Wilfrid

Gee if Steve has his way, the only restaurants which will need to exist will be pseudo-French restaurants where every dish is so refined you can suck it through a straw.

People like their food done different ways. Restaurants can comply, or not. I thought we were discussing something "meatier", but for the life of me I can't remember what it was.

Continuing with my reading, and currently focussing on how French cuisine became pre-eminent in England to keep the subject manageable. I put together a timeline of French cuisine in England (up to Escoffier) to help my understanding (followed by a summary): 1643-1715 Court of Louis XIV. Grand cuisine reaches an apogee which endures until the revolution. 1649 Execution of Charles I of England. 1653 La Varenne translated into English (as "The French Cook"). 1688 Second English revolution - confirmation of consitutional rather than absolutist monarchy. 1702 Massialot translated into English. 1733 (onwards) Grand cuisine modernized in La Chappelle's "The Modern Cook" and subsequent works by Menon. 1760 George III of England - continues to serve traditional English banquets. 1766 First "restaurant" in Paris. 1789-1799 French Revolution and aftermath up to Napoleon's coup. 1800 "Liberty of Pleasure" decree in France relieves post-Revolution austerity. 1803 (onwards) Grimot de la Reyniere publishes the "Almanach des Gourmands" 1810-1820 The Regency. George III's son ruled England during his father's madness. Life in the Regency court was ostentatious, and Careme worked for two years as a chef to the Prince. 1815 (onwards) Major publications by Careme. 1815 Restoration of French monarchy. 1826 Brillat Savarin publishes Physiologie de la Gout 1830s-1850s Soyer cooks for Prince Albert, at the Reform Club, and elsewhere in London. Francatelli, Careme's pupil, cooks at the St James's Hotel. Ude cooks for the Earl of Sefton, then Crockford's Club. 1860s Notable French restaurants founded in London: The Cafe Royal, Kettner's. Queen Vicotira and Prince Albert serve banquets in the "French" style. 1890 Estimated five native thousand French cooking in Britain. Arrival of Escoffier. Summary French cuisine was known in England, not least through translations of French cookbooks, throughout the seventeenth century, but English courtly life did not develop in the manner of the French court after Charles's execution. The monarchy, and most of the aristocracy, remained faithful to traditional English country cooking, and the aristocracy and gentry remained rooted to their country estates rather than being attracted to the court. A major French chef, La Chappelle, was chef de cuisine to Lord Chesterfield in the 1730s, but "the fashion for French food was confined to a small circle, perhaps a very small circle of the richest London society" (Mennell). The impetus for further developments followed in the early nineteenth century with the first ostentatiously fashionable English court (the Regency) and the importation of the "restaurant" from France. Public eating in England had taken place, over the centuries, in taverns and cookshops, in chop-houses, and in coffee-houses. Typically, service was communal with no choice. The concept of a restaurant as a kind of private/public eating place, with a menu and a professional chef, was clearly a French invention (see Sprang). The French restaurant style of eating seems to have manifested itself first in London hotels, and also in private London clubs. Such clubs as the Reform, the Carlton and Crockford's would have attracted extremely influential patrons. Careme cooked for the Prince Regent (albeit briefly), and his footsteps were followed in the mid-nineteenth century by a generation of professional French chefs. Soyer spent almost all his professional career in England, and his fame should not be underestimated. I was amazed to discover that his Shilling Cookery sold a quarter of a million copies in 1850s England, a figure which might impress even a Simon Majumdar. The growth from the 1860s to 1890 seems to have been exponential, and with the arrival of Escoffier in 1890, French cuisine was firmly established as the standard for excellence and modishness in England. By this time, "the London diner...was as appreciative of the French restaurant as a French critic" (Trubek). I think this lays out the bones of how and when it happened. Key reasons seem to have been: 1. Major differences in the structure of the aristocracy (delaying English adoption of grande/haute cuisine by some one hundred and fifty years). 2. The importing of the French invention of the restaurant. 3. The importing of several superstar chefs. Two observations: Ironically, it seems to have been England's comparative liberalism which delayed its culinary development during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. And the estimated start date for French culinary expansion, given on a different thread as 1870, seems to be about forty years too late. This is important, as it undermines the hypothesis that French political liberalism was an important factor. I do still have some why questions I'd like to answer, but I need to formulate them carefully first.

I have certainly formed the impression that members of staff will dart out and purchase ingredients during service, which means that dishes can be on and off the menu with seeming arbitrariness. I did give Francois the address for eGullet and suggested he check out this thread. No sign of him yet - Francois, lurkez-vous?

The music was audible, but relatively faint. Later in the evening, when the restuarant was a little quieter, the Rolling Stones started to get a little intrusive. What puzzles me is how anyone can eat at the bar. It was a complete zoo. Like a number of Manhattan restaurants - JoJo, Le Perigord and March spring to mind (and there are others) - Babbo has nowhere to put people while they are waiting to be seated. The people eating at tables in the bar area would have had more space on a subway car.

Thanks for the details, Soba. Nina ordered both the lamb's tongues and the head cheese to start (there were two orders of Octopus). I believe the ravioli was not actually stuffed with foie gras, but with unfattened goose liver - from my sampling, it had a much grainer, more livery character than foie gras - and that is consistent with the menu description. I thought the lamb's tongues were the tastiest of the appetizers. But the grilled octopus was excellent too, comparable with the octopus dish Odette Fada prepares at San Domenico, which has long been my favorite version. My tripe was very good, but I should perhaps avoid ordering a dish which (I think) I cook well myself. It's worth adding that the cheeses were very good, including a very sharp, pungent blue. We drank a Rosso di Montalcino, I believe, which was appropriate for the food. I also ordered one of the little quarter bottles, but I left the choice to the sommelier and have no idea what it was. Incidentally, I thought the service was extremely polished and friendly from both our waitress and the sommelier. Sadly, there seemed to be a choice between the noisy end of the table or the hot end (my Beloved was melting). I was lucky to be between the two. And note that Mario was present, in his whites.

A friend who knows more about wine than me unearthed a white Hermitage from the list at Wilton's in London. It was the first I'd heard of such a thing, and it was excellent. If only I had more detailed notes.

The Cheval Blanc, from a description by John Arlott. Please.

Yes, that was the original purpose of brining.

Well, anyone who ventured into Elvie's on Saturday lunch-time would have witnessed the priceless spectacle of an eminent eGulleteer squealing with fear while being spoon fed by my Beloved - who shows considerably more patience with Cabby than she does with me! The restaurant staff all pulled up seats and enjoyed the show. The balut turned out to be a duck egg in which the yolk had almost grown into a duckling, with the curiouis result that it was hard to tell where egg ended and duck began. I did get duck flesh in my egg, quite strongly flavored, and also the liver, which was quite well developed. I did have a few feathers in mine too, and some tiny edible bones, but I did not notice a bill (beak, indeed!). Anyone who can eat hard boiled eggs and duck pate could eat this - it's the presentation which is slightly creepy. I ate half of Cabby's too. But it's woerth emphasizing that the other food we sampled was very good indeed. The slow cooked pork dishes were tender and deeply flavored, and I will certainly go back for more. Baby liked the rice. My Beloved was impressed by the bony butterfish. The only thing I didn't much like was oxtail in peanut sauce - the combination was not to my taste. My goodness, I've been to some strange places and done some strange things this weekend, and I blame all of you!

The Loire has many attractions, but Britain really does have better game. Even the French agree. You see, we need to work our way from the different varieties of partridge, up through snipe and woodcock, to grouse, which isn't native to France. A secondary route takes you through wild mallard to teal. Hollywood, I am to blame for the "Plotnickiism" term, and I coined it around page 19 or 20 of the Expensive/Cheap Eats thread: "However, and here's where I read Plotnickism (for we must have a term for this innovative school of thought) differently from Shaw: I don't think Steve P. is focussing on demand rather than supply in the sense you and I would understand those terms. I don't think he cares about demand in the sense of how much people in general like and are willing to pay for filet mignon. I really think he's rejecting supply and demand as explanatory of cost, and focussing on intrinsic qualities of the product -"betterness" - which exist independently of subjective opinion, and which can be perceived by an elite of connoisseurs. It's an opulent theory, and deserves to be beheld in all its purity. It's consistent, of course, with Plotnickism on art, music, and judgment in general. And I do not hold Steve in contempt for his consistency." In a nutshell, it's all the consequences that follow from the view that judgments - whether in gastronomy, art, or wherever - have a truth value independent of any context, which can be perceived by an elite of connoisseurs. Platonism would be another name for it.

Well the bit about their opinion "not counting" is arrogant, as you well know, my old monument. But I am prepared to accept that this is a quibble we have here. What I'd say is that your educational process moves the well-done-beef-fanciers out of their own judgmental context and into yours - just as one might theoretically have tutored the literary critics who despised Melville in the 19th C (for quite plausible, not silly, reasons) into the twentieth century context which made Moby Dick a masterpiece. You need some sort of independent, ur-context to show that one set of criteria is superior to the other. But I don't think we need to get stuck on this again. As to your concluding question, I know what you mean. Maybe it's because eating is something people do day in, day out, unlike reading poetry or going to a gallery. But I don't have a pat answer. We should meet up in London at the right time of year, and work our way through some feathered game.

I could even recommend some books on that question - All Things Are Possible by Lev Shestov, Froma Logical Point of View by Quine and Wittgenstein's Remarks on the Philosophy of Mathematics for a start. If you want to call me a pompous ass, go ahead. You won't be the first. I always thought I could get the right answer to pi if only I had the right tape measure!

Steve doesn't like pi. I have no problem with using the word "wrong" to describe opinions, so long as it's understood that one is working within some sort of horizon of rational, shared criteria, rather than making a remark about the fabric of the universe. For example, when someone claims that "Who will buy this beautiful morning?" is the most thought-provoking line to have been written in the English language, they are simply flat out wrong - by any kind of public critical standards regarding English literature, poetry or even songwriting. Of course, it might be their own favorite - no argument with that. What I will agree though - and Steve won't - is that it's a hypothetical, if extremely remote, possibility that in a different culture or different age, critics applying a set of standards unrecognizable to us might find Lionel Bart to be the supreme master of the English language. As I explained on another thread, a while ago, something similar did happen (rather more plausibly) with Herman Melville. Wilfrid aka "The Hammer"

All correct Steve, but I wonder if I can tempt you another step down that path. A group of American chefs would agree with you, and a group of American groumets. But what about a group of beef eaters from a country where they never eat their meat rare. Now, of course it would be possible in theory to take any one of these people and persuade them, gradually, to try to eat steak another way. But when they tell you it tastes bad when it's rare, are they wrong? You'll say "yes" of course. I would just say that this is a different community applying a quite different set of rational, shared criteria to the question. And I don't think it's the same as saying that just anyone's opinion is equally valid. I think an American chef, trained in the normal way, and with mainstream experience (sorry, that's a bit vague) - if he or she says that, according to the general standards of the American kitchen and restaurant, rare steak tastes bad - well, they're definitely wrong. See the difference between us? it's quite subtle, but worth identifying.

My father used to. So embarrassing.

Of course, where it all went wrong with art galleries, was providing those perky little head sets, so people could walk around having the pictures explained to them without having to look and to do some work. Now the places are packed to the gunnels, and precious blossoms like me can scarcely move. Call me a snob. Go ahead.

I didn't realise that's where you were, Nesita. It's a sweet little place.

Steve, I readily found the 1990 Cuvee le Papate in an auction for $70. But I think the difficulty for someone who hasn't collected and laid down, is not so much the prices but sheer availability. The prices seem to me in line with what I might pay for 1989/1990 Premier Cru burgundies, which can still be bought over the counter. I'll have to look around for some of these Rhones.

1. JD, I think you're right to warn against framing the discussion in those terms, especially as "subjectivity" and "objectivity" are exceptionally difficult to define. There is a problem for Plotnickiism, however, which is that if he concedes so-called "objectivity" in favor of systematic learning and education, against a background of shared criteria, he adopts a position which I think is right, but which undermines his commitment to the idea of eternal, unchanging values. I still think, unfortunately, that Plotnickiism is some kind of Platonism or essentialism. 2. But to give credit, I think Steve's observation of a kind of hierarchy of serious attention when it comes to judgments of taste is very interesting. People are willing - to a degree - to have art, history, perhaps classical music, and even poetry and philosophy explained to them. They do think, on the other hand, that their own judgments, tutored or untutored, are decisive when it comes to food and drink. What else? Ethics, I would suggest. Sport, most certainly. Movies? And I think fiction - novels if you like - falls somewhere in the middle. People feel that expertise in some fields needs to be acquired, while in others it is innate. Odd, I agree.

Wilfrid, check out the Union Square Wines site: http://www.wineaccess.com/store/unionsquarewines You can search by price, type, year, everything. Thanks Nina, but - as I expected - not listing Rhones with any great bottle age. Maybe a subject for a broader thread, but this is often the dilemma for someone who hasn't cellared wine from a particular region: you either find a restaurant which has done so, and pay the mark-up, or you drink the younger stuff. I will, of course, double check with my cellarman to see if we have laid down any Rhones from 1989 or 1990. You never know.

Okey-dokey. 1989 and 1990, and there's plenty of advice here on producers. Roughly what should I be prepared to pay for something distinctive?

I only know it as a soup. But why not a sauce too?

The only depressing thing is that he's described as a "Paris correspondent". If he hasn't a clue how to eat in Paris, what's the value of his work in general? Idiot.

I think that's one thing I struggle with at Blue Hill. Hence one of my questions in the Q and A (not yet answered).