"Words to the Wise No. VII. Offering up an earnest plea for recentness in all eggs to be used in cocktails or drinks of any kind, for that matter. A stale or storage egg in a decent mixed drink is like a stale or storage joke in critical and intelligent company. Eschew them rabidly. If really fresh eggs can't be had, mix other type drinks, for the result will reflect no merit round the hearth, no matter how hospitable it may be."

Charles H. Baker, Jr. (from the 1939 volume: The Gentlemen's Companion: Around the World with Jigger, Beaker and Flask"

More supremely fresh food quotes here.

Labels: advice, eggs, food quotes, Friday, writers

"their view of the parade" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"man and ox" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"bigne con crema di funghi" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.

Drawing near the end of Miss Molly's cooking adventures at the highly improbable —but ever-so-upscale—Montali (a vegetarian restaurant and inn in Umbria, Italy), we watch our young heroine dine on Tuscan traditions, discover that co-worker Sara is a closet drunk and ponder the takeaways from this summer of sweat and searing stoves.

Ciao regazzi,

I know it's been a few weeks since I wrote last. I can't remember too well where left off. I’ll start by saying we are in a really, really busy week. Not only is the hotel full, but we have reservations from outsiders every night as well.

And to top it off, we have five to six people with special diets, like one is strictly kosher, meaning we had to buy separate plates, pots and pans and knives and utensils etc. Which isn't so bad, but we also have one who can't eat onions, and one who is allergic to eggs and alcohol. It gets confusing as we have to make four separate dishes that are the same but with restrictions.

It’s time-consuming and we only have five burners on the stove. So far, so good, though. We just have to repeat to our chef and to ourselves exactly what we are making over and over and over again.

I just repeat my usual mantra of "This will make me a better cook. This will make me a better cook." I’ve said that to myself for so long now, I can see an improvement in stressful situations.

Last Sunday, there were only two people on the book, so the chef gave everyone a half day. We split the day into shifts, and Eva, Josh and I took the morning. We went to Citta' della Pieve, and they were having some celebration of some medieval thing and were doing so by having a parade. After that, we drove to Toscana and had a "traditional Tuscan meal".

It was a nice day and even nicer to hang with my coworkers on a social level. Thank god we got the morning shift, because if I had to spend the day with Sara, I would have died.

I know, I know... I liked her a lot at first, but everything went downhill when I heard her straight-out lie to the chef to cover her ass. If there is anything I can't stand, it's someone who lies.

That was a while ago when we realized Sara drinks a little too much. She went out one night, drank way too much, told the chef she only had one beer and didn't know why she felt so bad and she got sent home. And then she broke a glass, didn't sweep, and blamed it on Judit the next day when chef lectured us about leaving shards of glass on the marble countertop. Plus, she gets wasted drunk at work. But I digress.

Eva, Josh and I had a really nice time and I’m glad I got to hang out with them. I’m really going to miss Montali when I leave. It’s hard work, but I like working for the chef and think she and Alberto have done a really cool thing. I’m glad I took this opportunity and really, really hope to do something like this again in the future.

I’m trying to figure out what exactly it is that I am taking away with me, but haven't come near a conclusion. I suspect that will happen in retrospect.

I also feel like when I return to New York, I will be starting all over again there, too. At first that scared the hell out of me, but now I am looking quite forward to it. Some people will be there, some won't. And like everything else in my life, the only constant is me and my family.

Ciao for now,
Molly

Labels: Italy, kitchen stories, Miss Molly, travel

And now, from the partially-obstructed-view cheap seats, your faithful food correspondent, Miss Ginsu, launches a paper airplane dispatch on the trends in taste.

For your munching pleasure, a quick survey of the latest culinary currents:

• "Organic" is like, totally over.
Now that Walmart owns Organic, that label is sooo last decade. Rumor has it that ubiquitous Stonyfield Farm has been shorting its longstanding clients on Organic yogurt in order to better supply the low-price leviathan. What's hot? Local, artisanal foods. Real food made by real people who really care. Every savvy grocery exec on the block is reading "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and taking notes. Expect to see the grubby, mud-caked mugs of (regionally appropriate) farmers and ranchers in a food retailer near you.

• Snacks cooked in kettles.
Ain't no party like a kettle-cooked party... not only are we seeing an upsurge in crunchy sweet-and-salty treats from the food indies (via Kettle Foods, Hain (under its Terra brand), and the previously mentioned "ike & sam's" line, for example), but industry heavies such as Frito-Lay are also burnishing their kettles.

• Coconut water.
Yup. Coconut water is one more in that long lineage of niche foods that see consumer consumption gains once the marketing hacks start to sing the good health song. (Think: soymilk, pomegranate juice or the Amazon acai juice currently making rounds through metro juice bars.) When I worked in kitchen prep, coconut water was considered useless runoff. Health drink? Hell... we just drank it. Now the folks on the kitchen prep crews will have to fork over every precious drop of this electrolyte-rich liquid to the health-conscious public.

• Awareness of varietals and, yes... geographic origins.
When my corner bodega starts shilling Tropicana 100% Valencia Orange Juice, it's time to take a hard look at consumer awareness of produce varietals. It ain't just for food nerds anymore. I'm betting we're going to start seeing many, many more products in the standard grocery arena that would once have been considered high-end specialties. Sumatran iced coffee. Ginger Gold apple juice. American Artisanal Cheeses.

Labels: local, organic, trends

History-rich image courtesy of the NYPL online collection

Call it a tour of technique. Herein, three cookbooks... three authors... three ways to describe the mystical, mezmerizing mastery of controlled kitchen flames.

Flambéing ("French Farmhouse Cookbook" by Susan Hermann Loomis)

When flambéing—that is, sprinkling a dish with brandy or other alcohol, then igniting it with a match to burn the alcohol off—follow these safety precautions:

• Tie back your hair
• Work off the heat and away from obstructions
• Stand back from the pan and avert your face
• Use a long kitchen match

How to Flambé ("Everybody Eats Well in Belgium Cookbook" by Ruth Van Waerebeek)

1. Heat the alcohol in a small saucepan over high heat.
2. When it is hot, remove the pan from the burner, and standing back, carefully ignite it with a long kitchen match.
3. Pour the flaming alcohol slowly over the dish that is being flambéed.

Safety Tips
• Make sure the hood fan on your range is turned off.
• Make sure there is nothing close by that can catch fire, including overhead shelves and paper products. Also make sure your clothing doesn't interfere or get in the way of the flames.
• Keep a large lid at the ready to cover the flames if they should get out of hand.
• Use good-quality alcohol and pour it from the bottle at the last minute so it does not evaporate.

Flambeing ("The New Basics" by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins)

Flaming a dish with brandy or liqueur must be done very carefully. Use long kitchen matches (they work best), be sure not to lean over the dish while you're igniting it, and always remove it from the heat source first.

In order to flame, the brandy must be warmed first. Warm it in a small, heavy saucepan, remove it from the heat, then ignite it and pour it over the prepared dish, which is also off the heat. Or skim the accumulated fat from the cooking liquid, add the brandy to the skillet, allow it to warm, then remove it from the heat, and ignite. The flame will die out quickly.

Labels: advice, cookbooks, writers

An ad for Weman's Cook Book

I really wish I could share a recipe from this cookbook. After all, Mr. Weman claims to produce "noteworthy features entirely distinct from any heretofore published." Tantalizing!

Unfortunately, what I have in my hands here is not a cookbook. Rather, it's a crumbling ad scanned from the back of a decaying book of Irish song lyrics found in my grandmother's estate (seems as though they weren't big on acid-free pages back in the day...). A Google search turns up nothing on the book or on Mr. Weman himself.

I find I'm fascinated by antique advertisements (and recipes) because they hold so much information about the psychology of the era to which they belonged. I feel as though I'm able to capture through them some inkling of the desires and values of certain groups... in this case, early American homemakers.

I love the way the woman in the image hangs in the background, watching the man. Meanwhile, he seems to have a confident mastery of his tasks. Though she was probably trained through a lifetime of household toil, she's merely an apprentice to the genius of this clever gentleman (whom my mind imagines as the talented Mr. Weman).

I've transcribed the text below. I love the random capitalization and the fact that you can purchase the book with stamps "same as cash." See if you, too, don't get a sense of the vastly different world our forefathers (or, more probably foremothers) inhabited as you read along:

This work on Cookery has several noteworthy features entirely distinct from any heretofore published. It is arranged so that the Housewife can tell at a glance the time necessary to Cook any Dish or Article of Diet. It also gives some practical hints and suggestions for selecting the various meats, vegetables, fish, etc., as well as directions for Preserving, Storing, and Keeping them. Special attention is paid to economy, and an effort is made to remove the reproach which justly clings to American Cookery, of being extravagant and wasteful without being palatable and healthful. Full instructions are given to prepare all kinds of Pies Puddings, Cakes, Jellies, etc., as well as preparing and cooking all kinds of Meats, Soups, Gravies, Fish, Vegetables, etc. in an economical and appetizing manner. It also contains considerable miscellaneous information pertaining to the household, such as Removing Kitchen Odors, Grease Spots, Iron Stains, Ink Spots in Books, Cleaning, Scouring, Receipts for Washing, etc. and a variety of others equally useful and necessary to the Housekeeper or Cook. These features make this work the best, most practical and Popular Cook Book ever issued. This book will be sent to any address, postpaid, on receipt of 25 cents. Special.—Five Books for One Dollar. U.S. Postage Stamps taken in payment same as cash.

More cookbook oddities found here in the archives...

Labels: cookbooks, history

Dear Moleskine Product Developers,

I enjoy your product very much and appreciate the fine stitching, the classic design, the practical pocket (nice touch!) and the acid-free pages. I carry one of your 5.5 x 3.5 models in all my travels.

I wonder whether you'd consider incorporating more resistance to liquids in future models of your product. In particular, I'd like to see additional resiliency in the face of deluges of say, mango-flavored Ronnybrook drinkable yogurt.

Thank you very much for your time and attention,

Very sincerely,
Miss Ginsu

Labels: nonsense

"What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate instead."

- George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

Labels: chocolate, food quotes, Friday, writers

Salad today, soup tomorrow.

During the peak season for any particular piece of produce, it's common to find that its flavor friends are also hitting a high.

Asparagus, ramps and morels in the springtime. Tomatoes, basil and cucumbers in the summer. Apples, sage and butternut squash in the autumn. Rutabaga and... well, rutabaga might be the lonely exception.

When I found a recipe for "Tomato & Watermelon Salad" from Bill Smith's delicious volume, Seasoned in the South, I was initially a bit put off. Tomatoes and watermelons? Really? Yes, really. Really good, actually.

As it turns out, tomatoes and watermelon — both in full flush at the markets right now — are also natural meal companions.

Tomato & Watermelon Salad (Serves 4-6)

5 cups ripe, bite-sized watermelon chunks, seeded as best you can, but don't go crazy
1 1/2 pounds very ripe tomatoes, finely chunked
3 teaspoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 small red onion, peeled, quartered, and thinly sliced
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup good, strong-flavored extra-virgin olive oil

Toss the melon and tomatoes with the sugar and the salt. Let sit for 15 minutes. Then fold in the onions, vinegar, and oil. Serve very cold. This salad is amazingly refreshing.

And he's right. It's fast, it's easy, it's slightly unusual and, to quote Cosmo Kramer, it's "very refreshing!"

Best of all, I found you can very easily serve up any leftovers the next day pureéed as a gazpacho.

For every four cups of leftover salad, just add a finely minced chile pepper (or less, depending on your heat tolerance) and a teaspoon or two of ground cumin. Pureé, then adjust the flavor to taste with some salt and lime juice. Stir in a small cucumber (chopped into 1/2-inch chunks) and serve with a garnish of cilantro or mint.

Labels: cookbooks, fruit, recipes, weird

"stretching the strudel dough" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"inside of my zucchini strudel" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"me and my zucchini strudel" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.

In this edition of Miss Molly's cooking adventures at Montali, a vegetarian restaurant and inn in Umbria, we find Molly making strudel, upsetting the new guy and finding messages from God in the library.

Missed the last few? You can find Molly's past postcards here and here and here and here and here and oh yes... the first one is here.

Ciao!

I only have 6 more days off, which means I only have six weeks left here!
Hurray for me! My first month here, I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to stick it out this far, but I have! A personal triumph in the life of Miss Molly Rebecca Louise Del Monte I.

Life is good. I'm a third of the way into my 6th book this summer, i've seen Seasons 1-4 of the Golden Girls twice, and I can confidently say i've kicked my addiction to the internet.

I had this cool idea to do a slideshow on making a strudel, but flickr.com puts pictures in any order it wants. So if you want to see a tired Molly with black circles under her eyes, you can check them out.

Here's the newest members of the cast:

Sondra: she is from Ecuador originally, but now lives in Perugia while she is not residing at Montali. She is really really great and I'm excited that I can speak Spanish with her, though my Spanish and Italian are starting to get mixed up. But I like to stay in practice. She works really, really hard and does a really good job. By the way, she cleans rooms and does dishes and helps clean the kitchen. In my imagination, she will be part of my restaurant dream team, along with Tan Tan and Chi Chi and How How (to be diplomatic where I cannot!).

Judit: she is this tiny girl from Hungary who also now lives in Perugia. She helps clean rooms, does miscellanous work, and serves on Jaro's nights off. She speaks okay English, fluent Italian, has a lisp and shakes like a leaf whenever anyone speaks to her. I resist the urge to cradle her in my arms and tell her it's going to be okay because she is the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

And last but certainly not least is: Janko. He is the third and final Slovakian who has worked at Montali for the past five years. He just arrived from London where he was working in a high-volume restaurant where the majority of the food was heat and serve. He hated it, so after six months he called up Alberto and asked if he could come back for the season. While i find it difficult to talk with him (because of accents, important voice inflictions etc.) he is a really great cook and I'm glad he's there because experience-wise it puts me in the middle, and that is where i want to be in any restaurant. That way, I can always have someone to learn from (chef excluded, of course).

Anyway, I told him last night that I was really glad he was there because he works really fast and good and does everything everything everything without being asked or complaining about it and that I appreciated it. Janko is the serious cook I aspire to be. Back to my point though, I told him that and either he thought I was being sarcastic or something got lost in translation. I tried to explain myself but it was one of those times that the more you explained, the worse it got. So I just shut up.

While I was searching the Montali library for a book to read, I came across a 2004 Lonely Planet guide for New York City. I flipped it open to a page with a picture of Greenwich Village! It was my neighborhood! My heart soared! I found a map in the book and I showed everyone where I lived. It was probably silly to them, but I was so excited to see it. Like God's way of telling me I'm almost there! I stayed up most of the night reading the guide's pages to the culture, history, fashion and dining etiqutte of New Yorkers. So I guess technically I'm a third of the way through my SEVENTH book. God I love that town!

Not too much exciting news in this update, nor have I had any epiphonies since the last time, but there you go.

Ciao regazzi belli!
Molly

Labels: Italy, kitchen stories, Miss Molly

Hot, crispy arepas


A batida that's built for two

There are only a handful places that I feel meet the test of "consistently delicious bang for the buck," and that's kind of a shame.

I know it's tough to run a restaurant day in, day out, while maintaining high quality, infusing the food with love, and making everyone feel welcome and valued (not to mention trying to turn a buck in the process), but as a diner, that's what I'm seeking. I have high standards, namely: I want them to care about the food, and I want to feel as though the food is as delicious as (or, gosh, maybe even better than) what I could make at home.

I hope I'm not jinxing my good luck as I type this, but Caracas has always delivered the goods. On nearly every occasion I've had opportunity to visit their cozy East Village shop, there's always been a line of the hungry salivating just outside the door. After getting through the skinny door and squeezing behind a tiny table, I've always found the breathless staff to be friendly folks with agile bodies that maneuver with masterful elasticity between tight bag-filled corridors and stabbing table edges.

The arepas — crisp corn cakes opened like steaming round envelopes and stuffed with all manner of tasty fillings — are fresh, hot, and made to order, as they should be. The salads are crisp and inviting. There's food for my vegetarian friends and food for my meat freaks. The batidas (light shakes) are thick, cool and creamy. The lunch specials include fresh juice and your choice of arepas with a side of either soup or salad, all for slightly less than a ten-spot. (Why, oh why do I work in Queens when such delights beckon in the East Village?)

Leaving Caracas, I slide out the door (seeing the patiently hungry on the outdoor bench eye my newly emptied table) and stretch out in the sunshine on the nearby corner at 7th Street and 2nd Avenue feeling satisfied. Full, but not gluttonously so. Satiated and ready to take on the afternoon.

And now, Caracas is doubly delightful. With expansion in a storefront just two buildings away from the original nest, there's extra seating and reduced waiting in the new spot and a to-go counter in the old (though it seems you can still grab a table and eat there for lunch).

Best of all — despite nail-biting nervousness over potential growing pains in one of my favorite spots — success appears not to have spoiled the magic. Ah do believe there's still a great deal of love in them there arepas.



Caracas Arepa Bar
91 East 7th Street
East Village, NYC
212.228.5062

Miss G says: due to a page error, I'm republishing this post.

Labels: nyc, recommended, restaurants, reviews, snacks

"crudite, again" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"sheep we see every day on the way to work" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.


"croquante" From thisismolly photostream at flickr.

In our last postcard from Miss Molly (a young American cook working at a vegetarian restaurant and inn in Umbria), we vicariously experienced the World Cup win and a bit of homesickness for the food of good old NYC.

This latest post finds Miss Molly rejoicing at the loss of her nasty roommate, getting some praise from the chef and taunting us with promises of "the best lasagna you will ever eat in your life, period."

Okay, so the British monster got fired, and excuse my language, but I have no other words in my vocabulary that will do her justice. She was such a bitch, and I'm so glad she is gone.

She was there for five days... not even a full work week. Never in my life have I ever seen anyone more arrogant. She and Josh were fighting when it happened. (Not that Josh is some kind of saint or anything. I've minced words with him on more than one occasion.) I heard them fighting in the back room, went and got the boss, and he was more than fair with her and she just kept barking at him.

It was actually pretty funny. You see, Josh is the kind of guy who says really stupid remarks under his breath. Anyway, I've no doubt that whatever il mostro was yelling at Josh about, it was not undeserved.

I slept every siesta this week. I was tiiiiiired. On Tuesday, it was just Sara and I, and Sara is great. She's totally eager to learn and usually does things right. I like her a lot but she is still really slow, and doesn't know a lot about cooking and basic maneuvering in the kitchen.

We ended up having 21 people for dinner, which I know doesn't sound like much, but when it's at Montali Country House and when it's just you and someone with hardly any cooking experience, you really get pushed to the limits. And I did. 8 a.m. until midnight, with less than a 2-hour break. And it was just Sara and I for the first half of the day, and I had to make lunch for customers, and I did it, and I hauled ass and it felt really good, like I'm finally getting into the rush again when you just do everything good and you do it without thinking and the pressure is on but you don't freak out because you can handle it and everything you do you hope your chef sees because you know you are doing it the way she wants...

She shook my hand again this week and pulled me aside for a little inspirational talk. I finally feel like we are on a team, the chef and I. The talk was something I've been waiting to hear my whole life, and I always thought that when my employer pulled me aside to give me that talk that my heart would fill with glee, and that's not how I felt. Maybe this was just the outskirts of the talk I've been waiting for. Yeah, actually I think it was. Nonetheless, it still felt really good to hear. That is, until Josh walked up. At that point, just I pointed out how pregnant the cat looked.

The food is starting to appeal to me again. I think it's due to the fact that I'm putting more of my heart into what I am doing. I wasn't too into this ultra-refined stuff when I first got here, but then I started thinking about Thomas Keller and how his food must be or Daniel or Jean Georges and how they got started and the attention that they all at one time or another put into their food. Not that I want to ever
open a four-star restaurant, because I don't think that's my style, but I do think it's important to aspire to be the best you can be and if that means working 84+ hours a week doing painstakingly detailed work then so be it.

The British monster left behind a book on Umbria. I was happy to know we are now in the hottest and driest part of the year. Thank god because it is sure hot and dry! The rolling hills are covered with sunflowers and it's beautiful to see. This week they looked a little wilted, so by next week, I'm sure they will be almost dead.

I've been thinking of a few recipes I can email back... Most of, well all the stuff we make here is either not for the home cook due to technicality or the use of specific tools or the lack of my ability to sit here and write out the procedure.

Our tomato sauce is really good and simple, but I am going to assume that most of you do not own a food mill. Or this red pepper side dish thing we make that is insanely retarded (that's slang for really, really good). I just can't write it all out.

Maybe if I get some special requests, I'll take and hour or so of my free time on my one day off a week and write the recipe for "the best lasagna you will ever eat in your life, period and it ain't no casserole, neither," but I doubt most of you are going to take the time to roll your own fresh pasta or seed 60 cherry tomatoes (or as they say in Italy: cherries tomahto). Just kidding, you don't have to seed cherry tomatoes. I just threw that in for good measure. You could also just buy fresh pasta. Or maybe I'm just totally underestimating you, my dear fans.

Forgive me.

Okay, until next time...
Ciao, amoribelli!

Labels: Italy, kitchen stories, Miss Molly

"Labor-intensive handmade food is under siege in contemporary culture, but it’s still thriving in Brooklyn, and the infusion of hipsters has reinvigorated it. They recognize the value in old style, third-generation bakers and sausage makers because they’re searching for things that are real. In part thanks to them, Brooklyn’s still full of honest food."

-Ed Levine, quoted in Edible Brooklyn

Labels: food quotes, Friday, nyc, writers

The beautiful, enviable, luscious Mangoes & Curry Leaves

Oh, to have a deck... Or a patio... Or an accessible fire escape.

Gasping apartment-dwellers (myself included) tend to pine particularly pathetically during heat waves such as this.

That's why, as I paged through stacks of cookbooks in search of Thanksgiving recipes today (yes, even in the midst of triple-digit days, we industry types are already planning for the big bird), I was especially smitten with the cool, restorative look of Tamarind-Mint Tea in the latest Jeffrey Alford/Naomi Duguid foodpornfest, Mangoes & Curry Leaves. (And if I could find a big green mango in my pierogi-lovin' nabe, I'd be all over the Green Mango Cooler sitting next to it.)

Mmmm... astringent, tangy, spicy and sour. To my mind, that's a quickening combination that beats the pants off a cloying cherry-red slushy any day of the week.

For your sipping pleasure:

Tamarind-Mint Tea from Mangoes & Curry Leaves
Makes about 8 cups; Serves 4 to 8

2 cups loosely packed mint leaves
1/4 cup tamarind pulp, coarsely chopped
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon honey or sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 cups boiling water

Wash out a 1-gallon glass jar with hot water to heat it, then place all the ingredients in the jar. Use a long spoon to break up the tamarind and help it blend with the water. Stir well and let it sit for at least 1 hour.

Mix the tea again well, then strain it through a sieve or strainer. Serve hot or cold, as you like.

This can also be made as sun tea, starting with cold water. Simply mix all the ingredients in the gallon glass jar and then put the jar into the sun for a few hours to brew. Easy and fun. Serve over ice.

Labels: beverages, cookbooks, recipes