Wilfrid

It's a fair cop, tighe, I just couldn't remember the names of any of the remarkable little places.

Steve P., may I just say that your post on jazz and mashed potatoes was an absolute tour de force. I mean it. That is some imagination you have there. And for once, I think I agree with you. The manner in which certain foods and dishes become "metaphors for people's lives" - I would say, what they signify for people - is something we perhaps haven't discussed enough. I could raise steak again, here, but I'll let you all get back to your foams.

Veal braised in white wine, carrots (batonettes, of course), pearl onions. On a big white plate. I must get a digital camera. It was so...I don't know...sensible-looking. Rabbit Ridge cabernet. Cheese.

There's Nina's dinner.

Indeed. Give me a laboratory rat and I'll soon find a way to spoil his appetite.

Eek. Where is it?

I have met avowed steak-fanciers who didn't like Lugers. I recall one - an attorney who lived for steak houses - who used to pull a face when they were mentioned and mutter "They have a different way with steak". I admit, he didn't say their steak wasn't good, but he was clearly uncomfortable with their approach. I am going to have to go one day, aren't I?

Snacking last thing at night is good, because it doesn't spoil any meals.

I recall being served a Sultan's banquet of many dishes in the luxurious top floor of the Sheraton. Competent rather than remarkable, except for the price which was vanishingly small.

Macrosan's been on the Mackeson.

See. Didn't I tell you it was good?

Maybe they put the frighteners on him?

I haven't heard of that one, Robert! Okay. Suzanne, I'd be surprised if Joe Allen could serve that kind of meal. But let me not draw out the agony. It was San Domenico on Central Park South. Italian, but you'd hardly know it outside the pasta dishes. Odette Fada must have been cooking there nearly ten years now. Very satisfying meal indeed.

It's an unfashionable restaurant which I like enormously, and Steve Shaw once told me he found the kitchen "uneven" - or it may have been "inconsistent". Okay, hint: Suzanne is sort of warm.

I had a mixed experience with fried clams while on vacation, although I got to learn the difference between bellies and strips (nobody mentioned the foreskins, happily). Gage and Tollner I know. Anywhere else in the NYC area come highly recommended? What about up City Island way?

You fell into my fiendish trap. It's not a French restaurant.

Their sliced bread here is sometimes a little dried out, if that's any consolation. I am trying to remember what bread I used to like when I lived in London. I certainly used to buy from Randall and Aubin in Soho, before it became a poseur-version of seafood stall. The olive oil loaves from nearby Lina Stores were very good too.

I wonder where Pret a Manger are sourcing their baguettes? I just ate one and it was excellent - fresh, crunchy crust. Reminded me of Pain Quotidien, but that's not as good as a side by side tasting (there's an idea).

I wanted to drop this report in here, because a dinner I just had is an example of what I think of as some of the better aspects of "old dining". Restraint in the composition of the plates, but striking flavors. No resistance to contrasting textures. No attempt to invent new dishes: I ate neat slices of deeply flavored, smooth rabbit pate, accompanied by some quartered fresh figs. I have rarely eaten better figs. Some toasted country bread on the side. Then a roast saddle of veal; tender cushions of meat, with a tasty crust. Served over a fanned endive, with some intensely flavored, caramelised pearl onions as garnish. She ate a stew of young vegetables (a little reminiscent of JG's 27 veg simmered in their own broth, but not - thank god - 27 of them). Then a whole Dover sole, grilled, presented on the bone, then deftly filleted by a skilled professional captain. I think she may have had some potatoes on the side - I forget. No dessert trolley, I'm afraid. The restaurant was exceptionally comfortable, with correct service from a maitre d' who has worked there for years, and professional captains and waiters (the sommelier, who is a curious fish, was on holiday). It is a "family" restaurant, in the sense that the owner's daughter greets at the door, visits the tables, and makes pleasant gossip. It's in New York. Not cheap. Guess. Go on, guess.

Although I was just reading about that last night, and it seems a sure-fire way to lose those extra pounds.

California squab, brined, then stuffed with prunes (soaked in Clavados) and their own livers, flamed in the Calvados, roasted, and served with a red wine reduction and Puy lentils with lardons and pearl onions. A rich chevre calling itself Tomme de Grand-Mere (how twee) to follow.

Just thought I'd mention that I had an easy no-reservation walk in at Balthazar yesterday lunchtime, around 1.45. They serve lunch until 3, and there were plenty of empty tables. I assume it's still tough to get a peak-time table? I thought the food was okay - I ate an interesting "duck shepherd's pie" - ideal for a hot summer day The pureed potato top was blended with pureed parsnip, and I think the duck was helped out with a little oxtail. Quite rich. Pleasant enough, but the experience left me wondering why anyone would plan an evening around dinner there, except for the scene.

Subscriptions are indeed the way to go with any magazine you want to read regularly. I think I am getting Gourmet at $1 per issue. Vanity Fair, which I wouldn't pay the newstand price for, I get for $15 a year. Far from needing any kind of business pretext, I discovered that once I'd subscribed to a couple of mags, I started getting plenty of cut-price solicitations from others.

I don't eat anything I haven't cooked myself. I've been thrown out of more restaurant kitchens than I've had hot dinners. [ ]

They prepare your drink as soon as they see you coming? Gee maybe I should start tipping in Jimmy's.