You've seen that sliced-up green apple sitting up top aside the Slashfood logo. Perhaps you've pondered its culinary potential -- the crisp snap of that bright green skin, the half-sweet/half-tart flavor that is the special domain of the Granny Smith apple.

Voila. Slashfood sorbet!

In sorbet, a single element is distilled into an intense burst of flavor. It should be so vivid that only a bite is necessary. Perhaps you're most familiar with it as an intermezzo to cleanse the palate, in a fluted paper cone to hold while walking alongside your companion and his gelato or in scoops piled high in a frosty parfait glass almost too cold to touch.

After the jump, an original recipe for a gorgeous green apple Slashfood Sorbet. We challenge you to only eat one bite.

Just in time for your next Saturday night pasta party, a new jarred sauce that's worth a first taste and second helping has appeared on store shelves. Mezzetta, the company famous for such glass-jarred wonders as snappy peperoncini and an addictive giardiniera, has launched Napa Valley Bistro, a line of pasta sauces prepared with Napa Valley wines. We were glad to cook up a sample sent our way and toss it with some noodles. Hey, anything for our readers – especially if it involves eating spaghetti.

We tried two versions: basic marinara and the creamy version. The saucy results are after the jump.

To put it mildly, Norway is not known for its beer.

"About 98 percent of the beer consists of light lagers," sighs tall, bearded Kjetil Jikiun, cofounder and brewmaster of Nøgne Ø, one of Norway's scant microbreweries. "Norwegians," he laments, "don't know much about craft beer."

Jikiun is the exception: Since launching Nøgne Ø (naked isle) six years ago, the gregarious, bespectacled Norwegian has begun altering his country's carbonated landscape. He crafts bold, flavorful beers more in line with American microbrews than Norway's watery lagers. "Most bars there just have one beer on tap," he says, holding court in New York City's multi-tap beer bar Jimmy's No. 43. "You just order a beer-no choice needed." But Jikiun, an ex–airline pilot who sampled suds wherever he landed, liked choice. He began homebrewing, looking toward American microbrewers for inspiration. "Everybody I served my homebrews to liked them, so I though there'd be a market," he says of launching Nøgne Ø.

Ancient yet modern at once, Greek cuisine radiates with sunshine and bright, fresh flavors. Succulent lamb enlivened with rosemary and garlic, a classic dish, is as redolent of Greece as it is of springtime. And as is true of anywhere with a shoreline, seafood is center stage. Always present are plates of local feta, stark-white and salty, and olives whose depth of flavor will keep you from ever opening canned olives again. For dessert, honey forms a sinful pact with walnuts and cinnamon, or yogurt made in-house just that morning cozies up to macerated cherries.

A Greek dinner is lovely to prepare and a joy to eat. Many of the ingredients are staples you probably have in your kitchen, such as lemons, herbs, eggs and olive oil. Here are some ingredients you might want to try.

The Basics: Olives and Feta. Olive oil is central to Greek cooking. The essential Greek olive is kalamata. They should be deep black and packed in an olive oil and vinegar brine; a taste should reveal a distinctive, fruity flavor and a firm bite without mealiness. Here's a great recipe for using these beauties. There are other Greek cheeses beyond feta, but this standard should be available in every cheese case. The cheese should be pure white with a gently pocked surface, lounging in a clean bath of salt-water brine (never buy dry feta).

As winter yields to spring, farmers' markets teem with bright produce and blooms shed their pollen, allergy sufferers experience the first sneezes of the season. While over-the-counter and prescribed drugs offer some level of comfort, they also come with a hefty price tag and slew of side effects.

Though science is far from conclusive on this front, many homeopaths think there may be another (edible) option. Some allergy battlers have found that an old folk remedy of eating local honey can help reduce the severity of their reactions. The logic goes like this: bees in an area collect nectar from the same plants that cause allergies, and honey produced from that nectar contains microscopic quantities of the allergens. By consuming small amounts of the honey, sufferers may be administering a form of homespun immunotherapy.

Others dispute the effectiveness of this treatment, and even its supporters acknowledge that honey isn't an instant fix. Traditionally, allergy sufferers consume small amounts of it every day for an extended period of time in order to build up resistance to allergens. (Some even warn that local honey can actually set off reactions. Be sure to check with your doctor if you are considering this method of handling allergies.)

This is all a long way of saying that we have a delectable honey liqueur recipe for the allergic and the resistant alike. Krupnikas, a delicious Eastern European liqueur made from spices, honey and grain alcohol, makes an aromatic, golden-hued tipple that can be drunk warm in the fall or on the rocks in the summer. With a spicy flavor and bright glow, it is a great way to celebrate the arrival of (a hopefully sneeze-free) spring.

We realize we may seem a little holiday-fixated around here. But one Easter has yet to come: Orthodox Easter, which falls on this coming Sunday, April 19. The use of two calendars often results in different timing in Western Easter's and Orthodox Easter's arrivals, which makes the day truly a movable feast.

Why is this worth a certain amount of hoopla? Well, look at the hunger pang-inducing bread shown above. One of the centerpieces of the Greek Orthodox Easter table, tsoureki paschalino (tsoo-REH-kee pahs-khah-lee-NO), or Greek Easter bread, is typically baked on Holy Thursday and traditionally shaped in a braid around an Easter egg. (The deep red dye symbolizes the crucifixion.) Tsoureki, a light yeast bread sometimes sweetened with a light touch of orange or almonds, has an airy, eggy texture similar to challah. A similar bread known as pinza is a mainstay on Italian Easter tables.

Within the Greek Orthodox church, Easter is considered by many to be the holiest day of the year. For many celebrants the period of Lent is one of self-discipline and self-purification during which one might refrain from treats or certain animal products. Additionally, on some days (traditionally Wednesdays and Fridays during the first weeks of Lent and every day during Holy Week) both wine and olive oil are also forbidden. The first post-Lenten meal is served after midnight Mass on Holy Saturday, where the traditional meal consists of mayeritsa (a soup made from the internal organs of the Easter lamb) and the deep maroon-dyed eggs that are part of the tsoureki.

Tsoureki is available in Greek bakeries; try this one, which ships its tsoureki.

While this goat's milk cheese looks identical to the famous Loire valley Valencay, Mekkerbeck is a unique farmhouse goat's milk cheese handmade in Westmalle in Northern Belgium by Paul D'Haene and his wife, Veerle Minsaer. This larger format Valencay has an outstanding bright flavor that is hard to find in many of the industrialized Valencay imported from France.

You'll automatically smell the exquisite herbal and floral notes that emanate from the paste. While tasting Mekkerbeck, the thin skin of ashed rind slowly dissolves into the luscious creamy texture of this pristine white goat's-milk cheese. Both the succulent texture and complex finish produce an unforgettable and exhilarating gastronomic experience.

Mekkerbeck tastes even more exquisite during the springtime when the 200 goats are grazing on natural pasture. In a country dominated by washed-rind cow's-milk cheeses, D'Haene's passion for producing some of the finest goat's milk cheeses is truly unique. For 30 years, the couple has been perfecting their craft.

To taste this one-of-a-kind goat's milk cheese, head to Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge, Mass., or to Formaggio Essex in New York. Formaggio is the sole purveyor of Mekkerbeck in the U.S. One piece sells for about $19. It's worth it.

A sip of this deliciously creamy and smooth cup of coffee is sure to please even those non-coffee drinkers. Similar to the French cafe au lait and the Italian cappuccino, the Viennese melange is a combination of coffee with steamed milk and foam. Unlike cappuccino, this "Wiener Melange" is made with milder coffee and is traditionally served with a glass of water. The accompaniment of water allows the coffee to go down more easily without dehydration.

The experience of sitting in a plush Viennese café with a cup of Viennese coffee, a glass of water and a newspaper seems to awaken the intellect within you. It conjures up images of the Austrian intelligentsia in the early 20th century with characters like Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt.

While in Vienna, I visited several Viennese cafés, such as the famous Café Central, and tried several variations on this deep rich coffee. My favorite, Franziskaner, also called an "espresso con panna," is served with whipped cream instead of foam. I also tasted rich delicious café mocha served with whipped cream. The Viennese café culture dates as far back as the late 17th century.

The influence of the melange on American coffee can be seen in Starbucks and several smaller coffeeshops. One of the best places to try the classic melange is Café Sabarsky located on the first floor of the Neue Galerie in Manhattan.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post in which I tried to touch bottom in the pantheon of disturbing cuisine. While I stopped short of nightmarishly horrifying food, like rotten cheese and duck embryos, I explored what I imagined were the worst fried foods imaginable.

In retrospect, I was incredibly naive.

At the end of the post, I asked my readers to submit their own choices for worst possible food, promising to do a little more research and write longer pieces about them. I got a fair bit of responses, which led to a fun post about beer floats. However, Guinness and vanilla ice cream only represented the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, and it seemed inevitable that I would return to further explore the wonders that make up the culinary wasteland.

Many of my readers shared tales about their favorite fried food joints. Museum Mouse, for example, turned me on to the joys of Scottish fried cuisine. Having had my fair share of haggis and cock-a-leekie soup, I thought that I had experienced everything that Scotland had to offer. I was wrong. For example, one popular treat is the Stonner, which is basically a sausage wrapped in gyro meat, battered, and deep fried. In Scotland, "stonner" is a euphemism for an erection, which seems ironic, given that coronary occlusions can lead to impotence. Still, I guess we all find our excitement in different places...

These days the European Union is being looked at as an inept "taste police" by many chefs and food enthusiasts. While working in the cheese industry, I spoke with many French cheese makers who felt threatened by the strict laws regarding cheese aging facilities and feared anti-raw milk legislation. This week, bakers in Germany were angered by a proposed regulation on the salt content in their products.

An article from the New York Times states that Androulla Vassiliou, the European commissioner for health, decided on Wednesday to postpone making a decision on new regulations due to the intense reaction from the German bakers, represented by a federal association and by regional lobbies. Commission spokeswoman, Nina Papadoulaki, defends the EU by claiming, "Our aim is to provide consumers with better information so that they can make informed choices. The commission has no intentions of prohibiting any bread. We have decided to continue our talks with the stakeholders."

It seems that one of the major issues that's not being addressed by the EU, thus far, is the preservation of cultural traditions in the various EU countries. Culinary cultures that date back hundreds of years are at stake. The negligence on their part to fight to maintain cultural diversity within the EU is astonishing when related to food concerns. Perhaps, there needs to be another organization to express these issues to the EU. What do you think?

While on weekend food safari (scored: manchego, kraeme kase, smoked mozzarella, soppresata, genoa salami and muffaletta for Oscars antipasti), I was reminded that there is nothing like a Manhattan supermarket. If you only experience the city through media, you might never think that urban superpeople on the move need to buy groceries, so somehow it's touching to be among us when we do. For those who've never had the pleasure: picture a supermarket where there's barely room to maneuver yourself, let alone a cart, and then picture that space full of lifers piloting push-carts filled with whatever can be stored in tiny kitchenettes.

Another secret of urban foraging is the Roland Corporation, a New York City-based food importer whose offerings grace my cupboards in every format from tinned anchovies for Caesar salad to fragrant pumpkinseed oil for the accompanying pasta. Someone at Roland knows me and my kind: we orthodox mustardphiliacs cannot enter a space where condiments are vended without investigating what treats the mustard aisle is offering. And that's how, in a Chelsea Gristedes, I discovered Roland Tarragon Mustard.

My daughter is addicted to Dirty Jobs, a Discovery Channel show in which the host tries out the filthiest, nastiest jobs in the country. Watching him work his way through a septic system or clean gum off a sidewalk, it's hard to imagine worse tasks than the ones that he regularly undertakes. However, in a recent move, Japan and Kit Kat seem to have figured out an innovative new way to lower the bar on horrifyingly bad employment.

Kit Kat's new Human Vending Machines combine the best elements of convenience foods, automatic vending, and slavery in one brutally delicious, schadenfreude-laden package. Basically a snack machine with a human being trapped inside, the machines put a personal face on candy vending transactions. Users put in their money, make their choice, and ask the man inside to send out the chocolate. The vendor, in turn, smiles at the customer, grabs the candy, and drops it into a slot.

There is no word yet on whether, underneath their smiles, the anonymous vendors are dying inside, asking themselves what series of bad choices led them to become nameless cogs in a snack-distribution empire. Similarly, one has to wonder if any of the vendors has found himself on a weekend-long alcoholic bender after selling a candy bar to his former prom date, a slickly-attired professional who pretended that she didn't recognize him.

Perhaps I'm projecting.

When I think of Dutch Gouda, the word Boerenkaas comes to mind. Boerenkaas means "farmer's cheese." Several years ago, when I began selling cheeses, I was shocked by the amount of industrial Gouda being sold as artisanal. When purchasing artisanal Gouda, look to see if the cheese is a Boerenkaas. Currently, there is an incredible array of different Boerenkaas cheeses being imported from L'Amuse cheese shop in Santpoort-Noord, Holland.

Many of the Boerenkaas cheeses from L'Amuse have a deliciously crunchy yet milky creamy texture with well distributed crystals. The paste color is a deep yellowish-brown, and its aroma has notes of hazelnut and caramel with some meaty and cellar notes. Depending on the type, it can have a particularly long finish with hints of caramel. Formaggio Kitchen sells several Boerenkaas cheeses that are worth trying.

I highly recommend the Boerenkaas Veenweidekaas (pictured above). This one comes from a four hundred year old farm built on a dike in Zoeterwoude. Lidia and Theo van Leeuwen ripen their cheese more slowly by adding less salt. This ripening process allows the cheese to develop incredibly rich pronounced tastes. Like many French cheeses produced under AOC regulations, Veenweidekaas must also be produced according to certain regulations. They require sustainable production in consideration of the land and the wildlife that share the farmland. After the jump, find out various ways to eat Boerenkaas cheeses.

As a Virginian, born and raised, I am a definite ham guy. This isn't to say that I eat it at every meal, or that I consume it indiscriminately; in fact, I limit my consumption of the beloved pork to the occasional Smithfield ham, slice of prosciutto, or other dry-cured wonder. Still, while I eat it rarely, I do so with absolute love and an almost religious devotion.

These days, the ultimate trophy ham is the famed Jamón Iberíco. It is made from a Spanish Black Iberian Pig that has been allowed to graze on acorns. Because of breeding and diet, the hams are noted for their unique flavor and supposedly healthy fat.

While delicious and healthy, the hams are also exceedingly expensive, retailing for about $1400 apiece. As with almost any luxury item, the incredible price tends to attract ham counterfeiters. Luckily, however, there is a definitive method for determining if one is, indeed, eating an honest-to-goodness Jamón Iberíco: unlike other breeds, Black Iberian Pigs have black trotters. Of course, clever imitators have tried to undermine this method by painting trotters with black paint, but wise connoisseurs are careful to rub the feet to ensure that the black stays on.

Since I'm a bit of a garlic fiend, I can't believe that I never heard of Knoblauchcremesuppe before. In other words, Garlic Cream Soup. This super-simple dish is your basic cream soup recipe (milk, stock, and butter) amped up with a quick saute of garlic and onion.

The above incarnation is courtesy of tschörda's blog. However, this incarnation only calls for 3 cloves of garlic. So, if you're a true lover of garlic, have run-ins with a vampire, or want to out stink-breath your loved ones, other recipes call for much more like this, this 1/4 cup, and maybe this if, uh, "1 whole thing of garlic" means a head.

If not for the parsley, this would be one of those dishes you can make with regularly stocked ingredients when your fridge and pantry are running low. And if you get yourself a year-round parsley plant, it's perfect for a bare-bones meal.

[via The Kitchn]