Los Caracoles is going to be our one and only tourist restaurant destination. We picked this restaurant because caracoles, a traditional food, are the tiny snails that are available everywhere in Barcelona. This is the place that started that food tradition in 1835 and it is still run by the same family, five generations later.

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We started the day at the Mercat de la Boqueria, the oldest and largest market in Europe. What a feast for the eyes, nose, body, stomach, and palate. Everything you could ever want is under this canopy: seafood of every type; fish of all sizes; pork, pork, pork; jamón; sausages; vegetables; offal; fowl; wild mushrooms; fruit; wine; and restaurants.

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Wow! What a city. We landed in Barcelona at 11 a.m. local time on the 26th. Within one hour, we had our bags, were driven to the city center, and were graciously allowed to check into our Gothic Quarter flat early. There are restaurants, tapas bars, bars, wine bars, and food everywhere. We had only two hours of sleep and airplane chow (Dutch sandwiches), so we needed to eat some real food!

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I think I must have eaten 642 Rolos (Roli?) yesterday while watching Kung Fu Panda for the fortieth time. Hopefully everyone is just spending their Fresh Forkin' Friday steeping in holiday merriment and chilling out. If your office is open and you're forced to put in the required face time, I do hope you can at least play a little office chair hockey or hide the Hickory Farms cheese food in the accounting department or have a vending machine booya. Minimally, you should bring in all the horrible Christmas cookies you've received and place little deliveries on the chairs of all those who got the day off. You sneaky little elf, you.

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I read this every Christmas to myself in the morning and to the family before the feast. I gift this to all the cooks who will light the hearths of their homes in the name of humility, generosity, and goodwill.

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Are you a man who loves the smell of a greasy Whopper? Are you a woman who just can't get enough of the flame-broiled? Then Burger King has just the thing for you: Flame men's body spray with just a hint of flame-broiled burger.

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Last Tuesday night, I had a hankering for pizza. That was also the night that the weather was as messy and sloppy as we have seen this year. I called my local will-do-in-a-pinch pizza shop, and delivery times were up to two hours . . . uggghh! Now I really wanted pizza because it had suddenly become hard to get. And not only did I want pizza, I wanted the real deal: Cossetta's.

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Is it bad that I am already on my second round of cookies? Other than a massive session of panic baking, this Fresh Forkin' Friday will kick off a weekend of Gluhwein making. Sunday marks the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, and--like a little booze fairy--I will be dropping off bottles of Gluhwein on the doorsteps of my most beloved in a warm-and-spicy gesture that says "We can get through the darkness with a little spirit."

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Food flicks bring together two of my favorite modes of entertainment: movies and food . . . duh. In my house, we watch two types of flicks: action movies and art films (food movies generally falling into the latter category). Babette's Feast, with its Academy Award for best foreign language film, is in the upper echelon of the food-film genre, if not the ultimate foodie flick. In my opinion, Babette's Feast started the whole food-film craze. If you call yourself a foodie and haven't seen the movie, you should lay down your stripes until you view it.

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Shopping for people like me is so easy. Can you eat it? Can you apply high heat to it? Can it live in the kitchen among the tongs and jars of cardamom pods and flour dust? Will I begin to salivate when I open it? If you've answered yes to even one of those questions, you win. And if you live in close proximity to the gift-getter, you will probably also win a lovely dinner or tasty bakery item or special cocktail snack created in your name because the recipient will be so inspired by your gift. 

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I like anything with a heartfelt inscription to Mom. There's a great one in Lee Svitak Dean's lovely new cookbook, Come One, Come All--Easy Entertaining with Seasonal Menus. Dean, the Strib's Taste editor and local foodie doyenne, fondly recalls her mother's facility with menus and knack for throwing fantastic parties.

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I get the chance to talk with a lot of people, many of whom are foodies, in the course of my daily job. This year, the biggest food question I have fielded is: I want to do something different for the holidays, what should I do?

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I've decided to blow the roof off the Fresh Forkin' Friday gathering tonight. My assignment is to bring dessert to a smallish crowd of friends, and even though they know my proclivities for food and fancy, they're most likely expecting my bourbon brownies or spicy chocolate volcano cakes--both of which have made successful appearances in the past. But tonight, I will be diving into risk with something I've never made before, something which might inspire elation or revulsion, who knows. And yet, I am betting I can shut the party down with an apple and bacon pie inspired by the fine minds of Lincoln Restaurant in Portland (which was, in turn, inspired by a Betty Crocker recipe circa 1978). Because who doesn't love bacon? And who doesn't love pie? If it works, I'll post the glories.

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Now this is a bailout I can get behind.

While we're over here fussing about with cars and banks and other silly things, Italy is worried about cheese. According to the WSJ, the Italian governement is buying 10,000 wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano and donating them to charity.

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If you're like me and have been searching for ways to boost your I matter-ness, it's a relief to know someone finally cares about us.

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In a season where we are debating the adequacy and authenticity of the new Mort's Deli, I had a bit of a revelation Saturday night while dining at Nick & Eddie on Loring Park: Nick & Eddie is the most Jewish restaurant in Minneapolis. Admittedly, this year-old homage to New York City and its elemental foodstuffs is no deli. And its proprietors are as gentile as the driven snow. But peruse the menu (which has changed surprisingly little in the ensuing year): buckwheat blinis, chicken liver, smoked whitefish salad, potato pancakes, cabbage borscht, braised brisket, and now, bialys.

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Do want something different to do for the holiday theater season? Want to see a spoof on cooking shows, corporate sponsorship, and Chicago-based talk show hosts? Then you may want to attend The Cooking Show (con Kamiri y Comrades) at the Guthrie Lab Theater. I went to the show on Sunday night, and it was funny, allegorical, and unusual. This show is not for everyone; it is wholeheartedly, albeit lightheartedly, left wing, antiestablishment, and sometimes bizarre.

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For today's Fresh Forkin' Friday, I am flustered. Last Christmas, I gave my mom the gift of a dinner party with her friends, cooked by the Hub and I at our house. I am so not ready that I can literally hear the dust bunnies laughing at me from under the table. The good news is that it's a noshy affair with everyone sitting around the counter while we cook, explaining what we're making in a quasi-cooking-class format. There's just a bit more wine than at a normal cooking class. A flash of inspiration has led me down the path of making ramped up versions of vintage recipes. I'm not talking about retro rumaki, I'm talking about sampling from my circa 1928 Modern Priscilla Cook Book. I think the crab loaf recipe can become a mini-crab cake melt, but I don't know what I can do with fried calves' brains.

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So, I get this invitation to attend the launch of a new beverage product, redespresso, and I am thinking, 'Why would you make a decaffeinated tea product to mask as espresso?' I am also thinking I am not going to like it because it is tea, and I don't really do tea. Sure, I have the occasional cup of genmaicha after sushi or the iced variety with a burger at lunch. But truthfully, tea and I have never really gotten along. I do, however, love coffee and espresso, and I wanted to keep my mind open to the possibility of a new decaf beverage option for my pregnant wife. She is struggling with the lack of choices out there that don't include tons of sugar, chemicals, or what have you. In other words, I am taking one for team.

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We have a white board in our office where we keep track of all the new restaurant openings planned for the coming months. The list is down to nearly nothing, alas. Now, January and February are not ideal times to open restaurants under any circumstances, but the paucity of planned openings is probably the first evidence that the economic slowdown has stopped the flow of capital and risk-taking in the local food biz. (I should allow for the odd restaurateur who fails to give any advance notice of his venture, strangely common in this biz.)

 

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Being a chef, I have a predilection for sharp objects of all types. And, with the gift-giving season upon us, I can think of no better gift to give your foodie loved one than cutlery. With the power of the Internet and the inventory at our local cooking stores, there are more knife options out there than food choices on a Friday's menu.  

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"Je vis de bonne soupe et non de beau langage (It's good soup, not fine words that keeps me alive)." -- Moliere

 

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