Cooking With Ideas

Scoop to Kill

What can I say? A murder mystery that is pretty smart about academia (even if there are a few more-or-less predictable oddities from the non-academic characters in terms of their understanding of the world inside the so-called ivory tower) and features food in the form of ice cream? Perfecto! The title: Scoop to Kill. The author: Wendy Lyn Watson. The town: (best name for a small town ever) Dalliance. The university (and yes, I misread this): Dickerson.

Ice cream is not really very central to Scoop to Kill except that the main character/quasi-detective/snoop runs an ice cream parlor called Remember the a la Mode (yep, located in Texas and punny with regard to the Alamo) and there is an occasional reference to their swell flavors. What else? Well, there is a groom's milkshake as a side issue, which involves Dr. Pepper which for some reasons is thought of as THE drink of Texans. (Not my favorite, I must confess.) 

The real focus of the mystery is on higher education -- graduate students and faculty, politics and teaching and scholarship, whatever the ivory tower equivalent is of the water cooler and the jostling for office space and etcetera. I have to say there are moments when that representation seemed all too realistic in its portrayal. Does every campus have a pompous pipe smoker and a philandering department chair and a feminist and an anti-feminist and. . .  Caricatures in some ways, but they did strike the mark more than half the time! And the students vary -- from studious (moving up in social class) to the not so studious -- not so surprisingly. (Oh for a story where the link of class to studiousness was not quite so obvious.) Of course, the mystery also has a bit of romantic tension, though this time it is not only the main character/quasi detective who is at the core of it. Even so, I have a bit of an issue with the ways the academics deal with romance -- if nothing else, the [SPOILER ALERT] faculty/student relations are a bit problematic not to mention the characterizations of female faculty. . . .

I do like the notion that Tally, said quasi-detective, takes a class as part of her investigative work. I wish she'd be a tiny bit less sarcastic about it, though I did find her humorous when it comes to what she does and does not see as reasonable about academia. Maybe we can learn something from those who have been excluded and return. . . . if we are incomprehensible to the sensible sorts like Tally (that's how the author makes her sound) then maybe we're incomprehensible in a bad way. (Yep, I think the author is more than hinting at this. Is academia everyone's favorite target du jour? Do we deserve to be? Or only in places like Dalliance and at schools like Dickerson?)

All in all, though, this quick read was fun, had moments of irony for those of us who live in academia, and likely will please Dr. Pepper lovers everywhere.

For a bit more on this cozy, click here. And for another try here. Or, even go so far as to click here where you can read a totally urelated bit entitled Remember A la Mode which seems to be a data analysis problem or here for some historical bits on the whole notion of a la mode including the joke in which the pie says. . . Remember the a la mode.

Flattened Chicken and More

I was wandering Pittsford Wegmans some time ago and purchases a D'Artagnan product: a chicken that was mostly boned (and still whole). Yep, it had no backbone, no rib cage, etc. Yep, it did have littly tiny leg bones and that's about all. It was, sort of, butterflied. I had zip idea what to do with it when I saw it, though a chap standing there when I made my impulse grab said just to cook it the way I would cook a whole chicken. Hmm, I thought. Hmmm. But I bought it anyway. Not because it was cute (it was not), just because I wanted to. I did.

And, I eventually cooked the darn thing. How? I used this recipe from the web and sort of modified it a tiny bit. The recipe is sort of like a mustard-y marinade I use for rack of lamb, schmeared inside the chicken. So: first, I made it -- using a tablespoon of fresh rosemary, all the fresh thyme I had, 2 tablespoons of dijon mustard, some olive oil, some salt (maybe 1/2 teaspoon or so), some ground pepper, and 2 chopped up garlic cloves. I let the stuff sit a while and then braved the squashed chicken. I sort of jammed the marinade into the various under-the-skin locales I could find. And I let the chicken sit a while.And I baked it in a 400 degree oven with an poccasional thrust of hte thermometer. It may have been the best job of cooking a chicken I have ever done, since I often have either over-done breast meat or under-done thigh meat, or both.

What did I serve besides the chicken? I broke it out -- I surrounded the chicken with various root and root-like veggies -- an onion cut into eighths. a fennel bulb (cored and cut up), some fingerling potatoes and a lemon cut into eighths. . . with olive oil drizzled over it. Into the oven and. . . about an hour later -- a delightful delightful chicken and veggies. And, I served it with parsnip/pear puree that I sort of made up; it was an ugly color of brown (had too much cinnamon) and was a tad too sweet. I used some local butternut squash seed oil in it, which worked, but the rum I substituted for a nut liqueur was well, not right. On the other hand, the creme fraiche from the refrigerator did work. Hmmm. Will have to try again and get it right! I had in mind something a former colleague brought to an event years ago -- pears, parsnips and brandy. Close this time, but no cigar.

The chicken, though, was just right. And it was nearly 50 degrees outside and sunny. In February. How odd.

Rumor has it you can grill flattened chicken too. Not likely in this lifetime, but who knows. Have you cooked a flattened chicken? This darn thing tasted more like chicken than a lot of things masquerading as chicken these days -- and though I feel guilty for not eating a local bird, it was dandy.

 

Edward Trencom's Nose OR Cheese, History, Fiction?

Edward Trencom's Nose: A Novel of History, Dark Intrigue, and Cheese has been on my reading list for ages. It comes up every time I think about cheese and murder mysteries, even though I cannot seem to find mysteries of the cozy variety featuring a cheese shoppe, which is something I keep thinking I have seen. (Have you? If so: Help!) The book is by GIles Milton and is even available in Spanish. I admit, it has a weird title. I just finished it -- and it was delightful and, indeed, weird. It was also worth the read. Is it a mystery? Well, sort of.  . . . . Certainly people die, across generations, for mysterious reasons. And certainly there is a puzzle at its center -- possibly more than one puzzle. But a murder mystery -- well, maybe not quite.

The book is a tale of noses - quite literally -- and of the relation of olfactory delicacy and skill to cheese. (Yes, I did stop and wonder if the obsessive nasalness of this had to do with Gogol's The Nose, discussed here. Still no clue on that front.) It traces, in some ways, the history of a (fictional I presume) cheese shop from about the time of the Great London Fire to the late 1960s, and weaves into it a whole range of historical detail, some about London and loads about cheese, and [SPOILER ALERT AT LEAST POSSIBLY] the Ottoman Empire, Turkey and Greece. I am not sure I have ever seen the name Ataturk in a novel before (and if I have it must have been a Turkish novel) but in this novel -- well, he plays a part. Minor here, though of course major for Turkish history and with definitive and long running impac on the Greeks.

Noses. The olfactory sense. The relation of olfaction to food. The relation of taste and smell. Of smell and . . . memory. A novel? It did make me think a lot about my mother, who, as with the title character in this novel -- and much of his lineage - had a spectacular nose. It sounds a lot like my mother's -- in ways I cannot even explain.

The book is also really really about cheeses. I have no idea if all the cheeses mentioned in this book are real. I suspect they may be. There is a cave/whatever below the amazing cheese shop, organized geographically  (Greece and various aspects of France, Spain and North America, Italy and the Alps, everywhere it seems, except the Arctic and Antarctic-- with cheese from all sorts of places with all sorts of smells from pastures to flowers, from fusty to musty to waves of salt to tiny hints of thises and thats. From goats and cows, with names and without. The descriptions are luminous and the descriptions are only occasionally visual or aural. This is a book about smell. And it is a book about cheese. (For more on cheese varieties, try here where even cheeses from Korea are listed. Or this website. Or this, just in case you need more . . . on cheese. And, no, I am not talking Who Moved the Cheese. I am talking cheese.)  For this is a book about cheese -- and cheesemongers -- woven together with Lord Byron and "Bloody Mary" and World War I and the one that followed, and more.

In some ways, this is a novel about the tension between one's destiny (read as family or genetics or history or power) and the quotidian passions, between biology (one's capacity to smell) and what happens when history intrudes (removing one's sense of smell?), between catastrophe and possibility. It is, to put another frame around it -- an utterly silly book that wanders between ecstatic depictions of the odors (even one for memory and history) of cheeses and . . . well, lots of not so nice aspects of history. The glamor and wonder of the Topkapi Palace (where I have indeed been and which is quite amazing) and. . . the ordinary.

In addition to finding this novel through the search for a mystery involving cheese, I have, of course, reviewed another book by its author here on Cooking with Ideas. The book? Nathaniel's Nutmeg. The review appears here in a discussion of single topic boks like Mark Kurlansky's Salt.

I have no idea if there is a truly famous cheese shop in London, but here's a list. And here's Milton's own website. And, since I am not writing from London, here's a tidbit on the Finger Lakes cheese trail. Who knew? 

Coming Soon to a Blog You Read . . . .

Let's see - fit into the interstices of life --

1. A review of a book I am currently reading with one of the oddest title's ever: Edward Trencom's Nose: A Novel of History, Dark Intrigue, and Cheese -- and yes, this is indeed about cheese in many ways, the olfactory (and nasal), and such oddities as Ataturk (a name I have never encountered in a novel -- and yet I read the most wonderful biography of him before I went to Turkey and missed seeing his socks in a museum because. . . . well, I can't remember why!)

2. Some musings on lemon curd made with. . . . Meyer Lemons . . . on a Saturday afternoon.

3. A few tidbits on whatever else seems apt -- for Finger Lakes foodie delights.

Pizza and Wings: Two Murder Mysteries on the Menu. . .

One of these authors is a familiar one: Julie Hyzy. And I always like her work. The second one is new to me, Chris Cavender. And yes, the first is on . . . wings (and pizza is mentioned) and (as the website asociated with Chris Cavender makes clear) the latter focuses on . . . pizza. Both have one thing in common -- murder and mayhem in a foodie kind cozy way. A second thing, of course, is they end with recipes. But I never really pay much attention to them. Should I?

Let's start with wings -- Buffalo West Wing is, of course, one of Hyzy's White House chef series. Yes, that's the West Wing allusion. (Wanna know more about the West Wing? Try this site for a floor plan and this site for wikipedia's version and this site if what you really want is the television version.) And yes, she plays on the wings theme throughout the book -- and even has a little logo-like picture at the top of each chapter that is . . . yep a buffalo with wings. By now, we all know the little wings are named for a city not a mammal, but still, its cute enough an innocuous enough) not to be annoying and in fact to be a little smile inducing. Several series things are different here -- most crucially -- a new commander in chief. Hyzy is, in part, playing off the Obamas, I suspect, since a main issue is that this president has kids. Yep, kids. And, as when the boss changes everywhere, people are a little jumpy. While this plot is a little Tom Clancy for my taste (not really, but it is definitely a little more than a cozy), it does include the tidbits of romance and kitchen banter we always expect from Hyzy. I particularly liked the send up of the overly enamored with himself chef diva and perhaps the worst date ever. While it is not my favorite in the series, it was a fun one -- though I admit it did feel a bit rushed at the end. If you have always wanted to make wings there are recipes here, though I am not sure baked ones really qualify as wings? Hmmm. And I really am a traditionalist; whether you intend to eat it or not, buffalo wings should come with blue cheese dipping sauce NOT ranch sauce in any way shape or fashion.

Hyzy's blog? Click here. Of course, she's a regular at Mystery Lover's Kitchen as well. And, a new one to me, KillerCharacters. The latter, of course, may not always feature food, but I did add it to the mystery net side bar here at Cooking with Ideas. Why not?

What about the second book mentioned?  The pizza-related mystery was not even vaguely familiar to me until I started one of those nights of wandering recommended for you lists on amazon, peole who buy this are interested in that lists, and otherwise really really wasting time. And, along came a foodie mystery author I had never heard of -- Chris Cavender. And, so I started iwth the first book, A Slice of Murder. Yes, as usual, Cavender is a pseudonym for some other Agatha Award winner. (I am convinced there are really only a few authors doing food related mysteries; they do it with mirrors -- well, with pseudonyms.) Not the most well written, this series features the usual in some ways -- a woman whose husband who died, who misses him terribly and is not ready for another romance, and who is now running with her sister (with whom she has a loving but a bit tart relationship), her husband's dream. This time the dream is a pizza shop and the murder occurs when the featured character (shop owner) discovers a body when delivering a pizza. The town police chief's targeting of Eleanor Swift, the main character, as a suspect is just a little to obvious and expected, and the rationale for doing so is so as well. despite this, it was a fast read and I might, perhaps, some day get to the second in the series. Whether true or not, the review on this site identifies this as Chris Cavender's official site. Here's another bloggy reflection should you be interested.

So: these were those kinds of junk food mysteries you just burn through, just like that occasional guilty pizza or wings -- and enjoy at the time but wonder about later. One more filling than the otehr (yep, Hyzy) and both the perfect way to stave off the miasma of yuckiness called the flu, grey weather, too much cold, and. . . . .

The Crystal Lake Cafe

Located at a winery near Trumansburg, I had never heard of the Crystal Lake Cafe until I went there with a group of colleagues. It is worth the visit with a reasonable ambience, and an extensive brunch/breakfast menu. The winery is the Americana Vineyard. And, when we pulled up, the parking lot was packed; they take no reservations but we were fine. . . . on a Sunday around noonish.

While the menu seems to change regularly, the food clearly emphasizes local and made in house. I had a 3 potato chorizo hash with eggs (and a side of bacon) -- and the sausage was made at the Cafe. It came in a smallish cast iron skillet but packed a big spicey hit, and was more than I could eat! Others with me got smoked trout with eggs or the whole wheat oatmeal pancakes. Everyone said their food was good -- and except for me, ate it all! The server was very patient with substitutions -- an english muffin instead of foccacio bread, potatos pancakes instead of home fries, etcetera. All in all the service was timely, and not intrusive. In fact, we were there for a long long time -- clearly working -- and they coped well with that. We ended up getting checks twice -- and the second time was mainly tea, a few juices, and -- gasp -- a mimosa-like concoction that involved sparkling wine and pineapple juice. It might even have been called a pimosa?

The bathroom is a tiny bit odd, sort of through a hallway into what is clearly an added on building. While a bit chilly, it was totally fine. And loads of people seemed to be going in and out from the cafe per se to the wine tasting room. I did not visit that but just might another time.

Located on East Covert street, between Trumansburg and Interlaken, NY, here's the urban spoon link:

 

Have you been there? What did you think?