Simmerstock.com: Playbill

What's this Simmer Stock thing?

Basically, this site is meant to be a collection place for ideas and recipes for all the dinners I've thought of and cooked over the years, and all the tips, tricks and resources I've managed to gather. I'm nudged frequently by family, friends and colleagues to write down recipies for the stuff I cook. Of course, recipies are actually for whimps - I haven't really used recipies (other than as sources for ideas) in years. But there is a lot of knowledge of cooking - techniques, ingredients, tools and meals - sitting in my head that I could and should, as I would say in my real-world job, store in some sort of repository.

This specific solution manifested itself the other night (damn - I can never shake the consultant monkey off my back, can I?). Francie and I were sitting down watching Iron Chef when the words "Simmer Stock" popped into my head. Why? Well, I was thinking: Iron Chef, cooking as entertainment, theatre, guest actors performing with a stock company, kinda like summer stock. Hmmm... cooking, summer, simmer, stock... The campy metaphores were available, the idea's been there for a while, and, the domain was available. Would I take it? Could my lame meme reign supreme? Allez Cuisine!

I've been in love with food and dining for as long as I can remember. When I was around 9 my parents took my to La Grenouille in New York. I ordered frog legs for the first time (9 year old boys will eat the darndest things). When the waiter brought the delicate lightly breadcrumbed & garlicy (and surprisingly small, I thought) jambon de la grenouille I asked him how I should eat them (they were really too small to cut with a knife and fork). He told me (in what I assume was an authentic French accent) to use my "french forks" (holding his hand up to his face and pinching and unpinching his thumb and index finger). I looked around my plate, but could only find regular old forks. I starred at him quizically for a while and he bent over and whispered in my ear, "use your hands." My hands? My hands! Here I was in a white tablecloth of white tablecloth restaurants - one of, if not the top haute cuisine fine dining fancy schmancy my parents made me wear a tie and my neck still itches restaurants in the country (this was the late 70s and Emeril was still baking sweet bread in Fall River) - and they wanted me to eat the food with my hands! That was great! I could eat with my hands! The silverware and china and crystal and manners and protocol weren't really the point. The food was. And the frog legs were great! And so was the salad, and the bread. Ohhhh the bread. I was 9. I knew Wonder bread. I had no idea crunchy crust, chewy inside, tasty bread like that existed. But it did. And, from then on, I knew I couldn't live without it.


Previously on Simmer Stock:

Amazon.com Kitchenware

Help me rehearse and improve the sets. All book, tool and equipment links lead to product pages at Amazon.com

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