Busboy

They got it wrong, says study's author, here.

I used to have an immense Navy surplus (not the U.S. Navy, but someone's) bridge coat which easily held a six-pack of beer without looking wrong. Friends of mine and I would go to a nearby art-house (The Circle Theater, for any DC old-timers), for sparsely-attended shows, drink beer and enjoy the flick. I remember one time kicking over an empty bottle and hearing it roll, with agonizing slowness -- glass on concrete, with the occasional metalic clink against the leg of a chair -- from almost the back of the theater to the front row. Amazingly, no usher appeared to throw us out and we enjoyed the rest of the movie is sudsy peace.

Just slid dpwn to the corner bookseller. The book apparently won't be on U.S. shelves until next month.

(Just jumping in to clarify this) Well, if you're doing a study of the produce at the market, shopping skills are relevant. If you're doing a study on whether the people who sell the produce actually grew it themselves (which I obviously voew as the core of the book, which I hope to read soon), shopping skills are not relevant, though statistical and investigative skill may come in handy. If you're doing a study on why tourists might be buying mediocre produce from people who may or may not that produce's producers, you probably need some shopping skills and a bit of marketing and psychology savvy. And, if you're doing a study of the whole larger market phenomena, moving into the area and living with the locals -- and, as Pan points oit, getting the dialect right - may be called for. There are a lot of ways to look at things. And PS, if anybody has mistaken my spirited defense of Mme de la Pradelle and my suspicion that all is not as it seems in certain markets as anything remotely resembling an anti-French bias, I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Au revoir, until I get the book read or can conduct my own market research.

Thank you, Busboy, this was very useful! ← I'm glad it was helpful. One more thing to add: I'm not sure if they'll be in season, but Santorini is famous for its fava beans -- to which I have a strange and powerful attraction -- and for its white wines. Something to think of while you are there (friends say it is wonderful).

Those quotes hardly strike me as particualrly inflammatory -- more tongue-in-cheek ("those wiley Frenchmen") than anything else. They are certainly less inflammatory than the book itself. I should point out that phrase "shot through with mock paysans" was meant as a bit of a parody of those who are finding cold-blooded wholesalers behind every cart, it was never an assetrtion that the markets were indeed "shot though." More to the point of that paragraph, whether or not the majority of the vendors are selling farm-produced products or picked up their wares at the warhouse has nothing to do with whether you, me, the author or anyone else is shopping. It's a statistic that is independent of that shopper (at least in the short run). Thus, attempting to debunk the author by denigrating her shopping skills -- on evidence that is at best flimsy -- does nothing to affect the validity of her conclusions. I haven't been to the markets in Toulon, so I don't know how many vendors there are. But I'll wager that you -- as I do here in the U.S. and did in Provence -- pass by many stalls for every one you patronize. I'll also wager that you -- as do I -- spend your time looking at the produce and cheese, not analyzing the seller's outfit or wasting too much time trying to trace the exact chain-of-evidence of what they're selling. This makes it entirely possible, probable, even, that you are passing by the vendors Mme La Pradelle condemns and patronizing the artisanal producers you praise. You both could be right. It appears to me that the French government is doing all it can to protect its farmes, much to the displeasure of most of the world. And I suspect that the real danger to markets themselves is that French shoppers will decide that Carrefour is more convenient, less expensive and almost as good as the markets, and withdraw their support -- not the occasional government study. Indeed, taking a good look at the markets and ensuring that they are as "advertised" -- the source of small-producer, high-quality food -- might be a good way to ensure quality in the stalls and customers lining up before them. It's an approach that has worked for everything from cheese to chickens, why not markets, as well?

This thread is getting a bit dated but does go over a great number of restaurants in Athens including some good cheap Tavernas, Kollias and Athens' two other Michelin-starred places (besides Varoulko) Spondi (downtown) and Vardis, way uptown at the end of the Green Line, in Kifissia. It also has links to two other food sites that may be helpful to visitor, and some rule-of-thumb rules on getting along. Not that anything is more likely to be valuable than athinaeos' advice, but the thread and the links are are a start. Viking: do note that what Athenians think of as Saturday (and Sunday) lunch starts between two and four (after the stores close and shopping ends for the day) goes for hours, and is likely to involve copious drink. See my report on Cafe Avissinia, which is a fine place to hit if you want to spend the morning kicking around the Acropolis (if you haven't, do this) and the antique stores. One my colleagues -- a philosophy major, at that -- thinks that weekend lunch is Greece's greatest gift to civilization.

To the extent that it adds anything to this debate, I'd like to clarify a little on the anthropomorphization front. First of all, as do most people, you make a mistake in assuming that pain is a physiological or neurological phenomenon, which it is not. It is a psychological phenomenon. Advanced animals, like human beings and ducks, have specialized nerves called nociceptors that respond to high levels of mechanical, thermal or chemical stimuli. The activation of these nerves combines with other sensory stimuli and is processed inside our complex brains into the perception we know as pain. The perception and processing part is the important part, not the stimulus part. There is an entire theory of how pain works called "gate control" which asserts that pain happens only in the brain. So, to the extent that we make the assumption that ducks experience pain in the same way as humans, we anthropomorphize, which means "to attribute human form or personality to things not human." And, of course, if we go the direction of supposing that even nonpainful gavage would cause inhumane levels of "stress" in ducks and geese, we're going straight into the realm of animal psychology. ← Not to get all etymylogical, but a scan of on-line definitions confirms my thought that anthropomorphism exists largely metaphorically, rhetorically and, of course, theologically (think of all those river gods). The "personality" part of your definition. Thus my ascribing of human-like pain to an animal, based as it is on (however flawed) observation or logic, is not the result of a Will To Anthropomorphize. At any rate, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. You say that pain is not a neurological phenomenon, and then go on to talk about neurons. Odd, that. You also discuss the similarities of human beings and ducks without noting any differences which might account for different perceptions of pain -- or shall we call it "pain." It appears that the stimili how can stimuli not be physiological) reach both the human brain and the duck brain through very similar paths, where do they diverge and how do we know? I'm open to suggestion, but I'm very skeptical of people who have never talked to a duck, making too many comments about what ducks do and do not feel. There's a certain "who are you going to believe, me or your own eyes," quality to that type of argument. We know humans feel pain. We're pretty sure paramecia don't. Is there a point somewhere in between (primates? cows? lizards?) where pain becomes part of consciousness, or are we humans the only ones blessed with the psychological capacity for this facet of nature? Whether or not gavage is particulalry painful is a different argument. I've heard a lot assertions on either side, I just haven't seen much proof. I'd be curious to find the results of the duck stress test (or volunteer to evaluate one).

A fine line indeed between implication and accusation. Her ability to shop in no way affects whether the market stall owners are indeed producers or just picking up their produce at the wholesaler and posturing as the indigènes you reference further down to make a euro from the unwary. Her market basket, yes, but not her conclusions. Probably because they are the more celebrated markets. I don't think a study (or a fluffy celebrations) of the markets of Picardie would attract much attention (though it probably should). But the book itself is called "Market Day in Provence." I think we ought to at least get the subject of the book right while discussing it. The book was written by a French person, so the negative impressions at the heart of this discussion are home grown. I don't recall any particularly negative descriptions of The French, as a people, in this thread. If you are offended by what Americans say about the French, you should see what we say about one another. (The French, by the way, have had something of a cottage industry in analyzing Americans since the days of de Tocqueville.) If you're referring to me, I'd be curious to see what you found disturbing, and will likely be happy to remove it. I have always found you interesting. The word quaint has never occurred to me, though. I have no doubt that Marché des Lices in Rennes is wonderful, as are Lucy's stalls in Lyon, I'm still waiting for ainside information specific to the books provencal focus. For me, I'm hoping to spend a little time in Mme La Pradelle's back yard this summer (sadly, probably won't get as far Rennes), and intend to carry on further research on this subject. I will report back. Perhaps we can meet up and do a little cross-cultural peer review on Mme La Pradelle's thesis -- or at least find some decent melons for dinner.

Or an excuse to save money for a better wine at the three-star by conducting an in-house cheese, charcuterie and baguette-fest. Or the one dish I craved for the twenty years between my first trip to Paris and my second (admittedly, mostly because they looked so cool): oefs en gelee, available from your local traiteur. (If you're from New York, how bad can a Paris kitchen be?)

You mean there is a way to feed yourself without killing living things? ← It's impossible to live without killing bacteria, but if we limit this to visible creatures, it probably is possible to eat without killing any, if you restrict yourself to dairy, fruits and seeds (no plant killing), and you could throw in unfertilized eggs. You could also eat certain kinds of leaves without killing the plant. For example, I used to pick young leaves off cashew trees, and it didn't seem to do any damage to the trees, because there were plenty of older leaves and new leaves grew quickly. ← I believe one of the Fruitarian subgroups embraces that diet because the consume only food that would have naturally fallen from the tree without harming it. There is, I believe, some controversy about grain, given the threshing thing. FRUIT IS FREEDOM Tord Åredal 1996 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The "less-killing principle" or the "non-killing principle" is an important part of fruitarianism. The less violence, the more love. Violence and killing in all forms should be rejected to make room for love. A loving consciousness comes from a life without unnecessary killing and violence. The way of life that represents the "less-killing principle" the most is the fruitarian way of life! And talk about recycling! The fruit tree gives me my food and I give back the seeds to nature so other trees can grow. When the fruit trees are old I can use them as timber or make a fire to heat my house with them. My influence on nature has come to a minimum, my body is free from disease, my consciousness is loving, and my soul feels FREE.

Since, as far as I can tell, nobody on the thread has actually read the book except jamiemaw, and nobody at all has met the woman who wrote it, and nobody's bothered to discuss her view of the Carpentras market based on their own experience there, attacks like "Maybe (as her name would imply) her maid does the shopping for her while she's doing her research. Maybe, in that case, the maid should have helped in the research too") are simply unfounded and indeed patently unfair. And, in fact, whether she can shop her way out of a paper sac-a-main is irrelevant to her case. If the markets are shot through with mock paysans in rented sabots (Ok, not in Caprentras), then they are, whether it's the buyer's fault for not being able to tell the real from the fake, or a vast rural conspiracy to prey on our yearning for the good old days. Or just the way people make a living. In fact, at one level who cares who the seller is? If the cherries are sweet, the saucisson tangy and the bread crisp, who cares whether they were produced by the same hands that are now taking your money, or bought at the warehouse earlier that day. We don't expect the butcher to raise all his own meat, why should the produce guy have to grow all his own fruit. I've never been to the Capentras Market, but I have stumbled through a few of the markets in that neighborhood (Orange, Villefranche, Isle-Sur-la-Sorgue, Bonnieux) and given the mix of venders I saw -- even leaving aside the sellers of bootleg CD's, cicada-shaped soap and "authentic" provencal tablecloths -- it would hardly surprise me that there's a high percentage non-farmers hawking non-local produce there. As you know, those markets are a bit like festivals, and overrun by tourists, half the fun is the energy and the bavardage with neighbors and vendors. A lot of the produce is mediocre; perhapse those are the wholesale buyers. I'm sure the savvy locals and a few sharp-eyed tourists have favorite sellers and get great food, much of it from producers. I'm sure a lot of other people get so-so stuff from other vendors. I think if we don't look on what may well be a reasonable observation about at least one market as a grievous affront to the French people, we can accept that, as sellers of all types have been doing since sales began, even the vendors within the Carpentras market stalls may be selling a bit of poetry with their produce -- and finding many eager to buy.

Just found out that the Glover Park Whole Foods has restructured -- ie, eliminated -- its by-the-scoop servings of grains, legumes, dried fruits and so on, and in the course of doing so, got rid of the flagelot offerings. Need to know if anybody's seen A store to buy a flagelot bean? Gonna cook me some Thomes Keller Leg o' lamb, for a couple of fellers Now, I can make me some agneau jus And I confit garlic, like nobody's business But all that won't mean a thing 'less the lamb's served on the proper beans So, now there's no place I won't go To get me a flagelot -- "Line Cook's Blues" by Hanque Williams

So much of the concept of the French idyll (a bike or canal boat ride through the countryside, stopping at a market to gather supplies for a picnic) is based on this ripe artifice that it appears, up close, like that amusing pastime of sacred cow tipping. Or merely merde de cheval. ← "Merde de cheval"? (First of all there is no such expression in France. The word is crottin.) Now the lady may be an acceptable anthropologist, but here is the big, pertinent question: can she shop? Is she a skilled shopper? Can she tell small-producer root celery from bleached, calibrated root-celery at first sight and touch? I'd suspect she doesn't. Maybe (as her name would imply) her maid does the shopping for her while she's doing her research. Maybe, in that case, the maid should have helped in the research too. ← Bit unfair, don't you think? Besides, I thought French women were genetically predisposed to shop well.

Even as you elaborate your thoughts -- "as conscious beings, can put the creations of nature to our use as we see fit," -- it seems pretty insubstantial. If we, for example, decide to put nature "to our use as we see fit," by say, turning a productive river into an open sewer to keep manufacturing costs down, is that ok? How about Bear-baiting on ESPN? And why have any animal cruelty laws at all? If it's cheaper for me to starve and beat my horse, why not? And all that complaining upthread "what about the chickens and the sturgeon?" I guess we needn't worry about them, either. I'd suggest thatrather than absolute masters, we are, in fact, stewards, with responsibilities as well as rights. Also, I've noticed that other animals besides humans tend to be conscious, as well. My cat, for example, is only conscious a couple hours a day, but appears to feel pain, respond to stimuli, crave affection. I'm not saying that you have no right to turn her into violin strings, but being cavalier about such an act is, well, glib. ← Mr. Sweeney, should you choose to be a steward, you are of course free to do so. I choose to be a captain. The world around me is mine to mold, and my morals dictate how I will mold it. I'm not on my way out the door to pollute a river, nor do I take the life of any animal lightly -- particularly one that has served as a source of nourishment to prolong my life. No rational human being would. That is not cavalier, glib, or (insert morally condescending adjective here). I should have been clearer in stating that human beings are the most conscious, which by default puts us at the top of the food chain. However, I have said as much repeatedly, and such details seem to matter little at this point, as you will assign whatever descriptors seem to suit your agenda, and I've had quite enough of that. Good day. ← I feel like I'm trapped in a bad Ayn Rand novel (Not that there are any other kind.) I am curious to learn how society exists if every individual's own moral principles are the only curb on that individual's actions -- if there is no objective or even socially accepted subjective morality. It would almost seem as though people were slapping the important-sounding word "morality" on their own desires, or just saying that anything they can get away with is "right." Thus you can eat foie gras, and if I thought foie gras was torture, I don't have to eat it, but it would be OK for you. I can beat my horse if I feel it's appropriate to beat it and my morals support it, while you needn't beat your horse if you feel it inapropriate; whatever feels right. And the ACME Whitefish Company can, say, fish codfish into extinction, and if we don't like it, well, we're kind of screwed. But at least ACME, captain of its destiny, was able to mold its environment as it saw fit, damn the rest of us and those pesky generations to come. It's not that I think you're on your way out the door to pollute a river, or have any reason to think you other than a wonderfully moral person. But your outlook, as you describe it, means it's perfectly OK if your next-door neighbor decides his or her morality supports acts that I find reprehensible, be it polluting that river, torturing geese or whatever. It means there is no intellectual basis for any sort of environmental protection or animal cruelty laws. Actually I was being glib on purpose, I see you picked up on it, and I'm gratified. It's kind a rhetorical device -- exagerating for effect, or hyperbole -- to underscore the ineffectiveness of some of the arguments in the thread. I like foie gras, and it pains me to see people unwilling or unable to confront the core issue: how much pain/discomfort/agony/whatever, if any, does the unfortunate fowl feel when having their liver artificially enlarged through force-feeding. I want our team to have the good arguments, and not fall back on "it's nothing compared to what those beakless factory chickens go through." Which brings me to the next rhetorical device on our agenda: anthropromorphizing. See, for me to have been using that, I'd have to give the geese human phsychological characteristics: the ability to feel sorrow or joy, to be pure or currupt, to speak the truth or deceive children, that sort of stuff. We're actually arguing the more mundane question of whether geese feel pain and do they feel it during foie gras production. I suspect that's biology, not literature. I confess, I have no goose pain studies at hand. I've got to say that the burden is on the other side on this one -- to prove that the lower animals don't feel pain. No one's ever suggested that geese smell or hear in a different way than humans, why would their pain sense be dramatically different? The straw man, by the way, is the stereotype of the hippy-dippy, serially amthropomorphizing PETA activists whare too stoned, stupid or attached to the childhood bunny they never had, to be taken seriously. Even though I often disagree with them, they may be right sometime. At any rate, dismissing them with cheap stereotypes doesn't prove them wrong. And I'll stand by my core statement: "even at the top of the food chain, there is merit in avoiding needless cruelty. Whether foie gras production falls into that category is a legitimate question."

Even as you elaborate your thoughts -- "as conscious beings, can put the creations of nature to our use as we see fit," -- it seems pretty insubstantial. If we, for example, decide to put nature "to our use as we see fit," by say, turning a productive river into an open sewer to keep manufacturing costs down, is that ok? How about Bear-baiting on ESPN? And why have any animal cruelty laws at all? If it's cheaper for me to starve and beat my horse, why not? And all that complaining upthread "what about the chickens and the sturgeon?" I guess we needn't worry about them, either. I'd suggest thatrather than absolute masters, we are, in fact, stewards, with responsibilities as well as rights. Also, I've noticed that other animals besides humans tend to be conscious, as well. My cat, for example, is only conscious a couple hours a day, but appears to feel pain, respond to stimuli, crave affection. I'm not saying that you have no right to turn her into violin strings, but being cavalier about such an act is, well, glib.

Nothing like a tough gizzard to make having a metal pipe shoved down your neck feel like a Swedish massage! And then the force-feeding followed by slaughter! I don't know which is more fun, eating the foie gras or being the duck that gives it up! In my experience, both sides in this debate have an unfortunate bent for ludicrous oversimplification. I eat foie gras, I have friends who won't. We all agree, however, even at the top of the food chain, there is merit in avoiding needless cruelty. Whether foie gras production falls into that category is a legitimate question. Building up straw men and knocking them down ("The beautiful irony here is that anti-foie advocates' anthropomorphizing of geese is actually one of the most grossly human-centric things they could do") or falling back onto glib observations ("Food chain. Top. The end.") brings very little illumination to the discussion.

I don't know the swell bars of DC so well, as I don't often run with the swells, but The Raven in my neighborhood and the Tune Inn on Capitol Hill are legendary dives. You might try WPA and Zola if you want to drink beautiful drinks with beautiful people and, boring though it is, the Palm makes a hell of a martini. Ring me if you're in the 'hood and we can go scouting together.

Titanium's thermal conductivity is significantly lower than iron's and vastly lower than aluminum or copper. For you All-Clad fans out there, Steel performs poorly, as well. Chart here. I am skeptical of most expensive new cooking technology, but one kick-ass everlasting non-stick to do fish on might be worth an investment.

Welcome to eGullet and to the DC-DelMArVa board, Collije. We look forward to hearing from you often. You don't have any clues as to when the Silver Spring branch might be opening, do you? ABC applications in the front window or "help wanted" signs on the door? Maybe a glimpse of burly stevedores unloading cords of uncut Prime Rib, signaling -- witgh the same ccuracy with which groundhogs signal six more weeks of winter -- that we are only six weeks of wet-aging from a grand opening bash?

"An off night" just doesn't happen. More likely, an off patron. ← Au contraire. Off nights do indeed just happen, as dinner service, like so much else in life, tends to accumulate momentum. Once the rhythm gets thrown off, it's hard to get it back -- though I'm certain that happens rarely at Citronelle, and that they recover quickly when it does. And there are personality clashes at restaurants, with patrons and restaurant staff misjudging or misunderstanding one another and exacerbating minor rough spots. All in all, I'm tempted to take knifeskills at her word -- or, at least, give her as much credibility as I grant other posters who've weighed in.

A buyer.

I like "disrespecting" because it's actually authentic slang, not the product of some marketing type or corporate wordsmith trying obscure the truth ("rightsizing," "sweetbreads") or upgrade some previously mundane task ("sales associate," "sourcing"). It's far from standard English, but it has place in making the the languge more vibrant.

Yeah, it's a pain. But it's part of the job. It's shopping. It's what you do. Restaurants (and other food providers -- caterers and the like) have to clean the kitchen, pay payroll taxes, vacuum the dining room and hire servers, all important parts of the operation, none crowned with a pretentious name. I appreciate the work you and many others do trying to pump out good food on a limited budget. It's a tough job and one too often overlooked when people look at the business, and you (though you deserve one) don't have a national or regional reputation that draws organic beet farmers to your back door in hopes of selling their hand-harvested product to you and thus making a name for themselves. I'm reminded of Jacques Pepin talking about his mother hitting the markets late in the day, browbeating the vendors into discount prices, and turning bruised vegetables into wonderful food. But when a joint with $40 entrees wants bonus points for shopping well, and embraces a new verb to try to pat itself on the back, I'm not buyin'. And when the term fall into the clutches of Trader Joe's -- a fine establishment I'm sure, but hardly artisanal these days -- or works its way into casual conversation ("where did you source that olive oil?") the term must be quashed.

See, I too thought "source" in its current use as a verb implied, not just finding that special ingredient, but finding a *steady, reliable, uniform supplier* of said ingredient in the amounts required by the business at hand, which, in the case of specialized ingredients especially, is no small endeavor. I'm none too crazed about the "verbing" of nouns either. But in some cases, a noun is being pressed into service as a quick-and-dirty solution for telegraphing an idea for which no short simple word currently exists. So I'd rather people say they "sourced" a special item than sit there as they go into a whole mini-dissertation about how they "found a supplier of a rare and high-quality ingredient that could keep up with the volumes of that item we need for our day-to-day operations." ← Just got in from sourcing some pizza. What, I'm supposed to break out in hosannahs because an expensive restaurant does its homework? Growing stuff is hard work. Selling stuff is hard work. Buying stuff? Not so much. And pretense coupled with bad grammer -- insupportable! as the French would say.