On Ridiculous Food Society of New York you can revel in Mr. Dave’s home made charcuterie, his love of “piss beer”, and his ongoing delight (which I share) in the local Stewart’s convenience store chain. Check it out.

We’ll start with Market Manila, written by a semi-retired management consultant who gets “most annoyed by people who lack logic and reason… but second on my list of irritants is the need to go to a dozen or so stores, markets, groceries, etc. all over Manila just to pull off a reasonably interesting dinner.” My kind of guy.

Market Manila is written as a guide to food shoppers on the ground in Manila, but there are plenty of recipes and food preparation tips you can enjoy from afar. Check it out!

Is this safe? There is a lot of contradictory information on the web, some of it within the USDA itself. Have you ever wonder why they advise you to cook some foods to an internal temperature of 145 degrees and others to 160? Which is it? You’re trying to kill salmonella and either you do it or you don’t.

The bottom line (and this is a consensus of my casual research, not an actual fact) seems to be that salmonella dies at about 136 degrees and eggs don’t start to change their composition significantly till around 142 degrees. So if you thoroughly heat your egg to 140 degrees throughout, you should be golden, right?

I used to “coddle” my eggs in order to coddle my nervous eaters: I’d briefly dip an egg into boiling water, then into ice water, then crack it into the bowl where I planned to prepare the salad. This definitely has a food safety benefit because it kills any bad stuff on the shell, but I’m sure the yolk doesn’t change at all. Now that I’ve got my SideKIC sous vide cooker I can heat it to 140 all the way through and, in an imperfect world, that’s about as good as it gets.

(If you’re curious about the changes an egg goes through as it cooks, here is a fabulous demonstration in pictures.)

If you eat raw sushi, you’re already rolling the dice on food safety. For me, the egg in a Caesar salad is equally fundamental to my quality of life. And I think the best way to be sure your eggs are safe (beyond the 140 degree bath) is to buy them right from the farmer who has to look customers in the eye every day. The eggs are likely to taste a lot better, too.

Buttermilk Blue Cheese Dressing atop The Wedge

Ingredients:
1/2 c buttermilk
1/4 c mayonnaise
1/4 c salad oil
1/2 c crumbled blue cheese*
1 large garlic clove
2 anchovy fillets (the salted, canned variety)**
1 T red wine vinegar
1/2 t Kosher salt
1/4 t pepper

Method: Reserve 1/4 c blue cheese and blend everything else until smooth. Add blue cheese crumbles and refrigerate at least 2 hours, and preferably overnight, before using.

* You don’t have to use high quality cheese, but it does need to be dry vs. vs creamy.
** If you don’t have anchovies, substitute a couple good squirts of Worchestershire sauce. But anchovies are better.

Wilted Lettuce Salad

How come nobody makes wilted lettuce any more? It’s great stuff. This is another classic recipe from Chicago Culinary Institute, updated for modern tastes (I’ve reduced the sugar). Serves 8.

Ingredients:
1 medium head iceberg lettuce*
¼ c cider vinegar
¼ c salad oil (not olive oil)
1 ½ T sugar
3/4 t Kosher salt
1/8 t ground pepper
1 hardboiled egg, peeled and sliced or chopped

Method: remove core and outer leaves from lettuce and coarsely chop or shred. Wash if necessary then chill thoroughly. Just before serving, combine the dressing ingredients in a small skillet and heat to boiling. Pour over lettuce, toss to combine, garnish with egg and serve immediately.

*If you refuse to use iceberg, romaine is a passable substitute. Do NOT use micro greens, baby greens, mesclun etc as these would not stand up to the hot dressing.

German Potato Salad

The Culinary Institute of Chicago published the original version of this recipe in a book called “New World Encyclopedia of Cooking” in 1972, as well as a pamphlet of German standbys. I’ve modified it slightly for modern tastes. 8-10 servings.

Ingredients:
3 lbs potatoes, preferably Yukon gold or another variety that won’t fall apart when boiled
1 ½ c onions, chopped
2 T bacon grease
2 T olive oil
½ c cider vinegar
2 T sugar
2 t salt
¾ t MSG (optional)*
¼ t ground black pepper
½ c celery with leaves or parsley, finally chopped*
2 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled

Method: Peel the potatoes and boil them in salted water until they are just tender, about 20 minutes; drain and return to the warm pot, where they will absorb any remaining liquid. Saute the onions in the oils till translucent then add all other ingredients except celery or parsley. When the potatoes are cool enough to handle but still warm, slice them coarsely back into their cooking pot. Add the celery/parsley, mix, then add the onions and liquid and stir to mix thoroughly. Allow to rest at least 1 hour so potatoes can absorb the sauce. Crumble the bacon over the top before serving, preferably warm or at room temperature.

* I tried the recipe with and without the MSG and it definitely adds a flavor dimension, but the dish is fine without it. The greenery is non-traditional but I wanted to relieve the monochrome nature of the dish.

“The heavily-sauced, chopped East Texas barbecue is a reflection of the fact that it was originally a Negro phenomenon, an ingenious method for rendering palatable the poorer, less-desirable cuts of meat which often were the only ones available to the poor black. Hence most of the attention was lavished on the hot sauce, whose purpose was to smother the dubious flavor of the meat which the barbecueing process had at least made tender.”

In Texas, to say you use sauce to hide the flavor is a slur as bad as saying you water your beer, or serve farm-raised salmon and call it line-caught. Apparently Walsh was immediately branded as a racist, and it was overlooked that he was actually quoting from a 1973 article in Texas Monthly by one Griffin Smith, Jr., “The World’s Best Barbecue is in Taylor, Texas. Or is it Lockhart.” Then, as the outrage played out and the source was discovered, one amateur sociologist opined that the brouhaha was healthy because it showed how much white attitudes have changed since 1973.

What is ignored so far is that the Smith quote was basically nonsense. What are the quintessential elements of Texas barbeque? Brisket, traditionally considered an inferior cut, and hot links made of God knows what. Do you believe that the Texas barbecue tradition began in the German communities of central Texas, as many aver? Then you should note that the Germans are masters of using every conceivable part of the animal. Exhibit One: Head Cheese.

It’s time to ask the question, who exactly is this Griffin Smith Junior and what does he know about barbecue? Do a Google search and you will have a fascinating half hour. He was a classmate of Frank Broyles, founding editor of Texas Monthly, at Rice University. He was also a lawyer and his father was an Arkansas Supreme Court justice. In addition to the barbecue article he wrote about Texas sales tax shenanigans and incompetent governors and lawyers and Cajuns … in other words, a talented gadfly who is not necessarily a cultural anthropologist. Thus, 40 years later*, we might take his remarks with a grain of salt.

BBQ mutton ribs at Sam’s in Austin

I wanted to do my research on the ground so I asked for black-owned (the word “Negro” no longer pertains, per the U.S. Census) restaurants in Austin and my savvy sister pointed to Sam’s. (This recommendation was later seconded by Texas Monthly BBQ Editor Daniel Vaughn, who emailed me this about the controversy: “I think the comments about African Americans getting the worst cuts of meat had to do with what meats they were offered back during slavery and through the times of sharecropping. This informed the definitions of barbecue in Texas, but I don’t think anyone would tell you that the cuts used in white and black owned BBQ joints in the Texas varies much at all these days.”)

Sam’s was involved in a scandal a few years back in which certain people showed up with meat in their pants which apparently had exited a local supermarket without appropriate receipts, but restitution has been made and it is now a legitimate place whose greatest claim to fame may be that it stays open late to serve SXSW club kids and rockers in general, and has a jar of personal lubricants available for the taking. Oh, and they have mutton.

I tried a combo plate of brisket and mutton which were served with the only sides available, beans and potato salad; Becky shared her rib. I am glad I had barbecued mutton once but will not seek it out again. Tender mutton meat is great but mutton fat is skanky and there is no way you will get none of it. [Update: Davis Grocery, another black-owned place in nearby Taylor, has changed my mind about mutton.] Overall, this was middle of the road barbecue that gets barely a nod in Austin though it would earn five stars in another area.

But here’s the thing… the sauce was the most undistinguished part of the meal and it was served on the side, at my request, and completely unnecessary. Myth busted, based on a sample of one. Black barbecue=white barbecue=German barbecue=Negro barbecue and I embrace them all.

Also, irrespective of Robb Walsh’s other credientials, I will give him credit for a very long article on Texas Barbecue which appeared in the Houston Post in 2003, called “Barbecue in Black and White”. In the course of the article you will find a reference from a (black) pit boss to WHITES as the ones who put too much sauce on their meat. Take that, racists.

* Griffin Smith jr. (his preferred capitalization) has quite an afterstory as it turns out. In 1992 he became editor of the Arkansas Gazette and stayed there 20 years, during which time he apparently refused to allow the word “vomit” to be printed, would not allow seatbelts to be mentioned in reports of traffic accidents, and did his best to reconstruct the reputation of 1960s segregationist governor Orval Faubus before stepping down in 2012.

Here’s what I observed during our meal: several waiters hovering near our table (it was a slow time of the afternoon) who were instantly attentive to matters such as refilling water and removing empty serving plates. Prompt response whenever we asked for anything, from packaging our leftovers for takeout to adding another dish to our order. And most important, piping hot food which was rushed out of the kitchen, just as soon as the dish was ready, arriving in a steady sequence over our 80 minute meal.

Here’s what she said: the service was too impersonal. Food was brought out too fast. We were not offered upgrades, such as wine or sodas for our children instead of the water and tea that were brought automatically. She said she likes to linger over the menu and decompress before she starts eating, and she likes the wait staff to engage with her—not on the “Hi, my name is Tiffany, I’ll be your server today” level necessarily but by describing the dishes and the dining experience and perhaps offering advice on what to order.

She continued that this lack of engagement is in fact a complaint about Asian restaurants in general (Chinese and Korean, maybe not Japanese) and the reason P.F. Chang does so well with expensive mediocre food is that they overlay an American dining experience on the Asian menu.

So who’s right? Well, I am, of course, since I’m writing this blog. Food is the foundation and focus of the meal in a good restaurant, and conversation and the overall experience should be around enjoying that food. Since food is generally shared in a Chinese restaurant, that becomes an added sauce to the discussion: taste this, you’ll love it. The kitchen should get the first dish on the table as quickly as possible so the merriment can begin. And absolutely they should send out the food with whatever timing and sequence produces maximum enjoyment.

But on reflection I realized I might be in a minority. If I go out to a business lunch I’d prefer to eat great ethnic food in a hole in a wall than in a chain restaurant with bland ambience, but my clients seldom agree. And I remember wanting to take our hostess out in Provence to a thank you dinner, no holds barred in this region with great cuisine, and she insisted on offering places that were “pleasant”. (Luckily we ended up at a place that was pleasant, but with great food.)

Maybe that’s why I like writing about barbecue so much, and trying the most out-of-the way roadside pits. When the ambience consists in slapping a slab of magnificent meat on a sheet of butcher paper, there’s very little that can be done to dress up the experience and not much that can be expected. But that’s just me. What do you think?

Notice how much more fruit there is in the Frog Hollow marmalade (at right)

A good marmalade is a yin yang experience in which the tartness of the orange or lemon peel combines with the sweetness of the sugar base and is perfectly set off by some good butter atop a toasted slice of crusty bread. My friends at Frog Hollow Farm sent me their revised formula which they say has more citrus flavor because the other ingredients had been reduced and they’ve started adding the liquid from the pith, which was formerly discarded.

Marmalades

For comparison, I had a little jar of Dickinson’s which I recalled as pretty good. The ingredients were what you might expect from a mass product including pectin, citric acid (to produce that blast of tartness without relying on the orange peel) and corn syrup. The Frog Hollow Organic Navel Orange Marmalade has nothing but orange and sugar.

The most striking difference is in the appearance which you can see at the top of this post. The Frog Hollow is packed with long strands of orange peel while the competitor has a few flecks of fruit in the pectin base. The flavor of both is pretty good but I’d be a lot happier knowing the tartness came from a direct fruit source instead of citric acid (which by the way is an excellent crutch for many of my lazy preps; I have a bag of it in my kitchen).

And for those who like an extra kick, the Frog Hollow Meyer Organic Lemon Marmalade is a bit more sour, plus it has a definite lemon-y taste . That’s another benefit of using real fruit. An 8 oz jar will set you back $9 (plus shipping if you don’t live in San Francisco) but it’s a worthwhile splurge, especially because a little goes a long way; you’re not going to put this on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (I hope not anyway.) It’s listed on their website under “Spreadable Fruit”.

Corned Beef Bahn Mi

Once again I had a surplus of corned beef as a result of St. Paddy’s Day sales. Thinking about what I could do with it, I cast my eyes on a jar of Viet-style carrot and daikon pickle made with this recipe. Corned beef bahn mi… why not! After all, how different is this combination from the sauerkraut and corned beef on a reuben?

Bahn Mi deconstructed

I was missing many of the basic bahn mi ingredients so had to make substitutions. Lacking a nice crusty bahn mi roll made with rice flour, I used one of my own baguettes. I didn’t have any Kewpie mayo so put regular mayo on one side of the roll, butter on the other. I didn’t have jalapenos so added a line of Sriracha. I didn’t have cilantro but did have some basil which was on its way to the compost bin… wilted but still flavorful.

The bun went into the toaster oven and the corned beef into the microwave, then I assembled the result shown here. It was excellent! The big surprise was how nicely the bitter basil set off the unctuousness of the corned beef. The pickle/meat juxtaposition was just as good as I thought it would be. I then started tinkering: added fish sauce, which didn’t help, because the beef was already salty enough. I then tried some hoisin which made the experience richer and more mellow though somehow less bahn-mi like… I like the funkiness of the simple, strongly flavored ingredients.

Next time I might add some pate for a Carnegie Deli-type mashup, or even some head cheese for an ironic Reuben. But this first effort gets a solid 4=I’d do that again!