H. du Bois

I never heard of this place until a couple of months ago, when I read this thread. Very unusual. I may not have eaten at some of the older restaurants, but I tend to know that they exist. Why would that be? Is Keens a male bastion kind of place, or is it a tourist haunt that natives avoid?

Daniel, you crack me up. I've been there a few times, though not in recent years. It's a great place to do a group thing - the drinks and food are festive. It's fun. I don't remember food specifics beyond two things - it was the first time I'd ever eaten hearts of palm, and I loved them. And once someone ordered foie gras for our table without knowing what it was. I was the only one who would eat it (the others wouldn't touch it). Poor me.

My apartment is an oven tonight. Last night we lost electricity due to a big electrical fire beneath the street in front of our building, which meant no A/C, no refrigeration, no nothing. Not the way anyone wants to spend a heat wave in New York, especially when you have to shut your windows to keep out the smoke. (Cute firemen, though). I've just dumped out half the contents of my refrigerator, and am about to do what all New Yorkers do when the going gets tough - eat out. I think the mango salad at my local Thai place is calling my name. And maybe a drink with an umbrella in it.

It's hella hot in New York today. I was just at the grocery, and couldn't even look at anything that involved heating. So it's goat cheese on crackers with salad for me. And pears.

Bryan, birthday wishes to you, and congratulations on a fine and engaging blog. Actually, it was a very timely blog for me - I'd just stumbled across Bourdain's show on Ferran Adria, and it was something of a revelation for me (I'd previously viewed molecular gastronomy with a sceptical eye). So there I was, primed and curious about it all, and there you were to talk about it. I hope to read a lot more about what you are up to - really, you are doing very interesting work. (Looks pretty damned tasty, too).

The ability to be a good critic isn’t always tied to expertise in a particular field. The novelists James Agee and Graham Greene were both excellent film critics, neither of whom had a background in the cinema, though perhaps their ability to work with narrative forms and to express themselves articulately were the basis of their success. When I judge a critic, I look to see if they can articulate and illuminate an experience. What do they bring to the table? Will their opinion color my own experience? Is what they say of any practical use to me? The older I grow, the less useful I find critics in general. Perhaps I’ve come to know my own tastes far better; perhaps critics are less skilled at their jobs. Or perhaps there are just too many critics out there now – so much talk, so little to say. I’m educated in one of the arts, and though I do still read reviews, it tends to be after the fact, to see if they’ve confirmed or disagreed with my own opinion. Or to see if they’ve brought up a perspective I hadn’t considered before (they rarely do). As far as Bruni and the NYT reviews go, I don’t give him a great deal of weight. Between the NYT, New York Magazine, Time Out, various websites and all the die-hard restaurant-goers in this town, there are many variables one can use to weigh a restaurant’s merit. Personally, I’d take the opinion of a passionate amateur whose taste I trust over most critics any day.

Thank you, Hiram. Great info. For what little it's worth, I called Mr. Scientific American, who corrected and clarified some of the things I'd said: - I was incorrect - it wasn't the Pernod Fils' recipe, but rather a mid-19th century French one. - He did distill it after maceration (he was a chemist - there are no doubts as to his skills or understanding of this process). The colorants he used were Roman wormwood (petite), hyssop & lemon balm. - He noted that as well as being bitter, it didn't cloud up when water was added to it, and said that he'd had doubts about the provenance/quality of the herbs he'd bought. He did not consider the experiment a success. I concur - it was nasty. Speaking of which, I just opened the two Czech bottles - all for the sake of science, of course. The Listerine green stuff tastes like cough syrup without the syrup. The Vincent van Gogh stuff is vile and bitter, and I can't get the taste of it out of my mouth. (No wonder he looks like he's going to lop off the other ear). Off to gargle with milk. Or something. Ugh.

My god, Bryan, that lunch looks amazing. You have a great sense of presentation as well - not everyone who cooks well can plate beautifully. Question about dry aging the beef - is it refrigerated while aging, or does it lurk on the counter in its wrap? Sorry you got soaked yesterday - it was a deluge. Bravo to you for keeping up with your schedule nonetheless. And I still keep thinking about your Earl Grey creation.

I guess we consider them ethnic. ← Exotic, too.

A whimsy tax.

I feel your pain. I think of my Korean deli as my pantry - it's always there for anything at any time. I haven't lost any Korean delis, but I've sure gained restaurants. As wonderful as that is, I'm not so keen on having lost my laundromat to yet another dining spot. Try dragging a massive bag of laundry an extra three blocks!

There's a White Castle on 8th Avenue at 36th Street. I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or not to admit it, but I've never eaten at one. Are they considered a New York thing? I'd always thought they were midwestern.

BrooksNYC, thank you for that wonderful offer - I shall PM you. And thank you for all that information - it's invaluable. I didn't know that Czech absinthe was expensive (my two bottles were a gift from someone). I'd presumed that it was on par with Becharovka, moneywise. Good to know it isn't any good - I won't inflict it on my friends. (The Listerine green shade of one of them was a pretty good indicator, though). The absinthe that I'd tasted which was made from the Scientific American recipe was distilled, but whether the maker used infusion at any point in the process, I don't know. I'll have to ask him. From what I recall (and I tasted this a very long time ago, and didn't pay these things much mind), it was the Pernod brothers original recipe. I do agree that I shouldn't judge this drink by only having had the home brew that once. It is telling that I've had those Czech bottles sitting untouched in my cupboard all this time - what I'd sampled that once had given me no inclination to try them.

I must say, this is a marvelous idea. Let a food enthusiast with the metabolism of a healthy teenage boy (and a girl who is capable of eating her own body weight) loose upon the restaurants of New York, where they can eat three times what the rest of us can manage, and live to tell the tale. It will be like three blogs for the price of one! I no longer wonder how you are going to accomplish all that you set out to do. Seriously, Bryan, I'm really enjoying this. I'm not as frequent a visitor on the dinner thread as I should be, and I'd never seen the photos above. I want that Earl Grey creation, and I want one now! I do hope that you'll be doing some cooking this week.

The man who brewed the SA recipe followed it to the milligram, so if the art of drinking it is in the ritual of the slotted spoon, the sugar cube, and the water, it may be that I fucked up the proportions somehow. But it also may be me - I can't even tolerate the bitterness of tonic water. I don't remember the others who drank the absinthe finding it as unpalatable as I did.

I have two bottles of absinthe, bought in the Czech Republic, where it's still legal. Bottle number one, which looks far more like the real thing (it has an appropriately natural herbal green color and real herbs floating within), is produced by L'Or Special Drinks, Pradlo U Nepomuka, and depicts a rather fraught looking Vincent Van Gogh on the label. Bottle number two, produced by Fruko Schulz, is a disturbing shade of Listerine green, but boasts a fetchingly plump, half naked turn-of-the-century cutie on its label. Bottle number two lists no ingredients that I can decipher, as I don't read Czech. Bottle number one says there is a content of thujon 10 mg/l. I've never opened either bottle - am saving them in anticipation of a wild party, although when I look at Renoir's The Absinthe Drinker, I think that absinthe would be more likely to inspire a maudlin mood than mayhem. I have, however, tried the real thing. I'd mentioned in another thread that years ago, Scientific American published the original recipe for absinthe, and anyone with distilling equipment and organic chemistry experience can do it themselves. I can't say whether its effect is hallucinatory, because I couldn't drink enough of it to make that call. That stuff is BITTER. Seriously. Even with the sugar cube and water. Highly alcoholic, though.

I'm really, really looking forward to this food blog. Go Bryan!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE all kinds of sushi AND sashimi. But cannot eat uni. I was just describing it to my FIL the other day as rancid pudding. What SHE said ! Is it because you've had bad uni? The first time I had uni many years ago, it smelled and tasted like garbage, so I avoided it for a few years. I've since had it many times at excellent Japanese restaurants where the uni is sweet and tasting of the sea...there should not be a bad odour or taste. The first two times I ate uni I thought it was one of the most extraordinary and good things I'd ever eaten. The third time, I ordered it with complete confidence, took one bite, and nearly lost my lunch. It has to be fresh, like Lorna describes, or else you have an entirely offensive experience. Try it someplace very good, whose reputation you trust completely. I'd also suggest eating it at the sushi bar, where the chef must look you in the eye as you taste what he's just prepared for you.

Haggis was always at the top of my list of things I thought I would never try, but then I ate it, and damned if it wasn't good. Of course, it was made for me by a Frenchman - perhaps I should defer judgment until it has been cooked for me by a Scot. Marmite, Vegemite & Bovril are items I truly believe you have to have been raised upon in order to tolerate them, much less like them. I have tried. Rochester's garbage plate and Canada's poutine are not foods that you have to be born there to enjoy. They simply require a blood alcohol level well above the legal limit, at which point they become a stupefyingly good idea.

With a name like Du Bois I would have thought you were a shoe-in. The French should be spitting on your shoulders! Alas, du Bois is only a nom de plume. But they should spit on my shoulders anyway.

Sort of, but there isn't going to be enough of a foie gras market to bring on the Al Capones and the relief of bathtub gin. It will probably function more like the Cuban cigar ban (illegal due to the trade embargo). Not that many cigar smokers in this country, but those who are know their worth and would love to smoke them. And, as things like these always go, the super rich simply acquire them as they please. Would love to move to France. Can you help me get an EU passport?

Huh. I've never heard of it, and I've lived here a while (not that that means anything). At the Teddy Roosevelt house they have a snake and reptile club, but I don't think they eat them. Some girl in my grammar school class did come in with chocolate covered bees once, though. Don't remember where she'd got them. I've a book called Bush Tucker which was given me by an Australian friend. Do they still eat witchety grubs over there?

I don't think you're being incendiary. I think that you, as a New Yorker (or anyone who lives in a large city with great restaurants) have had a few decades more than the rest of the country of exposure to chefs who work with seasonal produce and artisanal products. I'm familiar with the area Tammy just visited, and until fairly recently, some of the restaurants she's described would have been unthinkable up there - god knows where they'd have found the ingredients once the farm stands had closed for the autumn. Outside of major urban centers, it can still be a struggle to find inspired food at a restaurant (my best bet for superb cuisine upstate is still at my sister's table). It would seem that the restaurants which are trying hard to provide inspired cooking in the rest of the country are presently marked by their attention to seasonality and change - hence, a lot of specials. Considering the entropy they're up against, it's probably a good thing.

I've tasted it straight at a west Indian wedding (didn't care for it particularly). Was treated to a whiskey mac by a Scotswoman, who ordered it mixed with Famous Grouse - she said that was the only whiskey her father used for them. THAT was delicious.

Chat 'n Chew! I never even thought about this, but I should have - it's great for cheap and cheerful. I've always found it a big hit with out-of-town guests, particularly those with kids.