Friday Video

 A tribute to the foods of Wisconsin, ending with Cumberland's annual rutabaga festival.  It picks up speed at about the 55 second mark; before that, it might be confused with a Cialis commercial.

Food Day Roundup

Breaking from NYT: Children like to eat crap; they occasionally use dirty hands to do so. "Eww," say parents.
More from NYT: This is not a shrimp risotto that any Risottian would recognize.  But it is healthy.
Mushroom bathing debate from the Manchester Guardian.   Comments are even more neurotic than the article .
Buy an eggcream; save an institution. All info on the Save Ray's movement from EV Grieve.

More on Friday Videos, Hillbilly Division: Vintage Tennessee Pride Sausage, Mountain Dew

 Tennessee Pride Sausage seems to have been made from whole hog pork and Alphabits, but Mr. Odom sure can shake a leg or eight.



Wash down that sausage, and "tickle yore innards," with some Mountain Dew.

Friday Videos: Space Food Sticks

Great vintage commercial about a product that lingers in the minds of those who remember what was called the Space Age.  I was tickled out of my cardboard satellite to see that Space Food Sticks are now available at Dylan's Candy Bar. My only question is, just how much energy do you get out of 44 calories?  I would guess that that hyperactive Little Leaguer burns ten times that just eating his peanut butter stick.

Food Day Roundup

Via the Voice, NY1's Pat Kiernan makes a not terribly convincing case for Canadian cuisine.
Am I ahead of the curve, or what?  NYT reports on the extended Maine shrimp season.
Our friends over at Slice share some incredibly cool vintage pizza ads.
EV Grieve, indefatigable chronicler of the demise of the East Village and the Lower East Side, reports on the closing of Telephone, after twenty-two Stilton-fritter-filled years.

Bloomberg, that Salty (Hypocritical) Dog

Salt-addicted Mike, who salts Saltines,  wants us to shake as he says, not as he does.

Maine Shrimp Parfait, Revisited

I mentioned a while ago that I had never forgotten a shrimp parfait that I had in Falmouth Foreside, Maine.  I don't, however, remember the name of the restaurant, which is now doubtless Mexican or Thai or upscale Downeast anyway. The only other thing I remember about the place was that it served haddock ten or twelve ways. Rather daunting, that.
  What with one thing and another this weekend, I went out looking for a pair of boots and instead came back with Cumberland sausage, salt,  two kinds of preserves, cheese, Twiglets, more cheese, a mince tartlet, beets, and Maine shrimp, none of which will keep my feet warm.  The Maine shrimp did fire my imagination, but it chilled quickly when I realized by just how much I had underbought.  After cooking and peeling, the pound of shrimp I had started with left me with just enough to pile on a rice cake, if I were the sort of person who would do that.  (No complaints, though, at $4.95/lb.)
  And then there were the eggs.  I swear that there were at least two thousand eggs per shrimp.  Each and every shrimp, that is, because all harvested Maine shrimp are female.  They begin their lives as males, then climb the biological ladder to a higher place of existence.  Good for them.
  What I needed was a way to stretch the shrimp, a rich, intense way that didn't involve my having to put my coat back on and walk to the corner.  Could I replicate the shrimp parfait? Hell, yes. Are you going to know the difference?
 The FF shrimp parfait was lovely, layered, creamy pink, and, yes, rich.  I decided against layering, because we don't have parfait glasses, and I don't like to fidget about with food that way anyhow.  It was a pretty thing, nonetheless, and if it wasn't exactly right, it was close enough to bring back memories of a lovely evening in Maine.  That's quite good enough for me.

Bring a largish pot of water to a boil, salt, squeeze in a lemon wedge, then add the wedge to the water.  Add a pound of Maine shrimp.  Count slowly to fifteen, and give them a gentle stir.  Count to fifteen again, and pour them into a colander.  Run cold water over the shrimp to stop them from cooking to mush.Let cool for a couple of minutes.
 Peel, by first pulling off the heads, then removing the rather pliable shell.  When they are all peeled, give them a rinse to get rid of the remaining eggs, which are not all that appealing.  Chill for a while.  (The shrimp, not you.  You've got more work to do.)

Whip half of a half pint of heavy cream until pretty stiff but not hard.  Gently fold in a couple of tablespoons of ketchup, some horseradish, a dash of hot sauce, salt and pepper. The cream will deflate a bit. Fold in the shrimp and spoon into glasses or pudding dishes or whatever tickles your fancy.  Top with a bit of lemon zest.

Food Day Roundup

When is Vesuvio not Vesuvio?  When it's a Birdbath. [JV]
The Veselka, mercifully, remains the Veselka. [NYT]
Grim outlook for Florida fruit and veg.  [FN ]
So, monsieur, when did you stop injecting your mice?   [WoM]

Yeah, But Can She Balance a Blade on Her Ear?

                                                                                              

                                                                                                    Top Chef
The kitchen radio, which sits on top of a bookcase full of cookbooks and  kitchen implements, was plugged in.  In order to make toast, I had to unplug the radio from the extension cord, which was twined around a stool that had no business being there, bend down, and plug in the toaster, which sits a mere three feet away on the windowsill.  Easy for one of my grace and agility.  All was going more or less to plan, when I felt a small explosion in my right ear, followed by heavy pressure .  I was bent over facing the floor, afraid to move, as I was pretty sure that a large glass measuring cup was also balanced between the bookcase and my neck. Bruce ambled in (odd occurences involving me and inanimate objects are distressingly common around here) and reported that the ultrasharp Cuisinart blade, which had been stored in the measuring cup,  was curled around my right ear. He lifted it off gently (the blade, not my ear).   Nary a nick.  The measuring cup  escaped without injury.

Hangover Helper

The kids over at Three Olives Vodka asked me to remind you that the only cure for too much cheap champagne on New Year's Eve is a healthy, vitamin-rich bloody mary on New Year's Day.  If you're so riddled with the jimjams that the noise of a spoon hitting a glass makes you shudder, Three-O Tomato vodka can help you on your way back to a happy, productive life: It's already infused with tomato, pepper, horseradish, and spices.  All you need add is lemon and tomato juice, both of which are blessedly silent.  I'd pass on the celery stick, though.