The aggregation of matter as it undergoes any transformation into emergent molecules, crystals of varying design, a complex of ingredients based on converging atomic structures, releasing energy and heat, here, there and everywhere, certainly falls within the realm of Chemistry.

The presence or absence of Carbon defines the distinction between organic and inorganic catalytic reactions occurring among various elements. All part of the play of the “Cosmic Mother.”

Composition, also the basis for perspective, a musical sense, movement, art and of course vibration and heat, all clash to form identifiable products quantified by the scientific method. A basis that forms reality as we know it.

One of the first concepts taught in high school chemistry is the simple mixture, first illustrated by the teacher with the glass of chocolate milk, a simple co-mingling of sweet chocolate syrup and mother’s nurturing nibble milk, to illustrate this overly simplistic concept. However in New York, a different transformation occurs as we add seltzer and create the delicious beverage of choice: The Egg Cream.

Steeped in the city’s history that tells a story older than The Statue Of Liberty, The Empire State Building, Macy’s or the NYC Subway System, its origins unknown and yet the Egg Cream remains a memorable curiosity, part of New York’s fascinating blend, a cultural mix which dates to the early 1600’s.

Myth and stories surround this legend, as does the tales of The Seltzer Bottle of Blue, Green or Crystal, now just a remnant of distant decades, found only at a Flea Market or a random fair held as the cement bakes in the summer months in neighborhoods of a modern day Alexandria, a major crossroad of diverse cultures.

Rumored to have its origins in the Nineteenth Century in Brooklyn, before it merged with greater New York, although the Lower East Side contends it was discovered in Manhattan. One of the debates involve Louis Auster, although Stanley, his grandson was quoted as saying, “the origins of the name are lost in time.” One theory he proposed is that the term “Egg” is a corruption of the Yiddish “echt“, which means genuine or real, hence the notion that an Egg Cream included yolk and whites. In actuality it’s more like an ice cream soda without the ice cream.

Another version claims its origin in Paris, France, under the name “Chocolat et Crème”, with an accent grave over the first e. Hence, phonetically, it sounds like Chocolate Egg Cream, although evidence presented in a work from 1859, Domestic And Rural Affairs: The Family, Farm And Gardens, And The Domestic Animals, does include a recipe that consists of barely more than these ingredients with a bit of Cinnamon for medicinal purposes.

The landscape of ingredients is not the only factor that validates its flavor, as most who understand that the taste of any good egg cream is reflected by the way the elements are combined to produce a head. The consensus is that U-BET, a unique and tasteful chocolate syrup, is the only way to begin, preferably using a Coca Cola glass commonly found in any candy store. An inch of the syrup and of cow’s milk kept in separate layers until the seltzer is squirted while tilting the glass as the flow of carbonated water hits the milk, mixing the contents using a spoon to grow the head. Some in The Bronx claim the seltzer must hit the spoon to yield the best head, while others swear that a fork is even better to get a head, which appears as it does on a frosted mug filled with beer creating a white mustache on the upper lip as the egg cream is drunk.

Perhaps the French have a better way to give “Chocolat et Crème” the head it deserves, since they claim it first originated in Paris, a frothy thought.

According to legend of Eastern Europe, when The Tartars - a nomadic people of Eurasian origin - traveled to Tartarus, they lacked time to cook, always in such a rush on horseback. With the absence of pots, pans and utensils, tenderizing meat could only be accomplished by placing the beef underneath the horse’s saddle, squishing it as they rode their merry way from place to place. In fact this is believed to be how Steak Tartar got its name.

The earliest American version of the dish was introduced by the renowned restaurateur Guido August Luchow who first opened his fabled German restaurant, Luchow’s near Broadway at 110 E 14th Street, on Manhattan’s fabled East Side in 1882, filled with unusual delights to capture the imagination, a veritable collage of colorful foods before the advent of refrigeration, or antibiotics.

A simple recipe, it first appeared in Luchow’s Cookbook in 1952 and was rumored to have been put on the menu to entice some of his stout patrons to lose weight. Today, it’s considered a gourmet dish especially in Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Poland, France, and of course when in a Hungary state somewhere in Eastern Europe.

Ingredients:
Raw Meat (Cow, Buffalo or Horse meat)
Toasted Bread (buttered)
Raw Eggs
Fillet of Raw Anchovies
Pickled capers

First, remove as much of the fat as you can from the meat before grinding (not after). Then arrange what looks to me like a raw hamburger artfully on the buttered toast, serve a raw egg yolk on top of each slice and garnish with anchovies and capers. Voila, Steak Tartar, a delightfully uncooked serving for two, perhaps with lurking Salmonella.

I’m still trying to figure out how the Tartars made toast without a toaster?

Miri was born at the foot of the Himalayas, foretold to become shaman of the Adi people, her advice sought often when illness gripped the land. Her hut was east of the Upper Siang valley, found by the natives only when the need was great. That seemed odd since it was hard to miss, of two levels, made of dried mud and bark. The roof would open when a rope was pulled so Miri could read the stars at night. No one knew her age but it was believed everyone was younger than she.

One day after she picked the leaves of the Xingzan tree which she would grind up and drop in an open kettle of boiling water, reading them, a vision perceived, when suddenly she heard a knock on the door, disrupting her concentration. It was Yetta, her sister, who she hadn’t seen for many years.
“Where have you been for so long,  Yetta, my sister” asked Miri.
“If you had truly  been able to seer, you would know”, said Yetta sharply, then added after some thought, “far and wide, many places and things I have seen from other lands.”
“Well, reading liver and entrails has always been my specialty” responded Miri.
“Then I will bring some liver tomorrow. Perhaps you can tell me the cause of the pain in my back that has plagued me for so long”, she said.

When Yetta  came with a covered pot the next day at sundown, they sat at the creaky wooden table.
“So let’s talk liver” Miri glared suspiciously at the pot.
“Well,” retorted Yetta, “the pain comes mostly at night, radiating down my spine. Then it disappears.”
“Let me examine what you have brought” her elder sister responded, removing the top.
As she breathed the odor, her white bristled nasal hairs resonated, eyes opened wide as she gasped:
“You’re not supposed to put green peppers in chopped liver. It causes gas,” shared Miri with a gleam in her eye.

Shaman Miri’s Recipe for Chopped Chicken Liver
Ingredients:
1 pound of chicken (cow or yak) liver
1 peeled onion
Chicken fat, or substitute
2 hard boiled eggs, cooled in ice water for 10 minutes before peeling
Red wine
Kosher salt and ground black pepper

Take a 10 inch heated skillet and saute a sliced and diced onion in chicken fat (or substitute) until light brown, mix two tablespoons of red wine for flavoring, then add a   pound of chicken livers. Cook for about five minutes on high flame, tossing occasionally until firm. Mix the liver in a wooden bowl with two hard boiled eggs, add the fried onions. Use a sharp chopping blade, add wine as needed till it’s of pasty consistency. Kosher salt and ground black pepper to taste. Best served chilled.

One of the blogs recently added to my favorites’ list (blogroll) is the culinary delight Hugging The Coast, which provides user friendly recipes, well organized, colorful and interesting, with a keen sense of humor. “When properly made, the sight and smell of a cheesy, bubbly lasagna coming out of the oven has been known to make the knees of strong men go a little wobbly, and the diabolically addictive layering of flavors has been responsible for more than a few loosened belts.” A vivid description of an Italian delight that perhaps would even draw the attention of Sophia Loren who was quoted as saying: “Spaghetti can be eaten most successfully if you inhale it like a vacuum cleaner.”

Wonderful imagery for one of the few foreign actresses adopted by Hollywood as one of there own, and a metaphor for food and its effects on our lives and culture. This is a blog that is a celebration of coastal life, food and travel. Its founder Doug DuCap , a former New York City cab driver, became a legendary southern cook and was named the grand prize winner of the taste of the south recipe competition. DuCap’s inspiration was his friend the late James L. Gulledge , a noted ornithologist who did pioneering work in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador, and Venezuela. Perhaps one of the many heirs of the late Julia Child who brought French cooking to the attention of so many in the United States and whose fascinating life is currently in post production starring Meryl Streep as the Grand Dame due for release in April 2009.

As we all know, Lasagna can be a complicated dish to make, time consuming and expensive. A layer of this, a layer of that. Another layer on top of it all and doused with tomato sauce and cheese. A complicated affair for the novice and for those with limited time. Mr. DuCap has the logical solution to resolve all the confusion. His version uses Ravioli, “which combines the pasta and ricotta in one step, and uses a gussied-up jar sauce to save time. I kept it pretty basic, but there’s a lot of room for personalization, depending on what you like or what you have at hand. You can use ground turkey or chicken in place of the ground beef, and even toss in some julienned pepperoni.”

The only question I have is: Could I use Manicotti instead of Ravioli?

Five “Bon Appetites” to a wonderfully creative blog, and a good read with an artful view of cooking layered with practicality and humor and a sense for making gourmet cooking available to everyone.

“The secret to making a really good Coq au vin is not what you dump into the pot, but how you dump it.”
…a French cook in New York City

Coq Au Vin is a wonderful dish, easily prepared to bring out your French sensibilities, un repas chaud with a smile and a flourishing bouquet of aromas. It will have any guests or drop-in visitors begging for more.

What you will need to do first is throw away the French cookbooks or anything written in French, especially if you don’t speak the language as it might influence your experiment to wing gourmet cooking. The original dish called for a rooster, but it is far easier to get a chicken or hen these days, especially in the new world.

Coq au vin has been done in so many different ways that it’s safe to say “anyway you make it will intoxicate your sensibilities to the flavors as they permeate the air of your space.” French history reveals that the bourgeois aristocrats used brandy while the poor peasant population was left only with regular vin rouge and tears for want of more substance to sustain their family. Perhaps Coq au vin is an allegory for life?

Of course, this is only my own way of cooking this fabled dish, after returning home from a Francois Trauffaut film festival, a night immersed within vintage French cinema and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, in which Trauffaut acted with Richard Dreyfuss who in a brilliant scenario redefined architecture to include a mountain made of mashed potatoes, all directed by Steven Spielberg in 1977.

However, the film that resonated most with my Parisian genes was the 1946 brilliant adaptation, La Belle et la Bete (Beauty And The Beast), with Jean Marais, Josette Day and directed by Jean Cocteau. A beautifully crafted film depicting a legendary french speaking beast, well dressed and sophisticated with a taste for all wild things of the forest including rooster. I’m sure his recipe for the ingredients for coq au vin would have been transforming as well as intriguing.

Cocteau’s interpretation of the beloved fable was filmed in black and white with scenes that resembled a Rembrandt painting in detail and ambiance with the French flair for the dramatic. The moving eyes and arms jutting out of the wall holding lit candelabras conveyed the magic that also gives Coq Au Vin its emotional flavor as a treasured French classic.

Specific Ingredients:
- Various Cut up identifiable pieces of skinned chicken: breasts, legs and thighs, whatever you want
- Fresh Garlic, salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaves
- Shallots, peeled, not cut too small
- Some sliced and diced up celery stalks
- Any vegetables you like, whatever you want: carrots, potato’s, string beans (French cut, of course)
- Mushrooms of all sorts - be careful with the hallucinogenic ones
- Chicken or vegetable stock, flour and of course butter
- Extra virgin olive oil
- Lots and lots of red wine, however much you want

Utensils:
A soup pot with a glass top so you can watch it simmer, a stirring spoon, a stove and some matches to light the stove if you’re living in the stix or in a third world country that hasn’t gone electric. Cooking with du vin rouge, in this case a utensil, is an art in and of itself. Never forget that “the secret to making a really good Coq au vin is not what you dump into the pot, but the way you dump it.”

First marinate the skinned chicken pieces in wine and fresh garlic for hours, a slow process of aromatically tenderizing the meat so it will melt from the bone when cooked. Saute the cut shallots, celery and garlic in your preheated pot with extra virgin olive oil until the shallots become translucent and the sweet smell of garlic fills the air.

Place each piece of wine saturated fowl in another flat, really hot pre-heated pan with olive oil for a minute or two to braise each piece lightly brown on all surface to seal in the juices, then place them in the cooking pot on low heat and cover for five minutes. Mix in your potpourri of vegetables and stir. Spill some wine into the dish and mix slowly. How much wine is used is up to you. Use your intuition here but make sure there is enough to completely cover the chicken and vegetables.

Place the cover over and monitor periodically. From a philosophical point of view, it will be done when you think it’s done. If you like a different consistency, sprinkle some flour into melted butter and mix into a cup or two of chicken stock, then pour the gravy into the pot: that will thicken the wine. If you really want to impress, substitute brandy for a cheap red wine, perhaps wear an apron with a map of France, and a French chef’s hat.

This recipe will feed however many you want depending on how much you decide to dump into the pot.

Now it’s time to prepare the dessert; perhaps a crepe with slices of baked apple and a dash of Redi-whip with some finely ground Starbucks beans sprinkled over the whip cream, but the recipe for that will be revealed another time.

For other essays on cuisines see the following links:
- Best cheeseburger in New York
- How to handle your meat
- What it means to be a read dip
- I was a prisoner of pasta primavera in Paris, France
- Rosemary’s chicken
- Sushi and me through the looking glass