well, I just happened to log on to our site today only to behold a glorious display of fireworks! Wow it looked great! Whoever performed this feat should be heartily congratulated and praised.
- Laraine
__________
Very nice and accurate Zingerman's story. Zingerman's teaches the magic is in highest quality ingredients. They also do lots of community service.
Great people all around!
Cecilia was a ‘10’ on a scale of one to two. She had unmitigated primal
passion. Her sexual appetite was unparalleled and horizontal. It was
vertical and diagonal. When I suggested to Cecilia that we spend the
Fourth of July in Hawaii, she responded by giving me a fireworks show
in the bedroom that went on till daybreak.
After Cecilia made my night, I made travel plans. We would first go to
Hanalei Bay on the North Shore of Kauai. Then to Maui – Kaanapali Beach
and Hana.
As I was packing for the trip, the phone rang. It was Cecilia. She
stammered and fumfered and did everything audibly possible without
actually forming words.
“What’re you trying to tell me?” I asked repeatedly.
This summer marks my thirtieth year as an attorney. But when I think
back to the summer of 1978 it is not a courtroom that I see; rather I
recall a brilliant sunny July day barbecuing at the base of the Seattle
Space Needle on a Weber grill. About twenty of us from the country’s largest pork producing states were vying for first place in National Pork Cook-Out Contest. Truth be told though the southern states, principally North Carolina, Texas and Tennessee are known for barbecue the big boys of pork are Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Nebraska and Kansas. They were the guys to beat.
For me the event was the
culmination of a 2-year grilling odyssey that began in 1976 when I
entered the North Carolina State Pork Cooking Championship and came
away with a respectable but disappointing third place for Orange
Flavored Pork. Despite the loss (and despite my New York Jewish
heritage), I knew I had it in me to bring home the bacon so to speak.
Though I had always loved pork – mostly in the form of ribs slathered
in ‘duck sauce’ from the local Chinese take out joint – I really never
really embraced the true pig in me until I had come to Chapel Hill,
North Carolina two years earlier to attend law school.
If you’ve never read Elizabeth Gilbert’s first book, “The Last
American Man”, I suggest you pick it up this Fourth for a bit of
quirky, patriotic fun. It chronicles the true story of a modern day
hero who lives in a teepee in the Appalachian Mountains, eating only
what he himself picks, raises or kills. The guy is an egomaniac and a
genius, and the writing, especially when detailing how he forages in
the woods, is funny and sensitive and page-turningly good.
The only problem with that book is the title. He’s not the last American man. My mother is.
She spends every summer, and most of every fall, wading through rivers
with a fly-fishing rod, and hiking giant, shale-covered mountains to
sleep under the stars. She’s had staring contests with bears and
cougars, weathered lightning storms under scraggly trees, and once
hiked three miles back to her truck with a broken tailbone.
The “old timers” in Maine always eat salmon and peas for their
fourth of July family feast. This tradition was started a long time ago
when salmon still came “up river to spawn” and people still rushed in
the Spring to plant their peas so they would have the first peas of the
year, hopefully by the 4th, if the weather was good. (I still have
customers that plant their peas in the fall so they sprout when they
are ready come Spring.)
The old tradition is to bake a center cut chunk of salmon at 350
degrees till it is less than moist, (so all the relatives like it) than
nap it with a white sauce, better known as a béchamel sauce to which
you add in chopped hard cooked eggs. And peas, lot of peas cooked with
butter, salt, pepper and a little water. The rule of thumb was to cook
them till when you blew on a spoonful they wrinkled.
I started teaching my sons how to cook when they were barely tall
enough to reach the kitchen counter. The first thing anyone needs to
learn is good knife skills. I still remember his mom looking in horror
when she walked into the kitchen to find me showing 5 year old Frank
how to use a 10" chef's knife to chop Italian parsley. No blood was
spilled that day, but the quality of my parenting was a topic of
discussion for many months afterwards.
When Frank went away to UC, Santa Cruz, I put together a cookbook with
recipes I thought would be quick, easy, and economical. Periodically
I'd get calls from him for cooking tips, like the time he was in Costco
and he wanted to know what he could do with frozen red snapper, since
it was on sale for $1.35/lb.
What's really fun is when the student becomes the teacher.
Traditional sangrias are luscious, bold blends of fruits, wine and spirits, often
served in pitchers or punch bowls. But this wonderfully refreshing
summer drink from Spain and Portugal leaves plenty of room for
improvisation.
Beverage consultant Kim Haasarud offers dozens of riffs on sangria in her recent
"101 Sangrias and Pitcher Drinks," including a New Zealand Kiwi
Sangria, which combines sauvignon blanc, melon liqueur, kiwis and
pineapple.
In her book, Haasarud also offers tips for
speeding up sangria, which tastes best when allowed to infuse at least
several hours. If you're short on time, she suggests lightly mashing
some of the fruit, which releases the juices.
Summertime is burger time. What could be easier than throwing some
burgers on the grill? Actually these days just picking which ground
beef can be a challenge. Raising cattle takes a toll on the
environment, and you need to choose carefully to find something that
satisfies your taste and your desire for something healthy.
The main
outlets for purchasing beef used to be the butcher shop, supermarket or
those old school mail order steakhouses. These days there’s grass fed
beef, Black Angus beef and American style Kobe beef to choose from as
well.
While eating at a pretty divey but good bbq joint in the industrial section of town, I was missing you terribly and smiling because I kept hearing an old conversation of ours in my head...
AMY
I'm starving. What should we eat?
LISA
Something light, I think.
I'm only slightly hungry.
AMY
Ok. How about BBQ?
LISA
That's your idea of something light?
AMY
Oh, you know me.
LISA
Yep.
Wish you were here with me. Hope all is well.
The Silence of Summer
by Lisa Dinsmore
With the NBA Finals over (Yeah Celtics!), the Stanley Cup won, March
Madness completed and the race for the Triple Crown decided, we can
finally relax because the demon (a.k.a. the Super Sports Freak) has
subsided…at least for now. Summer is upon us and the only sport we need
to worry about is baseball and no one really cares about the outcome of
these games until Labor Day. Well, except my husband…and millions of
other men around the world.
I had no idea what I was getting into when I married a sports fanatic.
When we were dating it didn’t really seem important. Then when we moved
in together, I realized that if I wanted to spend any quality time with
The Man, I better get interested in the game. Any game. I initially
picked basketball because it seemed to have the least amount of rules
and was over quickly. Of course, my skill at retaining useless
knowledge and obnoxious competitive streak soon had me winning the office pool for March Madness and
using my husband’s vast love for the game to help me pick the right
players for my Fantasy Basketball Team, which I also won. The men in
the pool, i.e. everyone else, were not amused.
I have a vivid memory of my parents entertaining friends on Christmas
Eve in 1982. My mother threw all of her Protestant tradition out the
kitchen window and ordered Zingerman’s pastrami on rye sandwiches with giant garlic
pickles. I was enthralled by this rebellion at age six, although I had no
understanding of what pastrami was. I just knew it was special.
The ingenious ingredients and thoughtful, bountiful preparation is half
of the magic pf the pastrami sandwich. The other half is the Zingerman's magic, the palpable feeling of community
provided by the owners, Paul Saginaw and Ari Weinzweig, who instill in all of
their endeavors a familial rhapsody. (I have dined at the Roadhouse and had Ari
come to the table to fill up my water glass more than a few times…enough
said). In a town high on intellect, Zingerman’s employment is
looked upon as social cache (or junior college).
A few years ago I noticed that a tree was growing in the tiny side
area between my house and my neighbor’s. By the time I took notice of
it the tree was 4 feet tall. Apparently I had been ignoring that side
of the house. I don’t know a lot about trees but it looked like it
might be some kind of fruit tree. So I waited and asked my gardener.
Sure enough, it turned out to be an apricot tree. Since the window
above my kitchen sink is right above where the tree has taken root I
figured that I must have spit an apricot seed out of the louvers.
Yeah,
it was a barbarian move, what can I say? But it was a Blenheim pit, so
I decided to let the tree stay even though I was told that since it
wasn’t a “grafted” tree and without a strong rootstock it probably
woudn’t bear fruit. And for 5 years it didn’t, except for a few lonely
guys who would appear each year on one branch. They were the few, the
brave, and the delicious. Meanwhile, one year the tree trunk split
nearly down to the ground. We shored it up and figured that there
would be attrition, but no, the tree thrived.
As astronaut Edgar Mitchell, the sixth man to walk on the moon,
completed his Apollo 14 mission and returned home toward our big blue
earth, he experienced a sudden and radical epiphany. Trained in all the
disciplines appropriate for space exploration -- physics, engineering,
orbital mechanics -- nothing could have prepared him for this
life-changing experience:
"On the way home from the moon, looking out at the heavens, this
insight - which I now call a transcendent experience - happened. I
realized that the molecules of my body had been created or prototyped
in an ancient generation of stars - along with the molecules of the
spacecraft and my partners and everything else we could see including
the Earth out in front of us. Suddenly, it was all very personal. Those
were my molecules.
It was an experience of interconnectedness. It was an experience of
bliss, of ecstasy...it was so profound. I realized that the story of
ourselves as told by science - our cosmology, our religion - was
incomplete and likely flawed. I recognized that the Newtonian idea of
separate, independent, discreet things in the universe wasn't a fully
accurate description."
BEIJING, June 27 (Xinhuanet) -- For the first time in human history arctic sea ice could break completely apart at the North Pole this year, allowing ships to sail over the normally frozen seascape.
The potential landmark thaw is a stark sign of global warming, according to an article Friday on the website of the The Independent, a London newspaper.
"Symbolically it is hugely important," said Mark
Serreze of the U.S. National Snow and Ice Data Center in Colorado. "There is
supposed to be ice at the North Pole, not open water."
There is no land at the North Pole, but as long as
anyone has looked, it has remained a giant block of ice year-round. Scientists
have been watching Arctic sea ice melt more and more each year. But each summer
in recent years, the amount of ice has gotten thinner and thinner. Each winter's
freeze, therefore, results in a thinner pack that, this summer, could melt
altogether.
"The issue is that, for the first time that I am
aware of, the North Pole is covered with extensive first-year ice," Serreze is
quoted by The Independent. "I'd say it's even-odds whether the North Pole melts
out."
In our house, we think Jamie Oliver walks on water. Every recipe from Jamie Oliver’s Jamie’s Italy rocks. And all you have to do is follow the directions. The variation on spaghetti carbonara with chicken instead of ham is genius. The Prawn and Parsley frittata is totally great (and I don’t even like frittatas and neither does Jamie Oliver).
And it’s just so simple to use! And it’s kind of like having a friend in the kitchen. The grilled swordfish with salsa di giovanna is an exercise in simple bliss. And the whole fish baked in salt is something you didn’t think you could try at home....
My dad’s ex-girlfriend has hair like Billy Idol. If Billy Idol were a
really hot art gallery director that knows everything about anything.
When she and my father split up, everyone thought it was a little weird
that we stayed friends. But how could we not? I mean, seriously, who
else could have talked me through my Art History and Architecture
finals while sampling all the pralines at Leonidas? (By the way, the
White Chocolate “Louise” is the best one).
Man Ray and Ruscha aside, the real reason Marie and I are friends is
because we’re both snackers. In fact, I’m not sure the word “meal” is
even in her lexicon at all. As far as she’s concerned there are really
only four food groups—French fries, Vodka martinis, chocolate and
shrimp cocktails (no offense to those of you in AA, who only have 3
food groups).
There was a time when I CRAVED greens. I mean it. CRAVED ‘em. Lambs tongue (mache) arugula, romaine, and kale (which I would stem, blanche, squeeze dry and then sauté in olive oil and garlic). Evan Kleiman has a terrific soup recipe that uses escarole and you can find it in the archives right here at One for the Table.
I used to eat salads all the time and for the life of me I wish those days would come back. But, you know the old saying; “A pickle can never become a cucumber again.”
I’m convinced it’s the secret to staying slim, even if you use decadent dressings. Recently, I ate at Wabi Sabi on Abbot Kinney in Venice. They served an amazing salad there, which was actually a side to a scallop dish. It was a simple arugula with walnuts and goat cheese, but the dressing was completely unique. They were kind enough to give me the recipe.
Cecilia was a ‘10’ on a scale of one to two. She had unmitigated primal
passion. Her sexual appetite was unparalleled and horizontal. It was
vertical and diagonal. When I suggested to Cecilia that we spend the
Fourth of July in Hawaii, she responded by giving me a fireworks show
in the bedroom that went on till daybreak.
This summer marks my thirtieth year as an attorney. But when I think
back to the summer of 1978 it is not a courtroom that I see; rather I
recall a brilliant sunny July day barbecuing at the base of the Seattle
Space Needle on a Weber grill. About twenty of us from the country’s largest pork producing states were vying for first place in National Pork Cook-Out Contest. Truth be told though the southern states, principally North Carolina, Texas and Tennessee are known for barbecue the big boys of pork are Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Nebraska and Kansas. They were the guys to beat.
If you’ve never read Elizabeth Gilbert’s first book, “
The “old timers” in Maine always eat salmon and peas for their
fourth of July family feast. This tradition was started a long time ago
when salmon still came “up river to spawn” and people still rushed in
the Spring to plant their peas so they would have the first peas of the
year, hopefully by the 4th, if the weather was good. (I still have
customers that plant their peas in the fall so they sprout when they
are ready come Spring.)
I started teaching my sons how to cook when they were barely tall
enough to reach the kitchen counter. The first thing anyone needs to
learn is good knife skills. I still remember his mom looking in horror
when she walked into the kitchen to find me showing 5 year old Frank
how to use a 10" chef's knife to chop Italian parsley. No blood was
spilled that day, but the quality of my parenting was a topic of
discussion for many months afterwards.
Traditional sangrias are luscious, bold blends of fruits, wine and spirits, often
served in pitchers or punch bowls. But this wonderfully refreshing
summer drink from Spain and Portugal leaves plenty of room for
improvisation.
Summertime is burger time. What could be easier than throwing some
burgers on the grill? Actually these days just picking which ground
beef can be a challenge. Raising cattle takes a toll on the
environment, and you need to choose carefully to find something that
satisfies your taste and your desire for something healthy.
I have a vivid memory of my parents entertaining friends on Christmas
Eve in 1982. My mother threw all of her Protestant tradition out the
kitchen window and ordered Zingerman’s pastrami on rye sandwiches with giant garlic
pickles. I was enthralled by this rebellion at age six, although I had no
understanding of what pastrami was. I just knew it was special.
A few years ago I noticed that a tree was growing in the tiny side
area between my house and my neighbor’s. By the time I took notice of
it the tree was 4 feet tall. Apparently I had been ignoring that side
of the house. I don’t know a lot about trees but it looked like it
might be some kind of fruit tree. So I waited and asked my gardener.
Sure enough, it turned out to be an apricot tree. Since the window
above my kitchen sink is right above where the tree has taken root I
figured that I must have spit an apricot seed out of the louvers.
As astronaut Edgar Mitchell, the sixth man to walk on the moon,
completed his Apollo 14 mission and returned home toward our big blue
earth, he experienced a sudden and radical epiphany. Trained in all the
disciplines appropriate for space exploration -- physics, engineering,
orbital mechanics -- nothing could have prepared him for this
life-changing experience:
BEIJING, June 27 (Xinhuanet) -- For the first time in human history arctic sea ice could break completely apart at the North Pole this year, allowing ships to sail over the normally frozen seascape.
In our house, we think Jamie Oliver walks on water. Every recipe from Jamie Oliver’s Jamie’s Italy rocks. And all you have to do is follow the directions. The variation on spaghetti carbonara with chicken instead of ham is genius. The Prawn and Parsley frittata is totally great (and I don’t even like frittatas and neither does Jamie Oliver).
My dad’s ex-girlfriend has hair like Billy Idol. If Billy Idol were a
really hot art gallery director that knows everything about anything. 
There was a time when I CRAVED greens. I mean it. CRAVED ‘em. Lambs tongue (mache) arugula, romaine, and kale (which I would stem, blanche, squeeze dry and then sauté in olive oil and garlic). Evan Kleiman has a terrific 
