Some honey produced in coastal regions of Turkey, along the Black Sea, can be possessed of a certain hallucinogenic quality, if honey bees are able to pollinate, and gather the nectar of, rhododendron flowers that grow in the area.
While adding a dollop of this so-called “mad honey” to drinks, such as tea I imagine, resulted in a buzz akin to consuming a couple of alcoholic beverages, when ingested in any reasonable quantity it can however induce nausea, blurred vision, and seizures, among other things.
Indeed, in 67 B.C. Roman soldiers invaded the Black Sea region under General Pompey’s command, and those loyal to the reigning King Mithridates secretly lined the Romans’ path with enticing chunks of mad honeycomb. The unwitting army ate these with gusto, as the story goes. Driven into an intoxicated stupor by the hallucinogenic honey, many of the flailing soldiers became easy prey, and were slain.
Interestingly, I saw a film called Bal, or Honey, a few years ago, that is set in pretty much the same part of Turkey, although I don’t believe hallucinogenic honey was featured.
I’m not sure exactly why I decided to post this, a recipe for ice cream bread, but the reasons are hardly inscrutable… one, the idea of ice cream bread is intriguing, two, it only requires two ingredients, three, it is the Simple Cooking Channel, and four, it’s Monday, this calls for some comfort food.
If you’re having to write a dissertation on the design of food cans, this resource should prove useful. The cylindrical shaped cans didn’t just come along, it seems quite some thought went into their conception.
Familiarity. The original cans may have been manufactured with an arbitrary aspect ratio, but now we’ve been programmed to search for items of this shape when we shop. A soup can of the wrong shape might not attract our attention (or bizarrely might be less attractive) to shoppers. Changing a can shape at this stage (without accompanying large budget media awareness campaigns) could have a negative impact on sales.
What you pay for a cheeseburger is the price, but price isn’t cost. It isn’t the cost to the producers or the marketers and it certainly isn’t the sum of the costs to the world; those true costs are much greater than the price.
The argument for the so-called “Palaeolithic diet” goes like this: the human body adapted to life during the Stone Age, and as our genetics has changed very little since then, this means biologically speaking we are far better-suited to the hunter-gatherers’ diet that existed before there was any agriculture. Details vary from diet to diet, but on the whole they advocate eschewing all dairy products, grain-based foods like pasta, bread or rice, and in some versions lentils and beans aren’t allowed. Proponents argue modern disorders like heart disease, diabetes and cancer have arisen primarily from the incompatibility between our current forms of diet and our prehistoric anatomy.
The music of our favourite bands or recording artists likely inspires us in all sorts of ways, and food preparation is no exception, at least as far as fans of US hip hop group Wu-Tang Clan are concerned.
Artisanal toast, being bread dressed up as a gourmet snack I guess, should be of more interest to me than it seems to be, since it strikes me as being the ultimate in minimal comfort food. If you too wish to transform a run-of-the-mill slice of bread into something more, then there are plenty of suggestions.
“Artisanal” toast is made from inch-thick, snow-white or grainy slices, lathered in butter and cinnamon or peanut butter and honey, then wrapped individually in wax paper.
Certain fine dining establishments are taking customer service, and attention to detail, to a new level. Having taken a booking, staff then turn to search engines to see what they can learn about their customers, all in the name of personalising, or enhancing, the dining experience:
If, for example, Roller discovers it’s a couple’s anniversary, he’ll then try to figure out which anniversary. If it’s a birthday, he’ll welcome a guest, as they walk in the door, with a “Happy Birthday.” (Or, if it seems to Roller that a guest prefers to keep a low profile, “I’ll let them introduce themselves to me,” he says.) Even small details are useful: “If I find out a guest is from Montana, and I know we have a server from there, we’ll put them together.” Same goes for guests who own jazz clubs, who can be paired with a sommelier that happens to be into jazz. In other words, before customers even step through the door, the restaurant’s staff has a pretty good idea of the things it can do to specifically blow their minds.
Have desserts, as served at fine dining establishments, really fallen out of vogue, and off the menu, in recent years? Clearly I eat at restaurants that must be a little more down to earth, as I haven’t noticed an absence of desserts on the menus, but if the trend is yet to percolate itself to my level, maybe this something to be concerned about:
In today’s post-recessionary dining economy, dessert chefs tend to be viewed by your average restaurateur starting out in Cobble Hill (or even the West Village or midtown) as a luxury. More and more of the restaurants I review don’t even employ full-time dessert cooks, which is why their menus are flooded with pre-made pies, cakes, and puddings that can be put together ahead of time and whisked out to diners as quickly as possible. As in the realm of savory cooking, the most interesting, innovative work tends to be done in small out-of-the-way tasting rooms, where set omakase-style menus conclude with one or two meager dessert “tastes” per sitting.