Dave the Cook

On that basis, you'd have to include Emeril's.

Without commenting on the rest of the list, I can't believe Chez Panisse isn't on it.

A bar that doesn't carry vodka but does carry Bud Light? Hmm.

Every time I've been in Pegu Club, I've overheard vodka orders: Cosmos, vodka-tonics, vodka gimlets, vodka martinis (the last two vodka-for-gin substitutions). I don't say they're good drinks, but they exist. Sometime last year, my favorite Atlanta bar had a collins-sized drink called a Smith & Thomas on the menu. It's a mixture of Square One, iced tea, lemon and raspberry. When I asked them to them make it with Plymouth, they seemed relieved. They always have a vodka libation on the menu, and keep vodka on the back bar. That's just common hospitality, not to mention -- as in this case -- a gateway to gin.

Most of the recent studies are behind paywalls, but this one from 1997 does support the contention of higher drug and alcohol use among waitstaff and bartenders. Correlation is not causation, though. The workforce in these occupations skews young -- another group known for high drug and alcohol use. Another compounding factor is noted in this 1988 study: bartenders, when separated out from other waitstaff, have rates as high as 50%, which surely skews a survey that lumps them in with their coworkers.

Another vote or Louisiana Kitchen -- one of my very favorite cookbooks. Who says you can't make tasso at home? It's one of the easiest cured meats you can make, and -- in this case, anyway -- serrano can't hold a candle to it. Find yourself a copy of Kinsella's Professional Charcuterie, Emeril's Real and Rustic or Polcyn's Charcuterie. All have respectable recipes.

Well there's a viable local model! I know you are reacting in part to the lack of science and religious fervor of the localvore side, which can seem indulgent. I go nuts with the "we have a right to food with no pesticides" mentality. What are we supposed to do? Shoo the naughty pests away as we ride around the fields on our winged unicorns? What about organic pesticides? Is growing a root vegetable the same thing as growing wheat? Feeding people is serious business and we have a huge amount of people to feed. But I can only see good in trying to include local production as part of the equation. ← Perhaps I misspoke. Instead of "local" I should have said "regional." Milk in Atlanta comes from farms in North Carolina (or maybe Alabama), I think. And since Georgia is a leading chicken producer, eggs are local as well. But those chickens (and the factories that raise them) remind me that we don't know how well industrial dairy cows are cared for. I suspect the answer is "just as well as they need to be in order to produce a profitable quantity of milk." It also reminds me that the efficient way to improve our food supply -- and by that I mean in all aspects: humane treatment of livestock, sustainable crop farming, quality and quantity of product -- is to think like Willie Sutton: go where the money is. The money is in chain groceries, buying clubs (and farm policy, of course). Kroger is in business to make money, not to wreak havoc on the environment. When buying local is more profitable, that's what they're going to do; hence the Florida corn that showed up here this week.

Fair enough, though it's not like I haven't considered the specifics in my mind; until now, this topic hasn't really gone beyond umbrella-like considerations. Acknowledging that the local and industrial models both have flaws is the first step. As to dairy specifically, my understanding is that most grocery chains (and let's face it, that's where most people shop, and will continue to for quite some time) are pretty well localized already. Kroger, Safeway, Publix, et al, don't want to spend any more on transportation than is absolutely necessary. (All Publix milk products are bgh-free, and have been for about a year now.)

I really think you've oversimplified this. I have to say, it's this all or nothing attitude that makes me nuts. The issues for grains are not the same issues for livestock. Or tomatoes. There are some great examples of where science has made inroads that we should be grateful for and there are horrific examples of food gone wrong. A lot of people are eating better than ever, getting smarter about food and a few are actually making money, using viable local models of food production. ← I don't disagree that some people are eating better as a result of the local model. I know that I do, though buying beans from Rancho Gordo doesn't exactly fit that program. I'm saying that it's not a viable model for meeting global food needs. It's not a matter of all-or-nothing; it's a matter of recognizing reality and designing a solution that aligns with that reality.

There's this: ← Oh, the same post that also says: and and Those sound like precursors of a "third way" plan to me.

I second that. Status quo ante does not mean that there aren't alternatives worthy of exploration. McWilliams and his followers here dismiss out of hand the viability of seeking a Third Way. ← Where's the evidence for that assertion? I dismiss the local model because it's not viable. That doesn't mean I think meat can or should only be produced on disgusting factory farms. I haven't said that, nor, so far as I can tell, has anyone else.

I've just gone through this topic (quickly, I admit), but the closest statement I can find to "vociferous defenses of industrial agriculture" is by Steven (post here): Saying that the local model can't be sustained isn't the same thing as saying that industrial production is wonderful, any more than admitting to "support(ing) quality agriculture no matter where it happens to be located" is a betrayal of principles that generally support local consumption.

. . . and that's a good reason to ignore the findings of the study? Of course he does. The problem some people seem to have with his perspective is that it insists on critical thinking (eta: as in, say, the Scientific Method) about issues like sustainable farming (which he supports), free-range livestock (he doesn't eat meat) and food miles (which, if not completely bogus, are far more complicated than they first appear to be). A methodology, much less a movement, that can't be examined based on its own tenets won't likely have the strength to succeed.

I'm guessing at the amount, Sam; it could easily have been less. Regardless, as I said, there was no greasy texture or taste. Rather than theorize about some other method, why not try it?

Contrary to his usual methods, Nick freepoured it. It was probably a 5-ounce flute, so I'd guess maybe 3/4 ounce of the cherry, 1/2 ounce oil, 3-1/2 of sparkling wine. The bubbles in the wine made a mighty effort of holding the oil in suspension, but after about five minutes, it separated. Still, the drink never felt or tasted oily.

Last night I was lucky enough to have a couple of drinks at Restaurant Eugene. I asked bar manager Nick Hearin to make me something. "Fun or serious?" he asked. Fun. "Bubbly or not?" Sure, bubbly. He pulled a bottle of viscous maroon out of the fridge. "Grenadine?" I queried. No, strained cognac from marinating cherries. From another cooler, he removed a bottle of Gruet, and from the shelf behind him, something whose label he obscured with his hand. He poured them simultaneously into the flute, the former in greater proportion. He set the glass onto my napkin, announcing "The PBJ." The aroma was unmistakable. Sure enough, he removed his hand from the mystery bottle: unrefined peanut oil. The drink was delicious, too. Another cocktail on the menu was "The Undeniable Truth": Leopold Bros. Gin, NP vermouth, extra-virgin olive oil. I didn't get a chance to try it. Anyone else working with oils?

What's made it possible is the advance of technology, through hybridization and, in some cases, the revival of heirloom species that have advantageous localized traits. Technology also plays a role in our ability to outsource carrying capacity (the maximum population of a particular organism that a given environment can support without detrimental effects [American Heritage Science Dictionary]). For example, air freight has allowed Kenya to become England's (and much of Europe, for that matter) California. Europe is at its carrying capacity -- it has neither the land nor the water to grow the food it needs to support its own population. So unless you're willing to institute drastic population control measures, the local model is not only unsustainable, it's a non-starter. You don't have to be a fan of CAFOs, or not be a fan of local in-season produce to recognize that facts are facts.

Here.Bloggers and others were quick to note: Five days after publication of McWilliams's piece, the Times appended this editors note: McWilliams responded, admitting he "may have erred" on the seropathogen issue, on The Atlantic. IMO, he lacks the credentials to discuss with any authority the matters cited upthread. To bring this back OT, how can anyone who claims with the straightest of faces that "locavores are endangering the future of food" be taken seriously? ← It was nice of you to include the link to McWilliams' response, since your characterization of it lacks the context necessary to understand it. I suggest that anyone truly interested in sustainability read the whole thing, but here are a few high points: Peer review exists to illuminate and eliminate bias, including that which might be introduced by funding influences. McWilliams then goes on to link to summaries by Ohio State University, which expresses the problem is a way that is almost identical to how McWilliams put it, and New Scientist, which distinguished between the presence of antibodies and seropositivity, but also pointed out that antibodies are "telltale signs of infection." To date, no one has refuted the findings of the report, which -- it should be pointed out -- McWilliams simply brought to a wider audience. He didn't write the report; he used it as evidence to point out that agriculture is a human invention that is flawed by definition. Dismissing McWilliams because he's a history professor (and New York Times columnist who knows no one in the pork industry) overlooks the important idea that the history of the world can be written as a tale of agriculture. Just to take the US as an example, Columbus was looking for spices; the prime directive of the Jamestown colony was to send food back home; once the New England colonies were established, they set about exporting crops. The slave triangle relied on sugar, molasses and tobacco for the New-to-Old World leg. More recently, as Steven alluded to earlier, we (though perhaps we didn't know it then) decided in the 1930s that California would produce most of the nation's fruits and vegetables by diverting water from hundreds of miles away -- a continuing ecological rape that locavores conveniently ignore.

Every time I drop in at Holeman and Finch -- which is as often as possible -- I find that they've become even harder core than the last time. On the menu these days are veal brains grenobloise and schnitzeled veal fries. The terrine selection has expanded from souse to include campagne and rabbit, and the charcuterie offering includes finnochiona, smoked lardo and something called "sake-lami." We didn't indulge in any of the nasty bits; we were on our way to dinner elsewhere. Nevertheless, we tried the buttermilk fried quail (one split bird, served with creamy Tabasco butter), currywurst with red pea dahl (red peas, which were new to me, resemble fat little lentils) and a big bowl of fresh peas dressed with a bit of onion and cream. The worst thing I could say about the food is that the sausage was a bit dry. The peas -- the green ones -- were simple and wonderful. The cocktail menu has dispensed with presenting the classics as such; it's entirely the invention of the bar staff now. That's not to say that you can't get a Sidecar or even a gin-and-tonic, but they're now putting their own creativity front and center, even when they reference old-school concoctions. The Re-Animator (Bluecoat gin, Obsello absinthe and Cointreau) is a nod to Corpse Revivers; Buck the Recession (Old Overholt and Miler High Life) owes an obvious debt to the Boilermaker. We tried the Harrier (Hayman's Old Tom, lavender, grapefruit juice) and A Punch in the Rye (Rittenhouse, pineapple juice, rhubarb bitters and Fever Tree ginger ale). Both on the rocks, they were great spring-summer drinks, though the Harrier was a bit sweet for my taste. When I asked for something on the dry side, Greg stirred up a Manhattan-esque cocktail with rye, amaro, bitters and both Carpano Antica and a dash of Punt e Mes. My companion got a sour (we can't remember the citrus involved) made from applejack, housemade grenadine (more hard-core stuff; they break down their self-sourced pomegranates) and something I'd never seen before: truffle liqueur. Funk in the nose -- truffles? really? -- but very tasty in the cocktail. I haven't been to brunch in a couple of months, but I was told it's just gotten nuts; they're now offering their burgers to go in an attempt to keep the crowd from spilling out onto Peachtree.

I went to that school, too! I have two chef's jackets, which I wear (not at the same time) when I'm teaching classes. If I wore one in my own kitchen, I'd laugh myself out of the room.

Perhaps this is true, but 1) the seasoning on my pans is pretty tough -- anything short of a stainless steel sponge is safe to use, I regularly let them soak, and I'm not afraid to use soap or detergents; 2) you don't go scrubbing at the thing because if your pan is well-seasoned, you don't have to; 3) losing the seasoning is no big deal (I think the most common cause is not scrubbing but overheating) -- just reseason it.

I've been experimenting lately with using roux -- specifically Prudhomme-style, high-temperature roux, combining high carbon content with fat breakdown -- to get a quick, hard seasoning, and I've had excellent results. For a ten-inch pan, heat a cup of highly unsaturated oil (I use grapeseed) until it smokes. Add a cup of a/p flour and stir constantly until the roux turns dark brown. Remove from the heat and allow to cool in the pan. Clean out the pan. The roux, if you haven't burned it, is great for gumbo. Repeat two more times, and heat your oven to 400 F. After the third roux and cleaning, use a paper towel to give the pan a thin coating of the same oil you've been using. Put the pan in the oven for 30 minutes. Remove the pan and wipe out any oil puddles. When the pan cools, apply one more coat of oil, leaving no excess. Your pan is seasoned. I'm not prepared to promote this as a universally appropriate method, but it's worked extremely well so far. I'd love for someone else to try it and post results.

Os is a molecular restaurant three nights a week, if you order the tasting menu. More important, I think, is the model that they've set up that allows them to do it: first, the Westin is a business hotel that's full Sunday night through Thursday afternoon, then empties out. They do a robust banquet business, which, when done properly, is much more profitable than a restaurant, and that supports the entire F&B operation. Second, Kleinman has created a very approachable molecular menu using the standard three-course-plus-dessert structure, with very few exotic ingredients. This encourages people to try the menu without abandoning their preconceptions about what a dinner should be -- a hurdle that (I think) limits the appeal of a place like Alinea. It also contains labor and food costs.

I don't know Niche, but the regular menu at Os reminded me a lot of One Midtown Kitchen under Richard Blais (report here). If you're looking for molecular touches, they're all over: Strawberry Yuzu with Frozen Olive Oil New York with Soy Grilled Mushroom Kabob and Candy Garlic Butter Seared Barramundi with Tempura Banana, Grilled Pineapple and Ponzu Southern Peach with Merlot Caviar and Frozen Thyme Half Dozen Oysters with Green Olive Citron Cocktail and Mojo Jelly Romaine Hearts with Caesar Dressing and Fried Capers

A few notes: The sauce under the pork was said to be creme fraiche, though I doubt it was that simple. The fried sour cream was reminiscent of Dufrense's fried mayonnaise (I haven't been to WD-50, but Blais prepared it for me using Wylie's recipe). I'm guessing methyl cellulose is the secret here, but whatever -- it's delicious. If the grapes are produced by marination, I'm going to be disappointed, because I plan on trying to make them in a cold smoker. They lacked the acrid edge that most smoked food has; my theory is that that is exacerbated by the subsequent cooking process; since the grapes are raw, that bitterness never develops. I admit that I was dubious about two frozen confections in a short (though hardly skimpy) menu. The ice wine sorbet seemed impossible to surpass, and ice cream 20 or so minutes after that struck me as lacking imagination. But Steven is right: the addition of fat redefined "creaminess." I didn't quite buy into the apple-pie or yogurt analogies. To me, it was the best possible Good Humor bar. Otherwise, I think Steven and Janet have covered it, except for this: the next day, I was describing the dinner to my niece and nephew, starting with the shrimp. They thought it was an odd combination until I explained the pun: pieces of popcorn on top of these small, tightly-coiled crustaceans: "popcorn shrimp." Their eyes lit up and they laughed. Kleinman shares a sense of humor with the best of the molecular chefs. As I went through the rest of the menu, defining "tabbouleh" and "brulee" (having grown up in Denver, they're familiar with "sopaipilla"), I realized how sneaky Kleinman's version of fusion was. Not only had he matched Maryland crab to Keller's butter poaching, he had tossed in a component from the southern Mediterranean. The combination was so flawless that none of us mentioned it at the table. I don't think it occurred to us. Likewise, the honey-and-clove combination is (I think) Arabic or Persian in origin. Combine it with duck (not a typical middle eastern protein), New World beans, French brulee and Asian soy, and you have a tour de force that spans four continents in a way that is so effortless you only realize what's happened in retrospect.