Derek Lee

You can tell more about a man by looking into his fridge than looking into his eyes. A full carafe of cold coffee lay in one dark corner, next to the empty jar of mayonnaise. Yesterday, the light flickered and burned out. One week ago, a full carton of eggs fell onto the floor, shattering four of them. Two weeks ago, the oranges turned sour and foul. Three weeks ago, the milk, what was left of it, became rancid and lumpy. Four weeks ago, she was still alive. Since Alice’s death, the contents of this refrigerator mirrored Ben’s life – cold, dark, quietly diminishing to emptiness. When Alice was alive, Ben had, in her, an audience for his passion in the kitchen. The refrigerator and pantry were deep and rich with all manner of culinary treasure. Every Saturday morning, they would walk together, hand in hand, through the farmers’ markets, and she would always have the final say on what was the freshest or best, often engaging in fierce but playful argument with the vendors for the best price. Ben was in the middle of preparing a surprise birthday dinner for Alice when the phone rang at 5:34pm on January 16. Ring. Ring. That morning, before she left for work, she had asked him. “Where are you taking me for my birthday?” she said. “You know I don’t like surprises.” “Maybe nowhere,” he smiled. “Just don’t look in the drawer in the refrigerator on your way out.” He had spent days hunting for the perfect ingredients and had managed to slip them into the crisper, hidden in a large paper bag, before she came home each evening. Ring. Ring. His brow furrowed in concentration, the shrill sound of the phone barely registered with his ears. He had just finished slicing a large black truffle, and the tip of his knife had just punctured the vacuum seal of a lobe of foie gras, and, listening for the sound of her keys in the door, he let the phone ring. Ring, ring, ring. Ring. Ring. Silence. Bent over the kitchen island, and working over a large rectangle of pastry, Ben layered the slices of foie gras across the disks of truffle, carefully assembling the pastry and sealing it with the intense focus of a man both obsessed and inspired. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. He stood up straight and washed his hands. Ring. Ring. Ring. Wiping his hands dry, and with a quick glance at the clock, he answered the phone. It was Alice’s sister. “Ben? Where’ve you been? Do you have the television on?” She was crying, then she was angry, then she was both at once. Then she was very quiet, and the mutual thought came to them at the same instant. “Have you heard from Alice?” Four weeks. In what the news organizations would later call “The January Incident”, Alice would officially be listed as “presumed dead”. The threat level would remain elevated for months to come. A ten square block area surrounding the building where Alice worked would be uninhabitable for years, if not decades. Ben left the pastry sitting in the kitchen. After a week, Ben swept the moldy, rotting pastry off of the cutting board into the trash. In four weeks, he had not left the apartment once, and had slowly eaten through the contents of the refrigerator and pantry. Stock items were the first to go, and by the fourth week, only a few stale eggs remained as edible alternatives. At first, he prepared simple omelets, then, as his will faded even further, simply boiled the hell out of everything. And so it had come to this. Ben took the last three eggs and placed them into a pot of water set over high heat. He stared at the surface of the water in the pot, watching for the slightest bubble to disturb the surface, and silently cursing the hands of time. He caught his reflection in the water, his once bright eyes now dim and soulless. Ring. His heart ached. Ring. Ring. His head hurt. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click. “Hi, this is Ben and Alice’s machine, you know what to do…” Beep. Why won’t these goddamn eggs boil already? “Ben? It’s me.” He thought he could hear her voice even now. He must be going insane. “…long story….trapped….unconscious….loss of memory….” Ben blinked. “….at the hospital in Westchester…I hope you get this message soon. Love you.” Click.

We went to the GBFS yesterday. I think my wife summed it up best when she said that it reminded her of what Book and the Cook used to be. Great Big Food Show was exactly as it was billed. Good variety in exhibitors, a decent list of guests, and genuinely interesting and interested vendors. Book and the Cook used to be like this when it was still held in the convention center downtown, and I remember the first year that we attended, the "big celebrity" was Emeril, and there were lines stretching around the corner to get in. Ever since then, Book and the Cook has gotten progressively smaller and less ambitious, and nowadays it seems to have diminished to a) hot sauce vendors and b) a beer garden. Our most interesting purchase was from the Peanut Better people: one jar of spicy Thai Ginger peanut butter, and one jar of spicy southwestern peanut butter. Derek http://culinaryradar.blogspot.com http://waitingforparis.blogspot.com

Yes, KC Prime closed a few months ago. And now it's a Kildare's, a local Irish-y pub type chain.

I think the likelihood of getting a reservation on shorter notice at Django is entirely dependent on whether you can be flexible as to when you eat. We ate at Django for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and we were so impressed that we decided to make a reservation for our anniversary dinner less than two weeks later. The first reservation was for a Friday evening at 10pm, which worked for us since we were picking someone up from the airport on a late flight. The second reservation was for a Thursday evening, at 6pm. Both of these reservations were made within three days of the date. Generally, if you are willing to eat late or early, you should be fine. You will be even better off if you can go on something other than Fri/Sat/Sun. It is also very helpful to have auto-redial service on your phone, so you don't have to tend to it for an hour or more. Derek Threateningletters.com - When a Kind Word Just Isn't Enough

I dragged a couple of coworkers to Johnnie's Dog House on Tuesday. Amazingly good hot dogs, with a nice grilled flavor and decent snap when you bite into them. There are not many seats in this small former deli-space. There's a row of two-seaters along one wall, some stools at the window, and three tables together in the center of the space, seating six or eight. If there's a rush, you're better off getting your dogs to go. I got a chili and cheese dog, and one plain. The chili/cheese dog was perfect, the chili not too thick nor too runny, with a nice strip of whiz running down the middle. Johnnie's has a bunch of different variations for its hot dogs, too many to list here, but you can check out their menu on their website, www.johnniesdoghouse.com. Good fries, too. Don't order the large unless you are sharing. Too darn big. Derek Threateningletters.com

Since we've covered attire at the best restaurants, let me pose this question to y'all: conventional wisdom (read: the 8,000 Paris books we've bought since getting our air tickets) says that wearing jeans immediately marks one as "boorish American tourist". Have any of you experienced this? Should I forego jeans for khakis, or were the writers just being overly sensitive? If it's true then I will skip the jeans with tears in my eyes, but having seen first-hand how Neanderthal some of my fellow American tourists can behave when I was in Italy, I'll do just about anything to separate myself from the obnoxious masses.

You would have to be more specific as to what kind of food you are looking for. As far as chains go, KOP has a lot of them, along with some of the more upscale chains. All of the following can be found at the mall: Cheesecake Factory Pacific Rim Cosi California Pizza Kitchen Mortons Sullivans Kildare's (Irish pub) Fox & Hound Ruby's Diner Maggiano's Bahama Breeze There's a Charlie Brown's (along with a Trader Joe's) south on 202. For a really good, cheap lunch, there is the Bridgeport Rib House that is north on 202. Also, in the same direction, Michael's Deli is a good jewish deli. Any questions about specific cuisines? Oh, and for fine dining, head up South Gulph Road from the KOP mall to Savona, probably my favorite expensive restaurant (even including those in Philadelphia). Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

I remember eating at Deux Cheminees about four years ago for our fourth anniversary. I was prepared for a stuffy atmosphere, but once we had settled in at our table, the service was quite un-stuffy and relaxing. One memorable moment about that meal was that our waiter had asked us if we were there for a special occasion, and we had told him that it was our fourth anniversary. We proceeded through the meal, and when we ordered dessert, it came out in a large bowl with 'Happy 4th Anniversary' written in chocolate along the rim. Afterwards, the waiter was kind enough to give us a tour of the kitchen and of the chef's library of cookbooks. Every now and then, I consider boxing up a stack of my old cookbooks and shipping them to him to add to his collection. Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

And to think, the mouse was doing his very best to be polite and stealthy about it! Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

Heh. Stepford Waitrons! I like that. You should trademark that one. Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

I guess I can see both sides of this issue. As an avid *real* barbecue fan and KCBS judge, I can pretty much say that a barbecuer's ingredients, his methods, his rubs, and his marinades are all sacred secrets, not to be shared to anyone outside of the immediate bloodline. But the thing is, most barbecuers are really friendly, the barbecue competition circuit is close-knit, and generally things are very easygoing. That's as far as I would side with the restaurant owner in this case. You weren't taking pictures of the cooking methods, or of the ingredients. You were taking pictures of the decor, and of the food, and of what the place look like on the outside. Years ago, my wife worked for a small regional music store down in the South. The owner also prohibited the taking of pictures inside the store, presumably to prevent others from "stealing" his idea for configuration and listening stations. This whole way of thinking is, to me, quite unreasonable. It's not as if you're going to open up a competing barbecue restaurant and design it so that it looks JUST LIKE his restaurant. Also, in my quickly-fading-into-rear view experience as an attorney, I can tell you that the outside of the building is in plain sight, and he probably doesn't have a right to restrict you from taking pictures of the exterior. Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

If I had to make one complaint about our visit to Morimoto, it would probably be the "canned" speech that we given to us by our waiter. It's one thing to be the recipient of a recital of the daily specials, which is fine and appreciated, but it's quite another thing to be instructed as to the proper way to eat something. Food was amazing, regardless of the order in which I put things into my mouth. Morimoto suggests opening your mouth, depositing the food, and chewing it for exactly 30 seconds. Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

We went to Morimoto in February of this year. I agree with the others that it is very trendy - not exactly what I would call romantic dining by any definition. My wife said it was like eating at MAC - the cosmetics store, because there's this thumping bass beat in the air all around you, and everything is shaped and lit so...um, trendily. That being said, the food was excellent. We both ordered the $120 Omakase. I actually made a little presentation for my brother's benefit (part of the meal was a gift from him from Christmas), so let me dig that out to refresh my memory... I'll spare you my inane commentary and just list the courses. If you want my inane commentary, I can email you the word file (complete with pictures that I ripped from someone's Morimoto fanboy website). In short - didn't know what to expect. Course 1-2 were great, but nothing outstanding. Course 3, Morimoto begins to shine. Main courses 6-7, the lobster and kobe beef, he just goes all culinary supernova. Strangely, I agree with others that the sushi just wasn't all that impressive. Course 1 Toro Tuna Tartare w/ caviar, shallot, wasabi and mountain peach Course 2 Four oysters four styles with edible orchid Course 3 Sima Aji (striped jack) in hot oil and spices topped w/ micro cilantro Course 4 Yellowtail Salad w/ shrimp and yuzu sauce Course 5 (intermezzo) Wasabi Yuzu Sorbet w/ Wasabi Beignet Course 6 Pan fried lobster w/ 8 spices and Citrus creme fraiche Course 7 Kobe beef with foie gras Course 8 Sushi: tuna mackerel eel shrimp kamachi hamachi Course 9 Dessert (don't remember, something yuzu-y) Derek http://www.threateningletters.com (When a kind word just isn't enough)

Is it too late to chime in? If you do end up there, try the nutella crepe for dessert. It is one of the more amazing ones there. Derek http://www.threateningletters.com

Sorry to post again. My wife reminds me that if you want good Argentinian, there's Cafe Con Leche. It's in the small parking lot that is behind, you guessed it, State Street in Newtown.

Oh yeah, be sure to come back here and tell us where you ended up going! I'm interested in what you think.

We live in Newtown, so I can give you a few recommendations. As for Italian, there is a wonderful, cozy trattoria right here on State Street (the main street that runs through the center of town). It's called Trattoria "----", but you can't miss it because our town center is only three blocks long. Do not confuse it with Il Sol, which is not on State Street and is not anywhere near as good. If your tastes run to good continental, I would suggest the Brick Hotel, which, as you may suspect, is also on State Street (it's a big white inn/restaurant). They enclosed their wraparound porch in glass, giving a nice faux al fresco dining opportunity. Sunday brunch is amazing at the Brick, so if you don't hit it for dinner I would urge you to get there on Sunday. We had a good French place, but it closed (Jean Pierre's). No Spanish in Newtown, as far as I know. If you were going to head to any of the Lambertville/New Hope places, they are about 20 minutes north of Newtown. Take Route 31 or 29 on the NJ side for the scenic route up the Delaware.