Dave the Cook

I've seen the Eva Solo "block," and I'm impressed by its compact and intelligent arrangement. It seems to me that a horizontal mounting could be accomplished with a couple of pipe straps, a shim and a few screws.

In my experience, more people prefer them the way that you do -- short of true perfection -- than at the proper level of ripeness: when the first few black spots appear.

Dinner at Trois last night was a mixed bag: some really great food, and a few surprising disappointments. They're still handing out very acceptable champagne in adorable little flutes, along a with a small loaf of decent bread -- a medium-brown wheaty thing, which is served with (disappointment number 1) mirepoix blended with olive oil. Maybe this would work if it was warm, but it tasted pretty much as you can imagine: mostly like cold pureed carrots. Disappointment 1a: Trois serves as the bakery for all the Concentrics restaurants; you'd think they'd have an assortment of breads, and they'd be generous with it. The meal was well-timed by our server (Jason), so it wasn't one of those dinners where all you can do is sit around and critique the bread offering, and we didn't really notice (or mind) that the bread wasn't replenished. Still. Disappointment 2 happened here as well, but we didn't find out until later. We didn't get the "gift from the kitchen" that other diners got: some sort of watermelon thing that we only saw from a distance. I don't know if this is something reserved for certain diners or what, and I don't know if I'm being churlish in my resentment, or the restaurant is being churlish in its parsimony. And of course, it could have just been a service lapse. All I'm sayin' is, if you go, get your watermelon thingie. Dinner is presumed to be four courses, starting with coquillage (meaning, per my one year of college French, either "shellfish" or "whooping cough"). Having checked the menu out on line, I was looking forward to lobster knuckles -- the very best part of that crustacean -- but it was not to be; they weren't on the menu (which is printed daily) last night. They were offering a three-way cold shellfish app: shrimp, crab and oysters, and that's what we got (classic mussels and bouilliabaisse were also available). The shrimp were poached or steamed and almost perfectly cooked -- maybe 20 seconds overdone; the sauce wasn't anything special. The generous portion of crab -- several lumps about the size of lobster knuckles, come to think of it -- was bland. I'm not sure where this went wrong. Fresh crab with truffle butter -- what's to screw up? But it could have been chicken for all I could tell, and the sauce -- brownish with little flecks of something -- was buttery but otherwise indistinct. Disappointment 3. Luckily, things started to turn around at this point. The oysters were terrific: Wellfleets (instead of the promised Kumamotos) with a dab of creme fraiche and a sprinkling of Tabico caviar. There was just enough acid in the creme to highlight the mild meat; the caviar lent a salty boost and and interesting texture. This was a really nice change from the usual cocktail sauce or mignonette (which more often than not hide the oyster's flavor). As for the substitution, I was happy. I think the best thing about Kumamotos is their very cool shell; give me Wellfleets, Beausoleils or Malpeques for flavor. Did I mention the cocktail? A well-made, perhaps slightly oversweet French 75 to follow the champagne. It was an excellent accompaniment to the coquillage (come to think of it, it might be good at soothing whooping cough, too). At this point, we picked out a by-the-glass Rhone from the extensive wine list (pretty much a given at Concentrics restaurants): many offerings from a bunch of regions, grouped by a sensible and fair pricing structure. I'm not much of a wine guy, but the Concentrics wine programs seem like great models to me. We were informed (several times, in fact) that Trois is known for its foie. If it's not, it should be. This was one of the best foie dishes I've ever eaten, and I eat it whenever I can. It's a generous portion -- a quarter to a third of a lobe -- seared and plated with local blueberries in a coriander gastrique. This bested the foie at Eugene (which, overall, is a better restaurant). For the mains, Trois offers two sets of choices: "Classique" and "Modern." I don't know what they're trying to pull here. The Classique menu includes such great French traditions as sous-vide duck and confit "brick," not to mention perch. Perch? The Modern side of the menu lists recent inventions like suckling pig, beef tenderloin and pan-roasted trout. The only logic that seems to apply is pricing: the classics are all $18; the moderns are priced from $23 (the pig, which is actually pork belly) to $33 (the tenderloin, which is actually, tenderloin, I guess). We opted for the pig: a generous portion of belly is marinated for an extended period of time with a whole bunch of stuff: dark soy, garlic, molasses, coriander are the ones I remember. Then it's bagged and cooked sous vide, and set aside until it's fired. At that point, it's flash-fried, sauced (a version of the marinade, I think) plated with baby vegetables and run under the broiler for a last-minute crisping. It's terrific -- crispy to the point of brittleness on the outside; tender, moist and porky-rich inside, with subtle Asian notes that survive the overall robustness and rusticity of the dish. We also got the oxtails, which might be more accurately described as Giant Scallops with Oxtail Sauce: two perfectly roasted scallops the size of tennis balls (well, almost) in a pool of shredded beef, butternut squash and carrots. Yeah, it sounds a bit odd, but it worked. I'm not that familiar with Chinese food, but I seem to recall the beef and scallops combination on a menu or two. In any case, only the pairing is similar here: it's a country French preparation through and through. For dessert, we tried the banana tatin and the Fuji apple sorbet. The former is a saucer-sized cake of banana and a few other things, with a quenelle of white chocolate ice crean. The banana was horribly underripe, and the cake was subsequently disappointing. The ice cream, however, was great, with a pleasing but not overpowering chocolate flavor underpinned by a good pinch of salt. The effect was that of a variation on the famous salted-caramel ice cream of Normandy. Despite us having lapped up the ice cream, when we told the waiter that the cake wasn't very good, it was taken off the check without another word. The apple was more successful. Again, the ice cream was the standout, but the accompaniments: a small moist ginger cake, a smear of mascarpone and a little heap of caramelized apples were pleasing alone or in combinations. Only a cube of apple jello seemed out of place and, well, kind of silly. Really good coffee. The menu says it's Illy; all I can say is it's the best Illy coffee I've had. Dinner for two, one cocktail and two glasses of wine each: $186 before tip. They seem to have changed this a bit, but it's still an awkward arrangement. First, you have to yell at the hostess over the noise from the bar, which is right behind the hostess stand. If you have an unusual last name, this involves some irritating back-and-forth. After a moment we were told to wait at the couch, which is on the other side of the entrance, for the upstairs hostess to retrieve us. Then we were asked to go ahead and climb the stairs and meet the hostess at the top. We ran across her halfway up (it's a two-story ascent). We went through the name thing again (why?), and were seated with a good view of the open kitchen, but not before crossing paths with a couple of runners going back and forth to the bar (yes, there's a separate bar for the dining room; there's also a separate kitchen for the main bar downstairs) and the pass. The room is pleasant enough -- it's relentlessly modern -- and the seating is laid out well, though the whole place is quite noisy. Amick must want it that way; all the Concentrics places I've been to have had the same auditory profile. While I agree that the tasting menu at One featured more interesting and, overall, tastier food, I'm not sure it's fair to compare a meal prepared in a kitchen that serves as many as 400 covers a night with a dinner prepared just for you. The proposition at Trois is French-influenced food in a modern atmosphere, and I think it succeeds, despite a few flaws. I also agree that there are appealing alternatives at this price point, Eugene being tops among them; likewise, if a good bar and a noisy room are among your criteria, Repast is an good choice. But what really prevents me from making a hearty recommendation for Trois is not its culinary execution, which is excellent for the most part, but its lack of a consistent personality. For me, the combination of classic and (for lack of a better term) neo-classic French menu, chilly room design and dull background roar is assertive in the wrong ways. It doesn't create a coherent atmosphere, it just makes me nervous. A last note: it was great to see Chris Bischoff, Chef Lieb's number two, at the pass. Chris was at One with Blais, then moved over to Trois to help get it open. The kitchen crew seems adept and coordinated; I don't doubt that Chris is responsible for a good part of that.

If you love the look of copper -- which is a perfectly legitimate desire -- and are willing to maintain it properly, copper is the only thing that looks like copper. Copper works fine with electric ranges, especially radiant cooktops. You just have to move the pan off the burner. Conversely, if you've got a gas range with big-ass iron grates, don't expect your copper cookware to cool off very quickly -- again, unless you move it off that big old heat sponge. You've choked down the requirements pretty tightly, and I think that's unfortunate. Like any other piece of equipment, copper cookware has a learning curve. If all you've ever cooked with is cast iron, your first few experiences with copper will scare the crap out of you. If you've been using straight-gauge aluminum, you'll have to learn a bit of patience when you switch to cladded pans. Copper is more responsive than cast iron, but doesn't have its heat capacity. Aluminum is more responsive than cladded cookware, but you can't put it in the dishwasher (okay, you shouldn't). Compromises.

Without a whole lot of information, saying that one pan is objectively better than another is pretty much impossible, since cooks have different styles, different kitchen setups and different maintenance needs. If you reread Amy's original post, she says 1) she wants some of the benefits of copper; 2) she doesn't want to have to do a lot of maintenance; 3) she's interested in a set. Further, I think we can deduce that price is a lesser consideration -- whether it's good or not, All-Clad Copper Core is not inexpensive. Every decision is a compromise. The benefits of copper are evenness of heat, high specific heat (per cubic centimeter) and responsiveness. If you insist on all of those, you give up ease of maintenance (maybe a scrub with BKF is no big deal to some, but it's still more work than putting a pan in the dishwasher). But maybe you don't really need or can't use copper's exceptional responsiveness. If you're steaming or doing high-heat sautes, copper isn't particularly helpful; stainless is fine for the former and thick aluminum is a better choice for the latter. If you've got an electric coil cooktop, the lethargy of your heat source will negate responsiveness and specific heat. Sets: well, they're almost always bad compromises. You end up with pieces you never use or that are inappropriate for your purposes, and you'll probably have to supplement the set, anyway. So Amy, what and how do you cook? Do you have a dishwasher? How much maintenance is too much? What kind of cooktop do you have? Not cheaper by much. For the three pieces you listed earlier (11" fry pan, 3-qt sauciere, 2.5-qt sauce pan), the corresponding Atlantis items come to $632.50.

If harvests are down, how can shipping be up?

It's hard -- and it's going to continue to be hard -- to draw conclusions about whether or not a restaurant like Element is supportable until one opens with a sound financial model in place. Element was in trouble before Blais showed up; perhaps it was too much to hope that a new culinary program would save it. Back in 2004, the backers for Blais (the restaurant) weren't prepared to stick with a young chef and a daring menu for long enough to see if it could generate sufficient momentum (see my comments here and here). On the other hand, the chef will tell you (he told me) that it was an ambitious -- perhaps overly so -- concept. On a slow night, he would sit in the dining room and stare at the flat-screen video panel (fed by a battery of cameras in the kitchen) and think "There's $20,000 I could use right now." Find the right-sized place (25-30 seats), deck it out with an in-your face kitchen layout (see Upstairs at Bouley for an example), and finance and market it properly. If that fails, I'll agree that it's not workable here yet.

Except that there's not much statistical evidence to support the idea that there's an obesity epidemic. Overall, the population has gained a bit of weight, but between 1991 and 2004, the average American gained only six to seven pounds, and skinny people are as skinny as ever. The overall picture is skewed because most of the gain is at the upper end of the range. From Gina Kolata's 2004 article in the New York Times: There's also impressive research on how effective dieting really is, indicating that perhaps our cultural definition of obesity needs revision. In July 2007, Kolata summarized a series of studies: She goes on to tell about a 1990 study conducted by Dr. Albert Stunkard of the University of Pennsylvania and published in The New England Journal of Medicine, using the gold standard for population studies -- identical twins raised separately:

Add my vote to the toasting camp. It doesn't take long. When you can smell the peppers and they've puffed up a bit, you're done; five to six minutes. As for grinding, I've resorted to a two-step process (well, maybe three): first, after stemming and seeding, tear them into a food processor and let it work on them for a while. Sift out the powder and reserve. Grind the remaining flakes in a coffee or spice grinder. Sift again. If you started with a lot of chiles, you'll be doing this in batches, so combine the few remaining flakes from each batch and do them together at the end. You'll still have a few flakes, but consider them an offering to the chile gods, or save them for a stew, where they'll disappear in the mix.

I just realized I didn't register a real complaint, so I'll pile on here. I recently bought my first set of high end cookware and I was also really surprised to find that saucepans with pouring spouts were so hard to come by. . . . . ← These same expensive pots and pans have really terrible handles -- sexy-looking, maybe (they sure look good on TV), but clearly not designed with the shape of the human hand in mind.

Henkle has a few without it....as do I so many kitchens I have worked in dont have a knife that hits the board flush because of this T ← That's called a bolster, and it's there to provide stability as well as prevent the back edge of the blade from slicing into the side of your second finger, should you be one of us who employs the hand-over-edge grip. It's true that unless you have a big-ass grinding wheel (and mad skillz to go with it), you can't maintain a proper edge shape as long as the bolster is pristine and intact. But a professional sharpener can manage it by taking down the bolster itself; I've pulled a couple of knives back from the brink by letting a pro do it. On the other hand, I agree that the bolster on many knives is over done. Messermeister Elite and Shun's Ken Onion line use partial bolsters, which provide balance, protection you and access for sharpening.

That's a pretty broad brush. I don't have any problem finding minimally processed chicken at my supermarket. And though I'm not sure what the percentages are, it seems to me that after a few years of tumbling and soaking, the major processors are either backing away (at least for their fresh product), or are offering new lines of untampered-with poultry. Besides, I don't think there's anything wrong with brining in principle; I usually brine supermarket breasts. The problems with factory brining are that 1) someone else determines the salt (and whatever else) concentration; 2) you pay chicken prices for salt water. And of course, there's the texture issue that Jensen pointed out, which usually goes hand in hand with either too much salt or too much time in the brine.

Depending on concentration, of course, citric acid generally has a lower pH than lemon juice (5% citric acid is 1.87; lemon juice is about 2.3), so citric acid isn't likely to help. There's a good discussion of agar and other Asian gelling agents here. But it seems to me that if you want a "crystallized sheet," you might want to use something other than agar -- maybe isomalt?

"Polycyclic Aromatic Hydrocarbons" isn't a formula like "carbon dioxide" or "sodium chloride" so much as a descriptor for a whole group of compounds that are formed when wood (and a few other things) are burned. It's like saying "it's a salt" or "that's a sugar." It tells you something about the molecular makeup, but not a lot about a specific compound. For example, sodium chloride is a salt, and is also known as table salt; but no salts except sodium chloride are table salt, and many other salts are poisonous. That's not to discourage you but to point out that a broad description is not necessarily helpful. I think that what Melkor is describing is this, or something like it; most of them are made by the same process. Note that this process would undoubtedly create polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (as would smoking jalapenos to make chipotles or pimentos to make pimenton de la Vera). I think this is what you're after, but I have to say that -- not to doubt your experience -- I suspect that at least some of the qualities you're ascribing to smoke liquid are due as much to a cooking process as to the use of the product you're looking for. I agree with Melkor that it can be a nasty additive -- like many (truffle oil, anyone?) -- if not used with discretion. As someone heavily invested in the traditional smoking process, I also have to say that I don't think that either liquid smoke or smoke liquid can be used as a wholesale substitute for real smoking. However, judicious use can make for tasty results. Get some and try it out.

Robert Hess has another explanation (read about it here) that describes the Martini as a descendant of the Manhattan as much as the Martinez.

Despite a bit of hyperbole, JJ Goode make some astute observations in his piece in Time Out NY: Goode goes on to describe new ventures by Kunz, Samuelson, Boulud and Ducasse, and handicaps them before the gates have opened: Of course it's going to be difficult. The restaurant business is difficult, whether your name is Chang, Ducasse or Robuchon. What's more interesting is that these guys see a market for top-notch food without the trappings (white tablecloths, formal service, etc.) that usually accompany it.

I agree that it's not terribly difficult to find good tomatoes in late August, but that's not what Steven is asking about. It's true that you can find something labeled "heirloom tomato" at A&P. I suppose that's it's even an accurate label. Unfortunately, that label is not the presumptive guarantee of quality that it used to be. Why is that?

A recent article in the Wall Street Journal offers new information: I love that -- "You bringing lamb, or what?" Chef Achatz is going through some very tough stuff, no doubt, but it's clear that he's still the chef.

Is anyone familiar with this place? I ask because the Richard Blais' Trail-blais operation has signed on to handle food service there. I'm told it's a nicely schizophrenic bar/lounge/dance hall (changing personalities on the weekends), but that's second-hand information. Decent cocktails would be nice; a Blais menu sounds great.

I agree that those are characteristics of a good fresh egg. But good eggs that are older won't necessarily exhibit these properties, and there are uses for which old eggs are better -- hard-boiling, for example.

I can't answer for the poster, but I can say that my cousin is allergic to corn syrup. She avoids it at all costs, now that she's identified it as the source of a lot of mysterious health problems. Avoiding corn syrup quite a challenge in this country, however. ← My sincere sympathies to your cousin; I didn't mean to cast such a wide net. My point was that sugar composition is elusive, to say the least -- even in a home-processed product. I was also pointing out that there is no "official" recipe for Worcestershire sauce. L&P seems to be the consensus standard, but in my experience there are a number of ways to skin this cat. I make the stuff about once a quarter. Next time, I'll try plain old sugar.

My (current!) theory on wood and smoking is that any supposedly characteristic wood flavor is not nearly as important as smoke strength -- you need to match that strength to the food you're smoking, and how long you plan to smoke. Woods like alder are usually better for fish because the mild smoke lets you keep the protein in the smoker longer, for better penetration and an appropriate level of flavor. At the other end, I quit using mesquite for anything but grilling -- its aggressiveness gives you good smoke in a relatively short period, but over a few hours' exposure, it gets nasty. I've done bacon over apple, cherry, and apple and cherry, and I haven't been able to discern a difference in the finished product that couldn't be traced back to the cure. I think this is why you see lots of fruitwoods suggested here: hickory, pecan, cherry, and apple. They're mid-range in strength, and for denser meats like beef and pork, they let you smoke for a long time without becoming overpowering. (I've listed them in what I think is descending order; oak is stronger than hickory, I'd put maple between cherry and apple.) All of that to say that in (my) theory, what you smoke over which wood depends on the effect you're trying to achieve. But I also suspect that -- within a certain range of woods -- the difference doesn't matter quite as much as we might think.

I'm not aware of a "correct" recipe for Worcestershire sauce. It's not clear (at least from their web site) that fermentation is part of how L&P makes their sauce today, nor is it necessarily required for characteristic flavor. I'm not sure what the objection is to corn syrup, unless it's an allusion to the dreaded high-fructose corn syrup. Since my recipe calls for dark corn syrup, which is a combination of glucose and cane-sugar molasses, the association is misleading on the surface. Moreover, sugar (sucrose) in the presence of heat and acid would almost certainly invert some proportion of it, yielding fructose (and glucose) anyway. What's the big deal?

For something that size, she might have to go to stainless steel.

That's one technique I'm considering, because it eliminates the possibility of crystallization driving out the smoke particles. But as you say, we might not get much penetration. Another possibility is to use smoked sugar to make the syrups, but that has opposite problem: we'd have great smokiness to start, but the flavor might not make it through a better crystallization process. (On a related issue: I'm halfway through smoking a pound of isomalt powder.)