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In Northfield, the Big Kitchen has turned over, and the new folks were doing a decent job at least the first month they were open (according to my bro, who knows the local landscape), shooting for a little more discriminating clientele. Don't know the new name but it's sort of near the IGA and Mimi's Market, on the other side of the street, in a big farmhouse-looking place. Also don't know if they serve lunch. (Helpful, aren't I? ) It might be more of a long-shot (and a longer drive) than Bottle of Bread etc. though.

Yes, I am with the ICES conference. The hosts summarized quite a bit of restaurant information, but I can't tell if it was studied effort of a would-be e-Gullet type or an intern's project to compile from the local phone book, so I figured I'd try for some groundtruthing! Can I push my luck here? One night we are supposed to be hosting a dinner for some Norwegian colleagues, a party of about 20 in all. The criteria now would include some price constraints, for example, it would be nice to try to keep costs to 50 euros per person including wine. Is this realistic? Would any of these places be especially suitable for a group? It sounds like expeditions are in order - thanks for some great suggestions. (Now I just have to avoid getting trapped with some less gastronomically inclined colleagues at the end of the days' meetings. )

Thanks for the recommendations. El Mosquito sounds like the sort of thing I'm looking for. It also sounds as though I should plan on a road trip for at least one evening, too!

I will be in Vigo for a meeting 19 - 24 September, but unfortunately, the schedule doesn't permit much wandering out of town to all the places that vserna described so mouth-wateringly. Has anyone anything special to recommend in the city? (I noticed that the last requester in 2002 didn't come up with anything!) I'm especially interested in local preparation styles/seafood. Thanks for any tips!

There is usually a sleeve of saltines in the scientists' galley of our research vessel, for those who have newly discovered their inner ear at sea. My advisor, prone to seasickness, summarized their appeal: "Saltines: good going down, good coming up..."

Sliced and slightly smushed avocado (one per sandwich), good handful of grated mozarella, smaller handful of alfalfa sprouts, between wheat bread with mayo and mustard: creamy and crunchy at once, plus the added entertainment factor of attempted escape by avocado pieces and gooey goodness of comfort food. Eat using both hands.

Unrequited, owing to professional requirements: On the way back to port after six weeks at sea, feeding a steadfast colleague a breakfast of an orange and some excellent chocolate because he was busy using both hands to dissect a fish.

On the very light side of the spectrum, try the other Orkney malt: Scapa. As my sister describes it, "It's a good breakfast Scotch."

I'd buy it , if it were a decent table wine. I'm currently looking at a week-long (car) camping trip with my two siblings and our Significant Others, and a few boxes of wine would be the perfect solution to what to drink at a picnic table.

Local seafood other than lobster: we got a very nice Maine crabcake (lots of sweet chunky crabmeat) at Jack Russell's Pub. On the plus side, there is a nice garden patio with a view; on the minus side, this was a couple of years ago; and on either side, it's also a brewpub, so there may be hits and misses in whatever's on offer in the beer/ale department.

At the risk of adding another "me too!" to this thread, I'll add that the grilled asparagus is pretty darned good (or it was on 27 March). Based on this thread, I hit Firefly for a late dinner while I was in a nearby hotel. I just asked the waiter, Michael, for his recommendations and ended up with a grilled asparagus appetizer that included four plump but tender tasty spears with a sauce that was serious lemon, but with neither pucker nor cloying sweetness. The spears were crossed over a potato salad that had its own complimentary lemon sauce. Finally, there were a few crunchy cornichon pieces strewn around that added a third version of sweet/tangy. The pork tenderloin was likewise delish - my only quibble would be that I'd expected it to be a bit less well done, based on the original description. (It looked just like the piece at the table next to mine, ordered well-cooked.) However, it was still juicy and tasty. By the time I finished off the accompanying side of mac and cheese, I realized that I really appreciated the comfort food elements as much as the sauces. The service was excellent unobtrusive attention, but willing to take calculated risks: a fellow solo diner was seated at the table next to me, and turned out to be an interesting conversationalist (at least after a couple glasses of wine on my side (well-paired by Michael) and Basil Hayden on his). This is a good place to go after a tough day of meetings and you're away from home (especially if home has a dearth of decent restaurants).

I haven't been to Copenhagen for quite a few years, but as a fish geek, I was fooled by a herring buffet lunch served at a restaurant (whose name escapes me) on a street just north of Nyhavn (near Els). I was dying to try this place, where they served 15 different kinds of herring. Fresh from a meeting reviewing the status of herring stocks in the Northeast Atlantic, I figured it might be a comparative tasting of, say, Dogger Banks herring vs. Baltic Sea herring vs. Downs herring etc. etc. It turned out to be herring in 15 different preparations, natch. Some of them were better than others, but the surprising part was the recommended form of aquavit as an accompaniment - tough on its own, but excellent when paired with herring.

I second the Platypus idea, especially if you really want to bring wine. We did this on a two-night backpacking trip, and it helped rehabilitate some "interesting" freeze-dried grub. As I recall, the Platy picked up a litttle of the wine flavor that gradually wore off. The Amiable Consort was going to use the same approach to pack some malt on a ski mountaineering trip but then he started getting paranoid about weight. It was going to be a long trip

Mom was an old-school New England cook. We had baked beans (and franks) every Saturday night. She used the recipe from Durgin Park, or doctored up the B&M version. (I only recently received an explanation that in early days, Sabbath was on Saturdays, and no work was to be done in the house, including cooking. Consequently, people would bring their bean pots to the local bakery ovens to cook during the day, and retrieve them for supper.) But I digress. Years of pressure-cooked vegetables and single cloves of garlic in an entire dish were fine, however, when faced with... Goober beef. In one of those home-making magazines that used to have a tear-out recipe section, one month's feature was a month of recipes with hamburger. Mom, in an effort to broaden her culinary perspectives, found a recipe that included hamburger and peanut butter. In theory, this included two elements that children would love; but in practise, browned hamburger in some sort of gray-brown peanut butter gravy was simply ghastly. I was lucky - I was sick in bed at the time and managed to slip most of mine to the helpful family beagle. After both my parents had passed away, and the siblings and I were packing up the house, we found the recipe section. Mom had saved it, but put a big black X through the goober beef recipe.

I was in Reykjavik seven years ago, so I can't recommend any particular restaurants at this point. However, the food there may still present a few unique features: In general, salads and vegetables were treated almost as precious garnish, just a few perfect leaves or pieces on the rim of the plate. Because of the rocky volcanic soil and a relatively short growing season, I'm guessing that those vegetables were produced hydorponically, in small, geothermally heated greenhouses I'd see out in the countryside. There were opportunities to try native wild meats/fowl. I had one excellent meal including cormorant breast, very rich and tender, served boneless in a red wine sauce (currant? can't remember!), with a warmed apple relish garnish. I'd expected the bird to taste slightly fishy, but this wasn't the case. I also tried whale steak, simply seared, with a grainy texture and a unique taste that reminded me how flavorless standard beef is. (My theory is that it was actually Iceland pony: the countryside was host to herds of these animals roaming loose in the middle of nowhere with no obvious function. Meanwhile, since there appeared to be a surplus of ponies on the landscape, and the average American tourist has usually eaten neither whale nor pony, how would they ever recognize the switch? [dang, can't get the smilie in here!]) The "Golden Triangle" is a popular tourist route with a striking array of waterfall, geyser, plate tectonic, glacial and and generally spectacularly desolate scenery. I don't know if it's passable in January, though. You might get a guide and rent a four-wheel drive for a trip on the glaciers if the weather permitted. Be sure to bring a bathing suit, shower clogs, etc. Geothermally heated swimming pools are all over the city, many outdoors.