From The Silent Hostess Treasure Book (1930), General Electric Company Electric Refrigeration Department, Cleveland OH
I'm interrupting the semi-regularly scheduled Midnight Sausage series to share molded food images and recipes from my personal collection of early-to-mid 20th century cookbooks. There will be aspic. There will be mousse. There will be various gelatins. All will be semi-solid and of debatable degrees of edibility.
Please feel free to shimmy and shake your way to the comments section to share your very own magical, masticable molds of yore.
Last summer, a reader took the opportunity to excoriate me for my perceived show-offery when a sorbet recipe I posted mentioned the use of an ice cream maker. Well, for one, a goodly percentage of ice cream, sherbet and sorbet recipes conclude with the mandate to "freeze according to ice cream maker's directions" and for another, it was a goshdarned wedding gift!
Perhaps some small accord could be struck, or perhaps even kicked with the use of the UCO Play & Freeze Ice Cream Maker. Ice and rock salt are added to one chamber and edible ingredients to another. The whole unit is then hand-tightened together and the merrymaking/ice cream churning commences. The ball can be tossed, shaken, passed and generally frolicked about with, then opened and stirred, resealed and agitated again until the mixture reaches a pleasing consistency, and co-churners have worn out all "Have a ball!" related puns.
Still, should the $16.50 expenditure (via Amazon) still seem a tad schmancy, I included a coffee can agitation method in a post on Soul-Saving Sweet Tea Sherbet a while back.
Last fall, in the beginning of my first year in New York, I discovered the Vendy awards. Sponsored by the Urban Justice Center, the awards honor the city's best street vendors. I was particularly interested because of Mohammed Rahman, proprietor of the Kwik Meal cart on 45th Street and Sixth Avenue.
On some days, when I had a little extra cash, I'd grab my lunch at Mohammed's stand. While his menu was, ostensibly, the same as most other halal vendors, Mohammed had previously worked at the Russian Tea Room, and his classical background showed through. His genius lay in the little details, like the green papaya marinade that he used for his lamb, the basmati rice that he served it on, and the intricate spicing that made it truly unique. Although the 2007 Vendy ultimately went to Thiru "Dosa Man" Kumar, Mohammed still reigns high in my personal vendor pantheon. After all, he introduced me to the world of gourmet street food.
Michael Phelps' 12,000 calories a day notwithstanding, I'm dubious that the US Olympic teams are marching en masse to the Beijing Mickey D's for their pre-event chowdown. Still, that shouldn't stop you from pole vaulting on over to Facetheglory.com to download a coupon for a free Southern Style Biscuit or Sandwich today. Come armed with a hearty appetite and a color cartridge, 'cause the coupon is valid from August 15th through September 1st, and only if it's printed in color.
Yeah, I know that the analagous Chick-Fil-A sandwich tends to be the crowd favorite 'round these parts, but really, are you gonna look a gift chicken in the mouth?
*A reader just brought to my attention that a medium or large drink must be purchased to receive the freebie. I highly recommend the Sweet Tea.
Think you can tell cotto salami from Dutch loaf or summer sausage? Prove you're not just full of baloney with AOL Food's Cold Cuts ID Quiz, then come back to share your score.
Gourmet's Ian Knauer has bacon on the brain ever since a fateful foray into one of Greenpoint, Brooklyn's omnipresent Polish groceries. The specimen in question is double-smoked, non-brine injected belly meat, has roots in the former Eastern Prussia, and is sold in Germany as Geräucherter Speck. Looks insanely delicious, no?
Mr. Knauer is also pretty certain that one's personal selection thereof over all other bacon formats is a potential indicator of, well, he's not entirely certain, but if nothing else, this meat-based emotional indexing is a lot yummier than the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator or the MMPI. Mmmm...delicious psychological profiling.
Over the past few summers, cherry-based cocktails have become something of a signature for me, to the point whereupon being proposed to in mid-July a few years back, I immediately began pulping and freezing cherries for use in our wedding cocktails the following October. Fresh cherries have a cruelly short season, and I do my best to make the most of every phase from sour to Rainier to Bing. Each has a distinct level of sweetness and depth of flavor and is complemented by different suites of ingredients. Rich, dark Bings stand up to wood smoking and full-bodied lemon and limeades, but tender, young sour cherries seem a natural fit for a subtly refreshing sweet iced tea. Oh - and booze.
A little over two years ago, my daughter was born. At the time, I was in moderately decent shape; although I smoked, I ate fairly well, walked all over the place, and generally kept my weight in an area that my doctor and I considered acceptable. However, my daughter's birth, my decision to quit the demon cancer sticks, and the fact that I spent an insane amount of time on the couch with her quickly bore fruit. Within six months of her arrival, I had packed on about 20 pounds.
After I had to buy new, larger pants, I decided that enough was enough. I started going to the gym, watching what I eat, exercising more, and generally trying to regain my svelte, pre-fatherhood body. I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror, looking at my measurements, and looking at my diet. When I moved to New York, however, my weight loss began to slow, sputter, and even reverse a little bit.
It wasn't too hard to figure out why I wasn't losing weight like I used to. While I was busy looking at the scale, I wasn't looking at my neighborhood. On the bright side, the Vietnamese restaurant near my apartment has several relatively healthy offerings and the taco truck a couple of blocks away is great if I don't order cheese, sour cream, and fried meat. However, the Dominican bakery, with its seductive tres leches cake, the Puerto Rican Cuchifritos stands, and the various pizzerias, Chinese food joints, and Gyro restaurants all taunt me with their wares. While I'm pretty good at avoiding the siren song of KFC, Burger King, and all the other fast food places, I am a sucker for homemade, high-fat goodies.
Over the years, I've had a love/hate relationship with coffee. On the one hand, when I worked in a cafe/bakery, the free, unlimited chocolate-covered espresso beans made it a lot easier to bake bread all night. On the other hand, when I developed acid reflux, coffee was the first thing that had to go. Over the years, I've repeatedly reunited with coffee, only to leave it again a few months later. Between warnings about digestion, blood pressure, and various other problems, I've learned to fight my deep love of the beloved elixir, settling instead for water or tea. Right now, I'm drinking one or two cups a day, which seems to be working well, although I have to fight my feelings of guilt and fear with every sip.
Recently, however, a 24-year study by the University of Madrid has given me hope that coffee and I might be able to enjoy a rich, guilt-free relationship. According to Esther Lopez-Garcia, the lead researcher, the scientists have discovered that up to six cups of coffee per day may have a positive effect on one's health. According to their data, coffee seems to lower the chances of heart disease and other illnesses.
The study, which followed the coffee-drinking habits 84,214 American women from 1980 to 2004 and 41,736 American men from 1986 to 2004 showed clear linkages between reduced heart disease and coffee consumption, although it was also clear that decaf had almost the same results as caffeinated coffee. Although I won't be able to drink the full six cups of coffee that the study seems to endorse, it's nice to know that my little 2-cup habit may actually be good for me. The only question remaining is what I'll use to toast the researchers: French Roast or something a little milder?
In his forty-plus year career, Elton John has had no lack of awards: in addition to an Oscar for his work on The Lion King, he can boast five Grammys, a place in the Songwriter's Hall of Fame, a spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, a CBE and a Knighthood, as well as hundreds of other honors, great and small.
However, in some ways, none of these honors is as sweet as the one recently bestowed on the famed singer/songwriter. This week, Ben and Jerry's will launch Goodbye, Yellow Brickle Road, an Elton John-themed flavor that it will sell in its scoop shops from July 18th to July 25th. Named after his seminal 1973 breakthrough album and unveiled in honor of his first-ever concert in the Green Mountain State, all proceeds from the sale of the ice cream will go to the Elton John AIDS Fund.
A chocolate ice cream base with peanut butter cookie dough, butter brickle, and white chocolate chunks, one wonders if "Goodbye Yellow Brickle Road" might spawn sequels. After all, is it hard to imagine a market for "Rocky Road Man," "Can You Feel the Carbs Tonight" or "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blueberry Bonanza"?
Kind little rituals seem to go a long way toward making marriage work, so almost every weekend, I make my husband some sweet tea. He's a Southern boy by birth (Brooklynian by marriage), and having a big ol' pitcher easily grabbable in the fridge seems to right any Mason Dixon imbalance he might be suffering at the time. I've got it down to a science, proportion-wise, but this past weekend, his itch for a sugar fix kicked in while I was at the grocery store. What he made tasted divine, but there was just too much for one pitcher, and not enough refrigerator room for a second.
If nothing else, the nuns at St. Scorpacciata instilled in me the mortal fear of wasting food, and seeing how I'd been at the store to buy milk (which neither of us usually drink) for a Bolognese, I decided sherbet would be what saved our souls from eternal damnation. I suppose we won't know for a while if that worked, but it did taste pretty damned delicious.
Philadelphia Magazine writer Jason Fagone spent one year profiling some of the most divinely outsized personalities in the world of competitive eating. While Akron house painter Coondog O'Karma makes a midlife grab at glory via rapid-fire pizza consumption, Bill "El Wingador" Simmons attempts to reclaim Wong Bowl supremacy from 90lb Sonya "Black Widow" Thomas, and day trader Tim Janus dons the mantle of the mysterious Eater X, it all comes down to one shared hunger. They all want to win the Mustard Yellow Belt of International Hot Dog Eating Supremacy back from the Japanese who'd dominated the Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog-Eating Contest nearly every year since 1997.
Back in July of 2001, that would mean beating the record of 25 1/8 set the previous year by Kazutoyo "The Rabbit" Arai.
Behold the Whatafarm burger, which according to alanbeam.net, via about.blank is "a burger ordered from the Whataburger chain and includes chicken, egg, cheese and bacon. 2 parts cow, 2 parts chicken, 1 part pig."
I'm all for the orgiastic multi-species chow down, what with my penchant for Kentucky burgoo (2 formats of cow -- old and young, lamb, pig, and chicken) and applaud the orderers for their gastronomic gumption. If I were being all harrumphy about it, I could note that the menu offers pig in sausage form and a fish filet as well and they opted for neither, but hey - Michelangelo didn't knock out the Sistine Chapel on his first jaunt up the scaffolding.
We salute you with all hooves, claws and trotters up!
Our intrepid pack of testers blind-chomped their way through fifty different franks, hot dogs and wieners in hot pursuit of the top tube steak in all the land. Not a single chicken, turkey or tofu dog made the final cut, while beef and pork reigned supreme. Did your favorite frank lead the pack?
A while, back, I wrote a post on emotionally-based food aversions -- both my own (tuna noodle casserole), and those of loved ones (scrambled eggs, mayonnaise, garlic). Little did I know this was going to open up Pandora's icebox. More than 75,000 people weighed in on our "What food hits your yuck button?" poll, and the comments thread is at the time of this writing, 1668 strong and counting. It seems that folks have just been looking for a place to spill their long-stewing food loathings, so we've counted down the top 20, weighting them for poll votes, number of mentions in comments, and level of vitriol incurred.
Want to keep the conversation flowing? See the initial post, or hurl forth in the comments below.
A jar of honey can become a sticky mess. Next time you're adding honey to another dish or a mug of tea, use a honey dipper to prevent a thick gooey layer from spreading.
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Last fall, in the beginning of my first year in New York, I discovered the 
Michael Phelps' 
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A little over two years ago, my daughter was born. At the time, I was in moderately decent shape; although I smoked, I ate fairly well, walked all over the place, and generally kept my weight in an area that my doctor and I considered acceptable. However, my daughter's birth, my decision to quit the demon cancer sticks, and the fact that I spent an insane amount of time on the couch with her quickly bore fruit. Within six months of her arrival, I had packed on about 20 pounds.
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Over the years, I've had a love/hate relationship with coffee. On the one hand, when I worked in a cafe/bakery, the free, unlimited chocolate-covered espresso beans made it a lot easier to bake bread all night. On the other hand, when I developed acid reflux, coffee was the first thing that had to go. Over the years, I've repeatedly reunited with coffee, only to leave it again a few months later. Between warnings about digestion, blood pressure, and various other problems, I've learned to fight my deep love of the beloved elixir, settling instead for water or tea. Right now, I'm drinking one or two cups a day, which seems to be working well, although I have to fight my feelings of guilt and fear with every sip.
Kind little rituals seem to go a long way toward making marriage work, so almost every weekend, I make my husband some 
Chocolate-stuffed bananas on the grill
Tyler Florence welcomes new daughter
Beware kids' menus!
