Reality check

Just in case you were still under the impression that Iris is the least picky two-year-old in town…

Our usual bus stop is in front of Pho Cyclo, a Vietnamese restaurant on Broadway. Iris likes it because they often get their broth and vegetable delivery in the morning, and she can watch them carry in bucket after bucket of pho broth. They also have a neon banh mi sign in the window that Iris calls The Glowing Sandwich.

So today I asked Iris if she’d like to have lunch at Pho Cyclo. She said yes. She loved the booster seat, the green chopsticks, the soup spoons, and the color-changing fiberoptic lights.

Here’s what we ordered: a rice plate with shrimp, grilled pork, meatballs, carrots, daikon, cucumber, tomato, rice, and nuoc cham.

Here’s what Iris ate: rice, with soy sauce and a little nuoc cham that I poured on when she wasn’t looking.

No egg, no cream, no service

To make an egg cream is to take a stand. Not a stand in favor of refreshing, chocolaty drinks–everyone is in favor of that. An egg cream is such a drink, but it’s also an embodiment of the kind of endless argument that Jews love to engage in. Chocolate syrup first? Milk first? What proportions? Is the brand of chocolate syrup important?

If you’ve never had an egg cream, I can tell you two things. First of all, it’s a drink consisting of a little chocolate syrup and milk and a lot of seltzer. Second, my way of making it is the correct way. Just kidding. I basically bumbled through it based on egg creams I’ve had at newsstands in the past. But mine is definitely a good way.

I am not doctrinaire about the ingredients. I do prefer whole milk, but I use store-brand chocolate syrup, not Fox’s U-Bet, and sometimes I use club soda instead of seltzer. If you haven’t had one of these before, do give it a try, but don’t think about milkshakes or ice cream sodas while you drink it. This is their svelte cousin.

Have all your ingredients in the fridge. A warm egg cream is a bad, bad drink. Get a 12-oz pint glass or other tall glass. Pour in about an inch of milk. Add a five-second squirt of chocolate syrup (this will feel like a lot) and stir well to combine. (Basically you’re making chocolate milk that’s half syrup. Don’t you wish you could have gotten away with this when you were a kid?) Stir vigorously with a spoon while adding the seltzer, until the creamy head reaches nearly the top of the glass. It’ll probably bubble over the first couple of times you do this.

Here’s the most important part. You have to drink your egg cream with a straw, and you have to keep the bottom of the straw at the liquid-foam interface so you’re sucking up equal parts liquid and foam as you drink. Neither the liquid nor the foam is very interesting by itself. It’s the synergy that makes this a special beverage.

After you finish drinking the egg cream, a bunch of people will show up at your door for the discussion period.

**Update 11 May 2008:** I no longer use store-brand chocolate syrup for egg creams. I make my own, from [Alice Medrich’s recipe](http://bakingbites.com/2005/04/alice-medrichs-cocoa-syrup/).

The power of myth

It’s always disappointing to see cooking myths repeated by people who should be skeptical enough to know better. Partly it’s worrisome because it makes me wonder which fictions I believe.

The biggest myth in cooking is the one about searing meat. You know, “searing meat seals in the juices.” This is totally, provably false, and Harold McGee devotes an entire chapter to disproving it in multiple ways in his great book The Curious Cook. But you still hear it all the time–even in recently published books, and even in so-called science books like Hillman’s New Kitchen Science.

There’s probably no harm done if people go on believing that searing meat makes it juicier, because there are good reasons to sear meat anyway: it makes a flavorful and attractive crust, just one that happens to be entirely permeable to liquid.

Other kitchen myths have unfortunate consequences. The one I’ve heard in the past week from two otherwise trustworthy sources is that you should never wash mushrooms because–the epithet is always the same–“they’re like little sponges.”

It’s true that mushrooms are like little sponges. But they’re already saturated with water. Think about what happens when you put mushrooms into a hot pan: they release so much water that they shrink to a fraction of their size, right? A fungus so waterlogged is in no position to take up more water.

You can prove it with a simple experiment, one McGee and Cook’s Illustrated both did in print years ago. Take some mushrooms and a kitchen scale. Weigh the mushrooms dry. Soak the mushrooms in water for as long as you like. Drain. Weigh again. They will have gained a fraction of an ounce, all of it in surface water. How can you prove it’s surface water? Repeat the experiment with something obviously non-absorbent, like rocks or broccoli, or the brain of whoever told you mushrooms soak up water.

Who cares? Well, if you believe that mushrooms and water don’t mix, you’ll painstakingly wash each mushroom with a brush or (not too) damp cloth. Dinnertime will come and go and you will still be there washing mushrooms. Your friends will nickname you “shroomie” or something else that suggests that you have a drug habit. If you know the truth, you will rinse your mushrooms under running water, or–for the delicious but very dirty wild mushrooms that start showing up this time of year–wash them in a bowl with several changes of water.

Okay, I admit it: if I’m just cooking a few mushrooms, I’ll still wipe them. Once they’re wet, they get slippery and tend to escape across the cutting board. Come back, shroomie!

Hucklebuddy

We got some frozen wild huckleberries at the market today and had some at lunch. I put Iris’s berries on her plate and mine in a bowl. Iris promptly grabbed my spoon and started eating berries out of the bowl.

I said, “Iris, your huckleberries are on your plate. May I have my bowl and spoon back, please?” She picked up one berry with her spoon and made a forlorn face. “Okay, just eat that one and then I’d like my berries back.”

She ate that one while I took a bite of macaroni. When I looked back up, she was spooning up about twelve berries.

“Uh-oh, I guess I had another one,” she said.

Hucklecide

Breaking news

Laurie is out of town this weekend, so I am in charge of Iris. I just put her to bed and am enjoying a very adult nightcap of madeira with pirate-themed M&Ms.

Luckily, I didn’t have to go it alone today. I had some new magazines to guide me. Just in case you thought I was being too hard on the parenting mags, I present to you every single headline from the covers of the June issues of Parents and Parenting:

* Outwit your toddler! How to regain control
* Your baby’s amazing senses: What they teach her about life, and love
* Got 3 minutes? Get in shape!
* Baffling dad behavior, explained
* “Where do babies come from?” Smart answers to tough questions
* Summer safety: Best ways to protect your child
* 36 fun ways to get kids to cooperate
* Sun scare: Protect your child from skin cancer
* Tame toddler tantrums overnight
* Raise a polite kid: An age-by-age manners guide
* Real mom secrets to losing the baby weight, earning $$$ at home, finding time for friends
* Plus: Playdates! Picnics! Playhouses!

To be fair, I did learn a couple of things. First of all, where babies come from. WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME THIS BEFORE? Second, I now understand some of my baffling behavior. Although they didn’t explain why Dad thinks madeira goes well with M&Ms.