russ parsons

BOB'S DOUGHNUTS!!!!! littlejohn's: the candy maker in the center, killer toffee. gumbo pot. the little ice cream place around the corner. get their lime-ade with carbonated water. the pork butcher right across the alley. as you can see, i once spent way too much time at the farmers market, but it was too long ago. it really is one of los angeles' treasures.

uh, why? i went to a banquet with some chaud-froid centerpieces many years ago. stuff was pretty good, too, except for all that white paste. maybe it just reminds me too much of days spent locked in walk-ins decorating poached salmons. olive eyeballs anyone?

as a french laundry fan and a responsible citizen (well, fairly), i'd like to recommend to people that they investigate some of the local bed and breakfasts in keller-ville (er, yountville). there are a half-dozen places within walking distance of the restaurant and most of them aren't that expensive (vintage inn excluded). try the bordeaux house, the burgundy house, maison fleurie. i've stayed at all three and they're all fine. a friend also recommends petits logis. this is a good listing of yountville places

I learned this lesson very early. In the early '80s when I was restaurant critic at the Albuquerque Tribune, a friend sent a menu from this place in LA called St. Estephe, which was doing a French take on New Mexican cooking. The menu looked hilarious and I couldn't wait to make fun of it. Fortunately, another columnist at the paper got it before I did. I say fortunately because several years later, after I moved to LA, I actually at the restaurant and realized that what John Sedlar was doing--despite all of the painted dishes, etc--was capturing and purifying the essential flavors of New Mexican food. What seemed ridiculous on paper and from description, was actually a quite transcendent experience. I still remember a posole he made that was essentially a clear broth with a few hominy kernels floating in it. But that consomme held all the complexity of the best home-cooked versions. Taste before you leap.

Do you not see anything Orwellian in that? Are we to believe that somehow the act of discussion, regardless of actual knowledge, can somehow provide knowledge? I don't mean to be an old stick-in-the-mud about this, and purely intellectual arguments about food are good fun. But when people are making qualitative judgements (at quite some length and quite heatedly) about specific things without having ever experienced those things, that's a little scary. This reminds me of the proverb of the seven blind men describing the elephant, except that it's at one remove. What we're actually describing are other people's descriptions of the beast--unreliability squared. Furthermore, I'm a little confused by your comparison between the Internet and newspapers in this regard. Are you actually suggesting that restaurant critics could write their reviews just as well without ever having gone to the restaurant? If they merely polled a few strangers as to what they thought, would that carry the same weight? In this specific case, I've never been to El Bulli. And, quite frankly, it sounds like a place I might not like very much, based just on what I've heard. I have friends who are great cooks and who have great palates and they seem to be divided about it. I do have some general background on the restaurant based on having read the cookbook--I know, or I think I know, what the philosophy and techniques are. But before I put in print an opinion as to the actual restaurant, I would certainly have to visit it. I think this goes doubly in the case of El Bulli, which is--as Bux so rightly points out--breaking new ground in the way the impressionist painters were doing a century ago. But unlike paintings, which can be easily reproduced, a restaurant experience is nearly always unique (in the literal, not fabulist, sense of the word). I'm certainly not arguing for an end to discussion of El Bulli or other restaurants, but merely an acknowledgement that absent actual knowledge, our discussions are unreliable. When someone who has actually been to the restaurant--and more than once--speaks up, we should pay a little deference.

the thing the frug did was convince people that cooking was fun and that they could do it. in that way, he was the same as julia. where they differed is that the frug accomplished this by not taking cooking seriously whereas julia did. the frug was a true american populist of the huey long school (instead of every man a king, every man a cook?): if anything gets confusing, tell people it doesn't matter, that they know best anyway and that anyone who insists on a right way and a wrong way is an elitist. i give him credit for doing his bit to popularize cooking, but i have a feeling once people got the bug from him they had a lot of un-learning to do.

I'm all for keeping it on food topic, and i'm all for anything that gets people cooking. but I have to say that I'm amazed at the positive responses to his books. i only cooked a few things out of them, but they were all the most middle-of-the-road, bland versions of all of those dishes. and i thought the show was awful. He was sanctimonious, his technique was awful, his presentation was cafeteria-style (i use platters, too, but there's a difference between plating and dumping), and his books were so full of misinformation as to be (literally) unbelievable. I remember about 10 years ago Anne Mendelson wrote a spectacular review for us on his Christmas book, wherein she basically accepted the cooking for what it was, but absolutely took him apart on his Bible knowledge.

Yes Victor, shame on you. Imagine what would happen to this site--to the Internet in general!--if people only posted about the things they actually knew something about.

truffles don't travel. that's a very general overstatement. but more times than not its true. it's rare that i've had truffles in this country that really perfume the room the way they should. in fact, i think that if i was to judge the truffle from all but a very few meals in america, i'd probably be part of the "what's the deal" crowd. my first true truffle experience was going to Alba in the late fall. It's very cold there, in the mountains, and in the little town there's one main street. when you walk down that street and a door opens to a store, a cloud of steam comes out. from a half-block away, youcan tell which stores sell white truffles because the smell carries so far. am i the only one who notices a consistent bottom note from garlic to truffles? i also get the smell in well-cooked cauliflower (and a whiff of it in cabbage). i haven't done the home work, but i'm betting they're related sulfurous compounds. in fact, the current foodie prejudice is an abhorence of white truffle oil, which except for rare examples is made from a petroleum distillate. in part, this is a sensible reaction to the way careless cooks have drenched food with it. it needs to be used with the utmost discretion. partly, it's just another way to one-up the hoi-polloi. i do remember buying truffle oil at the fair in alba 10 or 15 years ago and cherishing it. i love to make a spreadable mousse with white beans and walnuts and just a dab of truffle oil. put that on warm toast just as people are arriving ... hoo boy. furthermore, t keller uses truffle oil in several dishes at the french laundry and if there's one person i won't argue with it's him.

as everyone has said, there is no right or wrong way to do the listing. but the style we follow (as often as we can) and the one most publications seem to is this: Vintage/Producer/Varietal or Region/"Special appellation" In other words, 2002 Domaine Saint Vincent Samur Blanc “La Papareille” for US: 2000 Sinskey Vineyards Merlot "Carneros" (or "Special Reserve" or "Carneros Special Reserve").

i got an e-mail from our local cookbook store, Cook's Library on Third Street, that they were expecting to have their shipment arrive wednesday or thursday and that they'd let me know. haven't heard a word since, though it may be worth a visit if you're going to be close to the Beverly Center.

hmm, must have been quite a egullet weekend last weekend. i was there saturday night. and i've got to say that while i can allow the possibility that imperfect or unimpressive meals exist at teh french laundry, it is strictly as an article of faith. i've been eating there 2 or 3 times a year for 10 years now and every meal has been superb. some have been better in different ways, some more subtle, some more surprising, but none of them have been anything less than among the very best meals i've ever eaten. what really impressed me this weekend, though, was dinner the night before at bouchon. we got in late, it was rainy, we had no reservations, and it was the closest place to where we were staying. we got the last two seats at the bar and had an absolute feast. it's a great looking room, great energy, good casual service. and, to my mind, an incredible bargain. we had a half-dozen oysters, a half-dozen cold shrimp, an order of their brandade beignets (brandade deep-fried and served on slices of oven-roasted tomatoes), an order of pigs feet, boned, formed into a cylindar and crisped on one side, served with sauce gribiche (very close to the paquettes served at the big place). an order of salmon rillets (like a smoked salmon mousse with diced raw salmon inside). an order of profiteroles. to drink: a glass of chablis and then of sancerre for me and a glass of champagne and a cup of coffee for my wife. total bill: $125. what made it even more pleasureable was that while dinner at the french laundry is always a big occasion, these guys had no idea who i was or that i was friends with the owner. they just do everything right by nature.

the sommeliers are the top of riedel's line. they are amazing glasses. heck, they're amazing glass art, really beautiful. whether they are worth $50 a stem when you can get the spiegelau at $50 the half-dozen from amazon is really a matter of how disposable your income is. come to think of it, i mean that literally. the riedels are unbelievably fragile. i've got 20 or 30 of various spiegelaus for almost any dinner, then a couple dozen riedel vinums (the next step down) for great wines.

i did a piece last fall on using wild fennel seeds. the greens are great, too, of course, but as you'll probably discover, there's no good way to preserve them (at least not that i've found). the seeds will last a long time, though. they're different than the fennel seeds you buy in the grocery. they haven't been dried, so the flavor is much "greener". it's a real intense flash of fennel flavor. a couple of tricks i discovered: when you start to pick from a fennel bush, always taste a couple of seeds first. sometimes they've been sprayed, even those growing in the most unexpected areas. i found those had a really intense mouth-numbing quality that was not at all good. once you get them home, refrigerate them. this sounds weird, but the ones i didn't refrigerate got very moldy pretty fast. remember, they haven't been dried. i don't remember exactly what the recipes were i did with them. i do remember a polpete that was very good. my favorite was spiking fish poaching broth with the fresh fennel seed, then pouring it over the cooked fish and refrigerating it to make a nice fresh gelee. that was a good dish, if you like fish jelly (and who doesn't?).

One thing that bothers me in discussions like this is the absolutism that tends to rise to the surface. Well, sure, wild salmon that is handled properly is an infinitely better fish than farmed. It also costs from 4 to 5 times as much and, if you compare wild biomass vs. farmed harvest, is incredibly scarce. Well, sure, some salmon farms are gross polluters ... until you compare them to chicken farms or cattle ranches ... and, my god, pork! and even vegetable farming is not without its environmental consequences. i sometimes think that the only way we could all eat completely responsibly is to make reservations at chez panisse every night. What ever happened to moderation? i certainly agree that offending salmon farms--and chicken, beef and pork producers--should be cleaned up. but before we take on anti-salmon farming as a matter of doctrine, it seems to me that we need to weigh what the unintended consequences might be. Close down the salmon farms and then let's see what people eat instead. It's almost a sure bet that there will be environmental consequences to that as well.

i'm late to this thread as well, i was on deadline when it started. but i'd like to offer a slightly opposing point of view to molly. though i think food writers do have something to say about health and food safety issues, i think that's an area that should be stepped into very warily. the fact is, these are arguments that do deal with facts. and just hearing one side and thinking "wow, that sorta makes sense" is not a subsitute for informed critical thinking. i'm hesitant to leave all of these issues to the "experts", but there is a lot to be said for having the scientific background to be able to weigh all of the opposing arguments. just as pure science writers look foolish when they tend to talk about cooking, so do most food writers when they talk about science. At best, you get a well-meaning "he said; she said." at worst, i'm afraid, you wind up with a polemic like "fast food nation," which i absolutely detested. take the germ of an idea, fertilize it with a compost of half-truths and then frame it in cultural superiority (just because i don't choose to eat at mcdonalds doesn't mean that everyone who does is an ignorant dupe). The safety and future of the food supply is a serious issue and should only be addressed journalistically by those who are willing to take the time to get the background in order to study it seriously. i mean, really, since most of the discussion of journalism on this board seems to revolve around how most writers can't even get a restaurant review right, do you really want the same folks writing about an issue this serious?

we did a piece on biodynamic wines a couple of weeks ago (not the royal plural, the times food section) and i was part of the tasting group for it. i was quite surprised at the quality of the wines (and no, we couldn't get the boss to spring for leroy). my personal feeling, agreeing with fat guy, is that it's the result of conscientious farming (these are almost by definition small vineyards: it's hard to do biodynamic on an industrial level--can you imagine burying all those cow horns?). whether there is a scientific basis to it or not really is not of that much interest to me. if someone believes praying to the great kali and sacrificing a minor beatle or two is what makes their wine great, all i care about is that it tastes good. (and, i must say, that they don't make me sit through too many lectures on the philosophical underpinnings.)

i first met emeril when he had just been named head chef at commander's. you wouldn't believe it now. he was the quietest little chef-nerd you ever saw. he walked around with his shoulders hunched over staring at his shoes. when he shook hands, he'd only glance at y ou like he was afraid to offend. and now, oy vey. not to overly namedrop (well, ok, that's what i do), but i was with julia when she was on larry king the last time, watching it in the green room with her assistant. here's an interesting thing i've noticed, kind of a julia drinking game: when she is getting really bored or irritated with an interviewer, she'll start answering his questions with questions (the worst thing an interviewee can do, of course). Once you've noticed, it's very funny to watch.

and what isn't? forgive me for being bitter, but i'm the one with an action hero for a governor.

let me go ahead and plump once again for the aged germans from corti brothers in sacramento. i don't have the phone right off (and they're not web-accessible), but i've been buying really nice 5-to-10-year-old germans from them for about the same price as most places charge for the recent vintages. if you're in a shipping state, you really need to give them a call.

Great list Carolyn, and so many of them in my neighborhood. I'd also add Otafuku soba on Western in Gardena, the guy is the Thomas Keller of soba noodles. And Fukuno in the same neighborhood, great kappo cooking. And Mitsuwa market on Western south of the 405, which is kind of Bristol Farms to Marukai's Trader Joe's. Out of Southern California, you've gotta try Echo in Fresno. I've been raving about this place for years, but who goes to Fresno? It really is fabulous, Chez Panisse-style farm-oriented food, except it's in the middle of the farm belt rather than in Berkely.

I would go along with the 3 winery maximum. As a neophyte, what you're going to find is that a lot of the stuff they're talking about will make as much sense as if they were explaining the canning of Spam (not that it's the same quality-wise, but certainly process-wise). I mean, even the biggest wine geek (blushing), can only see so many bottling lines, so many bladder presses (not as fun as it might sound). I would go someplace where they are used to dealing with neophytes and where you will be surrounded by people at your level. a) you won't feel stupid asking questions; b) the presentation will be geared for your level. When my daughter started getting interested in wine, I took her to Mondavi and that was a great overview, from vine to barrel, and presented on a level she could understand. Then I took her to a small winery to get the poetry. I chose Sinskey, partly because they so much believe the poetry and do such nice work and partly because Rob is a great, patient teacher. There she got to taste Pinot Noir made from teh same clone, vinified in different barrels and Pinot Noir made from different clones vinified in the same barrels. All of which made her a hit at all of her college social events, I'm sure. So, I'd pick one biggie: Beringer and Mondavi are the two most obvious suspects, then I'd pick a winery you're just nuts about. Because in the end, the personal connection between producer and product is something you'll remember far longer than hectoliters per hectare.

uh, maybe I'd better make it clear that I meant the Trinidad in Northern California. Different place.

I'm proposing this as a sort of continuation from a question on my Q&A: Great places that might be off the beaten track. I spent this weekend in one of my favorite parts of California, around Arcata and came back with some new and old favorites: Big Blue Cafe: On the square in Arcata, great breakfasts. Try the french toast with fresh blueberries. Larrupin: The big deal restaurant in the area, really comfortable room, pretty good food and a small, well-chosen, well-priced wine list. Cash only. Seascape Cafe: At the bottom of the hill in Trinidad, right next to the pier. Great breakfasts (try the sourdough pancakes). Wild blackberry pie in season. They also advertise local fish, but I haven't had dinner here, so can't attest (though I did see somebody hauling in a 45-pound king salmon from the end of the pier once!). Ramon's Bakery: A small chain. Very, very nice baked goods and good coffee. Amazing quality for the area (read: I wish we had something that good in Long Beach).

Wow! good questions, all. How do you select restaurants to review? Usually, we give a restaurant at least 6 weeks to get its act together before it is reviewed. Other than that, it's the old "newsworthy" standard. Is there a reason people should know about this restaurant? Is it someplace people are talking about and want to know about? Is it unknown and really good? Is it hyped and not so good? Does it in some way reflect something important about the community? It's a matrix of these questions that guide the decision what to review. How many visits? We visit all restaurants at least three times before we write a review. That is enough to get over the first impressions and to decrease the possibility of "just a bad night." If we're going to write a negative review, we'll usually go a couple times more just to be sure we're being fair (the restaurant reviewer's paradox: if it's bad, you get to go more often!). Assign vs. self-assign: The same as with other stories, it's a combination. I think the editor's role is more "advise and consent" when it comes to reviews and the critic gets a tremendous amount of leeway about what he/she wants to review. That said, occasionally the editor will have an idea for a review (usually more along the lines of a theme or trend analysis rather than just one specific restaurant). At that point, there will be a discussion. Slagging? That's up to the critic, though I would think that a wise critic would take a boss along for at least one dinner before he really slammed someplace. There's nothing like forcing them to share the pain to help them more adequately answer all those nasty phone calls. I want to be sure to make the point that this is the way things are done at the LA Times. I think it's very fair. But that's not to say that's the only way to do things or even the very best way. Different papers, different editors, different critics, different circumstances may dictate different approaches. Even on something as basic as whether we pay for meals. We are extremely fortunate at the Times to have a budget for restaurant reviews that, while not bottomless, is sufficient. Other publications might not. To be honest (and this will probably be considered heretical among my colleagues), I don't think paying for meals is a litmus test of a critic's honesty. I do think being "hosted" makes it harder to be honest about a review, but I also think there are critics who righteously pay for everything and are less than honest in their reviews as well. It's like the Stockholm Syndrome, pretty soon, some critics start believing they represent the restaurant industry rather than the reading public. You should be very clear about where your loyalties lie. When it becomes anyone other than the guy who pays 50 cents to read them, you need to rethink what you're doing. Let me be clear about one more thing: On this as on all other things in this Q&A, I am speaking only for myself and do not represent the official position of the LA Times, whatever it may be.