Up here in Canuckistan we’ve long since had our Thanksgiving (we have to get it over with before the weather changes and the only people on the roads are Ice Truckers) and it generally features a simple roast turkey, generally stuffed with bread cubes, celery, brandy-soaked raisins, old doll parts, Monopoly dice, and anything else Mom finds in the bottom of the junk drawer. It’s quite a fun tradition, really: if you get the Barbie head, or roll snake eyes, you get to make a wish on the moose antlers. After the meal and the ritual round of butter tarts, the whole family compliments the cook and then sneaks out the back way to Timmy’s, where they can at least get good coffee.

moose antlers are a badassCanuck wishbone substitute

This confused me until I watched the following video, and now it all makes sense. I, too, like to celebrate special occasions by having a few firefighters over to the Global HQ, and this looks like the best way to guarantee they’ll actually show up.

via TheAwl

via TheAwl

Open wide, New York State

Congratulations and commiserations to the people of New York State, who now have this gibbering 70′s throwback as their common-law First Lady. At least the political news has a shot at being mildly amusing, in, say, the way laughing at a 39-year-old with a Scooby Doo birthday theme is mildly amusing.

Let’s check out one of the lady’s recipes, shall we? What about her infamous Kwanzaa Cake?

1 (10 to 12-ounce) purchased angel food cake
1 container (16 ounce) vanilla frosting
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 (21-ounce) container apple filling or topping
1 (1.7-ounce) package corn nuts
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds, toasted
1/2 cup popped popcorn

Special Equipment:
Kwanzaa candles

Using a serrated knife, cut cake horizontally into 2 layers. Place bottom cake layer, cut side up, on a serving platter. Mix frosting, cocoa powder, vanilla, and cinnamon in large bowl until combined. Spread about 1/4 of the frosting over top of cake layer on platter. Top with second cake layer, cut side down. Spread remaining frosting evenly over top and sides of cake to coat completely. Spoon apple pie filling into hole in center of cake. Place candles atop cake. Sprinkle top of cake with some corn nuts, pumpkin seeds, and popcorn. Sprinkle remaining corn nuts and pumpkin seeds around base of cake.

And then, presumably, set it on fire and give heartfelt Kwanzaa thanks for the fact that nobody could expect you to put that in your mouth.

Well, I promised it’d be different, didn’t I? Today we’re going to cover barbequeing with gin, just as winter’s setting in. Hey, brush the snow off the grill and fire it up; everybody loves playing with fire!

Todays foodie blog is a drinkie blog brought to you by the two times (so far, don’t be strangers, boys!) that Bombay Sapphire gin has invited me to their special tasting events with their global Gin Ambassador, Merlin Griffiths, a man who truly knows that the way to a blogger’s heart is through her liver.

Sure, Bombay makes a tasty cocktail, every discerning barfly knows that, and in fact it made three or four of them at the Spice Up the Summer event, but even more, it makes a pretty nifty ingredient in some surprising and creative dishes, courtesy of Rob Rainford, Canuckistan’s Guru of the Grill, author of License to Grill, and The Sister’s secret crush.

Like: Marinated, Grilled Tri-Tip Steak:

The gin replaces the vinegar and speeds up the marination process considerably, to say nothing of adding a savory herbal/floral bouquet of its own. The juniper in the gin goes amazingly well with grilled beef, particularly if you avoid the temptation to add those gimmicky and overwhelming mesquite chips to the grill. The result is a lighter impression, with delicate wafts of botanicals spiraling around the taste of the pure beef. Different, but definitely worthwhile

In Part 2 of the video, Rob gives the slickest secret of barbeque success I’ve ever seen. But I won’t spoil it for you: click and see what a man who’s good with his hands can do for your next meatfest.

And my favorite from the event, Leg of Lamb:

And the very bizarre, yet quite tasty, Smoked Honeydew Melon Soup, along with how to make a smoke pouch.

Round about the time they were serving the fourth cocktail, things got a little cross-talky, but hey, that’s how you know the party is a hit, right? At that point, Rob introduced the Bombay Sapphire Salsa Fresca that he’d made, and which I can highly recommend. Actually, a really good floral gin is not a bad substitute any time you’d use a high-end white tequila or even dry white Cuban rum. In this video, Merlin also goes over the critical ingredients for any successful cocktail.

And yes, of COURSE I have the cocktail recipes … coming soon.

All videos and image below courtesy of AHA Media. Top image courtesy Emme Rogers.

photo, Maggie Hoffman

Urban Daddy has info on an illicit grilled cheese dealer, operating under the radar out of an apartment in New York’s East Village. Though Urban Daddy reports that the company, called Bread. Butter. Cheese., offers delivery of said hot, gooey, pressed sandwiches, according to BBC’s Facebook page, it is take out only. Which means you’re going to someone’s apartment and paying money for some bread, some butter, and some cheese. Seems a bit of a scam, but I guess, when that jones for a grilled cheese hits and your larder is bare, who you gonna call? Now we know.

I went to high school in the golden age of the vending machine, before children’s health advocates sought to remove the blasted things from the hallowed halls of our nation’s schools. To save lunch money so as to be able to put it toward more elicit enterprises, I often skipped the cafeteria (despite the fact that it offered delicious Chick-fil-a sandwiches) in favor of the super cheap “canteen,” a vast city of Coke machines and Frito-Lay.

Though I usually opted for what was considered the “cool” lunch combo – a pack of Mambas and a Diet Coke, I sometimes “accidentally” pushed the button for Red Zingers, only to be “forced” to eat the day-glo cakes because my maladroit hands had misfired. I felt shame, but still oh so happy to sink my teeth into the artificial moistness of the buoyant flesh of the little suckers.

Now, however, my humiliation in enjoying snack cakes can be outlawed like oh so many vending machines, thanks to bakeries that are doing their own high end versions of childhood favorites.

In Southern California comes Cake Monkey, which offers a wide assortment of prettily packaged treats.

I am particularly fond of the  Cakewiches (especially the peanut butter creme) because I love a good chocolate coating.

In Denver, Watercourse Bakery offers a vegan version of the classic Ho Ho, a beautifully constructed monstrosity of mysterious, but reliably sourced ingredients

photo Liz Kellermeyer, Westword

If only they’d sold these in the canteen, I could have spent those formative years with my head held high instead mired in a bed of cream filled ignominy.

First, hello there, Manolophiles. I’m Katie. I love the food. I love the drink. I like to write about it.

And so we’re off.

A recent New York Times article reminded me of a reporting trip I took to New Orleans several years ago. While I was ostensibly in the Big Easy to investigate issues in education, all trips to N’awlins are really at their heart about food. So I ate, and ate, and when I had the weekend off, I rented a car, traveled further into Cajun country and ate some more.

Then, I stumbled across this…

Why, it was the 72nd Annual Shrimp and Petroleum Festival!

As a lover of shrimp and a user of petrol, there was no question that I had to stop and partake.

And so, I watched the crowning of the Shrimp and Petroleum Queen.

I ate some shrimp.

I ate some more shrimp. Fried and skewered, this dish featured a more traditional pairing of oil and crustacean.

At the time, the combined celebration of two key Louisiana industries amused and perplexed. Now the troubled feeling in my belly that emerges as I think about the festival is not merely from too much deep fried fun.

But the people of Morgan City, LA, home of the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival, which will celebrate its 75th anniversary this September, are not letting the recent spill stop them. And who am I to judge? Unless, of course, said judging is of the festival’s beauty pageant, in which case, I’m partial to Miss Louisiana Crawfish Queen, who I believe has the experience necessary to wear the Miss Shrimp and Petroleum crown with style.

Push cart peddlers clog New York streets! Mayor LaGuardia up in arms!

In 1936 the mayor rose up in anger against immigrants clogging the streets hawking wares from push carts. Your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore? Phooey. LaGuardia thought them positively unsanitary.

Today push cart peddling has returned. With only an occasional foray to Citarella or Zabar’s, Leyla manages to shop principally from farmers markets. Wednesdays and Sundays are Union Square. Saturday is Columbus Avenue beside the Museum of Natural History. Shlepping milk 80 blocks takes a lot of time and trouble, but her table is set with the freshest, tastiest foods.

It’s all local – Ronnybrook Dairy milk and yogurt, artisanal sheep and goat cheeses, dark wintered-over greens, bosc pears, and apples of every description. Recently Mr. Henry has fallen in love with Quaker Hill Farm honey and eggs (goose eggs, no less).

When La Guardia insisted that push cart peddlers take up residence in covered market stalls, the grocery business began to consolidate into mom and pop stores run chiefly by Italians. These in turn consolidated into a few large chains. Then in the 1980’s came the Korean-owned fruit and vegetable markets featuring salad bars, the go-to solution for harried office workers.

Now Fresh Direct trucks clog city cross streets, hardly an improvement over the push cart of yore. The very best fruits, vegetables and dairy can be found once again on sidewalk peddler carts. Weathered panel trucks with New Jersey and Pennsylvania plates sidle up and disgorge large ice chests of the most remarkable goodies imaginable. Sic transit gloria mundi.

After explaining how certain plants have co-evolved through human cultivation (The Botany of Desire), after explaining why fakockteh factory frankenfoods are ruining our bodies and our planet (The Omnivore’s Dilemma), and after laying out an eater’s manifesto for the age (In Defense of Food), now Michael Pollan is laying down the law about exactly what to eat (Food Rules).

This we need?

Taken as a whole, the book’s 64 prescriptions confirm something more: Michael Pollan is your grandmother. In pithy Talmudic aphorisms he’s trying to nudge the world into keeping a new kosher.

Rule #8 – Avoid food products that make health claims.

Rule #11 – Avoid foods you see advertised on television.

Rule #13 – Eat only foods that will eventually rot.

Rule #21 – It’s not food if it’s called by the same name in every language. (Think Big Mac, Cheetos, or   Pringles.)

Oy, gevalt! Listen up. Americans are potchkeying around with their natural bounty, making a mishmash of their lives and everyone else’s, too. What’s happening to them shouldn’t happen to a dog. Enough already. Keep eating this meshuggener Western diet and you’re going to plotz!

Better you should eat what grandma ate, says Michael. It can’t hurt.