Wednesday, August 25, 2004


SF: Cretan beach picnic; crazy people who refuse to plant grapes on their six-acre farm in Rutherford -- frankly, I wish more of these people would grow tomatoes instead of their self-proclaimed "full Monty" swill; Charles Nob Hill bites the dust and Traci Des Jardins opens a taqueria.

LA: Russ Parsons visits the Lao/Hmong farmers of Fresno; burr grinders reviewed; Regina Schrambling announces Atkins's demise, quoting a friend:

My feeling about low-carb is that it's good for people who want to get fast results, but eventually everyone falls off the wagon. It's like everything else about America: It can't be sustained.
Weight Watchers announced this week that it has tweaked its diet program to try to lure back members seduced away by the low-carbohydrate regimen. (Which is a bit like a wife shaving her head to try to win over the husband who left her for a man.)

Of course, the next big thing will be the food spray diet.

NY: It's canning time; Sagra della Porchetta in Wiliamsburg; trial by fire; cinq cépages citgo; Johnny Apple explains sweet corn genetics to deluded Marylanders who think they're eating a cultivar that hasn't been grown for probably 25 years

You can get away with calling the stuff Silver Queen anyway, because most customers don't know what Silver Queen looks like. They're blind men trying to choose between a Chevrolet and a Ford.

He claims to like the sh2 hybrids -- but I'm definitely with Alice on this one.

Elsewhere: Regina Schrambling is also dubious about heirlooms (though, just to be contrary, I should mention that I've gotten some good ones in the past week); making masa at home [via tfs]; Clotilde scores the marble mortar her grandmother unearthed in a Marseilles garden in 1937; hot-saucing update (via MeFi): 35% approve ("unscientific"); Robb Walsh is still fending off the Philistines who don't get Tex-Mex -- but you, my friend, should get Tex-Mex, the perfect combination of history and recipes; your beans are undercooked; fishing for dinner in Chesapeake Bay; secret aussie butcher language; Alice Walker's chicken poem [last 2 via/at the hag].


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