When my latest, The Book of Schmaltz: Love Song to a Forgotten Fat, came out last week, I got an enthusiastic tweet from a London chef, Michael Harrison, about a schmaltz-infused cocktail. I immediately asked for a guest post. I learned not only a daring new cocktail—not for the faint of heart—but I also learned about “fat-washing” alcohol, infusing alcohol with the flavors of fat—here, rendered chicken fat, glorious schmaltz. —M.R. by Michael Harrison and Marlowe Harris “There is a time and a place for every cocktail. The Man Harrison is made for the man who has exhausted his palate on fine wine and rich dishes, the man who enjoys his whiskey dry and flammable, the man who is afraid of neither an onion nor onion brine, the man who always has time for chicken, Read On »

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Taking a bit of a break with Ma in West Palm—Goodbye, Cleveland grays!—but wanted to keep up the culinary inspiration via Donna’s photos. Here a basic bread ratio of 5 parts flour to 3 parts water can be turned into pizza dough, flat bread, or even a braided loaf with kosher salt My Bread Baking App has more info or watch this video. Or have a look at these past bread posts: pretzels, multigrain bread, no knead bread, and challah.     What is The Book of Schmaltz? Find out on Vimeo; then win a copy of the app from Edamam’s giveaway on Pinterest.   © 2013 Michael Ruhlman. Photo © 2013 Donna Turner Ruhlman. All rights reserved.  

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When I was a boy, my father looked at me in the rearview mirror and asked why was I so quiet. I said, “I have nothing to say.” Sometimes I have something to say, and I get overheated. Right now, I have nothing to say. Unlike a daily newspaper that has to say something on schedule, has to lead with some story, I don’t. I’m a strong believer in not speaking generally (there’s too much noise as there is) but especially when I have nothing to say. (To be honest, I wouldn’t even be typing this except that I can’t stand Friday’s picture of Rose’s grenadine any longer.) I suggest that whenever you have nothing to say, you fry something in oil, such as green beans dipped in tempura batter, which was how we got Read On »

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  Making delicious agnolotti. Photo by Donna Turner Ruhlman. Saturday I was reminded of the efficiency of using ratios when I wanted to make a crepe and was so moved to post on the subject that I put up crappy photos of the actual crepe I ate while at my desk. Still with ratios on my mind, and given that my wife has abandoned me for NYC for a few days, I asked for some proper food photography using a ratio—here with pasta, so easy, so good, and the amazing, self-sealing ravioli, referred to at The French Laundry as agnolotti. In fact, agnolotti are three-tipped ravioli reminiscent of an Italian priest’s hat, but where Thomas learned about them, these here were referred to as agnolotti and so that was how Thomas would always refer to Read On »

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Dear Mr. Ruhlman, the email read.  It was the very first one waiting for me this morning. And glancing quickly down and seeing a single word, my stomach turned. I have been a fan since Ratio, the writer continued. It is my first stop on the cookbook train. I got Ruhlman’s Twenty for a gift and was over the moon, have read it cover to cover. And what’s more I have tried several of the recipes with success. But seriously, the Snickerdoodles? One of the best cookies of all time and got my kids all worked up into a lather to make some tonight . . . but I have to say, yuck. Sugar bomb! We doubled the recipe because you can never have enough Snickerdoodles . . . 3 cups of sugar to 2 cups Read On »

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