February 07, 2006

Fish Tacos

Wouldn't you know...the one thing I can't find in Chicago is the one thing that this pregnant lady wants...Fish Tacos! Not nasty ol' grill fish but true honest to god Baja Fish Tacos. You know the kind you can find on any street corner Tacqueria in SF. Deep fried yum, drizzled with a lime crema sauce, crunchy cabbage and radish slices, perfectly packaged in a corn tortilla. I made poor cook boy drive me around to damn near 10 places in search of...no luck. In fact, when I asked they looked at me like I was some nutty pregnant lady, which of course I am! But still...it's not like I don't know they exists.

Finally, with no where else to turn, I turn to Chowhound.com -- and come to learn, there is ONE...ONE place in all of Chicago that serves them and it's not even in Chicago but rather on the boarder between Chicago and Gary Indiana - hello! I did apprecaite everyone trying to help me though..except the wacko who told me that fish was bad during pregnancy. Whatever..I have a dr. thanks.

So in desperation and refusing to admit defeat...I made my own okay...Cookboy made them...but I did allow something to be deep fried in my house which as most people know...pregnant women smell everything 30X greater. Anyhow, the results were awesome! They were delish and I was happy again.

Lime Crema Sauce: make ahead and let marinate
1 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup milk
4 tablespoons lemon juice
zest of lime - to taste
handful of cilantro leaves

Fish Tacos:
Oil
1package Tempura Batter Mix (or make your own but um..we were lazy)
1 can beer --something lightish we used a moosehead
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
24 ounces boneless cod, cut into 2-inch pieces
6 corn tortillas
2 cups shredded cabbage
sliced thin raddishes
2 limes


For the sauce:

Mix all ingredients together and set aside.
Preheat a fryer or a deep pot halfway filled with oil to 375 degrees F.

Fish:
Mix the batter, but only use 1/2 the required amount of water and use beer for the remaining amount instead. Add the beer until the batter becomes almost like a heavy cream consistency.

Deep-fry for about 3 minutes, or until golden brown and cooked through.

Place fried cod pieces on warmed corn tortillas, add white sauce to fish, a little shredded cabbage and a squeeze of lime, to taste.


YUM YUM YUM

October 17, 2005

Greetings from Chicago

Hello from Chicago. True honest to god - city living Chicago. 23 blocks due West of the Sears Tower and steps from damn good pizza. Six months and no blogging. Tisk tisk... We are still unpacking boxes and the cookbooks are slowly finding their way back into our home - as are a stream of new food magazines arrive and the piles they seem to transform themselves into - waiting to be catalogued into some sort of future reference library. We spent the summer driving back and forth between Chicago and my family's lakeside cottage in Michigan. Relearning the practices of summer with no restaurant job - - water skiing, berry picking, sweet corn. It's hard to remember when we had a more perfect summer and harder still to think we'll have it again. When you are married to someone that works in the kitchen you come to learn that you relish the time between gigs - because it's when your life is the closest to other "normal" couples. We had dinner parties, and attended dinner parties - together! We went to weddings together! We watched movies together! We were simply together! Together was my favorite word this summer.

Now that the leaves are turning color and the weddings are over and the excuses to keep him home are growing weaker....I've lost him again... to a kitchen. Somehow it seems selfish to want him home with me when I know that he misses the lifestyle, the food, the secret handshake that a working kitchen offers but still I find myself sad as I realize again I'll be eating alone, watching tv alone and experiencing a new city alone. Poor me! Except he's so happy and excited to be back at work that well... I guess it's why I married him to begin with huh. So I find myself back at my keyboard and relishing the change of seasons.

I know it is fall not because the first of the leaves are turning color outside my window but because the house permeates with the smell of a roasting chicken. Thomas Keller's recipe from the Bouchon cookbook but of course :-). Roasting Chicken always makes me think of chilly Paris nights and that makes me smile. I added a little fresh sage to my chicken tonight but add whatever you want!

MY FAVORITE SIMPLE ROAST CHICKEN by Thomas Keller
SERVES 2-4

1 farm-raised chicken, about 2-3 pounds
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons minced thyme, optional
Unsalted butter
Dijon mustard
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Rinse the chicken, then dry it very well with paper towels, inside and out. The less it steams, the drier the heat, the better.


Salt and pepper the cavity, then truss the bird. Trussing is not difficult, and if you roast chicken often, it's a good technique to feel comfortable with. When you truss a bird, the wings and legs stay close to the body; the ends of the drumsticks cover the top of the breast and keep it from drying out. Trussing helps the chicken to cook evenly, and it makes for a more beautiful roasted bird.


Now salt the chicken -- I like to rain the salt over the bird so it has a nice uniform coating that will result in a crisp, salty, flavorful skin (about 1 tablespoon). When it's cooked, you should still be able to make out the salt baked onto the crisp skin. Season to taste with pepper.


Place the chicken in a saute pan or roasting pan and, when the oven is up to temperature, put the chicken in the oven. I leave it alone -- I don't baste it, I don't add butter; you can if you wish, but I feel this creates steam, which I don't want. Roast it until it's done, 50-60 minutes. Remove it from the oven and add the thyme, if using, to the pan. Baste the chicken with the juices and thyme and let it rest for 15 minutes on a cutting board.


Remove the twine. Separate the middle wing joint and eat that immediately. Remove the legs and thighs. I like to take off the backbone and eat one of the oysters, the two succulent morsels of meat embedded here, and give the other to the person I'm cooking with. But I take the chicken butt for myself. I could never understand why my brothers always fought over that triangular tip -- until one day I got the crispy, juicy fat myself. These are the cook's rewards. Cut the breast down the middle and serve it on the bone, with one wing joint still attached to each. The preparation is not meant to be super elegant. Slather the meat with fresh butter.


Here's to the change of leaves, the onset of red wine, and slow roasted meals and doing what you love.

April 19, 2005

A plethora of cookbooks

With our move to Chicago less than a month away, I am suddenly overwhelmed and find myself lost in packing boxes…or more just lost. How did I manage to do this when we moved to Paris while working full time? I suppose caffeine played a huge role and while I have relegated myself to one cup a day, I’m seriously screwed.

Half of the cookbook collection is packed up awaiting a trip to the post office to be shipped media mail, far cheaper than the professional moving company. So far the count is 300 books and growing …I’m afraid to do the math on the cost for fear that I will go into heart failure, as I certain it will resemble the GNP for a small nation. I knew when I married my husband that he came with a collection of cookbooks, fondly known in our house as – “food porn”. However, I’m not sure I ever really imagined having to move them. Oh sure we moved a few boxes to Paris with us and naturally he acquired more as he found a little antique cookbook vendor along the Rue de something; compliments of Chef LG for giving him the address! But now that I sit here, in my living room with boxes upon boxes surrounding me, I’m faced with the full realization that my husband is a cookbook junkie. I also now realize that when he asks me if I need the 17 black sweaters I have, all different and yet all very close to the same, I will simply smile and say “do you need all those cookbooks”.

In between packing and enjoying the spring weather, I still need to finish my personal statement for Loyola. This task eludes me and haunts me in the wee hours of the night. It seems to come to me in snippets while I shower or workout but as soon as I hit the keyboard the words hide from me and my thoughts turn to mush. While looking for inspiration the other day, and by inspiration I mean wandering aimlessly on the web, I found myself on one of my favorite food blogs run by KQED; Bay Area Bites it’s a great site overall and yet another reason to support public television. On this particular day there was an article on the “McDonaldization of Taste”, a subject near and dear to my heart as I do believe that fast food has forever altered and pocked our society on many levels….don’t get me wrong, I am a friend of the Double, double animal style at In-N-Out , but at some level I know that it is promoting our unhealthy eating habits and supporting the extinction of family dinners -- but it tastes so damn good! This article was spurned by a new book; How We Eat: Appetite, Culture, and Psychology of Food, by Leon Rappoport. I encourage you to check out the article, I guarantee it’ll generate some thought.

April 07, 2005

It was a Blockbuster night with Spanglish

The other night we rented Spanglish, a new movie out from Sony Pictures about a Chef and his family who hire a woman to be their housekeeper/nanny and she doesn’t speak English, la... la...la. What attracted us to the movie, besides Adam Sandler, who I just adore, was of course the fact that for an hour and a half we could be a voyeur into the life of a chef and his family.

Well….hmm… I guess we should have remembered that it’s a movie, not real life, because in real life, a guy running a kitchen in LA would totally know how to speak a bit of Spanish! The DVD jacket cover doesn’t really account for what the movie is about and admittedly I thought we were in for a cozy chic flick night. I don’t want to ruin the movie for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet so I all I will say is I don’t really know anyone in the food world that lives this life, it is just not very realistic. I point this out only because non hospitality folks seem to have such an altered perception of what life being married to someone who spends their profession in a restaurant, whether you be a cook, bartender or server, entails and movies like this simply add to that misconception.

When someone finds out that my husband cooks for a living, I get two questions or comments almost religiously; “Wow, you are SO lucky, it must be great being married to a chef, I bet you eat so well!” To this statement I usually respond, after many years of training from my husband, “oh yes, well he’s not really the chef, he’s a cook and yes, it has really great moments but, no, he doesn’t really cook at home, busman’s holiday and all that and you know they work really hard, long hours”. But by this time their eyes are glazed over and they are imaging a delusional image of my world which has me eating fourteen course meals nightly, with candle light, and rare fine wines decanting in my 2500 square foot kitchen. Oh how reality would shock them. Then as if they’ve just processed the words from four minutes before they hit me with the “oh my! you cook for him? That must be SO scary, I could never cook for a chef, it would be such pressure and geez, and I don’t know what I would make.” To which again I say “yes, well, by the end of the night, he really doesn’t care much about the gourmet, he’s just hungry and wants to eat something already made for him, besides his mom’s tuna casserole is his favorite comfort food, he is really very easy to please”. However, I say this all too late, as they have created this fantasy life we lead in their minds and no honesty will derail that and I figure, hell, if it makes them happy to think this fantasy, go for it.

Admittedly, the movie has a couple of good cooking scenes and again I do realize that cooks are sexy and while I’ve never thought of Adam Sandler as a sexy guy, put an All-Clad non-stick pan in a man’s hand and ask him to flip an egg without breaking the yolk and well…I’m turned on. So I guess the woman that tells me I am so lucky is right, when I want foreplay I merely ask my husband to make me an egg sandwich and the rest is history, for those other suckers, they have to go to Tiffany and bring home a little blue box.

Over all, it was an amusing, if not a bit disturbing flick. Probably more so for those of us attached to the industry in some manner – see it you’ll understand why. My favorite part was the extras section on the DVD where you get to watch Thomas Keller teach Adam Sandler how to make the perfect late night sandwich, they even provide the recipe! Notice the huge band-aid on Thomas K’s finger, very funny to see that even the Greats get a burn or cut once in a while. So hey, we paid $4.95 to watch it at home on our couch, with our own oil popped popcorn ladden in real butter and a fine bottle of Central Valley wine, and it’s all good fun -- just don't ask if you can come stay at our beach house in Malibu next summer, we don't have one.


April 06, 2005

James Beard nominations are out!

Today the James Beard Foundation released their choices for the 2004 awards.

Take a look.

http://www.jamesbeard.org/about/press/pr/MR4605B.pdf

April 02, 2005

Complete Foie article from the Trib

I tried to give you a link to the Trib article but it's down, so here goes it....

If you have already read the article scroll down to see my response.

LIVER AND LET LIVE

Charlie Trotter now says force-feeding ducks to create foie gras is a cruel, bird-brained idea. Rick Tramonto says he is a hypocrite.

By Mark Caro
Tribune entertainment reporter
Published March 29, 2005

Famed Chicago chef Charlie Trotter is no one's idea of an animal-rights activist. He has devised mouth-watering preparations featuring just about every creature deemed fit for human consumption, and his 2001 book "Charlie Trotter's Meat & Game" includes 15 recipes that use foie gras, the enlarged fatty liver of a duck or goose.

But Trotter had a change of heart about foie gras and has quit serving it at his eponymous North Side restaurant. The act has placed him at the center of a fiery fray that has animal-rights groups aligning with Republican lawmakers, foie gras bans being effected in California and, perhaps, Illinois and Chicago's top chefs engaging in an earth-scorching war of words.

At the debate's center is the welfare of the duck, which, like all animals that wind up in people's tummies, meets an untimely end. What's at issue is the period leading up to the slaughter: Foie gras, said to have its origins in Egypt 5,000 years ago, is created by force-feeding the birds with grain, thus causing their livers--and the rest of them--to grow dramatically.

Trotter said he became uncomfortable with serving the delicacy after visiting three foie gras farms (he refused to identify them) and concluding that the ducks were suffering as they were kept in small cages and fed grains through tubes inserted down their esophagi.

"I just said, `Enough is enough here. I can't really justify this,'" Trotter said. "What I have seen, it's just inappropriate. There are too many great things to eat out there that I don't believe that any animal would have to go through that for our benefit."

Trotter said he stopped including foie gras on his menus about three years ago but only is talking about the decision now. He appears to be alone among Chicago's top chefs in banning it on ethical grounds.

Rick Tramonto, chef of the four-star restaurant Tru, was dismissive of Trotter.

"It's a little hypocritical because animals are raised to be slaughtered and eaten every day," Tramonto said. "I think certain farms treat animals better than others. Either you eat animals or you don't eat animals."

"Rick Tramonto's not the smartest guy on the block," Trotter retorted. "Yeah, animals are raised to be slaughtered, but are they raised in a way where they need to suffer? He can't be that dumb, is he? It's like an idiot comment. `All animals are raised to be slaughtered.' Oh, OK. Maybe we ought to have Rick's liver for a little treat. It's certainly fat enough."

Upon being told Trotter's comments, Tramonto would say only, "Charlie's in my prayers."

Such a strong public stance by an influential chef like Trotter, nationally known for his PBS series "The Kitchen Sessions With Charlie Trotter," could cause further headaches for the relatively small foie gras industry, which has only a few North American producers, which almost exclusively use ducks.

The dish actually has been gaining in popularity of late. Jacques Bissonnette, export manager of the Palmex Inc., a farm in Quebec, said he currently sells three times more foie gras in Chicago than he did two years ago.

Although for years it was most frequently prepared in terrines or pates, foie gras now often stands--or kind of wobbles--as the star attraction, a small blob commonly seared and served with a sweet garnish. The texture is almost puddinglike, and the flavor is intense but not sharp. At restaurants it is usually offered as an appetizer; prices run in the $14-$20 range.

"You can't go to Whole Foods and buy a [fresh] lobe of foie gras," said former Trio chef Grant Achatz, currently preparing to open his new restaurant, Alinea. "It's just one of those items that really separates restaurants from the residential side."

Yet some restaurants and foie gras farms have been under siege. In the wake of an aggressive animal-rights campaign against the product--which included incidents of vandalism against Bay Area restaurants --California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger signed a bill last September banning the force-feeding of ducks and geese as well as the sale of foie gras when made from force-fed birds. The bill takes effect in 2012.

A similar bill has been proposed in New York, and last month in Illinois, state Sen. Kay Wojcik (R-Schaumburg) introduced the Force Fed Birds Act. Still in the reading stage, this bill initially prohibited the force-feeding of birds and the sale of any resultant product, though, to appease restaurateurs, it has been amended to allow foie gras' sale.

So what would be banned is its production, which doesn't happen in Illinois anyway.

"Because of the California law, we heard rumors that the people who do this are now looking for other states to manufacture the foie gras in, and we're saying, `You're not coming to Illinois,'" Wojcik said.

She added that she hasn't actually visited any farms to observe the ducks' treatment, but she has seen pictures.

"I do fine dining and I do pates, but we do the pate where the duck is killed naturally or the goose or whatever," she said. "It's not being brutalized. I just have compassion for animals."

Farm Sanctuary makes move

Wojcik initially was approached by representatives of Farm Sanctuary, which promoted the bill. Farm Sanctuary has been leading the national anti-foie-gras campaign.

Its Web site, nofoiegras.org, calls for the boycotting of restaurants that offer the product, and the group has singled out Los Angeles-based celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck for serving foie gras and veal, launching the site wolfgangpuckcruelty.org.

Farm Sanctuary head Gene Bauston said he thought Trotter's decision was "wonderful."

"For him to say he's not going to serve foie gras because of the cruelty involved is a significant statement, and it will affect other chefs and other culinary leaders in this country," Bauston said.

Farm Sanctuary members previously contacted Trotter urging him to sign a pledge that he would never serve foie gras.

"He refused," Bauston said.

"These people are idiots," Trotter said. "Understand my position: I have nothing to do with a group like that. I think they're pathetic. . . . I have nothing in common with that left-leaning kind of ideology."

Trotter isn't getting behind the Illinois bill either.

"I would never go so far as to say we should stop these people from doing it," he said.

Nevertheless, Guillermo Gonzalez, owner of Sonoma Foie Gras in California, argued that Trotter and those who follow him are just furthering the animal-rights cause.

"They may not realize that they are being instrumental in the ultimate agenda of the movement, which is to terminate the consumption of animals for food altogether," Gonzalez said.

"We who are in foie gras production are just a stepping stone of the global strategy of these groups, and I recognize that we are a soft target."

Bauston agreed that foie gras is an especially fat bull's-eye.

"The foie gras industry is not as powerful as these other agribusiness industries," he said.

Hudson Valley Foie Gras co-owner Michael Ginor, whose New York company produces about 4,000 foie gras ducks a week, accused Trotter of taking a stance based on calculation.

"Charlie first and foremost is a marketer, a really smart marketer," Ginor said. "If he feels that the wind is blowing in a certain direction, he will try to be the first to jump on that bandwagon."

Trotter said jumping on the bandwagon is exactly what he didn't do.

"If I were so eager to promote this like this, why wouldn't I have spoken up and made a big campaign out of it three years ago when I started not serving the product?" Trotter said. "But lately I have been getting more and more questions and more and more inquiries. After a while the cat's out of the bag."

The basic disagreement remains how much those ducks suffer--and whether that suffering is any worse than what, say, chickens experience en route to the grocery store.

Trotter said foie gras ducks spend two weeks running around as chicks before being "bloated up as quickly as possible."

"You're talking about chipped beaks and broken beaks," he said. "You're talking about broken webbed feet and birds that are panting because they're so overweight and kept in a 1-foot-by-2-foot wire penned boxes."

Executives at Hudson Valley Foie Gras, Sonoma Foie Gras and Palmex called Trotter's descriptions highly inaccurate. All three said their ducks run relatively free for 12 weeks before being moved to individual cages (Palmex) or group pens (Hudson Valley and Sonoma) for two to four weeks of feeding before slaughter.

"Your normal chicken is processed at about eight or nine weeks of age," Ginor said. "Ducks that you'll find in a Chinese restaurant are 10 or 11 weeks old. Foie ducks are 16 weeks old."

During the fattening period, a tube is inserted down the duck's hard esophagus, and a corn meal is released for a couple of seconds, two or three times a day. Foie gras producers note that ducks lack gag reflexes and that waterfowl are designed to digest large portions of food, such as whole fish.

Vogue magazine food writer Jeffrey Steingarten noted that humane societies have been "aiming for those foie gras farms for years" without collecting solid evidence of brutal or disease-ridden conditions.

"I think the way factory-raised pigs are raised is far, far worse," said Steingarten, the author of "The Man Who Ate Everything."

"The question is, Do we take care of foie gras even if we believe it's only borderline inhumane as compared to the treatment of pigs?"

Count Le Francais chef Roland Liccioni on the pro-foie gras side.

Matter of perspective

"People in this country, they don't know about the farm," he said. "I grew up in the southwest of France, and foie gras for me, there's nothing wrong with that. The bird does not suffer at all. The customer will be the ones to suffer" if foie gras is banned.

Tramonto said he draws the line when a food source appears to be dwindling, such as Chilean sea bass, swordfish and beluga caviar, but otherwise he tries to deal with responsible farms. Still . . .

"Look how much veal this country goes through with all the Italian restaurants and the scallopinis," Tramonto said. "Yes, there are certain farms that are going to treat those veal better than others, but still at the end of the day it's killing those babies, right?"

To Sarah Stegner, the former Ritz-Carlton Dining Room chef currently running the Prairie Grass Cafe in Northbrook, that slippery slope is a reason to appreciate Trotter's stance.

"It's a bigger issue than the foie gras," she said, referring to the way food animals are raised. "It's an issue the whole country needs to address and not just a little niche. People need to do what they can. Charlie Trotter is in a position where he's a leader in the food community, and he wants to be responsible, and those are things he sees as priorities, and good for him."

Tribune restaurant critic Phil Vettel contributed to this report.

Follow up to the Chicago Trib article

Did anyone see the interview of Charlie Trotter in the Chicago Trib this week? I’ve pulled a summary of the article from an editorial in the Trib today so you can follow in my forthcoming rant.

To review: Trotter said he stopped serving foie gras at his North Side restaurant because he wasn't happy with how ducks were fattened up in the final stages before slaughter, force-fed with grain. Tramonto of the restaurant Tru implied that Trotter's stance was hypocritical and noted, "Either you eat animals or you don't eat animals."
Trotter retorted that Tramonto was "not the smartest guy on the block," and joked, "Maybe we ought to have Rick's liver for a little treat. It's certainly fat enough."
Tramonto countered, "Charlie's in my prayers."

This is a serious example of PR training gone array, for certain! Being a little in the know on this PR thing, I’m envisioning CT’s publicist as she/he sits in their therapist office recounting the article a thousand times and popping Zanex. Just for the record calling someone an out right idiot not once but several times throughout a FRONT page article, is NOT an advisable PR strategy….even if it may have a glimmer or more of truth to it. However, I suspect after 17 years of PR training for his restaurant, Charlie had a clue what he was doing.

Now on to my interoperation of the article:
First of all, I have seen Rick Tramonto during what one might call a less the stellar meal at Tru, in fact, an old boss of mine would have referred to it as “underwhelming” so I do not think it was a slanderous statement Charlie Trotter made when he suggested that Rick Tramanto’s liver might be a fat little treat, he is NOT a small man. Rather than being insulted by this comment I think Chef Tramonto should be flattered, after all Chef Trotter is an award winning chef known for only using the highest quality of ingredients, if he suggested serving Rick’s liver, then you know he believes it to be of stellar worth. As for Rick praying for Charlie, hey we all can use an extra prayer. Right?

Note for future diners – the Chef’s table at True is NOT like the Chef’s table at Trotter’s or many other establishments in that A) there was really no Chef to see, merely a dutiful visit from Chef Tramonto that lasted about 2.4 seconds, and B) it’s not exactly in the kitchen but more in a hermetically sealed room next to the kitchen where you have nary the chance to really experience what is happening on the line, which let’s face it is more than half the fun. Although, Tru does have an uncommon collection of modern art work, so if you don’t have time to do dinner at Tru and a tour of the Chicago Museum of Modern Art, you can take the Tru “art walk” and kill two birds with one stone. Anyhow, suffice to say if you are going to leave your mortgage payment on the table somewhere in Chicago, save it and wait for Alinea to open or head over Trotter’s where consistent success has been met for over 17 years. Again, this is only my opinion and I’m sure someone else has had a marvelous experience at Tru but since this is my blog I get to say what I want.

Now back to this interview gone bad. Any speculation as to WHAT Rick T did to deserve the wrath of Charlie Trotter? A man long known for making externs cry and causing cooks to hang up their knives forever in lieu of sharp pencils and accounting degrees. Of course not that this is a bad thing, he’s known for vetting talent and if you are good enough to spend time in his kitchen and tough enough to survive, then you are likely to make a career in this field. I for one loved the article. I think it shakes things up and reminds us that these guys are human, instead of the super-heros we make them out to be. One of the things that concerned me in this article is not the theme but the content. Specifically, Charlie’s quotes alarm me. Charlie is one of the brightest men in food, hell probably overall, he’s a scholar and known to be quite articulate. Therefore how did his direct quotes become so common in their verbiage? Was it A) taken out of context B) he had fallen from a very high ladder and hit his head or C) he assumed that Rick wouldn’t understand the insults if he used larger words?

As for the foie gras debate itself, well I say bring on the grub….but then I’m a total hedonist who knows her place in the food chain and is damn glad of it. Having never been to a foie gras farm, I can not speak with any first hand knowledge of how the ducks are treated or whether or not they display any discomfort. My husband, however, did spend time during culinary school on a foie gras farm and has told me that in fact opposite of what the article describes in the feed process is true. Thus supporting the guys at Hudson Valley Foie Gras, and no we are not receiving a free lobe next week for saying that, although guys we would not turn one down if it arrived. The ducks love feeding time and chase down the Feeder when he arrives. Again this could be an argument for nurture over nature. If they were in pain don’t you think they would run or waddle very slowly away from the Feeder and hide?

Moreover, I find this Senator Wojickik totally offensive in that she has delivered a bill to the Illinois house that would potentially ban foie gras raising in Illinois without having actually EVER been to a foie gras farm! As confirmed in this excerpt from the Trib article “She added that she hasn't actually visited any farms to observe the ducks' treatment, but she has seen pictures” Please! Have a bit of a basis of knowledge for your argument before you spend my tax dollars getting into a huff about something. Okay, they are not my Illinois tax dollars yet but soon they will be and I’m not likely to be voting for her, should she run for another term.

Furthermore, look at this comment "I do fine dining and I do pates, but we do the pate where the duck is killed naturally or the goose or whatever," she said. "It's not being brutalized. I just have compassion for animals." I have to admit she may have a point, I really am a huge fan of the “whatever” pate, it’s quite tasty and far less fattening…maybe Rick wants to enjoy some with me?

While I appreciate that the foie gras debate is quite serious to some and find it amussing when two high end Chef’s are battling it out over the topic, even educational as it spurns debate and conversation. I find it insane that a paid official is focusing her time and our tax money towards battling something so moronic when there are far greater issues at hand. I suggest that rather than Senator Wojickik successfully capturing a positive PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) press message she focus the full power of her office to address something less superficial which might allow her a platform she could proudly stand on; Hunger in the US. Rather than taking the easy grandstanding road of something like foie gras, get dirty and dig deep and seek out a plan for keeping the bottom 10% of this country from going hungry, not determining what the top 2% will or will not be eating at a shi shi restaurant. I assure you the hungry don’t care if foie is raised in Illinois but do care if you can get them a balanced meal for tonight. Just to provide a barometer to gauge the seriousness of this issue, in the US, the number of food insecure households with children has risen to 6.18 million. Somehow working towards a solution for that seems like a much better sound bite than Weight Watchers for Ducks, but then I’m not the Senator’s publicist, nor her conscience.

By the way Charlie, you are in my prayers too… I’m praying that you will add the foie back to your menu, specifically the dish with acorn squash and pecans.

March 29, 2005

Roast chicken again...

This is an excerpt from an email I sent my mom while Greg and I were living in Paris during his Stage at Guy Savoy. Sadly, this story is quite true, and fortunately in time I did learn to shop for more than fowl while we lived there.

Dear Mom,

Good news! Tonight we ate something different than roast chicken for the first time in thirty days! I’m not at all sure how it happened. I set out on the metro after work, just as I have each evening for the past month. Battling my way through the turnstile, squeezing into the train car, eventually I made my way to a seat to hide behind my book, away from the "musicians"... armed with harmonicas, tambourines and accordions, they prey on innocent, weary commuters pre- and post- work. Finally, my moment of escape arriving, the doors open as we reach Joules Jofferin and I push my way through the remaining passengers to dash for the escalator. (By the time we reach my stop, there are really not that many people left on board and they all have the same dull stare I do, just craving to be home.)

As the escalator ascends from the metro tunnel, I meet the chilly air of an early spring evening. Fortunately no rain, which has accompanied every evening for the last thirty days. Standing at the street light in the shadow of the Mayor’s office, I wait while the rush hour traffic creeps by on its way to the preferique. At last it is my turn... crossing the street, carefully navigating through the parade of small French dogs being walked by their larger owners, I arrive at my destination, the Rotisserie. I squeeze into the line that flows from the narrow storefront and outside to the even narrower sidewalk. The locals are taking advantage of the turn in weather and sitting outside the bouchon sipping beers and eating peanuts while puffing away on their French cigarettes, leaving a smokestack behind that always reminds me of the pictures from the storybook “Little Engine that Could”. For a minute or longer I’m jealous, to be honest. I want to sit with Greg and sip a beer or glass of wine and digest my day with him. But as I’m lost in this daydream my turn suddenly arrives and ends, leaving the Rotisserie man with a huge smile!

How exactly that transaction went I’m not sure because it seemed to have happened at hyper warp speed (as I’m learning most things do in Paris that surround grocery shopping.) Moments later, a bit dazed, I am standing outside the Rotisserie being nudged and mumbled at by people actually trying to use the sidewalk for walking. One thing is for certain, the weight of what is inside the bag in my hand is VERY different from the weight I’ve been carrying each night for thirty nights and I begin to wonder – why was the Rotisserie man smiling at me like that?

Finally, I begin walking back the way I came, past the beer-drinking smoke stacks, back across the busy street, down the avenue along side the Mayor’s office – whose architecture has the look of a brooding 19th-century dwelling that knows the pigeons roost on its eaves every day, leaving their droppings along its walls, and that the soot from traffic hasn’t been cleaned off it since before Chirac ran the city. As I turn into the Baker to pick up our daily allotment of baguette (you remember him – the one that refuses to let me speak French in his shop because his bread is in the oven and he’s afraid it will fall at the sound of my accent or lack thereof?) At this point I am very aware of something different in my parcel from the Rotisserie and I am conscious that perhaps the Baker and his wife know too, that something is very different. Armed with my baguette I continue the walk home, up the hill and past the Tabac – where betting is being placed, on what I’m not quite sure – and the morning coffee drinkers have been replaced by beer guzzlers and again the smokestacks billow from the doorway out to the sidewalk.

Quickly, with all my stops now made, I race home to see my new conquest, a bit afraid of what I’ve done. Up the winding staircase whose stairs creak at every step, asking you to walk lighter upon them. Finally, at the landing and our door! A quick turn of the key and pushing hard, and I’m in the safety of our little sanctuary. My feet echo along the dry wooden floorboards, and I’m struck by the aroma of something new! Dropping my bag and kicking my shoes to the corner, as if in 250 square feet there is much of a difference between corner and middle of the room, and I place the new parcel on the counter and with wine opener in hand, head to the foot of our bed to retrieve a bottle of wine from our wine cellar – a rack which lives in the hearth of the fireplace, the coldest spot in the room, making it ideal for wine storage. It was not as if we would use the fireplace, only a loony would build a fireplace in a 200+ year old building with no ventilation, and besides the pigeons roosting in the chimney seem to have more of a right to live here than us. At least they are French pigeons while we are merely Americans in Paris, and at this point in time, we are not entirely certain that we are any higher on the food chain than they are.

Sitting alone at the counter, glass of red French table wine in hand, mystery bag in front of me, I open it to discover not the familiar roasted chicken but a roasted duck! How exactly that happened I am unaware. I play back the event in my mind seeking a clue. I didn’t realize that I’d learned a new word or even if I had, that I had gathered the courage to share this newfound word with the ever-impatient Mr. Rotisserie. Forgetting for a minute that I have something different to sample for dinner, I begin to celebrate adding one new word to my vocabulary, “canard”! Of course, I am questioning whether or not I actually physically said the word “canard” or whether Mr. Rotisserie man said to me "Ce qui vous aimez Madame, Canard?” and I merely replied back “wee, wee”, as I seem to find it impossible to say “yes” only once in this country, or perhaps I nodded my head up and down like the mute I’ve become since moving here. Regardless of how it came to be, it happened, and the result, we are eating duck not chicken tonight. Never mind that I hate dark meat and since Greg’s rare cooked duck event of Thanksgiving 2002 I’m not a huge duck fan, because really at this point that is hardly important. What is important is that it is not chicken, again!

That alone is reason to dance.

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March 05, 2005

How this blog came to be...

I come from a long line of eaters.

My great grandfather had a dairy farm, and thus we are big cheese eaters, and butter eaters too and now that I think about it we’ve never really been shy around the cream either.   My Grandfather was a great lover of good food.  He once took my Grandmother on a European site seeing tour. Not of the major works of art or architecture as was the norm but by the stars.  The Michelin Guide to Restaurant's, stars.  My Grandmother loved food so much that sometimes she suffered an attachment disorder, leaving the left-overs in the fridge until they had taken on organic, scientific furs and colors. These moments caused my mother, in fear of all of our health, to slip them discreetly into the trash before we were forced to eat them at Sunday night dinner. Occasionally she was found out and we all waited as we knew that the ratatouille from two weeks before would make its way to the sideboard once more.

I've often thought that we were a family that marked moments by meals rather than holidays.  My mom speaks endlessly to my father of recipes she has discovered and at breakfast begins the day long quest for the perfect dinner menu.  Growing up I never fully understood how my mom could think of dinner while sipping her coffee at breakfast and yet now, I find myself taunting my husband  in the wee hours of the morn with the same question that has greeted my dad almost every day for 40 years, "Honey, what do you feel like having for dinner?".

My brother and I, now adults and living far from one another, call almost daily and begin each conversation the same, “Hi, how are things?. So what are you making for dinner?”  In fact, I believe that this very line of questioning has been the nucleolus of communication throughout our family for several generations.   So when it came time for me to chose a partner in life, an eating companion, a recipe listener; it was perhaps by fate or destiny, that he would be this amazing man who was a professional Cook and aspiring Chef.   

I knew that our life would be different from that of our friends, as the life of a Cook and his family is a tale unlike most others.   However, even I, with my conjured up imagination could not have envisioned the crazy path our life has taken in only a few years.  Somewhere between moving to France, so that my husband could cook under the watchful eye of one of the world's most acclaimed culinary gurus and watching a 4 foot rat scurry from the corner of a Vietnamese fish market, during my honeymoon, I decided to chronicle my life as a Cook's wife.

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