Peter Green

Closer maybe to a shabu shabu. Very wide, and not too deep. It was the divot that caught my eye, as there's a bunch of neat things could be done with that, as it puts one section closer to the heat.

Nakji and Sheena, Thanks very much for those. I'm going to have to get back to Korea next year, I think. I have great Korean meals abroad, but I know everything tastes so much better over there. I remember in Pusan near the cable car up the mountain they had a seafood stew, with a particular dish with a divot in the middle that they would pack with the spices before. Do you know what the dish is called? I may try and get my nephew to bring one back (it's hopeless trying to explain things to him).

Some friends were talking about the pig in Cheju. It's raised purely on excrement (similar to the famous dong kke) and has a flavour only rivalled by the Zeballeen in Cairo, Christians who raise their pigs in the garbage dumps - strangely right next to the cemetery. Has anyone had the Cheju pork? Any comments? Or even as a further question, has anyone any viewpoints on different regional specialties in Korea?

Day 7, September 16 Marco Talamini Chef de Cusine La Torre di Spilimbergo Spilimbergo, Italy As in karate, it’s important to have a good finish. I like Biscotti. I particularly like Biscotti when the WGF is on and there’s a talented Italian chef in residence. The room buzzes. You can feel the fun that people are having. So, there was little debate in my mind on the final meal. It had to be Marco Talamini. Fantinel Vino Spumante Extra Dry Spumante N.V. Sea Bass Tartar on Warm Zucchini Cream, Tomato Caviar Fantinel Borgo Tesis Pinot Grigio Friuli Grave, DOC, 2005 Mosaic Terrine of Octopus served with a Warm Potato and Celery Salad Fanitnel Vigneti Sant Helena Sauvignon, Collio, DOC, 2004 Black Ink Ravioli with Vegetable Ragout, Sweet Red Capsicum Foam Fantinel Vigneti Sant Helena Refosco Dal Peduncolo Rosso, Friuli Grave, DOC, 2003 Small Tuna Bite Wrapped in Bacon, Confit Cherry Tomatoes and Black Olives Fantinel Vigneti Sant Helena Cabernet Sauvignon, Friuli Grave, DOC, 2000 Melon Frappe with Asino Cheese Tiramisu Scomposto Della Torre Fantinel Borgo Tesis Verduzzo Friuli Grave, DOC, 2005 I was prepped. I was upbeat. I was looking forward to a really good meal. I was six beers in, having met up with my Peace Corps friends over at the Londoner and having caught up on what was happening upcountry, in their lives, and generally discussing everything else, including the availability of Beer Lao. But, I was in a great mood. Not only was M there with her aunt, but one of my other dining friends, D, who I’d met on the first night of my first WGF four years ago. D’s my role model. He’d had enough of a well-paying job he didn’t like, and was one of the few people I’ve met who’s smart enough to say “I’ve got enough” and get out. I hope I can be that wise (four years, eleven months, and 7 days to go). We gossiped in the lobby for ages. Finally they had to drag us into the restaurant. Another bonus here at Biscotti is that both D and I are reasonably well know (I’ve been out drinking Beer Chang roadside with the staff in previous years), so they can anticipate when to come out and drag us to our places. You know, this is a difficult dinner to write up. 1. I’ve already covered half the menu in Marco’s cooking class. 2. We were having so much fun eating and talking, that my notes are atrocious. So, I’ll be brief. Out of character, I know. The Fantinel Extra Dry was indeed extra dry. I wonder if this migh not’ve been a better wine for Yoshii’s dinner the other day. Anyways, I believe I’m already down on record for my appreciation of what the Italians are producing for sparklings. The sea bass tartare tasted even better than before, and the zucchini cream continued to smooth out the flavours. The pinot griogio Friuli Grave that came with the tartare was very dry, and quite appropriate, and contrasted the the Vigneti Sant Helena Sauvignon that followed, which was a very good Sauvignon. Now, the Sauvignon came with a beautiful octopus terrine. I wish I could take a decent photo, as the presentation on this, with the circles of red and white meat of the octopus sitting with the colours of the drizzle was a thing of beauty. However, in the flavour, something wasn’t quite right for me. I found that the octopus was lacking that little squeeze of retained brine I like, and that, with the potatoes and celery underneath, left me gasping for salt. I know, I know, it’s a horrible thing to call for salt at your table, but in this case I had to relent. That little bit perked it right up, and it was a wonderful dish. With this we’d now brought in the Sant Helena Refosco al Peduncolo Rosso, Friuli Grave 2003, which made a marked impression on D. His comment was “this is a serious wine”. Myself, I thought it tasted quite good, too. The nose was very nice, and got better and better. I would keep it at the side after the octopus, and just breathe it in from time to time. Not as full as a a good Barollo that’s been open for awhile, mind you, but also nowhere near the cost. This is a wine I may be when I'm back in October. Then another striking dish. The ink ravioli stuffed with a vegetable ragout and surrounded in a sea of red bell pepper foam - although the colour comes out as orange, it’s still pretty. In three bites they disappeared. The ravioli themselves, with only the ragout for stuffing, were helped a lot by the texture and taste of the foam. And then our now-familiar tuna bites from the class. Wrapped in pig fat, how could you go wrong? The Sant Helena Cabernet Sauvignon 2000 came with this. Good, solid, and in competition with the Refosco, but I’d still give my choice to the Refosco. I called for more of both. And for some of the Sauvignon while they were about things. As a table, we’re very happy with the Friulis. This area, east of Veneto, borders the Adriatic, Austria, and Slovenia has a wine history going back to Rome. Friuli as a name comes from Forum Iulii, “Julius’ Forum”. See, I can look things up! As with Ruth’s dinner the night before, what we’re benefiting from here is a chef who knows the wine very well. Marco himself is from the extreme North of Italy, bordering Austria, and he did his schooling in Belluno. The melon frappe arrives, and satisfies as it did in class. And then there’s a tiramisu to follow. What would dinner be without a tiramisu, I ask? http://forums.egullet.org/uploads/11613009..._3766_58143.jpg With these we’ve been putting back the Borgo Tesis Verduzzo Friuli Grave 2005. A good finishing wine, I could say, except I’ve got four other glasses at my setting that I’m working over. And then, of course, we must have chocolates. How could we not. I call for more of the reds. I like red wine and chocolate. Marco came by the tables, and sat with us for awhile. I asked about the octopus, and he agreed, without the internal brine the plate would benefit from a few small pilings of sea salt. Overall, it was a great meal. Good food, good wine, good company, and we snatched a dozen or more of the whiskey chits from the confused looking girls in black. This of course led us to the lobby, and the end-of-the-party atmosphere that creeps in as we come to appreciate that it’s all, pretty much, over. I would have a plane to catch the next day, requiring me to be up at 6 a.m. Most of the chefs would decamp for Chiang Mai, one or two remaining for the brunch, but really, the event was done. We discussed the sorry state of wine taxes in Thailand (they’re abusive, even worse than Canada), and touched on local politics a bit (which is to be found in my coup write-up from last month), and then, for some reason, one of the wine representatives and I decided that the lobby of the Four Seasons at midnight was just the right place for a martial arts demonstration. Just so you can rest easy, no furniture was harmed in the making of this demonstration. A good week.

They could've been the butt end of the chicken, including the droop of fat that flops over at the back. I've had these as yakitori in a Soho Japanese place, and my Korean reference (who's off galivanting somewhere with my money) recognized them as an edible option. I could see them getting mixed in with other chicken offal. Interestingly enough, they're a part of British food culture called either the "Biship's" or "Pope's" nose. Is there any part of any animal that isn't eaten in Korean cuisine?

Got it! Thanks again, Goddess. I believe the mangos are the same varietal in South East Asia, slightly different from the Pakistanis we get over here. My favourite are the Africans. We had a mango tree in our yard when we lived in Cairo. Every year we'd have to guard our tree from the local police, and for two weeks we'd have these massive, ripe mangos to hand out to our friends. I refused to sell the crop until our last year, when I realized that the grocer would put his own kids on guard to keep the police away from the tree. One of them caved in our landlord's windscreen, but that's another story.

And so, as they say in Buckaroo Banzai, whatever happens, where evere you go, well, there you are. I appeared to have spent a little more than “a few minutes having a drink” with Doug Harrison the night before at Bourbon Street. There was a mess that I suspected was mostly my clothing strewn about the room, and an insistent clamouring coming from my phone. Why did I want to put an alarm on the thing in the first place? I shambled out of bed, confirmed that it was still morning and I had time for a swim, if not coffee and breakfast, took a shot of the Laphroaig, and, feeling much better now, went to hose myself off. My last cooking class. And this one with the very well respected William Ledeuil from Zee Kitchen in Paris. Part of the latest wave of French fusion that has made the bistro scene in Paris so exciting (I’d like to say this century, but the bistro scene is always exciting). Fusion. Is that a dirty word? It’s maligned often enough, but I’m noticing that it’s made a comeback this WGF. Ruth Van Waerebeek-Gonzalez is very much about marrying classic Franco-Belgian techniques with the flavours she’s found over her yachting years. Tetsuya Wakuda and Yoshii are looking for the right tastes and textures, regardless of where they originated. Michael Mina, an Egyptian by birth, is cooking anything that’s good, and making it look beautiful in the doing. The Australians – represented by Geoff Lindsay – are the most muscular of the crowd, unabashedly looking for what will work with what. I still remember one of my favourite meals was a flambé of crawfish in Thai spices at Casuarina in the Hunter Valley back in 1990…… So, what’s the problem? Heck, we’re in Thailand, a country that has happily taken whatever worked (tomatoes, chilis, bamboo worms) and turned it into one of my favourite cuisines in the world. But, enough talking. Let’s get on with it. William Ledeuil Executive Chef Ze Kitchen Galerie Paris, France Beet Root and Confit Gingeer Gaspacho, Stuffed Cucumber and Salmon Roe Sea Bass Ravioli with Capsicum Lemongrass Condiment and Shellfish Broth Mango Cappucino, Coconut Ice Cream and Banana Papaya Emulsion “The most important thing in the kitchen is the view…the colour”. This is a translation through Nicholas Schneller. William concentrates on cooking, not on learning English, but he had enough that it was a mix of translation and the right words for the meanings. Whatever, everybody understood what the point was. And that point is the title for his book; Les Couleurs du Gout, the Colours of Taste. They passed around a copy, and it was a beautiful study, something I’ll have to look for when next I’m near a good bookstore. What he’s looking for is what is fresh, what is correct for the moment. His concern isn’t in representing French cuisine, but in cooking good food, whatever cuisine it should happen to be. The framework, however, is good, solid French technique. The ingredients will change, but the method bins the milieu. We start with the gaspacho. I’ve given the English title in the intro, but the French sounds so much better: gaspacho de betteraves gingembre confit, farci de concombre, oeufs de saumon. I mean, doesn’t that sound more fun? We start with the gaspacho, with oil and lemongrass, sweating the citronelle (lemon grass) in the oil, both breaking down the citronelle while infusing the oil. And then the classics, oil and peppers are also sweated. Once they’ve reached the right stage, some rice vinegar, chicken stock, and mirin. Our purpose is to bring out the bright red of the beets, while also contrasting their natural sugar with the vinegar. That will simmer for some 20 minutes to an hour, and be out of our sight. For the cucumber, once skinned we have a beautiful, soft green colour. Balance this against the saturated colours of an avocado for the puree. For the puree we boil some kaffir lime leaves and mix with extra virgin olive oil. Blend the avocado with lemon juice and the olive oil and kaffir lime, and then sieve it. “Now in Paris you can find Thai ingredients. Four years ago, non.” We turn to the confit ginger. For this we “infuse always the oil with a little garlic, and lemon grass”. Then we put in very, very thin slices of ginger, the mirin, rice vinegar, and slowly, slowly cook. We turn back to our stuffed cucumber, cooking them slowly in olive oil, again flavoured with lemon grass. William Ledeuil likes lemon grass. Ah, I’ve forgotten to mention the Thermomix. This is the wonder tool of the century. Herve has one over at Le Beaulieu on Sukhumvit Soi 19, and I got a better look at it there a couple of days later. Effectively it will measure, grind, blend, and even cook your food. It is particularly good at low heats, and addresses Ducasse’s interest in controlling temperature accurately on the low end. Coming back to the gaspacho, we add in some prepared beet root juice. This is important to retain the colour that William is looking for. As he says, it is not enough just to prepare the ingredients, but you must put the ingredients to the food. To see the colours and composition. The technical is in how to obtain and retain the colours. The expression is in what you do with the ingredients once they are ready. How do you build your plate? A spear of asaparagus is lightly cooked in – you guessed it – lemon grass oil. “The first sense is the view, to see the colour. Two different chefs see two different dishes. “ “You cook with your emotion”. I like that last line. Generally, when I cook, I’m two glasses of wine in and grinning like an idiot. Maybe that's why people say my food always tastes a little funny. A word on the chef. He’s very, very amiable. No pretension, no grand man about him. He just really, really likes his food, and wants everyone else to like their food, too. What more can you ask? Next is the ravioli. We’d had this dish at the Gala dinner, and I’ve already ranted about how I loved the broth. The broth was put together by taking mussel juice, really an interpretation of the classic moules mariniere, going back to his position on using classic French technique. But here he’s modified the menu from the print, and rather than shallots and white wine goes with kaffir lime leaves, lemon grass, and coconut milk, a combination that I’m fond of in Vancouver, as well. The quality of the mussels here is very important. Once the mussels are cooked in this, strain everything out, and work only with the juice. Bring the broth to a boil, and infuse with – yes – more chopped lemon grass and kaffir lime leaf. If you want this creamier, use more coconut milk. If you want it juicier, it’s up to you. When you emulsify, put the fat to the liquid and combine to finish the broth. For this he falls back on good old Mr. Buzzy. For the condiment, the original plan was for watercress, but this was not good in the market that day. So, change of plan. Go with pepper with basil, garlic, lemon grass, capsicum, mostada, sugar, and rice vinegar. Blend for texture. For the ravioli, we dice the fish and season with basil, coriander, artichoke cream, some of the nori, olive oil, and celery salt. He never cooks his herbs first, but lets them develop the flavours with the sea bass. Once the ravioli are built, he sprinkles a little olive oil in his steamer and places the pasta in. Allow them to cook for three minutes, and then build the plate by putting the ravioli in first, then the condiment, and then the emulsified broth. For this dish, he prefers to serve the condiment cold. But usually, in France, if the broth is hot, then the condiment would also be hot. Here he’s looking for the contrast. So, whereas the first dish was all about colours, here he’s looking for contrasts in texture and flavours. And for dessert, mango cappuccino. He prefers to work with desserts like this, not doing pastries himself, leaving that to others. Give him some fresh fruit, any fruit in season can work. If he was in Paris, he would do apples now, with a ginger and prune sorbet. Strawberries in summer, with wasabi and balsamic emulsion…. In Japan he’d tried a sweet miso with wasabi. We’re all getting kind of hungry. Back to dessert. Dice your fruit, whatever it may be, blend, and sieve. Don’t forget to add some lemon grass. What they call coconut ice cream is actually more of a sherbert made of coconut cream, coconut milk, and a syrup of condensed milk and corn syrup, all mixed up and frozen. The emulsion is made from a blend of coconut juice, bananas, guava, vanilla, and sugar, all fairly thick ingredients. This is mixed in the blender with milk, cream, and mascarpone. (You just can’t go wrong with mascarpone). Add in the fruit you pulped, and look for a runny ribbony texture. To construct, put the mango mix on the bottom, then carefully layer on the emulsion on top. Then push the dollop of sherbert into the emulsion. And, the most important part, add a stick of lemon grass. It’s not just there for show. With each spoon of the dessert, take a bite of the lemon grass. With the foods done, we chat a bit more. William is a good talker. He’d “discovered” the Thai and Vietnamese ingredients on a trip, years back, and had been very excited about what he’d tasted. When he returned to Paris he headed straight for Chinatown and started to try things with different ingredients, finding that there was more to the world than foie gras (there is?). From there he made a very conscious effort to introduce flavours from Asia, and, as he says, he can no longer cook without them. His idea of cooking is to be free. He’ll use the products that he likes (has anyone mentioned lemon grass?), and he sees no reason to stick by rules. But the caution here is the difference between rules and technique. Behind his freedom of ingredients lies the solid framework of French technique. As with the graphic arts, once the initial discipline is in place, you can be emotional with your food. “Cooking is to have fun. To have good moments.” On the side of wine he cautions the industry. He sees that wine makers are going to have to look to their products to match the new ingredients coming to Europe. The cuisines of the world are not going to change to match the wines. They are already here. And then we all shut up, because the gaspacho is here. It’s really, really pretty (even if somewhat Freudian). And it tastes good too. This is one of the first things I tried when I got back to the Middle East. The flavours worked just as well as William said. My problem lay in my impatience, not straining out the fibres of the ginger adequately. That and I always manage to make the kitchen (and myself) look like Dracula’s bloodfest whenever I do anything with beets. But that’s part of the fun (I don’t do clean-up, obviously). The ravioli was, again, very good. It stood up well for a second tasting, but lacked the solid punch it had benefited from when it made its premier at the Galal. Instead, I could linger over the textures in the rest of the dish. De Baroli, from the South East of Australia, had opened with a nice DB Selection Rose 2005. Rose is probably one of the biggest growing markets in Australia, being quaffed with almost everything as a friendly fit, and this was a good opening choice. After that, with the gaspacho, they served the Sero Chardonnay Pinot Grigio 2005, and then the Sero Merlo Sangiovese 2005 with the ravioli. Both were quite serviceable, and I enjoyed the Sero Merlo enough that I called for another glass. Of course, I had to contrast this with the white, so I called for another of those, too. And how could I leave the rose out of the trinity? My only concern was that the Noble One would’ve made such a nice match with the dessert. Where was that winemaker?…. It occurred to me that I needed to meet some friends at the Londoner. This was going to be an interesting night.

Oh, I almost forgot. I used to work in a Vietnamese cafe, and dessert was the stereotypical fried bananas with ice cream. One time our high school teacher came in with a hot date. We sent the dessert out without slicing the banana, and tactically located both scoops of vanilla at the base. And I wonder why I had to work so hard for my marks?

Sticky rice. There is almost nothing the imaginative family cannot create with enough khao niao.....plus, the faux snowball fights are great!

Day 6 September 15, 2006 Ruth Van Waerebeek-Gonzalez International Chef Concha y Toro Concha y Toro Frontera Chardonnay 2005 Chilean Seafood Tasting Ceviche of Flash-Cooked White Fish, Shrimp and Calamari in Lime Juice And Celery Caribbean-Style Tuna Ceviche in Spicy Coconut Milk and Pomelo Mini Corn Cakes and Avocado Mash Concha y Toro, Caillero del Diablo, Chardonnay 2004 Airy Mousse of Scallops and Salmon With a Hint of Ginger, Crisp Vegetables and Tamari Beurre Blanc Concha y Toro Trio, Merlot, Camenere, Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 The Traditional Chilean Emanaditas Fried Turnovers with Mixed Seafood, Chorizo and Olive Filling Pungent Green Herb Salsa Concha y Toro Tio, Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz, Cabernet Franc 2005 Spring Lamb Casserole with Tomatoes, Sweet Spices and Trio Merlot Jus Tangerine Rosemary Adobo Crisp Baked Polenta, Bitter Green and Aged Goat Chesse Shavings Concha y Toro, Marques de Casa Concha, Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 Frozen Chilean Sweet Rice and Milk Pudding Over a Spiced Red Berry Soup with Trio Merlot Wine This was a tough meal. I’m not saying anything here about the food, but rather where I found myself in my week. You see, once the Gala is done, there’s almost a feeling of gasping for breath. I was timed to go out on a solid note on Saturday, but here it was Friday, and I was feeling somewhat adrift. Likewise, there were things to be done, and they were catching up to me. I’d been out at the Food Ingredients Asia convention (I’m a junky, I admit it), and even though I’d had a swim, I was still feeling a little bit stressed. Luckily, that feeling lasted for all of about two minutes, and I was hailed down by some of my friends in the lobby who were waiting on a different meal. A glass of the Frontera, cold and clear to cut the sweat already beading my brow (it doesn’t take much), and some good conversation, and we’re joined by friend M. I was dining with her and her uncle’s party, which was going to make for good conversation. Ruth Van Waerebeek-Gonzalez (I’m going to Ruth at this point, and forgive my false familiarity, it’s just my fingers are getting tired) was one of the chef’s that caught my eye early on. First, she’s Belgian, and has, in addition to her Chilean Kitchen book another on Belgian cooking, Everyon Eats Well in Belgium. Now, having spent a long weekend in Brussels, and never having anything go past my lips that wasn’t excellent, that’s a title I can agree with. I think it’s genetically impossible for the Belgians to cook poorly. And Ruth has been around. Born in Ghent, she attached herself to a yacht in her 20’s and sailed just about everywhere, earning her keep by taking up cooking stints at ports of call en route. Then she went back to Belgium for a bit of work, but couldn’t keep herself in one place, so was back across the Atlantic to the West Indies and the US. In New York she settled in long enough to establish a reputation not only as a chef, but as a teacher and as a proponent of the Nuevo Latino movement. For some reason, talented, good looking, intelligent women who can cook wonderfully don’t seem to stay single. I wonder why that is? Ruth married a Chilean and was off to the Southern half of the Americas, taking up residence in Chile’s central valley. And you can’t very well be in Chile without coming in contact with Concha y Toro, so…..by 2000 she was established as their official chef for corporate events. Good choice. Our setting tonight was back in Shintaro, but at the tables now. M’s family had the room at the back, and several of the other tables as well. I took one of the external tables, and settled into a long food chat with R, part of the family from Djakarta. In the State’s I’d long ago realized that sports was the great leveler. Two guys form completely different places and backgrounds can sit down and comfortably discuss the proper use of linebacks, first basemen, and steroids. Abroad, I’m finding it’s food. Okay, maybe I’m being a little disingenuous here, seeing as I’m at a food festival, but I’ve had great times with the widest range of people without once having to try and figure out the meaning of “off side” or “leg before wicket”. Our first dish was a duet of ceviches. Rodriguez had worked me into a lather over ceviches way back in at the WGF5, and I was interested in seeing if there could be a new take. The fish was alright, but not strikingly different. Nothing wrong, mind you. The squid and prawn came through pleasantly enough, and the pomelo corn cakes were the right touch to clear the caustic from the back of my teeth. The tuna was perhaps a little heavy on the coconut milk, and I can’t say that I noticed a particular spiciness. Along with the pomelo corn cakes (actually a really nice combination) the avocado mash mellowed the mouth enough to appreciate the Devil’s Cellar Chardonnay. The name came from the old guy’s trick of scaring the help away from his cellar back in the old days of Concha y Toro. I like Concha. Have I mentioned that? They’re affordable wines for everyday drinking, and can carry foods quite well. They’ve also made me some money, as their previous presentation back in WGF5 concentrated much more on branding and marketing than it did on the soil and grapes. Okay, call me a callous capitalist, but I like it when people can cut past the fancy jargon and show that they realize that this is a business. And I liked the wines, too, so there. Like Emily Luchetti said, "wines don't have to be expensive to be good." Next was the airy mousee of scallops and salmon. Okay, and there were some interesting flavours in the sauces around the side. R was so-so on this dish, but I found there were things in there that I liked. And, as at the Gala, the Trio of merlot, Carmenere, and Cab blended well with the ginger and salmon flavours. My only misgiving was that the scallops were buried. Ah, the empenada! Or a Chilean empanaditas. Call it a Cornish pasty, or a Russian perogui, or get back to Spanish ground anywhere from Mexico to the Philippines and it’s an empanada (or a little empanadita like this one) again. I’m a sucker for these, I admit it. And the olives in the stuffing helped. Cut into three, dabbed up a bit of the salsa to set off the seafood and sausage inside, and then look at my friends’ plates with that “You going to eat that?”-Richard Dahlmer look. (It didn’t work). I suppose it’s a good thing they don’t do seconds on the food. I’m not handy enough to let out my clothes on the spot. I wonder if I could get my taylor to do tuxedo pants with a stretch band waist? This was with another Trio, but of Cab, Shiraz, and Cab Franc. Nice, a little more forward on the palate. It felt a little disconnected from the dish, but I figured I might change my mind after another glass or three. And so to the casserole. Casserole, stew, slow cook….what’s in a name? I hear casserole and I start to have nightmares about things at church buffets, but that’s I trauma I try to put behind me. This was good, but the lamb was just there. The polenta, however, was great, having taken up the juices from the meat and adobo marinade. The tangerine peels gave a nice contrast, as well, as did the goat cheese. The Marques de Casa Concha – their higher branding – gave a good finish as I liberal swirled it about in my cheeks between bites of the polenta. And dessert, the rice pudding, disappeared as R and M and I yacked over what was the next best thing to eat (we’d already covered the bests). I tried a bit of the Trio Merlot to see if I could pick out the flavour in the pudding, and caught a glimmer of it. A nice meal, enhanced by the company, definitely. The ceviches were good, but nothing that really shook me up. The mousse benefited from the wine, working well as a complete package. The empanadita qualifies as comfort food, and so is above criticism. You like these or you don’t. I like them. The lamb wasn’t my favourite, but if you consider it purely as an ingredient in producing really, really good polenta, then it was very nice, particularly with the Cabernet Sauvignon. Llike I said, a nice meal. What I also appreciate is the coupling of a house chef with the wines. Ruth has had a long time to study the flavours in Concha’s products, and her decisions on what to produce in the kitchen are driven around the wines, rather than having to work on the fly. M and I had raided the young ladies of their whiskey chits, and I joined up with the gang in the lobby for some more Macallans. She had to leave, but she made me promise to hold onto some of the chits for her for the next night. Silly girl. I was actually fairly well behaved, and I will swear in court that I have no idea where those whiskey chits went. But then it struck me that it was Doug Harrison’s 20th anniversary of Bourbon Street over in Washington Square, and that I should wander by for a drink or two. But that’s another story.

Infuse some oils, William Ledeuil is doing lemongrass in almost everything. Make some ice cream. Make some vegetable and chicken stocks, and freeze them for later. Dry out the lemon grass, and use them later as skewers for prawns. This passes some of the smell and flavour into the meat when you steam or grill. And, last but not least, just freeze some bundles of it. If you're looking for the flavour, this can work well, as the freeze thaw will break down the structure and release more of the essence (as with ginger). It won't work as a salad ingredient, but is great for flavourings.

There’s a very attractive blonde lady up at the front of the room lecturing us on when to use a paddle, and when to use a whip. No, I’m not sidelining in a dominatrix course. This is Emily Luchetti, the pastry chef for Farallon. And people wonder why I’m intimidated by pastry chefs. Lunch with Emily Luchetti Farallon Restaurant San Francisco, USA Note that the term is intimidated. Not really afraid, but I’m always put off by the precision of pastry. So many grams of this, so much of that. As I tend to work in handfuls, tads, and a slightly drunken topping off, precision can leave me in its wake. This has always been the great schizophrenia of the kitchen. As Cyrus Toddiwalla was saying last year, chefs go to one side of the kitchen, or the other. When he was at culinary school, it was common for the savory chefs to bribe the pastry chefs to help them through (but there was no word of it being required in the other direction). Still, even though I’m most likely going to continue to abdicate all baking duties (and, come to think of it, the bulk of all duties, beyond the standing around and directing and occasionally stirring parts…oh, and the eating) to my better half, this is an opportunity for an education. And I’m always in need of an education. Walnut Cake With Moscato d’Asti Sabayon Coffee Meringues With Coconut Ice Cream Milk Chocolate Towers Ms. Luchetti had started off on the greasy side of the kitchen, training and working in New York, taking a year in France, and then in 1984 joining up with Stars Restaurant in 1984, still working on the savory side. But in 1987 she found her calling in pastries, and hasn’t looked back. As she says “now, at the end of the day, I smell like chocolate and strawberries rather than garlic and shrimp”. In 1997 she moved over to Farallon, and has been there ever since. Checking her credentials on the web, beyond her series of books, her numerous awards, and her recipes in the national press, she’s also been a spokesperson for Northwest Cherries, the Butter Board, and the Sugar Association. How can you not admire a woman like this? And she does try to put us at ease about baking. It is a case of following instructions, with a little bit of freedom allowed (if we behave). The recipes for the desserts can be found in Emily’s books, and she’s given Chubby Hubby (www.chubbyhubby.net) permission to reprint them on his site, so I’ll stick to my format and just talk about what we were doing. First up was the walnut cake. And the first thing to do there is to toast the nuts to help bring out the flavour. For this, use the oven. You can toast them in a pan, but you’re not going to get the even distribution of heat you’ll get from an oven. Then in go the eggs and the sugar, whisking to a thick, ribbony texture. Once this is achieved, the walnuts are folded in, and the lightly pulsed to mix. Bring together the flour and some espresso powder, and at least part of the equation is under control. In a clean bowl, she whips the egg whites. As a note on storage, unless your cake has a mousse or cream filling, don’t keep it in the fridge. Fridges have a succubus-like ability to suck the moisture out of anything they can get at, leaving just a dried out husk to show for your efforts. (There’s a Stephen King story in there somewhere). Then its time to fold the eggwhites in. Lighter on top of heavier, and avoiding too much, so as not to deflate. The first mix is aggressive, and then she gets gentler. We then run into the usual Mars probe confusion regarding units. 180 on the C, or 350 on the F. The batch will bake until you can do the skewer test, passing a small one into the cake and extracting it clean. And so we turn to the zabayon, or in Italian, zabaglione, originating in the province of Reggio Emilia’s, and having crossed several borders since that time. The traditional Italian would be made with a sweet Marsala and taken warm over strawberries or figs. Last night, at the Gala, over gingerbread, Emily did hers with a combination of cider, Grand Marnier, and calvados. If cider hadn’t been available, she figured she could’ve made do with apple juice and more liqueur or wine. This of course got us going on the idea of substitutes, and it was generally agreed that we all liked champagne. It probably didn’t matter what we did with it, as long as it had champagne. As a side note, when I was in KL later I noticed that the Ritz-Carlton was doing a Moet et Chandon Moon Cake. I should’ve bought one and tried it, as I even now have trouble wrapping my mind around that combination. Emily then set up her bain marie, appropriating a metal bowl. Always use metal. Glass holds the heat, whereas steel will conduct away quicker. However, we then had an amicable tirade against these dumb bowls that have flat bottoms. The whole purpose of a bowl is to provide the proper shape for mixing, whipping, and doing other exciting things. Put a flat bottom on it to accommodate countertops, and you no longer have such a surface. She worked over the zabayon, and we returned to the topic of champagne. It’d go quicker, and give you a really, really nice bubbly aspect to the custard (really, this is just a light custard). We plopped the whole thing into an ice bath to bring the temperature down, and thought about how good this would be layered in a trifle. Maybe a pear Riesling trifle, with the pears baked down to bring up the caramel….(this is Emily thinking here…I stopped thinking years ago). And then we fold in some pre-whisked cream (soft peaks), set a wedge of the walnut cake onto a plate, pour over the zabayon, and voila! You’re hungry again. Next we were going to make little tiny ice cream sandwiches. For this we needed 1. to get the meringue chewy 2. call it coffee meringues instead of little, chewy ice cream sandwiches (although I like that name a lot better). Emily is a big fan of home cooking (as am I, but I have no choice). You cook in a restaurant, and everything is controlled and done under pressure. At home you can be more relaxed. You’re in a good mood, Your guests are in a good mood. And the food just tastes better in these conditions. Emily meanwhile was drawing out circles on parchment paper to set out her targets, then flipping the paper over to avoid anything getting on the meringues. Now, like me, she really likes to eat ice cream. And her newest book has a lot to do with ice cream, and things you can do with it in the making. Take some fresh mint and infuse it in the milk. Bananas. Coconut. My evil mind turns to such things as pomegranate, mango, squid and tobacco ice cream.….. I snap myself back into focus and pay attention again. I take a moment to wipe away the drool. Here (Bangkok, that is) she couldn’t get cream, of all things, so she just used more milk, and added some toasted coconut. Lots of toasted coconut, and some kosher salt, ‘cause once you freeze things, the flavours are muted. So you better make sure your flavours are over the top to begin. Using kosher salt for this avoids the iodine taste of many salts, and its not too “salty” a salt, so this works well to bring out the coconut flavour. Emily’s talking a bit about Farallon, the restaurant, named for the marine sanctuary off the coast of California. 75% of the menu is seafood. But 100% of Emily’s world is desserts. She’s had a number of excellent books, all about desserts. The first was Star Desserts (1993), followed by Four Star Desserts (1996). These are out of print, but are soon to have selections republished as Classic Stars, a book that’ll see light in the Spring (Amazon is taking pre-orders now). She did her part for The Farallon Cookbook (2001), and then she brought out A Passion For Desserts (2003), and then A Passion For Ice Cream (2006). This recipe is from the ice cream book……All that passion….. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about the whips and paddles. Be firm when thickening the egg whites. And be assured when you put them into the piping bag. And you should use a piping bag; your results will be more even. She dabbed the corners of the parchment down with bits of the meringue. And don’t overfill the bag. You want only enough so that you can make a solid pull down, jerking it up to get a clean edge. Slowly (but not too slowly) she showed us the method, spiraling the meringue out onto the marked parchment. From here the meringue could go into either the oven or the freezer. Its normally too humid out for meringues to do well, but given that life in Bangkok is like being in a 24 hour steambath, it becomes somewhat crucial to get these under cover before they deflate. Best to get them cooking right away. The recipe called for the ice cream to be softened slightly, and then placed between the meringues and refrozen. This would then be topped with a cocoa sauce. But she changed her mind on this and went for a raspberry sauce. This requires some self-constraint, as it would be easy for the raspberry to dominate. Emily took a breather, and lectured us on the use of whips and paddles. When you want to whip something, you want to increase the volume. That’s the time for a whisk or whip. If you’d rather mix things, that’s the time for a paddle. Beating, creaming. But sometimes it’s a personal preference. Moving on from this highlight, we come to the milk chocolate towers. We’re going to get our share of chocolate today. The basis for this is the ubiquitous chocolate cake. You can use it anywhere. It can be a cake, it can be a brownie. You use this as a base for lots of stuff. This fits with the underlying common sense of a good chef. Find something that works, and reuse the idea. She mixes the butter and sugar first and then the eggs one at a time. You could alternately add wet and dry with some serious spatula action. This’ll give you a great texture. The mixing is done at low speed, to avoid it hardening up. And we were warned about the KitchenAid “bump” catching the butter. Okay, I couldn’t help myself. Rereading this I had to go into the kitchen and look at our Kitchen Aid. Sure enough, there’s a bump. But it’s designed to counter the offset of the attachment, so it makes sense once you look at the design. The mousse is also a simple thing. You just have to watch that you don’t overwhip the cream, or get the chocolate to seize and get “chippy”. Here she uses water to avoid seizing, but coffee, orange juice, or - better yet - rum could do the trick (I like Emily more and more all the time). And once the chocolate is melted, you don’t want it too hot, otherwise it’ll affect the cream, which you’re going to use to cut the richness of the chocolate. You want the cream to be on the soft, dollopy side. If you go too far on this, then you can save it by folding in some unwhipped cream. All of this goes to the rule that texture is going to matter more in desserts than elsewhere. The mouth is going to register things before the brain does. To get the shape right, she rolled up a tube of parchment paper, and then hadded in the cream and chocolate, working in small amounts due to the temperature differentials. This’ll take around 4 or 5 hours to set, but you can speed things along by putting the molds in the freezer ahead of time. You can also play with different angles by tilting the molds, and achieve some neat effects. For the top of the cake, we mix in some rum with the cream (alright!), to give an edge to it. Put it on the top, and push down a little (but be careful). And then top with almonds. This led us into a small discussion on chocolate. For melting chocolate, the “medallions” that Valrhona is marketing are great. They melt quickly and evenly. On the downside, her hubby hunts them down and eats them, so there’s a certain need for hiding skills. And, while it’s very good chocolate, Valrhona isn’t the be all and end all. Like wine, there are a lot of different brands, each tasting slightly different, and with different purposes. And, like wine, just because something’s cheap, doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just means you need to find its proper use. Lunch was a pleasant combination of a green salad with generous shavings of parmesan over the greens and corn, and a nice, crispy piece of bacon with a brioche on the side. My only regret was the lack of a wine. This was followed by a respectable piece of fish; sea bass, I believe. Quite serviceable, but I was now ready to kill for a glass of the Rosemount Reserve. My concern dissipated like everclear in the hot sun. They brought out the Grand Marnier to go with the desserts, and I snatched everything my working friends weren’t indulging in. I like Grand Marnier now that I’ve learned the simple logic of dropping in an ice cube. It will remove all the high end volatiles, and allow you to wallow in the orange-iness of the thing. And, of course, there were the desserts themselves. The walnut cake came across a little dry and crumbly, which is just the right match for the zabayon that accompanied it. The meringue was, indeed, a little bit chewy as desired, and the raspberry was enough to highlight the dish rather than bury it. And the chocolate tower, with a bit of GM to offset it, was bordering on existential. Not a bad lunch at all. After the class I stopped by the lobby to see the chocolate display that was put on for the Afternoon Tea. Valrhona had brought in a complete line of examples from the Philippines for this. They had the original pods. There were the fermented products, and there was the cocoa in different stages. The Scharfenberg rep had brought out some small samples back in 2003, but this was way more over the top. It makes quite an impression getting a table of the fermenting pods out there for you to get your nose over (and I need more room for my nose anyways). They’d also brought out different samples from different countries, to give an idea of the range of flavours. I’d been lusting after cocoa buds for awhile, and Emily was there to take me over to where they’d done some tuiles with these imbedded in for texture. Then she proceeded to torture me with tales of how Michael Ginor was doing chocolate tuiles around a foie gras center. However, as I was on my knees at this point, she then elevated me by offering to bring me some of the buds from the kitchen. “We’ve got bags of stuff”. So, in the lobby of the Four Seasons the deal went down. Quietly she passed me the baggy, and I slid it inside my coat. With a quiet nod we’d conducted our business. Security none the wiser. Okay, I did stop for a photo and to get my menu signed, so maybe it wasn’t that surreptitious. I’m going to try these in a mole with a good turkey. I can taste it now…….

I'm checking with my local reference (she's giving me that look again) and she figures it's most likely reconstituted powdered milk with some artificial flavourings. That'd give it a different texture from what you'd get with real milk (even 2%) and natural flavourings. She says it's not just a Korean thing, but Asian in general. I've seen similar things in Thailand, I must admit. Don't forget to toss in some yellow dye. (She really does miss the flavour)

Y'know, I'm not going to worry too much. I've got a better half who came up through Food Science, and I've had all the scares anyone can hand out. I've had bad oysters in Houston, I've had to deworm myself in Vietnam, and the homemade whiskey they poured down my throat in Luang Prabang didn't exactly add to my general attractiveness for the week after. Yes, I could end up dead at some point, but then I don't have to go to work, at least. Yes, there is a responsibility on the part of commercial enterprises to ensure that their exposure to risk is limited. This is called "I don't want to get my derriere sued off....or closed down by the Provincials". But should we all start obsessing over this? Do I want to go back to bleaching my vegetables like we did in Cairo? Do I want to live in fear of every bite I take? Let it go..... Like that 18 year old gold miner in Ecuador told the BBC when they informed him he might be dead by the age of 30 due to his in situ mercury amalgaming process: "I could live to be 30? Cool!"

Claudio, thanks for that. I enjoyed the read, and wish I could've been there.

One of my friends, for a homemade wine contest, doctored some grape juice with the suggested flavours, and came in second. Of the less appealing ingredients, he crumbled in the butt end of a used cigarette, a piece of potting soil, and added a drop of gasoline. None of those are high on my ingredient list.

The Gala Ruth Van Waerebeek-Gonzalez, Sarah Schafer, Marco Talamini, Michael Ginor Canapes Fanitnel Vino Spumente Extra Dry Prosecco N.V., Spilimbergo, Italy Michael Mina Caviar Parfait, Crispy Potato Cake, Osetra Caviar Forrest Estate Sauvignon Blanc 2005, Marlborough, New Zealand De Bortoli Sero Chardonnay Pinot Griggio 2005, King Valley, Australia Peter Gordon Scallop Sashimi with Watermelon Yuzu, Coriander, Nam Phrik Num Dressing and Pickled Watermelon Rind Rosemount Estate ‘Show Reserve’ Chardonnay 2005, Hunter Valley, Australia Robert Skalli, Cabernet Sauvignon 2003, France Yoshii Ryuichi Sea Urchin Egg Cup William Ledeuil Ravioli de Bar au Basilic Thai, Condiment Poivron Citronnelle, Bouillon de Coquillage Sea Bass Ravioli Flavoured with Thai Basil, Capsicum Lemongrass Condiment, Shellfish Broth Geoff Lindsay Roasted Eye Fillet of Hopkins River Natural Beef With Naked Ravioli of Gorgonzola Blue and Silver Beet, a Beefy Broth Concha Y Toro Trio Merlot Carmenere Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Chile Penfolds RWT Shiraz 2002, Barossa Valley, Australia Fatema Hal Lamb Tagine with Eggplants, Olives and Lemon Confit Emily Luchetti Gingerbread with Apple Marmalade and Cider Sabayon Laphroaig Single Islay Malt Scotch Whiskey Illy Coffeee and Decaffeinated Coffee or Tea from Dilmah’s ‘T’ Collection Vincent Bourdin 12 Hours Baked Apple with Galangal, Lemongrass Cream Chocolate Crumble and Manjari Ice Cream Valrhona Petits Fours & Valrhona Special Good Night Box I always enjoy the Gala. Everything just looks so good. The crowd is decked out in their tuxedos and evening gowns. And it’s a different crowd, in part. Just as there’s a very regular lunch crowd (who’s company I adore) there’s a slightly different group that come for the dinners, and then there’s a very different crowd who come for the Gala. In part it’s that the Gala is an ‘event’, with its associated charity auction for Princess Soamsowali’s charity, “Save a Child’s Life from AIDS Project” (in conjunction with the Thai Red Cross). As such, a certain amount of society that might not be as enamoured with the chefs themselves does come to take part. But the chefs themselves are a big draw. As the formats for the WGF have changed over the last couple of years, focusing now on individual dinners by the chefs, the Gala remains as the opportunity to sample a large number of them in one go. Likewise, you can look for some interesting things as by this time they’ve been working around each other in the kitchens for several days, and a bit of synergy can come to play. So, I was wound up. I smiled my way quickly into the foyer of the Ballroom, minimizing my exposure to the charming humidity of the external passageway, snagged a glass of the Prosecco, admired the light fizz that accumulated on the surface, and worked my way to my favourite spot of years for now, right under one of the air conditioning vents. I sniped at the canapés, but cannot say that anything was particularly memorable. We entered a room of red. Red drapes, red tables clothes…okay, the flowers were more of a magenta, but the overall effect was pretty red. M and her grand uncle and grand aunt joined me on my right, and a very pleasant trio sat down to my left. The elder of the three is in property development, and the younger couple (husband and wife) are in television production. Given that she cuts with Final Cut Pro we had lots to talk about, beyond just our common interest in eating. Our first dish was a reprise of Michael Mina’s caviar parfait from the dinner on the 12th. Again, a very mouth friendly way to begin, with a briskness of salt there to justify another swig of the Fantinel Spumente. They’d poured the Sauvignon Blanc and the Pinot Gridio, but I liked the bubbly acidity of the Italian with the caviar. Then Peter Gordon’s scallop sashimi arrived. I regretted that I’d had to miss his dinner, but it’s not physically possible to hit all the chefs and their classes, and with the last minute shuffling of schedules, he’d unfortunately fallen by the wayside. I enjoyed this dish, but I’m easily amused by scallops. However, the pickled watermelon rind worked very nicely, and wasn’t something I’d have ever thought of (which we shouldn’t be surprised at). With this I thought the Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc was the better match, just a bit soft on the palate. The De Bortoli was nice enough, too, and I saw no reason not to drink that as well. I gave the matter some thought, and decided it would be best to conduct further comparisons. The waitress came by with the bottles just as I thought of this. Yoshii’s egg is just plain pretty. I’ve had dishes like this, Nicolas Joanny’s beautiful amuse bouche from our dinner the year before coming to mind, the baby’s diarrhea texture of uni, and that marvelous taste chasing about my mouth with the egg. As for the edible gold leaf, well, it’s a noble thought (sorry for that). William’s dish was softly elegant. The shellfish broth held its bubbles and delivered a taste that took me back to my youth (which is a long way to travel) gather shellfish on the beach and starting a fire, the clams, oysters and cockles popping open with the heat. The ravioli itself came over very well, the French methods taming the basil a tad so that the flavour of the bass still came through. They’d brought the Rosemount Chardonnay. As I’d mentioned at Yoshii’s dinner, I’m fond of the Hunter Valley, and of chardonnays. I admire their edge. And this was a very nice chardonnay. I called for more. Meanwhile, I checked the nose on the Robert Skalli, but it needed a little time. And I wasn’t quite ready for the red yet. Next, a nice bit of beef, with some broth in a tea cup on the side. This was Geoff Lindsay’s work. I searched for any of the Turkish delight, but it wasn’t to be found in this dish, at least. The naked ravioli was cute, the little ball of gorgonzola and beet glistening beside the meat. The meat itself was just right for me, with a good texture and background flavour to go with the quartet of sauces and the greens. The broth made a nice finish to each bite, tipped back between chews and swigs of wine. And now I’d turned on the French Cab Sauvignon from Skalli. It was nice enough, but by now I also had the Concha y Toro Trio and the Penfolds Shiraz on the table, and this was tough competition. Of the three, I found myself leaning towards the Trio. Then I shook myself and straightened up for another bite. I gave the comparison of the three some thought, and then asked the waitress to pour me some more of the Rosemount Chardonnay while she was there. Fatema’s tagine came out next, a very pleasant presentation. I can’t but think of burlesque accouterments anytime I see a tagine. The meat was disappointing in appearance only. The tagine provides an excellent method for long cooking, self-basting the dish as the moisture condenses in the cone and falls back down. It imparted a slightly drawn appearance, but biting in the lamb came apart in that way that just starts you drooling. The dish was very salty, and that came from the olives that were used. For myself, I loved the flavour, but I could be content to sit around a saltlick with the cattle for a few hours. By now I’d rieved my way through the reds, and had called the waitress back for another comparison. The Trio was definitely coming out as my preferred wine, the mix of Merlot, Carmenere, and Cabernet Sauvignon giving a good balance in accompaniment with the meat dishes that I’d been working over. Every now and then I’d come back for a touch of the Rosemount, just to even things out, you understand. The auction then came up, and things went very well this year. They went so well that I was completely blocked out for once. No stupid Mercedes road trip for me. I wouldn’t be hosting my friends to dinner in the Ratchadamri Suite, and I wouldn’t be flying Yoonhi out to the Shanghai or Hong Kong or anywhere. The good side of this is that they did raise a fair bit of cash for the charity, so I don’t feel too bad (but that magnum of Grange would’ve been a nice thing to bring out and ask about corkage…..) Emily’s gingerbread was quite pretty, and I mourned the lack of a dessert wine to set off against this. The whiskey was a bit of a mystery. I like Laphroaig, mind you, but it’s a very strong flavour, with that “Look, Jimmy, why don’t we just toss a handful of peat into the glass” taste about it. This in comparison to the Macallan, which is very smooth (although I’ll still swear fealty to Dalwhinnie as an icon of gentleness). By this point I was gregariously teetering from table to table, and returned to find that I’d almost lost my petits fours and the “good night box”. I hastily had them brought back, and took a bit of coffee to stabilize myself. Then I figured it’d be best if I took a bit more of the Rosemount to counter the evil effects of the Laphroaig. With my glass topped up with the Chardonnay, it occurred to me that I’d best not go too much in one direction, and so had them top up the whiskey as well. I seem to remember getting to my room and thinking that this was the most admirable of nights. What did I like? Is there anything I didn’t like? No, I could find good in everything I ate. The caviar parfait would have had more wow for me if I hadn’t had it just a couple of days before. But it had more caviar on it tonight, and delivered that combination of salt and starch that works so well. The scallops stand out for the innovative use of the watermelon rind, and Yoshii’s egg was just so damned pretty. Ledeuil’s ravioli was something to linger over….maybe I actually liked the broth more than the ravioli. And Geoff’s beef was a manly interjection in the course of the dishes. Fatema’s lamb pulled apart just right for me, and the salts awakened my thirst for wine….although I don’t recall that thirst going particularly dormant at any point. And Emily and Vincent’s desserts were both excellent, and I’m not a dessert person. And, as a big bonus, I made it back to my room without hurting myself. And was that a tumbler of Laphroaig I found tidily covered beside my computer the next morning?

It's a confusing tag. Do they mean in the sense of "Chinese" cuisine? If so, then the general consensus is still Chengdu, although a lot vote for Taipei as well (with some claims, ala Justin Quek, that the quality of ingredients in Taiwan is second to none). Both benefited from having had a large mix of the country come to visit (in the form of the Kuomintang) for extended periods. If they mean in terms of "Chinese" and international cuisine, then I would think that Shanghai has overtaken Beijing, and probably Hong Kong at this point, with the money and chefs starting to pour in (I find Shanghainese cuisine itself a tad on the oily side). Beijing does have some very good Szechuan (perhaps the most popular regional cuisine according to the folk I was talking with there) and Hunanese places (going back to Mao), and more than a few good Cantonese, but not to compare with what you would get if you went to these places. A spot I quite liked was Dark & Duck, across from the Kempinski. Yuppy and modern, so I know it'll draw some disdain, but they had excellent duck, very good fish (in a bowl of oil buried under half a foot of chilis), and a fantastic shredded and fried potato dish that bore a striking similarity to Marge Simpson's hair-do.

I second the Joie Noble Blend - Alsace at half the price. I was somewhat less impressed with Rose, but the Noble Blend is a treasure. ← I liked the Joie Rose. They had it at Saveur, if I recall correctly, a very pleasant little French place that took over the old Piccolo Mondo site.

I've always felt that gin is something with more depth and possibilities than many of the other spirits. Just look at the list of ingredients on a Sapphire! there's a world of investigation out there for the curious, given the depth and breadth of botanicals that are now coming available. Who's making their own gin at home now? There's the question. (Mind the revenooers!).

I'm growing to like Chubby Hubby, out of Singapore, I believe. Plus, they covered the actual recipes for the last WGF in Bangkok, so I don't have to retype them (hee, hee).

Antonin Bonnet from the Greenhouse in London had a great line he used in his cooking class: "When I first came to England, I would get very angry with the customers. Now, I have gotten over it."

So, back to the original topic. The meal hasn't gone to plan. Nothing in the correctable sense, but it could've been done differently. The server approaches and asks if it's "fine?". I'm old, so I have fewer reservations (about commenting). If the server is particularly knowledgable about the food, I'll say that I wasn't quite there with the meal, and ask what the chef was aiming for? I've had some textures and methods where I didn't care for it, but that was my "fault". In a lot of cases, the waiter will flee for the chef at this point ("Just a moment, sir, I'll get the chef"). I've had some good sit downs with chefs if it's later in the evening and they're no longer run off their feet, looking at either what his target was with the dish ("No, I didn't want the skin to be crisp"), or what could be done better ("Yes, some rock salt on the edge of the plate would work"). I do this more with tasting menus, as I feel that there should be a story, or a structure, to such things. Of course, I've had a number of offended chefs, too. One New York Bistro diva was quite upset when I pointed out that the risotto had too much variation in the texture, and someone wasn't stirring when they should've been. Look upon it as a chance to learn. What's the worst thing that happens? You embarrass your date to death? Well, okay.....that could happen......

mid-morning hangovers in Seoul? Kop jang jongbul (my transliteration is horrendous, I know). Big intestines in a burning spicy broth, with a few shots of soju.

Sorry, I only just got some help on the photos! Thanks for the info on the Emporium. I always get in there a few times, so I'll go hunting when I'm through in a couple of weeks. I haven't had roti sai mai, but it would make sense that there'd be some influence, as there've been a number of Persian families in Thailand for some time. Next comes the Gala.