Busboy

The key is to wait until you're again capable of important tasks, like reading the little numbers on your folding money and looking at clerks and waiters without giggling hysterically or, worse, having them morph into talking zombies or thought police. Then, go for the basics. A friend once told of walking into an Upper East Side gourmet deli and being transported by the almost overwhelming smell of olive oil, fresh bread and good cheese, all of which he bought bought and washed down with a bottle of hearty red wine. Fresh fruit, cold ice cream, simple foods that reach as many senses as possible besides taste and smell. After a long visit to the Outer Limits, the body needs something simple, wholesome and restorative. So I've been told.

I'm a little pissed off about Tom running that review. Lavandou was something of a hidden jewel, with the trendier places on that strip getting all the attention and suburbanites. Now, it will be even more of a pain to get a table there during prime dining hours. For what it's worth one of the reasons I liked it was because they had a pretty laid back attitude, given the quality of the food. One Staurday afternoon, after a few drinks at Nannie's, we sent one of the party down to see if they'd let a crew in jeans and flannel into their dining room. They did so, with no hint of condescention. And they've always been happy to serve my kids -- and thus became my daughter's choice for dinner after her First Communion. I expect that the reason the waiters appear a little overworked is that, with only one real seating on a weeknight, the place wouldn't generate enough tips to keep competent waiters around very long if they put more staff on the floor. If you can avoid the 7:30-8:30 rush, the staffing is usually more than adequate.

Wait -- didn't FG recently spend many megabytes maintaining that no self-respecting food writer would allow these kinds of things to compromise his or her review? If Jay takes this, I think Brett Easton Ellis deserves a shot at the "Under $25".

I would suggest that the best response in the situations you outlined -- as in so many cases -- is to embrace common courtesy and avoid the juvenile impulse to, say, drive teenage girls to tears, pull the manager away from his other duties, mouth off or otherwise slow down service to the customers waiting behind you. You manufacture an insult, where none exists, and then take revenge on low-paid service workers whom, even you admit, are doing their job. I don't think they are the problem, in this case.

They probably just called it a "gratinee," which in my experience is the generic French term for it. I guess the soup is so good that all other gratinees have to have a modifier attached "pmmes gratinee" or whatever. I'd like to wigh in belatedly with the chicken stockers. I think a good chicken broth is a little lighter than the beef and contrasts nicely with the rich, slow-cooked onions. Not that it's excatly "lite" but it does provide a variation to the relentless bass notes of a beef stock soup. My first job ever was as a dishwasher for a restaurant in Columbia, Maryland, called Per Bacco! As dishwasher, I was also in charge of assembling the onion soup, as well as the occasional shrimp peel-a-thon, and breaking eggs for batter. The smell of the onion soup under the broiler was entrancing -- it became my first food obsession. Sadly, onion soup was not on the staff meal list and the restaurant closed after I'd been working there only six weeks. I never actually tasted it. Later that year, I learned that onion soup, especially for a novice, is not a first date kind of dish. I forget the girl, but onion soup remains....

The few times I've been to England I've found that what at first seem to be witty bashings of substandard offerings -- be it music, arts, or restaurants -- soon become tiresomely snide phillipics with no apparent point other than to demonstrate the authors "wit" and his class solidarity (the greater the posh the greater the bash). This seems like yet another exercise in empty agression, I feel sure that British readers recognize it for what it is, if even a yank can spot it.

BrennaMorgan, Bloviatrix and others may actually have more than a billion compatriots in solidarity with their dislike of cheese and other curdled milk products: cheese is notably lacking in Asian cuisines and I have read (others may be able to confirm) that many Asians find cheese about as appetizing as we would find fried scorpion or dog meat. You're not anti-cheese, you've just pro-Pacific Rim.

Everclear is the equivalent of dehydrated booze..the backpacker's friend. I like scotch, because I think it provides the best mellow buzz/clear morning head balance.

In my case, staying fully sober throughout the cooking process is the defining problem.

1) I think that clarified butter Hollandaise lacks the taste and depth of sauce made with whole butter. 2) I don't think that the difference between salted and unsalted butter would make a world of difference, as salt is usually added anyway (the quality of the lemon being far more important) except that... 3) I believe, and I have heard it echoed elsewhwere, that because salt acts as a preservative for butter and masks some of the butter flavor, that unsalted butter is generally fresher and of higher quality. 4) So, Marlene, what are you putting it on, anyway? Inquiring minds want all the details.

I've only lost one fingertip, in the process of making pommes Anna. It grew back, mostly. I was literally in the process slicing potatoes and telling someone that I was too careful and expereinced to hurt myself when I felt what seemed at first to be a surprisingly mild pain (sharp blade!) and noticed that I was bleeding profusely on the 'taters. Well, the pain started accelerating, but fortunately, there were many bottles of wine with which to anaesthetize myself and salve the wound. I drafted my friend Jim to finish the potatoes -- "a valuable cooking lesson," I told him, "a classic dish" while I applied direct pressure to stop the bleeding. eventally, we got the potatoes in the over, got the bleeding stopped and got dinner for ten on the table. Now I use the guard, a somewhat awkward device. It's shaped kind of like a drain stopper, with a plunger inside and spikes to hold whatever you're cutting in place. I've seen old school French chefs use one without a guard. Rather than holding the food with their finger tips, they cup it in their palms and slide the food back and forth -- fingertips up and out of the way -- as though they're gently polishing something. I have a Swiss version, can't remember the name, with four sets of blades for julienning, making gaufrettes and just slicing. It's remarkably helpful, and I wouldn't be without it. But it is still the only kitchen tool I have that scares me.

This is my take. BTW, I don't think there's any such thing as either "genuine" or "mock" aquavit. Rather, it's the technique and attitude that make it authentic. Tray a couple of different recipes -- taste tests are are a blast. Classic Aquavit Swedish aquavits come in a wide variety of brands and flavorings. This version approximates the flavor most commonly identified with commercial aquavits sold in the United States. 750 ml high quality unflavored vodka 1 tsp coriander seeds 1 tsp caraway seeds 1 star anise 2 strips of orange peel, without pith 1. Warm a heavy frying pan over medium heat. Add caraway and coriander and toast until just beginning to brown, constantly but gently shaking the pan. You’ll notice a warm, toasty smell as the seeds are just about done. 2. Pour vodka into a large, sealable glass or earthenware container. Add caraway, anise and orange, cover, seal and store away from heat and direct light for one to six weeks. 3. Strain aquavit through cheesecloth and serve ice cold. Note: this recipe yields a fairly strong-tasting aquavit. If you prefer a more delicate flavor, you can halve the quantity of spices and orange peel.

Thanks for the reports. I'llsoon be in Lyon for a day -- not a sad day, I hope -- and both trestaurants sound like good fodder for an informal dinner with the family. I'm pretty sure this is not what the guidebook is getting at, but this is from a song by the band Cake... And the gravedigger puts on the forceps The stonemason does all the work The barber can give you a haircut The carpenter can take you out to lunch Now but I just want to play on my panpipes I just want to drink me some wine As soon as you're born you start dyin' So you might as well have a good time Sheep go to heaven Goats go to hell Sheep go to heaven Goats...go to hell

Food and economics collide: as job creation has moved from the northern industrial belt to the sunbelt, yankees are learning to appreciate southern food not from new neighbors moved whove come north for factory work, but by going south themselves. I don't know where in North Florida you are (my wife is from LA herself -- Lower Alabama, ie Pensacola) but the Hopkins Boarding House in Pensacola is famous for delivering excellent Souther fare at a very reasonable price. Might be worth dropping in if you're heading over to the Naval Air Station for the museum, or decide to take in "Florida's Whitest Beaches" (they're referring to the sand, but it still strikes me as an odd tourism slogan).

Gerwurztraminer--Munster; Givry--Epoisses; Sancerre--Compte Fruite: Arbois--Crottin. Not how I would have done it either but I bet this was his pick.. Matching wines and cheeses from the same region. Gerwurztraminer--Munster; Givry--Epoisses; Sancerre--Crottin: Arbois--Compte Fruite. ?

Loaves and fishes? I was going to say wafers and wine, but I thought better of it. Or maybe just water...

Food is an integral part of virtually every celebration this nation observes, from a July 4 barbecue to Passover seder to Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner. I don't do much on Columbus Day, but you better believe they do in Boston's North End. Birthday parties get a cake, retirement parties get a dinner, and we take our sweeties out for something swell in our rented tuxedos on prom night. We bring a covered dish to funerals, and fret over the caterer at weddings. The instinct to match food with the observation of MLK day is perfectly reasonable and understandable, indeed an excellent reflection of our society and traditions, and those of many others, as well.

As I said earlier, I have never heard "soul food" used in a derogatory sense. Never. Not even in the sense that my kids will say "Daaaad, not Thai food again." And I don't think it's a code word, because everybody knows that "sould food" means "black southern cooking." It's a synonym. A quick google reveals that the most famous black owned restaurant in NYC (that I know of, anyway) has no problem with the phrase. Neither do the producers, stars and, one assumes, the predominantly black viewers of the long-running TV show, or the movie upon which it is based. Search "soul food" at Amazon.com, and you get responses, ranging from cookbooks to novels to advice for the black entrepreneur to new-age-y psychic comfort food. It is a term that has entered the language with positive connotations and it appears to be embraced by the black community as a shorthand for much that that community treasures - church, family, strong values, hanging tough in hard times, etc. I agree that "soul food" may be the same as "southern food" or, more likely, a subset of southern food, like cajun or the small game dishes my hillbilly grandfather used to eat. However, I think people who take exception to the term "soul food" are finding an affront that doesn't exist. I also think that attempts to serve the stuff on MLK day can be a perfectly acceptable -- if awkward -- recognition of Dr. King's work. Far be it from anyone on eGullet to separate food from the larger issues involved. OK, I'm done, except to renew my plea for a good red beans and rice recipe.

I utterly disagree that "soul food" is racially divisive. I have never heard or seen it used in any way other than as a descriptive of a type of food, like "Northern Italian" or "Tex-Mex". The mainstream acceptance fo the term, used in innumerable cookbooks, restaurants, and a successful movie and TV show indicates that it is an accepted and understood term. On the other hand, to wholly ascribe all the delights of southern cooking to the slave trade might shortchange the contributions of many other groups of people who contributed to the emergence of this cooking -- Cajuns, mountain people, etc., all of whom contributed to its emergence and evolution. PS, while we're on the subject, anybody got a good red beans and rice recipe? I promice to refere to by whatever lable you prefer.

I gotta say, I once let a wine gut at an upscale shop talk me into a $15 Pinot Grigio and it was fabulous: crisp, nuanced, refreshing and 100% Italian. However, the other 300 PG's I've tasted have been not only not been crisp, nuanced and refreshing, they have been aggressively nasty, typically marked by a finish that's half-way between madeirized wine and stale beer. I'd love to buy more of the good Pinot again, but since every subsequent attempt to recapture the magic of that one bottle has been met with utter failure, I'll just stick to sauvigon blanc unless I can get Carema to come with me to the wine shop. I think that, here in the U.S., the just ain't any percentage in buying the stuff.

In terms of home cooking or ethnic cuisine, up north, you're still going to find that type of food served predominantly in African American homes or establishments and proudly claimed by the black community as "soul food." And as such, it is not "marginalized", it's respected and celebrated by most people who care about these kinds of things. Since it is food that was eaten by black southerners and which was brought north largely by blacks, I'd say that people who don't understand the food broadly as "southern food" are not so much dumb or blinded by stereotype as they are "not fully informed." Education, rather than outrage, thus being the appropriate response.

I think "marginalized" is something of a loaded word. Once you get north of Baltimore, there was very little white southern migration into the northern industrial cities, while blacks moved north by the millions. Most yankees who came across this type of cooking would likely have seen it in a black household or neighborhood, because there just weren't that many non-blacks eating greens, or ribs, or whatever iconic food you want to select, up north. It's not as though people were particularly enlightened about any food -- other than their own home cooking -- until just a few years ago. It seems like some of the white folks just feel bad because they're not getting their share of the credit for some good cooking.

This has become a standard in the Busboy household. We find that it's even better now that we pay close enough attention to keep the entire top from burning black and having to be peeled off.

I spent a few months working for the Reverend Jesse Jackson back during the '88 campaign and his contunually expanding wasteline -- which we ascribed to his delivering so many campaign speeches in black churches -- was something of a running joke. Any church event scheduled for anywhere near meal time was sure to include a very serious buffet, prepared by the ladies of the church, and served in the basement meeting rooms or, on nice days, on folding tables outside. The standard menu was pretty much a variation on what you describe, and Reverend always partook with vigor, much to the delight of the local folks. Sadly, staff never seemed to get invited to the feast.

What, rats do get to be six feet tall? It's a mouse. A huge, mutant mouse who, like the mice in all the old nursery rhymes, loves cheese.