Hello folks. Well, as you can see, I have been awfully industrious...redesigning the blog, scouring the city for guest bloggers, and... well, I guess that's all.

I hope you enjoy Ravinder's cocktail columns, which will be appearing periodically. He's also bringing some much-needed photography to the site. I am making a vow to start taking more photos. It might help if I had a digital camera. Hmmm, my birthday is coming up...

I'm preparing a lobster-related entry as well; now would be a good time to support the Maine lobster industry, which has been encountering some difficult times with depressed demand and thus lowered prices. Plus, lobster is yummy.

Drop me a note and let me know what you think of the new look and the new guest blogger!

PS Hold down the shift key and hit refresh if the display looks weird.

I was lucky enough to have a really informative visitor to my Law of the Sea class last week-- the Executive Director of the Maine Lobstermen's Association, Patrice McCarron. She spoke to us about many of the specifically legal challenges they have faced, of course, such as the battle over floating ground lines, and the like-- but she also mentioned the general price depression in lobster that is negatively affecting the 10,000+ Maine families that depend on lobstering for a living. I have to admit that my awareness of the problem has been low, given that most of this semester a) I've been so busy Otis has been preparing most of the meals, and b) lobster is usually too expensive to be on the frequent rotation in our household. But unfortunately, one of the problems facing the industry is that because of the overall bad economic situation, the demand for lobster has dropped, which has also depressed prices significantly. This is good for consumers in the short term, but terrible in the long term, because it makes the fishery simply unsustainable for the individuals who depend on it. Plus, it's bad for Maine in general, because part of our very identity relies on the lobstering industry!

(Obviously I am not an economist-- this is just my understanding of the situation. One of the main problems is that because of credit is not flowing, the processors who process the lobster that is not sold live here in Maine can't extend credit to the lobsterman, which in turn depresses prices further. Also, many of the Canadian processors have been banking in Iceland, which makes things all the worse.)

So, to sum up, in the meantime while all this economy stuff gets resolved (hopefully...) we should all do our parts to support our Maine lobstermen by buying some lobster, and eating it in delicious and creative meals. I'm thinking angel hair pasta with some sort of lobster-sherry cream sauce for this weekend. I should mention that lobster is also super good for you, with low fat and cholesterol. That might be undermined with cream sauce, but so be it.

Or, if you don't feel like cooking, I got a press release this morning telling me that a bunch of local restaurants, including Gritty's, are featuring lobster on the menu. I'm personally quite partial to lobster Benedict as well, which I know you can often get at the Porthole on Sundays as a special at brunch.

Eat some darn Maine lobster, people. OK? I'll stop bugging you about it.

Oh yeah, and GO VOTE!!

(Edited to add that Plating Up has some yummy looking lobster recipes.)

So there I was, entrusted by kith and kin to create a libation to whet the whistles gathered for a Christmas fête. When saddled with such responsibility one can find oneself lost in a sea of flips and fizzes, slings and sours. But as Confucius say[sic], “start simple.” At least I think that’s what he meant when he mentioned something about a cricket learning to walk before it could run or a mighty oak tree starting life as an acorn or seed or some such thing. With that in mind I chose as a starting point that archetypal tipple, the martini. It is a simple yet profound mixture (in varying ratios) of gin and dry vermouth; its detractors may be under the impression that it is a mixture (in varying ratios) of paint thinner and jet fuel. I wanted to create something with a touch of sweetness; something smooth as velvet.

Whilst staring at the liquor cabinet I had what alcoholics might call a moment of clarity. I had an idea. I reached for the cocktail shaker and into said shaker deposited a splash of the Clear Creek Williams Pear brandy and a three ponies (ounces) of gin. Filling the shaker with ice I proceeded to shake vigorously for 20 seconds. I strained the mixture into an ice-cold martini glass and took a sip. An amazing, alchemical phenomenon had occurred. The brandy had somehow coaxed from the gin a subtle sweetness. It was well rounded and smooth. It was a revelation.

But a nameless one. For a few days the drink had no name, like a baby left at the door of a nunnery. Its new assemblage of fans (the aforementioned kith and kin) would simply snap their fingers or ask for “one of the those, you know, gin thingies” when the cocktail hour presented itself. Rivers of the stuff were shaken and poured, but still no name. But then it happened, as it sometimes has a tendency to do. Having put away two or three “gin thingies” one night, I poured myself into bed and during this sound, hooch-induced slumber I had the most curious of dreams. As it turned out, in the dream, former First Lady Barbara Bush was a great devotee of the drink I had created, known to knock them back with tremendous zeal at State function and so forth. And so it was. “There is nothing like a dream,” Victor Hugo once said, “to create the future.” May I present--the future, the Barbara Bush.

THE BARBARA BUSH
I’ve added a couple dashes of bitters and a fanciful garnish to the recipe but the drink is still delicious, if less exciting, without them.

6 oz. gin (preferably Tanqueray. If money is a concern, Gordon’s. If they’re about to shut off the power, try my “Home-made” Gin recipe)
½ oz. Clear Creek Distillery’s Williams Pear brandy
2 pieces orange zest or 2 dashes Fee Brothers orange bitters.
Two dried pear chips (optional)

1. Combine first three ingredients in cocktail shaker and fill with ice cubes.

2. Shake for at least 20 seconds.

3. Strain into frozen martini glasses and float pear chip, if using, in the glass.

Yields 2 cocktails

by Ravinder Kingra

The mercury (admittedly, few thermometers still employ mercury to tell one what one needs to know when one requires the services of a thermometer) has begun its yearly descent. The work day now starts and ends in darkness. The Jack-O-Lantern Peeps are nowhere to be found, having been vanquished by those of the Christmas tree and snowman varieties. At a time like this, one finds oneself in need of what the French might call un aide-mémoire, though usually only in diplomatic circles; someone of the English-speaking persuasion might instead bethink oneself of those contented days of summer. Days spent snoozing on the dock, shuttling the cock back and forth over the badminton net, supping the sup en plein air (again with the damnable French), as it were, and so on and so forth.

Here, friends, is an agreeable curative if ever there was one. The long-gone warmth and frivolity of summer will come rushing back to the fore; crashing down like the softest, most wonderful, tart and tangy ton of lemony, boozy bricks one could hope under which to find oneself. The standard home bar may not consider among its faithful members two of the ingredients--the guilty parties involved being limoncello (a lemon cordial) and butterscotch schnapps—but both are available at most liquor stores. Alternatively, recipe for a simple and delightful limoncello substitute can be found on my website, and also here, and here. Entering the "make your own lemon liqueur" industry, however, will take some advanced planning--at least a week or so for the flavors to mix, mingle, and otherwise get to know one another.

So when one’s morning routine requires the calculation of just how many pairs of long underwear into which one will need to stuff oneself, the time has come for one or two Simpaticos.

THE SIMPATICO

4 oz. vodka
2 dashes vanilla
½ oz butterscotch schnapps
2 oz lemon juice
2 oz Limoncello
sugar for rimming glasses (optional)
2 thin slices of lemon, or 2 twists of lemon (optional)

Combine first five ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake for 20 seconds. Strain into chilled, sugar-rimmed glasses. Add lemon slices or twists, if using, and serve.

Yields 2 cocktails

Don't forget to check out Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on the Travel Channel this Tuesday, November 18, which features the Maine Foods Deathmatch.

If you look carefully, you may be able to see yours truly in the background. I wasn't interviewed or anything.

Portland Psst provides a good rundown of the Deathmatch media coverage here.

If you have time, you should try out the always-fabulous Joe Ricchio's Sweet Corn and Duck Soup with Smoked Chiles. It was truly phenomenally delicious. And I don't even really like duck!

It's late November... a chill is in the air... and the student loans are running out. In honor of my hungry and fiscally challenged friends, I give you a ramen noodle recipe that is guaranteed to be warming, tasty, and most importantly, cheap.

Law School Ramen Noodles

Ingredients

1 package ramen noodles. I use Koyo Mushroom Flavor, which costs about 95 cents at Hannaford, but if you're really feeling the pinch go for one of the non-organic brands. Seeing as how ramen's not tax-deductible, even for food bloggers, I frequently hit the Hong Kong Market for cheap options as well.)
1 T peanut butter (smooth, any brand is fine. I like Teddie.)
1/6 of a lime
2-3 scallions, chopped
1 T cilantro chopped (if you have it. If not, not a big deal. The scallions are crucial though. Seriously.)
1-2 T soy sauce, to taste
Sriracha or chili garlic hot sauce, to taste (OK, fine, you can choose your own hot sauce. But what could be better than those two?)

Preparation

1. Prepare the ramen noodles according to the directions on the package.

2. Drain out almost (but not quite) all the water.

3. Add 1/2 of the sauce packet, and all of the other ingredients.

4. Stir well. If the peanut butter isn't distributing, put the pot back on the heat for 30 seconds or so to get it to melt.

5. Eat & enjoy.

by Ravinder Kingra

Friends, I’ve just returned from Texas and the news is not good. Fear not, the Alamo is still intact and alarmingly much smaller than I remember it being in Pee Wee's Big Adventure. And so too is the Tex-Mex machine still ably churning out chalupas, fajitas, and taquitos as the mariachis charge you $6 for some tacky song you mistakenly assumed was on the house.

No, the bad news is that it seems one must give up on finding a well shaken, and thoroughly chilled cocktail in the great state that brought us Whole Foods and the assassination of JFK.

I must confess that my sphere of experience was geographically limited to the San Antonio/Austin/Johnson City triangle. But within that small wedge of Texas my traveling companions and I sampled sidecars, old fashioneds, whisky sours, and margaritas; the overwhelming majority of which nearly compelled me to throw the offending drinks, for lack of a better word, into the faces of the barkeeps who were non compos mentis enough to offer them to me in the first place. At one establishment (a modern and stylish Tex-Mex eatery) I ordered its famous “Hand-shaken Margarita” while standing at the bar, thereby having a front row seat to the perplexing show that was to come. Had one blinked at any point during the preparation of my drink one would miss what was surely the loosest interpretation of the words shake, shaken, and while we're at it, hand and margarita. It is true that the cocktail shaker was in the gentleman's hand and it is also true that his hand (and said shaker) did move imperceptibly in the upwards direction and then downwardly the same imperceptible distance, but one wonders how on Earth that twitch could constitute shaking. Had the menu read “Hand-twitched Margarita” I would have perhaps thought nothing of this spectacle. Indeed, I would most likely have turned on my heels and left the restaurant in search of something more in keeping with my standards, however fruitless that search might (did) turn out to be.

What surprised this writer most was the prevalence of such negligent barmanship. I dined at establishments of every stock and strain--from the lowly delivery van-cum-taqueria parked by the roadside in a questionable neighborhood to the award winning palais du gastronomie stuffed to its gills with crystal goblets brimming with Château Haut-Brion, bejeweled socialites tucking into foie gras and lobster, and wheelers and dealers wheeling and dealing while a waiter flambés some sweet treat at table-side. One restaurant had no problem cooking to perfection my $40 steak, yet when it came to my sidecar, all concepts of quality and taste had presumably been dumped into the toilet; the resultant mixture then finding its way into my cocktail glass with a few chips of melting ice. At the boutique hotel where we were to lay our heads my sister and I sauntered into the hotel bar (where the see and be seen see and are seen) expecting our troubles and worries to be driven from our minds with exquisitely executed beverages. "Two whisky sours, my good man," I spoke. Hindsight being what it is, I realized upon taking the introductory sip that I should have instead made the request thusly: "Two good whisky sours, my man." I couldn't help thinking it was no wonder the Alamo fell. Had D. Crocket and Jim Bowie had nothing more to revive the spirits than these sorry bartenders mixing watered down sidecars and neglected margaritas that we had encountered, the defense of the future tourist trap must indeed have seemed an unnecessary venture.

Now, at this point one might feel that all hope is lost, for I’ll admit that I’ve painted a rather gloomy landscape. One might ask aloud, why bother searching for a tipple lest it be a shot and a beer while in Texas? Well, let me pass along to you the final act of our story: Our second to last night in The Lone Star State found our party at a hip eatery in Austin, named Lambert’s. As if the cocktail follies to which we’d been subjected had preceded us (and the management felt it their duty to right the wrongs visited upon our thirsts up to that point) we were served margaritas and Pisco sours that would have made the angels sing—or is it weep? I can never remember which is the good one. Perfectly mixed, icy cold, expertly served. At last the stars at night were big and bright, deep in the so on and so forth. So think not of the failures, the disappointments. Remember instead the glorious satisfaction of finding that holiest of grails—a well made cocktail. Remember the moments when you come upon that treasured restorative; when it all works out.

And with that, this week’s prescription, The Lady Bird (named for Claudia Alta "Lady Bird" Taylor Johnson, native Texan, and First Lady of the United S. of A.)

THE LADY BIRD

4 oz bourbon
2 oz orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 oz lemon juice, freshly squeezed
2 dashes orange bitters
2 Tablespoons simple syrup
2 pieces orange zest, optional.

Add all ingredients, except zest, to a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake for 20 seconds. Strain into chilled glasses and garnish with zest, if using.

Yields 2 cocktails

I must admit that I am a serial pie crust philanderer. I'm never quite satisfied with the crust I've made in the past, and always feel the need to experiment with a new recipe, just in time for the holidays. This year, I found an overly complicated recipe that went along with another pie recipe in Saveur Magazine. Boy, was it horrible. It turned out to be the toughest pie crust I've ever had. Poor Walter, who was serving the pies at our otherwise flawless family Thanksgiving, had to saw, saw, saw just to cut off slices. Just awful.

Happily, however, the pumpkin pie filling I made was so delicious, so sublime, that it almost made up for the hideousness of the crust. I combined a few ideas and recipes I found on the web and those that were sent to me by friends, notably one recipe that featured fresh ginger. Yum.

Another fun thing to mention is that the pumpkin I used for the pie was a Long Island Cheese Pumpkin, an heirloom variety that's excellent for baking, which we got from our CSA over a year ago. It's been sitting on our kitchen table ever since. I was somewhat apprehensive to use it, but once I cut it open it was clearly fresh and ready to eat. I guess that's why squashes are considered storage vegetables!

The below recipe will make enough filling for two pies. Use a store-bought crust.

Ecstatic Pumpkin Pie

Ingredients

1 medium sized baking pumpkin, or 2 small [or 2 cans-- I think-- pumpkin puree]. Should be about 4 cups.
2/3 cup light brown sugar
2/3 cup dark brown sugar
2/3 cup white sugar
4 T white flour
1 t salt
4 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground cloves
3/4 t ground ginger
3 T ginger, pureed or minced very fine in a garlic press (for reference, I used about 2" worth of ginger root to get that much)
2 T molasses
1 1/2 t vanilla extract
6 eggs
1 1/3 cup heavy cream

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350.
2. Cut the pumpkin in half or thirds and scoop out the seeds.
3. Lightly oil a baking sheet and put the pumpkin parts on it, with the skin side up.
4. Bake for abut 40 minutes, or until the flesh is very soft.
5. Remove from oven and let cool slightly.
6. Scoop out the flesh into your food processor (if you don't have one you could use a blender. You want the pumpkin to be well-pureed and smooth. I made the whole recipe in the food processor but you could easily just do the pumpkin in batches in the blender and then do the rest in a large bowl.)
7. Pulse in food processor until smooth.
8. Add the sugars, flour, and salt, and pulse until well blended.
9. Add the spices, including the ginger, and the vanilla, and pulse until well blended.
10. Add the eggs 2 at a time and pulse until well blended.
11. Transfer to a large bowl and add the cream, and stir well.

-- here's where I popped it in the refrigerator overnight and made the pie in the morning after letting the mixture come up to room temp. Or you could just proceed directly to the next step.--

12. Turn the oven up to 450 and put a baking sheet in to preheat.
13. Once up to temp, fill the pie crust ((sigh)) and place onto the sheet in the oven.
14. Bake for 10 minutes, then lower the oven temp to 350 and bake for 45ish minutes, until the center is set and it's a bit puffy.
15. Cool on a cooling rack and serve with fresh whipped cream.

Here's a photo of my father-in-law, Walter, just before his heroic pie-cutting efforts.