Perfect pancakes...and peaches.

A couple of years ago, during my annual visit to Nick and Louisa, we ate the most delicious pancakes I have ever tasted. They come to us - unsurprisingly - courtesy of the amazing Ruth Reichl, who added her own personal pancake recipe to the Gourmet cookbook. Their marvelous texture and flavor come mainly from an exorbitant amount of butter in the batter and from being cooked as pancakes should be: gently, in just enough fat, over a moderate flame.

In fact, no matter the recipe, those are the basic principles to making a quality pancake. Too many of us let the skillet get too hot, or fail to wipe it down between batches. Doing so results, respectively, in burned outsides and raw insides, as well as a smoky, gritty mess of a pan. By following a few simple steps, we can all avoid the dreaded "first pancake" syndrome, and turn out perfect specimen after perfect specimen.

First of all: use enough oil, but not too much. If you are using a non-stick skillet, you want only the thinnest film of oil, about half a teaspoon per batch for a large (8 to 12 inch) skillet. For a standard skillet, use just a bit more; you should be able to swirl the oil around a bit - but just a bit.

Keep the heat moderate; when you drop your batter into the pan, it should hiss slightly and not stick, but it should brown slowly to a golden hue, not quickly to dark brown or black. Just keep an eye on it; if the edges of your pancakes bubble rapidly immediately, the pan is too hot. Don't be precious about adjusting the heat as you go; the pan will change in temperature as you add or remove pancakes to it. You must compensate by adjusting the flame.

Wipe out the pan between batches, and add fresh oil. If things have gotten really sticky and icky, use a bit of water to get the brown bits up from the bottom before wiping with a paper towel.

Finally, pay attention! Pancakes are not something you can walk away from. Watch how they bubble, how they firm up around the edges; they will not cook on a perfect schedule, so you must pay attention to them and flip them according to their own time.

Now that you know how to make pancakes in general, why not try these in particular? I've taken Ruth's superlative version and riffed on it a bit; the butter has been browned, and I've added chopped fresh peaches to the mix, in a nod to a) the season, and b) the fact that I didn't have any blueberries in the house this morning.

I hope you enjoy them!

Browned Butter Pancakes
Adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook

1 cup buttermilk (plain old milk will work, too)
2 eggs
3 tbs. canola oil
8 tbs. (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup flour
4 tsp. granulated sugar
4 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
3-4 ripe peaches, peeled, pitted and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Additional canola oil, for cooking

In a small skillet or saucepan set over medium heat, melt the butter. Continue to cook just until the butter turns slightly brown and smells nutty. Set aside until cool.

In a small bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs and oil, then whisk in the cooled, browned butter. In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, backing powder and salt. Stir in the milk mixture until just combined.

Heat 1/2 teaspoon or so of oil in a large skillet over moderate heat until hot but not smoking. Working in batches of two, pour 1/2-cup measures of batter into skillet. Drop five or six peach cubes into each pancake and cook until bubbles have formed on top and broken, about two minutes.

Flip pancakes with a spatula and cook until undersides are golden, about a minute or two longer. Remove from the pan to a warmed plate. Wipe out the skillet between batches, adding oil for the next batch to the clean skillet. Continue until all the batter has been turned into pancakes!

Makes about eight pancakes.

Fried rice, Reichl-style.

I don't know about you guys, but I pretty much worship Ruth Reichl. She's funny, she's humble and she's too damn talented. Her memoirs (especially Tender At The Bone and Comfort Me With Apples) are on my read-this-at-least-once-every-two-years list, and I'm still deep in mourning over the loss of Gourmet, the magazine she helmed spectacularly for 10 years. (Until Condé Nast shuttered it in October 2009. Grrrr.)

Most recently, I've been re-reading Tender At The Bone, Reichl's first memoir. It spans about 20 years' time, from her childhood in Greenwich Village to her move to Berkeley in the early 1970s. Somewhere in there, she penned her first cookbook, entitled Mmmmmm, A Feastiary. I first heard the book mentioned by name when Reichl did a Q&A on eGullet a few years ago, and promptly searched eBay for a copy. I snagged one in pristine condition for just a few bucks, and it's occupied a precious spot on my shelf ever since.

On Sunday, when confronted with a refrigerator full of leftover rice, steamed chicken and broccoli, I decided a bowl of fried rice would be just the thing to eat for lunch. And I knew Ruth was just the person to tell me what to do. When a browse through the Gourmet cookbook didn't rustle up what I needed, I turned to Mmmmmm, and was not disappointed. Right there on page forty-three is a ridiculously simple recipe for fried rice.

Reichl encourages an improvisational approach, telling the reader to use whatever bits and bobs populate the recesses of her crisper drawer. She also Americanizes the recipe somewhat, suggesting sherry in the place of Shaoxing cooking wine. No matter what you throw in or what wine you grab from the shelf, though, the result is a fast, piping hot, satisfying lunch.

Cleaning out the fridge is a pretty good side benefit, too.

(And, since matzo abounds this week, I think Mmmmmm's matzo brei may be next on the list.)

Ruth's Fried Rice
Adapated from Mmmmmm, A Feastiary by Ruth Reichl

1 cup cooked rice
2 tsp. vegetable oil
1 egg
1/4 cup white onion, diced
1 clove garlic, smashed
Any vegetables you want to add (broccoli, cabbage, carrots, peppers), thinly sliced
2 tsp. Shaoxing cooking wine (or sherry, or vermouth)
1/4 cup water or chicken stock
2 tsp. soy sauce mixed with 1/4 tsp. sugar
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Sriracha (optional)

Heat a skillet until very hot. Add the oil and a bit of salt; swirl the pan to coat the bottom. Break the egg into the pan and scramble lightly. Add the onion, garlic and vegetables to the pan, and stir to combine with the egg.

Add the meat and then the wine, and stir the contents of the skillet for another 30 seconds. Add the rice and stir to combine evenly. Cook for another 30 seconds to a minute, until the rice is hot and has lost all of its refrigerator stiffness.

Add the soy sauce mixture and grind some pepper over everything. Serve immediately, topped with a few squirts of Sriracha.

Serves one, generously.

Reichl and Bourdain: the mashup.

In case you've missed the fun over the last couple of days, I think it's my obligation to clue you into some of the silliest, most wonderful times being had over on Twitter.

If you follow Ruth Reichl, you know that her tweets are gorgeous pieces of poetry, evoking a life lived in freshly baked bread, briny oysters and flaky croissants. They make you smile, salivate and hungry for more. And we tweeps aren't the only ones who've noticed. Anthony Bourdain and Eric Ripert have started airing a segment called "The Tao of Ruth" as part of their radio show. They read Reichl's latest tweets reverently, like haikus, all the while playing Beat era percussion in the background.

It's hilarious.

But the most recent development in this saga is even better - an anonymous genius has created Ruth Bourdain, a mashup of Reichl's tweets with Bourdain's foul language and penchant for exotic foods and illicit substances. The result is pure brilliance.

Even better, Reichl appeared on Bourdain's and Ripert's show this week to laugh with them about their segment and ponder the identity of Ruth Bourdain's creator. One thing's for certain, though: that picture is scary.

Queenie's Treasury

Happy weekend, my doves! This week was a long one at the office (meetings, meetings, meetings), so a bunch of these Treasury items come not from internet research (The last thing I wanted to do when I got home at night was get back on the computer.), but from my daily NPR podcast listening - and my mom!

First up, what I learned on NPR this week. I listen to several NPR podcasts on a regular basis, since it's easier to listen to my iPod than to juggle a book on my daily commute, and Terry Gross's Fresh Air is one of my favorites. Last week she interviewed none other than my food writing idol, Ruth Reichl! Reichl is out and about doing the book tour for Gourmet Today, and the interviews she's been giving have been fascinating. She's been very open about the end of Gourmet and her experience of the news. She and Terry also talk a lot about Ruth's last book, the short memoir Not Becoming My Mother, and about sustainable fishing.

Speaking of sustainable fishing, Reichl recommends using this tool provided by the Monterey Bay Aquarium to keep track of which fish are OK to eat, since those things can change from week to week, depending on weather conditions, season and so on...

Next, the incredibly cool article my mom clipped from Travel & Leisure! Rufus Wainwright, one of my favorite musicians, spent a good chunk of his childhood in Montréal, and offers readers a few of his favorite spots. I'd already been considering a jaunt up to Québec sometime this winter (when prices are cheap), and now I'm all but decided. Rufus could probably convince me to jump off a bridge; luckily, he's more likely to croon something about opera or art.

Finally, another travel-related tidbit. If you're sick of staying in hotels or charmless corporate apartments when you're away from home, why not give airbnb a whirl? You can rent apartments or rooms for short- or long-term stays, and most of the homes I saw were gorgeous, design mag-worthy creations. I'm sure not every property on the site is perfect, but New York for $100 a night - without having to share a bathroom with strangers? Sign me up.

Where do I buy mourning clothes in San Francisco?

I'm back from vacation and working in San Francisco for a few days. This means I'm three hours behind the East Coast news cycle, and so this morning my email and Twitter feed were positively packed with messages about one tragic thing: the closing of Gourmet magazine.

To put it simply, I'm crushed. I've read Gourmet religiously for the past five years or so, and have fallen completely in love with its open-minded approach to food, its passion for travel domestic and foreign, and its gorgeous writing and photography. The current incarnation of Gourmet owes most of its soul and much of its aesthetic to the wild-haired, obscenely-talented Ruth Reichl, who left her job as the New York Times' restaurant critic to take up the helm at the (soon-to-be) late magazine.

Under her guidance, Gourmet became a publication for those truly passionate about creating and consuming food. Less chef-obsessed than Food & Wine, but more worldly than Bon Appetit, Gourmet emphasized home cooking but never forgot about the restaurant world.

Many people have criticized the magazine's photography as cold or hard; I disagree, and heartily. The simple, spare aesthetic on show at Gourmet far outpaced most food magazines in its sophistication and pure illustration of good, homemade food.

This blackberry brown sugar cake is one of my favorite Gourmet recipes of all time. I shall be making it in the weeks to come, as a sort of remembrance. While I can't wait to follow the next steps of Gourmet's immensely talented staff, that anticipation hardly softens the blow.

Now, excuse me while I go sniffle in the corner for a bit.

All right, already!

There are recipes you make once, forget about, and leave behind you forever. And then there are those you make once that haunt you, confronting you at every opportunity, screaming, "Make me!" You find excuses, reasons not to - and then, one day, the perfect scenario materializes, and you finally scratch the itch.

I first made the BLTomatoes from the Gourmet Cookbook back in 2004, for my friend Louisa's 25th birthday party. The night was a blur of delicious food and bounteous booze, but one morsel went faster than the others. Louisa's now-husband and I cooked all afternoon; I went home to shower and returned about twenty minutes after the first guests had arrived. The 50 or 60 BLTomatoes we'd painstakingly prepared? They were gone. Gone!

BLTomatoes are pretty much exactly what they sound like - cherry or grape tomatoes stuffed with a combination of bacon, lettuce, mayonnaise, and scallions. They are a pain in the ass to make - you have to hollow out the tomatoes and stuff their tiny insides with the filling - but oh my god are they good. The tricks to taking them from tasty to lip-smacking? Use the best bacon you can find (I prefer Schaller & Weber's double-smoked.), don't skimp on the salt and pepper, and don't leave out the scallion. Its peppery bite is key.

And be patient with the trimming and seeding of the tomatoes - it can be slow-going (especially if you use grape tomatoes), but it's well worth the effort.

BLTomatoes
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

14 cherry or grape tomatoes
1 tsp. salt
1/4 lb. bacon, thinly sliced
1 scallion, thinly sliced
1/4 c. thinly sliced romaine lettuce
2 tbs. mayonnaise
Salt and pepper, to taste

Slice a tiny bit off of the bottom of each tomato (to help them stand upright on the plate). Cut off the tops of the tomatoes, and carefully scoop out and discard the pulp and seeds. Sprinkle the salt over the tomatoes, then invert them on a paper towel. Set aside to drain while preparing the filling.

Cook the bacon in a skillet over medium heat until crisp. Drain on paper towels, then crumble or chop finely. In a small bowl, gently mix the bacon with the scallion, lettuce, mayonnaise, salt and pepper until well-combined. Test the filling for seasoning; remember, you will be eating the tomato, too, so you want it to be a bit on the salty side.

Stuff each tomato full of the filling; eat any leftover filling yourself, straight off the spoon.

Serve immediately, or chill in the fridge for up to five hours.

Makes 14 canapés.

Queenie's Take: In the beginning...

One of my absolute favorite things to read is the Dear Prudence column over at Slate. Every week, Prudie (really Emily Yoffe, a Slate staff writer) takes on questions of etiquette and interpersonal relationships, always with a healthy dose of humor - and horror, when appropriate.

It was while reading Prudie a couple of weeks ago that it hit me - ever since I started blogging as Queenie, I've gotten tons of emails (and phone calls - you know who you are) asking for advice about where to eat, how to entertain, and what to cook. I (try to) answer each question, but I don't share the advice terribly widely.

And, so, I'm very excited to announce "Queenie's Take," a new weekly feature here at Queenie Takes Manhattan! Each Thursday, I'll be taking on a question or three with wit and verve. Now, while I definitely have opinions about relationships, romantic and otherwise, I'll be keeping the official Queenie advice to questions about cooking & baking, entertaining, culinary history, travel, and dining out.

This week, in the spirit of things just starting, I'll be answering questions about jump-starting your kitchen and cookbook library.

And, if you have a question you'd like to see answered in a future "Queenie's Take," just leave it in the comments!

What are the first five cookbooks any beginning cook should buy, and why? - Louisa, Sandusky, OH

Obviously, there's an element of personal taste involved here. For instance, my great culinary loves are French and Italian foods, with a big emphasis on vegetables and pastry. But you might want to cook mainly Vietnamese food or have a thing for traditional English pub grub. So, what I'm going to do is recommend investing in three robust classics, and tell you about two of my favorite add-ons, books that speak directly to my own sensibilities.

1. The Gourmet Cookbook, Ruth Reichl
Setting my Ruth Reichl fascination aside for a moment, this is still a remarkably wonderful cookbook. It's huge (1,056 pages, 1,000+ recipes), but well-indexed and easy to use. The recipes are detailed but straightforward, and the dishes range in difficulty from very, very simple to fairly complex. It's decidedly American in its eclecticism - there are recipes for French classics like bouillabaisse, Spanish ones like paella, and even one for pad thai. More importantly, the book seeks to educate you about the origins of its recipes and techniques. Following in the steps of the great Julia Child, Ruth Reichl knows that cooking is not just about blindly following a recipe, but about understanding why you're doing what you're doing. Which brings us to...

2. Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume I, Simone Beck, Louisette Bertholle, and Julia Child
It's hard to overestimate the impact Julia Child and her fellow authors had on the American palate. Though she's certainly not solely responsible (Alice Waters comes to mind here), Julia is a huge part of the reason why we eat so many fresh vegetables with delicious, light vinaigrettes; why we make apple pies with fresh apples and homemade crusts; why we once again have chicken that tastes like chicken. Her cooking show and cookbooks exploded the mid-century obsession with factory-based cooking, and are as relevant today as they were forty years ago. Julia will teach you how to roast a chicken, how to make a salad, how to turn a vegetable - and then how to gradually build on top of those basic skills. Along with her husband Paul's impeccable line drawings, her words will teach you more than I can possibly explain. And, lest you be one of those people out there who still believe that French food = fussy, Julia will set you straight, once and for all.

3. The Joy of Cooking, Irma Rombauer
The veritable Bible of American cooking. Where Gourmet is a decidedly modern take on the American canon, Rombauer's book retains the flavor of pre-Julia America, with fantastic, easy recipes for classics like brownies, pancakes, and casseroles. The merits of the latest edition, re-worked for a more contemporary cook in celebration of the original's 75th anniversary, have been hotly debated. For my money, the original is still the best, in all its 1930s frugal practicality.

4. Barefoot in Paris, Ina Garten -and- 5. Lidia's Italian-American Kitchen, Lidia Bastianich
Ina's French cookbook simply can't be beat for foolproof, delicious bistro classics. Her gougeres? Simple as can be to make, incredibly impressive when served. The brownie tart makes grown men swoon, and there's little that makes me happier than her creme brulee. She takes the straightest, easiest route to delicious, entertaining-friendly French food, which is pretty miuch my favorite thing to cook, ever. And Lidia! If she isn't the Nonna we all wish we had teaching us to cook, I don't know who is. Like Ina, her food is simple to prepare, but tastes anything but, and is meant to serve a crowd.

What cookbooks would you guys recommend?

What do you consider essential food items/ingredients (spices, etc.) to keep in your kitchen such that you don't have to buy every single ingredient when preparing a particular recipe? - Richard, New York, NY

Like the cookbook question, this depends largely on the kinds of food you like to prepare. I recently unearthed a bottle of chili powder that's survived eight years and three moves without being opened, but you might be someone who'd use it all the time. However, here's a list of things I try to never be without:

Kosher salt & freshly ground black pepper: Kosher salt is easier to handle with your hands, and is the salt most often used by cookbook authors and recipe testers. So use it, wouldja? As for pepper - those blends of red, green and black peppercorns are pretty, but the clear, true flavor of black pepper is what you want for cooking.

Butter & canola oil: Unsalted butter, please - you can always add salt to taste, but you can't take it out. Canola oil is more versatile than olive oil - neutral in flavor and with a high smoking point, it can be used for cooking or for salad dressings.

Flour & sugar: Even if you're not a big baker, you'll want to have at least a small box of flour on hand for thickening sauces and soups. Sugar, well, duh!

Tomato paste & Dijon mustard: Both are great secret weapons for creating deep flavor with very little effort, and the mustard is essential for vinaigrettes, too.

Eggs: An absolute must for bakers, these are also great for creating quick, easy dinners (omelets, fritattas, and so on).

Garlic & shallots: Garlic is God's gift to mankind; shallots are more versatile and less acidic than onions.

Sherry & champagne vinegars: Between these two, you can make a huge variety of salad dressings, mayonnaises, and so on - and also add a teaspoon or two to sauces for a bit of contrast.

Baking soda, baking powder, and vanilla extract: These are really for those who plan to bake. Vanilla pops up in pretty much every baked good known to man, so invest in some good stuff. Baking soda and baking powder ARE different, so buy both. They cost about a buck apiece, so you can splurge here.

What do you think? Did I leave anything out that you consider essential?

By the way, a HUGE thank you to all the friends who sent me questions for the first edition of "Queenie's Take." If I didn't answer you this week, have no fear - your question will be included in a future edition!

Ruth Reichl and Mark Bittman are my tweeps.

By now, even the less technology-savvy among us have heard of Twitter, the micro-blogging, social networking phenomenon currently sweeping the interwebs. When I joined Twitter back in November, my goal was to connect with experts and mavens in my new field (user experience) and possibly rustle up some new Queenie readers.

Little did I know my dabblings in the Twitterverse would soon become a full-blown obsession, on par with the great Facebook addiction of 2007.

The latest development to fuel my passion was my discovery that several of my food world idols are Twittering - Ruth Reichl, Mark Bittman, Pete Wells, Amanda Hesser, Grant Achatz, Adam Roberts.

While I do think there's only so much value to be shared via Twitter's 140 characters per update, there's no denying that it's kinda cool to know when Ruth Reichl is working on a new project, or to recommend the Bar at Etats-Unis to the Amateur Gourmet.

Want to join the fun? Come follow me - you can find me @queenie_nyc. See you on Twitter!

An anticipatory moment of silence, please.

The word on the street is that Gourmet Magazine, helmed since 1999 by the truly remarkable Ruth Reichl, may be on its way out. Since 2004, their ad pages have dropped from 1,364 to 955; Conde Nast may be feeling overextended in the food mag department, given their simultaneous investements in Bon Appetit and Epicurious.com.

The choice of Bon Appetit over Gourmet may be the best fiscal choice, but is not, in my opinion, the right one. Under Reichl's direction, Gourmet has become slightly too aspirational (some of the serving pieces featured cost a week's salary), but it's also highlighted little-known travel destinations (Strasbourg, the Auvergne, Laos, western China), and championed delicious foods made with quality ingredients.

Reichl brought in superlative food photographer Romulo Yanes, whose pictures routinely rise above traditional "food porn," as well as the coolest roadies ever, Jane & Michael Stern. She also nabbed David Foster Wallace, who penned a hotly discussed essay entitled Consider The Lobster for the August 2004 issue.

Reichl not only writes the only editor's letter worth reading every single month; she has also transformed Gourmet from a housewife's staid bible to a sophisticated cook's fantasy fodder.

If Ruth Reichl is anything, she's a survivor. If Gourmet does close up shop, she'll take on a new challenge, and it will be a thrill to see what she does next.

But I'll still be a little bit sad.

No, Tony wasn't there...

Last Wednesday, I had dinner at Les Halles, where they inducted R.W. Apple and Peacock Alley chef Cedric Tovar into their Choucroute Hall of Fame and simultaneously kicked off their eighth annual choucroute month. Previous hall of famers include one of my all-time favorite food writers, Jeffrey Steingarten, inducted in 2005.

Tony Bourdain did not make an appearance, but we had a pretty good time without him.

The event was great fun, attended by a few people I was honored to meet, including Andre Soltner, the legendary Alsatian chef, and Bryan Miller, the former New York Times restaurant critic. I will admit that I couldn't quite forget Ruth Reichl's descriptions of Miller in her latest book, Garlic and Sapphires, where she takes him to town a bit on his reception of her as his replacement at the Times.

In any case, it was a wonderful evening, and you can read all about the musings it prompted on Alsatian food in New York over here!

A preview:

Les Halles is a brasserie firmly rooted in Manhattan, so their choucroute menu is appropriately reflective of our belief in variety, featuring not one, not two, but four kinds of choucroute. Choucroute garnie, the kind most people think of first, is simmered in pinot blanc and comes with smoked pork, pork and veal sausage, and mustard on the side. Next is the aforementioned choucroute poisson, with smoked herring, fish sausage, scallops, and salmon caviar. Of particular interest to many foie-loving eG'ers, no doubt, is the duck choucroute, with foie gras, duck breast, confit...and choucroute royale, with a little bit of everything, the choucroute itself simmered in champagne.