FOOD ON THE FOOD

Pseudo-Chef Resurrected Once Again: Squash Edition

Guess what somebody Googled the other day, the parameters of which brought them straight to my blog?   Go on, guess.  No, wait, you’ll never guess. 

“How to fuck a squash” 

I kid you not.  And Food on the Food was number 1 out of 731,000!!!  Hmmmm.  I guess that’s what I get for being so loose with the four-letter words on my blog.  

Really, guy, I’m sorry to disappoint you with my paltry information on the subject, but if you’re that determined, I’m pretty sure you can figure it out for yourself.  Might I just suggest, however, that sex with an actual person is probably a whole lot more satisfying than sex with a vegetable.  Though having not had sex with too many vegetables in my time, maybe I’m not the best person to ask.  It’s just that squash tends not to be all that…animated.  Usually.  But I guess we’ve all had our dry spells.  So, anyway, roasting it is probably better than raw, I’m guessing (maybe 400°F for an hour?).  That should also make it easier to cut the hole.  Letting it cool a bit is a good idea.  (Men, let me know if I’m way off.  I don’t know what you all do in your spare time.)

I’m really surprised this never came up in our squash usage brainstorm last winter.

Anyway, for those of you who came here looking for something slightly less pornographic, here’s something better you can do with your extra squash.  Something very good, actually, from a blog you should know about.  Something that will hopefully erase any mental images of violated gourds.

The Pseudo-Chef Returns

It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any Pseudo-Chef questions, probably because you’ve finally figured out that you’re all smarter than me.  Ah, but there’s still one person out there in desperate need of my assistance:

Dear Pseudo-Chef:

What do you put in sauerkraut to make it not sour?  --Anonymous Googler, USA

Dear Anonymous,

Bet you didn’t know that I can see the search parameters that land people on this site, and how very fascinated I am by this information.  Don’t worry, it doesn’t tell me who you are, just what you searched on.  So when I see that someone searched on my name, for example, I can’t help but wonder if it was that guy I was seeing in college that I ended up punching in the face.  Yeah, you know who you are and you know you deserved it.  Don’t Google me, again.

But back to your earnest question.  I have a little experience with sauerkraut, as you’ve no doubt learned here and here.  And there’s nothing like a little bit of beginner’s luck to make you feel like a pro. 

First off, adding sugar to your sauerkraut is not recommended.  It might ease up on the sour, but you will be left with something far worse than what you started with.  If you want to return your sauerkraut to its original non-sour state, you will first need to build a time machine.  Don’t worry, it’s easy.  If it’s homemade sauerkraut you’re looking to desour, you’ll want to set the timer back about two months.  When you get to the point in the past after you’ve shredded the cabbage but before you salt it and pack it into the crock, STOP.  Do not salt it.  Do not pack it into the crock.  You will be left with cabbage only, which is what I think you’re really looking for.  Sauerkraut, by its very definition, is sour.  I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true! 

If you’re talking about sauerkraut from the grocery store, you’ll want to send the time machine back to your last shopping trip and ask yourself why you’re buying sauerkraut in the first place.  And doesn’t that pastrami look good, instead.  Mmmmm, pastrami.  It’s not sour at all.  Not if you eat it within a week of purchase. 

Then, march yourself over to the produce aisle and buy yourself some cabbage, carrots, and an onion.  When you get home, shred the cabbage and the carrots, mince some onion, mix them all together along with lots of mayo, a dab of Dijon, a tablespoon or two of vinegar (warning: sour), salt and pepper, and you’ll have some nice coleslaw with which to build the best pastrami sandwich ever.  Oh, you’ll also need some rye bread, honey mustard, and Swiss cheese.  To construct this awesome sauerkraut-less sandwich, follow the instructions for a Reuben here, making the appropriate substitutions.

Hope this helps,

The Pseudo-Chef

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Waste Not, Want Not?

So, is it okay to throw stuff out that you've made when you're experimenting (e.g., vegetable pancakes)?  Wasting edible food is bad, isn't it? –Sunny, Canada

Pseudo-Chef: Are you my conscience?  If so, you and I both know that the carrot soup I made over the weekend sucked.  And not just a little, either.  If I didn’t toss it, then Husband surely would have catapulted it out the window into the yard, blender and all, to the horror of our elderly neighbor.

In a situation like this, where the food most likely isn’t deadly even though it may taste like it is, I rarely feel the need to torture myself.  Instead, I turn to the family pets.  If they won’t eat it, then I think about all of the people in the neighborhood that maybe I could live without.  Like the lady who yells for her cat, Midnight, at all hours of the day and night.  It’s a CAT, for crying out loud.  Named Midnight.  She’s probably turning tricks as we speak and you’re really cramping her style.  Or the people who keep their leaf blower pointed up into the trees all summer long “just in case.”  Once they accept my neighborly offering, I can’t help it if they then decide to throw it away.  Those bastards.

However, if you like your pets and you like your neighbors, all I can say is that composting really seems to take the sting out of throwing stuff away.  I’m not sure if it’s supposed to work that way, but thank goodness it does. 

Anyone want to help out Sunny with a good vegetable pancake recipe?  Because the Pseudo-Chef’s been striking out, lately.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Feeding Kids

Dear Pseudo-Chef:

Any ideas for fast and healthy, kid-friendly meals?  I'm lucky, my son is a great eater, but we're still needing fast and healthy. –Susanna, MA

According to the Pseudo-Chef, the Pseudo-Chef is the last person to be giving advice on such matters.  After all, do you know what her toddler had for dinner last night? 

Ketchup.  Yup, ketchup and…no, just ketchup.  Is that what you had in mind?  What about this?

For an entire week last week, he ate fully 0% of his dinner.  That’s right, nothing.  Not one goddamned thing, unless a molecule of food happened to splatter into his mouth after his plate soared across the room.  The Pseudo-Chef is starting to lose it.  Why am I talking in the third person?

The problem is the definition of kid-friendly.  What appeals to one kid will surely look like a steaming plate of vomit to another.  About this time last year, the toddler, who was barely toddling, was into black beans.  And I mean really into them.  So, I made a bean salad with tomatoes and fresh corn (like this one, but with lime juice instead of lemon juice).  It was quite the sideshow to watch him scarf it down by the handful in such ridiculous quantities.  The preschooler just poked at it. 

Meanwhile, you could prepare cauliflower like this or cook up bow-tie pasta with chicken and broccoli in garlicky olive oil with Parmesan cheese (something Husband likes to whip up with precooked chicken from the store), and the preschooler will be all over it, no questions asked.  The toddler, on the other hand, will punish you for days for your audacity. 

All this to say, I dunno.  Stir-fries? 

Below is a stir-fry I make with green beans and pork.  I buy a whole pork tenderloin, cut it into thirds, freeze them, and then defrost as necessary.  I set the maximum amount of rice to cook in the rice cooker, parboil the green beans for two minutes, and then stir-fry.  The next day, I take the leftover rice and make fried rice with peas, shrimp, and mung bean sprouts (though you could totally lose the shrimp to save time). 

The preschooler will happily eat all of these things.  The toddler might possibly eat the pork.  Sorry, that’s the best I can offer.

Stir-Fried Pork and Green Beans

3 Tbsp. canola oil
8 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed (just whack them with something)
¾ lb. pork tenderloin, cut into pieces 1½ inches long, ¾ inches wide, and ¼ inch thick (or however it comes out)
3 Tbsp. fish sauce
1½ Tbsp. mushroom soy sauce*
1½ Tbsp. sugar
1 lb. green beans, cut into 1½-inch pieces
¼ tsp. freshly ground pepper

Get your rice cooking.

In a large pot of boiling water, blanch green beans for a few minutes.  Drain and shock beans in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking and preserve their bright green color.  Set aside.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Add garlic and sauté a minute until golden brown.  Stir in the pork.  Add the fish sauce, soy sauce, and sugar, and cook for 2 to 3 minutes.  Add the green beans and stir-fry a few minutes more, until the pork is cooked through.  Mix in the pepper, remove from heat, and serve over rice.  Or, alternatively, separate all the individual components so nothing is touching.

*Mushroom soy sauce is a thicker, richer variation of soy sauce made with mushrooms.  Obviously.  You can substitute regular soy sauce, but it will suck.  Just kidding.  It’ll be totally fine.  It’s a stir-fry, for crying out loud.

Source: Adapted from The Elephant Walk Cookbook by Longteine de Monteiro and Katherine Neustadt.

Shrimp Fried Rice

2 Tbsp. canola oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups whole scallions, minced
1 Tbsp. fresh ginger, minced
¾ lb. raw shrimp, peeled and deveined (EZ-peel works), sliced in half the long way (I keep some in the freezer for this purpose)
1½ cups frozen peas
5 cups cooked rice, chilled, broken up with a fork
2 cups mung bean sprouts

Sauce
2 Tbsp. chicken broth (or water)
2 Tbsp. rice wine (or other white wine)
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. toasted sesame oil
¼ tsp. freshly ground black pepper

In a small bowl, mix together the sauce ingredients and set aside.

In a large non-stick skillet, heat oil over high heat until hot but not smoking.  Add the eggs and stir-fry about 30 seconds to scramble them.  Add the minced scallions and ginger, and stir-fry one minute.  Add the shrimp and peas, tossing for a few minutes.  Add half of the bean sprouts and all of the rice, stir-frying and continuing to break up any clumps.  When the rice is heated through and the shrimp have turned pink and coiled, add the sauce.  Mix well and remove from heat.  Toss with remaining bean sprouts and serve.

Note: The rice will not be brown.  Taste it before you complain.

Source: Adapted from A Spoonful of Ginger by Nina Simonds.

For more kid-friendly ideas, check out these blogs:

Gastrokid

Family Food

The Vegan Lunchbox

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: A Bone to Pick

Dear Pseudo-Chef:

What is the proper way to dispose of chicken bones after you end with the bones in your mouth?  I have a friend who drives me crazy when he takes them out of his mouth and places them (where I can see the chewed food) on the side of his plate.  (This happened twice in a very nice restaurant.) –Chicken Little, New York

As are most of the questions submitted to the Pseudo-Chef, this one was a learning experience for me.  See, chewed up bones don’t bother me in the least.  I see them all the time at my house.  Much like violence on TV, I’ve become desensitized over time.  Also, I’m part Appalachian. 

But, you’ve approached me for help and it’s about time I’m helpful.  So, let’s get down to business.  First of all, I’m a little perplexed as to how the bones end up in your friend’s mouth in the first place.  I’m assuming by “very nice restaurant” you mean not KFC.  Let me know if I’m way off base.

A fork and knife are a good place to start.  High-end establishments often serve chicken on the bone since it leads to moister meat and a more flavorful sauce.  But, usually, you cut the chicken off the bone before you fork it in.  Maybe, he’s confused as to where the bones are located in a chicken?  Here’s a hint: they’re usually in the middle.  Poking around in the meat with a fork before cutting sometimes helps.

But, let’s just assume that the bones are ending up in his mouth by accident.  What should he do to save face?  For expert advice, I consulted Emily Post’s hilarious book, Etiquette.  Here’s what she had to say on the matter:

“Birds are not eaten with the fingers in company!  You cut off as much of the meat as you can, and leave the rest on your plate.…If food has been taken into your mouth, no matter how you hate it, you have got to swallow it.  It is unforgivable to take anything out of your mouth that has been put in it, except dry bones and stones.  To spit anything whatever into the corner of your napkin is too nauseating to comment on.  The only way to take anything out of your mouth is between first-finger and thumb.”

Oh, the many rules I have broken, including illegal use of pinky finger.  I wonder what Ms. Post would have to say about vomiting into ice buckets. 

Anyway, I think the take-home message here is that if your friend wants to chew on the bones in a very nice restaurant, but is incapable of getting all the meat off cleanly, he has to swallow them.  Sorry, buddy, I don’t make the rules.  This ought to drive the point home quickly.

What if he refuses to swallow them?  Then, you’d have no choice but to take the “can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach.  Out of his chewed-up bones, craft a small-scale model of Abe Lincoln’s log cabin right there on the table.  Get the server’s attention and proudly display your craftsmanship while proclaiming, “Finger-lickin’ good!”  Your companion will be so horrified, he may never order chicken in your presence again.  Everybody wins.  Except, maybe, Emily Post. 

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Chicken-Lickin' Good

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

So, what's the deal with OXO cubes?  Are they okay to use?  Because I love them!  I know real chefs make their own broth, but it sounds like a terrible bother, quite frankly, especially for someone who doesn't have a lot of scraps lying around.  And canned stuff is expensive.  So, really, is it so terrible to use the cubes?  – Sunny, Canada

For what it’s worth, my thought on the matter is this.  It’s only terrible to use bouillon cubes if you think they make your food taste like crap.  If dinner tastes fine, then there’s nothing wrong with using them.

Listen, we’re all busy.  We have to draw the line somewhere.  I draw the line at peeling chestnuts and blanching almonds.  I’m not doing it.  You may draw the line somewhere else.  I always have something on the verge of rotting in my refrigerator and/or succumbing to frostbite in my freezer.  For me, making broth (or stock, since I use bones) makes sense.  Plus, in my line of work, I’m usually in the vicinity of my kitchen.  This isn’t necessarily the case if you work in sanitation.

As far as flavor is concerned, I find homemade stock to be subtler, more aromatic, less salty, and more chickeny in a fresh chicken kind of way than broth from bouillon cubes or cans.  Another thing is that many cubes contain oodles of salt and/or MSG which, granted, are quite tasty, but I like to be the one in charge of the salt and MSG shakers.  I’ve never tried your particular brand, though.  I will say that Swanson makes a low-sodium chicken broth in a box that, to me, tastes much better than the bouillon cubes I’ve used. 

If you’re up for an experiment, the next time you roast a chicken or somebody else you know does, grab the carcass and stick it in your purse.  Bag it up tight, date it, and throw it in the freezer.  Forget about it for a couple of months.  Then, on a rainy day when you’re bored, throw it in your largest pot (need I say without the bag?) and cover with water.  While it’s heating up, clean out your crisper.  Just use what you have.  Maybe a handful each of carrots, celery, onions, herbs like parsley and thyme (dried herbs, like bay leaves, in small quantities are fine), a couple of garlic cloves.  Don’t bother to peel them.  Just chop them in half and throw them in.  Maybe toss in a few peppercorns.  And any leftover white wine you might have in the fridge (I know, what are the odds of that?). 

Bring everything to a boil and then spoon off the frothy stuff at the top.  Simmer for a couple of hours while you tend to your other important rainy day business like, I don’t know, eBay?  Porn?  What's your pleasure?  Then strain it into a large bowl.  Pour it into several medium-sized plastic containers, label, date, and freeze.  The next time you make soup, sauces, or risotto, defrost a container and use it.  If you don’t detect a noticeable difference in the flavor of your dishes, then don’t bother making homemade broth ever again.  Nobody has to know.  If nothing else, your kitchen smelled good while you were trapped inside, and you cleared out some space in the fridge. 

However, if you do notice an overwhelming increase in deliciousness, well then I’ve ruined you forever.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Ice, Ice, Baby

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

My question is about demi-glace (you know, that $35 jar of beef concentrate that you use a little of, and then keep in the fridge door to get moldy).  Since it is so highly coveted and (perhaps) rarely used, do you have any recommendations for storing or saving this item?  I thought about storing it in an ice cube tray (sealed in a freezer Ziploc, of course)...this has worked with Worcestershire for Bloody Marys!  – Carey, CT

This is exactly what to do.  Demi-glace is definitely freezable as it's just a concentrated version of stock.  Ice cube trays should work great.  I’ve used them to portion homemade baby food for the kids, then popped the cubes out into freezer bags once they were frozen solid so I could get the trays back into circulation.  I've considered doing that with tomato paste, too, since I never use a whole can.  But, instead, it rots.

Just between you and me, demi-glace definitely qualifies as something that crosses some kind of line with me and I refuse to make it.  The idea of taking that huge pot of stock I just made and cooking it down until its contents fit neatly into a shot glass just makes me crazy.  Sure, it’s extra, super delicious, but it's only going to get me drunk for two hours, tops.  If I’m making a pot of stock, I want to nurse it for at least a week.

As for homemade Bloody Marys, well, that just proves your awesomeness.  Word to your mother.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Easter Pork Query

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

Why does my ham taste like ass? – Neighbor Husband, MA

Um, can you be more specific? – Pseudo-Chef

We were recently told, "you can't ruin a ham".  Always ones for a challenge, we proved them wrong.  While it may be impossible to ruin a cooked ham, ruining a fresh ham is easy!  So how DO you prepare a fresh ham? – Neighbor Wife, MA

Okay.  Your question was ringing some faint bells, but I could barely make out the melody through all the other ringing in my ears, so I had to call in reinforcements.  I found www.ham.com to be remarkably not helpful (especially the lettuce and grape sections).  But once I expanded my search parameters, I found that there is, indeed, a significant difference between a cooked ham and fresh ham, and it goes beyond the obvious distinction between cooked and raw. 

The ham we traditionally associate with Easter is cured pork.  The act of covering the ham with salt (or injecting it with brine) and letting it sit for a long, long time, not to mention the optional smoking process, changes the flavor and texture of the meat, and gives you that distinctive hammy goodness that we all (more or less) know and love.  Most cured hams these days are already precooked and just require a reheat that still takes frickin’ forever.  I can’t imagine how long the really good uncooked country hams take.  Probably about as long as your average resurrection.

A fresh ham is simply uncured, uncooked pork.  In other words, the end product will be like a really big pork roast.  You can prepare it like a regular ham, but it’s still going to taste like plain old pork. 

Was the ass flavor you experienced actually unanticipated porkiness when you expected hamtasticness?  Because I got thrown for a loop one time when I was served sweet potato fries when I thought they were just regular French fries.  I thought something was seriously wrong with those fries (rotten potatoes? rancid oil?), but it turns out I’m just dumb.  Once I recalibrated my expectations, deliciousness followed.

Natalie Runyan, butcher of John Dewar in Newton, MA, says that it actually is possible to make a fresh ham taste good (remembering Rule #1 that it’s not going to taste like ham).  She cooks hers covered at 325°F for 3½ hours, and then uncovered for another hour (170°F is the interior temperature you're aiming for).  According to Runyan, some people score the skin and put fresh pineapple and orange slices on top, but I think this just perpetuates the misconception that it’s going to taste like ham.  It’s not.  Let’s go another way.  Alternatively, she says, you can scatter garlic and onions all around it like a pork roast.  Now, we’re talking.  Here’s another simple recipe that may or may not be good.

So, here’s my advice.  If you want your ham to taste like ham, just buy a cured ham.  However, if you like the occasional piece of ass, now is as good a time as any to experiment with your very first fresh ham. 

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Meat Mallets

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

Just wondering if my meat tenderizer is good for more than just hanging pictures in the absence of my husband’s hammer?  In other words, when should I beat my meat?  I've always wondered...  --Sister, HI

Oh, boy.  First of all, my very large adolescent male readership needs to excuse itself for a few minutes.  And, while we’re waiting, let me just say that it was very big of you not to mention the coconuts from your own personal coconut grove that you undoubtedly crack open every afternoon with your meat mallet in the absence of your husband’s hammer.  I know this took a lot of restraint, and I appreciate it.

Okay, everyone’s back, so now I have to admit that I never use my meat mallet for its intended purpose, either.  I have a vague recollection of tapping on some veal for scaloppine in culinary school, but that’s really it.  However, I will say that the tool comes in very handy for chasing away nosy engineers.  Ones who look very concerned when you’re making dinner and say things like, “Is it supposed to look like that?” 

So, to answer your question, I had to call in a few favors.  Except that no one owes me any favors (it’s more the other way around), so I just asked nicely at the local butcher shop.  Juliana Kolson-Lyman, general manager of Savenor’s in Boston, says cuts of beef like chuck, round, and some flap meats (tongue?) benefit from tenderizing because they come from the parts of the cow that get used the most (shoulders, shanks, the mouths of the chattier cows, etc.).  She recommends tapping firmly, but gently, on both sides.  Don’t play “Whack-a-Mole,” though, or the muscle will toughen up even more.   It's also good for evening out the thickness of certain cuts of meat to promote more even cooking.

Also fair game for beatings, as far as I'm concerned: any meat that talks back, chicken breasts that are a little too full of themselves, whole spices that cop an attitude, or any other food that's been very, very bad.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Ratatouille Question

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

What kind of rats should I use in my ratatouille?  --Mom, CT

Fat ones.  KFC might still have them on special this week.  By the way, the same rule applies to Indians in your Indian pudding.  (The real trick is in finding the right type of Indian.)

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: I Have Tangerines and You Don't

Dear Pseudo-Chef,

I have a surplus of tangerines from our tree and I'm wondering if you've got any suggestions as to what I could do with them (and I mean recipes...). --Sis, HI

First of all, thanks for rubbing it in.  Second of all, thanks for stealing my joke, which was obviously going to be to stick them where the sun don’t shine.  Which, apparently, is nowhere on Hawaii, least of all your sun-kissed organic parcel of burgeoning paradise.  Thirdly, I’m not sure if you noticed, with the occasional freaky earthquake and the streams of lava flowing through your yard, but you live on an ACTIVE VOLCANO.  Enjoy the eatin’ while you still can.

However, since we’d still like to come visit you someday, here are a few recipe ideas.  You may recall that I mentioned a particularly good ham with tangerine chutney that I made a few Christmases back.  I hereby declare this to still be a good idea.  Maybe not on ham, but on one of those succulent, pit-roasted pigs you must certainly prepare each and every day at your own personal luau.  (Good call on dropping that vegetarian monkey on your back, by the way.)

Since you islanders also seem to like your fish, how about a tangerine-vanilla sauce for fresh mahi-mahi, opakapaka, or akuama’amakumukalakala, for example, courtesy of fellow food blog Cooking With Amy.

Of course, there’s always tangerine marmalade.  Peel off the skin in large pieces, and boil for 10 minutes.  Soak in cold water overnight, then drain and chop thinly.  Great grandma used to make preserves of all kinds by boiling fresh-squeezed fruit juice with equal parts sugar uncovered until thick (at least 20 minutes).  This will also work here.  Just add the peels to the tangerine juice before boiling, and check the thickness of the hot marmalade by spooning some out onto a plate and letting it cool.  You may need to go longer.  Store in sterilized jars.  And by sterilize, I mean boiling the jars for a few minutes, letting them dry, and somehow resisting the urge to then pee in them.

Or a simple tangerine sorbet.

Anyone else like to chime in?

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: A Return to the Glorious 1950’s

If you're a stay-at-home mom with a 7-month-old, hormonal 11-year-old, 2 high-maintenance dogs, 5 loads of laundry a day, a cockroach infestation, a puzzle business, and school, does that mean that your husband should have a hot plate of delicious food when he comes home? –-Trish, HI

Interesting question.  And not at all controversial.  I think what it means is that your husband will have a 7-month-old, hormonal 11-year-old, 2 high-maintenance dogs, 5 loads of laundry, a cockroach infestation, and a dead wife when he gets home.  Or, a mostly dead wife offering a hot plate of delicious arsenic.

To be fair, though, I should also consider this scenario from the perspective of a stay-at-home dad.  Would he, too, be off the hook for meal preparation if the roles were reversed?  The answer is no.  Why?  Because if the dad was staying home with the kids, then that would mean, by default, that I was the one working the 9-5 job.  And if I have to work at a dead-end job for a soulless employer with only the prospect of being sexually harassed to get me through the day, then I expect a hot, tasty meal on the table when I get home.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Post-Holiday Gingerbread Question

What is the proper way to dispose of a gingerbread house? --Ed, MA

I’m so glad you asked.  According to my husband, the proper way to discard a gingerbread house, which his son lovingly crafted by hand out of graham crackers and the frosting that he didn’t eat, would be to “whip it” into the bushes from the back door.  Drop-kicking it might work, too, but the point is that it should be airborne for as long as possible, and mostly still intact upon landing in the shrubbery.  If all goes well, it will end up near the sunken pumpkin carcasses from the previous Halloween.  And in plain view of the child’s bedroom so he will ask puzzled questions.



Happy New Year, little sparrows.

Debut of *Ask the Pseudo-Chef*

Wow, the questions are really flying in now.  In response to popular demand (two requests, one from me), the question forum is now open.  Ask a food-related question and I shall attempt to answer it by consulting Wikipedia and my crack team of know-it-alls (you know who you are).  To submit an inquiry, e-mail me.  Questions and answers will be posted (maybe) and then saved in a sidebar as soon as I learn some GD html. 

Read on and prepare to be enlightened...

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Chocolate Care

My husband and I were debating as to the best care for a box of chocolates he received from his employer.  Obviously, the best answer is in my mouth, but until then - fridge or counter?  --Susanna, MA

Yes, one’s own mouth really is the best place for them.  In the meantime, skip the fridge and find a cool, dry, dark cabinet in which to store them, preferably not your spice cabinet (chocolate has a tendency to pick up strong flavors).  It should keep for at least a month, sometimes up to six months, but if it’s still there the next time I come over, you and I are totally going house on it.

Ask the Pseudo-Chef: Wine Whiner

What do you do when someone, who shall remain nameless, strips the cork on the good wine and you can’t get it out of the bottle on Christmas Day?  Hypothetically.  --Tammy, MA

Self, that is a good question.  Frankly, I had no idea, so I called my local liquor store to find out.  According to Bill Kane, store manager of Gordon’s Fine Wines in Waltham, wine that has spent too much time vertical is at risk of cork stickage.  He didn’t actually say “stickage,” but I think we would all know what he meant if he did. 

Keeping your wine horizontal during storage is important because it keeps the cork wet, flexible, and much easier to remove.  If your fancy-schmancy wine opener fails you, Kane recommends trying a good, old-fashioned, hand-held corkscrew, and putting it in at an angle so you don’t end up tunneling through the existing hole.  If that doesn’t work, try jabbing a paring knife into the cork and twisting it manually (careful with that).  If that doesn’t work, use a clean screwdriver to push in the cork or pieces of the cork (you can always strain them out later) to create a pouring hole. 

If that doesn’t work, and this is me speaking now, you are not meant to drink this wine.  Pour yourself some Scotch and curse the French.