Friday, March 28, 2008

Relying On Tools


I like to believe, despite the many boxes our friends packed and moved, that I am a minimalist about kitchen gadgets. A good knife, a solid whisk, a handful of wooden spoons, a few bowls, and a couple pots and pans are all a cook needs for most tasks. At least, that’s what I tell myself and anyone who asks.

It turns out that I take my gadgets for granted.

I can finally cook simple food in the kitchen: There are still drop cloths everywhere, but there is now a small work area next to our recently-uncovered refrigerator and stove. I was able to make a simple dinner of pan-seared sausage atop rice that had been cooked in Champagne and beef stock with carrots, celery, and onion.

The problem came the next night.

I had leftover rice, so I decided to fry up rice cakes and serve them atop a simple salad. When I’ve done this before, I’ve puréed some of the rice in my food processor to release the starch left in the grain — this is regular rice, not risotto rice, which hemorrhages starch into its cooking liquid. Where is the food processor? That I know: In an open box. But where are all its parts? I don’t know. I could combat the problem, I figured, by using my other trick: packing the rice into a circle mold. Where are my circle molds? I don’t know. Where is the large spatula I needed to flip the cakes? I don’t know. Where are my whisks so that I could make a vinaigrette? I don’t know: I used the “shake oil and acid in a bowl” approach. Where are my bowls so that I could dress the greens? I don’t know. (Though I did find a ginormous bowl that sufficed.)

I stressed and fumed and ranted as my rice cakes fell apart, all because I couldn’t find the gear that I quietly rely on in the kitchen. Maybe I’m not such a minimalist, after all.

Labels: ,

Monday, February 18, 2008

Keep Or Don't Keep: Magazines Worth Moving


So here it is: The final countdown (cue the Europe song). In two weeks, we will have no claim to our apartment; we will want nothing to do with our apartment. Ever again.

Today, I culled magazines from my shelves in an attempt to reduce the amount of clutter we’re moving. Looking back through my archives of various publications, I had to decide which would end up in the new house and which would end up in the recycling bin.

I’ve tried to be harsh, but some magazines make for good research material — I didn’t save any because of recipes. Which food magazines made the cut? (I assume most of you do not care that I discarded Opera News and kept Cubism For Fun).


  • The Art of Eating — You’re shocked, I know. The magazine that informs my writing and my eating philosophy has encyclopedic articles that are usually the best in the business for the given topic. That’s why it’s the best food magazine in the country. My subscription dates back to issue 53, though I have some earlier issues that Ed sent me when I needed them for research.
  • Saveur — This magazine has the most in-depth food articles of the mainstream glossies. My subscription dates back to issue 13 or so, and I do find myself referring back to older issues on occasion.
  • Gastronomica — Though the poems and paintings rarely move me, this scholarly journal has articles that get researchers like me off to a good start. They’re not as comprehensive as AoE’s, as a rule, but they’re more eclectic. I started my subscription with issue 1, and I believe it has never lapsed.
  • Carafe — I learned of Todd Wernstrom’s terroir-focused newsletter from AoE. When I started writing for his magazine The Wine News, we corresponded often, and I expressed my sorrow when he closed up shop. He sent me one of each issue, so I have the whole library.
  • The Wine News — Speaking of The Wine News, my small collection survived the cut. The magazine has the most in-depth articles of the wine glossies, and I could see myself referring to them in the future. My subscription started when I started writing for them.

Don’t Keep

  • Wine Spectator — There was a time — when I was a wine newbie — when I read these religously. Even after I stopped, I kept up my subscription because I wanted to see what the 800-pound gorilla of wine writing was saying. Except that the news pieces lagged behind the blogosphere by a few months, and the feature pieces seemed to repeat each year.
  • Food & Wine — At best, I glanced at these a few times.
  • Bon Appétit — Forget wondering about moving them; I wondered why I still had them. Bon Appétit served me well when I was first learning to make gourmet food, but is there any content there besides ads anymore?
  • Cook’s Illustrated — I have a website account; I have several years’ worth of the annual hardbound collections. I don’t need the magazines; at any rate, the quality of the magazine has fallen off in recent years. I let my subscription lapse in 2005, but I had given up on it by early 2004.
  • Slow — The publication of the Slow Food movement has interesting articles, but they’re not quite research-library-worthy.

Which of your magazines would survive a major cleaning?


Sunday, February 10, 2008

Celebrating Tom's Life


I haven’t had the motivation to post something new, and it’s been hard to figure out what I should post next. It’s hard to go from the last one to something breezy about house wines or meal planning or whatever. But Saturday was a transition of sorts.

Tom’s service was Saturday, and 200-300 people showed up to remember him. Some got up to talk about what he had meant to us: Not just friends and relatives but co-workers he had touched in small but meaningful ways. Melissa and I learned things about our friend we had never known: He was an Eagle Scout, he was Apple’s best bug screener, he used to walk in his sleep. People told funny stories, people told sad stories, people told bittersweet stories.

A couple of days before the service, his old kitchen crew sent a flurry of emails to each other and decided to cook for the 40 or so people who attended a small post-service gathering at Tom’s girlfriend’s house. It seemed like the right thing to do. We made some of the “best of” dishes from summer and winter parties. William, Tom’s main sous chef — his second-in-command — printed out menus and prep lists, just as Tom had always done. We assembled in an unfamiliar kitchen (though a well-equipped one: Anne matched Tom’s food passion), donned our chef whites, and once again moved as a team, hollering out warnings, questions, and answers. One person would finish a task and dive to someone else’s aid. Oil sizzled, knives chopped, and we cooks dodged and swerved around each other. For a moment, at times, one could pretend that this was just a normal party. Then the reality would come crushing back: There was one fewer person in the kitchen. People came up and thanked us for our efforts, but really, what else could we do?

Traditionally, just before guests arrived at the party, the kitchen crew would have a Champagne toast with each other, a way of taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment of quiet after the prep and before service. William broke the tradition that day; we shared the Champagne toast with the entire group and toasted Tom. People talked, remembered, and ate. I think it’s what Tom would have wanted us to do. And William voiced what the whole kitchen crew was thinking: “We should do this again.”

See more photos on meriko’s Flickr stream.

Menu for “a poubelle tribute”
tomato and bocconcini salad
broiled shrimp with blood-orange beurre blanc
buffalo monkfish and maytag blue cheese celery root salad
warm lentil salad
chocolate rosemary fraternals - puff style


Monday, February 04, 2008

The Cook I Always Wanted To Be


Picture of me and Tom
Photo by Melissa Schneider
A lot of people have influenced my cooking: from close-to-home guides such as my parents to distant idols such as Alice Waters and Judy Rodgers. But one person transformed my cooking more than anyone else: my friend Tom Dowdy, whom many of you know as the writer behind Butter Pig. He introduced me to The Art of Eating. He told me about On Food And Cooking when it was still a cult book. He inspired me to try daunting dishes at home and host extensive dinner parties. He taught me to lean on techniques rather than recipes. He even taught me those techniques.

Despite his culinary wisdom, he was only five years older than I when he passed away the other night.

Tom looking sassy
Photo by Melissa Schneider
Memories of him and his food have consumed my mind since then. I remember his quick-paced pop culture references, flying faster than I could catch. I remember talking puzzles and programming with him; we had more than cooking in common. I remember the pièce montée he made one year, a towering pyramid of cream puffs and spun sugar. I remember the deep-fried chocolate truffles, liquid chocolate in a hard crust. I remember terrines of foie gras, a pink, truffle-studded slab he taught me to make. I remember wild mushroom cassoulet, an original recipe of his that even cassoulet purists would love. I remember his sauce Foyot, a rich hollandaise mixed with glace de viande that had my wife ready to leave me for him. I remember a puzzle cake he made in my honor.

But what I really remember is his unfaltering generosity. He and his then-girlfriend Carol gave us not just a smoker but a smoker brimming with supplies and accessories. He treated us to dinner and half the wine at Santa Monica’s stunning Capo restaurant so that I would choose a wine priced above my normal comfort level. He answered random cooking questions whenever I had them, despite being a busy engineer at Apple.

One of Tom's Menus
Photo by Melissa Schneider
And then there were his parties, his ultimate displays of generosity. His annual winter party made our 6-course dinner parties look like amateur hour. Imagine hosting 40 or more people for an 18-course gourmet meal where everything — everything — is made from scratch. He auditioned dishes and ideas for a year in advance. He prepped ingredients in the month leading up to it. He stayed home the day before to get everything done. He even had a kitchen staff, drawn from his foodie friends, who helped on the day, turning vegetables, making sauces, prepping ingredients, and cooking dishes. One of my proudest moments as a cook was when he asked me to join the kitchen crew. I called it the Tom Dowdy Cooking School, because, as accomplished as all of us are behind the stove, we always learned something when we worked at his parties.

Last night I made meatballs, and I thought of when I first learned to make patés: both the mousse kind and the ground-meat kind. Even then, he told me that my instinctual salt proportion wouldn’t be enough, and even yesterday my meatballs needed more salt than I originally added. Whenever I make a detailed list with dinner party prep steps, I think of his multi-page lists, the direct ancestors of mine. When I smoke a chunk of meat, I remember his comment that the less I check it, the better it will be.

That voice, at least, will always be with me, even if my friend and mentor isn’t. I can’t count all the things that I learned from him. I am the cook I am today because of him.

Tom at summer party
Photo by Melissa Schneider

Other odes
The Blog That Ate Manhattan's

Labels: ,

Thursday, January 31, 2008

What Is Bimbo Break?


I was trying to solve a puzzle in the latest issue of The Enigma, the monthly publication of The National Puzzlers’ League, and I decided the answer might be one of the Coca-Cola brands. I haven’t memorized them, of course, so I looked them up. Holy cats! They own everything. This isn’t a surprise — America’s favorite soft drink company is a sprawling mass of a corporation — but the list en masse is quite a sight.

Here’s one to ponder: What is Bimbo Break? It’s listed in their brands, but I’ve never seen it. Maybe I just don’t shop in the right stores. Or maybe, you know, Coca-Cola decided that that brand isn’t quite ready for market yet.

I’ll tell you what Bimbo Break isn’t: the answer to the puzzle. I did manage to figure it out, though.

Labels: , , ,

Monday, January 21, 2008

Serendipity: A Bit Of Esoteric Wine History


I was searching the Government Printing Office’s site while researching an article, and I stumbled across the record for this 1986 document titled “Imported wines : identifying and removing wines contaminated with diethylene glycol.”

Sadly, the document’s not available online: Maybe I’ll look it up the next time I’m at the library. Because the reason why there’s a 1986 report about diethylene glycol in wine is that the year before, the international press went ballistic upon learning that a few Austrian producers in the Thermenregion had been adding that chemical to their wine. At the time, Austria followed Germany’s lead and made tankfuls of cloying wine. Diethylene glycol allowed wine makers to sweeten wine even when the grapes didn’t have enough sugar. This might not be a problem, except that diethylene glycol is related to ethylene glycol, an ingredient in antifreeze. (Diethylene glycol is significantly less toxic.)

When the additive was discovered, it obliterated the Austrian wine industry’s international presence. No one would touch the wines for years. But that event shaped the modern-day industry: It wiped out the large producers who had relied on voluminous sales and cleared the way for small producers with integrity to enter the spotlight. It also reversed the trend toward sweeter wines: Today, Austria’s non-dessert whites are bone-dry, in contrast to Germany’s. The incident also spawned every joke about antifreeze in the wine, including the one in the first season of The Simpsons.

Labels: , ,

Monday, January 07, 2008

Meal Planning


When I was a child, my family planned out our meals for the coming week. I was involved in this to varying degrees: For a stretch of my youth, each of us made breakfast for the other family members on a rotating schedule; at other times, I just had to take the chicken out of the freezer when I got home from school. But big shopping trips and weekly menus were a part of our lives.

I continued this in college. My first year out of the dorms, and well before I became the obsessive cook I am today, my roommate and I would pick recipes from the Better Homes & Gardens New Cook Book (“new” despite being published in 1930), go to Safeway on the weekends, and cook dinner on weeknights.

But as time went on, I lost the habit. I lived further from the bone, with enough income to go out for lunch and decide on a whim what I would make for dinner. And who wants to meal-plan on Friday night when movies and take-out beckon?

Then we bought a house.

As we adjust to our new budget, meal planning has re-entered my life. On Friday nights, I curl up on the couch with a stack of cookbooks — old favorites, new favorites, and books sent to me for review — and plot out my strategy for the week. What sounds good? What will make use of a seasonal ingredient? What will use up the rest of an ingredient I buy for a different dish?

It became a pleasure rather than a chore when I realized that meal planning is just the same as dinner party planning. Instead of five or six courses over a few hours — our normal dinner party — I’m serving 13 or 14 courses — lunch and dinner — over one week. I figure out what will work and what won’t. I figure out how the meals will fit into the week’s work schedule. I even make a list, with daily shopping and prep tasks, analogous to the one I use for parties. Yesterday, for instance, I had to buy polenta, ricotta, and Parmiggiano for a few dishes: I grouped the ingredients based on our ability to go to Oakland’s Market Hall, a small collection of gourmet stores. Tonight, I have to soak beans for tomorrow’s dinner and roast vegetables for tomorrow’s lunch.

I worried about losing spontaneity. There is no more, “What do I feel like making tonight?” though I leave slots on Saturday nights for “market inspiration.” In fact, I have more flexibility now, not less. It’s hard to decide at 6:00 pm that you’d like to make a stew for dinner. But if you plan for it over the weekend, you can set up the stew in the morning. A whole range of dishes has become available, including every fifteen-part recipe in The Zuni Cafe Cookbook.

I’ve also come to realize that planning out meals creates anticipation for each one. This weekend I bought a petit jambon from Fatted Calf, and Melissa keeps wanting to know when I’m using it (tonight, in part, for the polenta). She says that I should have a chalkboard and write out, brasserie-style, the week’s meals.

Finally, meal planning has put me back in touch with old cookbook favorites. I’ve rediscovered new sources of inspiration in the cookbooks that have been on my shelf for years. Some that I had lost interest in, such as Nancy Silverton’s Sandwich Book, are now frequent guests in my pile of books. Others that I had forgotten about, such as Anissa Helou’s Mediterranean Street Food, have come back onto my radar.

I’m sure, at some point, that we’ll adjust to our new budget and return to our former lives. But I think that now I’ll keep meal planning, even when I don’t have to.

Labels: ,

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

UPS Ruined My Christmas Eve Dinner


“The rabbit died,” wrote my mom’s husband. So much for that last hope, I thought. Three days of miscommunication and stress, and one rabbit’s life, all for naught.

A month ago, my mom and I brainstormed ideas for Christmas Eve dinner. I suggested rabbit — the soon-to-arrive issue of The Art of Eating has my article on the subject — and my mom lit up. It was something new, and it was a dish that her husband ate as a child: He loves rabbit. In fact, his memories of eating it prompted me to pitch my article.

I told my mom that I would hunt down Devil’s Gulch rabbit. Mark Pasternak breeds the bunnies you find on just about every Bay Area menu, and he raises them with care and atttention. But he also seems to turn the supply spigot on and off at whim. Taylor, at Fatted Calf, couldn’t get them. Bi-Rite Market, the upscale grocer in San Francisco, couldn’t get them. Even Berkeley’s Cafe Rouge, which uses a different, high-quality source, couldn’t get me rabbit for Christmas. Industrially-raised rabbits are available, but, as the meat buyer at Bi-Rite said, “Once you’ve had Mark’s, there’s no substitute.”

We decided to call D’Artagnan, the famous specialty-meat provider. The rabbit wouldn’t be local, but it would be delicious.

The calamity began on Friday, when my mom looked up the tracking number. Because of volume overflow, UPS had delayed the package. Don’t ask me why an item that requires refrigeration was held back, but that was the source of every subsequent problem. I called D’Artagnan and asked them to re-route the box to my mom’s loft because no one would be at the original shipping address on Saturday. The rabbit arrived in Oakland on Friday afternoon but sat at the warehouse until the next day, when UPS tried to deliver it to the old address. Had it arrived at my mom’s on Saturday, it might have been okay. But UPS held it through the weekend, and delivered it on Monday, three full days after it was supposed to arrive. The ice packs had thawed, and the rabbit’s internal temperature was 54°: well above the safety limit. My mom’s husband, who received the box, sent out the email we had all feared. I called D’Artagnan, and they resignedly reversed the charges: UPS messed up many of their orders this holiday season.

Of course, my mom put together a delicious dinner, but there was still a melancholy moment when her husband described the bunny as, “the prettiest rabbit I’ve ever seen.”


Monday, December 17, 2007

Sens And Super Natural Cooking


I don’t like to review anything whose creators are my good acquaintances or friends, though you could find counterexamples. If I don’t like something, I have to choose between damaging a friendship or being dishonest with you. If I like something too much, you may think I’m being overzealous to support a friend. So consider these next paragraphs idle thoughts instead of reviews.

I have a stack of books I use for meal planning for the week. Some of the books come and go depending on my mood, while some have taken up permanent residence. One of those is Heidi’s Super Natural Cooking. I’ve yet to explicitly follow one of her recipes, but her ideas inspire my creations. I don’t know how easy it is to find the less common ingredients in her book, but the closest good grocery store to my work is the same one she alludes to in her introduction.

Melissa and I can’t go out to fancy restaurants on our own, thanks to being house poor, but my mom took us to a knockout meal at Sens for my birthday. Shuna is the executive pastry chef, and her desserts were stellar, as was the rest of the food. And mad props to their wine director for his wine list, which features a tantalizing diversity of wines at reasonable prices.


Monday, November 05, 2007

Equator Coffee Responds


A few days ago, I posted about The Shot’s assertion that The French Laundry was using mediocre, expensive coffee in lieu of making a good cup.

Brooke McDonnell, the owner and master roaster for Equator Coffee, saw my post and commented in defense of her company. I know not everyone reads the comments, so I thought I should post her statement, unedited except for HTML friendliness, here for you all to read. As I said before, I don’t know anything about coffee, but I’m willing to let people defend themselves and correct misimpressions.

Brooke’s comment:

In response to the espresso critic quoted in this blog, a bit of clarification:
1. Equator coffees & teas does not supply, nor has it ever supplied, the espresso for the French Laundry which comes from Illy. (We supply their drip coffee). As a roaster I appreciate anyone who takes an interest in and promotes the crafting of specialty coffee in all its forms, yet, it is startling to read a review disparaging of Equator in the context of French Laundry espresso for the second time from the same critic.
2. As traditionalists we may have objections to the automatic espresso machines, however, in certain environments, where there are multiple servers, these machines eliminate inconsistencies and improve the execution.
3. Espresso preferences are subjective: Illy is just one style of espresso that when pulled properly has a strong constituency based on its balanced sweetness and moderate acidity. At recent barista competitions the trend was towards very tangy, citrusy, salty origin espresso. This is a big tent subject that leaves plenty of room to promote ones preference and appreciate other styles of espresso.
4. As any roaster knows, the key is always control over the variables that effect espresso, and, as any roaster knows, the same espresso can yield different results at different locations under different hands. The espresso critic's ratings confirm this. Even when there has been on-site training (which we do), the roaster has limited influence over the final espresso translation. Simply put, we cannot compel those on the front lines of retail to have a passion for the process.
5. Regarding the Panama Geisha served at the French Laundry: after visiting the Esmeralda farm, I arranged for one of owners to meet the French Laundry staff and provide background on the coffee varietal and microclimate prior to introducing this coffee. The staff took the time to educate themselves on the agronomy of this coffee farm. They also spent time evaluating different roast styles and brewing methods. I was impressed with their commitment to raise the bar on their brewed coffee program.

Labels: ,

Tuesday, August 28, 2007



While listening to a podcast from the New Word Open Mic event at the Dictionary Society of North America meeting, I heard the neologism crappyjack as a synonym for junk food. Anything you snack on that leaves you with a hollow feeling could be crappyjack, which comes from crap plus Cracker Jack (an American snack food of peanuts and caramel-coated popcorn, for those outside of its reach).

This seems like a fine word to use for the low-nutrition, high-calorie junk food that transports high-fructose corn syrup to our bodies, so I post it here for all of you to spread to the masses.

Labels: ,

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Play Games, Order Another Round Of Drinks


Two of the most convivial activities are eating and playing games, so why not combine them? The current issue of GAMES Magazine has an article about two restaurants that mix playing and plating. Both focus on electronic games, not good board games.

The first part of the article focuses on Nolan Bushnell—inventor of Pong and the founder of both Atari and Chuck E. Cheese's—and his new uWink chain of restaurants. Tables and bar seats have terminals where customers order food and play games as teams. Bushnell wants to franchise the model and envisions nationwide tournaments.

The second half covers the blue turtle, which sounds like it has more advanced electronic games. The restaurant is run by the for-profit arm of the not-for-profit Mystic Aquarium, and the proceeds go to the aquarium's education and research programs.

The article doesn't offer restaurant reviews, but I'm suspicious of a chain from the guy who brought us Chuck E. Cheese's. The plate of food from the blue turtle looks at least a step above bar food: The dish looks like it has grilled salmon, blanched veggies, and home fries.


Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Maternal Wisdom


No matter how confident the home cook, there's still an occasional need to call your mother for advice. As I prepared for Clotilde's dinner party, I looked at the instructions for the one dish that didn't get a trial run and called my mom for help. Lest there's any doubt that we're related, I offer this exchange.

"Hi, mom. I'm confused about something in a recipe, and I want to ask you about it."
"Sure, honey, what's up?"
"I'm making a variant of the 'custard in an eggshell' recipe from The French Laundry Cookbook, and it says that you immerse the egg carton in water. Is that what you do when you make it?"
"Yes; it works perfectly."
"The box doesn't break down?"
"I've never had a problem with it."
"You should have told me you were making this dish; you could've just taken some of the eggshells I clean and keep around for when I make it."


Sunday, May 06, 2007

While We're At It


If you know of good restaurants in Gold Coast, Australia—or Brisbane—I'd love to hear about them. We won't have a lot of time, because we're going to Gold Coast for International Puzzle Party, but the event usually gives us a night or two on our own, and we always like to find a great restaurant on that night.


Saturday, May 05, 2007

Advice Wanted: New Zealand


Once again, I come to you for advice. Who can blame me? You're always so helpful.

Like many a food and wine blogger before us, Melissa and I are traveling to New Zealand in early August: our summer, their winter. We're there for 8 nights, 7 full days, and spare change from travel days. And we're trying to decide what to do. Should we invest the time to go to Marlborough, when it means making travel arrangements to get across the water, a bit more cumbersome than just driving hither and yon? Should we put all of our time into the North Island, and bypass one of our most favorite wine regions? Should we spend all of our time in Marlborough, and bypass the lovely North Island, save for Wellington? Where are the must-see places?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Here are some more details, by request of Nige and based on our own thoughts. We fly into and out of Wellington, arriving in the morning and leaving in the afternoon. We're interested in food and wine, of course, but we'd like to see some pretty countryside and get a taste of the local culture. How easy or hard is it to bop about the country on hopper flights and ferries? How much extra time do they take, factoring in check-in times and the like? We intend to rent a car and drive around when necessary. I imagine the weather won't leave us much opportunity for outdoor activity, but we don't know. Overall, we prefer a more leisurely vacation to a rushed one.


Saturday, February 24, 2007

Awful Offal?


Over the last couple of weeks, I've noticed a number of foodies pronouncing offal, the organs and whatnot of animals, with a long o. Like "oaffal." I've heard it from enough savvy people that I began to alter my own pronunciation—a rhyme with awful—assuming I had been wrong all this time. Today, I looked it up. My dictionaries only list the "awful" form; they flag the "o" as either the -aw sound in paw or the short-o sound in pot, a distinction of length and harshness but otherwise hard to hear.

So why the sudden rise in the long-o form? Is it a regionalism? Or does some celebrity chef use it? Most of you know by now how much I enjoy language, so I'm curious about this shift.

I assume many see the newly-trendy word, think of its association with French food, and guess that the word uses French's softer, longer vowels. (The term has been around since Middle English, but it has an Old English root.)

But maybe this is a subtle campaign. Puns that take advantage of the rhyme are legion and tiresome. Perhaps this new long-o form is a way to get the term into people's heads without the rhyming connotation of "really bad." Maybe it's a way to make the food sound more elegant, so that people don't immediately veer away when they read it in a trend piece. Could that work? Maybe I'll keep the long-o pronunciation after all.

How do you pronounce this word? And if you use the long-o pronunciation, where did you hear it? I'd love to know.

Labels: ,

Friday, February 23, 2007

How To Get Spam To Me


This email slipped through my spam filters, and I don't think I should point out the mistake to my mail client. Who knows what missives I'd miss?

Subject: Duck Fish Lamb Sea

Vegetarian side dishes soup other. Strainer cups roux cup bacon. Pounds veal marrow sawed inch. Yield gallon hot bouquet. Illinois kentucky, minnesota missouri nevada hampshire jersey. Bottom browned particles put everything. Watching straining cleaning upthere, have been many variations. With salt, pepper strain, through china cap tightly. Check out gold an incredible product click. Kentucky minnesota missouri, nevada, hampshire jersey york oregon texas. Quarts water preheat oven. Stonewall, kitchens truffle products, turkey venison. Tightly meshed strainer cups roux! White balsamic vinegar, lobster, olive oil duck!