Speaking of cheesy poetry...

The Dairy Lama out of Wisconsin presents this adorable site, filled with a collection of internationally submitted
haiku glorifying dairy products.

From Adventure to Science, crude to lovely this "Mooku" leaves no subject ignored, no curd left unturned.

Here's a couple of favorites to nibble on...

Wiser men than I
Say that cheese is milk's bid for
Immortality
- Slytherina

Cows walk in the rain
O'er the hills war rages on
A Farewell to Cheese
- Tony Massimini

Dang, I'm not really the apron-wearing type, but "Domestic Goddess" takes on a newer, darker meaning with the apron hotness from designer Jessie Steele.

Milder — but still snazzy — mens' and kids' aprons also available...

This is the coolest program I've seen in a long time.

Just a few choice clicks, and you get to help Mr. Ulz, a musician, go to a Queens public school and sing about carrot seeds, fire trucks and lollypop trees. Makes teachers happy. Makes kids do joyful little dances. Does a body good.

The program is called "Donors Choose," and it allows teachers to make material and performance requests for their students. If you're more far flung, check the regions drop-down, because Donors Choose is now available in Chicago, San Fran and North Carolina, as well as good 'ol NYC.

But there's no guarantee the kids in San Francisco will get to listen to "Hotta Chocolota."

Ever have that moment when you're at the cheese or wine shop and need to make lightning-fast pairing... The counter guy's standing there looking at you, there's a line of customers piling up behind you... and your mind inconveniently goes deer-in-the-headlights blank?

Then again, maybe that's just me.

There's always the winning "pick a wine that grew up in the same place the cheese did" rule, but if you happen to be near a web browser, try typing in this link for a quick mind jog.

A Pecorino Nocino goes with... oh, yeah! A Chianti!

... but they stain your chefs' whites somethin' fierce.

I love cooking's aesthetic qualities. Sometimes I'm just so enamored of a particular vegetable, or, in this case, blood orange rinds collecting on the board.

I particularly love it when my party meats look like miniature elephants...

Oh, man... a friend just sent me this amazing link:
Nippon Meat Packers Hotdog Art

The diagrams are fantastic, and I also love this page, which displays the seasonally appropriate ways to show off your meat sculptures.

Hot!

Zowee! And I thought I was behind in my reading list before... well, here's the clincher: The IACP 2005 Book Award Nominees have been announced. (via bookslut)

That'd be the International Association of Culinary Professionals, folks... not to be confused with the International Association of Chiefs of Police, whose book list would likely be make for some mighty exciting reading as well...

Come to think of it, what's the deal with that wierd overlapping acronym thing between folks who tote guns and food professionals?

I mean, there's the FBI and the FBI, the CIA and the CIA, the NRA and the NRA, the WCR and WCR... Did I sleep through culinary class and miss a key linkage?

Plugging around the web in search of information on spicy fine-leaf basil (which, I learned, is simply a pseudonym for what's more often called bush basil or Greek basil), I was more than a bit surprised to discover that the Babbo Ristorante website actually offers an impressive amount of content. Recipes, definitions, wine knowledge, section for "featured ingredients"...

Now, you might be thinking, "Yeah, so what? Epicurious and Saveur and The Food Network websites all offer waaaaay more recipes, info, descriptions, etc..." And, of course, you'd be right.

Nevertheless, I'm impressed. If you check out most of the other top restaurants, from French Laundry to El Bulli to Daniel, you're going to find gorgeous photos, lots of press clippings, and all the information you'll need while you try to get through to the reservations line for the next six months.

Babbo makes some delicious food, yes... but I'm pleased to see they serve up a heapin' helping of education. Because as much as I adore the fleeting spark of euphoria that arrives on the plate, I'll cherish even more the lasting inspiration from passionately shared information.

Published in 1981, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz Cookbook features 121 bright pages of simple recipes meant "for the young, and for the young in heart," plus a handy cooking terms section and index.

Don't go envisioning Judy Garland now, friends. This book explores the far more complex Oz of literature.

Author Monica Bayley explains in a foreword that her recipes are suggested by a formula of regional associations, references in the story text, and dominant food color matchups with Oz locations such as the yellow brick road, the Emerald City and the lands of Quadlings, Winkies, Gillikins and Munchkins.

Of course, we all remember that Munchkinland is blue and Quadlingland is red, right? Yeah, me neither. But never fear... there's a handy map at to guide you through the struggle of blueberries vs. tomatoes.

As well as Kansas recipe standards such as Aunt Em's Chicken & Dumplings, Uncle Henry's Short Ribs and Toto's Almond Bark (get it?), we find the Wonderful Winkie Omlet, the Winged Monkey Banana Sauté and a recipe for an 8 full ounces of Liquid Courage. (I'll be keeping that one on hand for when I attempt my taxes...)

Although this book seemed terribly exotic when I found it at my local library as a tyke, all the recipes are very simple Midwestern American fare renamed and reorganized.

What makes this book special are the whimsical engraving-style illustrations by W.W. Denslow and the accompanying pull-quotes from L. Frank Baum's richly visioned stories.

"Before them was a great stretch of country having a floor as smooth and shining and white as the bottom of a big platter. Scattered around were many houses made entirely of china and painted in the brightest colors."

China Princess Pecan Brittle
1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/4 cup water
1 cup broken pecan meats
2 tablespoons buter
1 tablespoon soda

Put sugar, syrup, cream of tartar and water into deep, heavy saucepan and boil until candy thermometer regesters 250F (hard-ball stage). Add pecans and boil until thermometer registers 300F (hard-crack stage). Add butter, remove from heat, add soda and stir vigorously. Pour onto buttered platter and spread thin. When cold, cut or break into pieces.

Hello!

Thanks so much for sending along the caffeine article, which I'm certain your daughter will someday deliver to me.

Regarding your salt questions:

1. What is the difference between sea salt, kosher salt and iodized salt?

All three are variations on the same compound: sodium chloride. The difference between these salts is found in the flavor (from trace minerals) and the crystal size (from the manufacturing method).

The salt we use in kitchens comes in in several crystal sizes, from very fine (almost powdery salt used for popcorn); to fine-grain or granulated salt (like table salt); kosher salt (flaky, larger crystals); and coarse (the crystal size you see on pretzels). There's also rock salt, but that's only really used for making homemade ice cream and thawing your sidewalk, as far as I know.

Iodized salt is generally a table salt, which has a small crystal size that's meant to slip out of your shaker with ease. When compared directly with non-iodized salt, iodized salt will have a slightly bitter taste. It also makes your pickles go dark if you're doing cucumber pickling. Iodine was included for reasons of public health and not for culinary artistry, and that's why the top chefs never use iodized salt.

Chefs sometimes use sea salt because it has additional minerals that give it subtle flavors (and sometimes pretty pastel colors). These other minerals tag along when the salt is harvested from the saltflats in one of a handful of exotic areas around the globe. The very expensive sea salts should only be used as a sprinkled garnish, because the delicate flavors would be overpowered in most dishes.

For everyday kitchen use, I find that chefs generally prefer kosher salt, which has larger, flake-like crystals that make it easy to pinch, measure and sprinkle in a dish.

As a side note, you shouldn't measure out table salt (iodized or not) in a dish that calls for kosher salt. Because kosher salt crystals are larger, you'll use too much salt in the recipe if you substitue table salt. Table salt's very small crystals will fit together tighter in the teaspoon than kosher crystals, which leave some space. You'll actually end up with a dish that's too salty.

In short, it's most efficient to use a table salt (iodized or not) in your shaker, kosher salt for cooking, salting meats, etc., and sea salt for extra-fancy garnish.

3. Are any of these salts better for a salt-reduced diet?

Technically, no. But you might end up using less salt in a dish if you're using kosher salt, because it's easier to control.

Those "lite salt" mixtures are usually potassium chloride mixed with the standard sodium chloride. I personally feel that fresh herbs and spices, vinegars and citrus juices are better flavoring options for salt-restricted diets.

4. Why do some recipes have unsalted butter?

Again, that's about controlling the flavor of a dish. If you're using unsalted butter, you're responsible for how much salt you want to add, not Land O'Lakes or Hotel Bar. Long ago, salt was added to butter as a preservative, but thanks to modern shipping and refrigeration, that's not generally necessary these days.

Incidentally, the salt level in a stick of butter varies from one dairy to another, so it's difficult to put a firm teaspoon amount on how much salt you're getting in a stick.

Hope this helps!

Miss G

Oooo! Lookie! OnMilwaukee.com is requesting cheese haiku in honor of April as National Poetry Month. And it's such a no-brainer that something like this would originate in Wisconsin.

And since anyone who knows me well understands my love of tomato haiku, you've gotta know I'm amped about it.

(via bookslut)

Aiming to create a personal collection of culinary recipes extolling the "rejuvinating effects of certain condiments and certain dishes," Author Pilaff Bey's 1953 volume, "Venus in the Kitchen," (which, incidentally, contains a blithe introduction by Graham Green) contains a wide variety of preparations for a list of head-spinning stomach-churning aphrodisiac ingredients.

The usual suspects are present, of course (Oysters in Champagne, Wine Sauce for Game), as well as a host of recipes that sound nearly inedible (Marinated Sow's Vulvae, Filet of Skink). Curiously, although there's plenty of alcohol here, there's not a pip of chocolate, a substance reputed to have actual chemical stimulants that mimic feelings of love.

If you happen across a nest of fledgling pigeons and several male sparrows willing to part with their brains, you can try your hand at this romance-filled recipe. I'll stick with the far more pedestrian Oyster Cocktail, thanks.

Sparrows' Brains
Sparrows have always been praised as stimulants. Aristotle has written: "Propter nimium coitum, vix tertium annum elabuntur." Recommended also by the school of Salerno.

Whoever wants to test this should take several brains of male sparrows an half the quantity of the brains of pigeons which have not yet begun to fly. take a turnip and a carrot and boil them in chick-pea broth. Cut in little slices the turnip and crrot and put them in a deep pan with half a glass of goat's milk, and boil them till the milk is almost absorbed. Now put in the brains and sprinkle them with powdered clover seeds. Take off from the fire as soon as they come to the boil, and serve hot."

Mmmm... delicious, savory vampire bane.

There it was, towering among a pile of whitewashed braids and heads of garlic at the sampling table at work. An industrial-sized bin. Five pounds of peeled garlic. Everyone else was, understandably, intimidated. They took a head or two. They grabbed a braid for their kitchens. Awash in greed and drunk on self-confidence, I snatched the bin and sped back to my desk to adore my precious bounty.

What does one do with five pounds of peeled garlic? Garlic heads keep longer. Garlic braids can be dried and hung as decoration. Preserved garlic will sit in your fridge for months. For someone who's been trained rigorously in the art of kitchen economy, five pounds of peeled garlic looms like a ticking bomb.

I had to meet a friend for a burger & beer dinner at her favorite dive bar, so the jug came along for the ride. Seeing it propped up on the bar, I finally fully realized the burden of bounty.

Five pounds of garlic.

Nobody at the bar would take any of it off my hands (chickens) and I realized that casual use would ony send me through slightly less than a head's worth every week. Upgrading my intake wasn't going to help my social life. My five-pound friend was threatening to ge before April, so I knew drastic measures were required.

I scrolled through my mental list of garlic-heavy recipes... 40-Clove Garlic Chicken might seem like a lot of garlic when you're doing the peeling prep work, but 40 cloves only actually amounts to about a half-pound.

That'd be 10 batches of 40-Clove Garlic Chicken and probable death threats from my roomie. Not acceptable. There's always garlic jelly and pickling, truly time-honored preservation methods, but I had my mind set on something fast and simple. Something I could do on a Saturday whilst painting the kitchen.

The shining answer to my windfall woes? A roasted garlic spread, of course!

Generously bathed in a blend of olive and canola oils, 2.5 pounds' worth of silky white cloves turned gloriously golden in my 375F oven. I pureed 'em with a bit of salt and pepper and packed the fragrantly sweet results in a quart container.

Ready to freeze, slather on flatbread or blend into recipes, this one delicious recipe got me half-way through the jug and bought me some serious fridge space.

(I'll let you know in Part II of this post what happens to the other 2.5 lbs.)

George Saunders is amazing. He's one of my favorite fiction writers, and if you haven't read his story in the current issue of Harper's, you really should run right out to your favorite bookstore and snatch up an issue this instant.

Meanwhile, here's his recipe for a morally upright brunch, from a NY Times Magazine article this weekend. Terrific fare for puritans, models and protesters.

Light-as-Air Brunch
Air, approximately 6 cubic feet
1 pound highest-grade sirloin
3 eggs
4 perfect lobsters
Whipping cream, basil and the most expensive mushrooms obtainable anywhere in the world.

1. Mix, in a mixing bowl, the air. Set aside to cool.

2. Take the sirloin, the eggs, the perfect lobsters and the incredibly expensive mushrooms and return them to the store.

3. Come home.

4. Remember that you also should have returned the stupid basil and the idiotic whipping cream.

5. Bag up basil and whipping cream, go back to the store exasperated, return basil and whipping cream, stomp out of store.

6. Come home, pretend to be eating the air in the bowl, look at imaginary person to your right, slowly shaking head as if to say, Wow, was that good. Serves 1 to 20.

Important: If you experience actual pleasure during any of the above steps, you are doing it wrong. Smack yourself in the head with tenderizing mallet until headache develops, then repeat Steps 1 through 6, watching carefully for signs of enjoyment. A desirable variation involves skulking around the neighborhood to see if anyone is enjoying a lush, decadent meal. If so, lecture on benefits of self-denial and sinful nature of self-gratification until he or she loses appetite or chases you away. Sneak back later, firebomb his or her grill.

A quiet moment with Papa.

For every trying moment in which the city is cruel and mean, there's another full of bliss and whimsy that makes my heart thump with true love.

Sometimes, on a chilly March morning, all it takes is a perfectly crisp and airy creampuff, a hot cup of coffee and a shop populated with cheery Japanese girls in sunny yellow neckerchiefs.

Neighbors making you crabby? Problems with your boss? Just sick of the world in general?

Maybe it's time to hole up in an undisclosed location and make your own rations.

Not sure where to begin? Fear not, neophyte. War reenactors and historical anachronists have maintained the ancient art of assembling flavorless food.

Thanks to the wild, wild web, you can pay a quick visit to the World War Two Ration Technologies K Ration Page and the Fort Ward Museum Hardtack Tutorial to learn you a few tasty nuggets of information designed to steer you from ration-building failure and public humiliation.

You'd do well to heed the words of the 14th Tennessee:

"There is not much worse for a reenactor who has gone the extra step to correctly package his food, then to hear the awful crinkling of a cellophane goober bag. If you don't want your head bit off, or to be known as a Farb, then package your food correctly."

In Gothamist this morning, we find this blurb about a Girl Scout's dad busted in Williamsburg... which is simply pathetic. First, they impounded the bikes, and now they're harassing youth groups. I predict that random beatings of the elderly will follow shortly.

My own ambitious career as as a Girl Scout was cut short a few short weeks after I graduated from "Brownie" status, when Jackie, our troop leader, had a nervous breakdown, screaming and crying on her apartment floor one evening. The six perplexed second-graders of troop 142 cowered outside her door.

Too many Wednesday nights spent demonstrating proper fire construction with pretzels, marshmallows and candy corn, perhaps? One too many felt and popsicle-stick crafts? We never knew, but the experience left me with a lingering desire to hoard merit-based badges and a seasonal craving for Thin Mint cookies nibbled straight out of the freezer.

This site had the nerve to steal half their content (top navigation, product photos, descriptive copy) straight off the FreshDirect.com site (and I hope they go to whatever level of hell is reserved for those who plagiarize)... but you'd think they could come up with a better way to sell kechup...

PackaBarrel: Ketchup

Bookslut, my fav lit blog, has just launched their online food mag, Saucy, which makes me happy. I have high hopes that the folks who hook me up with great lit week after week will serve some quality food tips.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Self, what's all this about? Books... food... both lovely, but where's the connection?"

Books and food are consumables... and it's all about indulgence, hedonism and the quest for divinity, my friend. While books and food are simply sustenance at their most basic level, at their pinnacle, they're revelatory.

Observance and gratitude for an enthralling novel and a perfect peach serve to elevate us, transport us, and punctuate our daily routines with a measure of hope.

After all, you can't really believe that your life is purposeless and your existence based on nothing when you have something wonderful to eat in one paw and an enthralling story in the other.

You may remember that few posts ago, as a part of a Peeps discussion, I encouraged you to go ahead and try your hand at making your own marshmallows.

Thanks to our good friends at Williams-Sonoma, you can pay $22 (plus shipping and handling) for the pleasure of making your own little nest of Peeps knock-offs (which retail for about 41¢ per 6-pack at my neighborhood supermarket).

Simply brilliant... It's all about the marketing and packaging, people. While you're there, check out their line of disturbingly dapper chocolate bunnies, dressed in woven backpacks and delicately flowing chocolate neckerchiefs.

Work got busy and I had to skip the food TV discussion at the Museum of Television and Radio on Tuesday... and as it turns out, what I assumed would be an informative — albeit uneventful — panel discussion on the evolution of food media spiraled into a knock-down drag-out brawl (verbally, at least) between Vogue food critic Jeffrey Steingarten and the Food Network's Alton Brown, Mario Batali, Giada De Laurentiis and Senior VP Bob Tuschman.

Boy howdy! Am I ever sorry I missed that! Luckily, bloggers Dan and Katie relay the play-by-play... with a decidedly anti-Steingarten tack.

(via Gothamist)

Two guys. One RV. Twelve seriously cool travel guides.

I met vagabond "Monk" Jim Crotty through craigslist.com when he put out a call for high school debate judges. I'd made the understandable mistake of confusing him for a debate coach/teacher when, in fact, he's a traveler, new media designer and modern-day pamphleteer. (Read the whole collaborative history on their website and mourn your own sadly immobile lifestyle.)

A personal favorite of his many creations with fellow Monk Michael Lane are the witty, spot-on Monk List travel guides, which are available online, free of charge for all who wish to peruse them. I'd go all effusive on you, but The Monks are pretty effective at doing that for themselves:

"The Monk List represents an egalitarian zeitgeist that stretches far beyond any remotely similar destination guide. We are not servicing a demographic or an income bracket, but, rather, a psychographic, a sensibility. The Monk traveler is well-rounded, culturally courageous, with a keen eye for the esoteric as well as the perennial.

"The Monk List isn't for lightweights. It's for true travelers, not tourists. Which means, unlike the conventional 'Best Of's' offered by newspapers, weeklies and magazines, The Monk List doesn't deliver cheery consumerist drivel designed to get you to impulsively spend money. The Monk List is about community, culture, and consciousness, not crass commercialism. It's about the full gamut of travel — from dark passages to enlightened oases, roadside Americana to toxic tourism, the bizarre to the stunningly beautiful."

Monk Lists. Don't leave the RV without 'em.