robert brown

Macrosan, thank you so much for reading and responding positively to my post. I hope you are right about a return to the old ways of the chef-restaurateurs. I am grateful that there is no one so far, and that includes you, who has accuse me of sour grapes and indulging in pipe dreams. I think if serious diners become more aware of recent gastronomic history and take an interest in maximizing serious dining, perhaps a backlash can develop. Right now, however, that kind of dining just seems as if it is getting more and more elusive as I see more chefs following the L'Astrance model than, say, the Troisgros one. There are serious economic and personal impediment to the latter, I am afraid, in at least a public way. JD, I scrolled backwards and read your post after Macrosan's. I will comment on it later as it is a marvelous one. Steve, Steve, Wilfrid, Nina, and Jin. Thank you for the positive responses as well and the discussion of the dessert cart. I will try to reply about that as well.

Just as avarice and ambition have altered many aspects of cultural life, so have they changed the nature of the enjoyment of food. In the nearly 30 years that I have taken eating out seriously, I can finally see that this period can be divided into old dining and new dining. Old dining to a person of my age and experience was practiced in America’s large cities, London, Paris, the French provinces, and to a lesser degree in other European countries and in luxury hotels throughout much of the rest of the world. When I began my explorations of the talents of great chefs, the notion of “bacchanalia” still existed in certain restaurants. It was rooted in the concept that eating was a no-holds-barred personal festival of the kind one took part in on ocean liners, at big-city hotel buffets, and as a guest in resort hotels. The food at this time was mostly classic French, and the idea that a chef had to prove his mettle by inventing dishes consistently and constantly was all but non-existent. In post-war France, however, it was quite different. That generation of chefs (Fernand Point, Raymond Oliver, Alexandre Dumain, Andre Pic, Marius Bise, Charles Barrier, and others) put a certain emphasis on creating new or novel dishes. However, it was the next generation of chefs, the apprentices of some of the aforementioned, that made dining in France chic and artful. These “Nouvelle Cuisine” chefs combined innovation that often created genuine and permanent culinary classics with a respect for classicism and a desire to make dining in their restaurants an exercise in experiencing all that it could be. These elements were manifested in large kitchen brigades; a dozen or more dining room employees who were trained in what was for them a permanent profession; large wine lists replete with great vintage wines reaching back decades; a mind-boggling number of cheeses and desserts; a willingness more often than not to go to great lengths to accommodate their clients (most vividly seen in being willing and able to make almost any seasonal dish on the spot from the restaurant’s historic repertoire, or at least do so with a days or two’s short notice); and , what turns out to be most significant, a large choice sometimes amounting to a few dozen, of a la carte dishes. In even the early days of “La Nouvelle Cuisine”, a fixed or limited-choice menu existed. However, it did so for two exemplary reasons: either to present in a package the dishes that represented the chef’s best-known dishes, or to allow clients to visit the restaurant to dine well in an economical way. One of the real joys, however, of dining in the great restaurants of France in those days was to confront the large choice of a la carte dishes and put together with the maitre d’hotel (or on rare occasions, the chef) the most interesting and harmonious meal as possible or, especially if there were four or more of you, to order a large number of dishes in full portion (and of an entire part of an animal or sea creature, if not the entire critter itself) that you could pass around the table, thus taking a good custom-designed survey or measure of the chef’s talent. Around 1990, an active and astute diner would have started to notice a change in the way significant restaurants began to conduct themselves. Most important, it was a change that not only “world-class” restaurants adapted, but thousands of restaurants with the new-found ambitions that resulted from “chefdom” becoming at minimum a respectable circle to be a member of. Even in a decade of restaurant mania, at least in the English-speaking countries, and quiescent inflation (maybe not so much with unusual produce and wine, but certainly with labor, construction, and fixtures and fittings), restaurants began offering less and charging more. A large brigade of dining room personnel that were well-trained and often middle-age veterans of the profession was replaced by younger people of strength and stamina and not thoroughly or professionally trained; kitchen brigades of two to three dozen members were cut in size by half or more; seatings became shorter as they became more numerous; various not-meant-for-cooking “profit centers” within restaurants developed that were designed to result in heftier tabs; i.e. the better or more interesting wines were marked up, often unconscionably; restaurants began charging for cheese according to how many pieces you selected; certain luxury foods came with hefty surcharges, most notably truffles—now no longer limited to the white ones from Italy (and other countries) in the fall, but the always-available black “truffes d’ete” priced as if they were white; and bottled water, which some restaurateurs like to make a “thing” over, even became exploited at the diner’s expense (as well-documented by eGullet contributors). In the days of the Old Dining, a restaurant was almost a loss leader for its owner-chef. If he ran it as a break-even proposition or even at a tolerable loss, it was nonetheless his home base and public face that allowed him to engage in related ventures that brought home the relatively easy money that supported his restaurant. Now, however, a restaurant is supposed to (as a medium for investors) be an establishment that makes money in and of itself and provide some of the necessary investment capital for an ever-growing empire of enterprises. Some chefs are exceptions and remain rooted to their restaurants, but many others hand off the everyday operations to others, usually less gifted. For people like me and you; i.e. the clientele, we are the ones watching the fun and value of interesting dining diminish universally, and at our expense. Slowly but steadily dining is becoming identical to taking the “demi-pension” at the seaside hotel. The menu or the card exists not as a tool for deciding the nature of your meal, but to tell you what it is you will be served--take it or leave it. I predict the end of the a la carte dish within the next decade. Already you can begin to see chef-restaurateurs trying to dissuade their patrons from going to it by making the price of a la carte dishes very high and the price of “le menu” cheap in relation. Chefs these days want to know exactly how much of what food to buy and prepare as much as possible before the restaurant opens. I know that among some of the people I eat with, there is a newfound respect by some for the traditional restaurant on one hand, and a great enthusiasm by others for paragon establishments of the New Dining such as L’Astrance in Paris and Blue Hill in New York. Eating in these latter two restaurants does give you a quick trip through the current culinary minds of their chefs and some of the tastes they give you are quite remarkable. (It also appears that only a literal handful of chefs are successful in this format) Yet, they are little more than tastes. Eating this way for me is in the end unsatisfying. I can never get the perfect meal and all-consuming gustatory sensations I used to get from repeated “hits” of succulent flavors that comes from the whole “schmeer”. Eating in these kinds of restaurants is never more than pleasant. They are mechanical; they sedate the desire for culinary self- indulgence; everyone is made to eat the same; one’s hands are tied, and the “supremacy of the chef” rules over and smothers the autonomy of the diner. They represent, conceptually speaking, the on-going shrinking and diminishing of the experience of “grande cuisine.” Look hard and pay enough money, and you can still eat in a manner similar to the ways of the Old Dining. Hurry up, though, as these establishments and their days are numbered.

I am more than willing to say that`Adria is more than a highly-gifted, if not a landmark, chef. Exactly how and to what degree is still something I am trying to determine (at least to myself), which is why I have not written more about him, as I implied that I would. ( I am doing some reading, which is why there is this delay). For the moment, I think it is way too soon to know how influential he will eventually be, which is what Steve says below. I think he has pointed chefs in a different direction in many ways. What gives me pause is that I am not sure how what he does translates in the hands of other chefs. So much of my thrilling experience at El Bulli had to do with having the meal there and Adria orchestrating the rhythm and the connecting links.

Steve, I had a Chinese shrimp chip at the Mandarin in Nice the other night. I didn't think about Adria, but you may be on to something. I wish I could have another go at Adria's dish and at least try to compare the two in my head. Those Chinese invent everything, or is it the Russians? Regardless, that was good insight.

Macrosan, thanks for your kind reply. Let us know if you do go to the Lake of Garda or, for that matter, wherever. And I did look up what adverbial conjunctions are; so thank you also for expanding my grammatical horizons.

Damian, that's the one. I hope you can find a copy.

Bux and Lizziee, do you think the fish-flavored chips may also be inspired by the old Spanish stand-by of stockfish or dried cod? Thanks for the engaging further discussion, as I have gotten a bit obsessed with Adria and doing some studying that is delaying fulfilling my promise of a second part to my original post. Oh yes, does anyone know if all of Adria's new dishes during the year are worked out ahead of time in his laboratory in Barcelona? Where is Steve K. when we need him?

Mike, all still exist, but L'Oasis, Charles Barrier and Pyramide have different ownership. Moulin de Mougins is still owned by Roger Verge. Baumaniere is owned by the grandson of the founder, Raymond Thuillier, and Pere Bise is owned by the widow and daughter of Francois Bise. None have three stars. Baumaniere has two stars; Mougins got a second star back this year; Barrier has one; L'Oasis has two; Pere Bise has one; and Pyramde, two. Great Chefs of France is a marvelous book and Exhibit No. One as to what extraordinary times the 1970s (and 1980s) were for dining in France.

Marty, welcome to the site. It's always nice to get a new guy who loves to eat as you do. I have had scores of meals in fine Paris restaurants; yet, the only two that stand out as "extra" are the first truly great meal I ever had in France, Chez Denis, and the one time I went to Robuchon. All the other great ones have been in the provinces, and I'm talking about those that would comprise my top 100. But all but a handful of these were before early 1990, the start of the recession that massacreed French luxury dining. The pendulum may well have shifted noticeably back to Paris. I'm only starting to get back into eating in Paris, however. We have had this discussion of Paris vs. the provinces before, but it's one always worth bringing back.

The Gantie shows it on Rue Doite. I'll take another one for the club and report back. It has to be better than Chez Michel. Speaking of the Gantie, most of the entries have been translated into English in a seperate section in the back of the book. It's a very useful addition for people who know English better than French. Steve, thanks so much for the Tetou lore. It was great. I will try to make a fresh visit this summer.

Macrosan, I try so hard to resist temptation to inject myself into some of the squabbles on eGullet. Now I am accused of prejudice towards certain groups of squabs. You never know what unexpected twists and turns life can take. I can only reply that some of my best eats are squabs from Transylvania. We stayed at the Grand Hotel Fesano outside of Gardone Riviera. It's a period piece from the 1890s or thereabouts: the kind of old hotels I really like. It's not so expensive (around 150 pounds a night, I would guess). It is a large property right on the lake with a decent swimming pool and large grounds. Lots of Germans were staying there. The rooms are comfortable, but not what you would call luxurious. Ours was medium-size, I would say.The town is picturesque and I seem to recall not at all overdeveloped. It has retained its period feel as there are some old villas all around. But the whole area is very nice. Salo is a fun town to walk around in. We found some interesting shops there. Verona is close by. Two fine restaurants are mentioned above. The Fortunato Depero Museum in Roverato is interesting if you like Italian Futurism in its later stages. It's more a relaxing and eating area especially compared to the obvious places in Italy. We had a lot of fun and look to return fairly soon. As you know, it is a great area for food if you want to venture out in a 90-minute or so radius.

For the record: I went to Chez Michel, the fish/bouilliabaisse restaurant in Nice, the other night. As soon as I walked in the door, I should have headed elsewhere. All the tables were filled with a tour group from Canada and the owner was this elderly American woman from CA who must get all her business from travel companies. Everything we ate was awful. The bouilliabaisse had frozen fish, croutons made from bread from a bad bakery, and a broth that was worse than you would buy in a tin at the supermarket. No wonder none of my Nicois friends knew of it and that it is in no reputable guidebook. It's the worst restaurant on the Cote.

Liz, Cabrales, Bux. Thank you so much for your replies and the expression of your appreciation. It was hard traveling and hard writing. Bux, I am anxious to compare notes as to what you had. I certainly agree with you as to how Adria and the restaurant get the intellect working. We were not more than a few dishes into the meal when we began discussing and speculating all kinds of matters art and cuisine. I can feel a great discussion coming on. I am still collecting my thoughts. Cabrales, the place has your name on it I am sure. Liz, I am glad we helped you get your confidence back. More later.

Since beginning my annual prolonged stay in Nice 10 days ago, I have been giving some thought to the concept of new dining versus old dining. That I have been doing this came about largely through circumstances derived from dining at four restaurants, two of which are indicative of the New Dining and two of the Old Dining. These restaurants are, respectively, Le Chanteclair in Nice and L’Astrance in Paris; and La Regalade, also in Paris, and Hostellerie Jerome in La Turbie, not far from Monaco. In the latter two restaurants I found the relative freedom of choice (although there is not a lot at the Jerome, but at least some) and the lack of an “attitude” a refreshing change from Le Chanteclair and L’Astrance. I also preferred the two "Old Dining" cuisines for their succulence, the opportunity to savor them in meaningful portions, the relevance they had to other dishes I have eaten, and the broad sweep of prior culinary achievements and history. No wonder then that I arrived at Restaurant El Bulli on June 27 with a great deal of skepticism and a decided “show-me” attitude since by every indication, it is the citadel of the New Dining. Blessed with the gift of a table for two in this most-difficult-of-all restaurants to obtain a reservation, my wife and I set out from Nice at 10 a.m. with two small suitcases and two sandwiches to eat during a stop for gasoline. We arrived shortly after 3 p.m. at the Hotel Vistabella in Roses, the best hotel in a decidedly middle-class seaside resort town about 25 miles down the coast from the French-Spanish border. Forewarned by friends not to attempt the drive from the hotel to El Bulli, we went by taxi along the tortuous one and a half lane road that divides the mountainous promontory between the seafronts of the hotel and the restaurant. Arriving at dusk to El Bulli at an highly-propitious time as it was observing its 20th year with a retrospective of dishes from prior years, we were able to see what may be the most dramatic and beautiful setting of any great restaurant in Europe; a bay of its own that still receives the full force and sounds of the sea on one side and beautiful woodlands on the other. The building itself is a restrained modernist stucco, wood and stone house of large proportions that looks as if it dates from the 1950s, and which is ingeniously landscaped with stones and rocks and black slate which mimicked the course of a stream. Upon entering a rustic, yet spare, interior with three dining rooms and a common area for before-and-after dinner drinks, a maitre d’hotel immediately offered to take us into the restaurant kitchen. This very large (35 square meters or about 1000 square feet) gleaming, spotless facility had 35 people, many of whom were an international array of students and apprentices, working in virtual absolute silence. As any informed gastronome about to be seated for dinner for the first time at El Bulli, my wife and I had a rather abstract notion of El Bulli and the Adria Brothers’ influence on today’s better chefs; this despite my having dined four months ago at the Madrid restaurant of a chef who had worked for Adria for six years, and the meal five days before at Le Chanticler where Alain Llorca has decidedly fallen under the Adria spell. Every now and then at the odd restaurant we had also come upon a dish or two that we surmised was based on some Adria technique or approach; usually foam or a glass of layered flavors that someone told you to eat by pushing your spoon down to the bottom. Of course we read the media blitz of two years ago when it seemed that every food writer had been to El Bulli at the same time. Then, of course, we learned a fair amount from the detailed accounts of the meals right here on eGullet by the fortunate few who had already been to the restaurant, or the technique both Adrias use as described by Steve Klc. Also we found on the Web an informative, if somewhat foamy, long article on Ferran Adria that appeared in Esquire Magazine a year ago. Of course under the dictates of the New Dining, we did not have to worry about ordering dishes and trying to figure out what goes best with what or what creations might take the measure of a great chef. The name of each dish of the entire 25-course dinner was revealed to us on a small greeting card- like menu, which also included the date, the price (115 Euros) and the year that each dish was created. (Our notes follow the name of each dish as it appeared on the menu.) According to our waiter, the “tapas” section changes every day. What Bux aptly referred to as the “El Bulli ride” began with what Adria calls “snacks”; 10 small dishes, some served separately and the rest placed on the table at the same time. These dishes fall into the realm of tidbits served with aperitifs and “amuses-gueles. They are: 1. Pastilla Helada de Sangria (2001): This is a purple ice, the size and shape of a large sugar cube, flavored with sangria. It was a refreshing start to the meal, although it was not much more than a sophisticated Popsicle in conception. (The next five dishes were put out together for the sake of serious snacking): 2. Magdalenas de Olivas Negras (1997): Adria’s first dish of the meal in which he combines sweet and savory. There were two small black muffins infused with a strong and true taste of olives that still retained the texture and sweetness of a conventional muffin. Both clever and tasty. 3. Falsa Palomita de Palomitas (2002): Flaky white “sawdust” shavings were served in a spoon. The dish (if one could call it that) burst into the flavor of caramel popcorn as it dissolved in the mouth. 4. “Pistachulines" de Yogur (2001): Adrai transformed yogurt into a crispy packet that resembled a crescent-shaped dumpling. This, too, dissolved and released or “revealed” a whole pistachio nut. 5. “Pescaito Frito” (1999): Long ribbons of fish-flavored “chips”. A bit frivolous, but on the mark in terms of the taste. 6. “Philopizza” (2000): A long, narrow rectangle of herb-infused phylo dough that was topped with shredded cheese-flavored flakes and intensely flavored powder of tomato. The cheese aspect of it brought to my mind Eli Zabar’s Parmesan toast; but there the resemblance ended to anything we had ever eaten except, of course, to the taste of pizza that Adria had captured in his unique way. 7. Chips de Patata al Pimenton con nube de Vinegra (2001): These were potato chips sprinkled with powdered red pepper into which one dipped them into a bowl of vinegar foam. The vinegar tasted malty. A curiosity most of all. 8. Huevo de Oro (2001). The “golden egg” has quickly become one of the most famous dishes of the restaurant. Here a runny-yet-warm yoke of a quail egg is encrusted in a caramel shell measurable only in microns and covered with gold leaf. It evokes a cacophony of hot and cold and soft and crunchy sensations. The dish is miraculous. 9. Corte Helado de Parmesano (1997): This Adria creation reminded me of the Cheese-Wiches of my youth. It also had aspects of an ice cream sandwich in which a long rectangular portion of Parmesan ice cream is sandwiched between two rectangular thin, orange wafers. The taste was not unlike a Cheeze-Doodle. The Parmesan flavor overwhelmed the taste of the wafers. 10. Tempura de Huevas de Trucha Caliente/Fria (2000): Trout eggs that were miraculously held together by a translucent, deep-fried tempura batter. The fish eggs were of a quality I had never encountered; they gave way most reluctantly, and when they finally did so, they exploded into an intense briny flavor. The next eight dishes were what Adria calls “tapas” that roughly coincides with warm appetizers in a “normal” restaurant. 11. Frapuccino de Leche de Oveja (2000). This fairly recent variation of the infamous layered drinks you eat with a spoon (or in this instance drink through a straw) was to both our minds one that missed the mark. The bottom half of the glass had warm liquid black truffle and the top half cold sheep’s milk. The earthiness of the truffle juice and the milky, salty taste of the sheep’s milk together were dissonant. Our waiter instructed us to sip from the bottom of the glass. 12. Sorbete Esponjoso de Pina con Raviolis de Pina al Campari (2000): A mound of pineapple sorbet with tiny pieces of pineapple underneath with a cube of jellied Campari wrapped in a supple piece of pineapple. The taste was tart, bitter, and slightly sweet. Very refreshing. 13. Tagliatelle de Consome a la Carbonara (1999): Consomme that was re-formed into long jellied strands about the size of fettuccini. It was served like a Carbonara. It had an egg and butter liquid sauce with tiny cubes of cheese (possibly Gruyere) and ham. We found this to be better in conception than in taste. 14. Couscous de Califlor con Salsa Solida de Aromaticos (2000): Adria has found a way to infuse herbs and vegetables to impart a granular-like texture as a "croustillant". Here he uses coriander, cumin, and apple in just that way along with cauliflower in the midst of couscous grains. There is also a bitter, dark brown sauce of Gentiane ringing the outside of the creation. Our waiter instructed us to eat the dish from the middle outwards. One of the highlights of the meal. 15. Caricoles al Natural (2000): Snails out of the shell and put in slightly jelled and crumbled aspic of broth. There were two rectangles of fennel jelly on the left, while on the right was a small pat of butter that had been encased in a translucent skin-Adria’s version of ravioli. Our waiter told us to take a snail, then add a bit of fennel jelly and finish the taste with the butter ravioli. Another magical dish. 16. Royal de Pollo con Ceps y Ravioli a las Herbas Aromaticas (1997): Liquified chicken with cepes and a ravioli filled with herbs. This course was served in a convoluted dish of oval shapes with an open pedestal base, indicating that the dish was placed in warm water to keep the chicken liquid. This dish is more about texture than lively, interesting taste. 17. “Arroz” al Azafran con Mejillones de Roca (2000): Saffron “rice”, which was actually soybean sprouts cut to look like grains of rice, was served with tiny mussels out of the shell. Visually engaging and a challenge to figure out what the "rice" was made from. 18. Sepia a la Brutesca (2001): Squid with its ink and brains. The ink was a black puddle sauce and the brains a brown one. It was the most arresting and beautiful of all the dishes to look at: Three puddles of each color. It was reminiscent of an Agnes Martin abstract painting. The dish tasted sweet and of the sea. We liked this very much. The following four dishes, called Platos, were roughly equivalent to main dishes: 19. Ensalada de Almejas con Ceps (1988): The only :”vintage” dish of the night as it was the only one that Adria created before 1998. Threads of raw onions marinated in vinegar ( a reinterpratation of a “mignionette” sauce) in the middle with a “Busby Berkeley chorus line” of tiny steamed clams ringing the dish. Served with cepes. 20. Raya con Enokis y Salsa de Huevas de Trucha (2000): A small piece of skate with a bouquet of enoki mushrooms laid atop. The sauce was foam of trout eggs. A rather bland affair with the trout egg foam more quixotic than delicious. 21. Civet de Conejo con Gelatina Caliente de Manzona (2000): A de-boned piece of rabbit breast with aromatic vinegar and the aromatic “crunchies” Adria likes to use. A warm apple jelly was separate on the plate. A small branch of an herb was used as a brochette for the liver. Another favorite of the meal. 22. Sopa de Levadura con Helado de Limon y Huevo de Codorniz (2000): A rather incredible, complex dish and a transition between the main courses and the desserts. A "reverse engineering" of a brioche. In a bowl was a quail egg yolk, melted butter and lemon ice cream in the bottom of a bowl. The waiter poured hot juice from yeast and some unnamed ingredient that gave it crunch. The taste brought together the elements of a brioche without actually being one. Dessert was two dishes served at the table and an assortment of mostly chocolate confections that we had in the large sitting room facing the sea 23. Gelatina de Mascabado con sorbeta de Yogur y Fruta de la Pasion 1998). A gelatin of burnished cane sugar with a scoop of yogurt sorbet in the center. In the gelatin were suspended small beads of intensely flavored passion fruit that formed a necklace around a centered scoop of yogurt sorbet. Most intriguing and delicious was an incredibly thin chocolate-flavored wafer with “bar-code” separations that was a real tour-de-force of death-defying pastry making. 24. Albaricoques en su Jugo con Cuajada (1999): Some jellied apricots in their juice with a fresh white cheese. 25. Pequenas Locuras. The assorted mainly- chocolate desserts. The waiter told us to eat first the mini-cone of dark chocolate ice cream. Then we attacked small silver holders and dishes of these confections: chocolate covered corn puffs with cocoa powder; Szechwan pepper raspberry jelly on top of a bite-size pastry; translucent disks of lemon and orange caramel on a lollipop stick; fruit on a stick wrapped with a strip of fruit jelly; white chocolate with truffle oil; thin sheets of white chocolate imbedded with black olives; and yogurt “candy” on a pastry base; As a sucker for chocolate, I found every confection to my liking, feeling that nothing was cloying or overly rich, not to mention the unusual juxtaposition of taste sensation and clear innovation. My wife was more discriminating. She liked the ice cream cone (extraordinarily creamy and smooth) the dark chocolate corn puffs and the Szechwan pepper raspberry jelly pastry. At El Bulli, service was the kind that has all but been forgotten. The incredible coordination required getting these fragile and complicated dishes from the kitchen to the table in the intended condition was at a level of competence I have rarely seen in the past ten years. The sommelier chose a “cave” (pronounced “Cavay”, which is a Catalan sparkling wine similar to a Champagne) as what would go well with all the twists and turns of Adria’s cuisine. The restaurant manager, perhaps part-owner, Julio (“Julie”) Solter has been at El Bulli longer than Adria, and since he has the restaurant humming with efficiency, not to mention our similarity of experiences and opinions along the gastronomic trails since the 1970s, he obviously earned my respect. (To be continued)

Anthony, thank you for taking the time to answer my post and those of so many others. You have been very generous with your time to the benefit of eGullet. I have to admit that it seems to me that your reply lacks some rigor in logic. That you do not refute my statement that a 15% service charge was included in the prices negates much of what you wrote. That there is such a charge means that no one can ever stiff the service staff, nor is there need for approval to add 15% to anyone’s check. In other words, there should be no need ever to “whack” a table with a 15% service charge that is already in the prices of the food. You even appear to admit that essentially tipping twice happens from time to time. I also wonder what you mean by a “clear case” of double tipping. How is it an “either/or” phenomenon? Why is it sometimes necessary to contact a credit card holder in instances of double tipping when an alert waiter can see either by a tip added to a credit card slip or cash on the table that someone has inadvertently tipped twice? Perhaps you took my previous post as being addressed to instances in which customers at Les Halles somehow get subjected to parting with money above and beyond the “prix net” and a- few- percentage- points- gratuity system that the French have adopted. As I have tried to make clear from the start, my query and concern potentially apply to every bill-paying person who dines at Les Halles.

JD, I spend as lot of time in Nice and thought I knew all the interesting places. Chez Michel on rue Meyerbeer (or as my brother referred to it, "Meyerbeer is Rheingold, the dry beer") is new to me and probably not in the Guide Gantier. I will try it and report back to the members. Many thanks for digging this one up.

JD, my last meal at Tetou was disappointing as well. I just wonder if you felt that ordering two bouilliabaisse is necessary for most couples. I think one would suffice. If so, then, of course, the bill is significantly less than it was in your case. I also agree that Bacon is the more rewarding of the two restaurants.

Anthony, explain this one to me. In May of 2001 I dined for the first time in a long time at Les Halles, the restaurant you are associated with in terms of your book "Kitchen Confidential", which everyone knows is about restaurant shenanigans. At the time of ordering dessert, and not before, I noticed in rather small print that a 15% service charge was included in the prices ("service compris" as they say in France, but not in New York, and not what New York diners have been conditioned to expect). None of the other three people I was with noticed it; no waiter reminded us that this was Les Halles policy; and nothing was changed on the credit card slip. (If the restaurant really wanted to go French all the way, it could have gotten the slips they use in France where there is no line for a gratuity. Short of that, one could rubber-stamp on them "tip included"). If one weren't overly observant, there does not seem to be any indication that I could see that any staff person would have told the customers not to leave the usual tip. How do you explain this? And since you pride yourself on telling it like it is, what really went on in this regard at Les Halles? i.e. who established this modus operandi and what percentage of diners ended up leaving a 30% or so gratuity?

How can I let my dear departed 1990 Meusault Perrieres of Comtes Lafon pass in anonymity? I gave it up for a worthy cause, and it was praised and enjoyed by all.

Cabrales, most of the "less-expensive" white Burgundies on the list are too young; even most of the expensive wines. It's a rip-off list, generally speaking. The only one that tempted me was the 1988 Sauzet Champs-Gains. I owned a few and it was the best from a decent-but-not-great year that I have had so far. I like Sauzet wines a lot.

FG, that one went over my head for extra bases.

What I consider "joie de vivre" comes from more than earth-shattering preparations. It has also much to do with the attitude that ownership or management decides to assume in it relationship with its patrons. That special quality is one that I found a lot more in Italy (especially in the small towns) than elsewhere. In Steve's context, however, I would agree that it is rare in a great two-star or three star Michelin restaurant, or even in a revered restaurant outside of the Continent, that an unforgettable or "perfect" meal (in terms of the food) rarely exists without a profound feeling of having immensely enjoyed oneself in terms of your relationship to all aspects of the restaurant. (Great chefs are usually great restaurateurs.)There have also been times when a desultory meal has suddenly been transformed by a dish so sublime that you can't stop talking about it, and, like a magic carpet ride, carries you to its (the meal's) conclusion.

mbox, as I have written before, Talloires is the place to stay on the Lake of Annecy. L'Auberge du Pere Bise is expensive, but Le Cottage and L'Abbaye de Talloires are not that expensive. The gorgeous lake view is more available at the latter. You shouldn't pass up a meal at Veyrat even if it means compromising on other meals or accomodations. You can have a fun cheese meal in Annecy itself for example; i.e a raclette or Fondue Savoyard

Thanks for the kind words Jaybee, Nick, Jinmyo and Steve. We drank a 1998 Chablis Grand Cru "Les Clos" from Jean-Paul Droin (not steely and very well-rounded and drinkable for a youngster) and the 1997 Vosne-Romanee "Les Brulees" from Rene Engel, which was quite drinkable, quite soft and round as well, but not with overpowering fruit or structure. I think they were $80. and $120(maybe the latter a bit more) respectively. Not having my wife handy since she was out of town when I wrote the post, I have a correction to make. She did like her sole a lot. (It was her first course). What disappointed her was her second course, "Fricasse of farm-raised chicken, brown and blond morels, crayfish 'cardinal", roasting jus". One of the three pieces of ch9icken had more membrane than meat and almost inedible and the morels had absorbed so much of the "jus" that they turned soggy. Another way to put what I found off-putting, and what Grimes was, for whatever reason, not positioned to see, was the inherent lack of "joie de vivre" of the place. This does not mean one cannot have a rollicking good time there. It really means that the restaurant doesn't contribute to having one, and that you have to create it yourself by being fortunate enough to be there with fun-loving people or with someone you really get along well. I found ADNY to be overly-studied, perhaps even with too much French "snobisme". It tries too hard to hope to get the client to feel he or she is in some special, rarified restaurant without concerning itself with seeing that the client has a good and relaxed time. I have to admit, however, that a well-heeled college student wanting to impress a date isn't going to be aware of this at all. However, I believe that anyone experienced even moderately in restaurant-going is likely to feel that way. Steve, on your second point, are you thinking that Ducasse NY cuisine would be more exciting if he worried less about using regonal products? I wonder if that badly-conceived book that was about certain American food artisans is a true reflection of an iron-clad approach or state of mind Ducasse has?

Mogsob, thanks for the post. I have always found Rome to be a tough restaurant town in terms of getting a handle. So I really appreciate a good lead for when I return.