Bubble and squeak

WHAT? A talking vegetable. This charmingly named British dish is made from mashed potatoes and cooked cabbage. The two are combined, then fried, and the dish is said to bubble and squeak as it cooks. The British, apparently, like to name food after the sound it makes in the pan. Consider, for instance, the singing binny (a griddle-baked spice cake). In Ladyfingers & Nun’s Tummies, Martha Barnette writes that the cake "sings" while baking. Another digression—if you search for bubble and squeak online, you may discover, as we did, a piece of conceptual sculpture (it resembles Erector Set construction) by artist Tom Phillips. He noted that in bubble and squeak a "combination of prosaic leftovers may, by culinary alchemy, produce a unique taste which cannot be arrived at if attempted with fresh ingredients. Thus, unpromising little heaps of dust in which the granules of pigment are mixed with grindings of the various erasers, gain piquancy when filed and phialled." Mmm.
WHEN? November 30, Mark Whelan, St.Andrew's

Huazontle [wah-ZONT-lay]

WHAT? El broccoli. Originally cultivated by the Aztecs, huazontle looks and tastes something like broccoli. The plant’s tender tips are stuffed with cheese, dipped in batter, and fried, an early example of fusion food; the Spaniards brought cheese to Mexico, and the huazontle was a native. Alternately, Mexicans sauté the vegetable with onions and garlic.
WHEN? November 1, Gloria Duarte, Las Bellas Artes

Sidecar

WHAT? A classy winter warmer disguised as a perky aperitif. This tippler’s classic was born in Paris around World War I. Drinkboy.com cites Colin Fields, head bartender at the Bar Hemingway in the Ritz Hotel, who tells the tale of a regular arriving at the Ritz on a cold winter’s night, chilled to the bone. He asked for something to warm him up; but he had not yet dined, and the bartender was loathe to violate the sacred rules of drink-making by serving a straight-up brandy before a meal. So he crafted a cocktail out of cognac, cointreau, and lemon juice. The result: a soul-warming mixture tart enough to pass the aperitif test. And the name? The regular, David A. Embury theorizes in The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks, was a military officer who was driven about in a motorcycle equipped with the requisite accoutrement. Embury suggests the drink might have originated not at the Ritz but at Harry’s Bar; but as Duncan MacElhone, the grandson of the bar’s legendary founder, puts it, "The history of the Sidecar is most confusing." There is no question, however, about its potent flair. The drink requires Cointreau or Triple Sec; brandy or cognac; lemon or lime or both. The mix is shaken, with or without cracked ice, and served in a chilled glass with a perfectly sugared rim. As Lycos: Cocktails reflected, "Two parts strong, one part sweet, and one part sour: These are the golden proportions of the classic cocktail, the Pythagorean formula of bibulous bliss."
WHEN? November 2, Gavin Citron, Aleutia

Sriracha [sree-rah-chah]

WHAT? Thai ketchup. Named for an Eastern coastal province in Thailand, this sweetish chili condiment is often found on the tables of Thai and Vietnamese restaurants, where customers use it to enliven their food. A shark is pictured on the bottle of a commonly sold brand, because, according to Kasma Loha-Unchit’s Dancing Shrimp, the waters off Sriracha are infested with them. In addition to chiles, sriracha includes vinegar, garlic, salt, and sugar. Similar chili sauces, from la jiao jiang in China to sambals in Indonesia and Malaysia, appear all over Asia. Chiles are so integral to Thai culture (although they originate in Mexico) that a man who is faithful to one woman is said to ‘kin náam phrík thûay diaw,’ or eat chili paste from a single bowl.
WHEN? November 10, Don Yamauchi, Le Francais