have to eat it. And if you were forced to try what turns out to be underdone poultry, you would take it personally, too. None of this was a problem last week. The five remaining competitors (my beloved Tiffany, Ed, Antonio, Kelly and that jackass Kevin), had to prepair a meal for a bunch of astronauts, including Buzz Aldrin. The winner's dish would subsequently be freeze-dried and sent into space. And Bourdain was back, and he's always a good time.

So all the little cheftestants were excited to be at NASA and playing at the top of their game. Over the past few weeks, Tiffany has been winning challenge after challenge. Judges taste her food and automatically look happy. In a blog posting, Colicchio raved about her and said her Mexican dish for the international challenge was as good as any he'd ever eaten. It's always nice when the person with the loveliest personality also seems to be super talented. That's why ths week was so upsetting. Tiffany was just a tiny bit off her game. I watched the extended judging table footage, and it was fair. The judges really liked everything, but someone has to go. And Tiffany accidentally froze her mussels rendering them useless and never totally recovered. So off she went. Sigh.

On a side note, another nice thing about Top Chef is that it might be the only place in our culture where you can see attractive young women happily eating without apology. Regular judges Padma Lakshmi (the ex-Mrs. Rushdie) and Gail Simmons are extremely attractive young(ish) women. You never hear anyone worrying about calories or weight gain or other subjects endemic to our joyless age. That itself is something of a wonder, though the fact I feel the need to comment on this is depressing in the extreme.

The first part of the Top Chef DC final airs tonight on Bravo. 10PM. Tiffany-less, and much the sadder for it.

The Abomination

As has been discussed here before, I am completely comfortable being referred to as a grilled cheese aficianado. If I was asked to name my One Favorite Food out of all the food in the world, my response would be "Sandwiches!".

But I do have some pride. This is an abomination unto the grilled cheese gods and should be cast asunder so that it no longer plagues, um, like, us.



Four fried mozzarella sticks inside of a Grilled Cheese sandwich. Obviously, some of my problems with this are pure snobbery, as I know a real chef with good cheese and bread could create a comparable sandwich that would taste really, really good, but be just as horrible for you. But, seriously? This sandwich is a terrible idea. Really.

Denny's clearly has no shame.

Convenience Food and The American Dream: Don Draper Knows All

How did this happen? How? How did something like Jell-O (tm) salad get classified as something that was desirable, or even edible? How did we as Americans start cooking with condensed soup? Why the convenience revolution? Wait. I fucking love convenience. So why am I complaining?

Many years ago à propos of nothing, a very good friend asked me, "Did your mother cook with soup?" I looked at her blankly for a moment, and then replied, "Yes. My mother cooked with soup." Apparently, her boyfriend's mother did not, and he was horrified when she explained what she meant (side note: his family were very rich WASPs from Connecticut and, though their ways are foreign to me, after having met his mother, I'm willing to bet she did, in fact, cook with soup). Convenience foods are sneered at. They are processed, unnatural, and most damning of all, low class. We jeer at repulsive recipes like Monterey Soufflé Salad and Jellied Bouillon With Frankfurters - and rightfully so, as both hot dogs and seafood should be segregated from gelatin products forever. But I think it might be time to reappraise convenience in light of their interesting historical context.

Okay. Picture this. You have to make dinner for your family. If you are super lucky, it is a family of three or four. Even more lucky (and even more unlikely) you have servants to do this for you, or at least to assist. You must make sure the stove is fired up with either coal or wood (depending on where or when you live), you must go to the market and buy your food as the refrigerator has not yet been invented. If the ice box has, you must make sure you have actual ice to keep things cold. If you live in a city, the ice man comes around and you better hope you can afford to pay him. If you don't live in a city, I honestly have no idea. You might have to kill, pluck, gut, or skin something. Because of the whole refrigeration issue things like cooking fat might be rancid. Nothing (or almost nothing) comes in packages, greatly limiting your meal planning choices. If you have gone completely mad and decide you want a yummy congealed salad (the unappetizing name for salads made out of gelatin before the ascendancy of Jell-O(tm)), it would involve the boiling of bones and feet of dead animals. You may want to review the aspic section of Julie & Julia to get an idea. Basically, the whole cooking process was a messy, difficult, time intensive nightmare.

Throughout the late 19th and 20th centuries various products and appliances were invented and marketed, making the whole business infinitely easier and quicker. Part of the quid pro quo of what we usually now jokingly refer to as "labor saving", was the emancipation of women. Wives have always been stuck doing the endless, time consuming, sucky tasks, and things like the blender, frozen TV dinners, instant mashed potatoes, and those handy little packets of Jell-O(tm) must have been just great. The dawn of a new era. Middle class housewives now had the time to take a yoga class. Go back to college. March against the war. Or, like, shop. See, good for everyone and prosperity reigned.

So, what happened to our new Eden made of freedom and astronaut food? The natural food movement happened, hippies happened. Sally Draper came home from Stanford and turned her little nose up at the Ambrosia Salad of her childhood. She worried about her children eating vegetables covered in pesticides. She worried about big agro and corn subsidies. And suddenly, people were plucking and gutting and cooking with whole grains, but this time around all the best people were doing so, and the lower middle class and the working poor were eating convenience food that they would take home on their way back from ten hour shifts at Wal-Mart as they couldn't afford and didn't have the time to prepare the grass finished beef or the organic spinach covered in sand that Sally brought home to her children after volunteering at the co-op.

One day, Sally had her father over for dinner, and after chowing elegantly down on the lime marinated grilled free range chicken breast, quinoa pilaf and wilted bitter greens, he lit up a cigarette ("Daddy. The kids."). He stepped outside and looked at the Manhattan skyline as the sun went down.

"Free range." He said.

"What's that?"

"You bought free range chicken. Why?"

"The antibiotics. And fewer chemicals. It's less cruel."

"That's what everyone says when asked that question. Less cruel. Fewer antibiotics. But do you know exactly what free range chickens are?"

"Daddy-"

"The first person who uttered the phrase "free range chicken" aloud was someone like me, and he did so in a pitch meeting. I'm sure someone suggested "more humane" and someone else said "less cruel" and lots of other people spoke about mangled feet and mass production and about how this product was different. Then, someone in the room, someone like me, remembered that advertising isn't about negatives. It's not even about specifics. It's about the feelings it causes in the consumer. It's about happiness. You say fewer chemicals -"

"There are fewer chemicals -"

"Maybe. But that doesn't matter. You bought this chicken because it made you feel better about yourself. Buying this chicken made you feel, just a tiny bit, like you were a part of a lost America, an America -"

"Daddy, are you drinking again?"

"Ha ha. Think about the phrase 'Free Range'. What does it make you think of? What do you picture inside your head? The great expanses of the West. Cattle. Mountains. A lost vision of farms and settlers and America as we want it to be, an America as it should be. A John Ford vision of a past that never was. That's what 'free range' means to people. That's why people feel good about buying this ordinary, everyday chicken, that was raised in an ordinary farm upstate. Maybe they use fewer chemicals, maybe it is less cruel, that's fine. But "free range" doesn't actually mean anything. It's no different than calling a drink mix 'space age'. They're just words that make you feel better about yourself, and about the world we live in which is cruel, which uses chemicals, in which things die. The words 'free range' make us forget that - for the few short minutes between when you read the label, and when you hand your credit card over to the checkout girl"

"Wow."

"And the product is far more expensive, which lends an air of exclusivity to this pioneer dream. It never fails."

Incidentally, a new season of Mad Men premiers on AMC this Sunday, July 25.