Smoked Salmon Recalled; Donate Your Hurricane Panic Food

Macao Trading Co., Negril Village, and Smoke Jazz and Supper Club were among OpenTable’s top 50 late-night restaurants in the country.
[Nation’s Restaurant News]

A new study suggests that adding a bit of chocolate to your healthy diet plan can help you stick to it better. The study was funded by Hershey’s.

A Chicago food company is recalling more than 8,000 packages of smoked salmon due to potential listeria contamination.

A study released Friday by City Harvest reveals that 25 percent of kids under 18 are “food insecure” in New York, with the worst rate in the Bronx.
[NY Daily News]

Did you stock up on food supplies in a panic on Friday? If you’re already suffering buyer’s remorse, donate your uneaten food to the Food Bank for New York City.


Studies in Crap’s Chocolate Fantasies Involve Creepy Seders, Swingers, and Baby Jesuses

Your Crap Archivist brings you the finest in forgotten and bewildering crap culled from basements, thrift stores, estate sales and flea markets. I do this for one reason: Knowledge is power.

Author: Verne Ricketts
Publisher: Lieba Inc., Baltimore
Date: 1985
Discovered at: Used book store

Take a look at that cover.

Consider this candy castle’s drooping gables, leaking roofs, and red-nippled towers.

Notice the resemblance between the wavy white shingles and cursive-writing homework second graders might have scribbled in the back of a bus jouncing across train tracks.

Study the severed doll’s head festooned to the window, or the mop-haired poop warrior cemented onto a pedestal out in front.

Accept that the title is no promise of slow jams, and ask yourself: is droopy, runny chocolate truly a medium for representational — even architectural — art?

Sure, chocolate can capture a molded bunny or an Easter Egg.
But a fairyland castle? Or this scene from Driving Miss Daisy?


I’m intrigued by the white (or, I guess, high-yellow) passenger in the rear, who screams in terror at this ride down the Hershey highway.

Author/chocolatier Ricketts includes instructions to help you create your own candy diorama celebrating pre-Civil Rights race relations He demands that you have waxed paper, graham-crackers, and little aesthetic sense. I’m less interested in his instructions than I am his results, which include this ambitious denunciation of our overcrowded schools.


The kids are popping out! And Lord knows what Chocolate Medea is up to!
Ricketts also attempts a Parliament stage set:


I may question his technique, but I respect his willingness to apply his artistry to challenging themes. On the subject of middle-aged swinging, he’s just a touch more sugary than John Updike.


His ambivalent conclusion: cavort in the hot tub long enough, and your lower halves will congeal.

Shocking Detail:
If Thomas Kinkade is the painter of light, Ricketts was the sculptor of blown septic tanks. I believe this one is called “All God’s Children Best Wipe Their Feet.”


It’s also a warning: do not store unpopped corn in your fireplace.

Ricketts’ most daring work chocolatizes the world’s religions.


Who could ever pass over a chocolate seder? The trained eye can discern that the fruit, decanter and fondue set are not made of chocolate. The clue is how they actually look like fruit, a decanter and a fondue set.
Of course, the true artist is unafraid to stare down controversy. Ricketts does so, here, with this excremental precursor to Andres Serrano’s 1987 “Piss Christ.”


It’s almost enough to make me pity poor Ricketts. He may have been the first with this idea, but in terms of notoriety for creating bathroom Jesuses, he’s stuck at number two.

Thanks, Ricketts! This song’s for you!

[The Crap Archivist lives in Kansas City, where he originates his on-line Studies for the Voice‘s sister paper, The Pitch.]


Last Meal: Sara Moulton is Really Hungry

Sara Moulton, a Julia Child protégée, Gourmet Magazine’s executive chef, a cookbook author, and former Food Network star, will be back on TV in April. Her new show, named after her second cookbook, Sara’s Secrets for Weeknight Meals, focuses on sitting down to real dinners during the workweek. Moulton describes herself as a teacher, and it seems fitting that, this time around, she’ll be on public TV.

What would you eat for your last meal? Here’s the thing: I really fantasized about this and decided I’d be very hungry. There are just too many things I would want. When I was done, I realized it was all carbs and fat. I’m really going to hell in a handbasket, but I guess that’s the point.

Sounds great so far. I have to have some absolutely beautiful caviar. I’m imagining that the Russian stuff isn’t endangered, so I can start with osetra on homemade blini. I haven’t decided where to put the cheese, so I just put it at both ends.

I like your style. I’ll have fondue, with the usual cheeses. Then Peking duck with lots of extra-crispy skin, and I’d like the porcini gnocchi from Union Square Café with that. Is that OK, to mention a restaurant?

Sure. Good, because once I thought of that, I thought, “I’d really like to have their garlic potato chips, too.” And then I thought, “I’d really like to have Beppe’s french fries.” Have you had them? They fry them with a bunch of herbs.

Yes, delicious. Yeah, so there you go. Three carbs with my low-fat Peking duck. . . . If I had to have a vegetable—I mean, I really do love vegetables, but for this occasion, I don’t know—I would have Indian-spiced cauliflower with peas. Then more cheese. Epoisses, which is my favorite cheese, with sliced baguettes. And for dessert—I don’t know what season it would be, but it doesn’t matter. This whole meal couldn’t happen at one time, but who cares? Cherry pie made with sour cherries, or a sour-cherry crumble, with brandy-spiked whipped cream. And if that’s not good enough, a few dark-chocolate truffles afterwards. And I thought about the drinks—a Veuve Clicquot La Grand Dame to start. People always serve champagne with caviar, even though they don’t go together, but who cares? It’s celebratory. Although I don’t know how celebratory this occasion really is. Anyway, I would want a nice French chardonnay, too. And at some point, a beautiful red Bordeaux. And a double espresso, maybe with the truffles.

And the setting? The company? My parents have an old farmhouse in northeastern Massachusetts. We could be there. I’d love for my husband to be there. He’s my best friend. And my kids—we have a good time together, the four of us. My son, in particular, would be pleased with all these carbs. And we all like duck.

Sounds perfect. Well, it’s more food that any person should eat—especially a five-foot-tall person, but whatever.