Laurie just noticed that aside from the sage advice about roasting your arm, the new [Baker’s Catalogue](http://www.bakerscatalogue.com/) includes a radical change in their shipping and handling regime. They used to ship by weight, which meant that if I wanted a $3 bag of Sir Lancelot high gluten flour, I would pay something like $8 in shipping.

Now shipping is based on price. I just checked, and I could buy *six bags* of Sir Lancelot, a total of 18 pounds of flour, and pay only $5 shipping. This is big news–King Arthur’s shipping used to be brutal. Now, go and flour yourself liberally.

From the new King Arthur Baker’s Catalogue, page 31:

> Life’s too short to put your arm in a hot oven and leave it there…

What’s the food you’re embarrassed not to like?

I can only think of one ordinary food that I would flee in terror rather than eat: egg salad. I’m not particularly embarrassed about this, though, because (a) egg salad is weird, and (b) it doesn’t come up that often. I’m not big on potato salad or chicken salad, either, but I can eat those when required, since I like potatoes and chicken. I don’t like hard boiled eggs, but I could eat one plain if I had to. Iris loves hard boiled eggs, even aside from the fun of sprinkling salt. She’s welcome to bring this up any time I mention that she doesn’t like cheese.

Tuna salad might cause me to flee on foot, whereas egg salad would have me gassing up the Learjet. I’m just kidding. Who gasses up their own Learjet?

I hate dill, except in dill pickle form, but that doesn’t come up very often, either.

So here’s the big admission of guilt: I don’t like basil. Pesto is fine, since it usually tastes more like pine nuts, garlic, and cheese than basil. But whole leaves or a chiffonade of basil? Nope. Not with tomatoes. Not with Thai curry. Not even fried. It’s not in the flee-on-foot category for me, but I do think anything could be improved by leaving it out. I even prefer parsley pesto.

I wonder if basil might have a successful life as a sweet herb. I’m not a big fan of mint in savory cooking, but I love sweet minty stuff. I’ve had basil ice cream, and it was delicious.

Perkins, gas up the Learjet. We’re off in search of sweet, sweet basil treats!

To answer everyone’s first question about oxtail, it’s not the tail of an ox. According to Wikipedia:

> An ox is nothing more than a mature bovine with an “education”. The education consists of the animal’s learning to respond appropriately to the teamster’s (ox driver’s) commands: in North America such as (1) get up, (2) whoa, (3) back up, (4) gee (turn to the right) and (5) haw (turn to the left).

I wondered why my ox was doing a 180 every time I laughed “haw haw.” (Rimshot.)

Anyway, oxtail is the tail of the same kind of steer that supplies your steaks, roasts, and other beefy parts. It’s also delicious, beefy, and basically foolproof to cook. The only drawback to oxtail is the price. Since each cow only has one tail, and since you and I are not the first to hear about the wonders of oxtail, it’s fairly expensive–I usually see it for $4/pound at my local supermarket. I know $4 doesn’t sound expensive, but it’s mostly bone. To make a big pot of oxtail stew you need like seven pounds. It’s cheaper at Asian and Mexican groceries, where it’s probably USDA Select rather than Choice grade. That’s fine–oxtail has so much fat, you don’t need to pay for a high grade.

If you’re not ready to cart home seven pounds of tail and make it the main event, it makes an awesome meat sauce. That’s what we had last night, over polenta, and we’ll have more tonight with penne rigate. Brown the oxtail, or not, and throw it in a pot with canned tomatoes, onions, garlic, herbs of your choice, and red wine. Braise for three or four hours, until the meat is falling off the bone. You can’t overcook oxtail. Shred the meat, skim the sauce, and recombine them, and there you have it.

Have you noticed how hard it is to talk about oxtail without sounding lewd, gross, or both?

I got my GATCO knife sharpener!

The kit is in a very satisfying format. It’s a nice solid blue plastic box, and there’s a snug place for everything to nestle inside.

I haven’t actually sharpened my chef’s knife yet, because I wanted to practice on a knife I would mind ruining. That would be one from the Chefmate steak knife set we got at Target a while back. They’re not terrible knives, but they’re not very sharp, and they’re sharpened only on one side. Could the GATCO and I give this a sharp, double-sided edge?

The answer is: yes, eventually.

There are three caveats to using the GATCO, two of which probably applies to any sharpening method.

1. If you’re starting with a very dull knife or changing the sharpening regime (such as adding a back bevel), it will take a really long time. I spend over twenty minutes last night and got two inches of the steak knife done. It now looks pretty ridiculous. I’d better fix it tonight, or at least before eating steak.

2. The GATCO works so well that it’s easy to take off too much metal. I may need to have the bolster ground down on this steak knife. Actually, since the knife cost like $5, I may just throw it out.

3. The GATCO knife brace is supposedly designed for handheld comfort, but I couldn’t figure out a genuinely comfortable way to hold it. It wasn’t that bad, though. And at no time did I feel like I was in danger of poking myself with the knife. I’m sure I’ll feel just as secure and relaxed right before the ambulance pulls up.

So I have no definitive verdict on the GATCO yet. I’ll let you know after I have the guts to use it on my good knife.