Click play to hear the latest edition of A Word on Food. Airdate May 31, 2014.
You don’t eat caviar because you’re hungry. But the portion set before us at a dinner the other night was certainly capable of staving off a serious quantity of pang.
We all eye’d the curvaceous morsels of edible hedonism. They were caviar-stuffed, chive-tied crêpes perched upon the base of empty, over-turned, long stemmed Riedel wine glasses. This caviar presentation was done in the style of the legendary “beggars purses” as created by Chef Barry Wine the once-upon-a-gilded-time owner of the ‘Quilted Giraffe’ restaurant of New York City.
Click the play button above to hear the radio version of this post. Airdate: April 26, 2014
You and Me Darlin’. Like Ham and Eggs. Like Cream and Sugar. You know what I mean Love?
Like Bogey and Bacall some things are meant to be unified a Oneness out of Two. It is the way of the world. When I think of the great food marriages I swirl in a dance of dualities. Salt and Pepper. Peanut Butter and Jelly. Chocolate and Vanilla. What causes some things to match so perfectly that we rarely think of them alone? That their still stunning singularity is magnified by more than a power of two when twined?
I remember looking at a can of soy sauce one day in the store room of Louie’s Backyard’s kitchen… and printed upon it were these words, “Established in 1250”, … as in the year 1250. “My Lord”, I muttered … to no one else … “that’s an old company.”
They're out there! Bursting through the black-dirt fields with a red-lipped lusciousness that only a woman as brazen as Mother Nature could muster or afford. Folks…I’m talking about strawberries if you haven’t guessed yet! To get your own skip the grocery stores at this time of year! Drive and you won’t have to drive far the Florida Strawberry Season is upon us and in full swing! We often go to the town of Homestead and Knauss Berry Farms for ours but truly many places in Florida will work this time of year.
We drive about 60 miles round-trip to get our tortillas these days. I don’t wish to think … as an accountant might… how much gas that costs per tortilla …… but these tortillas are worth it … partly to the see the face of the 70-something woman who sells them to me from her little bodega. She sells lengua and such too. Her shop is named “Moreno’s” and I urge you to make the trek. It is down in the bosom of our South Florida’s growing region … which encircles the appropriately named village of …. ‘Homestead’.
Click the play button above to hear the radio version of this post by Norman Van Aken.
The way my mother taught me to make cinnamon toast was to start with raisin bread and toast it to perfection.
She might have timed it by how long it took her to jump into her waitress work uniform before slathering it with rich and creamy Wisconsin sweet butter. Then she sprinkled a combination of sugar and cinnamon out of our plastic, yellow ‘baseball player’ figurine bottle that was covered with wax paper tucked under a red metal lid tha t doubled as the faux baseball boy’s ‘cap’. She usually slathered enough butter on the toast so that the cinnamon and sugar mix slide over the top of it like grains of sand dancing in the ebb of an ocean wave.