The Monterey Bay Aquarium runs a very helpful site called Seafood Watch, which basically lets you know which fish are in danger of overfishing, which ones are already overfished, and which ones are safely, sustainably sourced.
You can even print out a handy little pocket guide to which fish to choose, varying by region. Thanks guys!
Mark Bittman's recent post about budget kitchen outfitting has set off a firestorm of discussion here at Epifurious HQ. My childhood obsession with Consumer Reports, and my lifelong OCD enjoyment of lists make the topic of kitchen equipment something of a crusade. I love reading the beginning of comprehensive cookbooks, where they detail exactly what one needs to have--the sizes, materials, quantities of cookware and utensils that populate the home kitchen. The Cooking Enthusiast, a nice cookbook by Jocelyn Dimbleby, has a particularly glamorous spread of pages, with photographs of metalware, legumes, herbs, spices, all gathered in bountiful counters-full of sundries.
In any case, we have been arguing about what is and is not essential in a workable kitchen. Ulrike maintains that a box grater is more necessary than a microplane, which she considers a luxury. I counter that reaching into the nether-regions of a box grater to swipe out fingersful of parmesan is an indecency no good soul should have to countenance. I agree with Bittman that woks are foolish wastes of space, while Ulrike sings their undying praise. We agree that every kitchen should have a Pacojet, but maybe doesn't need one. Don't even get us started on Kitchenaid mixers.
But there is one humble kitchen item that stands above all others in perfection and necessity. Everyone needs a can opener. Whether you are opening a can of soup (shame on you! making soup from scratch is easy and way better!) or a can of beans, or a can of tomato sauce, you need a can opener. Everyone has a can opener in their kitchen. No one knows where it came from, it just sort of came with the kitchen. Sometimes they are a homely looking metal thing, an overgrown bottle opener with a hand-shredding crank at one end. Sometimes they are more advanced, plasticky things that clamp down spongily on the can, requiring immense, gym-like hand pressure. There are electric ones too, weird old Black and Decker or Oster boxes that sit, yellowed, on the counter, waiting to geekily lift the lid off with a magnet, always seemingly ready to drop the can that is rattling around in a slow, dopey revolution.
I work in television and write about politics and culture.
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