Food and Drink

Against Aioli

Now that we’ve figured out the existence of God and the reality of time, let’s get down to the important issues: please stop putting aioli on hot dogs.

Recently, a casual restaurant called the Dog Haus opened right on the street I drive down on my way to and from work. It’s a pretty simple concept: fancy hot dogs and sausages. As restaurant concepts go, this is right in my wheelhouse, combining two things I love very much: (1) fanciness, and (2) hot dogs. I am precisely the target audience for this establishment. I would not be surprised if some marketer had shown a picture of me in his PowerPoint presentation to the Dog Haus board meeting at one point.

However, upon actually eating at the Dog Haus a couple of times, my overall impression was one of grave disappointment. I had sampled a couple of their suggested special items — things like “Das Brat,” which comes with bratwurst, whole grain mustard aioli, white american cheese, caramelized onions, and sauerkraut. In each case, the offering came across as too bland and goopy to really qualify as anything special. I have had hot dogs at baseball stadiums that brought me greater pleasure.

But I persevered, out of a conviction that I should like this kind of place. Finally I decided to forgo the suggested menu offerings and just get a plain dog and put on the condiments myself.

It was heavenly. Spicy, crisp, lively, and served on an amazing Hawaiian bread bun. The hot dog I had been waiting for all my life.

It took me a while, but I eventually sussed out why I could take the Dog Haus raw ingredients and create something special, but was turned off by all of their pre-suggested menu items. Namely: the suggestions they put forward were far too likely to feature an innocent sausage drowned in “aioli.”

Photo of a Dog Haus dog (with aioli). From A Moveable Feast, whose author is far too forgiving of this abomination.
Photo of a Dog Haus dog (with aioli). From A Moveable Feast, whose author is far too forgiving of this abomination.

It’s not just the Dog Haus. I’ve been to a disturbing number of upscale burger joints that seem to think that aioli is what one puts on cheeseburgers. (Not to mention “brioche buns” — don’t get me started.)

It is not. Traditionally, on burgers one puts ketchup, and on hot dogs and sausages one puts mustard, in addition to whatever other creative accoutrements one is inspired to add. But not aioli, a garlicky kind of mayonnaise meant for eggs or fish or something else light and delicate.

I am here to inform the gourmet chefs of the world that hot dogs and hamburgers are not light and delicate foodstuffs. They are robust, coarse, energetic foods, and they require condiments that can stand up to the challenge. Something with a kick, with some life in it — not a greasy white emulsion of oil globules.

It’s not hard to see why such an obvious mistake is being made. You want to brand your dogs and burgers — traditionally classified as simple peasant fare — as something upscale and sophisticated. Mustard and ketchup are the antithesis of upscale sophistication, so you peer into your list of French condiments and see what comes up. (Whatever appears first in alphabetical order, apparently.)

The solution is equally obvious: better-quality mustard and ketchup. The Dog Haus even has such things, which explains why it’s not hard to build a memorable dog all by yourself, if you don’t make the mistake of letting them do it for you.

I will close with a picture of Joël Robuchon, one of the greatest chefs of our age, eating at In-And-Out Burger. I bet he was sad that “animal-style” burgers involve Thousand Island dressing.

20100224_robuchon_560x375

Against Aioli Read More »

41 Comments

Shaken v. Stirred

Seth MacFarlane will probably do a good job hosting the Oscars, although he’s bound to rub some people the wrong way. Indeed he’s already started, with this little jibe at James Bond.

Not that anyone really objects to poking fun at Bond, of course (especially during the Brosnan era). But the joke hinges on the idea that real martinis are always shaken, as Bond prefers, rather than stirred. Which is crazy talk. A prescriptive attitude toward food and drink is usually a bad idea — who am I to judge another person’s abiding love for deep-fried Twinkies? — but when it comes to martinis, it becomes time to lay the truth on folks. And the truth is: stirring is clearly preferable to shaking. (I used to be more agnostic on the question, but age has conferred wisdom.)

The problem is that, while the superiority of stirring is widely accepted amongst the cognoscenti, many silly reasons are put forward therefor. The most common is that shaking “bruises” the gin, as if gin were the kneecaps of a spirited youngster. As far as I know, there is no evidence that this actually happens (corrections welcome). More plausibly, it is claimed that shaking dilutes the martini with water. This does make sense, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing; you would have to shake for a really long time to dilute the liquor noticeably, and a small amount of water can help release the flavors of a spirit. The real reason stirring is better is simple: shaking introduces tiny bubbles into the martini, giving you a cloudy drink. It’s a matter of looks, not of taste; the perfect transparency of an ideal martini can only be attained by stirring. (And any competent stirrer should have no trouble bringing the drink to the appropriate temperature. To wit, very cold indeed.)

Of course, James Bond prefers a vodka martini, which every right-thinking person recognizes as an abomination. And he wears dive watches with formalwear. So why was anyone ever tempted to follow his lead on anything at all?

Shaken v. Stirred Read More »

29 Comments

Inaugural Cosmic Variance Whisky Tasting

One of the consequences of having a blog is that people occasionally offer to send you free stuff. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, for the most part; rather, because they’d like some free publicity in return. Usually it’s a book of some sort, and usually I just decline; I can’t possibly get through all the books I hope to read on my own, much less other books that people want me to read.

So when I received an email from Kimberly Moniz at SHIFT Communications asking if I’d be interested in receiving a free sample to possibly mention on the blog, I almost replied automatically in the negative. But then the nature of the product sunk in, and I paused — this wasn’t a book, this was booze! Specifically, Canadian Club whisky.

I’ll admit that I’m an occasional Scotch drinker, but not much of a Canadian whisky fan. To be honest, the mention of Canadian Club conjures images of something my grandmother would have been drinking (while smoking her Pall Malls), although that seems to be changing. I suspect the marketing people recognize that, and thought it would be good to freshen their image among a younger, hipper crowd. And what better way to do that than by reaching out to science blogs? (Especially ones that occasionally rhapsodize about the perfect martini.) This is some new-media marketing savvy I can get behind. Also, free booze.

But our honor is not sold so cheaply — we’re not going to provide free advertising just because someone sends us some loot. We have our scruples, and everything we post must adhere to the guiding principles of our Mission Statement. But then I remembered that our Mission Statement says we post about whatever we feel like posting about. Still, we like to convey at least the illusion of integrity.

So I hit upon the perfect solution: talk about the whisky, but do so through the lens of Science! That is, we would accept the free booze, but only under the understanding that we would subject it to a rigorous taste-test in comparison with other comparable whiskies, apply the time-honored techniques of the experimental method to the results, and publish whatever they might turn out to be. Kim was up for this adventure, so we set the wheels in motion. Results below the fold.

whiskies

Inaugural Cosmic Variance Whisky Tasting Read More »

29 Comments

Coffee Rituals

We’re long overdule for an open-type thread around here, so let me provide the excuse by asking one of the world’s great questions: what’s the best way to make coffee?

I’m an eclectic coffee drinker; I like espresso but also enjoy a really good cup of American coffee, and I prefer coffee black but am willing to adulterate it with milk if I suspect the quality is not going to be that high. (Sugar under no circumstances.) For the past few years I’ve relied on the lowest-effort method I know of that is guaranteed to produce a good cup: freshly-ground dark roast beans, placed in a simple cone filter and hot water poured right in. Practically instant coffee, but a result that can be as good as the beans allow.

S1CO But I’d like to start mixing more espresso into my home coffee experience, so I’m in the market for a new espresso machine. If I were a physicist of means, I might go for a work of art like the Elektra Micro Casa Lever on right. Or would I? This is a spring-action lever machine, which is to be contrasted with the manual levers, not to mention the automatics and super-automatics, and then there’s the matter of boilers, switches, heat exchangers … a complete mess. The pumps are certainly elegant, but I’d also like something that is functional and doesn’t require constant pampering. So I am in the unusual position of being frozen with indecision about what kind of espresso machine to get. Any opinions out there?

The ground rules here are:

  1. There’s no such thing as right or wrong; different people have different tastes, for which different approaches are appropriate.
  2. Answers with specific comparisons of advantages and disadvantages are more useful than simple insistence on truth.

I do understand that this is the internet and rules are unlikely to be followed, but I feel I should try.

Obviously not all advice on such a topic is too be trusted. The Engineer’s Guide to Drinks thread featured a sobering (as it were) number of people who think a “martini” should just be chilled gin rather than a proper cocktail, and were proud to admit it in public! So caveat lector. And if you want to talk about something other than coffee, be our guest.

Coffee Rituals Read More »

68 Comments

Splitting the Bill

Continuing the end-of-year purge of things I don’t have time to properly blog about: be sure not to go to dinner with this guy. He might lash out at you as everyone is heading home.

“We’re going to split the bill,” said the organizer at my friend’s ninth grade birthday party. I didn’t think much of it until I ended up paying $40 for a $10 entrée. I felt cheated because I didn’t order a drink like most others. I was afraid to ruin the party mood, so I concealed my own anger, and that ended up ruining the night for me.

Now, I almost have sympathy; if you’ve ever gone to dinner with a collection of scientists, you’ll find that their vaunted mathematical skills tend to whither under the pressure of calculating tax and tip, and the person who volunteers to collect the money often ends up chipping in extra to cover the shortfall. But Mr. Talwalkar goes far, far overboard, devising an elaborate scheme by which everyone in the party receives emails ahead of time informing them that they will be strictly limited in the menu options once they reach the restaurant. It’s a common syndrome among people with something of a quantitative bent; fixating on the relationship between the money they are paying and the tangible goods in front of them in the form of food and drink, they completely discount the goods associated with having a good time in a social atmosphere and not worrying too much about who had how many bites out of which appetizer.

Admittedly, this guy probably gets more enjoyment out of solving a game theory problem and enforcing conformity with his rules than he would by relaxing and telling stories at dinner. That’s why you have to choose your dining companions carefully.

Splitting the Bill Read More »

41 Comments

The Omnivore’s Hundred

I’ve never been a big fan of those book-memes where you are supposed to highlight the ones you’ve read, etc. But here’s a list that I can’t resist — food! Very Good Taste (via Postbourgie and Ezra Klein) has a list of food items, plus the following instructions:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

There is also a vegetarian version, if that’s how you roll. And a FAQ, for those of you who frequently ask questions.

Apparently I have eaten quite a bit, but still have a ways to go! No cross-outs; that would be a sign of weakness.

Suggested soundtrack: Bhindi Bagee.

The Omnivore’s Hundred Read More »

26 Comments

Wish List

In case anyone is wondering what to get me for Presidents’ Day, I’d be interested in a nice bottle of 1947 Cheval Blanc. Not necessarily a whole case, or even a magnum; an ordinary bottle would be fine. In Slate, Mike Steinberger explains:

Cheval Blanc 1947 [T]he ’47 Cheval I drank that night now ranks as the greatest wine of my life, a title I doubt it will relinquish. The moment I lifted the glass to my nose and took in that sweet, spicy, arresting perfume, my notion of excellence in wine, and my understanding of what wine was capable of, was instantly transformed—I could almost hear the scales recalibrating in my head. The ’47 was the warmest, richest, most decadent wine I’d ever encountered. Even more striking than its opulence was its freshness. The flavors were redolent of stewed fruits and dead flowers, yet the wine tasted alive; it bristled with energy and purpose. The ’47s signature flaws—the residual sugar and volatile acidity—were readily apparent, but it was just as Lurton had said: In this wine, the flaws inexplicably became virtues….

I realized that it was silly even to try to place the ’47 in the context of other wines; it defied comparison, a point underscored when I tasted another legend, the 1945 Château Latour, later that night (yeah, it was a nice evening). The Latour was stunning—probably the second-best wine I’ve ever had—but it at least fell within my frame of reference: It was a classically proportioned Bordeaux that just happened to be achingly good. The ’47 Cheval, by contrast, was an otherworldly wine—a claret from another planet. And it was amazing.

What is the sound of scales recalibrating? I’d like to find out.

Wish List Read More »

16 Comments
Scroll to Top