a contumacious chef's culinary curmudgeonry
Regular readers (all three of you) know, that I don’t eat or serve veal. Unless, that is, it’s raised with its mother instead of being nailed into a box and fed ProViMi (a mix of – you guessed it – Proteins, Vitamins, and Minerals). This is where your veal should come from: Taken at the [...]
In Soviet Germany, Hell’s Kitchen GIVE you jacket before you leave:
Turns out, Jay Rayner (whom, until that day, I held in good esteem for NOT being one of those guys) scored Rick Moonen as badly as he did for one reason, and one reason only – he didn’t agree with Rick’s choice of venison for the final challenge in Top Chef Masters, claiming that Rick [...]
There was a time, when “Master” meant something. In kitchen terms it meant you’d spent three years as an apprentice under an old Master, five years as a Journeyman working your way through kitchens, starting from the bottom every time, advancing not in status but – if you were lucky – in your kitchen’s status. [...]
Figured this is JUST the picture to post this week. Chuckwagon recipes and the menu for our Steampunk Supper coming up as soon as I recover from the past five days of work.
The needle is hitting the hundreds in Dallas, TX, this week, time to make some seasonal cool salads to go with our staple diet of steaks or half hogs on coals.
Regular readers (all three of you) know, that I don’t eat or serve veal. Unless, that is, it’s raised with its mother instead of being nailed into a box and fed ProViMi (a mix of – you guessed it – Proteins, Vitamins, and Minerals). This is where your veal should come from: Taken at the [...]
Gordon Ramsay is wrong. No, not about that “head chef” myth Fox and he are spreading despite the fact that not one winner in six seasons was made head chef (and, seeing the quality of cooks, I can’t say I am surprised). And, no, not about calling amateur cooks “Master Chef” after six weeks of [...]
My name isn’t exactly common. In most cases I am able to get jluster as my username. There’s one other Jonas Luster in the world, and he’s 87 and in Sweden. Yet, gmail, oh faithful mail delivery and reading tool of mine, regularly reminds me that there are some others out there who share that [...]