BingoFest

9 December Friday

One Christmas, a friend suggested I think outside the so-called box when planning my dinner and directed my attention to a website where I could purchase whole saddle of kangaroo. I checked out the site, and there were many zoo animals one could purchase as food. I was forced to admit an uncomfortable truth- I am not that adventurous in the kitchen. Fortunately for me and at least one kangaroo, this deal was not available in the United States. We went with chicken.

I think I’ve got what you’d call the Old rotten prune blues. It happens. It happens to a man. Here I am, facing a stuffed pantry, almost overwhelming. Here I am, a man with time on his hands to devote to cooking and writing. Here I am, a man of limited means and limitless imagination. How to make the most of what we have is the key to artistry. Leonard Bernstein said something great about it once, but I can’t remember exactly how it goes.

If I’m honest, I still smart from that pack of sour prunes that ruined my Thanksgiving stuffing. I woke up at four thirty this morning and lay in bed listening for the rain. Silence. I get out of bed, put the coffee on and my shoes. I put the tv on very quietly, and it is presenting Laurel and Hardy’s Way Out West, one of their best, with the famous dancing scene. The storm is moving in, scheduled to arrive by six. I’ll have to take my morning walk now, in the dark. I go outside, and it has rained, the sidewalks are damp, and the air smells so clean and fresh, the perfect accompaniment for a hot cup of coffee. It is quiet, I am alone. My thoughts turn again to spoiled prunes. Why can something so sweet and lovely turn rancid and heinous as though on purpose? And in front of guests? What are these prunes trying to teach me? There is no joy in hiding treasures, you can’t enjoy tomorrow what is only fresh today.

In my fruit basket, there are a dozen fresh apples, picked right off a tree in Oakland. They are firm, crisp, incredibly juicy and completely natural, having never been sprayed or treated in any way. They have the occasional worm, and they deteriorate as things do in nature, which is to say quickly. Life is like this, now isn’t it? Eat the apple today, there is no later.

Inspired by mortality, I decided to do a pantry inventory of chocolate, nuts, dried fruits, and flours. All is good and well and right, but I must make use of these ingredients while we’re still in our prime. Let’s see what I come up with. My food is teaching me so much this week!

In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, on the trail of the lonesome pine. This is one of Stan and Ollie’s best films, it seems more improvised and free, the great James Finlayson at his mustache twisting villainous best.

29 November Tuesday

Deep golden broth gently rolling, tossing little colorful pieces of celery and carrot around. A small mountain of rich turkey thigh and leg, and long pieces of fusilli. Turkey Noodle Soup. Eat well, that’s what I do.

Days later, we are in December. The 6th to precise. The turkey noodle soup was wonderful, as was the dish I made last night with the very last of the turkey. You probably have never heard of it, I found it in a cookbook from 1951 called French Country Cooking by the great Elizabeth David. It is intended to be made with the “old and cold” end of the turkey, its final bow. I cooked the bones and veg to make a stock, cooked some vegetables in a pan added whatever meat I managed to scrape off the bones which had also been finely minced. Then, add the sauce ladle by ladle full. It thickens. Yes indeedy yes, it thickens. Then take a pot of cooked rice and make a ring of it in a dish, then fill the center with the turkey. In a final dash, add a handful of crisp cooked bacon, and a scattering of parsley. The dish is called Turkey a la Chevalerie. I can’t find any recipes online or anywhere. I found it in my collection by typing “old turkey” in the subject line of the database.

Now the fridge is emptying out again, getting ready for the next big festival. Where Thanksgiving is somewhat rigid in its food traditions, Christmas is anything goes.

28 November Monday

Well you can guess what happened after that last blog post. My sleeve caught fire stirring the potatoes, I knocked over the stock pot, slipped in it and fell into the window which ignited the curtains, and as I was screaming to be rescued, the neighbor broke in and saved me but sadly lost his own life as the entire building was consumed in flames. I am using my savagely charred hands to eke out one more writing before expiration.

Not really. I just got busy with the food preparation and didn´t have time to write. I think these things are better afterwords anyway as the play by play can get boring fast. So, then, here´s how everything turned out.

Pictured above is the turkey if my memory serves me. Tom turned out great as did most everything else. There were two stand outs and one disaster.

Because the horseradish was flavorless, I didn´t make the shrimp cocktail. I also didn´t make the Gourgeres because the turkey and sides were ready to go early. I decided to serve the sweet potatoes as an appetizer. This is wonderful. Peel and cut the sweet potatoes into wedges. Fry up some bacon cut into pieces, plenty of it. Roast the sweet potato wedges after they´ve been tossed in the bacon fat. Make a dressing- olive oil, vinegar, dijon mustard, salt, pepper, pour over the sweet potatoes then sprinkle with bacon pieces and parsley. Eat it.

Simply fantastic. The next great surprise made me so happy, it was so thrilling, the guests cried out in marvel.I feel I have invented a most excellent dessert, I´m afraid to write about it even, because someone may take it and sell it to Ben and Jerry´s or some such thing, and my fortune will be lost. I am actually sitting here, debating whether or not to tell you about it. OK, here goes.

The pumpkin raisin tart was very good. Putting it on the hot baking pan did get the bottom crust nice and brown. Putting it in the tart pan instead of a pie plate made it easier to spread the cream cheese layer all around. I make my own pumpkin pie spice blend which is more all-spice and ginger than cinnamon and nutmeg. It was yummy. The next step took it to another level. The tart is not sweet, it´s tangy, and very pumpkiny. I put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of the tart, then generously drizzled it with cranberry sauce. This is everything. Everything. It was so so good. I should mention that I made the cranberry sauce which is low in sugar and has orange zest and juice in it, which is amazing with the sweet ice cream and woodsy tart. Please don´t tell anyone about it, but if you do, please credit me, it would mean a lot to me right now.

Having made Thanksgiving dinner in my apartment before, I should remember that not all of the sides fit in either oven at the same time, so there will always be a dish that comes to the table late. The last few years it has been the stuffing. Unfortunately, for this reason it has been unfairly relegated to secondary status. There were two things that disappointed me about the stuffing. First, the bread. It wasn´t sturdy enough and got a little soggy. The second, because it was an apple, prune, and sausage stuffing were the prunes. I hadn´t had them long, they were in a sealed package, and I´d eaten them many times before, and Paul Newman himself vouches for the quality of these prunes. They looked ok, they didn´t have an off scent, but my goodness, did they ever taste foul. In the spirit of generosity, good will, and full disclosure, I reluctantly brought the dish to the table. ¨If you are enjoying your meal, I recommend you not eat this.¨ I announced as I set the dish down. ¨It is terrible.¨ One guest immediately said he must try it if it´s terrible. He pensively chewed a forkful and said, ¨It´s not bad. It´s unusual. Are those olives in there??¨ ¨No,¨ I replied. ¨Those are not olives.¨

Another Thanksgiving behind us. It´s time for turkey noodle soup, one of my favorites and get ready for Christmas. The chaos, the mess, the triumphs and the disasters, they are all part of the sacred magic.

24 November Thursday

Happy Thanksgiving!! I was up before dawn, with strong coffee, pie crust and other things. Auntie Mame is on TV, so it´s today, let her inspire us!

After the dough was put in the fridge, I went to put everything else together. Forgotten ingredient!!! Tale as old as time, evaporated milk vs. sweetened condensed milk. I always have one when I need the other. So, I had to wait till the store opened to get a can. So, now all is well.

The pie ever so delicately went into the oven about four minutes ago. It´s a tricky little thing, this tart. After all these years, a detail we overlooked. It will be interesting to see how it all shakes out, but this year, for the first time I put the tart on a pre-heated baking sheet.

This movie is hilarious. I´ve never seen and I can´t take my eyes off it now. But my eyes are on the clock. Ten minutes till ten the tart should be done. It took a few more minutes to bake, put the pie is out and cooling. I will pull the turkey out of the Fridge at 12:30, which gives me two and a quarter hours to do other things.

23 November Wednesday

I heard on the news this morning that two and a half million people are expected to visit the Atlanta airport this weekend. Two and half million at one airport? Why? I can´t answer this, but I can tell you one thing- I am so so grateful this Thanksgiving to not be flying anywhere. Holiday travel is exquisitely painful. We spend so much money and the time isn´t quality because there are so many people that aren´t normally together trying to catch up. The dinner is over in just a few hours and everyone goes back to as before. Then, you fly home, wondering what happened to that time and you go back to work on Monday, disoriented and with a bit of an emotional hangover.

Now- the battle plan. What must be done today? Anything that can´t wait until tomorrow and things that will make tomorrow more difficult. First, the former. The turkey must be encased in salt today. Cranberry sauce needs to macerate. Cocktail sauce needs to mature. Pie dough needs to rest, and the pie should be made tonight. Bread pieces for stuffing need to dry out. Today. Mashed potatoes will keep beautifully overnight, they make the should do category. I will make the turkey stock for gravy tonight too. Green bean casserole can be assembled tonight and cooked tomorrow. Everything else is tomorrow.

Tom was pulled from his wrapper, and is now exfoliating comfortably back in the fridge. His innards and bits are simmering on the stove top with vegetables. The Russets are in their water but haven´t started bumping around yet. I will finish the cooking day with cranberries and pie.

For the most potatoey tasting potatoes, simmer them without peeling them, peel and mash them when they are cool, then add salt and two cups at least of half and half. No butter!! Wacky I know, but the potatoes will be snowy white and taste earthy like potatoes should. Oh yes, and white pepper too. Julia would be so proud.

Do you remember any Christmas commercials from your childhood? There´s one I always remember- it was the Folgers coffee one where the son comes home as a surprise before the folks get up and only the little sister knows he´s there. Then he makes the coffee, mom wakes up confused, rubs her eyes and descends the staircase. Peter!! She shouts and embraces him as though he´d come back from the dead. It´s here that we are reminded about the best part of waking up.

And oh!!!! the house is filled with the rich scent of turkey stock. The potatoes are soft and ready for the food mill, and I am listening to some favorite things. Right now it´s Lily Tomlin as Ernestine interviewed by Joan Rivers. YouTube. Check it out. Ha! now there´s a great diversion. What do you like to listen to while you are cooking? A lot of music is too distracting to me, I will sing along, hear a favorite piece and need to go back to that wonderful moment. Music is an event. I like to hear people talk, so podcasts, interviews of all sorts fit the bill.

Last year I was in Akron for Thanksgiving, and I woke at around six in the morning to the very same smell I am smelling now. Celery, onion, turkey neck. I went downstairs where my mom was already well underway with the food prep and listening to Bob Dylan. I happened to come down during one of his groggier offerings, and decided to go back to bed. I have nothing against anyone´s musical choices, and mom had been up for a while, probably had a cup of coffee or two, and was ready to hear him.

Night before last, I had a dream that the family was gathered for a holiday feast when my brother put on a new album. It was titled-Bob Dylan and Louis Armstrong Together at the Holidays, and a picture of both exchanging presents in front of a roaring fire graced the jacket. The music that followed was extra-terrestrial, a prerecorded orchestra playing saccharin arrangements of familiar Christmas Carols while these two groan and gravel their through one unintelligible chorus after another. I guess the point is that neither one is known for their singing per se, yet I find artistically that both possess a certain…..Oh wait, my stock is boilng!

The potatoes are finished. The cranberries too. The stock has been strained and is cooling. The bread pieces are drying out and everything is laid out for tomorrow. All the vegetables are prepped and ready for assembly. What? No pie, you ask? No, not yet. The tart is easy to put together and better suited for the early morning, when I am fresh. This is a great start, time to clean up and get ready for bed.

22 November Tuesday

Yesterday, I reviewed my recipes, looked online for sales and availability, and slightly modified my plan. It looks like crab season has been delayed so that will need to wait till Christmas. I also thought I would not find chestnuts, but they´re they were. And fresh cranberries. All is well.

This morning, I bravely went forth to the grocery store where my young Tom was waiting for me, featherless, decapitated, and resting in a sarcophagus of vacuum sealed plastic. He now lies in state in a roasting pan in the fridge, carrots, Brussels sprouts, green beans, surround in silent attendance, the plebeian condiments and pickles crowd the balcony. It is quite moving and reminds me of the dear Queen.

Of course, things are still in motion, Thanksgiving is a wild and unpredictable affair, and one more trip to the store is needed. The core of the meal is intact. You see, I keep a separate doc with menus, quantities, prices, and other things that are even more boring than this that I think a lot of people don´t really want to know about. You know, how the sausage gets made. Speaking of which, they didn´t have sausage at the market. Anyway, I am now confused as to what is on that doc and what I´ve shared with you, and I don´t want to have to go through all those writings to see what I´ve written to whom and who cares? The point is, I´ve also decided to do something different and more exciting with the sweet potatoes, if I haven´t told you what it is, don´t worry about it, you´ll find out later. If I have told you, keep your mouth shut so you don´t ruin it for the others. Here we go!

19 November Saturday

A lot of people haven´t been asking me how I´m feeling about the Thanksgiving prep. Well, let me tell you.

It´s that strange moment, the horses are in their stalls, waiting for the gates to open. And, they´re off!! I want to cook right now, but right now is too soon. Too soon. Timing, we are told, is everything. So, how do we time things? I am asked, time and again, how the dishes come out in a moment at just the right temperature for serving? How do you plan a meal that may take several days to prepare? It´s high time I told you, but it may take a minute, so settle in.

Thanksgiving has expanded in the last several years, and I for one am a fan. It began with Obama. He made the day after Thanksgiving a national holiday, which meant that many began to take Wednesday as a vacation day because they no longer had to on Friday. This meant that because a lot of people began to travel on Wednesday, Tuesday became the new hot day to travel, and since it is a half day at many schools, why bother? This lead, logically, to what´s the point of going to school or work on Monday for a one day work week? Now, it seems, many schools don´t meet at all the week of Thanksgiving, which means many travel during the weekend, even leaving town on Friday, as many of my friends have.

So, here I am, a quiet Saturday, with lots and lots to do, but today is planning for the action. I have created a menu, a shopping list, a schedule of cooking the week of, beginning on Monday. Let me first address the notion of stress.

Stress. There are good kinds and bad kinds. Exercise, for instance, is putting controlled stress on the body for its ultimate improvement. Cooking is stressful in that you are preparing ingredients purchased with your money, to feed and nourish yourself and people whose thoughts and company you care about, and you don´t want to disappoint anyone, do you? Fine, OK. But if you absorb these feelings into your body, well then, dinner gonna suck. You will be unhappy, hate the holidays, entertaining, and ultimately, your family and friends. The preparation of the food is the joyful act of putting it all together. You don´t want to make three thousand dishes? Don´t make three thousand dishes. You don´t want to make dessert? Don´t make dessert. Buy it or ask someone else to bring it. You need a little help the day of? Ask for a little help the day of. But, whatever you do, don´t act out the stress. The raw turkey sits there, mocking you, taunting, ¨I´ll never be ready on time¨ you can hear it speaking to you. No. You are in charge of your kitchen. You are an intelligent person at least evolved enough to understand the concept of added heat to raw poultry equals cooked food, fit for human consumption.

The preparation of the turkey is one of most written about and varying in method of all foods. It is fascinating the variety of methods for what seems on the surface to be such a simple preparation. I can´t even get into the stuffed vs. non-stuffed varieties. I am talking about the roasting of the bird. We always want the same thing- crispy skin, equally cooked, moist breast and legs and thighs. Have you ever seen a recipe for roast turkey that guarantees flabby white skin, bloody, undercooked thighs, and tough, stringy sawdust breasts?

Every cookery writer seems to have their own, singular way of preparing the bird. Julia Child cut hers up into pieces before cooking and put them in to roast at different times. She reassembled it before serving. Jacques Pepin does something similar in that he makes an incision at the thigh joints above and below to increase the cooking time of the dark meat. He also flips the turkey over twice during the cook time. America´s Test Kitchen has done a variety of things, including covering the breast with foil for the same reason as the previous two, to prevent the breast from overcooking will the legs are getting there.

When it comes to skin crispy, there´s butter smothered, butter and herbs under the skin, Martha Stewart´s method of a wine and butter soaked cheesecloth (genius), or a mix of either cornstarch and water or baking powder and water all over the outside to dry out the skin and brown it. Of course, we should salt and pepper the turkey two days before and let it do its magic. I don´t like wet brine, I think it changes the texture of the cooked meat in a way that doesn´t appeal to me.

This year, I am going to do something old-fashioned. I am going to make a paste of butter and flour and rub it all over the well salted turkey. I will also spread some flour on the bottom of the roasting pan which will toast while the turkey juices and butter drip on top of it. This will be the pre-thickened mixture that will make the gravy. This is Fannie Farmer´s method from 1896.

15 November Tuesday

I’ve written about a number of foods on this blog, all of which brought joy, but which ones bring comfort? Why is a grilled cheese with tomato soup more comforting than a tomato salad? Or is it? Perhaps those who grew up eating raw tomato salads find them more comforting than a grilled cheese, who knows? Almost all Asian dishes I’ve made have been what I’d call comforting, even though most of them don’t have cheese or yeast bread or other American-type things we consider comforting. Ginger, garlic, chili paste, sesame oil, are comforting.

Thanksgiving is but a week away, and I do not consider the meal to be comfort food. Indeed, quite the opposite. Even though we may enjoy the meal, and revel in the seconds maybe thirds, it violates one of the cardinal notions of comfort food- it is easy to put together. Thanksgiving is a labor of love, it is one of the very menus enshrined, sacred. It is the closest thing we have to a prescribed ritual meal in our culture.

For lunch and dinner today, and probably tomorrow, Chili con carne, or as it is commonly called, Chili. Now Chili is a controversial dish, as there are versions in Texas, New Mexico and all over the Southwest, and there are many variants in the Southeast and Northeast. All of them vie for supremacy, the chili cook offs, the beans or no beans nonsense. Do you pile it on a piece of cornbread? Do you like oyster crackers, Saltines, tortilla chips? Do you serve it on spaghetti? On a hot dog? Do you put additional raw onion, cilantro, sour cream on top? I mean, it’s not nonsense to those that are passionate. I am not afraid to embrace my Ohio roots. I like a little ketchup with hash browns and scrambled eggs. What really, I mean for the love of pete, is wrong with iceberg lettuce? Nothing, it’s delicious. So, what then of a ground beef chili with green peppers, onions, tomatoes, black beans or any beans, a few spices, saltine crackers and cheddar cheese?

Another of mom’s cooking tips-

Take the onions, garlic, and tomatoes and blend them to a liquid then pour over the beef as it is cooking. It makes for a very thick but not rich sauce, it brings everything together. I have cooked it this way since I was in college.

Speaking of which, I once made a huge pot of this chili in my dorm kitchen in London. Several of my friends had never had what they call Chili con carne, so we pooled our resources and put one together. It was a cold and rainy Saturday, I was feeling nostalgic for home, we were eating and drinking and laughing. By the end of the afternoon, a few of use had eaten so much chili we had to lay down on the hard kitchen floor and moan and wail for about forty five minutes. I have never overeaten so much before or since.

Not even tonight, when the cold, late autumn air pierces every energy inefficient crevice of the apartment, and it is filled with the scent of meat and spices rich and rare, the crackle of chips as they rain into the bowl, the steaming hot stew, soup, whatever it is. More like a stew, then the shower of golden sharp cheddar. All is well. Perhaps even a old comedy on the tv set.

Why can’t things be like they was? Well, funny, things change and they don’t. The things we loved we still love. The smell of green peppers cooking in the pot is the same as it was when generations before cooked them. Food is comfort food, cook and eat well.

12 November Saturday

The turkey has been reserved. I have committed myself to this project. Because the family will be visiting for Christmas, I am hosting dinner for several friends at Thanksgiving, which gives me a little more lee-way over what I serve. I wrote earlier that I would serve all the traditional side dishes, but that was old Benji. New Benji is excited and ready to shake it up. Now, I am love with edible art once again and it’s time to come up with the menu. Thanksgiving dinner is usually a big thing like an opera and keeping everyone interested and looking forward is key. Here’s the way I like to do it.

The Welcome Hour. I intend to serve the main course at 6pm, working backwards, the house will open for business at 3pm. At 3pm, the bar such as it is ready for action and the first nibbles are set out. I use three rules when putting a menu together: 1. Don’t repeat major ingredients. This not only applies to things like pumpkin or cranberries, but items like cream and cheese. Note your ingredients and in what order guests will be consuming them. 2. Let one type of flavor dominate each course. As the main course is butter savory, let other courses be spicy, sour, acidic. 3. Don’t serve any food without the intention of guests eating it. This last one is something many don’t think about enough. You might open a can of nuts, a jar of olives, a bag of peppermint patties, a log of salami, chips and dip, and a few wheels of El Presidente, and VOILA! you are well on your way to ruining people’s appetites, and cheapening the experience. The first dishes should stimulate the palate and make the guests want more. This is important- put out only a few things no more than three nibbles, let’s say. If you don’t want too much work, olives and pickles are really good. I like the work, so tapenade crostini. It’s a great time for a light seafood cocktail with a tangy dip. Spicy toasted pumpkin seeds are enticing. Gougeres or cheese straws are really nice, although I will not serve other cheese, sausage, bread, or sweets at this time. Think spicy, sour, light. Saliva inspiring. Bloody Marys and mulled cider to drink.

To the table. Soup’s on. This is where we made add a little heft. How about Butternut Squash with a swirl of olive oil and fresh thyme? Cream of Mushroom? This year, I want Oyster Bisque with a dollop of Dungeness crab meat on top. That sounds good to me. Another tip- when you pull the finished turkey out of the oven, and the gravy and stuffing are ready to go, that’s when you heat the soup. The turkey should rest for thirty minutes before carving and allow thirty minutes between the soup and main course. Why not have them be the same sixty minutes? You can add time to that and serve another dish: an arugula salad with pomegranate seeds and goat cheese. Bring forth the dinner rolls.

Then the big plate. Roast turkey stuffed with sausages and chestnuts, a bread and sage dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes, roasted sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, Brussels sprouts, cranberry compote.

After that, we need a break. This would be a great time to serve the salad, but because a lot of people won’t eat the salad after the main course, I won’t serve one. If the salad is light with no cheese or cream dresssing, this is a great digestive aid and palate cleanser.

Finally, now hold tight to the reins, dessert. There should be a good hour between finishing the main course and tucking into that pie. I’ve seen too many times the abhorrent practice of serving dessert with the main course or immediately afterword. You may have heard “now save room for dessert!” perhaps not remembering that you can wait a little bit for your body to digest, make a space, and put us in mind for pumpkin pie. Put the coffee on, Helen. Why then, does the dessert become part of the main course?

I read recently that the average American family spends five minutes a day actually eating the food at dinner. This means that we are not accustomed or entirely comfortable with longer meals. We don’t know what to do except eat constantly until we run out of items to eat, then leave the table. We want to eat the food, but we also want to go away. Eating dinner is the activity. Eating dinner is the activity. Eating dinner is the activity, not the impediment to the activity. I have been to meals where eating is rushed manically, horrible things like cleaning plates as guests finish, or guests leaving the table to go back to what they were doing before after they finished, everyone leaving, one by one.

Calm, Benji, calm. Eating dinner together is good for your family, it’s good for your life. Eating dinner is the activity.

Back to the dessert. If you have prepared traditional fruit pies like apple or cherry, great. If you’ve made the ubiquitous pumpkin pie, pecan pie, sweet potato pie, remember not to duplicate those ingredients in other dishes. People will become tired of pumpkiny things if there are too many of them, by which I mean two. I’ve made a spicy ginger pumpkin cheese cake, which is absolutely heavenly, but is so dense and all the things, that a sensible cook would avoid using either cream cheese of any kind or winter squash of any kind in the rest of the meal.

So there are meals to prepare before Thanksgiving, and tonight I did another stir fry.

I used to be a fella that just couldn’t cook rice, but by ignoring other people’s advice, I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Here are a few thoughts about rice, by which I mean a standard rice that you make regularly to go with anything. My favorite is jasmine-more flavorful than typical short-grain, and sturdier, more toothsome than basmati. Of course, we’d use different rice for different preparations, we’re talking the everyday steamed rice that’s easy, a recipe you can memorize.

First, many cooks will tell you must ignore the rice whilst it is cooking. This is not a good idea. Always use twice the water to rice, let is come to a rapid boil, turn the heat down, put a towel on top of the pot, and cover the pot with the lid. Leave it alone for about ten minutes. Then, sweet, gentle, caring friends, remove the lid and very gently stir it to determine the water to rice ratio. The other cooks don’t want you to break up the grains, but I know you, gentle reader, will lead with the shoulder, not the wrist, and just make loving, slow, stirs in your rice. At this point, it will either be a little watery or look like it’s almost just right, starting to dry out. It will not, repeat not, be gloopy or thick. If it’s wet, let it cook uncovered, if it’s drying out, what do you think? Put the lid back on, and please turn off the heat. Browning rice that adheres to the bottom of the pot indicates a careless cook who thinks everything will be ok, and all the guests will tolerate the outcome, whatever it may be. Wet, chiffy rice indicates a neurotic who is afraid of being thought to be the former. Hide your flaws. Check the rice occasionally, but own it when the cooking is done. Toss it with a fork, get some air in, taste it to make sure you like the consistency, salt if you must, no pepper, serve. Nothing else, no butter, no olive oil, or anything. Rice.

As for the stir fry? Garlic, ginger, onion, red chili flake, soy sauce, chili oil, sesame oil. ‘Nough said.

9 November Wednesday

OK, everyone can breathe. The election is over, and as with everything else, it’s not as bad as we thought. What better night to remember the ancient practice of meeting someone at the corner? This time has become so encumbered with specificity which no real person needs to/wants to be wedded to. In the great cities and neighborhoods our country, telling someone to meet at a street corner around a certain time is an exhilarating prospect. Let’s meet around this time, maybe or maybe not, let’s see how the bus is getting down Mission St. Where and what shall we eat? It’s an impromptu, pizza, pub, pasta, dim sum, tex-mex, real mex, thai, sushi, curry, curried sushi pizza burrito? I waited at the corner for a friend, looking at the bright, full moon on a cold, windy November night. He arrived, we walked, chose an eatery. It was great, old school as they say; wonderful and magical.

We are so spoiled for choice, and all the restaurants that line the streets serve our needs morning, noon, and well into the night. Why cook at all? Well, that’s a topic for another time, or maybe never, as the reasons for creating our own food are well known, and basically, the whole point of this blog. I mean, right?

So who can explain the phenomena of the diner? They make pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns, the usual American breakfast fare, slung into our faces for ease, convenience, and price. So, I will tell you of one of the greatest diners ever tasted on these shores or others, and I offer it as a Requiem, because the place is no more.

If you are familiar with the great city of San Francisco, you know that the best places to eat are not always in the best places for other qualities of life. Such was the case of Moulin Rouge Restaurant, which stands at the corner of Geary and Leavenworth in the Tenderloin. The joint was run by the an older Japanese couple, who I imagine were married the day after they purchased this diner, no later than the early part of 1970, when they must have agreed on the decor, which never changed henceforth. I wonder how I can find and interview them? Magnificent omelettes, bacon, toast, pancakes, those little boxes of cereal. And the hash browns from another dimension. All made by one person to order. Mr. took the orders and refilled the coffee, Mrs. cooked the food. Crappy coffee, cheap tea bags. Everything wonderful, the creak of the floors, the old plush carpet that kept the place warm and smelling of smoky bacon fat. Now, the diner is closed forever, and I hope its proprietors are enjoying a wonderful retirement.