Wilfrid

Yes, it's about two years since I had a meal there too, and not because the food was anything less than good. I suppose I am more a meat than a fish eater, and since it did require some effort to book it sort of slipped below the radar. What I still do sometimes is eat oysters at the bar if I'm in the neighborhood - nice break from afternoon shopping. My memory is that their sea food platters, in various sizes, were very good. As for drinking, consider Guinness!

Two important points: Django Rheinhart had at least three fingers of his right (strumming) hand missing. I like bone marrow.

Dean and Deluca. $20, which is not bad by their standards. I wasn't looking for a crispy skin with this dish, but I was invited to brown the duck first, so certainly rendered some fat. The skin was okay - it was not flabby and rubbery as you might fear, but reasonably cooked through. The peas and lettuce were the highlight. They drank up the veal stock and duck juices and were very flavorful. Mint and marjoram in there too.

The recipe was hopeless on the latter question. I was invited to braise (simmer) a duckling for one hour and twenty minutes in half a pint of stock. As you can imagine, it was still pretty bloody at the end of that exercise. Since I wasn't planning to present it on the bone (as a festive centrepiece), I took it out of the broth, let it sit for the length of time it takes to walk a couple of blocks and drink two pints of beer. Then I removed the legs, breasts and wings and finished braising them gently in the stock. It was a little more cooked than medium rare, and it was extremely tender. A D'Artagnan duckling.

Sandra, I have never developed a taste for white fish cooked with curry-type flavors, but its certainly been fashionable around New York over the last year or two. So, it's a trendy travesty! Old London recipe last night: braised duckling with lettuce and peas. I thought it was from late 19th/early 20th century, but having cooked it, I wondered if it was much older. The manner of cooking the lettuce and peas, and using an egg yolk as one of the thickening ingredients in their sauce, gave the vegetables almost an Asian accent, and the duck was finished with a dusting of nutmeg. It all began to seem quite mediaeval, but the book I got it from didn't have any scholarly sources for its recipes (T. Fitzgibbon, A Taste of London - probably long out of print). Too much duck, of course. What shall I do with the leftovers? Shred it over a salad might be wise counsel.

From as early as I can remember, if my mother tried to make a special meal for me, I would argue to eat the same meal as the grown-ups. I never much liked candy or desserts, but unfortunately that didn't seem restrict my girth significantly. My baby - nineteen months - has rapidly changing tastes. I started slipping her morsels of well-flavored cheese when her mother wasn't looking, and by about a year old she would insist on sitting on my lap for the cheese course and helping herself. Then she went right off it, and turns her nose up at the smell. I'm sure it'll come back. We gave her some curry once (at Tamarind, no less), and had a pretty restless night as a result.

Don't like to sit? You should meet Tommy.

I said Barcelona. I should also have said, not for the restaurants. For the markets and produce. I would like to spend a large part of the rest of my life in La Boqueria market. Maybe I could get a job as a porter.

I missed Jordyn's link. Bite me. I was just trying to be loving, inclusivist and helpful. I'll go back to sulking.

Wilfrid -- Of course. Did you see the Red Snapper dish mentioned for Le Bernardin? I could sample that too. So as not to even appear to be exclusionistical, I should say that I think Cabby and I are discussing a Time Out New York article from a few weeks back which mentioned dishes at various restaurants which needed to be ordered in advance - the poularde at Lespinasse, the snapper at Le Bernardin. However, this does not as far as I can recall reflect any off board discussion between us - I think we are seeing some evidence of gluttony-related telepathy. Is it the TONY piece you are thinking of, Cabrales?

Easy. Make too much. Yes, there is such a thing as too much brandade!

Did you know that if you have left over brandade, and it will hold it's shape well enough, you can dip it in batter, deep fry it and call it bunuelos de bacalao. Strongly recommended.

So, Cabby. You're up for the boiled chicken, then?

I like Bangkok for a few days, but the traffic and fumes would put me off a long stretch. Purely for food, there's a lot to be said for Sydney. Personally, I don't do the outdoor water-sport thing, so that's a downside.

Yes, I remember the tantalizing descriptions of what turned oiut to be raw fish drowned in oil. As luck would have it, I flicked on the Food network last night and found Mario discoursing on salt cod. He explained what it is, and then said that it needed to be soaked in fresh water for two days, with the water changed three times, to remove the salt. Then, he said, it could be eaten without further cooking, just a slick of olive oil. Hopefully, he'll send a video of that episode to the Esca kitchen staff. If the baccala I ate had been soaked for two days, I have a ginger pony-tail (which I don't). And if it had been, they should consider four days!

damn it Tommy, you might have invited me. You know I like sea urchin. Cabrales, the dish to which Christopher alludes is a smooth and comofrting combination of pureed potatoes and sea urchin served in the urchin's shell. Roll on winter.

Barcelona, please. Please.

Cabrales, you might prefer the duck eggs over easy. It is tricky to cook the yolks right through. How are your flipping skills? Meanwhile, still duckless - where can I get a duck in midtown? - last night was poulet au Riesling from my Paris in a Basket book. Robust, market recipes. This had an old-fashioned white wine sauce, thickened with a little flour and cream. Licking it off my fingers. And a piece of a mild cheese from Vosges called Le Montagnard - looks a bit like a camembert but with a reddish rind.

'E's double posted again. What is wrong wiv the boy???

Good. Your post put in my mind of the Gramercy Tavern dish, which I have eaten with enormous pleasure; I was just checking we were on the same page. I know this will impress you less than somewhat, but this food stuff has been trendy in London too for a couple of years. They do a decent version at the otherwise noisy and unappealing Smith's. I believe it's been onbthe menu at The Ivy too.

Just got around to reading this, Steve. That truffled poultry dish. Poached truffled poularde for two people, I believe - I have a feeling it may need to be ordered in advance, but I'm not sure. That's the dish I need to eat. Since there is no chance of my Beloved being persuaded to eat boiled chicken for dinner, I shall have to secretly lure one of the eGullet in-crowd to taste it one of these days.

That looks like the menu I chose from. Also, like my menu, it's unclear whether specific slow-cooked-dishes-of-the-day are served on specific days. I should have asked. On Saturday, they were serving the bouillabaisse - I don't know if you've sampled that version yet? (And I apologize for thus referring to a conversation Cabrales and I had in private. Bad boy, Wilfrid.)

Thanks Ruby and Damien. I also just saw one on 45th (or possibly 46th) between 5th and Madison. Didn't realize they'd opened so many. Unfortunately, I had already bought lunch. Would be interested to know what New Yorkers make of the Pret experience. I am reminded that there used to be a small chain in midtown called Sandbox, which was very similar to Pret, but seems to have failed. Since I don't know why it failed, I can't infer from that how Pret will do.

Sorry to be obtuse, Steve, but what do you mean by "fresh bacon"?

I did a walk-in on Saturday evening - on my way to twiddle my mustache at a hopping nightspot - and sat at one of the communal "bar" tables. dB is one of the restaurants not now taking reservations from solo diners (boo!), so I was quite amused to have the communal table, which seats eight, to myself, while parties were packed at small tables in the two dining rooms. Boeuf en gelee with horseradish cream was attractively but impractically presented. It came in a sort of squat martini glass, the chilled beef (and foie gras) topped with a layer of the horseradish, itself decorated with a pattern made, I think, from beetroot juice. Pretty. The problem, in eating it,was that as soon as one dug one's spoon in, the cream saturated the entire dish. I like horseradish, but didn't want it in every mouthful. As far as I can tell, the beef jelly basis of the dish was very good indeed. Poulet au pot "Henri IV". No, it wasn't. Why bother adding an erudite tag to the dish if it's not authentic? This was poached chicken in a little broth (veal/mushroom I think), with morels, wilf asparagus and fava beans (and I see Cabrales described it above). High marks for peeling the fava beans; saved me doing it and leaving a meaningful piles of skins on my bread plate, as is my usual practice. As poached chicken with morels, it was fine. Henry IV, however, would have asked where the stuffing was. Three cheeses to follow. Delicious but, as often, irrelevant condiments: for example, a lovely, smooth and spicy pear puree. But why would anyone smear it over a decent piece of roquefort? Cheeky trick with my dessert wine. The waiter first brought a suitable glass, and I awaited customary service from the bottle. He then reappeared and replaced the empty glass with a very full one. I was suspicious. And indeed the full glass was the end of a bottle, and thick with sediment. I let it settle, drank the two thirds of clear wine, complained about the sludge, and was brought a second glass from a new bottle. Good result for Wilfrid, but one doesn't expect that kind of stunt from a restaurant of this calibre.