Grub

I lived in Dublin for six months, and found this place to be the best bet -- The Lord Edward. It is really a pub, on the two first floors, but the third floor holds what is claimed to be the oldest seafood restaurant in Dublin. I don't know if that's true, but I do know that their speciality -- sole -- is unbelievable. I had the plain sole-on-the-bone the first time, and wanted to order the same again, the next time I went there, because it was utterly fantastic, but I forced myself to order a different kind of sole... Next time, I wanted to order THAT dish again, but managed to order a different dish -- sole, again... And so, I had four different dishes of sole, and they were all absolutely fantastic. I don't think too many restaurants could pull that off. Impossible to decide on a favorite, but I'd make it a split decision between the plain on-the-bone, and the sole "stuffed" (rolled around) some smoked salmon. Very, very, very highly recommended.

This infomercial is fantastic. The English guy is just classic (people with English accents are either evil genius villains, or just plain geniuses, as we all know...) The general cleavage is awesome. The lady with the cigarette is hillarious -- I guess she's the character that is supposed to show us that even the lowest common denominator would love this product. The Infomercial is like the professional wrestling of cooking shows. I'd like to see an informercial on an ordinary household item, like a chef's knife: "You can chop, you can slice, you can dice -- you can even peal a clove of garlic in 1/2 a nanosecond! (*bam*) AND, you can move your brunoise from the chopping board to the pan JUST like THAT!" ... But WAIT, there's MORE! ...

I don't have any answers on that one, but just want to say that I completely agree... Indian restaurants in Britain (and Ireland) have a taste that I've never managed to find in any Indian restaurant in the US. I'm just SO glad to hear someone else express this opinion, because I had started to suspect that I was just imagining this. The sad bit about this is that I've tried to cook Indian foods from books that I'd consider both low-end, pop-culture genre, and high-end authentic stuff, and I've come to realize that the British variety of Indian curries aren't necessarily authentic Indian food (rather obvious in retrospect, I guess).

Hey, if I wuz approached by some crepes-demanding, hunched-backed zombie, I'd be a little unsettled too.

For Norway, try "Kjøttkaker" -- "meat cakes." They're similar to meatballs, but shaped like -- well, like crabcakes. This is sort of the unofficial national dish, both served as a formal Sunday dinner with sauerkraut ("surkål") and cranberries ("tyttebær") as well as a casual week-day meal as a leftover casserole with brown gravy. For a more "challenging" experience, try Lutefisk. This is (typically) cod, that has been treated in a strong solution of sodium or potassium hydroxide -- I used to think it was paint thinner, but it turns out it's just lye :). This, you either love or hate. There are lutefisk appreciation societies there, and during Christmas time when the dish tends to be served, restaurants will have signs out on the sidewalks, announcing that the Lutefisk has arrived. I don't personally like this dish, but a friend of mine just got completely hooked on it. I only tried it in a not-so-impressive café, so I guess the best bet is to stick with a slightly upscale restaurant. (With Kjøttkaker, you can't go wrong -- even the worst dive serves fantastic Kjøttkaker.) A much more mundane dish is Fiskeboller (fish balls). These are egg-shaped, served in a white sauce. There's also Fiskepudding (fish pudding), which is slightly denser and has a browned surface -- I love both, but prefer the latter. Then there's fårikål -- a lamb-in-cabbage stew. If you like lamb, this is a must. But above all else, there's Molter -- Cloudberries. Or rather, as it is properly served, as cloudberry cream: Moltekrem. Cloudberries are the Beluga caviar of berries. They are grown in Norway, Sweden and Finland (The Fins make an excellent cloudberry liqueur called Lakka -- or Lapponia Lakka -- which you will treasure as a beautiful reminder, once you've tasted cloudberry cream. You can buy this in any tax-free airport shop (cheaper) but if you're desperate, there are the state-run booze monopoly shops Systembolaget/Vinmonopolet) -- I don't know about Iceland, but I don't think they grow em in Denmark. Cloudberries have the shape of very large, amber-colored raspberries. They don't taste anything like raspberries though -- it's impossible to describe their taste, other than to say that it is unbelievable. It is considered the most exquisite delicacy -- it is a traditional desert at weddings, and people have actually been killed in territorial disputes over these things. Highly recommended. One note though: Like raspberries, cloudberries have seeds. But since cloudberries are larger than raspberries, they have larger seeds, and tourists will often spit the seeds out -- don't. Doing this ruins your experience -- it's as if you're eating a fish, having to spit out hundreds of bones. The seeds are meant to be eaten. Norwegian hotdogs ("Pølse i brød" ie., sausage-in-bread) are fantastic. Seriously. Get the cheapest on the menu (typically called Wienerpølse if I remember correctly) -- they are longer and thinner than the pricier alteratives. You can buy these from hotdog stands in the streets -- and even at the Gardemoen airport. There's also the old-fashioned pølse i lompe, where the hot dog bun is scrapped in favor of a Norwegian lefse -- a sweet potato tortilla of sorts. The Danes also have a unique sausage -- wrapped in bright red skin. It tends to be served as-is, with a few daubs of ketchup, mustard (and some other brown relish) just on a paper plate. Quite good, and worth checking out -- it's kinda weird to eat a bright red hotdog. There's also knekkebrød -- crispbread, which should be experienced with geitost -- goat cheese. This is an open-faced sandwich kinda deal, served for breakfast, or lunch. Gravlax, meatballs and lingonberries, you can probably experience fairly well in the US, but the pickled herring you can't. My personal fave is the Apetittsild ("appetite herring") variety that you can buy in any supermarket there -- there are a lot of other spice and flavor mixes, that you might like better, if you like unusual tastes, but well, this is the one I preferred. You should go there during the summer time, if at all possible. If you're fond of snow and the wintertime, I'm sure it'd be a complete paradise -- but if you're not, the summers in this region can be fantastic. It's a lot warmer than you'd expect, seen that the gulf stream hits it. Oh, oh, oh -- I just remembered... There is ONE unforgettable meal you can experience in Oslo (or anywhere else in Norway for that matter) -- shrimp. In Oslo's harbor, there are temporary stands/cafés that serves fresh shrimp, and it's an experience not to be missed. You can even buy it straight off the boats. Get a local to show you how to peel them -- it's easy once you learn it -- and eat them as-is, or on a slice of French loaf with some mayo and a squirt of lemon juice. Nirvana. Knock that back with some cold Norwegian Pilsner beer and bask in the summertime sun -- you'll never forget the experience.

The notion that "the customer is always right" isn't very realistic -- I mean c'mon obviously, it's completely untrue. "Le client est roi" is a far more constructive motto -- kings aren't always right... They can be snooty, ignorant, ill tempered morons -- you know, the product of centuries of enthusiastic and fervent inbreeding, the likes of which would make the banjo player from 'Deliverance' look like a Nobel prize winning GQ cover model... Etc... But he's still the king. Don't get me wrong -- I do sympathize. I've been to restaurants with people so completely out of line I woulda paid good money to see the cook emerge from the kitchen and beat the bastard to death with a meat tenderizer. In the end it just comes down to market economy: if you aren't willing to accommodate morons, someone's sure to snag the market from you. If your food is so good, and attracts so many people that you occasionally can tell moronic customers to take a hike, hey -- all the more power to you.

I'd never be able to restrict myself to a single book, so at most, I guess I'd go with this old "Woman's Day" encyclopedia series I've got laying around... It may seem completely outdated, and is filled with the type of discolored food pictures that end up being mocked on the Internet, but it has an enormous amount of great information, and although some aspects truly are outdated, it gives you a good insight into the way fads and fashions change in the food industry. Better Homes and Garden ring-bound (convenient) is great also. Right now, I'm going through the 7th edition of the Culinary Institute of America's "The Professional Chef." A tad ambitious, but great information. Does anyone "annotate" their books? I always try to jot down a few notes about dishes I make...

One of the first dishes I felt I had gotten a good handle on was Sole Veronique. I hadn't, of course... I got too confident and didn't do much in the way of planning, just casually grabbed some fillets, cream and grapes, and realized at the last moment hey -- no white wine!? Waddaya do? Oh lookie here, rose cooking wine. That'll do the trick, right? Auugh!

The reason why people avoid MSG is because of the so-called "Chinese Restaurant Syndrome" -- when people started claiming that they were getting headaches from eating there, in the 60s and 70s. Undoubtedly, there are those with genuine allergies, but I figure some of the reactions were just people becoming lethargic from overeating. So you got mass hysteria backlash against it, and restaurants going MSG-free to placate them... There are foods advertised as MSG-free today, that contains additives that are closely related to MSG, and have similar properties, but since there never was any similar backlash and media coverage against those additives, there was never any similar taboos them.

I know a guy who'd happily do those "bar-mat shots" whenever he ran low on funds while in college. He also described a vile concoction named an "Abortion" that included an egg yolk, orange pulp, and a lot of sickeningly sweet liqueurs, and high-alcohol liquors -- made me sick just hearing the description. (Edit: me no spel so gud)

Schtupid question, but -- why on earth do chefs wear clogs? Out of all the different footwear options, these things seem like one of the last picks I'd go for...

The Japanese tea ceremony always sounded interesting, so I was real eager to check it out on my visit to Tokyo. I told the local guy (who was showing me around) about this, but he dragged me to a bar in Roppongi instead -- and since I'd spent the last half year in Ireland, he bought a round of Guinness. I was yearning to check out the amazing culture of this place -- Shinto shrines, Buddhist temples, theatres and whatnot. Instead, I'm in a bar surrounded by exuberantly cocky US Marine types embassy guards, and Japanese girls -- very obviously out to score themselves said jarheads. It was like a really bad Vietnam war movie or something. Worst pint of the black stuff I ever tasted, too. Eventually, I did get him to take me to a place that served the stuff, and also sold it. Got a chawan bowl, whisk, spoon-thingie, and a lacquered container for the powder -- reasonably priced. Stuff doesn't taste too bitter, but as Jinmyo said, I don't see any reason to drink this outside the tea ceremony itself... I found other places that sold the stuff, but at utterly astronomical prices. Bowls that costs thousands of dollars, even tens of thousands of dollars -- I find it hard to believe now, in retrospect, but really, I'm pretty sure I saw bowls in that range. And it made me think -- isn't the tea ceremony supposed to be about simplicity? I just don't reckon you'll reach enlightenment any sooner with a $12,000 chawan, than sipping the stuff out of a Kmart soup bowl.

Sara Moulton is being dumped, and they're running three shows with Rachael Ray? Last of R-Ray's shows I saw, she was fawning over Tony Danza like crazy, nattering on about how dangerous it was to be served food by a "dangerously attractive man..." Her sycophantic episodes with Dennis Franz and Morgan Freeman border on parodies. Duh.

Ah cool, I'll definitely have to check some of those out -- I'm a huge fan of Tampopo; utter brilliance. Chocolat was also very good. Now, how about Delicatessen? Post-apocalyptic cannibalism -- but done tastefully, in a French gourmet kinda style, like.

As they say -- if you're important enough, people will wait for you... From an anthropological point of view, being perpetually late is simply an establishment of a social pecking order (even if it is done in a vaguely subconscious manner). People can deal with waiting on superiors at work, even if it may be frustrating and irritating, but nothing drives 'em up the wall as much as having to wait on friends -- why is that? It's because at work, the pecking order is clearly established, and even if you disagree with the pecking order, you do grudgingly accept it. Pecking orders amongst children are easy enough to observe, but amongst adults, things get a bit subtler -- most often, we tend to pretend they don't even exist. But they do.

Awesome, thanks again!

I'm a tad on the late side here -- new to the forum and whatnot -- but I just wanted to offer my gratitude, as I finally managed to make a decent Hollandaise sauce after reading this (for a baked puff pastry "Wellington" salmon w/cream spinach, and sautéed asparagus -- best meal I've made in eons). I did use a double boiler though, rather than a straight saucepan, since I've had quite a few failures with that method. It was excellent. I've one question though: The other recipes that I've tried (and failed with) have had a significantly higher yolk-to-butter ratio. 4 oz (1 stick) to one yolk, compared to 3 yolks to 1/2 butter (which I'm fairly certain isn't more than 1 stick) on cooking.com. Is there a reason for this? Does less yolk make it easier, or does it have any other effect on the end result?

Wouldn't the result of a stupid customer vs. arrogant chef encounter be a plain Darwinian one? The point of Seinfeld's soup nazi was exactly that his soups were appreciated enough, for people to tolerate his antics. If New York was populated by people who grew up on microwaved Campbell's' soup, maybe he'd be out of business. You can't be a soup nazi unless two criteria are met: you make great soup, AND your customers recognize how good it is. When someone has a wildly inflated opinion of their abilities, that's obviously arrogant. But what if your abilities actually matched your ego, is that still arrogance? Maybe, but I'd rather call it a lack of grace and social skills -- and possibly a lack of business skills. I personally wish for all good chefs to be blessed with informed and appreciative customers. If you can stay in business while throwing out those who aren't -- all the more power to you.

Fillet Mignon Béarnaise with Duchess Potatoes. Was going to do the Béarnaise sauce from scratch, but at the last moment, discovered that I only had a single egg left, so I made it from a sauce pack (hey, I'm no snob!) and used the egg for the Duchess potatoes instead (rather than the planned baked, fanned potatoes). Adapt and improvise I say. I'm just barely good enough where I can improvise things like this -- it used to be, if I was missing a single thing, I would be completely stuck (or would just destroy the meal). Blue cheese chicken & pear salad, a simplified Blanquette de Veau, chocolate mousse. Everything worked out just right on this one. Bun Bo Hue (first recipe I've attempted off of eGullet!). Ended up a lot spicier than I expected -- but I'm not too familiar with Vietnamese food.

Video-game lore has it that Pacman got its name from the "pacu-pacu" phrase, due to its creators' pizza nibbling...

My first encounter with Japanese food was tuna sashimi at Monterey Bay Canners -- I ate everything, save for the oyster-like shell with some green stuff that I tragically assumed to be (drumrolls, please...) -- guacamole. I don't like nor dislike guacamole, but figured I might as well finish everything, and scooped all of it up in a spoon and swallowed it. The table went silent all of a sudden, and I heard someone ask someone else, if that dude just ate that whole wad of wasabi? It was quite the out-of-body experience -- drooling, crying, and babbling to myself while this high-pitched humming sound went through my head. Since then, I've become slightly (but only very slightly) more knowledgeable about sushi. Love maguro and hamachi in particular. The crazy, obviously non-authentic rolls are great, but there's something wonderfully intense about eating just straight sashimi. Besides, the rice can be very filling. Sashimi, and then maybe a few pieces of nigiri sushi is what I go for most often. Some years ago, I was lucky enough to visit Japan on business, and had some great food there (and an overall fantastic experience), but my first meal a little different... I went to a small bar/restaurant with a Japanese dude (friend of a friend), run by a middle-aged woman, who served beer and little fried snacks like yakitori. I guess there's probably a name for a place like this -- it was filled with officer workers; salarimen. Well, I was eager to try some sushi, and so I asked for it. Here's where my cultural ignorance got me into trouble -- this place obviously wasn't a sushi type place... But rather than telling me this, they tried fixing up some maguro sashimi instead. It was frozen, and partially thawed out... Before going to Japan, I was worried about making some sort of unforgivable social faux pas -- being a bit of a socially oblivious, proverbial elephant in a china shop -- and there I was, first day in town, everyone's embarrassed, we're picking at some frozen blocks of tuna, and I'm thinking, dude, Japanese sushi sucks. Oh well, live and learn.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm having visions of some sorta Monty Python-meets John Belushi's Samurai Chef skit here -- imagine Toshiro Mifune as the chef, emerging from the kitchen, throwing uncooked crab-cakes at the customers, and committing seppuku with a butter-knife, while John Cleese wails in the background. "Lucky we didn't say anything about the dirty knife..." Uh, maybe that IS just me... (Edit, removed Copyrighted Monty Python pic...)

A friend of mine once forgot to put the lid back on the BBQ. It was windy that night, and the cinders caused a fire that nearly burned down the apartment complex... No one noticed until the neighbors came running, hollering and waving fire extinguishers around -- we opened the door to the balcony, and the flames were up above the roof. It was an extremely frightening, and disturbing sight. Eventually, we did manage to put the fire out, but whoa, it really was touch-and-go for a while. Then, fire brigade arrived. While the fire seemed to be out, they obviously had to make sure, and so started tearing the wall apart with fervor (to the great distress of the poor dude who lived there) -- I got the impression that perhaps it had been a long time since they had a chance to do their job... A really young looking fireman came running, hauling a huge chainsaw, and we collectively groaned, and asked if they were really gonna have to use a freakin' chainsaw? Oh no, there won't be any need for that, replied a gray-haired fireman -- obviously the chief of the crew -- the young fireman looked completely crest-fallen. However, the moment the chief left the scene, he fired that thing up and went to town... This cute, female firefighter strolled in and dumped a tank and a mask on the floor -- I thought this was pretty cool and just couldn't help myself (besides being a complete dork): "Whoa, ah, you're a smoke diver, uh?" She looked at me deadpan and replied, "No. I'm an attic-monkey." Then she climbed up into the attic, dragging a big sledgehammer behind her, and started beating the ever-living crap out of the wall. This was a petite woman, but you'd think there was an 800lb gorilla on PCP having a bad day up there. A bit later, two guys are pulling like mad, trying to bring the rain-gutter down... The chief returns, steps onto the balcony, and takes his helmet off to wipe the sweat from his brow, and -- *CLOINK* -- the gutter comes crashing down, on the chief's non-helmeted head... The two who pulled it down immediately started trying to lay the blame on the other guy, sounding like complete jackasses: - "Way to go, man, just ripping it down like that!" - "Oh yeah, way to go not giving a warning, dude!" Freakin' Keystone Firefighters. Oh, and Keystone BBQ-ers too, I guess... Moral of the story -- put the lid back on, and don't leave anything near the BBQ, like bags of coal and suchlike.