Schneier

I see it all the time in Tokyo. People reading newspapers, comics, etc.

I've only ever been comped at very high end restaurants. It's never expected; it's always a surprise. I think that's best.

It's a tough call. I like that they're less sweet then the typical American soft drinks. I agree that they could be even less sweet, but I figure they'd go out of business if they were any less sweet. Bruce

(I booked this gite through the excellent services of Esilda Buxbaum (wife of our own Bux) of Humbert Travel in New York: 545 Madison Avenue, 212-688-3700 ext 3016. Definitely recommended.) This is a photo of the front gate of the Lepage's property. In this picture, look at the left pillar. On the side you can see a bell. If the gate is closed, you can ring the bell and hope someone hears it. We have a key. Here the gate is open. Walking in through the gate, this is what you see. That's the Lepage's house on the right. That's our gite on the left. (You'll see these more clearly in a bit.) And that's our car, closest to the camera. Behind it is the shed that Patrick has been building. Here is a picture of our gite. We have the left side of this building. To the right of the gite you can see one of the two caves; it's the one that Patrick has his workshop in. Above the cave--which is the back wall of the property--is a field of some kind. Okay, here is a better picture of the space between the two buildings. Our gite is on the left, and the Lepage's house is on the right. The cave is the opening with the wooden doors; the other opening only goes back a few feet. The Lepage's house. This is our building. The window and door on the left are ours. So is that small window in the middle. The sliding door belongs to the gite next door, as does the table and chairs. Our table and chairs are off to the left, and you can see them better here. We've eaten every meal so far on that outside table. Also in this picture are our two lounge chairs, and a small building on the left. Patrick says that there's an old well in this building. It's locked, and we haven't yet been inside. Behind our table and chairs, you can see the door to cave. This, this, and this are pictures of the grounds. The lone shirt on the line is not ours. Here is a picture of our building from another angle, showing the other gite and the door to Patrick's cave more clearly. This is the front of our gite, and this is the side. That door goes into our kitchen. Here is the cave door, in all it's glory. Okay, now let's go inside. Here are four (one, two, three, and four) pictures of our living room. On the shelf under the stairs you can make out our impressive array of electronics. And here and here are two pictures of our kitchen. That appliance on the right in the first picture is our combination oven/dishwasher. In the second picture, you can see our washing machine, refrigerator, and microwave oven. This picture looks down a small corridor from the kitchen to the bathroom. That shelf is what serves as our pantry. And there are two (one and two) pictures of our bathroom. Please excuse the ugly green bathtub, sink, and toilet. Onwards to the stairs. This picture of the upstairs corridor shows our bedroom door on the left and a bathroom door on the right, and this picture of the corridor shows the guest room door. Here are four (one, two, three, and four) pictures of our bedroom. And another four (one, two, three, and four) pictures of the guest room. This is a picture of the upstairs bathroom. Yes, it's tiny. To flush the toilet, you have to open the cabinet door behind the bowl. Now comes the moment you've all been waiting for: the cave door. Come inside. This picture is taken just inside the door, looking to the right. On the left are our bicycles, protected under a tarp. You can also see some construction materials, and a window. We have not yet explored that window. This is another picture taken at the doorway, this time angled to the left. There's nothing in that large concrete thing. Going further into the cave, you can see the wine storage and some more random pieces of concrete. Here is a better look at the contruction inside the cave. It can't go very deep, otherwise it would open up into Patrick's cave. And this is the back of the cave. That doorway on the right wall, at the back, leads to a short corridor and eventually to Patrick's cave. Any questions? Bruce

It seems like I'm seeing sake hyped everywhere these days. I'd like to join the fun and buy sakes. I'm in Japan often enough. But I can't read Japanese, and all the writings on the bottles are completely meaningless.

They're all good options. My advice: get yourself a Michelin green guide. The guide lists all sort of sights in France, but not by region. The sites are listed alphabetically, and are all mixed together. Flip through the guide book, and choose ten or twenty things that you'd like to see. Then, go visit the region that has the plurality of the things you've chosen. Bruce

Had the soup tonight. It was good. Not as good as making it yourself, but for store-bought canned soup, it was delicious. I would buy it again. I wish it were available in the U.S. Bruce

I also thought that Slate ran an excellent obit. (I was going to post it here, until I found that you beat me to it.) Bruce

I haven't been everywhere enough to tell you "best," but I certainly cast my vote for Cafe Atlantico. Bruce

I'm living in the Loire for three months, near Tours. (Read blog here.) Any suggestions on local wine producers I should look up and visit? Bruce

There's power here. There are phones here. I have wireless Internet in my gite. I am working here just as I work anywhere. I told the radio I was on vacation, because it's way easier to explain. (How did the Air America bit sound? To me, it was pretty much devoid of content.) Bruce

I have never signed up for supermarket loyalty cards, out of privacy concerns. I always use the same Safeway number, though; it belongs to a friend of mine who lives in Winnipeg. Lots of people I know use her card. And if I'm asked personal or demographic information at check-out, I lie. Bruce

Thanks for the tip on where to buy vanilla beans. The best ones I've ever used were fresh beans I bought home from Tahiti. Unfortunately, I can't do that nearly as often as I would like. Bruce

My mother's time-honored poultry roasting technique involved cooking the dark meat for a little extra time after she carved the bird. Makes a lot of sense. I have been looking for Poulet de Bresse here in the Loire, but can't find it anywhere. Maybe it doesn't get this far West. Bruce

That's basically what I'm doing; buying artisanal whenever possible. But I have a bottle of their Soupe de Poissons de Mediterranee in my hot little hands right now. And a small jar of their Rouille de Provence. I'll let you know. (But not tonight. Tonight we're roasting a pigeon.) Bruce

I'm staying in the Loire, and at every supermarket I'm seeing "Reflets de France" brand local products: confitures, pates, soups, cookies, sauces, apple juice...everything. Honestly, I prefer to buy actual local products from local producers at small markets, but it's hard to completely avoid this stuff. The prices are good, and I've bought a few things here and there. Does anyone else have any experience with this brand? Do they any sort of reputation in France? I've poked around a bit on the Internet, but have come up with nothing. Bruce

I made rabbit stew for dinner tonight. Yesterday, at the market, I bought a whole rabbit. It was sitting in the display case, butterflied and with the head attached. The butcher was kind enough to cut it up for me, and to remove the head. (First the fishmonger offered to remove the fish heads for us, and then the butcher offered to remove the rabbit head for us. Head removal: the sign of good customer service.) I also bought some potatoes, leeks, mushrooms, and tomatoes. All good stew options, I thought. Back home, I looked over my rabbit. There were a bunch of good looking pieces, and several pieces that were obviously more bone and gristle than meat: sections of the rib cage, for example. I decided to stew them all, figuring that the non-eating pieces would give the stew flavor. I washed the rabbit, and removed the various organs that were still there. (It was great fun pretending I knew what the hell I was doing.) Never having cooked a rabbit before, I turned to Julia Child's recipe in "The Way to Cook." She suggested marinating the rabbit for 24-48 hours before cooking it. This was perfect, as I didn't want to cook the rabbit until today anyway. I made a marinate from olive oil, the juice and zest from a lemon, some soy sauce, pepper, a handful of dried herb mix, and chopped onions, garlic, and carrots. The pot wouldn't fit in the refrigerator, so I put it in the back of the cave. Every eight hours or so, I stirred the rabbit around in the marinade. Today I drained the rabbit, dried the pieces off, dredged them in flour, and browned them. Then I cooked the marinade bits, and another cup of chopped onion, in the remaining oil. I deglazed the pan with vermouth, and threw everything into the stew pot. I added a couple of carrots, some potatoes, more vermouth, and the remaining stock. (This is all pretty much according to Julia Child, except for the carrots and potatoes.) I set the whole thing on the stove to simmer for an hour. Near the end I fiddled with the spices, and served it. It was delicious. The rabbit was tasty and tender. The liquid was delicious. The carrots and tomatoes added. Everything worked. The only problem is that rabbit is much too much for two people; we had over half the meat left after dinner. I'm definitely making this when guests come to visit. Bruce

So, I've been here for almost two weeks now. I'm writing a daily travelogue, mostly about food, here. (Actually, my wife and I are both posting.) Enjoy. Bruce

I see moules frites for sale everywhere in France. The tourist restaurants here in Azay-le-Rideau (in the Loire, near Tours) have them on the menu. I don't think I would order them, though. Bruce

I'm already here. In the Loire. Near Tours. In Azay-le-Rideau. It's pretty perfect, down to the idyllic scenery and the wireless broadband Internet connection. Bruce

Looking at the map and the Tour route, I planned to take the Metro to Cour St-Emilion and watching it there, figuring that the crowds would be less. What I forgot, when making my plans, was that the Tour route came right down Rue de Rivoli, which was less than 100 meters from Benoit, where I had my lunch reservation. We noticed the barricades--empty of people--when we went in for lunch. And we found ourselves a nice spot on the shady side of the street when we were done. It was just before 3:00. And there we waited. People started filling in the spaces along the barricade. K climbed atop some sort of switching box and sat on it. The three of us held our positions on the barricades. Just after 3:00, a huge convoy of cars and floats and bizarre vehicles from the sponsors drove by: people waving and dancing, music blaring, crass commercialism. Then we waited, and waited, and waited. Occasionally a car, or a motorcycle, would go by. But no bicycles. Before I left in the morning, I printed an approximate schedule and itinerary from the web. We were standing at the 110 kilometer mark, with another 53 kilometers to go. According to the schedule, the riders would be by at about 4:03 if they were riding at a fast pace, 4:12 at a medium pace, and 4:20 if they were riding at a slow pace. They came by at about 4:35. It was a single pelaton. Lance Armstrong's team was leading the pack, with him safely nestled in their wake. And the 100+ other riders were in a thick teardrop behind. According to various websites I read afterwards, they were travelling at 45-50 km/hr. All I can tell you is that it went by amazingly fast. Because the riders were so late, we had to rush back to Montparnasse Station to make catch our return train. We did. Bruce

Lunch at Benoit yesterday, with my wife K, my cousin, and her husband. I wasn't sure if I they remembered me, or were just being nice, but the owner came out to say hello and describe the dishes. One of the things I like about this place is that they often bring out various terrines and soups and cold first courses for you to look at. The prettiest dish was a donut-shaped pate made from thin alternating layers of veal tongue and foie gras, although the cold lobster salad came close. I ordered the crab soup to start. They make a great Provencale-style fish soup a Benoit, and I'm a sucker for any soup that's jacked with Pernod. K had a cold terrine made with manta ray and vegetables in aspic: delicious. My cousin and her husband we somewhat timid in the face of all the "interesting" choices, and started their meal off with salads. I had the tete de veau as a main course, primarily because I read my previous write-up on the place where I talked about wishing that I ordered it. It was a piece of veal tongue, a piece of veal cheek, and some pieces of more "interesting" veal parts, served with boiled potatoes in a sauce of mustard, capers, and tiny pieces of hard-boiled egg. I liked it a lot, although I think I like some of their other offerings--they make a great cassoulet--better. K had the roast pigeon, which ended up being an okay bird in a delicious sauce. My cousin ordered duck confit--we talked her into it--and her husband ordered roast chicken. But to their credit, they both tasted what K and I ordered. For dessert we had their delicious chocolate mousse and a piece of peach tart. B

Okay. We're going. We might not be able to see anything, but we're going. Bruce

I have had consistently wonderful meals at Boyer "Les Creyeres." Bruce

Benoit is open on Sunday. We'll be there for lunch in three days Bruce