Wilfrid

There's a thread in the Media forum about this year's Gourmet pick of the best - round about here, which notes that the French Laundry is nowhere on the list. In the context of this discussion, it reinforces my sense that the Gourmet list is fairly arbitrary and meaningless. Which is a disgrace. I couldn't get in to Chez Panisse the only time I've been in the vicinity, but this has been a fascinating thread - eGullet at its best.

Vindaloo: I was reading a fairly tedious Time Out New York article on spicy food last night, and it cited a vindaloo made with lamb. That struck me as wrong, and I think this thread confirms my assumption that it should be made with pork. For what it's worth, the article indicated that the Brick Lane version of phaal was the hottest dish sampled. As so often with Time Out, however, the author seemed proud of his gastronomic naivete - so who knows?

More I think about the mint love letters, less I think I liked them.

Yes, it's a very good date drink. I have trouble getting caul in New York, too. Didn't try in London. I hand-shaped my faggots. If I'd been cooking for a bunch of compulsive-obsessive foodies, I'd have called them faux crepinettes to cover my arse.

"Blimey, guv, I ain't taken no-one there in years." Thus spoke my cabbie in the approved argot, as he headed toward Le Gavroche. Thirty years plus in the Roux family, and once a three star, I think it's fair to say that Le G just isn't much talked about any more. I had no trouble switching my La Tante Claire reservation for a table for two here, but I found the dining room comfortably full on Wednesday evening, I suspect with long-time repeat customers spending plenty of money. The service lived up to its billing, attentively coddling from the moment of arrival. From an ice-cold street, into a warm, comfortable, spacious bar - how nice to find a restaurant with an adequate, separate bar area. Champagne and canapes - soft gull's egg, crab salad - while awaiting my dining companion. All staff seemed to be French, and I was impressed by what I would describe as a "total service" experience; everyone seemed equally equipped and willing to explain wine, take a drink order, discuss the menu, accept a coat, talk about the weather... Although the traditional ranks among the serving staff clearly exist, it was a refreshing change from the usual demarcation of labor. And the service was friendly and smiling as well as efficient. We ordered at the bar, then descended into the dining room. This was my first visit; it has been suggested that the room has been refurbished recently, but I saw nothing which differed from my expectations. The racing green colors, oil paintings, and Le Gavroche mascot (a little urchin on the plates, cutlery, cloches, etc) were all present. It was a little noisier, and the tables closer together, than I had imagined. Also, a huge shock to someone living in the States, some people were smoking; not intrusively, but noticeably. Nothing innovative or challenging on the menu, thanks god. No fusion, no Asian accents, no interesting garnishes. A list of solid French classics, with a couple of game specials. I ordered a dish which must have been at least a hundred years old when Liebling described it: coeur d'artichaut Lucullus - a tender artichoke heart stuffed with foie gras and black truffles, topped with a cap of chicken mousse as light as a beaten egg white, truffled demi-glace sauce. Rejecting the wild boar, I chose the assiette des chausseurs. A large (and chewy and salty) potato galette was the base for a mound of tasty venison (roe deer, I believe), teal and snipe breasts, and a snipe head complete with beak. A red wine sauce, helped out with mushrooms and more black truffles, spinach to garnish the plate. Apart from the potato, an entirely successful dish. The cheese trolley was all it should be; large, French, and everything looking the right sort of age. Also, none of this "three cheeses for $18" nonsense; you ordered what you fancied. No fruit confits either. The sommelier guided us to one of a number of Cote Roties in the 75-80 pound range, a very pleasant '97. My slender and delicate companion, having licked her plates clean of scallops and roast lamb, managed a good heap of cheese. Neither of us were capable of dessert, suspecting rightly that petits fours would appear. Chocolates, jellied fruits, macaroons (not brilliant) came with coffee. The waiter suggested a cognac, but I insisted he wheel the groaning digestif trolley over. My companion, practically a teetotaller, demurred, but after discussing a giant bottle of prune eau de vie with the sommelier was comped to half a pint or so, which she swallowed to my amazement. I took a 1973 Bas Armagnac. Since a number of people I have spoken to about this are considering going, let's not be shy about the price. Around 270 pounds for two, including service (hey, service included in the bill, I love it.) Depending on your exchange rate, that's around $440. Expensive but not insane. You could push it up by ordering dessert, but there are less expensive wines on the list too. A complete experience, and quite excellent - if you are prepared to eat food which the chef did not invent last week. I will definitely return. I need to eat the organic farmhouse pig: belly, ears and trotters with pommes aligote.

Have you been on the shandy again?

I ate some out of Balic's box, if that's any help. Tasted very promising.

Hyperbole, as you well know. It's not a criminal offence.

I usually have some gripes with his writing. How such a restaurant, thus described, can be said to have "no sub-text" just leaves me scratching my head. I wish he wouldn't try to be smart.

I expect it often is, but my understanding is that a classic salmis involves part-roasting the creature first, as I did here. Which, of course, a braise doesn't, although I suppose one might quickly brown the meat first.

I executed the game menu on Saturday. I made two mistakes, one huge and the other not so huge. The huge mistake was not sourcing the game at Borough Market. They had heaps of snipe and hare, all looking beautiful. I just didn't want it hanging in the hotel room over night. However, after battling to Selfridges and Harrods through the nightmarish Saturday shopping crowds, and coming up with a fairly limited selection of critters, I wish I had just thrown a heap of game in the bathroom on Friday evening and opened the windows. The smaller mistake was buying a pack of corn tortillas, in a burst of laziness. I would have been much better making pastry (or even buying it frozen). So, the menu: Crepinettes de sanglier, sauce moutarde Quesadilla de perdrix Salmis de widgeon I recall Fat Bloke on a very old thread bemoaning the state of kitchen knives in the average domestic kitchen. Having decided to avoid the hassle of airport security or of mailing knives back and forth, just for one dinner, it was my turn to be confronted by a horrific array of kitchen tools. One blunt knife, presumably for all purposes, half-melted plastic spatulas (no wooden ones), and tongs? Don't make me laugh. I battled on. The crepinettes, or faggots, were very coarse; chopping wild boar and belly pork (and onion) with a knife as blunt as a plastic ruler - that's my excuse. I bound them with the minimum egg and flour, and flavored them with some very aromatic fresh chopped sage. A simply mustard/butter/white wine sauce and a sprinkle of parsley. Not all that gamey in flavor, but I didn't expect it to be. Quesadillas? Well, not exactly. The stupid corn tortillas were too dry to roll around the filling, so I ended up laying them flat, serving the filling on top, sprinkling with a little grated mozzarella, and finishing them in a hot oven. The tortillas became a sort of crisp shell. I was, conversely, very pleased with the filling - er, topping: the flesh of plump red-legged partidges, chopped together with a little streaky bacon, and cooked in orange juice and cream with thinly shredded sweet orange peppers. A dash of red pepper flakes to kick it up (approximately a notch, yes). Sweet and slightly spicy, but with the partridge flavor present too. I was sparing with the melted cheese. At least the widgeon came out as planned. Between a teal and a mallard in size and flavor (teal being at the smaller and milder end of the wild duck scale), half a widgeon per person was enough. I passed them through a very hot oven, to take some color, let them cool, then removed the legs and breasts. The salmis sauce was simmered red wine with chopped leeks, carrots, and green beans, oyster mushrooms, some curly parsely, a couple of crushed garlic cloves, the birds' livers, and plenty of salt and pepper. Finished the legs in the sauce first, then gave the breasts just enough to come out medium-rare (I got that just right, pink in the middle, phew!). The huge advantage of a salmis over a roast is that I find the dense, lean meat of a wild duck toughens up like a rubber ball under dry heat. These duck were tender, powerfully gamey, and quite well flavored. A good shot of brandy would have helped the sauce at the end, but I thought of it too late. At least I avoided the temptation of setting fire to the kitchen. Someone came up with a lemon tart for pudding.

Well, I had to find out what happened while I've been away. Many sensible comments, of which I particular note these from Cabby, Nina and Yvonne: "I don't think there is disagreement that it would be polite to wait. The question is whether not waiting, under certain circumstances, may also be acceptable with respect to being polite. Looking at the question of etiquette only(and not sampling of cuisine), of course it would be preferable to wait (I believe nobody is disputing that)." "Personally, I'd find it quite rude if someone started eating before I got back to the table." "There's the rub. Out of politeness, I might say, on returning from the loo to find everyone digging in, "Oh, glad you stared without me". But in my mind I'd put the lot of you in a group of impolite sods." I remain unshaken in my belief that this is the consensus of informed opinion about what is polite. I also raise my eyebrows at Fat Bloke's phantasy that he has presented us with evidence to the contrary*. But I don't know that there's much to add. *Two quotes, one from a source I'm a little sceptical about, neither of them relevant. I am not going to explain why again.

I assume it's gratifying to be rated year after year as one of the handful of top restaurants in New York. Whether one looks at Zagat or elsewhere, Le Bernardin is consistently in the top three or four for food. But I wonder whether the extra pressure on the kitchen and service is sometimes burdensome. Does it create unreasonable expectations among customers, and do you feel that it's not enough to serve someone a good dinner, you have to "wow" them with one of the best meals they could possibly get in the city? Or do you have a completely different perspective on it? To quote an English novelist, "Thanks for all the fish!"

I think the meat dishes have been consistenyl better than the finish. I have never tried pairing wines - I believe the maitre d' also wears the sommelier hat, but I have usually just chosen something from the list. I probably misrepresented $62 as $65 - I doubt if it changed again - but I agree it has dropped ten bucks over the last year. They have made many changes in the front-of-house staff, ironically not much for the better. Were there dollops of caviar on the goat cheese ravioli? There should have been.

Sadly I have to bow out due to the pressures of my globetrotting jet set lifestyle. Steven, I just think if I could get an answer on the actual case I described, I'd be happy. I have no particular beef about your take on banquet etiquette, but I still have the impression you aren't focussed on the example where the food arrives when the diner isn't there. You;re still thinking about the diner being there but their food not showing up: and they say "Go ahead", and no-one, I think, is disputing that. But as Tommy said, why are we hammering on when we all "know" the answer. Steven, you're a dissenter; maybe Ron is too? But everyone else waits for the other diner to return - unless it is some unexpectedly lengthy delay. Cabby, I'm really not discussing the specific Lespinasse incident. I am asking more generally what people do in the US. And I begin to weary, because the only reason I am asking a question to which I know the answer, is that Fat Bloke thinks he can show me I'm wrong. Sorry, chauffeur (or possible chauffeuse) awaits.

I thought it was obvious that a consensus (or a majority if you like) would supply the answer to my question; as I expressed it yesterday: "My question is really very simple. Does anyone think, that it is generally accepted good manners, in the States (not France) today, to start eating a course while a diner is briefly absent from the table?" Maybe some people have other questions, but that's my one. A couple of times I think: to try again, it looks to me from the quotes you provided that the authors are considering etiquette when a large party is seated but not being served simultaneously, as often happens at banquets. The quotes give me no idea about what the authors would say about the quite different situation where a group of diners are served simultaneously, except that one is briefly absent. Cabby, the temperature of dishes in New York restaurants at all levels is so haphazard on arrival at the table that I find it hard to get worried about these details.

For once, I am not basing my argument on reasoning, but on a pretty generous empirical sample. In all my years of eating in restaurants, it's hard to remember anyone (at a dinner with some level of formality) behaving other than I have proposed. I just can't imagine Tommy wolfing down his food in the circumstances I outlined in the post above. Or anyone else. So far, you are the only clear cut dissenter*, and I'm expecting more than those slightly iffy quotes to persuade me I'm wrong. *I think Cabby's dissenting, but I'm still a bit vague as to whether she's recommending we switch to the French model or claiming that people in the States generally behave like the French already.

Tommy, I just think the quotes Fat Bloke gave us are dealing with banquets or large dinner parties, where everyone is sitting their with their bibs under their chins, while waiters waltz around gradually serving the table. In such circumstances, diners may be encouraged to begin eating when their food arrives. Maybe you would draw the same conclusion about a situation where four people are served simultaneously, but one is briefly absent. But it's a different situation, and I need some convincing that it's what the authors of those quotes had in mind. Anyway, I thought you were in the camp that you give the asbentee a chance to get back before tucking in? Consider a situation where you and I are dining with Mrs Tommy and the Beloved. Mrs Tommy and the Beloved take a nose powdering break when the appetizers are removed, but the entree shows up before they return. Do you start eating? I bet you don't.

Yeah, they're not really on point, are they? These aren't situations when one diner is briefly absent. These are situations where a large table of (present) diners are being served one by one, not where all diners are served simultaneously, but one happens to be absent.

What a pity. The room is indeed noisy, and the tables are packed. I guyess one notices that less when the food and service are right. Sorry to hear about that one, Damian.

One thing Verbena is well-known for is having a very pleasant garden. Does having that space affect the way you think about the menu, especially in the summer? Or is it just a nice little extra which doesn't make much difference to the cuisine. Do you think some people consider you a "summer" restaurant because of the outside space?

The beets had tartness. It was not a particularly sweet mouthful. Other spoons had smoked salmon, smoked tune, and I think some endive, but I can't remember the complicated details of each one. Sorry.

It smelled more strongly than it tasted. I mean, what?

Another top-notch dinner at Cafe Boulud last night. Excellent company, and I don't take notes, so the following is a little impressionistic. They started us with a series tiny amuses served on small spoons. I loved a mixture of macerated beet and dried fruits. The meal was bookended by two meat dishes straight out of the great french bistro tradition I love, treated with Andrew Carmellini's customary restraint and delicacy. An oxtail terrine with black truffles and a black truffle cream; and a meltingly tender boeuf a la mode, truffles again, and a rich, lip-sticking broth. A generous slice of rare foie gras was hiding under the beef. Between the beefs, we found a selection of dishes which, I felt, highlighted the kitchen's ability to depart from French cuisine and create lighter, Asian-accented food. I liked the Nantucket bay scallops, their sweetness contrasted with the bitterness of endive leaves and blood orange. A small squash soup looked and tasted like an upscale curry sauce - coriander (fresh and ground, I suspect), was in there along with other spices, and it was garnished with some small apple slices. Cod on an orange "paella" sauce gave off powerful aromas. For me, it was the most muted dish. I liked the idea of jamon de serrano garnish, but I wish it hadn't been crisped so that it splintered on contact with a fork. Sweet pepper garnish. We couldn't face cheese after the generous meat course, but enjoyed a pre-dessert (which is lost to my memory), and then a rich chocolate and coffee "pudding" with a cinnamon creme brulee. An inexpensive Pouilly Fume to start, although the soup and fish dishes might have paired well with a Riesling or even a Gewurtztraminer. Then a 1997 Cote Rotie from B. Levet, if memory serves; a bigger wine than expected - "bacon and mushrooms," I said, which was a compliment. Relentlessly good restaurant.

Steve, I was sort of agreeing with you...