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For your nice restaurant, Charleston might fit the bill. It's NewAmerican/Southern and generally considered among the best, if not the best, in Baltimore. There must be a thread on it here somewhere, though I haven't looked.

Depends on how you define "dumpy." If 6'3", 210 lbs and a size 46 jacket is dumpy, then yes. ← I hope I didn't cause offense. I was referring to the rather funny discussion further up this thread and should have realized the picture was from someone here. By the way, at 6 feet, 175, unshaven, and in jeans and a sweatshirt, I definitely am the better candidate for "dumpy."

Is that a dumpy, balding, middle-aged man I detect on the right in the picture?

I would have done the same for service like that. Although I am somewhat ambivalent about the whole notion of tipping to begin with, I accept that those are the rules of the game and I play by them. That means: generous service gets a generous tip.

I think most would agree that Dr. Hall's behavior, as described in the article, is somewhat, shall we say, abby normal. ← My point exactly.

I've been dismayed by a number of the reactions in this thread to the simple phenomenon of a regular, especially such a harmless and agreeable regular as Dr. Hall appears to be. In any major cosmopolitan city such an "habitué" would not raise an eyebrow, yet here many people--even in a forum of gastronomes such as this--seem to think of him as a circus freak. Strange.

I was at Corduroy for the first time last night, for a late dinner at 10 pm. DonRock's singing praises that began this thread are entirely justified. I ordered the pork belly mostly because of the praise that has been heaped upon it by fellow egulleteers: I was a newcomer to this dish and found it a revelation: deeply and slowly braised layers of succulent fat and meat in an unctious reduction with cabbage. The lobster salad with tiny cresses and basil oil was an ideal prelude: a fresh and tender combination of bracing flavors executed with real skill and attention to detail. Other dishes included loin of lamb done to a perfect medium rare, and a seared tuna entree that Chef Power kindly agreed to prepare in an appetizer portion. Desserts were equally well executed, especially wild berries with creme anglaise. Where do you even see a real creme anglaise on a menu anymore? Service began with an awkward welcome at the door as departing guests demanded their coats en masse, but was excellent thereafter. And the wine list: as others have noted, it combines breadth and depth with what have to be among the lowest markups in the city. The 2001 Stuart Willammette Valley Pinot Noir for $47 was luscious. What applies to the wine list also applies to the restaurant as a whole: High quality for low prices. The dismal science tells us that situation can't last long, and Chef Power is sure to open a stand-alone restaurant soon and make it one of the hottest dining destinations in the city. At least I hope he does. But in the meantime, I am going to try to get to Corduroy as often as I can.

My wife is German and we speak German at home. Our four-year-old son has very fair skin. Especially when he was younger I would call his legs "Würschtelbeine," which is south German dialect for "little sausage legs." They remind me of plump Bavarian white sausages. Of course, the notion of loving our kids so much that we want to "gobble them up" is a bit sinsiter and has been the basis of all kinds of childrens' stories (especialy in German-speaking Europe).

There is a review on the "other" board.

I think even the US/NYT star system is overly complicated; it gives too much wiggle room for ambivalent or inexperienced critics. Accordingly, the Michelin 3-star system is the only thing approaching an international standard (Their NY venture will be interesting to observe). The 100-point scale takes all this to absurd extremes. Ater all, could you really defend your score of 89 for one restaurant versus 88 for another? If so, then hats off. Hugh Johnson says some very pithy and wise things about the Parker-esque obsession with the 100-point scale.

The objectivity, fairness, and above all succinctness of this post are highly refreshing.

Just finished watching. What Donna managed to finish looked marvelous, but...Good Lord! To get real "Iron Chef" about it: Would one be right to assume that Morimoto would feel dishonored at having achieved such a "win"? Is there an Italian version of hari kari?

Absolutely right. If the word urban has any meaning at all, it certainly cannot apply to Tysons and their ilk. These are vast settlements of office buildings, strip malls, and multi-lane roads with little or no residential core and no architectural value. This much, it seems to me, is quite obvious, and it has little to do with urbanity in any generally accepted sense of the term. It should come as no surprise that restuarants in such areas generally are as they are: large, corportate, and generic--with the occasional pocket of ethnic interest. I also must question the notion that walking along Connecticut Ave. near Dupont "feels exactly like" Paris (?!). Not by a long shot. Civic pride is all well and good, but too much of it can cloud an objective view.

I accidentally responded to an ancient post. Maybe cooking with aluminium really is a bad thing...

I suppose any reply to Joe in this Sietsema thread will perpetuate the very thing he is criticizing, but... I actually find eG easier to navigate than CH, simply because things are divided up into overall threads rather than splashed arbitrarily in blog order. Also, posts at CH expire after a short time and are then harder to retrieve. The search functions and different view options also add to eG's better maneuverability. My two cents as someone relatively new here.

...some people (many of whom can be found on this board ) over-idealise it WAY too much. It was a fun show. Lets not go overboard. I plead guilty! But it's a shame ICA will never be able to make people wax idealistic or go overboard.

Unfortunately, you're right about the target audience, which tends to support my sad comment on what ICA is compared to the original. As others have already mentioned, it was Flay's sous, not anyone from the Armstrong side, who was complaining about the equipment (specifically: weak burners). That is an indiginity to which Sakai, Morimoto, Chen et al would never descend (to say nothing of their assistants). But the rigging of the show is more obvious in other ways, like the off-the-wall scoring, the heavy-handed editing, and having Flay run around like a decapitated chicken. Curiously, the opportunities for real drama are wasted, like the personal background to the chefs' careers, a more-or-less real surprise ingredient, and a buildup of tension to the finish. All this is so very basic. If I hear the chairman ask one more time "What was your overall theme in preparing today's secret ingredient?" I'll secret myself in a well-tiled room and perform the ol' ceremonial disembowelment.

I agree. But it was fun to see Flay almost wipe out a few times, not to mention the burning himself and the flying knife. Is it wrong of me that I giggled? ← Even when not contrasted against the sovereignty and sangfroid of Armstrong, Flay comes across like an amateur. I suspect the Foodnetwork is playing this up so people like us get irritated and write about it on sites like this--so who's got the last laugh (or giggle)? But that only adds to my suspicion that the whole thing is rigged to an extent the original never was. Again: a characteristically American perversion of a simple pleasure.

[Moderator note: This is part of an extended topic that became too large for our servers to handle efficiently, so we've divided it into shorter segments; the preceding part of this discussion is here: Iron Chef America (Part 1)] Perhaps there will be another episode like Morimoto versus Feenie and my faith will be restored, but in the meantime: After seeing Flay win against Armstrong I'm forced to conclude that ICA is to the original Iron Chef what American pizza is to Italian pizza: the perversion of something fun, wholesome, delightful, and simple into something bland, overstuffed, bombastic, and engineered. One only need look at Flay's pumpkin/ice cream mess to see that.

The AOL cityguide says the market is open Sundays noon to 6. I haven't been able to find a web site either, but I have the feeling one won't be lacking for long.

A friend and I had a delightful dinner at Black Salt last night, the first time there for us. We ordered the tasting menu, which was preceded by some perfectly shucked and perfectly fresh oysters from British Columbia. Our server and the sommelier were very attentive in helping us build the tasting menu and pair it with a flight of wines. We asked to have seafood only, and were given nine imaginative and varied courses. The undisputed star of the evening was a rockfish sashimi garnished with Asian citrus flavors and--if I'm not mistaken--rice wine vinegar. In preparation, presentation, and tuning of flavor, this dish lived up to the ethereal praise lavished on Black Salt elsewhere in this forum. Other standouts (though none approached the rockfish) were the baby clams in a light fennel cream sauce and the mussels in Vietnamese flavors with fermented beans. Seared sushi-grade tuna with a crust that tasted like it included Sichuan peppercorns was also excellent. In general it seemed the kitchen did its best work when using Asian flavors. Lesser lights were the baby octopus in an over-garlicky cream sauce and the lobster in a rather bland cauliflower coulis. These were not bad dishes by any means; in other restaurants they might have been highlights. But they fell short of the heights the kitchen was able to achieve in other dishes. One obvious thread throughout all the dishes, regardless of preparation, was the absolute freshness and quality of the ingredients, including the garnishes. This alone counts for a great deal, whatever the variations otherwise. Our sommelier was helpfulness personified, and we felt at ease leaving everything in her able hands. The only wine that disappointed was an anemic New World port (either from Australia or NZ) at the end of the meal that fell far short of the high marks set by the previous wines. I look forward to returning to Black Salt as the seasons change. This kitchen does marvelous things.

Has anyone ever been here? If it has at least average Indian fare, I'll go. But, given that it's on the Hill, I'm skeptical. ← I've been there a few times recently and liked it, though I am not a connoisseur of Indian food. It's nothing special, but I would say it merits at least "average". The service is friendly and welcoming. White Tiger is better.

I had dinner at Belga Cafe last night. In view of the mixed reviews it has received, I'm very happy to say that my experience was a positive one. The place was bustling at 7:30 and stayed that way for the two-and-a-half hours I was there. That is always a heartwarming sight on the Hill, and I hope the crowds are a sign that Belga is here to stay. Before I get to the food, let me say how attractive and inviting the space is: swanky and urbane, but also warm and inviting. The long wall of exposed brick and the illuminated plaster ceiling rosette on the wall as you enter are nice touches that remind you that you're on the Hill. I started with an appetizer special of mussels Provencal--basically escargots but with mussels in place of snails. About twenty diminutive but plump mussels arrived on a platter, still sizzling. They were practically swimming in olive oil, but that didn't matter. The flavors were, well, Provencal, and it was a great opening. I then had a salad of baby greens with a yoghurt dressing. This actually was my favorite dish of the evening. Dressing salads with yoghurt or cream is very common in central Europe, and when living there I had my share of abominations. But this version was a revelation. The sweet tang of the yoghurt was balanced perfectly, and the presentation was beautiful. My last course was the Flemish stew, served with Belga's increasingly famous frittes. This dish didn't try to pretend to be anything other than what it was: a basic carbonnade a la flammande, with tender chunks of beef just beginning to disintegrate from their braise, paired with red cabbage. Simple and deeply flavored home-style cooking, nothing more. I admired how the chef stuck to the honesty and authenticity of this dish and let it speak for itself. A few quibbles: The frittes were a bit flacid--not quite the combination of crisp and fluffy that I had expected. The bar did not have Calvados, though my martini was perfect, and the espresso was tepid. Service was a bit slow at first (they seemed really slammed) but once things got going, my French- (or Walloon-?) accented server combined sharp efficiency with friendliness in a way that transported me back to Europe--as did much of the food. All I can say is, thank God Belga is on the Hill, and I wish it the best of luck.

Has anyone been there? I've heard it's one of the best places in the region, but see no mention of it by fellow egulleteers or on other sites. Can it be?