Burying the Lede

Humorous but on point story about burying the lede: have a read (this means you tony! :-)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/dc-sports-bog/post/gw-offers-strong-performance-during-virginias-perfect-game/2011/03/30/AFhbPg2B_blog.html

Interviewing--More Tips and Tricks

We've been talking about interviewing and how important it is. To recap, you do an interview not just for a profile but, often, of an expert to get background information you need, or to get a quote to add details or impart necessary information to a story.

Before the interview you should:

1) Do as much background research on the person that you can. If they have a publicist ask that person to send a bio. Check out any books about them and familiarize yourself with their work. Be wary of using the work (articles) of others as real background research. Instead these are just to paint a larger picture. See if you can pick out a theme in the way this person is portrayed. It might be a clue into their personality.

2) Write down your questions--they may not be all you'll ask, in fact they likely won't--but it presents a good starting point to keep you on track.

3) Do the interview in person (if it's a really important one) or on the phone as a second choice. Email interviews don't give you the opportunity to take the conversation in new directions or dive deeper if something interesting is said. It may seem easy but it produces flimsy work. Use it as a last resort.

Also are some link to good pieces on Interviewing. Please check them out...

1) Interviewing: The Forgotten Skill http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=36&aid=37661

2) Interview Techniques http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=36&aid=38681

LOST Magazine - A Taste for Tonka

LOST Magazine - A Taste for Tonka

Hi guys, here is the story i mentioned. A personal memoir/recipe story that actually has outside research--see if you can pick it out...

2010 FALL EDITION – NO. 39

A Taste for Tonka by Ramin Ganeshram

Trinidad has three mountain ranges, offshoots of the Andes that race from Venezuela, down the South American continent, from a Trinidad that was rent millennia ago. From a boat far into the sea, the perspective and sheer size of these ranges make them loom large, appearing as three single peaks, when in fact they are razor-backed ridges that segregate the north, central, and southern regions of the island from each other. This mirage led Columbus to name the island La Trinidad, or the Trinity.

The cool valleys in the crevices of these many peaks make ideal cocoa country: it's shady enough to protect Trinidad's prized trinatario cocoa, the world's finest cocoa, from the blistering equatorial sun. Here live the descendants of the cocoa paynols (a pidgin version of the word cocoa espagnoles), laborers who came from Venezuela in the 18th century to pick the prized cacao that today lies mostly foundering in the fields as Trinidad's fortunes now come from its rich oil and gas reserves.

Theirs are bygone ways. These paynols — the cocoa Spanianards — still speak a smattering of old-world Spanish, their troubadour music is an entrenched part of local culture, and bush medicine is practiced here. Cocoa remains king, particularly in the cocoa tea they drink — a mixture of pure cacao beans and local spices, like cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaf, and tonka bean.

Tonka bean grows in pods on an ancient hardwood tree valued for building and for smoking meats in the true Trinidadian boucanee (buccaneer) style. The seed is white and pulpy and must be allowed to dry, wizen and darken until it looks like an obscenely huge, hard, black raisin.

It is not so foreign, really. If you've ever bought a vanilla-scented candle or perfume, you know tonka bean. Sometimes it is called "vanillin," a name that cheapens it for it is not a mere copy of vanilla but a self-contained microcosm of heady scent redolent of pear, warm spices, rich soil and, yes, vanilla. Once it was used to flavor tobacco, before the FDA determined that it contains a toxic substance and banned it for food import.

Tonka bean contains coumarin, a blood thinner that, in large quantities, can be deadly. But used traditionally, in micrograins to flavor cocoa tea, or steeped in rum to provide a unique scent and taste to baked goods, it surely cannot harm. In all the years I traveled to the island with my Trinidadian father, I never heard of anyone dying from ingesting the small quantities of tonka used.

Still, now that it is a forbidden fruit, few people use tonka in Trinidad, and those who do certainly don't admit to it. Now Trinidadians use something called "mixed essence," an entirely artificial substance that can even be found in Caribbean grocery stores in the U.S. In the UK and France, however, Trinidad tonka bean is sold to any gourmand willing to pay roughly a dollar for the one-inch seed. Limit two per customer.

As a chef, culture writer, Trinidadian, and person obsessed with foods I can't have, I've gone to extreme lengths to secure this precious pod, traveling into the mountainous cocoa paynol enclaves to secure five or six, then mixing them into a bag of homemade granola replete with Brazil nuts, which are roughly the same size. The granola was a ruse to smuggle the tonka back home to the U.S., and it worked. But when I got them here and carefully fished them out from the mix, my courage failed me. For months, I worked on getting up the nerve to use them, but the warnings of sudden death kept floating through my head, and eventually they became so stale it was a lost cause.

Still, it plagued me that the commercial mixed essence that most West Indians associate with our baked goods was, in fact, a lie. Having eaten goodies made with real tonka, I know mixed essence is just a pitiful copy of the lost elixir that our grandparents used readily.

I realized I could do the purveyors of the culinary fakery that is "mixed essence" one better — by making my own. Using pure vanilla extract, warm tropical spices, and other pure essences, I could alchemize my own approximation of the tonka tisane.

It's been an experiment that has gone on for years.

Just when I think I've gotten it right, I go back to Trinidad and wrangle a taste of something secretly made with "the real thing" and I know my blend is just not there yet. It has become my white whale, my Rachmaninoff piano concerto, my Gordian knot. Perhaps, one day, I'll master it. Or, if I can ever get my hands on some again, I'll get up the nerve to toss them in rum and make the real thing myself.

For now, though, I keep trying, hoping my taste memory serves me well enough to realize when I've finally achieved a close approximation of the fleeting flavor. Below is my version — for now at least.

Faux Tonka Essence (Trinidadian Mixed Essence)

Makes 1 cup

1 cinnamon stick
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 tablespoons dark rum
½ cup pure vanilla extract
¼ cup pear essence
¼ cup almond extract
2 drops orange blossom water

1. Using a mortar and pestle, crush the cinnamon stick into small pieces about 1/3-inch long. Place the cinnamon in a small, sealable container with the grated nutmeg and the rum. Set aside for at least one week and up to two. Check the mixture every couple of days to ensure the rum is not evaporating. If necessary, add a bit more rum and reseal to reduce air flow.

2. Strain the rum mixture into a sealable, dark-colored glass jar and add the remaining ingredients. Seal and shake gently.

3. Store in a cool, dry place. Use in baked goods in place of vanilla.

BACK TO TOP
===========================================================================================

AUTHOR BIO: Ramin Ganeshram is a journalist and professional chef and the author of Sweet Hands: Island Cooking From Trinidad & Tobago (Hippocrene NY 2006; 2nd expanded edition 2010) and Stir It Up (Scholastic 2010) and The Pass It Down Cookbook (Smiley books/Hay House 2010). In addition to contributing to a variety of food publications including Saveur, Gourmet, Bon Appetit, and epicurious.com, Ganeshram has written food/culture/travel articles for Islands (as contributing editor); National Geographic Traveler; Forbes Traveler; Forbes Four Seasons and many others. She is a contributor to the Encyclopedia of World Foods (Greenwood Press 2010) and has been a peer review for the Journal of Food, Culture and Society. For two years she volunteered as a reporter, writer and editor for Molly O’Neill’s magnum One Big Table (Simon & Schuster, November 2010) exploring the foodways of real Americans through history and today.

Where loss is found.

Copyright © 2009 LOST Magazine. All rights reserved.

Loving what i'm reading

Hey guys! great job on this blog so far! You are the most prolific posters of my students to date!

best
Ramin

The Full Monty

Hey guys,
Thought you'd find this an interesting read. A great model to refer to as we continue to perfect our last assignment, the recipe-based story followed by recipe.

A Case for the (Completely Unfashionable) Full English Breakfast

Why I torture myself by reading this stuff when dinner is still a few hours away, I can't tell you.

PS: If anyone is seriously trying to launch a food writing career, HuffPo Food could be a good place to start. I work with the site pretty frequently, and you can normally make your way in if you've got the right magic mix of credentials + a unique POV/voice + interesting, well-written content.

BK Restaurant Week

Brooklyn is doing another restaurant week from March 21-31 with dinner prices that hark back to the original idea. There's a list of the participating restaurants and a handy map here:

http://www.brooklyn.com/dinemap.php

From Russia With Love

There's something so low lighted and soothing about Manhattan's Russian Samovar that any prohibitions around drinking vodka in the early afternoon can be easily chased with the tiny Corniche pickles in silver cups that dot the bar and booths. It's also reassuring to know that even after fifteen years, the dusty Samovar remains largely unchanged, and many midtown office workers can still be seen quietly sipping their lunches, some worryingly alone, but many in groups large enough to commander a banquet.

There are deep red velvets, tiny lampshades and hushed conversations throughout, but the decor focus is the hundreds of dramatically lit curio jars running the length of the bar, holding not only the precious Russian vodka, but also the flavorings. Some are pretty, elderberries and floating red peppers, but a ginger-infused vodka refracts back its root tenant in a disturbing way like a showcase at the carnival freak show. I keep moving down the bar.

Scary though it may be, the ginger is still an old reliable, but I'm here for horseradish. I have a hunch that it's just the thing for a vodka recipe I've been tinkering with, ramping up through trial and error from a bland lemon vodka really more colored than flavored by the runoff from boiled beets to a concoction that now featured chunky beet puree, an interesting taste, but still called out for some kick.

I honestly believe the horseradish will make this cocktail sing. I belly up to the bar and order a horseradish-flavored vodka. When it arrives, I ask the elderly barkeep to tell me everything, and in a thick Russian accent, he delves into the history of Mother Russia, horseradish and, natch, vodka. It's not surprising that this five-foot, white-flowering plant, coveted for its curved, chalky root, is in the same family as eye-watering mustards and wasabi, but I'm shocked it also counts broccoli and cabbage as members of the family.

Much like my initial misstep with the boiled beets, Alexi cautions me to grate the horseradish root, letting it tumble directly into the vodka. He also tells me not to bother with what his native Russians call "red khreyn" as it's just pre-shaved horseradish mixed with red beets. "So I am onto something," I ask rhetorically. He nods, but then goes onto nix the lemon-flavored vodka, insisting the flavors from the beet puree and grated horseradish will be more than enough for the palate to contend with, but he eventually relents, allowing a lemon wedge as garnish at the end of a recipe. "Like the sun," he says.

As I stumble out into the daylight myself, the world of unflavored vodkas stretches our before me. I never understood things like Grey Goose or the bottle-service vodka in a nightclub that, although it does have a giant flare atop the bottle, is still retailing at a 5000 percent markup. I'm more about rotgut booze, always have been, and unabashedly so, but lately, I've been running my cheap hooch through a Brita water filter, acting on a tip from Esquire that says the taste and hangover quotient are on par with Kettle One after the quintuple filtration.

My clerk at the Buy-Rite calls bullshit on the filtration. The vodka I've selected has a price tag well under ten dollars for a fifth, still definitely bottom shelf, but it comes in a modern, oval bottle with its brand "Burnett's" across the front in quaint, old-timey lettering. It's about the same price, but doesn't store any of that secret, back-of-the-freezer shame that, say, a bottle of Popov would.

I tell the clerk I suspect he has a vested interest in this urban legend being untrue, but when I arrive home to begin the lengthy coal-filtration process, I hop online and find that mythbusters.com has also discredited the idea, while chowhound.com quotes vodka expert and San Francisco World Spirits Competition chief Anthony Dias Blue as saying, "Passing a low-end vodka through a filter will make it better, but it won't make it a top shelf."

On the second filtration, I decide to get going on the beet, but most of the recipes I find online call for all kinds of craziness from epicurious.com's 1/2 pound of boiling potatoes to food.com's two tablespoons of heavy cream. My afternoon vodka almost comes back up on that last suggestion so I decide to keep it simple, spraying the beet with cooking spray, wrapping it in foil and throwing it into a hot oven for an hour.

When the beet's done, I'm on my last filtration. As all of this detoxification has been happening in the fridge, I decide to cozy up to my second, chilled vodka of the afternoon, just so I can have some basis for comparison when I'm done flavoring. When I open the foil, the beet has shed its skin, so I extract the meat and mash it in a bowl instead of processing as I want some fiber to remain. I add the vodka and all that remains is to grate in the horseradish.

As Alexi said it would, breaking down the root releases enzymes from the ruptured plant cells which in turn break down a glucose that results in a mustard oil that attacks my eyes and sinus like a Chechen rebel. Before I know it, I'm standing in my kitchen, slightly drunk and crying. I feel like something out of a Lifetime movie. It's okay, I tell myself, I'm just moments away from a refreshing cocktail. The sun will return momentarily, just as soon as I'm done cutting lemons.

The Beet Red Khreyn Vodka Sunrise Cocktail
Let's face it, Sex and the City did some serious damage to the vodka cocktail. What was once the provenience of Romanovs and Czars had devolved into a syrupy girl drink. But as that show sunsets, somewhere on the horizon drinks like the mint cucumber vodka martini and vodka dill pickle-tini are rising to the fore. Vodka, beet puree and grated horseradish, your time has come.

Ingredients:
-1 fifth of unflavored vodka
-1 large red beet
-1 medium horseradish root
-1 medium lemon
-1 medium bag of chopped ice

Method:
1. Begin charcoal filtering vodka in commercial pitcher like a Brita. Repeat filtration four more times.
2. Spray beet lightly with Pam or other cooking spray and wrap loosely in foil.
3. Cook beet on middle shelf of oven at 450 degrees for one hour.
4. Remove beet from oven, peel and mash lightly in large mixing bowl.
5. Add filtered vodka to bowl.
6. Using a cheese grater or fork, grate horseradish root into bowl and stir.
7. Transfer mixture to serving pitcher then place in refrigerator or freezer.
8. Serve cocktail cold in tall glass with chopped ice, garnish with lemon wedges if desired.

Meatball Mania

Last weekend, I fulfilled a long-running desire to dine at the Meatball Shop, a restaurant that opened just over a year ago in the heart of the Lower East Side. What a concept: meatballs every which way, with gourmet variations and ingredients thrown in and trendy but cozy, communal atmosphere.

The best part, in my opinion, is how you order: you customize your own plate by marking your selection of meatballs (5 to choose from), sauces (another 5 variations) and sides (from polenta to risotto to greens to roasted veggies), on a laminated menu. There's something so gratifying about being able to be so creative and in-control over what you're served. You're even asked to specify where you want your side dishes in relation to your meatballs: on the side, in a separate dish, or directly under your meatballs.


I wound up with spicy pork meatballs smothered in classic tomato sauce, along with a side of truffle risotto and an arugula market salad. The meatballs were incredible, and the market salad fresh and delicious. The risotto was a miss (texturally, at least) but the rest of the meal more than made up for it. For dessert, Meatball Shop offers (again, customizable) ice cream sandwiches, which are inventive and delicious but quite hard to eat unless you're OK with using your hands.

If you go, the bad news is that you'll have to wait 1-2 hours to be seated, as we did on Friday. The good news is that there are dozens of places to grab a drink nearby, so if you have a snack beforehand, you should last long enough to make it to the meatballs, and make a fun night out of it. And for my fellow West Siders, they're opening a new location on Greenwich Avenue this summer, according to Grub Street. Hallelujah!

Wait, He's a Top AND He Can Cook?

This sounds completely biz-zonkers. I'm thinking about going over on Sunday at 2pm if anyone's interested:

The 18th Original GLBT Expo will crown the first ever New York’s Top Gay Chef. The Competition is a “Main Stage Competition” and competitors will be judged on their creativity, taste and flavor combination over the 2 days of the show. The Chefs will be demonstrating their talents and vying for Grand Prize as New York’s Top Gay Chef.

Event Date: Saturday, March 12, 2011 from 12 noon to 7:00pm Sunday March 13, 2011 from12 noon to 6:00pm
Event Location: Jacob Javits Convention Center –W 38th St. and 11th Avenue-NYC, Hall 1A

CONTEST FORMAT
First Round -Saturday March 12 -3:00pm
● 10 competitors in total ● 2 competitors on stage at a time for 15 minutes ● Prepare a dish of their choice using any 4 of the following main ingredients: boneless chicken, shallots, oranges, fennel, cucumbers ● 3 Judges will evaluate each Chef’s dish and score accordingly. ● 5 Chefs will advance to Finals on Sunday

All Chefs must indicate if a plate or bowl is needed for presentation to judges. All recipe ingredients including Olive oil, butter, required spices, garnishes etc will be made available according to the recipe. Please arrive at least 30 minutes to prep. (If an ingredient is rare or cost prohibitive, the chef must supply their own.)

Finals-Sunday March 13 - 2:00pm
The 5 finalists will be given a choice of ingredients chosen by show management and a time limit of 20 minutes to prepare their dish.
The Judges:
The judging panel will consist of 3 culinary and food experts.
Prize:
● 1st Place $1,000 (opportunity to appear on web site and other 2011 promotions)
●2ndPlace $ 750 ●3rdPlace $ 250
Who Can Participate:
The event is open to any chef or cook that is a member of the GLBT Community and is currently working in a restaurant, hotel, resort, and /of other food service establishment. Participants must be 18 years of age or older at the time of the competition.
Those chefs and cooks wishing to register must submit:
● A Competed Application Form (can be scanned and emailed or faxed)
● First Round: A recipe using some or all of the ingredients and desired cooking equipment must be sent to: Sharmayne Wesler- sharmayne@rdpgroup.com or faxed to 860-677-6869. All first round recipes and event forms must be received no later than February 18, 2011.
Participants that are selected will be contacted by February 25,
2011 with additional information on arrival, sequence etc. ● A jpg photo ● A brief biography (200 words)
Equipment Supplied
All Ingredients to prepare the recipe sent to RDP Group. The Main Stage will be equipped with a 6’ foot table, cutting boards, an electric wok, small cooking surface, an electric frying pan, small sauce pan, a frying pan napkins, paper towels, serving plates for judges and a prep area. Please note, No cooking with open flames is allowed at the Javits.
Not Supplied
Specialty Equipment, knives, hand blenders, serving vessels (Plates/bowls), wooden spoons, favorite pan or pot. Chefs must bring their own supplies not provided.

Booze infused food

Thinking of a new way to change my ordinary sunday brunch, I started searching for options. I found The Brooklyn Booze Experiment. A culinary competition held in the Bell House in Brooklyn, wich by the way is a great place with high ceilings, wood beams and vintage gold chandeliers. It seems like a great place for indie concerts.

So after waking up in a rainy sunday, took a cab and arrived to the Bell House. I really didin´t know what to expect, but I like the informal style and the type of event, bringing to a competition the best home chefs to show their abilities, with a theme "Booze".  So as the name of the event says, they have to create a dish inspired by booze, either wine, rum, beer, cognac, whatever they choose and the goal, to win the competition. So about 18 diferent chefs made their creation.
My first impresion was really the worst organizacion ever, it took me 40 minutes in line to start tasting the first dish: pescado veracruzano with tequila, then I continued with other small tastings, braised beef with cognac, chicken tacos with rum, brownies with mezcal frosting and other things which were not of my entire taste, and thankfully I found the plate which made the trip worth it, the Torta Ahogada, a mexican pork sandwich (braised pork with tequila, this time) mayo, onions, lime and red chilli sauce, I added an extra touch of valentina, wich is a great mexican chilli sauce by the way, made me smile and get out of there happy.

RECIPE BASED STORY SAMPLE FROM ISLANDS MAGAZINE

Taste: The Sweetest Memories

For the author, Trinidad's mithai treats taste like childhood

"Just eat it," my father says, watching me as I gingerly nibble the little orange ball. He shakes his head. It is 1979, and I am 11 years old. We have come from a Hindu prayer meeting in his hometown of Chaguanas, Trinidad, site of the now-famous Hindu celebration of Diwali Nagar. I am sweating in my stiff sundress with the crinoline skirt that every- one has admired; my brother is equally turned out in a suit, a testament to my father's success in America. I shuffle behind my father in the blistering-hot street as I pick suspiciously at the sweet treat.

The ball is firm and sticky, with just enough sugar, and some taste I can't identify -- something minty and familiar. Later I'll learn the spice is cardamom. But for now, a new world has opened up to me, a world of mithai, the Hindu name for sweets. Made from local sugar cane, they are served up in prodigious quantities every Diwali in late October or early November.

Returning to Trinidad now as a chef, I find myself in my ancestral homeland once again, on the eve of what was once my Trinidadian father's favorite holiday. Before I leave, I must satisfy my craving for mithai, for sugar is what largely informs our palates here on this island. But could those childhood memories of sugary treats and holiday-inspired generosity be as sweet for me today?

It is an inextricable part of our Indian heritage -- my father's and mine. My great grandfather, like so many other Indians, arrived here in the 19th century to labor in the cane fields. The white gold they mined was largely bound for England and America, but come Diwali, the precious stuff was plentiful in Indian homes.

Though I can find the pastries anywhere, I am bound for Débé, a once sleepy backwater where residents have earned a reputation as master mithai makers. To feed a once-thriving sugar economy, over the years Débé locals set up small stands selling traditional pastries, cookies and sweets as well as "doubles," sandwiches of spicy chickpeas and fried dough. It is a city built upon the fortunes of sugar.
My sentimental sweet tooth sends me on nearly a full day's travel into southwestern Trinidad, where Débé lies not far from Icacos Point, about seven miles from Venezuela. Though the day is rainy, cars throng the highway. Like me, these people know the goodies in Débé will be piled high because Diwali is coming.

This is our best chance to taste the threefold holiday: at once a devotion to Lakshmi, goddess of prosperity; the New Year; and the triumph of good over evil. While he was growing up, my father waited eagerly for Diwali, when fellow Hindus gave trays of mithai away, and there was no shame in taking them. It was a Hindu rite rather than an act of charity, a respite from the desperate poverty in which he was raised. Even as an adult, the thought of it left him longing for his tropical home as the leaves outside our window raged in a blast of orange and red against the sooty New York City sky.

Turning off the highway toward the center of Débé, I see Diwali preparations have started. Towers of diyas, traditional clay lamps, are stacked in the yards, waiting to be filled with coconut oil and placed on elaborate displays. The displays were simpler in my father's time, but he loved them nonetheless.
"The diyas were so pretty, burning on the steps of the houses, in the balconies or along the roadside," he used to say, smiling, holding his hand up, forming a little cup with his fingers. "They were like little stars in the pitch black night."

I get out of my car and find a vendor whose small table is piled high with an assortment of mithai in gallon jars with tightly fitted lids. There are golab jamun (mahogany-colored balls of fried cottage cheese doused in sugar syrup) and ladoo (deep-yellow orbs of toasted chickpea flour, sweetened and essenced with cardamom). Barfi squares -- made from coconut flakes, pistachio or almond, sugar spices and milk -- are stacked like so many pretty tiles in alternating colors of pink, orange and light green.

All are virtually unchanged from the original Indian recipes brought from India by our ancestors more than 150 years ago. They're balanced with the Trini creations I find here, too, like kulma and chip chip: dough sticks and coconut sugar cakes.

I buy jalebi first, a fritter of yeasty dough swirled through hot oil, fried crisp then dipped in sugar syrup. My father made these for us, and we'd gobble them while they were too hot, burning our fingers and tongues. This time, though, I nibble a jalebi ever so delicately. It is still crisp under the wash of mouth-puckering sugar syrup, and I close my eyes to savor the heady taste that carries me back through years of Diwali celebrations.

When I open them again, I see a little boy of 10 or 11. He is barefoot and his T-shirt dirty. He's toting bags of sour plums as he weaves through the crowd. "Plums, salt plums!" he calls out, largely ignored, trying to compete with established pastry-mongers for their sweet-toothed clientele.

I beckon him over, and the child smiles. I buy some plums and tell him to keep the change, which he carefully puts in his pocket. He walks on, the bag hoisted on his shoulder, his knees knobby on thin legs, his thick, black hair standing up away from his head -- so similar to my father's childhood photo. I imagine the boy taking the money he just earned to buy himself a jalebi or golab jamun, the sticky syrup making his fingers tacky and coating his tongue as he relishes the taste of a treat well-earned.

Diwali Dessert Recipe

This flavor of Trinidad is sure to satisfy your sweet tooth

This popular dessert is made to celebrate the Diwali festival on Trinidad, but it's sold by street vendors year-round. Look for this and other Trinidadian recipes in Sweet Hands: Island Cooking From Trinidad And Tobago (Hippocrene Cookbook Library) by ISLANDS contributor Ramin Ganeshram.

Miss Mattie's Kulma

• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup white sugar
• 4 tablespoons butter
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 1 teaspoon mixed essence (available in Indian markets) or vanilla

1. Mix butter and flour together and knead well. It will form a hard dough.
2. Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet on a low heat, meanwhile and roll out dough to 1/4 inch thickness. Place the dough on the skilled and cook for about 1 minute. Turn once and cook 1 minute more. 3.  Remove and cut into lengthwise strips about 1/2 inch wide. Cut each strip into 3 inch sections an set aside.
4. Heat oil in a 1 quart saucepan until a pinch of flour dropped into the pan sizzles. Add dough strips and fry until brown and remove.
5. Place sugar, cinnamon, and mixed essence or vanilla a pot with 1/2 cup of water. Boil, stirring often, until sugar melts. Simmer until becomes a thick syrup then add dough sticks and toss well. Pour into a heat-proof container to cool.

"Is It? What Is It?" Gay Bunny Beet Down...

I'm with you, gentle reader, I don't know what the hell it is either. It came into my kitchen in a white bag with a few other produce items. A red pepper, some sweet potatoes and something I was thinking of as little, retarded potatoes, but I'm now fairly certain is ginger.
Tonally the composition had a nice, beige-y winter tone, the plastic deli bag lending it a bit of ghetto Edward Weston street cred. It sat out on my kitchen counter for several days as I tried to suss what it was and what the hell I could do with it.

As luck would have it, I bumped into Niama the next day at lunch. She was there when I got the mystery item--in the world of animal, vegetable, mineral, I had pretty much deduced veggie--and I explained my assignment to her: to write about a food item being as descriptive as possible as if the person reading had never tasted it. She nodded serenely. "I'm thinking winter root vegetable," I said. She nodded serenely again.

The day after bumping into Niama, I saw my nutritionist, Sarah. She was much stricter vis-a-vis confirm or deny. "I'm thinking of boiling it," I tell her. "That would be wise for any vegetable," comes her koan-like reply. "How long?" I ask, a little desperate now. She frowns. She doesn't want to give it away, but suggests 40 minutes, which is great advice because I would have maxed at ten, but then I'm over eager to figure out what the hell this thing is. I tell her I suspect it's a rutabaga. She sniffs.

The night before my first food writing assignment is due, I decide to at least wash it. I'm with Jose Eber when it comes to food prep. "Wash it like a lettuce leaf," was always the cowboy-hatted, pony-tailed wonder's hair mantra, avoiding shampoo at all costs, light years ahead of the Bushwick, no-shower movement. I tend to think all that schmutz covering this brown orb most probably has some pretty good nutritional value, but as I run it under some warm water--okay, full confession, pretending it's Jacklyn Smith's scalp--I notice a deep purple tone has been uncovered on the flesh.

I'm somewhere between Audrey Tautou's cryptologist in The Da Vinci Code and Stockard Channing when she smacked the top of the Sistine Chapel in Six Degrees.
This color is a major clue, as are the bright maroon and green sprouts coming off the top of the vegetable. I decide on chunky cut slices and as soon as the cleaver halves the mystery item, it's game over. The inside is a rich, deep red, like something out of a Vermeer painting, striated with silvery white circles likes the rings inside a tree.

It's a beet. I know it instantly. First off, there's that signature beet stank. In an effort to better describe it, I find google links to people comparing it to cat pee and even an Erin Brockovich-y website dedicated to closing down a local sugar beet factory, or at least the large ponds the factory has set up to collect wastewater for the stinky, beet processing. I'm a little disappointed that my Audrey Tautou moment has been cut short due to the crimson riot going on inside the beet. I get briefly distracted making an Aretha Franklin-esque church hat for Mr. Gay Bunny, but it ends tragically when her face becomes streaked with beet juice and she just winds up looking like a hard-partying, Versace model with a coke-induced nosebleed.

Think, think…stink. I've actually never tasted a beet, I've always thought they were kind of gross. My grandmother used to mix the beet juice with hard boiled, deviled eggs as if the sharp beet odor simply weren't enough for her. I always used to pass on this particularly noxious concoction at family dinners and have maybe in my adult life had some beet cubes tossed into fancy salads, but there was a lot more going on in those dishes and, really, who wants to be the one picking beet cubes out of the rocket. How will that person be invited back?

Okay, cut to the chase, now that I know it's a beet, I get to it. It's probably too soon, but I fish one out of the wok and onto some white china. Even before I slice into it, the juice has begun to stain the plate. I slice though the disc with a knife and am surprised by how easily it yields. I was expecting it to still be a little tough and stringy, but the biggest surprise is when it hits my tongue and how sweet it is. The sweetness dissipates a bit and an after-taste I can only describe as "beety" lingers on the palate. I fish out the rest of the chunky discs and will cube them up for a fancy salad later.

But the wheels are still spinning. Most of the beet recipes I googled suggest boiling in more or less the same manner, but almost all recommend collecting the beet water that remains. Slightly worried about my neighbors forming an Erin Brockovich-led collation to stamp out the decaying beet juice wafting out from under my door, I pour the just-boiled concoction into a silver pitcher and put it in the fridge. I'm thinking sustainable Easter eggs, crunchy tie-die, an eggplant hair rinse that would probably end badly, like and the prom scene from Carrie, but then it comes to me: a cocktail!

Of course, a beet juice and lemon vodka! Why the hell not? The Breslin at the Ace Hotel has interpreted this trend into pretty tasty, chilled Jameson and pickle juice shooters they call The Pickle Back. I'd been experimenting on the Russian variation--those crazy Ruskies love a pickle as chaser with chilled vodka shots--as a signature cocktail for a friend of mine who's recently starting doing a drag character called Pickles. Just as the pickle brine offset the bite of the vodka, I expected the sweetness of the beet juice to also mellow the citrus vodka. Plus, how pretty it will be?

So I chopped some ice, added some citrus vodka and then crushed in some sea salt before I garnished. Sea salt? "Whu-whuuut?" Yes, sea salt. And it worked. The result was a mouthful. Very vodka, but with subtle underpinnings of salted beet. I liked it. Mr. Gay Bunny liked it. We both fell down. Now we just needed a name. Vodka Beet Down, anyone? Delicious!

SPRING 2011 SYLLABUS

Food Writing Syllabus

Monday 6:45pm-9:05, Begins, 
Feb 28

10 Sessions—No class March 14, April 12

Instructor: Ramin Ganeshram   


Welcome!

I’m pleased to have you join me in this food writing class where you will work on completing a story worthy of professional publication and learn how to pitch that story to publications.

In order to make this the best possible—and most effective—experience for everyone in the class there are few things I’d like you to keep in mind:

Come prepared! A big part of our class is discussing our work and giving valid and constructive criticism. Having work to share is therefore essential. Please complete your assignments and be prepared to discuss them with the class. There will also be short in-class assignments, which we will discuss in workshop format as well.

Blog! For the purposes of this class I have created a blog at niblescribl.blogspot.com. Each of you will be given permission to write on the blog, please post often and make comments on others’ posts. Some assignments, such as the restaurant review, will be posted to the blog. You will find that I will post articles and sites of interest on the blog as well as certain samples—such as a pitch letter—there as well.  The blog is an important part of our class so make sure to check in and often.

Turning in assignments: I prefer to edit your stories in Track Changes in Microsoft Word. This both saves paper and creates a good record for you to follow your progress. Please file your assignments to me two days before class via email at ramin@nibblescribble.com. Please also make sure to bring a hard copy of your assignment for you to read aloud in class and to take notes upon.

A Final Word: Please stay in contact with me and your classmates—you’ll have a richer experience. I understand that life comes up and you might miss a class here and there, but let me know and I’ll work with you. I believe that acquiring a new skill can be an engaging and entertaining process, even while we do the work. Keeping me in the loop about your progress, concerns, and scheduling issues if they arise, will ensure a rich classroom experience.

Session 1:–ENTRE INTO THE DESCRIPTIVE PROCESS

a) In-class assignment---50 words
b) Introduction
c) Discussion/lecture on description an observation techniques
d) Explanation of take home assignment

Session 2: Recipe writing—THE RECIPE BASED STORY

a) In class assignment---write a recipe
b) Discussion/lecture/dissection
c) Sharing/critiques of assignment from 10/4
e) Explanation of take home assignment: Story Supporting recipe

Resources & Suggested Readings:

1. The Recipe Writer’s Handbook by Barbara Gibbs Ostmann and Jan Baker

2. Oregon State U Recipe Development: http://food.oregonstate.edu/prodev/rc_write.html

3. Dianne Jacob’s 7 Most Common Recipe Writing Errors: http://diannej.com/blog/2010/05/7-most-common-recipe-writing-errors/

4. Sample of recipe based story follows.

Session 3: Going Deeper
a) Workshop and breakdown story
b) Discussion/lecture on outlining a story
c)    In class assignment: begin rough outline
d)    Take home assignment: Complete and elaborate on outline for story

Session 4: Interview techniques

a) Workshop and critique outline

b) Discussion/lecture of food essays/memoirs and other food stories

c) The Interview—interview a classmate and write a short piece in class.
c) Assignment: Rewrite your story in 150 words

Resources:

From The Poynter Institute

1) Interviewing: The Forgotten Skill http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=36&aid=37661

2) Interview Techniques http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=36&aid=38681

Session 5:—Interview techniques, the big leagues
a) Workshop story
b) Guest Lecturer TBA

d) Assignment: Write a story from interview with guest speaker, 300 words; 2^nd draft of story,

Resources and samples at niblscribl.blogspot.com

Session 6:—The Pitch

a)     Pitching techniques

b)    Work shop 2^nd draft

c)     Workshop interview story

d)    Assignment: 2^nd Draft of story, 1^st draft pitch letter

Session 7:—Refining the pitch

a) Workshop pitch letter

b) Discuss possible venues

c) Workshop 2^nd story draft

Session 8: THE FOOD REVIEW

a)     Discuss the qualities of a food review

b)    Visit a food locale for the purpose of reviewing

c)     Assignment: Write food review, post on class blog

d)    Fine tune story and pitch letter

Session 9:

a) Discuss food review further

b) Workshop final story draft

Session 10:—Nibbles and Next Steps

Please bring a nosh or nibble, ideally indicative of your story to the class. We’ll chow down while we discuss any final questions or thoughts on our work.

a)     Final class discussion of stories

b)    Open Forum

Foodie/Archie...

Hey Y'all,

Is anyone else doing the AD Home Design Show next weekend on Pier 94? It's fairly easier to arrange a press credential here:

http://www.martreg.com/reg/adhds/adhds.cfm
(just do the second to last Press/Media option on the Other Info pulldown box.)

I'm thinking about going Sunday on the early side to catch the Bar Basque dude. Here are all of the foodie happenings at the show:

Friday, March 18th:
12–1p.m.: Eataly, David Pasternack
1–2p.m.: North Square Restaurant & Lounge, Yoel Cruz
3–4p.m.: The Meatball Shop, Daniel Holzman

Saturday, March 19th:
12–1p.m.: Bella Cucina Artful Food, Alisa Barry
1–2p.m.: PRINT., Heather Carlucci Rodriguez
3–4p.m.: Make My Cake Bakery, Aliyyah Baylor
5–6p.m.: Aquavit, Marcus Jernmark

Sunday, March 20th:
12–1p.m.: Junoon, Vikas Khanna
1–2p.m.: Bar Basque, Yuki Fujinaga
3–4p.m.: The Cupcake Craze, Nicole Frida
5–6p.m.: 1770 House, Kevin Penner

ADMISSION
Thursday, March 17 – Trade Preview

Friday, March 18-Sunday, March 20 – Open to the public
$25 ticket also includes admission to:
• DIFFA’s DINING BY DESIGN table viewing at Pier 94
• THE ARTIST PROJECT NEW YORK, new at the adjacent Pier 92.

Special preview ticket also available for Thursday’s opening day.
Purchase Tickets online and receive a one-year subscription to Architectural Digest.

Keep an eye out for the Show brochure in this Sunday’s New York Times.

Boozy B.K.

Hey Y'all,

Thought folks might be interested in this Brooklyn Booze Experiment on Sunday. Here are the deets from Paper Mag:

SUNDAY, MARCH 6
THE BROOKLYN BOOZE EXPERIMENT AT THE BELL HOUSE
A culinary contest of epic proportions, the Brooklyn Booze Experiment, from cook-off kings Theo Peck and Nick Suarez, pits some of the city's finest chefs against one another in a battle to create the best booze-inspired dish. Alcoholic whip creams, baba au rhum, and buzz-inducing braised meats are just some of the potential offerings. And in true cook-off fashion, the audience, partnered with a group of professional judges, will determine the champion. So bring your appetites and not your car-it's gonna get sloppy. And if you haven't had enough of the cook-off's edible intoxication, stick around for the after-party sponsored by Buffalo Trace Bourbon!
Bell House, 149 7th St., (718) 643-6510. 1-6 p.m. $20.