Busboy

Known in my dromitory as "Trigger Burgers."

Destruction of real rainforests in South America leads to construction burgeoning local beef industry. Meanwhile, construction of fake rainforests in North America leads to the destruction of real American beef delicacies. I think there must be a karmaic connection here, but I can't quite put my finger on it. In the mean time, I expect the burgers at Fed Ex Field are at least as bad as those described above. At $10 a pop, to boot.

A souffle, perhaps for dessert, in shich case you could also make a Creme Anglaise. Use the recipe from "Mastering the Art." As Julia would say, they're not nearly so complicated as you'd think. Edited to suggest that, despite the excellent ideas you'll likely get from this thread, a better idea might be to go home and knock back a bottle of wine while leafing through her books, waiting to see what jumps up and talks to you. Use the the Force, Luke...

For what it's worth, my only Press Club event was in conjunction with Marcus Samuelsson's Aquavit cookbook and the food, cooked by the Press Clube kitchen team, was terrible. Samuelsson kept saying things like "you should know, it was the great staff here that cooked this meal, not me," but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to make it clear that it wasn't his fault. Others may have had different experiences and priorities, but I were choosing on food alone, I'd tend toward Les Halles.

Screw the formal event. We need to find out whwere he's drinking afterwards!

Oh, c'mon, dress up! Give your wife a thrill and pretend it's a first date. Look sharp, have fun! Bux -- I ended up in Gourmand having neglected to count forks, wearing a sport coat and jeans, the kids in khaki's and polo shirts. I felt that we were quite underdressed but the service was gracious all evening and we had a delightful time.

I'm sure any of those little corner grocers along the H street corridor will have wide selection of 40 oz malt beverages and screw-top wines. What part of the Hill do you live in? I'm sure HillValley knows all the Sunday sales stores in the area. Especially the ones that sell to 19-year-olds. Seriously, though, all those little corner stores in the neighborhood are allowed to sell on Sundays, the problem is finding one that draws enough of a yuppie crowd to offer more than Colt .45/Mad Dog/Heiniken. Have you tried the Prego across the street from Eastern Market? The Dupont Branch used to offer a reasonable selection. Also, there's corner store on or about 4th and C street SE that I recall having a decent selection (Hill definitely knows this place, as she used to live nearby). There's a Richfood on 3rd (?) and Mass NE that used to offer some drinkable stuff.

My only experience with Duck Tongues was at The Peking Duck House (28 Mott Street, 212-227-1810), and I believe they offer Sea Cucumber, as well. I'd descrobe the place as a solid, if unexceptional, restaurant that does perhaps a better job with the "Chinese Specialties" (like Duck Tongues) section of the menu than the regular menu. Portions are large, be prepared to eat many tongues.

Thanks to all for their suggestions. In a rare and unexpected fit of parental affection we decided to bring the kids out with us Friday night. In part, because they have outgrown all clothing which might have been appropriate for Marcel's, and in part because they would have (despite out best efforts) likely not have been adventurous for Zatineya or Atlantico, we decided to try Osteria Galileo. Osteria bills itself as a "casual neighborhood restaurant" and we put it to the test, showing up looking pretty darn casual, clearly not ready for a serious Galileo experience. As if underdressed kids lurking amongst the swells in Galileo's bar weren't enough to raise the hostess' well-waxed eyebrows, I immediately mispronounced the name of the place (in Greece, where I have been travelling, the word is "esteatorio" and I somehow combined that with "osteria" to create a brand new and completely meaningless word) and asked them for a table on their small patio, none of which were set. After much hustle by the floor staff, during which time my son whispered "Dad, they hate us," we got a table with some starched linen and real silver and an extremely reserved waiter. At some point -- I think in between the initial martini and our extended foray into the world of well-priced by-the-glass wine offereings -- the waiter warmed up and fear that we would have one of those evenings that many have complained about hear and elsewhere -- snotty service because we weren't important -- dissipaited. We didn't look nearly so underdressed outside, and the kids were in a charming mood. Besides, we kept working Rocks' name into our conversation whenever anyone official was nearby. The menu was dramatically shorter than the on-line menu -- enough so that the website feels misleading. The kitchen was dreadfully slow, as well; slow enough the waiter apologized for it without us prompting. Nonetheless, what food was available was as promised: inexpensive, hearty, and good. We ran through the chickpea soup with garlic croutins, eggplant bruschetta, farfelle with a meat ragout, sausage with rosemary-cream sauce and cold filet with balsamic and grilled vegetables. What you see is what you get there, and what we saw looked good. And, though 21st Street is not exactly a people-watching paradise, it was nice to be outside for dinner. Between the patio, the food and the now-friendly waiter, the whole thing felt very European, in the non-pretentious sense. In deference to the kids, we skipped dessert, and left the patio to DCMark and his wife, Delphine who arrived just as we were leaving for what I hope was an experience as pleasant as ours. A side note, though: given the limited menu, the slow service and the lack of other diners, I have to wonder how serious this venture is right now. It would be too bad if Roberto shuts it down but, especialy in light of his other problems, Osteria looks like a short-time deal. That would be too bad.

It can be done, but it can't be done using Keller's cookbook. Seriously, though, TFL cookbook is way too labor-intensive and the recipes have too many delicate last-minute steps. Note. for example, that Keller can't simply pass around a cheese plate for the cheese course, he has to cook the stuff. Sam's menu is great example of how to pull off a many-course meal and still have time to enjoy yourself during the meal (after cooking like crazy for days leading up to it, no doubt). That sorbet just before the entree is not just a nice touch seen too little these days, it's a breather that allows the cook to focus on the main course. Soups are a great friend; and many are the nights when the sweetest moment has been when I realized that all that was left to do for the next hour was to pass the salad one direction and the cheese the other. The silver and plate problem is a pressing one. We press whatever we can find into service: soup out of coffee cups so the salad bowls can be held open for the fish in mushroom stock, or whatever. And silver gets recycled, quickly. I don't think it's possible to this do without a trusted sous. I'm lucky, bedies being a great cook, my wife has a talent for things like menu planning and plating food well. Also, having a teenager whom you can press into service as waiter/busboy/dishwasher is helpful, too. Finally, there's fine line between attention to detail and becoming so anal that you throw your own rhythm off, one hard to see after 12 hours of cooking and a few glasses of wine, when eight people are waiting for the next course. Kicking things is not going to make another bunch of basil magically appear; you'll just have to do a different garnish. Take a deep breath, remind yourself that it's about your friends having a good time, not your own ego, and put the damn striped bass in herbed buerre blanc before it gets cold. (OK, maybe I'm the only person who has these little moments). Also, beware: cook less than you think you need. Unless you've a tableful of eGulleters, appetites can flag.

I can't find my copy of Kitchen Confidential, but in the chapter on "how to cook like a pro in your own kitchen" -- or, as he put it, "how to make your guests think you have the entire Troisgros family chained to your stove" -- he devotes a section to butter -- lits of it. At one point he says something to the effect of "you know those snotty upscale Italian places that claim they use only olive oil? Look in their kitchen and you'll find butter." So maybe there's a lot more butter going into Marinara sauce than we think. Actually, the Busboy houshold does this regularly, only we call it "Nana's spaghetti sauce." It's a dish my wife's definitely un-Italian grandmother used to cook and the butter-to-tomato ratio is decidedly higher than the one in the Maggiano's recipe. Of course, being German, she didn't add any olive oil. It's pretty tasty.

I'd suggest that the problems you fear don't arise from, say, an eGulleter having a fine meal and posting (we're not quite the Guide Rouge...yet) or telling a few friends but, rather, from guidebooks/newspapers/glossy magazines touting a place. In which case, the proper approach is to whisper to a friend - or advise us -- "go there now, before it's 'discovered.'" Word of mouth doesn't make restaurants complacent, it keeps them in business. Media recognition tempts them to the low road. Tell your friends before they and everyone else read about it; that's what friends are for.

I second the tangerine beef. I fourth the ginger salad. I introduce the Dragon Roll. As a local, I'd generally rather have Spices deliver to my house than eat there; it has the ambience of a cafeteria, and the food travels well. But great casual pan-Asian, wherever you scarf it down.

Iron Gate: great date restaurant...when you're 22 and don't know much about food. If they'd put a decent chef in that place I'd eat there every week.

Amen to that. (Although I don't mind a little traffic) Or, a couple of pedestrian-only streets and squares lined with cafe's and the odd swell spot. In Crete, I was impressed by the skill with which they ripped the roofs and guts out of old townhouses (really old. 1500's) and turned them into multi-level terrassed restaurants. We can hope...

What's the ambience there outside? One of the reasons we were looking somewhat upscale is that we'd like to ooze into our seats and not emerge for quite some time. You know, where they don't even bring the menu until you're half-way through your first drink. I'd like to try Zaytinya, but the thought of waiters trying to rush me through dessert so that JennyUptown, Al Dente and all the other hipsters queued up at the door can take my table is a little off-putting.

Are they any good? I don't know anything about them except their logo and their name seem kind of corporate.

So, I'm racking my brains for a (semi-) fine dining reaturant -- someplace with a little starch in the tableclothes and crystal glasses in the back in case we order a Bordeau -- within the DC city limits for a (semi-) spontaneous nice meal tomorrow night, and I'm coming up blank. I know Marcel's (at the upper edge of what we'd like to spend) has a couple of tables, but I assume snagging one this late date is, at best, a crapshoot. I like Cashions, but would like to kick up a step from there, or at least hold it in reserve. Experiences at those places near the White House have been underwhelming. And we're probably in a Euro-food mode, so Indique and Bombay Club are out. [i know I'm being picky, but after living a month someplace where every restaurant -- from dive to Michelin-starred -- has a patio, terrace or streetcorner, I'm a little frustrated. Heck, I admit DC cooking is better than Athens, but they do have a better way of dining.]

Sweetbreads are awfully rich, though, and although "richness" is not the same as "flavor" it does give them a little more muscle within the scrum and the ability to stand up to a stronger sauce.

Having raised (partly) two kids in DC (now 11 and 15) my first suggestion is to explore owner-operated ethnic restaurants. They seem to be much more relaxed about kids and floor staff are grown-ups, so they've handled kids themselves and are unintimidated. There's a gang of Ethiopian places around the U-Street metro (green line, straight shot from the museums on the mall and a quick ride back to Crystal City), I've only been to Dukem (excellent), but you can read more here. You can also take the subway to Arlington's "Little Saigon" (Clarendon stop, I think, but check). Don't go to Dalat, but I'm sure some of the other places there are still in fine form. Around Dupont Circle, I used to bring the kids to Trios Diner, 17th and Q. Milkshakes, burgers, BLTs, eggs, etc. Sala Thai (still my favorite Thai) on P and 21st was pretty calm, too. Pizzaria Paradiso were jerks, though, the one time we tried to go there. Up in my neighborhood, Mt. Pleasant -- near the Columbia Heights metro stop and strolling distance from the Zoo or Adams Morgan -- a place called Tonic (a better place than the review paints it) actually has a kid's night. Good luck, have fun.

I think this topic has been touched on before -- I believe fifi and the Texas team have some pretty prescriptive ideas on this subject -- but I'd be inclined to say that chili is big enough for many interpretations. And, in an effort to get to the Platonic underpinnings of chili, I think we should move away from recipe discussions and into the fundamental components of chili-ness. Every poster on this thread has, undoubtedly, a favorite recipe for chili, and they might dismiss others' favorites as "inferior", "inauthentic", or "that lame slop they serve in Cincinatti." But, if served another's recipe, each of us would still recognize the dish as chili and judge it on that basis. The question "what makes it so?" is different from "what makes it good?" First, I think chili has to have meat. "Vegetarian chili" is deserving of respect in its own right, but as "chili" it is a bastardization and should be respectfully disincluded. Though this is not critical, the meat should ideally be what is close at hand, cheap and plentiful. The alchemy of a good chili lies in its ability to transform cheap cuts of meat into an extraordinary meal, hence Australian Kangaroo chili (I have a recipe, if you need it) and Colorado green chili, made with chicken. Second, I submit that cumin and heat are the only obligatory spices. I would look askance at anyone who claimed to cook chili without garlic and onions, just as I would look askance at anyone who claimed to play music without rhythm or melody, but I acknowledge the theoretical possibility. Finally, I think the cooking and eating of chili plays a key role. It must be cooked slowly, preferably in a space that can be filled with the sweet smell of a new batch of red. Some places are better than others: diners, group houses, camp fires. But the flavor achieved only by slow exposure to low heat, and the anticipation stoked in the cook and guests stoked hours sniffing the air and watching the bubbles rise are both necessary ingredients. The time between that first feeling of chili need, and when the waitress actually drops the bowl on the table counts, too. And true chili can never be eaten -- for the first time -- alone. If a camper combines meat, cumin and diced jalopenos in a forest and there is no one there to smell or share it, it is not chili. After the initial blessing, you are free to microwave away; rehated chili in the kitchen at midnight is a true and beautiful thing as well, especially if you've been drinking. Beyond that, fire away. Beans -- I like 'em, others don't. Tomatoes? Important, but they're like communion is to Christians. Not everybody eats the wafer, but they all still read the New testament. Beer, wine, odd spices, mutiple meats, spaghetti, rice, sweet peppers, corn? If it feels good, throw it in the pot. Like I said: chili is bigger than all of us. Chili can handle it.

So, just for the record, it appears that I need some of these books. Friday night it took me an hour to get omlettes and fried potatoes on the table. I mean, these were great omlettes, and that time included cutting fresh herbs out of the garden, frying bacon ahead of time so the potatoes could be fried in the grease and so on, but still -- an hour and all I could get finished was omlettes? I think I'll check out Jacques next time I get down to the bookstore. I have all his other books anyway, may as well ship him a few more bucks. Plus, someone should actually eat the damn peaches that practically hijacked this thread.

Lie? I mean, uh, maybe the idea to focus on other aspects of the wine and avoid the temptation to tell people about the residual sugar until after they try it. "What we have here, ma'am, is a great little apertif wine. You'll notice it's a little "fuller" (or some other term that's both enlightening and obfuscatory) than the chardonnay." As many have pointed out, it's the idea of sweetness that seems to be the chief obstacle, rather than the sweetness itself. Maybe if you do a little misdirection -- pointing them away from the sweet by pointing to other aspects of the wine -- you can get them to try it, then let the wine do the talking. Are the terms "fruity" and "off-dry" known to your target audience? I'm sure most serious wine drinkers would see through the euphamisms, but maybe not newcomers. Is it feasible to lay out a little snack chosen to complement the particular wine you're trying to sell? I'm sure a Vietnamese curry -- which goes great with sweeter wines -- would be a little elaborate, but is there something else? (In Greece, I've had barbecue potato chips served with wine, but I'm guessing that that wouldn't go over to well in your establishment). What's your forum? Winery tasting room?

There's always Savenniers. Actually, I wasn't blown away by the Savenniers as a sweet wine (thought their dry wines are excellent). Others will know better than I, but I find Muscat de Beumes de Venice, from a very swell section France's Rhone Valley -- just down the road from Vacqueyras and Gigondas -- is almost always good and sometimes extraordinary, and a very good value.

The Santa Cruz farmer's market (Wednesdays?) offers amazing produce and bread. It is my understanding that many of the Farmers there also sell to the top San Francisco restaurants -you can get the same plums as the foragers find for Chez Panisse. I don't know how long the growing season is there (long, I hear) but stocking the dorm with truly extraordinary fruit (my wife and I still talk about the white nectarines, I almost wrecked my car on I-5 because the taste was so amazing I closed my eyes) can't hurt, and a fine loaf of bread and some salad greens are half-way to a home-cooked meal. Edited to note that Tana beat me to the punch on this, but that she's so jaded from living out there she doesn't bother to point out how great the stuff is.