I don't know about you but I've got five extremely angry über chefs glaring at me from their cookbook bookflaps on my kitchen shelf and it's making me nervous: England's Heston Blumenthal's "The Big Fat Duck Cookbook", Thomas Keller's "Under Pressure", Grant Achatz's "Alinea", and a couple of chefs from Spain – Ferran Adrià's "El Bulli Volumes 2003-2004", and Joan Roca's "Sous Vide". It sounded like a good idea at the time – assembling courtesy of Amazon.com the modern greats for a holiday feast using the latest sci-fi techniques of sous vide (cooking food in a vacuum packed pouch) – and then having at it.
What these chefs failed to take into account – and the cause of their ire – was that I now see I don't possess any of the tools required to cook any of their recipes. They want to know why they are in my kitchen. I don't have a Polyscience Minipack-torre Model MVS31 Vacuum Sealer ($2025.00), a 8306C Model Thermal Circulating Bath ($1799.00), or even a functional spatula. I do have, however, from a previously deranged buying spree – The Smoking Gun™ ($79.00), which runs on 4 AA batteries and helps infuse dishes with a smoky flavor. An excellent Christmas present for your foodie friends. But I'm crushed to learn from their website that the gun is now being touted as "Excellent for finishing products that are cooked Sous Vide". Back to the beginning. I won't be dining in.

I've just discovered the magic of fresh bread crumbs. You might say it's about time, after 30 years of cooking. But I would remind you that I said the "magic" of fresh bread crumbs, not the "utility."
I love the story of stone soup. I love it for all the wrong reasons. You know the
Wednesday was a hellish day. Because you left your
Blackberry in a restaurant the night before, you failed to remember
about the
four people coming over for dinner that evening but were conveniently
reminded
of it when you listened to your messages after coming in the door just
after 6
pm. “Really excited to see you guys tonight – what wine can we bring?”
At that moment, just when you were looking forward to watching the
Dexter episodes you missed over a leisurely dinner of re-heated pizza
and beer did reality bite you in the ass.
If your idea of a good time is to peruse a calendar of naked men (and definitely of a certain age) then join the Gentlemen of the Garden at their next outdoor bash in Palm Beach. No? Do it anyway – the party is a hoot!