Busboy

Thunderbird and Cheetos. What could be a better pairing than that? ← I prefer Mad Dog with Cheetos -- and other vegetables. Thunderbird goes better with deep-fried meats IMHO.

Finally got the Travel Channel in DC. Not a bad show for a Monday night. If you looked quick during the credits, you could see that the "Crib Salesman" did indeed get an executive producer credit for the show (as promised during bartering over the cost of the crib). I'd watch it again just for that.

Marketing, at the McDonald's level, is all about playing in the margins. They don't have to convince vast numbers of people that McD's is a health food store. They just have to convince a few more people than are going now, that going to McDonald's isn't going to cause instant cardiac arrest. A 5% climb in in-store sales would probably make them very happy -- just one more person at McDonalds every day for 20 that already show up. I'm sure they have reams of market research data that tells them that, right now, perception of McDonalds as unhealthy is on of their biggest negatives, that "quality" is a hot buzzword in an era of Whole Foods and diet consciousness. I'll wager that a lot of this is targeted at parents -- ie moms -- who just want to get something quick and cheap into their kids after a hard day's work, but have a nagging fear that fast food is child abuse. And, don't forget, touting quality is one way of gaining a competitive advantage without having to cut prices -- much easier on the franchisees than a 2-for-1 burger special.

What about those who just want to drink it?

I took a look at the site. Yeah, alot of the descriptions are pretty much the same. "In a village perched on a hill...." Sounds like the village I'm from. A friend of mine's father had a restaurant in an even smaller village. It's not even on the map, but people would come to try it. Most would drive past it a few times before realizing where it was. ← Remind me to hunt down your village, then, next time I'm bumming around the greater Macon metroplex. In the U.S., a good view almost assures that the food will suck.

I got the feeling that a single person involved with the site wrote all the blurbs themselves -- rather than try to track down a hundred bistro owners and make them write -- and so they all sound similar and a little brochure-ish. I found out about the site from an article in le Monde -- unfortunately, you'd have to pay to read it, so I didn't link to it -- and I got the feeling that the organization was fairly organic, like an olive oil co-op or something. You can't just buy in, there are certain requirements that must be met to become a member, and the bistrots the article profiled were far more a part of village life than the tourist world. Though they are eager to bring in enough tourists to survive, the owners also adopt multiple roles in their villages to bring new customers in and get the regulars in more often --playing informal post office, hosting community meetings and art classes, and so on. I think someone needs to do a comparison of these guys versus the un-affiliated bistros of rural France, and see how random exploration stands up against putting yourself in the hands of network. I volunteer.

If you are like me and are often as happy to spend an afternoon lazing in a great local bar -- especially if the food and view are above-average -- as to drop a couple hundred dollars in some swell joint with sommeliers and tasting menus and plus fours and whatever, and you expect to find yourself in France, this is the website for you (in French, but you can figure it out). Bistrots de Pays claim to offer local food, practical information, a warm welcome and, often, great views, a sense of history and a chance to rub elbows with the locals -- all in towns of under 2000 residents. Most of the descriptions don't even offer a street address -- if you can find the village, you can find the cafe. Bistrot de Pays network exists largely in the South, and East, from Midi-Pyranees, around the Med and up to Fanche-Compte, and it may be difficult to find the heart on one of the 15 networks spread across such a larg area. Nonetheless, well worth checking out -- so it seems -- if you're planning to go through France and get off the beaten path. Sample description Chez Norbert 83840 La Roque-Esclapon Tél : 04.94.76.80.04 Dès que vous poussez la porte de chez Norbert, vous êtes reçu comme un ami de longue date. Invité à déguster sa cuisine élaborée avec produits et petits secrets du coin, vous ne pourrez que prolonger votre séjour dans l'une des quelques chambres de charme mises à votre disposition. (Correct me, Bleu...) "As soon as you open the door Chez Norbert, you are welcomed like an old friend. Invited to taste their elaborate cooking, made with products and secrets of the area, you can't help extend your visit in one of the several charmng rooms at your disposal." Soon as I can figure out where La Roque-Esclapon is (somewhere in the Haut Var), I'm there.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of ideas here, in the Post's most recent cooking class guide.

Sadly, no.

Having bought excellent olive oil in France for much less than the 35 euros/liter being charged at the restaurant gift shop, I have little sympathy for buyers who seem to have more money than sense (or taste). Buying oil from any source that provides oil of unknown provenance with a vanity label -- surely no one thought the restauranteur was pressing his own fruit -- is an inherently risky operation. Perhaps I have good luck, but whenever I find myself in the mood for a liter or two of provencal sunshine, I seem to stumble across a seller who offers a taste up front. I do not claim a taster's palate, but even I can taste the difference between generic extra-virgin and the hand-crafted stuff, and I fly home with something that puts me in a good mood every time I taste it, for as long as it lasts. It's regrettable that one chef may have -- knowingly or not -- flim-flammed his customers; interesting to think that the chef may have been selling something that he'd never bothered to taste himself. On the other hand, with so much good oil around, anyone buying the bottles from the front of the restaurant, sans goutant, whouldn't have expected anything more than an amusing souvenir of a fine meal. A liquid gimme cap, if you will.

At the Bateau Ivre in Courcheval, France, after six courses of anal-retentive two-star cooking (fuck understatement, I say) the pastry chef sent out a perfectly poached pear half resting in a lake of lime foam, with a licorish stick (the wooden kind, not the candy kind) sticking up out of its belly. Stacked up on the stick, like were pear sections that had been sauteed in sugar. Somehow I overcame my inherent distrust of foams and stacked food to chew the licorish stick in between bites of the two pears and slurps of lime. Exquisite.

I continue to find Pastan's pizza authentic to the point of innocuousness, but Mrs. B and I wedged ourselves into the back Friday night and again made a delicious meal out of whatever we saw set out on the bar or hanging from wooden pegs in the back. Lardo -- cured but not cooked pork belly -- a blue sheep's milk cheese that was so nasty Mrs. beat a retreat, leaving the whole plate for me; a cross section of piglet that had been boned, stuffed with pork scraps, liver, stock and a sagacious amount of sage, and then roasted. Sadly, we did not have the capacity (after eating a pizza, as well) for the artichoke bottoms mounted with what appeared to be an eggplant confit, the grain salad or the 4 or 5 other cured delicacies hanging up. There clearly isn't isn't anyone in DC doing rustic Italian as well as Scott, the talented and bespectacled gentleman behind the bar, who appears both to cook and serve it all up, and who is a joy to see at work, and the rest of the 2 Amy's crew. The ice cream wasn't bad either, although if apple crisp it sat on is even remotely Italian, next round's on me.

Marinated and grilled...the way the Greeks do it. Perfect.

"All natural" can mean many things. Legally, it means "A product containing no artificial ingredient or added color and is only minimally processed (a process which does not fundamentally alter the raw product) may be labeled natural. The label must explain the use of the term natural (such as - no added colorings or artificial ingredients; minimally processed.)" but practically it is often used by producers who want to point out that their beef isn't just mass-produced drek. This is not always true. For example, a producer that is de facto organic but doesn't wish to pay for certification, or feed their cattle only (more expensive) organic feed, can call their beef "natural." Dedicated natural producers eschew growth hormones, but can administer antibiotics if the animal is actually sick -- no "sub-therapeutic," or preventive, antibiotics allowed. And their diet is all vegetarian, no animal byproducts. On the other hand, most gorcery store beef is "natural" so unless there's a certifyer or the producer explains what they mean on the label, the term can be misleading.

Wait for a sale and buy a couple of swell bottles of wine that you can hold for a special occasion. Not $200 bottles, but some $50 stuff. And nothing you'll need to save for 10 years, but something that can benefit from a couple years in a pseudo-cellar (your linen clauset, for example).

Down here in DC the wet-aged Palm steak still tastes pretty good, but the real appeal of the Palm is that its a clubhouse for boyz and certain cool chicks, where if you know a couple of folks you get exceptional service and the occasional free martini. My wife once worked in the same building and had enough juice that they once rigged a TV so that we could eat dinner at a table with my visiting family and still watch the alma mater GW almost make it past the sweet 16 for the first time in 40 years. I'll always like the Palm, and some of the old guys still recognize us when we drop in. On the wet-aging thing, I always thought that wet-aged beef was inferior protein, but the excellent excellent steaks Michael Landrum is turning out at Ray's show how much you can get out of a wet-aged, choice (!) cut when the guy behind the line knows and cares about what he's doing.

Hotels in Athens are not cheap. When I was there, the client put me up, so I never did any hunting around. A friend recommends the Frech Hotel and the Art Hotel on Marnis Street near Omonia Square (hence centrally located). These may be beyond your budget. The link I posted above does have some hotel info, as well.

So, after Saturday night in the Sought End, I'm guessing that "hip" is not the same as "busy." While the restaurants were pretty packed, the sidewalks appeared to have been rolled up before we arrived -- almost no foot traffic at all by 11PM on a Saturday night. Or did I just miss the show? Loved my meal at Pho Republique. I had a skirt steak with asian spices served with a bit of Thai Chili Dipping sauce that tasted like mu shi sauce to me. Well cooked and tasty. Son had an excellent pho and we split the ribs, which lacked that crackly exoskeleton good Chinese ribs get after a couple of hours of basting in the front window of an old-school joint, but good spicing and perfectly cooked. Great waitress: dreads, heavily tatooed ("new ink?" asked the regulars at the next table. "Yeah," she replied, pulling the tank top's strap aside in a particularly delightful way), competent and friendly. I'm looking forward to a return trip.

First thing you should know about Athens on a weekend is that lunchtime starts about 2:30 and goes for hours. Saturday is "shopping day" in Athens, and the stores close at, I belive, 2PM and everyone -- everyone -- goes to lunch after. It's a blast. If you want to be even remotely hip, don't think about dinner until 10PM Saturday (slightly earlier Sunday). I don't know when you get in from Krakow, but you'll likely be able to find something to eat if you head down to Psirri/Monisteraki/Plaka (where are you staying?). Worse case, you can go to the all-night diner in the meat market, Papandreou. The tripe soup is legendary. Everything I know about Athens (and Crete) is on this thread.. This website is spectacularly helpful, as well, especially as regards to tracking down good taverna food. OK, more helpful than my stuff, I admit it. Generally, if you're in the mood to blow big money on one great meal, do it elsewhere. Athens is a a great place for relaxed, inexpensive eating and cheap wine. If I were going back, I'd spend Saturday lunch at Cafe Avisinnia, which is on Avisinnia square and thus just below the Acropolis and just around the corner from Plaka and Monisteraki, so it's horribly convenient but a block or two from the main tourist surge. Wandering drunk and aimlessly about Plaka at night is delightful, and the food's pretty interchangeable, so just look for a spot with a cool view. Cruising Monisteraki (the neighborhood just next to Plaka) for a great souvlaki is a perfectly respectable thing to do, it is ground zero for that delicacy and, if you had any doubt, they sure as hell do taste better there. Psirri is the nightlife neighborhood (also the hooker neighborhood if you get turned around -- but safe, if foreboding) and you can probably drink until the sun comes up. Actually, you can definitely drink until the sun comes up. There are two other good, inexpensive places that I liked a lot when I visited, one right on Victoria Square -- where there's a metro stop or to which you can walk from the Plaka -- and one about two blocks off Victoria. Patcute, right on the Square, serves grilled and roasted meat and is cheap and spectacular. I seem to recall a lunch for three with a liter and a half of wine for under 25 Euros. They don't speak much English, but they are pretty friendly and you can just point to what you want in the window (the menue is in Greek and English, as well). Alexandria, on a small side street just off Alexandras (an easily found main drag) serves excellent Greek/Egyptian food. BTW -- I find that even bad greek wine has enough personality to make it palatable, unlike too much cheap U.S. stuff, and much prefer taking my chances on $10/liter stuff from a barrel in the basement than $20 bottles from the list. On second thought, if you want a big good-by dinner in Athens, find yourself a good fish taverna and go nuts. Or, Look up ARISTERA-DEXIA; B. Tzaferi 11 & P. Ralli, Gazi, 210 342 2606

Well if you come from a culture where there are no such things traditionally like fruit pies and salad bars with lots of raw veggies or raw veggie platters in supermarkets... It does look like a "cultural thing" These things are relative you know... ← agreed and hence I like to point out that I was not trying to hurt or insult anyone's culture just trying to find out more about the one I am in... ← Not speaking for the rest of my fellow Americans, but I doubt anyone's culture felt insulted. Just, outside of the salad thing and the occasional dieter munching carrot sticks (and those Raw Foodists in SF), I don't think of us as eating too many raw vegetables here. And, for every clafouti or apple pie I get through, there are a many more fresh fruits getting munched raw in the Busboy household, and neighborhood around, as far as I can tell.

I think you're just hanging out with an odd assortment of Americans and that, on the whole, Americans are much more likely to eat raw fruit and cooked vegetables than vice versa.

Thanks for all the suggestions. I'm in Boston tonight and Jesus it costs a lot to eat good in this town. OK, I started googling some of the suggestions above and saw a lot of $20 aps and $35+ entrees amongst the "upper-middle" places. Not too bad when the client picks up the tab, but for me an my son, on my dime, it's a bit scary. I think I dropped $35 on two glasses of wine and two modestly-sized bits of cheese at Pigalle -- which is around the corner from my hotel -- last night. But the bartender was quite friendly and comped a bizarre but embarrasingly delicious apple "martini" -- made without gin or vodka due to bizarre Boston liquor license requirements. Grande Marnier allowed, but no gin. The bartender's moving to Rialto Monday, check him out...he likes his work and does it well. Ran by Ida's last night. Cute place, friendly, but of all the joints in the North End (good to see that in the 20 years since I lived there, the Italians are still holding their own agianst the yuppie onslaught), I'm not sure I'd pick that one again. My son was quite pleased with his pasta and spicy meatballs, though, and I enjoyed the veal and eggplant. 9Lives -- noticed Troquet walking alond the Common today, and made a mental note. Glad to hear that it's worth checking out in greater detail. Tonight, off to Pho Republique with my son.

I have been. I had a wonderful meal. I also own the Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook and the Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook (but not the Chez Panisse Cookbook cookbook, if one exists). Why do you ask? ← It's just that the dining room you describe is nothing like the one I've experienced. ← I was being a little facetious.

Have you been to Chez Panisse? ← I have been. I had a wonderful meal. I also own the Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook and the Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook (but not the Chez Panisse Cookbook cookbook, if one exists). Why do you ask?

I tried reading this guy one time and found him way too whiney and self-centered to stick with for very long. Who knows, maybe I just picked the wrong to essays to start, but I know David Sedaris; David Sedaris is a friend of mine.... That being said, even granted that we eGulleteers are 90% perfect, there's enough accumulated food snobbery in this board support a small novel, much less a single essay. Inability to recognize our own imperfections, and to laugh at them, is a bad sign. And beyond our own nearly perfect selves, there's the rest of the world. I was talking to noted food writer Steven Shaw last night about a related subject and he said "it's the same at every restaurant: 10% of the people appreciate the meal," the rest of them are just showing off, enjoying the reflected glitter of a celebrity chef, were dragged there when all they really wanted was a pizza -- or enjoying the warm glow that comes with showing off your own good taste. So, ouside the eGulleters at tables 18 and 22, a fourtop of of sincere foodies who saved months to dine at CP, and the clueless tourists still wondering why they can't get "Chateubriand pour Deux" at a place with "Chez" in its name, there's likely plenty of satirical material to be had. Edited to take AW herself out of the mix.