jamiemaw

Encore un Foie? I’m certainly no expert on the production of foie gras, and have become an infrequent eater of it, especially after it became so very ubiquitous, even in inexpert hands (it deserved much better), a decade or more ago. I regret that it lost its purity, became a plaything -- even a cynical hamburger fixing. It's safe to say that the foie reared in Quebec is exemplary; indeed many chefs believe it the best foie product on the continent. I had the opportunity to inspect two foie gras (actually, foie canard) farms in Quebec last summer and was allowed entré into the inner sanctum of the gavage pens, which, for reasons of disease control and increasing political sensitivity, are usually off limits. The first farm, south of Montreal, was a fairly large scale commercial operation that is licensed to export product extra-provincially and into the US (and in fact supplies many eastern seaboard US restaurants). It was an unfettered production line with all stages of the process carried out in a carefully controlled environment. Diet, heat, humidity and light were fastidiously calibrated and constantly monitored by computer. It was also a scrupulously clean operation; the main fear being, because of the close quarters, a systemic outbreak of disease. As the ducklings matured toward gavage, their pre-migratory instinct to gorge was seemingly tricked into action (no matter the time of year) via the diminishment of light and heat (imitating shorter autumn days), and diet deprivation followed by a spate of abundant feed; deprivation, feed. The gavage stage (heavily air-conditioned and humidified) was clinical but expertly managed (the speed of the technique is not learned overnight) from a mechanically-forced machine that follows the operator, although the ducks were held in restrictive individual pens within a shed the size of a small warehouse. It was cold and wet, and the ducks were certainly not running to be fed -- they couldn't budge. The pens were suspended above frequently flushed concrete floors; the shed smelt much as you might expect. Although the ducks did not appear to protest the gavage, which, again, was both swift and expert, there is simply no way—short of inviting Dr. Doolittle to the party—to know. (A little like being at the dentist with wadding and a rubber dam in your mouth when he asks you the pain threshold question?). But neither did we see any evidence of animals squealing or otherwise behaving in an obviously distressed manner. Although I asked on more than one occasion, the actual diet of the ducks is closely guarded and it would be unfair to speculate what, if any, medications might or might not be added to their feed. But it was obvious even to an outsider that bacterial or viral disease could be commercially lethal to this type of closed facility. What struck me most about this operation though, was the very large size of the finished liver. At over 600 grams, the liver distends below the animal’s ribcage and has an exterior appearance, prior to slaughter, not unlike a human hernia poking through skin. All of the parts of the duck carcass were packaged and sold, in large part to restaurants: the foie, trimmed breasts, legs en confit, pate, and the carcass for stock. The second farm, located near Quebec City, was a somewhat different story. This smaller producer, which used smaller, old (and picturesque) wooden sheds and barns, also revealed a slightly different methodology. The ducklings (hatched off-site) were allowed free range in outdoor pens before being moved indoors to the manipulated environment. But even that seemed a little friendlier: at this stage the ducklings were still allowed to roam in quite large rooms. The gavage was similar to the prior operation, but with an important difference: the feed was stopped when the livers were estimated to be at the 400 to 450 gram stage of growth, and before any obvious distension had taken place. For regulatory reasons (and much like many of the province’s wonderful cheeses), their product is not available outside of Quebec. The chef with whom I was traveling, Jean-Luc Boulay, who operates a restaurant in Quebec City called Le Saint’Amour, visited this operation regularly, as much, I came to feel, for his interest in the welfare of the animals as for the quality of the finished (smaller) product that they gave up. He seemed convinced that the smaller livers were superior—less likely to be granular—and that the ducks knew no suffering. Boulay regularly serves several variations—typical might be a homemade terrine with Sauternes jelly and fig pulp; squab stuffed with fresh foie gras; or foie gras seared with fleur de sel, its pan deglazed with cranberries and mango chutney. One can also order a foie gras plat combining several of these. Without for a minute wishing to prejudice anyone, having seen these two producers, I wouldn't eat from a foie over half a kilo. And because in a restaurant setting that’s nigh on impossible to verify, I choose to eat it no more. But that’s an entirely personal choice, albeit one I regretfully add to a growing list of other much-missed foods, especially that other luxe one, Caspian caviar. In fact, the last foie gras I ate was in Quebec City, early last summer, from the hand of the master Boulay. It was generous and seared quickly, with a topknot of good salt and a fresh, barely warmed compote of rhubarb that put sweaters on my teeth. Those perfect combinant flavours, plush under their crust and tinctured with the rhubarb, melted away slowly, and then forever.

Ah, the vegetable conundrum, as much determined by lack of oven and stove-top space as a desire for flavour, texture and perhaps something slightly off the beaten track. But the conundrum is heightened by the fact that families are creatures of habit, and just as Arne has mentioned, if someone forgets the Old Ports and Pots o' Gold, there might be tears. Trial and error suggests that one solution is to make all the traditional favourites (mashed spuds--actually butter bound by miniscule amounts of potato, wine-rich gravy, roasted squash with maple syrup etc.), then add a couple of options. For instance, I have to make peas for my Dad, who insists on them. Fortunately we've weaned him off Royal City No. 2's by substituting frozen peas from the micro-wave refreshed with a little mint from the garden. They're bright, green and popular. As, at 88, is he. Second, when the turkey is taken out to rest, turn the heat up to 400, replace the missing rack and place a bain marie of individual (ramekin) squash/nutmeg/sage souffles (or puddings). They'll be done by the time you've finished the gravy and have begun the carving. Or simply roast some spaghtti squash in their half-shells, add some butter, pepper and nutmeg, and scoop. Third, the peoples' choice. Scrub some young carrots, leaving the top inch of green stem on. Dry thoroughly. Place on a cookie sheet with slices of fennel interspersed. Oil them and roast for 20 minutes at 400, spinning them once. Sprinkle with good salt after arranging on a platter. Quality crunch in a sea of gummable food. And here's a piquant alternative if you're serving pheasant, duck or leg of lamb instead of turkey. Slice Japanese eggplants in half and take a small slice off the bottom so they balance in a casserole or on a baking sheet. In a bowl, muddle anchovies, diced garlic, salt, a little lemon juice, capers and oil to make a paste. Coat the cut side of the eggplant and roast for 20 minutes at 400. This will get your guests' attention. Back to pals of the bird. Roasted beets are good. Roasted onions are good. A mess of roasted root vegetables with fresh herbs is good. Wok-fried Brussels sprouts are great--and, bonus, the frying sharply reduces flatulence hazards. Succotash is good. And boiled, scallion-laced dumplings are most excellent gravy soppers. But the greatest of them all is what comes first. It's a way to ease hunger pangs in the hour after people arrive without filling them up: A teacup of lobster bisque or strained bouillabaise. That's it and nothing else. Pair with generous glasses of chilled Tio Pepe. Both are a diabolic foreplay that induce the kind of hunger that only you can so amply serve. Good luck, Jamie

Pity. Only in Canada you say? Actually butter, when I read your post this morning without benefit of my spectacles (or were they just spattered with bacon grease?), I thought that you had written that you "were having a little pita party" which would be an unusual Thanksgiving tradition indeed. Simultaneously, I was attempting to (blurilly) read the October issue of Saveur, where a recipe for cervela whisked me back to heady days of clambering around Switzerland. I thought--what a perfect thing to stuff into a lightly grilled pita, as its ingredients neatly bridge the turn of summer into fall. And great food for a walk in the park. Here it is: Walk in the Park Cervela Put 2 tbsp. red wine vinegar, 1 tbsp. Dijon, and 1 egg yolk into blender and blend at slow speed for a few seconds. With motor still running slowly add a half cup of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Chill. Cut a 4 oz. piece of garlicky beef sausage such as knackwurst (or several types, from OK Sausage) into 1/2 inch pieces. Combine with 4 ripe tomatoes cored and sliced into 1/6 wedges, 2 oz. of Emmenthaler cheese cut into 1/4 inch pieces, 8 cornichons diced finely, 1 small red onion diced, and 4 hard-boiled eggs cut into 1/6ths. Toss the dry ingredients gently in a bowl and add 1/4 cup of the dressing. Add egg sections at the end. Stuff pitas. Find a park. Walk. Let's collaborate on more of these soon. I'm glad you're feeling better. Jamie

Well, thanks to you. Thanksgiving's hard enough on relations anyway and it would be a shame to see Double Dipping get away on us like the softwood lumber dispute, only now being resolved in The Hague. Surely NAFTA can be amended without too much fuss. But if there's even a shred of doubt in your congressman's mind, Jason, simply ask him to review next week's Enquirer. No doubt he'll see before and after shots of Neil Young, Jim Carrey and Joni Mitchell trying to slip back over the line after Canadian Thanksgiving. Last October Carrey gained an astonishing 15 pounds (6.5 kilos up here) in three days, about the same weight as a hybridized Canadian-Cornish game hen or his ex-girlfriend, Lauren Holly. When interviewed he said he'd had "enough turkey to stuff a chesterfield." Thanks again for tackling this issue head-on. And pass the cranberries. Jamie

Jason, In the interests of international relations and reciprocity, perhaps it's best to call this reply to your wiseacre remarks . . . No Harm, No Fowl In your missive, you complain that Canadian Thanksgiving falls too hard on the Jewish holiday feasting season. But speaking for all Scottish-Canadians, you don't hear us complaining that Robbie Burns Fortnight too closely abuts Easter do you? Disbelieving your logic, Canadians have long been curious, if not downright concerned, as to why our southern neighbours heap American Thanksgiving right on top of Christmas. College kids criss-cross the country to visit family in November, only to return to school for exams and then turn around again. American Thanksgiving seems a holiday timed not so much to honour the pilgrims as the airlines. Or maybe it's timed so you can get your election out of the way and then celebrate twice in a month. Or because turkeys take longer to hit 50 pounds down there. Please advise. We think our Thanksgiving is actually much better timed and that you should ask your presidential candidates where they stand on the issue. I'm sure it hasn't escaped you that the time between Boxing Day and Canadian Thanksgiving is just over nine months, precisely paralleling the human gestation period. Like all things Canadian, this timing was soberly chosen by our founding fathers (they judged any longer between turkey sandwiches an egregious act) and requires an Act of Parliament to change. Besides, Canadian turkey producers take joy in shipping gobblers south that didn't quite make the grade up here. But let's face it: This year Canadian Thanksgiving is being taken much more seriously. Of course that's because there's no 2004 hockey season. For many home cooks this presents extraordinary challenges, because: 1. Without the customary on-ice distractions, family members and other dinner guests will be focussing on the actual quality of the meal this year. 2. Since the World Cup ended last month, and with no hockey in the forseeable future, Canadian men are exhausted. That's because we've been having far too much sex, especially on Saturday nights during the regular Hockey Night in Canada slot. Culinary pundits are concerned that we may not be up to the rigours of flipping the bird, let alone stuffing it. 3. It's a well-known fact that Canadian couples perform the sexual act in the style of the hound so that both parties can watch the game. Now, with couples having to actually face each other over the dinner table, marital flaws have become magnified, strains exaggerated. Putting a large bird, Brussels sprouts and sharp implements in harm's way can hardly be a good thing. 4. Global warming has seen a surfeit of driveway salt clear across the country. Canadian salt prices have plunged. As a result, Health Canada has released an Over-Brining Advisory, warning elderly people, infants and people with high blood pressure to be wary of saline-bloated fowl. 5. Corporate hockey sponsors, at a promotional loss this season, have petitioned the recently elected Paul Martin government to brand certain national holidays. For many Canadians "Molson's-Coors Lite Thanksgiving" is sure to leave a bad taste in our mouths. 6. Legions of out-of-work Zamboni drivers (surely the most demanding job in professional sports) have asked the NHL Board of Governors for emergency turkey gift certificates in lieu of wages; turkey futures for next weekend have doubled and canned pumpkin supplies are already scarce. But allow us to address another concern, namely "Thanksgiving Double-Dipping". This is when ex-pat Canadian notables such as Neil Young, Shannon Tweed and Pamela Anderson visit family in Canada for our Thanksgiving and then return to their US homes to replicate the experience, albeit with inferior ingredients. Many Canadians think this practice should be banned outright. But very much in the Canadian way, instead of actually outlawing this heinous act, the Paul Martin government has simply chosen to tax it. Surely this explains both the underlying difference between our two countries and the renewal this season of V.I.P. I trust this response addresses your query satisfactorily, and remain, Yous etc., Jamie Maw

BIG NIGHT DINNER MENU For any of you waiting to see the menu before you commit, here you are. Many thanks to chefs Neil Wyles, our host, and Brian Fowke, for designing tjis wonderful card that celebrates where we live. Arne will shortly post it on the pinned header at the top of our board. Price: $75 includes paired wines, taxes and gratuity Reception ‘eGullet’ Style Pastrami on Rye Smoked Duck & Chipotle Rillette Shrimp Stuffed Roasted Fingerling Potatoes Scallop Ceviche Appetizers Smoked BC Albacore Tuna scallion crème fraiche, Okanagan tomato-apple chutney Poached Oyster on the Half Shell double smoked bacon, woodland mushroom cream Blue Goose Organic Short-rib slow roasted and smoked, bourbon glaze … Entrees Shellfish Cioppino Gulf prawns, swimming scallops, Penn Cove Mussels Or Roulade of Spiny Lobster & Skate Wing Goat’s cheese scallop potato, burnt leek & caper butter Or Salt Spring Island Cassoulet Suckling pig chop, lamb shank, sweetbread Dessert … Gingerbread Pudding ... Un-pasteurized Local and Island Cheeses Apres Oyster & Tequila Shots with Lime & Jalapeño Slush

The Long Goodbye to a Downtown Dining Room A decade ago, the Hotel Vancouver regained its architectural birthright. Spurred on by CP Hotels VP Michael Lambert (who invented the highly successful Griffin's all-day concept where the Spanish Grill once stood) and architect David Thom of IBI Group, the team set about revealing the once-elegant bones of the hotel's lobby and common areas. It had been a brutalist renovation in the sixties, when Hilton Hotels had taken over management of the flagship property, that spurred them on. In the style of the day, Hilton had dropped the lobby ceilings and installed the Timber Club, a salute to beef, game and three-martini lunches, where the wooden charger plates of local timber barons hung on the walls. That dark and grim redesign hadn't aged well. No wonder Greenpeace started in Vancouver. But in the mid-90s, Thom, Lambert, and Lambert's successor, John Williams, opened up the ceilings, patched and regilded the plasterwork, and behold, a star was born. Well, make that a Stars. Because they also appointed Jeremiah Towers, the owner of the famous Stars in San Francisco (the first of the big box SF fine dining rooms) as a consultant. The team rebranded the dining room, installed a demonstration kitchen and handsome horseshoe bar, and glamoliers and other pretty glassworks. Oh yes, and a new menu, including his signature Tuna Tower, the epitome of California cuisine--light, refreshing, and occasionally local, even if the mid-90s meant more ahi than albacore. The dramatic new room was to be called 900 West, after the hotel's street address and, in the style of that day, an edgy salute to the roaring 90s. At the press conference that launched the new restaurant and recast bar, Towers threw away the speaking points carefully crafted by CP PR-person Sue Kavanaugh and gave one of the most patronizing speeches ever heard in local culinary circles. Towers' resume was impressive, to be sure, with lengthy stints at Chez Panisse and the success--both critical and commercial--of Stars SF. But the collective eyeroll that day was chilling. There was a group cringe, as Towers announced, in so many words, how he would reinvent our local cuisine and show us hayseeds how to do it. Later, we bought Sue Kavanaugh a drink or three, and simplified her corporate acronym to CPR. 900 West, after a buzzy few months, struggled, often playing to quarter-full rooms or worse. And a year or so afterward, when the absentee Towers opened a new Stars in Seattle, 900 West was already hobbling. Towers' contract wasn't renewed, and despite management aiming the menu towards local, contemporary and seasonal under chefs like Dino Reinhart, still it couldn't gain traction. Meanwhile Griffin's and the adjacent lounge turned in all-star numbers. Despite the efforts of crack F&B director Edel Forristal (now at the Four Seasons Whistler), a nifty wine list that included instructional flights and strong PR push, it wallowed. A couple of years ago, the now-Fairmont branded chain relaunched 900 West as a contemporary "sea and steakfood" house, replete with noirish logo. Same room, but with a simpler menu, focussed on Hotel Vancouver's executive chef Robert LeCrom's exacting relationships with beef and seafood suppliers. And, in a neat departure from tradition, the price of the meal, including starch and vegetables, was inclusive. Side dishes were well-made, from scalloped potatoes to housemade ketchup and excellent horseradish. The Angus prime rib was outstanding and for a minute the room became a bit of a media hangout, especially when CTV took over their nearby studio. That's history now. Earlier this week, Fairmont quietly announced, like the demise of the Panorama Roof a few years ago, the closure of 900 West next week. Dysfunctional as a restaurant space, it now becomes, perhaps ironically, a private function space. Shame. Jamie

Maxmillan, There is a thread about Vancouver Cooks lower down in this forum. It's a cook book, with recipes from 54 British Columbia chefs. Coop, I had the distinct honour of being Ms McIntosh's driver (back from Northern Bounty in kelowna) on Friday evening. The Opus event is sold out; the Bar None event has some tickets left. Those who have paid can have them sent a little closer to the event, or, more civilized, pick them up the evening of as "will call". I couldn't attend the dinner at Mission Hill, but they had tents arranged in the courtyard--looked great. The reason I couldn't stay was that this, inconveniently, is the weekend of my high school reunion. As I said to Ingo and Anthony when I explained my regrets at the winery this afternoon, "Sorry guys, but the class of 69 happens only once per century. Especially after you're married." Jamie

Arne, I was there around 12:45 after we launched the Vancouver Cooks at the Sutton Place. Rob Clark (from C) and I were trying to order some tacos (not available yet) but I had to head back to the office--although the halibut and chips looked mighty fine. Didn't see any media folk, just a patio full of hungry diners. I'll be back. Jamie PS--Barabara-jo sold 1,200 (60 cases) of Vancouver Cooks books on Tuesday--easily a record and I suppose a Vancouver bestseller. Interestingly, the book is budgeted to net approximately $35,000 for bursaries and scholarships, slightly more than the James Beard Foundation spent on scholarships in 2004. You can buy it at any of the 50-odd restaurants listed on its thread, or at Barabara-jo's. It goes into general distribution in two weeks. There's a picture of the cover on the front page of the Sun's food section today.

Knifex. But Coop is right, big problems if I get in the back of the truck too. Stainless steel is like crack. Just too much good stuff. That's probably why I'm not allowed near cooking supply stores without a chaperone. The owner of several Dutch ovens of varying dimension, did I really need that All Clad French oven? Probably not. But I told the kids that I believe in a bilingual kitchen and that people have been pretty hard on the French recently. I also told them that a new horse would just have to wait. But it gets worse. For me, a trip to the Ministry of Knives, just outside of Oklahoma City, is the ultimate sex-tourism trip. Way better than Bangkok. First of all, there's lots more than knives: acres of stainless steel appliances and stoves the size of Buicks, even a design expert--just bring your dimensions. Or industrial size stuff, like hot-tub sized blenders, just in case you have a real run on margeritas. Or cannibal-sized stock pots. Terrific. There's a whole building dedicated to glassware and one over there's the mobile oven, smoker and barbecue pavillion and many, many varieties of hardwood briquettes. There's even a museum, sort of like a culinary Smithsonian. My favourite display is the 52-foot conveyor-smoker that Dwayne "Hawg" Slake towed all over the lower 48, winning every major barbecue competition from Pittsburch to Puyallup. It's a little known fact that he developed it in conjunction with NASA. And there are always lots of fellow collectors near the bar, discussing various benefits of carbon, the latest Japanese technologies, even favoured skinning holds. Believe me, it's way better than visiting the Playboy Mansion where you're likely to meet young women who may not, in fact, be the sharpest knives in the drawer. But did I I really need to buy that Icelandic whale flensing knife? The non-stick bison garrotte? The La Morte Vite brand miniature quail cleavers? Japanese cheese knives? Hummingbird frottager? Spanish Rooster gelders? Well, no, I suppose, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy looking at them. And they're better insured than my car. Forget fondling cordless power tools at the Canadian Tire, that's for amateurs. Real men need stainless, and plenty of sharp knives. Because you just never know when you might have to geld a rooster. There's another problem with Knifex though, just like when the tinker used to patrol the alleys a generation ago. When the neighbours see the truck pull in they race over with their knives. Last time the guy was parked for two hours and I had to go get more beer. But they did a quality job. Especially on my elk sheers. Jamie

Call Thomas Haas at Senses Bakery and see if you can arrange a visit. He is very generous in helping folks get started. Jamie

Entirely my pleasure, Andy--hands across the sea and all that. And I look forward to seeing you in London in November at this interesting event. Cheers, Jamie

Epicure and Travel (EAT) magazine goes from strength to strength--the Sept/Oct issue is 56 pages of accurately researched, interesting stuff from across the lower province. Congrats to Gary Hynes, the Victoria-based publisher who's now assigning some good stories in Vancouver too: Murray Bancroft's on izakaya dining (that was Murray in the National Post this weekend--getting married) is particularly good. Nathan Fong writes on tapas (as in Spanish tapas, remember them?) and Jane Mundy looks at Cicchetti's, Pacific Crab Company, One and Bravo Bistro. Heidi Noble (Joie Guesthouse) files on the Casccadia Culinary Arts Festival on Whidbey Island and Mara Jernigan (Engeler Farm) on a fortnight in Piedmont. Don Genova compares the Cowichan Valley to Provence. EAT magazine Nice work, and the price is right. Jamie

Andy, Could you provide a little more information about the Hawksworth event in London? Sponsors, attendees etc? And congratulations from all of us; to think that all of this was begun over cleansing ales in London at the beginning of the summer! And I echo Arne's invitation--we have quite a menu shaping up for our Big Night dinner--it would be a pleasant coincidence if you could join us! Jamie

Rob will be shooting Iron Chef America later this year. He'll likely take and/or Wayne from Lumiere and Marc-Andre from Feenie's--that's not finalized yet but I'll try to keep you posted. Jamie

Neil, I think that Chambar is open Sunday night--give them a call. My last three meals out: Coincidentally, Chambar Friday night, where we had a platter of moules, a delicious composed salad, steak frites and aioli and several Belgian beers. We arrived early and watched the restaurant and bar fill quickly--they're doing well. Saturday morning, 10am, Jericho Tennis Club for a double crab omelette and to chat with a local chef in front of the dramatic view. Too early to take advantage of the exceptional, subsidized wine list, where no bottle (and there are many interesting ones) is marked up more than $7, which I gauge to be exceptionally humane. Saturday afternoon, 4pm and 5:15pm, two hot dogs at Fall Into Art (a benefit for the Vancouver Police Department) at the Belkin's residence in Southlands, purveyed by Hot Dawgs, the people who have that quality stand outside The Future Shop. Their Vermont Castings BBQ (I have total respect for a man who has a trailer hitch and tail-lights on his BBQ) lit up a jumbo--so good I returned for another an hour later. Delicious, and I had to ponder that age-old question: Do hot dogs qualify as ethnic food? Great topic, Mooshmouse. Jamie

cjs, Actually, if you read back on this thread a bit, you'll see that many of us will be be at the first event at the Opus from 5 to 7, then we're off to the Hamilton Street Grill for an eGullet dinner. Care to join us? Jamie

Arne, Nick just dropped by with a couple of 'business associates'. At first I thought he was just dropping off my winnings as the Seahawks beat the spread pretty easily today. But no, this wasn't a customer care call, they actually wanted to know where you live. I swear I didn't cave easily . . . and I am typing this with one hand . . . but they're on their way over. Sorry. What could you've been thinking? If you're still breathing tomorrow (but he looked really worked up when the Eldo screeched away) here's the way I handled the whole Nick's versus Osteria issue recently: "Even if I didn’t like the food at Nick’s, it’s highly unlikely I’d tell you here. Because when Nick’s regulars aren’t handicapping the ponies they’re handicapping former business associates. Nick's is one of the last of the dependable red sauce joints in town and enjoys many regular customers. For those citizens fed up with 25-year-old balsamic and arugula, well, they come to Nick’s for a fix. And when the fix is in, it's very satisfying. There's just nothing like the “crisp” salad to prove that water-retention is in fact a virtue, and there's great carnivore action in meatballs the size of hailstones. In short, the food is very, very good at Nick’s. And I mean that. Capiche?" Hoping your insurance is paid up, Jamie PS--Perhaps you'd like to suggest an alternate to help us with the BIG NIGHT dinner in November?

Sorry if our rather woebegone senses of humour are taking you away from your aioli, but we're certainly not quarelling M'd. You see Keith, I said it would bore the reader. Or worse. Jamie

Actually Keith, upon reflection I've come up with a better formula, especially as it describes Chambar: ROI = bt x pf + a where bt = beef tallow pf = pommes frites and a = aioli They are, I believe, the best fries I've eaten in these parts and there are lots of them. J.

BIG NIGHT: La Grand Bouffe Here's what we know so far: 1. Arne has taken reservations for about 29, which means we should reach 40 but have room for 50. 2. We have some excellent local products arriving over the next few weeks that won't be available come mid-November that we'll be drying or bottling 3. We also have the beginnings of a silent auction, so far with a wine vertical, other wines, cook books etc. 4. We're canvassing for wine contributors for the evening. 5. Chef Fowke is investigating a couple of more local ingredients; once we have them sourced, we'll get back to you with the price. 6. We're going to pay in advance. Cheers, Jamie

'Waiter, waiter, there's a split hair in my soup.' You sharp-eyed auto-didacts are hard on the nerves, Keith. Actually I'm delighted that you read the piece in such detail; I think your first excursion to Chambar will be worth your analytical pain. The short answer is that I could have been either more concise or more explanatory. The chief reason I did neither and and fudged (using the word 'approximating') is because of many variables. But if it wasn't clear it's my own doing and not my editor's. So let me split some hairs. A full-on analysis would have shown an upward curve of income in Year 1 of operations after one-time start-up costs (some pre-opening and all opening expenses) are paid, and a rationalization of expenses as staffing and other variable costs stabilize. There's a modest adjustment when warranties begin to expire in Year 2, but typically the proforma will approach 'steady state' by month 18 or so, maybe with modest revenue upticks beyond that. So say an approximate 12 percent plus return in Year 1 but cruising upward. But the other answer to your question, 'What am I missing' -- is the cost of the money, the 'preferred return.' That's because there's another iteration that exists within restaurant financing equations: the cost of money (say at 8% or so) on the declining balance of invested equity. This is a fluid calculation that is usually calculated and paid quarterly. Finally though (see the Joe Fortes note below), if the general partner exceeds expectations slightly, a little bit of ROI magic happens. Once the equity is repaid (as well as the preferred return), the investor is then receiving an infinite return on phantom equity. Of course this has the effect of distorting the return upward. Overall, perhaps an 18 to 20 percent return or better--especially if they improve the velocity at which they pay back the equity. That's why I used the 'approximating' Coles Notes version--hope you can live with it following this explanation; I didn't want to lose the reader but could have been more concise--although reading back through this explanation bores the bejesus out of me, let alone you and other readers. It's no doubt occurred to you that financially successful restaurants, once they've paid their equity back (plus the preferred return) can be nifty little annuity machines for investors--ad infinitum (after four or five years--and up until a major renovation). But they're the exception; chief among those would be Joe Fortes, whose limited partners have been clipping coupons for a long while thanks to Bud Kanke and crew. For anyone still awake, here's the offending article: http://www.vanmag.com/0409/U_diner.html I hope we can all sleep a little better now. Cheers, Jamie

I'm talking about the Earls at Robson and Bute, aka Earls on Top. I was there last night for a charity fundraiser/relaunch of the newly renovated space. And yes, in speaking with Bus Fuller, the patriarch of the company, he confirmed the figure of $2.1 million. A fair whack of that is in what the customer doesn't see: double-stacked plumbing, new kitchens etc. And bear in mind that Earls shops very frugally (they have fish hooks in their pockets) for sharp pricing. What the customer does see is all good. In a salute to our recently relaxed restaurant liquor legislation, a huge oval bar now anchors the main room that has been attractively modernized: the Patriots looked mighty good on the many flatscreens around the room and over the bar. And if I'm not mistaken, that was Vancouverite Nairne Gray sitting in the owner's box drinking Bobby Kraft's beer. Terrific sound system too, with quality ambient sound but not in your face. I can hardly wait for Broadway and Fir to get the extreme makeover. Because there's something about the wine list that Anthony Gismondi and David Schofield compiled for Earls that's mighty NFL-friendly. You both sounded pretty surprised about the cost. But that's the going rate; it seems a wholesale renovation can be as expensive (sometimes more--there can be nasty surprises along the way and demo and disposal is expensive in constrained urban spaces) as a new-build. For example, a new-build Cactus Club is about $1.5M for its small footprint (Yaletown) stores to $2.25M for a large footprint (Park Royal) one--plus, plus, plus. I daresay their new freestanding store in Kelowna will be even more. The renovation at Earls would have cost less a year and a half ago. Although construction cost increases have eased a bit in the past few months, hard costs have risen about 8 percent (frame) to 10 percent (concrete) in the past year or so. Maybe more. Labour and off-site costs have also risen dramatically. I made a pretty strong case with my kids this year about enrolling them at the University of Drywalling. Or Tile Setting. But perhaps the better question is to ask, with these large start-up or renovation costs, how has our restaurant food managed to remain amongst the best bargains on the continent? Hope this clarifies things. Keith, I reread the piece and ask what projection of the proprietors you disgreed with? Or was it something in the way we reported it/them? And yes, Jerry_A, Chambar does do lunch. Jamie

DameD, Yes, we'll gladly accept your time. It may mean cutting out of the Opus a few minutes early to help out with the meet and greet. And I agree with Coop that we should prepay as soon as we know the figure. We'll try to hold it below $2.1 million. Jamie

One I forgot to post earlier (he really takes the mickey out of the wine industry) is Lawrence Osborne in his book The Accidental Connoisseur. It has especially hilarious chapters on Robert Mondavi and Leo McLoskey, the founder of Enologix, who purports to be able to 'design' wine for vintners to order to qualify them for a Parker 92. Very good stuff. What makes it especially appealing is Osborne's self-deprecation--to the point of painting himself as the oenophilic equivalent of a stumblebum--when, in fact, he's clearly anything but. Between the lines, he gently instructs that irony really does require two audiences and is not quite as simple as a black fly in your chardonnay, as Alanis once might have had us believe. It should be required reading for any would-be whinie.