Rasputin having one of his famous tummy aches.

On December 16, 1916, the Russian monk, mystic and politically polarizing figure Grigori Rasputin was invited to a bit of a soiree, one which ended with his body being bound, wrapped in carpet and tossed into the frigid Neva river, but only after he was beaten, stabbed and shot.

All of this, because the cyanide in his wine and cakes didn't kill him. Either it baked off in the ovens or Rasputin had pulled a Dread Pirate Roberts and acquired immunity to poison, though it would be cyanide, in this case, instead of Iocane powder.

Throughout history, poison has been used to knock off kings, nobles, lords and ladies. Assassinations at the dinner table were as common place in ancient Egypt as they were in Medieval Europe. The use of poison even stretched devious tendrils to the Far East, where in the Land of the Rising Sun, it is not just the fugu that'll kill you, although fugu will kill you.

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Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea. . .

I would like to specifically point out that this edition of Brew Blog was not, in fact, inspired by Bruce R's comment on my recent post about Brooklyn Winter Ale. Just kidding, Bruce. Not really. What?

The truth is, I probably would have tried Jubelale on Bruce's recommendation, but I didn't. When I built my six-pack, I focused on holiday brews, taking it as an opportunity to get festive without a tunnel-vision-inducing sense of commitment. I mean, six of the same beer?! Who does that? Turns out I wish I had. Jubelale is good stuff.

Jubelale is a Winter Warmer, which is exactly what it sounds like. Designed to be nourishing and comforting on brisk English nights, Winter Warmers are typified by strong malt flavors and a warming demeanor. They frequently call to mind other flavors strongly associated with the season, from dark fruits and spices to vaguely piney nuances. Think of it as Christmas in a bottle.

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Photos by Mai Pham

This is the picture I posted on Twitter. Do the noodles look alive?

When I posted this picture with my Tweet of "Cold Korean noodles rock!," I thought people would take a look at the picture and immediately agree about how yummy it looked. But no, that's not quite what happened.

Nicholas Hall tweeted me back with a skeptical "Is it just me, or does that kind of look alive in the bowl?" On second inspection, I can definitely see what he was getting at, and I blame my phone camera for creating that illusion. They do have that sort of squirmy look.

In reality, the noodles weren't even close to alive and squirmy, and except for the hard-boiled egg, everything in it was entirely made of vegetables. And, they were dadgum tasty. Called naeng-myoeon (and pronounced phonetically neng mee-un), they are my most recent obsession when it comes to Korean food. Made of buckwheat noodles, cucumbers, sliced pear or radish, and a special recipe sweet-and-spicy red sauce, these are not just room-temperature cold. They are refreshingly ice-cold, made so by the fact that the recipe calls for them to be bathed in ice water prior to being drained.

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Joanna O'Leary

Don't be fooled by plain appearance.

Several months ago I bemoaned the fact that many Houston delis/sandwich shops do not carry egg salad, in a post on the Hobbit Cafe's Far Down, a spectacular dill egg salad sandwich loaded with avocado.

That's still true, but I no longer care, 'cause now I know where to go. In response to that post, Mike N. advised me:

"You need to try the egg salad at Nielsen's further west on Richmond. The deviled eggs too."

It happened that I was, at that time, driving past Nielsen's almost everyday on my way to a part-time job. But two days after I received Mike's recommendation, the job ended and summer began and I went away and blah blah blah I never got to Nielsen's.

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Much better tasting than my horrible photography might lead you to believe. . .

Just like albums, restaurants often have "Deep Cuts," unexpected gems buried in their menus, overlooked for the more readily accessible and better known dishes. Often, it's the mere lack of familiarity, itself, that keeps these dishes unfamiliar. We are largely creatures of habit, after all, and many are far more comfortable simply ordering what they know. Again, as with songs, these "deep cuts" are frequently the more interesting and rewarding compositions on a menu.

Back in May, Mai Pham referenced a few of these semi-obscure menu items while writing about good introductory dishes for Vietnamese cuisine. I eat Vietnamese food quite often; my kids are phở junkies. I seem to get stuck in ruts, though, ordering the same handful of dishes over and over again. When Mai came out swinging so strongly for Cá Kho Tộ, calling it one of her "favorite traditional Vietnamese dishes that require a more adventuresome palate," I decided I had to check it out.

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All photos by Mai Pham

Crispy fried pork intestines at Kiki Cafe, a Taiwanese specialty

Last week, when a I took a friend to try authentic Taiwanese food at Kiki Café (9126 Bellaire Blvd at Ranchester, Tel: 713-772-8883), he took one look at the appetizer menu and said "I'm gonna have the fried pork intestines." I looked at him questioningly, thinking he was joking, while he grinned from ear to ear. "Gotta get the weirdest thing on the menu," he said without batting an eyelash.

Gosh, how I love eating with someone who's not afraid to try something new.

Kiki Café is one of those places where you order from the counter, and when I told the Taiwanese owner what my friend wanted to order, it was her turn to smile. "Really?" she asked excitedly. "We make it good for you, don't worry," she said, obviously tickled pink by the fact that the only non-Asian person in the restaurant would be willing to try this rather unusual dish.

When it came out, the golden yellow, crispy fried intestines had been sliced thinly, resembling fried beignets or donuts. The taste, when you bit into it, was mild but had a hint of Chinese spices, and the texture was extra light with a very slight hint of chewiness. It was kind of like a fried calamari, but much thinner and less rubbery in texture, more like fried air. It came with a sweet and salty sauce, similar to a hoisin. And it was pretty awesome, if you like that sort of thing. My friend sure did. "I love it," he proclaimed as he noshed enthusiastically on the intestines.

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Brennan's Creole Bread Pudding

Last week, Christine Ha gave us some tips on what to do with all those leftover hotdog buns from the 4th. That's when EOW reader CameronByars chimed in with her two cents -

"Hot dog buns are also great for making bread pudding, as they are sweeter than other breads."

"Really?" I thought. I never made bread pudding and was under the impression you had to use artisan quality bread to turn out a decent dish. However, after some Googling, Cameron's tip didn't seem all that unusual. Still, I was curious to 1. make bread pudding and 2. see how these hot dog buns would hold up.

In contemplating what recipe I'd use, my eyes were immediately drawn to my bookshelf, where a copy of Houston Classic Desserts sits. And inside was recipe for Brennan's Creole Bread Pudding. Their recipe normally calls for 14 slices of day old French bread. Could a package of old hot dog buns compete?

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I burned the roof of my mouth on this. Can irony be retroactive?

Have you ever burned the roof of your mouth, then spent the next week poking at that spot with your tongue, worrying it over and over despite the pain caused by touching the wound? I'm the type of person who does that. It's a morbid fascination, I suppose.

That same sort of gross fascination occasionally fuels my behavior in other arenas. Take, for example, Katharine Shilcutt's recent warning about a particular underground eatery. "Whatever you do," she admonished, "avoid Flavors in the McKinney tunnel. Possibly the worst catfish and the worst French fries I have ever had anywhere ever ever ever. And bizarre service, to boot." Like a flap of burned skin hanging from the roof of my mouth, that couldn't be left alone.

Not long ago, I headed down to Flavors to see it for myself. It's a very nondescript spot, tucked in next to Miller's Café. A thin strip of tables sits beside a steam-table counter. The place seems chronically empty, at least the handful of times I've walked by. For some reason, it always has the feeling of being in the process of shutting down, or like it was only ever partially open, to begin with.

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Churning and churning in the widening gyre. . .wait, that's not right.

You guys need to seriously up your game. Yeah, I know I haven't written one of these since the end of June, but that doesn't let you off the hook for not providing me with any suggestions last time. I'm getting the impression you don't think much of the leftovers pieces. Too bad.

Seriously, though, I had to go all the way back to the beginning to track down this week's suggestion, since The Hat merely provided a reference to it. Our very own Katharine Shilcutt has been practically begging me to make this ice cream, dropping it into the comments section repeatedly. Her diligence finally paid off, and I was the beneficiary.

I'm typically not terribly big on sweets. Give me the choice between chocolate or a cheeseburger, and the burger wins, hands down, at least 90 percent of the time. I've always been that way. Even when I'm craving dessert, I tend to steer toward the more temperate zone on the cart, rather than rushing headlong into hyperglycemia. You might find it odd, then, that I was so excited about making David Lebovitz's Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream.

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Photo by John Suh

It's bigger, but is it better?

In a previous post, a reader scoffed at my pick for Cajun food and suggested I check out BB's Cafe for a taste of the authentic cuisine in Houston. Soon after that post, BB's opened a location near me in the Heights. It was meant to be, so I ventured there recently to get my Cajun on.

The BB's in the Heights has a patio, great for people-watching patrons at Fitzgerald's across the street, and there is ample seating inside compared to the original BB's in Montrose. We opted to sit indoors to escape the humidity and asked the friendly waiter for advice on what to order. He suggested eight different dishes, and not being ones to back down from a challenge, my dining companions and I ordered all eight.

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