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- New Database Helps People Find Women and Non-Binary Distillers Across the Country
- Martha Stewart’s Mac and Cheese Is the Greatest Thanksgiving Side Dish Ever Made
- Eric Wareheim Will Teach You How to Have the Best Friendsgiving Ever
- Yes, Marshmallows Absolutely Belong on Your Sweet Potato Casserole
| New Database Helps People Find Women and Non-Binary Distillers Across the Country Posted: 15 Nov 2021 02:49 PM PST |
| Martha Stewart’s Mac and Cheese Is the Greatest Thanksgiving Side Dish Ever Made Posted: 15 Nov 2021 10:00 AM PST  It's called "Perfect Macaroni and Cheese," because, well, it is Editor's note: Thanksgiving traces its origins to an uneasy, temporary alliance between 17th-century English settlers and members of the Wampanoag Confederacy. This year, Eater is choosing to acknowledge that history in our coverage of the holiday. For almost as long as I can remember, I've hosted Thanksgiving with my good friend and former roommate Daniela. Our "Orphan's Thanksgiving" started in our early 20s in New York, when we were too cash-strapped to afford expensive plane tickets back home, and has always been a casual, potluck-style affair designed for fellow holiday stragglers and non-believers. By virtue of the potluck format, the menu is somewhat chaotic — we send out a spreadsheet for attendees to sign up for dishes, including turkey, which I refuse to cook because turkey, no matter how intently you spatchcock it or brine it or slow-roast it or deep-fry it, sucks. (I make ham instead.) The only rule is that you must bring something — booze, takeout containers for leftovers, a side dish — in order to participate the feast. Several years ago, Daniela began dating a man named John. John has many admirable qualities, but cooking is not among them. (This is a man who once identified a mango as "I don't know, maybe a big nectarine?") Culinary shortcomings notwithstanding, John managed to snag a coveted Orphan's Thanksgiving invitation early in his romance, and knew the pressure was on. Thanksgiving is a big deal to Daniela (and me), and he felt an obligation to show up strong. This is where John made probably the smartest decision in his relationship: He turned to Martha. Stewart, that is, the undisputed champion of holiday entertaining. Martha's self-described "Perfect Macaroni and Cheese" called to John like a Greek Siren because, in his words, "it says 'perfect' in the name," and also "looked pretty easy." Both of these assessments would prove largely true. That first year, John entered the kitchen a bumbling caterpillar, and, with proper coaching from Daniela, managed to emerge as a homemade-breadcrumb-making, block-of-cheese-grating, silken-bechamel-whisking butterfly. (To see John's culinary metamorphosis unfold in real time, I highly recommend spending a few minutes watching Daniela's expertly-produced "Hot Seat" Instagram Stories, which I can confirm are absolutely not a bit.) Right out of the gate, John/Martha's mac was a huge hit. How could it fail? With a rich, velvety cheese sauce, a gentle whisper of fresh nutmeg and black pepper, and a buttery top layer of golden breadcrumbs, this is, in fact, the perfect mac and cheese. And because Martha is Martha, the recipe is truly foolproof. Take it from John, a certified fool in the kitchen, and me, a person who writes cookbooks for a living. Martha, stern-yet-benevolent ruler of Thanksgiving, includes plenty of helpful tricks. Her cheese selection — sharp white Cheddar, Gruyere, and pecorino Romano — is carefully considered to counterbalance the milky white sauce and pasta (yellow and extra-sharp Cheddar, she claims, can also get grainy when melted). She patiently describes how, during the bechamel-making step, the starch from the cooked flour expands in the milk, creating a thick, creamy sauce that stays smooth when you whisk in the cheese. And she insists that you undercook your pasta ("a good Italian brand") and rinse it in cold water to wash off excess starch. "You might think that starch would be useful in further thickening the casserole, but it isn't," she admonishes, explaining that "as it bakes, that extra starch merely expands and lends a mealy texture to your sauce." All of these tips, along with clear instructions and a relatively straightforward ingredient list, mean that anyone can master this recipe. In the decade or so since John's first Thanksgiving, his mac and cheese has become our most-requested side dish. He also managed to marry Daniela and start a family with her in California, where we continue our Orphan's potluck tradition to this day. He might still struggle with the technique ("the hardest part is mixing the flour, no wait, the milk, no, I mean the flour, into the butter"), but Martha's mac has earned a permanent place at our table. Jamie Feldmar is a Los Angeles-based writer, editor, and cookbook author.
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| Eric Wareheim Will Teach You How to Have the Best Friendsgiving Ever Posted: 15 Nov 2021 09:17 AM PST  The comedian and cookbook author gives tips on how to become a better, more relaxed dinner party host There have been a lot of Thanksgiving disasters in my life. Like the time we attempted to deep fry a turkey outside but it was so windy the fire kept going out, or when the dishwasher broke just as everything was coming out of the oven, submerging the kitchen floor in an inch of gray dishwater. There was the year a family member (who is dearly beloved so I will leave her unnamed) borrowed my sweater and then threw up on it. So while I understand and have enjoyed Friendsgiving — presumably a chiller, more fun but still celebratory fall meal — the task of hosting an additional opportunity for mayhem and disappointment has remained daunting. Comedian, winemaker, and cookbook author Eric Wareheim understands how to throw a party, so this year, he's lending his expertise to Friendsgiving through a How We Friendsgiving Watch Together special (there's another episode led by Jojo Siwa) called Levelling Up With Eric Wareheim on Messenger. The format for the special is novel: "Fans can view Watch Together episodes with friends on Messenger or Instagram by simply starting a video call, tapping the media button in the bottom right on Instagram, or swiping up to access the menu on Messenger, selecting 'Watch Together' and searching for 'How to Friendsgiving.'" In the video, Wareheim will walk viewers through how to cook an Italian-themed Friendsgiving dinner, and give tips on how to host and entertain when you have no idea what you're doing. Eater spoke to Wareheim about the true meaning of Friendsgiving: A late November opportunity to share chill vibes, and how even if you burn the meatballs, it'll be hard to ruin the evening. This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity. Eater: When did you start doing Friendsgiving? What does it mean to you? Eric Wareheim: I grew up in Philadelphia, and I was part of the hardcore punk rock scene, and we were all vegetarian at the same time for political and animal rights reasons. We would get together and make these huge Friendsgivings together, and we'd all try a dish. Some of them were inedible, because we were 18-year-old cooks, and some of them were amazing. But it really was about getting your buddies together, and cooking together, and just hanging all night, not even thinking about the traditions of turkey and mashed potatoes. That's what I tried to do in my cookbook [Foodheim: A Culinary Adventure], as well. There's four party sections about bringing your friends together, and cooking together. That joy of giving to someone else, I think, is what I'm all about. I love that part of it. That really comes across in the cookbook. It's not just about cooking, it's about crafting an event and a space where people feel really comfortable. Does Thanksgiving not necessarily have that for you? What makes Friendsgiving special that way? I think it comes down to family sometimes. Some people have lovely families, and some people don't. Some people have no families. I think Friendsgiving is just something you do with your new family, whoever you want. To me, I live far from my parents, so I rarely get to do Thanksgiving, and you bring your new family in, it's just your friends. And I really think it's about what I try to get across in my episode is, you can do whatever you want. You can make it an Italian Friendsgiving, and that's why I did the simple things like Nonna's sauce and meatballs. It's fun that way, because turkeys are very intimidating to cook. I feel like my whole life, every year, someone comes up with like, "Okay, now we've got the right turkey recipe, and it's going to be great," and it's still so much. I'm so stressed with my brine. How long do I brine this thing? On that note, I think one of the great things about this is you can do whatever you want. You can throw tradition out the window. But on the other hand, that can be sort of terrifying because you can do literally anything. How do you approach building a menu when there are no rules? That's kind of why I made this video with Messenger, because I am an expert on Friendsgiving. I find that a theme is sometimes nice. My episode is kind of an Italian-American vibe. I think when I was 18, it was literally anything you could find that you could afford, just bring it out. But I think depending on who you are and who your friends are, I think it's nice to say okay, this is Italian-American, we can make a little salad. Another thing that I put in the episode just set the tone: Go a little further than you normally would. Get a playlist together, and just get some candles. Little things like that I think will help make it special. A lot happened in the pandemic. We had so much time, so I was just like, "Man, let's just make this dinner amazing." Let's go overboard, because these are your people, and these are your friends, so why not? As a comedian, and someone with what seems like a big, fun personality, do you feel pressure to be particularly funny during Friendsgiving, or do you feel like this comes very naturally? It is just part of my personality to be silly. But with the book, and with the show, there are some skills you actually need to know. You need to make good food, and I take that seriously. There's a balance of making good food, but also laughing along the way, and dancing, and singing. I don't know, I just think it's very important to have fun, no matter what the heck you're doing. Do you have any tips for that? Like, if someone's prone to being one of those hosts who really stresses getting everything perfect, or if suddenly something is burning and you mess up a dish, how do you keep it fun even when disaster strikes? I think a huge thing I learned is ti get your prep done early. Do all your [mis-en-place] way ahead of time. You can cook the meatballs and the sauce the day before. It's all about reheating and doing your broiling right at the end. And also, another tip is you've just got to focus. The art of talking to your friends and cooking is so hard, and I'm still not there yet, because I can sometimes only do one thing at a time. But especially when you're broiling mozzarella over meatballs, just stay there. Don't move. Just look at it, talk to everyone, but don't take your eyes off that broil, because if you do burn it, it does set it back. It just smells gross. At the same time, it's also your friends, and they're going to be fine. Also, in disaster, it's this bonding thing. I had a pizza party with my friends, and it was all couples, and this one couple threw the pizza in, and it stuck to the back of the oven and set off the smoke alarm, and we all had to go outside. But that's kind of a fun story to have, and everyone still had fun. I would just say, everyone chill out, and it'll be fine. Is there anything you think people should absolutely avoid during Friendsgiving? I wouldn't attempt things that you haven't tried before. It's fun to experiment at home, and then I think it's nice to have — I had many dishes that I brought to Friendsgivings over the years, and I knew they would hit, and they would be crowd-pleasers. Just use those recipes. Don't try this new crazy baked brie thing that you saw on the internet that you've never tried or seen before. Ooh, "Viral Recipes Only" would be a good theme for Friendsgiving, though. I am obsessed with those things. I save so many of those saved. I have recipe inspirations from Instagram and stuff. I would just say, give it a try first, because seeing it on the internet is one thing, and then doing it is a whole other thing. Is there any viral recipe that you've tried that you actually really love? Definitely the garlic bread that I put in my episode is inspired by a few of these internet, fast-paced "Here's the baguette. You melt the butter, roast the garlic" videos. I changed it and made it mine, but I think that started from one of those 11-second things. I was like, "That is so delicious." I saved it, I screengrabbed it. And then, I have this notes system that I do. I have literally notes like, "Recipes I Want to Cook." And then, there's hundreds of little clips in there. What do you hope people get out of this episode? I hope just the vibe of sharing with your friends, and just learning from me a little bit. I feel like a little bit of a mentor here, because I do it a lot. I just do it personally a lot. I have a lot of house parties, a lot of dinner parties, and I feel like you have the recipes now, so hopefully you'll see how fun it is, and you'll have some ammunition to bang out some fun Friendsgivings. |
| Yes, Marshmallows Absolutely Belong on Your Sweet Potato Casserole Posted: 15 Nov 2021 08:36 AM PST  Sweet potato casserole is not about texture or balanced flavors. It's a one-tone dish, in the best way possible Editor's note: Thanksgiving traces its origins to an uneasy, temporary alliance between 17th-century English settlers and members of the Wampanoag Confederacy. This year, Eater is choosing to acknowledge that history in our coverage of the holiday. I don't mind relinquishing control of the Thanksgiving menu. I'm happy not to make the stuffing. My gravy is usually not that special, so it's a relief that my grandmother makes it (hers isn't very good either, but she shoulders that responsibility). One family friend brings green beans, and another brings roasted Brussels sprouts. I love the way most of the meal just sort of appears while I anxiously watch the turkey cook and have my first 3:30 p.m. cocktail. But you know what does bother me? When the sweet potato casserole shows up without a single marshmallow, and whoever brought it spouts off some speech about how "sweet potatoes are already sweet enough!" Unfortunately, they — and essentially all of my colleagues, who emphatically disagree with this article's premise — are wrong. In the past, I've done a little that's nice smile as I park the lacking casserole with the rest of the dishes. In my heart though, it's nothing but sadness and disappointment. So please, if we get one thing right this Thanksgiving — arguably the first "normal" Thanksgiving in two years — let it be the sweet potato casserole. As far as I'm concerned, that means marshmallows, and plenty of them. Even as I write this, my coworkers are yelling at me over Slack: "No, Elazar, you gotta make the crumble with brown sugar and nuts! No Marshmallows! You have terrible taste!" Sure, it's undeniably true that a pecan crumble is delicious, and contributes more textural variety than a cloud of toasted marshmallow. But to me, sweet potato casserole is not about a wild array of texture, or some refined balance of flavors. It's a one-tone dish, in the best way possible. It's exuberance, it's decadence, it's a celebration of gooey-mushy texture. It is the dessert you eat mid-meal because you can. Its sweetness completely overwhelms the senses, and the only thing that can reset your tastebuds is more of everything else on your plate. So, is sweet potato casserole with a fluffy marshmallow layer a little over the top? Absolutely. But since when has this meal been about restraint or a light touch? For that matter, when has the food of Thanksgiving ever been dictated by the same rules as all the other meals we eat? At my house at least, the table is usually set by 3 o'clock, there are like 14 desserts and maybe three vegetables, and by normal dinner hours, everyone is either napping or having a raised-voices conversation with the extended family. Like pretty much every other dish on the table, sweet potato casserole isn't something I'd be likely to serve or request at a dinner party the rest of the year — though, honestly, I'd be delighted if someone did bring it to a potluck. It's a once-a-year dish for me, and as such, I don't have a taste for "trying something new," or "branching out." If you know me, you know my love for sweet potatoes runs deep. When I want sweet potatoes with variety, I'll switch from the orange ones to the unquestionably sweeter and more delicious yellow-fleshed Korean or Japanese ones. I'll cube and slather them in miso and maple syrup. I'll slice them lengthwise and cover them in crema or creme fraiche. If I had it my way, the Thanksgiving table would essentially be seven kinds of sweet potato, some turkey legs, and a plate of stuffing. Alas, the holidays are about compromise, and apparently there's more to a "balanced diet" than three varieties of sweet potato and a pecan pie. If we're settling for just one measly sweet potato dish, I'll accept marshmallows on half of the casserole. That, to me, feels like a proactive — mature, even — solution. Anything less than that, though, will not do. |
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