When is cheese just cheese and when is it a stroke of genius? Is there even a difference between artisanal cheese and plastic wrapped grocery store cheese?

Of course there is a difference. But does that difference amount to much? Well, yes, and no!

I love the big bold flavor of good ole American Cheddar cheese.

But to be fair, I should say I love the big, bold flavor of good ole American Cheddar style cheese.

And to further define what I mean I am only referring to Farmhouse Cheddar. Because all the other styles (even the much beloved New York style) just do not stand up to the original in my opinion.

Technically, only cheeses produced in 4 counties of the South West of England (Somerset, Devon, Dorset, and Cornwall) may be given the Protected Designation of Origin name "West Country Farmhouse Cheddar"

Do you know that kind of sour that makes your saliva glands ache a little and actually squirt just thinking about biting into something? It’s like, no you don’t want to eat that, but you can’t stop yourself! And there you are 3 seconds later... not wanting to take yet another bite. But you know you will! A little shiver goes down your spine and you can’t decide if it is from pleasure or pain!

Well that’s the kind of sour I have for you today. The sour kind of sour, that can only be described as hurts so goooood!

And look at these things, I have seen engagement rings with less sparkle and appeal!

So break through your barriers, put aside your fears, and let's take a journey on the sour side.

Pickled Rhubarb Rubies!

Well it happened.

It was bound to, too. My mustard jar is empty. I have spooned the last of it into my mouth. I feel it is time to call an end to this journey into the land of mustard. Au Revoir!

But as my hand hovers over the recycling bin, I can’t help but notice all the mustard that still clings to the sides of the jar.

There is probably two tablespoons of mustard stuck to the sides of the jar. But I do not have the patience or the right implements to get the last tenacious, misty remnants scraped off and into my mouth.

Or do I?

I am sure the last of the mustard is just as good as the first.

Maybe this residual mustard was not lucky enough to make it into my lighter “hollandaise style” sauce. Perhaps it was too shy to throw it all on the line for “mussels amour”. Whose fault is it if this particular bit of mustard was too timid to stand next to a “big-cheese” like double-cheddar.

I never even gave this mustard a shot at inclusion in my “poached chicken“ recipe. But that was my fault. I wanted to make homemade mustard. This tiny bit of mustard should not be punished for my thoughtless actions.

It’s no wonder that by the time the “swordfish kabobs” and “potato gratin” came around, these last bits of mustard had retreated.  Clinging aimlessly to the side of the jar. How could any of it have known that there might be another shot at infamy. Another road to glory. A final pathway to genius!

I have been looking forward to this week for sometime.

Today’s Market Matters is turning its sights on the moong bean, the mash bean. Sometimes called munggo or monggo.  Green gram, golden gram, and green soy.

But you may know it as the Mighty Mung Bean!

Yep this is the bean responsible for the ubiquitous bean-sprout of salad bar fame! But I think it is much more interesting fresh; un-sprouted, simply dressed and served with something pert and pretty (but not too cute sweet).

This is my favorite bean, hands down. With out a doubt. I have never met a legume I couldn’t love so this bold proclamation is really saying something!

In India the bean is cultivated during two main growing seasons. Rabi, which begins in November; and the wet monsoonal season known as Kharif, which starts in March. March? This is March!

So here’s how my mind works. Grab a pen because I paid people good money to get to the bottom of this.

I recently roasted some less than spectacular off-season tomatoes. I made a fairly time consuming, but very delicious, panzanella salad. I called it a winter panzanella because I roasted those off-season little buggers to try to coax as
much sweetness out of them as I could.

This is great trick. But based on some of the emails I received I need to point out that I am not a genius. This method is not something I “invented”. I’ll say it again. I AM NOT A CHEF.  I cannot save you culinarily.

But there is one thing I do know. There are very few tricks in cooking (read life) that have not been tried before. I first had winter tomatoes slow roasted like this at Babbo in New York City a very, very long time ago. Not the 1800s long time
ago. But Bill Clinton was President and my 401k looked pretty healthy. Healthy enough to pay for overcooked tomatoes in a city across the country from where I actually lived.

But I have digressed.

So it’s barely a week past thanksgiving, you'd think I’d want to turn off the stove, curl up with a good book and sit by the fire. But you’d be wrong, or at least part wrong.

Now I may live in Los Angeles, and you’ve probably bought into that ridiculous rumor…something about California having no distinct seasons. But you’d be wrong.

The holidays also make me want to see friends and family! That means more cooking. And I mean cooking December style!

It may not snow here (at least at sea level). But winter in Southern California can be bright and crisp and cool: and full of inspiration for a good meal.  I crave something warm and hearty, yet healthy and flavorful. 

What better time than now than to introduce what I am going to call Sippity Suppers!