IT’S CRACKERS

“It’s crackers to slip a rozzer the dropsy in snide.” - Magersfontein Lugg


The Seed 75 cocktail, a perfect way to use that bottle of Old Tom gin you have in the back of your Booze-Box. (What, you don’t have a bottle of Old Tom gin in the back of your Booze-Box?)

One of the nicer local eateries hereabouts - Seed Kitchen and Bar - offers a cocktail called Capture the Flag, a concoction that includes Maestro Dobel tequila, lemon juice, a house-made port-pineapple syrup, and Ramazzotti, the last being an Italian amaro. It’s probably the Missus’s favorite cocktail, and I can’t say I blame her for liking it as much as she does. It is sweet, but not overly so, and it has layer upon layer of flavors. Oh, and it also packs a wallop, something to watch out for, as that alcoholic fist is well disguised in a highly drinkable glove.

The only problem I see with this Adult Beverage is that I cannot, as yet, make it at home - that is, until I manage to convince one of the bartenders at Seed to fork over the recipe for the port-pineapple syrup. But in the meantime, there is another tipple on offer there that I can make at home: the Seed 75. And it is a fine drink. It’s simply Hayman’s Old Tom gin, lemon juice, and pomegranate grenadine. The last one I made, I used 2 ounces gin, the juice of half a Meyer lemon, and a scant ounce of my homemade grenadine, and it was superb. (You really need to use an Old Tom gin for this; the more familiar London dry gin style doesn’t really work.)

What to eat while you’re sipping on your Seed 75? How about some Cheesy Smoked Paprika Crackers, courtesy of those fine folks over at Serious Eats? I ran up a batch of these bad boys a few days ago and now I’m regretting it, for they are powerfully addictive.


Cheesy Smoked Paprika Crackers. These decadent little bastards are sprinkled with smoked sea salt and fleur de sel.

Postscriptum: The quotation above will be familiar to anyone who read Mad magazine in the 1950’s or early ’60’s. It was a recurring catchphrase - at least, in Mad - that had been lifted from The Fashion in Shrouds (1938), one of Margery Allingham’s Albert Campion crime novels. It means, “It’s crazy to pay off a cop in phony money,” in case you’re curious.

Postscriptum the Second: See that tray of crackers? There were a handful of ’em left over from Friday evening, nicely wrapped for future use. But not any more. (Urp.)

A DAY FOR CELEBRATION

Elder Daughter, in a photograph taken six years ago during our legendary Japan trip.

Today, May 11, is a celebratory twofer: It is Elder Daughter’s thirty-fifth birthday (!) and it is, appropriately enough, Mother’s Day as well.

Yes, it was thirty-five years ago today that She Who Must Be Obeyed delivered unto us our firstborn daughter. Dr. Phil’s tiresome catchphrase - “This is going to be a changing day in your life” - was never more apropos, for that day indeed changed our lives forever.

Until the moment she arrived, I looked forward to the Blessèd Event with a mixture of eagerness and stark, staring fear. Being a Daddy, after all, was a huge new responsibility, and I did not want to be found lacking in the necessary skills to do the job right. All uncertainty and doubt evaporated the moment we saw our beautiful new daughter: It was love at first sight in the deepest and most abiding sense.

She’s a wonderful woman now, thirty-five years down the road, with a keen insight for people, an ebullient personality, and a unique creative intelligence. I could not be prouder to have her as a daughter.

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the motherly part of the equation - She Who Must Be Obeyed - and it is a happy coincidence that Elder Daughter’s birthday so frequently coincides with Mother’s Day, as it does this year. SWMBO has contributed far more than half of Elder Daughter’s DNA. She has been a gentle guiding hand; a source of wisdom, love, and support; and an unflinching advocate for both our daughters. I could not ask for a finer mother for my children, and I love her with all my heart.

To Elder Daughter, happy birthday! May you have long years in health and happiness, without limit to any good thing.

To She Who Must Be Obeyed, happy Mother’s Day! Our daughters are the most wonderful gift you ever could have given me, and so much of their thoughtfulness and insight are the result of their having your example from which to learn.

To the other mothers in my life - Mimi, Mamacita Chelo (¡mi querida!), Toni, and all the rest - happy Mother’s Day! For where would we be without mothers? Nonexistent, that’s what. And without their love, we might exist... but it would be a miserable existence.

AHHH, FRIDAY

I look forward to Fridays.

Even though I’ve been retired from the Great Corporate Salt Mine for over five years, I still have a keen awareness of what day of the week it happens to be at any given time... and Fridays are one of the good ones.

We generally get together with a group of friends for Shabbat dinner, a dinner that we sanctify with the lighting of candles and the appropriate blessings over wine and bread. Much of the time, that bread consists of home-baked challah, a couple of loaves of which are just about ready for braiding and shaping even as I write this. The wine may or may not be kosher, but that’s OK with our group.

Tonight the main event will be thick beefsteaks, carved by Yours Truly from a massive primal cut and grilled to what I hope will be perfection. She Who Must Be Obeyed will prepare a fish dish for those who do not partake of the beefness. Others have been tasked with the preparation of side dishes - vegetables and starches, et al. - appetizers, salad, and dessert. It’s a sort of Foodly Crowdsourcing, a potluck supper with some structure. And it’s always a delight.

May your weekend be pleasurable and (for those of my Esteemed Readers who are Red Sea Pedestrians) may your Shabbat be filled with love and peace.

THE ELISSON BOOKSHELF

It’s been a little over six months since my last Bookshelf Post, so I suppose it’s as good a time as any to bring you, my Esteemed Readers, up to date on the books I’ve been reading.

As I pointed out in my last bookly summary, the above photo is somewhat misleading, filled as it is with Dead Trees. More and more I find myself gravitating toward books in electronic form: This past six months, exactly half of my reading has moved to my iPad and iPhone. Electronic books are eminently portable, and new ones can be delivered unto my devices in seconds at the touch of a button (or, more likely, the click of a mouse, accompanied by the instant drainage of bank account.) When I use my iPad, I can read in the dead of night without the need for a reading lamp... and I can adjust the size of the font all the way from microscopic to Old Blind Guy. Hardcopy books, on the other hand, still deliver a more satisfactory tactile experience... and when the electrical supply fails, I can still read by natural light.So there’s that.

Enough prefatory drivel! Here are the last few months’ worth of reads, with electronic versions marked with an asterisk:

October

• Command and Control: Nuclear Weapons, the Damascus Accident, and the Illusion of Safety - Eric Schlosser

This book will scare the ever-loving crap out of you. The Damascus accident is not something that took place in Syria - it was a fire in a Titan II missile silo that came very close to wiping Arkansas off the map. And it is by far not the only close call involving our arsenal of Doomsday Weaponry. When you learn how vulnerable nuclear weapons are to simple accidents, you realize that it is a thoroughgoing wonder that in the time since these devices were invented almost seventy years ago, there has not been an accidental nuclear detonation. Yet.

November

• Relish: My Life in the Kitchen - Lucy Knisley
  
  Lucy Kinsley tells the story of growing up and being exposed to Good Food in an unusual combination of memoir, graphic novel, and cookbook.


• Insane City* - Dave Barry
  
  Nobody captures the complete nuttiness of south Florida quite like Dave Barry. This novel includes Haitian refugees, a giant snake, a horny orangutan, a billionaire, and a good-intentioned, somewhat nebbishy young man who is trying to juggle all of the above without blowing his Big Wedding.
  

December

• Doctor Sleep* - Stephen King
  
  The long-awaited follow-up to The Shining, one of King’s great novels from the 1970’s, catches up with Danny Torrance many years after the horrific events in The Overlook. Informed by the author’s own struggles with alcoholism, it’s vintage King: horror, but with a warm heart beating at its core. 
  
  
• Fate is the Hunter - Ernest K. Gann
  
  Ernest K. Gann, author of The High and the Mighty, recounts his adventures as a pilot in the early days of commercial aviation... a considerably more hazardous business then than now, and as always one that requires grace under pressure, the ability to make quick decisions, and a cool head. 
   
• The Simpsons and their Mathematical Secrets* - Simon Singh
  
  Given that the writing staff for “The Simpsons” has an exceptionally large percentage of talented mathematicians, it is hardly surprising that they would cram all kinds of subtle (and not-so-subtle) mathematical jokes into the show. This book has the lowdown on the ones you saw... and the ones you may not have noticed.
   
• Tartine Bread* - Chad Robertson
  
  Chad Robertson, the mad genius behind the Tartine Bakery in (where else?) coastal California, shares his knowledge on making amazing sourdough breads. It has become my sourdough bible, and it’s where I learned to make great sourdough boules, baguettes, and English muffins.
  

January

• Frozen in Time: An Epic Story of Survival and a Modern Quest for Lost Heroes of World War II* - Mitchell Zuckoff
  
  The adventures of a band of American soldiers stranded on the Greenland ice cap during World War II... and of the salvors who, half a century later, searched for and located their wrecked plane.
  

February

• As a Driven Leaf - Milton Steinberg
  
  A novel set during the early Rabbinic period, this is the story of the moral and intellectual struggles of a scholar who, disillusioned with the faith of his people, seeks enlightenment among the pagan Romans who occupy their land.
  

March

• Russka*- Edward Rutherfurd
  
  A novel of sweeping historical scope and turgid phrase, this book nevertheless provides the reader with some insight into the history of both Russia and the Ukraine and the fraught relationship between the two.
  
  
• The Telling Room: A Tale of Love, Betrayal, Revenge, and the World's Greatest Piece of Cheese* - Michael Paterniti
  
  The title says it all. After having read this book, I want to live in Spain where I can drink wine and eat cheese.
  
  
• A World Lit Only by Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance - Portrait of an Age* - William Manchester
  
  Manchester puts forth the thesis that Ferdinand Magellan’s historic voyage - his expedition succeeded in circumnavigating the globe, even if Magellan himself did not survive it - spelled the end of the Dark and Middle Ages, a lengthy period that is in itself an instructive cautionary tale concerning the effects of an insufficient separation of Church and State. An excellent book that has an enormous amount of information about just how nasty things were Back in the Day.


• Calculating God*- Robert J. Sawyer
  
  Aliens arrive in Toronto (yes, Toronto), looking not to meet our leader but to study prehistoric extinction events in an effort to better understand the nature of God.
  
  
• The Stars My Destination* - Alfred Bester
  
  A science fiction classic from the 1950’s that introduced the idea of teleportation by mental power alone (the “Jaunte”), it’s one that I had managed never to read... until now.
  
  
• The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker
  
  A love story involving characters of very different backgrounds. This is Helene Wecker’s debut novel; I believe it is the beginning of a fine career as a novelist.

April

• The Man Who Ate Everything - Jeffrey Steingarten
  
  Jeffrey Steingarten manages to overcome his loathing of Greek food after he is appointed food editor of Vogue magazine. A collection of food-related essays - many amusing and most of them informative. (Thanks, Cappy!)
  
  
• Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know - and Doesn't - Stephen Prothero
  
  The premise of Stephen Prothero’s book is that Americans are the world’s most vocal proponents of religiosity, but at the same time they are by and large completely ignorant of what’s actually in those Bibles that they love to thump... not to mention the basic tenets of other major world religions. Faith is a powerful force in today’s world, as anyone who remembers the 9/11 attacks can attest, and this ignorance does not serve us well.


• Dark Summit: The True Story of Everest’s Most Controversial Season - Nick Heil
  
  The 2006 climbing season was the deadliest since 1996, that latter captured in Jon Krakauer’s riveting account Into Thin Air. Everest has since become ever more commercialized, but the dangers still persist - as evidenced by the massive death toll in 2014 after an avalanche on the Khumbu Icefall struck a group of climbers and their Sherpa guides, wiping out twelve. I am happy to leave the mountain climbing to others, thankyouverymuch.
  

So what have you been reading lately?

APRIL GUILD EVENT

Our April Guild event will be this evening at The Shed at Glenwood and will feature wines from the Rhône region of France, home to great reds like Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Hermitage.

I’m a sucker for a good red wine, and I’ll even put up with a good white wine... so I’m in. So, happily, is Houston Steve. The wine will flow, and so, too, will the conversation, laced with bad puns recounted in an East London accent. Here’s what we’ll be consuming:

Reception Wine
Domaine Achard-Vincent Clairette de Die**
(90% Muscat Blancà Petits Grains, 10% Clairette)

First Flight
2011 Domaine Lafond Lirac Blanc**
(50% Grenache Blanc, 30% Roussanne, 20% Viognier)
2010 Fortia Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc
(60% Clairette, 30% Roussanne, 10% Grenache Blanc)
MV Avril “Petit Avril” Blanc*
(98% Marsanne, 2% Chardonnay)
Antipastos and baguettes (olives, cured meats, mozzarella)
Watermelon salad, fromage blanc, candied peanuts, basil

Second Flight
2010 Charbonnière Vacqueyras*
(60% Grenache,40% Syrah)
2011 Boissan Gigondas****
(80% Grenache, 20% Syrah)
2011 Cros de Romet (Alain Boisson) Cairanne**
Duck confit and terrine of local mushrooms, fava bean salad, chèvre

Third Flight
2011 Charbonnière Châteauneuf-du-Pape Vieilles Vignes***
(Grenache from 80 yr old vines and Mourvèdre from 100 yr old vines)
2011 Charbonnière Châteauneuf-du-Pape Mourre des Pedrix**
(Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre, Cinsault)
2011 Charbonnière Châteauneuf-du-Pape Brusquières*
(70% Grenache, 30% Syrah)
Smoked pork loin, jalapeño grits, huckleberry sauce, daikon
Brussels sprouts, cider vinegar, bacon, apple
Asparagus, chanterelle and saffron risotto, Parmesan

Fourth Flight
2011 Saint-Cosme Côte-Rôtie**
2009 Matthieu Barret (Coulet) Cornas “Les Terrasses du Serre”****
2010 Domaine du Colombier Crozes-Hermitage “Cuvée Gabby”**

Lagniappe
1999 J. Vidal-Fleurie Côte-Rôtie***

Update:
A few really excellent wines, including the 2009 Coulet Cornas Terrasses du Serre, which displayed a remarkably Bordeaux-like character (Houston Steve compared the bouquet to the aroma of the leather seats of his father’s classic Jaguar, and that’s a good thing.) It was also the most expensive of the evening’s wines, at $79.99 the bottle. But for only $29.99, the 2011 Boissan Gigondas was remarkably intense and aromatic, one that I would be happy to drink again and again.

The food? Well, they had me at duck confit, but the asparagus risotto was quite lovely, as was the loin of treif. All, in all, a very successful evening.

THE NOT-SCOTCH SCOTCH

Suntory Hibiki, 17 years old.

Most of us, when we think of whisky - that’s whisky without the “e” - we think of Scotland. That’s as it should be: If you want your whiskey with an “e,” you have to go to Ireland... or across the pond to America, where bourbon and rye reign supreme. Fine creatures all, but not at all the same as the wonderful Water of Life the Scots brew with their smoke and peat.

And then you have Japan, a country with a serious culinary tradition that is not well understood by most Westerners, who pretty much stop at the California roll. Japan, a country in which a single melon, offered at the peak of ripeness and aesthetic perfection, can command well over US$100. Japan, a country that is adept at taking Western ideas and technologies and putting their own unique spin on them. (The fabled Japanese Game Show is but one example.)

You can find no-e whisky in Japan, and I am here to tell you, it can be Mighty Fine.

You’re looking at the remnants of a bottle I purchased at Narita Airport six years ago when I made a pilgrimage to the Land of the Rising Sony with Elder Daughter. After having consumed most of it, I had tucked it into a hidden recess in my Lacquer Liquor Locker, where it remained until just a couple of days ago.

This particular whisky is a blended malt - a combination of several single malts but without neutral spirits. It is extraordinary, smooth with notes of toffee, vanilla, and caramel. Very much like a good single malt Scotch, but subtly, inscrutably different.

A little research has established that to replace this bottle, I would have to spend something on the order of $180 today... well above what I paid for it in Tokyo six years ago. A good investment, sez I.

GOLLY GHEE

Ghee. Tasty, golden, buttery, nutty ghee.

Sometime last summer, I was taken with the inexplicable urge to cook up a mess of Doro Wat, a fiery Ethiopian chicken stew. (Anything that has onions, chicken, and plenty of red-hot pepper is likely to appeal to me, so perhaps that urge was not quite as inexplicable as it seemed at first blush.)

The recipe came from a site called Nom Nom Paleo, which I had found as a link on my Farcebook feed. While I do not necessarily subscribe to the Paleo eating philosophy, I do know tasty when I see it. The Doro Wat was just that.

To make Doro Wat, the first thing you do is caramelize a bunch of hacked up red onions... and the preferred fat for this job is ghee, which has a high smoking point and which contributes a unique nutty flavor.

With its slightly scary-sounding Indian name, ghee may seem exotic... but it really isn’t. It’s nothing more or less than clarified butter, the same stuff one uses for dipping chunks of lobster. It’s easy enough to make... and waaaay less costly than the prepackaged version you’ll find at the local Whole Paycheck Foods. All you do is melt a pile of unsalted sweet cream butter (the highest quality you can get) in a saucepan over medium-low heat, let it come to a bubbly simmer, and skim off the foamy goop that rises to the surface. After about 10-15 minutes or so, the bubbles get smaller and subside as the moisture in the butter cooks off while the remaining milk solids drop to the bottom of the pan and begin to turn brown. Don’t wait until they burn - that’s the time to take the melted butter off the heat and strain out those browned solids. You should have a nice, clear, golden liquid. Pour it into a Mason jar and screw on the lid.

You can store ghee at room temperature, but if that makes you nervous, stick it in the fridge. (That’s where I keep it, mainly so I don’t clutter the kitchen counters unnecessarily.)

I made a quart-size batch last August - eight months ago to the day! - and only now has my supply run low. So this afternoon I made enough to replenish my inventory.

Damn, this stuff is delicious. I still like to use a squirt of olive oil for cooking my eggs, but a little bit of ghee gives them a wonderful buttery, nutty flavor. It’s a perfect “something extra” added to sautéed or steamed vegetables. I’ll bet you could use it to doctor up a passel of saltines, too. Golly ghee, whatever did we do without it?

GIVE ME THAT OLDE TYME ARTISANAL CRAFT BEER

Nacho Punch serves up this video of hipsters ordering beer. Elder Daughter can probably attest to its veracity. Snarfed from the HuffPo, of all places.

SMIT-WIT-FISS

Some people use clocks and calendars to measure the passage of time. I use my SMTWTFS.

Oh, you don’t know what a SMTWTFS is? It’s one of those little plastic thingumabobs that holds your pills. It has a separate box for each day of the week, each box labeled with the initial of the day: thus, SMTWTFS. I pronounce it “Smit-Wit-Fiss.”

Every evening, I pop open my SMTWTFS and remove that day’s supply of Old Man Medicine: baby aspirin, statin pill, fish oil capsules, vitamin D... plus an anti-allergy pill in the springtime, when pollen lies thick on the land. I swallow the small handful of pills and capsules in one gulp, chased by a shot of water straight from the bathroom tap. (She Who Must Be Obeyed is appalled by the fact that I drink bathroom water, believing that it somehow becomes contaminated by Poop-Cooties by virtue of its passage through pipes located within fifty feet of a Water-Closet. Go figure.)

Once all the boxes are empty, it is of course time to reload. I fill each of the seven compartments with my various medicaments, taking that evening’s dose directly out of the bottles. Thus I only have to recharge the SMTWTFS once every eight days. That’s efficiency for you!

And thus I gauge the passage of my days, eight at a time. O, how they fly in their octal progression, alas!

A COPROLOGICAL QUERY

Betimes a Food-Baby may be born
A-studded with golden grains of corn.
So, too, when the Elephant drops his load
Alongside of the jungle road,
Would it be crazy? Would it just be nuts?
To imagine it decorated with peanuts?
And doth it make the Grizzly merry
To see his scat festooned with berries?

SLIV ’N’ LIV

“If you are Jewish, this is the spirit that speaks to you. Drink enough and it speaks for you.” - Edward Serotta, regarding slivovitz

The eight-day festival of Passover presents a few challenges to those of us Red Sea Pedestrians who happen to enjoy the occasional (or frequent) Whisky-Drink... mainly because products made from grain, with the exception of matzoh, are verboten. That means that whisky - Scotch, bourbon, rye, and their happy cousins - is not on the drink card. It also eliminates most white spirits as well as beer. (Potato vodka is OK, as is rum... at least in theory.)

That unhappy gap is filled perfectly by slivovitz, an eau-de-vie distilled from Damson plums. It’s a popular item in eastern Europe as well as the Balkans, and many brands are officially certified to be kosher for Passover use. Perfect!

Well, maybe not perfect. There’s plenty of inferior slivovitz out there, and the bad stuff bears a remarkable resemblance, taste-wise, to Ronsonol lighter fluid. Also, it’s powerful. Most of the brands I’ve seen are bottled at or around 100 proof, not for the faint of heart. Nevertheless, there are excellent versions available if you’re willing to look around. Right now we’re working our way through a bottle of R. Jelinek’s Silver Slivovitz, a higher-end Czech product that is competitive with any of the finer eaux-de vie. Kirschwasser, meet slivovitz. Sliv, kirsch.

Gee, I'll bet it’s dandy with a bit of my homemade grenadine and a squirt of lemon. Hmmm.

Now: What to eat while you’re swilling sliv? Why, chopped liver, of course! Gehackte leber, as we might call it in Yiddish. The high-test character of slivovitz is perfect for cutting through the unctuousness of fine chopped liver.

You say you’re not a chopped liver fan? Well, it’s not for everyone... and neither are oysters, Champagne, and caviar. (OK, chopped liver is somewhat, ahhh, earthier than these other examples, but you can call it pâté de foie de volaille if you want it to sound classy.) If you don’t like liver, or if you have a loathing for organ meats in general, then chopped liver may not be for you.And that’s OK: More for me.

Although you can find perfectly decent chopped liver in your supermarket’s kosher section, this year I made my own. It’s easy enough.

Start with about a pound of chicken livers. (If you prefer, use beef liver. Weirdo.) Remove any connective tissue and cut into medium chunks. Melt about a tablespoon of chicken schmaltz in a large skillet and sauté the livers until cooked through. Set aside.

Now, hack up a couple of yellow onions: You should have about four cups of chopped onion. Melt four tablespoons of chicken schmaltz in that skillet and cook the onions over medium-low heat until very soft and just slightly brown. This may take half an hour, thereabouts - you want to do it low and slow to get the onions nice and soft and caramelized. 


Onions cooking gently in schmaltz. Goose schmaltz. Yummy, yummy goose schmaltz.

Now, after the onions and livers have cooled down a bit, run them through the coarse plate of a meat grinder. Then run the mixture through again, this time through the fine plate. (Alternatively, chop them up well in a bowl with a hockmesser - the half-moon shaped chopper known to Italian cooks as the mezzaluna.) Season with plenty of salt and freshly ground black pepper, and add some more schmaltz if it’s too dry. Presto! You have gehackte leber.

Some people like to add chopped egg to their livers. If you are this type of person, feel free to chop up one or two hard-boiled eggs and combine with the liver mixture. I elected to do without the egg, and I was extremely satisfied with the results.

Of course, I had a secret weapon. In lieu of chicken schmaltz, I used goose schmaltz, which is far richer and more flavorful. Having a goodly amount of goose schmaltz sitting in my freezer is a fringe benefit of my custom of roasting a goose once a year. (If you have no goose schmaltz near to hand, duck fat works beautifully.)

Yes, this batch of chopped liver was, dare I say, epic. (SWMBO might disagree, but then again, she does not partake of any sort of liver.) And, enjoyed with a shot of slivovitz - sliv ’n’ liv! - it was even better than epic: It was epicurean.

SHARP AS A MATZOH

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” - Shakespeare

“Merely touch it with your thumbs: Matzoh makes a lot of crumbs.” - Elisson

When my Daddy, the late Eli (hizzownself), wished to compliment someone, he would, like as not, state that that person looked “sharp as a matzoh and twice as crumby.”

Nonsense, sure, but as with all good nonsense, there is more than a grain of truth in it... or in this case, a crumb of truth. For there is nothing as crumby as matzoh.

We don’t call it the Bread of Affliction for nothing, yo.


Handmade shmura matzoh.

Not only is it famously constipation-inducing, but matzoh - the unleavened bread consumed by us Red Sea Pedestrians during the eight-day Passover festival that begins at sundown this evening - is incredibly crumby stuff. Simply look at it sideways, and little shards will break off, working their way into the tablecloth, your clothing, and any nearby floor. This time of year, our house is filled with Matzoh Detritus. Crumbs.

You cannot avoid them. They are everywhere. Matzoh-crumbs get onto every horizontal surface. They stick to many vertical ones, too, owing to their light weight and grabby little edges. Try to pick one up: Hydra-like, it multiplies, breaking into smaller, harder-to-pick-up chunks.

Funny thing about matzoh. It’s really not bad, this Unleavened Bread. Every year, I enjoy a Matzoh Honeymoon for the first few days of Pesach. We eat it happily, with charoset (the traditional relish of apples, nuts, and wine that is reminiscent of the mortar with which the ancient Israelites built Pharaoh’s cities), with horseradish, with cheese, or slathered with butter. But after five or six days, the honeymoon is over, and crumbs - those fucking crumbs! - are everywhere.

It’s traditional to clean the house thoroughly before Passover, in order to ensure the complete absence of leaven. But it’s at least as necessary to have another thorough cleaning after the holiday is over, in order to remove the quadrillion or so little matzoh-smithereens that manage to adhere to every surface.

“Bread of affliction,” indeed. Oy.

[Adapted from a post originally published on April 11, 2009.]

THE COOKIE KID: A 100-WORD ORIGIN STORY

Fidgeting, forehead glazed with sweat, Joe sat across from Max Schwartz, the vaudeville impresario, his toddler son cradled in his lap.

Nervous? Why wouldn’t he be? Max held Joe Junior’s future in his hands. Junior didn’t seem to be concerned, though. He sat quietly until his father asked him to demonstrate some of his dancing skills.

Max gnawed on a macaroon as he watched. The kid was good. Way better than good.

“We’ll need to give him a stage name,” announced Max. Absently regarding the half-eaten coconut cookie in his hand, he suddenly brightened. “That’s it!” he cried. “Mickey Rooney!”

[Mickey Rooney, who began his decades-long acting career at the tender age of seventeen months, passed away yesterday at the age of 93. Requiescat in pace, Andy Hardy!]

ELI

Eli, 1925-2014. Barukh dayan emet.

He’s gone now.

There is no person who has been a bigger part of my life. In addition to supplying half of my DNA - including at least 75% of my sense of humor - he has shared this planet with me for over sixty-one years. Longer than anyone else.

Alas, he is with us no more... but I shall always be Eli’s son.

TINY BUBBLES

Tiny bubbles
In the bread
Make me feel happy
Ah, they go to my head

Those tiny bubbles
Make me feel so nice
You know that I’m gonna
Love that butter conveyance device

So here’s to the golden crust
And here’s to the butter knife
And here’s some tasty toast
For me and my wife

When the tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the bread (in the bread)
They make me feel happy (make me feel happy)
They go to my head (go to my head)

Those tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
Make me warm all over (make me warm all over)
With a feeling that I’m gonna (with a feeling that I’m gonna)
Love that butter conveyance device (it’s so nice)

Tiny bubbles (oooh-a-licki)
In the bread (ik-a-may-li)
Make me feel happy (a-ka-oli)
Ah, they go to my head (ik-a-ba-al-he)


Naturally leavened bread dough completes its bulk fermentation. Lookit all them little tiny bubbles!


The final result. Mmmm, crusty!

Even Don Ho would approve.

MARCH GUILD EVENT

This evening’s Sommelier Guild event will be held at Murphy’s in Virginia Highland. It features Burgundies... specifically, Burgundies produced by Maison Louis Jadot in 2007 and 2009.

I’m more of a Bordeaux than a Burgundy guy, but that’s probably more due to laziness on my part than anything else: I tend to stick with what I like when buying or ordering wine. But some of the finest wines in the world come from Burgundy, so who am I to turn down a learning opportunity? Besides, what sort of Georgian would turn up his nose at wines made from the legendary “Peanut Noir” grape?

As far as the Foodly Accompaniments go, I do love a good coq au vin, especially when I don’t have to mess up my own kitchen making it. And salmon - a full-flavored fish - is one of my go-to dishes, one that I am happy to enjoy along with red wine. It will be interesting to see how it pairs up with three serious Burgundies.


The evening’s array of Winey Goodies. [Click to embiggen.]

Now, let’s take a look at tonight’s menu, shall we?

Openers:
NV Collon Brut Grower Champagne**
Mini crab cakes

First Flight:
2004 Kistler Chardonnay
Mystery Wine (served blind)
2011 Beringer Private Reserve Chardonnay***
Crispy flatbread with arugula and prosciutto

Second Flight: Beaune Premier Crus
2007 Jadot Theurons
2009 Jadot Theurons*
2007 Jadot Bressandes
Chef Ian’s Surprise Course - Lentil Soup with Black Truffles and Truffle Oil

Third Flight: Beaune Premier Crus
2009 Jadot Boucherottes**
2009 Jadot Clos des Coucheraux*
2009 Jadot Clos des Ursules***
Coq au vin with potatoes and pearl onions

Fourth Flight: Côte de Nuits Premier Crus and Côte de Beaune Grand Cru
2009 Jadot Les Boudots Nuits-Saint-Georges Premier Cru
2009 Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin Estournelles-Saint-Jacques Premier Cru*
2007 Jadot Corton Pougets Côte de Beaune Grand Cru*
Grilled salmon with cheese grits and local cabbage slaw

Lagniappe:
2000 Henri Gouges Clos des Porrets Monopole, Nuits-Saint-Georges Premier Cru**
2009 Cénit - Viñas del Cénit, Zamora, Spain*

Some three decades ago, we were friendly with the executive chef at one of Atlanta’s fancy-pants dining establishments. Every so often, when he would clear out some of his wine inventory, I would be able to grab a few bottles of Jadot Burgundy at wholesale cost. Man, would I love to be able to do that today.

As usual, I’ll report back after the event with a summary of my preferences.

Update: I had had such high expectations coming into this event, but Burgundy will not be replacing Bordeaux as my favorite French appellation anytime soon - at least, not on the strength of this evening’s showing.  Except for the third flight, which combined a reasonable rendition of coq au vin (chicken stewed in wine) with several pleasant enough wines, most of the evening was, alas, not up to the usual standards. The wines were, for the most part, thin and uninspiring. The salmon was bland, and the Chef’s Surprise - a bowl of lentil soup with the captivating aroma of black truffle - was salty to the point of inedibility. Ouch. (On the other hand, the crab cake was a little gem, perfectly prepared and with no detectable filler.)

Oh, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Not every dinner can be a winner. [Insert your favorite cliché here.]

Bonus Question:



Let’s see how much of a Wine Geek you are. Take a look at the bottle above. What’s wrong with it?

[El Capitan knew the answer. If you think you do, leave a comment!]

Attendees at this month’s Guild event - 24 of ’em - were asked this question upon arriving at the restaurant. Only three got it right... including Yours Truly. No, we did not win any valuable prizes.

ON PENS... AND QUILLS

The Pen-guin sits up-on the shore
And loves the lit-tle fish to bore;
He has one en-er-vat-ing joke
That would a very Saint provoke:
“The Pen-guin's might-i-er than the sword-fish”;
He tells this dai-ly to the bored fish,
Un-til they are so weak, they float
With-out re-sis-tance down his throat.

- Oliver Herford

Well, I don’t know much about penguins - aside from the fact that the insidious little bastards are plotting to take over the world, that is - but I do know something about pens.

I’ve used all manner of pens over the years. Aside from the ubiquitous ballpoint, my list of Writing Implements includes fountain pens ranging from the humble Sheaffer to the more rarefied Parker and Montblanc. In my engineering student years, I used Staedtler-Mars and Rapidograph engineering pens, pens capable of drawing lines of an exact thickness, useful for engineering diagrams but also for cartooning. Lookee:



Princeton Tiger Magazine, September 1972. Cover drawing done entirely with Staedtler-Mars engineering pens.

Among my vast collection of pens you can find all manner of calligraphy pens (I used to take class notes with a chisel-tip Osmiroid. A stupid affectation? You bet), Speedball lettering pens, and even a few Hunt Crow Quills. Nothing like a Hunt Crow Quill for detail work.

No, a Crow Quill is a metal pen nib. It’s not something yanked from a bird’s ass, although I have used that type of quill to write with as well.

Speaking of quills, there’s a completely different type of quill I have been enjoying lately: the Quill Cocktail.

The Quill is a variation on the Negroni theme. Simply put, it’s a Negroni with a little bit of absinthe thrown in to give it a bit of an anise flavor note.


Quill Cocktail. For sure, mightier than a swordfish.

You want your own Quill? Here’s how:

Quill Cocktail

1 ounce gin (I used Hendrick’s)
1 ounce sweet vermouth (I used Punt e Mes. Carpano Antica works well, too)
1 ounce Campari
¼ ounce absinthe

Combine in a cocktail shaker with ice. Stir and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist. Enjoy!

THE SCHMEARIN’ O’ TH’ GREEN

What better way to observe Saint Padraig’s Day than by baking up an eight-pack of shamrock green bagels?


“Kiss me, I’m Irish.” “Eat me, I’m Jewish.”

One of the Missus’s colleagues has a permanent standing order for my green Saint Padraig’s bagels.  There was still enough high-gluten flour in the pantry left over from an earlier bagel-baking session, so I was happy to oblige. After mixing and kneading the dough yesterday afternoon, I was up at 5:30 this morning to finish them off with a quick boil and bake.

These babies are coated with the traditional blend of Irish toppings: white sesame seeds, black sesame seeds, wasabi sesame seeds, poppy seeds, and Montreal steak seasoning. And the wasabi sesame seeds are green - an added bonus.

The best way to eat these? Perhaps a gentle schmear of Kerrygold Irish butter... perhaps a slice of smoked salmon... or decorated with a chunk of Dubliner cheddar. Decisions, decisions!

I’LL HAVE WHAT HE’S HAVING: A 100-WORD STORY

Harry’s Delicatessen was the hot spot in Boulder, Colorado for Jewish cooking.

Harry piled his pastrami sandwiches high with silken, garlic-spiked meat. His matzoh balls were clouds floating in a chickeny firmament. Nova Scotia salmon, sable, belly lox were all of the highest quality.

No matter how stuffed his customers were, they would always save room for dessert. The rugelach and chocolate babka could make strong men weep with pleasure.

It was after recreational marijuana was legalized when Harry’s business really took off. Other delis sold hamantaschen, but Harry’s ganja-filled rastamantaschen had customers lined up out the door for blocks.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Josh - the redoubtable son of Houston Steve - for the inspiration and artwork for this story.]

TIMEQUACK: A 100-WORD BOOK SYNOPSIS

Kurt Vonneduck’s Timequack is the story of Ludwig von Drake, an inventor who builds a time machine that transports him to a Duckburg of the Far Future (802,701 anno mallardi), an almost unrecognizable world in which ducks have divided into two separate species.

As Von Drake explores this strange Future Duckburg, he sees that the Muscoveloi live pleasant lives on the surface of the duckpond, their needs provided by the underwater-dwelling Mallardlocks. It is only after days of observation and speculation (interspersed with several harrowing adventures) that he realizes that, to the Mallardlocks, the Muscoveloi are naught but farm animals!

[Inspired by a typo. The book, of course, is Timequake.]