Suzanne F

After reading this thread, I was panting, drooling, champing at the bit, ready to try out Landmarc. So last night we strolled over, and . . . closed for the holiday weekend!!!!! It's a good thing Landmarc is close. While we are technically not considered to be living in Tribeca (we're east of Broadway), I still think of it as a neighborhood place. (We ended up at Arqua, a true gem.)

Sometimes, the restaurant's response to customers' special occasions is not tangible -- assigning a "better" table than they might otherwise be assigned, or even just accepting the reservation itself when the restaurant might otherwise be fully booked. In those circumstances, the customers might not realize that they are, if fact, receiving something of perceptable value.

There's a DVD of the White Lily Baking School, with Shirley demonstrating her "Touch-of-Grace" Biscuits. They do indeed look heavenly -- and perfect for someone like me who tends to mess up making biscuits. The recipe is printed in Cookwise, but if you can get the DVD, do -- she's a hoot!

Dudette... in the oft used words of my current drinking hero (yes that's you NeroW)... I am NOT gonna touch that one. And you shouldn't either. At least not in your state. Why not? What's the legal age for guys there? Okay, back on topic: It couldn't be THAT bad a hangover if you want to eat. Could it?

Hmmm Don't you generally find that baking powder, yeast, or eggs are better leaveners? How do you adapt the baking formula for amusement? Oh, I guess that's laughing gas.

Thanks for the report. We've had some very nice pre-theater meals there, too. And how great to see from their Web site that it's a member of Slow Foods. And for those who wonder, I don't believe this place is any relation to the chain of bakery-cafes.

Last night was the Roasted Beet salad I mentioned on the Grated Orange Zest thread -- damn, I wish I had a camera, it was beautiful, if I say so myself. Plus the usual mixed salad, and "Lamb Hash" with leftover roast lamb and baked potatoes all chunked up and heated with the last of my carmelized onions and some lamb jus. Salmon Run Pinot Noir. The night before, I roasted a chicken after first smearing herb butter under the skin. Baked potatoes (with extra for last night's hash), steamed broccoli, salad, Wagner Reserve Pinot Noir.

No question, other than: How did you write such an excellent, thorough lesson? But in the spirit of free exchange of ideas, I do want to remind people of this piece from TDG. (I neither endorse nor disapprove of the author's premise.)

Interesting start on this issue in today's Diner's Journal:

Oh, you mean this? (Note: this link will expire around the end of June, 2004.)

Well, I could have sworn that someone posted the suggestion that I followed, but now I can't find it: Roasted beets, cooled and peeled Sliced red onion Vanilla vinegar Lemon Juice Hazelnut oil Torn basil leaves S & P and . . . grated orange zest. Pretty damn good. But I've still got lots more in the freezer -- waiting until local tomatoes are in

A suggestion: don't even consider using actual key limes. They are tiny, and a royal pain to squeeze. You will drive yourself crazy. There are reputable brands of bottled key lime juice on the market, available at the stores already mentioned and other fancy food shops. As for a recipe, the best one I know is the simplest: 1/2 cup lime juice One 14-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk One 8- or 9-inch graham cracker crust Whipped cream, optional Persian lime slices or zest curls, optional Mix juice and milk thoroughly. Pour into crust. Cover with plastic wrap. Freeze. Garnish with whipped cream and Persian lime slices or zest, if you like. Serve. Accept compliments graciously. Variations, all of which are nice but do not make it any better: Add 3 egg yolks and bake at 350 degrees F for 15 minutes; let cool before refrigerating. Substitute reduced-fat or fat-free sweetened condensed milk. Add grated lime zest to the filling. Use a different crust -- as long as it does not require baking (even if you're doing the egg yolk version).

The little sprigs you break off to use for garnish. You know, like when there's a tiny set of leaves perched on top of the dish -- that's a pluche. At least, that's what I've always heard them called. Sorry to be confusing.

Oh, yes. Possibly the first appearance of tapas in New York, many years ahead of the curve. Mmmm, snails and red beans. We always thought it was funny to have dinner at The Ballroom, followed by a show at The Kitchen. But are you sure about it being on Ninth Ave? I remember somewhere in Soho, then moved to West 27th or so. In any case, you're right to bring it up.

At work, I used to keep the pluches in a quart plastic container, in water, tightly covered, in the lowboy. They would keep a couple of days, especially if I changed the water after each lunch and dinner service. At home, I stand the whole bunch up in a jar of water, drape with a sheet of paper towel, and then loosely cover the whole thing with a plastic bag. In the coldest part of the fridge, it keeps about a week (by which time I've used it up, anyway).

When you do a scientific experiment or analyze data, you need a large enough sample (N = total number of observations or pieces of data) to ensure that your results won't be skewed by the outliers (the observations or pieces of data at the extreme ends of the scale -- the bits at each end of the normal distribution bell curve). So if you only have an N of 1, it means you've collected only one piece of data, and whatever that is will be your result. Not a good statistical sample. At least, that's how I remember it. And Mix is rather too expensive for me to gather data there very many times.

Oh, gosh, I usually just throw in whatever my hand hits when I reach out to the spice rack: a healthy dose of sweet spices, such as the aforementioned coriander and cinnamon, maybe the tiniest pinch of cloves, some cardamom, ground ginger, allspice -- that's why I first said "ras al hanout" which is a blend, usually very personal. Also a little salt and pepper, maybe a pinch of cayenne. I also like to add a couple of glugs of bitters. Not much of a fan of adding crumbs, they make it a bit too compact, although they can be good for holding on to the tasty fat. Anyway, I don't usually measure, just dump stuff in. Sorry. Claudia Roden's basic recipe includes only meat, S & P, chopped parsley, and grated or minced onion. Variations add chopped fresh mint; cinnamon and allspice; cumin and ground coriander; red pepper flakes or ground chili. So go with your favorite spices. She also suggests threading 1 1/2 inch slices of thin (Japanese?) eggplant between the lumps of meat. Deconstructed moussaka?

Mix some yogurt and Middle Eastern spices into the meat (ras al hanout; or a combination of cumin, coriander, cinnamon, etc.) then shape them into small patties or short cylinders, skewer, and grill or broil as kofta. Serve with couscous or rice pilaf, tzatziki, and the spinach, sauteed, with raisins and nuts.

You mean, spaghetti and such? It's just unnecessary. Unless you're going to make it into a pasta salad, in which case it's easier to deal with if you break if first. (Although to me, making a pasta salad = committing a crime )

Really? I'm semi-suprised by this. I would imagine that it could be done in a few minutes during the afternoon preptime or post-dinner cleanup. Oh, Herb, those are THE WORST times! That's when, in the first case, everyone is going crazy trying to get everything ready so that service will go off without a hitch, and in the second, when everyone is trying to get cleaned up and get OUT! Out of the way space? in a badly-designed kitchen (as most are) where space is already at a premium? Sorry, but the line cook in me couldn't help that.

Also check out this thread, started with a request by none other than Tony Bourdain -- and you know nobody wants to steer HIM wrong!

Aha. This explains why I was refused a copy of the menu earlier yesterday when I requested it. Here is an exchange of e-mails (not sure why the times are as they are): Sorry, Lauren, somehow your thread escaped my notice. Didn't know you had us all scooped. In any case: I never ate there before. So my impressions are based only on the here-and-now. And this report is based on my recollections and notes, with a boost from FG's post. Classic Bellini: Not exactly classic, as it was made with neither Prosecco, nor (apparently) white peach. And it would have been better if, when the wine was poured onto the puree, the two had mixed. As it was made, there was dry wine, and then there was sweet fruit. Peanut Butter and Jelly Amuse(?): I can only guess that this is the intent. I do know that for me, it did not work. The bread put me in mind of Le Pain Quotidien's rye: dense, chewy, sour -- but seemingly cut and placed in its rack far enough in advance to be somewhat dried out (unless one side was lightly toasted? hard to tell; all I could feel was dry). I love that bread, but it is the ultimate appetite-deadener. I could not bring myself to taste the housemade PB or jelly; again, not my idea of an amuse. It was, in fact, whisked away once I had ordered, and replaced with more expected bread -- quite good small, white, torpedo-shaped loaves -- once my meal began to arrive. Gruner Veltliner 2000 (?), Herrenholtz: First, a mention of the "Wine Expert" (as she introduced herself to me): a charming young Japanese woman, clearly more comfortable speaking French (she worked in France before coming here) than English. It took several tried on her part to get me to understand that she was a "Wine Expert" (one of several, I gather, since she was not the only one in a leather apron), and it wasn't all that noisy at the time. In any case, since I knew what I would be ordering, I asked for her suggestions. This Gruner Veltliner was to go with the "Duck Foie Gras Ravioli with savory broth" -- an odd choice, I thought at first, but hey, she was Ms. Wine Expert. Then I tasted it, and it was . . . not just odd, but totally wrong, to my palate. The wine itself was fine, a crisp, peppery paradigm. Which completely disappeared when drunk with the food. Duck Foie Gras Ravioli with savory broth: Even though my experience at ADNY led me to believe that the French should not attempt pasta, the other main element of the dish called to me. Did this change my opinion? In a word, maybe. But an N of 1 is not enough evidence. The pasta part was fine, properly al dente, and thin enough so that the edges were not overly chewy. And the broth was indeed savory: a chicken consomme, as I gathered from Ms. W.E. Not particularly hot when poured over the plate, but savory nonetheless. It was the duck foie gras that was curious here. There was plenty of it, on its own as a bed for the ravioli, and mixed with (very very sweet) carrots for the filling. What seemed odd was its texture and taste: more like plain old duck liver than foie, and cooked before being chopped, at that. So it, too, was chewy, rather than expectedly unctuous. And, as already mentioned, it and the wine did each other no favors. Niebaum-Coppola Cabernet Franc: Obviously not French, as I had said in my e-mail. Started out hugely, roundly, intensely grapey -- not unpleasant, but totally of grapes. Evolved into moderately raisiny. Ms. W.E. redeemed herself. This one worked quite well with: Duck Breast a l'orange: Fat Guy's description is good, as far as it goes. But it does not go far enough: this may be the best duck dish EVER, for a duck lover. I'm not sure that a nonlover would go for it, though, because the gamey flavor was really, really intense. But yes, the breast virtually melted, it was so tender even at a relatively rare doneness. And the shredded confit and small well-crisped square of leg were also tender and intense. What got me was the at first seemingly bizarre elements of black olive and Belgian endive. Normally, I am not a fan of "a l'orange;" but this had the essence of orange-ness, ever so slightly sweet and citrusy with a good kick of bitterness. Wait -- bitter! that's it!! The olives and endive both contributed their own distinct bitternesses to the dish, and worked as foils to highlight and contrast the richness of the meat and sweetness of the orange. In a word, wow. (I couldn't tell that the supremes were of tangerine, but I was impressed with the knife skills on them and the endive leaves. As I had been with the carrot matignon in the ravioli filling.) Green salad: just a nice, plain green salad -- oversalted but otherwise properly (lightly) dressed baby leaves of frisee, tatsoi, red oak leaf, green leaf, and a little radicchio. This was a special request, apparently there is nothing so simple on the menu. On my bill it was listed as "Vegetarian;" and at $13, a bit steep, to my mind, for what was basically mesclum mix. And the skinny, half-size three-prong fork was just plain ridiculous -- hard to hold, hard to use. I'm not dainty enough to appreciate it, I guess. Massenez Eau de Vie, Wild Raspberries: intense, almost perfumey nose. My own choice, not recommended by Ms. W.E. Complemented the: Four Seasons Panna Cotta: the season is mostly still winter, and for that I am grateful. Four shooters, each with a marmalade bottom layer topped with coconut-flavored panna cotta, itself topped with raspberry coulis. The marmalades were banana, orange, grapefruit, and Meyer lemon. Again, I am in total agreement with Fat Guy on their wonderfulness. I was on the verge of embarrassing myself by sticking my tongue into each glass -- necessary since the round spoon does not fit with the squareish glasses. But decorum prevailed. Espresso: good, if lacking in crema. I was shocked, shocked by the coffee service, though: two nearly-unopenable cylinders, one with packets of artificial sweeteners (the usual pink and blue), and one with plain old white granulated sugar. Deeply disappointing. As bad as if there had been a stack of cheap z-fold paper towels in the restroom (which there was not; the restroom was appropriately classy.) Post-dessert mignardise: the toasted-sugar-encrusted almonds were pleasant, nothing more nor less. Mine were simply delivered in their quasi-Chinese soup spoon. The table next to me got the production of having them scooped out of the copper bowl in which they were presumably made -- just like the street carts. This, and the madeleines (which I did not take) offered directly from the baking plaque also seemed declasse rather than populist. Service etc. notes: On my arrival (6 pm), many staff standing around, chatting loudly: not good. As the place filled up, many staff rushing around, doing their jobs: better. Attempts on each course to remove my plate before I was done (not good) but at least they asked rather than just trying to grab it (better). Waiting rather a long time to be asked if I wanted my check: so-so. Being presented with my check without my having asked for it: not good. A bottle of mineral water I did not order placed on my bill: very, very not good. The charge promptly removed: okay, but still. The orange plastic sheath in which the check was presented: The decor, which made me think of Jacques Tati's Playtime: why do the French think that modern equals 1960s??? And why does anyone still think that the noise created by all hard surfaces (except for the banquettes) equals good buzz? edited by Phaelon56 at Suzanne F's request to remove names from email contents

Okay, the rest of the Amazon shipment came: Alan Davidson's North Atlantic Seafood Eve Zibart: The Ethnic Food Lover's Companion Third edition of The New Food Lover's Companion; (number 2 just has too many omissions now) Ian Hemphill: The Spice and Herb Bible and a bunch of eG-relatives: The Slow Mediterranean Kitchen Monica Bhide's 2 books, The Spice is Right and The Everything Indian Cookbook and, because I finally realized I'd never get it for free, The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating. So that's 8 more.

Oh, no, you shouldn't. From what I've heard, that show is sort of STOMP with kitchen implements. Someone -- bloviatrix? -- posted about it, I think, when it originally opened at the New Victory.

You could probably go almost anywhere in black tie. Except maybe biker bars. Otherwise, we're pretty tolerant. Actually, Maxime's (now gone) used to require it.