ned

Really? One would have to be clueless indeed after having had the whole thing explained in detail when making reservations (obligatory, at least 24 hours in advance), and then again when you're seated, and then again in writing, as you're given the menu at the beginning of the meal. I didn't find the amount of food to be overwhelming, actually, and I'm not a fan of large portions. More than I'd usually eat, true, but not so much that I was uncomfortable, or would have turned away more food. Pacing the meal over hours (ours was 4 hours) certainly makes it reasonable. ← Well, you may be right that one would have to be clueless. . . but Soto himself is the one who reported these premature evacuations. I can only say, as far as portion size goes, that it was quite a lot for me and I feel I've got a pretty good appetite. Our meal was only three hours, maybe three and a half by the time we were out the door. Perhaps that accounts for the difference.

I was at Soto's on Friday the 22nd. My experience was as others have described above, stunning. I know that Soto has been struggling to find a format that works for him both financially and aesthetically. It was in the service of this struggle that Soto closed down and retooled to make the restaurant what it is today. It bears mentioning that a less passionate man, a man less willing to risk his reputation and his well-being wouldn't have done what Soto did. A more reasonable man would have become more conservative. Soto went the in other direction. The current menu is 12 courses at $80 dollars a person. I haven't eaten at every restaurant in America so I can't say this for sure but it seems likely that dinner at Soto's is the best bargain going in the country. He orders all his fish from the Tsiji market. He changes his menu daily. His only assistant in the kitchen is his wife, Maho. The menu is littered with expensive materials: caviar, foie gras, kobe beef, uni, chu-toro. He began at twelve covers per night at $70 a head serving a seventeen course prix fix meal. The concept as I understand it was based on a kaiseki meal. When questioned about the meal's size and the length of time it takes to consume it, Soto explained that to meet the parameters of a proper kaiseki meal, he had no choice but to serve seventeen courses. All of this sounds insane to me. There is no way this restaurant can succeed. The meal, as people have reported here, takes between two and a half and four hours. It is a tremendous amount of food. I've heard that unsuspecting Atlantans were asking for the bill when not even halfway through the menu. Not a few of them. This is a recipe for disaster. But it's my impression that Soto has decided the only way to success is to be true to his own bent sense of integrity. He will make the food the he finds best and serve it in the way he wants us to eat it and in the way he would eat it himself. In our world of dumbing-down the dumbness for broad market appeal, this is a rare sentiment. And in Atlanta no less. Some dishes we ate that I haven't seen in other reports: Dobin mushi soup: A dashi broth served in a teapot (dobin) with shrimp, flounder, ginko nuts, zest of yuzu and a mitsuba leaf "Eggplant with sweet miso and foie gras sauce. Touch of balsamic." "Uni cappucino" There were some other things but as I was so rapt in experiencing them at the time, I can no longer remember what they are. With the utmost humility, I have a few criticisms. It seemed to me that the new booking policy of 30 covers a night had Soto on his heels. He wasn't quite at pace getting the food out. I think that despite that he has shrunk his menu, the amount of food is still challenging. He can resolve this not by knocking off more courses but by decreasing their size. The sushi course for example, the fish is very big. It seems almost out of the spirit of the meal. I'd like to eat slices that are more the size range that is served at Yasuda in New York. It's starting to look like Soto's contrary approach might actually bring him the kind of success and recognition he deserves. Still, I reiterate what I wrote in a previous post. Run. Don't walk. And if you have the privilege of actually living in Atlanta, do so as often as possible.

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My favorite, and one I've had many many times is in the South Bronx on 3rd ave and 138th street at the Maybar Cafe. It's five dollars. The pork is not sliced, it's chopped into pretty good sized pieces. The bread is lightly buttered, mayonnaise-free and you'd think things would get a bit dry but they always seem to leave in plenty of pork fat so that sandwich just slides right down . The absolute best thing about their cubano is that attached to the fat is lots of cracklin'. The second best thing is just how porky the pork is. Don't know why theirs is this way but their pork emanates an almost overwhelming swiney goodness. There are days when this sandwich is sublime, when they've hit every note. Two days ago they forgot the garlic and pickles and the pork wasn't delicious at all. It was late in the day and they just weren't on their game. I think the sandwich is most likely to turn out great during the lunch rush when the roasted pork shoulders are coming out of the oven, the sandwich maker can pick and choose her pork and she is focused on the task at hand.

Here's a place my wife and I stayed. Can't speak highly enough about it. It's just outside of Ubud. http://www.alamindahbali.com/ We had our own little house, two floors, stunning views of the monkey forest. The people there we just fabulous. If the Damai is Danish owned, I second the recommendation. We blundered into it and found ourselves in the middle of a photo shoot for a cookbook. A little western maybe-- air conditioners and cable tv etc. And frolicking Danes. There is a group of resorts in Bali called Aman this or that. Amanwana, Amandari Amankila etc. They cost so much it kind of boggles the mind but the restaurants are not so expensive at all, at least by US standards. We had some incredibly good food at a couple of these joints and then went back to our hotel for $40 bucks a night and, anyway it was a great trip. Stay out of Kuta if at all possible. Unless you find yourself wanting for pseudo-Niketown and a McDonald's hamburger.

I was chatting with a bahn mi technician the other day. It happened to be right around lunch time. We got to talking about fish sauce. He said a few valuable things. The order in which the fish sauce comes out of the vats or pools or whatever is of importance. Apparently the first layer--the bottom layer--is most prized and is indicated on bottles by the number one. I think I understood my new friend to say (my Vietnamese is EXTREMELY limited and the technician spoke with a heavy accent) that these bottles seldom make it to the states. The ratings go from one to ten. Now as regards pricing. . . well sometime people don't get my humor and I guess that's my fault. The fact is that quality and price are often in direct proportion. Sometimes they aren't. In moments of ignorance, human beings will almost always assume that the thing with the bigger price tag is better. On the averages they'd be right. I have no interest whatsoever in paying a penny more for anything than is necessary. If the best artisinal fish sauce company would pay me to take one of their bottles, I'd jump to it. As it is, I only know about fish sauce what I have the opportunity to taste and discover on the shelves of the grocery stores that I blunder into. It occurred to me one morning as I ate my Wheaties that maybe in Thailand and Vietnam and wherever else they produce the stuff, fish sauce is like balsamic vinegar. That there are gallons and gallons of it made for everyday use but there is also a grade--like balsamico--so precious, so delicious so rare that people are willing to pay a few more bucks for it. Until I went to Italy I didn't know for example that there is 100 year aged balsamic vinegar that people drink straight. I want to taste that. And I want to taste its equivalent in the realm of fish sauce if indeed it exists. As we moved into talking about the differences in Maggis produced in different countries and I started to anticipate the immanent burn from fresh chilis on my sandwich, the technician wrote me the name of some fish sauce to look out for. Especially if the bottle that reads as he wrote on the note and has the number one on it. He assured me that the bottle would be small and the price tag big. Here's what he wrote:

Good story banquo. I've been to Sripraprai four or five times in the last month. Reecently managed to much down a very small red chili thinking it was a sliver of a bigger less atomic one. Came up for air three brown bag beers later with an interesting new power. We had jungle curry and green curry last and for me these were quite literally no sweat. The earlier chili blast had resent the bar for me. It needn't be added but I feel I must join in the clamoring. This is an outstanding restaurant. In-fucking-credible. I'd eat there four nights a week if my GI would allow it. Also, we asked the waitress where they do most of their shopping and she directed us to a grocery right near the elmhurst stop of the. . . don't remember what train it was. I was on wheels but it was on Broadway in Elmhurst between 75th and 85th. Very vast grocery. Worth a visit. It featured, no joking, cow pizzle and head off duckling.

I think they open at 11am.

I'm not that experienced at confitting but I'll try to tell you what I did I bought some salted pork fat at a market called Seabra's in New Jersey. So I got that melting in a smallish oval staub cast iron pot. In the meantime I ground up together some peppercorns,coriander seeds, a clove and some juniper berries. Mixed those seasonings with kosher salt and heavily rubbed the shoulder with the mixture. I assumed that the fat would wash off some of the seasonings so really you're seasoning the total volume of the shoulder and the fat. I plopped the shoulder into the fat and assured that it was covered and put it in the oven (lidded) at between two fifty and two eighty for about six hours. That's it. I carefully scopped it out at the end with a slotted spoon as the meat was wanting to fall apart and let it cool a bit. Then served. I guess you'd have to say that this is confitting as a method of slow-cooking rather than as preservation. Just looked at my original post. Not sure I said anything new.

In milk!! Holy cow.

Love the pork shoulder. Lustily score the meat. Slow roast generously seasoned with quatre epices and salt. Rubbed first with some olive oil and cooked on top of mirepoix vegetables, thyme and garlic. Also slide some garlic slivers into the meat. Bring heat up at the end of cooking for crispy skin and baste frequently over the last couple of hours with pan drippings that should include some added stock and white wine. Last weekend I confitted a small piece of shoulder (1.5lbs) in pork fat. I used the classic seasonings for choucroute since a choucroute was the ultimate destination of the pork. 275 in a covered pot in the oven for six or seven hours. You can use the leftovers from either preparation in a cubano.

There is a previous conversation on this topic here: http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showto...5165&hl=popover

The second time around wasn't long as the oil was so hot. Maybe 30 seconds to a minute. At the outside, a minute and a half.

Tonight I endeavored to make this fabulous dish. I've only eaten it once before and must admit it's become somewhat of a holy grail for me. I had it at the restaurant Gualtieri Marquesi north of Milan. It was a formative gustatory experience. Found the baby chokes at Whole Foods today for a bargain and went for it. I think I had profound success. Here's what happened: Chokes: Chokes partly butchered: Chokes fried once and partly peeled back: Oil for the boiling (mostly canola part olive): All done (boiled twice second time around oil at 360 to 380):

Those taters are glutinous because the otherwise extremely talented chef at Lark is using the wrong damn potatoes to make Robuchon's signature dish. He's using Yukon golds. Should be using a good baking potato, a russett. ← I've got to eat some crow. I was wrong about this. Robuchon, according to Jeffrey Steingarten at least, does use waxy potatoes like the Yukon Gold. Sundstrom is right on track.

That's a beautiful sight. Spitting didn't occur to me. Makes all the sense in the world. Seeing the picture, I think there's about a zero percent chance that I won't be making this as soon as I can get my hands on a nice joynt of beef and someplace to hook up a spit.

I have read that the "classic " method is to pour the batter into the roasting pan at the end of the roast's cooking, leaving the roast above. The fats are all roast dripppings and as the pudding cooks, it gets dripped on a little more. I've never quite pulled this off, usually use a rack or mirepoix vegetables and can't seem to figure how the pudding could work on top of that stuff.

What about these places? Like where exactly are they and well, whatever you might care to say about them would be of interest.

I was at Mitsua last week and bought some beautiful big eye oh toro. I sliced ten pieces out of it for the price of one and a quarter at a good sushi place. Ate it with some sublime soy sauce also purchased at Mitsua. If it is poorly managed I'd like to see it when it is well-managed. They have a broad selection of sushi grade fish sold in small blocks like you'd see at a sushi counter.

Soto-san has eliminated the a la carte menu and now only serves a single prix fixe menu consisting of a whopping seventeen courses. On different nights a meal can take between two and four hours to complete. If your jaw hasn't hit the floor yet imagine this: he's only charging seventy dollars a person for this rare experience and he does only twelve covers a night. Apparently finishing all seventeen courses requires a certain degree of heroism--maybe the portion size isn't quite right? I haven't yet gotten to Soto's since the menu change but I sure intend to even though it will require a flight from NYC to Atlanta. If you are interested, run don't walk because he can't keep this madness up for long.

They use a wood burning oven.

I don't want to make any grandiose claims about this restaurant. But I can say that for having been open only a few months, they have their crust remarkably in order. It's thin and nicely charred with a good crunch. They are using excellent ingredients. Their Lisbona pie, for example, features rich and milky mozarella, gorgonzola adds a nice funk, fresh arugula, and a wonderful spicy salami in which you can taste the musk of the aging. Really a nice pie. The most conservative thing I can say is that Piola merits a visit if you are in the neighborhood. It's just west of Broadway on the south side of 12th street. They are on menupages but don't yet deliver. Here's their website: http://www.piola.it/

It's a finishing salt like fleur de sel but, in my experience, is less substantial, less hard so that when you bite into it, it breaks down with a pleasantly light crunch. I guess you might describe it as brittle. Also flaky rather than round. For a lot more information about this salt, Jeffrey Steingarten did an inquiry into all things finishing salt that is included in "It Must Have Been Something I Ate." My direct experiences of Okinawa salt have been at Sushi Seki, Yasuda, and Ebisu (at Ebisu they are doing a salt sampler with, I think, fluke). They don't have it at M2M but do have at Mitsuwa in Edgewater, NJ (where, among many other delectables, they also sell beautiful loaves of bluefin oh and chu-toro). As with fleur de sel, there are many varieties. I bought a couple of different ones at Mitsuwa and haven't tried them all but I don't think any are of the type that is served in the above-mentioned restaurants.

I've looked here and there but not at Sunrise. Called Takashimaya and found that they have had it in the past and will have it in the future but don't have it now.

Anybody know where to get this stuff in the city? How about online?