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4 minutes ago, Wilfrid said:

Yes, I was thinking of that. I have made it, and of course you wouldn’t dream of making it with beef liver. I cut it myself and indeed cutting liver small is not easy.

Thinking of recipes that call for finely diced liver. I have sharp knives, but wow. Hard work.

Perhaps freeze it for a few minutes to firm it up? 

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I read all these threads about these fabulous dinners people have at home, with photogenic, obviously labor-intensive food, and legendary bottles.   I can't speak for anybody else on this board, bu

If I'm not enjoying wine when I'm seventy, then my nieces and nephews are going to be stuck with a shitload of wine they won't know what to do with.   Or my next wife, who by then should be almost

Whaddya mean? That's more than half the meals I serve. Tossed with great care, I might add.

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Hot dogs!  (Don't need to mince THOSE.)

Emily Meggett's fried okra (I'm getting really good at this -- as the season approaches its close) (not that there's anything to making this).

I was thinking of something sparkling.  And then it hit me.

2020 Chëpika Delaware

This works on a "what grows together goes together" theory:  this grape was "discovered" in New Jersey, where they know a thing or two about hot dogs (not that my hot dogs tonight were fried Rippers).  What's more, this grape was first publicized in Ohio,* where my "Brooklyn" hot dogs apparently are fabricated.

One thing I knew was that this native labrusca grape was going to be tough enough to stand up to the salty spicy fatty flavors of the hot dog.

Whether it would complement them was another question entirely.

Not really, as it turned out.  Frankly, I'm a little stumped at what a wine like this would go with.


* Delaware, Ohio, in case you're wondering where the name came from.

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On 9/24/2022 at 12:05 AM, Sneakeater said:

I can only await the hash I'm going to make from the remainder (the extra peverada I have -- in which the leftover Fowl is being stored -- could potentially make that like the best hash of all time).

I mean I can't say this is the best hash of all time, as I haven't tasted each and every one of the others.  And I could imagine some truffled concoction beating this.  But this hash has to be up there.

For one thing, the peverada in which the leftover guinea fowl was stored, and which of course I threw into the hash, was pure gain.  All that liver obviously made the hash deeper.  And the (copious) minced salami was a welcome addition.*  And of course all the pepper (which gives the peverade its name) was great (I didn't have to add any more, that's for sure).  But I kind of forgot how strong the lemon flavor in the peverade was.  That added a surprise accent that livened things up bigly.

It didn't taste just like the Faraolla con Peverada from whence it came, as I added some hash-like seasonings (not to mention the potatoes, onions, and celery).  It did taste fantastic.  (And there's A LOT of it left over.)

Buttered haricots verts on the side.

I figured on a Chardonnay with this.  And look what I found!

2012 Red Hook Winery Jamesport Vineyard Chardonnay "Clone 95"

No one really knew, in 2012, how these wines were going to age.  I must have been bullish, as I stashed this someplace I could never have found it until 10 years on.

This is one of Bob Foley's rather than one of Abe's.  It has aged beautifully.  If a bit strangely.

The first thing you taste is a blast (and I mean a BLAST) of cantaloupe.  Where did THAT come from?  After that things settle down to more normal Chardonnay -- minerals for miles and acid -- but the refined kind you expect from a good Chardonnay with some years.

I can't say this wasn't what I was expecting, as I had no idea whatsoever what to expect.  I can say it was almost pure pleasure.


* Dodge City Salami.  I know nothing about it:  who makes it, where it's from.  But I do know this:  it's REALLY good.

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I keep thinking back to the early editions of The Joy of Cooking, books I love in an appropriately ironic fashion.

One of their many dubious pleasures is the joy Mrs. Rombauer takes in mocking the underclasses -- especially when they're not White Protestants.

For example, she quotes her Irish cook as saying (this is from memory of a book I read obsessively in college:  I don't guaranty total accuracy), "leftovers and potatoes and onions ain't nothing -- but when I mix them all together, that's hash."

I feel the same way.

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53 minutes ago, Sneakeater said:

* Dodge City Salami.  I know nothing about it:  who makes it, where it's from.  But I do know this:  it's REALLY good.

OK, now that I've bothered to look, I see it's made by someone(s) called Smoking Goose in Indianapolis.

Look out for their stuff.  This salami is REALLY good.

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I wasn't gonna write this up cuz it's all repetitions -- even the pairing.

But what else do we all have to do?

You'll all be happy to know that through various expedients (one of which arose from my realization that stale bread is never something that is lacking here at Chez Sneak), I have finally perfected the speckknödelen.

Then, Rolled Beef on rye.  I bought some last time I went to get something I actually needed at the butcher, solely because it was there.  "I have the impulse control of a flea," I told the butcher.  He didn't seem displeased.

Pickled squash and Calabrian pickled onions on the side.

We all know that there's really only one wine for Rolled Beef.

2021 Chëpika Concord

This wine and the Rolled Beef sandwich:  it's like a love affair.

Bur it's not the only one.

The joy I get from this wine is almost indecent.

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Probably my last Kathy Chan's Eggplant Dish (Grandma's version) of the season.  It is ridiculous how much I've come to love this stupid easy preparation.  And it has nothing to do with any crush that I (like every cis male on the NYC food scene) might once have had on Kathy.

I figured that a very light very old very funky very faded Corneilessen red might be good.

Frank Corneilessen Munjabel Rosso #5

This wine is, what, 15 years old now?  And it's from Corneilessen's wild early days, before his wines attained some semblance of normalcy.

This is another one where nobody knew if these wines could age.  I turns out they can.  Beautifully.

This is a gorgeous wine.  The nose, maybe not so much at this point.  But the palate:  YUM!  A nice hit of decorous berries (and believe me, "decorous" is not a word you'd have used for this wine in its younger days).  Then, that weird Corneilessen "natural" aftertaste -- it's hard to describe --  but now calmed down into something that kind of nicely flows down as a finish.  (I think I'm tasting weird melon notes at the very end, but maybe that's just me.) (In any event, I like them.)

You know what this is like?  It's like watching Malcolm McDowell now playing stuffy old Englishmen.  He can pull it off, sure.  And I'm sure he comes across that way to people who haven't followed his career.  But those of us Of A Certain Age can't help but exclaim, "But that's Mick Travis!  It's Alex!"

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