#aspic is served at every meal

[caffeinatedcursedcutie]

Whumpee kept up her polite smile, her head swimming with the symphony of fragrances wafted through the room, a blend of delicate perfumes and the aroma of meals being served, some of which she couldn’t even pronounce the names of. The hum of conversations, clinking of glasses and silverware making it hard to narrow in on the person in front of her, trying to talk in polite conversation that she doesn’t give a shit about in the first place. Eventually, she realized they had asked her something, and leaned in closer as if the noise of the ballroom is what caused her to miss the question. “Ah! Showtime already? Of course, best to be up to the stage!” She offered a smile, standing and tossing her fancy napkin off her lap, onto the forgotten plate of food that she was too nauseated to eat. Her entire head lurched as she did so, and she sucked in a sharp breath over the usually effortless and automatic motion caused a dull, throbbing pain across her ribs. Being shoved into a beautiful dress with bruises blooming across her skin, each movement, each breath, serves as a poignant reminder of the bruised ribs she had sustained while being the face of the city, the hero they deserved. 

A deep set weariness made her sway on her feet, which she covered up by stepping across the ballroom, around the back to the stage stairs. Another rattling breath, and she stepped up across the stage with a dazzling smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, our own wonderful…” 

The sound of the announcer’s deep voice blended into the murmur of the crowd, a crowd that to her looked like a sea of shining accessories and silhouettes of people turning their gaze to her, a never ending audience that demanded more, more, always more from her. 

She sucked a breath through her teeth before picking up the microphone, the closest thing to silence that the ballroom could offer, the droning buzz of talk quieting down to something that didn’t make her head throb quite so terribly. “Give me my robe, put on my crown. I have immortal longings in me.” Her tongue snaked between her chapped lips, barely covered in lipstick that tasted of vanilla.

“Now, no more. The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. Yare, yare, good Iras; quick! Me thinks I hear Antony call. I see him arouse himself, to praise my noble act.” 

The pain in her side made her give pause, pressing her hand into her ribcage and hiding it as part of the performance, holding her torso as if in great grief. 

“I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men, to excuse their after wrath.” She sucked in a breath, the beating of her own heart banging against her skull like a tidal wave. 

“Oh, husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?” Heat was crawling up her spine, pain, red as the sunsets that marred the sky of her city, fighting against her every word. 

“Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch.” 

The words, she should know what the next word was. The crowds adored her for this talent, breathing life into the poetry that was otherwise dead on the page, and yet she found a falter in her words. 

“Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?”

She shut her eyes. Just for a moment, just lost in the performance, but not to look as if she felt something wrong with her body, the pain making her breath stutter and her mind missing the words. Time stuttered, a second feeling like an eternity, and it was a great effort to speak again.. 

“If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world, it is…it is not…” 

Her thoughts dissolved into silence, the world eclipsed into a void as her body fell to the floor.

[asweetprologue]

Food of the Continent

Alright kids this is a little different from my normal stuff and entirely self indulgent! I recently worked on a fic that involved mention of quite a bit of food, and me being myself, I put a decent amount of research into it. I decided to compile that for those who, like me, get to a scene where the boys are eating and find themselves at a loss. What would a medieval witcher and bard eat on an average day? I’ve based my findings on medieval Poland, which isn’t, obviously, the Continent. If you want to add potatoes to your fantasy world, go ahead! The Witcher 3 certainly did. But if you’re looking for accuracy, please see an extensive list of medieval appropriate foods below the cut! 

Medieval Polish Cuisine

Meat

Pork

Beef

Poultry

Fish

Royalty/Nobility only: Venison

Most common: Pork, Beef

Breads

Rye bread - Used mostly commonly for trenchers

Common white bread - Often used for harvest feasts

Rusks or binavice - A hard tack-like bread used for soldiers' rations

Manchet breads - Essentially wheat rolls

Boiled breads (bagels, ring pretzels) -  Also called circuli or bracellus if you don’t want to say that Geralt is eating a bagel, but he could have! They were a very common street food.

Rogale or crescent rolls

Most common: Trenchers, white wheat rolls

Vegetables  

Field peas

Cabbage

Onions

Fava beans (used for animal fodder, peasant food, and flour)

Mushrooms

Leeks

Beats

Kale

Lentil (lower class food, often stewed)

Parsnips

Cucumbers (treated as a fruit, a type of melon)

Skirrets

Rutabagas

Turnips

Radishes

Lettuce

Alexanders

Carrots (VERY rarely)

Most common: Peas, cabbage, onion; parsnips and skirrets in the winter

Notes: Pickling and dry storage were extraordinarily important for surviving the winter months. Peas could be saved dry and reconstituted by soaking them in water, and cabbage was turned into sauerkraut. Also note the lack of potatoes! Anytime you think of potatoes in a meal, substitute them for turnips.

Fruits and Nuts

Apples

Pears

Plums

Cherries

Hazelnuts

Strawberries

Blueberries

Raspberries, sloes, cranberries, and rowans (all used to make juice or in fermented beverages)

Raisins

Almonds (expensive)

Figs (expensive)

Most common: Apples, pears

Notes: Serves always after the main meal, fresh or cooked. Apples were often dried and eaten year round, or made into a butter and jarred. While not part of the Polish diet, I posit that more exotic fruits like oranges (used for cooking, not eating), peaches, lemons, and dates could probably be brought north from Nilfgaard, but they would be more rare and expensive the further north you went!

Herbs

Parsley (helps kill the onion smell)

Dill

Garlic

Mustard

Fennel

Most common: Parsley and dill

Oil

Lard

Butter

Poppy and hemp oil

Notes: Butter and lard were extremely important. Medieval people burned a lot of calories, so fats were a critical part of their diet. Almost every meal would have been smothered in some kind of animal fat, unless it was a Friday.

Drinks

Honey water/milk

Hydromel (similar to mead, less alcohol)

Mead

Ale

Wine

Desserts

Placki, flat cakes

Tortae, high quality desserts made only with high grade bolted flour. Could have been a type of strudel with rich cheese based filling. Also could refer to small, flat cakes. Also could have been similar to cheesecake.

Marzipan (expensive)

Notes: In a contradictory fashion, when you read sweetmeats, that means desserts. It usually refers to a highly sugary confection, such as candied fruits or nuts. Sweetbread on the other had, does refer to meat, and is made from offal. I know. 

Common Dishes Gruel of mixed grains - Side dish, served with meat and a wheat bread Courtier's Pottage - One pot dinner made with millet, peas, bacon, onion, vinegar and parsley. Would have been quite thick due to the millet. Extremely common. Parsnip, Leek, and Alexander Stew - Common in early spring, typical one pot meal for a noble family. Served with cheese dumplings. Pears stewed with Cucumbers and Figs Chicken baked with Prunes - Common in noble establishments. Either cooked in a covered pot, or wrapped in dough to form a kind of giant turnover on festive occasions. Ham stewed with Cucumbers - A rich dish made with butter, onion, beer, and cucumber, raisins, and cranberries. Sour cream was added to the stew to thicken it. Lentils and Skirrets with Bacon - Stew Beer Soup - A classic stew made with leeks, cabbage, flour, beer, eggs, and cheese Fish Aspic - A kind of savory gelatin, usually used as an ornamental component of a larger banquet display Game stewed with Sauerkraut - Bigos, served at royal banquets. Peasants probably had their own versions using pork or beef instead of venison. Crepes - Probably served not as a dessert but during dinner, with beer soup and cheese or fish aspic. Krepel - Flat cake of layered cheese and bread, fried and served with strawberries or fruit Praskury - Wafers Apple flat cake - Essentially like an apple pizza Honey cakes - Kind of flat cake saturated with honey.

If your characters are eating Breakfast, they're probably eating millet porridge, eggs, or bacon. If they are eating Lunch, they are probably eating trencher bread with lard or cheese or soaked in beer, or stew. If they are eating Dinner, they are probably eating some kind of meat, usually pork or beef, with vegetables like cabbage, peas, onions or parsnips, either in some kind of one pot stew or plain. Desserts are almost always sweetened with honey, and include fried breads and wafers.

Roadside meals would probably consist of fresh meat from hunts (mostly poultry and rabbit), either roasted or put in a stew; rusks, eaten plain or soaked in water or ale; wild berries or apples; reconstituted peas; sauerkraut; and root vegetables like parsnips, turnips, radishes and onions that would save well over several days. Wild parsnips could probably be found easily in the Northern Realms.

I hope this was helpful to someone! This is meant to help you generate ideas, not to be used as a strict guide for what to include in your fics. This is fantasy, so you can absolutely do whatever you want, and besides that it will always be hard for us to be accurate about what exactly went on in the medieval kitchen. However I hope this helps give you an idea about what the average tavern might be serving, and you can worry a little less about what to include in those pesky meal scenes. 

Source: Food and Drink of Medieval Poland by Maria Dembinska, English translation by William Woys Weaver

[handeaux]

17 Curious Facts About Cincinnati’s Ravenous Appetite For Oysters

Cincinnati Ate A Lot Of Oysters

In the 1800s, Cincinnati diners consumed something 200,000 gallons of fresh oysters every season, shipped in the shell on ice from the east coast. That works out to something like 2.5 million oysters per year. The volume is remarkably consistent between reports in 1852 and 1888. In the 1880s, 30 Cincinnati businesses either packed or served oysters.

Oysters Inspired Better Transportation

As early as the 1810s, Cincinnatians consumed oysters, pickled or spiced, shipped in hermetically sealed canisters. By the 1830s, entrepreneurs had worked out a system of speedy wagons to get fresh oysters from Baltimore to Wheeling, where steamboats could haul the tasty molluscan cargo to Cincinnati. From Chesapeake Bay to the Public Landing, the entire trip took just five days, with new ice added along the way to keep the oysters in prime condition. Within a few years, railroads shortened that run to just hours.

Mrs. Trollope Was Appalled

Pretty much everything about Cincinnati disturbed Frances “Fanny” Trollope. The acerbic British lady vented her displeasure in her 1832 best-selling ���Domestic Manners of the Americans,” where she whined about Cincinnatians: “In eating, they mix things together with the strangest incongruity imaginable. I have seen eggs and oysters eaten together; the sempiternal ham with apple-sauce; beefsteak with stewed peaches; and salt fish with onions.”

Oysters Delayed The Mail

Mail runs were profitable for stagecoach lines, but not as profitable as oysters, and barrels of iced blue points were shoved into every available space on wagons departing Baltimore. The Daily Gazette [5 February 1846] reported that mail deliveries to Cincinnati were arriving late because the postal coach had broken down from being overloaded with oysters.

Oysters As You Like Them

How did Cincinnatians eat their oysters? An 1859 menu preserved by the Gibson House offers a single course at an elaborate dinner consisting of Oysters Baked in Shells, Escallops of Oysters, Oysters Baked with Fine Herbs, Small Oyster Pies, Raw Oysters, Oysters Baked in a Form, Oysters Stewed with Champagne, Oysters Baked with Cheese, Fried Oysters and Pickled Oysters. A later course included Aspics of Oysters in a Form of Jelly.

Heaven To A P.O.W.

S.B. Nelson’s 1894 History of Hamilton County recounts the tale of Columbus Bennett, a school teacher in Anderson Township who enlisted early in the Civil War. He served with distinction for several years until captured by the Confederates. Eventually paroled, on reaching Union territory the famished prisoner consumed his “first square meal in eight long months, consisting of thirteen dozen raw oysters.” He survived to teach another 30 years.

Romance On The Half-Shell

The Enquirer [2 December 1874] recounts local speculation about William “Billy” Stolpp, the keeper of an oyster house at 159 West Fourth Street, and his extended trip to Baltimore. His friends and customers assumed his long absence involved acquiring a stock of fresh bivalves for his shop. In fact, Billy soon returned to Cincinnati with his new bride, the former Miss Lizzie Evans, of Baltimore, whom he had wed in that city.

Six Words And $700 Created A Legend

James A. “Jimmy” Shevlin was no dummy. He was working as a bank teller when he noticed the substantial and regular deposits from the Central Oyster House on Sixth Street. “There’s money in that game,” he said and borrowed $700 to open his own oyster house on the same block. Jimmy’s advertising slogan was, “If it swims, I have it,” and Shevlin’s Oyster & Chop House became a hangout for Democratic politicians and celebrities of the baseball, boxing and horse-racing worlds.

Oysters Paved Cincinnati Roads

The WPA “Guide to Cincinnati” reports that, in the 1880s, Boudinot and Wardall avenues in Westwood were part of what was known as Shell Road. “The story goes that one winter a landowner sent his hired man almost daily to Cincinnati hotels and restaurants – to obtain wagon loads of oyster shells. These shells were then scattered over the roadway. Horses’ hoofs ground them fine and created a shining white roadbed.”

Pushcart Deliveries

If Cincinnatians didn’t feel like taking a streetcar to their favorite restaurant or walking to the local fishmonger, they could just wait until the oyster hawker pushed his wagon past their residence. In the 1880s and 1890s, Cincinnati streets were crowded with pushcart merchants offering to mend umbrellas, sharpen knives and scissors, grind some fresh mustard, slice watermelon, shovel coal and, yes, shuck a dozen oysters from an ice-laden cart.

Queen City Condiments

No matter how Cincinnati diners ordered their oysters, whether fresh out of the shell, or steamed, or breaded and fried, they usually added some sort of flavoring. If the condiment of choice was a hot sauce, odds are it was brewed right here in the Queen City. Two brands of locally concocted chili sauce in particular, Snider’s (1900) and later Frank’s (1918) had wide distribution outside the Tri-State region.

The Pig Is Still King In Porkopolis

A 1905 “Dictionary Of Slang And Colloquial English” by John Farmer and William Henely defined “Cincinnati Oyster” as “a pig’s trotter,” in other words, a pig’s foot. The prevalence of pigs in the Queen City inspired many saloons to offer pigs feet as a regular component of their free lunch buffets.

Blame The Kaiser

World War I did nothing to abate Cincinnati’s hunger for oysters, even though wartime conditions hiked the cost of their favorite bivalve. In 1917, most Cincinnati oyster houses raised the price of oyster stew from 20 cents a bowl to 25 cents. Restaurateurs blamed the war and the customers blamed the Kaiser for starting the conflict.

Oysters For The Jury

Among the most sensational trials in Cincinnati history was the land-scam scandal of Roy Van Tress. At the conclusion of the court proceedings, resulting in Van Tress being sentenced to federal prison, the court received a bill of $848.46 from the Havlin Hotel for housing the jury, and a bill for $1383.75 from Shevlin’s Oyster House for feeding them. At that time, an oyster dinner with all the trimmings cost about 35 cents. That’s a lot of oysters!

Free Oysters For Life (Version 1)

In addition to newspaper reports, there are witnesses who attest that William Whipple Symmes, great-grand-nephew of John Cleves Symmes and prominent Cincinnati attorney, earned free oysters for life at the Central Oyster House. In one version, reported by Alfred Segal in the Cincinnati Post [22 June 1946], Jacob Rosenfield, the proprietor, realized that Symmes had been a regular customer for 30 years and presented him with a free pass for the remainder of his days.

Free Oysters For Life (Version 2)

Another Post columnist, Si Cornell, reported [16 March 1971] a different rationale for the free oysters, and cited W.W. Symmes’ law partner, William Busch, as the source. According to Busch, Symmes heard that Cincinnati was paralyzed by an “oyster scare” – rumors that oysters “weren’t much good and maybe worse.” Symmes contacted the Central Oyster House and offered to sit in the front window, eating Jacob Rosenfield’s oysters for everyone to see. Business picked up and the proprietor repaid his customer with “on-the-house” oysters ever after.

Still A Lot Of Oysters

Jacob Rosenfield’s old Central Oyster House was demolished in 1958 to make way for the new Federal Building on Government Square. The owner at the time, Rosenfield’s grandnephew Jake Spicer, proclaimed that the Central Oyster House would reopen nearby. Business was too good to close – averaging 4,000 hungry customers a day. One of Spicer’s employees calculated that she had served 32,260,000 breaded and fried oysters during her 40 years at the restaurant.

[guildwars2]

Party Harder with Ascended Food! 🥣🥗🍰

It’s almost time for the Guild Wars 2 seventh anniversary celebration, so why not bring along a dish or two to share with your fellow players? Go big with ascended-quality feasts that’ll satisfy cravings for delicious food and combat efficacy. On August 27, you’ll be able to level up your cooking skill to 500!

When you reach cooking level 425, Sous-Chef Seimur Oxbone will contact you to check on your progress. Impress him with your skills and he’ll happily write you a letter of recommendation, sending you off on a journey to study with master chefs in every capital city.

While you’re leveling your cooking skill, you’ll also graduate to a better class of tools and raw ingredients. Each instructor will help you obtain what you need, from a cutting-edge oven to high-quality meat and garden-fresh herbs.

Refined and Adventurous Tastes

Ascended food provides a primary stat, a secondary stat, and a passive or triggered effect. But that’s not all—you’ll also gain bonuses to experience points, karma, magic find, gold find, and World vs. World experience points. The benefits last for an hour, and every ascended meal is a feast so all your friends can grab a helping!

Tyrian cultures have their own staple foods and cooking techniques, and the master chefs you’ll work with have developed innovative dishes and tools that play to their strengths. When you plan your picnic basket, make sure to include something for everyone:

Charr—Pack at least one hearty, sophisticated meat dish, like a Plate of Peppercorn-Spiced Beef Carpaccio.

Norn—Add some complexity with more protein and fresh vegetables. A Plate of Coq Au Vin with Salsa should be big enough to go around.

Asura—Technology makes all the difference in preparation and preservation, and “different” is a great way to describe a Plate of Sesame Poultry Aspic.

Sylvari—Need something light and refreshing to cleanse the palate? Serve up a Bowl of Fruit Salad with Orange-Clove Syrup.

Human—If you didn’t leave room for dessert, say your prayers—there’s a Mint Strawberry Cheesecake just waiting to be devoured.

Snacking on Stream

Get a head start on your cooking journey with Rubi Bayer, Clayton Kisko, and Patrick Bayles this Friday, August 23 at noon Pacific Time (UTC-7)! They’ll roll up their sleeves and look at what it takes to make in-game treats on the official Twitch, YouTube, and Facebook channels.

[dontfeedthebear]

Today’s menu!

 Breakfast: 1 overeasy egg, slice of toast, 1 tsp butter, 1 nectarine, cup of coffee with 1tbsp milk + 1tsp sugar. (304 cal) Lunch: 6 veggie pizza stuffed mushrooms over a bed of brown rice. (241 cal) Dinner: Cream of wheat, 2tsp brown sugar, 1/2 grapefruit. (295 cal) Snack: Pickled cucumbers and peppers (30 cal)

TOTAL: 870 cal.

Yes, I am having ‘breakfast’ for dinner. Why? I work night shift, and that ‘dinner’ is actually going to be had at about 7:00 am.

My way of doing things is going to be weird to most people that read this, since I live my life like a nocturnal little gremlin. I’ve never been big on eating in the mornings, I’ve always been a night owl who slept in past breakfast time... I just can’t seem to make myself eat in the morning and if I do, it definitely can’t be anything heavy like burgers or chicken. It just feels wrong.

Some people might ask: “What fad diet are you following?”

The answer is: None... I’m simply eating normal food at the correct portion size. (and counting calories because there’s no losing weight without math apparently.)

I got the idea to diet when I was browsing an antique store and found a really pretty dress from the 1950′s. Waist sizes were an average 11 inches smaller than average waistlines today.

Most old clothing is pretty small, and while it’s to be expected since the 20′s-40′s were a period of scarcity and doing without, the 1950′s were actually an upturn. People had money and they were consumers again! Yay capitalism!

It was also a period of dubious culinary experimentation. I will never, ever let an ‘aspic’ touch my lips. Leftovers are fine. Jello is fine. Together? They make the worst matrimony of both spongy and slippery textures. I imagine it’s a lot like eating boiled slugs gone cold and I will not waste food or time on such revolting endeavors...

So how did they stay so skinny, despite eating jello molds of foods laden with lard, butter, sugar, gluten and everything bad that today’s diet gurus preach against? Simple. Serving sizes were smaller and people actually ate from 7 food groups not the 4 we have today. There were also more veggies and fruit in their diet! Shocking concept I know.

Our food pyramid has changed drastically from that 1950′s model and several times in the last few decades. The 1970′s brought on the beginning of the end to tiny waistlines: the lowfat, high carb diet came into fashion and our waist lines exploded. Turns out that lowfat isn’t exactly the healthiest diet after all. (Not to mention that insipid eggs & wine diet that Vogue reprinted. How vile the bathrooms must have smelled afterwards!)

I have noticed while studying about diets that the trend is to idolize one ‘superfood’ or to gravitate to one type of food group. Atkins, Fruitarianism, anyone? That shit has to stop. We are omnivores, evolved with the teeth and everything. We need a balanced diet, which means a rotating plate of protein, fats, starch, vegetables and fruits. The fad diets need to end, because they are literally killing people. Talk to a doctor if you want to go on a special diet. Not some holistic nutjob though, please. 

Anyway...

My mother was an awful cook. She was the product of a household that just cooked to fill your stomach up and not really about making something that tasted good or was actually good for you. Quantity was the name of the game in my grandmother’s household. I barely remember her meals whenever I visited, most of it was boxed or frozen. My mother continued that trend, sadly.

I associated home cooked meals with rubbery, overcooked chicken, dried out fish fillets, tough as leather pork chops and chewy, stringy cuts of beef. So I lived off sandwiches and snacks like chips, cakes, and cookies. Not to mention my biggest weakness: Soda. I drank liters of the shit at a time and I could not tell you if I ever drank a glass of water as a kid and not be made a liar. I’ve probably permanently damaged my kidneys and liver from filtering coca-cola for years. (how my teeth survived this long is a miracle!)

I always hated pork and fish. I was extremely picky about beef too. Chicken was on thin ice, but I only liked it fried or smothered in cheese. I ate a lot of pasta, rice, and bread.

It clicked for me when I went to dinner at a friend’s house and her parents cooked salmon. I was paralyzed with the fear of being rude but salmon was the number one fish I despised. It was like eating tuna from a can but served hot and with a strong biting aftertaste. So I took a small portion with the intent to gag it down and fill my stomach with some rice.

Imagine my consternation when the salmon was soft, delicate and not ‘fishy’ at all. It tasted of butter, lemon and salt and I think I ate two helpings of it. Puzzled, I asked them what kind of salmon it was-- they said frozen sockeye, which really confused me because that was the same thing my mother used.

Eating my mother’s salmon the next week confirmed my fears: She couldn’t cook and I didn’t hate certain foods. I just couldn’t stomach her cooking. I think mom had a deep fear of food poisoning, which is why she cooked every piece of meat in our house to death. I never asked why and I never told her how I felt and she lives in ignorance of her failing every day. (My siblings know though, I caught their blank 50 yard stares when we visited her a few months back and had to eat her shoeleather porkchops.)

I was not confident in cooking for myself either, because I didn’t have anyone to teach me. Youtube wasn’t around at that time-- and even if it was I didn’t know about it. Ah, the infancy of the internet... I’m so glad the information highway has expanded today because now I have taught myself quite a lot of things besides how to actually cook a slice of meat or bake a cake.

Times have  certainly changed, sometimes for the worst. But a free and open internet is one thing I hope never changes, because I want to learn how to sew next.

[neoneidolon]

((The depth of Morpho’s eccentric taste in food. You know those awful 1950s meals with a giant meaty/fruity gelatin-aspic centerpiece? Morph likes those too. And Presley sandwiches. And fries dipped in soft serve vanilla. Basically every weird combo you’ve ever heard of, Morph likes.))

[askmerriauthor]

Oh, don’t you think for one flippity-bippity second I’d leave these dishes in their “as shown on the card” presentation were I to try making them.  The only time I’d MAYBE use any gelatin or aspic would be in making the ham/banana terrine.  Like, the bulk of these dishes are just normal, legit meals that have been warped into weirdness.

I did some digging on why there’s so many gelatin-based dishes coming out of the 50s and 60s, and what it boils down to is essentially a fad.  It was a mix of different elements - post war scarcity, convenience, affordability, novelty, status flaunting, and just general experimentation with powdered gelatin having become a readily available item.  Not to mention that the gelatin purveyors - Knox, Kraft, etc - advertised the everlovin’ daylights out of “gel cuisine” and flooded everyone with the idea of cooking with gelatin molds as some trendy, fancy deal.  Businesses played a large part in forcing the public to think it was a good idea to use their products for every damn thing, so nuts to that in this modern era.

Lemon-Nut Vegetable Mold?  Like I said before, that’s pretty much just a mixed radish salad and I’d serve it as such.  No gelatin, fresh veg and lemon dressing on a plate, topped with roasted walnuts.  Gotta get those radishes super thin and cold so they’re crispy, so either a mandoline or straight-up shredded.

Perfection Salad... I probably wouldn’t bother with at all.  It’s just a visual novelty and the ingredients it contains don’t actually sound appetizing in the slightest.  I could maybe make a sort of tangy slaw out of it?  Overall it’s not really a functional recipe without adding more to it and that kind of defeats the purpose at that point.  I might just make this as-is and use it as a terrifying centerpiece/conversation starter.

Crown Roast of Frankfurters is sausage and sauerkraut, so that’s pretty much a done deal right there.  Skip the silly plating.  Get some good strong mustard, a nice bread roll, and a refreshing beer.  That’s a fine meal any day of the week.

Milk Chicken?  Toss the silly banana decorations, break down the chicken properly for roasting with a proper mirepoix, and apply the besamel sauce in a way that doesn’t look like Elmer’s Glue.  Hell, mix it all together with a breadcrumb topping and make it a gratin.  Easy peasy.  It’s actually pretty remarkable that the vintage recipe card managed to make roast chicken and veg look so unappetizing because it’s one of the simplest and most delicious meals out there with absolutely no fanfare.

Sweet-Sour Chicken Mold, if I did indeed make it into a mince, would promptly be made into chicken meat balls and served with a bitter greens salad, or used to make pan-fried dumplings.  If not in a pate-like state, I’d just play it straight and make grilled chicken breast with a sour cream and dill sauce.  Toss on a little paprika, serve alongside fried mushrooms or sauteed asparagus.

[findingfeathersseanchaidh]

Chapter 56: A Time to Hear

"Doctor Tyler?"

Amaya's voice broke through the silence of the medical bay like an axe through ice. Sound seemed to flood back: the hum of the engines, the buzz of the monitors, the sound of breathing. Of movement. Of life. The doctor's eyes unglazed, returning to their native hue. He blinked.

"Doctor Tyler?" Amaya repeated, stepping closer and reaching out a tentative hand to the newly discovered android.

"I'm fine," blurted Tyler, holding up one hand to halt her progress and pressing the other into the laboratory desk to steady himself.

Amaya paused, but she didn't retreat. "You do not look fine."

"I remember," explained the doctor. "It's... It's a lot to take in. Just... Just give me a moment. I'll be fine. Please: sit."

Amaya perched on the nearby stool, one arm resting on the worktop. "Rex..."

"Don't!" Tyler cut in raising a peremptory hand again. "That's not my name. I'm not him. I look like him. I have his memories. But I'm not him."

"Then who?" Amaya began, but she was interrupted yet again.

"Matthew," said the android. "My name is Matthew. Matthew Tyler."

XXXX

Christmas of the year fifteen ninety seven proved a plentiful one for William Sly. After an advent of fasting, broken only by the celebration of Gaudete Sunday on the third week, and only then by the court of the Queen, a place at any table would have been welcome. He was indeed welcome at the Condell table and lodged with Henry and his wife for two days after the great feast day and the promise to return for the celebration of the twelfth night and many meals between. Sly returned to his lodging burdened with spare pies and cooked meats, preserved fruits and savoury aspics, unequivocally convinced that Henry's claim was true: he had indeed married the best cook in London. The Christmas meal had been one that would long live in Sly's memory. Even now, the ghost of the scent of baked ham, stuffed with apricots, glazed with honey and studded with cloves, made his mouth water. The warm pastry of the minced mutton pie, shaped long, like a manger, made his stomach rumble in mourning. Saint Stephen's day had been a fish day, with a whole baked carp, stuffed with prunes and spiced with cloves and mace. A similarly aromatic and flavourful frumenty had accompanied each dish and a portion of it rested now in Sly's bag. Even the roasted vegetables, doused in honey and oil and winter savoury, brought fond memories to William's mind. A sealed jar of pureed apples, cooked with cream, rosemary and rose water, weighted down the bottom of the bag; while a lovingly wrapped, soft, moist gingerbread, redolent with an intricate dance of spices, rested safely on the top.

Already hungry with the thought of his burden, even though the midwinter sun had barely reached its zenith, Sly opened the door to his lodging house. The owner of the house, a tavern in truth, met him by the stairs, a broom in one hand and a folded, sealed letter in the other.

"Arrived yesterday evening, Sly," the landlord informed him, handing him the letter and turning back to his sweeping. "There be mutton and chicken stew a-cooking for this eve, and you'd be a welcome hand in here when the wassailing starts. T'would earn you a few coppers more while the season lasts."

"A few coppers more would be of use indeed," nodded Sly, taking the letter and clasping the man's hand in thanks and agreement. There would be more than a few coppers coming his way if he were in the alehouse. There would be whatever the drinkers were too drunk to miss. Turning the letter over in his hand, he ascended the stair to his rooms, laying the bag of vittles carefully by the bed. He broke the seal and held the paper to the light of the window. The scratchy cursive proclaimed the writer's identity before William had read a single word. He perused the paper, taking in the news from Stratford and his friend.

Shakespeare had bought a house, New Place, and had settled himself and his family there before Christmas, making it a double celebration. His epistle was filled with stories of his daughters: how they had grown, how they had changed, what endeavours they had succeeded in that past year and more, how they smiled when first they saw him, and how greatly they had appreciated the Yuletide gifts Sly had helped him pick out. The note ended with news of Anne. The distance still remained between them, but Will had hopes of closing it in the coming months. For these reasons he would remain in Stratford longer than anticipated: to help his family settle into their new home and to win back the heart, and the trust, of his wife.

Sly nodded thoughtfully to himself and placed the letter on his small wooden table that served as desk, library and wash stand. He would reply later. For now his mind was on other matters; namely finding storage space in his small rooms for the copious remnants of the Condells' Christmas feast. Yes, indeed, he thought: it would be no great hardship to him to spend as much of the Christmas season with Henry and Elizabeth as possible.

XXXX

The crew gathered on the bridge, standing or sitting in uneasy silence. They had all known, every one of them, that the man they called Rex Tyler was actually an android, and that they could not tell him until the virus struck. They had not known why. Matthew Tyler stood on the steps of the office, looking down at them all. He knew why. He also knew it was time to share that secret, and that so much more might make sense to them if he did.

As always, Mick was the last to shuffle through the doors, a bowl of popcorn in one large hand. "What? It's late, I'm hungry and this is the sequel we've all been waiting for since we first found out about the Tin Man!"

A look of understanding passed across Matthew's face. "That's why I never heard you use a nickname for me."

"Called you 'Doc', Doc," shrugged Mick, dropping down into a chair, a few scattered morsels of popcorn bouncing out of their bowl with the movement and pattering away across the metal floor of the bridge. "Well, get to it Tin Man: we're all ears."

Tyler nodded, as much to himself as to Mick. "You all know what I am: that I'm an android. You knew even before I did," he began, glancing warily from face to face. "What you don't know is who I am. You know me as Rex Tyler, and I thought I was, but it now seems that's not the truth."

[travelwitholiviajayden-blog]

Three best restaurants in Paris

Paris excels in making gastronomic foods with precisions and elegance. From the best restaurants in Paris here are the best ones where you can go with your family and friends to enjoy the exquisite dishes. If you are on vacation in Paris then you should definitely try visiting all these various places.

Trying the food from these different restaurants can help you in understanding the food of Paris. If you are a vegetarian then they also prepare different vegetarian dishes for their customers. They excel in making vegetarian food which can make your mouth watery. These are the best three restaurants in Paris where you can eat delicious food.

Guy Savoy Restaurant

It is one of the most famous restaurants in Paris and it is on the top list of every restaurant. You can imagine about its popularity just by knowing the facts that it is called “The best restaurant in the world” for the consecutive years. The owner of this restaurant trained famous chefs like Gordon Ramsay. If you ever want to go to a restaurant then it should be your ideal choice. The chefs of this restaurant can outclass any dish by their presentation of the dish. If you are visiting Paris then it should be in your topmost places to dine here at least once.

Le Cinq

Le Cinq is a very famous restaurant in Paris which is awarded three Michelin stars which is a very big achievement for any restaurant. The chef Christian Le Squer is famous for providing luxurious food. This restaurant also follows a strict protocol toward the protection of the environment by reducing the food wastage. This is the only luxurious restaurant which is eco-friendly and provides the best quality food.

ASPIC Restaurant

ASPIC restaurant is run by the chef Quentin Giroud who specializes in gastronomic food. This restaurant only serves to few people at a time which shows that they believe in providing quality food. All the dishes served at this restaurant are made using seasonal products. The specialty of this restaurant is their seven meal course menu. The seven meal course will be made using the fresh items with a special method. You can also watch the chef prepare your dish from your own seat.

You can visit all these restaurants and taste the best dishes in the world. They are known to provide quality food prepared by the most famous Chefs. All of these restaurants are led by famous chefs who have trained for years.

Plan your trip to Paris!

[portraitproject250]

This is Anneli. I think rather than try to write a story here about Anneli I will simply copy and paste one of her Facebook posts here. She's a painter, activist, mom, graphic designer, adventurer, writer and all around great person to know. I loved hanging out with her and painting her portrait. We actually collaborated on this one. I painted in pencil and watercolor and left it for her to work on. Then she painted in the background with oils. She dropped it off yesterday and I photographed it and continued working on it some more in Artrage 5, a digital painting software.

This story by Anneli comes from an adventure she took last year with her friend, Jonathan, traveling from Maine to Iceland on a container ship.

Day 5, Friday | Amuse-Bouche

We left Newfoundland last night after 12 hours loading, unloading, and fueling up before our ocean crossing. It took us about 3 days to get there from Portland, Maine. I had really big plans to write an entry every day, but have now realized I will just have to write when I have the opportunity. Mainly because I can no longer remember what day it is, and just to further mess with us they keep pushing the clock forward a half or a whole hour every day.

Argentia, Newfoundland is a small Canadian port out in nowhere, far east at the edge of the ocean. We woke up yesterday morning to see a landscape out our window that was reminiscent of Lofoten, Norway, with its dramatic and exaggerated mountains. There were people on small skiffs cruising the bay picking off puffins with rifles before scooping them into nets. FYI: Up here, guns don’t kill puffins — men and women in black ski masks kill puffins. The port was literally a concrete dock with a few small buildings and pretty much nothing else. No stores, restaurants, shops — it is about as functional as it gets. So much for tax-free shopping — not that we need anything.

Since we started on this trip, Jonathan and I have been literally and figuratively stunned by the amount of hearty food we’ve been served. Not just some Cheerios from a box, either — serious, home-cooked, no-bullshit hot meals at 8:00, 12:00, 18:00 — and for good measure there is some sort of baked pastries and coffee at 15:00 just in case the other three meals aren’t enough to give you cardiac arrest. If you have a problem with gluten, meat, or sugar — this trip is decidedly not for you.

Yesterday everyone had their hot breakfast as usual and suited up to go out and do their respective jobs. This was really the first time we had an opportunity to see them in action as they secured Selfoss to the shore and started a long, hard day juggling massive containers on and off the ship, in a snow shower no less. One thing is increasingly apparent: this is no work for pussies. The alcohol ban on board makes a lot more sense when you understand what a detail oriented job this is. Mistakes can result in huge losses, not only in profit but in lives. Precision and safety are everything.

Knowing this, our meals make more sense as well. Hearty traditional food for hard work — but it also it means important downtime for the crew. Something steady, dependable and enjoyable. A family meal of sorts where everyone gathers for their food. And arguably a nice reward for not dropping a container on someone. The food is the social connection, along with hanging out in the smoking room. Kalli tells me that the “smoking room” is a newer concept, that smoking used to be an important social connection between all the crew onboard, a common pastime that has been somewhat toned down by the designation of a specific area for this activity.

“I guess I need to start smoking,” I tell Kalli. I’ve probably smoked a half a pack since the beginning of the trip in second-hand smoke alone.

He shrugs, “It’s never too late to start.”

Just a few days ago, still somewhat full from some delicious hot lunch only a few hours earlier, I’m working in our cabin when Captain Kalli comes by. Jonathan is presumably hanging off the ship somewhere like a squirrel with his GoPro.

“There’s a special surprise for coffee time today,” he says.

Naturally, I’m delighted at this unexpected news. I love surprises.

“Where is Jonathan? There’s a surprise for him, too,” he continues.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s still on the ship. Hopefully.”

Excited by the prospect of a surprise, I scurry down to the mess room and am met by Jona, the only female crew member. She is holding a plate for me. The anticipation is palpable.

A cream puff! Who doesn’t love cream puffs? A cream puff shaped like a…

A chocolate covered penis cream puff.

I burst out laughing. Jona is visibly pleased.

“I made these for you,” she says, proudly. “Here’s one for Jonathan,” she shows me the plate with a pair of beautifully formed, perky breasts.

Jonathan is not yet here and has no idea that a spectacular set of boobies are waiting for him along with some delicious cocoa.

“You are an artist, Jona.”

I’m about one coconut sprinkled testicle in when Jonathan shows up and receives his plate, somewhat dumbfounded. He clearly wasn’t expecting this either.

“You get the boobs,” I say matter-of-factly in-between a mouth full of balls. There really is no proper etiquette for eating these sorts of things.

I look around and can confirm that everyone else has normal cream puffs. I am at once honored and flattered. After eating the lamb testicles in aspic a few days ago, I feel that this is some sort of reward. We’re officially in now. Phallic karma.

Done with my cream puff, and after a few highly inappropriate comments about the pastry that I won’t mention here, I head for the smoking room.

I think I need a cigarette.

[newscitygroup]

How Jell-O molds claimed their spot on the american table

I ate Jell-O, of course — it was the first thing I learned to “cook,” in a dedicated set of Tupperware bowls. Its bright primary colors sparkled in glass coupes at every coffee shop in the city, and it had a taste of forbidden fruit, like melted hard candies. With a crown of equally forbidden whipped topping, it was considered a luxurious dessert.

But in my 14th year, the Jell-O paradigm shifted. My pack of friends was invited to dinner at the home of another friend; her mother, a transplanted Southerner, had already set the table with the first course. All of us New Yorkers stopped dead, goggling at plates that held individual molds of red Jell-O topped with a dab of something too yellow to be Cool Whip.

Someone blurted out, “If that’s mayonnaise, I’ll choke!” Naturally, this was greeted with shrieks of laughter. With ice water in her voice, this heroic woman simply said, “You can scrape it off if you don’t like it.”

I remember eating the rest of the meal in silence, cheeks burning with shame. Still, I wondered: Why was dessert served as an appetizer? Why was it topped with the sandwich spread?

I had stumbled into the eternal conundrum of Jell-O: Is it a salad, a dessert or somehow both?

This time of year, many Americans have Jell-O molds on their minds. Jell-O consumption has gone down steadily since its peak in the mid-20th century, but many cooks bring back a favorite dish in this category for the holiday table. (Others satisfy themselves with a can of wiggly gelled cranberry sauce, and some serve both.) Whether it is called a Jell-O mold or a congealed salad, or has a given name like Golden Glow Salad, Celery Nut Circle or Strawberry Pretzel Surprise, it is usually sweet and tangy, sometimes creamy or salty, occasionally crunchy and briny.

But even those who love them are not always sure what they are.

“It goes on the buffet with the turkey and the ham, and it stays through the pies,” said Jeffrey Zweben, a lawyer in Atlanta. He ignores Jell-O for most of the year, but starts stockpiling his favorite, the hard-to-find black cherry flavor, in September. For his signature Thanksgiving mold, he combines it with whole cranberries, crushed pineapple, cream cheese, whipped cream and — of course — a tablespoon of mayonnaise.

“It goes with everything,” he said firmly. “Jell-O is a processed joy.”

But do all Jell-O molds evoke joy? A spin through The New York Times Food library turned up a Mormon community cookbook recipe with lemon Jell-O, canned tuna, canned condensed chicken-and-rice soup, salad dressing, whipped cream, celery, peas and walnuts; a 7Up Cheese Aspic with lime Jell-O, 7Up soda, grated onion, diced Velveeta, celery and olives; and a corned beef loaf with lemon Jell-O, for which there are no words.

It took more than 20 years for me to exorcise and explain that first Jell-O mold encounter. The process began at luncheon at the Woman’s Club in Richmond, Virginia, where each guest received an exquisite plate: a half-moon of red Jell-O surrounded by cheese straws, cream cheese-stuffed celery sticks and a scoop of chicken salad.

I loved this meal, but I still didn’t understand it.

(Audra Melton | The New York Times) Jeffrey Zweben’s signature Jell-O mold at home in Atlanta, on Nov. 23, 2019.

I tried. I learned that gelatin salads flow from the traditions of Edwardian vegetable aspics; of ancient, naturally gelled bone broths; of European classics like jellied meats and Bavarian cream and blancmange. I learned that the United States is far from alone in its dedication to jellies: grass jelly in China, kanten in Japan and gulaman in the Philippines are all made from agar, a bouncy gelling agent extracted from algae.

I learned that sweet, cheap, instant Jell-O was a dessert that truly reflected the Space Age, that its artificial qualities were part of its appeal.

I learned that women who were nudged back into home kitchens after World War II brought their pent-up ambition and creativity to the new phenomenon of “entertaining,” and that a molded salad could be seen as a metaphor for how women of the era were supposed to be: well-contained, bright, pretty and resilient.

“A salad at last in control of itself,” is how historian Laura Shapiro described Jell-O molds in “Perfection Salad,” her book about American cooking at the turn of the 20th-century. It is titled after a durably popular concoction of lemon Jell-O with shredded cabbage, carrots, celery, peppers and pimento-stuffed olives. (The recipe won third place and a sewing machine in a 1904 contest held by the Knox Gelatine company, and was published in its booklet “Dainty Desserts for Dainty People” in 1915.)

It is easy to poke fun at Jell-O molds like these; in fact, there are blogs and Twitter feeds dedicated to surfacing them. It is not as easy to understand how they fit into Thanksgiving traditions, as they certainly do, especially in the South, Midwest and Utah (where Jell-O is the official state snack).

Jellies have a long history on American tables, going back at least to Thomas Jefferson’s diplomatic mission to France, where he lived from 1784 to 1789 and wrote down a recipe for nutmeg- and lemon-spiked “wine jelly” on what appears to be an 18th-century version of a cocktail napkin.

When the dish was served at Monticello, however, it is certain that the actual work of boiling and scraping a calf’s foot to make gelatin, clarifying it with egg whites, seasoning it with a fortified wine, sugar, lemon and nutmeg, and making sure it set evenly was overseen by James Hemings, the enslaved chef who had received formal French culinary training during Jefferson’s time abroad.

Historian Toni Tipton-Martin said that jellies and aspics connoted wealth and luxury because they were so hard to make. “It showed not only that you had people working for you,” she said, “but you had extra hands to make food that was completely frivolous.”

For less privileged Americans, meals were entirely practical, and repetitive at best. Tipton-Martin said the root vegetables and starches that we associate with Thanksgiving — stale bread, potatoes, winter squash — made up the daily diet of many people from November to March until the Industrial Revolution.

The need for preserves, relishes and chutneys to relieve the monotony (and to provide nutrition) was acute. Thanksgiving became an occasion to break into jars that held the previous summer’s harvest, most of them with flavors both briny and sweet: pickled carrots and green tomatoes, piccalilli and pear butter, pickled blackberries and corn relish. Tart jellies made from pectin-rich fruit, like quince and cranberries, were commonly served with meat.

After 1845, when Peter Cooper patented the first powdered unflavored gelatin, the history of Jell-O races forward. Savory molds like cucumber mousse, tomato aspic and glacé fish mold were just as popular as sweet ones until the presweetened Jell-O brand cornered the market soon after being introduced at the turn of the 20th century.

According to historian Anne Mendelson, the product’s convenience was so invaluable to women of the early 20th century that they simply plugged sweet lime, lemon and cherry Jell-O into savory recipes that were once seasoned with fresh lemon juice, meat stock and tomato juice.

“That’s how we ended up with these sweet gelatin salads,” said Mendelson, the author of “Stand Facing the Stove,” a comprehensive history of “Joy of Cooking.”

As “Joy of Cooking” has evolved since the first edition in 1931, written by Irma S. Rombauer, so have its recipes for gelatin molds and related aspics, whips, snows, puddings and charlottes. Some of the originals remain holiday classics, like the Golden Glow Salad of crushed pineapple, shredded carrots and lemon or orange Jell-O. (The finished product looks like a luminous, jiggly pumpkin.)

“That one turned out to be part of a lot of people’s Thanksgivings,” said John Becker, the book’s latest editor (and one of Irma’s great-grandsons). Becker, who edited the 2019 edition with his wife, Megan Scott, is a member of the fourth generation of the Rombauer family to attempt to steer the book through the wild swings of American food in the last century.

Irma Rombauer “adored anything you could do with sweet gelatin,” Mendelson said, but her daughter, Marion Rombauer Becker, “got religion about healthy eating and about fighting Big Food,” and took out many of the elaborate (layered, stuffed, multicolored) gelatin salads by 1975.

The 2019 edition has about 10 gelatin salads, mostly made with unflavored gelatin and real fruit juices, and accompanied by advice on how to make them vegan. Becker said that he and Scott wanted to move the book back toward its roots as a practical manual that both reflects and inspires the cooks of its time.

“We didn’t want to retain legacy content just for the sake of kitsch,” he said.

But kitsch is definitely part of the Jell-O-mold conversation.

Victoria Belanger, the self-proclaimed Jell-O Mold Mistress of Brooklyn and an expert in the gelatinous arts, said that among fans of her work, “there’s a kind of ironic attitude toward Jell-O molds.”

She said the tradition has recently morphed again among younger Thanksgiving cooks, who make fancy dessert Jell-O shots in flavors like cranberry spice and apple pie a la mode. Modern holiday Jell-O-shot recipes are layered like parfaits and garnished like craft cocktails, with herb sprigs and sugar-frosted cranberries.

Ashley Baker is a law student in Colorado who holds an annual potluck Friendsgiving feast, for which she does all the desserts. This year, instead of pumpkin pie, she’s making pumpkin spice Jell-O shots with Kahlúa, vodka and cream. “P.S.L. Jell-O shots go really well with other desserts,” she said. (PSL, or pumpkin spice latte flavor, doesn’t necessarily include either pumpkin or coffee; it’s a mix of cinnamon, ginger, vanilla and nutmeg that used to be called pie spice.)

“This way I don’t have to make pumpkin pie,” Baker said. “No one ever ate it anyway.”

Recipe: Cherry-Lemon Cream Jell-O Mold Yield: 10 to 12 servings Total time: 30 minutes, plus at least 4 hours’ chilling 1 large (6-ounce) package lemon Jell-O 4 cups boiling water 1 (16-ounce) container sour cream Neutral cooking spray 2 large (6-ounce) packages black cherry Jell-O, or use plain cherry or cranberry Jell-O 1 quart sweet or tart cherry juice, or use cranberry juice (opt for less cloudy varieties) Fresh holly sprigs, bay leaves or edible flowers, for garnish 1. Pour lemon mix into a medium bowl and add 2 cups boiling water. Stir until dissolved, then let cool until warm but not steaming hot, about 10 minutes. Gradually whisk in sour cream until smooth. 2. Spray a 10- or 12-cup mold or Bundt pan, preferably nonstick, very lightly with neutral cooking spray. Blot any extra oil with paper towels. Pour in lemon-sour cream mixture and refrigerate until set, about 1 hour. 3. About 15 minutes before lemon-sour cream mixture has set, pour cherry mix into a large bowl and add 2 cups boiling water. Stir until dissolved, then stir in cherry or cranberry juice. Make sure mixture has cooled to lukewarm at most before proceeding. 4. When lemon-sour cream mixture is set, gently ladle the cherry mixture over it. Don’t pour it on top, as the mixture breaks easily. Refrigerate again until completely set, at least 3 hours or overnight. (If you want to create multiple thinner layers of Jell-O, as seen in the picture here, instead of just one layer of each flavor, see Note.) 5. When ready to unmold, run the tip of a sharp knife around the edge of the pan to break the seal. Dip the bottom half of the mold in warm (not hot) water for 15 seconds. Place a serving plate over the top and flip to unmold. (If the mold doesn’t come out immediately, don’t shake it; try the warm water treatment again, 15 seconds at a time, until it comes out. If you leave the mold in the water for a longer time, it may start to melt.) 6. Just before serving, garnish, then slice, using a sharp knife and wiping the blade between slices. Note: To create multiple thinner layers in the mold, refrigerate 1 hour after adding each layer, and whisk each remaining Jell-O mixture in its bowl well before ladling it into the mold or Bundt pan to form the next layer. Chill the completed mold at least 3 hours or overnight.

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[culture9vulture]

Fortnum & Mason

Fortnum & Mason (colloquially often shortened to just "Fortnum's") is an upmarket department store in Piccadilly, London, with additional stores at St Pancras railway station and Heathrow Airport in London, as well as Dubai and various stockists worldwide. Its headquarters is located at 181 Piccadilly, where it was established in 1707 by William Fortnum and Hugh Mason. Today, it is privately owned by Wittington Investments Ltd. Founded as a grocery store, Fortnum's reputation was built on supplying quality food, and saw rapid growth throughout the Victorian era. Though Fortnum's developed into a department store, it continues to focus on stocking a variety of exotic, speciality and also 'basic' provisions. The store has since opened several other departments, such as the Gentlemen's department on the third floor. It is also the location of a celebrated tea shop and several restaurants.

William Fortnum was a footman in the royal household of Queen Anne. The Royal Family’s insistence on having new candles every night meant a lot of half-used wax which William Fortnum promptly resold for a tidy profit. The enterprising William Fortnum also had a sideline business as a grocer. He convinced his landlord, Hugh Mason, to be his associate, and they founded the first Fortnum & Mason store in Mason's small shop in St James's Market in 1707. In 1761, William Fortnum's grandson Charles went into the service of Queen Charlotte and the Royal Court affiliation led to an increase in business. Fortnum & Mason claims to have invented the Scotch egg in 1738. The store began to stock speciality items, namely ready-to-eat luxury meals such as fresh poultry or game served in aspic jelly.

In April 1951, Canadian businessman W. Garfield Weston acquired the store and became its chairman following a boardroom coup. In 1964, he commissioned a four-ton clock to be installed above the main entrance of the store as a tribute to its founders. Every hour, 4-foot-high (1.2 m) models of William Fortnum and Hugh Mason emerge and bow to each other, with chimes and 18th-century–style music playing in the background.

[viralhottopics]

Anthony Bourdain: I put aside my psychotic rage, after many years being awful to cooks

The chef and author on encountering vichyssoise aged nine, practical jokes with his sous chef, and learning to take food less seriously

I worked in a restaurant where the house speciality was mutton chops, soeverything reeked of fat, penetrating every pore, follicle and piece of clothing, as if Id been rolling around in sheep guts. It was the first thing I smelled in the morning and the last at night. But I didnt have any friends outside the business. Its one of the reasons chefs hang with each other who else will love our smells?

As a youngster, in New Jersey, I was fed normal pedestrian American home cooking meatloaf and hamburgers although I do recall a copy of Julia Childs Mastering the Art of French Cooking high up on the refrigerator and how on special nights, when guests visited and mysterious adult stuff went on downstairs, the powerful smell of scallops with mushrooms in white wine sauce (Coquilles St Jacques) drifted upstairs.

At the age of nine, I went on the Queen Mary being served vichyssoise, a word I loved for my first trip to France, where boys were allowed watered-down wine and cigarettes on Sundays. But our parents left me and my little brother in the car outside La Pyramide (in Vienne), while they dined inside. I reacted by requesting oysters and dishes they found repulsive and becoming increasingly adventurous in my tastes. It wasnt about the food but about getting a reaction.

I only became happy in fact, intensely satisfied as a dishwasher at a restaurant in Provincetown in Cape Cod, my first job. I was a shy, goofy, awkward teenager. But in this blue collar, factory-like environment, there was no blurred line, no grey area, no philosophical question to fret over. Dishes had to go in the washer and come out taintless and doing this swiftly and competently meant I was acknowledged as a human being by colleagues I wanted to be like. The day they promoted me to dunking fries I was overjoyed.

It was watching chef Bobby screwing a bride over a barrel in the garbage area, while her wedding party dined inside, that made me want to be a chef. But it was awkward and didnt make sense. It was the first time Id seen anyone having sex and I didnt understand the brides motivation. Although I understand it very well now.

The line cook I especially respected was Beth Aretsky, aka The Grill Bitch; a very sturdy, hard, capable, profane woman at a time when there werent many women in the kitchen. When a Moroccan chef felt her ass she grabbed and spun him, then dry-humped him brutally over a cutting board. Like many early women in the business she was twice as tough as the men. Despite how she bossed us, wed go to her often crying for advice and support when having trouble with girlfriends. She wasnt having any of that either.

The crew at Marios restaurant spoke in this fantastic polyglot language incorporating Portuguese fishing dialect, Elizabethan poetry and Marine Corp profanities. And it was with Marios Dmitri such an influence on my career that I formed Moonlight Menus and created elaborate banquets for pizza magnates and drug dealers. When Dmitri designed tableaus on the sides of hams he did so with a dry, fantastic, acidic and self-punishing wit. He made fun of his propensity towards failure and disappointment, often, but he was a very creative, skilled and bright guy, who was different than anybody else Id met and very inspiring. Some of it was impressive for its time. I mean, no one else was doing pt en croute and huge galantines in aspic, elaborate chaud-froid presentations and Marie-Antoine Carme and Auguste Escoffier-era set pieces in 1975. Nobody. (Although if Daniel Boulud, whos since done these things, saw the quality I dont think he would be dazzled or impressed by our technique, to put it kindly.)

The mafia were everywhere back then. But now you have to look for them. The Racketeering & Corrupt Organisation Act which meant any member of an organisation could be prosecuted for the same crime as the leader of that organisation restricted the crime families involvement in the fish and meat markets. And were reaching the shallow end of the gene pool in a lot of these families the sons are all cokeheads and dont have the same values as their dads. The restaurant world aint what it used to be.

Steven Moore, my sous chef during the 90s, was the best one for practical jokes. If someone only put a potato in his shoe, hed remove the door from their locker and fill it high with porn mags. (Sometimes he used to arrive at work with sperm on his shoes.) I still appreciate that he had no shame whatsoever an admirable quality, of sorts. But Ive no connection with him now, since it is my belief that he sold a dick pic of me to the gossip site TMZ.

Im proud that in the last few years as a professional chef, however upset I was with staff, wed still be able to have a beer together at the end of the night, without ill-will. Id put aside my psychotic rage, after many years being awful to line cooks, abusive to waiters, bullying to dishwashers. Its terrible and counter-productive to make people feel idiots for working hard for you. Nowadays I still have a rather withering ability to be sarcastic and displeased but Im not screaming at anyone.

I was an unhappy soul, with a huge heroin and then crack problem. I hurt, disappointed and offended many, many, many people and I regret a lot. Its a shame I have to live with.

I like to hear music while I cook, but nothing too headbangy any more. Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, pre-disco funk, Isaac Hayes and Brothers Johnson and Im happy.

If I examine my body now, nude in the mirror, theres not too much damage to be seen. The burns, flesh marks and knife scars prevalent 14 years ago, before I moved into TV, have mostly faded. The damage sustained from handling lobsters and shrimp the inflammations and skin rashes have improved with time. My hands are pretty soft. My right hand is mangled with arthritis, from holding a whisk improperly for so many years, causing calluses to push bones out of joint. But Im in much better shape than Ive probably ever been. I travel 250 days a year. Im lean, my alcohol bloat has gone and I do Brazilian jiu-jitsu every day.

As I get older my tastes become simpler. The foods that make me reliably happy, that have a real emotional appeal, are a simple bowl of regional pasta, spicy noodles sold in Vietnam, or anybodys grandmothers meatloaf.

Its a lethal error to always critically evaluate meals. Ive certainly learnt to take food less seriously and try whenever possible to experience it emotionally rather than as a professional or critic. I like nothing more than seeing my daughter Ariane eating and liking food.

When youve seen what Ive seen on a regular basis it changes your world view. Ive spent such a lot of time in the developing world, I was caught in a war in Beirut, been in Liberia, the Congo, Iraq and Libya and realised how fast things can get bad, how arbitrary good fortune and cruelty and death. I suppose Ive learnt humility. Or something.

The great Warren Zevon was asked, close to death, whether he had any important words of wisdom to pass on and he said, Enjoy every sandwich. I definitely enjoy my sandwiches, given how low I fell and how likely it was that there was going to be a different and tragic outcome. Im a pretty lucky man. I enjoy my food and presenting Parts Unknown. I have the best job in the world.

Appetites: A Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain is published by Bloomsbury (26). To order a copy for 22.10 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99

This article was taken from Observer Food Monthly on 15th January 2017. Click here to get the Observer for half price.

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from Anthony Bourdain: I put aside my psychotic rage, after many years being awful to cooks