Three Bowls, Now with Less Words than Usual!

Normally, this is an economy-sized blog. Such value! So many words before I get to the point!

Well, although the global economy is currently wagging its finger as such Rabelaisian excesses, I will persist.  Just not today.

I am making I think over 30 things – literally, not hyperbolically – for this holiday season and I simply don’t have the time to write 5000 words on that time I was broke in college and ate leftover delivery Chinese white rice with bottled teriyaki sauce that was given to me in pity by my older roommates and it was the best thing I ever ate at that moment and how it relates to the cupcake I just made and What It All Means.

So I will finish up my reports and recommendations from the recent Thanksgiving Dessertaganza in brief. Brief, I tell you!

Venetian Apple Cake: From Dolce Italiano, full recipe available via link to the left.

Nice! Nice and simple apple cake! Flavorful, moist and with a little crunchy from the polenta. Keeper!

Black Pepper Ice Cream: From David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop.

Nice, kinda weird! The process to make it is very simple..., just infuse the ice cream base with black peppercorns cracked in a mortar and pestle.

You might not guess it’s black pepper if someone didn’t tell you, just sweet and spicy and floral in an unusual way.  But it's not something I would want to eat on its own. I made the apple cake to eat with it, but I think the ideal thing for it would be a pear tart. Something with a lot of cooked and tasty fruit. David’s recipe isn’t online, but Epicurious has a recipe that is similar and with another possibility for a complete dessert with Walnut Cake and Sauteed Pears. (David has recently posted a modified black pepper ice cream – milk chocolate and black pepper).

Cranberry Granita: For Carolyn and me, this was WAAAAY too much cranberry flavor. The beginning flavor was nice, but the astringent aftertaste was off-putting to me. But! a couple people at dinner like cranberry and they enjoyed it, with one person even taking seconds (when you have 7 desserts, that is saying something).

The process is simple: cook the cranberries with sugar, water, and OJ...

...then blend, strain...

and freeze per the usual granita process.

Next time I would make it with half the amount of cranberry and twice the amount of OJ and see if that works better. On the bright side: a granita is a simple frozen dessert anyone with a freezer can make: no ice cream maker required.

This Epicurious Cranberry Granita recipe will probably be as puckery as David’s, for true cran lovers only.

This other Epicurious one uses Cranberry Juice cocktail and cooked sauce, so might be slightly more palatable to a broader range of tastes. It’s also topped with an Orange Whipped Cream which I think is a great idea for this dish no matter which route you go.

Chipotle Gingerbread with Cinnamon-Vanilla Ice Cream and Dulce de Leche

I spent most of my adolescence and early adult years thinking I wanted to be a filmmaker. I went to NYU, made some student films, spent a lot of money on an independent short after I graduated, and then...moved back to Phoenix, AZ and did a whole lot of nothing about it.

I still thought about it, I still made vague attempts to write, even finished another short script and starting putting together the production team before that all sort of petered out.

I wasn’t doing a whole lot of anything beside being a working stiff during those years anyway, so even if it truly was My Calling, who knows if I would have been able to drag myself out of the general stupor I was in to actually make anything happen.

But here’s what my current theory is: I just couldn’t get past that it’s just so...frivolous.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad other people still do it. (Although, other than David Lynch and documentarians, I’m not generally that excited by anyone still doing it since the ripple effect of Jaws and Star Wars put an end to the Golden Years of Films by and for Grown-Ups - aka the ‘70’s).

For me, personally, though, I was just never able to quite recover from my horror at the amount of resources used in the re-creation of reality. The decadence!

That’s what I like about cooking. While it’s a stretch to think of my ice cream experimentation as anything approaching utilitarian, the idea of using my creativity to result in something people can actually eat appeals to the my more pragmatic side.  I like to aim low on Maslow's Hierarchy.

And, as another person who transferred her interest in film to food pointed out, food is also a hell of a lot more instantly gratifying. Not just for the eatin’, mind you, but also for the audience response. Elizabeth Falkner’s background in film is all over her book Demolition Dessert...

...and it's reflected in the name of her restaurants Citizen Cake and Orson.  She speaks in the below about why she loves desserts and why she made the transition from film to food.

I’ve been eyeing a lot of different recipes in her book, but the one that was jumping out at me loudest as I planned the Thanksgiving Dessertaganza was the Chipotle Gingerbread (full recipe in link) component in her Gingerbread Bauhaus. I didn’t want to do the whole composed dessert from the book, which involves pear sorbet, shards of royal icing and pomegranate gel.

But I thought the gingerbread, baked into mini-muffin tins, might make a nice tiny composed dessert topped with a little bit of something like that cinnamon-caramel ice cream we had at Poppy.

I experimented by trying to caramelize the some cinnamon sticks in the sugar in this Chow.com Caramel Ice Cream recipe. I don’t know if I actually caramelized the cinnamon, but I know I didn’t caramelize the sugar itself. Paranoid after too many caramels that went from just right to burnt in some nanosecond lost to A.D.D., I removed the cooked sugar too soon. It tasted sweet, not caramel-y.

Luckily, though, the cinnamon flavor was present, and the addition of a scraped-vanilla bean meant that a tasty cinnamon-vanilla ice cream resulted even if caramel continues to be a wild mustang I am unable to tame.

You know what I can tame, Caramel? You know who plays nice and isn’t a occasionally injurious jerk? Dulce de Leche. That’s right, I am taking advantage of NAFTA and going south of the border for my tasty light brown dessert sauce.

What do you have to do to make Dulce de Leche?

OPEN A CAN. Open a can of sweetened condensed milk, pour it into a baking dish, cover it tightly with foil, set that baking dish into a larger one filled with water, and cook it at 425 for about an hour or until it’s the color of MISBEHAVING CARAMEL.

You can also do it in a slow cooker or go the daredevil route – boil it in the can, risking explosion. (Oh.  Well, I guess this sauce is also occasionally injurious.  Hmm.  Why is making dessert sauce so high risk?)

Okay, so my composed dessert results from these three doesn’t look as good as something Elizabeth Falkner would create...

...but this is the one dessert that blew past my usual underwhelmed response to “New Favorite Thing.”

The Chipotle Gingerbread – which, incidentally, is quite quick to make – doesn't have too much heat, it’s just like a tiny extra kick to the usual spice of gingerbread. The Cinnamon-Vanilla Ice Cream is rich while not being excessive sweet, and then the smidge of Dulce de Leche adds that final bit of caramelized but not cloying sweetness that brings it all together.

And I hate to second guess myself, but you know what might even be better than Dulce de Leche with this? This Five Star Holy-Crap Coffee Dessert Sauce from Chow that I've made before, although it does require the basic caramel sauce process, so it's nowhere near as easy as the DdL.

If you’re not an ice cream maker, I would still recommend trying this. Again, the gingerbread is pretty quick to make, and the Dulce de Leche is effortless. Buy a pint of cinnamon ice cream (if you can find it) or caramel or just the best vanilla you can get and give it a whirl.

Recipe Result: Mosaic (Deep Breath) Biscotti

I am continuing to slowly bake my way through the cookbook Dolce Italiano by Gina DePalma, Mario Batali's pastry chef.  I got a little hung up on the Lemony Semolina Cookies for a while, as I do with most anything that a) has the word "lemony" in it, b) uses zest and c) is a cookie, but I broke free of that citrus-induced trance and moved along to a new recipe.

And...(ominous old timey soap opera dun-dun-dun musical cue)...back to biscotti.

My ongoing biscotti failure has been previously documented here, so I'm not going to open up old wounds, except to open up the most painful old biscotti wound which is to say: it wasn't always like this.  I used to be able to make perfectly serviceable, not-shame-inducing biscotti.

Whither my biscotti mojo?  Why have you forsaken me?  I feel like it's only been since I moved to Seattle, so I am going to blame the Pacific Northwest (shakes fist around at general surroundings).

But every once in a while I feel compelled to try try again.  Since I had a random surplus of hazelnuts, I decided to try the recipe for Mosaic Biscotti (link is to a modified version that halves the original quantities - not a bad idea; it makes a lot).

The recipe is called "Mosaic" Biscotti because of the pattern made by the nuts and chocolate.  The biscotti in the picture in the recipe link is more mosaic-like than mine turned out to be as I opted to not use the pistachios, and just make it with hazelnuts. I only used, though, the 2 cups of hazelnuts originally called for (i.e., did not replace the 2 cups of pistachios with an additional 2 cups of hazelnuts) and I am amazed that the recipe would work with twice as many nuts as the cookies seemed pretty chock-full as they were.

As to the taste...I mean, they weren't bad.  Okay, so they were good enough that though I truly intended to send to my grandmother the ones I didn't give away to the local folks, I sort of accidentally ate them all myself for breakfast over the next few days.

But then again, they had a nice Guittard semi-sweet chocolate and some of the freakishly excellent hazelnuts from Holmquist, and so when you have so much of the cookie being two solidly delicious ingredients, it's hard for it to fail, really.

Ergo: I am still not satisfied. I feel like the texture and color was off (too soft despite what seemed to be adequate baking time).  I am starting to think that my oven is the problem, but what the actual problem is seems to require some sort of tedious common sense that I am blissfully free from.  

I will have to figure it out, as I now clearly owe my grandmother some biscotti and there are some birthdays coming up and biscotti's longer shelf life makes it a good cookie for gifts.

So this isn't over, biscotti.  You haven't beaten me. You can continue to disappoint me but I am going to bake you into submission at some point, just you wait.

Recipe Result: Two-Skillet Sunburst Squash

Back in April, when some sunburst squash appeared in my produce delivery, I made a recipe from this book:

(Homegrown: Pure and Simple by Michel Nischan)

If you have come to this website looking for what to do with the bumper crop of squash grown in your very own garden, you might want to consider buying this cookbook.  I am not a gardener, so I guess I can't really very accurately assess its usefulness for helping with ideas for using up what you might grow at home.  But I can say that it's a beautiful book with some delicious recipes that focus on using simple ingredients that are often found in the backyard garden.

For the sunburst squash, I tried the Two-Skillet Pattypan Squash recipe.  The basic technique is to cook the squash between two cast-iron skillet to result in "roasty-toasty silken squashes perfumed with the aromatic hint of [a] fresh herb and the crunchy snap of sea salt."

To prepare the squash, I cut it in half lengthwise and then cut of the scar and the stem to make sure the opposite side was also flat.  I heated up the cast-iron skillet to medium heat and let it heat for a while to get an even temperature.  I then sprinkled sea salt on the bottom.

The recipe called for rice or grapeseed oil, but I just used canola to drizzle over the squash.  The recipe also called for thyme, but I had rosemary, so I set a sprig down in the pan, and set each squash half over it.

Continuing with my substitutions, I also didn't have a second skillet, but figured my heavy Le Creuset little pot would work fine, and it did.

The recipe recommends cooking the first side for 10 minutes, while rotating the bottom pan every couple of minutes.  Then flip the squash and cook the other side for a couple more minutes.  The recipe, though, is also written for 8- to 10-ounce squashes and I don't think mine were that big. So I cooked mine for less time, but I think I still over did it.

Nevertheless, other than the fact that I just didn't care for the flavor of the squash itself, I think this is an excellent method.  I will give the recipe four-stars for its potential; it could be used for zucchini or other summer squashes.  I'm glad, actually, that all the folks visiting the site lately looking for sunburst squash reminded me about this recipe because I think I will do it again soon with zucchini.  It is, indeed, "roasty-toasty" AND "perfumed with the aromatic hint of the fresh herb." As Nischan notes, this is a way to add some excitement to what can be a more delicate flavor and texture.

Babycakes (and a Couple Ugly Stepsisters)

Book clubber Carolyn held a baby shower for book clubber Amy, and asked me if I would like to bake anything for dessert.  WOULD I??? 

Wheels started turning.  How ‘bout cupcakes?  How ‘bout three kinds of cupcakes?  Wait!  Mini-cupcakes!  (Get it: BABY CAKES!) OMG what if I could turn that Lime-Yogurt Sherbet into teeny-tiny ice cream pies?  Could I store them on some sort of tray of dry ice for serving?

At that point, the wrench of reality was thrown firmly into those turning wheels and so I backed up and decided to just stick with the cupcakes, four kinds: carrot cake with cream cheese icing, flourless sunken chocolate-orange, brown sugar with caramel sauce injected in them and chocolate icing, and lemon-buttermilk with raspberry-lemon curd injected and a raspberry-lemon glaze.

Things didn’t exactly work out; I got three pretty cupcakes…

(Clockwise from top left: Sunken Chocolate-Orange with Whipped Cream, Carrot Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Icing, and Brown Sugar with Dark Chocolate Buttercream Frosting.  And yes, the penny is there for size comparison.)

…and two batches of lemon-buttermilk messes. 

 

About ten minutes after I should have been in the shower, I started half-heartedly glazing the second batch (both tasted good, just looked like crap), but once I realized the lemon-raspberry glaze was quite pink, I decided to abandon the idea of the fourth cupcake entirely.  Amy’s not the kind of person who would be uptight about sticking rigidly to boy and girl colors, but she is having a little guy, so there wasn't much point in making myself even tardier to bring aesthetically-questionable pink cupcakes to a baby boy shower.

Here are the useful bits of information I gained through this particular bake-a-thon:

Very Successful Flourless Chocolate Cake Recipe: This Epicurious recipe for Sunken Chocolate-Orange Cupcakes was a BIG hit with everyone.  It was also very easy to make.  As I often do, I used more zest than the recipe called for (and a teeny bit of Cointreau) so it had a great orange flavor. I also had almond flour on hand, so I used that in place of the home-ground blanched almonds (I used ¾ cup of flour in place of the 1 cup of slivered almonds, assuming that they would probably deflate that much after being ground.)  I used some Guittard Bittersweet Chocolate, which is not my first choice, as it wasn’t their Oro kind, which I learned at the Chocolate Tasting is one of my favorites.  But I didn’t hear any complaints.

Injecting Fillings into Cupcakes: I got a couple of recipes and techniques from Demolition Desserts, which is by Elizabeth Faulkner, the pastry chef behind San Francisco’s Citizen Cake and Citizen Cupcake.  A lot of the desserts in the book are very creative, composed dishes, such as “Battleship Potemkin,” which was inspired by the bloody Odessa Steps scene in the Eisenstein film, and includes “Odessa Step Chocolate Shortbread” and “Bloodshed Raspberries.”

She also, though, has a lot of basic techniques and tips (like a recipe for vegetarian marshmallows made with Xanthan Gum), and one is a way to inject fillings into cupcakes. 

Basically you fill a plastic squirt bottle with the warmed filling (so it’s more liquid), push the filling to the tip, and insert the tip into the top of the cupcake.  You squeeze the filling into the cupcake, and she says “you can almost feel the cupcake take on weight.”  You watch for the top of the cupcake to rise slightly, and then cover over the hole with the icing.

I tried the method, and it worked, but unfortunately the filling I chose (a mixture of lemon curd and raspberry jam) got a thumbs-down from my friend Aimee as I frantically made her try it on our way to the Bourdain show.  I think maybe just plain jam would be nice inside a lemony cupcake (and in fact that was the original idea), but that will have to wait until next time. 

The brown sugar cupcake (recipe also from Demolition Desserts) was supposed to have a caramel sauce filling.  “Don’t burn yourself!” my sister warned when I told her what I was making, and I didn’t, but I did burn the sugar.  Rats.  At this point, I believe the score is now closer to Caramel Sauce: 4, Leslie: 1.  Don’t get comfortable, Caramel Sauce: I HAVEN’T CONCEDED ANYTHING.  (Except the feeling in the tip of my right index finger.)

Successful Raspberry-Lemon Glaze Recipe: The actual lemon cupcakes I made were from Demolition Desserts (just added a bunch of zest and extract to the Buttermilk Cupcake recipe and they tasted a lot better than they looked), but the pink glaze is from this Epicurious recipe, and it is delicious.  I think the construction issues with the cupcake were caused by my not knowing how far to fill the mini-cupcake tins.  I would really recommend, though, trying a lovely lemon cupcake with this glaze for a baby girl shower.

Relatively Successful Carrot Cupcake Recipe: Folks liked this Epicurious carrot cupcake recipe; I felt it was a smidge flat.  I might use a teeny bit more salt for better flavor next time, and maybe bump up the spice a bit.  But the texture was very nice.  I did not use the icing in that recipe; instead I made a cream cheese frosting that was sweetened with maple syrup rather than powdered sugar, just took a basic cream cheese and butter recipe, and added maple syrup until I liked how it tasted.

Carrot Cake Prep Tip: I used my Microplane zester to grate the carrot into itsy-bitsy shreds.  Requires more time and upper-body effort, but you get a) more even distribution of carrot and less likelihood of big awkward carrot chunks, b) more orangey color and c) a little more intense carrot flavor.

(Orangey!)

Cupcake Tin Buying Tip: CUPCAKE TIN MANUFACTURERS: please leave enough actual pan around the edges of the cup so that the baker HAS SOMETHING TO GRAB WITH AN OVEN MITT AND DOESN’T SQUISH THEIR CUPCAKES WHEN REMOVING FROM OVEN.  Look at how little space you have to work with on those pans below. If I used something thin enough to avoid the cupcakes, I burned my hands.  If I used something thick enough to protect my hands, I squished a cake.

Quantity Tip: Despite the fact that it is, in fact, only 1.5 actual cupcakes per person, 2 dozen each of 3 different kinds of mini-cupcakes for 20 people might be way over-cupcaking.  I asked Carolyn if she had any play dates coming up where she could use them up.  She said no, but she would schedule some.  Note to current and future potential friends with kids: I might be handy to know when it’s bake sale time at your kids’ school.

Another Endorsement for Ingredients on Hand: My little garnishes on the cupcakes were to help illustrate what the cupcakes contained, and alert those with nut allergies.  The garnishes (walnuts – which I had also thrown into the carrot cupcakes since I had them on hand, slivered almonds and Demerara Sugar, the sparkly brown sugar on the chocolate frosting) I just happened to have in my now super-stocked pantry.  It was great to be able to put a pretty little finished touch to them when the thought occurred to me without it requiring another visit to the grocery store.

Follow-up re Tom Douglas' Pan-Roasted Blah Blah Blah

So...as I mentioned in my previous post on the dish, the cooking process for my first batch of Pan-Roasted Halibut with Toasted Breadcrumb Salad and Green Lentils was as excessively lengthy as the dish's name itself.

That said, I made the dish again yesterday, using some of the leftovers, and it took like 25 minutes. 

So to review:

FOUR+ HOURS

25 MINUTES

They didn't taste much different, either.

So here's the shortcutting way, I think, to have quicker access to this meal:

• Don't be going through some kind of bizarro Cook It Yourself project where you feel obligated to do everything from scratch and instead just buy some veggie stock and coarse bread crumbs.
• If you do want to make everything from scratch, don't also be going through some kind of freshly-made-everything-is-the-best weird obsession that you caught from all the chefs you're always around WHO HAVE ACCESS TO SOUS CHEFS AND DISHWASHERS.  Keep some stock and breadcrumbs on hand in the freezer or make them on a different day, not as part of the cooking process for this meal.
• Once you make the meal (assuming you like it) freeze up extra lentils for future dishes. 

If the lentils are prepared, and you have breadcrumbs, the rest of the prep is actually super fast. 

• You could probably get away with skipping making the full fresh Lemon Vinaigrette by just pressing a clove of garlic into some lemon juice, shaking up with some olive oil and S&P and using that instead.  (Mince a shallot if you have time, but this is a quicker option.)
• Zap the leftover lentils into the microwave or reheat on stovetop.
• Quickly pan-fry your breadcrumbs, cool them, and then mix with lemon zest, S&P, chopped parsley and most of the lemon juice mixture (save a smidge for topping the fish).
• Throw a piece of halibut into the same pan you just used for the breadcrumbs (don't bother cleaning it), cook it up, put it on top of the reheated lentils, drizzle the rest of the lemon-garlic/shallot on the fish, top with the salad, and you have a fancy-times dinner in a not-so-fancy-times time.

Recipe Results: Tom Douglas' Pan-Roasted Halibut with Toasted Breadcrumb Salad and Green Lentils

I was chatting with one of the cooking shop class assistants the other day as we tidied up after class, and she mentioned a cookbook from one of our local Seattle top-rated restaurants.  She said that the food was very delicious, but that many of the recipes were multi-component-oriented and complicated so she didn’t cook from it that often.

This statement was one of those innocently-delivered comments that nevertheless set off a nanosecond long maelstrom of intense thoughts.  This was the gist of it:

• Oh!  That’s a good idea, I thought, look for recipes that are simple and not complex.
• Wait.  I’ve totally had this conversation with myself before.
• Why don’t I ever remember to do this?  See how bright this person is, all careful in her recipe selection.  Why can’t I be like that?!  I’m so dumb sometimes!
• A visual memory of a short-and-sweet basic recipe from my favorite teacher drifted into mental view.  It’s dish that I loved when he made it in class.
• My immediate reaction to the idea of this short recipe was lack of enthusiasm, despite how much I liked the dish.
• I realized that my emotional reaction to completing a short and simple recipe is the same satisfaction I would get if I jogged around the block.
• I realized my emotional reaction to completing a punishingly long recipe is akin to the euphoric high you get after a particularly grueling workout.
• I remembered why I rarely pick short recipes and returned my attention to the conversation.

This is not to impugn the short recipe.  After all, if you have skillz, you don’t need a lot of ingredients or steps to make something amazing.

I don’t have skillz, though. 

So I gravitate towards the complex. 

Or maybe it’s because of the ADD, as counterintuitive as that might be.   It’s like how can’t ever read short stories, I bounce around too much and can’t relax my brain enough to pay attention.  But the long form of a novel seems to click me into deep focus and I have that lovely floaty feeling of loss of self (aka “being in the zone”) that you get from being really deeply engaged in the present moment of any activity.  The exact same state I enter in, oh, say, the third or fourth hour of a cookathon.

That big preamble is all to say that even I, though, have my limits, and Seattle food guru Tom Douglas just about reached them with his recipe for Pan-Roasted Halibut with Toasted Breadcrumb Salad and Green Lentils.

The title alone has too many words.  And it’s actually four components: there’s a Lemon Vinaigrette that’s used that’s not mentioned in that novella of a name. 

(You don't know the half of it.)

But if you think that’s as complex as it gets, you’d be wrong!

Because I also had to make stock in order to make the lentils. AND I had to make breadcrumbs to make the breadcrumb salad.  AND both the breadcrumb salad and the lentils are a two-step cooking process, where the main ingredient is cooked solo and then processed again with flavoring agents.  

(Approaching hour four)

In the recipe’s defense, I will say that other than the chopping of all the 1.2 million different ingredients, it was time-consuming , but due to a lot of unattended cooking time, not necessarily super labor-intensive. I realize this statement, coming from me, after reading the above preamble, is pretty meaningless.  Basically, although about four and a half hours elapsed between the time I started cooking and the time I actually sat down to eat, I didn’t feel completely exhausted and annoyed by the process. 

And I did choose to make two-step roasted vegetable stock and breadcrumbs from scratch on the day of cooking.  If either had been prepared prior, it would have cut down on the time considerably.  If you made a double-batch of lentils the first time, you could freeze them for another serving later, which would also make this dish a heck of a lot easier to serve on something other than a special occasion.

(Finished Breadcrumb Salad)

And you would want to because despite all the effort…this shit is delicious.  DEEEEE-licious.  There’s a reason why there are 1.2 million ingredients and 25 steps and four components in this dish.  Every component was tasty on its own.  I might take the lentil recipe and use it just for making plain old lentils for salads, etc.

(Finished Lentils)

And when you put them together, each complemented the other without any one asserting itself too strongly.  The crispiness of the breadcrumbs, the brightness of the parsley, the tang of the lemon vinaigrette, the seared smoky outside of the halibut, the tenderness of the inside, and the mellow earthy and herby lentils…it all worked together brilliantly.

(Yes, once again highly staged but this meal earned it)

I am fascinated by chefs for many reasons, but the ones who really get me going are those who seem to have something that really feels akin to magic, where you might know every ingredient in the dish, but when you taste it, it’s that mysterious alchemy of creativity where 1+1=3.  I’ve loved almost everything I’ve ever eaten at a Tom Douglas restaurant, and although I’ve only so far made two of his recipes at home (although I think this one counts as about seven), it’s pretty cool when you can achieve that alchemy yourself just by following some instructions.

But I’m not posting the recipe, mainly because lord.  This is long enough already.  It would take up the rest of this blog.  It’s in Tom Douglas' Seattle Kitchen.  If you have a spare weekend sometime and want to make it, email me.

Giving it 5-star Holy Crap rating for taste, but just with the caveat that you better be ready to log some serious kitchen time if you want to make it all from scratch..

Update on Sunday, March 29, 2009 at 01:31PM by Leslie Seaton

Looking for the recipe?  I see you Googlers!  Mr. Tom Douglas himself has now posted it.