Big bet | The Spectator

How to wine and dine

If you dare to host a dinner party, said Brillat-Savarin, you must be prepared to be responsible for your guests’ entire happiness while they are under your roof. It’s not just the victuals you are serving. It’s an entire world. I got that sage bit of advice from the French doctor and food writer Édouard de Pomiane (1875-1964), one of the most engaging writers about the preparation and enjoyment of pain quotidien I know. At least two books by Pomiane have been translated into English, Cooking with Pomiane and French Cooking in Ten Minutes (yes, really). Neither replaces Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking or similar nitty-gritty manuals, but both are atmospheric charmers, books that can be read as well as consulted.

Orson Fry

The art of Georgian toasting

There are a few words you need to know when visiting Georgia — gamarjoba for “hello,” madloba for “thank you” — but one word is absolutely crucial, and that is gaumarjos, for “cheers.” The Georgians are serious drinkers, as I recently discovered while visiting a friend in Tbilisi. And when they drink, they toast. And when they toast, they don’t stop toasting. In Georgia, raising a glass is an essential ritual of the supra, their ancient tradition of the feast. The recent discovery of a bronze tamada (“toastmaster”) figurine from 600 bc means it’s older than the development of their written language. As with any ancient ritual, toasting has its own set of rules.

Owen Matthews

McSorley’s Old Ale House resists restoration

The late Christopher Hitchens once lamented that he left London for America because the “piss and vinegar” of the city had been swept away by an antiseptic tide of money. Manhattan, though, still has plenty of both, not only in the subway but also in the form of a series of old-school pubs that have somehow resisted the modern mania for restoring the life out of anything old and authentic. The granddaddy of them all is McSorley’s Old Ale House on East 7th, opened in 1854 and America’s oldest continuously operated bar. The front room of McSorley’s has no chairs or tables. There is sawdust on the floor. The place accepts only cash and has no till. It serves only two kinds of ale (light or dark) and house soda. A sleeve of crackers and a chunk of cheddar are the staple bar food.

Mary Kate Skehan

Cost-cutting in the kitchen with Budget Bytes

Have you heard about the latest food trend sweeping the nation? It’s called “whimpering over your grocery bill.” In the early days of 2023, Americans are spending 70 percent more on eggs than one year ago. Chicken, dairy and bread prices outpaced inflation as well, increasing by double-digit percentages. What’s an adventurous home cook to do? The answer is Budget Bytes, a website I first turned to as a broke twenty-two-year-old with a galley kitchen in Queens. I didn’t know, before an acquaintance tweeted a link to a coconut vegetable curry, that you could make a tasty, filling meal, complete with leftovers, using almost entirely canned or frozen goods. Budget Bytes taught me to cook.

Hannah Moore

The wonder and mystery of Mexican cooking

Mexican food is my comfort food. My devotion stems from memories of my mother’s enchiladas. I used to love watching her fry the tortillas in oil. They would bob about like lily pads, sizzling gently. Then when the bubbles formed with little pops, Mom would lift each tortilla out of the hot oil and place it on a paper towel. At the same time, she’d be heating salsa roja on the gas stove and, when it was ready, she would dip a spoon in the pan and put a dollop on a tortilla, swirling the spoon to coat the whole tortilla, then turn it over and do the same on the other side. She was such a careful cook, and neat. The bowls of fillings sat ready and waiting on the kitchen island, each with its own spoon.

Jane Stannus

Don’t spare us the asparagus

Asparagus inspires gentle thoughts, or so said Charles Lamb in an essay about grace before meals. Other vegetables had come to pall on him, but a noble affection for asparagus still lingered in his heart, a reminder of simpler and more innocent times. One can only surmise that he didn’t much care for the vegetable. Who feels melancholically virtuous when eating greens? People who don’t really like them, that’s who.

Food & Drink