tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5432811525196884152024-03-12T23:46:03.136-04:00FoodWineGuy"Chi mangia bene vive bene"Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-56258143297297998872009-06-24T10:19:00.009-04:002009-07-20T21:04:22.506-04:00Forthcoming Italian Wine Dinner<div style="text-align: center;">To be held at a private residence in Sandy Springs (just off GA-400) </div><div style="text-align: center;">on Sunday, October 11 (Columbus Day Weekend) at 6:00PM<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The dinner will be limited to 24 people.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-size:130%;">Homemade Duck Prosciutto</span></u></b><br />Baby arugula salad, grape tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil<br /><br /><br /><b><u><span style="font-size:130%;">Seared Scallop Gazpacho</span></u></b><br />Toasted hazelnuts, Sardinian bitter honey<br /><br /><br /><b><u><span style="font-size:130%;">Uovo Raviolo</span></u></b><br />Large raviolo with a spinach and ricotta filling and an egg yolk, topped with truffle butter and Parmigiano Reggiano<br /><br /><br /><b><u><span style="font-size:130%;">Petit Filet</span></u></b><br />Taleggio polenta, grilled zucchini, Chianti reduction<br /><br /><br /><u><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Panna Cotta</b></span></u><br />Caramelized orange supremes<br /><br /><br />The cost is $60 per person. Each course will have a wine suggestion for pairing and each party will be expected to bring a wine that goes with the course they are assigned. Therefore, you bring one bottle of wine but you drink from five bottles. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Please email me at RSVP@danielturro.com if you are interested in attending. <br /><br /><br /></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-46169239475460234042009-05-04T22:24:00.002-04:002009-05-04T22:28:51.301-04:00Join us for a compare and contrast German / Alsatian Wine DinnerFour courses of Alsatian and German food paired with two wines each to compare and contrast the two regions take on the same wine, or the effect of a wine pairing on a single dish.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="im"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Salade Vigneronne</b></span><br /><b>Endive, mixed greens, radish, cornichons, cherry tomatoes,<br />Gruyere cheese, Gewürztraminer vinaigrette</b><br /><b><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Paired with Alsatian and German Gewürztraminer</span></b><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Choucroute Garnie</b></span><br /><b>Mixed sausages, ham, boiled potatoes served with Alsatian sauerkraut</b><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><br /></div><b><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Paired with Alsatian Riesling and a very unusual oaked Riesling<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Oaked Riesling is like Bigfoot; I have heard they exist, but never actually saw one...until now)<br /></span></span></b><div class="im"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Sauerbraten with Spaetzle</b></span><br /> <b>Wine marinated, slow cooked beef served over homemade spaetzle</b><br /><br /></div><b><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Paired with German Riesling and German Dornfelder</span></b><div class="im"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Alsatian Apple Tart</b></span><br /><b>Apple custard tart, served with homemade vanilla ice cream<br /><br /></b></div><b><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Paired with German Riesling Spatlese and Auslese </span></b><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">$65 per person / All inclusive</span><br />Please email me at rsvp@danielturro.com to reserve your spot<br /> </div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-52874717348740885802009-03-21T15:40:00.005-04:002009-03-21T17:11:55.975-04:00The Dirt Road Barbeque<div align="justify"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe46uq4bGZ3X5KYYqfahlxgvRD5W3uX0mDCCirSUv-A5gg1B_lD292MOpvU5IJreoFf683sa5fN9ZD8nEhEPQVHwmgSXXRw90fzFC0918S4xZmHTrNh4UoPav3BuzRy6oUpYwCw51ONzY/s1600-h/IMG00097-20090321-1200.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe46uq4bGZ3X5KYYqfahlxgvRD5W3uX0mDCCirSUv-A5gg1B_lD292MOpvU5IJreoFf683sa5fN9ZD8nEhEPQVHwmgSXXRw90fzFC0918S4xZmHTrNh4UoPav3BuzRy6oUpYwCw51ONzY/s200/IMG00097-20090321-1200.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315750141999916082" /></a>I have to eat. I like to eat well. The fact that I travel as often as I do and spend so much time in the car make those two goals at odds with each other. Enter the GPS. From time to time I will look for a place to eat during a drive. I generally subscribe to the "when in Rome..." philosophy and therefore search for a barbeque joint. After all, my Rome is sometimes the nowhere regions of Alabama and Georgia. </div><p align="justify">About a mile off the highway in Cusseta, Alabama, my GPS told me, is a barbeque restaurant called Dirt Road Barbeque. As I followed my GPS down Alabama County Road 388, the road took a sharp right turn and a dirt road continued straight. There was a small sign and lots of people with horses at the entrance to the dirt road. A bunch of horseback riders were just finishing lunch and exiting the wooden structure with the particle board and corrugated metal roof.<br />A country accent greeted me as I entered. She apologized for the big, messy table that just vacated by the horseback riders. I found a table and she asked what I want to drink. I ordered an unsweetened iced tea, a barbeque pork sandwich, onion rings, and cole slaw. She went into the kitchen as I stepped outside to grab a few photos. It occurred to me that they may not take credit cards and I did not have much cash. She confirmed that they do not take plastic so I looked in the car, scrounging for change and brought my total to about $4.00. I went back inside and apologized, but not before she could apologize for the inconvenience. I asked her to just bring me the onion because they had already been cooked but she insisted that she would take the $4.00 and bring me everything I ordered. She has been telling her husband that they should take credit cards but he doesn’t want to. <br />The tea was already on the table and everything else arrived in a minute. The pork portion was modest for the size of the bun, but the sandwich only costs $2.75. The onion rings were crispy, not greasy and had large slices onion in each one. The slaw was moist and tasty. I could smell the smokiness of the pork with every bite of all the food, not just the sandwich. I have enjoyed barbeque for a long time and my appreciation for it as a genuine contribution to gastronomic landscape of our planet. This particular experience also had the effect of restoring a bit of faith in humanity and the hospitality industry. If you are ever in that neck of the woods, I hardily encourage you to stop by for some old fashioned southern hospitality. </p><p align="justify">Dirt Road Barbeque<br />7151 County Road 388 <br />Cusseta, AL 36852 <br />(334) 756-9673<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-34229911155899836202009-03-15T21:53:00.004-04:002009-08-07T16:42:05.388-04:00Waiter...my dressing is frothing!<p align="justify">I have been in and around food service business for more than 25 years. My dining companions have similar backgrounds; one even owns thirty-one restaurants. So when my blue cheese salad dressing is frothing and carbonated, I trust my judgment that it is fermented and therefore spoiled. Don't get me wrong, I love carbonated things....well really just beverages. <br /><br />The salad was sent back, stating in no-uncertain terms that the dressing was spoiled. Deena, our waitress, took the salad back. She returned a few minutes later and assured us that all of their dressings are made fresh and therefore the salad dressing was good but she would be glad to replace the salad...with another kind of dressing if desired. She did not taste the dressing but assured us that the kitchen assured her that it is good. OOOOKAAAY. I'll have oil and vinegar. The salad was delivered and she explained again that the dressing was fresh and their blue cheese dressing is kind of tangy and that may have been what we were tasting. A short while later, another individual who appeared to be a manager stopped by and once again assured us that their blue cheese dressing is kind of tangy but it is fresh and good. REALLY? Even if we had dead palates and somehow did not know that carbonation is not normal in blue cheese dressing, one would think that the staff would not go out of its way to argue with us, repeatedly. This Mecca of food safety and customer service shall go unnamed since I am sharing this story with management in the hopes that they address it appropriately. <br /></p><p align="justify"></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-12066207704717700142009-03-09T22:49:00.004-04:002009-03-09T23:04:44.710-04:00Peat Virgin No More<div align="justify"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj053E9FG9L_BVTQqJgGDK0uuAhIVq5GD13B-fVUBwmKrrq9JpZ7onz6IP3SIUlfGdzxdWaMSqY5JlMFXAocBM3h3VqN0ORA8WMNvH14ySfh0pBjGrCsyB721MZeup1NKq45dkGZRwWVqmA/s1600-h/Peat+Fired.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj053E9FG9L_BVTQqJgGDK0uuAhIVq5GD13B-fVUBwmKrrq9JpZ7onz6IP3SIUlfGdzxdWaMSqY5JlMFXAocBM3h3VqN0ORA8WMNvH14ySfh0pBjGrCsyB721MZeup1NKq45dkGZRwWVqmA/s200/Peat+Fired.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311387868352117922" /></a>I finally got around to firing up my peat. That oh-so-strange-yet-so-well-suited Christmas gift from my friend. It was a little slow to get going and did produce a lot of smoke, which is good because I am smoking some cured pork and some sea salt. When it finally got going, it was all I could do to keep the temperature in my smoker from going through the roof. This is the same smoker that I have put a good size pile of charcoal just to maintain the desired temperature of 200 to 250 degrees and a really large pile to get to 350 degrees. <br /><br />A small pile of natural hardwood charcoal with five one pound peat bricks has no problem getting to smoking hot temperatures well exceeding 350 degrees. The bad news is that is not what I want. I am looking for the magic temperature of 200 to 250 degrees. <br /><br />The good news is that the aroma of the peat did not disappoint. It is briny, salty, and even a little oily. Did you ever eat something so good that you kept your fingers close to your nostrils just so you could vicariously enjoy it over and over again from the residual aroma on your hands? Well I have not even eaten the results yet and my hands continually drift towards my nostrils. More good news is that even the smoker is still running a bit hotter than I like, the bacon will be done sooner and I can go to bed and dream of Scotland.</div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-90994049492613719032009-02-20T22:14:00.010-05:002009-02-20T23:24:49.998-05:00Skill at Craft<div align="justify"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2VDzjin1XVIIyZFf0wb3UJ7euPnTNUfSAySdaGu82vYu7gP6FNfGBziP8G23JogkoP_WmPZ7gEcVlVheAZM0a31Qn3XrOShOAV5LzQUo3EYgCHstegLQ9MHYSqmrVy-4atqdqiPtUrNO/s1600-h/Pork+Belly,+Yogurt,+Pickles+%26+Radish2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2VDzjin1XVIIyZFf0wb3UJ7euPnTNUfSAySdaGu82vYu7gP6FNfGBziP8G23JogkoP_WmPZ7gEcVlVheAZM0a31Qn3XrOShOAV5LzQUo3EYgCHstegLQ9MHYSqmrVy-4atqdqiPtUrNO/s200/Pork+Belly,+Yogurt,+Pickles+%26+Radish2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305098806122706338" /></a>Today I ventured into the latest celebrity restaurant in Atlanta: Craft by Tom Colicchio. Initially it appeared the restaurant was closed. The (seemingly) front door was locked and it appeared dark inside until one pressed against the glass. The door is behind the building, away from Peachtree Street.<br />Upon entering we were promptly and cheerfully greeted and shown to our table. I could not help but gaze lovingly at the flames licking out of the wood fired grill as I walked past stacks and stacks of wood. Oooh...I must get something from the grill, I thought. The rest of the restaurant is modernly appointed and invitingly open.<br />The menu is broken down into two sections: First courses and main courses. The first courses are small plates and salads. The first course prices range from $10 for red mustard greens with bacon lardon, apple & humbolt fog cheese or a mixed lettuce salad with goat cheddar & hazelnuts to $15 for a smoked trout salad with confit fingerling potato, watercress & smithfield ham or a cobb salad.<br />The main course menu ranges from a low of $13 for a meatball panini with ricotta salata & pickled peppers to $24 for a pork chop, Harris Ranch strip steak or escolar. We decided to split a few small plates. The pork belly was meltingly delicious with great caramelization outside and garnished with a yogurt sauce, pickles and radishes. The combination was wonderful, the acidity of the pickles and radishes cutting through the fat of the belly. The yogurt was creamy rounding and rounded out the flavors.<br />The wood grill beckoned me to order two grilled dishes: Grilled oysters with herb butter and bread crumbs and the grilled quail with turnips, apple and smoked bacon. The oysters were small, more roasted than grilled, and sitting atop a bed of rock salt in a cast iron pan. The quail tasted of the wood grill and was seasoned perfectly. Little bites of crispy bacon were smoky, salty and all around yummy proving what I have said for a long time “all things are better with pork”. The other plate was the salad with hazelnuts and cheese. It was good, but nothing to write home about.<br />The main thing that was going through my head was “there is skill here”. The only downside is probably the price. Four small plates and only water to drink came to $60 with tax and tip. I am not sure what you can do to a meatball Panini to make it a $13 sandwich which is half the size of a regular meatball grinder that can be had for a few bucks less. The salad was smallish, and pork belly is a damn cheap cut. A single quail for $13 and five oysters for $12 are not prices that many people can afford with great regularity, especially in this economy. The cost into the plate is minimal so you will pay for the skill, which is definitely present, and the Buckhead address, which is definitely expensive. These are not criticisms, simply facts of a chef driven restaurant with a prestigious address. With that being said, Craftbar is worth the trip, just don’t think you will be bargain hunting.</div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-47132422734719671542008-12-15T23:34:00.008-05:002009-01-26T13:27:51.985-05:00Forthcoming Whisky Dinner<div align="justify"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVOtlv1922rGIWGfWioQ3kaA_lxtcXcrouVMo4YgMPofhm0X5_6WReRZ-DyCqRpIDXb-drAzE10iyKR210rKJ6i3fDqNYXHWkFETYPHYJ1j5R6qFhPi8CuS2mriY9Py734yE-v1Qi32H7/s1600-h/macallan-single-highland-malt-scotch.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVOtlv1922rGIWGfWioQ3kaA_lxtcXcrouVMo4YgMPofhm0X5_6WReRZ-DyCqRpIDXb-drAzE10iyKR210rKJ6i3fDqNYXHWkFETYPHYJ1j5R6qFhPi8CuS2mriY9Py734yE-v1Qi32H7/s320/macallan-single-highland-malt-scotch.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295669037489425730" /></a>2008 was my whiskey year. I went to distilleries in Scotland, Northern Ireland, Tennessee and Kentucky. I have tried at least 60 different whiskies. After a trip to the Highland Cigar Bar a couple of weeks ago I decided to do a whisky dinner. Notice there is no "e" in whisky. That is because I decided to focus on Scotch Whisky after my friend told me that my Christmas present will be 11 pounds of peat. That's right, you can buy peat. That knowledge really got my brain working... I can smoke my own salmon with peat, I can cure and smoke my own bacon with peat... fun stuff.<br /><br />Overall, I will be sticking to Scottish flavor profile, highlighting not only peat, but heather honey, Scottish cheeses, barley, etc. The dinner will be held at a private residence on March 14th. It is $75 per person, without liquor (it can not legally include liquor.) Each couple will be requested to bring a bottle of Scotch for pairing. Specific pairing guidance will be given closer to the date. You will be able to return with the bottle afterwards, unlike wine dinners where everything gets consumed. Afterwards everyone is welcome to stay behind and smoke cigars and have a glass of Dalmore Cigar Malt.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">1. Peat Smoked Salmon, toast points, capers, red onion, whisky creme fraiche<br /><br />2. Potato & Leek Soup with Islay Scotch Foam<br /><br />3. Field Greens Salad with Homemade Peat Smoked Bacon, Grilled Apples, Crisp Barley Cake, Cider Vinaigrette<br /><br />4. Spiced Celery Sorbet (Intermezzo)<br /><br />5. Macallan Braised Veal Breast, Wild Mushroom Demiglace, Tournets of Parsnips and Carrots<br /><br />6. Assortment of Scottish Cheeses with Heather Honey<br /><br />7. Hazelnut Chocolate Whisky Gateau, Smoked Sea Salt, Drambuie Ice Cream</span><br /><br />Please contact me for reservations or more information.</div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-10306621390023515192008-10-16T17:34:00.003-04:002008-10-16T18:00:56.705-04:00A Day in the Rough<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs4Oy1s12QtSe0kw40v5gUQ0nRdYM9GVJlhaaVAT9OwgSUB_RzLYtB30-2av2Z7kqvba1y8Rag6tVbGoaYyM67zWPVQE092MWjQ6oPmrb7YhSRHQn6bhhn5yNjARV2aGHXLfsEk_DGpAG/s1600-h/IMAG0106.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs4Oy1s12QtSe0kw40v5gUQ0nRdYM9GVJlhaaVAT9OwgSUB_RzLYtB30-2av2Z7kqvba1y8Rag6tVbGoaYyM67zWPVQE092MWjQ6oPmrb7YhSRHQn6bhhn5yNjARV2aGHXLfsEk_DGpAG/s400/IMAG0106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257868809680763570" border="0" /></a><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Ctrr%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:hyphenationzone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:70.85pt 70.85pt 56.7pt 70.85pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">There are things that epitomize areas, cuisines, cultures, etc. These are the things that I seek out. Wh</span><span lang="EN-US">ile speaking to a colleague from Philly the other day, I asked him about Philly cheese steaks. While in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Ireland</st1:place></st1:country-region>, I ate lamb whenever possible. While in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region></st1:place>, you would be remiss if you did not have some haggis. While in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region>…you get the pictu</span><span lang="EN-US">re. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">My final day of my recent trip to <st1:place st="on">New England</st1:place> was capped off by a visit to Abbott’s Lobster in the Rough. This renowned seafood shack at the mouth of the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Mystic</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place> is open from April to Columbus Day. The menu, as the name suggests, is very lobster-centric but also includes other items such as clams, oysters, chowders, plus options for the sea</span><span lang="EN-US">food adverse. I overheard a conversation between a woman and her elderly mother as the woman scolded her mother for even thinking about getting a hot dog. I agree. This is like to going to <st1:country-region st="on">Italy</st1:country-region> and having Chinese food (OK, I did that once, but I had a bad stretch of crappy tourist food, not to mention how cool and weird it was to have a conversation in Italian with a Chinese lady in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Rome</st1:city>, <st1:country-region st="on">Italy</st1:country-region></st1:place>).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5EP_R55KIy5vxoZCLLcV_sFjkBvWzMmZGwc-dSueDbQAIvLo-Q43fFwjSHD-XQsSkd3mQ-mDypZrL6EgSqVLZynswk5_IQ3w3YKvlIoiFdCy2BZB4V4mzWgeD9uyXoQC8_SBT7zeAS4n/s1600-h/Abbotts+View.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5EP_R55KIy5vxoZCLLcV_sFjkBvWzMmZGwc-dSueDbQAIvLo-Q43fFwjSHD-XQsSkd3mQ-mDypZrL6EgSqVLZynswk5_IQ3w3YKvlIoiFdCy2BZB4V4mzWgeD9uyXoQC8_SBT7zeAS4n/s400/Abbotts+View.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257874940050034146" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Columbus Day was sunny and about sevent</span><span lang="EN-US">y degrees and quite breezy. The view couldn’t b</span><span lang="EN-US">e beat; lots and lots of boats resting where the river met the sound. Frustrated seagulls flew overhead, their usual pesky behavior thwarted </span><span lang="EN-US">by the wires run over our heads forming a “net”.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, I did not have as much time as I would have liked. I would have ordered a lobster dinner and brought my own wine, purchased the day before on the North Fork of Long Island AKA Long Island Wine Country. I ordered a hot lobster roll, lobster bisque and corn on the cob. The others in my party ordered shrimp chowder, clam chowder, stuffed clams, and of course more lobster rolls. The corn was kind of flavorless, but everything else was fabulous. The clam chowder was a light broth, no cream, not rich, just briny and full of clam flavor, clams, and potatoes. The shrimp chowder had corn, potatoes, and shrimp and was also very good. The lobster bisque was good, but very heavy for my taste. Too much fat deadens the taste buds, not to mention makes it even harder for my clothes to button and snap. The lobster rolls were served with slaw that had a nice little bite to it, individual bags of chips and a pickle.
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<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">This destination if a definite the next time I am in that neck of the woods. Next time I will make sure I have more time and bring a bottle of wine. </span></p> Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-78578367021692978022008-10-16T17:13:00.006-04:002008-10-16T17:30:48.960-04:00Long Island Wine Country<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMya-nwfkYrSxoI3s7k-CnKWRZNfh84adgh5TegCQYOa6NJoloj66tkuNY0uxaZJ4V84pT32l_cQ48t3HrwJSnZHqrW5uumkFIyp1PfviZP4biLCmpbQ0Zb0QkdDSXgOUM0t-Jo3M2sHu/s1600-h/IMAG0060.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMya-nwfkYrSxoI3s7k-CnKWRZNfh84adgh5TegCQYOa6NJoloj66tkuNY0uxaZJ4V84pT32l_cQ48t3HrwJSnZHqrW5uumkFIyp1PfviZP4biLCmpbQ0Zb0QkdDSXgOUM0t-Jo3M2sHu/s200/IMAG0060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257864971200954418" border="0" /></a><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:hyphenationzone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; 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margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-US">It had been a long time since I visited <st1:place st="on">Long Island</st1:place>. By a long time, I mean decades. I have a picture of me with my family on the ferry from <st1:city st="on">Bridgeport</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Connecticut</st1:state> to Port Jefferson, <st1:place st="on">Long Island</st1:place> that was taken in the seventies. A number of years ago I read an article about how far <st1:place st="on">Long Island</st1:place> wines </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-US">had come. The article specifically mentioned Wolffer Estates, located on the South Fork of the island. Coincidentally I spotted a bottle of Wolffer Estates wine in a local store about a week later. I purchased it, took it home, and quickly opened it. I could not have been more disappointed. It was no better than our local swill from Chateau Elan in <st1:place st="on">North Georgia</st1:place>. Don’t get me wrong, <st1:country-region st="on">Georgia</st1:country-region> wine has come a long, long, way and many are quite good, not just good f</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-US">or <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Georgia</st1:country-region></st1:place>. But Chateau Elan is not one of those wineries that made that journey.</span><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">As the years passed and I witnessed the vast improvement of so many non traditional wine area such as North Georgia, and I continued to read good press about <st1:place st="on">Long Island</st1:place>, my desire to return there increased. So I made plans to go to the North Fork of Long Island, where the greatest concentration of wineries is located, over Columbus Day weekend. As I flew to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state>, I happened across an article in latest copy of Food & Wine. The article was a basic primer on American red wines complete with examples of examples of particular grapes and the premier regions from which they come. To my delight, Long Island Merlots were mentioned. The universe and I seemed to be in the same groove.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">The Friday before <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Columbus</st1:place></st1:city> we boarded the Port Jeff ferry with our car. A little over an hour later we were driving towards</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"> the <st1:place st="on">North Fork</st1:place>. A “Welcome to Long Island Wine Country” sign greeted us a short while later. I was impressed </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">by the map I downloaded of the <st1:place st="on">Long Island</st1:place> wine country by the large number of wineries packed into that little peninsula. It was much more impressive in person. The wineries were nearly stacked on more top of each other, across the street from each other, one after the next. The signs were clear and gave plenty of notice as we approached each new winery. Interspersed with the wineries were farms, farm stands, pumpkin patches and signs offering fresh cider. The day was about seventy degrees and sunny, really rounding out the beauty of this picturesque corner of <st1:place st="on">New England</st1:place>
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZBEkwQv3k2a34Uf5vSNLOvQa6t5XpuUqgqDC8RkdzGDz_E4TFo3iqDHy0LVkQgUBIhoVR2CByaz7HVVdmjdAlXlVPSaTffvaEVr_qwCdSXgnf0Fi5S9rU6Kiq8kRRptZyvKTAlBJ8QuL/s1600-h/Pellegrini.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZBEkwQv3k2a34Uf5vSNLOvQa6t5XpuUqgqDC8RkdzGDz_E4TFo3iqDHy0LVkQgUBIhoVR2CByaz7HVVdmjdAlXlVPSaTffvaEVr_qwCdSXgnf0Fi5S9rU6Kiq8kRRptZyvKTAlBJ8QuL/s200/Pellegrini.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257866222380512242" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">We visit</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">e</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">d three wi</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">neries and sampled many wines. Across the board, the wines were good, with only a handful of “whatever</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">”</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">wines and none that were really bad. At Pellegrini Vineyards we had the opportunity to contrast and compare three different incarnations of Chardonnay, three different merlots, a <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bordeaux</st1:place></st1:city> blend, and a gewürztraminer. All were good and people were very nice. The woman behind the counter was kind enough to make dining recommendations and get us addresses and phone numbers. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">We took the recommendation and went to the restaurant Soundview for lunch. We sat on the outside deck right on the sound. The day was nice but a bit on the windy side. The seafood was fresh, the food was hot, and I had a glass of wine from a fourth winery, a Paumonak Chardonnay that had a good balance of fruit, oak, and acidity.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">We were heading to our planned stops at Bedell Cellars and Castello di Borgese, but decided to pop into Duckwalk Vineyards. The Merlot from Duckwalk vineyards was very good. The chardonnays ran the gamut from oaky and buttery to sharp and crisp to tropical and fruity. Duckwalk’s basic chardonnay was on special that day for $15.00 for a magnum. It was full of fruit and floral notesI was having a bunch of people for dinner at my sister’s house the following day so I picked up one of those. They also had a range of other wines we tasted including cabernet franc, sauvignon blanc, gamay, even a vidal blanc ice wine and a blueberry port. They offered a small square of dark chocolate with the blueberry port. What a treat!
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">Our $4.00 tasting fee included five wines plus, much to our delight, a complimentary tasting at the Pindar winery just down the road. So for our combined $8.00, my brother-in-law and I got to taste a total of 22 wines (they threw in a couple of bonus wines including the ice wine and blueberry port).
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">Overall, the thing that impressed me the most was not only the quality of the wines, but the overall terrior that was evident. The reds had a decided earthiness to them, no fruit bombs here. My biggest disappointment was that I have a rule of traveling light so I only purchased what could I use on my weekend in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Connecticut</st1:place></st1:state>. Everywhere I visited I case discounts, up to 25% in the case of Pindar. I would definitely recommend this as a day trip, or longer. It could take days to work your way through this area.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:100%;">We completed our day by picking up some pumpkins, beets, apples, cider, and more for the festivities the following day. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-66569850895377084592008-07-15T20:44:00.005-04:002008-12-11T20:34:53.552-05:00You don't know Dickel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuRK4Zv3qZbqBNRVOYYPRX-7boTyZQlMfyc7ZK1f2Tg1HREGpyFlLT4wXa5SblZ2Ye6kR5PzYAukvmJd01KP_0bvS_jmL5nSrbnzbKsl6SoOJf_cLMbT0-7TX6uZr9_LlxQaoHpa7QU-J/s1600-h/Dickel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuRK4Zv3qZbqBNRVOYYPRX-7boTyZQlMfyc7ZK1f2Tg1HREGpyFlLT4wXa5SblZ2Ye6kR5PzYAukvmJd01KP_0bvS_jmL5nSrbnzbKsl6SoOJf_cLMbT0-7TX6uZr9_LlxQaoHpa7QU-J/s400/Dickel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223406608788393362" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Of the three distilleries I have visited in three countries in the last month or so, George Dickel in Tennessee ties for first place. Bushmill's, in Northern Ireland, was cool in the grand scope of it, the diversity of products, and most of all, the four hundred year history. The gentleman at the bar was one of the most knowledgeable people I have ever met when it comes to whiskey. He was well versed in Scotch, Irish Whiskey, and knew a good deal about American Whiskey too.<br /><br />Glenkinchie was just OK in all respects. They don't malt there, they don't kiln there, they do not even barrel and age there. It was purchased a couple of decades ago by Diageo to round out the company's offerings to include distilleries in the major regions of Scotland. Prior to that, it did not offer single malt whisky. In fact, all of the production went into blends. The young man guiding the tour did not know anything other than the script and, as I found out as I stood at the bar sipping my way through the offerings, doesn't really like whiskey. There was an older gentleman that was more knowledgeable about his national beverage. I wrote a bit about him in "What I learned about Scotch."<br /><br />George Dickel Distillery was as interesting as Bushmills, though the other end of the spectrum. Our guide was a southern gentleman who walked us the the operation with a slow, deliberate pace. Their offering is limited to their number 8, number 12, and a Barrel Select Whisky. Note the different spelling. George Dickel proclaimed that his whiskey was as smooth as the finest Scotch and therefore opted to spell it without the customary "ey." The history, although not as nearly as long as Bushmill's four hundred years, was still interesting and dates back to 1870. The location was carefully chosen for its proximity to the pure water that naturally filtered through the layers of limestone located there. As Tennessee implemented prohibition, the distillery moved just over the Kentucky border along with countless other distilleries. National prohibition forced the closure of the distillery as it did with so many other distilleries, breweries and wineries.<br /><br />George Dickel's daughters inherited the property and it sat without a distillery for many years. Then about fifty years ago, as our guide explained, a master distiller who used to drink the whisky came back after many years and was disappointed to see the distillery was defunct. He approached the daughters about selling it. Upon their approval, he went back to Kentucky to secure financing. When he applied for a permit to rebuild the distillery, however, he was denied. Some time later, the story goes, someone stumbled upon the original distillery license and delivered it to the master distiller. The local government then grandfathered in the license and the distillery was rebuilt. George Dickel kept very thorough notes and the old formulas were once again flowing from Cascade Hollow, Tennessee.<br /><br />A sampling of things that make Dickel unique include the fact that it is double distilled. The first is in the traditional column still followed by second distillation in a pot still. Another difference is that the "white dog" or clear distillate is chilled before being filtered through sugar maple charcoal lined with virgin wool blankets. The twenty feet of charcoal is equal to that used in the production in Gentleman Jack and double that used for standard Jack Daniel's production. They say the chilling of the liquor prior to filtration removes the fattys acids and oils in a manner similar to pouring gravy through ice.<br /><br />The big difference from the other distilleries is in the absence of a large computer control panel. Everything is done by a handful of guys the old fashioned way. Both of the other distilleries I visited looked like the set of an old star trek episode with the boxy computerized controls. At the Dickel distillery we placed our hands over the open fermentation tank to feel the heat. "this one is about three days now, it will come out tomorrow" our guide explained. We all walked to the next tank and placed our hands over the bubbly liquid. "this one is about a day behind, notice it is not as warm. It will feel like that one tomorrow" our guide continued, "it will come out in two days."<br /><br />We were unable to visit the aging barrels. Apparently this part of tour was done away with after September 11. I guess all that flammable alcohol presents a security risk. They had a mock-up of the barrel storage were our guide explained another difference. The barrels are stacked only six high, for consistent aging. Our tour concluded with a short film showing them opening barrels after a skillful roll down the hill. Finally, we went to the gift shop were I bought a bottle of Barrel Select.<br /><br />The differences between the three distilleries were broad, a fact made all the more interesting by the fact that all three distilleries are owned by Diageo, a conglomerate company with holdings such as Smirnoff, Cruzan, Bailey's Irish Creme, Guinness, Tanqueray, and more.<br /><br />Even amongst the globalization of industry, local flavor still manages to shine through.<br /></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-76879696133977369592008-06-11T15:27:00.008-04:002008-12-11T20:34:53.677-05:00What I learned about Scotch<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzuUa05jez5zyME9t8LEl0noAUPo7nlossXqUYlsxJxLnyEkLRuJ0_E-C9vOk8C8f4cV1GSn8fSGvcxh4SBSrHNEfe9n_PHG-iIJ6NZbBXh8b3_DkZWHmeDj96ExPdUdDDkiYJaGsfXC4/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Glenfinichie%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzuUa05jez5zyME9t8LEl0noAUPo7nlossXqUYlsxJxLnyEkLRuJ0_E-C9vOk8C8f4cV1GSn8fSGvcxh4SBSrHNEfe9n_PHG-iIJ6NZbBXh8b3_DkZWHmeDj96ExPdUdDDkiYJaGsfXC4/s200/Scotland+%28Glenfinichie%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210710154015380738" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">My travels are always about food and drink, that’s why my blog is called FoodWineGuy. Last week, my self directed education continued as I found m</span><span lang="EN-US">y way to the lowland distillery Glenkinchie, about a 30 minute drive from Edinburgh, Scotland. Glenkinchie has had a distillery on this site since 1830, though not in continuous operation due to pesky things such as World Wars. The distillery has always made whisky for blending until 1987 when </span><span lang="EN-US">it was purchased by a conglomerate company named United as part </span><span lang="EN-US">of a portfolio of distilleries representing all of the areas of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. At that time, Glenkinchie s</span><span lang="EN-US">tarted producing s</span><span lang="EN-US">ingle</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCjoUsbBgKcyHvd74-Mq-1lkwQHieqE6Il_v4WzJ8AvZFDl91OsUm5ElVgCNfbdCC4d1pYasCHEe5547Z8fECRRcq3Wh2tdiQeIAC_rp7CFSGkN2iRURiFz93HRLGZzsHmayzr-CbY_-n/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Model+Stills%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCjoUsbBgKcyHvd74-Mq-1lkwQHieqE6Il_v4WzJ8AvZFDl91OsUm5ElVgCNfbdCC4d1pYasCHEe5547Z8fECRRcq3Wh2tdiQeIAC_rp7CFSGkN2iRURiFz93HRLGZzsHmayzr-CbY_-n/s200/Scotland+%28Model+Stills%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210711491440751218" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US"> mal</span><span lang="EN-US">ts. </span> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The visitor center is a modern, nicely put togeth</span><span lang="EN-US">e</span><span lang="EN-US">r</span><span lang="EN-US"> f</span><span lang="EN-US">aci</span><span lang="EN-US">lity</span><span lang="EN-US"> w</span><span lang="EN-US">i</span><span lang="EN-US">t</span><span lang="EN-US">h the history of Scotch laid out on museum-type panels. The</span><span lang="EN-US">re </span><span lang="EN-US">is a s</span><span lang="EN-US">cale model of a distillery that was lost in piles of rubble at the Glenkinichie distillery for decades. It was rediscovered and</span><span lang="EN-US"> reassembled and is currently on display. Our guide Cameron was a young man who did not know much</span><span lang="EN-US"> more than the script he was given. My questions challenged him and he tried his best, but I finally got to</span><span lang="EN-US"> speak with an older gentleman who was much more knowledgeable. My question was as follows:</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUtaWeltbcVNIixcIFMbqoEEnh-gYo9OoHPhLDP53fvSUMlochxzvzAOYzj3ssuSboNZJg-hl7F06QSqEpUDLB30oce75x3VV2VJG3BF0SaJX30O464QGiYXoRYbLh742A5N-oR988CS5/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Peat%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUtaWeltbcVNIixcIFMbqoEEnh-gYo9OoHPhLDP53fvSUMlochxzvzAOYzj3ssuSboNZJg-hl7F06QSqEpUDLB30oce75x3VV2VJG3BF0SaJX30O464QGiYXoRYbLh742A5N-oR988CS5/s200/Scotland+%28Peat%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210712332809663858" border="0" /></a><br /><span lang="EN-US">Q. How much of the stylistic differences in Scotch are attributable to what the French wo</span><span lang="EN-US">uld call terrior, and h</span><span lang="EN-US">ow much is simply a stylistic choice? Put another way, can we </span><span lang="EN-US">pick up this distillery and place it in the highlands and still produce a whisky that is representative of a lowlands whisky?</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">A. While terrior had an effect on the stylistic differences in the past, it was much less than f</span><span lang="EN-US">or wines. For example the lowlands don’t have a lot of peat and therefore the whiskies are not</span><span lang="EN-US"> as peaty. The sea air was thought to impart saltiness to the finished product as they are stored in barrels which breathe the sea air as the whisky ages. Recent studies indicate that the saltiness is likely imparted from the peat itself, which, being from coastal regions, has more salinity. Th</span><span lang="EN-US">e water was thought to impart significant differences in regional whiskies. It is now known to contribute only 10% of the quality of the finished product. The largest two factors in the difference in a whisky’s qualities come from the still itself and the maturing of the whisky. Minor changes in the shape of the still can have a dramatic effect on the whisky. The shape </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrt7T1E2s8_M7Il-vC9j62URiL1MfQf6N5k8sIHgYNRvGyHpXB3drwctfGKuAAGHDFZA-H2sR3hLChcjEpHZbAUDw_X8YyOr9Jdw_f-pDq3TYn_gVPMqk4iayjGdHSSqpU89YlG0RGIpxe/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Pot+Stills%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrt7T1E2s8_M7Il-vC9j62URiL1MfQf6N5k8sIHgYNRvGyHpXB3drwctfGKuAAGHDFZA-H2sR3hLChcjEpHZbAUDw_X8YyOr9Jdw_f-pDq3TYn_gVPMqk4iayjGdHSSqpU89YlG0RGIpxe/s200/Scotland+%28Pot+Stills%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210710681977667010" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">dictates exactly which compounds make it into the finished product and in what quantities. T</span><span lang="EN-US">he barrels have a major influenc</span><span lang="EN-US">e on the finished product. Are they sherry casks, bourbon casks, port, etc? How many times have they been used? The gentleman </span><span lang="EN-US">cited an example of a distillery in the highlands making whisky in the style of Islay for a period of time when <st1:place st="on">Islay</st1:place> distilleries where having a hard time keeping up with demand. <st1:place st="on">Islay</st1:place> malts can have 50ppm phenols or more versus only 2ppm phenols for the 10 year old Scotch from Glenkinichie. The measure of the phenol is the measurement of how smoky the product is. The distillery no longer produces that type of whisky and the existing bottles of their 30 year old stock sell from </span><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-GB">£</span></b><span lang="EN-US">180. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p><br />And that is what I learned about Scotch.</span></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-61490299603142373492008-06-07T06:33:00.001-04:002008-06-07T06:33:47.659-04:00My Plan in Ireland<div style="text-align: left;">It was a good plan, I would walk into a pub in the Yellowbatter section of Drogheda, Ireland and tell them I am looking for some Norris'es. I know it seems kind of simple, but I know that my cousin Tom Norris lives here, at least he used to.<br /><br />So that is what I did, I went into a pub called Hanbratty's. I sat down with my son, ordered a pint and some food and asked the waitress if she knew Tom Norris. She did not because she is not from this part of Drogheda, she explained, but some of the other people there might. Our drinks arrived, then our food. As we started to eat a gentlemen came out and asked "so, your lookin' for some Norris'es?" Well, turns out he is knows Anthony, son of Tom, but wasn't sure where they lived, although he said they do live in Yellowbatter. He had it narrowed down to a couple of blocks. I asked him if he could direct me to those blocks. He went into the back and came out about five minutes later and said some calls had been made and we might expect a call at the pub shortly. About ten minutes later he came back out with a paper in his hand. "Success!" he declared as he sat down. "Well, actually I have some good news and some bad news" he said as he handed me the paper. "Tom is not in Drogheda at the moment, but here is his cell number, and he doesn't live in Yellowbatter anymore." Tom was called away for work on a gas line in County Mayo, on the other side of the island.<br /><br />So I called Tom. His Mother Tessie still lives in Yellowbatter. He gave me the address and I will be visiting her tomorrow. He is going to call her and said she will probably get some more family there for our visit.<br /><br />I love it when a plan comes together.<br /></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-4827392732308606252008-06-05T19:00:00.004-04:002008-12-11T20:34:53.727-05:00I Did the Mash, Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWm0eRp9M6btfLm39E4nlrFgqgY_Ztj9DMHHYqkGXETcU2uZ6sMtI_PNgrfLHv6lOqjeyqunOm76yqtsJp7948JWQALIipik6PJV6p4Ijys-h70huIsmx0A8T7ZxAa-HD_7IofZmbWxX1/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Mash2%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWm0eRp9M6btfLm39E4nlrFgqgY_Ztj9DMHHYqkGXETcU2uZ6sMtI_PNgrfLHv6lOqjeyqunOm76yqtsJp7948JWQALIipik6PJV6p4Ijys-h70huIsmx0A8T7ZxAa-HD_7IofZmbWxX1/s200/Scotland+%28Mash2%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210705207227921602" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">This time it was the Monster Mash. If you go to <st1:city st="on">Naples</st1:city>, <st1:country-region st="on">Italy</st1:country-region> you must have pizza, if you go to <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region></st1:place>, you must have haggis. And that is just what I did. The Monster Mash was recommended to me by the nice young gentleman at the reception desk of our hotel at the First at <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Edinburgh</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>. He said it was a diner</span><span lang="EN-US">, the food was good, and the prices were reasonable. He also highly recommend</span><span lang="EN-US">ed the haggis. For those of you who do not know, haggis is the national dish of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Sco</st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span lang="EN-US"><st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">tland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It co</span><span lang="EN-US">ntains sheep organ meats mixed with oats, seasonings, and some blood. It is then sewn up i</span><span lang="EN-US">n the</span><span lang="EN-US"> sheep’s stomach and baked.</span><span lang="EN-US"> Now, I know what a lot of you are thinking: eeeewwhhhh, that sounds gross!! Well, my friends, that is what some of the best foods on the planet are; leftovers and scraps. For example, sausages, salami, pâtés, terrines, and more are all just ways to use up the leftovers so nothing is wasted.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3E1302NSgZpqp7_W6AbU6b28NaGDfvOJEyFqxJ45zzJEjaP5-R_WY66mQk_4gFCWq04F9NK9s76Yeg-UggsicTfSJwlCqHvBDMoHNvtnXtUMSgKtbq3hvKb_BOZJszOhyphenhyphenwMHMpxUX84v/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Haggis%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv3E1302NSgZpqp7_W6AbU6b28NaGDfvOJEyFqxJ45zzJEjaP5-R_WY66mQk_4gFCWq04F9NK9s76Yeg-UggsicTfSJwlCqHvBDMoHNvtnXtUMSgKtbq3hvKb_BOZJszOhyphenhyphenwMHMpxUX84v/s200/Scotland+%28Haggis%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210705624951762626" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p>I must confess, organ meats can have a strong flavor, not all of</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US">w</span><span lang="EN-US">h</span><span lang="EN-US">ich I</span><span lang="EN-US"> e</span><span lang="EN-US">njoy. I a</span><span lang="EN-US">m</span><span lang="EN-US"> n</span><span lang="EN-US">ot particularly fond of liver or blood sausages. My aversion to both is for the same reaso</span><span lang="EN-US">n; the high mineral content (particularly iron) can cause a metallic ta</span><span lang="EN-US">ste. Foie Gras is better beca</span><span lang="EN-US">use </span><span lang="EN-US">the </span><span lang="EN-US">manner in which the liver is enlarged reduces the effect of the mine</span><span lang="EN-US">rals on the palate. Haggis is no</span><span lang="EN-US">t Foie Gras and I was curious about the flavor. Truth be told, it was quite good. The Mo</span><span lang="EN-US">nster Mash was actually the second time I tried</span><span lang="EN-US"> haggis, the first was the day before at a pub on the Royal Mile. The menu item was called “A wee bit of haggis” and it stated that it was served with nips and tatties, meaning mashed turnips and potatoes. The first thing that struck me about the haggis was its flavor. It was both rich, yet mild in the absence of minerality and earthiness. It reminded me </span><span lang="EN-US">of meatloaf. While I was speaking with a local at a Scotch distillery the next day about haggis, she asked me if I had it with turnips and potat</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzGcsAKjZqjJYBr78p-8xPWS8SXVOGXhBM-UuLcVK4bbryaJL-HErWexoGHR7t8Gt7AE-qYJWxedyv0icwQAWYdxeWXRJkjA-ORBrMEH0la-tBNTOPfp0ohvhHuYhyphenhyphen97rw44by5swOtnS/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Sheppard+Pie%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzGcsAKjZqjJYBr78p-8xPWS8SXVOGXhBM-UuLcVK4bbryaJL-HErWexoGHR7t8Gt7AE-qYJWxedyv0icwQAWYdxeWXRJkjA-ORBrMEH0la-tBNTOPfp0ohvhHuYhyphenhyphen97rw44by5swOtnS/s200/Scotland+%28Sheppard+Pie%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210706604386203026" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">oes. This is a</span><span lang="EN-US">pparently the holy trinity of haggis.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Wh</span><span lang="EN-US">ic</span><span lang="EN-US">h </span><span lang="EN-US">br</span><span lang="EN-US">in</span><span lang="EN-US">g</span><span lang="EN-US">s </span><span lang="EN-US">me t</span><span lang="EN-US">o the mash, The Monster Mash. We entered, were sat, and ordered the Haggis for me and </span><span lang="EN-US">a</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US">Shepard’s Pie for my son. The haggis was a large mound of haggis, layered on turnips and potatoes and surrounded by rich dark gravy. The </span><span lang="EN-US">flavor was similar to my haggis of the previous day, but it was drier and a bit more crumbly. The gravy helped moisten the dish. The Shepard’s Pie was tasty as well; nicely browned potatoes atop </span><span lang="EN-US">ground meat in gravy. I like mine better, but it was good. The vegetables were al dente, a direct contradiction to all things expected in the <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">United Kingdom</st1:country-region></st1:place>. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Our shared dessert was an apple cobbler served with Byrd’s custard. My inquiry as to the nature of Byrd’s custard was answered with “it’s custard, a sauce”. “Like crème anglaise?” “Aye kind of, it’s very British” “OK, we’ll have that.”</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPJTw6NMFnVI3FHfnHDfpy5K0XgQoLPmWvCW9FMXWtW6N6qGK-dYOntpe2bfeWx3-5QC_HmqbQDb0PfmmoK_8SHUGQ3suEHextqKWkZh7balFnTv2Iw5BVLeEJ5tpn4E_6cw4Exbod8Ot/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Cobbler%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPJTw6NMFnVI3FHfnHDfpy5K0XgQoLPmWvCW9FMXWtW6N6qGK-dYOntpe2bfeWx3-5QC_HmqbQDb0PfmmoK_8SHUGQ3suEHextqKWkZh7balFnTv2Iw5BVLeEJ5tpn4E_6cw4Exbod8Ot/s200/Scotland+%28Cobbler%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210707587011559826" border="0" /></a></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The dessert came and it was indeed very much like crème anglais, only very hot and served in a small pitcher. We poured it over our soft, caramelized, appley mess of a dessert and dug in. This and strong black coffee was a good finish to the meal. </span></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-51975595914116785832008-06-05T18:40:00.002-04:002008-06-05T18:58:03.378-04:00Why don't we eat seagulls?This question has been bugging me for some time. Consider that people eat blowfish in Japan and that will kill you if it is not prepared correctly. In Iceland they eat a shark that will make you vomit if you eat the fresh meat. To combat this, they first ferment it, then salt it and hang it to cure like ham. An viola', the uric acid is gone. America is the exception rather than the rule in our refusal to eat bugs. In South America, guinea pigs are routinely eaten. Chitterlings...need I say more?<br /><br />The point is, man eats what is available even if he has to overcome challenges of inedibility or risk to ones health. Seagulls are everywhere in coastal areas so why are they not eaten. I invite anyone reading this to leave a comment sharing your thoughts. Perhaps we can take a trip to the coast, catch some seagulls and have dinner.Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-69329120259389142672008-06-01T15:21:00.004-04:002008-12-11T20:34:53.985-05:00Kitsch is International<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuadf16eVQaIi7wQYaQtr80mIGxo4JyPPf55kxoi1fwERKT1Mmc705qDwaqGEpTfYF4ERKB7fwaKLkGOt0lEOYPZ-feLGOKHpi3c3DcGIA7KPqmDn1Atb9PDdkMjaurAP9oPftC8lgaN4w/s1600-h/Kinkade.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuadf16eVQaIi7wQYaQtr80mIGxo4JyPPf55kxoi1fwERKT1Mmc705qDwaqGEpTfYF4ERKB7fwaKLkGOt0lEOYPZ-feLGOKHpi3c3DcGIA7KPqmDn1Atb9PDdkMjaurAP9oPftC8lgaN4w/s400/Kinkade.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206996880365792130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dublin, Ireland</span></span><br /></div><br />A sign demonstrates that people across the globe are interested in vapid, kitschy things.Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-45247752120152041162008-06-01T15:13:00.003-04:002008-12-11T20:34:54.075-05:00The Walt Disney Scotch Experience<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTX1Emy1tfDWRDwnOIqjUzfOljVxkg3ikKumzY9Ym9ezvur5BlDEKY4lG_ZjPdUS3jzWC4_2UFALO1CwTinqoks3COUM_c4WYHgDIN4Hh0EaY_U9HUIZf5E1XnoPYX20Cs9Vc1LFSoBWsc/s1600-h/Scotland+%2853%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTX1Emy1tfDWRDwnOIqjUzfOljVxkg3ikKumzY9Ym9ezvur5BlDEKY4lG_ZjPdUS3jzWC4_2UFALO1CwTinqoks3COUM_c4WYHgDIN4Hh0EaY_U9HUIZf5E1XnoPYX20Cs9Vc1LFSoBWsc/s200/Scotland+%2853%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210714398722195634" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">Well, not really. But if Disney World had a Scotch Whisky ride, it would be like the <st1:placename st="on">Scotch</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Experience, located on the Royal Mile</st1:placename><st1:placetype st="on"></st1:placetype> in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city>, <st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region></st1:place>. Not that this is a bad thing. It was informative, fun, and believe it or not, family friendly. Of course the kids can’t taste the Scotch.<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">There are different levels of tours, the basic of which includes the tour, a free glass and a sample of whisky. I </span><span lang="EN-US">purchased one of these for myself and a student tour for my son. The prices were discounted because it was morning, a</span><span lang="EN-US">nd much to my confusion, people don’t want to drink whisky in the morning. The gold level includes the above plus a sampling of four different scotches highlighting the four production areas and a one year membership in the Scotch Appreciation Society. I inquired about it and was a </span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">£7.00 up-</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">charge over the £6.25 I already paid. No, the basic tour will be fine was my initial response. That notion lasted about 4 minutes and I p</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">urchased the upgrade.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The tour s</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">tar</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">te</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">d with a young attractive Scottish girl giving everyone a sample of Dewer’s White Label Blended Scotch whisky and a brief spiel about tasting. First we look at the colour, then we swirl it around the glass and look at the “legs” that form. We could tell that this was a lighter bodied whisky because there were many</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> legs and they came down the side of the glass rapidly. If there were fewer legs and they came down slower, this would be a heavier bodied whisky. Then we put our nose in the glass, leaving the mouth slightly ajar to allow the nose to work at its fullest capacity, and smell. the bouquet of this particular drink was vanilla, toffee and dried fruits. Lastly, of course, we taste it. We discern the various flavours and determine the finish, w</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">hich was m</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYWMY7kkZ3U6y0hnYCDP38daCVZ2OAmROoZdY8R95_dO1KKcV1_DVJN-yXhhoMUUO36r4Ft28Wsc46p8Z5qVnJFCxs7loqySYbDKV2vbhLBj2BG1Ed-yz8y01eauKn8QnVYI5tSK9I_Rh/s1600-h/Scotland+%2855%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYWMY7kkZ3U6y0hnYCDP38daCVZ2OAmROoZdY8R95_dO1KKcV1_DVJN-yXhhoMUUO36r4Ft28Wsc46p8Z5qVnJFCxs7loqySYbDKV2vbhLBj2BG1Ed-yz8y01eauKn8QnVYI5tSK9I_Rh/s200/Scotland+%2855%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210714868895680354" border="0" /></a><span style="" lang="EN-GB">edium in this case.<br />Aft</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">er</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> </span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> </span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">chu</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">c</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">kle</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">d a bit</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> at the folks who shuddered and gasped at drinking straight alcohol we all went in</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">to the</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> next room. There were benches and a movie screen in this room. We all sat down and a ten minute film rather cheesily done talked about whisky production from the malting and roastin</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">g of the barley to the </span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">fermentation, distillation, and aging of the whisky and also spoke briefly of the whisky heritage in Scotland. The conversation between the poorly acted customer asked the more convincing bartender how so much variety in flavour could be achieved and we were directed into the next room full of more benches. This time, though, instead of a movie screen there was a large model of a distillery. Our attractive young tour guide talked us through the production. The front wall of the distillery slid down and the interior was exposed. She pointed out where the malting took place, kilning, etc. A map on the wall highlighted the different areas of Scotch</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> Production; the lowlands and the milder product they produce; the highlands and the varied, robust products they produce, the Speyside area and the products of refined intensity; and lastly the island malts and their robust, briny, peaty products. Up until now, everything discussed was malt whisky. The subject of grain whisky came up. Grain whisky is basically what we make in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>. It contains mostly corn, with lesser amounts of other grains including barley. It produces a less intense, mellower brew.<span style=""> </span>Grain whisky is used only for blending in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Blended Scotch Whiskies account for the vast majority of the whisky made in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. This answered a long standing question that my fellow whisky aficionado friend and I have had for some time. What is the difference between a vatted whisky and a blended whisky?<span style=""> </span>A blended whisky</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> contains a blend of malt and grain whiskies, while a vatted whisky is a blend of various single malt whiskies.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Next we went to another room with more benches where a “ghostly” bartender resembling something you might see on the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Haunted</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Mansion</st1:placetype></st1:place> at Disney gave us information on the art of blending. For instance, when a blend states an age, this is the youngest whisky in the bottle. When a single malt has a statement of age, this of course is the age of every drop in the bottle. Our ghostly tour guide also cleared up the misconception that some people have by stating that whisky</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZacaVgyZ25D2_B1somjs_iBfNnUoY2qiajjZYTPaT6uTMt6eliRQAX0RfKbUoHZXGO9XhrZ7z_Tp0xTgJOjEeDAQiXfqwyoPaarhzn917DJW0c6Aon3Xs2Wm1g3hXJ4Bg8xX-gFgwDQo/s1600-h/Scotland+%28Figure%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZacaVgyZ25D2_B1somjs_iBfNnUoY2qiajjZYTPaT6uTMt6eliRQAX0RfKbUoHZXGO9XhrZ7z_Tp0xTgJOjEeDAQiXfqwyoPaarhzn917DJW0c6Aon3Xs2Wm1g3hXJ4Bg8xX-gFgwDQo/s200/Scotland+%28Figure%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210715681461755730" border="0" /></a><span style="" lang="EN-GB"> receives no further benefit from age once it placed in a bottle.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The tou</span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">r further increased it resemblance to Disney when we boarded the barrel ride; a ride through </span><span style="" lang="EN-GB">the history of whisky in <st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region> as brought to life with scenes and figures a la the “Pirates of the <st1:place st="on">Caribbean</st1:place>” ride, without the animatronics. It touched on all of the highlights from the flight of the distiller to the highlands because of heavy British taxation to the rapid increase of whisky’s popularity after the phyloxera louse decimated the vineyards of Europe and with them, the ability to make cognacs and other brandies.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The tour ended in, aptly enough, the bar. Those who went with the basic tour were done, but not me. I still had my regional tasting.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">The whiskies included the golden Glenkinchie 12 year old from the lowlands, a milder whisky with tasting notes of a creamy mouthfeel and developing citrus notes in the finish. The <st1:place st="on">Highland</st1:place> malt whisky was from Old Pulteney, an amber drink with a nose described as fresh, aromatic with a hint of sea air and full bodied, lightly salty and gently malty flavour. The Speyside malt was from Tamdhu. Also amber in colour, this whiskey was much sweeter on the nose and palate with notes of toffee and some peat. Lastly was Laphroig 10 year. I have Laphroig at home so I was a little disappointed that I did not get to try something different. This interesting whisky’s official tasting notes state that the nose is “medicinal and phenolic”, while it is “salty, oily, very smoky” on the palate. I always thought that Laphroig smells like smoked bacon soaked in seawater.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">I will be visiting an actual lowland distillery tomorrow. Unfortunately, I do not have time to go to the <st1:place st="on">Highlands</st1:place>, let alone Speyside or the islands. The Whisky Experience as a great way to spend an hour and a half, learn something about whisky, taste some great whiskies and grab a bite at their café. The “Disnification” seems a bit strange, but it was informative and fun.</span><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></span></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-4096422958661486152008-05-29T19:53:00.007-04:002008-12-11T20:34:54.331-05:00The Old "New" Kid in Town<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRSVOokRbwbhV7smDYUkWA8pGyyfKZDfcJyi_XiUwdzPWubMTeu2TvaBSY0EZ0wjkDAbs9Vm89BKuBqwR4_RLoo0ZdWnbJH72tvcG8inErQX_q4B99RdMWFpdcBqhXzLM_GYOIyij9yVG/s1600-h/Pepe's+Pizza.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRSVOokRbwbhV7smDYUkWA8pGyyfKZDfcJyi_XiUwdzPWubMTeu2TvaBSY0EZ0wjkDAbs9Vm89BKuBqwR4_RLoo0ZdWnbJH72tvcG8inErQX_q4B99RdMWFpdcBqhXzLM_GYOIyij9yVG/s400/Pepe's+Pizza.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205954522439814466" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I guess if you have done something successfully for more than eighty years, you can feel confident enough to branch out. That is just what Pepe’s did. The historic pizzeria has been making great pies since the 1920’s in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city>. Their claim to fame is the white clam pizza. I have been away from the Northeast for many years and one of the things I miss the most is good pizza. No offense to those who grew up elsewhere in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1:place>, but if someone recommends a pizza place to me, I always ask them where they are from. If they answer <st1:state st="on">Kansas</st1:state>, the Carolinas, <st1:state st="on">Florida</st1:state>, hell most anywhere in <st1:country-region st="on">America</st1:country-region>, yes, I am sorry to say even <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Chicago</st1:city></st1:place>, their opinion does not count much. This is not rude, it makes as much sense as someone from <st1:city st="on">Memphis</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Kansas</st1:state> City, <st1:place st="on"><st1:state st="on">Texas</st1:state></st1:place>, etc. not taking my opinion on barbeque with much weight. It simply was not part of my culture growing up. With deference to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>, it is part of the culture, but I do not care for it. The pies are thick and doughy, the sauce too sweet, and the overall experience lacking in my estimation. This is from eating pizza in Chicago and suburbs, not simply from eating at “Chicago Style” pizzerias elsewhere in America ( which is another entry, but I have a friend that says he does not like New York pizza, yet has never been to New York or anywhere near it, he has dined at “New York Style” pizzerias). </span></div><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The point is, whenever I go home, I try to make it to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city> for Pizza, specifically for the white clam pizza from Pepe’s. There is always a wait and they do not always have the fresh clams. They have opened a couple of locations since I last visited home and due to time constraints, I decided to go the location recently opened in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Fairfield</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Connecticut</st1:state></st1:place>. We called ahead to see if they were busy as I was trying to get to the airport. The lady laughed and said no. We then asked if they had the white clam pizza today, which they did. So we stopped in on our way to JFK. Having visited the original location on <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">Wooster Street</st1:address></st1:street> in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city> for some years, I was unsure of what to expect. My question as to whether or not the oven was wood fired was answered when we pulled into the parking lot and the telltale smell of a wood burning oven was not there. The location was more sterile than the original, as could be expected from a new suburban location. They do have a very large brick oven, with pizza peels that must be 12 to 15 feet long. The menu consists of a board over the main kitchen and a few more scattered about on the walls of the restaurant. The total age of any three employees does not equal the age of a single employee in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">New Haven</st1:city></st1:place>, but we persisted and got a table. The waitress greeted us and took our order, asking us if we want mozzarella on our clam pizza or not. I must admit, I was somewhat confused as I had never been asked that before. I know the pie comes with minimal amounts of cheese and I wanted it the way they do it in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city>. There was a little bit of a communication breakdown and I got it with a little bit of mozzarella, which is atypical. When I tried to correct the error, the pie was already in the oven and we got it with the mozz. Fortunately, it was very minimal amounts of mozzarella cheese. We also got a small sausage and mushroom pie. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The moment of truth arrived when she plopped down a full size sheet pan of pizza on our table. While there is a difference between a gas-fired oven and a wood-fired oven, the pie was good. It had the telltale sign of an oven that was hot enough- black bubbles on the crust. This is a constant pizza crime in the south. The pizzas are always undercooked. If pizza does not have a little black on it, it is not done properly. The south, who loves to overcook its vegetables, meats, and most things it serves, consistently undercooks pizzas in ovens that never see a degree over 500. But I digress. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The sausage and mushroom pie was less stellar. The toppings were soupy, and even after letting the pizza rest for a while, it was still just a sloppy pie. The ingredients were all good quality, but the execution was a bit off. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The clam pizza was almost as good as <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city>, and still better than most you will have in this country. I made the mistake of trying clam pizzas from other pizzerias, even acclaimed shops in the area, and they all fall short. The fact that the other locations can mean less driving, less waiting balances out the slight difference in the pies. In this humble chef’s estimation, this is worth the gas money. Go have a pie.</span></p><h2 class="r"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&ct=res&cd=1&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.pepespizzeria.com%2F&ei=_Dk_SNfUNY6SiwHcvrmGAw&usg=AFQjCNEaKs25er4NFHDccpq3yR53aiai6w&sig2=9RXW1BUSpPOjT_PSdjp8Xg" class="l" onmousedown="return rwt(this,'','','res','1','AFQjCNEaKs25er4NFHDccpq3yR53aiai6w','&sig2=9RXW1BUSpPOjT_PSdjp8Xg')" title="Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana">Frank <b>Pepe</b> Pizzeria Napoletana</a><br /></span></h2><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="a">www.<b>pepes</b>pizzeria.com</span><br /><br />157 Wooster St<br />New Haven, CT 06511, United States<br />+1 203-865-5762</span>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-88485554158042880692008-05-29T18:59:00.003-04:002008-12-11T20:34:54.948-05:00The Old Kid in Town<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kbK7OVdMgX0-ZX56voHL3L6h0vO9y_fbzVAX3bqoYc1ou0LZMmQjuIHyvJEXidvhxnP0mZ1OKIEHqx9mlzZhOKW4ldOnVbAvemoFr1nlD12j86rAZH-8pU6n9qrSXdIccdtJhG1JiQH0/s1600-h/Louis+Lunch.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kbK7OVdMgX0-ZX56voHL3L6h0vO9y_fbzVAX3bqoYc1ou0LZMmQjuIHyvJEXidvhxnP0mZ1OKIEHqx9mlzZhOKW4ldOnVbAvemoFr1nlD12j86rAZH-8pU6n9qrSXdIccdtJhG1JiQH0/s200/Louis+Lunch.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205940542321265938" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">If you go to the website of Louis Lunch, there is a link to an entry at the Library of Congress that attributes the invention of the hamburger to this little shack in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">New Haven</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Connecticut</st1:state></st1:place>. That, in my book, makes this an historic place to dine. And that is what I did. The small place is unassuming in diminutive stature, while being quaint and eye-catching at the same time. As you enter this little historic burger joint, located across the street from some hopping clubs in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">New Haven</st1:place></st1:city>, you can not help but be struck by the feeling that something is very different. In fact, it is very, very, different. The menu consists of burgers. You can get them with cheese, onion, and tomato….and that is it! They will come on toasted white bread and you will be mocked and ridiculed if you ask for ketc</span><span lang="EN-US">hup or mustard. The burgers are cooked in contraptions that resemble</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OvgeDsZUCenEVtNPw2DU4dP_TeAPB74VP7ep7risqRYszNLX33VW3ISAG0jnh_xbZ7_PWkIVJild9lDtM9O0X1Ucyx0LZvTGS2hOXiLDpEKsN9MPXYX-Ybnwtqo-gAhtuL-_BIylA-_X/s1600-h/Louis+Burger+Toaster.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OvgeDsZUCenEVtNPw2DU4dP_TeAPB74VP7ep7risqRYszNLX33VW3ISAG0jnh_xbZ7_PWkIVJild9lDtM9O0X1Ucyx0LZvTGS2hOXiLDpEKsN9MPXYX-Ybnwtqo-gAhtuL-_BIylA-_X/s200/Louis+Burger+Toaster.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205941216631131426" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US"> vertic</span><span lang="EN-US">al gas-fired toasters. The burger is hand formed from a pile of meat and placed in a wire-grill basket and inserted vertically into the contraption. If you want onion, it is placed on top of the meat patty. This allows the onion to cook at the same time, being basted in the fat that drips down from the patty. You can get chips with your burger, or potato salad, and a good selection of sodas including Foxon Park Sodas such as birch beer, root beer, and cream soda. <st1:placename st="on">Foxon</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Park</st1:placetype> soda has been made in East Haven <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Connecticut</st1:place></st1:state> for more than eighty years. Birch beer, for those who are not familiar with it, is kind of like root beer with a lighter flavor and a bit of menthol. I used to drink the hell out of some birch beer growing up in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Connecticut</st1:place></st1:state>. I even used to shave the bark off of a birch tree just to smell it; it smelled good enough to eat or to make my own birch beer. </span></div><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">If you are wondering why the burgers are served on white bread, it is because they have been serving them that way since before the hamburger bun was invented. That’s right; Louis Lunch has been serving burgers this way since 1895, making <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Foxon</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Park</st1:placetype></st1:place> look like johnny-come-lately company. It gets high marks in the Road Food Guide, the biblical tome leading foodies and hungry travelers to good food across <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1:place> for decades. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The burgers were remarkably moist and flavorful. The onion had a great grilled flavor and the tomato added enough moisture and sweetness that no one will ever miss ketchup. <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> is short on things that go for more than a century, let alone things that are credited with culinary creations that have conquered the globe. You can experience both of them with a quick stop in a small shack of a burger joint in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">New Haven</st1:city></st1:place>. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <h2><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.louislunch.com/" title="Louis' Lunch"><span style="" lang="EN-US">Louis' Lunch</span></a></span><span style=";font-size:85%;" lang="EN-US" ><o:p></o:p></span></h2> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="a" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-US">www.<b>louislunch</b>.com</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />263 Crown St<br /><st1:city st="on">New Haven</st1:city>, CT 06511, <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">United States</st1:place></st1:country-region><br />1 203-562-5507</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-34479510448536056592008-05-29T16:09:00.004-04:002008-12-11T20:34:55.098-05:00I Did the Mash<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ml9kI9CPRNUMYCRZ02_CR_ZeoxVObp80G0JjTS1B5sfkniKpZ74DhaEwnWflmMwFSyGaH-TtIdqhsXHxprH2ByGs64SSLDJo6s0iB-MHjgBaFaLMepYgH0QDgSt-hC9G5oT7ODpNncPI/s1600-h/Mash.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Ml9kI9CPRNUMYCRZ02_CR_ZeoxVObp80G0JjTS1B5sfkniKpZ74DhaEwnWflmMwFSyGaH-TtIdqhsXHxprH2ByGs64SSLDJo6s0iB-MHjgBaFaLMepYgH0QDgSt-hC9G5oT7ODpNncPI/s200/Mash.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205899718657117442" border="0" /></a><span lang="EN-US">Not the monster mash, but mash house. My stay here in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Birmingham</st1:city>, <st1:country-region st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place> started out on a very sour note. Although my Ryan Air flight was on time and flawless, and I picked up my Hertz rental car in short order, and I even had a nice lunch in a local pub along with a pint, I eventually found the Warwick Castle (pronounced Warrick), albeit after a few nerve shattering errors as I tried to get used to driving on the left side of the road. The castle was impressive, if expensive. The rooms were full of figures Madam Tussaud dressed in period clothing and staged in the midst of medieval tasks. There were weapon rooms, suits of armor, and lots of art and furniture spanning the centuries the castle has been in use, all the way up to the introduction of electricity and beyond in the latter part of the 19<sup>th </sup></span><span lang="EN-US">century. There was even of portion of the original castle built in 1068 by the order of William the Conqueror. The castle closed and we were off. </span></div><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And that is when the trouble began. The plan was to take a quick drive to <st1:city st="on">Stratford</st1:city> upon <st1:place st="on">Avon</st1:place>, the namesake of the town were I spent my teen years. It is only about ten miles away so it seemed easy enough. The reality could not have been further from the truth. The A46 was closed due to an accident, and I spent the next four hours trying to get the forty miles to my hotel in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Birmingham</st1:place></st1:city>. I abandoned the idea of stopping in <st1:city st="on">Stratford</st1:city> upon <st1:place st="on">Avon</st1:place> after being grazed by a truck, scratching my rental car. The gentleman was calm as he explained that there was simply no way it could have been his fault, even though my car was not moving. I was sitting with my turn signal on trying to merge into the barely moving traffic. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So I spent a few hours in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region>, learning to drive on the left side of the road, in pouring rain, on country roads, wishing that every hotel I passed was my hotel. But they were not and I finally made it into <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Birmingham</st1:place></st1:city> city center. The hotel I booked is under construction and has no sign. Another ½ hour was spent trying to find my hotel, which I finally did. After an overpriced meal at the bar of the hotel because I was too tired and stressed to go anywhere else, my son and I retired to our room. And retire we did. I awoke at eight in the morning and awoke my son, twice. Seeing the futility in this plan, I returned to bed, watched some television (The Rockford Files) and went back to sleep. We woke up around noon to the sound of a jack-hammer on the floor above us, putzed around and finally made it outside just shy of two P.M., heading off to the historic canals of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Birmingham</st1:place></st1:city>. The day got better. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Birmingham</st1:place></st1:city> seemed to be a great city, balancing its history with the city’s forward momentum and growth. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The historic canals are flanked by cafés, coffee houses, restaurants, and the very modern <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">International</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Convention Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>, Symphony Hall, and a mixed use development called The Mailbox. They are also building a massive square mixed use building aptly named The Cube.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">After looking at a number of options for dining including what amounts to floating diners on converted long boats that used to carry so many goods up and down the canals, we settled on a place called The Mash. The instructions are simply laid out; 1. Choose for Pie or Sausage, 2. Choose your mash. Options range from cheddar mash, to horseradish mash, colcannon, house mash, and more. 3. Choose your gravy. Options included tarragon creamy gravy, house gravy, and more. You can also have additional veggies, salad, and a few other options for main courses. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I chose the steak and kidney pie because I am in <st1:country-region st="on">England</st1:country-region> and no doing so would be akin to not having pizza when in <st1:city st="on">Naples</st1:city>, <st1:country-region st="on">Italy</st1:country-region> or not having haggis when in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Scotland</st1:country-region></st1:place> (which I will be trying in the next few days). I chose colcannon and tarragon gravy to go with it. My son had three sausage plate: lamb and mint, pork and apple, and honey mustard. He chose the cheddar mash and house gravy. Our food arrived promptly and displayed attractively enough. The steak and kidney pie was rich and flavorful, a dark gravy containing chucks of tender beef and the earthy flavor indicating the presence of the kidneys encased in a flaky, nicely browned pastry shell. The colcannon was very nicely prepared. The greens still had some texture and the potatoes were creamy and rich. The gravy was tasty enough, but lacked any flavor of tarragon. The sausages were nicely browned and very moist. The lamb and mint tasted as one would think, the pork and apple had a very subtle flavor of apples, and most surprising was the honey mustard sausage. I was nervous when my son ordered it. I have been inundated with grossly-sweet goopy honey mustard things in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> and I was afraid that this might resemble those disgusting concoctions. To the contrary, the mustard has a hint of spiciness and the honey played a restrained supporting role. His cheddar mash was nicely balanced, not too cheesy, but had the flavor of sharp cheddar in every bite. The gravy was good too. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">After our meal, I peered into the small kitchen and saw a <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Rational</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Self</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Cooking</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> there. I pulled out my business card and handed it to the young man working there, informing him of my position with the company. After a series of questions from me, I learned that the food is prepared off premises and brought in frozen. The entrée items are placed in the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Self</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Cooking</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> on the “level control” setting. This setting is where each shelf gets its own timer that self adjust for recovery time each time the door is opened. The mashed potatoes were microwaved, and the gravy was remarkably tasty for being from a dry product that was mixed with boiling water. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The pies and sausages are cooked from frozen. I would have never guessed. This is exciting because I have been telling my customers and prospective customers that this machine could revolutionize the way they operate their kitchens. I have demonstrated this capability many times, but it is very theoretical in demo. Here I was witnessing a concept that was built around the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Self</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Cooking</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> and its advanced capabilities. They have already signed on two companies in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> to franchise the concept. They will be opening 6 stores per year, half of which will be franchised, the others owned by the company.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It is only a matter of time before our country gets around to implementing what the Europeans have know for a long time: technology can increase quality, reduce food and labor costs, and allow your kitchen to be a fraction of the size of what we are used to. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">If I can’t get my customers to see this, then I just might have to do it myself. Stay Tuned. </span></p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-48565715393714082482008-01-03T20:05:00.000-05:002008-01-03T20:51:48.195-05:00Is it me?<p class="MsoNormal">I ask myself that question with great regularity. I have a coworker who, after eating out with me a number of times, states rather matter-of-factly that you should not go out to eat with me because the restaurant will screw up my food. They didn't screw his food up, just mine. But he and I are both chefs and maybe it pains him to watch them serve me screwed up food. The screw-ups have ranged from shards of corncob in my corn chowder to "butter poached" lobster tails that seem to have been deep-fried to the point they would have made better shoes than food. And then there are less severe issues that I face with regularity. I travel a fair amount for my job and therefore I eat out a lot. I am currently in Savannah. It is a beautiful city that is full of historic charm. I have had many good meals of oysters and beer here. The beauty of good seafood is all you have to do is stay out of its way; don't screw it up!<br />Food that actually requires preparation is a different story. It takes skill and knowledge. Last night I went to the Six Pence Pub in Savannah. I had started to walk towards the river to get some seafood, but it was about twenty degrees and I decided to stop in the pub for a bite rather than brave a ten minute walk it the frigid night air. The pub was very cool. It had a classic pub look and feel and the beer selection was great. The whiskey and wine selection weren't too bad either. I order beef Guinness and a Guinness beer. The meal came out with near immediacy. I thought that was cool at first, but only at first. The beef Guinness was served in a small hollowed out bread roll, about the size of softball. The stew was a lumpy mess that was prepared with too much roux, the cooked blend of flour and fat that thickens gravy. A couple of pieces of beef were nearly inedibly tough. Perhaps the most <span class="ital-inline">egregious error was that they heated my food by microwaving it, in the bread bowl. As most home cooks know, if you microwave bread you have something suited better to a street fight than a food fight. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span class="ital-inline"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tonight I went to Il Pasticcio, a very well renowned Italian restaurant located in the heart of the historic district. I ordered a pasta dish called Spaghettini Pasticcio. The menu described seafood pasta with </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman";">concassé<span class="ital-inline"> tomatoes and a saffron sauce. I ordered it because I wanted something a bit on the lighter side. The dish that arrived resembled a soup more than a pasta course. It was swimming in cream, not just cream, but cream that had no hint of saffron. I found the dish heavy, flavorless and bordering on unpleasant. I tried to pull the pasta out of the pool of fat and allow it drain before I ate it. I also left a full cup of cream and pasta in the bottom of the bowl, choosing not to finish it. In my experience, one of the most common offenses to Italian food in America is too much sauce. The surprising part of the evening is the restaurateur was sitting next to me and he is from Italy. He was speaking in Italian with a gentleman I perceived to be a manager, perhaps the general manager.<span style=""> </span>The manager was eating at the bar with his American girlfriend and both of their dishes looked really good. Perhaps I should have ordered in Italian. </span></span>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-18932224797317069752007-09-19T14:08:00.000-04:002008-12-11T20:34:56.246-05:00Does Huong Giang mean Gem?<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUevE5AuR7cFpFGyPaI549mTzSbnaii48FJ1AEun-RqBCBuMUFnxQ-LyNNiAYlMwloGRaueA9XiF8v8G3pk4OMkPjTTmuUhPeIEbUUXznOhcLRP7ojG-vbtprVuHnrigjhQmlxMPsyMKU7/s1600-h/Huong+Giang.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUevE5AuR7cFpFGyPaI549mTzSbnaii48FJ1AEun-RqBCBuMUFnxQ-LyNNiAYlMwloGRaueA9XiF8v8G3pk4OMkPjTTmuUhPeIEbUUXznOhcLRP7ojG-vbtprVuHnrigjhQmlxMPsyMKU7/s200/Huong+Giang.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111980071497007266" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >I do not know what Huong Giang means, but I would translate it as gem. That is what this strip mall restaurant tucked away on Buford Highway is.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >A few weeks ago a friend and I were driving around looking for dinner on a Friday night. I wanted Asian food. After passing on a few suspicious looking dives, we stumbled upon Huong Giang. We peered inside and decided it was worth a try. Although the decor said "strip-mall", it was about as tasteful as it could be without the budget that is truly required to give a strip mall shop any real character. The Asian accents were strangely offset by a couple of chandeliers with mermaids "holding up" the lampshades with fishing poles. The flat screen TV's were playing cultural appropriate programming. The only real downside is the chairs. The backs strangely lean forward, forcing one to hunch over a bit. </span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGShbWdi2guq4Xsj2g8mesNLDmexhOE_bI-in58W7Jah8vUzgtiStB5TTOiNMkIBu8xenoPgEmrKaa3voOEBMO9972GtyzAhrpIscxNuUrbNbE4zC4RvZhpVguxMcY-wVQj-19Wqgm9e0/s1600-h/IMAGE_033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGShbWdi2guq4Xsj2g8mesNLDmexhOE_bI-in58W7Jah8vUzgtiStB5TTOiNMkIBu8xenoPgEmrKaa3voOEBMO9972GtyzAhrpIscxNuUrbNbE4zC4RvZhpVguxMcY-wVQj-19Wqgm9e0/s200/IMAGE_033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111983833888358578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We were promptly presented two menus each, one written, one in pictures. The pictures proved to be very helpful. Our first course was Bahn Nam, little Vietnamese "tamales" of ground pork and shrimp nestled in a rice flour package and steamed in banana leaves. Not only were they tasty, but fun. Every little package was like Christmas morning after you peeked at your presents. Sure, I knew what was in there, but is was still fun to open the presents.</span><span style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /></span><span style="text-decoration: none;color:black;" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Our entree was a Thai Hot Pot. Large enough for two, the $28.00 entree was worth every penny. The pot of hot stock was placed upon a small gas burner and served with a plate of seafood and one of vegetables. The seafood consisted of shrimp, fish and calamari and the vegetable plate had baby bok choy and julienned strips of banana flower.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The waiter gave us a brief tutorial and we dug in. It seemed nice enough until I put the banana flowers in the pot and this incredible fragrance wafted across our table. The broth was nicely flavored with ginger, and the addition of the flowers made it a heavenly experience. I enjoy food that is also interactive, and this fit the bill nicely.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Throughout our dinner, the service was impeccable. At one point, I dropped my chop stick. Before I could bend over to pick it up, the server had a new set to me. Our table was maintained in a timely manner, without seeming pushy.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMA0wANcPiU2Q9SO0HFWqQEL_w-EN4aiqMHEAeLhp_fjFy4I_hHZNYuboL2gHGuEoFxtyzGfeapXZdllrjBQr6Nv_8PTBpHDTB9kTfYX8t5zG62TGmWgpZO75DK-Vfq9dDDil9ICJAyXe/s1600-h/pig+ear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMA0wANcPiU2Q9SO0HFWqQEL_w-EN4aiqMHEAeLhp_fjFy4I_hHZNYuboL2gHGuEoFxtyzGfeapXZdllrjBQr6Nv_8PTBpHDTB9kTfYX8t5zG62TGmWgpZO75DK-Vfq9dDDil9ICJAyXe/s200/pig+ear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111990396598386882" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I wanted to try a little more before I wrote about it, so I went there for lunch today. The sour pig ear and beef was calling my name. I have never pondered the possible flavor and texture of a pig's ear, but I would say this was the ultimate expression of a pig's ear. The cold, stubby, spring roll shaped treat arrived with a few slices of hot peppers. It had a delicious, slightly sour, flavor and a unique texture. A hint of gelatinous spring was subdued by the firm bite of the finely shredded ear. A slight bite of heat rounded out the flavor. And at only $2.15, this was a bargain.</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUdxjo9W6qnSy8SaIwMsyC2IxaYWZ9eR4KhlcfWTC3nF1fH-Gxr-e0EZoDFlAaTrDI8OpUgoTMhBRMhlK8ZmgmZDrd7PBqXitTdwqeA3x38sLb7M-DDSaiU7AJAmCqxr_0VZ_FP3TnBAo/s1600-h/Rice+Noodles.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUdxjo9W6qnSy8SaIwMsyC2IxaYWZ9eR4KhlcfWTC3nF1fH-Gxr-e0EZoDFlAaTrDI8OpUgoTMhBRMhlK8ZmgmZDrd7PBqXitTdwqeA3x38sLb7M-DDSaiU7AJAmCqxr_0VZ_FP3TnBAo/s200/Rice+Noodles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111992806075039954" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">For my main course, I chose rice noodles with pork and seafood in a pork broth. As with my other items, this was very well executed. The shrimp and calamari were tender and the slices of pork were melt-in-your-mouth tender. With tax and tip, my lunch was $12.00. I look forward to returning to try the other gems that are hidden in this great little find.</span><br /><br /><br />Huong Giang<br />4300 Buford Highway NE<br />Atlanta, GA 30345<br />404-929-9838<br /><br /></span></span><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="rsBorderBottom"><strong>Appetizers</strong></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="rsBorderBottom"><strong>$3.00 - $6.00</strong></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="rsBorderBottom"><strong>Entrees</strong></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="rsBorderBottom"><strong>$6.00 - $60.00 (Family style serving)</strong></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="rsBorderBottom"><strong>Hours</strong></p> <p style="font-family: times new roman;"> 10 a.m.-midnight Mondays-Thursdays<br /></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;">10 a.m.-2 a.m. Fridays-Saturdays<br /></p><p style="font-family: times new roman;">10 a.m.-10 p.m. Sundays </p><br /><span style=""><span style="text-decoration: none;font-family:Arial;color:black;" ><br /></span></span></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-27868446568924373972007-09-11T09:21:00.000-04:002007-10-07T19:40:43.566-04:00A Note about NoOne should not accept no too easily. When dad says no, go ask mom. The same approach is possible in adulthood.<br /><br />While driving to Birmingham for my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">overnighter</span>, I spoke with one of my clients who said he would not be able to meet with me as we discussed earlier. It would have to be the following morning. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">overnighter</span> had become a two-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nighter</span>. While checking in at the hotel, I said I needed to change my reservation from one night to two. The answer, in so many words, was no. The manager informed me that they were currently overbooked and I could check in the morning. I took my room key and found my room. I then promptly pulled out my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">laptop</span> and signed onto the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Internet</span>, where I reserved a room for the second night.<br /><br />The next morning, I went to the front desk stating that I was there to confirm that they would not be making move to another room. Sure enough, they did not.<br /><br />I have had similar experiences in the past. I was told on the phone that there were no available rooms. So I went online and booked a room. The reverse has also happened. This just goes to show you, that no does not always mean no.Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-22116758157323824762007-08-23T23:18:00.000-04:002008-12-11T20:34:57.208-05:00Pork in the Sun and Bagged Spinach<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY3J1nuWm-ui5B96Pxci5AiUpMI7o6f8OSu-Rgmr8rsg_Vlo-tDmLH79XLy7pscJ9BODtRJaPHe0z3nRWLThSbcn1rp1nS1EGhrCjVsCVQRq14sN9peWOYCnamAnosuplA-mScxA41kheb/s1600-h/Pork+Belly.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY3J1nuWm-ui5B96Pxci5AiUpMI7o6f8OSu-Rgmr8rsg_Vlo-tDmLH79XLy7pscJ9BODtRJaPHe0z3nRWLThSbcn1rp1nS1EGhrCjVsCVQRq14sN9peWOYCnamAnosuplA-mScxA41kheb/s200/Pork+Belly.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103018947154566882" border="0" /></a>We take sanitation and food safety for granted. Everyone knows that you need to keep your meat refrigerated. Room temperature poultry is definitely to be shunned. Spinach is safe, though, as are canned goods. Right?</div><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Having traveled a bit and sampled foods that seemed to suffer from less than proper handling without getting sick has made me question these beliefs. Don’t get me wrong, I am a fan of refrigeration and I think it should be used whenever possible.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jsCstwSscJhXWYHxBxgTuO-fhGpuR_s_1fBnjzZ8RcgWl81Wb5KS9RcpGFr2g4fAW9lcI9jmZu_9BSGpxlKblcefxyTIO2khbBSdHWdWkgByBKwvbSg8K8u5zr401g4T9ittf4YShTeZ/s1600-h/Chix.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jsCstwSscJhXWYHxBxgTuO-fhGpuR_s_1fBnjzZ8RcgWl81Wb5KS9RcpGFr2g4fAW9lcI9jmZu_9BSGpxlKblcefxyTIO2khbBSdHWdWkgByBKwvbSg8K8u5zr401g4T9ittf4YShTeZ/s200/Chix.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103018702341430994" border="0" /></a></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Surely that must be a refrigerated table,” I thought to myself as I gazed at the chicken parts piled high on the stainless steel table while shopping in a grocery store in Thailand.<span style=""> </span>As I walked towards the table to check the temperature, I thought, “even if this is refrigerated, the bulk of the chicken is still not being held at a safe temperature”.<span style=""> </span>No worries, it was not refrigerated.<span style=""> </span>None of the chicken was held at a “safe” temperature. Yet people were buying it. Presumably, the grocery store was not in the habit of killing people with its food. That couldn’t be good for business. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">On multiple occasions, I dined on a variety of “street meat”, as I like to call it. It was certainly a leap of faith to eat pork and seafood products that had been stored in the ninety-degree Thai heat without any visible means of refrigeration. Not only did it taste fine, it didn’t make me sick.<span style=""> </span>There are many more examples that I could cite of times I gambled with my life for the sake of some local cuisine. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The real irony comes from the fact that we have been told not to eat spinach, peanut butter, and canned chili. Our developed nation that is full of oversight has repeatedly allowed tainted food to enter the marketplace; foods that reasonable people would always consider to be healthy. How can it be that we cannot feel safe eating spinach, peanut butter, or canned chili, yet much of the world eats perishable protein foods that sit without refrigeration and they do not get sick? </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">For starters, the folks at the supermarket in Thailand could probably tell you everything about the chicken farmer that supplied those room temperature chicken parts. They probably know his name, where his farm is, and the names of his wife and kids. While working in Italy, it was common for the chef to secure products from his neighbors. Pork, produce, wine, etc, all purchased outside what we would consider “normal” distribution channels. This is not allowed in America. One cannot simply buy a pig from your neighbor and sell it in your restaurant.<span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Our mega-farms with our mega-distribution channels ensure mega-exposure of unsavory elements like E-Coli and botulism. Perhaps the biggest shame of the recent outbreaks is the medias total failure to educate the public on the benefits of buying local. I never heard a single talking head say that you could still buy local spinach, provided you don’t live near the mega-farm. They didn’t even say you could cook your spinach. That kills E-Coli. They simply said throw all of your spinach away. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQm_x89I1ZwsMo-oDOHm0oOANmV5esPH-js3MMorfvsw6CjToAR0tp8g0tR3yVMjBCLiZZwdS5Pd7xVNfQuhcyUjCiVYhKlsXbgCWRNI9m1t6c9XYUXYkxvhyM_NDf6oA9luOVnFR5b8o/s1600-h/Street+Meat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQm_x89I1ZwsMo-oDOHm0oOANmV5esPH-js3MMorfvsw6CjToAR0tp8g0tR3yVMjBCLiZZwdS5Pd7xVNfQuhcyUjCiVYhKlsXbgCWRNI9m1t6c9XYUXYkxvhyM_NDf6oA9luOVnFR5b8o/s200/Street+Meat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103018320089341634" border="0" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The more items get recalled, the greater the need for people to start buying local, the more opportunities are missed by our news media to inform people of the benefits of eating locally. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Keep your mega-farm products, your Wal-Mart meat, your canned chili, and give me some room-temperature pork. </p>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-49401489342568155832007-08-23T22:29:00.000-04:002008-12-11T20:34:57.384-05:00Orange-Craisin Spiced Lamb Meatballs in a Pomegranate Glaze<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo4AZ0a8jxZFRnIeILl_zUX6ZylNgZaFsgT-_gyNRhhJ023rbsJhdZVOt5WCEZZxfVleh-U0nugkhj73tFM1vhg5dHtr84y9PArNiuz_D3sQWd97Vhj8z35CXtTZ5hOTeXt2Sc5Iw_v1_/s1600-h/Lamb.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo4AZ0a8jxZFRnIeILl_zUX6ZylNgZaFsgT-_gyNRhhJ023rbsJhdZVOt5WCEZZxfVleh-U0nugkhj73tFM1vhg5dHtr84y9PArNiuz_D3sQWd97Vhj8z35CXtTZ5hOTeXt2Sc5Iw_v1_/s200/Lamb.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102089228468903570" border="0" /></a>Ocean Spray recently had a recipe contest. I had a grand plan. I was going to make tortellini with duck confit and cherry craisins, served with a brown butter, walnut and sage sauce. This would then be topped with crispy duck confit. I had read the rules and was ready to go. Well, I have been busy and I did not get around to developing the recipe. I still wanted to do something, so the night before the contest was over, I threw together the following recipe. At 10:30 P.M., an hour and a half before the deadline, I went online to submit my recipe. After I clicked the link to enter my original recipe, I saw for the first time the rule that stated the ingredient list should be limited to ten items. Well, I had more than ten items. I submitted it anyway, although I combined the multiple spices into one by listing "Moroccan spice blend, or curry powder". I will probably be disqualified, but the food is tasty. Here is the recipe. It will serve about twelve people 4 to 5 meatballs each.<br /><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Meatballs</span><br />2 tablespoons olive oil<br />1 cup onion, finely diced<br />2 cloves garlic, minced<br />2 tablespoons Moroccan spice blend or curry powder<br />2 pounds ground lamb<br />zest of 2 oranges<br />1/2 cup unseasoned bread crumbs<br />1 egg<br />1/4 cup parsley<br />1 bag orange craisins (6 oz)<br />6 oz chopped walnuts<br />salt and pepper to taste<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pomegranate Glaze</span><br />2 cans ocean spray cranberry sauce, jellied or whole berry<br />juice of 2 oranges<br />6 tablespoons balsamic vinegar<br />1/4 cup pomegranate molasses<br />salt to taste<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directions</span><br />Preheat the oven to 400 degrees<br /><br />Heat the olive oil in a saute pan until shimmering, do not allow to smoke. Add the onion and saute a few minutes until softened, but not colored. Add the garlic and cook for about 30 seconds. Add the spice mix and cook for another minute, until fragrant.<br /><br />Remove from the heat and allow to cool. Meanwhile, put the nuts in the oven and toast for about 5 minutes, until fragrant.<br /><br />Mix the ground lamb, orange zest, bread crumbs, parsley, and the onion/garlic mixture until smooth. Mix in nuts and craisins. Season to taste with salt and pepper.<br /><br />Shape into 1" meatballs and bake for 10-12 minutes until cooked.<br /><br />Place the cranberry sauce, orange juice, balsamic vinegar, and pomegranate molasses in a large skillet and heat until smooth. Season to taste with salt.<br /><br />Add meatballs to sauce and simmer briefly. Serve as cocktail meatballs or with couscous.Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-543281152519688415.post-4684808155745934472007-08-17T22:59:00.000-04:002008-12-11T20:34:57.556-05:00Is Everything OK?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHz-p3pVQfJ9jlPh3S8JXTNEoL8zNXyn90yzgXj-xKZK7J2FTV3g877Bv-EeOHdsBOdUKaGSq8-I8VLYcv1h-1h9CQVSLNk0YdYrS9TDmUjCp2TtrWVag2NDh6bBtu8ynzcJ6XzKqt2mLH/s1600-h/japtext.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHz-p3pVQfJ9jlPh3S8JXTNEoL8zNXyn90yzgXj-xKZK7J2FTV3g877Bv-EeOHdsBOdUKaGSq8-I8VLYcv1h-1h9CQVSLNk0YdYrS9TDmUjCp2TtrWVag2NDh6bBtu8ynzcJ6XzKqt2mLH/s200/japtext.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099881327515950722" border="0" /></a>At what point did this question become rhetorical? I am amazed and dismayed by the blank stares I receive whenever my response is anything other than "fine" or the like. I recently wanted a healthy and quick meal after a long day of travel and work. I chose a Japanese restaurant near my hotel in Savannah. I sat at the sushi bar, as I always do when I dine alone. The waiter looked like a poor, disheveled version of a young b-list actor, whose name I can not recall and do not care to. His long sleeves where rolled up well above the elbow. The wrinkles in his clothing made me wonder if he had slept in them. He informed me that there was an all-you-can-eat sushi option. A somewhat limited menu was available for $25. I opted to fill out my little sushi card and slide it to the young, very American-appearing sushi "chefs" behind the bar. Another disheveled guy promptly put one of my rolls on the counter for me. It was followed shortly by the other roll I ordered. He then left the area, his destination unknown. The two other "chefs" continued to crank out sushi. I ate my rolls and waited. After an unreasonably long time, I still had no more food. The waiter came by and asked me " Is everything OK?". "Well, I am waiting for more food, and it has been a while", was my response. He said "Oh" and walked away. OH? That's it?<br /><div style="text-align: justify;">A little more time passed and I flagged down a guy behind the bar and asked him when the rest of my food would be up. "You have more food?" He then explained that he thought the other guy had finished my food. I informed him that he didn't. OK, my guy was not good at communication and they dropped the ball as a result. I can live with that. Now fix it.<br />Fix it he did not. He put one of my items up and then continued to work on other orders. Orders that had come in substantially after mine. All in all, it took another 35 minutes more to receive my remaining 4 orders of RAW fish.<br />Once again, the disheveled waiter came by to ask me if everything was OK. Well, I am still waiting on food, the couple there has ordered, eaten, paid, and left, those gentlemen are on their fifteenth plate of food, and I still do not have my unagi. After a bit of silence he said they are working on it. By now, the departed individual had returned, and put my sushi on the bar without a word.<br />Why are service individuals not trained how to handle responses that are not the best? I do not really blame my young, disheveled waiter, or the other people who have given me blank, uncomfortable stares when my response was not positive. Employees need to be trained to handle issues that arise, or at least to get a manager.<br /></div>Foodwine Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13280575884408125018noreply@blogger.com1