There's a concept called "Midwestern nice" which generally refers to an almost pathological obsession with polite behavior and surface courtesy that some Midwesterners exhibit. One of us actually grew up in the Midwest and thinks that Midwestern nice isn't an act--people here really are like that--but some people take it to extremes, creating a personality that borders on insincerity.
From the column “The Food Court”
We were going to write a column about how Restaurant Week is a scam, and give you an industry insider's perspective on how deceitful its purported "great deals" are. Then one of us went to the Wolverines' hockey game at Joe Louis Arena, witnessed a nerve-wracking win and was filled with endorphins to the point of inducing a wave of positivity. [If you want to read our views on Restaurant Week, and other tirades against the horrible Ann Arbor restaurant scene, check out it out here.] After walking home in the cold, a rant seemed unnecessary. New topic: soup.
My grandmother had her brain; my mother had a batter-stained, beaten-to-death Betty Crocker cookbook; and I have . . . a browser. This week, the Culinary Club evaluates the effect of modern technology on that time-honored family heirloom--the recipe. Below you'll find a brief examination of four major ways the internet functions as a modern form of recipe exchange: honored traditions, professional compilations, individual perspectives, and collective development.
On several recent evenings in the city we all love to love, Las Vegas, your intrepid reporters had the pleasure of investigating one of the nation's hot new trends: Breadline dining. In response to the dire economic times, Las Vegas' top chefs are turning toward a sparer, more streamlined dining theme. In this vein, chefs are lauded for tracking down the cheapest cuts of meats directly from the stockyards that usually throw them out and even dumpster diving to retrieve outdated canned beans and the odd case of no-name peanut butter.
Gourmet, edited by Ruth Reichl.
Michaela: Besides being my favorite author of non-fiction, Ruth Reichl happens to be the editor of my favorite cookbook. I can spend a lovely afternoon rifling through this book, then rifling through my kitchen, then back to the book, trying to decide what to cook. This book is pure recipes - there are almost no discussions of ingredients, and absolutely no pictures. So it's a good value. I love this book because all the recipes I have ever made from it have come out fantastically, but I also sort of hate the book because I never seem to have all the ingredients it calls for. It almost always wants fresh herbs, some obscure spice, or more butter than I keep around the house. Or a specific cut of meat that's a pain in the neck to find. You could be flexible and substitute things, but that's not how you achieve stunning success. By the time I figure out what I have the ingredients to cook, or commit to going to the grocery, it's usually too late actually to cook what I've chosen. So, then it's back to the drawing board, which for me is usually the Joy of Cooking. Even so, a day spent imagining all the wonderful things I could cook is usually a day well spent.
First, find your orange vest and a shotgun . . . several days later, you're ready for plucking. At this point, you'll need a very, very, very large pot of boiling water, an equally large pot of ice water, tweezers, and a lot of patience . . .
Now that the RG has officially informed us that we are currently in a recession, your two intrepid RG foodies have risked their waistlines to bring you this Recession Special. With rumbling stomachs and eyes on the bottom line, we ventured around Ann Arbor noshing our way through the cheap eats so that you too can save a couple bucks at lunch.
When Kroger and Meijer have you down with their industrial, mass produced ho-humness, try exploring some of the local groceries; they have variety, quality, and some great deals if you know where to look.
