Poivrot Farci

When in Denmark, consider the eponymous The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover restaurant, and lest we forget Babette's cailles en sarcophage.

Fedt, giv, brandgod.
At give den hele armen.

What cuts do you use for stews? wtf?!

Chuck tender for beef. Part of the shoulder. Same as teres major or paleron.

Cheat sheets for beef and pork

Eye of round is dry. Like Steven Wright.

Maybe someone can explain this to me.

This desperate existential gripe is half baked, or, if the Cartesians prefer, raw.

(Insert yawn)

BHL, Sartre, or Camus might have an assistant redirect such a query to how most people here order beef; Not quite medium, not quite rare...but somewhere in between? And if they like jazz. The late great mathlete Leonhard Euler would demonstrate that if the concept of 0 - 4 stars ½ star increments is confusing, a 0-8 whole number rating scale is the same.

In the free capitalist world, 5 points, a thumb or half star is the difference between getting more patrons and more monies than the next guy; whereas in a pass-fail society we would all be reading reviews of only okroshka and driving Trabants. A wider spectrum offers more accurate scores on wine, varieties of tooth paste and choice of an anaesthesiologist who earned 3/4 or 87/100 on their final

Though Mr. Sietsema’s traveling salesman pizzazz and soupy wit is like cold Sunday morning alphabet gruel, his editorial is a personal experience whose intent is not to take the wrinkles out of seersucker suits, but offer a general level of merit for the consumer on a subjective product that can not be clinically tested and rated like a lawnmower or toaster. Furthermore, the area food critic is (dis)approving fried chicken and pork chops, not dengue fever vaccines.

Restaurants cook over high heat, why can't we?

Most restaurants keep their grills on high and ovens over 500. Better restaurants do it slower, like better lovers.

highest heat possible...horn tooting.

Your grill is too hot...Thor's hammer.

Lower heat will keep the center from turning pink.

Someone makes it big and they are automatically a sell out poser .

Any chef worth their salt would never compromise their dignity nor craft for an 11:30am cable time slot engineered for chubby housewives, and paralytic college students. (A 2:30 time slot would include alcoholics and the unemployed). Their passion is their trade and any chef that has removed their apron (or doesn’t wear one at all) to chase $$ down the Emmy hole, open stoic restaurants indiscriminately or put their name on canned pizza and airport food is a business person. Mr. Flay’s congenial vision is financially successful at best and his gimmick cookery has contributed as much to posterity as both the Flowbee and Zima combined. At the very least, when considering the immigration debate currently being waged along the southwestern border, his birthday party food will be remembered as topical.

Anthropomorphically, Rachel Ray is a muppet.

She embodies the zippy joie de vivre of Big Bird and the frugal zest of Beauregard the janitor.

Similarly, Bobby Flay would be the barbiturate Capt. Link Hogthrob.

...I really like Bobby Flay...

Bobby flay is the zenith (some say scourge) of has-been cooks who are so soulless and technically aloof as to practice their scripted craft in front of television cameras and laugh tracks. Cynics decry that inferior nutmeg (and shit) floats right up to the tippy top. Touché.

I, for one, enthusiastically applaud the Food TV editors for not deleting his burning of hamburger buns, nor his benign reaction to said burnt buns, genuine ignorance and general carelessness. His scorching of jambalaya rice was, without hyperbole, extraordinary.

The food-court rate brunch themed Tex-Mex troubadour atop his one trick pony, with blue corn tortilla chips, 56 spice chipotle glaze and lobster chimichangas in his quiver missing the mark when cooking rice in a wild west cauldron should have had the acoustic accoutrements of slide whistle-spring-bop blooper effects generally reserved for sporting goods hitting crotches and the elderly falling off of retaining walls. A mere producer’s lapse. In the late-night brine of mouthbreathing televised entertainment, strands of drool tremble with every exhaling chuckle as señor Flay cannot find his ass or man-boobs, even with all the helpful pairs of Chi-Chi’s employees' hands nation wide at his disposal

I am also partial to the sonic blade infomercial and its candid demonstrations of how conventional cutlery and overzeal will squish, squash or smush cartoon-decked sandwiches, and won’t slice through avocado pits.

What is the best quality/type vodka to use for this?

Skyy; a decent product.

Your fruity infusioness won't affect the initial distillation of the initial vodkaness.

Flavor swill, and you will get flavored swill.

Save your fleischmann's vodka for Halloweenie derelicts, like me.

Menu sort of reads like I am betting on the ponies at the track with a hungry ADD Bukowski.

There doesn’t appear to be a particular thematic vision to the restaurant and the menu descriptions are so loquacious as to make me wonder if I left the iron on.

I am familiar with Mr. Smith's cookery and talent but I feel that the delineations of octopus can be equated to: Tennis ball-Racquetball-rubberbandball.

Far be it for me to criticize since my sustenance is Swedish mackerel-tomato paste from a tube...

Are whole scallops being pulverized for the sake of boudin?

How is ribeye and foie gras cheaper than pompano?

Can I take the mushroom study pass/fail?

Consider using dried fruit for your schnapps.

I have had bottles and infusion jars filled with booze and dried fruits & spices...etc... in my closets for months now. They have taken the colors and flavor of coffee beans or cinammon or dried peaches and rosemary, but no rot and are quite clean. The dried fruit mixes are practically clear and the fruit itself is the perfect analgesic for DT's. Combin equal parts simple syrup/hooch and you will have a nice sex drug liqueur for your prom/holiday date.

Fresh pineapples are on the extreme edges of the fruit spectrum due to their uniquely powerful deteriorating bromelain enzymes. They will ruin virtually anything you put them in contact with.

acorns...Anyone here attempted such an endeavor? Helpful hints? Recipes?

Acorns are high in protein, carbohydrates and fat but their tannins make them extremely bitter. Animals that store them, like squirrels and chickens, do so hoping that the tannins eventually dissipate with rain water since they keep them from metabolizing the acorn proteins. If you are horribly desperate enough to consume acorns you should boil them (shelled) in renewed pots of water until the water has gone from brown to clear. You can grind them up to make acorn flour but the high fat content increases the risk of rancidification, so keep it refrigerated and away from light.

Based on prevalent 18th Century usage of acorns by Germans, Poles and the ever remarkable French, I have deciphered the following:

Acorn coffee:

Dry acorn nuts (the insides) in the sun until they are brittle. Toast them evenly and grind when cooled. Use 15grams of acorn per cup of water and 120 grams of sugar which probably comes from Haiti by 2 masted barquentine -be patient. Discard both ground acorns and diseased 18th century water and eat the sugar instead...

Acorn beer:

I don’t know really, but it used to be done. Most likely very bitter. Of course the life expectancy back them was about 38 years. Drink up.

Acorn tart:

In a blind baked pâte sablée pour in a purée of über-boiled acorn nuts to which you have added some yogurt or crème fraîche, honey, raisins, ground cinnamon, nutmeg, clove and enough milk and whipped egg white to lighten the filling and neutralize its devil’s bitterness. Bake and hope for the best or an exorcist.

Acorn pâté:

Add to your acorn purée some olive oil, olives, onion and leek sautéed in fatback, juniper, salt, and whatever alchemy dust you have in your cupboard. Bake, cool and slice. The starch from the acorn with solidify it. A compte of unripe persimmons and wormwood might upstage the bitterness.

Note: peasant recipes of yester-century rarely have measurements since nothing was ever plentiful and dishes were prepared with whatever was on hand.

I like chocolate, but British teeth give me the willies.

The Belgians and Swiss make fine chocolates, even if their citizens are clinically known to be slow witted.

Sometimes I wish I had lobster claws made out of chocolate instead of hands so I could eat them and then they would grow back and I could eat them again. I just hope they don't lose their temper if I get nervous and melt when I shake hands with celebrities. That would be embarrassing.

Blackberry Loss

2 handheld nuts

Macamadamia or Clinton?

Can I substitute rambutan?

Male Bass Across Region Found to Be Bearing Eggs...

According to a recent grade-school science-fair level study by WASA/EPA, 90% of a mere 100 DC homes sampled (nice ones, most likely in Georgetown) showed a lead parts per billion of 15, which, luckily, exactly meets the maximum ppb acceptable by EPA.

You can thank orthophosphate treatment, which is responsible for the decline. It is a food grade chemical corrosion inhibitor thing added to finished tap water. The orthophosphate works over the course of 6 months or so by creating a protective coating inside lead pipes and fixtures, like Pepto does in the commercials.

I’m not sure exacly how it works, but orthophosphate is the simplest in a series of phosphates and called as such by our nation’s public school morons and nerds alike. When all 3 H+ ions which are bonded to the oxygen in the structure (also known as protons) are lost from the orthophosphoric acid, an orthophosphate crouton is formed. Out with the old and in with the nucleus...

It has been 2 years since the orthophosphate treatment was introduced into DC water system and the results are so promising and stain-free (based on 100 homes) that WASA stopped adding chlorine to our water this spring.

EPA results for lead ppb of 90 houses in Washington, DC. Population 582,049

From July-Sept 2004: 82ppb (better score than most area sports teams)

October -Dec 2004: 31 ppb (not too shabby)

Jan-April 2005: 15ppb (Just right)

Good luck with the giardia if you live in the other 10 house where the water isn’t up to snuff, or the thousands that didn’t get picked to survey. You can contact the EPA to get your plumbing checked out. Probably a good reminder for all you gents over 40 to get your orthoprostate treatment too.

Recently the water pipes in Mt. Pleasant have been tinkered with and my tap water is no longer lumpy. Since using filters, my night vision has dissipated and I have stopped lactating.

I have an internet address! I have a pen, like Bob Dole! Me want middle bread, me want middle bread. If you see me, give me middle bread. Gimme. Me, me, me. MEEEE.

You are confusing deserve and demand. Did you appreciate the evening when the kitchen sent your table out an unexpected complimentary middlebread-mid-course based soley on your patronage and bubbly personality?

What's up with the self-deprecating martyrdom? Is this a restauranteur’s allegory of an Andy Rooney epilogue?

If your reputation entitles you to a fresher, thicker piece of fish, you should take advantage of the opportunity to be spoiled on a noteworthy meal for the same price that others pay... unless you frequent restaurants out of convenience, which eliminates you from the “like everyone else” percentile.

For a true commoner’s dining experience I wear my leper’s cloak and journey to Medieval Times in humble Hanover, MD and order the plebian chicken.

Good luck in your pursuits of mediocrity.

...do others feel as if they can't go out unless others know who they are??

Your late night gripe is self defeating, Cinderella. It seems that you wish to be treated as a princess while dining under a peasant’s guise. Fairy tale standards of well executed service may be too high for many of the area’s middle ground establishments in which employees are not career servers. Generally, if you seek preferred treatment (center cut of the bread, rather than the end) it is best if the house knows that you are a faithful guest or brethren since restaurant people take care of their own as in any other industry or fraternity. Vending machines will generally offer the same product and service for all of us, without prejudice, however, in any human business transaction or barter, personal rapport -be it with kin, the king or lover true- will result in varying bonuses through our personable nature and that the product restaurants offer is not a factory standard.

Argentine gelato place

In Argentina it is Sambayón. I used to make it with passion fruit juice. Quite nice.

Sufferin’ ducks! There's no use in bein' iggerant unless you can show it. She’s saying: “Bite the back of my bollix. We aren’t eatin’ here to be fat as a bishop. It’s a take away lads, not an eatin’ place.” But as sure as there’s a hole in your arse, some bleedin’ spoofer’s going to think a bag of fish and chips and black stuff is a substitute for a full supper.

Appears that the white collars have circled their wagons, taking offense to Mr. Jonathan's humble, personal observation. I too miss the collective fish and novelty chips from my vagabond youth. Perhaps Eamonn’s can offer a conventional #3 menu option (fish and chips together, saving for those of us with lesser means $0.10 and our breath) as is the case in most other Americana take aways in the western hemisphere; or include the ubiquitous chips/fries/frites like they do everywhere else.

One thing that may help you find a recipe is if you spell it the proper way instead of the phoneticized way--zabaglione (yes, I'm well aware everybody spells it sabayon--that doesn't de facto make that spelling correct and I know I'm being pedantic).

Sabayon is the universally accepted French equivalent to the Zabaglione, much like ignorante is the Italian equivalent of both ignorant and ignorant in American English and European French respectively, and since neither is originally an english word I am sure that in the global modern age of VCR's, surly foreign language handbooks and the intertron (which I told Al Gore to invent) either a Kogel mogel (Polish), sabayoni (Sardinian), zabaioni (Sicilian) or even Ovopunlo (Esperanto) are acceptable regional spellings of the heat-stabalized foam. Whereas the Italians are credited with inventing the thing, the French, naturally, perfected it.

For the sabayon, egg yolks are beaten with a small amount of fruit juice/puree or wine or flavorful broth over a double boiler until the volume has doubled and the eggs have emulsified the liquid. An intraweb inquiry of either sabayon or zabaglione will reveal a wealth of recipes from which you can noodle with to make your own.

So, you wanna explain cold, unbaked souffles

The cold unbaked souffle is not a souffle. It is merely an clever illusion; much like when I wear my pants just above my flawless navel at discotheques I look older and therefore wiser and confidently balder. The confectionary deception involves placing a silicone or lubricated parchment ring around the dish rising to the desired height and fastening it with a paperclip or your remarkable origami skillz. If the thickness of the ramekin doesn’t make for convincing duplicity, you might have to engineer an acetate strip that will fit just below the lip of the container as the filling is poured. The mold can then be filled with just about anything edible and then frozen if it runs at room temperature. Panna cotta style custards can make a suitable base but will need the acetate due to its weight. Rainbow sherbet, or any other varieties of your favorite frozen puddings can used as a base, then topped with whipped cream and garnished with nuts or minuscule gold flake carousel horses if you really want to razzle-dazzle your friends. Sweetened whipped egg whites can be baked in a pan and cut to fit the diameter of the fraudulent aureole. If your souffle cookery is in the wilderness or clashes with any dietary/technology laws of the Sabbath (fish gelatin will make panna cotta kosher for Tzom Gedaliah) , you can poach the eggs whites in milk and carefully sculpt them to fit your contraffatto Pieta gastronomico.

So what are people's THOUGHTS on biscuits? Do you have a favorite recipe or technique? How do you "-ate" your biscuits?

My hunkey dorey recipe for biscuits:

2 heaping cups of stone ground flour sifted for rodent droppings, weevils and lice.

1 cup potable water

6 enthusiastic pinches of mined Kentucky salt.

Roll them out with an empty rum bottle to thickness of half of 1 inch and dock with a fork or something pointy. Bake in 400 degree hearth for an hour, turning over after half an hour. Bake again at 250 for 30 minutes more. They last for up to 3 years. I dunk mine in brine or mead to make the edible, and curse typhoid.

Bully!

Vidalia and Bistro Bis ...why they have such radically different policies.

Much like a turnip is different from a car battery, possibly the most glaring difference in policies are price point and product. Vidalia is Buben's baby, and accordingly offers higher-end gastronomy, silver flatwear, and moisturizing condiments in the bathrooms.

The Bistro is a bistro. More approachable and affordable. While both offer respectable fare, neither can offer the same "deals" by virtue of their product.

As for SPAM (Hormel insists that its product be in uppercase letter to distinguish it from unsolicited mail), the process of...processing it is similar to pate. I can assure that there are many types of pate de campagne in France; from artisinal to industrial and that there are nearly as many flavor nuances as there are varieties.

I am poo-pooing your slander of SPAM. SPAM is almost directly responsible for Allied victory in WWII and through convoluted logic allows us to ultimately enjoy French pates and perpetuates their fabrication. Consider the leberwurst alternative. And let us not forget the Wierd Al "SPAM" goof on REM's "Stand".

1 score and 7 days ago I was high-stepping with my over-sized troll pencil as a scepter from Penn Quarter through Convention Center after a presidential impersonator think-storming session at the Top Shelf and the heat was excruciating, even by 8pm. Naturally, I removed my frock coat and chemise, but the persistent humidity and heat conspired to drain barley infused sweat from my Roman brow, which trickled down my somewhat chiseled body; mostly down my bruised gourd-like back and a few drips & drops down my chest which golf savvy lifeguards have described as a collection of chest-hair divots. Anywho, I needed to whet my whistle and upon hearing minstrelsry reminiscent of Big100 pre-re-formatting to “greatest hit of all time” coming from an appropriately patriotically named tavern on New York Ave. called the DC Eagle, I probed the honky-tonk tap-room for a cold elixir.

T’was a bit dark inside and it took considerable time for my eyes to adjust. It seemed surly -if a little macho- and there was a whisper of diveyness what with the squeaky swiveling barstools who’se upholstery was fraying with debutante abandon and a cheerless boudoir which had the rustic assertiveness of a farmer’s wife, but all the stink of the farm and crude suggestive drawings of nude farmers on the stall walls. Seems like the heat index was affecting most of the other customers as well since many were shirtless and sweaty, some wearing little more than the leather versions of vintage corduroy OP shorts, the kind I used to wear in the mid to late 90's, but without the studded vinyl suspenders. My fellow barflies seemed to have an uncanny interest in my “chin curtain” novelty beard and stove pipe hat, and I welcomed their enthusiasm in American presidential history, but didn’t get the beard jokes?Drinks were pretty cheap. A few Malibu & maraschino cherry juice cocktails, amyl nitrates, peach schnapps shots and cocaine shooters cost me under $20, and on top of that were more complimentary appletinis than I could shake a swizzle-stick at. Not much in the way of food though. Music was a bit loud too. In my crapulence, almost shouting to be heard over the skull biting boogie-woogie of Judas Priest, I inquired about peanuts. A few gentleman subsequently flashed me, that is to say, they showed me “their junk”, to use the parlance of our times. which I dismissed as beer flavored shenanigans I made the universal gesture for “coin operated peanut dispensing machine” and met either squelches or explicit gestures towards the aforementioned lavatory. I left shortly before midnight to catch the latest episode of Dog, “the Bounty Hunter” a vigilante/troubadour whom I live through vicariously.

All in all I would say that the barstaff was particularly friendly and generous and many of the patrons exceedingly chummy as well. Didn’t see to many ladies there, especially for a Thursday (college Friday), but then again, took some time for my eyes to adjust and fall semester hadn’t begun yet, and I was implementing a new “hard to get” strategy since the only digits I remember from pro-active coquetry are those atop restraining orders.

On the one hand I feel like restaurants do the RW diners a disservice by limiting the menu alot. On the other hand, I feel like the restaurants do the RW diners a disservice if they can't handle making the entire menu at a lower price point up to the same standards as normal. It's definitely a balancing act that I understand (and that I hope other diners during RW understand) when dining out during RW.

On the third hand, explain food cost and macro-economics in this state fair circus analogy. Do any contributors own businesses or lemonade stands or bearded women?