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‘Ace of Cakes’ Duff Goldman Now Has His Own Dessert Wine Called Steel Kitten

‘Ace of Cakes’ Duff Goldman Now Has His Own Dessert Wine Called Steel Kitten


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Goldman even welded a copper kitten to serve as the wine’s label inspiration

Duff Goldman’s dessert wine is “fruity, dense, and tough as nails.”

Your favorite bald baker, Food Network’s Duff Goldman, has recently launched a dessert wine in collaboration with Club W, a monthly wine club.

Steel Kitten, as it was named by Goldman himself, was born from a desire “to create something soft and cuddly like a kitten, but with an element of roughness and hardness,” said Brian Smith, chief wine officer and co-founder of Club W. “The result is a late harvest, port style Syrah that’s fruity, dense, and tough as nails.”

The result, a “big, bold, and sugary sweet red” with notes of date, raisin, and dark fruit, is meant to be enjoyed on its own or paired with dessert, of course. In his own workshop, Goldman even created the label inspiration for Steel Kitten, a copper-welded cat.

On Club W’s blog, you can see Goldman’s creative process, plus photos of his visit to the winery in Santa Barbara, California, where the Ace of Cakes showed up to help crush the grapes and fortify the wine.


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Vitaregimen

I inspect my kids’ cheese-and-chocolate-covered hands before I allow them to lay a finger on my keyboard. I can also tell when they’ve been using my iPod touch, when instead of gliding, my finger mysteriously snags on some invisible snail trail (most likely grape jelly). 

So I was horrified this morning when I found a drop of water had somehow found its way onto the casing of my laptop as I was making my morning tea (the dreaded ‘liquid intrusion’ in airline engineering-speak).

I can’t imagine having an expensive electronic device in the kitchen. So I have my doubts about this NYT piece extolling the virtues of digital cookbooks—namely its prediction of the possible demise of the print versions. Although I have to give it to the developers—the concept of organizing the way a recipe is presented based on a cook’s level of skill could be very useful—there’s something to be said about the gravy stains, the writing in the margins, the dog ears, and the memories contained in books. Even the writer says so (up to a point):

“Cookbooks have long offered their own kind of enriched content, in the form of scribbles left in the margins by cooks who found they liked a little extra cinnamon, or a higher oven temperature. As it turns out, there’s an app for that, too.”

Julia Moskin, The New York Times

There’s an app for that? Wow!

Can you imagine handing down your flour-stained tablet to your grandkids? I think not. 

The following is a re-broadcast of a previous post I wrote about that great American cookbook, The Joy of Cooking – which ironically experienced a similar midlife crisis due to the major revisions featured in the 75 th anniversary edition:

(Originally Published: November 3, 2006)

I'm down with JOC

The publishers of the Joy of Cooking, that lovable, hoary old standard, have come up with a new version in honor of the 75th anniversary of the original book. 

The mantra among housewives in the old days? ‘Better living through chemistry and pre-prepared goods.’ Why put yourself out shelling peas when you could buy them flash-frozen and ready to heat?   The old Joy of Cooking seemed to take this to heart, seeing no irony in including ingredients like canned cream of chicken soup alongside recipes for roasted small game birds.  If household cooks wanted more complex fare, they could certainly flip through the pages for instructions on how to make pâté en croute, but more likely they’d head out to a restaurant instead.

Times have changed-- increasing popularity of niche programming like The Food Network and Yahoo Food is evidence that people's tastes are becoming more diverse. Being able to witness food trends from around the world in living color, they're gathering the courage to become gourmets in their own kitchens — paying premium prices for exotic ingredients at stores like Whole Foods.  (Or at least, getting their kicks watching other people cook on tv and online.)

When it comes to The Joy of Cooking, its fanboys appear to suffer a full-blown identity crisis every time a new version is published. The question is, how do you update a homely almost century-old handbook of culinary arts in an age when the cult of personality of a chef—the Martha Stewarts and Rachael Rays of this world—often overshadows the actual recipes in the book?  Should it be home and hearth-y, or high-falutin’ and extreme? Green and healthy, or rich and sumptuous? Can it possibly be all things to all people?

I have a newer version of the book, but the one that's burned indelibly in my mind is the copy of my mother's book published in 1962.   Its familiar aqua-colored cover is literally stuffed to bursting with recipes, old mimeograph sheets and magazine articles about entertaining from her house party heydays in the sixties and seventies, now tenuously held together by a series of rubber bands.

I'm not kidding—it was my favorite book growing up—right up there with the Little House on the Prairie series and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  Featuring every ingredient from blood (a ‘ desirable thickener’ for sauces and gravies it says) to fish sperm (included in the section on roe and milt  on page 374), it was a fascinating read.

I loved the quaint little drawings featuring the Mystery Hostess, dressed primly in black, her small wrists accented with a very ladylike pearl bracelet or a delicate white ruffle.  Gentle feminine admonitions and fables were sprinkled liberally throughout. From a section titled Pies, Pastes and Filled Pastries: “Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony.  In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it."  Amen, sister!

As I got older, Joy became my Panic Book—a go-to place when I forgot something blindingly simple, like how long to bake a potato in the oven, or what ingredients go in pie dough. Because to the JOC, there is no such thing as a stupid question. 

Maybe the Joy of Cooking shouldn’t even try to match the hipness cookbooks of today—there's absolutley nothing wrong with being a retro receptacle of sentimentality.   

Tags: Are You There God?, cookbooks, cooking, food, Food Network, frozen food, iPod, iPod touch, It's Me Margaret, Joy of Cooking, Little House on the Prarie, recipes, tablet, Technology, web, Whole Foods, Yahoo Food


Watch the video: Φανουρόπιτα της Αργυρώς. Αργυρώ Μπαρμπαρίγου (June 2022).


Comments:

  1. Marsilius

    There's something about that, and it's a great idea. I am ready to support you.

  2. Kazraran

    I wanted to take another look, but damn it .. I didn't have time!

  3. Zunos

    Please, tell more in detail..

  4. Jerrell

    Of course not.

  5. Zushura

    subscribed write more

  6. Kristof

    It is remarkable, this very valuable opinion



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