Tropical Cocktail, 3 Courses, $32: Coolinary At Irish House
The hottest temperatures of the year are forecast for the next few days. This makes the appeal of the Coolinary menu at The Irish House even more appealing. It begins with a Caiparihna cocktaill–the Caribbean and South American classic of rum (locally made Rougaroux Rum, to be exact), lime juice, and lots of crushed ice. Then you get the menu that follows:
Heirloom Tomato & Honeydew Salad
Spicy, rice wine vinaigrette
Lamb Shank Ragout
A rich stew with lamb all but falling apart over basil pasta and grated Parmesan cheese
Golden Raisin Cake
Buttercream icing
This dinner has one more winning quality: at $32, it’s going for three dollars less than the Coolinary standard. It goes on through the rest of the month and into the next couple of weeks after that. This is at dinner hours. They also have a $15 Coolinary lunch.
Irish House
Lee Circle Area: 1432 St Charles Ave. 504-595-6755. www.theirishhouseneworleans.com.
NOMenu invites restaurants or organizations with upcoming special events to tell us, so we might add the news to this free department. Send to news@nomenu.com.
Thursday, August 14, 2014.
Introduction To Square Root.
The first part of this diary entry ran in yesterday’s newsletter. I’m repeating it here a) for your convenience and 2) because I revised it a little.
Twice during my run as chronicler of the New Orleans restaurant galaxy, I had the feeling that a new era in dining out had begun. The first was in the early 1980s, when Mr. B’s, Bouligny, Clancy’s, Gautreau’s and the Upperline created the gourmet Creole bistro. They had new but recognizably local food from new chefs in casual, cool environments, with a lot of grilling and much better wines by the glass than we had known. Such restaurants became by far the most popular kind of white-tablecloth restaurants in New Orleans, and they still are.
The second time was during the summer of 1990, when Emeril’s opened, followed quickly by Bayona and the Pelican Club. In those restaurants the provenance of the ingredients became the most important issue, and the chefs pushed the guys in suits into the background. Once again, the rest of the fine-dining restaurants followed suit.
I had my first dinner at Square Root tonight, and I have that feeling again. I also have the feeling I’m going out on a limb by saying so. So let’s go: Chef Philip Lopez’s new, highly innovative, sixteen-seat restaurant will fire off enough new restaurants like it that a decade from now, after some evolution, this will be the kind of restaurant where people will eat avidly.
Square Root
In command of an astonishing sense of taste and encyclopedic knowledge of local and world cuisine, Lopez cooks food that is in equal parts fascinating to think about and lusty to taste. Those two restaurant entities–the dish with the great backstory and the one with the irresistible flavor and aroma–only occasionally coincide. You either have the yard duck egg cooked at 141 degrees for exactly one hour and seven minutes, or you have the standard eggs benedict with month-old supermarket eggs, pre-sliced Canadian bacon, hollandaise made by the five gallons, on an English muffin. I would not take a bet on which of those would be the more enjoyable to eat. A good story is not a reliable predictor of good taste.
Lobster mole at Square Root
That word lusty I used above is the one I need to describe the best dish in my dinner tonight. The chef says that it’s lobster chilaquiles verde–a dry, pan-seared combination of little morsels of this and that, with charred onion dust (the grey-looking stuff at the top of the photo) bergamot crema (sour cream flavored with a citrus used mostly for hot tea), and lobster molé. That last element is one of my favorite flavors, so I pursue its use further. Chef tells that it’s in the tradition the extra-dark, almost black molé they make around Oaxaca, Mexico.
Eating this–even in the small amounts served in each of the twelve courses we had tonight–I found myself struggling to put together the right words to explain just how marvelous this was. I keep coming back to banalities like “fantastic” and “unbelievably good” and “it’s the best ever.” This failure of words reminded me of other times when the same thing happened, but for totally different reasons. During the best sex of my life, I was comparably bereft of words. Nothing said in those times came close to capturing what should have been said–whatever, indeed, that was. It was both a supreme mental and physical experience, simultaneously, each of them escalating the other.
The dinner tonight is a run-through for another, bigger Square Root dinner my friendly dermatologist Dr. Bob plans to hold in two weeks. He will fill all sixteen seats with friends with whom he dines often (fortunately, I am one of them), and equip the menu with some wines he’s looking to taste from his own cellar. I think he wanted me to get my picture-taking out of the way so I could concentrate on the sensual aspects of the food and wine.
To make sure the wines tonight are up to the level of the dinner (and vice-versa), he brings a Montrachet and a Chateau Lynch-Bages–two wines not exactly from hunger. All but one of the stools at the bar (which is also the kitchen and dining room, all designed by the chef) are filled with people we didn’t know, some of them from out of town. They didn’t arrive all at the same time, which surprised me. Philip says that’s not one of the rules.
Other non-existent rules allow full permission to take photographs, to ask about dishes in detail and expect detailed replies, and to talk with other people at the triangular table. There is no sense that our palates or our minds are slaves of the chef. No feeling that this is a religious rite.
Fried chicken cotton candy.
We begin with what looks like cotton candy atop a box filled with fried okra and an ooze identified as fermented mustard seeds. The cotton, it turns out, is also fried-chicken flavor, in what is surely the most unusual transmogrification in my long lifetime of eating fried chicken.
Oyster with watermelon at Square Root.
Next comes a raw oyster on its shell, doused with mignonette sauce. Not the familiar kind with finely-diced onions and vinegar, but with watermelon morsels and juice. Snow made by freezing mixture of buttermilk and horseradish with liquid nitrogen covers and chills the oyster.
Okay. Clearly they are playing games back there. My antennae, tuned to the foolishness frequency, vibrate. But wait! The fried chicken thing was a fine first taste, with protein and sharpness working together to make that second (third, perhaps?) first mouthful of Montrachet better than the one before. Ditto on the oyster. Here are two appetizers in the literal sense of that word. I couldn’t think of anything about these two bites that I didn’t like. Dr. Bob felt the same way.
“Egg Sardou,” step one. . .
. . . and step two, at Square Root.
Any doubts I have about whether Philip Lopez is my kind of chef vanishes when he brings “eggs Sardou.” The current punctuation usage is that when a chef encloses a dish name with quotation marks, he is saying that it isn’t really what it says it is. In this case, it’s a reconstruction of the classic ingredients for that famous New Orleans (Antoine’s, to be exact) fancy egg dish: eggs and spinach. The egg is warm, suggesting hollandaise. The spinach goes into the making of an unearthly green gazpacho, poured over the egg at the table. Tarragon and shavings of black truffle finish the dish. This was–to quote Richard Collin’s comment about the same dish at Brennan’s in 1969–food for the gods. The palate is enclosed in pleasure, and the mind reels with delight, the way it does when it processes brilliant music or sculpture.
I know I sound effusive, but I am not exaggerating. Here is the brilliance of this chef and his inspirations. Nothing is so bizarre that the average person would write it off as “gourmet food.”
Foie gras with pickled blueberries.
Onward. Foie gras looks like a miniature stick of butter, with about the same texture. Chef reveals that this is made in sort of the same way that a foie gras torchon is. A little better, too. Coconut ad caraway seeds ground down to “gravel” is part of a scattering of pickled blueberries and dribs and drabs of very old balsamic vinegar.
Okay. None of the above is the sort of thing casual diners are likely to order in a casual restaurant. But foie gras appears to be required by law in any ambitious dinner.
Chanterelles and huitlacoche, step one. . .
Now a kind of salad, topped by the most beautiful mushroom in the world (chanterelles, which I know are very fresh because they’re coming up at the Cool Water Ranch right now) and huitlacoche–”corn smut,” to use its familiar name. Dr. Bob and I said it almost in unison: “Wait a minute! I just had corn smut last week!” We had indeed, at the same dinner at Restaurant August. What were the chances?
In this manifestation, the corn fungus (a delicacy in Mexico, a scourge in America; the Mexicans have it right) was made into a veloute, plopped right onto the top of the fresh leaves and pappardelle noodles.
Dr. Bob thought it was time to open the Chateau Lynch-Bages. This is a great Bordeaux from Pauillac, a wines I have not had in ages, although they rank near the top of my preferences. I didn’t catch the vintage, but it had developed classic Bordeaux bouquet since whenever Dr. Bob bought it.
Blueberry ice at Square Root.
At the same time, the chef sent out what I think is the most unusual plate I’ve seen in a formal dinner. It looked as if it had been made for serving Sugar Pops. Inside it was a fun course: blueberry ice flavored with fennel fronds, lemon balm, watermelon (it’s in season!) and Egyptian (so what?) chamomile. (Again with the hot-tea flavorings.) This is here not to advance the cause so much as to cleanse our palates, as they say.
Back to work. The dish of the night, the one I described above with the black Oaxacan molé and lobster, is here. The one that reminded me of–not sex, certainly, but that speechlessness you get when it comes to that with the partner of your life. Really.
Wagyu beef short rib steak, Square Root.
If foie gras is required of all gourmet dinners, then some kind of beef steak is mandatory at any other banquet attended by people of typical tastes. And here it is, a cuboid of steak cut from Wagyu beef (so what?) short ribs, seared just the way I like (black here and there, juicy in the center). Inside and outside an oval drawn in a gastrique-thick sauce soubise (oniony) are what look like miniature eggs made of miso.
Interesting dish: after I ate it, it occurred to me that here was the parallel to the menu at Chef Philip’s other restaurant, Root. Over there, the more a dish resembles a standard restaurant entree, the less interesting to eat it is. That seems to be true here, too–if I can say such a thing based on only one eating. It was far from mediocre, but stopped well short of the magic we saw the rest of the evening.
Nitrogen macaroons, Square Root.
The final course brought out the liquid nitrogen again, used to solidify an egg yolk caramel and milks. It all came out white–whether from the supercooled temperatures or the ingredients, I don’t know. I do know that I shoved a spoonful into my mouth before the nitro had warmed completely into a gas, and smoke is pouring out of my mouth. (No damage done.)
We poured some of the Montrachet and the Lunch Bags for the chef, the dining room boss (he was the only one in the magic stainless-steel triangle who was wearing a suit instead of a chef’s jacket) and the lady sommelier.
We sit around and watch the later customers come in and be served what we’d just finished, deja-vu style. I noticed two large shelves of cookbooks along the tops of the windows. I don’t see one of mine. I go out to the car and fetch a copy. “I have a copy already!” says the chef.
This guy really knows what to say to a customer.
Square Root. Garden District Environs: 1800 Magazine St. 504-309-7800.
Ignatius Eatery
Uptown 2: Washington To Napoleon: 3121 Magazine St. 504-896-2225. Map.
Casual.
AE DS MC V
Website
ANECDOTES AND ANALYSIS
Whoever designed the restaurant has a great sense of the New Orleans restaurant long-ago. Throughout the place are references to eateries from the dim past. Not one in particular, but a hybrid of many of them, all of it fanciful. That’s nice, but getting the food right is much harder. Ignatius gets that too, and allowing for the neighborhood prices, it is on a par with any other cafe serving this food.
WHY IT’S NOTEWORTHY
Ignatius’s bar.
In the same way that Mardi Gras royalty makes fun of authentic leaders, Ignatius is a subtle, tasty parody of the classic old French Creole restaurants in the Quarter. It serves shrimp remoulade, trout meuniere, filet mignon, and other dishes in that category. In fact, Ignatius makes nice work of all that. Yet you can just as easily (and successfully) get a roast beef poor boy or a plate of red beans. It’s in the thickest concentration of restaurants on Magazine Street, ready for pedestrians walking up and down the sidewalk waiting for inspiration.
Trout meuniere at Ignatius.
WHAT’S GOOD The best start: a pile of the excellent hand-cut fries and a cocktail. From there, good luck comes from all parts of the menu, top to bottom. Even the dishes that seem to be aimed at tourists (jambalaya, shrimp and grits, etc.) meet all local standards. The roast beef poor boy–the house specialty in the narrow first Ignatius–remains fine here, reaching the upper five percentile with its cooked-in-house beef, a flavorful gravy, and toasted French bread. On the other end of the spectrum you find surprisingly fine fish dishes, a good crawfish etouffee, and interesting daily specials.
Catfish poor boy and fries at Ignatius.
BACKSTORY
The name invokes the milieu dreamed up by the late John Kennedy Toole in his unique, meme-generating New Orleans novel Confederacy of Dunces. The restaurant has had two lives. The first was a poor boy shop that opened during the immediately post-Katrina boom on Magazine Street–a good time for a restaurant to become established. In 2011 Ignatius moved to a much larger space in the densest part of Magazine Street’s restaurant row. The bigger kitchen allowed a more extensive menu.
Ignatius’s dining room.
DINING ROOM
The dining room looks like Galatoire’s, Arnaud’s, Antoine’s or Tujague’s, but done on the cheap. That seems to have been the goal, and probably not done inexpensively. Big windows face the street. Passers-by see an appealing cafe-like environment. Inside, it a bit starker, but in a charming way. The servers are not the quickest-moving in town, but this too seems to fit with the mood of the place.
ONLINE MENU LOCATION
ESSENTIAL DISHES
Starters
»Fried green tomatoes, red remoulade sauce
Ignatius’s mac n’ cheese (cheddar, provolone, bacon)
Jambalaya
Red beans and jambalaya
»Shrimp remoulade salad, cucumbers, tomatoes
Poche’s pork & jalapeño boudin
»Grilled alligator sausage
Shrimp and grits
Creole seafood gumbo
»Chicken & sausage gumbo
»Corn and crab bisque
Ignatius salad (greens, tomatoes, cucumber, onions)
Caesar salad, chicken breast or shrimp optional
Fried green tomato salad, crab, chow-chow
»Strawberry salad, feta, pecans, grilled chicken
~
Entrees
»Red beans and rice with smoked sausage
»Creole jambalaya (chicken, andouille, alligator, Creole sauce, corn macaque choux
»Boudin-stuffed meatloaf
Seafood stuffed bell pepper
Crawfish étouffée
»»Speckled trout meuniere
»Bronzed redfish (with or without crabmeat)
Beef filet, lemon butter, smashed garlic potatoes
»Fried catfish platter
Fried shrimp platter
»Bayou platter (jambalaya, red beans, crawfish étouffée)
Tomato basil pasta, grilled chicken
Crawfish or shrimp Ignatius (cream sauce, parmesan cheese, mushrooms, crawfish tails)
~
Sandwiches
Served with fresh-cut fries
»Roast beef poor boy
»Sauteed shrimp remoulade poor boy
»Cochon de lait poor boy, jalapeño coleslaw
Grilled alligator sausage poor boy, onions, peppers, remoulade Hamburger
~
Desserts
»Bread pudding, with ice cream
»Pecan pie with ice cream
FOR BEST RESULTS
Any one dish here may work as an entire meal. A bowl of gumbo will not allow those of normal appetite to also have a poor boy.
OPPORTUNITIES FOR IMPROVEMENT
The menu is a bit repetitious. It could use about ten percent more diversity. They should leave the bread for the sandwiches in the oven just a minute or two longer.
FACTORS OTHER THAN FOOD
Up to three points, positive or negative, for these characteristics. Absence of points denotes average performance in the matter.
Dining Environment +1
Consistency +1
Service
Value +2
Attitude +1
Wine & Bar
Hipness +1
Local Color +2
SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES
Sidewalk tables
Open Sunday lunch and dinner
Open Monday lunch and dinner
Open all afternoon
Unusually large servings
Quick, good meal
Easy, nearby parking
No reservations
Cast-Iron Skillets: Buying, Cleaning, And Seasoning.
Q.
I think I want a couple of pieces of cast iron cookware. I am considering a twelve-inch fry pan and a five-quart dutch oven with lid in the Lodge Logic line. Is this a good choice?
A. Sounds good to me. But permit me to mention a few facts about cast-iron cookware–the oldest kind of modern cookware in wide use.
First, it is the nature of cast iron to take a long time to heat up and cool down. This has its advantages, the most notable among them being for deep frying. The iron will hold the heat better than almost anything else. On the other hand, while sauteeing something, if you leave the food in the pan after you turn the heat off, it will keep on cooking as if the heat were still on for quite awhile. It’s just something you need to remember.
Second, cast iron is brittle and heavy. It can break, and it can break things. It doesn’t work well on electric stovetops, especially the kind with the glass-enclosed heat elements.
Third, cast iron can rust. Despite what the original manufacturer’s label says, you must season it first. Here’s how. Scrub it very well with a gritty scouring powder (the best is Zud, but Comet or Ajax are okay). Use a plastic scrub pad–do not use steel wool, which will actually cause rust. Rinse the pan very well and dry it thoroughly.
Coat it with a generous amount of Crisco (or vegetable oil), and put it into the oven at 250 degrees for about a half-hour. When it cools, coat it again with more oil and repeat the process. The first few times you use it, deep-fry something in it. Then it will have a very good coating that will become non-stick over time. Don’t wash it with anything but plain water after that. No soap!
If it ever gets rusty, just repeat the process above. Happy cooking.
Chicken Grandee
This dish was made famous at Mosca’s, but it spread to many other restaurants around New Orleans. Each of them cooks it a little differently. (Mosca’s doesn’t use the sausage or bell pepper in theirs.) Feel free to add a few items of your own into the broiling pan. (If this sounds like chicken Vesuvio, then welcome to New Orleans from the Northeast!)
1 whole chicken, about 3 lbs., or three chicken breasts
1-2 Tbs. Italian seasoning
2 lbs. small white potatoes
1 lb. Italian sausage
1/3 cup olive oil
1 red or yellow bell pepper, seeds removed, cut into 1/2-inch dice
6-8 large garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
2 Tbs. lemon juice
1 Tbs, rosemary
2 tsp. oregano
2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. black pepper
Chopped parsley
1. Cut the chicken up into pieces about a third the size that the Colonel uses. Remove small bones, but it’s okay to leave the big ones. Season the pieces with salt and Italian seasoning.
2. Bring about a quart of water to a light boil. Peel the potatoes and cut them into half-moon-shaped slices about a quarter of an inch thick. Drop them into the boiling water for about two minutes. Drain and set aside.
3. Prick the skins of the sausages a few times with a kitchen fork. In a large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat, cook the sausages until browned and firm. (They don’t need to be cooked all the way through, but nearly so.) Remove the sausage, and pour off excess fat from the skillet. When the sausage has cooled enough to handle, slice into coins about a quarter-inch thick.
4. Add 2 Tbs. olive oil to the skillet. Raise the heat to high and heat until the surface begins to ripple. Add the garlic and bell peppers and cook until brown around the edges. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
5. Add the chicken pieces to the skillet and brown on all sides. They don’t need to be fully cooked. Sprinkle the lemon juice over the chicken and set aside.
6. Add the remaining olive oil to the skillet and brown the potatoes lightly over high heat, turning once.
7. Put the sliced sausage, pepper, garlic, chicken, and potatoes into a roasting pan, sprinkling the rosemary, oregano, salt, and black pepper as you go and distributing all the ingredients evenly.
8. Put the skillet in the preheated 400-degree oven and roast for 15-20 minutes, uncovered. When the biggest pieces of chicken are cooked all the way through, it’s ready.
Garnish with fresh chopped parsley.
Serves four.
Lamb Sausage With Roasted Red Peppers, Olives, Artichokes And Goat Cheese @ Crescent Pie & Sausage Company
As the name implies, this place makes its own sausages (and pies, and a lot of other things most other restaurants would buy from an outside source). This is a particularly good one–lamb sausage, in the style of North African merguez, but a good deal spicier. Which is saying something. The garnishes turn it into a meal.
Crescent Pie & Sausage Company. Mid-City: 4408 Banks St. 504-482-6264.
We find this dish to be among the 500 best in New Orleans area restaurants.
August 22, 2014
Days Until. . .
Coolinary Summer Specials End 9
Annals Of Food Under Pressure
Today is the birthday–in 1647 in France–of Denis Papin. He invented the pressure cooker. He noted that water boils at a higher temperature when under pressure, thereby cooking food faster. But he missed on the big chance. He saw that the lid of a pressure cooker had tremendous force pushing it up (in fact, he created a pressure valve to keep the thing from blowing up), and figured that this could be made into some kind of engine. But he didn’t quite finish that invention, leaving it to James Watt.
Annals Of Popular Cuisine
It’s National Spumone Day. The importance of spumone in New Orleans was demonstrated when Angelo Brocato’s–New Orleans premier maker of Italian ice cream for over 100 years–reopened in 2006. Its antique ice cream parlor on North Carrollton Avenue was welcomed back to action by a genuine festival.
Spumone is a Sicilian-style layered ice cream. The way Brocato’s makes it, the layers are pistachio, torroncino (vanilla with ground almonds and cinnamon), a bright yellow, lightly lemony flavor that has an Italian name I can’t remember, and strawberry. It’s sold in wedges, six of which make a half-gallon of ice cream. It’s the best-selling flavor at Brocato’s, with good reason. The mix of flavors is delightful, all of them rich and light at the same time. It’s great to have it back again at Brocato’s, as well as in stores and restaurants.
Oddly, when we were in Sicily in the summer of 2006, we saw no spumone in any of the many gelaterias we raided. Maybe you have to find an old stand out of the tourist areas.
High Life
Today is the birthday in 1893 of Dorothy Parker, one of the great writers on the party scene in New York in the 1920s through the 1950s. She wrote mostly for The New Yorker, and was a prominent member of the Round Table of authors at the Algonquin Hotel. She was most famous for her humorous, light verses, along the lines of this famous one: “Men seldom make passes/At girls who wear glasses.” She was the first to observe that “Eternity is two people and a ham.” And she wrote the definitive poem about martinis, a subject she knew much about:
I love a good martini
One, or two at the most
After three I’m under the table
After four I’m under the host.
Annals Of Eating Healthy
The inventor of granola was born today in 1867. Swiss physician Maximilian Bircher-Benner postulated what dietary experts are telling us now: that we should eat less meat and refined carbohydrates, we should eat more vegetables, fruits, nuts, and whole grains. He created a mix he called muesli, of oats, nuts, and dried fruit. This evolved into granola in this country. I don’t know whether to thank him or curse him.
Music To Drink Cheap Wine By
Today in 1970, Eric Burdon and War’s record Spill The Wine peaked on the pop charts at Number Three. Spill the wine. . . dig that girl. That’s almost the entire lyric of the song. Eric performed a classic New Orleans song, House of the Rising Sun, with his group of the time, The Animals.
Gourmet Gazetteer
Gin City is in the extreme southwest corner of Arkansas, forty-nine miles north of Shreveport, Louisiana. The gin being referred to in the name is the cotton gin–the machine that pulls the seeds from cotton bolls. Cotton fields cover the flat land to the horizon in most directions. The nearest place to get a martini is the Circle C Saloon, just over the Louisiana state line, eleven miles south on US 71. After a day of picking cotton, I’ll bet these people could use a drink.
Edible Dictionary
pink peppercorns, n.–While pink peppercorns are about the same size and shape as black peppercorns, and have a distinctly peppery flavor, they are unrelated to black pepper. They are the berries of the Baies rose, also known as the peppertree (confusingly, because there are other plants with that name, however). Its scientific name is schinus molle. It’s a native of South America and a relative of the mango. Most pink peppercorns are grown in Madagascar, which also produces the plant that gives black, white, and green peppercorns. Dried pink peppercorns are often mixed in a jar with those three forms of black pepper. Pink peppercorns have an herbal, aromatic background taste not found in black pepper. Some people have allergic reactions to pink peppercorns, usually the same people who can’t eat mangos.
Deft Dining Rule #470:
If a pizzeria doesn’t offer calzones, there’s a strong likelihood that the place is using pre-made, partly-baked dough for its pizza crusts. Which puts it in the lower end of the quality scale.
Food Namesakes
Captain James Cook claimed Australia for Great Britain on this date in 1770. His ships were the first European ones to land there with empire in mind. . . The last of some eleven million VW Rabbits was completed on this date in 1984. The design is still around, but they call it the Golf now, which has always been its name in Europe. . . Basketball pro Michael Curry was born today in 1968, and by strange coincidence Denise Curry, also a basketball player who won gold in the 1984 Olympics, was born on this date in 1959. . . The soft-rock group Bread hit Number One with Make It With You on this date in 1970. . . On a more classical note Candido Lima, a pioneer in creating serious music with computers, was born in Portugal today in 1939. . . Peppermint Patty, a flirtatious tomboy who called Charlie Brown “Chuck,” appeared for the first time today in 1966 in the comic strip Peanuts.
Words To Eat Spumone By
“Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.”–Jim Fiebig, relationship author.
“I doubt whether the world holds for anyone a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice cream.”–Heywood Broun, American writer of the mid-1900s.
Words To Drink By
“When your companions get drunk and fight, take up your hat and wish them good night.”–Unknown.
Seasoning Allure.
How to substitute a weird, expensive flavoring for a perfect, cheap one.
Click here for the cartoon.