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If you like beets, you’ll LOVE this salad. If you DON’T like beets, this might convert you. And if this doesn’t, trust me– nothing will. * * * * * * * If you don’t mind me saying so, this salad (and I mean the recipe itself, not my example in the photo) is a work of freaking art… indeed, something I would serve to serious artists as an overture of acknowledgement to their God-given inner gifts. That being said, I take no credit for its creation… I just happen to be good (I think) at codifying and demystifying the inventions of others into reproducible, user-friendly forms. To be fair, I’ve never heard of anyone actually craving beets. Maybe that’s because, more than any other vegetable, they taste so strongly of the medium in which they grow. I never went out of my way to eat them until my old business partner (Chef Cathy) taught me this particular preparation– an eclectic mix of basic and complex handiwork, a melange of delightfully contrasting flavors and textures. This dish also exhibits the influence of Chef Michael from my Northampton salad days (double entendre intended) in the early 1980’s. All in all, 90% of what I know about cooking can be traced to this pair of culinary savants. EQUIPMENT: Large mixing bowl Very sharp (preferably serrated) knife Microplane zester Small Pyrex Dish Foil INGREDIENTS: 1 15 oz. Bottle of Decent-Quality Commercial Italian Vinaigrette 3 Red Beets 3 Clementines 1 Red Onion 1 Cup Walnut Halves Fresh Creamy Goat Cheese Cucumbers Salad Greens Blanched Broccoli (optional) Pre-heat oven to 375º. Trim, wash, and dry well the beets, then wrap them individually in foil. Put them in a pyrex dish and roast until tender, i.e., easily penetrable with a toothpick. Set aside to cool. While the beets are roasting, Peel and slice the red onion– ¼” or so is a nice width. You want pieces big enough to eat with a fork, but not much bigger than that. Add onion slices to a large mixing bowl. Add all of the bottled dressing to the sliced onions and toss. Why commercial instead of painstakingly homemade? Because commercial versions contain the very thickening agents that I otherwise strenuously avoid… and which work perfectly in this particular dish. Without such additives, vinaigrettes tend to break sooner or later, disagreeably concentrating all of the vinegar in one layer. The most challenging part of this recipe involves the clementines. First, remove and reserve their zest with a microplane zester and add about ⅔ of it to the mixing bowl. (If you don’t have a microplane zester, you can’t make this dish.) Next, completely peel one clementine with a very sharp, preferably serrated knife, removing as much white pith as possible. Holding the peeled clementine over the mixing bowl in one hand, carefully remove one section at a time by slicing them out from between the white radii that separate them, dropping them into the bowl as you go. This is a serious pain in the ass, but well worth the effort because the result will be a quantum leap better than simply breaking the clementines down by hand into sections. The bowl will have caught any and all juice as it drips; after removing all the sections, give the carcass a final squeeze and discard. Avoid including the stray seed or two from these supposedly seedless fruits. Repeat with the other two clementines. When the roasted beets have cooled enough to handle, carefully unwrap them. The roasting process works a special magic on beets, concentrating their texture, color, and flavor. (Boiling them does the exact opposite.) But beware ye– by thus concentrating their essence, you have basically converted their juices to nearly indelible ink… in a deep and dark shade of fuchsia that, while unarguably pretty, deserves only a minuscule presence in anyone’s permanent kitchen decor or clothing. Carefully peel the beets, removing all skin while preserving as much flesh as possible. This is my favorite part of this process, for I feel as though I am exposing the garden’s equivalent of gem-grade ruby or garnet– almost but not quite translucent; visually throbbing, it seems, with their inherently earthy flavors beautifully translated for our enjoyment by the simple roasting process. Judiciously slice the beets into salad-sized pieces and add to the bowl. Then scrub your hands. Add the walnuts, mix well, and adjust the seasoning (i.e., more zest if necessary.) Seal in a container and refrigerate this for a day or more, during which the following transformations will occur– The onions will soften in both texture and flavor to utter deliciousness while lending a nice bite to the other ingredients. The beets will extend their color, flavor, and sweetness to the dressing that in return infuses the onions with subtle complexity. The orange will magically mitigate the earthiness of the beets, turning them halfway into candy. The walnuts will soften and lose all bitterness. And taken together, the whole thing might make you a little mad that you never knew how delicious beets could be. A further benefit is that the lowly commercial dressing upon which we built this dish will have metamorphosed into an unrecognizably delectable nectar that will deliciously drizzle itself over the greens beneath it. No tossing necessary. The way such seemingly antagonistic components so beautifully harmonize kind of reminds me of a painting– Goat cheese is a particularly perfect foil for this result, so I like to serve this salad with cucumber slices generously shmeared with it. (A brief spell in the microwave makes goat cheese especially “shmear-able.”) I’ve added blanched broccoli in the photo above just to flesh it out. (I never use raw broccoli for anything.) * * * * * * * Wine, you say? If you must, a lot of people like dry rosés with their salads in summertime… mainly because A) they drink mostly pink in the summer; and B) salads are considered meals in the summer. While salads are notorious wine-killers, my thinking remains that it is hard to ruin a rosé because, as zombie movie aficionados well know, you can’t kill a man who’s already dead. (I never miss a chance to take a swipe at rosé.) But if I were charged with pairing the perfect wine for this dish, I’d probably opt for a Grüner Veltliner from either its traditional sources along the Austrian Danube or from its new-found second home in NY’s Finger Lakes region. No other grape variety– red or white– stands up to powerful vegetal flavors like “GV.”

(Or Almondine… Or Almandine… Or Amandine) Whatever we call it, boneless rainbow trout and almonds make a really great combination. * * * * * * * It shows up in cookbooks and on menus everywhere, with multiple spellings. Jacques Pepin sticks to consistent French with his “Truite Amandine,” which he translates to perfect English as simply “Trout with Almonds.” (Recipe unavailable for redistribution; you need to get your hands on the actual book– See Jacques Pepin: New Complete Techniques: Revised Edition of the Classic Work.) Most recipes for this dish are linguistic mongrels, e.g., Martha Stewart’s TROUT ALMANDINE. One commonly sees “Trout Amandine,” an allowable mix of English and French so long as the foreign word is italicized. What they all have in common is trout and almonds… and, unfortunately, flour. In keeping with modern culinary sensibilities, we’ve attempted a version WITHOUT flour. But first, a little background. * * * * * * * Among the Ivy-educated, ruling-class/trust-fund elite, the trout enjoys more positive cachet than, say, its freshwater brethren like bass or perch. The very word “trout” conjures imagery of babbling New England brooks and tweedy old fly fishermen. Winslow Homer (1836-1910) is famous for his watercolors of trout fishermen with fly rods, not of rednecks reeling in catfish between beers. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) Furthermore, the rainbow trout is blessed with a great name… who among us, after all, doesn’t love rainbows? (Click HERE for an early and especially beautiful, instrument-only take on the Stones’ “She’s a Rainbow”-- essentially a duet with Stones founder Brian Jones on horn-like mellotron and rock-n-roll piano god Nicky Hopkins.) And “rainbow” is a legit piscatorial name, not one of those faux fish-marketing monikers like “Chilean Sea Bass” for what is actually “Patagonian Toothfish.” Rainbow trout, you see, really do sport rainbows– Rainbow trout also lend themselves to fish farming better than nearly all other fish. Aquaculture affords control over product size, and small freshwater fish can be raised to exact proportions. One of the greatest contributions to culinary technology was the invention of the trout de-boning machine. (My patent search located an application in the mid-1990’s, but I recall serving completely boneless trout at least a decade earlier.) Thus processed, boneless rainbow filets cook quickly and easily. And that, along with their catchy name, makes them perfect for restaurants. Which brings us back to “Trout with Almonds” by that or any other name. First, the trout itself– Commercially available trout filets come boned with either the head on or the head removed. Unless you like to eat trout heads, you probably shouldn’t buy them. (To be fair, the head-on version makes for a traditional presentation when serving both sides of a fish and also looks better in stuffed trout recipes.) This producer’s website spells out the typical purchasing options. A pair of their 5 or 6 oz. filets would make a perfect dinner portion. (NOTE: Rainbow trout is not naturally pink-fleshed. If you see some that is, that means that it has been fed color-producing food at the farm. This just in from a higher-up industry insider in response to my inquiry– “Regarding the color, yes, our supplier uses an all natural colorant added to the feed. They use Astaxanthan, an antioxidant which is derived from Phafia Yeast. After eating this for a few weeks the flesh will begin to take on a reddish hue. This does not affect flavor, it is only for aesthetic purposes.”) And now for the almonds– Almonds come in several forms. From vertical bins in the bulk foods section I bought a small bag each of blanched slivered almonds and a similar portion of sliced almonds. By (very) briefly grinding these together (ONE quick pulse, maybe two) I achieved a pleasing appearance and texture, better than if I had used all of one or the other. For complexity of flavor I added a dash of high-quality granulated garlic (NOT mere garlic powder.) In the absence of the usual flour dusting that produces a crust, we need to get the almonds to firmly adhere to the trout… yet another use for the wonderful egg, perhaps the most versatile ingredient in the world. I blended two eggs and poured them into a pyrex baking dish, which was perfectly proportioned for coating the filets. After the egg bath, I firmly pressed the trout (flesh side only) into the chopped almond mixture that I had scattered on an oval plate. Most Trout w/ Almonds recipes call for the sauté pan, while a few are baked. I like to do both– I seared the almond sides until the almonds turned a lovely golden brown, and then gave the skin a brief sear before transferring them to the baking dish I just cleaned and dried after the egg bath. This visits a 350º oven for no more than five minutes. I figured that an elegant sauce was in order, so before doing all this I made Lemon Beurre Blanc, a fabulous accompaniment for nearly everything that swims. Here is an adaptation of the recipe I posted in my earlier piece about oysters– Sauce Beurre Blanc (white butter sauce) is a classic French sauce for seafood. It also works especially well with asparagus as a lighter but equally decadent alternative to hollandaise. Like hollandaise, it breaks easily and is therefore difficult to hold at an acceptable serving temperature. But unlike hollandaise, beurre blanc can benefit from a simple kitchen hack— adding the butter to a base of reduced cream. (A lot of fancy restaurants do this without telling you.) When you google “beurre blanc,” you’ll see recipes with and without cream. Click accordingly. To summarize, you cook the minced shallot in a bit of butter and then add the wine, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Cook it down until most of the liquid has evaporated, then add the cream. It will bubble and reduce; when it thickens significantly, whisk in the butter and add salt and pepper to taste. * * * * * * * For a final embellishment I browned some of the sliced almonds in butter, dried them, and sprinkled them atop the sauce. (I would’ve also sprinkled some parsley if I had any.) This dish is a great showcase for white wine, but tread carefully– a ripe and oaky Californian Chardonnay will overwhelm it, so shop in the lower weight classes. It is hard to go wrong with Sauvignon Blanc from anywhere, and dry Rieslings also work well. If you insist on Chardonnay, consider keeping it French. (For DannyM.’s extensive treatise on these three royal varieties, check out The Royal Sisterhood.)

It’s time to don your safari jacket and scour the suburbs for valuable treasure. We’ve got four prime targets for you and your wallet. * * * * * * * Late-stage Baby Boomers (b. 1956-1964) are presently entering their mid-sixties, which, for our purposes here, means two significant things– ONE, now that their children are (finally) out of the house, they no longer need quite so much living space and thus they are ready to downsize into cozier living quarters. And TWO, they’ve learned some hard lessons from their own aging parents– the “Greatest Generation,” who, having survived Depression-era childhoods and the concomitant deprivations, then devoted much of their sudden post-WWII financial comfort to becoming borderline hoarders and accumulating whole house-fuls of crap that had to be abruptly disappeared when they finally transitioned to assisted living. And nobody wants to be like their parents. And so this final wave of the Baby Boom Generation is rapidly ridding itself of its own surplus possessions, which is one reason why tag sales (or garage sales, or yard sales) are better than ever. Another reason is that they simply don’t make quality stuff like they used to. Taken together, we have a tremendous opportunity to get some great things at great prices. Seasoned hunters always set out with specific quarry in mind, so here are four things worthy of a dedicated search: Garden Tools As discussed in an earlier rant, they’ve ruined the f-ing shovel. This is a fairly recent change, which means that there are still plenty of sturdy shovels (and rakes, etc.) in circulation that have outlived their original owners and are crying out for adoption. I recently forked over $50 for a brand-new old-school shovel… I’m guessing that one can obtain something similar at a tag sale for one-fifth that amount. Should you find an apparent treasure, be sure to check the wooden handle for cracks and confirm that it is securely connected to the blade. Most importantly of all, perhaps– for a proper frame of reference before hitting the tag sales, consider stopping by a big box hardware store to examine for yourself the comically flimsy excuses for shovels they now offer. Iron Skillets Behold– the greatest pan EVER, as it combines vintage cast-iron wonderfulness with sloping, flip-friendly sides, making it the ultimate omelet device. No, I won’t sell it for any price. Iron skillet cookery has been a hip “thing” for a couple of decades now, and for good reason– there is simply no better way to cook your steak indoors, and it works well with a number of other dishes as well. It is therefore utterly perplexing to me that the new iron skillets we currently see in stores are pretty much unusable as sold– because they have a coarse finish (evidently from sand-casting) that defeats their purpose. You see, a proper iron skillet has a perfectly smooth finish of black “seasoning” (multiple layers of chemically inert polymerized lipids) that, coupled with the heat-retentive properties of the thick iron beneath it, make for a non-stick surface that fosters delicious browning like none other. And just such a surface is what we find on old pans at tag sales. Twenty bucks should get you a good one– just give it a good scrub, dry it, and then wipe it with grapeseed oil and bake it for a while. Repeat the oil-and-bake a few times. After a few layers of this, you’ll have a great pan that will last for generations. OR– you can buy one of those new iron pans for twice the money and painstakingly hand-grind it to smoothness. Vintage 10-Speed Bikes My ultimate dream machine– a 1975 Austro-Daimler "Vent Noir" in Lotus John Player Special Black & Gold trim Americans didn’t always go out of their way to exercise. Hell, back in the sixties, joggers were considered masochistic geeks, and sports coaches commonly forbade weightlifting because it supposedly made their players “muscle-bound.” But as the 1970’s dawned, the masses suddenly discovered the joys and health benefits of recreational running, weight training, and tennis… and also of riding a European-built 10-Speed Bike. Peugeot, Austro-Daimler, Bianchi, Raleigh, Batavus, Motobecane… their names sound like the line-up at a 1960’s Monaco Grand Prix. These were the 10-speed bikes that joined the American-made Schwinns on America’s country roads as millions (myself included) took novel delight in shifting the Campagnolo derailleurs and engaging the Weinmann center-pull brakes as we gleefully glided for dozens of miles in a single day. It felt so healthy and so, well, European… which was cool then, just like those fabulous Adidas soccer shirts we wore around campus that screamed, “Hip Jock.” (Don’t even bother looking… you’ll NEVER find one of these anywhere unless it’s a fake.) Twenty-three pounds was a light bike in 1971. Since then, wider yet lighter aluminum tubing replaced the sleek and lively Reynolds 531 steel frames, and then carbon fiber replaced aluminum, at least in the upper price brackets and among racers. The current top road bikes weigh half as much as the originals and sell for about ten times the price. Meanwhile, we 10-speed road warriors of the pre-disco ‘70’s are now forty-something years older and maybe that much heavier, and those steel-framed masterpieces with the contrasting gussets have been hanging from our garage rafters since Bill Clinton left office… and finding their way into GYT sales, making it a buyer’s market. Keep in mind that you are essentially buying the frame, so make sure that it is your size AND that it is rust-free and undamaged. Removing the seat-post will give you a glimpse inside. If the front and back derailleurs both work, big bonus. You’ll probably need fresh brake cables and shoes, and perhaps new wheels and especially new tires. Don’t forget to consult your local bike shop for a butt-friendly seat that doesn’t feel like it’s slicing you in half. Vintage parts available HERE. Properly matching the components to your bike requires expertise, so bringing the frame to your local bike shop and having them completely outfit it for you would be well worth the investment. * * * * * * * Sturdy shovels… real frying pans… European bikes… great stuff indeed; but as GYT sale safaris go, those are merely small game. Wanna go after the suburban equivalent of an African “Big 5” dangerous beast? Something that, like a charging African cape buffalo or bull elephant, could actually kill you in a momentary spell of inattention? You’re gonna need a pickup truck and an able-bodied helper, because we’re loading up our magnum double-barrels for the ultimate trophy, the great White Whale, the Holy Grail of the GYT sale… Vintage Troy-Bilt “Horse” Rototiller Make no mistake– vintage Troy-Bilt rototillers are constructed like Russian tanks and are accordingly heavy, ugly, and unwieldy. Electric start? HA! You’ll be sore in new places for a week after pulling the starter rope on this sucker. And yet, if you feel the need to transform a compacted expanse of rocks and roots into your personal agricultural bounty, you could spend $400 no more wisely than this. (Great video HERE. However, I do NOT recommend off-loading it from a truck like this because you might die.) The reason that the 1970's models of the "Horse" are widely available is that they NEVER wear out. And trust me-- $400 for equipment this solid and useful is a steal. For comparison, the current new, state-of-the-art tillers are the Honda FRC800 (~ $3,000) and the Italian-made BCS, essentially the Lamborghini of rototillers and what they intriguingly call a “two-wheeled tractor.” It comes in models priced at up to $9,000… and you might as well purchase two, because that’s probably the only way you’ll ever get genuine replacement parts in your working lifetime. If I owned a large piece of personal farmland (say, five acres) then I would certainly consider buying a new Honda. However, most of us suburbanites tend to require rototillers only for specific projects rather than continuous use. Renting one for a day is an option (not really viable if you don’t own a pickup truck) but 4-5 rentals will cost the same as a vintage Troy-Bilt. After just a few uses, I feel that mine has paid for itself twice already and has plenty of life remaining. Just a quick buying guide– aside from the sturdiness of build, the important variables associated with rototillers are the location of the tines (front or rear) and the direction of their rotation (forward or reverse.) I cannot delineate the intricacies of this any more succinctly than the pros, so click HERE for an expert explanation. * * * * * * * Good luck and happy hunting as you hit your local Garage/Yard/Tag Sales. One last pro tip: I was kidding about the safari jacket…don’t actually dress like this in public, or they might charge you double. But if you fancy these campy yet cool jackets as I do, check out the selection at Tag Safari, where your purchase will not only drape you in retro Hollywood chic but also benefit families in Zimbabwe and elsewhere.

I’ve bought 10 new cars in my lifetime, and I’ve learned a lot in the process. Car-buying may have changed, but the lessons remain useful. * * * * * * * Are you buying (or selling) a car or, for that matter, anything else? I certainly absorbed a few useful principles en route to my economics degree, but I’ve learned far more in the actual trenches of the free market. You might find some of it helpful. We’ll start with two basic and general principles: 1. UNDERSTAND CAPITALISM. Like everything else in our economy, new cars (except in rare cases; more on that later) are sold at a profit. Although your mission is to pay less than most people, you must remember that selling cars is work, sometimes HARD work, and no consumer can reasonably expect employees in our economy to work for free... and the wages for sales personnel come out of the mark-up on your car. In the larger picture, capitalism is a fantastic paradox– ideally, a free market provides consumers with the best possible products at the best possible prices; and yet– in the harshest possible light– a capitalist enterprise tries to sell the worst stuff it can get away with at the highest price it can get away with. And by necessity, producers sell stuff for more than it costs to make it. Does that mean that capitalism is evil? It can be… greed is a powerful motivator that often compels bad or illegal behavior. And yet I’m always mindful of a great quote in one of my old textbooks– “The difference between capitalism and socialism? Under capitalism, Man exploits Man; under socialism it’s just the opposite.” And I’m also fond of telling people that economic growth without capitalism is possible, just as population growth without sex is possible. However, in both cases the primary motivational force is missing. Let’s just say that when it comes to supporting a comfortable middle-class lifestyle for many millions of citizens, capitalism is the second-worst system in human history… with all the others tied for last. 2. UNDERSTAND THE CAR MARKET. Prior to the dawn of cyberspace, the car dealers had the upper hand in pricing because comparison shopping was intentionally difficult. Now, however, it is easy to figure out what any new car should reasonably cost. Merely googling specific car models will usually take you down a rabbit hole in which you enter your zip code and thereby subject yourself to an onslaught of communications by land, sea, and/or air from every dealer in your area code. I recommend instead starting with reviews by Consumer Reports and the major car magazines (Car and Driver, Road and Track) and especially Edmunds. After doing your due diligence, you will have an excellent idea of the going rate for the car you want to buy. Armed with that valuable information– from an actual fact table rather than the oily lips of some smooth-talking, cologne-drenched car salesman– you are ready to rock. So buckle up, my friends, because you and DannyM. are about to wipe the greedy grin off this slimeball’s face– * * * * * * * The single best shopping advice I’ve ever heard– whether buying a business suit or a piece of land– is to PLAN YOUR PURCHASE! In other words, know what you want to buy, how much you are willing to pay for it, and where to find it. While I have my safari jacket on, I’ll share this– by Opening Day of each deer season, smart hunters already have a general sense of the nearby deer population and their habits… along with space in their freezers in case they are successful. Likewise, the smart car buyer already has a specific car, price range, financing lined up, and the monthly payment all figured out before heading to the dealer. CASE STUDY #1 A few years ago, the timing was absolutely right for me to buy my daughter a car. I was making decent money, and she was in starving artist mode while driving a 20-year-old death trap of a Volvo all around New England to her weekend bike races. Even though she's blessed with a far sharper business mind than mine, I suggested that this might be a useful learning opportunity for her. First we ID’d the right car— a new Chevy Spark. (Other entry-level cars that caught our attention were the Nissan Versa, Mitsubishi Mirage, Kia Rio, and the Hyundai Accent.) Then I did my in-depth price homework and found a dealer near her. “I’m going to buy my daughter a Chevy Spark,” I told the salesman, “and I’d like to buy it from you,” He seemed unaccustomed to such directness; indeed, I had just done 95% of his job for him. He might have been drooling into his phone. “Ah… GREAT! We have just the right—“ “No,” I interjected. “I don’t need it right now, or a week or a month from now. I’m going to buy it when the end of model year close-outs become available. I have an 800-plus credit score and high enough income to pull the trigger whenever the right deal comes along.” I left him with my contact info. (End-Of-Model-Year Closeouts are great deals because the manufacturer has already made tons of money on the model and just wants to push their remaining inventory out the door to make room for the next version. Getting stuck with old inventory reflects badly on the car, the dealership, and the manufacturer. If you have time to wait for the best deal and can live without getting your favorite color, this is a great way to go.) Three weeks later my phone rang... same salesman, only he sounded breathless. “We’re getting three of last year’s new Sparks tomorrow, and we need to blow’em out fast. Three grand below MSRP! I figured I’d call you first.” (With these cars, “three grand below MSRP” meant a hefty 22% discount.) Further conversation revealed that they were automatic transmissions rather than manuals, and that one was black, one was silver, and one was blue. “Blue” was my one syllable reply. I then instructed my daughter to go to this dealership half an hour before they open and physically defend this car from other buyers by any and all means necessary while I closed the deal from afar. Three days later she was driving a brand new Spark that she nicknamed “Blueberry.” (Women tend to name stuff they really like.) And then she was able to sell it two years later for more than I paid for it. This almost never happens, especially with economy cars. Aside from the obvious “Do Your Homework,” the biggest lesson from this transaction was– THE BEST TIME TO BUY (OR SELL) A CAR IS WHEN YOU DON’T NEED TO. This advice also came into play when I was selling a two-year-old Hyundai Accent a few years ago. In addition, I learned– on the spot– a new and completely different lesson that has served me very well... how to negotiate by not negotiating. CASE STUDY #2 The dealership where I bought this Hyundai stands out as especially sleazy even among their industry peers along the same “AutoMile” in our city. Two years after my purchase, Hyundai was replacing this version of the Accent with a “new and improved” (and of course more expensive) iteration. This dealership reached out to me, requesting that I come in for a quote because they wanted to buy the car back from me. It didn’t take long to figure out why– the bastards wanted to sell this old car at the new price! So I made a trip to this dealer– but only after checking with two other Hyundai dealers, who were either A) too honest to understand why any dealer would want to buy back such a car; or B) too dishonest to offer me a remotely attractive or fair price. I walked into my dealership, which is one of those where the salespeople take turns waiting on customers. My assigned salesman was an older man with a thick Russian accent... not a good start. As a Cold War history buff, I am well familiar with the Russian methods of international treaty negotiation– their representatives to this peace conference or that were always authorized to accept concessions, but never to make them. Armed with this background knowledge, I immediately concocted a novel strategy (at least novel to me)-- what I call the “Secret Number Gambit.” The conversation went like this– RUSSIAN SALESMAN: So… you want to sell car? DANNYM. No. RS: No? Then why you come in? DM: You asked me to. Out of professional courtesy I am giving you an opportunity to buy it. RS: So… how much you hope to get for car? DM: Listen– I’m a really lousy negotiator, so I never negotiate. (If they can lie, so can I.) So here’s how this is gonna work– I have a number in my head, and I’m not going to tell you what it is. (Pointing) See that guy at the desk that’s higher than all the others? I’m guessing he’s the boss, and he has to approve everything you do. So go over and ask him the MOST he is willing to pay for this car. You get ONE chance… no back-and-forth, no counter-counter offers or dickering. If I like the number, I’ll shake your hand and give you the keys. If I don’t like the number, I walk out the door and drive away. ‘Cause I’ll be perfectly happy driving this car for the next three years. The old Russian stared at me for a long moment. I stared back, stone-faced and not blinking. He walked over and had an animated conversation with the boss, then he returned with their offer... which was a thousand dollars higher than my secret number. The big lesson– AVOID NEGOTIATING WITH PROFESSIONAL NEGOTIATORS (Because you will ALWAYS lose.) Instead, feel free to use my “Secret Number Gambit,” which I have successfully used several times since. Of course, more and more car dealerships are adopting a “no dicker sticker” approach, so the negotiation (or non-negotiation) is usually about the trade-in allowance. No problem... because here’s another lesson I happily learned– DETAILS MATTER. Get your trade-in car thoroughly detailed before bringing it in for an offer. When I was in the process of purchasing my current vehicle, I spent over $300 on a super-deluxe detail job for my trade-in, a 2015 Toyota Tacoma. I asked that everything that could be polished be mirror-polished, and that every molecule of matter that didn’t come from the factory be removed. When I brought it to the dealer for the appraisal, I did my usual Secret Number Gambit. The dealer, knowing that he could probably re-sell this immaculate, shiny vehicle within 24 hours at full price, offered me a full 25% more than my Secret Number... a difference way bigger than the detailing expense. * * * * * * * Some other random pointers and lessons learned– IF A CAR IS VERY OLD, IT MAY HAVE MORE CURBSIDE VALUE THAN TRADE-IN VALUE. A dealership might understandably be reluctant to buy your decade-old car for resale on its lot, even if it runs well. In such a case they might offer you a token trade-in allowance and then junk it, so you'll likely do much better advertising it and selling it yourself. The upside might mean an extra thousand bucks or more; but downside is rather obvious— you risk having, say, a serial killer meeting you in person for a test drive. (Alas, life is full of trade-offs.) If you do sell your old car directly, make sure you execute all the necessary paperwork and make it clear IN WRITING that you are offering no implied warranty and that the car is being sold “as-is." Take sensible security measures. And do NOT accept a personal check (they bounce) or cash (lots of reasons)… demand instead a certified bank check. IT IS OFTEN CHEAPER (PER MONTH) TO OWN A NEW CAR THAN A USED CAR. A new car has three huge advantages over a used car– ONE, It is generally 100% reliable… enough so you can count on at least two years of worry-free driving. Remember that people sell used cars for a reason, so when your used car unexpectedly breaks down, you will have an unplanned expense and perhaps miss a day or more of work. TWO, new cars come with a warranty… so if it does break down, you are at least covered for the tow and repairs, and maybe even a loaner. And THREE, new car loans have lower interest rates and longer terms than used car loans, and therefore can be as low as $300/month. And speaking of loans… FIND YOUR OWN CAR LOAN. Car dealers basically originate loans on behalf of banks… and like the shady mortgage originators in (profanity alert) THE BIG SHORT, they make a hefty commission, one that manifests itself with car loans as an inflated interest rate for you to offset the immediate kickback to the dealership. When my salesman helpfully “found me a loan” with Bank of America for my most recent vehicle purchase, I went to BoA myself and beat his rate by more than a full point. (It helped that I had an active credit card account with BoA.) And finally, IF YOU THINK YOU CANNOT AFFORD A NEW CAR PAYMENT, THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD RE-EXAMINE YOUR MONTHLY EXPENDITURES. At the risk of condescendingly stating the obvious (the heart and soul of mansplaining) I'll nonetheless spell this out-- depending on your circumstances, you might be able to adopt a healthier lifestyle AND essentially have safe and reliable transportation for FREE by re-thinking your monthly budget. Do you buy alcohol in a bar? If so, you’re getting needlessly fleeced by experts. If you must occasionally socialize in public, establish a limit of, say, 1 drink per week unless someone else is paying. And if you have the space, set up a cozy mini-bar at home (or, better yet, a wine rack) and enjoy yourself there with friends or dates. Home bartending is fun, and you get to control the music. Strangers won’t hit on you or spike your drink. Atmosphere? Invest $50 in a potted palm and a dimmer switch at The Home Depot. It doesn’t take much. Do you dine in restaurants? Cook at home. You’ll eat way better for way less. (We post a lot of restaurant-quality recipes on this site.) Gym membership? Try Planet Fitness for 10 bucks a month. It’s no one’s notion of a spa, but a treadmill is a treadmill, and 20-lb. dumbbells weigh pretty much the same everywhere. Do you smoke? A new car is one more great excuse to quit. Not only will you be healthier and wealthier, but also your new car will have a much higher resale value if you haven’t used it for a 4-wheeled ashtray. What is your monthly cable bill? Phone bill? Hair, nails, eyelashes? If you go halfway natural, you might just start attracting people who like you for YOU. Coffee? Brew your own and save $2/cup, or $40-80/month. Grocery shopping? Walmart is the world’s largest distributor of organics. Unless you’re a celebrity, no one will care that you shopped there, and quality produce can’t tell where you bought it. Bag lunch? Yes. I could go on and on, but I won't; I'll just conclude that if you adopt only a few of these changes, you might well free up enough money to completely support a monthly payment for a brand-new, trouble-free car. * * * * * * * Do the aforementioned lessons and principles still apply in the age of COVID? Certainly not like before... the car market, like so many things we've long taken for granted, has fundamentally changed into something unrecognizable. It's a seller's car market right now, so the power has definitely shifted. We'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, the tools for smart buying will surely apply beyond the automobile lot. And one last tip about successfully negotiating your way to a better and/or cheaper car, or toward anything else that improves your living circumstances– remember to keep a straight face when you get a great deal. Strive to frame every outcome as a win-win, even if it isn't. Gloating or making other people feel defeated invites bad karma.

Hardly a summer dish, but a delicious preparation of scallops borrowed from the classical French repertoire by way of the CAYUGA LOUNGE. * * * * * * * I love sea scallops. Whether grilled, sautéed, or poached, they are for Andrea and me a decadent, wine-friendly shellfish treat– more cost-effective than lobster, richer than shrimp, and more sophisticated than either clams or mussels. We’ve taken Chef Astor’s old-school version– inexplicably a year-round favorite at the CAYUGA LOUNGE– and modernized it just a little for current culinary sensibilities by eliminating the flour and breadcrumbs, lightening the sauce, and putting a nice little scorch on the components BEFORE the final broiling. The Shiitake mushrooms– just plain unavailable in the CAYUGA LOUNGE’s heyday– are a crowning touch. We’ve also avoided such frou-frou-isms as curry powder and instead we’ve hewn closely to the original spirit of this dish, its Gaullic origins, and its finest Continental-American manifestations. We dare surmise that Chef Astor himself would approve of this version. This recipe makes either 2-3 generous entrees or 4-6 similarly generous appetizer portions. Feel free to multiply (or divide) this recipe accordingly. As for equipment, you’ll need oven-proof ceramic ramekins for individual servings (see photo) and a half-sheet pan or something similar for broiling. INGREDIENTS: ¾ lb (or more) of FRESH (never frozen) DRY PACK Sea Scallops (“Dry Pack” means no added sodium tripolyphosphate, which is a downright horrible thing to do to seafood. Also, please resist the temptation to make this dish with BAY scallops… aside from the fabulous and infuriatingly short-seasoned Peconics and Nantuckets, bay scallops are essentially cat food.) ½ lb. or so of Fresh White Mushrooms, De-stemmed ¼ lb. or so of Fresh Shiitake Mushrooms, De-stemmed ONE 6 oz. package of Fresh Baby Spinach ONE Large or TWO Medium Shallots, Finely Minced (~¾ cup) ONE Stalk of Celery, Finely Minced (~½ cup) ONE Glass of White Wine (whatever you’re enjoying w/ this meal is perfect) A Splash of (Genuine) Amontillado Sherry (use no other, please) ONE Lemon (for zest and juice, in that order) ½ Pint Heavy Cream (Make sure it doesn’t have chemical additives; a lot of cream does.) Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (NOT the crap in the green can… live a little and spring for the real thing.) FINELY Hand-shredded Gruyère (not COARSELY shredded, which gets gooey and stringy when broiled. Best to purchase a solid chunk and grate this yourself.) Unsalted Clarified Butter (or NOT clarified if you’ve ignored our earlier purchasing advice.) Chopped Fresh Tarragon for Garnish (Optional) * * * * * * * THE COMPONENTS Sauté the spinach in clarified butter until nicely wilted, and then set aside. Sauté the white mushrooms until they are lightly scorched, then add sherry and cook a little longer as the liquid evaporates. Set aside. Sauté the Shiitake mushrooms until lightly scorched, and set aside. Using the Shiitake pan, add butter and GENTLY scorch each side of the scallops and then set aside. They should be abou ⅔ to ¾ cooked, lightly scorched but still soft. They will finish cooking under the broiler. THE SAUCE Add just enough clarified butter to this Shiitake/Scallop pan to sauté the shallots until soft and translucent. Add celery and cook a little longer. Then add white wine and deglaze the pan. Using a microplane zester (my favorite kitchen tool EVER) add the zest of about half the lemon as the wine reduces. Then add a squeeze of lemon juice and continue cooking until liquid is almost gone. Add cream and reduce. When thickened nicely, remove from heat and whisk in Parmigiano-Reggiano, ¼ cup or more to taste. The finished sauce should be thick and rich and yet nicely lightened by the lemon. Adjust flavors as needed (salt, pepper, lemon.) You may add some chopped fresh tarragon if desired. THE ASSEMBLY Set oven to high broil. Toss scallops and a matching quantity of WHITE mushrooms in the sauce, then portion into the ramekins. Do the same with reasonable amounts of the spinach and Shiitakes, adding them to the ramekins as if topping a pizza. Portion the remainder of the sauce atop the individual servings, then top with enough finely shredded Gruyére to nicely gratinee. Place ramekins on the sheet pan and insert beneath the broiler, watching carefully to avoid burning. The sauce will begin to bubble as the Gruyère melts and begins to brown. Remove from oven and serve. * * * * * * * Notes– “Reasonable amounts” means that you don’t need to use all the mushrooms or spinach that you’ve cooked, and that your judgment comes into play. If you like mushrooms enough to make this dish, you’ll enjoy whatever you don’t use here in your next omelet or beside a steak. Same with the spinach. This is a GREAT white wine dish, a perfect companion to an expensive and full-bodied Chardonnay… OR, if you like sharp contrasts, a crisp Sauvignon Blanc or dry Riesling.

gaz·pa·cho| ɡəˈspäCHō | a Spanish-style soup made from tomatoes and other vegetables and spices, served cold: in warm weather you can enjoy gazpacho. * * * * * * * With such a vague definition, here we have yet another dish with numerous “classic” or “traditional” versions that widely differ. So what is “real” Gazpacho? According to one well-respected source, “There are a variety of different types of gazpacho but all are made with a base of garlic, bread, olive oil, and vinegar.” Assuming most of us won’t mind omitting the bread, that doesn’t leave us with much to go on. When Americans hear “Gazpacho,” they generally expect a cold vegetable soup based on tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers with noticeable vinegar tang and some spicy heat. However, I’ve seen versions that are completely puréed, and I’ve also seen versions that are essentially large chunks of veggies mixed with thin juice… and some with cilantro, or even orange juice. Some people add corn or peaches or zucchini. Still others regard “Gazpacho” as a style rather than a recipe, as in “A Gazpacho of Asparagus.” I think my boringly basic version is absolutely perfect on a sweltering hot early summer day. It strikes a nice balance of snappy vegetable flavors and features a seamless and palate-pleasing continuum of textures, from the juice to the puréed veggies to the chopped veggies. The result is a refreshingly zingy and spicy cold soup that one eats rather than drinks; one with all the usual and expected flavors and nothing that seems excessively creative or experimental. (If you’re a pineapple pizza type, you can also use this as a foundation and add whatever exotic ingredients you want.) The best test of any version is, I think, how much it is enjoyed by someone who has never heard of gazpacho before. By that measure, this recipe is a proven success. A Very Basic, Restaurant-Friendly Version of Gazpacho (Note: This will taste better the next day… so make it the day before.) THE BASE ONE 46 oz. Can or Bottle of V-8 Juice (or a generic knock-off thereof) ONE 46 oz. Can or Bottle of Tomato Juice These are fairly common container sizes and give you a batch of soup that fits easily into a standard stock pot. THE VEGGIES 1½-2 Red Peppers, De-Seeded 1½-2 Green Peppers, De-Seeded 4-5 Small-to-Medium Cucumbers, Peeled & De-Seeded (Scoop out seeds w/ a teaspoon) 4-5 Small-to-Medium Stalks of Celery 1 Red Onion, Peeled Of course you can vary these quantities a little according to taste and availability. Organic produce is noticeably tastier in this recipe. THE SEASONINGS ½ Cup Red Wine Vinegar ¼ Cup Sherry Vinegar (Do NOT use apple cider vinegar.) 3 TBSP Sriracha Hot Pepper Sauce (or some other source of spicy heat to taste) Minced Garlic To Taste (4 Cloves Should Work. I like to puree them in the olive oil.) ½ Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil Salt & Pepper (As Needed) OPTIONAL– Chopped Fresh Italian Parsley (flat leaf) for garnish Dice the onion, peppers, and cukes to pieces approximately the same size… ¼” is perfect; anything over ½” is too big. Cut the celery into the smallest pieces you can. As you go, add diced veggies to a large stock pot (or other container) that will fit into your refrigerator. (Pro-Tip: That $7 RESTAURANT DEPOT knife I recently reviewed performed beautifully at this task.) Thoroughly mix diced veggies w/ the juices. Scoop out and VERY BRIEFLY pulse-blend (but do NOT completely puree) ⅓ - ½ of the veggie/juice mix and then re-combine it with the remainder. Repeat as necessary to achieve the desired texture– not uniformly pureed, but thick enough to keep the un-blended veggies from sinking. Carefully add seasonings to taste, mindful that you can always add more later. Allow to chill for a few hours in the fridge, then taste and re-season as needed. (Pro-Tip: The best way to add seasonings to a large batch of soup or stew is to scoop out a bowl’s worth, thoroughly mix seasonings with the bowlful, and then thoroughly mix the bowlful back into the whole batch. Adding seasonings directly can lead to uneven distribution. Also– the Sherry Vinegar is an important ingredient because it alone provides actual sweetness, which beautifully counterbalances the tang and the spicy heat.) * * * * * * * This recipe serves a good-sized group; say, a dozen or more. For outdoor gatherings, there’s nothing wrong with serving this in Red Solo Cups. Leftovers will keep nicely for a couple of days. If you try to keep it for too long, the veggies will begin to ferment, creating a prickly sensation from the carbon dioxide thus produced.

You may recall from an earlier essay that they’ve ruined the shovel and Mateus “transitioned.” I have some follow-up insights to share. * * * * * * * We posted a rant a couple of months ago about perfectly good products that have been ruined. I’m here to report some good news– I’ve found a shovel that is actually built to last, as well as the perfect pink fizz for sipping one’s way through an early summer swelter. “Can you dig it?” YES! (Wouldn’t you rather see a video of Isaac Hayes than a shovel?) After an extensive online search, I found the shovel of my dreams. (Photo & Particulars Here.) A small company in Ohio-- known as A.M. Leonard’s Gardener’sEdge-- www.gardenersedge.com --sells serious, well-made gardening and landscaping tools & supplies. Their shovels range from standard-issue (i.e., as flimsy as the ones I had previously ranted about) to my new one, a masterpiece of manufacturing– a heavy-duty, FORGED (in Mexico) 12-gauge steel blade, double-riveted to a four-foot ash handle that feels like it was grown and cut to last for generations. Remember the lawyer in the first JURASSIC PARK movie? ("Are they heavy? Yes. Then they're expensive! Put'em back!" Second-best* line in the movie.) Folks, this shovel is HEAVY… maybe 50% heavier than what one would expect from a shovel this size. Ash is ash, so the weight is in the indestructible blade. It is as heavy as it needs to be for eternal durability, so I’ll take the extra exercise. And like that lawyer said right before he was eaten by the T. Rex, heavy means expensive… and this shovel is expensive, listing for $59.72. But I got a discount for placing my first order, and they shipped it for free AND it comes with a lifetime warranty. For $50 total I feel like not only did I get a fair deal, but also– more importantly– I got exactly what I was looking for. I can definitely dig that. HEAT WAVE WINE (<== Best Heat Wave Song EVER! Great pairing w/ “The Summer of ‘42,” even greater pairing with the perfect Heat Wave Wine.) * * * * * * * Even wine mavens like me find it hard to enjoy complex and well-crafted wine when the mercury climbs into the high 80’s. As posited in the afore-referenced rant, “...when the season’s first muggy swelter has us enervated and damp-shirted beneath a merciless June sun, serious wine— red OR white— is impossible to enjoy, and so we gleefully pass the ice-cold pink stuff around the patio and gulp it like lemonade.” And the “pink stuff” to which I referred was Mateus Rosé– not the “new, improved” version, but the original that was once the biggest-selling wine in the world until they completely ruined it inside and out. Well, I haven’t succeeded in finding anything close to an exact replacement for the original Mateus, but I do have what I consider a great alternative suggestion… something drier and fizzier, but every bit the bargain and just as delicious– The Spaniards long ago mastered the art & science of mass-producing inexpensive methode champenoise bubbly… “Cava,” they call it. Winemaking giant JAUME SERRA CRISTALINO pumps out 20 million bottles a year of various products, including this pink brut rosé that should only set you back about $9 per bottle. It is all too often the case that the nicest thing you can say about a Cava is that there is nothing wrong with it. (Remember your first and last experience with that horrible crap in the black bottle you accidentally bought? That Spanish bubbly that was as hard to swallow as it was to pronounce?) But this JAUME SERRA CRISTALINO BRUT ROSÉ performs beautifully, way above its weight class– it is dry, but not sharply acidic; just fruity enough to match its lovely coral hue; and isn’t so complex and expensive that you fear muting its wonderfulness by serving it ice-cold. Served just north of the freezing point, it is delightfully refreshing, enough to enjoy in long, thirsty gulps while lounging pool-side or beneath a patio umbrella. Hell– for a perfect cross-cultural misappropriation, how about sipping it with barbecue? It works with everything else– from pasta salad to sushi– so why not? * * * * * * * * *In this author’s judgment, the BEST line in the original JURASSIC PARK was delivered by the black-clad, madcap chaos theorist Dr. Ian Malcom–

You’ll often hear me rant about how lousy new products are. Sometimes we get the opportunity to examine the flip-side of the issue. * * * * * * * Andrea and I are filling the small cracks in our busy work schedules with a major cleaning & reorganizing project– making our long-neglected basement more usable. The previous owner was apparently a frequent entertainer, for he had constructed a full bar right in the middle of the maybe six hundred square foot space. Operating an actual bar requires refrigeration, and along with a bunch of half-empty booze bottles, the owner had left behind a beast– a Frigidaire from the 1950’s. We had long known that this day would eventually come. I had gutted out the bar and the wall behind it and installed a new wall that serves as a backdrop for my wine racks. The fridge wasn’t in the way, for it was in a far corner, well away from everything. But it was there, an unattractive, (apparently) dead thing that just had to go. We would put it outside, we agreed, out of our neighbors' sight until we could hire someone to haul it away. We cleared a pathway and I positioned my dolly. Andrea left for work, but my neighbor was on standby in case I needed more muscle getting it up the stairs. And then, just as I was a about to show this antique appliance its first light of day in perhaps seventy years, I had a sudden inspiration– What would happen if I plugged it in? This 1952 Frigidaire immediately hummed to life. Surely it couldn’t actually cool, I figured… if nothing else, the refrigerant would likely have leaked out long ago. But out of deference to its age and its demonstration of at least a willingness to perform as designed, I rigged up the instant-read thermometer that I use for smoking briskets. Twenty minutes later, the interior was holding between 23ºF and 25ºF. It ran quietly, with no rattles or anything. It sounded proficient and reassuringly reliable. I have no idea why it would still work, except of course that it must be very well-made. Likewise, I can’t imagine why it was set at such a low temperature… all I knew was that we suddenly had a new freezer that we intend to use. * * * * * * * A plaque on the refrigerator’s door reads, “MADE ONLY BY GENERAL MOTORS.” GM certainly made sturdy cars in the 1950’s, and I doubt that they would put their name on a refrigerator that was anything but top quality. So naturally I started googling. Frigidaire was established in 1918, and one of GM’s co-founders was an early and substantial investor… substantial enough for GM to swallow the company whole and make it a subsidiary. (GM sold the company in 1979, and it changed hands again in 1986, when it was acquired by Electrolux.) So how much is this sucker worth? Consumer Reports lists a new 2022 Frigidaire as a “best buy” for $600. According to the CPI Inflation Calculator, that would be about $56 in 1952, my best estimate of my new/old fridge’s birth year. And although I couldn’t find its exact retail price, similar units in 1952 sold for around $300. So yes, manufactured products have gotten less expensive over the decades. However, there doesn’t appear to be any plastic parts on the ‘52… only solid metal. Everything about it appears to be built to last (which, apparently, it has) and to be readily serviceable if necessary. Perhaps the ultimate arbiter of my new/old fridge’s value is the free market– eBay currently lists a few 1950’s GM-made Frigidaires for between $4000 and $8000, and there appears to be a burgeoning market for restored vintage appliances, as with old cars. Needless to say, I’m very glad I plugged this thing in before I threw it away. I will be reporting back after a few months of use.

Commercial BBQ Sauce That’s Actually Worth Buying I first set foot below the Mason-Dixon Line and into the Great American South, the fabled “Land of Cotton,” when Andrea and I traveled to Chattanooga for orientation and training as we began our trucking careers. We had much to learn, we quickly realized, and we navigated the inevitable culture shock by treating it as an opportunity for personal growth. We noticed, among many other things, the sharp distinction in the workforce between those who sweat for a living and those who sit in air-conditioned comfort for a few hours each day on either side of a leisurely and sumptuous “sweet tea lunch.” We took note of the South’s reverence for officialdom and privately joked about waiting hours in line to “have our signatures certified by the certified signature certifier.” And we surmised that it had nothing to do with geography that the company-provided food during orientation was utterly inedible. Rather, we took it as motivation to explore alternative dining options. There was a cute little diner across the street that looked like part of a chain, and we quickly became WAFFLE HOUSE regulars. And since we really didn’t care to eat omelets three times a day, we widened our search and soon found ourselves at a charming little barbecue joint called HILLBILLY WILLY’S. Up to that point I had been vaguely aware of the universe of barbecue but had never developed much interest in it, perhaps in part because my food sensibilities had evolved with regard to wine affinity. But that night at a table in Hillbilly Willy’s I experienced my first real contact with the soul of barbecue, its inner essence. I realized right there that I had never actually tasted proper barbecue before… and more specifically, proper barbecue SAUCE. More than a decade later, I’ve tasted great barbecue all over Dixie— from three styles in Missouri alone (Kansas City, St. Louis, and Boot-Heel) to Virginia smoked chicken, to the various styles of sauces in the Carolinas for their pulled pork, to Texas brisket. Not only that, but I’ve coaxed a few talented and knowledgeable Pit Masters to share their hard-won intel so I could make my own. And of all the recipes and techniques I’ve learned over the past decade, I consider none as important as making proper barbecue sauce from scratch. That’s because almost all commercially-available barbecue sauce has, in my mind, THREE disqualifying flaws— —Artificial Thickeners (like Xanathan Gum; I like things real.) —High Fructose Corn Syrup (which a lot of smart people consider more poisonous than sugar) —Artificial Smoke Flavor (proper BBQ gets its smoke flavor from a fire, not a bottle.) At its most basic, classic barbecue sauce is built on a base of 6 ingredients— Tomato Purée, Ketchup, YELLOW Mustard (not Dijon), Vinegar, Sugar (in the form of molasses and/or brown sugar) and some sort of spicy-hot heat, e.g., red pepper. Every other proper version (save for the famously tomato-less Eastern North Carolina style) is a variation on this theme. Garlic, turmeric, Worcestershire, tamarind, and/or citrus? Why not? And if one likes it thick, then painstakingly brown some yellow onions until they are almost gone and purée them with the sauce. Once you find your personal favorite recipe, you will like it much better than store-bought versions. All this being said, I have found TWO commercial barbecue sauces that I am happy to recommend— LILLIE’S WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA BARBECUE SAUCE, which is available at Wegmans or online; and OLE RUDY’S SPICY BARBECUE SAUCE, available online* or, most delightfully, in person at the actual Rudy’s roadside barbecue joint on (I'm not making this up) Bucksnort Road in Jackson, Georgia, right by the Flying J truck stop at exit 201 on I-75. (*Their website is no longer live, but the “original”— not the “spicy”— is available on Spotify. Not to be confused with “Rudy’s BBQ” or “Old Ray’s BBQ.”) LILLIE’S WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA BARBECUE SAUCE is what I would describe as a lighter style of BBQ sauce, made delightfully zingy and perky with the addition of tamarind and lime juice. I test-drove it with deli-sliced smoked turkey and gave it an A+. I also mixed it with some of my pulled pork to great effect for a recent neighborhood gathering. OLE RUDY’S SPICY BARBECUE SAUCE, meanwhile, is a darker and heftier style that seems like a perfect finishing touch for ribs or brisket, sticky enough to hold in place for a final caramelization under a broiler. * * * * * * * I will continue to seek acceptable versions of commercial barbecue sauce and share my findings. Meanwhile, I encourage everyone to join me in tinkering with homemade versions, for which the aforementioned LILLIE’S and OLE RUDY’S provide excellent role models.

I love onions. I use them– in one form or another of the genus Allium– in just about everything I cook that isn’t dessert. Aside from putting tears in one’s eyes, onions put the soul in soul food, the rave in the gravy, and the comfort in comfort food. Like a great rock’n’roll bass line that lends power and depth to the drums and guitars without demanding our attention, the culinary contributions of onions often remain in the background and rarely solo. Shopping for onions can be a little confusing, so let’s sort them out– YELLOW ONIONS, a.k.a. COOKING ONIONS, or just plain ONIONS, are the basic, go-to onions for general purposes– unless otherwise specified in more detail. They have a strong flavor and naturally-occurring tear gas that might even make your neighbors cry when you slice them. This is the onion that you will “caramelize” (more on that later.) WHITE ONIONS are milder than the yellow version, and thus better for eating raw, as in salads or chopped as a garnish for hot dogs and burgers. I slip them (lightly sautéed) between layers of potatoes in my Potatoes au Gratin Dauphinois. SWEET ONIONS (Spanish, Vidalia, Walla Walla, and others) have a higher sugar and water content than the basic yellow, and are also milder in flavor. Does that make them better? If you are eating them raw, yes; however, one gains little by cooking with them in place of the basic yellow. (It is easy to mistake the Spanish for the yellow, and your dish won’t noticeably suffer if you do.) The not-so-common BERMUDA ONION is another sweetie, though it must comprise its own sub-category because it comes in all colors (yellow, white, and red) and sports a distinctive flat shape. RED (or PURPLE) ONIONS are as powerfully flavored as the yellow, and yet they often appear in salads, perhaps because of their lovely hue. They cook nicely, but their vivid color turns dull in the process. I use them in a number of recipes, from Onion Jam to Beet & Orange Salad. PEARL ONIONS are of mild flavor and come in all different colors. Because of their size, peeling them can be a chore, one made much easier by boiling them for two minutes and then letting them cool enough to handle. Pearl onions are often browned in butter, which makes them a great side dish for, say, Thanksgiving, or else a nice addition to dishes such as beef stew. They also lend themselves to pickling. The CIPOLLINI ONION is a relatively hard-to-find heirloom Italian variety characterized by its flat shape. Like pearl onions, they come in multiple colors and lend themselves to both pickling and browning. The Extended Family If you love GARLIC, then you haven’t smelled heaven until you’ve been passed by an open-bed garlic truck in Californian farm country. Since garlic is worthy of its own library (and certainly its rabid cult following) I won’t attempt to do proper justice to the “stinking rose” in a wee paragraph here; However, I’ll just add two quick points– One, be very careful not to burn it… add it later rather than early to a stir-fry or sauté; and Two, even if you refuse to spend the extra money for any other organic produce, reach for the organic garlic. In my experience it makes a significant difference. SHALLOTS were bred as a variant of onion and have a sweeter, more sophisticated flavor. They are essential (though not indispensable– a fine line, I know) for Classical French sauce-making, from Sauce Beurre Blanc to Sauce Bordelaise. Though rarely eaten raw, they appear as such in vinaigrettes and, in particular, Sauce Mignonette for oysters. LEEKS have long found favor in France and the British Isles as the most “vegetal” of the onion family and as a key component in all manner of soups. Slowly-simmered leeks make an elegant contribution to poached oyster dishes that would be overpowered by onions, shallots, or garlic. Please resist the temptation to use the green part for anything except the stock pot. Also, always wash leeks carefully after slicing them because sand is often trapped between their layers. SCALLIONS (a.k.a. GREEN ONIONS) are visually the close kin of LEEKS, but we use them quite differently. Scallions appear in all manner of Asian cuisine, and they seem to get on well with ginger and garlic to season a wide variety of meat and other dishes. Unlike leeks, the scallion is edible well up into its green stalk. I am old enough to recall when shallots were not widely available, and scallions were often used in substitution. And finally, CHIVES lack a useful bulb, so their culinary contribution is mostly confined to using crosswise snippings of their stems to garnish everything from the sour cream on our baked potatoes to rich, creamy soups. As such, chives are often considered (rightly or not) an herb. Though milder than all its relatives, chives can make a useful contribution to soups and stocks… especially if, like me, you have some growing wild on your property and you don’t feel like driving to the store. * * * * * * * Exploding Two Myths About “Caramelizing” Onions It Cannot Be Done Quickly. Recipe after recipe LIES about how long it takes. (This article examines the issue beautifully.) Plan on 45 minutes to “caramelize” onions. And while you’re at it, you might as well make way more than you need and save them for next time. They keep well in the fridge. “Caramelization” Isn’t Entirely Correct. We see it in recipes all the time… “caramelize onions.” However, there are two distinct types of non-enzymatic chemical reactions that result in browning– Caramelization and the Maillard reaction. Caramelization occurs at higher temperatures (>300ºF) and involves the conversion of sugars into more complex molecules. The Maillard reaction involves the interaction of sugars and proteins and occurs at 284ºF. (When meat slowly roasts, it forms a knee-weakening aroma and an unbelievably delicious brown crust– both products of a Maillard reaction.) There is enough protein in onions to foster a Maillard reaction, and that accounts for much of the browning. The onion’s sugars will indeed caramelize, albeit toward the end of the cooking process. All in all, it would be more accurate to say that one is “browning” onions rather than “caramelizing” them.

This dish was born in VONGOLE CASSINI (The Story), a tale about an unforgettable female sous chef-in-residence at the CAYUGA LOUNGE. * * * * * * * “Clams Casino” was invented in Rhode Island a century ago. Numerous variations as well as other versions of clams baked on the half-shell with various seasonings (i.e, Vongole Gratinate) abound. This version substitutes additional flavor and zing for the bread so commonly used in such recipes, setting it apart as a gluten-free alternative without sacrificing flavor or structure. 24 Small Clams– Littleneck or Cherrystone– 6 Per Person (or more) ¼ lb. Pancetta, purchased Thickly Sliced ¼ lb. Prosciutto, purchased Thickly Sliced ½ cup (or 4 pieces) Peppadew Spicy Red Pepper, Finely Minced 1 Green Pepper, Finely Chopped 2 Medium Stalks of Celery, Finely Diced ½ Sweet Onion, Chopped 4 cloves of Garlic, Finely Minced Finely Chopped Herbs (Fresh Oregano and Fresh Thyme) To Taste Zest of 1 Lemon White Wine (Sauvignon Blanc is perfect) Grated Grano Padano Cheese Steam the clams with white wine and water flavored with scraps of garlic, onion, and celery until they just start to open, then remove from heat ASAP. Reserve the clam meats in a bowl and save the shells. Save the steaming broth and reduce it until it is nearly a syrup. Slowly sauté the pancetta and prosciutto in a splash of grapeseed oil until soft. When nicely cooked, use only 2 cups of the mixture and save the rest for another purpose. Put the 2 cups of the prosciutto/pancetta mixture in deep sauté pan and add, in order, the onions, the red and green peppers, garlic, and then celery. Add a splash of the reduced broth and season to taste with the herbs and lemon zest. Add just enough grated cheese to tighten it up, and then remove from heat. Crinkle aluminum foil on a baking sheet so that clam shells can be held in stable position while they broil. Place 24 ½ shells on the foil and add a dab of veggie/herb mixture. Place individual clams atop veggie/meat mix, than add more mix. Sprinkle with cheese, then broil on low setting just until the topping begins to brown. Remove from oven, and serve either hot, warm, or even room temperature. * * * * * * * This recipe will make more veggie/meat filling than you will need for 24 clams, but it is a convenient quantity to shop for and work with. You can make more clams, or you can use it as a topping for fish, chicken, or veal, or in a pasta dish.

A factor that made the CAYUGA LOUNGE great was its capacity to absorb influences from all over the globe– French, Italian, German, whatever. * * * * * * * One autumn back in the day, a distinguished visiting professor arrived in Ithaca from Milan… accompanied, naturally, by his mistress. Gianna (“Gia”) Cassini was neither plump nor skinny, simply farm-girl-strong with powerful thighs and broad shoulders. Her proud posture made her small breasts a little more prominent. (She’d never worn a bra before the professor took her shopping.) Though she had spent most of her life in kitchens, she had the air of the outdoors about her— the sun, the forest, and especially the life-giving soil. Gia was the opposite of photogenic, for no frame of film could ever capture the vibrant spirit behind the face that was a map of Italy itself— azure eyes of such crystalline clarity as found only in the Alpine foothills; raven hair and caramel-cream skin from the south; a cupid’s-bow pout and sculpted nose seemingly lifted from ancient Roman statuary; and a knife scar on her left cheek from a jealous Sicilian Contessa. This face was always sternly serious while focused on toil, but with little provocation it would spontaneously explode into a huge, toothy smile that radiated pure joy. Without an actual family, Gia was free to aimlessly flit from one city to another during her late teens and early adulthood. Having developed a knack for cooking, she always found work whenever she felt like it. She enjoyed a continuous stream of male admirers, for whom her culinary talents were a crowning bonus that made her a much-desired mistress. And after she became steadily involved with a prominent economics professor, it would have been unthinkable for him to leave her behind after he accepted a visiting fellowship in Ithaca. She had never been to America, but he assured her that she would have a comfortable and enjoyable stay in spite of the harsh Finger Lakes winters she had learned about. Less than a week after her arrival, they were both relieved that she was cheerfully chopping vegetables and making batches of Minestrone at the CAYUGA LOUNGE, where the professor had convinced Chef Astor of her abilities and arranged for her the important-sounding title of “Sous Chef in Residence,” though, truth be told, she was actually little more than a glorified prep cook. * * * * * * * Around that same time, the nearby upstate cities of Utica, Binghamton, Syracuse, and Rochester were each run by not one but two governments— the official electees who physically occupied City Hall and nominally operated the municipal levers, and a far more powerful and efficient cartel of rivet-eyed, unsmiling men whose names no one dared utter in public. Inter-city conflicts naturally arose over control of this rural garbage contract or that vice, or perhaps the ambiguous boundaries of their respective domains. It took a few spectacular public murders, but the chieftains of these four cities eventually realized that resolving their conflicts over a sumptuous dinner every month or so would free them to focus on collectively outsmarting their common, badge-wearing enemy. The ideal venue for such meetings, they decided, was a restaurant perched on a bluff overlooking Cayuga Lake, insulated from each of the cities by many miles. A small private dining room– pretentiously dubbed by CAYUGA LOUNGE management the Salle Privée– suited their needs perfectly. The “Iroquois Council,” they called themselves… eight men, two higher-ups from each city. Plus two Irish bodyguards, veteran ex-cops both who’d been stripped of their positions but still needed to feed their large Catholic families and put their kids through college. The Council always came in unannounced, for to make reservations might invite an ambush or some such unpleasantness. Their surprise arrivals usually worked out okay, since they always showed up on not-so-busy weeknights. (Their weekends were generally spent with their actual wives, attending First Communions and other family events.) However, one particular Thursday not long after Gia’s arrival was far busier than expected with autumn leaf peepers when the Council arrived… and about twenty minutes later the head waiter, face white with terror, burst through the kitchen’s double doors sputtering that something was terribly wrong with the first course he had just served. Mr. Rizzo, caporegime of Utica and the council’s unofficial chairman, had demanded that the terrified waiter immediately produce whoever the hell was responsible for these unfamiliar-looking plates. Gia marched into the Salle Privée and was instantly met by the Irish bodyguards. One motioned for her to raise her arms out sideways, which she did. Then they awkwardly shrugged at each other, as if deciding who would assume an undesirable duty. When the other began to frisk her, Gia immediately slapped his face so hard that it spun him half around and spiraling toward the Salle Privée’s hideous carpet. The other Irish drew his pistol and reflexively aimed it at her as the eight principals sat frozen and gape-mouthed at the astonishing spectacle. “I alone choose-a who touch me!” Gia declared with striking authority as she unbuttoned her chef jacket. In an instant it was draped over a chair, and her black, B-movie bra was on full display as she slowly and gracefully executed a full turn. Right then the setting sun was finishing its workday and dipping below the western horizon. The dimly lit room suddenly suddenly felt a little brighter and warmer, a little cozier as darkness filled the windows. And as Gia slowly twirled, her feral womanhood overpowered all else— the nipples barely obscured by the sheer faux silk, the sweet funk of her furry armpits, and the piercing blue eyes that made contact with everyone else’s as she scanned around the table. The net effect was to arouse the deepest animal passions in this roomful of men while simultaneously rendering their bones too gelatinous to act upon them. She owned them. “See? You-a safe from harm,” She teased. The ten gaping mouths ran dry and the arm that held the pistol fell slack. And then, as she was re-buttoning her jacket, “No gun in the cooch, but you need-a trust me for that.” Rizzo made a calming gesture, and everyone exhaled in unison. “Where’d you get such quick hands?” he asked. “We gotta coupla boxers who can’t hit like that.” All the men chuckled and relaxed a little more. “At the orphanage. Were many curious boys there. And also teachers.” “Well, sorry about the… the misunderstanding. Now… please tell us about this clam dish.” Rizzo was a reasonable man, and he sounded genuinely curious. Gia’s physical charms mitigated her difficulties with English as she spoke, and the gathered men were actually delighted to hear such a raw Old-World accent. Chef Astor’s kitchen, she explained, was already overwhelmed even before the Council showed up unannounced. She had already finished her daily prep work and was about to punch the clock when Chef Astor pleaded with her to stay and help. They were all out of Clams Casino… perhaps she could make a batch before she left? The Chef plopped a recipe sheet in front of her and disappeared. “American put-a the bread in everyting,” She protested, “even putta the bread inside-a turkey! Too much-a bread no good… make-a the belly fat. So I make-a stuff clam like in Liguria… no bread, just-a meat and-a garlic and-a spice. Little bit of Parmesano and herbs. Go ahead you try— if you no like, I make-a Clam Casino with plenty bread for you.” “Well, let’s see,” said Rizzo as he picked up a clam shell and judiciously studied it for a moment. Then with his tiny appetizer fork he delicately flicked its contents into his mouth. Eyes closed, he slowly, lovingly chewed as everyone awaited his pronouncement. Rizzo’s genuinely heartfelt smile said it all. And ever since that moment, Gia was regarded as royalty by the Council. Only she among the kitchen staff seemed to somehow know whenever they were about to come in unannounced, and she was expected to personally serve the appetizer course, which she gladly did. When that year’s spring semester was coming to a close and she was about to return to Milan with her lover, the Council threw a farewell bash for them complete with rustic homemade wine from their personal cellars. And as the servers were slicing the tiramisu and pouring coffee, Rizzo discretely pulled the professor aside and explained in the most genial terms that Gia would not be traveling back to Italy with him. The wide-awake professor, no stranger to such machinations in the old country, understood immediately and gave his worthless but symbolic blessing. Gia happily toiled as a Sous Chef in Residence at the CAYUGA LOUNGE for several years after that. She spent her days off motoring through the Finger Lakes on her red Vespa, finding the very finest of the local agriculture. She befriended the best trout fishermen and even became a favorite of the Amish farmers, who couldn’t understand a word she said but nonetheless reserved for her their tastiest chickens and richest hand-churned butter. She stayed at the CAYUGA LOUNGE right up until the devastating fire that closed it. After that, the Iroquois Council never settled upon a new venue for their monthly dinner meetings. Small grievances eventually started exploding into deadly conflagrations, like tiny sparks splashed with liquid accelerant. And as the warring factions started killing each other, the long-frustrated Feds seized the opening and closed in. Of the eight principals comprising the old Iroquois Council, three found their way to cemeteries while four went to federal prison. Only one– the top target, actually– managed to slip away, rumored to have fled the country. Always the survivor, Gia watched all this ugliness from a safe distance and plotted her future course. While she had found much to love in America– particularly the gorgeous and wonderful Finger Lakes region and its salt-of-the-earth natives– it was not her home and never could be. And so she finagled her way back to Italy, and word has it that she is enjoying the life she had always dreamed of– living in a nondescript Tuscan villa, humble of exterior but luxuriously appointed within; rising with the sun every morning and visiting all the food markets on her Vespa; and preparing fabulous meals for her loving husband, a very wealthy and similarly secretive man who bears a striking resemblance to a Mr. Rizzo from Utica.