Busboy

Speaking of tipping and stiffing and black, my daughter is going to NYC (where they all wear black) with her high school art club (I am forbidden from chaperoning ) but they sent around a note with the behavior rules which the two of us were to read and sign. Among them was a reminder that students needed to bring enough money to get their own meals -- with a delightful suggestion that they bring enough to avoid McD's and enjoy New York's culinary diversity -- and that students should tip 15%. This kicked off a question of whether she and her buds knew how to tip properly which in turn brought a condescending "of course, dad," followed by a mischievous grin and "...but there was this one time when the waiter was really being a jerk." "So did you leave a tip?" "Of course. I wrote 'don't run into the street without looking both ways' on a napkin and we all walked out." Not that I condone this type of behavior, but....

That's basically a thin rationalization for fraud. You're protestations about tax evasion (largely irrelevant, as tips are reported to the IRS as a percentage of ring) and the servers' self esteem ring hollow; I suspect your concerns stretch no farther than your stomach and your wallet. You know the rules going into the restaurant; if you don't like them, don't eat out.

None of you are purists unless you refuse to eat the evil variations of the foods about which you claim purism even though they taste good. Otherwise you're just picky and/or normal. If you are dying...dying...dying to drink that appletini but won't because it's not made with gin, vermouth and bitters you may be a purist. If you think the whole concept exists just to sell foul-tasting yet ludicrously priced liquor combinations to jejune hipsters trying to work up enough courage to go home with one another, and would rather go sober than swallow a mouthful, you are merely a fine citizen and possibly a gourmet, but not a purist. Crinkle cut French fries are a gift from God, by the way, particularly on hot summer nights after many beers when consumed on a boardwalk or in a bowling alley while lying about one's sex life or discussing how to improve it. And real purists would call be sure to call them "frites" and specify that they be twice-cooked. I am, you may have gathered, no purist, btw. Not that I would ever eat a pizza whole wheat crust.

OK, I realize that grappa is something of an acquired taste, and I've acquired a bit of a taste for it. And it has sort of an exotic appeal, and if I still smoked or you could actually smoke in restaurants any more, I'd be tempted to say that few things are better after dinner than a tot of espresso, a shot of grappa and a smoke. But really, grappa is moonshine made with the scunge left over from winemaking, invented by peasants looking for a cheap buzz to get them through the slow winter months. It is firewater -- civilized firewater (sometimes) but hardly more refined than its kissing cousins West Virginia moonshine and Cretan raki. Eighty bucks a bottle? Clearly, in addition to being great cooks and winemakers, the Italians are marketing geniuses as well. (hmmm..this may explain Donatello's success, too).

Which menu did you get...how many courses? The sommelier/manager is something of a bud -- we shop at the same Whole Foods! -- so my praise should be take with the appropriate bit of fleur du sel, but I've always found him knowledgeable and fair. More than fair, on occasion, and with a great palate. Dinner can be a little uneven in my experience -- there's a fine line between understated and underwhelming (Monis seems to effortlessly avoid both "clever" and "stupid"), and I've had friends give dramatically different reports on consecutive nights. A lot of that depends on on mood and expectations going in, I think, and it is surely not to everyone's taste. As for the chef leaving, I think any good kitchen -- which Komi's surely is -- should run fine if the chef makes it half-way through service. I've had four spectacular meals at one top restaurant here, and never once seen the chef in the kitchen. I don't trust those guys with nine restaurants, but I'm pretty sure Komi runs at top performance for the last hour of service whether Monis is there or not.

In the years since I moved away, nothing has really driven home the recent changes to 14th street (Thriving segregated shopping district>riot corridor>hooker haven/drug megamarket>"transitional" neighborhood> million dollar condos) more than the crowd at the opening night at Cork. I'm not positive, but I think that, when I lived around the corner from the space, it was one of those grim, florescent "convenience" stores that you dropped into about 11:58 for a six pack (choice: Budweiser or Olde English 800) and a pack of smokes, with a bed sheet hung across the doorway to the back office, from behind which the occasional fellow with whom you didn't make eye contact appeared from or disappeared to. Then it it was a coffee shop frequent by the type of twenty-something that make changing neighborhoods neighborhood safe for the affluent and then move on when they can't afford it or grow up, and have trouble at airports because the piercings set off the alarms. The other Tuesday, it was the single best-scrubbed crowd I've ever seen on the 14th street corridor in 20 years. Thin, closely cropped, undiluted by the half-hip suburbanites who make Adams-Morgan and Georgetown so esthetically unappealing on a Saturday night or the type of customers who frequented either of the two previous establishments (of course, I no longer look like a customer of the previous two establishments, so I blended right in). 30-something more than 20-something, thus more restrainedly stylish than fashionably clad. My friend -- if I was the Jamestown wave of gentrification, he was the Roanoke Island wave, living on 13th for almost 30 years -- was ecstatic. And I restrained my impulse to rant about the growing homogenization of DC's formerly funky neighborhoods because I was pretty happy, too. The main room is kind of comfy-generic: exposed brick, dim light, hip furnishings and a lot of posters, wine bottles and hot waiters. More important, the wine list is kind of comfy-eccentric, euro-based but specializing in off-the-beaten-track selections with very friendly prices. A lot of new ways to look at the Old World. We plowed through five selections: a Larredya Juracon Sec (France) made with Grus Manseng (all notes are from the back of my receipt, so spelling is iffy) for $10; an Ajello Majus Bianco (Sicily); $8; a bottle of Jumella (Spain) by Juan Gil $32; and then two more burly Italians for dessert, a Guarini ($9) and a Licorella ($12). I can honestly say that I've never in my life tasted five wines in a row and -- after calculating the p/q -- been as happy as I was that night. And every grape a new one for my list. They also offer some wines over $40, segregated to the back of the list, so as to preserve the establishment's status as a neighborhood place, I suppose. Big spenders are invited to go to Proof for the Screaming Eagle, though Proof's owner was one of several local culinary luminaries who seemed to be enjoying himself there that night. Chef Ron Tanaka (late of CityZen and Citronelle -- all the "C" restaurants) is pumping out a small plates menu, bartender Tom Brown has assembled a cocktail menu, as well. It was crowded when only the locals knew about it, I assume it will be ridiculous once the word gets out. So plan accordingly and consider a late-night drop-by: kitchen open until 11:30. Cork 1720 14th Street (between R and S) Washington, DC 202-265-2675 info@corkdc.com Reservations accepted for pre-theater dining. At other times, call 30 minutes in advance to place your name on the waitlist

If it's resale value you're worried about you can just install one -- even I can install one, and they're not expensive -- and not use it. And that way if you do mess up and spill stuff into the sink occasionally you can use it and not have to worry about the orzo you spilled clogging up the pipes (happened to me, once). I hate not having a disposal, but I'll bet I'd hate screwing up a septic system even more.

If I find myself going home after work to shave and contemplate changing (or wearing) a tie... If I'm savoring a cocktail while the waiter waits to bring the menu -- no rush, you know -- and ordering for my wife from the menu when it arrives (we do hold some of the old traditions; she is allowed to pay the check, however )... If I'm "dining" and not eating; if the big event of the night is the meal and not the movie or the deal or the dishes I don't have to wash... If I make my children change out of their sneakers... If I don't check the time because there's nowhere better to be... If I'm worried that the wine is good enough to match the food... Then it must be a special occasion.

Another chain selling salt-flavored processed meat and faux bonhomie. The sandwiches may or may not be "better" than Quiznos or Subway -- hard to imagine a lower bar than that, though -- but the fake potbellied stove and "rustic" feel of the place are particularly repellent. Who was it who said: "the key to success in this business is sincerity, once you can fake that, you've got it made"?

I agree with you in spirit but will only point out that -- according to the weird-looking guy on the food channel who seems to know what he's talking about -- unrefrigerated eggs age in dog years. That is, leaving them out a day has the same deleterious effect on freshness (but beneficial effect hard-boiled eggs peelability) that throwing in the back of the fridge for a week has.

More time. (And, possibly, more thyme). Ideally I marinate the meat for at least a day before the braising, and then let it sit overnight after cooking, warming it gently. Seems to improve texture, as well, and gives you time to skim any fat that's congealed overnight, and to reduce the liquid if you want something richer.

I thought it was supposed to be just Crete. Having spent some time in Greece and in Crete I thought he captured the place quite well, from the snarky comments on the fashion to the affinity for fish, raki and gunplay. Quite made me want to go back.

I find that Hollandaise made with clarified butter tastes like some frenchified version of that fake butter they put on popcorn at movies, and lacks appropriate satin in its body. Maybe you just don't like butter that much.

Pommes Anna. A family favorite Chez Busboy. We always make it with clarified butter, but will have to try it with duck fat now.

Just put in more milk and less egg. I like to throw in a bit of vanilla, too. Maybe you should consider making croutons or one of those bread soups instead.

Host note: Discussions of the various times that "regulars" and "amateurs" eat arising from FG's post has been moved to a separate topic here.

Another dish made with guanciale! Article here. Recipe here.

Try this: http://www.harpers.org/archive/2008/01/0081878 shel ← I did, first thing. The article is available to subscribers only, unless you can read the teeny-tiny font in the thumbnails. ← Click the link above, and then click on "Read the article in your browser." Worked for me. ← Cool. Guess I'm such a sucker for graphics I never read the text any more.

Try this: http://www.harpers.org/archive/2008/01/0081878 shel ← I did, first thing. The article is available to subscribers only, unless you can read the teeny-tiny font in the thumbnails.

The analysis doesn't say that food allergies are mythical, it says that the "epidemic" that won food allergies (among other coverage) a Newsweek cover story is -- that paranoid parents, a credulous press and a small cottage industry of researchers, advocates and manufacturers have created the perception of a growing problem when, in fact, there's no hard evidence to support the "epidemic" claim. Kind of reminds me disappearing child hysteria of the early 80s (?) when some claimed that tens of thousands of children disappeared every year. Here's another interesting article, from the Boston Globe:

An interesting analysis this month's Harper's. The gist of the argument is that there has been no increase in allergies, just an increase in self-fulfilling hype that is causing paranoia and psychosomatic problems. Not to minimize the problem for those who truly suffer -- or whose loved ones truly suffer -- from life-threatening allergies, but their points are pretty persuasive:

Word on Marcel's is that it's been inconsistent of late as the chef focused on opening Brasserie Beck (if you guessed that Marcel and Beck are his kid's names, you win) and it lost half a star and dropped to 19 (FWIW) in the Washingtonian Top 100. It's not cheap, either. That being said, I have never had less than a spectacular experience at Marcel's and their Boudin Blanc is one of the highest achievements of Western Civilization. I would go for it in a second. And, if you're not getting the pre-theater, you can kick it in the bar, and get either the restaurant menu or some high-quality snacks. BTW, I meant to post this earlier vis-a-vis Komi. I'm somewhat acquainted with their maitre d'/manager/wine dude Derek Brown, and I would be extremely surprised if he made a single diner feel less than welcome at his place.

Vermillion in Old Town would be great! Dupont Market is from 10-1 during the winter. For brunch near Dupont, try Circle Bistro, Tonic or The Tabard Inn. Leave room for sampling at the market! ← Tonic's a bit of a hike (though it's on the 42 bus line, the greatest of all DC routes). I have to add Bistro du Coin which is far from a snazzy brunch but is also relatively cheap, and draws a great crowd, including farmers from the market and -- on one occasion when I was there -- Beard Foundation Chef of the Year Michel Richard and clan. If you want the Tabard -- and it's a lovely spot -- make reservations now and ask for one of the side rooms. ← What's the brunch menu like at BDC? Mostly eggs or a selection from their menu? I'm at the Dupont Market quite a bit and would like to try it out. ← They have their regular lunch menu plus a couple of breakfast-y things: omelettes, eggs Benedict and the like. It's not much compared to some of the other brunches around town, but I like it. Sette Osteria also has a brunch; I like the Brunch Pizza, and if it's a cold day getting a seat near the pizza oven is nice.

Despite their geographical desirability, you might want to hold the Beck/Central option for Sunday night, as Sunday is a tough restaurant night. Here are some other ideas. As Mark points out, Beck and Central are very different places, you should check their websites and see which strikes your fancy. Central is a little more sleek and Euro-suave, Beck a little more homey, I'd suggest. I'd bring a date that I wanted to impress with my sophisticated tastes to Central (if my wife allowed such things ) and I'd go out with the guys to beck. I've never not come away from Equinox feeling vaguely disappointed, so I'd do New Heights.

Vermillion in Old Town would be great! Dupont Market is from 10-1 during the winter. For brunch near Dupont, try Circle Bistro, Tonic or The Tabard Inn. Leave room for sampling at the market! ← Tonic's a bit of a hike (though it's on the 42 bus line, the greatest of all DC routes). I have to add Bistro du Coin which is far from a snazzy brunch but is also relatively cheap, and draws a great crowd, including farmers from the market and -- on one occasion when I was there -- Beard Foundation Chef of the Year Michel Richard and clan. If you want the Tabard -- and it's a lovely spot -- make reservations now and ask for one of the side rooms.