Fat Guy

They remove the thighs/legs first and transfer them to a cast-iron pan that is whisked away to the kitchen for further cooking. The breast is then carved and served with endives, followed by the dark meat a little later with an endive marmalade. I'm not positive but I don't think there's a salamander involved -- I'm not even sure there is a salamander in the ADNY kitchen. I can ask, though. I'm going to be out of town for the next three days with limited internet access but after the weekend I can try to run through a list of questions with Tony Esnault.

This part of Alex Urena's account is particularly hard to swallow given the journalistic record. Urena says: But in a Time Out New York article published in 2000, Doug Psaltis is specifically referred to as the sous-chef: Also: The story is available online here: http://www.timeoutny.com/eatout/240/240.eat.ramps.html -- this, at least, would seem to be a bit of homework the New York Times didn't do.

I would think if the Times had done its homework it would have followed up on a claim like Alex Urena's: that Psaltis wasn't even hired until two weeks after the restaurant opened. Homework would have been saying, "So we requested evidence and this is what we learned." This is the passage in question, from the Times piece: In terms of the first part, that isn’t actually what Psaltis writes on pages 126 - 141. He writes that he and Alex Urena were to run the kitchen, and that Barber (ridiculously called Peter in the book) stepped in as co-chef after the fact. With respect to the second part, the claim that Psaltis “was hired two weeks after the restaurant opened five years ago” would certainly be damning to Psaltis. It seems a bit hard to swallow, though. Psaltis is quite specific about, for example: -Recounting (pages 126 - 127) a dinner meeting with Urena and Barber at Peacock Alley during which the restaurant was discussed pre-opening. -Specifying the month he came to the restaurant (January, page 129) and the month the restaurant opened for friends-and-family pre/soft-opening meals (February, page 130). -Naming the people who were at the friends-and-family meals: his friends Laura, Jason and “Greenie” from Huntington, and his brother and co-author Michael (page 130). -Giving detailed accounts of post mortem meetings held after the friends-and-family meals (page 132 onward). Urena seems to be claiming that Psaltis wasn’t there for any of the above -- that it was a complete fabrication. Of course, specificity does not equal truth. But the detail provided in Psaltis’s book is compelling to me.

One does not typically get paid to blurb a book, and a blurb is not exactly journalism. It's basically advertising, generally done as a favor for a colleague, editor, agent, friend, etc. Most book blurbs are based on uncorrected proofs or sample chapters and the standard is to skim and blurb. Blurbing a book based on one chapter is not unusual. Retracting a blurb when the entrenched interests close ranks is.

My concern is with the retraction of the endorsement, with the only reason cited being "For a young chef to have the pretension to attack Mr. Keller - I've never seen such a thing." This reaction is described politely by the Times writer as "a supportive, fraternal side to the competitive world of chefs at the upper echelons of the restaurant industry." I don't know that I'd describe it in such a positive light.

Also, the eG Forums discussion is cited (incorrectly as egullet.com) is the piece:

The New York Times has a piece about Seasoning in tomorrow's dining section: http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/05/dining/05doug.html The most interesting assertion is the one by Alex Urena that Psaltis was hired two weeks after Blue Hill opened. This strikes me as the sort of thing that could be documented one way or the other, though it would still mostly point to when someone started getting paid. Is Urena really saying that Psaltis wasn't there during the time he accounts for in the book? The Times piece leaves a number of questions open. There's also a discussion of Dan Barber's resume, without a discussion of timing. It would seem that the key question is how long Barber worked at all these places. This could be established easily, but appears not to have been. One of the more interesting observations in the piece, by Ginia Bellafante: Particularly noteworthy is the quote from Jacques Pepin:

I think the point Bourdain makes well in the New York Magazine piece is that, while he has ripped into plenty of chefs and other people in the business, he has always been forthright about his own failings. This is something Psaltis could have learned from: his portrayal of himself tends to place the blame on others. I wouldn't say Psaltis portrays himself as totally "blameless," as Bourdain suggests, but I do think he portrays himself too often as powerless. A little more "Here's how I screwed up; here are my failings" in the Psaltis account might have gone a long way towards making him more sympathetic when he discusses the screwups and failings of others. Certainly, Psaltis is not Ducasse or Keller. He was, however, hired by both to be a chef de cuisine. Most professional cooks would consider those to be pretty serious credentials. When you get to the point where the New York Times is running feature stories about how you're Ducasse's American protege -- the first American chef de cuisine ever in the Ducasse empire -- I think you're certainly in the league where writing a book is not a ridiculous act.

The Dining Room at The Ritz-Carlton, Boston, on Arlington Street.

I was there and am having trouble believing it. I've got to say, the arrival of Tony Esnault didn't seem like it was going to open up a great new chapter in the history of ADNY. It seemed like a hurried, backpedaling decision and a narrow choice -- some Ritz Carlton chef I'd never heard of. And the dinner plan was sort of like, bring the baby in and sit in the aquarium so you can try Ducasse's blue foot chicken. Then to have it turn out to be a triumphant menu tasting, and to have Esnault turn out to be a culinary super-genius -- the best meal we've had at ADNY in five and a half years and we've been a lot of times -- was one of the more pleasant culinary surprises I've had in this lifetime. I'll post some wine notes later, to the best of my ability.

There's no tablecloth in the aquarium. It's a small dining room overlooking the kitchen that seats a maximum of eight people. Service is directly on the blonde wood table. It's supposed to be a little more "casual" than the restaurant -- the room is full of books, not only by Ducasse but also by other chefs Ducasse admires, and the decor is minimalist black granite and blonde wood with fiber-optic illumination. In the main dining room, of course, they have tablecloths and the expected luxury restaurant trappings.

I don't have a whole heck of a lot to add to Ellen's post at this time, except to say that while I loved the cuisine of Didier Elena and of Christian Delouvrier, what we are now seeing at ADNY is truly the cuisine of Alain Ducasse. Yes, through the vehicle of Tony Esnault, but Esnault is cooking -- with seeming effortlessness -- in what feels totally like the Ducasse groove. I went prepared to be disappointed; I left feeling as though ADNY has raised the bar higher. Edited to add: I should mention that all the above savory dishes save for the chicken, whether from the tasting menu or the carte (you can view both at alain-ducasse.com), were served to us in tasting menu portions. So the carte items would be substantially larger than what you're seeing above.

Dirk, may I ask, have you read the book? Forgive me if you've already said so.

Defending the veracity of one's book does not require that one participate in a trial by uncited, unnamed sources. Nobody should be called to account before an angry mob. Psaltis has already published his version of the facts, and there have been precious few fact-based challenges to it. The only serious one I've seen here, scrolling back through this mountain of words, has come from Bux. That Dan Barber worked at Bouley and met Alex Urena there would seem to be a fact Psaltis should address. Especially if Barber's tenure at Bouley was substantial, as opposed to a stage, it would seem to require follow-up by Psaltis. I doubt I will ever be able to convince Psaltis to post here again, though. I'm not even sure I'd ever try to convince him. There have also been, by my count, two factual challenges in the press. First, Ducasse's spokesperson has denied two incidents that were chronicled in the book. I don't suppose we'll ever resolve a "he said, she said" situation of this sort unless a videotape emerges, and I don't know how Psaltis could contribute to further discussion on the matter. I do think it's worth noting that Psaltis writes five chapters, 116 pages, of praise for Ducasse and has been noted in the New York Times as Ducasse's American protege. Seasoning is in large part a love letter to Ducasse. To me, this increases the credibility of the very few unflattering sentences about Ducasse. I've also been able to piece together, primarily through discussions with Ducasse's publicists yesterday (who I challenged on this issue), that there is a misperception about the book in the Ducasse organization: that nobody seems to have read it but, rather, they've been shown the few unflattering bits and been asked to comment. A reflexive denial under such circumstances would be understandable. Second, according to the same article, Chodorow "was quick to dismiss the chapters on Mix by noting that [Psaltis] got the number of seats in the restaurant wrong (there are '90, not 65')." This is a little easier to establish as a matter of fact than the above. In the fact sheet I received from Ducasse's publicists (and by this I mean the publicists at the Susan Magrino agency here in New York -- the main contact person on the account at the time was Robin Insley, who was recently replaced by Gita Sweeney) states as follows: When you deduct the 20 and the 7, which are not dining room seating, you get 63. I don't believe the pre-opening fact sheet is exactly right either, though. My recollection is that by the time the restaurant was actually built the lounge area had far fewer than 20 seats, and I also recall them ditching the idea of the chef's table soon after opening. Having dined at Mix quite a few times, and being not terrible at estimating dining room sizes, I'd have to say that the Mix dining room had between 60 and 70 seats. It's hard to believe Psaltis would have this one wrong; it would be more understandable for Chodorow to get it wrong, given that he owns or co-owns something like 25 restaurants. I regret that the only photos I have of the Mix dining room are partial views. I'm sure somebody, somewhere has a full-room photo. It would then be a simple matter to count seats.

I was speaking with admiration -- I wish I could do that. And I'm more impressed now that I know you didn't even have to try.

Nice work injecting yourself into the news cycle on this one, Tony. The New York Magazine "Intelligencier" piece, by Jennifer Leuzzi, even carries your photo -- not one of Psaltis. Ducasse is not quoted. Rather, an unnamed spokesperson denies that Ducasse "threw a chair during a meeting at the Essex House," and that he was "unrecognized and locked out of Mix by staff." Okay. Chodorow, making his bid for the world's biggest hypocrite award, is quoted as saying "I find the lack of respect shown to him [Ducasse] and his organization, let alone to ours, unfortunate, but not that surprising, knowing Mr. Psaltis." Doctor, heal thyself! Of course, in 2003, before Seasoning of a Chef, the organization was singing a much more upbeat tune in the New York Times: In other news, the San Jose Mercury News got sort of a comment from Thomas Keller on all this: Also there's a piece in Newsday worth looking at, though no mention of controversy.

One thing I think is worth keeping in mind is that poaching eggs should be easy. We've given a lot of tricks here, but they shouldn't overshadow the basic premise that poaching an egg is all about cracking an egg into a pot of simmering water. The other week I was in a rush and had to poach a dozen eggs. I put an eight-quart stockpot filled with water on the stove, added a splash of vinegar and brought it to a simmer. I quickly cracked a dozen supermarket eggs plus three eggs from another dozen into the pot and took them out 3.5 minutes after the last one went in. Threw them in ice water, refrigerated and served later. Fourteen of them came out fine.

I don't think I've ever announced my intention to come to China 46 for brunch. I just show up and eat. It's a buffet for crying out loud. They don't run back into the kitchen and refire every dish on the buffet when they see me. And the items from the printed brunch menu are mostly pre-prepped things like dumplings and buns. It's obvious to me when we're getting special treatment: Cecil usually sends us a couple of items from the kitchen that aren't going to other tables, and we tend to get very attentive and friendly service -- just like any regulars. This doesn't alter my opinion of the food -- it doesn't make the dishes on the buffet better or worse. We don't need disguises or cloak-and-dagger tactics here -- we just need a little common sense.

Jamie, I think the most often cited distinction between restaurant criticism and other forms of criticism is that the restaurant experience is an individually tailored one, whereas most of the other arts are relatively static. The studio arts are almost completely static, most media like books and films and television are totally static and it's not all that easy to manipulate the performing arts for a critic -- I suppose actors and singers have better and worse nights and can really give it their all when there's a critic in the house, but that doesn't approach the level of customization possible in a restaurant meal. So I do think restaurant criticism has some unique challenges. I think, however, that the enterprise of restaurant criticism has not done a particularly good job meeting these challenges because it has conceived of them as more important than they are. Indeed, restaurant criticism may be slowly putting itself out of business by forcing itself into a box that it can't get out of. Instead, I think the limitation just has to be acknowledged openly: that for the most part restaurant reviewers are reviewing the best meal a restaurant is capable of producing. This is the case whether reviewers like it or not -- it has been established many times over (most recently when Steve Cuozzo of the New York Post stepped down) that at least in the major fine dining markets anonymity is a farce in reality and only exists consistently as PR mythology -- so I think it's best to admit it and move forward. What I've tried to do in Turning the Tables is show folks how to get that best meal, because while critics and friends of the house get it automatically it's possible for anybody to, as I say in the book, "become a regular on your first visit." I don't necessarily think people should have to work so hard to get the best a restaurant has to offer. But I didn't create the system. I'm just trying to show people how it works.

I can live with lovely.

The advertised conventional wisdom of American restaurant reviewing is certainly that a critic cannot simultaneously be objective and have a constructive relationship with the industry. But that conventional wisdom doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and is mostly something critics pay lip-service to because they're not willing to challenge the public perception. There's a fair bit of a chapter of Turning the Tables on exactly this point (Dirk, have you read it?), and of course there are several existing eG Forums topics where it is discussed in great detail.

There's a good standalone topic there about how writers succeed. Especially when publishing on the internet, arbiters are almost by definition self-appointed unless and until they get recognized by the mainstream. And of course it's the case in many areas of human endeavor that ambition is a key to success, especially in an open field where most people are freelancers. I'm not sure what that has to do with Turning the Tables, though. The book is a consumer's guide to getting the most out of dining.

The book especially drags in the long middle. The early material about the family diner is, to me, irresistibly charming, and the later material about Ducasse, Mix and French Laundry I found riveting. (I hope there will be some discussion of Mix, because Psaltis tells a very different story from the one the press was buying at the time). The middle stretch is probably not of great interest to the general readership -- only the real die-hards (which probably includes many of the people reading this eG Forums discussion) want to know that much about March. That material is valuable mostly to young cooks starting out on a career path. For that group, the book is invaluable and there isn't anything quite like it out there. I get the sense that Seasoning is part one of two, with the second volume to come if and when Psaltis opens a successful place owned and operated by him. I imagine, Jonathan, that some of your issues -- such as the desire to know more about the Psaltis system -- aren't ripe yet. In that sense, Seasoning may be a premature book -- William Grimes (in his new role as book reviewer, not food writer) recently bemoaned the trend towards autobiographies by everyman (and took a gratuitous swipe at Ruhlman's House book) in his piece "We All Have a Life. Must We All Write About It?" Here I think Psaltis certainly meets the requirement of having something interesting to say that makes it worth writing a book, but the book might have been more satisfying with another couple of years of seasoning, so to speak. It will be interesting to re-read it in light of a second volume.

With Ritz Carlton in Boston, and before that with Ducasse at Louis XV.

Since my last post I've been to the Bar Room (I've now decided once and for all that I refuse to capitalize the "t" in "the" unless it's at the beginning of a sentence) four more times, including my best meal yet there last night. It's going to get boring if I start listing every dish, but my enthusiasm for the place grows with each visit. Service is increasing in competence (I've got to think this has something to do with the arrival of Graceanne Jordan as the new general manager; Graceanne was previously the general manager at Jean Georges and before that worked for Danny Meyer at Gramercy Tavern -- she was on the original staff there), the menu is evolving nicely into colder weather (I'm kicking myself for not asking how to make the cabbage-with-gruyere garnish for the shrimp) and most notably the desserts are getting more elegant (a grape "sundae" was one of the most enjoyable and refreshing desserts I've had for awhile: layers of red and white grape sorbet, fresh grapes and currants -- one of those rare desserts where the best bite is the last).