tupac17616

Butternut squash lasagne. Gets 'em every time

Thanks Daniel. The sardines came from Berkeley Bowl. They were huge! And I got four of 'em for something like $0.80. They also had a few trays of santa barbara sea urchin that day, from which I made spaghetti ai ricci di mare (a simple Sicilian pasta dish from Palermo). All in all, another nice little trip to my favorite store. ETA: Must. Have. BLT. Tonight.

Been awhile since we've talked butt. Please consider the following an instructional series on what happens when you have no idea what the heck you are doing. Notice, for example, the temperature fluctuations. Good times. Could I tell you how long we smoked the butt? Nope. Could I tell you it was really friggin' good? Yep. Butt + smoke = good. That's all I know. Mound the pork on the bottom half of a roll. Top the pork with Betty's cole slaw. Add the top half of the roll. Devour. Repeat as necessary.

Okay so maaaybe this isn't the right thread for this, but I figured this would be as good a place as any to share what I had for dessert tonight... Chocolate. With bacon. Pretty decent. Though a little too much smokey flavor, and the texture (a few chunks of chewy bacon fat inside) left something to be desired..

Been away from this thread for a while, but no time like the present to get back into it... Pasta con le sarde My own weird spin on it. Sauteed some arugula and a bit of garlic in olive oil, added currants, red pepper flakes, splash of sherry vinegar, and, of all things, cinnamon. The fresh California sardines were "grilled" (if we can call what the Cuisinart Griddler does as such) separately with just a nice Ligurian olive oil and salt, then placed on top. Final dish was a bit more agro than dolce, surprisingly, but pretty darn tasty if I do say so myself.

Allora, I don't think I've ever contributed to these "Cooking and Cuisine of..." threads, but no time like the present. Pasta con le sarde My own weird spin on it. Sauteed some arugula and a bit of garlic in olive oil, added currants, red pepper flakes, splash of sherry vinegar, and, of all things, the tiniest bit of cinnamon. The fresh California sardines were "grilled" (if we can call what the Cuisinart Griddler does as such) separately and then placed on top. Final dish was a bit more agro than dolce, surprisingly, but pretty darn tasty if I do say so myself.

Nice. Thanks, Julien, for the photos. Now looking forward to this place even more than I already was...

I agree with u.e. on all points he made. Sorry to hear your overall experience was not better, LPShanet!

Et voila... (pictures can be seen HERE) I recently found myself in Pocantico Hills, NY. Not in the this-is-where-I-happen-to-be-on-planet-earth-right-now sort of way. Rather, I found myself in the sense that I was reminded what it is that makes food such a passion for me. More than just a restaurant, and more than just a farm, Blue Hill at Stone Barns is a place that nourishes both body and soul as it shows you if not what the link between farm and table should be, at least what it can be. When I first I took the short train ride up from the city last spring, I was there for the restaurant. I was there for food. But a walk around the grounds before dinner left me with a feeling I could not easily pin down. Something about the place just clicked for me on a fundamental level. Maybe it was the fresh, quiet air or the pink-and-purple paint in the sky as the sun set. Maybe I had eased right in to the slow pace of the ducks and cows I saw roaming the grounds. Or maybe, always my mother’s son, my green thumb was just coming out amidst this beautiful agricultural backdrop. That first dinner was great, but I knew I would have to return for more, literally. My trip back would be about more than just food, and I would make that trip with, or more accurately for, my mom. Far too modest to admit it, she is a veritable encyclopedia of gardening. She’s also always quick to point out when what I think is new is actually just old again. The exchanges go like this: I come home, the prodigal son-gourmand, having squandered all my money in far-away lands. I tell her about the latest trendy, “cheffy” ingredients I’ve seen popping up on menus. She nods as she considers this thoughtfully. Then she smiles and informs me that she is growing those very things in our back yard and has been doing so since long before I was born. And didn’t I realize that? Needless to say, even before she saw the pictures from my first trip or an episode of Oprah that featured Stone Barns, it was clear that this particular farm-restaurant duo was the ideal place for this particular mother-son duo to celebrate her birthday this year. We pulled up to Stone Barns around 10:30am. We were eight hours early for dinner. The Insider’s Tour — a backstage pass to the farm and restaurant led by the very capable Ellen Baum — would start at 11, but first we had breakfast from the Blue Hill Café. Pain au chocolat for the lady; a cheddar-and-chive scone and cherry focaccia for me. My kind of energy snacks before a guided hike around the farm. I can’t condense this incredibly cool, several-hour experience into one line, but I can tell you a bit about what we saw. I can also tell you how very highly I would recommend it to others. We saw animals — sheep, turkeys, chickens, pigs, and cows — making their happy homes in the pastures and barns. We saw fields and gardens and green houses with plants and flowers too numerous to name. In short we saw what makes this nearly self-sustaining, almost utopian place tick. Lunch would also come from the café and would be eaten, fittingly, on the same ground from which it was harvested. The mid-day menu had heirloom tomatoes layered with local goat cheese on focaccia, chilled corn soup, and several other tempting items I would have happily ordered had dinner not been a few short hours away. Instead we got a few things — okay, everything — on their pay-by-weight buffet. Roasted beets lent their crimson hue to a tangy local goat cheese spiked with fresh dill. Blanched shell beans were tossed with shallots, scallions and a pistachio vinaigrette. Farro came dressed with a fruity olive oil and corn so fresh it was milky. And how could I forget the roasted carrot and potato salad, or the egg salad that came to us courtesy of the chickens we had just seen clucking around the coop? A single chocolate chip cookie and a cold glass of Ronnybrook milk put a cap on this simple but satisfying lunch. We spent a while longer there on the farm, sometimes exploring, sometimes doing nothing at all, but all the time realizing what a great day it had been and what a great evening it would be. Later we stepped back into the restaurant, now dressed in our Sunday best. The hostess led us into the beautiful dining room we had seen empty that very morning, now full of smiling faces. We got a glass of Lieb Family Cellars Blanc de Blancs from Long Island to kick things off with some celebratory bubbles. Choosing what to eat was easy since during the summer about 80% of what the restaurant uses comes directly from the farm, eliminating the need for a traditional menu of composed dishes. Instead, you see a list of the incredible bounty of ingredients that chef Dan Barber and his crew have gathered on that particular day. Then you simply choose the number of course you want, sit back and enjoy. But while I love such surprises, my mom sometimes does not. Which is a roundabout way of saying that she’s not such a fan of some of the strange things I eat. Imagine our delight when the staff listened so closely to each of our likes and dislikes that it would turn out to be as if the kitchen was cooking a meal customized just for us. Not listed as part of the eight-course Farmer’s Feast ($125) were a slew of amuses-bouche that would soon flood our table. At times, the staff could scarcely find room to put the plates down — a very good problem to have — so we just had to keep eating. Such is life. The first few bites included a melon slushie with coppa; and small tomatoes and yellow squash skewered on a wiry “fence”. and Any drink goes down smoother with a pork chaser, I think, so the melon slush was a nice start. And the tomatoes and squash were the first of many fruits and vegetables we would have that night that had scarcely been manipulated by the kitchen. Clearly, they had confidence in the natural flavors that were coming out of the ground there. Next we had little melon and watermelon balls dusted with black pepper. some warm bread and butter, a crusty, country-style sourdough and a puck of soft, unsalted, respectively. Apparently Blue Hill’s resident charcutier Adam Kaye had been MIA for a little while, but they still scrounged up a nice selection of cured and smoked Berkshire pig for us, much to my delight. We had saucisson sec, mortadella, lonza, and a cute little block of heart and liver terrine sandwiched between chocolate wafers. All were quite good but the terrine was especially memorable for its strong, unadulterated liver flavor. When I gave this description to my mom, she noted that she was not suffering from an iron deficiency on that particular evening and she politely pushed hers my way. The tomato “burger”, though, was far too good for my mom to sacrifice. In fact, that tiny sweet bun holding a mound of tomato confit made her smile so big I was worried she might trick me — “Hey, look over there! A relatively obscure chef nobody in the room besides you would recognize!” – and steal mine as well. A skewer of eggplant wrapped with pancetta, rolled in sesame seeds, and fried was proof that even in fancy restaurants, there’s something satisfying about food on a stick. The inside was warm and creamy while the meaty exterior provided a bit of crunch. That was followed by “face bacon”, their poetic name for rounds of crispy cured and smoked pig head meat. And the last (but not least) of the fruits of the Fry-o-lator were some potato chips threaded with sage, and deep-fried chard leaves. These all tasted so good that I momentarily considered asking if they could just deep-fry the rest of our dinner. Sticks of warm flat bread came with salted butter and fresh ricotta (each from the chef’s family’s farm in the Berkshires), and an amazingly smooth eggplant puree. To season any of the above there were tomato and arugula “salts” (dehydrated tomatoes and arugula each ground to a fine powder and mixed with salt). We dabbed at the somewhat bland ricotta, then quickly dispatched the very good butter, only to find we had actually saved the best thing for last. The eggplant puree, especially with a touch of tomato salt, stole the show for me. Our first actual courses arrived and my mother had the Tomato, watermelon, mozzarella “cloud”, bacon, while I had just a touch of Plate Envy. Her dish had fat wedges of both wonderfully ripe fruits, a warm piece of fresh mozzarella with bits of basil in it, and a cool, thick blob of mozzarella-flavored foam she dubbed the “cloud”. A basil-spiked vinaigrette tied it together and a crown of bacon topped it off. Under normal circumstances, my mom is a generous woman. With this plate in front of her, alas, she did not share. I don’t mean to imply that my dish — Bluefish with paddlefish caviar, tomato, pig’s ear vinaigrette — left me unsatisfied by comparison. Far from it. A small block of raw fish sat on slice of heirloom tomato so thin it was translucent. The briny paddlefish caviar provided the salt and the vinaigrette gave these fresh and light flavors a bit of depth. Diced bits of pig ear added to an otherwise traditional vinaigrette were responsible for the unctuous, gelatinous texture in my mouth. A younger guy came by with a large wooden tray full of heirloom tomatoes. More than a dozen kinds, many of which I had never heard of before, save the green zebra, pineapple, and persimmon varieties. My mom’s eyes lit up and I was pretty sure she was thinking the same thing I was — perhaps we should pry the tray out of this guy’s kung fu grip and run for the hills. Oh, wait. These are the tomatoes we’ll be eating in a just a few minutes, you say? Well, in that case… Pretty soon that tray was replaced with Tomatoes, grilled stone fruit, tomato sorbet, purslane, stracciatella. This seemed a perfectly fair trade to me, since this dish was wonderful. The sweet grilled nectarine and peach segments accented the slight tartness of the tomatoes, and those warm fruits served on top of the cold sorbet made for some really enjoyable temperature contrast. (I’m also pretty sure my mom asked me twice: “Did you taste that sorbet yet? Wow!”) And see, I haven’t even mentioned the creamy strands of torn mozzarella yet. Yeah, I think you could say this was a good dish. You could also say the next one — Celtuse with yogurt, pine nut butter, yogurt foam — was the standout course of the meal. Who would’ve thought I would be so enthusiastic about a variety of lettuce, especially one that exhibits characteristics of that other oft-maligned vegetable, celery? The knobby root of the vegetable was served raw, simply shaved into ribbons that had a refreshing, almost watery crunch reminiscent of celery. The leaves, meanwhile, were wilted and served warm on a slate tile smeared with a thick, Greek-style yogurt and a salted pine nut butter. Each component on the plate sang a nice tune of its own, but the combination of them all was symphonic. Next my mom had the Corn ravioli with tomato and basil sauce. She didn’t say a word for the next several minutes — the woman was focused — but “summertime on a plate” was how she eventually summarized it. I quietly wondered if autumn were already on its way, as she had used a piece of bread to dispose of every last morsel of whatever season had been set in front of her. Meanwhile, I had a glass of riesling (Weingut Günther Steinmetz 1994 Mülheimer Sonnenlay Spätlese) that proved an exceptional match for the Hudson Valley foie gras, roasted peach. This was a simple ode to the Moulard duck, a species whose highest calling is achieved in a few ounces of its buttery liver. The warm chunk of roasted peach here was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. The wine, fruit, and foie made for a very happy combination. The next edible show-and-tell brought eight different types of heirloom beans, one of which my mom immediately identified as Cherokee Trail of Tears beans (she’s grown them before, of course) and all of which came with enthusiastic explanations. Enthusiasm about beans — these guys clearly like working here, I thought to myself. As a diner, you definitely feel that. And I, for one, really appreciate it. In any case, the dish that featured those beans — Soft-cooked Blue Hill farm egg with heirloom beans, chorizo broth — was quite good. The runny yolk added viscosity to the thin but flavorful broth. And the beans, cooked until tender but not mushy, were delicious. A very close contender for the savory highlight of the meal was the Blue Hill Berkshire pork chop, belly and boudin blanc, eggplant puree. The Berkshire breed is, simply put, a pig that is raised to taste like a pig. It bears practically no resemblance to the plastic-wrapped “other white meat” at the local grocery. This pork chop was cooked to a rosy pink on the inside and it was certainly the most tender and flavorful such cut I’ve ever eaten. The belly had a crispy top layer of skin that gave way to thin layers of meat and fat stacked on one another like playing cards. And the boudin blanc was nothing short of incredible. The texture was almost like custard, and it had an intoxicating mélange of spices I later found out included nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, coriander and white pepper. I wondered who was happier — those pigs feasting outside or the diners feasting inside? I think we were both winning. My mom’s first stomach (i.e. the non-dessert one) was getting full, but we only had one savory course left: “New World, Old World” cheeses, some classic French cheeses paired up against their artisanal American counterparts. That night’s match-ups were Sainte-Maure vs. Hoja Santa and Brillat-Savarin vs. Andante Dairy Minuet. Unlike the Beijing olympic games, America won both events here. I generally prefer cheese unadorned, but the accompaniments — Blue Hill honey comb and pickled ramps — were tasty even if the stale, lifeless walnut bread was not. The first dessert was a knockout — Roasted apricot, blackberries, lemon verbena ice cream, elderflower gelee. The apricot in particular almost defied description. It was hot, sweet, soft, and sour all at once. The stewed blackberries were also warm, in contrast to the cool backdrop provided by the ice cream and gelee. This dish was also the first indication that pastry chef Alex Grunert makes a mean batch of ice cream. Then came the Yogurt mousse, corn ice cream, huckleberries, corn sabayon, corn pâte de fruit. Corn hadn’t popped up in the savory side of the meal for me, so I was happy to see it here. I was starting to see that you don’t simply eat this guy’s ice cream, you luxuriate in it . It is intensely creamy but immensely flavorful at the same time. Here was a cob’s worth of fresh corn flavor condensed into a cold mouthful. The mousse, the huckleberries, and the rest of the accompaniments were all a great supporting cast, but this dish was, to me, ultimately about the ice cream. My mom is a chocolate fiend, but I had not clued the restaurant into her mania. So I was thrilled to see our waiter emerge from the kitchen with a candle in the Flourless chocolate cake, gooseberries, strawberries, ginger ice cream. She quietly made a birthday wish before blowing out the candle. I made a wish too, hoping the desserts would just keep coming. But alas, this brownie-like cake was to be the last dessert. It was rich and fudgy, and the tart gooseberries and the incredibly sweet little strawberries were delicious. But again, I couldn’t look past the great ice cream. I considered buying Chef Grunert a drink, and perhaps inquiring as to whether or not he has any unmarried daughters my age. But in the end I only asked for another round of corn ice cream, which was happily provided. With corn flakes, no less. I love that guy. Floating around the room like a mobile garden, we had seen the tisane cart go by a few times, so we couldn’t pass it up. Our waiter snipped little pieces of every single herb — pineapple sage, chocolate mint, opal basil, eucalyptus, and probably twenty others I am forgetting — for us to smell before picking the combination we wanted for the infusion. I went with anise hyssop, fennel pollen, and lemon verbena. And I really enjoyed it, especially with a touch of Stone Barns honey melted in. My mom had long since reached critical mass, so we asked for the mignardises to be boxed up. In addition to the plums, watermelon marshmallows, and passion fruit chocolate bon bons that were presented on the slate, they packed a few strawberry macarons with chocolate ganache, and they even gave us a jar of their strawberry preserves to take home. (I’m eating them on warm buttered toast as I type. I am happy.) A cab was now on its way, but in the meantime our wonderful waiter Adam chatted with us in the entryway. We talked of local goat cheese, composting methods, and the ways in which Stone Barns continues to become more and more self-sustaining. He was smiling, we were smiling, and something struck me. An intangible Blue Hill ethos was everywhere here. In the fields, the barns, and the kitchen, in the dining room and ultimately on the plate, you could feel it even if you couldn’t pinpoint it. To source ingredients here, the chef needs only to look out his window. It’s so simple. Why, then, is this symbiosis of farm and table so rare? I wanted to ask Dan Barber this very question, but he was out of town that night (kudos to chef de cuisine Josh Lawler, by the way, for holding down the fort gracefully in his absence). Was Barber on vacation, you might ask? Nope. He was at Slow Food Nation in San Francisco, of course, doing his part to counter those trends that champion technology over taste. Rebellious in their simplicity, people like Chef Barber and places like Stone Barns help ensure that, with any luck, the movement to lessen the distance between farm and table will continue to not only survive, but flourish.

Could you expand upon this a bit, Culinista?

No menu or notes, just relied on the pictures I took and looked back a few days later to remember what we'd eaten. Between my mom and I we were able to piece it together for the most part. Definitely a lot of food. The foie gras was great. The only ingredient I really missed on the savory side was corn (the corn ravioli was for my mom, who has tried foie gras just once and determined that was enough for this lifetime).

I know it's been said before, but damn, Humm's duck is good. Finally got to try it last week. Only my second visit during Humm's tenure. So nice to be back. The duck is friggin' huge, might I add. My mother, having just had the suckling pig as a middle course, passed about 3/4 of hers my way. Which, now that I think about it, means that I ate essentially an entire duck as part of a four-course meal. Dude.

Definitely worth the trip. From Texas, no less. We made a trip to NY specifically for Blue Hill. Or more specifically, to celebrate my mom's birthday at Blue Hill. We basically spent the whole day at Stone Barns. Breakfast in the cafe followed by the Insider's Tour of the Stone Barns operation (which was quite cool, by the way). Lunch from the cafe, a little more exploring on our own, and a bit of chill-out time in the afternoon. Farmer's Feast that night, seated across the room from none other than BryanZ, who I saw on the way out. Hard to say enough good things about the overall experience. It was really fantastic. I agree with Bryan that the service is exceptional. They are there when you want them, and they disappear when you don't. And what's more, there is a clear sense of enthusiasm among the staff. Lots of smiles. Everyone seems like they genuinely want to be there. Knowledgeable and very helpful but not overly formal, the service was almost Danny Meyer-esque, shades of Eleven Madison Park where we had dined a few nights before. I can see what Bryan is talking about re: the grounds and buildings. At times it seems like a huge museum exhibit of a farm rather than an actual working farm. But the tour we took quickly dispelled that mental image for me, really showing us more of the guts of the place. The dining room, is very pretty. Reminiscent of Gramercy Taven's farmhouse sort of feel, with bonus points for at one point having been, in fact, a farmhouse. About the food, I will do a more detailed write-up later, but my favorites of the night (see menu below) were the celtuse dish and the Berkshire pork. They make a mean boudin blanc. Unlike Bryan, I also really enjoyed the desserts, in particular the roasted apricot dessert and all of the ice creams, which had wonderful texture and really clear flavors. I wish I could help Bryan out with the fish ID, but we had no such thing (nor did we have the turkey or lamb neck, for that matter). Our menu was as follows... (Lieb Family Cellars Blanc de Blancs) Melon slushie with coppa Tomato and yellow squash "fence" Melon and watermelon with black pepper Bread and butter Charcuterie: salame, bologna, lonza?, heart and liver terrine sandwiched between chocolate wafers Tomato "burgers" Roasted eggplant wrapped with pancetta and sesame Face bacon Potato and sage chips, fried chard Flat bread with Blue Hill butter, Blue Hill ricotta, eggplant puree, tomato salt, arugula salt Tomato, watermelon, mozzarella "cloud", bacon Bluefish with paddlefish caviar, tomato, pig's ear vinaigrette Tomatoes, grilled peach, purslane, stracciatella Celtuse with yogurt, pine nut butter, yogurt foam Corn ravioli with tomato and basil sauce (Weingut Günther Steinmetz 1994 Mülheimer Sonnenlay Riesling Spätlese) Hudson Valley foie gras, roasted peach Soft-cooked Blue Hill farm egg with heirloom beans, chorizo broth Blue Hill Berkshire pork chop, belly and boudin blanc, eggplant puree "New World, Old World" cheeses (Sainte-Maure vs. Hoja Santa, Brillat Savarin vs. Andante Farms Minuet), Blue Hill honey, pickled ramps, walnut bread Roasted apricot, blackberries, lemon verbena ice cream, elderflower gelee Yogurt mousse, corn ice cream, huckleberries, corn sabayon?, corn pate de fruit? Flourless chocolate cake, gooseberries, strawberries, ginger ice cream (Tisane with anise hyssop, fennel pollen, and lemon verbena) Corn ice cream (encore), corn flakes Mignardises: Plum, watermelon marshmallow, strawberry macaron with chocolate ganache, passion fruit chocolate bon bon

I am not sure if it is the modest nature of David Kinch that has given you the impression that Passard is his mentor. Passard seems to see it slightly differently. Passard said in last month’s issue of High Life, British Airways in-flight magazine, that his two favourite restaurants are Manresa and Gunther’s in Singapore. He said, “I identify with chef David Kinch’s philosophy". About David Kinch's food he said, “his dishes are like poetry on a plate, the work of an artist. We are chefs of similar souls”. ← Ciao, degusto. If I am correct in assuming you are the "European eating partner-in-crime" whenever David is in the French/Italian riviera that he once referred to in an after-dinner chat, then odds are you know much more of his nature than I do. But I think influence is a two way street, and defining who is the mentor and who is the mentee between these two great chefs can be difficult. I think the "similar souls" comment could have come just as easily out of either chef's mouth. Passard's comments reflect the same sense of humility I've always felt in Kinch. Lucky us that these two great chefs, both technicians and artists at once, feed off of one another's philosophies. I think their close relationship probably makes both restaurants better.

Great question, Le Peche. Without a doubt, David Kinch is at the top of my list. Followed by Alain Passard and Mauro Uliassi. The chefs I most admire in the US, France, and Italy, respectively.

definitely. I don't know about u guys, but I'm tired of typing

I highly disagree with the first part of this, and agree completely with the second. Does one develop some sort of foodie "street cred" by supporting or bashing a popular chef/restaurant? I personally don't think so (though a quick read through the Momofuku Ssam thread on the NY forum, as u.e. mentioned, is a clear argument against me, as are blog posts like this). Is it somehow cliche to favor a restaurant so many other people happen to favor also? To be the 1,000,000th person to praise Thomas Keller, Alain Ducasse, or Alain Passard? I don't think so. Indeed, public opinion (and by that I mean, at the most basic level, voting with our dollar) can separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, making good restaurants thrive while bad restaurants (eventually, at least) are more likely to fail. But figuring out which are "good" and which are "bad" is hard to do. And our only mechanism to do so is to either try them ourselves or to read about other people trying it for us. And in that case, we can only hope the blogger/writer has spoken their mind honestly. Nobody benefits from the publication of such articles/blogposts if the opinions represented in them are toned down based on a fear that it will somehow "come back around to them". I did not mean to imply anything of you in particular (if anything, it was dagordon's "Not Arpege" comment that I was reacting to), but rather as a general observation of what one might read in blog. You raise a very good point, and I hope my reaction above to the two recent slams of Manresa above doesn't somehow put me in this category. For every restaurant that is able to remain in business -- whether serving dinners that cost $5 or $500 -- I think there it is a good reason for it. I don't always understand it when places I hate thrive or places I love fail, but restaurant success is not random luck. Different diners have different predilections, when it comes to what they want to eat, how much they want to spend, and ultimately, where they want to eat. One set of these predilections, though, is by no means "better" than any other. Like I said above, people can hate Manresa (or any other restaurant I like) all they want.... it won't stop me from going back. I'm not afraid to tell anyone I like it, and I'm not annoyed when somebody tells me they don't. If this dish has not changed since he was serving it last year, the soup is hot, and it's poured tableside into a bowl that has a quenelle of the ice cream in it. (I remember reacting to this course by telling my friend that I felt like standing up to give him a high-five across the table. I thought it was delicious.) Certainly. The most difficult part is trying to figure out who those semi-trusted sources are in the first place, and even then, there are no guarantees. Agreed. Although there are some times, I'll admit, when my usual reaction of "Aw, that's too bad" becomes something more along the lines of "Sucks for you!". Very well explained, Max. I think your observation about a stance that assumes a limited number of visits paints a perfectly clear picture of the "norm", so to speak, is a very astute one. You said it better than any of us could have.

Smart man. I should have thought of that!

Bernard Antony's comte alone makes me think I disagree with you on that. The rest of his cheeses and the well-executed classic desserts (souffle, tarte aux pommes, a beautiful looking millfeuille) make me certain that I do.

I certainly agree with this, but the sad part is that the inverse is not true. People who do not know a restaurant very well might think they are learning a great deal by reading about it on eGullet. Yet on this board, just as with other public forums, the people who take the time to post are usually those with polar opinions. "Worst" and "best" is often all you get, with no in-between. Few and far between are the posts with a "nonfiction" point of view. Not that my own posts are always shining examples of it, either. I find it incredibly difficult to strive for objectivity in evaluating an experience -- eating -- that satisfies us so much on such a fundamental level. People who do not know a restaurant very well don't know what the author has purposefully omitted. Nor do they usually know the tastes of the author, or their biases. Indeed, how is someone unfamiliar with a restaurant to easily judge the validity (or rather the relevance to them personally) of the subjective reviews they come across online? I would say that you simply can't. I don't know dagordon, and I've spent probably a grand total of about 18 hours in his home city of Philadelphia. I very rarely visit the Pennsylvania forums on eG (well, except to reminisce about Capogiro). And in fact, I'm pretty sure his Manresa invective is the very first post of his that I've ever read. Likewise I don't know sygyzy. Don't know where he is from, how he came to choose Manresa, or why he has 5 types of artisanal soy sauce in his cupboard. But I know enough about my own reaction to this particular restaurant that the aforementioned lack of familiarity with the authors is not a problem. Their negative experiences frankly won't have the slightest affect on me personally. That said, if I don't chime in with a rebuttal, I'm not doing my part to champion a restaurant and a chef I believe in. How is the next person who types "Manresa" into the Google search box going to know that these disappointing experiences at Manresa are not the usual? Or that not everyone agrees that the restaurants is not as great as it used to be? If I keep quiet, and don't wax poetic -- about the tomato and corn dish 2 years ago, or the "Forest floor: hunting for mushrooms..." dish last fall, or the fact that on every single visit Chef Kinch comes up with 20 or 30 ways to put a smile on my face -- then how will others ever have a useful sample set of opinions? I love Manresa, I love David Kinch's food, and I will continue to visit this restaurant again and again. Every time, my excitement about going back is palpable. You will hear me say it. You can see it on my face. I am always thrilled, gleeful even, and on a deeper level just so friggin' happy to be going back that if you saw me on those days you might think I had won the lottery. Lucky us to be able to be armchair chefs, evaluating every little nuance of what was and what was not prepared to our taste. Lucky us to be so accustomed to the staff in fine dining restaurants waiting on us hand and foot. Lucky us to be able to make direct comparisons to arguably the priciest 3* restaurants in Paris. Lucky us. Lucky us? I would argue that knowing (or more accurately, thinking that one knows) too much is a bad thing. As people develop that "been there, done that" attitude with food, they completely lose the beauty of the fundamental human experience called eating. As soon as dinner becomes merely a business transaction, the joy is sucked right out of it. What a sad, sad situation to put oneself in when to not approach a new restaurant (or an old favorite) with a sense of joy, of excitement, of curiosity, of passion. Going in with the right frame of mind is, I think, a recipe for success in having good restaurant experiences. But perhaps even more so, I think it's a recipe for happiness. Lucky us.

Yikes. Two pretty bad reports in a row. I agree with you both and with u.e. that the staff often feels like the "new crew". I've been 6 or 7 times over the past couple of years, which might not be often enough to make any judgments on that being "the usual", so to speak, but I think many of the servers over my visits have seemed just plain uncomfortable. Normally I'm too focused on my plate to pay much attention to that, but it's impossible to ignore completely. Nor should one even have to at a restaurant of this level. That said, Kinch's food sings to me in a beautiful way. I think he is one of the most talented chefs on the planet, and Manresa is my favorite restaurant, bar none. While Passard is clearly a very heavy influence on Kinch's cooking and indeed his mentor, I don't think Kinch or anyone else involved with the restaurant intends Manresa to be a CA branch of l'Arpege or even "Arpege lite". Manresa has a sense of place, through and through. Monterey spot prawns, abalone, santa barbara uni, vegetables picked that morning that came from their farm 45 minutes away... I don't claim to know a whole lot about wine, and I've only had the full pairing with the extended menu (my default choice) once. But while I wasn't blown away by it by any means, I didn't come away as disappointed and unhappy with it as both of you seem to have been. Maybe my ignorance is bliss when it comes to wine. In any case, I think a short letter/e-mail to either Chef Kinch or general manager Michael Kean, to tell them about your experience would not be a bad idea.

Elie, thanks for the write-up. I'm as surprised to read something about San Antonio on eGullet as you were to hear about Le Reve being here! Funny that you just there on Friday. I have not been in over three years now (loved it at the time), so I decided to try my luck at getting a table this past Saturday to give my younger brother a nice send-off before he left for college the next day. Chef Wiessman and co. were on vacation until the night you had dinner, I think, and are only serving on Fridays and Saturdays during August. I tried calling to reserve while they were on vacation, but the voicemail box was full . So I checked Saturday to see if they had any cancellations, and even walked in personally to double-check/beg. Maureen, in a very nice and smiling way, basically told me "Sorry, buddy, you're out of luck" . Ended up having dinner at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, at Dough Pizzeria, which, I have to say, has become my favorite restaurant in the city right now. Glad you enjoyed your meal, FoodMan. And please, let me know when you plan to come back to SA to tackle the whole menu at Le Reve. I'm definitely game!

l'Arpege -- 8-course lunch tasting 135€, 10-course regular tasting 360€, truffle menu probably 450-500€ l'Astrance -- 70€(110€)/120€(190€)/190€(290€) for 3/5/8 courses, respectively. Prices in parentheses include wine pairings, which I'd recommend here. Ledoyen (lamest website ever) -- 88€ lunch, 180€?? dinner Repaire de Cartouche -- lunch 15-25€, dinner 40€ Violin d'Ingres -- 3 courses for 45€, 2 courses for 34€ Le Baratin -- lunch 14€, dinner 38€ Spring -- 4 course Menu du Marché 42€ Le Comptoir -- 5 courses for 40€ Le Chateaubriand -- 4 or 5 courses for 42€

And freeze to death... ← Where's your sense of romance, u.e.? I don't know the first thing about what is and is not open around Christmas, but I do know that between your three "L'A's" the choice is not easy. Based on my limited experience (not yet been to L'Ambroisie), I would definitely go for l'Arpege if you've not been before.

That near-death feeling at the end is my favorite part. Sweet, sweet excess.