Wilfrid

I appreciate the effort going into this thread. I don't mean to bring it down to earth with a thump, but a couple of banal questions are buzzing in my head. How ready are the 1998 and 200 vintages for drinking? If I want to find something that is ready for drinking, and available in New York, what should I look out for? Please and thank you.

A sort of ersatz goulash, finishing up the roast pork. Onions, garlic, tomato paste, sweet paprika from Kalustyan's, spicy red pimentos, less than a cup of light beer, and the chunks of pork warmed gently through in the resulting glop. Red and tasty, with a big, rustic boiled potato.

Thanks. I have never seen or heard of it elsewhere, but I will check out Murray's. I infer that it's Catalan because the "and" word is "i" rather than "y", which it would be in Spanish. If only I had a Catalan dictionary at my fingertips, I guess we could find out what the rest means. There's some more information on the arrop part of the deal right here.

I wanted to ask you about this stuff, but couldn't remember the name until I surfed over to your menu. I enjoyed it as a garnish on your cheeseplate, and it reminded me a little of quince paste - but I think it's something different. The language looks like Catalan to me. Am I close?

Drink it between courses.

Thanks, Steve. It does seem odd to go to the Pingus after those other bottles. Your comments don't entirely surprise me. The sommelier at Beacon, who was excited about having some bottles of Pingus on his list (maybe a year back), made an analogy with what the Grange had done for Australian wine, which is entirely consistent with your reaction. Maybe I'll get around to satisfying my curiosity one day - but I do enjoy the Hacienda Monasterio Reserva as a drinking wine.

I agree, Robert. The "normal" thing to do would be for me (or whoever) to go away for a month, do the research, come back and post a properly thought out view, with appropriate citations. But that would lose the interactive part of this. What strikes me as an irony, from what I've seen so far, is that it was precisely the non-conformist, unhierarchical, "liberal" trends in English society in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which inhibited the development of a grand, courtly cuisine. Charles I really wanted to be a Sun King, but he got the close shave more than a century before the French topped their royals. I am using "grand cuisine" deliberately, following Mennell, because these vast, ornamental banquets are not yet, I would contend, haute cuisine. Some of them were probably gastronomically disastrous. But the path, via Careme, from grand to haute cuisine is pretty clear.

Although the Cafe has been around a long time, I wonder if it's always been the same ownership. I take it the menu was somewhat different from Le Pigalle? God, I wish I was sitting in the Blue Posts right now, quenching my thirst before another visit to Francois.

Good, I like that space. I am fascinated by those old, frosted glass revolving doors. I never got beyond cocktails at the bar, though.

Varmint, I sympathise. I think a thread on how to effectively discipline (your own) children in restaurants might be very useful.

The fresh bacon is a great call, Cathy. Yes, I would go to GT bar just to eat that. Even though I prefer to call it pork belly. Reminds me that the charcuterie at Craft and Craftbar would also be destination bar dishes for me, if I could ever get a seat at the respective bars.

That would be Professor Mennell's and Professor Wheadon's cobbled together theories, based on their reading of the cobbled together original sources, oh cheeky one.

Priscilla, you are getting very avant-garde! Heartened by the interest shown in my oxtail dishes, I will risk losing the audience by mentioning that I got the idea for the "over toast" version from an ancient dish I ate at Antoine's in new Orleans called Huitres a la Foch. This involved spreading toast with foie gras, topping that with oysters and finishing with a red wine (or was it port?) sauce. Tasty in itself, but you can ring the changes fairly obviously by substituting kidneys, oxtail, sweetbreads, morels or any number of good things for the oysters. Kidneys or mushrooms on toast are hardly a new idea, but it was spreading the toast with foie gras (or pate de foie gras, of course) which piqued my interest.

The urban/rural distinction relates to what Mennell teaches about the respective aristocracies in the 17th Century - in France, the wealth and power congregated around the royal court, in England decentralized around the provinces. This very rough pattern supports the mounting prestige of big-occasion, banquet-style grand dining in France, contrasted with the persisting prestige of plain, "honest" country-style cooking in England. And indeed, during the eighteenth century, the press - and cartoonists in particular - develop representative stereotypes. The French lampoon the English as obese rosbifs and the English, proudly boasting of the "roast beef of Old England" lampoon the French as skeletally thin eaters of stringy meat and disgusting sauces. Although I wasn't thinking of a comparison between English and French history when I started this thread, it's easier for me to grapple with than a comparison between France and other countries. I would speculate that Germany and Italy, each unified during the 16th and 17th Centuries, may have had some smaller scale royal or ducal courts of some grandeur - such as the Medicis in Florence - but also nothing to rival the French court. I don't know about Madrid. So far, this is just the beginning of the story of how French cuisine got itself into a position to explode around the world. We probably need some more building blocks before we get to the actual question. (This is fun, but I wish someone was paying us to do it! ).

Macrosan, I thought where we came from ice cream was mainly made from cornflour. I must say, I can live without the stuff.

While I think it's unfair to expect Steve to supply a free wine-buying guide service, I second your impulse Nina. Hope he has an opportunity to reply.

Steve, thanks for the discussion of Rioja's. I ate at Marichu once and was a little underwhelmed - maybe we didn't order right. I would like to develop to a greater degree the affinity I already feel for some of the wines of the Ribera del Duero. The guy making Pingus - which is somewhat steeply priced - is also involved in releasing some lesser wines under the Hacienda Monasterio label. They can be found In New York, and they are pretty good. on the subject of eating out of curiosity, I just read an article in Gourmet about a restaurant in California which serves only "live" food, which turns out - disappointingly - to mean a weird selection ofnon-flesh uncooked stuff. Clearly a "folly". i would be most interested to eat there, but I bet it's horrid - y'know, in the great scheme of things which includes foie gras, grouse and tripe.

Thick slices of roast pork, stuffed with fresh herbs. A sort of charcutiere sauce (red wine, veal stock,mustard, cornichons). Savoy cabbage with lardons.

Back to the serious stuff. It seems Oraklet is absolutely right. The specific social and economic state of the French aristocracy in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries seems to be very important. Let me cite Mennell again for the following ruminations. A process which began in the sixteenth century, and reached something of a culmination under Louis XIV, was a kind of centralization of the French aristocracy around the court. One motivation was the crown's desire to reduce the independent strength, and hence potential threat to stability, of the main aristocractic families. It seems that very strict hierachy existed within the French aristocracy. Not only was a close association with the royal court essential to maintaining prestige and high rank, it was also very expensive. Ostentation in matters of lifestyle was de rigeur in order to preserve rank. The glittering social life of Louis XIV's court is well -documented, including elaborate banquets, and the closer to the throne members of the aristocracy were, the more elaborate the banquets and balls they were expected to throw themselves. This manner of courtly life persisted, of course, until 1789, and the displays of conspicuous consumption - which apparently drove many of these aristocrats close to bankrupcty - fuelled revolutionary fervor. Contrast the situation in England. According to the sources cited by Mennell, the distinction in sixteenth and seventeenth century England between the aristocracy and the "gentry" (landowners, squires, knights) was less marked than in France. Many of the gentry were as wealthy and powerful as those with titles. The aristocracy and the gentry together constituted a very numerous class, with great independent strength. The trend in England was the same as in France - to undermine power which threatened the throne by drawing the wealthy aristocracy closer to the court. In England, however, the strategy signally failed. The revolutions of 1640/60 and 1688 brought the development of an absolutist monarchy to a complete halt in England, and created the consitutional settlement of a monarch in parliament with Lords and Commons which persists to this day. In England, the wealth and power remained in the country, beyond the court. There was no equivalent of Versailles. Grand dining in the French style was introduced in England later and for other reasons. (Which I am still exploring).

Yes, Francois is a card, isn't he? The place always seems to be either packed or totally empty. And I wonder what is happening with the fried potatoes - I had terrific skinny pommes frites the first time I went, but on the second occasion got the boring fat chips. Maybe one should specify when ordering. Has anyone yet been to the place a few doors up the street under the same ownership, but different kitchen - Cafe du Marche?

You really thought Tante Claire was better than The Capital, Cabby? I haven't been in ages, but perhaps I should go back.

Toby, it sounds close to a Dominican technique, known as al carbon. Get the oil hot in the pan, then put in a big spoonful of sugar. Sear the meat in this - carefully, and use a lid, because it hisses and spits more than somewhat - and you get a very deep brown, caramelized coloring. We do it with chicken - haven't tried it with oxtail. Of course, the chicken you can just finish in the pan or in the oven; no need to stew it. The oxtail would sitll need a long braise after being carbonized.

1. Oxtail is delicious; tastier than short ribs. 2. Because it is a tail, it tapers from the thick end attached to the ox's ass down to the skinny tip. When sold pre-sliced, you get discs anything from one to five inches in diameter. The bigger ones are thoroughly meaty, and those are the ones you want to make the stew. 3. Plenty of chopped onions and carrots for flavor. A bayleaf or two. Whatever other herbs you like. 4. Braise in a dark liquid - red wine or dark beer. Slow and for a very long time - three to four hours - until fork tender. 5. Skim. Oxtails give off lots of fat, and you should skim the surface of the stew occasionally. I use a little metal tea-strainer for this job. 6. It's better left overnight in the refrigerator, then gently re-heated (gives you another chance to scrape some of the fat off first). The liquid may well have set into a fairly stiff jelly under the surface of white fat - that's fine, oxtail is very gelatinous - and this will melt into a nice sauce again as you re-heat it. Want to get fancy? 7. Unless your mother loves it served on the bone, take a sharp knife and (once it has cooled) winkle the chunks of meat off of the bone. This takes a little patience, as the bones are so irregular in shape, but it's not difficult. This gives you a stack of tender, juicy meat. 8. Warm the sauce, strain it (you can pick out the pieces of carrot to garnish the dish, of course - the onion will generally have melted) and reduce it over a high heat to the right consistency. If it's not thick enough, you can use the beurre manie method. If it's a red wine sauce, a splash of cognac at the last moment helps. Serve it: - The meat over mashed potatoes or polenta (rice even), the sauce poured around it. - If you're confident with pasta, the meat, chopped up, makes a great filling for ravioli, or to layer in a lasagna. - I made empanadas with the meat last week. - For an appetizer, spread pieces of toast, or croutons, with a little pate or foie gras, top with pieces of meat, and spoon the sauce over. - Pack the meat into a terrine, with the bits of carrot for colour, pour the sauce over (you have to have skimmed it very well, or this will be a greasy dish). Put a weight on top to press it down, and give it another night in the fridge. You now have a nice, jellied oxtail terrine to slice and serve cold with crusty bread and pickles. - Finally, you want to be fashionable? Cook a fairly strong, robust fish - monkfish tail, for example - and serve it with the oxtail sauce and some little pieces of oxtail as garnish. Fancy restaurant stuff. This has been brought to you by the Unofficial Oxtail Marketing Board, sole proprietor Wilfrid.

I expect it's a bit like "shrimp scampi", Macrosan - God bless 'em. I share your puzzlement.

Too soon to ask for more pictures, right?