Ari

what a fabulous thread! I love these photographs. The really great thing about Buddha's Hands is their smell. For anyone who's smelled an etrog, the aroma is similar. (I'm not sure what the English name for an etrog is, but they're incredibly fragrant citrus fruits that Jews use for Sukkot celebrations in the fall. I've heard that one can make jam out of them, though I've never tried.) I've seen Buddha's Hands at a Whole Foods in DC and at a Nature's in Portland, Oregon.

It's funny, I find that one of my biggest disappointments in the food network is that I can't reliably find good ol' cooking shows there any more. I think that Unwrapped, Food Finds, etc. are interesting in their own right, but they just don't give me that certain je ne sais quoi that I get from a half hour in the kitchen with the Galloping Gourmet.

I've loved cooking shows ever since I was little. Not flash-bang Emeril/Iron Chef-style shows, but good, old school man-or-woman-in-the-kitchen type programs. Last week, I think I put my finger on what I like so much about them. I was watching an old Julia Child show, I was late to meet somebody, and I couldn't tear myself away from the TV screen. She was making biscotti. That was when I realized that for me, each dish on these shows is a perfect, compelling little story - with characters (hazelnuts, flour, sugar); plot (then you mix them all up in the bowl), suspense (what will it look like when it comes out of the oven!?) ; and of course, a happy ending (it's so delicious!). I'm not generally a safe, cautious, boring kind of guy, but I find great comfort in the reliability of these plots. I thought that if I could find someone to back me up anywhere, it would be here. So what do you think? Am I crazy? Do you love cooking shows for the same reason? If not, what's your reason? Who are your favorites? What do you think makes a great cooking show, and what drives you nuts? Ari

Interesting, I've never thought about the pairing in general terms. I assume you're not including citrus when you talk about seafood and fruit? It's hard to imagine fish without lemon. I think the red currants worked in the lobster dish because they were more sour than "fruity." Just little isolated bursts throughout the dish.

I've just arrived home from France, and before another day goes by I'm determined to give a full post on my meal at Troisgros. So here goes. Please forgive in advance the length of this posting. The six of us began our evening in the bar with cocktails and a few small bites. The waiter brought us each a plate with three large ceramic spoons. On the first spoon was "cauliflower and cheese." It was a very fine dice of blanched cauliflower, with a finely shredded hard white cheese that tasted a little like gruyere. There was an acidic note, too - maybe sherry vinegar? The second amuse bouche was another duo: a square of beet with a sliver of foie gras on top. The sweetness of the beet almost drowned out the richness of the foie gras. And the third bite was new potato with a bracing shallot vinaigrette reduction. I thought that all three were interesting studies in contrasts of flavor, color, and texture, but none of the three really wowed me. Then came the menu. The first page was an "impressions of summer" prix fixe menu of six courses, plus cheeses and le grand dessert, for 170 euros. Specifics on that menu shortly. The rest of the menu was divided into categories: Fresh Notes, Travelling Spirit, A Touch of Crunch, Pieces to Share, and Meat in All Its Guises. (These translations are from Troisgros's English version of the menu.) The waiter said that for an a la carte dinner, two or three courses plus dessert would be sufficient. There was no obvious distinction between starters and main dishes. Each plate seemed to be about the same size, except for the "Pieces to Share" menu, on which each plate was intended for two. You can view a version of the menu on the restaurant's website, www.troisgros.fr. It's not exactly the same as the one we had, but many of the dishes are identical. Three of us (myself included) had the prix fixe menu. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law each ordered two dishes a la carte. And my father-in-law ordered the Rib roast and Spiced duckling with sweet and sour mango, fennel, and potato puffs. Both the duckling and the roast beef were intended for two people, to be served in two services. The waiter was a bit shocked that my father-in-law wanted both for himself, but he handled the order with aplomb. Later that evening (and the next morning), Michel Troisgros joked with my father-in-law that nobody had ever placed such an order at his restaurant. I don't know whether it says more about the food or my father-in-law that he had no trouble finishing either dish. Our tasting menu began with a tomato gelee. It was very cold, very summery, and very surprising. It came in an opaque narrow glass so that at first, all you could see was diced tomato on the top. Beneath that was a layer of very cold, clear tomato jelly. Perhaps two thirds of the way through the jelly I encountered a fine scattering of fresh mint and basil. And at the very bottom of the cup was a superbly sweet peeled cherry tomato. After the gelee, we had fresh sardines with osetra caviar. I've always found sardines to be too oily in the past, but these absolutely sparkled. They were arranged (headless) on the plate with sea beans to look like a school of fish swimming through seaweed. The sea beans and caviar were salty, and the sardines were just pure, fresh, and raw on the center of the plate. The third dish was frog legs with satay and cauliflower. I'd heard about this dish before and was curious to try it, but frankly I was disappointed. I thought it was creative - the satay was pungent and rich, without an overwhelming peanut flavor - but for me, the frog legs were just too light to stand up to the satay. The next dish was seame-crusted cod with pickled leek and "Xeres jus." If anybody knows what Xeres is, I'd love to find out. I thought this dish was nice, but not terribly memorable. Very fresh cod, nice contrast of textures, but I felt as though I'd had similar things at other good seafood restaurants. Then came fricassee of lobster with a jus of red fruits. The sauce with this dish tasted almost like a mole. I could have sworn there was chocolate in it, although the waiter told me there wasn't. It was a fabulous combination - there were sour little red currants hiding in the sauce, buttery lobster, and a rich dark sauce that managed not to overpower the fish. And speaking of fish... has anybody noticed that four out of five of the dishes so far featured fish? I thought this was a rather untraditional menu. It began with the gelee (which was really more of a send-off from the chef than a real starter), then it went through four fish dishes before getting to the main course.... which was squab! I enjoyed the composition of the menu, but I was surprised that there was no mammalian meat anywhere on it. I later asked Michel Troisgros about this, and he sort of shrugged it off. He basically said that on a daily basis he cooks what he wants to cook for his guests, based on what inspires him and what's at the market. I can't say I objected to the outcome. The main dish was certainly the most stellar of the menu, and it was more than hefty enough to constitute a centerpiece to the meal. The main dish was squab and foie gras, fried "Kiev" style. Let me see if I can describe this. Imagine chicken kiev. Now replace the nasty exterior with a fabulously crisp and light crust of panko or something similar. And instead of the gooey chicken center, lay a thick slab of foie gras on top of a perfectly rare breast of squab, with a thin layer of spinach between the two. Got it? Now place it on top of a bed of tiny wild mushrooms and corn kernels. It was creative, surprising, delicious, and totally cool. I have to admit to being a bit overwhelmed by the cheese tray. I asked the server to surprise me with some unusual selections, and I can't really say for sure what I got in the end. Before "le grand dessert," the chef sent out a gift: a compote of red berries, with a scoop of wild mint sorbet on top. Lovely and refreshing. And then, the finale. "Le grand dessert" had four components: a cherry-mint tart, a chocolate strawberry millefeuille, a coffee meringue with hazelnut cream, and a poached apricot with lemon verbena ice cream. While we dug into those, my father-in-law (who had polished off an entire duckling for two and an entire roast beef for two, remember) had a cherry souffle that he proclaimed to be the best souffle he'd ever eaten (and he's been to some nice restaurants in his time). We finally retired to the salon for coffee and cookies. There were about six different cookies which, given the amount we'd already eaten, seemed like a dare from M. Troisgros. I have to admit to taking them up to my room in a box to enjoy the following day. The next morning we met the chef at 8 for a trip to the market. But I've gone on so long already that I'm afraid I'll have to save that for another post. Let me briefly say, however, that Michel Troisgros was nothing like what I imagined him to be. He reminded me more of a B&B owner than a world-famous chef. He asked guests how they'd slept when they came down from their rooms in the morning, he walked with guests in the garden, he chatted with people about the latest gold medals in the olympics and encouraged their reminiscences about what the restaurant and inn used to be like... he really acted as though La Maison Troisgros was his home and we were his houseguests. Which, in a very real sense, it is and we were. Anyway, it was well worth the trip. The food was really lovely, though I must say I was surprised/shocked/delighted by fewer of the dishes than I expected. Pierre was not around, though Marie-Pierre (Michel's wife) was very involved in affairs around the inn. And Michel said that George is now chef at a private club in New York, where he cooks the same "classic cuisine" (Michel said with what seemed to be a bit of disdain) as always.

I'm sorry I didn't get to post earlier. I promise I'll give a full detailed report on the meal, the stay at the inn, the trip to the market, and the interview soon. As it is, I have just a few moments online, so I'll give a brief preview. Michel Troisgros was incredibly generous with his time. Six members of my extended family ate at the restaurant and stayed at the inn last night. This morning my brother-in-law (a photographer who works with the major food magazines) and I (a radio reporter who aspires to get into the foodie print world) shadowed M. Troisgros for a few hours. I conducted an interview, my brother-in-law took photographs, and we hope to pitch a completed package to one or more of the food/wine/travel magazines when we're finished. It's hard not to get into all of the details of the experience here. The biggest surprise for me was that Michel Troisgros does not see his restaurant's history--or the 3 Michelin stars--as a burden at all. He says he aspires to express his creativity to the utmost through his work at Troisgros, and if traditionalists object, so be it. The salmon with sorrel sauce isn't even on the menu any more, though he says he still prepares it for guests who look particularly nostalgic. More to come, and thanks for your encouragement.... Ari

Bux, Thanks for your thoughts. I like those ideas - particularly about the disappearance of long-term restaurants with a life cycle that is not dependant on that of their chefs. I'm also sorry that I didn't post earlier. I only found out 3 days ago that I was going to have this opportunity. It was sort of a last-minute lucky break. I'll post with notes on the experience when I'm done and link to the article when it's finished. Best, Ari

Tomorrow (Thursday) evening I have the opportunity to interview Michel Troisgros, followed by dinner at his restaurant. The next morning a photographer and I are joining him for a trip to the market. Are there any questions you've been dying to ask him? I plan to ask about the pressures of maintaining a restaurant over decades and generations - how he balances the necessity of maintaining certain dishes exactly as they were 30 years ago with the needs to adapt to changing palates, ranges of ingredients, etc. I'm also curious to hear his feelings about the globalization of cuisine. In Robert Brown's fabulous post about his meal there two years ago, he talked about apparent Japanese and other global influences. I also wonder about his feelings on the Michelin ratings system, particularly in light of the recent scandal. I've never been to Troisgros before, so I'm very excited. I don't have a lot of internet access here, and I know that this is a very last-minute invitation to contribute, but I couldn't let this opportunity go by without involving the egullet community. Fire away - I'll read responses before leaving for the restaurant tomorrow and report back.

What about Tryst? Despite the crowds, I like it for what my partner calls "the dingy couches." They remind me of the coffee house scene in Portland, OR, where I grew up - quirky, individualistic, and not afraid to be a bit dingy.

I just ate there on Saturday night. Wonderful experience. I'm concerned that even on a Saturday at 8 PM there were a number of empty tables. I can imagine that it would be hard to pull off this restaurant anywhere in Atlanta, but the Buckhead address doesn't seem to be helping. I'm also surprised that many of my foodie friends still haven't heard of it. Don't know why word of mouth hasn't caught on for Blais the way it has for, say, Mitra. The tasting menu was very pork-and-shellfish heavy, but maybe that's just my Jewish guilt talking. On a different note, I'm leaving Atlanta for DC on Thursday. Thanks to all the Southeastern egulleteers for helping me discover the culinary scene here. I'll be on the DC/DelMarVa boards from here on out.

It took me four months, but I finally got my boiled peanuts! I was in Savannah for the weekend visiting a college friend, and I had the full low country eating experience. The peanuts came from a roadside stand on Tybee Island that also sold fresh fruist, vegetables, and canned goods (okra, shelled peas, gorgeous tomatoes, green beans, bread and butter pickles, hot pepper jelly.... the list goes on). My friend, who grew up in Georgia, said the boiled peanuts weren't as good as others that she'd had. But I found them addictive. She also took me to the Crab Shack, which I was afraid would be a Tequila Willies/Senor Frog's-style tourist trap. It was not at all. The shack sits right on the marsh, tables are outdoors under live oak trees, and they basically serve up huge platters of stuff that's just been pulled out of the water. It's the kind of basic, simple, intensely regional food that's hard to find in small town America today. We got a sampler plate with boiled mussels, crawfish, stone crabs, snow crabs, shrimp, sausage, corn, and potatoes. The table had a hole in it with a trash can underneath. We got a roll of paper towels, a paper plate and a fork and went to town. It was a fabulous delicious mess.

How is it possible that I've been in Georgia for two months and still haven't tried boiled peanuts? Where do I need to go to get some? (I'd prefer to buy them from somebody over 70, with few teeth, on the side of the road ... just for the cultural experience. But I'll take what I can get.)

I first tried crispy spinach at Nobu, over arctic char. It seemed simple enough, so the next time I made this Javanese Roasted Salmon with wilted spinach from epicurious, instead of serving it over wilted spinach I made crispy spinach (just deep fried and salted) and piled the spinach around the salmon. I put the salmon on a bed of himalayan red rice. Guests loved it.

My family's tuna salad was always made with cottage cheese instead of mayo. Anybody else ever heard of this? Maybe it was a health thing. It was good, though I've never made it for myself - mostly because I never have cottage cheese in the house.

No no, I'm here. Recovered from my grocery-induced stupor. You're right, Tryska, I'd forgotten about the blue crabs. It was hilarious - each time someone tried to pick up a crab, it'd clamp onto another crab... which would clamp onto another, and another.... eventually there would be a long chain of crabs clinging on to one another for dear life, and some guy with tongs on the other end of the chain trying to shake them loose and looking perplexed.

...oh, and an immense shopping cart full of groceries came in under $100. I can't imagine what it would have cost at Whole Foods.

There were actually three of us - a tall gay man (me), a not-so-tall gay man (my friend Jason), and an indian woman of about the same height as the not-so-tall gay man (tryska). We had a fantastic time (if I may be so bold as to speak for my shopping buddies). I've been eating kumquats and perusing meyer lemon recipes since we got back. For me, the most remarkable area was the fish section. There were fresh, whole fish that I'd never even heard of. If I'd had my wits about me I would've bought one and cooked it with some of those meyer lemon slices stuffed inside. As it is, I think I'm going to make a lemon buttermilk pie. ...and I thought the cafeteria highlights were salt cod fritters (never having tried salt cod before) and the roasted mushrooms - simple and perfect. Eggplant curry was kind of bland, as were chickpea-walnut burgers; even with baba ghanouj on top. I want to be the person at the cafeteria who decides who gets to make what each day. "You - come up with a Moroccan fish dish. You, make a side dish from Ethiopia. You, how about something with beef from Afghanistan."

Fermented swedish herring--surstromming. (shudder) Ari tries surstromming

Reminds me of growing up in Fargo, ND. In the summers my dad would take me and my brothers fishing at Upper Cormorant Lake in Minnesota. On the drive over, he'd tease us that this time he'd decided to go to No Fish Lake instead of our usual spot. I still vividly remember the taste of the pizza that they sold from the shack on the edge of the lake. It was square, cut into a little grid, on a sheet of cardboard. Really crispy crust. We'd catch walleye, pike, and panfish. My favorite was going into the shallow areas where you could see tiny sunfish swimming around. I'd drop my line over the side and just watch them nibble.

Thanks for the tips, Therese! I'm going tomorrow afternoon with Tryska and another friend. I hope I'll be able to fit everything into my fridge when I get home.

Last summer some friends and I tried fried oreos at a 6 flags amusement park. We thought they were amazing. No glass of cold milk - these were dipped in batter, deep-fried, plunked on top of a funnel cake with three scoops of ice cream, then topped with whipped cream, cherry sauce, and chopped nuts. My heart stops just thinking about it.

I've just moved to Atlanta from DC and can't wait to visit the DeKalb Farmer's Market. It sounds like an amazing place. Anyone interested in going this weekend?