In For A Nickel

Some dishes are of such indisputable excellence that their appearance alone is capable of arousing a level-headed man's degustatory powers. All those who, when presented with such a dish, show neither the rush of desire, nor the radiance of ecstasy, may justly be deemed unworthy of the honors of the sitting, and its related delights - Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

I have often described the Western New York restaurant community as small and incestuous. It is. But, at the time I started my cooking career, there were few opportunities to hang with other cooks. They’d gather after shift at places like Mother’s, a downtown location. That included my Chef, Dan Welch. But I lived in the suburbs and was a cook at suburban restaurant. I often walked to work.

My after shift activities with local co-workers was heading to Rooties for beers and Wings (and to my mind they were the best Wings in Buffalo – and there was a really HOT bartender)

An End To My Cooking Career

I have decided today to cease my 20 plus year cookery career. It is a thankless job, filled with low pay, long hours, idiot bosses, even stupider customers never happy with what they receive. It is a world of fools who think that food is a medicine – an anodyne for all their  ills. The Glutards. The Kale fanatics. The people who think “organic” = good for you, even if it is over processed crap. The Yancey’s Fancy fans who think that’s what “cheese” is. The MSG haters. Those who think a Fish Fry is a proper way to enjoy a fish.  The vitamin supplement freaks. The people who think “may” fix something means “will”. The people who think macaroni salad is gourmet – and easily replaced by a prepared product.

The people who put Ketchup on a hot dog.

And so, I am giving it up to my first true love: Country Music. Appropriate when a Hank Williams biopic appears.

I love the twang. I love the whine. I want my dog run over by a car, my wife to leave me, the transmission to drop out of my pickup. I want to wear a big hat, as if I’d ever been closer to a real ranch than T-Meadow farms.

I want to bitch about everything.

So, look for my first single release: You Can Pry My Foie Gras Out Of My Cold Dead Hands, You Petaphile. The B-Side is: Bone Broth Cured My Herpes.

"I was born a duck minders daughter . . . "

Dear Alton Brown

The only unitasker allowed in my kitchen is a fire extinguisher - Alton Brown

Dear Alton:

May I call you Alton? I feel like I know you. After all, you spend a great deal of time in our home, via a variety of media.

Alton, you recently did a video that is everywhere on the Internets, regarding the dumbest kitchen gadgets of 2015. I also heard the guest spot on NPR. I am with you (mostly) on unitaskers, and I agree there are a lot of useless hardware on the market. That egg extruder? Yep. Banana slicer? Ditto. But, there are some items that deserve a second look.