Because we worked hard to get Take Control of Thanksgiving Dinner published in plenty of time for Thanksgiving in Canada, and included Canadian-friendly metric measurements, I take a keen interest in how Canadians will be celebrating the holiday today. To be sure, Canada doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving on the same scale as the United States, and of course there’s no huge parade or major sporting event to bring the family together (in front of the TV). But that doesn’t mean Canadians don’t know how to make the most of Thanksgiving.

According to reliable sources, some Canadians will be watching a turkey roast on TV today, while others will be fantasizing about serving Thanksgiving dinner to Stephen King. Well, that sounds fabulous. I hope that you’re able to find a few spare moments to eat a nice dinner too, and remember all the things you have to be thankful for—such as the fact that you live in a country where simple pleasures are still appreciated.

In Morgen’s Interesting Thing of the Day article about Aquanomy, she described this new trend—the connoisseurship of water—which results in some trendy restaurants having water lists as long as a good wine list. She said:

This may seem like decadence to those used to drinking water straight from the tap, or a huge luxury when even clean water is a rare commodity in much of the world. However, I agree with Guiliano in her praise of this trend; we spend much more money and resources on beverages that aren’t healthy for us, what’s wrong with enjoying the experience of drinking something that’s actually good for us?

Far be it from me to gainsay my wife, but I have a somewhat different take on this. I can agree that water is healthier than pretty much any other beverage choice you might make, and that if you’re going to drink water, you might as well enjoy the taste. Where we differ is in the willingness to spend significant money on “designer” water rather than simply making do with ordinary, filtered tap water.

What’s at issue for me is the feeling that, as a consumer, I’m being taken advantage of in a truly blatant and brazen way. I decry the whole bottled water fad, and to the extent that aquanomy is another step in that direction, it bugs me. I’ve regularly seen bottles of very ordinary domestic spring water selling for twice as much as a comparably sized container of soda, milk, or even beer, and that’s just wrong. It’s not that I have anything against selling water in bottles as such. It’s that the prices are obscenely high given the amount of effort it took to obtain and package it, and absurdly out of proportion to the price-to-production cost ratio of just about any other liquid. Heck, I’ve even seen decent wine that sells for less, per milliliter, than mid-range bottled water.

My point is: if I’m in a restaurant, I don’t want to pay for water. (Well, OK, that assumes the restaurant in question is located in a part of the world where the municipal water supply isn’t contaminated; I’ve gladly made exceptions to this rule in certain places outside North America and Europe.) I certainly don’t want to pay the standard restaurant markup on top of an already inflated price for something someone just pumped out of a spring and put into a bottle with a fancy label.

I’d support a restaurant having an extensive water list if the prices were reasonable, but I know enough about the restaurant business to realize that’s economically infeasible (for the same reason you’re often charged a “corkage” fee if you walk in with your own bottle of wine). So here’s a puzzler: in the future, will restaurants charge you for the use of a glass if you bring in your own fancy water? I wouldn’t bet against it.

I’m trying to decide whether I like this idea. Following these instructions at InventGeek.com, you can outfit an ordinary bread box with a UV light that will prevent mold from forming on the surface of the bread, supposedly extending its shelf life to two weeks.

I’ve certainly had to toss out bread that became moldy before I could eat it, but something still strikes me as wrong about this. Even if bread doesn’t turn moldy, it sure isn’t going to be moist after two weeks, and if it’s been loaded up with enough preservatives to make it otherwise pliable (and edible), I’d be a bit worried about it.

But then, my gold standard for bread is the baguette, which, when made properly, has a shelf life of four hours, maybe six max.

I’ve always loved the idea of being able to buy M&M’s in nonstandard colors, such as purple. And you can do so at any of the M&Ms retail stores or online at M&M’s.com. At some point within the past couple of years, they started offering Custom Printed M&M’s—also, clearly, a brilliant idea for which I can think of any number of good uses. They can even print your business’s logo on the candies.

There’s just one problem, though—which is, unfortunately, unforgivable. You can only buy custom-printed Plain M&M’s. I am extraordinarily fond of Peanut M&M’s, and they pose a severe challenge to my self-control. In the right (i.e., wrong) frame of mind, I could probably eat an entire one-pound bag in a single sitting. (Note to self: Add this to life’s to-do list. And check on milk supply before beginning.) But the Plain ones just don’t interest me at all. I can eat a few, and I will if there’s nothing else made of chocolate available, but I just find them incredibly dull. I know the irregular size and shape of peanuts poses a challenge. But somehow, the manufacturer manages to get the letter M printed on Peanut M&Ms, so presumably they could figure out how to get a few more letters onto them too.

Of course, the same could be said of all the other varieties: Dark Chocolate, Almond, Peanut Butter, Crispy, and the weird new flavors (cherry, mint, peach, and so on). But really: they should at least offer custom-printed Peanut M&M’s.

Here’s another oddity: Although the M&M’s online store sells 22 different colors of Plain M&M’s and the new flavors (along with lots of other M&M’s merchandise), you apparently can’t buy Peanut M&M’s of any kind online—at least not direct from the manufacturer. (The M&M’s store in Las Vegas, by the way, does have the full range of colors in both Plain and Peanut varieties.)

What I’d really like, actually, is custom-printed, purple, dark-chocolate, Peanut M&Ms. Lots of them. Is that so much to ask?

We don’t consume very much carbonated liquid in this household, at least not compared to most Americans. The two of us might go through a 2-liter bottle in a week; more if we’re trying to meet deadlines (and looking for a nice cold source of caffeine), less if we’re being more relaxed, or paying more attention to our health. We’re currently experimenting with the latest combinations of diet cherry, vanilla, and berry flavors (though we often settle for our old standby, Diet Dr Pepper).

Those who drink a lot more soda (or “pop” or whatever you call soft drinks in your part of the world) might, however, be interested in the Fountain Jet Home Soda Maker. My friend Mark has one and says it’s fantastic: convenient, easy to use, and saves a lot of money. You get your own CO₂ canister and hook it up to the machine. Add water and one or more of the company’s wide selection of flavorings, and you’ve got your own custom-made soda.

Of course, you have to balance the money savings against increased clutter. I resist anything that takes up more of my precious counter space, and I’ve been conditioned by years of watching Alton Brown to steer away from unitaskers. But this could be just the thing for a large family that normally buys soda by the case.

When Morgen and I were on vacation in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago, we knew it would wreak havoc with our ongoing attempt to follow the South Beach Diet. Of course, we already make exceptions for things like parties, testing Thanksgiving dinner recipes, and whatnot—and then, as necessary, go back to the stricter Phase 1 for a bit to reverse the damage. It’s no big deal. So we knew the trip would involve some digressions from the preferred list of foods, but we still wanted to keep with the program as much as we reasonably could.

No surprise: Vegas is an astonishingly difficult place to be on just about any sort of diet, but especially so when the diet restricts starches and sugars. South Beach isn’t completely carb-averse like Atkins (thank heavens!), but when you do eat carbs, you’re definitely looking for whole grains and foods with a low glycemic index (i.e., they raise your blood glucose level as slowly as possible). But everywhere we went the menus were full of pasta, potatoes, and white breads—not to mention excessively fatty foods and very fruity drinks.

We finally stumbled on a fantastic restaurant called Pampas in an obscure corner of the Aladdin’s (soon-to-be Planet Hollywood’s) Desert Passage mall. It’s a Brazilian Grille, and it works like this. Your waiter brings you a basket of appetizers (fried banana, falafel, and pão de queijo—really too good to pass up), and then you start with a visit to the cold bar. They had plenty of healthy, high-fiber/low-fat salad-type things there, as well as hard-boiled eggs, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and other common South Beach ingredients that pleased us mightily.

When you’re ready to move on to the meat, you flip over a little card on your table, and then waiters start appearing at your elbow every few minutes bearing long skewers of freshly grilled meats; you can choose any or all, and they just keep coming back until you decide to call it quits. We had several kinds of steak, chicken, and turkey—all of which were outstanding. We passed on the pork, sausage, and duck (though I’m sure they would have been delicious too) because of the higher fat content. I lost track of how many different meat varieties we were offered, but it was a lot, and the quality was outstanding.

The price was quite reasonable to start with, and we found a coupon in the back of one of our in-room magazines that gave us, I think, $5 or $10 off per person. (We did pay for drinks and an irresistible dessert—the Chocolate Eruption Cake—but they were worth it.) We left feeling very satisfied, but having consumed only a tiny amount of starches overall. I couldn’t believe how few people were there: this place deserves to be packed every night.

I should mention, by the way, that most of the buffets in Vegas can be quite diet-friendly, as long as you’re able to exercise self-control. We saw roasted turkey, all the good fresh vegetables and salad stuff, and even a selection of sugar-free desserts. As long as you don’t eat all you can, you can do pretty well.

We also walked by the empty lot that was once the site of the Westward Ho Hotel and Casino—and home of the Mega Dog. We observed a moment of silence in its memory.

You’d think it was a trick question, right up there with “When did the war of 1812 start?” but it’s not: How many ingredients are there in Chinese Five Spice? I’ve got a jar of the stuff in my spice rack with six ingredients:

1. Fennel Seed
2. Anise Seed
3. Ginger
4. Licorice Root
5. Cinnamon
6. Cloves

It turns out that there are several different formulas, with surprisingly little overlap (and surprisingly little concern about the number 5). Read about other variations in Ingredients in Chinese Five Spice at SenseList.

When we make brownies, casseroles, or lasagna, I always want the corner pieces—I love the crispy texture of the caramelized edges. Problem is, there are only four corners. That need never be a problem again, thanks to the Baker’s Edge pan. The unique shape gives your baked goods eight corners, but more to the point, every piece can have at least two edges. For a crust-loving person such as myself, it’s a thing of beauty.

The real reason for the increased surface area of the pan’s sides is not to create more crust so much as to even out the cooking by making sure the “center” is never very far from the edge. So, no more mushy, uncooked centers and dried or even burnt edges.

Needless to say, this wouldn’t be ideal for a sheet cake, but for just about anything else you’d normally bake in a casserole or baking dish, it might be splendid. Stuffing, perhaps?

After I wrote the first draft of Take Control of Thanksgiving Dinner, I invited some friends over for a test run, to see how well the instructions and timetable worked, and what needed to be modified. It went well, but I still learned a great deal and was able to make many improvements to the book as a result. But I was too busy cooking to take pictures—except for the giblets.

However, mine was not the only beta test. My editor, Karen Anderson, did a run-through in Seattle, and publishers Adam and Tonya Engst did a larger one in Ithaca, New York. Adam and Tonya were able to document their experience in pictures: Beta-Testing Take Control of Thanksgiving. If you’re planning to follow my plan on Thanksgiving, you may enjoy browsing their photo album of the event.

When I wrote about water freezing and boiling myths at Interesting Thing of the Day, I had in mind the stories I’d heard about hot water freezing faster than cold water, cold water boiling faster than hot water, and so on. I think I did enough experiments to get to the bottom of what’s going on—or at least, enough to satisfy my curiosity.

What I wasn’t thinking about at the time, though, was cooking-related myths about boiling water. Such as: do you really need to add salt to the water when you’re boiling pasta? I’d always assumed that was essentially useless, because a small quantity of salt doesn’t raise the boiling point of water appreciably and there’s no need to season pasta while it cooks unless you plan to serve it plain—the flavor of any sauce will completely overwhelm whatever meager flavor you’ve added with the salt.

Last year I had the opportunity to pose this question to one of the world’s foremost food scientists, Harold McGee (see Pronunciation and Pasta). According to McGee, salt can also help keep pasta from sticking together, which is a sensible reason to use it. But he also said that, especially with thicker noodles, salt can actually increase the cooking time by slowing down the osmotic process that gets water into the center of the pasta. So if speedy cooking is a priority, you might be better off skipping the salt.