Fat Guy

My general take on that aspect of things is that, when you lump all the world's wines together, cost is not such a great indicator of quality. Exchange rates, differences in productivity, etc., ensure that. But I also think, in general, that if you narrow the focus to, say, wines from a given region and grape, quality and price do tend to stratify somewhat reliably. There are sometimes outliers, perhaps because some risk-taker picked early or whatever and made good wine in a bad year but doesn't have enough of a reputation to command a high price. But those are the exceptions. You just don't find a lot of $25 California Cabernets that outclass the $75 ones by the standards of even moderately experienced tasters. Still, plenty of people will prefer the $25 one, and the $12 blend to that. That, I think, is the take-away from this study.

I totally believe it. Fine wine is an acquired taste. It's not as sweet, not as direct, etc., as cheap wine. That's why young people start out with wine coolers and such. I'm not surprised that the average person would prefer a $10 Australian Shiraz to a Rhone costing five times as much.

Trevor Corson and I are not sushi experts. We're journalists. That means that, among other things, we interview experts in a given subject area and report that information to our readers. I've spoken to about a dozen sushi chefs -- Japanese-trained sushi chefs currently working in North America -- about the best way to eat sushi. Corson's research has been much more extensive -- I think he has spoken to 50 or more sushi experts (his whole book is about sushi, while it's only a part of one chapter of mine). I use the terms "sushi chefs" and "sushi experts" interchangeably. All I can tell you is that every sushi expert I spoke to about the hands/chopsticks issue made the point that when serving a customer who eats with chopsticks the rice needs to be packed tighter than ideal. Others made more elaborate arguments about tradition and about the tactile/sensual aspect of eating sushi. None said it was "rude" or "improper" to eat sushi with chopsticks and Morimoto, in his book, even says he thinks chopsticks are more "elegant." But these chefs clearly experience some disappointment when a customer deprives them of the ability to make the best possible sushi. So, again, I think in addition to hands being superior, it's more considerate to use them unless one's duty to one's dining companions (of whom there are usually very few at a sushi bar) overrides that. I don't have the statistics but my guess is that 99 percent or more of sushi in Japan is not eaten while seated at a traditional sushi bar. It comes from conveyor belts, supermarkets, department stores, fast-food outlets, restaurant serving at tables, home kitchens, etc. A lot of it has rice formed by machines. In those cases, there's no practical or etiquette-based reason to eat it one way or the other. But a genre has to be defined in part by its apex, by the purest expression of that genre. In the case of sushi, that definition comes from what happens in the 1 percent of occurrences: with sushi served at traditional Japanese sushi counters -- a small but defining part of the global sushi culture. My apologies for the repetition; I think I've now made the point as clearly as I can make it.

Filling an order isn't the scenario I'm talking about. At the better sushi bars, when you're one on one with the chef, your order doesn't get filled all at once on a platter. The pieces are made one at a time and placed in front of you to eat. So once you eat your first piece the chef knows how to fabricate the rest. And if you're a regular the chef knows your preferences -- not just how you eat but how much (which can affect how much rice is used).

That's the same as in the West. Of course, if you're out with people who use chopsticks, you shouldn't make them uncomfortable or shame them by insisting on the superiority of using your hands. But at a sushi bar you're not likely to be in a big group. You're most likely a party of one or two, maybe three. There's also a lot of interaction with the sushi chef in that sort of situation. I mean, the reason I eat sushi with my hands is because after I'd developed a rapport with Shin Tsujimura at Nobu in New York City he told me one day that I should. It wasn't a big deal. He just said, "Why don't you try picking it up with your hand?" Later he explained what Corson explains above: that the chef can make better nigiri for you if you're willing to use your hands to eat it.

I think the term etiquette has to be looked at in context. Etiquette can refer to specific rules of conduct aka manners. Etiquette can more generally refer to sensitivity to one's host and companions. Standards of etiquette can also depend very much on the group or location under examination. For example the average American McDonald's customer and the average American customer at Jean Georges have different expectations of behavior, though the same American (me, for example) could easily eat at both places on the same day. I agree that when eating most sushi -- kaiten, supermarket, Chinese-restaurant, etc. -- there is no clear etiquette standard, nor does it really matter how one eats it. And that sort of sushi can be very good -- I eat it all the time and I hear the standard for mass-market sushi in Japan is much higher (as in, good kaiten-zushi in Japan is superior to a lot of sushi-bar sushi in the rest of the world). However, I consider made-to-order sushi-bar sushi to be the apex of sushi, and there I think the question of the best way to eat does have an etiquette component. So far, nobody has disagreed with the premise that the very best nigiri is packed loosely. Nobody has disagreed with the premise that, when you're sitting at a very good sushi bar and being served by the sushi chef, if you eat with chopsticks the chef has no choice but to pack your sushi tighter than is ideal. If those points are correct -- and I think they are, though perhaps someone will disagree -- then I believe those points translate into a statement about etiquette: in that context, eating sushi with chopsticks forces the chef to diminish his craft. To me, it is inconsiderate to force a fine craftsman to choose between craft and hospitality, especially when there's such an easy solution: picking the sushi up with your hands.

"Cambodian Cuisine," the restaurant on Third Avenue between 93rd and 94th Streets that used to be in Fort Greene, is now open, making the number of Cambodian restaurants in New York City two. I walked in today and picked up a copy of the menu. There were customers eating there. It's an attractive two-level space and at first glance the menu seems similar to the Brooklyn menu. I'll try to go in soon for a meal and will start a new topic then, unless someone else beats me to it.

My point is that eating good sushi with one's hands is the better way.

I'm not sure what everybody thinks everybody else is claiming here, but I think it's pretty clear that the question of what most people in Japan do is not particularly relevant. Most people in Japan are not sushi connoisseurs. Drawing conclusions based on what the average Japanese person does is like drawing conclusions about French food from the fact that the average French person eats at McDonald's ("Every 12 months, one out of two French people visit McDonald's at least once."). Instead we should be asking what sushi chefs and diners at the connoisseur level think. Here's an excerpt from Trevor Corson's "The Zen of Fish." It makes the case for using the hands. Again, note that Corson is not making the claim that everyone in Japan uses his or her hands to eat nigiri sushi. Rather, he's saying it's better and explaining why. Now of course for conveyor-belt sushi, prepackaged sushi or sushi that comes from anywhere but a sushi bar, the key point about using the hands is moot. All sushi from those places is packed tight enough to eat with chopsticks. But if you're sitting at a serious sushi bar face-to-face with the sushi chef, I think hands are the way to go for the reason Corson states.

New on the Ko reservations site, if you successfully make a reservation:

The original theory, as I understood it, was "We don't believe in service, but we're going to tolerate a couple of floor staff because our cooks are too busy to pour wine." It's inevitable that such an organizing principle will be echoed as a poor customer experience. Now the restaurant seems to be operating more along the lines of a normal participant in the hospitality industry, training its floor staff to be warm and professional, etc. Combined with the cooks being more engaging -- like a sushi bar as opposed to a prison commissary -- it makes for a totally different service experience.

The Saturday of the July 4th weekend was a good day to try for Ko reservations for seven days hence, at least for me it was. I don't have a lot to add to my previous comments. The restaurant continues to blossom. Tonight the kitchen and service teams were totally at ease, gregarious and having fun. Neither Chang nor Serpico was there. A fellow named Sam, who served me on my first visit, was leading the service. He was a transformed individual tonight compared to that first night. I think the pressure of the opening combined with the now-abandoned anti-service opening concept were just too much for the cooks to handle. There were two new savory dishes in the sequence: Replacing the deconstructed lasagna dish I didn't like was a corn ravioli dish I liked a lot better but still thought was flawed in that it was cloying. It's three small ravioli filled with a reduced corn essence and some sour-cream-like cheese topped with bits of sweet sausage, corn and some fresh white Mexican cheese. Apparently there was fresh lime in there too. That would have been a good place to start fixing the dish: it could have used more lime or some other acid component. The other thing is it could have used a spicy sausage or some other source of heat, again to balance that sweetness. Replacing the fried short rib was a presentation of Muscovy duck from Grimaud Farms in California. The breast was seared rare and the leg was cooked sous vide to something approaching confit but not quite as broken down in texture as confit. As is typical of duck there was a flavor/toughness tradeoff with the breast (it was very flavorful, but tough). The short rib dish is better. If the goal is to phase out the short rib then perhaps inspiration should be taken from some of the more successful meat dishes at the other Momofukus such as the Noodle Bar tri tip (or the smoked Hudson Valley duck for that matter). The dessert pattern repeated itself: an outstanding sorbet ("Arnold Palmer" sorbet, as in lemonade and iced tea, with "mint julep crumble," which is bits of dehydrated mint tea cake) followed by a lackluster dessert finale (rhubarb and "pea soil," an unappetizing name for crushed dehydrated peas, with yellow-cake-batter ice cream -- the ice cream was pretty tasty although, if you've ever tried the cake-batter flavor of Tasti-D-Lite you know this isn't an original concept). This had the effect, again, of bookending an overall fantastic meal with unremarkable amuses and an unremarkable dessert. Again this is an area where they could draw inspiration from the other Momofukus. There have been some stronger desserts out of Ssam Bar (especially the PB&J), and there are plenty of excellent concepts at both of the other Momofukus that could generate great amuses. Here's the full list of courses as best as I can recall without camera or notes: -3 amuses: Greenmarket cherry tomatoes in a Chinese soup spoon, a single pork rind, mini English muffin topped w/ whipped lard -Sliced raw fluke (Long Island) with buttermilk-poppyseed dressing -Tofu-skin-wrapped morels and Louisiana crayfish tails with spring pea soup (apparently the season for this dish, which is superb, will come to an end in a week or so) -Sweet corn ravioli with white Mexican cheese -"Smoked" egg and hackleback caviar with soubise onions, mini potato chips and sweet-potato vinegar -Rainbow trout (Eden Brook Farms, New York) with bacon puree -Frozen, Microplaned foie gras torchon with lychees and Riesling gelee -Seared rare duck breast and pseudo-confit leg (Grimaud Farms, California) -Arnold Palmer sorbet w/ mint julep crumbs (dehydrated mint tea cake) -Rhubarb with "pea soil" and "yellow-cake ice cream" With the exception of a Sherry I thought was pretty lame and not all that flattering to the dessert, I thought all the other beverage pairings (we did the $50 pairing -- I'm a cheapskate) were spot on and interesting. Beverage service was very professional.

Everyone should feel free to disagree with anything I have actually said on the subject of eating sushi with the hands. Remember, in that topic a member in North America was saying he gets strange looks when he eats sushi with his hands. I do believe eating sushi with the hands is the better approach, and as an empirical matter the sushi chefs I've spoken to (Japanese sushi chefs working in North America, mostly) unanimously agree. I've never seen a sushi chef, from anywhere in the world, quoted as saying chopsticks are the superior method. At the same time, I'm aware that plenty of Japanese people prefer to use chopsticks. As for my book, which will be out in October, this is what it says on the subject: (Thanks Hiroyuki for the side trick.)

This reminds me of when I wrote a piece on rodizio restaurants in New York city and made fun of them for inauthentically serving sushi on the buffet. A Brazilian guy emailed me photos of about 20 rodizios in Brazil that served sushi on the buffet, and explained that this was standard practice and totally authentic to the genre. Oops.

P.S. While the Benoit website is not functioning properly, there's a decent account of a probably-somewhat-out-of-date menu on the New York magazine website.

The menu description is "iced hazelnut mousse." I've seen it go out but haven't tried it.

I'd amend that first part to say that the best Benoit charcuterie items are superior to what's being served at Bar Boulud. I haven't tried 100% of the BB charcuterie items but I've had the BB grand assortment and there's nothing in that assortment to rival the Lucullus-style tongue or the pate en croute at Benoit. And even hard-line anti-preferentialists will have to admit that the chef can't just go in the back and whip up superior charcuterie for a VIP -- so I do believe I've tasted the same things as everybody else (as well as Frank Bruni for whom being recognized on every visit didn't seem to matter). With respect to the other savory dishes, I just don't think Bar Boulud is all that good. Benoit, which is certainly uneven, at least shines (big time) in places. BB doesn't seem to shine at all -- though I haven't done as comprehensive a tasting as I'd like to do. And on the dessert front any comparison would be kind of a joke. Benoit is operating in a whole different, superior category.

Are you talking about charcuterie or overall? I disagree with either claim but am interested in which you're making. The good dishes at Benoit are categorically superior to anything I've had at Balthazar. The worst dishes at Benoit are not. The frites at Balthazar are better.

One star from Frank Bruni: http://events.nytimes.com/2008/07/09/dinin...ews/09rest.html I think he got a few things right and a few things wrong, for example his assessment of the charcuterie platter is nutty: While the Lucullus-style tongue and foie gras item is indeed superb, so is most everything else. That pate en croute, for example, is amazing. I do think, however, that Benoit sets itself up for this review by being too slow to refine its operation. My guess is that over the next year the Ducasse organization will hammer out the kinks and the food will be more even across the range of the menu. But the restaurant will not likely be reviewed again by this critic, who seems not to think it's at all significant. And the complaint about the hostess saying goodbye in Italian is borderline idiotic.

By the time I started dining out at haute cuisine establishments in earnest, in the early 1990s, La Côte Basque had long been a piece of history. It looked exactly as one would have imagined a fancy New York French restaurant would look in an early Hollywood color film, with its red leather banquettes, tuxedoed waiters, and wraparound mural of a French Mediterranean coastal village. I was swept away by the experience, not least the dessert trolley, and I had the finest cassoulet of my life, yet I couldn't help but notice something: I was by far the youngest person in the restaurant. I continued to frequent La Côte Basque over the years, and it was one of the special occasion restaurants to which I'd take my wife for lunch. Over time, though, as new flavors and an improved American culinary culture steadily took over, I forgot about La Cote Basque. So did many others. It was, I suppose, only a matter of time, given the restaurant's aging clientele and declining relevance among younger customers, before La Côte Basque would become an economically unsustainable venture. As I began to work on my first book, Turning the Tables, the word came down from Jean-Jacques Rachou, the chef-owner: La Côte Basque, which had operated continuously since 1958 (and had been owned by Rachou since 1979) was to close its doors forever in early 2004. This news was almost immediately followed by the announcement that Lutèce, another of the city's grand old French restaurants, was to close, leaving the number of traditional French fine-dining restaurants in New York City at just three: La Grenouille, La Caravelle, and Le Perigord. And in May of 2004, La Caravelle threw in the towel as well. Such a turn of events would have been unimaginable to a New York restaurant consumer in the 1960s or 1970s. The former New York Times critic Bryan Miller reports that his research through old restaurant guidebooks and articles reveals at least twenty-five such restaurants operating in New York in 1975. I asked Rachou if he'd allow me to interview him for my book, and he not only said yes but also invited me for dinner. Also at the dinner were a few other people I'd wanted to interview, including Georges Briguet, an old friend of Rachou's and also one of New York's most venerable restaurateurs. Briguet has operated traditional French stalwart Le Perigord since 1964. As the others were closing, Le Perigord was celebrating its fortieth anniversary, making it the longest-running continuously owned (by a single owner) and operated restaurant in New York City. There was talk of having our dinner meeting at Le Perigord, but given that La Côte Basque was just a few days from closing Rachou prevailed. Sitting at La Côte Basque with Rachou and Briguet was one of those "this is what makes life worth living" moments. I was finally sure that my decision to leave the legal profession and become a food writer, despite the economic consequences, was the right one. And, for the last time, I got to eat the cassoulet. The story of La Cote Basque has been told by others more familiar with the history than I. Bryan Miller called it "a subversive, glamorous and, at times, bizarre history," and I recommend his 2003 story in the New York Observer for those who want all the details. In short, La Cote Basque was the successor restaurant to Le Pavillon, the trailblazing (for America) French restaurant that opened at the 1939 world's fair and then moved to permanent digs in Manhattan. The owner-operator of Le Pavillon was Henri Soulé, a legend in his time and also -- as became important to the story -- a notorious anti-Semite. It so happened that Le Pavillon rented space in the building owned by Columbia Pictures, which at that time was owned by the Cohn brothers. The story goes that Soulé always gave the Cohn brothers the worst table, way back by the kitchen. Eventually the Cohns had it with Soulé and raised his rent dramatically. The restaurant moved. There are many more details in the Miller piece -- bizarre is the right word -- but the long and the short of it is that Rachou wound up buying the old Le Pavillon space in 1979. It became La Cote Basque. To further complicate matters, the La Cote Basque where I had that farewell dinner was not in the original La Cote Basque/Le Pavillon space at 5 East 55th Street but, rather at 20 West 55th Street, where Benoit is now located. Columbia Pictures gave way to Disney, which wanted the space at 5 East 55th Street for a Disney store. So La Cote Basque moved. To still further complicate matters, La Cote Basque after closing reopened for a while as LCB Brasserie Rachou, which closed suddenly (and never reopened) after a confrontation between Rachou and a health inspector. The space lay idle for a bit, at which point the Groupe Alain Ducasse took over the lease in order to open Benoit. Ducasse's history in New York is hardly as storied as La Cote Basque's, but Ducasse took his lumps. That there was to be another classic French restaurant -- albeit a bistro/brasserie, not a category that's having much trouble in New York at all -- in the La Cote Basque space was amazing news, and that it would be a Ducasse restaurant was more remarkable still. The first time I went to Benoit I was surprised to see some familiar faces from Ducasse's defunct signature restaurant in the Essex House hotel. A manager named Thierry, who in the interim period had been at the Modern, was on the floor. And the chef is Sebastien Rondier, who was a fixture in the Essex House kitchen -- acting as the senior sous chef and expediter -- even as the chefs there changed from year to year. I'd seen the name, Sebastien Rondier, on press releases but it wasn't until I arrived at the restaurant and saw him in the dining room that I realized, "Oh, Sebastien is the chef here." I go way back with the Ducasse organization (though I've had maybe two minutes of conversation total with Alain Ducasse, ever); they took very good care of us and absolutely refused to present a bill, so do with that information what you wish. The second time I took my mother, wife and nearly-three-year-old son. The third time my wife and I went with another couple. On both of those occasions we were allowed to pay for what we ordered but there were various comped extras. My understanding is that Frank Bruni has been three times and will be reviewing Benoit in the New York Times tomorrow. Benoit is not a flawless restaurant. It's somewhat uneven. But it's a highly enjoyable restaurant, and some of the food being served there is the best of its kind. For example, I've never had better onion soup gratinee, and the appetizer charcuterie platter for two is astounding -- surely the best item of its kind on offer anywhere I've been in America. The salt-cured salmon appetizer is also stunningly good, accompanied by warm potato salad upon which I can't think of a way to improve (there are terrific little side dishes throughout the menu). The quality of the lamb entree is on par with what the best restaurants in town are serving, even though Benoit is cheaper (prices are overall quite fair for what you're getting) and supposedly more rustic. The steak is excellent -- just one notch down from a top steakhouse. The desserts for two, especially the apple tarte Tatin and the profiteroles, are large enough to feed four (really) and are superb, better than anything that I ever had from the La Cote Basque trolley, which itself was pretty great. I've not had the roast chicken for two. But I've had the French fries and they're just not all that great. The steak tartare is disappointing -- too mushy and overdressed, though impeccably fresh. The halibut entree, which my wife ordered twice, is based on excellent product but is irredeemably dull. Nothing special about the lobster ravioli. The rum baba just doesn't quite hit the mark. Our server all three times, a very nice guy named Rodney (who told me he waited on Frank Bruni on two of his three visits), played the bistro waiter role well: not overly formal, but very competent. But Benoit is a bistro in the sense that Gramercy Tavern is a tavern or Gotham Bar & Grill is a bar and grill: the cooking is at a much higher level than what you could rightfully expect from the genre. It's a Michelin-star-worthy (one star, I'd suggest) homage to bistro cooking by Ducasse-schooled kitchen and service teams. It's also an homage to La Côte Basque. Mr. Rachou reportedly drops in to make the cassoulet (I've not tried it; it's summer right now) and the fish quenelles (superb) each day, the La Côte Basque flatware and crystal is still in use, some of the old paintings are still up (especially in the private rooms upstairs), and there are black-and-white photos from La Côte Basque's history in various places in the restaurant, such as along the stairs leading down to the restrooms -- allow some extra time to have a look. And some (though by no means all) of the customers seem like they've been with the restaurant since Le Pavillon.

Definitely on point, but what an awful word.

In a cursory Google search, I found nothing about him. I agree that someone's favorite bartender is not necessarily an authority on mixology, especially not highbrow cocktailian stuff. For example, the "best" bartender I know is Patrick O'Sullivan, the Seppi's bartender (whom you'll find plenty of references to on Google). A legendary New York bartender -- also highly Google-able -- is Norman Bukofzer at the Ritz. These guys mix the standard cocktails well, and they have amazing personalities. Patrick has done some inventing, especially with cocktails that contain beer. But neither Patrick nor Norman is the kind of authority that, say, Audrey Saunders or Dave Wondrich is. They're just not in the same category. Were I writing an article about how to be a great New York barman I'd call Patrick or Norman for quotes. Were I writing an article about the specifics of cocktail history and culture, I'd call one of the cocktailian expert types. I have no idea what kind of bartender this Pete fellow is, but the cocktailian community is pretty small. If nobody here has heard of him, he's probably not part of that community. He may very well still be a great bartender.

I think Edsel should drive us back and forth all morning in his Prius, so we can be like inspectors showing up at the various sites by surprise.

I'd like to go on the ethnic food tour, if possible. Am I to understand that it's not possible to do the ethnic food tour and go shopping with the larger group? If so, maybe I can stay in touch with Tammy via cell phone and pick up any ethnic ingredients that would be useful for the dinner. Or am I misunderstanding the schedule?

I'll be coming in Friday mid-morning (Thursday is our wedding anniversary so I want to be home for that) and will be around for all subsequent events.