Recently in Whining Category

I recently read The Pedant in the Kitchen, which Michael Ruhlman also wrote up, and while I found it an enjoyable rant, one vexing thought that stuck in the author's craw was recipe instructions that call for "a handful" of something. He didn't know what that meant and wondered why recipes couldn't be more precise.

Writing a recipe that's acceptable to absolutely everyone can be daunting, if not impossible. The purpose of any recipe is the guide the cook through the process; too much explanation and overtly-long recipes turn readers off, while short recipes often get accused of not giving enough information. How much is enough, and how little is not enough?

I once saw a three page recipe for chocolate brownies from a famed pastry chef.

A dining companion said to me— “Let’s eat inside. It’s too smoky out there.”

This is the salad I made myself for lunch today:

And I decided that I would use it to finish one of the previously unfinished posts.

Note that there's no canned corn. No rice. And yes, real potatoes, garlic, and fresh green beans. Except for steaming the green beans, it took me all of about 2 minutes to put together. The potatoes were leftovers and were just as good cold as they were caramelized and freshly-roasted out of the oven the night before. And the cheese is cut from a hunk of cantal that I buy from the heartthrob-worthy cheese guy at my Sunday market. Needless to say, I always make sure I have plenty of cantal on hand.

1. A few weeks ago I went back to Exceptions Gourmands with a friend from New York.

The two women working there were quite nice and helpful, and my friend ended up picking out a few things to buy. The amount was something like 7.53€. So my friend opened her wallet and handed over a 10€ bill.

"Oooohhh," the saleswoman said, eyeing the lone bill laying on the counter. "Do you happen to have exact change?" she asked.

When you fly in to Charles de Gaulle airport, there's a mad rush to get off the plane. Then you're herded to a holding pen-like area, where you wait to go through passport control. It's complete chaos: everyone surging forward, en masse, trying to get around everyone else, regardless of who got there first. That is, except for the Americans, who wait patiently for their turn, but quickly learn that if they don't assert themselves, they're going to spend their entire vacation in that stifling, airless space.

If you leave 4.5-inches of space in front or behind you in France, you may as well not even be there as people take that to mean you're not waiting. I know that because they act very surprised when I tap them on the shoulder and point out that yes, I are indeed standing in that line with my luggage, just like they are, to check in to my flight. I'm not just hanging out at the airport with a suitcase because I had nothing better to do.

So you have to constantly be on your toes and you can't let your guard down for a second. If you do, you'll never get anywhere. It's pretty exhausting.

And how do I know it's spring?

Could it be the trees that are blooming, or the sun desperately trying to poke through the gray, cloudy skies?

Might it be the luscious, ripe strawberries with verdant green stems at my market?

Or could it be that it's no longer just the hearty non-smokers occupying the outdoor tables in the cafés, but everyone, hoping to catch a sliver of sunshine?

Nope.

How do I know it's spring?

It's because the speedy folks at La Poste—just yesterday—returned an incorrectly addressed Christmas card that I'd sent way back in December, to someone who lives about a mile away, in the same city.

I can't wait to see what summer brings.

Maybe some of the others?

...it's a challenge to get through to the person you really need to speak to on the phone.

...the amount of documentation you need seems excessive.

...when there's a screw up, there's no one to complain to.

...all the workers act like they can't be fired—because they can't.

...you're sure the folks up ahead of you are getting better treatment.

...there aren't nearly enough bathrooms.