The Book I Read
It’s been a while since there was a song to go along with a post. Here’s the one for today.
All the food books are unpacked. They were easy, because I have one bookcase that’s dedicated to the subject. And I try to keep it fairly well organized. Reference books go on top, cookbooks on the bottom, and food prose goes in the middle.
Food prose? Sure. That where titles like The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Extra Virginity, and An Economist Gets Lunch live. But also on that shelf is a thinner, less famous history of gin, simply titled, Gin. That is a delightful and informative volume in The Edible Series by Lesley Jacobs Solmonson.
Among other things, she is half of the 12 Bottle Bar team. Perhaps you remember them from a while back. Lesley and her husband David had the ingenious idea of suggesting that classic cocktails need not be complicated. Together they launched a blog where the duo limited themselves to just twelve bottles, and crafted really well-written posts about all of the drinks you can make with this limited arsenal of spirits, bitters, and vermouths.
In just a few weeks, the 12 Bottle Bar is taking a huge step. It’s leaping off the internet and into a published book. And you’ll never guess what else.
Gassy
Electric stoves seem like such a terrible idea. The world is a big place. I guess there are some people in it who get excited about such things. Maybe it’s the clean lines of the appliance. Perhaps these folks have an irrational fear of gas. Or, I suppose, they are good for places where natural gas isn’t available.
Sadly, we have an electric stove. The kitchen isn’t set up for gas. Sure, we can redo the kitchen to run a gas line for a stove. But that’s a project we’re just not ready to undertake right now.
During the sabbatical, however, I was cooking with gas. And that was absolutely essential for blistering eggplant to make baba ganoush. Now that I’m back to electric, I have to re-learn how to cook. For example, I knew how hot my high output gas burner would get the cast iron skillet when cranked up all the way. But I have no idea how long it takes an electric coil to get fully hot on the number six dial setting.
Transitions are tough.
In part because I need some way to char my eggplants, and in part because I miss cooking with gas, I’ve just done the unthinkable.
Petty Problems
Transitions are tough. That’s a good mantra if I’ve ever heard one. Yesterday, I had to flee into the Berkshires for a few hours just to escape all the boxes and the drudgery of unpacking.
While there, I finally made it to Teo’s. You know, since I had Gus’s on my mind.
Teo’s makes a mighty fine interpretation of the Capital Region’s mini-dog with meat sauce. And I have to say, Teo’s really does a great job with their sauce. The raw onions were a bit too hot and bitter. But it’s a mighty fine specimen. I’m encouraged to see that such things can find an audience across state lines.
However, this isn’t a review of Teo’s. I’m going to vent my spleen about a few frustrating failings found from my foray into what should be Albany’s new grocery nirvana. It’s moments like these that I’m glad to be writing something called the FUSSYlittleBLOG, because that gives me a bit more leeway to let my fussy flag fly.
The High Cost of Change
Seven years ago, in the wee early hours of July 6, the Fussies officially became residents of Albany. This was only my second time in the region. The first was a month prior when the missus and I spent a few frenzied days looking for a place to live.
Albany felt like a very different place then. And I think it was.
The College of Nanoscale Science and Engineering only had one building. New World Bistro Bar had not opened its doors. The only place to get a cappuccino was at Ultraviolet Cafe, and it was totally hit or miss depending on who was working. Ala Shanghai had not graced the region with its top notch soup dumplings. And I couldn’t find a grassfed burger anywhere.
A lot of work has gone into improving the region. And it has been going on for a long long time. And it’s great to see some of the fruits of those labors. Some come in the form of long awaited chain stores, and that’s fine. Others come in the arts and the worldwide recognition of the Albany Symphony Orchestra after its first Grammy win earlier this year. Then of course there is the ever-expanding roster of ethnic restaurants.
But all of this growth comes at a cost.
Freedom
Independence! Yes, I’m glad we are no longer under colonial British rule. I enjoy a good fireworks show as much as the next guy, and grilled burgers and hot dogs are delicious. But America seems deeply broken, and I’m highly dubious of every group that claims it knows how to fix it.
Thank goodness this isn’t a political blog. Because I have nothing good to say on that front.
There is however, great news from the grocery aisles, and I feel the need to report on it. Mostly because one of the more popular posts on the FLB from the past year has been Post Screws Around with Grape Nuts. It detailed the sneaky formulation change that added soy and other ingredients into the classic formulation of whole grain wheat flour, malted barley flour, salt and dried yeast.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who fled the brand for the generic alternatives that continued to sell a version of the classically simple four-ingredient cereal. So, Post has done something drastic.
Fancy Cereal Fancy
Cereal and milk. Milk and cereal. It’s a classic.
Say what you will about the state of cereal today, but there are cereals to be found that offer a deep toasted grain flavor with just a hint of sweetness (without a lot of the junk you don’t want). I’m partial to a few of the less sweet products made by Nature’s Path. The heirloom grain flakes may be my favorite.
The state of milk today isn’t great either, but there are good versions to be found that can actually bring pleasure. And milk should absolutely be a pleasurable treat since its filled with fat and sugar. If it’s not, it may be time to change your milk.
But it’s far too easy to lean too heavily on milk and cereal. And the unfortunate side effect of that is burn-out. The joy of the contrast between crisp and creamy, and the race to finish the bowl before the flakes succumb to milk’s temptation, is replaced by the monotony of choking down another damn spoonful of the same stuff day in and day out.
Have you ever considered making your cereal more fancy?
Pizza. Boxes.
Moving to Princeton was a whole lot easier than moving back.
Every part of my body hurts. After spending Monday loading and unloading the U-Haul with all the worldly possessions we brought to New Jersey, Tuesday was dedicated to loading and unloading the same U-Haul with everything we put in storage out in Colonie.
Now, we’re surrounded by boxes. But I don’t think the boxes are quite as overwhelming as all of the stuff inside the boxes. How did we amass all of this stuff? I see my aches and pains as penance for my excess.
Unpacking has finally begun, but we still haven’t freed our plates, glasses, or silverware. Just last night I found the Bialetti Moka Express. So now if I can find a teaspoon to measure the sugar, a spoon that won’t melt for whipping the crema, and a couple of non-paper cups, we can have a happy caffeinated morning, Cuban style.
Surrounded by boxes. Exhausted from the move. And without any tools handy for proper cooking or eating, there was really only one option.
Eleven
I said farewell in August.
Some thought I was leaving for good.
Some may have hoped I wouldn’t return.
But I’m back.
There is just one thing missing.
Read more…
Ramblin’ Man
Last night was gorgeous at the institute. I tried to take a picture, but I couldn’t do it justice. There were so many fireflies dancing over the rolling green, I had to make sure Mrs. Fusy took a break from packing to come out and enjoy a few minutes of our last night in New Jersey.
Making the temporary move to Princeton was a difficult decision at the time. We also had the opportunity to spend the last two semesters in Palo Alto. I couldn’t believe I was saying no to a chance to move back to the SF Bay Area. ADS couldn’t believe it either. Stanford Steph was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to share in the joy of her alma mater.
As much as I would have enjoyed being back in California, I know we made the right call.
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