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Food Sites for September 2018

Thursday, August 16, 2018

It’s corn season in the Hudson Valley.

We weren’t able to come up anything sufficiently corny to open this month’s updates (at least none that we haven’t posted before) so, we’ll just dive into update itself.

Our odd little food story, “Wheeling,” has been performed aloud (fortunately by real actors, not the author). You’ll find it among the podcast episodes at The Strange Recital’s site.  

The first draft of a novel (Future Tense: The Remembrance of Things Not Yet Past) has been completed and is out for comments from a few selected victims. Eventually, we’ll have to start thinking about what to do with it, publicationwise. Meanwhile, we’ll just let it ferment. Since we can’t bear to be without a writing project, we’ve been editing a collection of Dr Sanscravat’s scurrilous scribbles and begun sketching out the beginnings of yet another novel. 

An update from the non-fiction section: our latest book, Sauces Reconsidered: Àpres Escoffier, has passed through copy-editing and is off to the typesetter... it’s scheduled for release in December or January!

As Montesquieu said so pithily (and no, we haven’t begun typing with a lisp): “An author is a fool who, not content with boring those he lives with, insists on boring future generations.”

You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook (where, among other things, we post a LOT of photographs), and Twitter. Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner.

Something about maize inspires nostalgic quotes (these are from On the Table’s culinary quote collection):

Hunger makes you restless. You dream about food—not just any food, but perfect food, the best food, magical meals, famous and awe-inspiring, the one piece of meat, the exact taste of buttery corn, tomatoes so ripe they split and sweeten the air, beans so crisp they snap between the teeth, gravy like mother’s milk singing to your bloodstream. Dorothy Allison 
In the light of what Proust wrote with so mild a stimulus, it is the world’s loss that he did not have a heartier appetite. On a dozen Gardiner's Island oysters, a bowl of clam chowder, a peck of steamers, some bay scallops, three sauteed soft-shelled crabs, a few ears of fresh picked corn, a thin swordfish steak of generous area, a pair of lobsters, and a Long Island Duck, he might have written a masterpiece. A.J. Liebling
Nothing rekindles my spirits, gives comfort to my heart and mind, more than a visit to Mississippi... and to be regaled as I often have been, with a platter of fried chicken, field peas, collard greens, fresh corn on the cob, sliced tomatoes with French dressing... and to top it all off with a wedge of freshly baked pecan pie. Craig Claiborne
Gary
September, 2018

PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we’ve missed—please drop us a line.  It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those who have pointed out tasty sites (this month we’re tipping our hat to Jonell Galloway & Cara De Silva), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.


---- the new sites ----

(Jennifer Mcgavin takes the mystery out these meats at The Spruce Eats)

(Heritage Daily reports on evidence—found by archaeologists of the University of Copenhagen—of Jordanian bread that is over fourteen thousand years old)

(Amelia Pape’s tribute to Chez Panisse at Terroir Review)

(Culture Trip’s Kshitija P explores the past of these iconic dishes to ancient Persia)

(Soleil Ho, at Taste, on xenophobic racism in the very question)

(“a short and useful history of restaurant reviews,” from Carly DeFilippo, at Life & Thyme)

(Kelley Fanto Deetz, at zócalo: “By forgetting enslaved cooks’ pain to soothe our own, we erase the pride and the achievements of countless brilliant cooks who nourished a nation “)

(Ewen Callaway writes, for Scientific American, about recent archaeological DNA evidence collected in the Fertile Crescent)

(Emma Betuel, at Inverse, on the dairy industry’s efforts to keep the official definitions of their products as narrow as possible)

(Anne Ewbank, at Gastro Obscura, on recent analysis of a four-thousand-year-old jar from Sicily)

(you can’t beet Alexander Lee’s article in History Today)

(Dwight Furrow, at Edible Arts, on the disappearance of a once ubiquitous condiment)

(Shayan S. Lallani’s article in the Journal of Tourism History 9, follows historical and sociological developments in the cruise industry though the foods it serves)

(there’s a lot more cooking in these two continents than just in America and Mexico)

(PBS TV series on traditional southern cooking, with scientist/cook Dr. Howard Conyers)

(Samantha Nobles-Block’s Gastro Obscura bio of inveterate taste-tinkerer Jim Westerfield)

(Chris Hunt and Rathnasiri Premathilake discuss the evidence at The Conversation)

(according to Maxine Builder, at Extra Crispy, the answer is not in their stars... it’s in their genes)

(Ruby Tandoh on several of the complex issues of sweetness, at Eater)

(James Hamblin pours on the butterfat in The Atlantic)

(Nicola Davis reports, in The Guardian, on some of the unusual things starting to happen in the GMO world)


---- changed URLs ----




---- inspirational (or otherwise useful or amusing) sites for writers/bloggers ----










---- yet another blog ----



---- that’s all for now ----

Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Occasionally, URLs we provide may link to commercial sites (that is, they’ll cost you money to take full advantage of them). We do not receive any compensation for listing them here, and provide them without any form of recommendation—other than the fact that they looked interesting to us.

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 


Want to help On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it?

It’s easy. Whenever you plan to go shopping on Amazon, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there will earn a commission for this newsletter without adding to your cost (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books).

The Resource Guide for Food Writers

(these newsletters merely update the contents of the book; what doesn’t appear here is already in the book)


The Herbalist in the Kitchen



The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries



Human Cuisine



Herbs: A Global History



Sausage: A Global History



Can It! The Perils and Pleasures of Preserving Foods



Terms of Vegery


How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating



Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________

The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #215 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.

Copyright ©2018 by Gary Allen.


Food Sites for August 2018

Thursday, July 12, 2018

It’s tomato time in the Hudson Valley.

It’s also the dog days... and, for us, that means hot dogs. Speaking about what to put on one’s hot dog comes perilously close to bringing up religion and politics in mixed company... so we won’t go there. However, we’re going to be in Chicago soon, and will definitely side with locals on that issue.

The only thing worse would be to bring up the subject of pizza...

Last month, a little drinking story, “Tour Parisien,” found its way onto our blog. Another story, about someone with a different kind of appetite, “Across a Crowded Room,” showed up at the same place. Apparently, we’ve been in a fictitious mood of late (a disclaimer: the stories are definitely not autobiographical). Weve also completed the first draft of our novel (its not autobiographical either, ’though it does contain some elements that might be recognizable as somewhat Dr Sanscravatish).

This, however, is not fiction: our latest book, Sauces Reconsidered: Àpres Escoffier, is finally in production... it’s scheduled for release in December or January!

You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook, and Twitter. Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner.

Some juicy quotes (from On the Table’s culinary quote collection):

Vegetarians are people who cannot hear tomatoes screaming.—Joseph Campbell 

It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.—Lewis Grizzard 

The federal government has sponsored research that has produced a tomato that is perfect in every respect, except that you can’t eat it. We should make every effort to make sure this disease, often referred to as “progress,” doesn't spread.—Andy Rooney 

Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.—Peter Kay

Gary
August, 2018

PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we’ve missed—please drop us a line.  It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those who have pointed out tasty sites (this month we’re tipping our hat to Dianne Jacob), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.


---- the new sites ----

(K. Kris Hirst’s article at Thought & Co.)

(Jan Whitaker’s article on race, gender, and the connections between restaurants and more peripatetic forms of foodservice)

(The Washington Post’s food section)

(a not-so-sweet surprise from Josh Dean at Bloomberg News)

(Ruth Tobias reports on a Slow Food panel that discussed an issue that hasn’t been resolved since Sidney Mintz first raised it)

(Suzanne Cope writes, in the LA Review of Books, about the progressive ideals that emerged from food journalism in the days before men even considered doing it)

(regional types and recipes)

(K. Kris Hirst’s article at Thought & Co.)

(sometimes discrete, sometimes flamboyantly obvious; Kyle Fitzpatrick dishes on dishes for Eater)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful or amusing) sites for writers/bloggers ----











---- yet another blog ----



---- that’s all for now ----

Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Occasionally, URLs we provide may link to commercial sites (that is, they’ll cost you money to take full advantage of them). We do not receive any compensation for listing them here, and provide them without any form of recommendation—other than the fact that they looked interesting to us.

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 

Want to help On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it?

It’s easy. Whenever you plan to go shopping on Amazon, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there will earn a commission for this newsletter without adding to your cost (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books).

The Resource Guide for Food Writers
(Paper)
(Kindle)
(these newsletters merely update the contents of the book; what doesn’t appear here is already in the book)

The Herbalist in the Kitchen
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries
(Hardcover)
 (Kindle)

Human Cuisine
(Paper)
(Kindle)

Herbs: A Global History
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Sausage: A Global History
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Can It! The Perils and Pleasures of Preserving Foods
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Terms of Vegery
(Kindle)

How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating
(Kindle)

Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________

The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #214 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.

Copyright ©2018 by Gary Allen.



Tour Parisien

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Oh dear, I’m not sure exactly when it was—sometime back in the mid-sixties, I suppose—while I was on location, shooting a film in France. I played a middle-aged society matron, traveling on a tramp steamer that was stranded for a few days in some de classé French port. The very idea was preposterous, of course, but this was before Hollywood had discovered cinema verité, or even, it seems, the notion that a plot needed to make some sort of sense.
Nonetheless, there we were, ensconced in a Paris that was still quintessentially French. Why were we in Paris, when our film was set in an unnamed seaport? Who knows? No doubt—entre nousmon cherie—the director required the sort of amenities that simply could not be found in a working-class town. A decent hotel, preferably free of the usual vermin; restaurants that served something better than the sort of things merchant sailors might eat while on shore-leave; le shopping—you know: haut monde, civilization. 
Whatever his reasons, we were in Paris, and had to make the best of it.
That meant shooting early in the morning, to capture the moody half-light, and to avoid the crowds of tourists that somehow appeared, apre-midi, everyday. It was hell, naturellement, getting up that ungodly hour—but one does what one must for the sake of her art. It was a job, and—frankly—paying jobs don’t come along that often for those of use who can no longer pretend to be ingénues.
While walking from my hotel to our location, along the Boulevard Saint-Germain, I caught a glimpse of myself, reflected in a store window. That visage seemed to be just a bit wan, even faded—and could do with a little pick-me-up. Un café—and just a soupçon of Pernod—seemed just the thing. I was right, of course, and—once refreshed—the morning’s shoot went off without a hitch. Having completed my day’s labors, all two hours of them, I was left with the question of what to do with the time before dinner and the viewing of the dailies. I was a bit thirsty, so I thought I’d look around for a Tab (we girls must watch our figures, you know), and possibly take in some of the sights, possibly absorb a bit of local color.
Heading back up the Boulevard Saint-Germain, in the general direction of the Latin Quarter, I stopped to chat with Aristide—the maitre d’ of a little restaurant where I’d been having my dinners (at least when I wasn’t required to dine with my colleagues from the film). The restaurant, naturellement, was not yet open—and Aristide was relaxing with Le Figarole tabac, and un armagnac. Filthy French habits, of course, but when in France… so I sat beside him, with my own tumbler of brandy. I noticed that his tight black boots sat on the chair beside him, while his black-stockinged toes rejoiced in liberté under the tiny table. He grumbled about the rich American tourists who were ruining his beloved neighborhood—missing entirely the quintessential irony of the situation: the fact that American dollars paid his salary, or that his only listener, an American woman (not wealthy, but certainly not impoverished, either), was sharing his table. It would have been tres gauche to remind him of the obvious truth—that Americans had saved the derrieres of the French in not one, but two world wars—not that I would ever be so tactless. No, we chatted amiably of this and that, and after saying our au revoirs, I went on my way. I chanced to glance back, and there he was—still muttering in his little cloud of Gauloise-blue smoke, his bootless toes gesturing emphatically to an audience of pigeons. Quel drôle!
Along the way, I saw a couple of boulangers at a nickel-topped bar—their work, like mine, done for the day—enjoying some garlicky parslied moules with a tall bottle of wine from the Loire. This seemed like an eminently sensible thing to do, so I joined them. Well, I didn’t actually join them—as they ignored my presence completely (apparently they weren’t admirateurs du cinemá, and didn’t recognize me)—but I did stand at the bar beside them. This was just as well, since Aristide had provided more than enough conversation for a while—allowing me to devote my full attention to the crisp, slightly floral, wine.
After that, I was feeling just a tad… not drunk, mind you… but somewhat more “malleable” than is expected in a distinguished woman of my age. The prudence that comes with experience suggested that some caffeine might be in order. So I wandered about a bit, until I found a place to get some coffee—and a bite or two of patisserie (reasoning that the brasserie’s plate of mussels had done little to absorb the alcohol in that bottle of Sevre et Maine).
An espresso—and a couple of Napoleons—later, and I had nearly restored my usual dignity, but I found that it was mixed with a certain savoire-vivre, an almost celebratory mood. A mood that called for champagne. 

Fortunately, Paris is the sort of town where champagne is readily available. Thinking to myself, “How singularly à propos,” I ordered a magnum of La Grande Dame. Given my festive mood, I suppose it didn’t occur to me that there was no one with whom to share that immense black bottle. Once opened, of course, it would only go flat—a terrible thing to happen to such wonderful champagne—so I drank it.
For some reason, the details of what happened afterwards are somewhat hazy. Someone must have recognized me for the celebrity I was, and—realizing that there was only one American film crew in Paris—delivered me back to our location. This was doubly fortunate, for not only did this spare me from any public embarrassment that might have resulted from my tour Parisien, but the film’s commissary was the only place in Paris where one could find a can of Tab.

Across a Crowded Room

Monday, June 25, 2018

He knows his love for Simonetta is forbidden, but that just makes it that much more enticing. For one thing her husband is Marco Vespucci—who, like the wasps provide his family name, could be expected to fly into a rage at the mere thought of a rival. For another, she’d been dead for over five hundred years.
Still, from the first moment he laid eyes upon her, in the tourist-filled rooms in the Ufizzi, he knew he could never love another. Every year he eschewed all other pleasures, in order to save enough money for just one more flight from Philadelphia to Florence. It was worth any sacrifice, just to get the briefest glimpse of her, either floating demurely on her scallop shell, or wandering through the enchanted forest that had become, for both of them, eternal Spring.
His love was pure—not like the brief fling he’d had with Myrna Loy. That was a mere flirtation, nothing like the reverence he feels for his Simonetta. Even in dreams, where she often appears naked, she chastely covers most of her body. He never sees more than one of her tiny, perfectly-formed breasts—and that inspires not lust but adoration.
No, his other romances—with sparkling Myrna, sultry Clara Bow, sweet Lillian Gish, and even the divine Audrey Hepburn—were as nothing to him now. He had once been smitten with a photo of the dark-eyed twenty-year-old Alice Liddell, taken by Lewis Carroll, but—in time—that, too, faded before the luminous Simonetta Vespucci.
Thoughts of her occupy his every waking thought. He knows that he is not alone in loving her. Sandro Botticelli and Giuliano d’ Medici loved her too, but he rejoices in the fact that they’re both safely dead. It does trouble him to think that other men’s eyes, livingeyes, can linger over her fair features. Especially vexing are the leers of Italian men, men who—as everyone knows—are over-sexed and rudely insensitive to the finer feelings of the women they ogle.
Her eyes haunt him. Their heavy lids suggest that she has just risen from her bed, as if to meet her lover, the lover he longs to be. Her focus is somewhere in the distance, not at him, to a place where a particularly delicious memory lingers, like a whiff of not-quite forgotten perfume. The sweet tangle of her strawberry-colored hair holds him more securely than any chain.
No living beauty—let alone his former imaginary sweethearts—can hold a candle to her radiance. It’s been years since an actual—live—woman appealed to him. They’re all so physical, with smells, and opinions, and needs. They come and—more frequently—go, leaving no evidence of their passing. But his Simonetta is eternal; she never fails to beguile him with her calm elegance.

Food Sites for July 2018

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Summer.

This issue marks the beginning of this newsletter’s eighteenth year. We suppose that means it’s now a grown up... well, more grown up than we are.

Roll Magazine recently posted our little article on Shad.

Last month we submitted the edited text for Après Escoffier: Sauces Reconsidered, (which has now had its title flopped: Sauces Reconsidered: Après Escoffier) and it’s finally in production. We also completed the first draft of a mostly non-food novel (Future Tense: The Remembrance of Things Not Yet Past). It sounds like a lot, but both books had been in the works for a LONG time. Since we can’t bear the non-writing life, we’ve reopened some unfinished books and begun adding to, reworking, and editing them.

You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook, and Twitter. Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner.

Some timely quotes (from On the Table’s culinary quote collection):

We ask very simple questions: What makes you happy? What do you eat? What do you like to cook? And everywhere in the world we go and ask these very simple questions... we tend to get some really astonishing answers. Anthony Bourdain
You learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together. Anthony Bourdain
I dont have much patience for people who are self-conscious about the act of eating, and it irritates me when someone denies themselves the pleasure of a bloody hunk of steak or a pungent French cheese because of some outdated nonsense about what's appropriate or attractive. Anthony Bourdain
In college, I think I probably positioned myself as an aspiring writer, meaning I dressed sort of extravagantly and adopted all the semi-Byronic affectations, as if I were writing, although I wasnt actually doing any writing. Anthony Bourdain
Gary
July, 2018

PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we’ve missed—please drop us a line.  It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those who have pointed out tasty sites (this month we’re tipping our hat to Cynthia Bertelsen), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.


---- the new sites ----

(Celine Bossart delivers a droll lesson in Vinepair)

(compiled by students of Western Civilization, at Chicago’s Northwestern University)

(Amy Bentley pours on the ubiquitous condiment, for The Smithsonian)

(Pat Tanumihardja, at Saveur, on the essential ingredients of Indonesian cuisine))

(Leslie Pariseau, at Saveur, on the defining ingredients of South Indian cooking)

(a timeline, from Vinepair)

(Shankar Vedantam’s Hidden Brain podcast at NPR... with many insights from Paul Rozin)

(Martin Hogue sits us down at Places Journal)

(Natasha Frost slings it across Gastro Obscura’s counter)

(Anne Ewbank, at Gastro Obscura, on some very rare books)

(Emma Orlow, at Saveur, says “making art out of food is inherently a political act”—and wonders about its implications)

(Dan Nosowitz, on Italian food and notions of what is tradional; at Gastro Obcsura)

(Gordon Edgar, dishes out “the cheapest protein possible” for Zócalo)

(Edible Arts’ Dwight Furrow takes issue with the Rozins’ “flavor principle”)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful or amusing) sites for writers/bloggers ----












---- yet more blogs ----






---- changed URL ----



---- that’s all for now ----

Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Occasionally, URLs we provide may link to commercial sites (that is, they’ll cost you money to take full advantage of them). We do not receive any compensation for listing them here, and provide them without any form of recommendation—other than the fact that they looked interesting to us.

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 

Want to help On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it?

It’s easy. Whenever you plan to go shopping on Amazon, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there will earn a commission for this newsletter without adding to your cost (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books).

The Resource Guide for Food Writers
(Paper)
(Kindle)
(these newsletters merely update the contents of the book; what doesn’t appear here is already in the book)

The Herbalist in the Kitchen
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries
(Hardcover)
 (Kindle)

Human Cuisine
(Paper)
(Kindle)

Herbs: A Global History
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Sausage: A Global History
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Can It! The Perils and Pleasures of Preserving Foods
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)

Terms of Vegery
(Kindle)

How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating
(Kindle)

Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________

The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #213 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.

Copyright ©2018 by Gary Allen.



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