SaltShaker

 Summer sausage is the general term for any sausage that can be kept without the need of refrigeration. Summer sausage is usually a mixture of pork and other meat such as beef and venison. Summer sausage can be either dried or smoked, and curing ingredients can vary significantly, although some sort of curing salt is almost always used. Seasonings may include mustard seeds, black pepper, garlic salt, or sugar. In spite of its name, summer sausage actually tends to be made in the autumn, during traditional hunting seasons in North America and Europe. Summer sausage, like all sausages, makes use of leftover scrap meat and organ meat that would otherwise be wasted.

- Wikipedia

Buenos Aires - An interesting definition, and pretty much the same as other sites I found, for summer sausage - my personal experience was always that a summer sausage was near the opposite of this - it isn’t made with curing salts, or a very minimal amount of a curing agent, instead, it’s cooked - actually, oven dried, and then refrigerated, and generally consumed within a few days of making it. But such is the difference between official definitions and common practice, no?

I had some leftover rib-eye steaks from a recent dinner that I’ve been keeping in the freezer - and thought it was time to use them for something - and why not a nice, all-beef sausage?

I had roughly a kilo of steak, or 2½ pounds, which I thawed, not completely, but just to the point where it’s sliceable - meat grinds much better when it’s really cold.

I then mixed the ground meat with:

I left the mixture to sit in the refrigerator overnight - about 12 hours, covered, and then filled beef sausage casings and tied them off into roughly 4-5″ lengths

I pricked them with a needle to get the air out and allow some of the juices to drip out and hung them to dry and slightly cure for 24 hours, and then put them in the refrigerator for another 24.

And, separated them and cooked them up to go with some eggs - delicious!

 Songkran, the most vigorous of Thailand’s festivals, was the official Thai New Year until 1941. Formerly tied to the movement of the sun, modern Songkran takes place from 13-15th April. Songkran began as a ceremonial bathing of Buddha images as part of a new year’s spring cleaning ritual. However, it has degenerated over the years into a free-for-all water fight in which the streets are filled with revellers armed with water guns, jars and buckets.

- Richard Greaves, Festivals in Thailand

Buenos Aires - It was clearly time for our second annual Thai/Cambodian New Year’s festival dinner. First of all, the dates were right, and second of all, last year it was so popular that we had to add an extra dinner and nearly another. This year, the response wasn’t quite so vigorous, and, in fact, only a few locals came, the two evenings were almost entirely peopled by visitors to the city. Actually, I’ve been noticing that recently - perhaps we’ve become a “been there, done that” location for many who live here, it’s hard to tell - I keep hearing from people about how they’re going to come again, or come for the first time, I’ve got people here who I consider to be good friends who have yet to make an appearance at one of our evenings, despite repeated promises to do so (I’ve long ago stopped even bringing it up with them, it feels like a waste of my time and probably annoys them at some level). They’ll either get here or not, but I don’t quite get the continual promises to show up, especially when I’m not asking. Hey, you’re not interested, you’re not interested. We’ll keep having fun with the people who are. Now, back to Southeast Asia, and a dinner that I was quite pleased with. Far more unusual, I think, in terms of the dishes, than last year’s menu. Oh, and it was just coincidence, I think, that I’d just checked out one of the local Thai restaurants.

While not from either Thailand or Cambodia, or even, as best I know, one of the other countries celebrating New Year’s at this juncture, we began the gathering part of the evening with my twist on a Singapore Sling. It was the only cocktail that I could think of that off the bat invoked the general region… Mine is a blend of gin, cherry liqueur, and while in the past I’ve used Benedictine, I haven’t seen it here, and I used just a splash of a local herbal liqueur called Pineral, then topped the whole thing off with sparkling water. Strong, but quite good I thought. We moved on to dining, and one of my favorite Thai dishes of all time - I think maybe because it was the first Thai dish I ever tried, and it just sort of lodged itself in my brain. It’s called laap gai, or larb gai, or any of various other transliterational spellings. My version involves first toasting some rice flour until it just barely starts to color, then adding ground chicken to it, and cooking it, making sure to stir it regularly and keep breaking it up so you don’t end up with lots of big clumps like a chicken burger. When cooked, I add a good amount of chopped red onion, and a pureed mix of lime juice, mint, cilantro, and fairly hot chilies, and then let it sit until cooled, then chill in the refrigerator. When it’s time to serve it, I pour a mix of lime juice, fish sauce, green lemon oil, and chilies over it to adjust the seasoning (the chilling will mute alot of the flavors and it will need to be perked up).

The surprise hit of the evening! I got great commentary on this one, and nearly everyone seemed to love it and comment on it. A take on a Cambodian soup of crab and pine mushrooms, the first thing I did was put some salt, sugar, tamarind pulp, finely chopped lemongrass, and diced tomatoes into a pot with just a splash of peanut oil and cooked them over medium heat until the tomatoes were near falling apart - about 7-8 minutes. Then I added a good amount of chopped up crab meat and some diced pine mushrooms (shiitakes are a good substitute if you can’t find the others). I cooked that for a few minutes until the mushrooms started to get soft, then added shrimp stock (fish stock would work, as would vegetable - in fact, the original recipe called for chicken stock). I brought that up to a simmer and let it cook for about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, I finely chopped a whole lot of garlic and then fried it in peanut oil until browned - not burned, but clearly nice and golden brown - and then added that, oil and all, to the soup pot and mixed it up. When ready to serve, I added a mix of lime juice, fish sauce, and chilies to the pot - just enough to brighten up the flavors, the idea isn’t to create a spicy dish - actually, the original recipe had this mixture served on the side and letting people add it to their own tastes.

This course was the most fun for me. I’d started off with the idea of one of these sort of Thai “tapas”, and realized that it would be too small of a course or too much of one thing for a course if I gave a bigger portion. I decided on a trio de tapeos - these are dishes that are often served on the side of a main course, or just on the table as a sort of adjunct to a meal, or at least that’s my understanding. The original dish was the quail egg one - the eggs are hard boiled and then cooled and peeled. In a pot, I put a pureed mix of cilantro stems, salt, ginger, garlic, black peppercorns, and star anise, along with a little oil, and cooked that over medium heat for about 7-8 minutes until it was nice and aromatic. At that point, the recipe called for palm sugar, which the market seemed to be out of, but I had some chancaca, which is a Peruvian dark brown sugar loaf. I added a good dose of that, brought the heat up, and let it start to caramelize - another 7-8 minutes. At that point, I added a mix of soy sauce, chicken stock, and oyster sauce, and then put the quail eggs and some pre-cooked bamboo shoots into it, turned the heat down, and let it all simmer together for about twenty minutes. The next dish on the Thai side, was a simple one, but I think my favorite of the three - a very simple dish of fresh pineapple that’s been fried in peanut oil, and then fried tofu added to it, and finished with mushroom sauce (vegetarian oyster sauce), and chili oil. And, finally, a take on a Cambodian dish, sauteeing a handful of cracked black peppercorns in very hot oil, then adding diced tomato and squid tentacles (or rings if you prefer), and cooking until just done. Just a touch of salt to finish and voila. It was interesting, the first night, people ate through the first two, and only the guys ate the squid - Henry said that the women seemed bothered by the long tentacles, and there was, I admit, no real way to cut them up on the plates (well, one could have removed the little dishes and then used the plate to eat off of) - so the second night I cut the tentacles in shorter pieces, and lo and behold, everyone ate the squid and the tofu dish, but basically few people touched the quail eggs, a couple of folk deeming them “weird”. Such is the world of different groups!

To the main course, and a tasty little preparation of red snapper, which I picked up in Chinatown and filleted. The fillets were simply sauteed and served atop jasmine rice. Arranged haphazardly atop are a few long beans that had simply been blanched and shocked and then briefly sauteed to rewarm them. The sauce was the key - a pureed mix of chlies, kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, coconut milk, garlic, shallots, fish sauce, paprika, turmeric, and aji-no-moto, or msg, all cooked together for about half an hour over low heat. The first night I served it as it was, but decided that it still had a bit too much fiber in it, presumeably from the lemongrass and lime leaves - so the second night I strained it before serving. Flavor’s the same, but the texture was nice and smooth. I loved it, hopefully others did too!

And, we finish up with a dish merely inspired by some of the flavors in Thai and Cambodian desserts - a pumpkin (well, Korean squash) tart with caramel cashew sauce. The tart actually started out with an old Betty Crocker recipe. I made a few changes - the crust was a mixed together blend of a cup of pastry flour, ½ cup of butter, 2 tablespoons of brown sugar, 2 tablespoons of powdered ginger, and an egg yolk - not that different - and pressed into the bottom of a springform pan. I roasted the squash, cut in half, until soft and steaming, and then scooped the flesh into the blender, added ½ cup of sugar, a splash of vanilla paste, pinch of salt, about a 1″ cube of fresh ginger, and started it pureeing. I added four whole eggs (there was more squash pulp than in the original recipe), and some heavy cream - it was about ¾ of a cup. Poured that over the base and baked until just set in the center. The sauce was a simple caramel of sugar with a splash of lemon juice to prevent crystallization, and then when it was medium dark I stirred in a little milk and some cold butter, and whisked until smooth. To that I added some lightly toasted cashews and golden raisins, and then just set it aside, rewarming it when it was time to ladle over the pie.

So, hmmm, next year, Songkran doesn’t fall on a weekend… I guess we won’t have a third annual feast…

 I can’t just take someone’s word for it. I am a skeptic. I am also skeptical about crop circles, alien abductions, Nostradamus, and psychic surgery. I haven’t believed in a six day creation in a very long time. But it is tough to be a skeptic these days.”

- Margaret C. Douma, Surfing for Skeptics

Buenos Aires - Every now and again I realize that I’ve done something that I think of as “out of character” - in particular, taking someone’s word for something. I tend to be skeptical about opinions. They’re like mushrooms after a rainstorm, they’re everywhere, and everyone has one, and some of them are good for you and some of them will kill you, and it’s the rare person who can tell the difference at a glance. So I usually just accept that the mushrooms, the opinions, are there, and go on about my business as if no one had told me their opinion. Sort of… I mean, if a bunch of people have recommended a place to eat, I’ll go check it out. Usually, I don’t follow the other direction - if a bunch of people have recommended against a place, I’ll still go check it out. It’s more simply that the place has been called attention to. And I have this blog in which to sprout my own mushrooms afterwards.

So it was that after nearly three years of being in Buenos Aires, and, as regular readers know, having a penchant for Asian cuisine, I found myself for the first time actually at Lotus Neo Thai, Ortega y Gasset 1782, Las Cañitas, 4771-4449. I say actually at, because I’ve headed there before… twice. Both times to meet a friend, the first time to meet one there at lunch only to discover it isn’t open at lunch time, which she’d been sure it was; the second time to meet a friend who assured me that it was open for dinner on Sundays and closed on Mondays, but it turned out to be the reverse. This time I called and made a reservation. And, I’d heard stories - the owners of Lotus Neo Thai were the original owners of Empire Thai and had run the place into the ground, skipped out on paying bills and employees, left their new partner, an expat whom I know, holding the bag, so to speak. I’d heard that they did a mediocre job at Thai food - barely authentic and nothing spicy were common descriptions. And, I realized recently, that I’d just simply accepted all that at face value at some point and taken it off my radar. So back it went onto the list of places to check out, and the other evening, a friend and I met up to check out the food.

Right off the bat, it’s nothing like what I expected visually. Somehow, I’d got it in my head a sort of loungy scene, with low level lights and hipper than thou waiters in black, and bright colored cocktails and pseudo-thai… you know the sort of place I’m talking about. As we climbed the staircase to the upper floor (and it’s a climb, that ground floor must house a double height ceiling) it became clear that it just didn’t have that vibe. And stepping into the room it was even clearer - the walls are all painted in a cheery light blue and green with lots of big painted flowers - honestly, it looked like a kindergarden classroom. The tables almost seem out of place - they’re setup very beautifully, with a clear Asian aesthetic, and we were immediately offered our choice of either a regular table or a “more traditional” low table with pillows to sit on. We opted for the latter, though in retrospect, I think I’d go for a regular table next time - maybe just because we lingered over our meal and talking, but I was uncomfortable after about the first hour or so…

Shrimp crackers were dropped on the table, along with a sweet and sour sauce and a hot sauce that was mildly spicy - both quite good. We ordered a few appetizers - some springrolls - crispy on the outside, juicy and flavorful on the inside, a trio of dipping sauces on the table for them; a mixed satay platter - beef, lamb, chicken - a bit salty, and the peanut sauce had no heat whatsoever; and some coconut shrimp, which were light and delicate in a crisp batter, and then sprinkled with lots of coconut - slightly odd, since normally the coconut gets cooked into the batter, but very good. And, we tried a green curry chicken and a laap gai, which is a cold chicken salad spiced with lime and chilies. The curry was definitely on the spicy side - we’d asked for the “Thai spicy version” not the “Argentine mild”, and been told they could do that - they hadn’t on the appetizers, so we weren’t hopeful - and the laap gai was reasonably spicy, though not particularly - focusing more on the lime and some mint.

All in all, quite good food, not as spicy as we would have liked, but certainly far more than I’d been expecting given those pesky opinions I’d heard. The service was friendly, cheerful, and even reasonably attentive, and by two young waitresses in casual garb, nothing black and trendy and loungy going on here. I can’t speak for all the things I’d heard about the owners, they weren’t present as far as I know. And, while the place wasn’t particularly busy, there were people there who seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as we did. It was moderately pricey, but not particularly so for Las Cañitas - three, well really four appetizers, since the laap gai that I had as a main course was really an appetizer on the menu, and one curry, a couple of imported beers and waters, and I think we ended up paying 80 pesos apiece, with tip.

This seems a moment to compare to other southeast Asian options here that I’ve been to and reviewed - a sort of revisit if you will…

 I’d like to be a passion fruit. Not because it’s passionate, but because someone I know is mad about them and has got me onto them.”

- Joseph Fiennes, Actor

Buenos Aires - Private party. Birthday. No seafood. Maybe something vaguely mixed Latin American. A tasty causa topped with a chicken salad instead of tuna salad and a little salsa ocopa on the side, a slightly and strangely bitter cream soup of zucchini and zucchini flowers, simple but delicious empanadas made with homemade ricotta, loganiza sausage, and dried plums, and an ají de huacatay for dipping, pan-seared thick-cut pork chops, mashed yuca root with roasted garlic, and a salsa llajwa ladled around it. And then, there was, the passion fruit…

If that photo, even as non-professional as it is, doesn’t just send you running for passion fruits or at least their juice, and some chocolate and cocoa, and flour, and… well… you simply shouldn’t be reading food blogs. Really. Just go read The Snuffalufagus Post and focus on politics. I can’t claim credit for this recipe - actually desserts not being my primary forté, many of them come from other sources, and I don’t experiment with them as much as other stuff. This one I caught sight of in a local magazine, and comes from chef Nelida Caneva, who teaches at a cooking school here in town. All I did was double the quantities and make it in one big springform pan rather than individual tarts, and, had to guess at the quantity of sugar in the filling, because it wasn’t in the list of ingredients and she hasn’t responded to e-mail requests to fill in the missing info. Since it’s already been published publicly, I’m happy to translate it here (it is in metric, deal with it) and just say, make this, and plan on spending several days in the gym afterwards because you will finish it off in one sitting…

 There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don’t know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don’t know we don’t know.”

- Donald Rumsfeld, former U.S. Secretary of Defense

Buenos Aires - Don really shouldn’t get credit for the above quote, though he’s listed all over the internet for saying it. I don’t know who originally spouted that one off, probably some philosopher many, many moons ago - I know Werner Erhard used to use that in part of the est training, decades ago - and much of that sort of stuff he got from the writings of folk like Martin Heidegger, so that might be a good bet, though there were others… but, back to the point. This post is not going to be so much about the food of this particular restaurant, though it was quite good. It’s going to be about the attitude. Remember attitude, that I posted about two weeks ago in regard to another restaurant? A post that generated more commentary than any other restaurant review I’ve written, and a whole bunch more e-mails. This is about a near diametrically opposed attitude.

A friend of mine suggested we head to a place near to him in, once again, San Telmo, not far from “the other place” - he’d been one of my dining companions there. This isn’t a place people are talking about all over and having discourse as to whether it’s the best thing since sliced bread or should be banished to the dust bin. In fact, I’d never heard of it, and even on local online restaurant guide, GuiaOleo, it’s listed under its former name, La Oveja Negra (the Black Sheep - which brings back pleasant memories of the old Black Sheep Tavern in Manhattan), despite having changed its name to La Cueva Negra (the Black Cave, apparently there was some dispute with another restaurant that shared the old name), Bolivar 860, 4300-1691, a bit back. I also like their tagline - Los Desconocidos Sabores de San Telmo, the unknown flavors of San Telmo. But, once again, I’m here to talk about attitude.

We headed there for lunch last week, and walked in to find only two people there, a young asian woman off to the side sipping a coffee and reading a magazine, and a scruffy young man busily banging away on his apple laptop over on a low table and sofa, the laptop festooned with stickers for Global Voices Online, so perhaps he was reporting on the vastly important doings in Buenos Aires. Or maybe he just likes the site. He was still there when we left an hour and a half later. No one else was in the room, though after a moment, one of the two cooks from the semi-open kitchen popped out and said hello. We asked if they were open. He apologized, and said no, they weren’t open. We clearly looked disappointed, and he explained that the waiter hadn’t shown up for the day, nor the owner or manager yet, so it was just he and the other cook. We started to turn and walk out, and he said, look, if you don’t mind that I don’t really know how to wait tables, we’re here in the kitchen, so we can cook, and I’ll do my best to take care of you.

That’s the attitude that, as far as I’m concerned, wins friends, influences people, and builds loyal customers. At that point, it wouldn’t have mattered if the food he served up was absolute crap, I’d be a regular customer, at least for a glass of water. And you know what? The food really was quite good, and he did a very passable job of serving us - water, bread, our food, checking up on us to see what else we needed - other than being a bit awkward at it, he was actually more attentive and concerned than most waiters I encounter here. And, he knew something about the food. We started off with a couple of appetizers, some marinated fresh sardines in a tomato and garlic sauce. They could have used a little more time marinating, they were a bit more like sashimi than what I was expecting, but perfectly fresh and tasty. For our other, a bowl of gazpacho - the pureed style, which isn’t my favorite, I like some bits and pieces - but the flavors were all there and it even had a bit of a zip to it.

We were debating over the various menu items, and he approached the table and asked if we’d be interested in trying something that he and the other cook were experimenting with - not yet on the menu, but a dish that they were thinking of offering that evening? I don’t mind being a guinea pig, and neither did my friend, and we ended up ordering two of the rib-eye steaks rubbed in “Andean spices”, perched atop garlicky mashed potatoes and topped with a little arugula salad - well, mine anyway - my friend is on a no papas, pizza, pasta, postres diet, his “no p’s” - and without a flinch, the young man offered up that he could leave the potatoes off and make a nice side salad for him. And, we ordered the steaks, respectively, very rare and medium rare, and they both came out cooked perfectly, and spicy and delicious.

We had a couple of coffees, paid the bill, left a generous tip, and found our way back to the sidewalk, happy, sated, and totally impressed with the attitude and professionalism. If he’s any example of the rest of the place’s staff, we should all be lining up in front of the place to eat.

 When it comes to traveling these are some wonders I’d like to see: A cabdriver who understands English, especially in America. A place in the world where you can’t get a Big Mac and a Coke. A headwaiter who hides his scorn when you order the house wine.”

- George Burns, Comedian

Buenos Aires - Several people have told me to check out this “cool wine bar” where you can try a “whole bunch of different wine varietals”. There’s good news and there’s bad news. Indeed, the place offers up a large number of varietals. However, only four of them by the glass. About a dozen more by the bottle only. Not unusual for many a restaurant. Except this place isn’t usual - it turns out to be the restaurant for a specific wine label I wasn’t familiar with - Bodega 52 - and is located at Ravignani 1905 in Palermo, 4774-6908 - and they’re not only offering up their wines for dining at the restaurant, but retail as well. Given that, why aren’t they all available for tasting? It’s not a wine bar. In fact, there’s not really a bar - unless you count a small counter with a couple of stools off to one side. It’s a kind of kitschy, rustic looking place, with alot of rough wood, and lots of bottles all over the place. It was also a bit of a let-down given that while I was awaiting my dining companion, I chatted a bit with one of the two waitresses and she told me that they offered flights of wine for tasting and comparing, a wide selection by the glass, and paired tastings with the food. They don’t offer any of those it turns out - well, two nights a week they have a dinner special of a plate of the day with a matched wine - not the night we were there. The offer of having the owner/wine guy come over and chat with us about wine selections which was touted by her crashed and burned when he simply looked over at us and declined to get up from the table at which he was seated doing paperwork. Nothing like service, especially when you’re trying to sell your own product, you know?

So, we weren’t primed for a great experience by this point, though decided to make the best of it. We’d been greeted with a glass of sparkling Moscatel - a semi-sweet apertif wine that actually wasn’t bad, so at least, perhaps, the wines would turn out to be interesting. We decided to split a cheese and olive platter - which arrived in short order stocked with wedges and batons of several varieties of cheese - all of them decent, none of them exciting, and no explanation as to what they were. The olives were scattered and few. We’d asked, by this point, about the wines by the glass, hoping to do some sort of pairing or flight, and been told there were only two available - a Malbec and a Cabernet-Bonarda blend. We ordered both to accompany the meal. The former, not bad - a medium weight Malbec with characteristic spiced plum fruit. Not a lot of depth or complexity, but eminently drinkable. The latter, a thin, somewhat weedy version, with strange coffee and graham cracker notes to it and not much fruit. We sipped them politely during the meal.

On the main course selection there are basically two ways to go - a half-dozen fancied up parrilla items - steaks, bondiola, lamb; or a half-dozen or so pastas. The raviolones de cordero caught my eye, and the ñochis con hongos caught my companions. The former arrived as a good portion of large ravioli, perhaps a touch too al dente, and filled with a sort of lamb paste - presumeably, to be blunt, made of the leftover scraps from the parrilla lamb - including bits of gristle and fat, and even, in one, a 2″ piece of butcher’s twine that had probably been wrapped around a piece of meat at one point. Not overly pleasant - the sauce coming across like a canned tomato puree spiked with a whole lot of rosemary and a dash of mint. The gnocchi seemed to be fine - a bit large, but relatively light, however essentially swimming in a bowl of cream with some mushrooms lazily mucking about - the menu listed off a trio of different “wild” mushrooms - it looked and tasted pretty much like just a bunch of ordinary brown mushrooms to me.

After eating what we could… or at least what we wanted to, we figured that maybe we could at least try one more wine - perhaps a vino dulce, in place of a dessert, which neither of us was interested in trying. But no, no sweet wines on offer, though a few minutes later our waitress returned and said, “well, there is a torrontés that’s somewhat sweet if you want”. We decided to give it a go, and actually, though it turned out to be pretty much completely dry, it was probably the best of the four wines we tried over the evening. Would have gone great with the cheese plate at the beginning, had we known. We finished the night with the offer of a “tour of the cave” - the wine cellar - which turned out to be not so much of a tour, as our waitress guided us over to the spiral steps leading down to the basement and pointed… we went downstairs on our own, to find a room with some more table seating, and a wall with a couple of locked gates that had bottles stacked up in bins - couldn’t see anything but the bottoms of the bottles, though there were a couple of small chalkboards to the side listing off what was supposedly inside - mostly wines from 1996 to 2001 from some of the big name commercial wineries.

So hmmm, do I recommend this place? Not really. It might actually be kind of interesting if there were more attention paid to the food - and might be a kind of cool place to try some wines if they actually pried open their cellar and let people taste the wines they’re looking to sell. As it stands, I wouldn’t bother.

 Just because someone is dead does not mean they have changed!”

- Bette Davis, when it was suggested she not speak ill of the dead

Buenos Aires - I may continue on this trend of centennial birthdays, more or less - we had so much fun with Carmen Miranda’s 99th and Anna Magnani’s 100th, that I couldn’t even consider not celebrating Bette Davis’ 100th when it came around this last weekend. I wonder who’s next? Suggestions will be gratefully accepted… So I started off with a week long marathon of watching whichever of her movies I could put my hands on. A fun, if somewhat daunting task, and in the end, while I enjoyed it immensely, it didn’t give me a whole lot to work with when it came to planning a menu - I wasn’t about to go for a roast rat right out of Baby Jane, you know? A friend suggested going with “eyes” - ribeye steak… I got stuck there, with no beef in town, and not a whole lot of other eyes I wanted to consider - besides, Ms. Davis was the focus, not Ms. Carnes… I ended up just doing a bit of wordplay - most of which probably required some deep familiarity with the movies - and few of our guests had it, but at least they seemed to enjoy the food and company. So with All About Eve playing silently in the background on both television and computer screens, we settled in for what turned out not to be a bumpy night - starting off with a proper cocktail made from scotch, rum, peach juice, and a dash of fresh squeezed lime.

“I’ll admit I may have seen better days, but I’m still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, like a salted peanut.” While the bumpy night quote may be the best known from All About Eve, it’s not the best line - there are several far better ones - and this one gave me the start with the idea of a salted peanut sauce - which led to thinking about the red papaya salad that we did for the Carmen Miranda dinner. I didn’t want a direct repeat, and when I saw fresh chayote in the market (locally called papa aire, air potato), I decided on a slight twist - grilled chayote, grilled papaya, butter roasted cherry tomatoes, and purple basil for the salad. The sauce, a mix of peanuts, bonito flakes, garlic, fish sauce, red rice vinegar, and hot chilies. For one guest, allergic to peanuts, the same made with sunflower seeds in their place.

From there, we moved on to the 1938 film Jezebel, and a natural choice for a Jezebel Sauce, from the southern U.S. - my version a blend of apple and quince jellies, grated horseradish, black pepper, and mustard - sounds odd, but it’s really quite good - the traditional uses apple and pineapple jellies, though the latter isn’t available here. Usually, or at least popularly, it’s served up on crackers with some cream cheese as an hors d’oeuvre, so I decided on a savory version of my cream cheese cheesecake, and since I spotted some fresh zucchini flowers in the market, I thought I’d chop them up finely and mix them in (the idea came from the ricotta and squash blossom empanadas I made wayyyy back). The combo worked great!

From there, the famed weenie roast right out of Now, Voyager, which, of course, you all remember as the most important culinary scene in the film. For that, the chicken and yam merguez sausages that I covered in yesterday’s post.

On to the main course, and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? - where rats and dead parrots aside, about the only thing of gastronomic interest was Davis’ constant imbibing of scotch. A simple pan roast of pork loin, topped with akusai, or Napa cabbage, that had been cooked down in a sauce of lightly browned butter, red miso, and scotch. The first night the pork got a bit overcooked and I wasn’t thrilled, it wasn’t inedible, but not where I wanted it - the second night I kept it just a touch over medium.

And, of course, we finished off with the Hush… Hush, Sweet Apple Charlotte, with one of my favorite apple desserts, the “Guest at the Doorstep” Apple Charlotte - I’ve made it for one other dinner in the past, though this time I made it in individual ramekins rather than a big one and slicing it.

We definitely needed some more Bette Davis aficionados at the dinners - there was no one quoting lines or remembering movie scenes - but, such is life. I hope Bette appreciated our efforts, wherever she is.

 A highbrow is the kind of person who looks at a sausage and thinks of Picasso.”

- Alan Patrick Herbert, Novelist

Buenos Aires - I decline to enter the debate, and yes, there is a debate - well, more like hotly contested opinions - as to what constitutes a true merguez sausage. Given that merguez simply means sausage - actually, the French adaptation of the Arabic word mirqāz - one could suppose that the word refers to any kind of sausage one likes. Traditionally, I think, when people in the food world think of a merguez, however, they think of a lamb or mutton based sausage that’s a bit on the spicy side from the use of harissa, a fairly fiery spice blend from Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria… northwestern Africa. But a quick google search will reveal all sorts of things, from arguments over what sort of meat can be used, to the spice combinations, to the origins, to the accompaniments - even, oddly, a British site that offers up a recipe for merguez sausages with chimichurri and refers to it as a traditional American dish???

I’ve mentioned before having worked at one point in Tom Colicchio’s first New York kitchen, Mondrian, and talked a little about what it was like to work for him - but hadn’t ever mentioned any of the other folk there. Strangely, it was one of the few restaurants I’ve ever worked in where I didn’t make any real longterm friends - I never quite fit into the whole macho boys atmosphere in the kitchen - not my style, ya know? However, I did become friends, at least casually, with one of the sous chefs, Bill Rogers, who went on to become chef at the NoHo Star, and may still be there - we lost touch a few years ago, though as of 2004 he was still there (his “British Burger”, with stilton, bacon, and cucumber, was one of the best burgers in the city). He shared a recipe at one point with me for a chicken and sweet potato merguez sausage (now that we know the derivation, I suppose it’s redundant to say “merguez sausage”), which no doubt would cause some sort of apoplexy amongst those who think they’re defending some sort of time-honored tradition where merguez are only made from mutton and harissa… In fact, almost two years ago I made a tofu and sweet potato version, more or less, for one of our vegetarian dinners. Now, however, with the kitchen stocked full of sausage casings and grinders and such… and they were on my mind when I was planning this weekend’s menu, which I’ll get into in, probably, the next post, but for now, the whole sausage making process revealed (avert your eyes if you’re squeamish).

Second thing I did was roasted about 3 kilos, 6½ pounds, of batatas, or yams along with half a dozen garlic cloves. When they were semi-soft, but not mushy, I cooled them, and ran them through a medium grinder, along with the garlic cloves.

The first thing I did, however, was the evening before, when I ground 1½ kilos, or a bit over 3 pounds, of chicken breast, skin and fat included, through a fine grinder and then added a blend of “merguez” spices (jump to the bottom for that mixture) and curing salt (mix of common salt, sodium nitrate and nitrite - in reality probably just plain salt would have been fine since these weren’t really destined to be cured, but I had some mixed up curing salt on hand).

The next day, after grinding the yams, I mixed the two together, along with four beaten eggs to help hold it all together, it needed more fat than what was provided by the chicken - I happened to have some rendered duck fat on hand and added about ¾ cup of it to the mixture - I could just as easily have ground some fatback or bacon along with the chicken the evening before - and, in reality, the original recipe that Bill gave me used softened butter and heavy cream in the mixture - to be experimented with I suppose. I fried up a small patty of the mixture to check the seasoning - reallly, it’s important when making sausages to do that - the last thing you want to do is put all the time into mixing and stuffing sausages, curing them, and cooking them, only to find that they’re bland as can be or too spicy or salty to eat (always start with less salt and spice than you think you’ll need and add to it, until you get the proportions down right). Come to think of it, if there’s anything I can recommend in the world of cooking that most people seem to forget, it’s “taste your food before you serve it to guests”.

Okay, too late if you didn’t want to see this part - let’s face it, a sausage casing is an intestine - in this case, a section of small intestine from a pig - one can also buy lamb and beef casings, and small or large intestine, or even the colon, rectum, or, going other directions, the bladder - and depending on what animal and what part, can end up with thin, vienna sausage sort of sausages on up to a nice fat mortadella or bologna. I suppose this picture just makes it pretty graphic just what you’re dealing with. Sometimes, perhaps, it’s best not to think about such things - or perhaps it is better, to truly have a connection to what it is you’re eating?

I tied them off in links - since I wasn’t going to hang these to cure, I decided not to do the whole double knot and strings holding all the links in a daisy chain - I just used short pieces of sausage twine and tied them off into 10cm, or 4″, links. I immediately poached them in simmering water for about 10 minutes, just enough to lightly cook them through and set them firmly. Then, into the refrigerator until I needed them - half of them later the same day, half of them the next.

Once the links had been poached and the filling was firm, they could be simply cut apart at the string ties, lined up in a baking pan and tossed in the oven, drizzled with olive oil, to brown. These could also have been grilled, or cooked in any other way one might make sausage - in the original recipe, Bill simply boiled them up like a hot dog. I wanted the bit of caramelization from the browning. I served them atop some couscous flavored with chicken stock and chopped Chinese flat chives.