While we talk, Lalousis gives me a thumbnail history of mustard that stretches back to the Romans, with Dijon mustard being created by 14th-century monks in Burgundy. “These were the same monks who designated the grand cru and premier cru vineyards for Burgundy wines that are still used today,” he says. He tells me that in 18th-century France, it was believed one must eat pungent mustard with meat to keep from falling ill. Maille established itself as the royal mustard because it didn’t make courtiers sweat as they ate it. “They all wore makeup and didn’t want it to come off in front of the king,” he says.

Eater editors get asked one question more than any other: “Where should I eat right now?” Orlando dining obsessives want to know what’s new, what’s hot, and what favorite chef just launched a new spot. So here they are – the fresh faces on our ever-evolving restaurant scene; the newish spots setting tongues awagging from the theme parks to downtown Orlando to the city’s suburban enclaves and all the neighborhoods in between.
This is a terrific reimagining of the classic dish.  I struggled with the pasta cooking and may cook the pasta at least 3/4 of the way through separately, but otherwise it’s a winner.  I used two chicken breast halves which I flattened a bit, cooked flat, then cut up and cooked the rest of the way.  I love breading on the chicken, but it’s very nice like this without – what a time saver and calorie saver.  
The city’s first permanent food truck park, modeled after the ones in Portland, Oregon, not only brings five mobile food vendors hawking poke, empanadas, Brazilian-style skewered meats, Vietnamese-Korean fare and a smorgasbord of Scandinavian delights, but the 10,400-square-foot outdoor venue in the Milk District sports an indoor bar with 15 taps featuring a rotating lineup of beers, ciders, wines, and cold-brew coffee. Some notable pairings: Playalinda Brewing’s Robonaut Red Ale paired with Vinny & Kory’s bibimbap to start, while Adao Gourmet’s dulce de leche empanadas chased with Destihl Brewery’s Russian Imperial Stout makes an indulgent capper.

While we talk, Lalousis gives me a thumbnail history of mustard that stretches back to the Romans, with Dijon mustard being created by 14th-century monks in Burgundy. “These were the same monks who designated the grand cru and premier cru vineyards for Burgundy wines that are still used today,” he says. He tells me that in 18th-century France, it was believed one must eat pungent mustard with meat to keep from falling ill. Maille established itself as the royal mustard because it didn’t make courtiers sweat as they ate it. “They all wore makeup and didn’t want it to come off in front of the king,” he says.
Considering that the last time I took a hard science class was when I received a C-plus in high school chemistry, believe me when I tell you I had trouble keeping up. Luckily, the exam we will take in a few weeks — to receive our course certificates — will be open-notebook, and we are provided a glossary and all the pages of Jacobsen’s PowerPoint presentation.
Most taste-expert programs are modeled, in some fashion, on the venerable wine sommelier certifications; none have deviated radically from these. The term “sommelier” technically means a “wine waiter” or “wine steward,” a restaurant position dating to 18th-century France. “My purist definition of a sommelier is someone who works in hospitality, who serves wine in a restaurant,” said David Wrigley, international development manager of the Wine & Spirit Education Trust, a London-based accreditation organization. I spoke with Wrigley last summer in Washington at an event called SommCon. There, the WSET presented its program to potential students alongside three rival organizations: the Society of Wine Educators, the Institute of Masters of Wine, and the Court of Master Sommeliers, the last being the subject of the popular documentary “Somm” and sequels. All of these programs offer a ladder of advancing levels, from introductory through master, increasing in price and commitment. WSET Level 1, for example, begins at just under $400 for six hours of course study, rising to Level 4. Level 4 alone takes up to 18 months and 600 hours of study to complete and costs more than $4,000 — and that cost can easily double as thousands more are spent on travel and acquiring bottles to taste. The WSET’s enrollment in the United States grew by 24 percent in 2017-2018. It now has more than 14,000 students, and worldwide there are more than 94,000.

As the class chuckles over that distinction, Frankenberg reminds us: “Remember, taste is always subjective. No matter if a professional tells you, ‘This tastes like wet slate from the Loire Valley.’ ” I’ve heard the same sentiment expressed by almost every taste expert I’ve visited. And yet, every one of these experts has a vested interest in taste being way more codified than subjective.

I’ve been confined to my bed for the past few days with the flu. My 14 year old daughter has picked up the dinner duties in my absence. Tonight she made this recipe & it was a hit! She said one of her brothers & my husband got seconds & her other brother who is always the last to finish his food was done first! Thank you for sharing this one pot meal, 5 stars here!
When I move to the evaluation portion, however, I immediately realize I am in way over my head. Any hubris I had cracks when I pop my first sample, a soft-ripened cheese, into my mouth. I chew. It just tastes like … soft cheese. I am supposed to evaluate this based on 70 characteristics and flaws in four categories (appearance, aroma, texture and flavor). And not just the presence of, say, a nutty or herbal aroma or an animal or grassy flavor, but “much too little,” “too little,” “just about right,” “too much” or “much too much.” At the table in front of me I see another candidate spit into a bucket. Wait a minute! I think. Are we supposed to spit cheese when we taste it, like wine? I spit my soft-ripened cheese into the bucket on my table (which is gross, to be honest). Still, I gamely trudge on for almost three hours. When I get to the evaluation sheet for Emmental-style (i.e., Swiss) cheese, there is a category for “Eye Development,” with characteristics such as blind, underset, irregular and dead/dull eyes. So cheese has eyes? When I approach the cheesemongers for a sample of cheddar, I steal a glance at the clipboard of a bearded guy in a Hawaiian shirt and Birkenstocks standing next to me. He marks “seamy” on one of his score sheets. What does it mean to have a seamy cheese? I am so out of my league, I don’t even know what I don’t know.
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