No Concessions for Frugality

Deep breath. Here we go:

There is so much that I love about this book. A teensy bit of history, (because I am a loser this way) so that from here on out, you'll understand where good ol' Lucy was coming from. This book was first published in 1925 (the edition I have is from 1970, which accounts for the pictures being so awesome). That's post-WWI, but pre-Great Depression, which is revealed in the fact that there are no concessions for frugality. There is no suggestion to use milk instead of cream or paddlefish roe instead of sturgeon. This is a straight up, balls to the wall indulgence for those you are welcoming into your home, entertaining and plying with luxury. Lucy co-founded the Boston School of Cookery in 1915 after studying under Fannie Farmer. So... you know, she's got some street cred. Okay, on to the sexy stuff.

Crossing the Threshold

Recently, I've made a pretty solid commitment to the kind of food I love to eat, prepare and talk about. That food is home-style, simple, unpretentious, about feeding the people I love deep down into the depths of their bellies and making them happy from the inside out.

And now, for something completely different:

A First

Eep! Something amazing happened this weekend at our farmers' market. Mangalitsa came to us.

I've never worked with the stuff or tasted it before and am super excited. We got two chops, each a half pound, and a pound of bacon.

The farmer we bought this from said they're the only Mangalitsa producers in the area and even said to let him know if we'd ever like to come up to the farm and hang out with "the little guys". I feel like that is an offer I am pretty likely to take him up on at some point.

I'm cooking the chops tonight. Any recommendations from veterans? More porky details to come.

Learn to Steal

Sometimes I run out of ideas. Sometimes, I feel like I make the same soup, stew, roast, braise in different variations over and over again.

 

And then sometimes, benevolently, someone will invite me to dinner at their place and inadvertently give me something to steal. Which is exactly what happened when some of our dearest friends invited us over for a Feast of an Indeterminate Amount of Fishes.

Getting Itchy

So, anyone else tired of winter? I know, I know. Every year with me, it's the same story. When the cold sets in, I'm thrilled to braise, roast, slow cook and bake to my heart's content. Along comes late February and I'm getting itchy for pickled green tomatoes and micheladas.

I pickled these particularly beautiful green tomatoes at the very end of summer last year. Happening upon their picture today really makes me want to pickle. And for it to be 75 degrees outside. Anyone else?

In terms of pickling, anyone have any favorite winter pickles to tide me over? Was thinking of pickling some carrots today. What pickles are you making/eating?

Chameleon of Deliciousness

Psst. Over here.

It's me, your trusty and beloved slow cooker. Any plans for the weekend? Want to - I don't know - collaborate on a project? Look, I'll just come right out and say it. I miss you.

Politics and Artichokes

Indulge me. I'm having a moment of philosophical weakness. It doesn't happen very often and I promise to reward you, somehow, later, for putting up with it. I need to talk to you guys about politics. Not American politics, not office politics, not even really food politics exactly (I promise not to talk about Michael Pollan right now), but more the politics of how we think about, talk about and own food. I've had a few conversations in the recent past that have really set me to thinking.

The first was with my uncle Mitch last week. Mitch is one of my favorite people to eat with. He's a trained chef - out of professional kitchens now - but always putting his skills to good use for friends, family and the occasional competition. He's also a fucking grump, which is what makes me like him so much. While in the midst of an excellent blogging project on eGullet with a few friends, he invited me over to participate in their "mystery basket" challenge. While we chopped, snacked and sipped - as always - on a cocktail or two, we got into a conversation about cooks, chefs and the way we define them.

More Weekend! More Breakfast!

Guys, I've gone breakfast crazy lately. Have you noticed? Of course you have. I have too. I'm not really sure what's to blame. Maybe it's the fact that my Sidekick and I see getting up just a little earlier on weekends as a very adult decision. (Please, don't panic. By early I mean maybe 10 instead of 11.) Maybe it's the fact that living in Brooklyn gives me regular access to some of the best eggs I've ever tasted. Maybe it's because I'm almost incapable of cooking for anything less than an army and leftovers are really good with eggs on top.