Eat My Florida

As of Wednesday, Aug. 20, Eat My Florida will be folded into our new blog, The Daily Loaf.

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They’re sex on the half-shell. The classic aphrodisiac. Just the thought of those glistening gobs of mollusk muscle sliding down your throat is enough to send a shudder through Pfizer. But can oysters be too sexy?

Well, sure. Just like with humans, an oyster’s unhealthy fixation on its own naughty bits are sure to bring chafing, hairy palms and STDs. “Oh, that’s just a cold sore!” Sure, you pretty little huitre plate, you keep telling yourself that.

According to Reuters, oyster herpes actually kills the little guys — to the tune of 40-100% in most French cultivating beds this year — instead of merely making them social outcasts whose only goal is to spread the disease through lies and casual sex. Apparently, the cause is simple - when the weather is warm and there’s plenty of food, oysters spend all their available energy pumping up their sexual organs at the expense of their immune systems. Hard to blame ‘em.

Brilliant reporting Reuters, by the way. No mention at all whether infected oysters can transfer their seaborne herpes to people who down them with a nice Sancerre and capable mignonette. Nobody’d be interested in that, I imagine.

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Recently, Todd English (celeb chef and owner of about 1 metric bazillion restaurants) called Peruvian cuisine “the next big thing.” Bon Appetit’s new food blog quickly weighed in, declaring it a trend that needs an ambassador, and pointing to Peruvian celeb chef Gaston Acurio as — possibly — the face that could launch a thousand tiraditos.

I hate to say I told you so, but Sarasota chef Darwin Santa Maria of oft-lauded Selva Grill made the same prediction about Peruvian food almost a year ago. Sarasota is home to no less than four decent Peruvian joints. Only question is: what about the Bay area? Know any great places to grab some ceviche, causa and sauces laced with glorious aji pepper?

(Thanks to Grub Street.)

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You shelled out a car payment for those high-end pots and pans I talk about in today’s Essential Kitchen Gear, so you better take steps to protect your investment. Although you might be tempted to grab the steel wool or belt sander the next time you have to remove a layer of solidified bacon grease or burned sugar from that formerly gleaming stainless steel, just put the power tools down. It doesn’t have to be that way.

For stainless steel cookware, typical dish soap and water will take care of daily use – and you can even throw most brands in the dishwasher — but you’ll want to have an abrasive cleanser on hand. Don’t scrub with anything metal and stay away from harsh powders and liquids like Comet or Soft Scrub; those will clean well enough but could scratch the surface of your beautiful pans. Read the rest of this entry »

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Apparently, the culinary world does not stop when your CL Food Editor steps out for a little staycation. Here’s your guide to the wide world of food for the past 10 days.

• Soy “milk”? It’s an aberration and,”as one British government report put it, manufacturing soy milk is closer to making fruit juice than cow’s milk.” (Slate)
• The Baconator causes worldwide hunger? “Potentially, and this is up for debate, a benefit of higher prices is lower consumption, and, in this country, that actually would not be a bad thing overall.” (Reuters)
• Bodyguard dining etiquette: “Your bodyguard (unlike your hairdresser, stylist and personal assistant) is not your friend.”(WMag)
• Food Network leaks results of own reality show: “In case you’ve already paid the caterer for your Lisa-Adam-Aaron watching party or you are really into the show, I am not going to tell you who wins, but I am truly astounded by the fact that they have posted the “Exit Interviews” for the two “losers” and the “Winning Moment” clip for the winner 3 days before the show airs.” (SideDish)
• Might be tastier than her human food, snap! “With Isaboo Bacon Flavor Booscotti, you too, can indulge your favorite pooch with the mouth-watering bacon dogs love. And if it’s peanut butter they’re begging for, then Isaboo Peanut Butter Booscotti will give them loads of lip-smacking flavor.” (RachaelRay)
• David Lynch sells good coffee: “as black as midnight on a moonless night”…and hot! (SeriousEats)
• Excuse me sir, but would you…”here’s your Grey Poupon, roll your f***ing windows up!” (SmokingGun)
• “We can’t just stay at home all day making Manwiches with the mailman and the stay-at-home dad across the street.” (Chow)

Thanks to Eater, GrubStreet, Grinder, SeriousEats.

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Now that the 3G iPhone is up and running (sort of), you can make use of it’s brand new, true GPS system to do more than just get directions and illegally track people. Why not use it to find some food?

Urbanspoon, a two year old Seattle company, has launched a free iPhone app that uses the GPS (or the triangulation system on old phones) to search for restaurants that are, theoretically, in your general vicinity. Usually this type of software is only geared towards the bigger metro areas with established dining scenes — which would likely mean that our own Bay area is out of luck — but Urbanspoon recently added Tampa/St. Pete to it’s list. Awfully nice of ‘ya.

No iPhone? Well, you can still log on the old fashioned way and do an actual web search on Urbanspoon’s site, as well as read local reviews culled from the rags (ours included) and customer reviews riddled with shills. Web-browsing … clunky, but it still works.

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It’s hard not to love the New Yorker’s Shouts & Murmurs — erudite humor that speaks to the, well, you know, the more-than-common man.

This week features a culinary guide to passive aggressive appetizers perfect for any gathering. Best snippet: “Have you ever noticed how sun-dried tomatoes and top-grade peyote look exactly the same? Not a suggestion, really. Just saying.”

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Read over on Serious Eats that Starbucks will introduce a new line of “Vivannos” starting tomorrow. Don’t know what a Vivanno is? Time to add a word to your Starbucks lexicon of pseudo-Mediterranean new-speak: Vivanno = smoothie.

After years of not trying, those Seattle-ish coffee merchants are really scrambling, aren’t they? Heck, I’m all for it. Anything beats that left-in-the-oven-for-days flavor of the corporate giant’s burnt coffee.

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Rocky Aoki, the man who brought Japanese culinary showmanship to America with Benihana, died last week. According to the AP story, Aoki was surrounded by his wife and six children during his final moments, which must have been awkward considering he sued four of those kids — two from each of his first two wives — after they tried to take over his restaurant chain. Apparently, they don’t like his current wife.

Forget the gossip and dirt, though, and let’s remember the man for his accomplishments: teppan-yaki, stateside. Aoki opened his first Benihana in New York in 1964, starting an empire that’s blossomed into more than 100 restaurants and thousands of imitators. Every time a chop-socky chef flips shrimp tails into his hat, builds a smoking onion volcano, or tells a tired karate kid joke before serving you griddled steak and barely cooked veggies doused in soy, you have Aoki to thank.

Beyond Benihana, Aoki was a cool cat who wrestled on the Japanese Olympic team; raced cars, boats and motorcycles; was the first man to cross the Pacific in a hot air balloon; founded classic eighties porno mag Genesis; won backgammon championships; participated in a Cannonball Run-like cross country race in a stretch Volkswagon Beetle limousine; and once had a horrific boating accident that required 10 hours of surgery and multiple removed organs. When he came to three days later, he saw his wife and his mistress waiting for him bedside. Damn, player!

That’s a life well lived, worth a raised Mai Tai or two at whatever teppan-yaki joint you favor.

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Well, alright, maybe it’s not our bandwagon, but it’s nice to see the efforts of Our Man In Sarasota reflected in the august pages of the Huff.

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From our man in Sarasota, Justin Richards:

Before some friends and I tried flavor tripping for the first time, I’ll admit I had some unrealistic expectations. I thought the newly popularized miracle fruit would make my palate go temporarily insane; olives would taste like licorice, rice would taste like pudding, soap would taste like marmalade. We’d be licking the ambrosial sweat from each other’s armpits!

This past weekend, a friend from Ft. Lauderdale bought berries (at $3 each) from a local horticulturist, and seven of us prepared a smorgasbord. We each chewed a berry, swished it around in our mouths for a minute, then began to taste.

First, we did lemons and limes. Some said they tasted like tangerines, but there was more to the flavor than that: essence-of-lime without the sourness. We sliced them up and squeezed them one after another into our mouths.

“It has buttery notes!” said the person next to me.

Heineken became very drinkable on the miracle fruit. Some of the tasters thought it evoked cream soda. One friend suggested writing a letter to the brewer: “Dear Heineken, we had to pay $3 to enjoy your beer.”

Ranch dressing tasted like custard.

Bordeaux tasted like Riesling.

Goat cheese tasted like cream cheese.

Dubliner cheese tasted like a milder cheese.

Tequila tasted like tequila. (Tequila will not be moved.)

As you can see, the flavor conversions weren’t as wild as I’d thought they’d be. Read the rest of this entry »

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Have you ever seen Food Party? Uhm, just watch…

For more, head here.

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