Busboy

I think the third point might turn out to be the most valid one. It seems to me that a Chinese restaurant could use the same sources as other elite restaurants, but there's always going to be a barrier on how much white customers are willing to pay because its a Chinese restaurant. I've had seafood dishes such as crabs and lobsters at Chinese restaurants, so the ingredient costs should be similar to other restaurants. Yet, if this had been a French restaurant, I would have been paying more for the dish. ← A well-regarded and very good Chinese restaurant here in DC, Yanyu, closed down a couple of years ago and among the rumored reasons was that Americans just wouldn't pay "that much" for Chinese food, no matter how good it the food was or delightful the decor and service were.

Here's the scene. We get out to the suburbs, where most of DC's Asian community lives, and head to a Chinese, Vietnamese or Korean place that has mostly diners from the same ethnic group. Inevitably there is a table or two that you notice bcause it's six or eight or twelve people, probably family, and they appear to have been at the restaurant for some time -- serving bowls scattered about, the kids wandering around a bit, conversation at that relaxed but energetic level you get after the meal's rhythm has been established. (If you're me, you're also always checking them out in hopes of picking up etiquette tips, like how to eat crab with chopsticks). We sit down, order, food starts piling out of the kitchen, we eat it, pay the check and 45 minutes after having sat down find ourselves walking out the door. Meanwhile, the family's still there, having a good time, while you're looking at your long drive home. Not that I think we're getting the bums rush or anything, but we seem not to have broken the code that tells the staff: "we'd really like to just kick back for a couple of hours and enjoy each other's company, so relentless efficiency is not required." (For purposes of illustration, we're assuming that there's not a line out the door or anything like that). Should we, for example, just order some soup and sit around with that for a while, then order first courses and plow leisurely through them and then order entrees? Should we say, in the appropriate language, "despite our obvious Anglo-ness, we are not interested in in getting in and getting out as fast as we possibly can?" Is there a secret hand sign? Or is it just one of those cultural things, where Americans just pick up on the inevitable fast pacing of the service and out of politeness, fear (of committing some cross-cultural faux-pas) or habit and rush through their meal, but Asians understand -- as Greeks and French seem to -- that the table is theirs for as long as they want, the management expects it and there's no reason not to relax? I do enjoy a nice long meal with friends or family, and would like to learn how to politely extend my next meal at Viet Royale or Joe's Noodle House into (if not through) a second hour.

Put on a suit and tie (or lovely dress), show up at the front door when it opens at 11 AM (if you're gunning for lunch: Friday, Saturday and Sunday) and politely (I was told that being polite was key, I can only imagine the blowhards that have tried to bluff and bluster their way in over the years) ask the hostess if there have been any last minute cancellations. I asked only for lunch, but if you're determined, you can probably ask about both. She will say,"no", and offer to take your cell number "just in case." Give it to her and wander into downtown Yountville, noting the location of Bouchon and the less famous -- but quite good -- Bistro Jeanty, in case the call from TFL never comes. Bring a book. Snag some souvenirs or a cup of coffee or some baked goods from the Bouchon Bakery as a possible consolation prized. Drop into the Deadhead wine shop. Cross your fingers that somebody's car breaks down on the way up from San Francisco. Actually, in order to keep my karma good, I crossed my fingers that new couple was having such a romantic weekend, they decided just to have room service. At any rate, it worked for me. Apparently, you give them about an hour-and-a-half before you give up, but I got the ring after about 30 minutes. FWIW, there was a also deuce that sat empty for the entire lunch service the day I walked-in. Shame, that.

I know this all too well. I'm getting the F out of the industry. As much as I'd love to go to Europe and be an apprentice again (if I could afford it I would, but stages in the higher end restaurants don't pay much, if anything), I'm instead going to head to University. Who knows if I'm done cooking, but I've gotta take a break, relax, chill... ← Maybe you could work your way through University as a waiter.

We actually bring back olive oil more than wine -- it's easier to get good French wine here in DC than olive oil. We bring some wine, though, too. If he packs his luggage carefully, he should be fine, but I'd suggest going for a few special bottles rather than trying to lug home a case. We were in Paris a couple of years ago just about this time and the Marie-Ann Cantin cheese shop in the 7th, near the Rue Cler market was having a sale. They vacuum pack their cheeses and I have had no problem getting them through customs. But the thing I regret was that they were having a half-price wine sale, and they had a bottle of Vin Jaune for sale. Somehow I'd gotten it into my head that I wanted to try a Vin Jaune, but I didn't spring for it -- it seemed a little old for a white wine. Turns out you're not even supposed to think about drinking one until it's 15 years old, and I'm not sure I've ever seen one for sale, at any price, here at home. Tell him to keep his eyes peeled for something like that rather a Bordeaux or Burgundy you can probably find in Vancouver (which they tell me is a sophisto town). There is a chain of stores that sells jarred (not the term I'm looking for, but it's late and I'm tired) foie gras that is pretty darn swell and that American customs inspectors allow through without a second glance. I think they even have a branch in the airport. French fabrics are great: tablecloths, napkins, even dish towels. Fabrics range from cool and slightly tacky to cool and lovely, priced accordingly. And you can use them to pad the wine when you put it in your luggage. My two favorite souvenirs from France, both from a flea market and surely available in a Paris knick-knack shop ("brocante") somewhere if he's not there the days the famous Marche de Puces is open are a pastis set - -- water caraffe and six glasses all bearing the "51" brand logo,- and a set of "antique" (OK, just old) silver plate flatware. The French somehow have agreed on a slightly bigger size for their forks and spoons than we Americans so even if the design doesn't scream "French" the dimensions do. Every time my daughter asks what to set the table with and we say "the French stuff" it reminds us of a great vacation, and we'll have that set long after the wines and oils have been consumed. And, of course, a set of Laguiole knives to go with the forks and spoons.

(This may be fodder for a different thread), but suppose I said -- "I'm feeling like a little Italian today. Let me buy you lunch over at Luigi's Famous." Would you feel OK saying "you know, I hate Luigi's, why don't you buy me lunch at Sette Osteria instead?" Or: "Mom would really love to see us today. I know its a little bland, but she really loves The Rusty Spoon." "No, I'm only going to see your mom if we get to go to The Frying Dutchman." Or: "There's a hot new restaurant I'm dying to try, we're making reservations at Cafe Boeuf. You want in" "No, but I'll go along if you change your mind and go to the V-Note." What I'm suggesting is that in many situations, there's a place for "is this OK with you. (Whatta you wanna do?" "I don't know, what do you wanna do?" ) But there are many where not to accept an offer as offered would be to place -- somewhat ostentationsly -- putting your taste above the fellowship of the would-be host. And hosting entails both privileges and resposnsibilities, as does guesting (is that a word?). Host gets first choice. Guest gets to graciously decline. ← I state the following with a light hearted spirit: You live in DC, so how about some diplomacy (and honesty - I use to live there and always thought it to be in short supply, I am afraid) like saying actually I have had some bad experiences at X, could I buy you lunch at Y, or, say, suggesting that the person in question ask Mom if another restaurant would be acceptable (you are assuming that ol' Mom is inflexible - maybe she is really sick of the Rusty Spoon), and if not perhaps that is the time to "suck it up" as you proffered previously, or pursuant to the third example, simply telling the friend that you are not interested in Restaurant Beef - he or she is a friend so there should be some reciprocity, equality, and honesty. ← Well, as a diplomatic Washingtonian, were I able to avail myself of your Southern hospitality (my mother was from Alabama and, with my father [a damn Yankee] lives in Atlanta, which is still partially Southern, so I use that phrase with respect), it would never occur to me to question your choice of restaurant were you to invite me to dine with you. Of course, were we ever to meet, between the diplomacy that leaks into my office like encrypted microwave intelligence reports from the nearby embassies, and the gentility that grows in southern soil like kudzu after a summer rain, we'd probably spend so much time trying to figure out where the other one wanted to dine that we'd end up sending out for Chinese.

While the orginal poster (who is probably in a witness protection program somewhere by now) did say that her decision not to order was based on a relatively recently more-cultivated palate, the social implications at the table at that time were no different than if she had been recently found to be allergic to something or converted to (fill in the blank) or simply discovered that transfats, or processed grains or whatever were to be avoided. Why is that anyone else's decision but hers? What can possibly be more of a basic human right that to indulge - or not - in something? ← With the possible exception of the original poster, it is absurd to think that anyone one on this board believes that to be true. We all know that dining socially is always freighted with meanings -- some deep and some not so deep. We also know that there are some dietary restrictions that are beyond our control-- allergies, religious laws or the fact that seafood makes you want gag or you're trying to lose ten pounds -- but that most food decisions are a matter of choice. Choices are made with a clear understanding of what etiquette is in play, what taboos or imperatives are involved, and who is going to be hurt or pleased. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but there are many times when a Cobb Salad is not just a Cobb Salad and to pretend otherwise is disingenuous. Interesting choices of words: "basic human right," "behavior modification programs." "Food is where I, personally, draw the line." "I really think this compulsion (discounting cultural issues, as raised upthread) to insist one eat is unhealthy and absurd." Freighted indeed.

(This may be fodder for a different thread), but suppose I said -- "I'm feeling like a little Italian today. Let me buy you lunch over at Luigi's Famous." Would you feel OK saying "you know, I hate Luigi's, why don't you buy me lunch at Sette Osteria instead?" Or: "Mom would really love to see us today. I know its a little bland, but she really loves The Rusty Spoon." "No, I'm only going to see your mom if we get to go to The Frying Dutchman." Or: "There's a hot new restaurant I'm dying to try, we're making reservations at Cafe Boeuf. You want in" "No, but I'll go along if you change your mind and go to the V-Note." What I'm suggesting is that in many situations, there's a place for "is this OK with you. (Whatta you wanna do?" "I don't know, what do you wanna do?" ) But there are many where not to accept an offer as offered would be to place -- somewhat ostentationsly -- putting your taste above the fellowship of the would-be host. And hosting entails both privileges and resposnsibilities, as does guesting (is that a word?). Host gets first choice. Guest gets to graciously decline.

Irrelevant, your honor. The guest had already accepted the invition. Further, expecting to negotiate the place at which your host choses to dine with you is presumptive in the extreme. It is a social occasion, not a business deal. I'm always curious because I'm as much a food snob as anyone, yet I get by without rude comments and name calling. The occasional "ewwww" but you, know that's going to happen if you order tripe. Perhaps going along brings about a little getting along, as the saying goes. And the making an issue of the whole "I will not have *anyone* dictate my behaviour concerning food" thing when the "anyone" in question is an elderly relative who asks little more than that you join her in lunching seems a little...I don't know... I agree with you 90% and have even entertained non-drinking vegetarians in my own home (HAH -- a joke of course, she drinks like a fish). Forcing something which someone doesn't consume "on principle" is unacceptable. But, if you eat fish, for example, they are allowed to try to get you to try a new and ickier version of fish -- like for a moment or two. But... The original poster accepted a invitation to lunch. "Foisting" did not occur. It was a voluntary decision and once entered into certain obligations follow, like being polite.Let me be clear. It's not a federal case. On the scale of rudeness it's less than elbowing an old lady out of the way so you can grab a taxi on a rainy afternoon, but more than picking your teeth at the table. (Actually, I think we should all draw electronic straws and everyone write to a different advice columnist and see what they say. )

Best. family. motto. ever. I am so stealing this. ← Go for it. But if you're ever over and you don't like what I'm serving....

Greeks do risotto and fish all the time, especially shrimp and shellfish. I guess since it's not a religious icon for them, as it is for the Italians they don't mind treating it like mashed potatoes. I had risotto with sea urchin "tongues" and a little truffle puree the other day, but that's probably not, as Chufi put it, a "weekday" dish. Keller, btw, tarts up his mushroom risotto with whipped cream (unsweetened) and truffle oil (and fresh truffles) which is pretty tasty. Just start with a mushroom stock made with cheap grocery store mushrooms, and throw the good ones in at the end.

Another Culpeper blurb.

You miss the point. One is not only obligated to order. One is obligated to eat it. And one is obligated to pretend to like it. Why? Because it's not all about oneself. Now, the Miss Manners in me (I once waited on Miss Manners -- not the priss some might think) differentiates between being dragged to an office function and taking an inimate meal with friends or relatives. You can "yuck," and they can call you a snob and you can all yuck it up an toast Joe's retirement or whatever. No harm, no foul. But the fact that they are boorish concerning your taste or the microwaved scent of Indian Food does not does not liberate you to be boorish yourself in a smaller setting. If you ask one of my kids what the "Sweeney Family Motto" is, they will reply "suck it up." I've seen them eat food with a smile on their lips at someone else's house that they would rather have driven a fork through their hand if I served it to them at home (I do it, too) and I was pleased that they thought enough of their hosts feelings to do so. Sometimes that's what you gotta do. It's a mitzvah, and it makes people happy which almost always good.

I have to agree that family matters in this case. I'll never forget the first time I returned from a semester in Italy, wishing to cook something during a visit to my step-family. Back then, wedges of Stella domestic Parmesan were the closest you could get to Parmigiano-Reggiano in rural New England, so I picked up a block reluctantly during a trip to the supermarket. It was interpreted as a snobby slap in the face by my frugal relative who would never spend that much on cheese in the first place, especially when there was a perfectly good shaker of Kraft Parmesan in the fridge back home. ← Newtonian etiquette: for every faux pas, there is an equal and opposite faux pas.

This is sympathetic laughter, Margy. Geez, you described a situation with my in-laws, so very well. They eat at chain restaurants for lots of ridiculous reasons and no, I don't tell them they're ridiculous. They also get very offended and take it personally when I don't eat anything, even if I have a plate in front of me. The attitude is theirs, and it won't change. You can't win. To me, insisting that someone eat something they don't want to, is the same as insisting a teetotaler have a beer, or vegetarian a meatball, or a diabetic eat a cookie. Isn't being together the important part? ← See -- you're wrong. When you won't order anything, you are telling them they're ridiculous -- or stupid or garish or low-rent or whatever -- far more clearly than if you actually said something out loud. Action/words...you know. Barring a physical reason, not accepting somebody's hospitality is saying that it -- and by extension, they -- are not good enough for you. If that's not what you mean to say, choke down a few bites.

Actually, the real grade inflation is from city to city. I won't pick on any town by name (OK, I will), but if there were a Zagat for Carson City, Nevada, you'd find restaurants getting the same scores and the same accolades as Per Se or Alain Ducasse. Say what you will about the Micheline Guide it brings a decent measure of consistency across borders.

Remembering a recent and wonderful three course dinner at Canteen in SF, I'd be willing to make the same bet as well! The comparsion leapt to my mind after reading the previous comments. ← The truth is you don't know what the caloric or fat content of your "4-star tasting menus" was. I have seen enough chefs "finish with butter" to be somewhat skeptical. So to follow through--all menus should list fat and caloric information. As for the center for Science in the Public interest. Well, I often wonder how otherwise intelligent people accept their dire warnings with no skepticism. Interestingly, these people are self professed-- public activists with a history of making claims that are often based on junk science. In fact, I wonder if you have looked at who is on their board and how they are funded. The truth is, many of these groups are not dedicated to informing the public so that we can make our own choices based upon sound science and common sense. Rather, they are fear mongers who have an agenda that that goes far beyond information. Witness the myriad lawsuits and threats they are quick to enact. I would argue that these people are far from a group of concerned mainstream citizens and some of the comments they make and positions they take indicate clearly that they do not believe that you (we) are capable of making our own well informed choices. So--once again. Is a lot of fast food over loaded with fats and calories--yes. remember fat tastes good--those four star chefs are finishing sauces and dishes with fat for a reason! Should we be aware of what we eat and the consequences--well that's a no brainer really. I believe we should have choices and with that freedom comes a downside--somke will make bad choices--they will have to live with the consequences. I do nor want a world where some people with questionable ethics and motives eliminate choices for us through fear mongering and bans and prohibition (I suggest you look at the CSPI views on alcohol) and legal action. I have no problem if there are regulations based on open and accurate public forums and debate. I also--suprise--have no problem with public interest groups--if they use good science and logic---and if they disseminate solidly supported information without screaming at me that my children will die if I don't listen. That's just me though. ← This may surprise you, but many people know enough about cooking and eating to recognize butter and cream and the like when it shows up in their food and can make a reasonable judgement regarding the difference between their dinner, fat-wise, and an alternate dinner of bacon-cheddar skins and death by chocolate. Speaking of junk science, I'm curious to see your documentation of CSPI's junk science and tendencies and the evil sources underwriting their work (the vegans? The raisin bran lobby?). And the ethical lapses. A quick google didn't turn any up, but I'm willing to listen. It's nice to believe in freedom. (How rare to find someone who claims to have taken that tough stand!) But information is good, too. In fact, the more iinformation you have, they freer you really are, on a philosophical level. The CSPI provides that, in a way calculated to catch your attention. Bully for them. Regarding their anti-alcohol positioning: well towards the dry side of mine. But comparing their take on alcohol, which causes immense societal damage (which most of us are willing to risk/accept) in the course letting us all have a good time, and the freaky radicalism of organizations (and legal authorities) taking on the far more benign threat offered by high-quality chronic, the CSPI looks positively moderate. The phenomenon they are documenting is real. Their facts, at least in this case, are solid. They have a point of view, one that's relatively benign compared to the points of view of many with more power and money than they and -- at times -- damn near enlightened. So do a lot of organizations. That would be freedom. I find them a little fussy, but I can never figure out why they make people so crazy.

Fees from competition entries will benefit Women for Winesense. The judges are all professional wine women, and the winners will be designated "Wine Women Want." And today, I received a press release for an international women's wine competition to be held in Monaco . . . The "Femmes et Vins du Monde Concours International" at the Hotel de Paris. Looks like the ladies are getting assertive! ← Yeah -- red wine makes my wife assertive, too. That's why I try to keep on the Chardonnay.

It applies to pretty much any fibrous meat that is not braised or otherwise slow-cooked into tenderness. It wouldn't make much difference on a rib, which is naturally tender and fine-grained. On a skirt or flank steak (or brisket, I'd think) it's more or less mandatory.

Had friend whose judgment I trust visit recently only to find the food wonderful but some of informality that I thought made the place particularly delightful had dissipated. A little too much somberness among his fellow diners and a waiter who -- in my friend's word's -- "had a Louisville Slugger up his ass." (My friends and I are a little proprietary about the strip where Komi is -- we were were puking in the alley behind Komi when most of the servers there were eating mom's PB&J's for lunch and many of their customers were afraid to drive into the city. We are much better behaved now, but we claim a certain right not to treat the place as a temple.) On the other hand, another group of friends wandered in a bit liquored up recently and reported that their somewhat boozy ebulllience was was tolerated and even welcomed. My last visit -- six months ago -- was closer to the latter case: we had a great time, the servers all seemed to smile (in addition to being uber-competenent) and when we started drinking the wine pairings faster than they could serve the food, they just poured us extra half glasses as needed. Yum. In all cases, food has been reported as excellent. Further good news: Derek Brown, an excellent Maitre d' and sommelier will be joining the team any day, which means excellent wine pairings and a good time to be had by all.

I like the McMenamin's -- they run the movie theater that I mentioned in my post and this place, out in the middle of no-frickin'-where Washington, a converted lumberman's hotel, complete with the century-old pool tables where they used to gamble away their wages after months in the woods, is one of the coolest places I've ever been. There's even a Mcmenamins bar around the corner from the bakery I reccomended where I spent a pleasant hour away from the kids one afternoon. They do atmosphere and good beer very well, I'd drink in one of their pubs in a minute. But even for pub-style grub, they can be a little underachieving.

I think you're off base. Any time someone points out that ducks may not like getting grain tamped down their throat or that munching out on cheap chain food makes you fat and gives you heart disease or that advertising Lucky Charms to three-year-olds is immoral, their arguments are dismissed as the producted of clench-sphinctered meddlesome killjoys and gleefully buried beneath that slander by the wealthy purveyors of said nastiness. Hell, I did the same thing to the do-gooders that now prevent me from smoking in my favorite bars. Didn't make the do-gooders wrong, though (damn them). Not to imply that you're in the pocket of TGI Fridays people, but they ought to buy you a round and some potato skins next time you drop by, for furthering their cause by shifting the argument away from the facts. Because in the broad debate about food and nutrition, the (admitedly clench-sphictered appearing) Center for Science in the Public Policy has a place. They should be out there talking about the crap people wolf down without thinking, as obesity rates climb, heart disease kills more people faster, and people with the build of a sumo-wrestler steal the armrest on your flight to the coast. We are, in case you haven't noticed, quite a bit fatter than we were before the chains. And, were it not for Lipitor, we might have shorter lifespans, as well. It's an important public health issue. If a little gimmicky-yet-humorless education efforts aren't going to resolve it, they are at least a step in the right direction. Ignoring the problem, or pelting messenger is just going to make it worse. And, I'll bet you dollars to donuts that the last two multicourse, 4-star tasting menus I had the pleasure of plowing through -- not to mention a delightful three courses at Cashion's -- had fewer calories than the three-courser outlined in the article's lede.

On a related note, I had dinner at CityZen here in DC --one of our best, if you haven't heard of it -- and for one course they brought a fist-sized rock of salt from southeast Asia and used a carpenter's rasp to serve it over something a bit twee but very tasty. So, when I saw a huge rock of Bolivian Pink (yes, I get a cheap thrill from saying I have a rock of Bolivian Pink in my kitchen) in a Dean and DeLuca, I had to buy it and then dash out for a rasp of my own. It does deliver a superfine grind with a distinctive taste, but I'm not really sure how to employ it most effectively to enhance my dining experience. It's probably even stupider than a salt grinder, but way cooler to set out on the table.

Funny you noticed that -- I just made the sausage from the book and the wine seemed to be key to the recipe. Maybe my cut and past technique was bad, or maybe she just forgot to type it in when she was kind enough to post it. My impression -- after having looked at a couple Saucisse de Toulouse recipes besides Paula's -- is that it's the wine and the slight sweetness (with sugar and nutmeg) that make it distinctively "Toulousienne".

You can also pick up some "fresh-from the briny" Oregon oysters at the market and meet some of your east coast folks that night for a taste-off. I'm actually a Wellfleet guy myself, but there are no losers contests like this. I also bought fresh chanterelles at the market for about $10 a pound ("did you gather these yourself?" "No, our parents picked them yesterday"). And I know that this is not entirely on topic but I'll bet a guy like you would have a heck of a time hunting cookbooks, new or used, at one of the Earth's great bookstore's, Powell's. Ken's Artican Bakery has great freekin' bread and is next door to an excellent wine shop and around the corner from a bunch of hipster cafes -- another decent "just knockin' around" 'hood -- and might be a worthy pastry and coffee breakfast spot. Then you buy a loaf or two of the bread and a couple bottles of Pinot, head to the market for the oysters, cured meat and shrooms, (there will be cheese, too) carry it all on (except the wine) skip the shitty airline food and feast with friends at home. And they'll say "dang, Portland, who knew?" Later, when someone brings up the Pike Place Market in Seattle you can say something subtly put-downish, like "one of the better spots in the Northwest, indeed. If you can't get to Portland." (And Abra will correct you ) (Getting nostalgic for Portland. Couldn't tell, could you? Son has application in to Reed. Fingers are crossed.)