Check out the awesome slideshow with tons of close-up sandwich porn on www.bkmag.com/!!!
Click here for your chance to win a free copy: http://www.weldonowen.com/blog/win-free-copy-cookbook
We’ll be the first to admit that we were WAY behind the artisinal movement. Less than 12 months ago we were still using Tide detergent, Heinz Ketchup and Kleenex Kleenex. But then we moved to Williamsburg and all of that changed. Now I’m writing this on a hand crafted Apple laptop produced in small batches in a warehouse in East Williamsburg which might be Bushwick but like whatever because Bushwick is the new Williamsburg.
This illustration from NY Mag shows a lot of Artisinal small batch stuff you didn’t know you needed. But now you absolutely need it.
For those of you reading that are unfamiliar with Williamsburg, its the epicenter of America’s revitalization and therefore the most important place on earth. It also has sick sick dive and cocktail bars that all seem to be serving $1 oysters. (Williamsburgians care a great deal about small batch ice cream but care very little about decimating the eastern seaboard’s oyster population). As the NYtimes has so many times and so eloquently pointed out, everything that’s happening in Williamsburg should be duplicated all around America to revitalize the economy. If there isn’t a coffee shop/cupcake shop/vintage boutique/craft beer hall in your city, you need to open this. The barrier to entry is so low dude, all you need is like 2 friends and a warehouse.
Say what you will future President Romney and future past President Obama, but manufacturing on a large scale is not the answer to cure America’s ills. (Manufacturing is this thing that usually takes place in “Factories” which is an out dated American term similar to “sock hop” and “hand written notes”. Ask your parents if you are confused).
The way America is going to retain its position as the #1 global superpower is with baby batches. Not baby steps. Small baby sized batches of stuff. Everyone in American needs to start battening down the hatches and get their artisinal production on. Reclaim some wood, sew some duvet covers, reduce some liquid into sauce and for the love of Christ, open an etsy account.
Since we like to lead by example, we are starting a brand new Sussman Brothers branded venture with the Clinton County Correctional Facility, one of NY state’s finest and its largest Maximum Security prison. Located in upstate New York nestled amongst the beauty that is the American countryside, the inmates of Clinton County are turning out the best small batches of Pruno we’ve ever drank. For those of you out there who don’t read Lucky Peach, Pruno is toilet wine and it’s about to go underground mainstream which is the best type of way to go mainstream. It’ll be the LCD Soundsystem of adult beverages. So after much back and forth with the warden, we are happy to announce our new company which is going to revitalize America one small batch at a time. It is called…drum roll please:
Clinton County Correctional Distillery
Our first batch is a 2012 vintage with hints of bruised apples, bulk in bulk oranges, Sprite, wonderbread, Splenda and ketchup. At 14% it’s similar in alcohol content to a great summer rose. Perfect for sipping on your patio or fire escape it also pairs brilliantly with fish or poultry. They are retailing for $60 each and come in really cool reclaimed Gatorade bottles that are perfect for decorating your apartment after you drink the pruno. Each label is hand drawn and numbered by the inmates.
We are certified by the state of New York and our production facility is tossed every day for anything that could dilute the purity of our product. You could probably drink the product directly out of the distilling bowl it’s so clean in there!
We have to admit our production schedule is a bit shaky since our master craftsman has a bad temper and is currently in solitary confinement, but we expect to have another batch delivered by August 2nd. We are accepting online orders and inquiries now!
For more information and ordering please visit: www.ClintonCorrectionalDistillery.com
Know this ordinary citizen: Mayor Michael Bloomberg is just like us. He understands you and your needs as a normal NY’er because he himself is a normal NY’er. He’s as American as a 2 liter of coke. He’s as American as the Big Gulp. He’s as American as free refills.
Take a look at how similar his daily routine is compared to yours:
Each morning as the white doves are releases into his room, he rises from his dictator sized bed (2 sizes larger than a California King. Queen, King, Cal King, President, Sheik, Dictator) and is carried via Cleopatra’s carrying chair (purchased cash in hand at Sotheby’s 1999) to his 2,200 sq foot bathroom made entirely of Marble from The Parthenon. In his commode, his six Victoria Secret-esque hand maids bathe him and then rub whale semen all over his body to maintain perfect skin moisture PH and elasticity. After having the entire NY Times front page acted out by Tony nominated Broadway actors on the “news stage” in his newsroom, he has his tailors hand sew his Brioni suit to his well honed frame in his in-apartment tailoring shop. As he gazes out at the city from his “gazing room” he breaths in just such a way that his consigliere realizes Mr. Bloomberg is ready to take food in to his body in order to break down the natural sugars and create energy (Mr. Bloomberg doesn’t just eat). He moves to his 6,000 sq foot Frank Gehry designed breakfast nook and sits down to eat artisinal gold leaf flecked granola, drink Guatamalan fair trade coffee roasted in house by real alive Guatamalens and eat fresh fruit hand delivered daily by the finest fruit mongers then brunoised into perfect bite sized pieces by Jean Vorge. Then it’s just a quick jaunt upstairs via duck tales elevator (it’s an elevator filled with gold coins – impractical but necessary) to illegally fly his helicopter around NYC all in hopes of finding the mythical perfect AT&T cell phone reception.
So it’s quite shocking to hear that The Mayor could be so detached from what his constituency wants. He’s gone rogue by banning the sale of sugar beverages above 16 oz. He’s clearly forgot that by the time he runs for his 5th term all the 12 year olds he’s angering will be of voting age. And let me tell you, take soda away from a 12 year old and they NEVER forget you.
I got the google alert via text – (I have soda, soda pop, vernors, mexican coke and Fresca all set as google alerts so I can stay abreast of all sodapop related media situations) while watching the Avengers for the 3rd time. I screamed and knocked over my soda which was of course absolutely gigantic. As the pop cascaded down the theater style seating soaking tourist flip flop after tourist flip flop, a large part of my soul started to dry up. Because the idea of what America should be was simultaneously drying up. I wanted to quench this saharan dryness of anti-patriotism, but alas, there was no more soda within my grasp. And I knew then that 16 oz. of soda would never be enough to fill this widening chasm of Un-American thinking the mayor had put forth.
News outlets are reporting that the revelation came when Mr. Bloomberg was dining al fresco on his 325 ft. yacht “The Ticker Tape” and realized that the 16 oz champagne flutes filled with the sweat of virgins (already impossible to find on shelves in The Hamptons) was a lot of liquid.
That’s how America works now. A man says “this is enough liquid for me personally. And I think everyone else should only be able to consume this much liquid as well.” So the gears of democracy churned and he issued a decree from his 76th floor throne:
From this moment forth Soda can be consumed only in 16 oz increments.
In his own words : We aren’t limiting your ability to consume 32 oz. of soda, we are just making it so you need to carry two 16 oz. cups.
How am I supposed to carry my popcorn and soft pretzel and sour patch kids with two 16 oz sodas – one in each hand? What is this – Iran? I guess I’ll do that thing when I hook the snacks with my pinky’s and pinch it between the cups I hold together as a walk. I’m sure that won’t be awkward when I drop my soft pretzel on the floor of the bathroom but don’t throw it away and then eat it shamefully in the theater.
You know what a huge drink is? It’s innovation. It holds MORE liquid in one spot. This country was built on innovation. I’ve seen at least $50mill of bailout money funded car ads announcing that much. And America’s leaders won’t stop talking about how as a country we need more forward thinkers, more innovators, more great leaders. I’ll tell you what limiting young people’s ability to drink sodas 24 hours a day is : backwards thinking that will produce less innovators and less great leaders. Why don’t you suck down that italicized revelation with a big huge straw from my 16oz glass of go fuck yourself because your are destroying this great nation.
Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness. A big coke sure helps me live life to the fullest. It gets me jacked up. It makes me feel happy as hell! And strong too! Like Superman! Like…like I could climb the statue of Liberty! You know what I’m talking about. James Madison wrote that on his front porch. And you know what he was doing? Drinking a 75 oz tea sweetened with a gallon of sweet pure cane sugar extracted by well paid unionized workers.
After the American flag, I am not sure there is a more fitting emblem of American dominance and greatness than this:
Frank Bruni argues in his piece that Mayor Bloomberg isn’t taking anything away from us. I disagree. He’s taking everything away from us. He’s taking away our birthright as American citizens. The right to choose. All Americans can agree that we should all have the right to choose and government shouldn’t interfere. If I invited Abraham Lincoln, George Washington and James Madison over tomorrow to my house to get gay married, then get an abortion while firing off automatic weapons and drinking 2 liters of coke, they would emphatically RSVP yes.
Because that is what America is about. Bigger. Better. Sweeter. Freedom.
If this is an experiment bound to fail, then the summer was the right time to put it into action. Limit kids ability to consume pop when they don’t need the valuable energy soda can deliver. Summer is about enjoying yourself outdoors. So yes, give em water. But when school rolls back and it’s time to crack the whip and hit the books, I say we put free refill soda fountains in every hallway of every school in America. As America slips behind other developing nations we need our young people alert, focused and ready to learn. And huge sodas can help kids achieve and maintain that level of focus. We can bring America back to its dominant state. It’s not going to be easy. But we can do it together, one big gulp at a time.
Check it out – we were selected as one of the Zagat’s 30 under 30 for 2012!
The whole list can be seen here:
The NY Times, for seemingly the hundreth time this year has reported on a piece of critical hard hitting news and is now being accused of not fact checking the story. (Who runs that place, Rebekah Brooks?). If you’ve been choosing to read about wars or politics or economics, you may have missed that the NY Times accused several top celebrities, chefs and food personalities of using ghostwriters when writing cookbooks and online recipes. In fact they got several ghostwriters on record to say they do the ghostwriting. The celebrity chefs are outraged saying this is basically culinary McCarthyism by the NY Times.
And we couldn’t agree more. Between the slanted reporting on the egregious lawsuits against Batali to the juvenile coverage and outrageous claims that famed restauranteur Bobby Deniro is racist against white people, we are sick and tired of liberal news media jumping all over the greatest minds and faces in food and dragging them through the mud for no good reason.
Immediately after the accusations, the subjects in the story took to the blogosphere and twitterverse. And its been a boudin-bath. What has since unfolded over the course of several national news cycles is now being referred to as #cookbookghostgate and this. shit. be. divisive.
So, like Woodward and Bernstein before us, we’re gonna get our expose on. And like Scully and Mulder…we know the truth is out there. And we’re going to find the truth…facts and fact checking be damned.
Whetting the appetite of our interest
We were ABSOLUTELY SHOCKED (bolded for serious emphasis) that the NY times article was inferring that Rachel Ray, Paula Deen, Martha Stewart and other food celebs do not write their own recipes. Wha….WHAA…WHATTTTT????? THEY DON’T WRITE EVERY SINGLE WORD ATTRIBUTED TO THEM? So says a group of publicity hungry liars by claiming they are ghostwriters (and therefore demonstrating they clearly don’t value their their own lives by going up against this culinary Cosa Nostra).
Upon hearing that these famous food celebs might not write every single word themselves, nervous thoughts raced through our heads:
-How do we know if it will work in under 30 minutes if Ms. Ray hasn’t graced the keyboard with her lovely perky fingers and hit upload of each and every recipe to RachelRay.com?
- How do we know if the butter ratios in Ms. Deen’s recipes are the actual proper amounts now? We can only assume that an ingredient list that contains ”6 lbs. of butter” seems correct. But we NEED to be sure that in fact Ms. Deen is writing the recipe herself while sitting at her oak dining room table on her plantation in Savannah. Anything else is just deceitful.
- How do we know if our guests will love our handmade rustic napkin holders that Martha Stewart just blogged about if in fact Martha Stewart is nowhere near a computer and is actually on a yacht in St. Tropez with P.Diddy exchanging low-security prison stories while drinking cocaine flavored Mai Tai’s?
The NY times seemed to have uncovered the filthy underbelly of food celebrity cookbook and recipe writing. But then from the gated hills of Malibu…a response.
Gwyneth Paltrow vs. Julia Turshen
In case you don’t know GP, she’s the editor in chief of poop.com (its like Groupon for really uppity white bitches who think Tory Burch is the Jesus Christ of womenswear) and most famously, a movie star who was oscar nominated for the role of Young Wendy in Hook.
So after the NYtimes writes like a billion word article about how GP didn’t write her cookbook and some lady named Julia Turshen did, Gwyn took to twitter and launched this viscious attack back at @nytimes:
Oh wait, actually that seemed like a pretty rational, logical and concise response with excellent grammar. (Girl can write, right?)
But the NY Times reported Julia Turshen is the ghostwriter! Now we are thoroughly confused.
So do we trust the celebrity married to a rock star that starred in our favorite movie Sliding Doors or some no name ghostwriter who may or may not even be alive considering she’s admitting she’s a ghost?<–(worst joke by far in this entire post). In the words of Detective David Mills “Who wrote the cookbook?? Who wrote the cookboooookkkk? Who actually wrote the cookbook?? You tell me. You tell. Who wrote the cookbook???”
Well, when you google Julia Turshen, her personal website is a .net. So without fact checking, emailing her or doing even a second more research, we know she’s a communist who is dating that KONY guy who masturbates on parking meters like some sort of sexual deviant version of Cool Hand Luke. There is no way someone with a .net would be enlisted by someone as .com saavy as Gweny P.
Winner: Gwyneth Paltrow
Rachel Ray vs. NY Times
If you go to http://www.rachaelray.com/food_results.php?cID=1 there are 393 pages of Recipes. She’s also written dozens of cookbooks. She also has TV shows. And a magazine. And she makes public appearances. So, yeah, she has plenty of time to bang out a calzone recipe every 15 minutes for her website.
So do we think Rachel Ray writes all of her own recipes? Considering Rachel Ray is a cyborg that needs no sleep and runs on energy harnessed from the electro-magnetic radiation of studio lights and the glow of her ipad, we are confident the NY Times got this one wrong too.
Winner: Rachel Ray
It’s clear that the NYtimes should issue a full scale apology. The facts in our argument are deafening. The written word rebuttal tweets of the accused are a 21st congressional hearing in real time. “Ms. Moskin! Tear down that wall!”
*Max and Eli Sussman cannot be responsible for the content of this entire post. It was written by a ghostwriter.
I’m really honored to have been nominated as one of the 2012 James Beard Foundation Awards in the Rising Star Chef of the Year category. It’s a tremendous feeling to be recognized as a part of what we do every day at Roberta’s. – MAX
Thanks for coming to our blog. We’ve got some ridiculous pics in the food porn section and some of our favorite music recos from our ipod and what we play in the kitchen in the cooking playlist section. Simmering stuff is where we talk a bit of shit where we need more than 140 characters. And you can follow us on twitter @thesussmans for random semi-nonsensicle partly retardo montalbon shenanigans.
Max Sussman, a 2007 University of Michigan graduate, is chef de cuisine at Roberta’s, a Brooklyn pizza restaurant that earned two stars last year from former New York Times restaurant critic Sam Sifton.
Metro Detroit food readers may remember brothers Max and Eli Sussman as the authors of the 2008 cookbook, “Freshman in the Kitchen: From Clueless Cook to Creative Chef” (Huron River Press, $17.95). Their second collaboration, a cookbook aimed at adventurous 20-somethings, is due out this year from Williams-Sonoma.
Max, 29, and Eli, 26, share an apartment in Brooklyn, where Eli Sussman is a line cook at Mile End Delicatessen.
The Beard Foundation’s Rising Star Chef category includes 30 semifinalists this year. The field will be narrowed to five finalists in March, and the winner will be announced in New York in May.
The Beard awards, named in honor of American culinary icon James Beard, are the highest awards given food and beverage professionals in North America.
Contact Sylvia Rector at 313-222-5026 and email@example.com.
The best way to avoid Valentine’s day is either to spend it with friends or to buy a tub of ice cream, put on PJ’s and watch The Legend of Billy Jean.
As a birthday gift to my friend Rachel, I told her I’d cook dinner for her and a few guests of her choosing. I figured this would be a way I could give her a personal present and also hone my skills cooking a multi-course meal and plating in a very small NYC apartment kitchen. As schedules would have it, this Valentine’s Day was the best time for everyone involved, so around 7pm I went over to her apartment to begin cooking a vegetarian dinner for her guests (who also happen to be my good friends).
If you are going to cook a dinner for friends, it helps to do it in a beautiful apartment with a professional photographer present. I’ll be honest – this same post with pictures from my iphone instantly becomes the shittiest most unveiwable post around. So big thanks to Ashley Sears - http://www.ashleysears.com/ for the amazing photographs you see here.
This was my packing list to make sure I didn’t leave anything I needed for the dinner at my apt (I ended up leaving the frosting for dessert at home anyways, but it would have been overkill so no big deal). The list also served as a way for me to make sure I didn’t leave anything off each dish when I plated.
The cauliflower dish stays mysterious for now but you’ll be able to see it and cook it when our cookbook comes out in August!
Oh my God (the Mormon one, not the Christian or Jewish one) does Ann Romney make a mean crab cake (I ate 26 cakes) and a sinful Boston Cream pie (I took down 5 slices). After leaving the prebuttal to the State of the Union viewing party at the Romney’s main resident in Massachusetts (until it becomes 1600 Pennsylvania ave!), I was positively stuffed…With Democratic propaganda!! To quote Ann Romney “that State of the Union was a lot of Hooey” (that’s the harshest swear word you can use in a Mormon home). Personally, I am so sick of Obama harping on how he got Osama. That was months ago! What has he done lately? To quote Mitt’s first born, Tagg Heuer Romney, “We have got to take this country BACK. And Mitt Romney is going to do it!” (Right after fixing the winch on the dock in his boathouse.)
But let’s rewind – How in the world did I end up watching the live simulcast of Romney’s prebuttal to the State of the Union at the home base of the soon to be most powerful man in the world?
Like everything, it all really goes back to twitter. A few weeks ago I was downright sick that everyone was talking about McCain endorsing Romney. This information was useless and did not matter to a single person under 85 years old. I was nearly positive McCain had died a while ago. So I tweeted at Mitt Romney asking him his stance on a hot button controversial issue crucial to young voters:
@MittRomney no one cares about @senjohnmccain endorsement. Pls stay on target for young voters. Are u making gushers+dunkaroos free or what
I waited an hour, no @reply. A day. No @reply. I became frustrated. Was this how democracy was supposed to work? I’d seen live tweet ups sponsored by something I’d never heard of called Yahoo and town halls sponsored by something I’d never heard of called AOL and at these streaming events Obama was @replying and hashtaging and video chatting and skyping and face timing. Obama’s SMG (social media game) was locked up tight. And here was Romney – the impeccably toothed, perfectly tailored logical next President – and the man can’t even @reply me. I know he has a blackberry like all influential businessmen do. Doesn’t he have a twitter app? I was crushed.
But not to be deterred that easily, I tried again to see if Romney would address something that mattered deeply to me and my young voting peers. As a native Detroiter, Vernors – a ginger soda created in the cradle of the great lake’s bossom- is my favorite pop. And Romney, as we all know, is Detroit’s favorite son that left, bought houses in every other state in America, become governor of Massachusetts and was in charge of the Salt Lake Olympics. I mean this man bleeds Detroit (and he’s got the rough hands of a Detroit auto worker to prove it). So I again harnessed the power of the twitter and asked Romney to share his Detroit pride with America and to showcase our fine hometown city on the rise. I tweeted:
@mittromney Since you were governor of Mass. and you’re from Mich you’re campaign drink must be the Boston cooler using Vernors right?
I waited an hour. Nothing. Tears welled up (but I’m not a Democrat pussy so no liquid left those ducts). I turned on Fox and Friends to drown my sorrows because Gretchen’s voice is like a harp being played by Clay Aiken’s singing voice. Yea her voice is like another person’s singing voice playing a harp. Its that hard to visualize and its that beautiful. But Then! A direct message! It was from Mitt. My heart was pounding as I read:
“You bring up many crucial and important issues I’d like to discuss.Join us for our SOTU viewing party in Mass.I’ll txt you the address.Mitt”
He didn’t leave a single character unused. I like a man who has experience taking control over something, using it up completely and leaving nothing left.
I grabbed my bag and threw everything khaki,wool or GOP red I owned inside. I was headed to Massachusetts to hang out with Mormons. This was going to be absolutely wild.
I pulled up to the Romneys mansion and each window had a candle lit inside just like when you watch Christmas movies about rich dysfunctional families. There was no less than 3 Jeep Grand Wagoners in the driveway. There were all these incredibly handsome guys playing football catch outside and they were wearing down vests over sweaters. I took a picture and texted it to my buddy Tommy. All he texted me back was “Ugghhh Jealous.” (That Hilfiger. Such a jealous little bitch!).
I was ushered inside and taken to the study. In the empty room, Mitt was sitting behind a huge ornate hand carved wooden desk. He looked like Paul Newman in Hudsucker Proxy.But more handsome. He was furiously writing on a pad of paper and didn’t look up.
“This belonged to my father George. I’ve bought and sold a lot of companies from this desk.”
I added on: “And created a lot of jobs in the process!”
Mitt laughed deeply, and then restated to me what I’d just said, but in his own eloquent political verbiage “and provided a great number of true Americans with fulfilling jobs that help reinforce the backbone of this wonderful country.”
Romney went back to writing.
I got up to excuse myself. “Thank you for having me sir. It’s an honor.”
I turned. His face was still down. Thoughts pouring out via pen on un-recycled paper.
“Thank you for illuminating those serious issues you tweeted me about earlier. You better believe I’ll touch on those in my prebuttal of tonight’s State of the Union. And find Matt Rhodes my campaign manager. He’d like to delve deeper with you into some of the finer points on food policy. I won’t be dropping the ball on issues like free Dunkaroos for everyone under 30. The far right will call me a socialist. But you have my word.”
I excused myself from the study and saw people were already gathering in the screening room to watch the state of the union pre-pre-coverage of Romney’s prebuttal. I wanted to grab some food first so I made my way to the kitchen for the buffet. I found myself at the back of a long line forming. My mouth was watering. The debate was only 8 hours away and I wanted to get a good seat to be able to see Mitt read his prebuttal live from his in-home studio.
I filled my plate and began to make my way to the screening room ready to cheer the pre-buttal by the next President of the United States. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the dessert table. My heart swelled and again my ducts filled. He had heard me. My tweet had carried the most crucial issues directly to Mitt’s Bain capitol issued Blackberry. It was all the way across the room, but I could just barely see next to the chocolate covered pretzels, stacked nicely in a wicker basket, a tower of Gushers, waiting just for me.