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Locavores and others yearning for an American alternative to French springtime goat's milk cheeses like Montrachet and Saint Maure de Touraine will most definitely delight in the ash-coated log from Pipe Dreams Farm in Greencastle, Penn.

This dense, 12-ounce "ashed log" of goat's milk cheese tastes mildly grassy, nutty and slightly peppery towards its edible ash rind. When the cheese is sliced, its paste exudes a seductive floral aroma with hints of citrus fruit. In a word, it's exquisite. But goat cheese is goat cheese, no?

New Year doesn't just mark a clean page on a new calendar -- it evokes nostalgia for the times that led to that point. For many, New Year's Eve is a clash of impressions of confetti, champagne corks, standing in the freezing cold (18 degrees in Times Square this year) in hopes of jockeying for a couple of seconds of nationwide camera time. But for some, the best New Year's Eve is not on the streets but in a swank nightclub several stories above, where matrons in furs peer disdainfully at doxies in sequins, where a gentleman's black tie is correctly understood to be quite enough sartorial splendor for his role as escort, where the jewelry is platinum and the hair is marcelled, and where, although champagne is popped at midnight for an obligatory sip, the drink of the evening is the martini.

Into the world of chic, artisinal gins, enter New Amsterdam. Like the pre-code New York of its name, this gin bypasses the cheap sentiment of retro to be outright old-fashioned, without the speakeasy sting of bathtub gin. Soft citrus notes open the palate much as happens with a good sauvignon blanc, but then a strident bite of juniper marches forward, lockstepping like a Busby Berkeley kickline. As a pure sip, the juniper mid-note lingers on the palate; with vermouth or lime, a final spicy note surfaces, very lightly crowned with waft of minerality.

How seriously do you take your tequila? What champagne is for France, tequila is for Mexico. Mexicans drink it to celebrate national holidays, weddings, and anniversaries. It even has a government protection similar to the French AOC. The Consejo Regulador del Tequilo states that the drink must come from a region in central south Mexico: the state of Jalisco. Drinking tequila straight from a small glass is the most traditional way to drink it.

So, what does it mean that companies, such as Tanteo, are now producing flavored tequilas? In a recent New York Times article, Florence Fabricant explains that flavors, like jalapeño and passion fruit, are subtle and delicate in Tanteo's line of flavored tequilas. As much as I want to be a traditionalist, I have to admit that I'm intrigued and looking forward to trying these tequilas. Tanteo tequilas are now available in NY at three locations: Ambassador Wines and Spirits on Second Avenue, SoHo Wines and Spirits on West Broadway, and at Philippe Wine and Liquor in Chelsea.

Scanned from Cooking and Traveling the Cape Cod Way (1953)

Forefather's Day isn't celebrated until tomorrow, but I'm posting this in anticipation of the East Coast's wintry mix blowing up the collective skirt of many folks' salt pork acquisition schedules. I'm a huge sucker for dishes made expressly in observance of regionally significant holidays and events -- especially so when the tenor of the recipe matches the spirit of the occasion. In New Orleans at Mardi Gras, it's all wild-hued, cream-slathered King Cake. On a chilly Christmas Eve in North Carolina, there is sweet, hot Moravian Love Feast coffee, and light potatoey buns, made to be split and shared.

It seems appropriate that a feast in commemoration of the Pilgrims' arrival in a bitter and bleak new terrain would involve some rather hardscrabble fare -- sustenance and utility, rather than sybaritic excess. Then again, I could be projecting 'cause I've never met a succotash I've really liked. Should I be able to get my frozen paws on some pea beans within the next 24 hours, I'll give this one a go.

If you should decide to do the same, please let us all know how it goes in the comments below. All I ask is that you remember to pay for the corn.

Whether bleeding heart or staunchly red, most people agree there's nothing wrong with going green. Sure, we might be able to argue the science behind global warming, but eco-minded products aren't going to harm anybody (unless you've stumbled upon some crazy conspiracy theory I haven't heard about.) So if some brewers want to join the fray of environmentally friendly foodstuffs, I say relax, grab an organic beer and try what the other 364 days of the year call a green beer.

What actually makes a beer "green" is a subject of some debate. Planet Green states, "There are a few ways a beer can be considered green: It can be brewed via environmentally friendly processes, or made with green ingredients like pesticide and chemical-free organic barley and hops." Also important to consider are packaging and shipping. (Planet Green suggest choosing glass and local micro-breweries, respectively.)

Since minimizing fossil fuel usage goes into the eco-equation, drinking regional brews becomes all that more important if you want to be as green as possible. Therefore, Planet Green is suggesting green beers (such as Orlio, pictured here) by region starting with the East Coast. I'm sure other areas are to follow (though they don't say when).

As an unrecommened alternative, if you're seeking a less eco-friendly way of "getting as green as possible," try drinking about 20 of any beer in one sitting (toilet bowl not included).

[via Huffington Post] [Photo Credit: orlio.net]

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