Serious Eats - seriouseats.com

I'm all for Costco taking food stamps. One of my high school teachers received food stamps because he could not make enough money to raise his family on a TEACHER'S salary. Would I begrudge him a Costco membership or the ability to pay for his groceries with food stamps? No.

My niece is nineteen, a single mom, goes to nursing school, WORKS part time, and receives food stamps. If she asked me to pay for a costco membership for her, I would.

But since Costcos in our state don't take food stamps, it's a moot point.

I'm with you, pumpkinbear. The way hateful words are sometimes slung around these boards smacks of the ubiquitous cowardice that the internet allows those who clearly lack empathy and who have nothing more substantial to offer than their prejudices.

I like this column. The lives of the people who staff/own/run the restaurants are just as important as the food being served. It's rare that we see something other than celebrity chefs or glorified bloggers slash eaters. This kind of writing has its appeal.

--which is why I never understand the criticism of this writer's posts. Does she hold a gun to your head to get you to read it? If so, then yes, by all means, read it. If not, don't let the door hit you when you click away after reading the first paragraph.

Your mom sounds awesome, engmcmuffin!

Homemade butter is the best. If you sour the cream a bit before, you can take your butter to a whole new level. More culture, yo!

I'm confused. Did she ask you for help with her diet or nutritional stuff? It doesn't sound from your original post as though she did. It sounds more like you're taking on the mother role and being a (self-admitted) "enabler." But sometimes an enabler is the last thing a food addict (current or former) needs.

If she's just blowing off steam about being bored with the maintenance phase of weight loss, you might focus less on the food and just lend her a sympathetic ear.

Not getting a lot of love for this idea, huh?

Your suggestion could only come from someone who has never waited tables. Children *destroy* restaurants. (Maybe not when they're 2-3 months old, but soon after, and until they turn, like, eighteen.) I'd rather clean up after drunken frat boys than a bunch of kids with handfuls of parent-approved snacks and leaky sippy cups.

No, that's pretty snarky. Sorry. But c'mon. We all know that *you're* a good parent who cleans up after their well-behaved child. But all those *other* parents, well...

Why not suggest that fine dining places start doing take out, then you could eat with your child in the comfort of your own home? Still enjoy the food at least and save the cost of a babysitter.

I have a wonderful friend who has almost never, in 30 years of a fabulous marriage, cooked for her husband. She says there are two kinds of wives, "kitchen wives" and "bedroom wives." She is not a kitchen wife. And yet, he is still a very, very happy man. Go figure!

Salted lemonaid. Seriously. Absolutely glorious stuff.

Oh, thank you, gschaefer, for being a science geek, too. That quote also bugged me.

Now if only there was time enough in the day to debunk the myth that salmonella is only found on the outside surface of the egg's shell!

I had gumbo sans rice after having all my wisdom teeth extracted (at the ripe old age of 27). I recommend it very highly. Less appetizing was the baby food and canned o-shaped pasta in sauce that I also sucked down.

(The oral surgery meds are all fun and games until you put a couple of doses too close together and end up with a toilet as your best friend. Not pretty.)

It's only tangentially food related, but my elementary school-aged niece once chanted, "Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, spit the seeds out of his peter." And I laughed and asked her if she knew what a peter was and she very sheepishly admitted that she did. When I asked her where she learned it, she said, "At school. All the kids say it."

A friend once excitedly cooked chocolate pasta for the first time for a dinner party, oh, I guess about fifteen or seventeen years ago. She was in the catering business and we expected great things. How was it? Absolutely vile. We pitched it and sent out for pizza.

A can of jackfruit in syrup.

A can of hearts of palm.

A can of vanilla frosting. (The shame!)

Cream of mushroom soup and a can of corn from a bout of tounge-in-cheek "hot dish" offerings.

Even a food kitchen wouldn't take this stuff methinks.

I'm guessing this is the bedtime story that Billy Ray read to Miley Cyrus when she was little.

"Engrish" is not racist?