Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said.

I somehow fell out of reading the works of Philip K. Dick over the last ten years or so, partly because I abandoned sci-fi for classic literature and detective novels, but also I think because I’d gotten the sense that I’d read his main works. Dick was highly prolific, with numerous additional novels appearing after his death in 1982 (shortly before Blade Runner, the film based on his novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, was released), but his product was uneven, ranging from pulpy sci-fi works to serious novels of ideas like The Man in the High Castle, which was #95 on the first edition of the Klaw 100 and won the Hugo Award. Returning to his novels has reminded me of what I enjoy about Dick’s writing – his paranoia, his clarity of vision (despite a rather muddled personal life), and his willingness to dispense with the rules of narrative.

Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said fits all three criteria, a dark, dystopian novel that deals in questions of identity, privacy, and, in classic Dick form, the nature of reality. Jason Taverner is a world-famous TV star with a weekly audience of 30 million for his Tuesday night program on NBC until he wakes up one morning to find that there is no longer any evidence of his existence. In a police state where citizens can barely move a few city blocks without government-issued identity cards, this makes Taverner a criminal, robbing him of everything that he uses to define himself while also destroying his freedom. His agent, his lawyer, his on-and-off girlfriend all seem to have no idea who he is. He has to deal with a teenaged forger just to get the documents he needs to head into the city, only to find himself swept into a police apparatus reminiscent of our NSA and Homeland Security, where suspects check in but they don’t check out. The truth of Taverner’s missing identity turns out to be far more bizarre than he or we could have imagined, and solving the problem becomes more complex when a dead body shows up in his path.

The paranoia of Taverner’s situation probably seems a bit old hat now – there was a short-lived network series called Nowhere Man in the mid-90s that borrowed the premise – but for 1974 it was fairly new. Dick magnifies the disastrous effect it might have on the victim’s sense of self by having this happen to someone who is world-famous, confident in his celebrity to the point of arrogance. But Taverner is also a “six,” one of a few remaining products of a government genetic breeding program aimed at creating people of extraordinary beauty and intelligence, giving him the wherewithal to respond to his crisis with alacrity (with a bit of overconfidence mixed in). While Jason’s six-ness doesn’t play a huge role in the plot, it does at least somewhat level the playing field for him after an unknown force or entity has effectively de-created him.

Beyond his ability to terrify the reader by placing his characters in situations like Taverner’s, Dick also defied or just ignored conventions of narrative fiction so that predicting resolutions or outcomes would just be a waste of the reader’s time. He was the true Unreliable Author; he wrote entire books where characters were merely figments of someone else’s imagination (Eye in the Sky), or were constructed realities (Time Out of Joint), or seemed to play with the many-worlds theory of quantum physics (Ubik). You can’t accept anything in a Philip Dick novel as real except the dystopia itself. I won’t spoil Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said‘s particular deviation from realism, but wish it had been further explored within the novel once it was revealed – by that point, the cause has ended, and the explanation of why Taverner was the main victim was unsatisfactory. However, Dick mitigates that weakness (and the slightly tacked-on feeling of the epilogue) by continuing to probe the same issues of identity after the irregularity has ended, this time shifting his focus more to the police commissioner, Felix Buckman, who has come into contact with Taverner and ends up facing his own crisis of self as a result.

I knocked off four books on vacation, including this one, William Gibson’s Count Zero, Dawn Powell’s The Happy Island, and P.G. Wodehouse’s Young Men in Spats. I’ll write reviews if time allows it; in the meantime, I’ve started Ursula K. Le Guin’s Hugo Award-winning novel The Left Hand of Darkness.

Saturday five, 11/8/14.

I’m still on vacation, enjoying Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with the family and getting some reading time in too, but all the stuff I filed for ESPN before leaving is going up:

* My top 50 free agent rankings, with scouting reports on each.
* My offseason buyers’ guides to:
Starting pitchers
Relief pitchers
Outfielders
Corner infielders
Middle infielders

The guide to catchers will go up Sunday, and on Monday my NL ROY ballot column will go up after the winner is announced.

And now, the links…

Top Chef, S12E04.

Just a reminder that I’m on vacation this week, so I’ll be sparse on social media and not reacting to anything that happens in MLB. I’ve filed all of the buyers’ guides already, so they’ll continue to appear for Insiders. Today’s was on outfielders.

Those of you who’ve argued that this isn’t a great group of chefs got some validation in this episode; it wasn’t a terribly inspiring collection of dishes overall, light on creativity in particular even for chefs who nailed the execution. Meanwhile, we see that Keriann misses her family (don’t they all?) and Aaron is complaining about Katsuji trying to get in everyone’s head (I think he just talks a lot, with no real aim in mind, which makes him rather well qualified to deliver hot sports takes too).

* The quickfire takes place at Cheers! Lame. Mediocre show that somehow has glommed on to the identity of Boston without anything particularly Boston about it.

* Guest judge is … George Wendt. Even more lame. He was disappointingly unfunny here and didn’t seem to offer much food knowledge. Maybe the producers really wanted Hugh Laurie but just asked for the star of House.

* Quickfire: By law in Boston all bars must serve food. So a bitters bar like Sother Teague’s Amor y Amargo in Manhattan couldn’t exist? Also lame. I love a lot of things about Boston, but the state’s puritanical attitude to alcohol ain’t one of them. (And the way local retailers can dance around the three-store limit but Trader Joes can’t is downright corrupt.) The challenge is to make a bar snack in thirty minutes, with the winner getting immunity.

* Katie wants to make pickled cheese curds. How do you “pickle” anything in 30 minutes? In thirty minutes, all you can do is marinate it. That’s all. Stop calling it a fucking pickle just because you stuck it in acid.

* The real buzzword of this season is “spin.” Every plate is a “spin” on something else. Or maybe they’re just providing “spin” to the judges.

* Aaron is making a peanut butter and mayo burger, which a friend made for him once. He admits it sounds gross but says it tastes great. It does sound gross, but I imagine the heat of the burger makes the peanut butter into a rich sauce … I still wouldn’t do it, but I can’t knock it since I haven’t eaten it.

* Rebecca didn’t put enough glaze on her chicken wings. This might have made more sense if we’d seen more of her cooking – the editing of the quickfire this week really left us without much context.

* Aaron’s burger also has caramel bacon and a fried egg. That had to be an absolute mess to eat – the juices from the burger mixing with mayo, the runny egg yolk, and the liquid peanut butter. Katie fried cheese curds (beer-battered) with lemon and lime zest and fried olives. Stacy did an arugula pesto with prosciutto chips, balsamic tomato jam, and burrata as a spin on a BLT. Rebecca’s wings with spicy ponzu glaze didn’t have enough sauce. Keriann’s beer-battered onion rings were topped with crab salad and spicy hollandaise. Once again, she’s talking about her dish too much – spinning it instead of just letting the food talk. Wendt is “a sucker for crab meat.” That’s #analysis.

* Mos Chef has his first real stumble when all of the stuff on one of his burgers falls off the plate as he walks out to serve it. Pro tip: Try a toothpick next time. Or some epoxy.

* Adam made black bean chilaquiles with fried egg and avocado; probably not Boston bar food, but actually that and a brown ale sounds pretty good to me. Mei made fried chicken wings with lime-chili vinaigrette and pickles, probably the most appetizing thing I saw in this challenge. James made pickled and grilled carrots with red bean puree. How is that bar food? It’s rabbit food. Do rabbits go to bars? Can you ferment carrot juice? Maybe that’s what the White Rabbit was really getting high on. Katsuji made a mahi mahi and tuna ceviche with roasted tomato and jalapeno salsa. Now that is bar food – eat it with a salty tortilla chip, so the salt and acid make that beer taste even better.

* Down: Mos Chef, although Wendt says “Woody’s a vegan anyway.” James, because it didn’t feel like bar food. Up: Katsuji’s was creative and “yummy” (#analysis), and Keriann’s because it had crab meat. Winner … Katsuji, who, given how he’s performed to date, might need that immunity for his next twenty-ingredient special.

* Elimination challenge: Chef Michael Schlow of Via Matta is on hand, and the chefs will cook at Via Matta for sixty diners, working in teams of three to prepare a three-course Italian menu, which Padma calls “antipasta, pasti, and secondi.” I’m pretty sure that second course is “primi,” meaning first – antipasto means before the meal, then you have the first course (pasta or another starch, typically) and the second (protein). Diners will pick from the four menus, and the team whose menu is ordered the most wins the challenge; the others are up for what will be a double elimination.

* The chefs make their own teams, which can be a little awkward for chefs who don’t get “picked.” Adam, Doug, and Mei teamed up together fast, which says a little something about the mutual respect there, especially since we know Mei is very sharp. Mos Chef ends up with Katsuji and Aaron, who’ve already fought once, which means he’ll be playing traffic cop more than he should have to.

* Katsuji says they should use “macerated” on the menu instead of “marinated” because there’s no difference, which isn’t true. You macerate a fruit; you marinate anything else. So they’re right to say “macerated” peaches, even if it means no one will understand it. (At the table, Tom jokes that it looks like “masticated.” No, Tom, I don’t think that’s the word people will see when they misread it.)

* Melissa, James, and Keriann form the Grey team. James wants to cook lamb, but one or both of the women says not to use lamb, doesn’t think it’ll sell. James is Italian and cooks Italian; he says not to go seafood-centric but is outvoted. I believe this is known as … foreshadowing.

* That is a HUGE kitchen. Given what they usually have to work with, it must feel like chef heaven.

* Aaron is arguing for space with Mei/Adam. Then he’s bickering with Katsuji. In other words, it’s a day ending in -y.

* Mei says “at work I’m actually known as the Fish Bitch.” Seems proud of this. I guess it’s okay if you want to call yourself that.

* Melissa is making fresh ravioli in two hours. Katie (on the blue team with Rebecca and Stacy) is making fresh pappardelle. Is the challenge here the rolling and cutting? It doesn’t take that long to make the dough and rest it, and it cooks in two minutes, so I can only assume the difficulty is in rolling out the sheets and cutting or shaping it.

* Stacy discusses the difference between serving whole steak pieces versus slicing it before serving. Slicing means you can pick out fatty/gristly pieces, but she doesn’t say that it cools off much faster that way.

* Schlow is expediting and has to tell Katsuji and Aaron to shut up. Mos Chef says, “I feel like a dad in the setting with my two bickering sons.” I wish we’d heard Schlow say whatever he was thinking, probably something like, “who let these two clowns in my kitchen?”

* The celebrity diner is Emmy Rossum. Blais is back too, always a good thing.

(Rossum was also recently a guest judge on Project Runway, where she seemed to have a little more insight into the content. I mention watching Runway from time to time, and usually get some troglodyte responses that the show is gay or just for women. Rossum, who is very attractive, dressed as nearly all of the starlet guest judges do, in a short skirt or dress. The host is Heidi Klum, still one of the hottest women on the planet. The models are …. you know, models. A bit tall for me, but still, models. So, hey, if you want to tell me this show isn’t for you while you sit around on Sundays and watch big sweaty men grind their bodies against each other for six hours, be my guest.)

* Blais points out that the first item on the orange team’s menu has radicchio, which is a mixed bag: “Radicchio to the general public, it’s a tough sell,” since it’s so bitter. Also, does the general public really know what it is? I don’t think I knew until I saw it on Good Eats when I was about 30. And it took me a while to figure out how to prepare it in a way I liked. (You either need to brown those bitter heads like radicchio and endive to get some sugar out, or balance it with fat and acid like a bacon vinaigrette.)

* The purple team – Mos Chef, Aaron, Katsuji – is getting a lot of early orders, Aaron credits the scallops, because it’s his dish. Cool story bro.

* Rossum is gluten-free and has been for 15 years due to celiac disease (sprue), which she explains as an “allergy” on air. It ends up a last-minute twist for the teams, each of whom had prepared a traditional primo course with pasta. Katie improvises with zucchini ribbons; Melissa does risotto, which is very traditional for a primo. Katsuji just “deconstructs” his ravioli, giving Rossum the filling and sauce but no pasta. You do have a few options if you have time – rice and corn (polenta) are obvious ones, zucchini or vegetable ribbons less obvious (although Blais has a recipe like this in Try This at Home), and if alternative flours were available you can make pastas out them. Chickpea flour works surprisingly well, and they’re quite common in southern Italian cuisine (called ceci). If they had the right pan, chefs could have prepared farinate, a crepe made with chickpea flour that is outstanding and crispy without feeling heavy. Granted, I’m thinking of this at a keyboard, not a grill station with a clock taunting me.

* Purple team is up first. Aaron serves seared scallops with macerated peaches, pickled ramps, and crispy speck. Solid reviews all around. Katsuji just does a deconstructed ravioli – without the pasta. Emmy sees it for what it is and no one is amused. The pasta dough in everyone else’s spring pea and goat cheese ravioli is very dry. Mos Chef’s secondo of peppercorn-crusted strip loin with sweet onion compote and roasted tomato, cured olives, and herbs gets raves. Don’t call it a comeback.

* Orange team (Mei, Adam, Doug) is not getting many orders. They serve the judges next.

* Blais is “anxious” for Doug now because of the radicchio. Doug’s salad comes with warm pancetta, goat cheese vinaigrette, and hazelnuts. The judges seem to like it, but “not a bad little salad” is not what you’re going for. Adam served a bay scallop with fennel linguine, and swaps out a polenta cake for Rossum (good call). The Fish Witch (can’t do it, sorry) serves a gorgeous branzino with lemon jam, salsa verde, and radish. The skin is crispy too. I want this recipe.

* Grey team is also not getting a lot of orders. “Chilled wild shrimp” is not that appetizing a description, really. James’ salad is really a chilled seafood salad with shrimp, mussels, and clams along with arugula and wild orange. Sounds boring, although I admit I’m not a big chilled seafood guy unless it’s raw fish. Melissa made a homemade spring pea ravioli with ramps and bacon-parmiggiano broth, substituting a stunning bright-green fresh pea risotto for Rossum. Keriann made a pan-seared halibut with with olive oil, potato, warm asparagus salad, and pistachios. I wonder if Melissa was dragged down by her team here, as her dish was lauded but the structure of the challenge didn’t give us much positive feedback at the end.

* Aaron is incredibly messy in the kitchen, but at least he’s pleasant to work with.

* Blue team is up. Rebecca’s scallop with “charred” fennel, orange, and arugula starter is not very creative; Blais doesn’t even like the concept, saying she didn’t understand the ingredients. Katie hand-cut pappardelle and served it with a basil-walnut pesto and confit tomatoes, swapping in those zucchini ribbons for Rossum, who loved the idea and the dish itself. I think Katie should at least get points for the most creative gluten-free solution of the four. Stacy’s ribeye with king trumpet mushrooms, asparagus, and a kalamata olive vinaigrette is kind of a disaster; the steak was sliced too thin and the vegetables were brutalized from overcooking.

* The judges’ discussion, which includes Rossum and Schlow, overall feels like they were all a little underwhelmed. Purple team: Blais liked Aaron’s scallops, and Tom did too. Padma liked everything except the pasta, which was dry. Orange: Doug’s salad was not the prettiest, but was delicious. Schlow says it would have been a “satisfying” salad if you had a large serving, but it wasn’t great. Five years ago I might have argued there was no such thing as a “satisfying” salad, but I know better now. Blais loved Adam’s pasta, which reminded him of growing up on Strong Long Island. Grey: Keriann and Melissa are safe, but James had the worst salad of anyone’s. That’s where I wanted to hear more on Melissa’s dish. Blue: Rebecca’s scallop dish was the least inspiring of all for Blais, who said it felt “totally incomplete.” Stacy’s vegetables were destroyed, although Blais liked the olive vinaigrette. That reminds me of the strangest viniagrette I’ve ever had: chicken-liver vinaigrette, at Ludivine in Oklahoma City, one of my favorite restaurants in the country. It’s a great example of something I never would have thought to make, and was even reluctant to try, but then loved once I ate. I wish I hadn’t been such a closed-minded eater for the first 25 years of my life.

* Judges’ table: Tom says he would have preferred to see teams take more risks on their menus, which was my sense just watching the dishes and descriptions, too. Italian cuisine doesn’t have to be safe or boring. The purple team wins, but Katsuji looks totally bummed, even before Tom tells him that he would have gone home if he hadn’t been safe twice over.

* Blais tells the orange team they have to work on their menu-writing skills, because they didn’t get many orders but their dishes were all good. They’re safe.

* The blue team was the judges’ least favorite – Katie, Stacy, and Rebecca. Stacy said in the kitchen she knew her vegetables were overcooked, then lies to the judges about it and says she thought they were good. Blais says “there’s a difference between standing behind a dish and being honest … the vegetables were annihilated.” Man I am I glad to see Blais call someone on that bullshit. Just tell the truth, don’t make excuses, and you won’t make them hate your dish any more than they already did.

* Rebecca’s fennel wasn’t charred and the dish reminded Blais of mediocre room service. James’ salad barely had any olive oil, but wasn’t it also just a boring salad? He talks about “team harmony,” but how does that justify a badly executed dish? Be a team player AND make a good salad.

* Rebecca and James both go home, so Stacy barely skates by. James says he should have done a “louder, more seasonally relevant dish,” so at least he’s not blaming his teammates. If you cook something great, you don’t go home, not this early.

* Power rankings: Mos Chef and the Fish Witch seem like they’re miles ahead of everyone else right now. Adam, Doug, and Melissa make up the next tier, ahead of Aaron and Keriann and Katie. Stacy and Katsuji are on the bottom, probably with Katsuji most likely to get the boot next.

Ex Hex’s Rips.

My ranking of the top 50 free agents (with capsules on each one) is now up for Insiders, along with the first of six buyers’ guides, this one on starting pitchers.

Ex Hex is the new project for longtime alt-rock guitarist Mary Timony, who first rose to prominence in the very out-there Helium in the early 1990s (where her cherubic face clashed with their love of dissonant sounds) and more recently surfaced in the one-and-done supergroup Wild Flag, which also featured Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein. (And boy do I love Sleater-Kinney’s newest song, “Bury Our Friends.” Welcome back.) Timony’s newest project, Ex Hex, is probably her poppiest one yet, a power trio writing simple, punk-tinged, mostly upbeat songs that never sniff four minutes. Their debut album, Rips (iTunes), is basic, and a little surprising from a former Helium member, but very catchy, to the point where it would have been great summer listening – there’s a definite Beach Boys vibe to the vocals – had it come out a few months earlier.

Ex Hex’s formula is pretty simple: One hook per song, with a big chorus, lots of power chords, and some high-gain guitar riffs for accents. You could split the album into two parts – the uptempo power pop tracks that hint back to early post-punk acts like the Slits, and the slower tracks that expose the lack of technical difficulty in the guitar lines. Fortunately, there are very few of the latter, because Ex Hex’s real appeal on Rips is when they just let ‘er rip like a high school garage punk act, just with better production. Opener “Don’t Wanna Lose” comes in with a bang and hits on all cylinders, banging drums and reverbed-up guitars, before the power chords arrive like a souped-up “Mama Kin,” but with a dash of riot grrl in the lyrics. “New Kid” gets in and out inside of three minutes and never lets up its pace, even when it’s just Timony over the drums and hand-claps, leading into one of the album’s best choruses, full of roll-the-windows-down-and-hit-the-gas energy from start to end. “Waterfall” has the same kind of electricity, built on a basic blues shuffle compressed into four bars, although it has some of the album’s more insipid lyrics (“You took me to a party and you/hid behind the door/then you stole my wallet and passed out/on the kitchen floor”), certainly Rips‘ biggest weakness.

When Ex Hex slows things down, it sounds like demo territory, stuff that probably should have been left on the cutting room floor. “Outro” closes the album in contrary fashion – we just rocked out for most of the last thirty minutes, so now you give us a slow-dance number to end it? “Hot and Cold,” the first single from the album, borrows its main riff from Tommy James and the Shondells’ “Crimson and Clover” and follows the mopey chorus with huge guitar bends that seem lifted from “My Sharona.” The Knack might be a good point of comparison for Ex Hex, skinny ties aside; Ex Hex has that kind of intensity when they let it rock, but part of why “My Sharona” was a hit was that it was all hooks and no slack. Timony and company may have wanted to vary their output a bit, but simply slowing down the same three-power-chords and a chorus framework doesn’t work.

Ex Hex’s Rips doesn’t fit with the rest of Timony’s history, opting for simpler, more commercial sounds, but doing so successfully thanks to strong hooks and tight song structures. Her ex-boyfriend, Ash Bowie, got his old band Polvo back together a few years ago, releasing Siberia, an album as relentlessly complex as their pre-work, last autumn. We all get older in our own ways.

I’m heading out on vacation on Wednesday, which will make posting here sparse and my presence on social media sparser. I’ll still try to get a Top Chef recap up later this week, and there will be a new ESPN Insider column from me almost every day while I’m gone.

Haerts.

HAERTS – yeah, I’m not big on the deliberately-misspelled band names trend either – put out a strong EP late last year as a teaser for their full-length debut; “All the Days” made my top 100 songs of 2013, “Wings” would have made my top songs of 2012 had I heard it when it was released, and I liked their overall sound and lead singer Nini Fabi’s powerful, slightly smoky voice. Their self-titled debut album came out last Tuesday, including three of the four songs from last year’s EP along with six new tracks that follow the same general aesthetic – indie-pop, a little new wavish but never retro, all buttressed by Fabi’s tremendous vocals.

Produced by Jean-Philip Grobler, who records his own music under the moniker St. Lucia, Haerts isn’t as bright as his own work but features the same kind of lush, layered sounds that made his album When the Night (which made my top albums of 2013 list) so compelling. Haerts’ songs work best when Fabi is at the front, as on lead single “Giving Up,” where she begins singing just over a repeating keyboard line, after which her vocals are doubled before we get the remainder of the band involved. Like “Wings” and “All the Days,” there’s a relentlessness in the backing key and guitar lines, like a haertbeat beneath the voice that gives the album’s best songs their energy.

That’s lacking when the pace slows, as on “Call My Name,” the intro to which is way too similar to Chris Deburgh’s “The Lady in Red” (good luck unhearing that now); Fabi gets to belt it out during the chorus, but by that point I’d lost some interest, and the formula doesn’t work any better on “Lights Out,” which sounds a bit like a mediocre ’80s ballad and doesn’t let Fabi show off at all. Haerts sound best when they hit the gas from the first measure and leave the cruise control on for the whole four minutes – even deep tracks like “Be the One” (with the perhaps unintentional double entendre “can you show it/when you go down?” in the bridge) and opener “Heart” cast a spell with solid hooks and Fabi’s performance. I understand the desire to vary their sound and tempo across the 40 minutes of a full album, but their style doesn’t work as well at ballad speed.

Those songs from last year’s Hemiplegia EP are the strongest, though – the two I mentioned above plus the title track – with mesmerizing vocals and richly textured synth-bass-drum combinations that grow as each track progresses. “Hemiplegia” might be the unlikeliest title for a pure pop song, but it’s a remarkably crafted track that recalls the best moments from When the Night as it adds layers (like the guitar riff at 2:20) to increase its complexity without losing its hookiness. “Wings” is the only track on the album that feels driven by percussion, but the strength of the beat contrasts beautifully with the flow of Fabi’s vocals, but when everything drops out behind her at the halfway point, she hits this series of notes that mark the highest point of the entire album. There’s enough consistency on this album to make it well worth the purchase, as long as you didn’t buy the EP last year; it’s among the year’s best albums, on the strength of those three songs and one of the best new voices in alternative music.

American Gods.

She smiled at him, looking suddenly, and for the first time, vulnerable. She patted him on the arm. “You’re fucked up, Mister. But you’re cool.”
“I believe that’s what they call the human condition,” said Shadow. “Thanks for the company.”

Author Lev Grossman (The Magicians) also serves as arts critic for TIME magazine, helping assemble their list of the top 100 novels from 1923 with Richard Lacayo. In early 2011, Grossman also put together a list of the ten best novels from the first ten years of the century, of which I hadn’t read two, Lush Life (which I read in 2012 and loved) and Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. This was my first encounter with Gaiman, whose reputation as a fantasy writer seriously undersells both his erudition and his ability as a crafter of plots.

Shadow is just about to get out of jail after serving three years of a sentence for nearly beating two men, who cheated him out of his share of a robbery, to death. He finds out that his wife has been killed in a car crash, and on a much-delayed flight home for the funeral, encounters a strange man who calls himself Wednesday (a nod to G.K. Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday) and knows more about Shadow than any stranger should.

Wednesday is no ordinary stranger, though; he’s a small-g god, a modern incarnation of Odin, the Norse god and “all-father” who ruled Asgard. It turns out that immigrants who came to the United States and brought their pagan beliefs and superstitions with them brought their gods with them as well – and those gods are about to go to war with the new gods of America, gods of television and computers and other things we worship today. And Wednesday wants Shadow’s help in preparing for the battle, a story that turns out to be as tangled and complex as any culture’s mythology and that involves gods from numerous pantheons, a dead woman who can’t quite stay dead, a lakeside town in Wisconsin, a tree in Virginia, and Rock City in Tennessee.

Gaiman’s assembly of all of these gods and myths into one coherent story by distilling them each into single human characters is brilliant and imaginative, to the point where the novel felt like nothing I’d read before. It’s not magical realism because it’s almost too realistic for it, aside from the whole gods walking around thing; Gaiman plays it all so straight that it’s easy to accept them as regular people, even when they shapeshift or defy the laws of physics. It’s an ensemble cast, with Shadow at its center but not the central character, as his personality matches his name; the plot revolves around him, but he’s never the most interesting man in the room.

As the plot develops, both sides are fighting for Shadow’s allegiance, which allows Gaiman to move Shadow into various orbits and introduce a widening array of his god-characters without creating multiple plot strands. American Gods is mostly linear, which helped make it a quick read, as did Gaiman’s fluid prose and frequent use of dark humor (especially from the mouth of Wednesday, who turns out to be a bit of a cad).

The denouement is just as imaginative as the rest of the book, defying convention and expectations while deftly tying up the various threads of the novel, without short-changing the novel’s themes of mortality, clashes of culture, and the importance of myth. Gaiman’s prose, imagination, and embrace of these big ideas reminded me in parts of Fforde, Vonnegut, Dick, and García Márquez. Grossman’s list turned out to be a tremendous collection of modern fiction; even the titles I didn’t love were worthwhile reads, and the best books on the list rank among my all-time favorites.

…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead’s IX.

I wrote about the Giants and Royals hitting on high draft picks for Insider, as well as a look at the top 30 prospects for the 2015 draft (with Chris Crawford). This week’s Klawchat will have to tide you over for two weeks, since I’m heading off on vacation on Wednesday.

My October playlist is up on Spotify now, featuring tracks from Ben Howard, Sleater-Kinney, Soundgarden, Ásgeir;, HAERTS, Belle & Sebastian, To Kill a King, and Wytches.

There’s also a new CHVRCHES track out, but it’s not on Spotify yet.

…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead have one of my favorite band names ever, but despite my occasional references to them, I don’t have a lot of history with their music. I thought Source Tags & Codes, one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the last twenty years, was much less memorable than the glowing reviews indicated. It was a landmark album of the “emo” subgenre of alternative rock, a point where their earlier noise-rock inclinations found balance with more ambitious song structures and lyrics. Pitchfork even gave it a perfect 10/10 rating, which means some editor there fell down on the job by allowing such a score to be applied to a record that’s this accessible. But because I didn’t come to their subsequent work from the perspective that Source Tags was their magnum opus, I never held the view that they were a band in decline that seems to have affected views of their next four albums.

Coming to their latest release, simply titled IX, rather fresh probably helped me get into the album as quickly as I did – or maybe it’s just one of their more hook-laden records, with five or six tracks that boast strong melodies on top of their usual walls of distorted guitars. What sets this album apart in particular is the tremendous percussion work by Jason Reece and Jamie Miller; the drums drive nearly all of the album’s best tracks through tempo shifts and time signature changes, and they’re mixed towards the front the way John Bonham’s drums were on vintage Zeppelin albums. It’s a new dimension for the band as they continue to evolve within their particular niche of alternative rock.

The new emphasis on heavy, layered percussion work starts up with the first track, “The Doomsday Book,” where the rich drums and cymbal crashes set the tone for the guitars rather than the converse; it feels like a race where no one else can let up for a second because of the pace set by the drums. The track bleeds directly into “Jaded Apostles,” which I think is the album’s best shot at a successful single, starting with a hypnotic, rotating guitar line that subtly changes shape when the drums arrive with a tropical-accented rhythm that pulses through nearly the whole song. (It must be exhausting to play the drums for for these guys.) “Lie Without a Liar” is the first appearance of truly guitar-driven music, with a jangly lead line contrasting with the quicker rhythm section until the wave crashes in the chorus; it’s their best use of textural shifts anywhere on the album, moving from quiet to loud, slow to quick, appearing to peter out after the second chorus before the solo and wall of noise return before the final verse.

There’s some bloat on the disc, especially in the midsection, with two songs crossing the six-minute mark (and becoming tedious strictly due to their length) as well a pair of instrumentals that suffer from the lack of lyrics, which would have forced a more elaborate structure on to each song. The second one, “Like Summer Tempests Came His Tears,” starts out as a piano-and-strings song before the guitars kick in about halfway through, but it’s only effective as a prelude for the album’s closer, “Sound of the Silk,” which has the complexity of a ten-minute track in half that length. “Sound” starts with a two-minute mini-song that, by Trail of Dead standards, is practically a pop tune, although with an unconventional time signature, but then it ends abruptly with a drum breakdown (with a lot of bongos and Caribbean drumming patterns), which itself seems to peter out before we get a spoken-word passage over a guitar fill that crescendoes through the entire poem until reaching its apex in the last thirty seconds with a final chorus that alludes to the earliest part of the track without repeating it. That’s all in 5:13, by the way, and it’s masterful, even if it’s about as uncommercial as any track on the album.

I’m not qualified to say if IX, which is already out in Europe and comes out here on November 11th, is a “comeback” album for …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, because I’m just not familiar enough with their catalog and don’t line enough with the consensus on their earliest work. IX is better than mere “emo” – a term I always thought was pejorative anyway – with art-rock leanings, complex structures, and among the band’s best hooks ever.

Top Chef, S12E03.

My latest column for Insiders is on the Giants and Royals using the draft well, especially in the first round. I also had my weekly Klawchat.

This week’s safe word is “hammered.”

* So we start in the stew room with Aaron and Keriann still sniping at each other and Ron telling them, “don’t act like fucking children,” which, of course, makes them act more like fucking children.

* Meanwhile, we get some bio info on Aaron, saying he grew up in a broken home with no discipline, no father figure, and apparently not a very active mother since he says his sister helped raise him. That could certainly build empathy for him if he wasn’t treating half his colleagues like peons. He says, “People view me as the cocky little asshole who likes to talk shit,” without any apparent irony or self-awareness. Maybe they view you that way because that’s what you are and what you do?

* Quickfire: Ming Tsai (of Wellesley restaurant Blue Ginger) is here for another sudden death QF. It’s a tea challenge, since we’re in Boston, but Tsai reports the myth that Americans drink coffee because tea culture died after the Tea Party and the association of tea with the Brits. (It’s more likely that we became a coffee-drinking country because importing coffee from Brazil was cheaper than importing tea from China.) The challenge is to make a dish highlighting tea, where each chef is randomly assigned a type of tea, some of which turn out to be incredibly awful.

* Adam is complaining that he got monkfish cheeks because Adam snagged the yellowtail. I thought cheeks were a desirable cut of any meat or fish; shouldn’t a chef on this show be thrilled to get them?

* Rebecca tells the camera that she’s a real double threat because she can do savory dishes and pastry. That sort of bragging always ends well on this show.

* Varieties of tea include lemongrass pomegranate rooibos (a tisane, not true tea because it isn’t from the Camellia sinensis plant), white tea with strawberry, chocolate salt tea, and toasted nut oolong, alongside more traditional varieties like gen mai cha, a Japanese blend of green tea and toasted rice that is actually amazing even though it sounds so strange.

* We see some of the dishes, but not all. Melissa’s seared duck breast with tea-infused jasmine rice gets very high marks. Katsuji did a gen mai cha broth with brown rice crusted tuna. Katie made a golden honey black tea panna cotta with poached asian pear in tea and lemon, certainly among the most visually appealing dishes and easiest to understand around the use of the tea. Mos Chef does a tuna crudo with strawberry white tea and young coconut; Ming says he normally hates fruit and fish combinations, but loves this one. Ron does a tea-crusted duck breast with polenta and a chocolate-salt tea mole. Padma hates that tea (so do I – chocolate teas are gross) but likes the use in the dish. Aaron seared the monkfish … and Padma says that the fish is “hammered,” overcooked nearly to the point of inedibility. James made a crispy skin trout with quinoa cooked in tea plus a prosecco and tea buerre blanc. Rebecca made a tea-infused cake with strawberries and fresh apple; Ming says she needed more liquid to drench cake and he doesn’t taste the tea enough.

* Top three were Melissa, for the tea-infused rice; Mos Chef, for the balance of the tea and fish; and Ron, for the use of the tea in the mole. The winner is Mos Chef, thanks to the precise use of the strawberry flavors in the tea.

* The least favorites: James’s dish had too much sauce, Aaron’s fish was way overcooked, Rebecca’s didn’t have enough tea flavor. Aaron is named the worst and the crowd goes wild … or they just smirk and nod and hope this is the end of Mr. Congeniality. He picks Katie for the elimination one-on-one and proceeds to insult her in front of everyone by saying “it’s an easy choice.” Keriann points out that his bluster about cooking her “under the table” wasn’t enough for him to choose her for this battle. The challenge is to cook without any heat other than the pots of boiling water on the stove.

* Katie says Aaron is young and immature (true) and that it would be “ridiculous” to lose to him (don’t say that).

* Aaron play on a spring roll, cooking shrimp wrapper in a ziploc in the water. Katie says he’s young and immature, would be “ridiculous” to lose to him. Making pasta, cooking veg in a bag to make sauce.

* Mos Chef says “everyone is secretly rooting for Katie,” and that Aaron is kind of a loudmouth. It doesn’t seem like he wants to come out and slam the guy, which speaks well of him … but I admit I’m enjoying watching everyone turn on Aaron for being such an ass.

* Aaron makes a spring roll using pureed shrimp that he boiled in a ziploc bag as the wrapper, filled with cucumber, carrot, mint, and raw peanuts. Katie made hand-cut saffron pappardelle, smoked mozzarella, tomato sauce, and fresh cherry tomatoes. Hers needed more sauce and salt, but I think Aaron using the gimmick of the shrimp as wrapper is why he won. We knew this anyway from last week’s previews, which showed him fighting with Katsuji in the stew room.

* Elimination challenge: Cooking at Fenway Park. The chefs must choose a classic ballpark snack – peanuts, pretzels, popcorn, fried dough – as inspiration for a fine dining dish. They have three hours to prep that day and an hour to finish the next day at the park.

* The guest diners will be … Dennis Eckersley and CHB. So, a guy not particularly known for his Red Sox tenure, and a writer known for atavistic, retrogressive viewpoints that run completely counter to the entire ethic of the show. Good choices, guys. How do you not go get Pedro Martinez for this? I’d listen to Pedro comment on anything. He could be a guest judge on Project Runway and it would be entertaining.

* Baseball is dying, but it seems like half of these chefs profess to be serious baseball fans. Ron takes his son a couple of times a year. Keriann’s a fan, Stacy’s a fan, Katie’s dad (who died last year of cancer) “loved slash hated” the Twins.

* James grabbed pretzels because everyone else was grabbing peanuts. He says he doesn’t like this challenge because he doesn’t eat much junk food; his restaurant uses ingredients from farmers and foragers.

* Watching Mos Chef use the mandolin terrifies me. I own two different kinds, and I use them, but there’s no question I’m going to slice off a finger at some point with one of them. You could probably shave with that blade.

* Katie is making thick free-form creme brulee and doesn’t know if it’s set. This also appears to be … foreshadowing. Meanwhile, Doug points out in the confessional that Keriann is nuts to try to cook short ribs in under three hours. Does nobody like to use the pressure cooker any more? If I were going on Top Chef, I’d make damn sure I knew how to use a pressure cooker to make all kinds of things. You’re facing timed challenges and it’s the best time-saver in the kitchen.

* Mos Chef is doing either yoga or tai chi in the morning; he says that earlier in his career, he was using drugs and partying too much, which cost him jobs and burned a lot of bridges. When he decided to get sober, he made a plan for the person he wanted to be and made “a lot of amends” with people he’d hurt or let down in the past. I don’t mean to compare drug addiction to anxiety, but his discussion of taking control of his recovery and of his initiative in rebuilding damaged relationships certainly reminded me of my own experiences.

* Look, Fenway just isn’t that nice. It’s not. It’s cramped and old and dirty. I get the nostalgia angle, and the current ownership group has made it way better than it used to be … but it’s still a really uncomfortable place to watch a ballgame.

* The concession stand kitchen is tiny. This shouldn’t be a shock. They should see the visitor’s clubhouse; I’ve seen studio apartments bigger than that.

* Katie has soup rather than brulée, and has to call an audible, whisking it into whipped cream to make a sort of soft mousse. Aaron, meanwhile, says that, “Miss Culinary Instructor bit off more than she can chew.” As Russell from Fat Albert would say, that guy is NCAA: No class at all.

* CHB starts bloviating the moment he sits down. “It’s like a church to (Sox fans). We’re sitting in church.” No, it’s not. It’s a baseball stadium. You’re sitting on a lawn, in a baseball stadium. Maybe I went to the wrong church growing up, but I don’t remember parishioners getting hammered, grieving widows telling the priest he sucked, and fights breaking out in the pews.

* Someone says “Oh Katie” – maybe she said it herself. She’s an emotional wreck at this point.

* First group serves: Aaron made a pretzel-wrapped rillette and spring pea tendril salad. Blais loves the presentation, Tom likes the sauces and sides, but Ming said the meat was too soft and mushy. Ron made a popcorn soup (which looks thicker than day-old grits) and a breaded fish croquette, with dill pickled celery and sun gold tomatoes. Ming likes the popcorn flavor in the soup, but the consensus is that the croquette, which was supposed to symbolize the baseball itself, was too big. Katie apologies before even saying what the dish is, which is usually the worst possible strategy. Don’t ever apologize before anyone’s even had to chance to tell you your dish isn’t good. You’re just showing weakness. And as it turns out, everyone loves the dish – popcorn mousse with blue cornmeal salted shortbread and a beer molasses pomegranate something something sorghum honeycomb something. Really, I have no idea what was in that.

* Good news – Hugh is there! Him, Blais, Tom, and Padma is the Murderers’ Row of Top Chef judges’ tables.

* Eck mentions giving up Kirk Gibson’s homer as his worst moment as a player, that “no one would look at” him as he walked off the field. Padma says he “should have played for the Yankees.” Like you didn’t already have enough trouble in Boston, Padma.

* Next group: Doug did a seared scallop with grilled corn, sweet corn sauce and popcorn, and piment d’espellette. Keriann’s beer-braised short rib with horseradish parsnip puree, crispy pretzel shallot, and fondue was, in fact, undercooked, and underseasoned. I’m still flabbergasted that Blais didn’t get up and drop a pressure cooker on her head right there. Katsuji did a savory bread pudding (using the fried dough) with mushroom, bacon, and braised-then-deep fried pork belly. Blais loves the repurposing. Hugh says belly is tough and “desiccated.” Maybe Katsuji shouldn’t have put those little “DO NOT EAT” packets in the braising liquid. I don’t think Katsuji is very long for this show, which is too bad, because I love his accent.

* Melissa made a corn and ramp soup with pickled ramps, fried calamari, truffle butter, and bacon popcorn. It’s a big hit – Ming loves the corn flavor, Tom loves the pickled ramps, everyone likes the surprise of the bacon popcorn. Mei made a seared pork loin with braised peanuts, peanut sauce, herb salad, and peanut brittle, but (shockingly for her) the pork is a little overcooked. Stacy did a seared scallop (is this Top Escallop?), pickled peanuts, and a peanut and sunchoke puree/emulsion. Hugh loves it, loves the pickled peanuts, loves the Thai flavors. Blais says maybe she’ll get to throw out a ceremonial first pitch at Fenway, after which Tom warns her that you “can’t bounce” a first pitch – and my respect for Tom just tripled with that comment. (Stacy had the perfect response: “I can throw a ball.” Like, don’t throws-like-a-girl me, bro.)

* If this set of contestants had to form a baseball team, Aaron and Adam agree Katsuji would be the catcher. Adam says the mask will get him to shut up for a minute. I just thought Katsuji was the one guy who was built like a catcher – short and stocky. Although Buster Posey doesn’t look anything like the stereotypical catcher and he seems to be doing okay.

* Mos Chef’s duck breasts look amazing. The color is pristine across every single piece. I don’t think they’re that easy to cook, at least not at that level of precision, because the gap between “not browned enough” and “burned” is so narrow.

* Third group: Rebecca did a roasted salmon with mustard and honey glaze and toasted pretzel streusel, pickled shallots dill and watercress, and a mustard creme fraiche underneath. Blais calls it a “clean, classy little dish.” That sounds like Philip Marlowe describing a woman. James’ lobster cake with pretzel panzanella and avocado buttermilk mousse came out mushy, which means either it wasn’t cooked to a high enough temp or he had too much filling and not enough lobster meat. Adam’s watermelon curry with peanut oil poached halibut, jalapeno and fresno chili salad didn’t fare well because the fish was – wait for it – “hammered.” Tom says he let up a homer in the 9th inning, but maybe he was just pitching to the score, Tom. Mos Chef made those seared duck breasts with peanut nam prik pao, peanut brittle, crispy shallots, anchovies, and a fresh herb salad. Hugh loves the pears, the scallions, all the bright flavors. Blais called it “Moneyball” because it was “a smart dish right here.” He actually used the term correctly, which is why we love Blais. CHB would have used the term Moneyball to insult a dish that walked a lot and couldn’t field.

* Tom begins the judging with the awkward “Fenway Park is a great metaphor for today’s challenge” line. I don’t know if that’s worse from a baseball perspective or a literary one.

* Today’s theme was badly cooked proteins. Katsuji’s pork belly, Mei’s pork loin, Keriann’s short ribs, Adam’s fish, James’ lobster, Aaron’s pork rillette. Top two reasons chefs get sent home on this show: incorrectly cooked proteins and improper seasoning?

* Aaron making more friends in the stew room, saying “shut the fuck up for a moment” to Katsuji, who sort of interrupted/commented on Aaron’s self-loathing. “Bread pudding is what five year olds cook.” My daughter’s eight and she hasn’t mastered bread pudding yet. Should I give up on her?

* Katsuji tells him, “people are starting to hate you, you know what, embrace it!” I couldn’t be the one people hated. Just be nice. It’s so much easier to be nice. Being this much of a prick would require a lot of effort.

* Mos Chef, Melissa, and Katie are the top three. Padma tells Katie, “I think your dad would be so proud of you and I’m sure he is.” Tom was wowed by her recovering from her mistake. Melissa gets praise for the simplicity of the dish, surprise of the bacon popcorn. Says she wanted refined and complex but simple and that didn’t make a lot of sense but I guess it tasted good. Gregory wanted to incorporate all the ingredients, make it all round and work with each other. He’s so freaking calm. I just played in a little concert in front of fifty people and I was more nervous than he gets cooking for his life on this show.

* Winner is … Mos Chef! The man is on fire. New York/Delaware reprazent.

* Ron, Keriann, and Katsuji are the bottom three. There are lot of relieved faces in the group of chefs who didn’t get called out. Tom says it’s all basic mistakes, of cooking meat wrong, of portion problems. Keriann, why cook without a pressure cooker? I’m glad someone asked. Hugh says it was really tough and something about not being a sabertoothed tiger, which I assume was like saying he needed a chainsaw to get through it. He also says Katsuji “needs to be a better editor.” Ron’s dish seems to get the most criticism – the soup wasn’t soup-like, the croquette was too big, and what they don’t say is that it looked unappetizing.

* Tom says even the two remaining need to step up your game to remain in the competition. Ron is eliminated. Messy dish. Soup looked like porridge on screen. “I’m better than what I showed today.”

* Ron is eliminated. “All these little miniature entrees that these kids are doing … that’s not what I do.” Yeah, but that might be what wins. And I’ve eaten Blais’ food – those aren’t miniature in size or scope. I’ve eaten at one of Hugh’s places and the same applies. That’s a silly stereotype.

* Rankings: Mos Chef, Mei, Melissa, Adam. I think Aaron’s going to last longer than we’d like because he provides drama, but he’s struggled in three straight challenges now. Bottom three: Katsuji, Katie (despite the comeback), James.

Programming note: I’m going on vacation starting next Wednesday, so I’m not sure when next week’s recap will be up.

At War with Reality.

At the Gates’ first two albums, both released in the early 1990s, were generic black-metal releases, with the same silly lyrics and abortive stabs at classical influences as many other bands in the nascent genre. By their fourth album, however, the group’s sound changed into a tighter, cleaner, thrash-influenced form of melodic death metal that became a surprise hit in Europe, where death-metal acts have long found more commercial success than in the U.S. That disc, Slaughter of the Soul, turned out to be the band’s last before a nineteen-year hiatus, one which saw some of its members form The Haunted, a harsher, less melodic extreme-metal act. The same lineup from Slaughter of the Soul reunited a few years ago to tour, and their first album since 1995, At War with Reality, dropped on October 28th … and feels just like the band never broke up at all.

At the Gates’ style remains straightforward and, as death-metal goes, relatively accessible. Of the thirteen songs on At War With Reality, only one, the closer “Night Eternal,” goes past four and a half minutes. There’s no blast-beat drumming, no indecipherably fast riffing, and lead vocalist Tomas Lindberg scream-growls the words (as opposed to the Cookie Monster death grunt style) so that you can understand most of what he said. The real appeal of the music for me is that the riffs are so distinct, more reminiscent of the “death-and-roll” sound of Entombed than of other leading lights in the Gothenburg death-metal scene who rely more on machine-gun riffs and higher-gain distortion.

“Heroes and Tombs” begins with a decoy lick, a series of arpeggiated chords that seemed to nod to peak Slayer (Seasons in the Abyss or South of Heaven era) with round, muscular power chords through the verse before the drawn-out lead guitar line separates itself above the chorus – a technique At the Gates uses several times to introduce that melodic element to songs that would otherwise sound like early speed-metal with growled lyrics. Both “The Circular Ruins” and “Death and the Labyrinth” lean toward the same end of the metal spectrum; you’ll think Slayer and Testament but also Wolverine Blues-era Entombed and even hints of Carcass’ Heartwork. “Upon Pillars of Dust” has an opening riff that would make Rust in Peace adherents proud before shifting into the fastest tempo of anything on the disc for the verses – but one that downshifts for the chorus for some real contrast wrapped up in a song that clocks in under two minutes. There’s a similarly quick staccato opening riff to “Conspiracy of the Blind,” a counterpoint to the slow lead guitar line on top of it, although we lose that contrast in the verses because the drums never vary – but as a fan of fast-picked rhythm guitar this was my favorite riff on the album.

Even better death-metal albums tend to wear on the listener if they run too long, as there’s an inherent sameness in a dozen songs that all have the same tempo, the same vocal style, and the same detuned guitars. At the Gates probably could have kept At War with Reality even a little tighter than its 44 minutes, as the album becomes repetitive near the end. The main pedal-point riff in “Eater of Gods” sounded a little familiar, and the best bit of the song is the interlude at 2:30 where we get one undistorted guitar, allowing the second guitar to play the main riff more clearly than at any other point on the track. (Then the third line comes in, borrowing so heavily from Dream Theater’s “Pull Me Under” that I started singing “Thiiiiis world is/spinning around me” in the car.) I imagine the members of At the Gates generated a lot of material after a nineteen-year layoff from working together, so I’ll forgive them some overexuberance on what is still one of the best metal albums of 2014.

Ruhlman’s Egg.

Chris Crawford and I posted a (too-early) ranking of the top 30 prospects for the 2015 MLB draft, plus some honorable mentions. This isn’t a mock draft or projection, which I won’t do until May of next year. It’s just a ranking. And it’s too early to get all twitchy about it. But please read it anyway.

When Michael Ruhlman publishes a cookbook of any sort, I pay attention. My favorite food writer not only writes beautifully but approaches cooking methodically, thinking in ratios and master formulas, approaching food from standpoint of science. If, like me, you were reared in the kitchen on the shows of Alton Brown, you need to read the works of Michael Ruhlman as the next step in your culinary education.

Ruhlman’s Egg: A Culinary Exploration of the World’s Most Versatile Ingredient came out earlier this year, and it is devoted to that one indispensable ingredient, the one item in your fridge that really ties the whole room together. He approaches the egg from every angle, all the different ways you can prepare it on its own or use it as a building block in other recipes. That means you get instructions for all of the basic egg dishes – fried, poached, scrambled, hard- and soft-boiled, shirred, baked, and more. Ruhlman’s poaching technique is one I haven’t seen before, and it is easier to anything I’ve tried before, with better results.

The real value in the book, though, is the long list of techniques and recipes that use the egg as a building block. You’ve got the ones you’d expect – the hollaindaise (traditional and blender), the mayonnaise, the meringue, the custards – but also a huge series of dishes, especially cakes and desserts, that all rely on the egg for structure, emulsification, leavening, or cohesion. So while the book is about the egg, both how it works and how to use it, you’re getting a slew of useful recipes to put them to immediate use.

I’ve tried a handful of recipes already, with the typical high rate of success I’ve had from every Ruhlman cookbook I own. I posted a photo the other day of the corn-red pepper fritters I made from this book, a recipe that depends on the proteins in the egg to hold the batter together. Ruhlman’s a big fan of frying – responsibly, of course, working fast at a high temperature and getting the goods out before all the moisture is gone and they become sponges for oil. These fritters use a small amount of flour…

The dipping sauce is a chipotle-lime mayonnaise that you can make with store-bought mayo or with Ruhlman’s very simple homemade mayo recipe, which takes two minutes of whisking and will change everything you ever thought about mayonnaise. (I hate the stuff in the jar, but homemade is a sauce.) It’s also a great base for a long list of spreads or dips, many of which Ruhlman suggests.

The biggest hit in the house was the rum-soaked cherry and almond bread, even though I had a few small issues with the execution. You soak dried sour cherries in rum (!), then mix the dry ingredients except the baking powder with the wet and let it sit overnight. Then you add the baking powder and the cherries, drained and dusted with flour, and top the loaf with a streusel of sugar, butter, and a mix of flour and almond meal. The flavors are great, with cherry and almond a natural combination, but despite the flouring the cherries sank to the bottom of the loaf, and the streusel didn’t brown properly – in fact, some of the batter puffed up through it and pushed it out of the pan. We still loved the taste and the quick-bread texture with the crisp crust; next time I’ll try it without the overnight rest.

A close second: the potato-onion frittata, easily the best frittata I’ve ever made and probably the best I’ve ever eaten. The technique is simple, but Ruhlman’s instructions are precise, and the contrasting textures between the potato and egg made it something between a frittata and a Spanish tortilla. It’s a highly extensible recipe – swap out the vegetables, the cheese (his recipe called for cheddar, but I used gruyère), the herbs, whatever. If you have six eggs and a good skillet, you can figure the rest out.

Ruhlman also includes a duck hash recipe that calls for a poached duck egg, a delicacy I have not yet spotted at any farmer’s market here or at Whole Foods. The hash itself is glorious – chopped duck confit (or braised duck legs if you prefer) with potatoes and onions and some herbs to finish it. It’s also extensible; hashes are, by nature, a way to use what’s left over in the fridge.

What I have not yet gotten to try from Egg is the lengthy list of desserts, some rather decadent. You’ve got your profiteroles and your brownies, of course, but you’ve also got chocolate/mocha cake, coconut cream cake, mango-lime semifreddo, bourbon brioche bread pudding, île flottante, and chocolate espresso Kahlua souffle. There’s also yet another recipe for homemade marshmallows, this one using honey rather than liquid glucose, which I assume is to keep the sugar syrup from crystallizing while you cook it to the soft-crack stage. So, needless to say, I still have some work to do.

If you don’t have Ruhlman’s Twenty, I’d suggest you get that before you pick up Egg, but really you should own both and Ruhlman’s Ratio too.

As a side note, amazon (to whom I always link, as their affiliate program provides nearly all the income I earn from this site, because I don’t and won’t belong to any ad services) is in a lengthy dispute with Ruhlman’s publisher, Little Brown/Hachette, over ebook pricing. You can buy the Kindle edition for $15, but if you want an indie bookstore option, you can buy Egg through that link, which uses a pretty new independent bookstore affiliate program I’m trying out. I’m still pretty pro-amazon in general, but if you who want to go a different route for ethical reasons, here’s an option.