MaxH

To me, the best fettucine alfredo is made with just butter and parmiggiano reggiano tossed with egg fettucine. I think that this is the original recipe, but I am too lazy to look it up right now. Alfredo with cream is better than a bechamel alfredo, but none is as bad as the artificial cheese sauce alfredo that sometimes makes its way onto restaurant plates. First I recall, as ...tm... does, an older version under the same name without the cream. Now I too couldn't find a good account of this in print just now, so could be mistaken, though plenty of older sources do indicate cream intruding into a much more traditional cheese-butter toss of egg pasta. (I haven't tried an "online" search partly from time constraint and partly because of the sheer volume of misinformation they routinely unearth, I could tell you stories ...) If we both do recall correctly though, it puts the "cream" version in the same category as the modern US sense of "French" dressing (formerly a vinaigrette, as it still is in English elsewhere) or of "ketchup." These now have shifted meanings, at odds with most of their history. Second is my more practical argument. Notwithstanding how many people now understand cream as part of the definition, what does it add? Blandness, gratuitous richness. (Remember that cream originally "dumbed down" an already weak version of Russian dressing to yield the "Thousand Island" product used by some US restaurants to make Reuben sandwiches and crab Louis, at least for customers who accept this). Cream to play off a flavor like lemon juice or a little truffle or mushroom, OK. Cream reduced with meat stock, now you're talking. But just cream? Sweet, bland, and fat.

SF high-end dining seems to be a popular question now (on numerous online fora). Many people with depth of SF experience cite the Ritz-Carlton, Fleur de Lys, Masa's, sometimes Rubicon, and lately the reborn Campton Place. I've eaten at all of them at times in recent years, though not all lately. (Some people report good meals at Danko's restaurant in SF; some with considerable experience publicly or privately dismiss it as tourist trade; I have not tried it and likely won't.) Regarding Fleur de Lys, Hubert Keller from Alsace, chef-owner (previously at Sutter 500, in the 1980s), is the Bay Area's original "Keller" (before Thomas) and has deep traditionalistic talent. Not too long ago we had one of those black-tie SF's-greatest-chef cook-off dinners at the Ritz-Carlton, for one of the US food societies; Keller was the popular favorite (though the award was given to the local chef at the Ritz-Carlton, as a customary courtesy). Regarding Masa's, though the original chef Masa was a great loss when murdered in 1985, a series of creditable professionals followed him, and extraordinary wine directors; Alan Murray there, from Australia, whom I've seen pull some finesses of wine knowledge, recently passed the final Master Sommelier exam. One group of wine enthusiasts from the Bay Area met at Masa's yearly for an exuberant holiday dinner. (With Siegel's cooking; he's now at the Ritz.)

Has anyone mentioned Fowler's yet? I keep citing it online. I have not been there for a while but as it seems to have a Web presence, I gather it still is going strong. I used to periodically visit the Raleigh - Durham - Chapel Hill area where food-fanatic friends lived, and we always ate very well. At numerous places both humble and fancy. Numerous. (It led to one of the fatter and more varied of my regional restaurant files.) And establishments like Fowler's combination shop in Durham. It would have gotten nods of respect equally in New York or San Francisco, in my opinion. At Fowler's, multiple generations offered equipment and ingredients and insightful wines all crammed into one little shop. One time I encountered a senior Mr. Fowler (looking like a philosophical retired baseball pro for some reason, that was my offhand impression anyway) at a cheese counter with a large block of cream cheese, offering samples. I quipped something from a scene late in Thos. Mann's novel Felix Krull about a conversation across a block of cream cheese. Without missing a beat, Mr. Fowler retorted from Buddenbrooks. What more could you ask from a food retailer. Finally (as you know already if you are an Internet-history buff), public online forums got started at UNC Chapel Hill in 1979 (due to Steve Bellovin and associates). The great-grandparents of forum software like this here -- and establishing conventions that we still use today. (The Kitty Hawk of Internet forums.) An interesting and varied corner of the United States.

These aren't very recent, but that doesn't help: Russian Dressing appeared often in the past, seemingly a condiment most US cooks would be expected to know -- especially in older cookbooks (say 1950 and earlier), to escort cold cooked shellfish or do other duties. (Reuben sandwiches, vegetable salads, Crab Louis ...) The Guide Culinaire (1921, in Cracknell and Kaufmann's translation) describes (Recipe 204) a related "Russian Mayonnaise" with tarragon vinegar and horseradish; this is thickened with gelatin and "principally used for binding vegetable salads together for moulding." Morrison Wood (With a Jug of Wine, 1949, a famously flavor-intensive, fairly mainstream US cookbook that fought against blandness) has a similar recipe, and De Gouy (Revised Edition, 1948) lists three Russian Dressing recipes varying in the savory bits added. But -- ominously -- the latter two authors also list a "Thousand Island" Dressing that is a very bland Russian with lots of mayonnaise, and whipped cream added in case the bland flavors were still too assertive. "Fettucine Alfredo," served routinely with cream. Why ??

I agree, I find hints of spritz more often in tasting German wines than others I taste. (It's worth pointing out that most "flat" beverages, even those without spritzy mouthfeel, have some dissolved gas. It becomes more obvious when you place them in a partial vacuum.) -- M

Given the reference to NY State, has anyone here mentioned Just A Taste in Ithaca, NY? It opened in 1989 (if I recall) with an atmosphere and temperature contraption to keep wine bottles fresh, and also a lively menu of small plates. Extremely well focused and successful format (and ever since hanging out there a bit, I've wondered at the lack of comparable operations in certain other, much larger US markets where surely they would do well.) Anyway, check it out, in person if possible.

FYI, for some years if you said "brewpub" in California, people would respond "you mean like the Mendocino Brewing Company, in Hopland?" That one was the first brewpub in California since Prohibition. The signature product was called Red Tail Ale, and for some years it was only available on-site, in large magnum-size crown-capped bottles. You could see the Volvos from San Francisco to hot springs or whatever pull over on the sidewalk in Hopland to stock up. (The brewpub had live entertainment and for some years would not even send its newsletter further away than Santa Rosa, forcing me to use a local accommodation address to receive it.) All that changed eventually, Red Tail Ale became distributed, and now there is a brewpub on every corner in the state, it seems. (Someone who arrived into the current situation with all the competing micro-breweries might have no idea of how fast it all changed.) However, the itinerary in question veers inland south of there so I don't think the original brewpub can be included. (Nor, alas, will you have the chance to see for yourself the verdant landscape nearby, the newer agriculture supply firms advertising hydroponics and "lighting" -- not used, so the local jokes go, in "mainstream" agriculture at all ...)

Then please forgive me. Here in the US it is not unusual today for people to cry "snob" as soon as they see something they don't like, or don't understand. (A few online fora seem to exist mainly for that function.) The more humour the better!

People enjoy wine; people evaluate wine. That's obvious. Most experienced "wine people" that I know do both. Most of us find that spitting is an effective route when we are out to extract the maximum information from the wine sample -- useful when making buying decisions, etc. People go to large stand-up tastings for various reasons too. They could all enjoy the event. It isn't necessary for people to thoughtlessly block the spittoons as Phil Ward cited, any more than it is necessary for people at public tastings to crowd a tasting stable and stall there, while they sip and chat, blocking others from access; or to project a construction of "wine snobs looking down their noses" when someone cites these rude habits. -- Max

I too am amazed at this: Why does Slate Magazine have to raise the topic? It is an ordinary one among wine tasters and, as D. Rogov pointed out, it is a mundane function. Here's a timely note that I wrote some weeks ago elsewhere. In my opinion, spitting is a key part of wine tasting because it allows separation between wine tasting and wine drinking, two different things if you are trying to learn about wine. (The two can be combined of course, but that should be a conscious choice I think.) French verb is cracher, and facility at it is expected if you visit French wine producers. (Beginners are encouraged to practice in the shower.) Crachoir is a spittoon and is often found at wineries. Different producers have different customs; some provide a bucket of sand, others request cracher à bas (spit down -- on the ground outside or in a dirt-floor underground cellar). (Not long ago Anne Gros was sampling some of her Burgundies with pride and moved into her rare barrels; the first person who tasted proceeded to swallow instead of spitting, because the wine was so good; the taster bashfully called this cracher à l'interieur.) Practice is helpful whether you need to reach a certain spot on the ground, a bucket, or a spittoon at a large public US tasting. I probably posted here earlier about the well-prepared winegeek habit of carrying wine accessories in the car trunk. An emergency tasting glass or two, temporary cork closures, and most usefully, a package of ordinary supermarket disposable opaque plastic half-liter drink cups. They make perfect personal spit cups, and we use them often in tasting groups. You can take one with you into a large public tasting and then your marksmanship is not tested severely if you are some distance from the spittoon. Though hitting a difficult target with skill is always gratifying.

You all do appreciate, do you not, that the most "high tech" kitchen heating element available is the microwave oven, which generates high-powered high-frequency radio waves in a multianode magnetron (a specialized resonant vacuum tube, developed for radar transmitters) that then resonate with the molecules in the food (water especially), not even with the cookware. Don't let familiarity obscure this deeper reality (unless of course you are just seeking a novel kitchen redecoration). Myself, I cook with gas. == Max

Welcome to Louisiana! The idea is highly developed in New Orleans in particular, a town some other Louisianans disown (like NY State vs. NY City) and which someone, who ought to know, labeled "the most decadent city in the Americas." Below is a bit I worte there recently -- describing an economical business hotel in the Central Business District (the Cotton Exchange): No chocolates on the pillow, no mini-bar in the room, no extra $50 a night as charged by those that do. Come on, does any city need mini-bars less than New Orleans? With neighborhood restaurants and cafés and bars of every possible style, even drive-through, even in a laundromat. ... Exiting the Vasquezes' restaurant Marisol after a weekend lunch, we walked by Check Point Charlie, “Laundromat, Bar, and Music Club” on Esplanade, a venue mentioned in the weekly music listings in town. (We heard only clothes dryers at the time.)

It wasn't all that long ago (if you are of a certain age, anyway) that there were virtually no Thai restaurants in many US areas that now take them for granted. People who were in the Bay Area at the time will recall Siam Cuisine in 1980 as something of a pioneer, and from that time and place, Thai restaurants spread rapidly in the Bay Area, and to other US regions, though people who came on the scene later, when these restaurants were established, may be unaware of the diffusion. Plearn Thai Cuisine in Berkeley was another early, influential entry (though I have not eaten there for a few years and cannot speak of how it is it today). I posted a note about its history, 10 years ago on the then-dominant Bay Area HTTP restaurant forum (now defunct). Originally it opened (1981 or 82) near the top of University Avenue on the north side, and had a sign in the window boasting (rather as McDonald's used to) of the number of Pad Thais served. About 1983 it moved to the larger, former health food store site at 2050 University Ave., across the street and down from its original location. (For the record, that health food store was the first place in the US I noticed Birkenstocks advertised, about 1973.) The proprietress, Plearn (with a long family name), became something of a doyenne among Thai restaurateurs in that region and era. When Sweet Basil opened, on Solano Ave. circa 1988, I ran into Plearn there, carefully sampling the fare and nodding her imprimatur to the delighted (and relieved) owners. Much like the scene in From Julia Child's Kitchen (1975, p. 20) where she describes a restaurant meal with her husband in the 1950s in which Colette wheeled by and gave an apparent nod to Julia's order. (Speaking of linked events, the book where I read that is the same copy you saw JC autographing for me if you ever watched the Biography television program on Julia Child. La Ronde.)

Yes: though not common in the US, Beeton is something of a national cookbook in Great Britain -- people from there have referred to "Mrs. Beeton" as a household phrase. (A bit like Escoffier in France, though his book is aimed at professional kitchens. More like Molokhovets in Russia.) In the US the closest parallel I've found -- which did not stay popular through the present day though it was phenomenally so in the 19th century and is still very useful -- was Eliza Leslie. The Hesses (ISBN 0252068750) depict it as the main US cookbook of the 19th century. K. G. Bitting's standard US gastronomic bibliography describes scores of editions of Leslie's books through 1881. Her original is still, conveniently, available in paperback: Eliza Leslie, Directions for Cookery, Philadelphia, 1837. 1999 Dover facsimile reprint, ISBN 0486406148 . (In case it's of interest.) -- MH

"Fundamental" Macaroni-and-Cheese I have not read Thorne or the sources from recent years cited in this thread, but I do know from lots of cookbooks that the last 50 years have seen frequent US recipes based on a cheese sauce, as pointed out here. Some of the alternatives here also contain other ingredients -- eggs or various milk products. Don't overlook that many cheeses can melt into pasta and form a delicious sauce all by themselves (and no baking required). A glorious example happened when I brought home a plate of surplus assorted good cheeses (served after a blind wine tasting). The next day (after good experience before along these lines) I shredded and mixed four of them. I think Stilton, aged Gouda, English farmhouse Cheddar, and something like a Gruyère. But many cheeses will work. I took care to have the shredded cheeses near room temperature (not cold), and then tossed them with just-cooked, resilient Italian pasta (de Cecco or Delverde, fettuccine or linguine -- not sure). Tossed them in the hot empty pot that the pasta had just been cooked in. Covered this and kept it all hot over a low flame and a spreader (to avoid hot spots) for a few minutes. Stirred it and continued heating a few minutes more. (May possibly have added a touch of hot pepper sauce, on general principles -- not enough for anyone to notice, but it's famous for bringing up the flavor of cheese dishes.) Result: Cheeses melted and partly absorbed into the noodles. Exquisite combination, the blue, the Cheddar, and the Gouda all contributing noticeably. I recommend experiments like this. = Max

I was asked about those language discussions. They are public, if anyone is interested, and they include more links on history of Grüner Veltliner. A pointer to them needs explanation depending on your familiarity with Internet history. They were on the wine newsgroup alt.food.wine which is not a Web site, though it can be accessed via Web sites, for instance Google Groups. More below, in the fine print. -- Max (max@tdl.com) Newsgroups are the original public forums for the Internet and related networks, predating introduction of HTTP/HTML in 1991 (done also via newsgroups, by the way). A wine newsgroup has run since 1982, making it by far the oldest public wine forum online. (Chartered by Charles Wetherell Feb 27 1982 as net.wines, renamed rec.food.drink in 1987, alt.food.wine since 1994.) It now includes experts in several countries. Prominent wine Web-site operators such as Squires, Garr, Harrington, and Meadows were active there before they formed Web sites (mostly in the late 1990s). I’ve posted there off and on since 1983. Like most newsgroups, it's unmoderated and gets disruptive postings, though experienced international regulars there are good at discouraging this. The wine newsgroup is archived in various places and (except for a rich and seminal period late 80s to early 90s) accessible on groups.google.com for example. It’s important to learn the interface and newsgroup customs before posting anything there. Other background information is in the Google Groups Information article. "Netnews" and "Usenet" generally mean the newsgroups as a whole. Further history of the wine newsgroup and food online are HERE. Also, RFC1855 is another and basic Internet reference dating originally to 1982. (People who used the Internet read it as a matter of routine until a few years ago.) Newsgroups are credited to Bellovin and associates in 1979, basically an offshoot of recently standardized email protocols, still used today.

Which comes from the Valtellina, by the way. That may (another local expert suggested, now from Italy) explain the stress in Veltliner. Don't start, Behemoth! (For one thing it's an Austrian word, not a German.) (Gringos, yankees especially, seem to love mangling English,* a tongue of distant origin; why shouldn't they be just as happy mispronouncing other languages?) *(HarASSment. PaTINa. I've even heard rumors of people stressing "banal" on the first syllable, though I haven't ever heard it spoken out. It's not a very common word anyway today; why on earth not either leave it alone, or look it up?)

It was covered already. Busboy gave the definitive answer which I cannot remember for the life of me. Sounds like another for the Frequently Asked Pronunciations list.

Thanks to C_Ruark and to various Austrians, including a principal Vienna food-wine journalist who answered my query on this, here is a correction to what I posted earlier: usual stress is on second syllable of "Veltliner" in Grüner Veltliner. It was also mentioned that the stress is mild. (Either I remembered wrong, not for the first time, or I've heard unusual speakers of this wine name, when in Austria.)

Good point. That's a perennial issue in the US, since long before this Web site. Maybe it belongs in a Frequently Asked Pronunciations (FAP) list? Along with others like Tamari (subject of an international and learned thread on another site at one point). Etc etc. (By the way, Austrians are commenting on the Grüner Veltliner issue as I write this, since I launched a query. I'll summarize results here.)

Eeek! If it'd been a tuna salad, I suppose it could have been interpreted as an over-zealous demonstration that the tuna was line-caught and not retrieved from a purse sein. But what's good for the environment can be a little less good for the customer's tender esophagus... ← Exactly. (It was a salmon salad.) For historical reference I've appended the comments I posted online about that restaurant, soon afterwards. -------- Lion and Compass, Sunnyvale, CA September 19, 1995 Famous power-lunch establishment (even San Francisco restaurant critics know the place, it’s in a major guide from 1984). Grilled fish and meats, fancy sandwiches and pasta dishes. I was introduced to lunch there by a realtor trying to sell me some property, and indeed much of the clientele seems to be engaged in selling. It’s the first place I ever saw someone pull out a cellular phone during lunch, several years ago (with a glance around to be sure he was observed, and without evident sense of the absurd). At the time this was most unusual, except maybe in Hong Kong. There is even a stock-ticker display near the bar (which, in turn, is no doubt well stocked with Campari, less-known single malts -- the kind not advertised in the New Yorker -- etc.) In recent years the place has competition from Birk’s, nearby. L&C has so much lunch business that it’s often neglected during dinner, so a good bet for no wait then. I’ve had some exceptional meals there though recently lost some enthusiasm after an unpleasant experience with a foreign object in a salad.

These things do happen. As when people in the US without much mathematical training began (in the 1980s) saying parameters "when they meant perimeters but were trying to be hip," as one professional writer complained publicly then; and despite continued advice from other literate writers, competent guidebooks, and everyone who knows what a parameter really is. Lately they've been doing it again, with "nonlinear." These things happen. You mean like when they say something is growing logarithmically when it's actually growing exponentially? There, it's at least the right general idea (only backwards). I've heard no exasperated writer yet describe it as trying to be hip. The others are more like Alice in Wonderland. Alice converses at one point with a serene and knowledgeable caterpillar, smoking a hookah. She quotes some verse ... Caterpillar: That is not said right. Alice: Not QUITE right, I'm afraid; some of the words have got altered. Caterpillar: It is wrong from beginning to end.

In Louisiana they serve "debris," which however is good stuff and better than its name. I once knew a Norwegian gentleman who had a sort of scholarship from NATO and who alternated between the US and Norway for years. He had a wickedly ironic sense of humor, and as "gifts" he brought to the US jars of the oddest of the many kinds of pickled herring available there. "Not only do Americans dislike it," he confided to me brightly, "but also, it's difficult to digest!"

Restaurant front personnel who do things that are very, very stupid. As in stupid in the clear light of day, according to most people's standards. As in stupid enough to actually hurt their business, or themselves. In the last 3000 or so restaurant meals I attended, this happened only three times, each time from managers, more or less distracted by their own authority, and inadequately professional to realize that they also were human, and responsible for service businesses. (And three from 3000 is not bad at all for a human enterprise; how many bat 0.999 ?) Oh yes, I also dislike finding sharp little metal hooks in my salad. (Happened 17 May 95 at a "power lunch" restaurant with otherwise very good food, that I frequented until then. Manager asked if he could have the hook, but I smiled and said no, I think I'll keep it. Since then it's been attached to the restaurant's business card in my file, as a reminder. That was not one of the three, by the way.)

Sounds interesting! Here's one related to this thread, that works OK in writing. The Italian Tea Incident. This comes from old friends of mine, an academic couple around Cambridge, Massachusetts. They traveled a lot and were used to improvising in new languages. (Please forgive me if I botch the linguistic detail here: the meaning will be clear enough!) Arriving late in a small town somewhere in Italy in cold weather about 1970, they came into a crowded bar which was the only place open, and sought a couple of glasses of tea, or herb tea, something hot and copious. They spoke no Italian, but did have another Latin language, to which they’d been encouraged already to add an “E” sound at the ends of words to approximate Italian. This led to them calling to the bartender for “duo infusione!” at which EVERYone in the placed cracked up. In local idiom, they had decisively demanded two enemas. Of course the crowd understood the situation, and they were warmly received and made a fuss over. As is also typical at such times, in Latin cultures.