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It's been so long sice I've been there I guess I forgot. . . the Neue Gallery's restaurant Cafe Sabarasky which is a cousin of Wallse in the west village makes a nice espresso. Interestingly, they always serve it with a small glass of sparkling water to be drunk after the coffee. It's a nice tradition--an Austrian one for those not familiar with Wallse and Sabarsky--the fizzy water wipes the oily coffee off the tongue leaving the drinker sharpened in mind and fresh in mouth.

Two answers: Uovo on 11th and B does great grilled sardines. Cuisine indeterminate. I don't think the chef messes with them too much. I'd guess salt olive oil a grind of pepper and a touch of lemon. Maybe no lemon. I've seen them at Grammercy Fish on 2nd and 22nd street but I'm reluctant to recommend this monger as I've had as many frustrating exchanges of fish for money there as I've had satisfying ones. Think I've seen fresh sardines at Citarella on tenth street and sixth also.

Well we seem to be getting pretty far off-topic here but I'm ready to offer a comparison between these two places as I hit Tarallucci e Vino today and 9th Street Espresso yesterday. I'm an espresso fiend so I can't speak to what happens at either place when they dilute their coffee with milk products and sugar and spices and things. I asked the barista at 9th street to make me his best espresso whatever that was. He offered a triple ristretto. I said ok. The proportion was good. Temperature, good. Flavor, a touch bitter. Crema very dark. Mouthfeel, just about right. Chewy, nice oil extraction. To my mind, either his beans are over roasted, a little over the hill, or there was too much coffee in the basket. Too fine a grind maybe. . . probably not that. Hell I don't know. All I can say is that the coffee was a touch bitter and the crema too dark. (maybe this is a common characteristic of the triple ristretto? Couldn't say.) Today's espresso was a single made by a less skilled barista with Danesi coffee. It was smoother. Nice crema, lighter body--a little too light I think. Too hot and the volume was a touch off, which would account for the thinness of the pull. On the balance though I think it was a nicer drink than the triple ristretto. Not that one should expect either to be as I described on a future visit. Espresso is a fickle bride, anemic and bitter one day, unctuous and full-bodied the next. I'll go back to both of these places whenever I'm nearby. Both take coffee seriously and you are likely to have a good experience at either. 9th street vibes like a Seattle joint (this coming from a native Seattleite) It's nice to let somebody else do the pulling from time to time. Edited to add that in my limited experience, neither is as good as Via Quadronno. I've been spending weekends on the North Fork of Long Island this summer. There's a fellow named Aldo who has a cafe in Greenport. He's an artist with the coffee. Buys green. Roasts right there in the shop. Works the machine from 7am through the day taking time off to make the best scones anybody ever ate. Worth a visit. Don't expect to catch him in a good mood though.

I've been to Seki maybe five times in the last six months. Mostly I've eaten omakase sushi but with no price cap. Just sushi until I and my companions cry uncle. One piece at a time. And every time except once I have sat in front of Seki's station. (He's plumpish with an easy smile and relaxed demeanor. Also I heard a rumour that he's Chinese) The one visit where Seki was absent, both my wife and I thought that things weren't quite as good. A few of things that we really appreciated: toro with cold tofu sauce salmon with scallion puree sauce chopped eel with panko crumbs and avacado Seki has odd hours. You can't get anyone on the phone until five. I don't recall what the first seating is but I do know that he's open until 4am. I've always had a reservation. They have always seated me within two minutes of my reservation time. Very punctual. In terms of his "modern style", it is an interesting mixture of experiment and easy-going. I took a family member there who is an ardent sushi-phile. He termed Seki's food "Bistro sushi" judging it as not so refined as Yasuda or others. I balked at this. . . initially but then I can kind of see what the man was saying. I don't think Seki's goal is to be like Masa or Daniel, for example. Maybe more like Balthazar. . . dunno. Maybe I'm stretching the metaphor too far. Those examples aren't so good anyway because they are all traditionalists, including Yasuda. Seki isn't so bound by tradition but he also avoids the pitfall into which so many experiemental or avante garde chefs fall: pretension. He doesn't seem to have any. He's very matter-of-fact when he lays down a piece of salmon sushi with a brillian green sauce that looks like green pigment or pureed grass. It has almost no taste, just a little nuttiness. You wonder what the hell it is and ask him. He smirks the tiniest bit, then says scallion. The mind recoils: but there's not a trace of onion flavor. . . I ask about it every time but still don't quite get how he does it. After five or more visits I'm filled with excellent feelings about Seki and will return there whenever the thought occurs.

Here's an herby drink I've been hankering for on these summery evenings: puree of cilantro, lime zest and lime juice simple syrup small amount crema de mezcal mezcal Proportions are to taste, but as I recall, it wasn't too sweet and the cilantro was so plentiful that the cocktail was almost chewy. After discovering the drink at a party, I've mixed it only once or twice myself and it's been a couple of years since then. . . and that "Del Maguey, Single Village Mezcal" (the recommended mezcal for this drink) will erase memories you never knew you had.

Oh yeah Pho Grand, I forgot. After a protest or two they'll happily (and briskly) ride pho and grilled chicken with rice vermicelli all the way up to 12th street. Good call.

I had a drink at a Japanese restaurant not so long ago that was vinegar infused with plum then mixed with soda and served with ice. Odd drink, definitely not sweet. Had the quality of an aperitif. Not for quaffing.

Angon mina when they answer the phone, Curry Leaf whose lamb vindaloo is burning me up at the moment, Otto (get the octopus with celery and lovage), 2nd ave deli (but not too often because it's a bank breaker), Daphne's on 14th St for curry goat. The Lemongrass Grill which was never good did make a dish that I seemed to crave just about weekly. Pad See Yu beef. Some days it was great some days not so great but always it would satisfyingly fill an empty stomach. Lemongrass has recently merged with a Japanese place on 13th Street and the quality of the See Yu beef has decreased to the point that my wife and I have tried a few other options. Holy Basil for one. All I can say is Holy Shit how does that place stay in business. I wouldn't feed their See Yu to my cat and I hate my cat.

I don't entirely agree with Jackal10's assessment. I keep a close eye on salmon while it cooks and the moment I see that white stuff-I've heard it referred to as albumen-I pull it. I don't enjoy raw salmon unless a Japanese person with a long knife is slicing it up for me. To my mouth, it's mealy, doesn't flake, the fat doesn't separate out and "sauce" the flesh. . . Additionally, sous vide cooking where you might achieve a "cooked" salmon with an internal temp of 110 degrees is not for the meek or for the casual. Finally, there is salmon and then there is salmon and you shouldn't treat it all the same way. I had the great fortune to eat a spear-caught copper river sockeye last weekend. It was cooked on the grill to a very low internal temp. It was firm and succulent. A totally different fish from, say, an Atlantic farmed salmon, which, cooked in the same way would have been inedible. Just rereread what I wrote and realized that I don't know what the temp is when the albumen comes. Maybe it's 115? Maybe it's 105? 125? I don't know. I like the fish just barely cooked through and in my experience, the arrival of albumen on the surface is evidence of that.

Thanks to a recommendation from a friend, I found myself at Uovo a couple of nights ago. It’s just a month old, located in a sharp but relaxing space on 11th and B, cheffed by a gosling of Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune. We ate: Lamb’s tongue with mache Romaine with beets and a slice of bacon Grilled Sardines Cippolini onions and peppers in a romanesco sauce Then, White anchovies with shallots, parsley Pork belly with very fresh sauerkraut Suckling pig Coffee-braised brisket And finally: Pink peppercorn and tarragon ice cream Strawberry shortcake Fig tart There was nary a stumble. Uovo is well-staffed and the waiters were knowledgable and generous. Service was prompt but not rushed. The wine list went unperused as we were in the mood for beer. To that end, Uovo has a wide-ranging beer list, weak only in the category of the mundane and familiar. I’m just going to hit the food we ate point by point. The lamb’s tongue itself was excellent but I think the dish suffers from a touch of shyness. It was dressed with an over-assertive vinaigrette and the tongue was sliced too thinly. I like a tongue I can really sink my teeth into and when I do, I want to taste it. Ultimately though, these are mere quibbles. I'll order the dish again next time. The grilled sardines were a poem. Unassailable. Same goes for the onions and peppers in romanesco. Anchovies were lovely and well appointed. The pork belly was excellent but the real excitement was underneath it. Sauteed cabbage. Very light, summery, fresh and beautifully green. This dish is executed with a very light touch. The suckling pig is a rival for Gabrielle’s. Quite delicious. Our serving was maybe a touch past its prime, like twenty minutes on heat. This was also true of the brisket. The braising went on for a touch too long. Seasonings were great. I’d go to Uovo just for the desserts. All of them were flawless. Especially the fig tart. 160 bucks for the three of us. Two beers each.

I haven't eaten this dish but a friend who works in the kitchen is here describing it to me. The chickens are blue foots from Sonoma distributed by Dartangnan, raised in the Bresse style. They are delivered foot and head on. Ducasse roasts them, with the head off but the feet on. It is served in a Staub cast iron pot whole, feet on. The waiter carves the breast and then the rest of the bird goes back to the kitchen. The thigh is boned out then it is returned to the guest in a small siver dish with morels and finely sliced scallions around which is laid a foam made of pan juice and cream. Makes me want to drop a wad on dinner at Ducasse. Incidentally, one of the oddities of the Bresse-style chicken is what it eats: Cow's milk. In the form of pellets.

www.bonnieslotnickcookbooks.com Used cookbooks. Great place.

Stoking up the fire: l done:

I was there on New Year's Eve. It was very fabulous. Haven't been back since but not for lack of wanting to.

I recieved one of these ovens for my birthday. The giver and I cooked a 15lb pig in it. The result was marvelous although we had some concerns about the freshness of the animal. Also we didn't read any directions and ended up burning a big pile of 2 x 4 chunks at about 12:30am when we realized things weren't quite hot enough. All this tomfoolery and the result was beyond reproach. Well beyond. The tricky and oddball thing about the caja china is that the coals (from which heat typically rises) are located above the cooking chamber. As a result, the transfer of heat is very inefficient. Despite that, the chamber which is lined with sheet metal becomes very hot. How hot? Not sure. Also, the cooking chamber is sealed up pretty tight. Every time we opened the box steam came billowing out. Steam rises. Most of the time it rises and escapes. In the case of the caja, steam rises and alights (in an upside down sort of way) on the underside of the pan which holds the coals. How hot does a bed of kingsford charcoal get? I'm guessing about 600 to 800 degrees or maybe a little more. What happens when steam rises and then hits a metal ceiling that is 600 to 800 degrees or maybe a little more? Dunno. But I can tell you what happens to the pig in there. He stays remarkably moist while his skin becomes crispy and brittle like a thin sheet of caramel. Why does the skin crisp in a wet environment? Isn't steam is supposed to be the enemy of caramelization? This doesn't represent all of my ponderings on the caja china but it's a good start. I'll follow with some pics.

Aldo's Two in Greenport, Long Island (NY).

No extra t's or x's but I think Txakoli is the one.

At the risk of furthering misperceptions of xenophobia: Some of them have even been French. . . Hilarious. Do you know why it's bad manners for a Frenchman to put his unused hand in his lap while he dines? You can't call a guy a snob just because his momma raised him right.

On further consideration I must add that I took up the question of the upsold potatoes with the waiter. After a moment's pause he suggested that he take it off the bill. I said I thought it was the right thing to do and then tipped him as if it were on the bill. All in all, a very civilized exchange. Whatever training they lack reagrding the handling of wine, they make up for in the handling of disgruntled diners. There was a thread over in California about a fellow who had a quibble with some service at the French Laundry. http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showtopic=68447 In it, the UK forum host Andy Lynes had this to say: "I don't think anyone has the right to criticise a restaurant in public over a service issue without having approached the establishment first." Rereading the thread, I realise that the situations aren't exactly parallel, but I will say this: Andy's directive squatting in the back of my head led me to address the waiter directly AND THEN go off on an immature rant on egullet rather than going over his head to the manager, or saying nothing at all, going home and posting on egullet. Also Bux, for my own self, I'd always pour my own wine. I know who at my table wants it and when because I'm at the table for the whole dinner. Call me a control freak. It's just not something I want help with. I can think of a few exceptions, all at restaurants that would, do or will soon rate two michelin stars or higher. Incidentally, the wine we drank at August for 44 bucks was spectacular. An ever-so slightly frizzante Basque wine. Txo. . . something or other but definitely more x's and a t or two. Bright, very acidic, a touch sweet, imported by somebody in New Rochelle. Mind like a steel trap, I have.

My wife and I went to August last night. We ate: crab salad turkish watermelon and bread salad with feta calamari bruschetta on flat bread hanger steak (called bavette) mache or watercress with shallots poached in red wine vitello tonnato made with veal skirt steak To my mouth, the food at August is often risky. Seasonings are out there with some pretty strange juxtapositions that are usually successful. The best example of this during our experience was the watermelon salad. It matches the sweetness of watermelon with (we guessed) champagne vinegar, fresh oregano, creamy feta and liberal salt and pepper. The flavors bounce around inside the mouth. . . I think the chef achieved balance but I didn't really enjoy it while my wife has eaten the dish twice in a week. She loves it. The hanger was cooked perfectly. It costs 22 dollars. The waiter asked if I wanted a side as the steak came out kind of bare. I looked at the sides and chose something with beans and potatos and aioli for 7 dollars. Couldn't help remarking that the author of the menu was not a little devious in creating a sneaky way to charge 29 dollars for a hanger. When it arrived, the advertised shallot and red wine sauce was actually as I represented above, lots of shallot (or was it regular onion? In any case an interesting take on shallot and red wine sauce, I'm bemused but not convinced) poached in red wine and red wine vinegar. And on top of that, a fistful of watercress. A fully garnished plate. No need for sides. I don't like that when I go to restaurants in this category, I can expect to be upsold at every moment. My waiter can be expected to rush me through wine in hopes that I'll be compelled to buy more. At August, the waiter has been trained to pour the wine for his charges but not trained that, when he removes a bottle from a container of iced water, he shouldn't hold it over a plate of food as he did with my wife. She ended up with a watery vitello tonnato. Maybe dining out should involve doing battle over these things. . . .the waiter fakes taking care of you while wringing out your wallet. All I know is that I don't like it. And clearly I take those feelings with me, right next to memories of food prepared by a kitchen that is working at a very high level.

Here's a thread on 10 Cane from just next door: http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showtopic=66221

I wonder if 10 Cane Rum from Trinidad is actually a rhum agricole? Here's a little info about it that doesn't answer the question. http://www.hardbeatnews.com/editor/RTE/my_...e=Top%20Stories Regardless, it is pretty tasty. Very light in color, unctuous.

It's been quite a while since I've been called a lightweight. Despite that the ability to metabolize large amounts of alcohol at this stage in my life probably isn't something to feel pride in, I'm amused to find the urge to rebut. However the point here is a good one and goes back to your orginal take, Sam, which is that each of us has a certain tolerance and if a certain degree of clearheadedness is desired, one ought to pay attention to that tolerance when the martini cart comes round. Had it been a meal with less specificity, fewer clear and bright flavors (and maybe, just maybe fewer wine pairings) executed with less virtuosity, none of this would have mattered. All I'd remember would be the delicious drink I had before dinner. At the moment I'm thinking about Ducasse, the site of this original discussion. I've never eaten in the dining room but I did have the opportunity to do a stage there for a week last winter during black truffle season. Ate most of the menu sitting by myself in the aquarium. Killer experiece. The flavors, the plates, the sauces were all like depth charges. At least under Delouvrier, there was nothing small and I'm wanting to say nothing subtle but that's not quite right. . . anyway you get the point. I think Delouvrier's food could stand a fair bit more preliminatory inebriation than JG or Per Se. Following the narratives of that meal is not difficult, any more than it's difficult to recognize when one is getting beaten about the head and neck.

I had the opportunity to eat at Jean Georges about two and a half years ago. Three of us: my wife, a friend and I. The friend had been a roommate with someone in the kitchen and so voila: VIP. No menus, wine pairings with each of the many courses. In all one of the top eating experience of my life. Billed at a discount no less. We were feeling festive at home beforehand and I had been in a phase of mixing a little maraschino with gin and various bittering agents: lemon juice, angostura, bottled yuzu (not all at the same time). We each had a generous one of those before heading out to the restaurant, a good hour before actually eating. To this day I regret that before dinner drink. As a result of it, I wasn't as fully present as I could have been. I felt it mildly at the time and more pronouncedly in the days that followed and I looked back on the meal. I remain stunned and in some way gratified that--harkening back to Mr. Point--the simplest dish was also the most complex, elegant and memorable: Fat green asparagus in a béarnaise. Morels. It was a perfect dish. In any case, it was a great experience that could have been that much greater had I forgone the cocktail. It was a pivotal moment as, since that meal, whenever there is the slightest chance of another like experience, I always skip the drink altogether. I think the first biggest problem is not so much that spirits dull the senses. It's that a fine long meal has an arc. It's nice and I think appropriate to chart that arc psychically. Light wines at first, they being low in alcohol and your first one or three glasses of the night. Then moving into more and heavier wines and flavors in foods with more fats. The glasses add up. It’s a parallel flight: One’s state of mind with the evolution of the narrative of the meal and the relative intensities of the experience. I'm all for drinking lots of cold spirits with a big steak or other such meaty fatty extravagances and there's even a physiognomic precedent for it. But that’s another conversation altogether.

This is overplayed by haute types. Yes, alcohol does have a temporary anaesthetic effect when it acts directly on the nerves in the mouth. But this effect also doesn't last very long... certainly not as long as the effect of, e.g., drinking a rich, chewy, tannin-filled glass of red wine. I think the issue is not so much the effect on the actual buds but rather on the general acuity of the reviewer both in terms of parsing his experience of the food and his memory of what he's eaten. In my experience, there is a notable decrease in faculties when a serious meal is preceded by an, albeit gin, martini. The above is from a discussion of whether a food reviewer had ought to slurp down two martinis before eating food he is charged to review. It's many months later. . . tonight I've been thumbing through Fernand Point's Ma Gastronomie and found, within his "Notebook" (kind of a list of statements or occasionally aphorisms) the following: "After one cocktail or, worse yet, two, the palate can no more distinguish a bottle of Chateau Mouton-Rothschild from a bottle of ink!" If Point says it, it's got to be true, right? What do you think?