robert brown

I see many of the phenomena as being applicable to both restaurants, amateur cooks, wine lovers, and buyers of prepared and packaged food. It is clear that restaurants and restaurant chefs get most of the play here as it is that institution and profession that are have been most visible in the food boom, I believe. You are correct, however, in noting that most of the sceptical side of the ledger does concern restaurants.

Topic proposed by Jonathan Day and Robert Brown One respect in which cookery is unlike other arts is that it can be practiced, to high levels of expertise, without much book learning. Yes, it is true that chefs need some facility with numbers, but they can achieve significant mastery of their craft without advanced education. I am referring here to chefs as cooks, ouvriers, not as businesspeople, although many successful chef-owner succeed in business without being particularly well-read. Perhaps it is the opposite: the language of cooking, after all, is physical and not verbal. Perhaps words and book learning get in the way. This is not true of classical music, for example, where some exposure to music history and advanced theory seems to be an important element of an artist’s capabilities, and most musicians pursue at least a university degree. Some chefs go further: Bourdain claims that he prefers hard-working and devoted but unlearned Ecuadorians to college graduates. And, even today, most chefs in France start as apprentices, without much higher education. Robert argues that a very early start (which essentially precludes formal education) offers the chef a far greater range of experience and develops a more expansive culinary "vocabulary" and hence greater flexibility at the point of conceiving a dish. He suggests that this advantage of starting early explains why so many of the best chefs working outside of France are French. Does formal education impede or hinder a chef’s ability to produce superb cuisine? Does the ‘unlearned’ character of some of its chief practitioners put cooking into a lower place in the hierarchy of the arts?

Topic proposed by Jonathan Day Accepting, for the moment, that cookery is a form of art, is it at a lower level of hierarchy than other arts? Santayana, for example, claims that bodily pleasures are of a different order to aesthetic pleasures, since the former call attention to our bodies than to an external object, while aesthetic pleasures are outside ourselves, objectified. Mary Douglas, the anthropologist, claims that the display function of food and its occasional dissociation from nourishment is reason to classify certain types of food with the decorative arts. Korsmeyer again: “whatever pleasures food can deliver and however refined cuisine may become, it is in the end just pleasure, after all, and offers less to our minds and imaginations than do more important art forms.” Cookery is sometimes looked down on because the product is consumed and cannot be recorded or captured. But that is true, to a large extent, of dance or opera, given the limits of today’s technology. Most chefs I’ve spoken with or read about talk about their work as, at best, craft: the goal is not artistic creation but getting a certain number of plates out, on time and to order. Perhaps it is the enthusiastic home cooks who are the real artists today. Where, in a hierarchy of the arts, would others place cookery? Is it similar to pottery or rug-making, a useful or decorative art? Or are the chefs who aspire to artistic creation wasting their time and that of their customers?

Topic proposed by Robert Brown In aggregate, has the food and wine boom of the past ten years been positive or negative for the gastronomy? On the positive side of the ledger: - the explosive growth in restaurant formation and in culinary media that are providing unprecedented volumes of information - the availability of new and previously unavailable produce and products - the fastidious ways in which artisanal producers are developing foods and wines - the opportunity to try more kinds of cuisines - the new respect for the occupation of chef that is bringing new blood and ideas to the gastronomic scene. The skeptic may choose to see the boom another way: - celebrity status has turned many chefs into entrepreneurs who no longer can be "hands-on" in their kitchens - profit opportunities in areas such as rare wines and luxury foods come at the expense of the restaurant client - great restaurants, with tables in heavy demand from food enthusiasts, lose their consistency and turn mediocre - most restaurants get locked into formulaic menus and cooking styles - chefs and restaurateurs take advantage of clients who for the most part are uninformed about food and wine - specialty food shops grossly overcharge - food entrepreneurs refrain from full disclosure about what they offer - classic foods and traditional methods of preparation are being lost or sacrificed in the name of culinary fashion, trendiness and efficiency What side of the argument do you fall on and why? Do you see gastronomy today as a mixed blessing, better in some places and worse in others? What characteristics have I omitted from the above lists?

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Symposium: an open, moderated forum on gastronomy The word "symposium" comes from the ancient Greek "drinking with friends". Preceded by dinner or a banquet, the symposium was an occasion when convives would discuss significant issues. Four thousand years later, eGullet is introducing a symposium of its own, about food and wine and any and all matters culinary and gastronomic. We proposed Symposium as an experiment to the eGullet site administrators. We believe that some of the larger culinary topics of the day can best be explored through a more deliberate, structured, and actively moderated approach. Our hope is that a different style of discussion may attract new members and encourage current members to bring forth their most in-depth research and reflections. This corner of eGullet is intended to complement the existing range of formats within the site, from the static content of the Webzine, to the dialog of Q&A sessions, to the more free-wheeling discussion on the boards at large. Symposium derives its uniqueness from careful development of topics, active moderation, and the use of a moderators' queue. Therefore, what you write may not appear immediately--see "Posting Guidelines" in the forum. Symposium will not interfere with the spontaneous nature of the eGullet you are used to. Just because Symposium is intended for concentrated and serious discussion, we are not courting elitism. While we hope that Symposium will reflect the increasing role of culinary matters in academic debate, we want to appeal to everyone who has an abiding interest in gastronomy and all that it implies. You can participate in Symposium by proposing topics; replying to topics with your knowledge, insights, or questions; and sharing some of what you have written or seeking opinions and information from eGullet members. We will work with you to ensure that starting threads are well structured, and to keep the discussion on topic. Over time we hope to broaden the experiment, for example with web panel discussions followed by questions "from the floor". In any event, Symposium will be judged by the members and site administrators once it has been under way for a few months. At that time, a decision will be taken as to whether or not to continue Symposium. eGullet launches "Symposium" on January 3, 2003, with Robert (in New York) and Jonathan (in London) as moderators. We welcome your comments, suggestions, and questions.

VM, I left the book at home, but will look it up. It was in the first group of 23 three-star restaurants (1933), however. I can reply this evening.

Cabrales, in 1921 Eugenie Brazier opened La Mere Brazier at 12 rue de la Royale where it is today. For health reasons she moved into a modest house about 20 km. outside of Lyon (col de la Luere) which she turned into her second restaurant in 1932. From 1933-1938, both of her restaurants received three stars, although her son Gaston was running the one in Lyon. There were no three star restaurants from 1940 until the 1951 Guide when the col de la Luere restaurant regained its third star. The Lyon restaurant did not keep its third star in the 1951 Guide, however. In the 1959 Guide the col de la Luere restaurant lost its third star, but won it back in 1963. In 1968 it lost the star again. Eugenie Brazier retired in June of 1974 and from then on there has been only the restaurant in Lyon that is owned and managed by her granddaughter.

Last fall Marcus posted the following: "I was thinking back to first time I looked at the Michelin guide in the mid 60s and I remember clearly that there were 11 3 star restaurants in France pretty closely as follows: Paris -- Maxim's, La Tour d'Argent, Laperouse, Lasserre Provinces -- Hotel de la Poste in Avallon, Cote d'Or in Saulieu, Pyramide in Vienne, Auberge Pere Bise in Talloires, Auberges de Noves, Ousteau de Beaumaniere The 11th may have been the original Lucas Carton in Paris, but I'm not sure. ." I said to Marcus that I had ordered a copy of the book "Trois Etoiles au Michelin" which would answer his question. I was recently able to retrieve my copy in France and can now list the 1964 Michelin edition's roster of three-star restaurants. They are close to Marcus's list, but remember, Marcus did not "preciser" a year. We will therefore see further on if his list corresponds to 1965 or a bit beyond. Where there is lack of correspondence in 1964 is: Grand Vefour was a fifth restaurant in Paris to have three stars. La Mere Brazier that was on the outskirts of Lyon had a third star. La Cote d'Or in Saulieu lost its third star in the 1964 Guide. Lucas-Carton had a third star up until 1939, the last year the Guide was published until 1945, and did not regain it until 1986, the year after Alain Senderens took it over. However Senderens' third star came with him from L'Archestrate. Marcus was accurate in the number (11) of three-star restaurants in 1964, the year to which he must have been subconsciously referring. As for other names that came up in the fall discussion, La Bonne Auberge in Antibes had three stars from 1952-1957. Charles Barrier received his third star in 1968 and lost it in 1979. In 1965, Paul Bocuse received a third star, making 12 restaurants that were in that category. In 1966 there were no changes. In 1967 Hostellerie de la Poste lost a star and Auberge de L'Ill gained its third star. 1968 and 1969 indicated the gradual take-over of the "Nouvelle Cuisine" chefs: La Mere Brazier, Auberge de Noves and Laperouse lost their third star and Troisgros and Barrier in 1968 won theirs. Overall, a good job by Marcus. P.S. La Bonne Auberge regained a third star in 1980 and gave it back in the 1984 Guide.

I have been spending part of the day reading "Trois Etoiles au Michelin". It would make Pirate the man referred to in the expression, "Have you ever seen a grown man cry". Jean Ducloux worked for Dumaine in 1935 and 1936. It is reasonable to assume that he is 82 years old, born in 1920. The book is somewhat superficial, but you do read about the antecedents of some restaurants that are still going: Pic, La Mere Brazier, La Pyramide, La Reserve in Beaulieu and others that existed in the early 20th-century. (I am still in the section covering 1933-1939). My biggest surprise was that Restaurant La Mere Bourgeois in Priay, 35 miles NE of Lyon was not named for the socio-economic class, but for Mairie Bourgeoise whose cooking in the 1930s was revered by the Club des Cents and was awarded three stars by the Michelin until the year before she died in 1937. We loved that restaurant. It had a kitchen the size of one in a studio apartment in Manhattan. It was, when we were going there in 1975, owned by a Frenchman who then sold it to a young French woman who then sold it to an American who tried unsuccesfully to keep it going. We did have a lunch at Greuze in the late 1970s. I remember kidneys in red wine that were fabulous. My wife was overwhelmed by the quantity. I think I may have also had escargots. I bet it isn't quite the same. I remember that Francois Minot eventually became the "conseiller" who went around to Relais and Chateaux establishments and advised chefs. Hold on: I see in viaMichelin that La Mere Bourgeois still exists, mentioning that it serves dishes that were there in the 1950s.

Does anyone know what Mazoz's contract with Gagnaire specifies in terms of its length and how often Gagnaire must be at the restaurant? Are there any performance clauses as well? Also does anyone know how dynamic the menu in the Library is; i.e. in terms of changes? As one of those Michelin eaters, what I find disquieting (and maybe others find it too in almost a subconscious way) is that Gagnaire's stars are available for lease. I find it doubly disquieting because a restaurant right off the bat is charging prices for being three stars by association instead of working and earning its way to the top. As usual, the proof of the pudding is in the eating and maybe Sketch will fool us all over the long haul because Gagnaire is able to conceive a menu that is delicious and replicable by the everyday chef de cuisine and a brigade that is not Gagnaire's. However, with Paris so near, is there any culinary reason to eat at Sketch when you can go have Gagnaire's cuisine at his very own restaurant where he is often dazzling his clients with his "cuisine du moment"?

Matthew, Adria said on Gourmet TV that he could fill the restaurant 40 times over a day. You are best off (if you don't get lucky with an e-mail) phoning the restaurant for a reservation via a cancellation, thus having to be prepared to go on short notice. Phoning on a Sunday afternoon or evening is good, although check to see if they are open on Sundays in spring and September. The chances are also better for you in April, May, and September. (All this told to me by Juli Soler, part-owner of El Bulli). This past summer, the menu changed a bit from day to day, but that may have been because they were doing their retrospective meals. I believe you would get a lot of dishes the same on two consecutive nights; but there are about 25 dishes to taste. Everyone gets served the same food. Smart casual will do and the staff speaks English.

While it appears that food capitals such as New York, London, Paris and Northern California are resting on their laurels or at best moving sideways, gastronomic life in Piemonte just keeps getting better. This, at least, was how it appeared to me just having spent another four nights in the region. The cornerstone of my expedition was the recently opened hotel-restaurant Relais San Maurizio/Ristorante Guido da Castigliole in the town of Santo Stefano Belbo. Located about 20 miles due east of Alba, the town is in the heart of the Moscato producing area while the hotel is set on top of one of the many hills covered in vineyards. Formerly a monastery and then a private residence that dates from the 17th century, the Relais San Maurizio is the first tasteful, high-luxury place to stay at in all of Piemonte wine country. The sprawling property has been completely restored in restrained Rococo with period furniture, decorated ceilings, vitrines filled with small antiques, seven spacious and gorgeous public rooms, an extremely spacious subterranean dining room with a vaulted brick ceiling and 51 guest rooms, six suites of which are in an outbuilding and two next to a consecrated chapel in the main building. The junior suites we and our traveling companions booked were spacious, beautifully decorated, again with period furniture, and with awe-inspiring views over the vineyards and the amphitheatre hills that are a trademark of the Langhe. At 210 euros a night with breakfast, our four-night stay was value for money in the extreme. Nonetheless, we all had a few complaints: The hotel does not contain noise well (except between our two adjoining rooms) as we could hear a few late-night revelers banging on a piano below and laughing loudly. The beds were firm and comfortable, but the pillows rather unyielding and felt like they were made of straw. . Breakfast was served buffet-style in a large room with elaborately-painted ceilings; it was too bad that it was put together with so many commercial products, with one notable exception being home-made yogurt that we were served on our last morning. Although open since late July of this year, the Relais San Maurizio still has not finished building its spa, which will have an indoor swimming pool, gym, sauna, and massage rooms. Piemonte’s First Family of Food, the Alciati’s, have divided themselves in two while remaining a single economic entity. Momma chef Lidia, at age 72, is joining in a few months her youngest son Andrea, and her disciple Lorenzo Secondo, at the Relais San Maurizio where Andrea has been running the dining room and Lorenzo the kitchen since the hotel-restaurant opened. If our dinner at the San Maurizio Guido was any indication, one must hope that Lidia will bring the standards up those of the old Guido in Costigliole d’Asti. Admittedly we had had a large lunch elsewhere the same day, which may have diminished slightly our opinion, but only slightly. While the menu offered mostly dishes from the original Guido, the execution seemed uninspired. As for Ugo Alciati, the chef son, and his brother, Piero the Eldest, who is unrivalled as a maitre d’hotel in terms of looks, smoothness and cordiality, they are off to Pollenzo, 12 miles west of Alba where the second new Guido will open this spring as part of a complex that will include a luxury hotel (ready in the fall of 2004) and the Slow Food’s “University of Taste”. When I asked Piero at the end of our dinner five days before the Costigliole Guido’s would close for good what was going to become of the legendary restaurant, he told me that the family was keeping the premises as a laboratory (I guess even quasi-traditional Piemonte cooks are now into laboratories), private dinners and an on-going wine cellar. Nonetheless it was with a bit of sadness that we downed our last dinner, and a good one (but not the best one of our excursion) it was. The vitello tonnato, which has certainly been offered every night for decades, was extraordinary as always with its pink veal from the nearby mountains around Cuneo. It is veal you see for the first time and never forget. The two other appetizers that we all received in small portions were the seemingly-ubiquitous fall classic, cardoons with melted Fontina (aka “fonduta”) with white truffles and mousse of duck liver with white truffles and tiny cubes of Marsala aspic. Guido’s tagliatelle with truffles is one of the more revered pasta dishes of Piemonte as are the spinach agnolotti filled with potato. Both of these were delicious even though we had them last year at this time. One way to avoid repetition is to ask for something special, which I did a few weeks before. I phoned Piero Alciati from New York and asked him if it were possible to have game birds. I specifically mentioned the forbidden ortolan, and while he was unable to locate any, he did provide us with partridge, which his mother roasted and served in a red wine sauce with a turnips, carrots, and cheese prepared as a flan. It was a perfectly prepared, solid game dish that was worth ordering more for its relative unavailability rather than something memorable tasting. The cheese course at Guido has always been puzzling: four small piece of various Piemonte cheese fanned out on a plate. I also have found desserts hit and miss at Guido. I had a chocolate and pistachio semifreddo that was somewhat rich and sweet; not really subtle but satisfying. Even more traditional than Guido is Camulin, just down the road from our hotel in the neighboring Cossano Belbo. Like Guido, the menu is short and presented orally. Because Steve Plotnicki wrote about Camulin recently and well, it suffices for me to say that we had a joyful time, but the tasty food ended after the splendid appetizers and pasta dishes with the exception of the classic “bolito misto alla Piemontese” which was an assortment of boiled veal scallopine, calf’s brains, polenta, pumpkin, and other meats and vegetables. My wife liked that some parts of the dish were sweet and others savory Two meals in two towns whose names could have been included in the lyrics of "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" topped our list of the best of the trip: a lunch at Ristorante San Marco in Canelli and a dinner at the Ristorante Enoteca in Canale. San Marco, a few miles down the road from Santo Stefano Belbo, had more of a middle-class family-run restaurant. Its typical white plaster walls and wood-beam ceiling and displays of wine bottles and framed certificates and small drawings belied the quality of the cuisine that struck a balance between traditional and creative. Although we were past the peak of the white truffle season on December 15, the owner Piercarlo Ferrero, head of the association of truffle hinters (“trifolau”) had placed on the table a 93 gram specimen he had gathered himself, which I was able to smell from across our large table. To begin, we received an assortment of appetizers, some of which were covered generously with our truffle. “Carne cruda di Vitella” with truffles was a light, refreshing start. My cardoons with “fonduta” and white truffle were tasty, but stringy: not the thick pieces of cardoon that came in the Guido version, and orange peppers stuffed with tuna were sublime. As “primi piatti”, the four of us ordered two portions of classic pastas with truffles: the pinched together agnolottini “dal plin”, served without sauce and in a folded napkin, and tagliarini with herbs and aromatic butter. Both were “fatte in casa” as one should expect, and about as delicious as these dishes can be. Remembering how much I have enjoyed the classic Piemonte fall dish “Ciotola del ‘Trifulau’, I ordered it. It is made with polenta, warmed whole egg yolk, the cheese “toma de Roccaverano” and plenty of white truffle shavings that the diner mixes together. For me, the dish was the only serious disappointment of my lunch: Compared to the one at Gener Neuv in Asti, San Marco’s was a heavy, goopy mess. However, a loin of lamb with Barbaresco sauce and black truffle and a roasted pheasant cooked in a sauce (exactly what we forgot to ask) were immensely praised by the two women at our table. The cheese selection at San Marco numbered about 15 varieties of Piemontese cheeses. I was far from disappointed with what I tried, among them an aged Castelmagno, but was disappointed that the restaurant charges by the piece, a practice I abhor. As for dessert, one was unforgettable: a smooth and refreshing zabaglione of Moscado and Marsala that we all agreed that it clearly was the best zabaglione of our lives and about the best meal-finisher we have had in Italy. Future visitors, take note. The feeling of excitement that comes from the strong hunch that one has just eaten at the hands of what the French call a “grand de demain” is a rare occurrence. Yet, this is the sentiment I was overcome with as I contemplated the dinner we had just had at Ristorante Enoteca. Located both in Canale, 8 miles NNW of Alba, and in one of those all-purpose little buildings belonging to Italian small towns (this one had two fellows in uniform standing around at eight o’clock at night) chef Davide Palluda’s restaurant is on the second floor in a space that was formerly a day-care center) and above the Enoteca di Roero Arneis, the sales and tasting arm of the producers of the inexpensive but favorably-regarded wines, particularly the whites. Our arrival got off to a mixed start. Chef Davide’s wife, a fetching, enchanting, and somewhat shy hostess greeted us with good humor mixed with a dash of sardonicism. After showing us to our table, we were, after refusing aperitifs, abandoned and ignored for longer than was desirable. This gave me trepidations about the restaurant which were eventually allayed by a delicious “amuse-guele” of a cream of asparagus soup that was intensely rich in flavor. With service back on track, the two fellows shared a perfectly-executed risotto of Parmesan with shavings of white truffles. My wife ordered an artichoke soup with pieces of bacala and bits of ginger, which she pronounced good, but not great. Her cousin’s wife had delicious raviolis, some of which were filled with red onion ( the first time I ever had this in a pasta; yet this mundane ingredient worked wonderfully) and others that I am unable to recall as they were consumed so quickly we didn’t have a chance to taste them. Two of chef Davide’s main courses were masterful; by far the best we encountered on the trip. I had two large, succulent pieces of venison in a rich sweet and sour sauce that I thought was extraordinary. However, they did not get quite the reception of a simple portion of the center of tenderloin of veal that was otherworldly. It was hard to believe it was veal, as my wife described it as having the buttery texture of Kobe beef that tasted like the best veal one could imagine. As did Peter Rodgers, to whom I owe gratitude for bringing Ristorante Enoteca to my attention in his post below, we had a lengthy chat with Davide Palluda, so engaging that I forgot to ask him for a copy of the menu. One of two desserts, therefore, is a dim memory with the other being a chocolate cake with pistachio sauce, Delicious as it was, it still was not the best dessert of the two we ordered. It suffices to say that this aspect of Palluda’s cuisine is solid. From our conversation, we found out that the chef has worked in some unnamed restaurants in Alsace, the Balzi Rossi on the French-Italian Riviera border, and, if memory serves me correct, Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence. /again, chef Davide is one to keep on eye on and to put on any “must” list of restaurants in Italy. It is chefs like him that are adding variety and adventurism to Piemonte cuisine. We visited two other restaurants: a simple trattoria, Da Miglia, in the two-horse town of Valdevilla five minutes from the Relais San Maurizio, and an establishment called “Italia” in Quarona, located in Northern Piemonte not far from Lago Maggiore, renown as home to the factory and discount outlet of Loro-Piana (a “do not miss” for anyone coming to Italy for serious clothes shopping). The former served simple local food, the highlights being their salumi. Of course we took them up on the offer to stop by a couple of days later and pick up some home-cured Prosciutto di Parma, lardo, and a chunk of “bresciola di cervo” (venison) to take home. The latter, Ristorante Italia, was a fine example of how you can choose a restaurant to eat in strictly for its location and eat well and for little; in our case a full lunch for $30.00 each. When our excursion reached its end, my wife and I both agreed that this was our most satisfying of eight or so visits we have made to Piemonte. There was something magical, if not mystical, about being there in late fall: the vineyard-covered hills of the Lange in their denuded state, often shrouded in mist or fog; the sense of privilege having a waiter slicing at an up-tempo what seems like an unnecessary quantity of white truffles; the all-consuming preoccupation of eating and drinking that permeates the entire region, and the love of them that almost every artisan---the chefs, restaurateurs, winemakers, shop owners, and farmers---wants to share and use to win you over. Lucky for us that such abstractions can be quantified in our pocketbooks. You eat spectacularly well and amply for half the price, even less, than back home or in neighboring France. We had what rank as some of the best wines in the world for between $65. (a 1996 Bruno Giacosa Barbaresco Santo Stefano at Guido and the 1995 at Ristorante Enoteca for just a little more) and $115 for the rare 1990 Barolo Monfortino of Giacomo Conterno at Camulin. Whether it is people placing large bets that the 2006 Olympic Winter Games will turn Piemonte into a new and permanent tourist area or a belated recognition from wine and food lovers that it is a special place that accounts for its upsurge in hotel and restaurant activity, the fact is that anyone who forsakes going to Piemonte in favor of returning to other gastronomic regions or cities should now think twice. As they now say in Piemonte every fall, “Let the game begin.”

Sometimes there is no escaping Ferran. With the El Bulli book open on the bed so that I could describe it for eGullet, I looked up at our TV set and saw the man himself being interviewed on the French Gourmet TV. I managed to catch all but the first few minutes of the hour-long program, which is worth seeing despite the lack of visual material: Only the atelier is shown while the rest, except for a few brief segments in which he makes a sardine salad with Joel Robuchon, is talking heads with a woman host and some fellow named Oscar who has something to do with Adria. Since Adria speaks French (fluently) with a Spanish accent, his words were nonetheless turned into sub-titles, which made it a bit easier for me to understand. It would be wonderful if the Food Network could pick up the program and put on English subtitles. Having chatted only briefly with Adria at El Bulli last summer, the program gave me quite a bit more insight. Sometimes he would appear distracted and day-dreamy. There is a little boy quality to him that crept in fleetingly several times. His answers were focused and lengthy. It is obvious he wishes to hide nothing about his achievements and goals. Yet, after watching the program and reading the extended Esquire article on him, there are serious omissions in his CV. All he states is that he started out, after studying economics, as a dishwasher in Majorca so he could see the pretty women on the beach, and then had other small jobs at nameless restaurants, devoured books with classic French recipes and sampled the cuisine of Guerard, Girardet, Chapel, and other Nouvelle Cuisine chefs, leaving me with the impression of either hiding something or being the greatest natural-born chef of all time. I am not about to give a moment-by-moment recapitulation of the program. I think that what is most important from my point of view is that the interview, along with the El Bulli book, neither detracted from or added to my tentative notion that Adria and his cuisine are phenomena that are “off the charts”. Any other chef who lacks the mystique of Adria’s persona, the laboratory, the amazing creations should not be trying very hard to follow in Adria’s footsteps. Of course, there is no one like him and there surely never will be. I found the most enlightening moment of the program to be when Adria referred to “the sixth sense” which he called “sensibility” and which he defined while pointing to the top of his head, as “what makes you say something is delicious”. It is sensibility, as I see it, that makes Adria unique and will keep him that way. Perhaps in a few years from now I will have to admit that Adria is exerting a valid and positive influence on cuisine. For now, however, every time I am served “an Adria-type” dish, it is with the feeling that the chef in question is simply trying to be trendy. It is possible that Adria knows that he has the culinary avant-garde stage to himself for a long time to come, which is why he can be so open and, to reply to Steve Klc’s inquiry to me, the likes of Bras, Gagnaire and Veyrat (whose best dishes seem conventional by comparison) will look like imitators if they also attempt to document and codify their cuisines.

What may be the most elaborate, if not spectacular, documentation of a chef’s work is found between the covers (and in the slipcase) of “El Bulli: 1998-2002. Released last month, this volume is one of the projected three that will cover the history of the restaurant on the Costa Brava from 1983, when Ferran Adria became the head chef, to the present. (The volumes are being released in reverse chronological order). Anyone acquiring the book now will have to make do with the Spanish language version, as the English text edition is due out this coming summer. (As a former antiquarian bookseller, my advice is to buy this first edition and put it away; then buy the English version). Coming in at just short of 500 pages, not including a fold-out “Guide to the Work” with a CD-Rom, and in a large-format, “El Bulli: 1998-2002” provides a survey of Ferran and Albert Adria’s creations year-by-year, in meticulous detail and codification, and in magnificent and mouth-watering mostly full-page color photos of which there are many. The CD-Rom, my opening of which will have to wait four-to-six days until I can use a computer other than the drive-less laptop I brought to Nice, has recipes, more photos, menus, and what is called “Schemas of Evolutionary Analysis”. (I will add comments about it to this thread as soon as possible). Beginning with 1998, each yearly section contains a table of contents of every dish created at the time and its category; i.e. cocktail, snack, tapas, main dish, pre-dessert, etc. Each dish is given a number so that each can be identified or viewed in the photo section and singled out in the several categories that Adria uses to give an analysis of his achievements. He codifies his cuisine by describing in detail the building blocks for dishes: the products that he transforms and categorizes in such groups as “new products”, “products with soul”, “thoughts about products” and “techniques and concepts applied to products”. He then describes the utensils and instruments he used; and lists and describes the combinations of products in each dish; the specific manifestations (“elaboraciones”) of his various foundations such as consommés and soups; hot gelatins; warm and cold foams; sorbets, raviolis and so forth. To the uninitiated, it likely appears as egocentric and trivial, but to the serious professional chef and well-traveled gastronome, it is fascinating, even riveting. Such detailed elaboration of a culinary “oeuvre” makes sense and interesting reading only coming from Adria. If a chef with the stature of other trendsetters (Bras, Gagnaire, Veyrat?) were to attempt something comparable, I suspect it would look like not much more than self-aggrandizement. “El Bulli: 1998-2002” may have no practical value for many. Yet it is culinary documentation of such detail and importance and such a substantial and beautifully designed book that any gastronomic library without this book and the two to come will be viewed as incomplete. Note: I bought my copy at Librairie Gourmand in Paris. It is also available through the El Bulli website. Both establishments sell it for 120 euros.

Around Nice, I see accidents with two-wheel vehicles all the time. If those kinds of means of transportation aren't in the stats, then truly France must be in a class by itself. What about the Italians? Wait until you drive on their autoroutes.

Jaybee, you know the restaurant and what's good. No one can fault you for relying on past experience and "guaranteeing" a satisfying meal. Best of all, we all had fun and everyone was well-behaved. Thanks, Stefany. Wish you were there.

As the first man off the bench (the proverbial “sixth man” or the final piece of the Stefanyb puzzle) I have to side with those who were disappointed in the meal last night. I ordered the Pigs Foot Milanese that was pounded and breaded with tomato and arugula placed on top. It was dry and overcooked to just short of being burned.. I was part of the tepid-to-room temperature lamb chops group and my pistachio and chocolate semifreddo was luke warm and cloyingly sweet. In other words, each of my three dishes was seriously flawed. It was a bad week as two of the three restaurants (the other being Ouest) that were the first three I would recommend to a serious diner coming to New York as a gastronomic tourist fell apart on me. (Only Jewel Bako remains unscathed). Adding further to my loss of faith in Babbo was a belated reading of the New Yoker profile by Bill Buford about Batalli. Batalli’s greatest asset appears to be recognition of the richness and depth of the Italian “canon” of regional food and bringing it to Americans in the media and the restaurants he and his partners start up. Whether subtle or unintentional, I found the New Yorker article damning in varying respects which I won’t go into other than to mention Batalli's disdain of French cooking and the preoccupation he has with the celebrities who come to the restaurant. Like Toby, I would probably return to Lupa before Babbo. (My one dinner at Eska was pretty much a disaster). I should add, however, that in none of Batalli’s restaurants do you get a profound feeling of eating in a restaurant in Italy. Authentic eating in Italy, more often than not, is accompanied by the keen desire of the proprietor to impart the joy of gastronomy. Babbo, from the maitre d’hotel that eGulleteers love to hate to the overwhelming feeling one is supporting a mercenary enterprise, seems to have become complacent and resting on its laurels of notoriety and Batalli’s fame.

Matthew, which part of the South of France will you be going to?

I saw honeycomb tripe on the menu. It is available everyday. It was made with tomato, but that's all I remember. Tomorrow night you can have tripe at Babbo, Wilfrid.

Steve, what about a Pullman suite on the Broadway Limited? Your Loulou's story reminds me of what happened to us on our last visit there in August and which I meant to tell you about. Susan wanted to order the delicious anchovies she had when we there with you in March. Our waiter (not Eric's brother) told us there were none because the season was over. A few minutes later he came out from the kitchen and said that they had them after all. We noticed he did roughly the same with people at another table. In your situation, given the product involved, it was obvious that Eric was giving you special treatment. While the anchovies were as we remembered, we were, upon hearing of their availability, confused. Were we getting frozen anchovies, was the waiter lying to us, were they put aside for other clients (unlikely since only the front dining room was occupied)? Maybe we were the ones getting special treatment. It's great when you are on the receiving end of a special gesture; but how do you feel when you see it happening to others? Then to top it all off, someone at another table passed out and, as we were leaving, an ambulance arrived at the front door.

My wife went there several years ago and had more or less the same impression. She said that management claimed that they would go out and get anything anyone wanted. That was one reason among a few others that I always call the place "The Joint".

The one meal I had at Gambero Rosso 5-1/2 years ago would have delighted any experienced diner at the top echelon of restaurants in France. I would love to return. I'm with the consensus on Dal Pescatore. The cooking was overly-studied, which is the same as lacking heart and soul. Having the same reaction as Marcus, I never wanted to return to Enoteca Pinchiorri after dining there in 1982. I will have to go to Le Calendre this year, I suppose and hit several fancy restaurants in the Veneto, southern Lombardy and Emilia-Romagna that I have yet to dine in. For now Gambero Rosso, Da Guido and Miramonte l'Altro remain my favorites. In the meantime has anyone out there been to these restaurants yet to be part of my life's experiences?: Da Vittorio in Bergamo Il Desco in Verona Ambasciata in Quistello Locanda Solaroia in Castel Guelfo di Bologna

Geepsie, I liked Ouest a lot when I went last week for the first time. I am returning for another dinner this Tuesday. See what others may say now that I have thrown it into the mix. It's a fairly tough reservation to get, but I was able to change my time without a problem when I called yesterday. I agree with the assessment of L'Absinthe: very good at what it is designed to do, but expensive for the kind of place it is. Good evocative bistro atmosphere as well. Cafe Boulud I found to be all over the place in terms of the quality of the food and without much heart and soul in terms of feel. It may be the space since all three restaurants that have been there have felt that same way to me.

Has anyone mentioned that some restaurants in London have closed for the simple reason of the inability to find staff? Nicholas Lander wrote a column in the FT about this last year. Is it still a problem?