Celery

Unfortunately, much of the celery found in supermarkets today is far more stringy than it used to be. This change was first recognized by the noted saladologist Hans Schlecter in his now-famous treatise published in 1987, entitled Apium graveolens: What the Hell? Here, Schlecter reasoned that the advent of globalization coupled with the increasingly widespread adoption of the cost-saving Spain wedge method of early transplantation had created a ripple effect which would be felt down the entire growth cycle of the domesticated celery. Without going into too much detail, the basic principle was that these new and popular growing techniques had put selective pressures on the growing Apium graveolens. In order to survive the brutal methods, Apium would need to have stronger longitudinal fibers, ‘superfibers’ if you will. The net consequence was a celery that grew faster, stronger, cheaper, and yes, stringier.

From The Guide:

Celery is truly the most wonderful of our daily vegetables. For it gives such a delightful crunch when one takes bite of it. Indeed, to bite into a well-grown stalk of celery is one of the joy’s of living. And what’s more is that it continues to provide such tactile pleasure throughout the entire mastication process. What an horrible tragedy were it to ever become too stringy.

Corn

Occasionally, you will come across a recipe which calls for the addition of canned corn. It may look something like this:

Add one 8 oz canned corn

This is exactly when you begin looking for another recipe. The internet, books, and television are all good starting points.

From The Guide:

Under no circumstances should one ever purchase or use canned corn. If this admonishment should fall on deaf ears, then let no one complain that the corn kernels in one’s chili are too chewy or that they have ruined said chili, soup or bisque. And let no one cry out from a lavoratory in bemused astonishment (or dismay, such as one’s disposition may be) at the observation that these once-canned kernels do remain as intact on the way out as on the way in.

If, on the other hand, you do come upon a recipe in which the opening line should happen to be, “First, stun the duck,” then it is probably also time to move on.

Syrup

Should be maple. As a matter of general leniency, children may be allowed to eat non-maple syrup (Aunt Jamima, Log Cabin) up to a certain age. Naturally, the optimal timing and method for conversion to maple syrup has been hotly contested, among mothers, and the current recommendation is to allow the child to voluntarily indicate when he/she is ready.

From The Guide:

A recent rumor has been spreading that the Canadian peoples have discovered a way to generate maple syrup using nothing but trees. Trees! Clearly this is just another one of those to-good-to-be-true stories from up north, of which we all tire. Nevertheless, an investigation is probably warranted.

Sincerely,
John E. Smith,
United Sates FBI
(dated 1897)

French Toast

Some say it is best to use day-old or slightly staling bread to make French toast. I do not subscribe to this or any other theories, about anything. I believe the overriding goal should be to use the best possible bread one can lay hands on. There are numerous reports in the record of great success having been had as the direct result of a good French baguette. The kind with airy holes and a flavorsome crust. It is important not to kill someone over French toast.

From The Guide:

In 1443, at the Abbey de Quay, in France, there was once a very serious-minded (and memorable) monk name Jean-Paul. Upon learning that his French toast had not in fact been flighted away by an especially large crow, but had actually been stolen away by a fellow monk named Simon (slightly less memorable, but certainly capricious enough to bear mention), whilst he had left the table for a particularly long time in order to retrieve his favorite syrup vessel, which he had forgotten in his quarters amidst the mornings’ excitement, it being French toast day at the abbey, needless to say Jean-Paul did not take the news very well. In fact, one might say he took the news rather not well as he broke his holy vows in that same instant. He broke them by turning to Simon and stabbing him straight through the heart with a bread knife, which had been in his hand at the time.

Scones

A proper scone is like something between a muffin and a biscuit only it has been driven to the brink of complete and unforgettable dryness. Only a good self-hating people would devise and perpetuate such a thing. If you’re going to suffer, suffer well. So say the Brits. And I for one stand with them.

From The Guide:

The only true way to mitigate the dryness of a proper scone is with the liberal use of genuine clotted cream (from Devonshire), which has, on more than one occasion, been said to have a slightly scalded or cooked flavor.

Marmalade

Marmalade is a very special case indeed. Made from the very bitterest oranges on earth (or at least, Seville). If a little bit goes a long way, then a lot goes a really long way. Marmalade.

From The Guide:

At first I was quite taken aback at the unearthly bitterness of this boiled orange concoction these Scots keep calling marmalade, but over time (three times), I began to understand. Along with the bitterness is a mature, dare I say, sophisticated quality in the flavor, which cannot be achieved using the more delicate Oranges from other parts. I do not claim to fully comprehend how it is that a thing so bitter should also be so plainly addictive. But it does not fail to remind me of that most horrible villain from S, Mr. J.P. Stokes, who was not only responsible for the most unnatural deaths of over forty-three women, but who was also one of the most unusual looking young gentleman the world has ever seen. When it was time for him to hand on the gallows. The townsfolk insisted on a most unprecedented measure, that Mr. Stokes remain unhooded throughout the process. The judge agreed. For he too could not take his eyes from upon him.

Jelly and Jam

Jam is made by boiling fruit (has fruit bits in it). Jelly is made from fruit juice and does not have fruit bits in it (think Dow Corning). Preserves are basically like jam. Marmalade is a citrus-based preserve. We’ll talk about this in a minute. Let me cut right to the point. There is nothing to be ashamed of in liking jam. With so many different kinds available. There are almost as many jams as there are fruits. Maybe more.

Raspberry – A good idea, because raspberries are really expensive and tend to go bad before you can even get them safely home. And raspberry preserves do, in fact, convey the idea of raspberry fairly well.
Apricot – Yes.
Clementine – Yes again.
Fig – I will admit that I am rather new to the whole fig game, myself not having emanated from any of the fig-bearing lands. But, I have to tell you, that I am beginning to understand the fuss. Fig jam is a rich and mature taste, which takes little getting used to and becomes more and more fascinating with each session.
Apple-Walnut-Pear – Surely a complex and sophisticated mix of flavors for a bit of bread or toast. There is nothing to be ashamed of here.
Strawberry – It is far too easy to get real strawberries. And besides, strawberries do not like being made into preserves, as the awkward (almost subversive) texture they assume under such circumstances will no doubt attest.
Blueberry – No.
Grape – I am not interested in grape jam, and neither should you be.
Almond Butter – Ok, this is not so much a jelly or jam, as it is rocket fuel. With almond butter, surely a little bit goes quite a long way. Longer than you are thinking even now, unless you are thinking Mars.

From The Guide:

After one has scooped of the jam for the final time in the sitting, it is permissible, if alone or with close friends, to lick the knife. This is one of the reasons for which it is advantageous to use a proper butter knife, and not the standard dinner knife. Although more like to be within reach, the standard dinner knife tends to have, as a vestige of an earlier era, a faint suggestion of a serrated edge. It is better to lick a butter knife.