FabulousFoodBabe

Oh, geez. Diva, moi? Don't let the shoes fool you. MOO (I love that!): It's more a sense of entitlement to demand sauce on the side, substitute green veg for yellow, steamed something, prepare a dish without butter or salt, or get a last-minute vegan meal. No one blinks at that. It's one thing to act queenly, or see how fast I can make someone hop; to snap fingers (figuratively or literally), and hiss when one's small whim is not met. It's another to be at a table ordering lots of food, having a great time, and to ask, "hey -- any chance we could get a taste of this or that?" and to show lots of appreciation when the request is granted. If only it were as easy as a gene. After years of working, studying/teaching, and writing about this industry -- and years of living -- I've learned that it never hurts to ask.

Oh, Pam. It's hard with the kiddos, isn't it? At that age, they are such a mixed bag. The attitude we always took was this: If you eat only when you're hungry, and eat good stuff as much as you can, and stay active, you will weigh what you are supposed to weigh. The sedentary lifestyle can be a problem now and forever. But not everyone is created to be bony. My younger son gains weight before a growth spurt; we literally start shoppiong for new clothes when his belly starts to grow. He has yet to not outgrow it. When I was a kid, we had one car that my dad took to work. We were too broke to eat processed foods; sodas were for special occasions only. Even at a young age, we did a large share of yard work and housework. We rode our bikes everywhere. My siblings were all lean, rangy kids, and I was the fat one. By today's standards, I wasn't. But compared to my sisters, I was. My weight was the constant source of family focus and strife; what is she eating, slap the cookie out of her hand, don't let her have dessert, give her a hamburger without a bun, take her to a doctor and get her on a diet. I swore that my son would not have that kind of focus on his appearance ... We do insist on some sort of physical activity for the boys; team sports when they are interested, and some days they just walk on a treadmill while watching Comedy Central. Whatever it takes. BTW, of the kids in my family, guess which one wasn't getting fatter by the second once we hit our 20s?

Hey, Randi! Where do you live?

First, Randi, I'm sorry your plans blew apart. I'd mention your alone-ness to someone you like. You'll be invited in a snap. Moving around the country every couple of years for so long got us into the "orphan Thanksgiving" mode, and it really is a lot of fun. Everyone brings a little something of their own tradition, and we could even find joy in the pepperoni-olive stuffing one person brought. Failing that, maybe you could volunteer someplace? Definitely, though, make the meal you were planning another time soon.

Not there, lately. He used to be a regular. Chef Gilbert told me once that they'd just given him 5# of bacon, when he had to have his first heart procedure. I've never seen Mr. President in our town, though there are photos of him in every store in the town; he's apparently very good about photo ops and the guy is a chick magnet. He loves Lang's Little Store -- funny story about Bill Gates getting a tuna melt there when he couldn't get lunch at the Clinton's house.

Yanno, I've never felt weird asking, but I've never asked for a bite of steak or foie gras, or half a creme brulee (and I always volunteer that I'll pay). I've asked to taste a dressing, a garnish, a vegetable, sauce or foam, etc. Once I was asking a lot of questions about how a place did some of their sides, and the server insisted on bringing a "sampler" of three or four of the ones that didn't accompany my meal. The waiter in this case simply said, "no." That's all. And I didn't want to kick up a fuss, even though it WAS my birthday, dammit! Maybe if I'd worn my crown, they'd have coughed it up ...

I really do wish the posters who had such a problem with this would explain why. Heck, I can think of a dozen times where I'd send a little something to the table for people who seemed interested in it. It paid itself back a hundred times and the customers were so happy (not to mention the waiters, who got some extra $$$ for their part in it). And Fresser, I would have pegged you as a Mr. Softee driver, instead of a B-R counterdude. We got tastes from the Mr. Softee guys straight out of the "tap." Oh, it was an innocent time.

the garnish was pear-cardamom fondant; I wanted to see how it was done. I was having foie gras, didn't really want the soup just for the garnish. I told the waiter they could just (a) bring a half-portion of the soup, or (b) park the garnish on a b&b plate. No dice. Snif.

I just posted on the New York thread about our meal at the Kittle House in Chappaqua. I pointed out that an irritating moment was when I asked for a bit of something, just to taste it. My request was refused, which I found to be kind of odd, since I've asked for the same sort of thing before at the KH, and have been happily accommodated; I've done this for years at other restaurants and have never been refused; and I've prepared tastes myself for customers when I've been cooking, at restaurants less nice and much nicer than Kittle House. Just to be clear, we were talking about a garnish for a soup. I'm interested in what others -- customers and cooks -- think of this incident, and my request.

I'm sure this is a topic for another thread, so I'm going to start one elsewhere.

Secondborn son -- If you called him a child, at 15 1/2, 5'11" and 160 ... Viking dinner. Nothing but meat -- whole turkeys, pigs, maby a baby lamb. Absolutely no salad, no fruits (except for the apples in the pigs' mouths), and no cutlery or napkins. All meat would be ripped from the animal with the hands. The table would be long, banquet-sized. Either that or unagi sashimi. Firstborn (17) rolled his eyes. His teenageritis is flaring up. He'll have an opinion soon, I'm sure. If it's printable, I'll post. I don't think you want to know my thoughts Really.

Diet Pepsi. Mini pretzels and if I really, truly have to have fat, I microwave goat cheese, sprinkle it with walnuts, and dip the pretzels in it.

We went there for the second time since Jeremy Smollar took over as Chef. Food: Much better than it had been during Greg Gilbert's last months there. Service: Nice once they get to us, but not great. Both times, there was a private function during the time we were there, so the staff was distracted and the diners appeared to be an afterthought. In the 15 minutes it took the waiter to get to us after the dessert menus were dropped off, we lost our joie de dessert and just wanted to get outta there. Irritating moment: After we ordered, I asked for just a taste the pear-cardamom fondant that garnished one of the soups. The waiter came back and said, "we cannot do it." What's up with that? My choice was to make a big fuss or just let it ride. Whatever. Verdict: My husband loves the place. I used to. In the interest of marital bliss, we'll go back again when he insists.

Me too -- and that's why if you watched, those plates would be returned with one bite taken out of them. God only knows how many of those bites are spat into napkins. Try this: follow one of these tiny women who declare that they "just love to eat, eat, eat!" to the restroom after the dishes are cleared, they never, EVER leave before you. They don't make a noise in there. I have no doubt purging is going on. When db Bistro Moderne first did it's burger, a friend from out of town went with me for a rare lunch out. Of course we had the burger, and when we went to the ladies' room after, we were near a group of women who were at db for the burger experience. None of them ate the bun, just a bite of the burger and a bite of the frites. When my friend and I spoke of how fantastic those things were and how we were licking the plates clean, we were assumed to be purgers just like them. Ewwww.

Glass of iced tea or Perrier. "Drinkers" have a glass of chardonnay or white zin, with ice cubes in it. Salad, salad, salad, with dressing on the side. If one is feeling decadent, something from the bread basket, with a little olive oil. Any protein is lean -- broiled fish with lemon. One dessert per six lunchers, and it is NEVER to be finished. Anyone who eats pasta, anything with fat in it, or (horrors) orders her own, separate, dessert, is talked about behind her back when she goes to the restroom. The above meal takes at least 2 1/2 hours.

Yeah, bad stuff happens all the time, all over the place. Whatever. But I'd rather err on the side of caution. Not posting under my real name does not make me a coward, or a fraidy-cat. It makes me someone who has had a very ugly situation, via an online auction site, with a purchaser who decided that my friendly communication and distinctive name meant we had something special. He did a search via internet, called my house at all hours, Googled me and learned the names of my children, and on and on. It was unpleasant, and frightening. When people communicate with me via PM, I reply with my real name, at least the first name. But here, I'll remain Fabby. Until I become a public figure, of course.

I'm SO enjoying this thread and how everyone's getting all up in a twist about it. As I said earlier, "Angela Hartnett." If Ramsay truly were a sexist, etc. etc. Women used to refuse to learn to type because typing meant menial support jobs and, well, no self-respecting woman would want to do that. Cooking is the same way for a lot of people. Most of the "at home" mothers in my town have more household help than I, which includes housekeepers who cook for the family. Fear of food, fear of getting fat, fear of seeming out of control by enjoying more than a bite of dessert, is transferred to their kids. Once the kids get out and realize they have to eat something, they have NO idea how to feed themselves and wind up at Subway. That's what I've seen. Ramsay is a genius and hilarious, too. Carry on, everyone!

Angela Hartnett.

Yo. In my mind, it's no different from "who's going to buy the book because of this thread" that was asked earlier. I am curious, not being snarky. And it's a valid question to be posed here. Me, I have only so much time to eat in the city and Country wouldn't even be on my radar except for this thread (and the book). Same goes for Bourdain and Les Halles. I don't DO gangs, in the street or otherwise. And it was never my intention to ruin the internet for anyone, except my teenaged sons (didn't work).

Hey! I must have missed the cook-off. You haven't seen me cook. Or... have you? I like what akwa said here: Yep, that's the difference. Question: Anyone out there going or not going to Country based on this thread? Anyone want to or not want to work for Psaltis based on what they've read here?

Never once when reading KC, did I think that Bourdain saw himself as better than anyone else, or that he didn't love the industry or respect others. He also didn't come across as too good for anything that he was doing. I don't think you can write like that unless you feel it.

Well said. Wow.

Okay, here's what I'm hearing. It's not a "southern thing, you wouldn't understand." It's a "don't be a condescending jerk, do your research, and don't stereotype!" Pretty much what I expected, but I've loved this thread. Gee, Southerners aren't all that special, are they?* I'll have to tell Mr. Foodbabe, who still gets crazy over his biscuits. (Says he's never had a bad one in the South, and only a few good ones up here!) (* Yes, they absolutely ARE! Some of my favorite people and places, etc. etc.)

I think one dose of bad mutton can put someone off lamb for a long, long time. I can still smell it from the time my mother put old chops into the oven. Urk. When I started cooking professionally, I had to learn how to cook it and then I loved it. My sons had lamb at one of their friends' houses for dinner when they were about 5 and 6 years old, and came back raving about it. We've done lamb once a week ever since. I just got some Icelandic lamb from Whole Foods; the guys at the counter said it was great and they were right. My husband gets all weird about lamb and veal (aww, the baby animals!) but he loved this, too.

You bet it's valid! What you describe sounds painful and intrusive. And annoying. When it's happened to me, if I can't keep them at bay by saying stuff like, "may we catch your eye when we need something?" I make sure the manager knows when we leave.