A little titter tatter over food criticism

I good not resist sharing this commentary on this food blog from the Grub Street blog on the wordy merits of food writing versus real criticism. Who truly decides if food writing carries the same critical voice as art, design or even those naughty stararchitects.
excerpt is from NYMag.com

Food Writing: The Lowliest Form of Criticism?

Is this not a form of art?Photo: Melissa Hom

"What is the role of the food and drink critic?" Clay Risen muses in Atlantic's online Food channel after downing a publicist-arranged snifter of $38,000-a-bottle scotch and feeling some ethical qualms. "Let's face it: readers aren't looking for an intellectual discussion of a restaurant's spaghetti alle vongole — they just want to know if it's worth the extra clams." Next to more objective cultural experiences like dance, art, or literature, writing critically about food is hardly comparable, says Risen: "The good critic needs an exceptional palate to be of real service. But Sontag it ain't." Burn!

For more click: food writing

The debate continues on the Atlantic monthly blog: Critiquing the Critics

or What a Critic is Good For

Grist - Environmental Issues and Food News

Ok - now that I've signed onto the blog I'll probably be posting a lot of links. I love blogs and read way to many during work. Here is a link to a very informative website on food and environmental issues. They are a non-profit and do some of the most detailed and in-depth food news reporting that I have found. I'm particularly impressed by the articles of Tom Philpott and Tom Laskawy.

Grist - Food

P.S. - I am eating some home grown sugar snaps we just picked on our deck. Wow, are they tasty. I never remember how good sugar snap peas are until I eat them at the beginning of each summer.

"Extra Credit" Headnote exercise

Hey all, hit me with a headnote for this recipe.

Herb Chevres Stuffed Figs with Pomegranate Sauce

50 medium ripe fresh figs, sliced in half lengthwise
2-3 teaspoons sugar, preferably raw
4 ounces goat cheese at room temperature
1 tablespoon of mint, finely minced
1/4 cup light cream
pomegranate molasses as needed (available at Middle Eastern markets)

1. Preheat oven on broil.
2.Using a small melon baller or a teaspoon figs out gently, leaving about 1/8th inch flesh all around and set aside flesh.
3. Spray figs gently with cooking spray such as pam and then sprinkle hollowed figs very finely with sugar and place on a baking tray. Broil figs for 1-2 minutes or until they begin to caramelize. Check often and do not allow to scorch. Remove and cool.
4.Chop  reserved fig flesh finely and place in a stand mixer with goat cheese, mint, and light cream. Whip for 1-2 minutes until ingredients are well incorporated and the mixture is light.
5. Using a teaspoon or pastry bag, fill each fig hollow with the cheese mixture. Drizzle each fig lightly with the pomegranate molasses.
6. May be made the night before and chilled, covered, until serving.

First Food Memory, Dal (Pureed Split PEas) & Rice

Dal

6 servings

            It seemed that a pot of dal was always simmering on a back burner of my father’s stove. For him, it was the equivalent of fast food because paired with the also ever-present pot of white rice, it was a quick, hearty and nourishing meal.

            Dal and rice is one of my first taste-memories. I recall standing by my father’s side with my mouth wide open like a baby bird waiting to taste what was on his plate. He often ate with his hands in the traditional Indian way. Using his fingers as a scoop and he pushed the food inside my mouth. I remember enjoying the creaminess of the dal with a hint of garlic.

1 tablespoon oil

1 small onion, chopped

1 teaspoon peeled and minced fresh ginger

1 clove garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 cup yellow split peas

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1 small Scotch bonnet pepper, whole

1. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat, add the onion, and sauté until soft. Add the ginger and garlic, and fry, stirring often, for about 30 seconds more. Add the cumin seeds and fry for 30 seconds.
2. Add the split peas, 2 cups of water, and the salt. Bring the mixture to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer.
3. Add the hot pepper. Simmer until the split peas are very soft, about 25 minutes, skimming foam from the top as necessary.
4. 4. Remove the hot pepper and puree the split peas using a hand (stick) blender or standing blender, in batches if necessary, puree until smooth. Serve over rice.

CNN EATOCRACY LAUNCHED

Check out CNN's new food blog, headed up by former AOL Food Staffer Kat Kinsman. Promises to be a great ongoing read.


http://eatocracy.cnn.com/2010/06/17/eatocracy-an-introduction/

Yummy! It's the 4th Annual Food Film Festival

The 4th Annual NYC Food Film Festival - June 23rd-27th, 2010

The 4th Annual NYC Food Film Festival is happening the June 23rd-27th, 2010 in Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens. This is a great way to experience the abundant culinary Taste and see some amazing films that focus all on food.
Click the link for more details: http://www.nycfoodfilmfestival.com/index.html

The Vegetable Menace

In case anyone wants to read this:

Vegetable Menace

My first food memory

My mother told me that I was very picky about food as a child. She would tell people I would only eat “white food”. Not just any white food but particularly tofu, rice and Japanese white noodle. That explains why I have very few food memories from childhood and the only vivid one was about “Somen”-the Japanese angel hair pasta. I remember the soft gooey sticky white thin Japanese noodles tangling between my short fatty baby fingers. At first it felt chilled and smooth from the cold water, but gradually, my little worm fingers heated them up and made them gluey. My squishing fingers turned the noodles into ugly smashed chunks of white wheat which were originally shiny and tender. I do not recall the taste but guessing it now, it must have been nasty dried paste of wheat powder.

Cheesy Toasts, My First Food Memory

A few years ago I ate a savory pie in Kansas City, it was the best pie I had eaten on the "Pie Across America" tour I was on. You can imagine on a pie tour I'd be eating lots of pie, so it being my favorite and the one I can still taste is impressive. It reminded me of a snack I loved as a kid. My mom made these bite sized treats and froze them so that I could pop them in the oven and "cook" them myself. She started with white bread, the real squishy kind, cut into circles, no crust. Those were toasted until a little brown and awaited the yummy cheesy top. The topping, best I can recall, was made of cream cheese and green onions (scallions, as New Yorkers would say) whipped into a creamy spread with a little bite from the onion. She would put a dollop on each of the rounds and freeze them. When I wanted this tasty snack, I would heat up the oven, put them on a metal tray and wait. The cheese would get warm and soft, the toasts would stay a little crisp. They were the fancy kid's version of the gourmet goat cheese and onion pie I had in Kansas City!

My first food memory

Growing up I remember that my fourth generation Irish parents were still close enough to their ancestors to think Italian food was 'exotic'. Case in point, my maternal grandmother's favorite incarnation of spaghetti featured ground beef, minced onion, Old English cheese and Campbell's Tomato Soup.

There was a moment though, when I realized there were foods I'd never seen, let alone tasted before. I was around five years old, sitting in front of the TV watching Sesame Street. On the screen a girl, about my age, was home with her mother making lunch or maybe dinner. I sat transfixed as they filled these flat circles (which I now know to be tortillas) with cheese and then rolled them up before taking an enthusiastic bite.

Intrigued I moved to the refrigerator and desperately searched for something similar. Being so small, the closest thing within my grasp was the drawer where we kept the makings for sandwiches. As a result, my first attempt at constructing a burrito consisted of a slice of Oscar Meyer bologna with a single slice of Kraft American cheese torn to bits by my tiny hands and tucked inside.

It was neither spicy nor remotely Mexican but I think it just might be the first meal I ever made for myself.

My first food memory

I had no idea what my first food memory was until I visited home, sifting through old pictures. Family vacations and birthdays were all there, but one of me in my high chair truly brought me back. "Margot, 1988." I was three years old and grinning from ear to ear with a faceful of ketchup and a handful of chicken. I could suddenly taste the salty shredded chicken with the sweet, tangy ketchup as if I was back in the highchair. And then I tasted sweet, and sure enough there was a bowl of mashed sweet potatoes on the highchair as well. I looked ecstatic to be surrounded by all these different flavors, like I owned that little patch of space that was my highchair and kitchen table.

My First Food Memory

It's slightly ironic that my earliest food memories aren't about actually eating food – they're about all the food my parents denied me. I remember watching the kids around me eating Lunchables and the chicken nuggets Evan talked about in his post and being so envious. All I wanted was Elio's pizza and Kraft macaroni and cheese – whatever kids looked so happy eating on TV. I didn't really appreciate the home-cooked meals my parents would come home every day and put together until years later, so it's unfortunate that one of my earliest memories is how much I loathed my father's chinese cooking. On occasion our family would get chinese delivery. Deep fried flaky spring rolls and crispy pan fried noodles smothered in gravy were my favorites. But this was not what my father's chinese cooking tasted like. My father had traveled the world and lived in China when he was younger, so he fancied himself a worldly cook. He used to go to the chinese specialty market in Alton, a few towns from us, and pick up authentic Chinese sauces and ingredients. I used to watch him with his large wok in the kitchen, tossing around crumbled pork and bok choy in black bean sauce, or throwing an egg in to quickly cook in fried rice. I remember begrudgingly sitting down at the table to eat those meals. The flavor was strong with ginger and the salty stick of soy sauce. I would smother my rice in left over packets of duck sauce and try to pick out pieces of pork. I usually left my plate half full and was denied dessert. In retrospect it's strange – I was always a very adventurous eater but it's almost as if my preference for that American-Chinese food influenced my appetite for my father's healthier, more authentic version. To this day, ginger is one of the only foods I won't eat.

A good profile on a recipe tester

Since were were talking about recipe testing, I thought you all might be interested in this piece written by my colleague Irene Chalmers. Her site is FoodJobsBook.com

Recipe for Success: Karen Berner, Food Editor

June 9, 2010

career changer, food media, food writing

Karen Berner, Food Editor, photo courtesy of Gloria Dawson

There are very few people I know whose career paths have moved in a straight line. The real constant is how they have matched and used their innate skills with their passion and possibility. I find these people the most interesting, don’t you? Take Karen Berner, for instance.

Karen is a successful food editor of websites and print, who combined a Fine Arts degree, an editor’s eye for accuracy, and a former IBM technical writer’s ability to communicate clearly and concisely. And, she changed careers to pursue her passion for food. Here, below, in her own words, is Karen’s recipe for success:

My path to the food-editorial world was somewhat unconventional. A career-changer at 37, I decided to pursue my secret dream of becoming a professional chef by enrolling at the Culinary Institute of America (CIA). But once there, I quickly realized there were many other interesting careers related to food outside of a restaurant kitchen.

My initial thoughts of happily toiling away behind the line changed when I was given the opportunity to do studio and test kitchen work for a food website geared to both professional chefs and cooking enthusiasts. It was the perfect fit; I’d be intimately involved with food, but this type of work would also tap into my creative side, one I still like to nurture every day.

Culinary Institute of America

My beginnings in the food world were humble. I started out working part-time in the CIA cookbook department, dealing with recipes for every cuisine under the sun. This job quickly led to producing food content and recipes in a test kitchen for a website. Here, I further honed my recipe development and editing skills as well as food-styling and photography abilities.

Working at a website, you’re often called on to wear many hats. So, I soon took on the responsibility of interviewing celebrity chefs. I’m sure their insights and contributions inspire many a student and food lover to follow their culinary path, myself included.

I later was able to transfer my skills to print media, working on the well-regarded Art Culinaire magazine for professional chefs. I essentially was doing the same work I handled for the website but took on more writing assignments. I also learned the tools necessary for putting a magazine together, including dealing with the pressures of deadlines and scheduling. My experience interviewing chefs came in handy; I was able to contribute to the popularity of the magazine while feeding the growing appetite for the inside scoop on celebrity and up-and-coming chefs.

I’d like to think that everything I’ve done up to now – writing, website work, technology knowledge, line cooking, recipe testing, teaching, and even experience as a private chef – has ultimately contributed to what I do today and aspire to do tomorrow.

Many have asked me what skills have made me a successful food editor. I think this can be boiled down to seven:

1. Keeping on top of food trends that you know will interest your readers.
2. Being able to purpose recipe and content that’s useful, approachable, friendly, and will appeal to a mass audience.
3. Strong writing and editing skills, and the ability to adapt to a magazine, cookbook, or a website’s established voice, tone, and style. (Think Martha Stewart vs. Rachael Ray.)
4. Strong management and organizational skills.
5. Great contacts in the food industry.
6. Solid recipe writing skills and the ability to edit ornery recipes when they’re problematic.
7. Being able to look at a recipe and troubleshoot what might be wrong with it before you’ve had the chance to test it.

Experience is key and critical to success, but it’s not always enough to land your dream job. Networking (whether via the latest social media venues or simply by getting out there and shaking a few hands) and perseverance are just as important.

Although I’ve worked in many parts of the food industry, I’m most comfortable in a kitchen, where I’m developing and testing recipes, whether for magazines, websites, or cookbooks. Having a solid recipe and ingredient base knowledge opens many a door. Why, I’ve even judged the famous Pillsbury Bake-Off baking contest. What a hoot!

I’ve also had the opportunity to teach the fundamentals of cooking to food enthusiasts and found this to be extremely rewarding.

I’m happy to share that after many years in the industry I still enjoy what I do — it’s challenging.  It’s never the same from day to day, and I get paid to eat. Not too shabby.

But it is important to keep growing, to keep dreaming up the next adventure. If I have my way, my next food adventure will be working on a TV show as part of a culinary production team. I think my test kitchen, food-styling, food photography, management, directing and editing skills will be a value add to the production.

My First Food Memory

I have no idea how old I am. Five? Six? Too young to count I guess. I'm sitting at the table in the kitchen. I can't remember what the kitchen looks like. But the table and chairs are white. There's a cup on the table filled with Five Alive. That's my favorite juice. My mom puts down a white plate with these star-shaped breaded chicken fingers surrounding a pool of ketchup. I pick one up and bite by bite I chew off the points of the stars. The outside is crunchy but the inside is juicy. I double dip in the ketchup. I trim the star down to a circle. Lather in Ketchup, Rinse down with Five Alive, and Repeat.

Sample of A Recipe Based Story

Celebrating Diwali in Queens

By 

IT Blog

 on October 16, 2009 12:30 PM | Comments (5)

Ramin Ganeshram is the author of Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago(Hippocrene Books, 2006; 2nd edition Spring 2010) and Lights, Camera, Curry!  (Scholastic 2011) a young adult culinary novel, set in the Indo-Caribbean community of Richmond Hill, Queens.

Throughout my childhood in the 1970s and '80s, culinary life with my Indo-Caribbean father was one of substitutions and sometimes-haves. The foods particular to his Trinidad upbringing were hard to procure, even in New York City where we lived and where the relatively limited number of West Indians lived jumbled together in small areas of Brooklyn or the Bronx, island upon island, their differences forgotten through their common bond of longing for home.

In our house, aloo pie, a spicy potato turnover, was approximated with a knish slathered with pepper sauce. Blackstrap molasses replaced the burn sugar syrup that blackened our Christmas fruitcakes. Common string beans became the core ingredient in aloo talkari, a potato curry that normally featured bodi, the long Indian string bean.

For my father Krisnaram, never was his longing so great as during the days and weeks approaching the Hindu festival of Diwali in the fall. A celebration of the triumph of good over evil represented by light outshining the darkness, Diwali is marked in India, and in heavily Indian communities such as Trinidad, with elaborate light displays of small clay lamps, burning ghee or coconut oil. Intricate sculptures made from shaped green bamboo sticks, host these diyas, and, in modern times, electric string lights complement the show.

For us, surrounded by few Indians from the subcontinent or Trinidad, my father's favorite holiday passed yearly without ceremony. Sometimes, he would make jalebi--the sweetened fritter so popular during the holiday--or some kind of vegetarian curry, with powder he brought from his last trip home. But they were a far cry from the elaborate Indian sweets called mithai or curriedchataigne (jackfruit) or pomme cythere, served on his island where Diwali is a national holiday. This year, 15 years after my father's death, I celebrated Diwali in the Indo-Caribbean section of Richmond Hill, Queens. Often called "Little Guyana" or "Little Trinidad," roti shops and Indian stores selling saris, jewelry, sweets and every "home" ingredient my father remembered, abound.

One week before Diwali (this year October 17) the annual parade, complete with cars and trucks draped in Christmas lights, kept shining by portable generators, Hindu holy men chanting Hare Rama, Hare Krishna and drummers beating the tassa, a uniquely Indo-Caribbean clay drum, marched 10 city blocks along Liberty Avenue, the area's main drag. The route winds around to 103rd Street and back again, in a long rectangle, led by New York Police Department cars, a contingent of Indo-Caribbean police officers walking with a banner behind.

By the time the actual holiday draws closer, later this week, neighborhood homes and merchants will put on their own light displays and local stores and restaurants will be rich with Diwali fare.

As the parade got going, at first I walked on the pavement, alongside the marchers, holding my four-year-old daughter Sophia's hand, but as we rounded the corner, the parade seemed to loosen and relax and passersby joined the ranks. We leapt into the fray, the tassa drumbeat resounding in our chests, my child, twirling to the contagious rhythm.

Around us people held lit diyas: simple clay ones and elaborately painted ones, and they use one another's lit lamps to light new ones. Watching my child, I wanted to weep with sorrow for my father who, for all of his years here, lived a life apart. Arriving in 1954, he was before his time, paving the way so a community of his fellows could later thrive.  But, as I looked down at my daughter, I instead chose to cry out with joy that we are here, in a different island, finally celebrating the rites of home.

You can visit Richmond Hills, Queens for Diwali on Oct 17th. Stores and homes are usually well decorated and services held at local mandirs. Take the A subway train to Liberty Avenue.

Coming Up: Ramin shares traditional Diwali recipes.

Photos: JP Vellotti

A Taste of Diwali

By 

IT Blog

 on October 16, 2009 5:40 PM | Comments (0)

The Indian Festival of Lights, or Diwali, is tomorrow, and to celebrate, we got some cooking tips from expert Ramin Ganeshram, the author of Sweet Hands: Island Cooking from Trinidad & Tobago (Hippocrene Books, 2006; 2nd edition Spring 2010). After the jump, she shares her recipe for aloo talkari, a potato curry, and a popular flavor of the annual Diwali celebrations. Click below for the complete recipe, and learn more about Ramin by visiting her website.

Aloo Talkari 
4 servings
           
This curried dish was a specialty of my aunts and is a particular favorite of my husband. It is up to you whether to peel the potatoes. I generally don't, since the skins add flavor.

3 tablespoons canola oil or ghee
4 medium-size Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 pound green beans, trimmed and cut into 1-inch lengths
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 heaping tablespoon curry powder
2 cups chicken broth, vegetable broth, or water
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons coarsely chopped cilantro

1. Heat the oil in a deep, heavy-bottomed pan. Add the potatoes and cook for 1 to 2 minutes; stir, browning on all sides.
2. Stir in the green beans and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the beans begin to brown and blister. Add the onions and cook for 1 to 2 minutes more. Add the garlic and stir well. Cook for 30 seconds.
3. Mix in the curry powder and stir to coat the vegetables. Cook for about 30 seconds, or until the curry just begins to release its aromas. Add the broth and salt, partly cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
4. Remove the lid and simmer for 15 minutes more, or until the liquid is reduced by half. Garnish with the cilantro and serve with roti.

Variation: Omit the string beans if you want Curried Aloo.

Chef's Tip: Many East Indian-based dishes call for ghee as the preferred oil. Ghee is toasted clarified butter, which can be purchased in Eastern markets but can also be easily made at home. Melt 1 stick of unsalted butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Once the butter melts, reduce the heat to low and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the sediment settles to the bottom of the pan and the oil is a golden brown color. Strain through a fine mesh sieve and store in a sealed container. Ghee may be stored either refrigerated or in a dry cupboard for up to 2 weeks.




Photo: JP Vellotti

Tasty Tomato

I love the look, smell, taste and versatility of tomatoes. I can instantly bring to mind the shiny red skins of the fruit and sweet fresh smell of the green leaves that make up a tomato plant. Before choosing a tomato to pick, I like to brush my fingers along the leaves letting the grassy fragrant scent attach itself to me like my favorite summer perfume.

Then it’s time to look for the most perfectly ripe tomato. I can tell by looking at my choices hanging from the plant, where I will start. The ideal tomato will be truly red, a shade darker than ones that aren’t ready and I can tell by lightly squeezing if it is a good one. It’s not too hard or too soft. Once I pluck the tomato from its spot, I rub it on my shirt to get any dirt off, and the skin looks like it’s been polished. I pop the fruit in my mouth and it bursts. It’s part sweet flesh and part tangy juiciness that makes it so palatable.

Inside, the seeds and that slimy translucent part taste like the smell that was left on my hands after I touched the leaves. When a tomato is fresh from the garden and the sun has been beating down on it, the candy-flavored flesh is warm and the tart seeds seem cooler in my mouth. Sometimes for cooking the recipe says to take that part out, but I usually don’t. If I do follow the recipe, I gather all the guts and add a little salt and slurp them up. They are so good!

Eating tomatoes reminds me of my grandfather’s tomato growing ritual, spending hours, days, months babying his plants that he grew from seeds from his prized tomatoes the year before. Stored in the garage to protect them from the weather, he would cart them out to a sunny spot every morning, not always an easy find on the foggy Oregon coast. He would chase the sun for hours, then put them to bed back in the garage and start again the next morning. My grandfather grew the tastiest tomatoes I have ever had. They were often eaten right off the plants in the garden, but also made into sauces, added to sandwiches and canned to be savored all winter long.

Well Worth the Line

This past weekend I was in Boston with my family. We strolled through the North End--home to Paul Revere and the American Revolution along with a well established Italian immigrant community. The two co-exist in perfectly balanced dichotomy. The vibrant community of ever arriving newcomers is the realization of the dream of its very first denizens.

Not surprisingly, the most ubiquitous expression of Italian Heritage in the North End is in the restaurants, salumerias, gelaterias, and coffee shops that line the streets, tucked into the storefronts of buildings from the colonial era right up to modern times.

We strolled looking for a place to eat, stopping in at a local firehouse for a suggestion. I'm a big believer in asking the locals, and no one is more local to a neighborhood than a firefighter who lives and works there. They suggested Giacomo's on Hanover Street--a place we had passed up because of the long line. Sure, it may seem like a line is a good thing, right? After all, if folks are willing to wait, it must be worth the wait. But I've found that lines are sometimes just culinary come on's, more hype than anything else.

Still, we decided to give it a go, standing in a line that was 20 people deep ahead of us, and moved at a snail's pace. The restaurant only seats 25 at most. Our four year old provided diversion to the young women behind us, as she showed off her newly acquired Silly Bandz, brightly hued, animal shaped rubber bands she wears as bracelets.

While we waited diners exited the restaurant throwing around words like "outstanding"  and "unbelievable". All I kept thinking was "It better be, after this wait."

An hour later, after being subject to the stares, comments, and sometimes jeers of passersby dumbfounded by the line that had now swelled to at least 100 people, it was our turn. To add insult to injury we were seated right in the front window where those who were still waiting could woefully watch us eat.

The menu was seafood heavy--all the red sauces were cooked with lobster, and the pasta was mostly homemade. Forget substitutions because, as our waiter informed us about the cooks, "those guys can't speak english, they just read the ticket and that's what you get."

The wine list was limited but solid, at jaw droppingly low prices. We ordered the Pinot Grigio and even though we left at least one glass behind, at $16 a bottle it was still money well spent.

The food came out at lightening speed--a not so gentle reminder that these tables had to be turned fast. All the better though because the aromas of garlic, homemade red sauces, pesto, and seafood that came from the kitchen behind a counter not 20 feet away were not only hunger-inducing, they were absolutely torturous in their promise of the epicurean delight to come.

When it arrived--not 10 minutes after we were seated, the food was ample but not obscene in volume. My husband had the fried calamari for an appetizer and homemade fusili with seafood for an entre.  My mozzarella marinara was a bright stepping stone to the wild mushroom ravioli with pesto that was little more than lightly crushed pine nuts and chopped basil swimming in aromatic olive oil, along with sun dried tomatoes and goat cheese.

For about 15 minutes no one spoke as we wolfed down our food. Any annoyance i felt at being pressed to finish quickly (after all watching the waiting crowd just a foot away from me, separated by a thin pane of glass) dissipated because I don't believe I could have eaten any slower if I tried.

Next time I'm in Boston, I'll definitely be back at Giacomo's. But I plan to be a little savvier. The restaurant opens at 4p.m. weekdays and 5 p.m. Fri-Sun and I'll arrive 1/2 hour before opening, armed with a good book and some coloring for my daughter. I've since learned there is a less touristy location in Back Bay that takes reservations and is just as good--though even with a reservation, you'll likely wait. Still, even though we became part of the tourist attraction for a brief while, it was one of few humiliations I can say was worth its culinary mettle.

Memorial Weekend Cooking

Inspired by the opportunity to cook and work on my assignment, I made my own lobster for the first time. We went to the fish market in the Hamptons and they had 5 lobsters for $45. Being from Manhattan, we all laughed at the idea that anything involving lobster could cost $45, let alone 5 whole ones.

I kept it simple, just lemons and bay leaves in the pot. It was too small to cook them all at once so I had to sacrifice them one at a time. I won't say how else I killed them because I don't want to be thought manic or cruel.

They turned out like this:
I also made striped bass in a white wine sauce and lightly fried bay scallops with old bay.

Aside from the fact that I undercooked the lobsters ever so slightly, the meal was a success. And I've decided seafood tastes infinitely better by the sea. Not just because it's fresh and the setting is so nice, but because it's a lot cheaper so it kept me and my wallet full.