The Kitchen Sink

A Nog for the Egg-o-phobic

Mon, 01 Dec 2008 16:55:15 GMT

Posted by Denise Mickelsen

"Christmas is not properly observed unless you brew egg nogg for all comers."
—unknown source, 1866

I don’t eat eggs. Ask anyone who knows me, and they will tell you that I have not eaten eggs on their own – scrambled, poached, deviled, or in a salad – since I was 2 years old. I don’t know if it’s the texture of eggs, the odor, or the flavor (or all three), but I stand strong in my distaste. The incredible, edible egg is not for me.

That said, I volunteered to edit the holiday drink story in the current issue, which of course includes eggnog. I have never been a fan of the store-bought stuff: it’s too thick, too rich, and cloyingly sweet. The fact that it’s made of eggs, of course, never helped.

Does eggnog have to be this way? I wondered. Surely, making it from scratch would help. I could control the sweetness, the thickness, and I could even control the egg-i-ness! And so Allison and I set out to create an eggnog that even an egg hater would love.

It’s a simple enough formula. Blend egg yolks, sugar, and a pinch of salt until thick and pale yellow, add your liquor of choice (our version calls for combination of dark rum, brandy, and bourbon), then stir in cream and milk. I let that mixture chill overnight and folded in beaten egg whites the next morning. The drink chilled for another few hours, then I packed it up and brought it to my mom’s house for our holiday festivities.

Garnished with a dusting of freshly grated nutmeg, the eggnog was frothy, creamy, and light as air. Just sweet enough, the milk helped to lighten the mix and the alcohol was mellow and warming. My sister drank her glass down in minutes and asked for more. Even my mother, who is not an eggnog drinker either, asked for a taste and proclaimed it delicious. I loved it too, which is great. Now I can honestly say that I like eggs, as long as I can drink them.

Thanksgiving with the Chefs: Alfred Portale

Tue, 18 Nov 2008 21:08:26 GMT

If you're looking for a new spin on the traditional Thanksgiving turkey, you can't do better than Alfred Portale's version rubbed with a juniper-ginger butter. We caught up with Alfred in the kitchen at NYC's Gotham Bar and Grill to learn more about the juniper berries he uses in the compound butter.

Preview Fine Cooking's Newest Issue

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 14:40:04 GMT

While shopping at Ottomanelli's Meat Market in NYC's West Village, FC Editor Laurie Buckle pauses to give a sneak peek at the October/November issue.

Want to see more? Browse this issue online.

Ripped from the Pages of Fine Cooking

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 20:53:21 GMT

Posted by Lisa Waddle

I’ve always considered myself a prize, but as of last month, it’s officially true. To be honest, it wasn’t just me that was the prize, but the entire Fine Cooking staff. Fortunately, we didn’t have to squeeze into a box to be gift-wrapped. Instead, we hosted “A Taste of Fine Cooking,” offering a behind-the-scenes look at the magazine and Web site, as part of a charity auction sponsored by Woodbridge Winery to benefit America’s Second Harvest.

A pretty humble group, we were all initially bowled over that anyone would pay money to spend the day with us. But because it was for charity, we soon got over it, and proudly showed Michael and Sharon Jones (the top bidders) a grand time. They flew in all the way from the West Coast and started the day with a tour of the bucolic Taunton campus. They sat in on a photo shoot of Christmas cookies (we work pretty far ahead here), and took part in a recipe tasting that included a chicken dish for a New Year’s holiday menu.

Of course, this being Fine Cooking, food was a big part of their visit. They ate lunch with the staff in our company cafeteria, and later were the guests of honor at a fresh-from-the-farm dinner ripped right from the pages of our July issue. It was a lovely New England summer night, with the stars overhead and our capable recipe tester Dabney Gough manning the grill, assisted by our kitchen intern Will Moyer (pictured left). Sharon (also left) was most interested in the technique involved in making the Grilled Flatbreads. “When I got my issue of the magazine I wanted to try it, but I thought the dough would fall through the grates,” she said. “Now I see how easy it is.” After dipping the thin, smoky bread into the Lemon-Garlic Oil with Herbs, Michael announced this would be their new go-to dish when they entertained guests at home. Both closely watched the grilling of the Apricot-Balsamic Glazed Chicken, asking questions and picking up cooking and shopping tips from the staff. Once we sat down and started passing around the salads, (accompanied by crisp Woodbridge Wines) the talk had moved beyond cooking into travel and house design. And by the time the Lemon-Buttermilk Pudding Cakes were served (along with a few cookies salvaged from that day’s photo shoot), we all felt like Michael and Sharon were old friends. (I think the feeling was mutual, as they invited us to visit them anytime we were in the Southern California area.)

It’s too bad we couldn’t spend a day with every one of our readers, to show them how recipes go from ideas to our pages and hear what inspires them to cook. But then I guess there wouldn’t be any time to actually write and put out the magazine.

A Week in the Life

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 20:49:23 GMT

Posted by guest blogger Evan Barbour

I came to a conclusion during this past school year at NYU. While working at another internship that was interesting but, well, just not what I saw myself doing every day for the rest of my life, my mind wandered. You see, my internship often involved surfing the net, which may seem like a dream come true to some. However, it became somewhat of a torture for me as my searches for brand blasts and run-of-network ads often yielded Diner’s Journal, Culinary Concoctions by Peabody and Gild the Voodoolily, or the newest menu at a restaurant that I planned to visit in the coming weeks, such as Dressler. You get the picture: I constantly have visions of recipes, restaurants, reviews and delicious foods dancing in my head.

Enter Fine Cooking. As you may have guessed, I read the gamut of food magazines out there, and Fine Cooking has always been on my roster. My first week of interning here has given me an inside look at the workings of the magazine—the antithesis of a typical dread inducing, chore-ridden internship. Sure, there’s been some copy-making, chores and spreadsheet-tending, but when that means reorganizing a library full of cookbooks (at right) or playing with a database of ingredients, the tasks feel more like a way to indulge my interest in all things cooking.

One of my first projects was helping to organize a tasting panel for jarred roasted red peppers (at left), which allowed me to get up close and personal with the little guys. It was interesting to discover the nuances in taste, appearance and texture among different brands of a common product. Not only did I explore their taste, but I also investigated their origin. I had to contact the companies and ask about where they distribute each brand, so that readers can find out where to get our favorite picks.

Although I don’t have any pictures, I also attended a tasting for future recipes (if I told you what they were, I’d have to kill you), and was introduced to the test kitchen. Although I’ve worked in a restaurant kitchen before, the test kitchen was definitely foreign territory, as it is far homier than the latter. An editor also showed me the photo studio and the props closet (HUGE!), which was lined with serving dishes, all sorts of cookware and bakeware and kitchen accessories of every shape, size and color.

As fun as recipe tastings are, my favorite part of my first week has been sitting in on staff meetings. Listening to the meetings has given me the most insight into the staff dynamics of Fine Cooking, and I am now reading the magazine in a different light. So, with to-do list in hand, I begin my summer internship!

A Baby Vegetable in Winter

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 21:32:14 GMT

Posted by guest blogger Kelly Gearity

I recently started work as Fine Cooking’s photo coordinator. It is turning out to be one of the best and most interesting jobs I have ever had. However, one of the peculiarities of planning photo shoots for a cooking magazine is the need to find ingredients at the absolute wrong time for the local growing seasons. If you are lucky, you are shooting in season, but the reality, more often than not, is very different.

Take our latest edition of the special issue Fresh, for example, coming out this spring. With deadlines for this issue looming, the photo shoot for the story on baby vegetables was squeezed into the photo schedule in late February--not exactly spring gardening time in Connecticut! Lucky for us, Robert Schueller, from Melissa’s/World Variety Produce came to our rescue. As soon as special issues editor Joanne called up Robert to explain what the story was about, box after box of the cutest little baby veggies you have ever seen started to arrive at our doorstep.

Unfortunately for us, photo shoot day arrived along with a nasty Nor’easter. The weather was so bad that our offices even closed early due to the dangerous road conditions. But with our deadline looming, we pressed ahead with the shoot. (That’s Joanne, at left, bringing the last of the babies through the snow to the photo studio.)

So when you are reading this issue after it hits the newsstands in April and you see the fabulous photos of seasonal produce, please remember Joanne, Steve, Scott, Allison and the rest of the crew that day, braving the snow with our babies to get the springtime photos we needed!

Found in Translation

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 21:50:47 GMT

Posted by Lisa Waddle

As equipment editor, I often receive press materials from foreign companies new to the American market. And even though a company might have a century or more experience as artisan craftsmen in Europe or Asia, the English language often trips up companies in their marketing brochures and press releases.

I remember a French baking pan manufacturer that most likely did not have a native English speaker proofread its brochure. It promised that its pan would produce a cake that would “Whew your guest every time!” (Well, I do say “whew!” every time I invert one of those intricately molded pans and the cake releases without sticking.)

Sometimes these mistranslations unintentionally veer into the philosophical, like this from an Asian knife maker: “All is up to you. If you take good care for the classy knife, you will have all your life a sharp knife in your block.” That almost sounds like it could come from a fortune cookie.

And occasionally, these translations improve on the often-mundane language that fills American marketing materials. A German knife company that just recently entered the U.S. market offered this advice on caring for its wood-handled knives: “Such a knife nestles in the user’s hand. It naturally doesn’t want to be confronted with the rough world of the dishwasher.”

Now, doesn’t that sound a lot better than “Not dishwasher-safe”?

Hoisin sauce, anyone?

Mon, 11 Feb 2008 19:44:33 GMT

Posted by Denise Mickelsen

Last October, I arrived to my first day of work at Fine Cooking to find my colleagues ready and waiting for me. I had my first story assignment (and my second, third, and fourth) within moments of sitting down at my desk. I also learned which “departments” (short columns that appear in every issue) I would edit. The Tasting Panel department is one of them. It’s up to me to choose a common supermarket ingredient, find national brands of said item, and conduct a taste test, with my fellow editors, to determine which brand we most recommend to our readers. For the best results, the ingredient in question is tasted straight up, as close to its natural state as possible.

Doesn’t sound that bad, right? Perhaps this short list of recent Tasting Panel items may change your mind:

• Capers, salted and in brine
• Champagne vinegar
• Jarred mayonnaise
• Tomato paste
• Hoisin sauce

Imagine, if you will, trying to muster enthusiasm from your colleagues to attend a tasting of six hoisin sauces (above right). I am not always popular.

It’s not all bad though, because we do learn a lot. Not everyone knows right away which brand of diced canned tomatoes they like among the hundreds lining the supermarket shelves. And it’s incredible how very different the same ingredient looks, smells, and tastes from one brand to another.

I have to give my fellow editors credit too, because they not only attend the tastings no matter what’s on the menu, but they take them very seriously and provide me with ample commentary, both positive and negative. One recent example from the hoisin tasting that I particularly enjoyed said that the sauce’s flavor profile was “like a sesame seed beat up a soybean and stole its lunch money.”

So in all seriousness, I don't mind editing Tasting Panel. After all, we are saving readers the trouble of tasting ten different soy sauces, or eight kinds of Dijon mustard. But why couldn’t I have been here for the chocolate ice cream panel?

The Knive-y League

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 14:29:23 GMT

Posted by Sarah Breckenridge

Ever have the nightmare where you discover on the last day of the semester that you're enrolled in a class you didn't know about, and now it's time for the final? I found myself remembering that dream last week when I visited the campus of Johnson & Wales University in Charlotte, NC. I was there to shoot some web videos with J&W chef Peter Reinhart (keep an eye out for his article on pizza in issue 92, and the videos on the web). The evening before the shoot, Peter gave me a tour of the campus and we had dinner at the student-run restaurant, where they happened to be serving the foods of Spain and Portugal (that's Peter, above right, before digging into his paella).

When I went to culinary school, it was well after college, and it bore little resemblance to a true college experience: I'd go to class for four hours in the morning, then go to work, and there wasn't a whole lot of extracurricular activity. But here at J&W, it was culinary school AS college: the university bookstore stocked F. Dick knives and pastry bag sets; banners advertised the upcoming winter formal. It felt a little surreal.

In one hallway, students were setting up their "final exam" for the garde manger segment they had just finished: a Grand Buffet of classic charcuterie: terrines, galantines, rillettes, pate en croute featuring pork (left), duck, chicken, or salmon (right), all artfully arranged on glistening trays of aspic. A student-carved ice sculpture towered over it all. My memory of my own class's Grand Buffet is that the terrines looked a lot better than they tasted, but these kids did a pretty delicious job of it.

Still, I found myself wondering if they ever have that classic college-student nightmare. If so, it must be much worse than mine were. You may be able to cram a semester's worth of physics into an all-nighter, creating a Grand Buffet just doesn't happen overnight.

Just Call Me Cinderella

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 17:00:55 GMT

Posted by Dabney Gough

The perks of working for a cooking magazine are pretty great. Most of the perks are intangible - like the thrill of seeing my name in print or the reaction I get when I tell people what I do for a living. Some of the benefits are more concrete, like getting to take home leftovers from recipe testing (which means I hardly ever have to cook dinner on weeknights).

But just in case you were thinking that our days are nothing more than an endless stream of tastings and hobnobbing with famous authors, let me give you a little reality check:

There’s grease dripping from that ventilation hood, and someone has to clean it out. And that someone is me.

I knew the day was coming: as soon as those drips start to appear, it’s due for a cleaning, and I had let it go far too long. So yesterday I dressed down (even more than usual), knowing that a messy task was ahead of me. After I finished cleaning up from testing, I pulled out the stepladder and approached the stove.

Have you ever cleaned a ventilation hood? It’s kind of a marvel, really, because it’s easy to forget that steam isn’t the only thing that becomes airborne when you cook on the stovetop. There you are, happily searing your steaks, while thousands of tiny droplets of oil are swimming in the air around you. Not just spattering above the pan, but actually flying several feet above your head. And there’s so much of this vaporized fat up there that it eventually collects back into a liquid.

Gross, huh?

It’s not as bad as I’m making it sound, actually. In fact, there is a certain satisfaction to be had in taking something so…well, gunky, and making it sparkle.

Doing the dishes after recipe testing? That’s another story.