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by BS

Finally, Pants Fit for a Food Blogger

We get a lot of pointless press releases here at ES, mostly for ridiculous unitaskers that we would never recommend. But once in a blue moon, we here about something that is just pure genius. This is one of those moments.

‘Tis a problem as old as the savage feast — you eat too much and your belly blasts the button right off your pants. In the past, gluttons safeguarded themselves by undoing their trousers before appetizers or by dining in elastic sweats, togas or mumus. At long last, there’s a stylish solution. San Francisco pantmaker betabrand.com teamed up with legendary chef Chris Cosentino, proprietor of Incanto (a restaurant where folks can dine on whole hogs’ heads), to create trousers for gluttons.

Yes, it’s a pair of pants that fits normally, but then allows you to expand your waist size to one of three different girths, depending on just how much of a glutton you’ve decided to be that night. I can’t tell you how many times I have wished this existed.

by Maids

The Great Bagel Debate: Montreal v. NYC

A little over a month ago I ventured to the FAR NORTH with my new hubbie (Romeo). That’s right folks, I’m talking about Canada. We spent a little under a week in Montreal, an exceedingly charming city full of appealing, beautiful, smiling, amiable people who seemed to do almost everything better than their southern neighbors.

Our luggage arrived at baggage claim within mere seconds of us exiting the secure area and public transportation was far-advanced and gloriously easy to understand. The city was thoroughly walkable and every neighborhood left us gasping at its beauty. Nearly everyone was bilingual yet didn’t look down on us for our inability to speak French. The food courts were full of healthy food: fresh and delicious and diverse. The more upscale dining joints were completely comfortable with my food limitations and whipped up thoroughly decadent dishes.

Everything was beautiful, perfect and French Canadian. I was in love.

I was eager to try one particular morsel of Montreal cuisine that I had heard about from all the Canucks I’ve ever known: The Montreal bagel.

Every Canuck I’ve come across has sung the praises of the Montreal bagel, asserting its clear superiority over the New York bagel. As it was hard for me, the daughter of a New York Jew, to imagine any way of improving on a genuine New York bagel (far easier to improve on the piss-poor excuse for bagels we tend to encounter in DC), I couldn’t wait to try this mythic culinary invention.

Would the Montreal bagel stand up to my expectations? And what’s the difference between a Montreal bagel and a NYC bagel anyway? Answers after the jump….

It Never Really Has

Saved your fucking life

It never really has

If people over and stores are closed u can buy a couple 29oz

“It never really has,” he calmly answered.

My mouth opened wide.

Seconds before I finished inquiring, no, delighting, gushing in the fact that my friend Eick of So Good lived in the most luxurious apartment building in the city. In the lobby, just around the corner from the elevator, glowed a vending machine.

Potato chips. M&Ms. Coke.

Luckiest. Renter. On. Earth.

So I asked him:

“How much do you love your vending machine?”
“What’s your best, funniest memory of your vending machine?”
(And I’m now screaming) “When did this vending machine save your fucking life?!”

“It never really has.”

in Personal 6 comments

by forkitude

180 Degrees…and I Don’t Mean Fahrenheit

Editor’s Note: Please welcome our newest contributor, the Omaha, Nebraska-based forkitude. A former high-powered businesswoman, forkitude is now trying her hand at the world of culinary school and restaurant work, and we’re excited to hear all the inside details.

Goodbye business suit; hello chef’s coat. After eight years in finance, a few of which literally seemed like Armageddon, I have made the giant leap, the 180-degree spin into the culinary world. Food has been a passion of mine for quite some time. They say you are doing what you were meant to do when 5 hours have passed and it seemed like 5 minutes. (This is how I burn the croutons, by the way.)

If one thing is for sure as both a financial advisor and as a chef, your head must be in the game and you need some tough skin. I can still picture a veteran, white-haired financial advisor walking the hallway in the midst of the market crash of 2008, his face a white color to match his hair. That was trial by fire. This is my new trial by fire. I will share some of the translations from the business world to the culinary world as well as some observations I have made in my short time on the line. I hope you can laugh with me, and maybe you will be inspired to follow your passion too. Take a hike, pantyhose and heels. I didn’t really ever need you since I am already 6’0” tall. But thanks anyway for helping me rock the business skirt suit. We had some good times.

So, just a few weeks in, here are some of my most valuable lessons about restaurant work so far:

Salt is your best buddy. Sodium chloride has been receiving quite the beat down in the news lately. I completely agree that processed foods should reduce sodium. Perhaps a bag of potato chips should not make your eyes shrivel and make you feel like the Michelin man. However, salt is a chef’s ally. Proper seasoning is vital or the food tastes bland. Who wants to spend $34 for a plate of bland food? I’m guessing not you. A very small amount of our salt intake comes from the proper seasoning of fresh food. So deal with it. Don’t knock chefs for putting salt in your food. And don’t knock financial advisors when they try their best to give you advice without knowing the future. Everyone needs a little seasoning and bit of advice every now and then.

Mise en place is a way of life. Mise en place – French for “put in place”. This means get your shit together BEFORE service. Prep, arrange, organize, slice what needs to be sliced, peel what needs to be peeled. Prepping during service? Epic fail. You will sink like the Titanic. Much like prepping for the huge prospect meeting, get your shit together before the big show or you will look like a complete idiot. Not only do you need all of the necessary ingredients, but your mind must be ready. Get in the right state of mind. If your mind is somewhere else, you will screw up. Trust me. One more thing: your mise en place is not a snack bar. Don’t eat your work, or other people’s for that matter.

Fourteen Hours

Wow. As you’re reading this I will be on a 14 -hour flight to Toyko. Holy poop balls.

Instead of printing our itineraries, properly rolling clothes and desperately seeking out sleeping pills, 80 and I watched Andrew Zimmerman’s fucked-up eating show, Bizarre Foods. His Japan episode, of course.

And my lord I’m terrified. I know the whole point of his show is to eat the craziest shit possible, but it still made me really nervous, yet excited, for the very new animals I will be eating. Or try to eat. Or try not to puke up.

This clip is particularly interesting. (And Osaka is one of our stops!) At the very end of this segment you’ll see Andrew eating raw horse. It’s actually raw horse mane: the strip of tissue horse hair is attached to. He calls it buttery.

So dudes. Wish me luck, as 80 and I fuck shit up on the other side of the world. Or at least take pictures that make us look like we’re cool.

in Personal 1 comments

by Russell Warnick

High Tea

In an effort to bring some class and sophistication to Endless Simmer (it is possible) I decided to host a High Tea for some of our DC food friends. High Tea is somewhat of an institution in my homeland of Britannia, but here in DC there are some pretty excellent high teas, and apparently it’s going a little underground over in London. My good friend Lucy who lives in London is well versed in organizing tea parties, so I hit her up for some tips on throwing one. Lucy says there are six rules to high tea:

Begin with a glass of Champagne.
Tea should be poured from a proper teapot into china tea cups sitting on saucers.
A selection of finger sandwiches, crusts removed, such as egg & ‘cress and cucumber are a must.
Serve freshly baked scones with preserve and clotted cream.
Serve a selection of other cakes such as cupcakes, brownies or fondant fancies.
Present food on a two tiered cake stand, preferably vintage.

Well…keep reading for my interpretation.

Lessons From Rotted Okra

I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions anymore. Well, only kinds to start smoking. But I would like to make two resolutions for the upcoming farmers market season. The picture above perfectly exemplifies my two points.

1. Experiment
I’ve only tried okra from other people’s cooking and I had mixed feelings on the vegetable. (This was a good memory.) I bought some at the far mar but I was so nervous with what to do with it that I let it go bad. I need to be brave this season and

2. Not Waste
There was really no reason for this lovely, furry green rod to rot in my fridge. Part of the problem is my lack of courage in dealing with the finicky okra, but the other is I will buy too much. Everything looks so gorgeous at the market and I want to buy it all. I need to come prepared with a plan and not just buy all of the beautiful produce I can carry.

in Personal / Veggie 6 comments