Busboy

Not much wisdom to add but I thought I might add a bit of encouragement to anyone considering taking the ice cream plunge. We made ice cream Saturday, nothing special, just vanilla 'scream meant to be drizzled with dulce de leche and served alongside a clafoutis. We didn't even have real vanilla bean, just McCormick's. My traitorous wife had brought some Ben and Jerry's into the house and at some point I thought I'd do a taste test between Ben's and mine, fearing the results, as I have great respect for B&J's. Boy, was I glad to be wrong. The homemade stuff was just at a different level, taste, consistency, whatever. It was a lesson in why doing it yourself is worth it, almost every time, and how even a home cook can beat up the mass market boys if you've got a little time Staurday morning. So, if you're wondering whether it's worth it, it is.

I don't want to get all literal here, but people have been surprisingly earnest in likening "foodism" to a religion, which is a fairly egregious overstatement. A religion is a system of beliefs that provides moral guidance, explains the physical and metaphysical nature of our existence, and generally, provides hope for an afterlife. Food has been linked with religion through sacrifice, dietary restrictions, feasts and fertility rituals probably forever. And diners have been describing meals as religious experiences (particularly in circumstances where the phrase "food orgasm" would be considered déclassé). But few people actually think of their Safeway as housing the Supreme Being, or expect to find moral virtue in the words of St. Julia. Food comforts and nourishes, but it doesn't explain or guide. "Obsession," "vice," "hobby," yes. "Religion," no.

I'm surpised nobody mention 2 Amy's (thread here). I think their pizza is pretty good (others rave) but I'm really impressed with their meats, cheeses and specials that get turned out by the guy (the other Mr. Amy?) behind the bar -- rabbit wrapped in pancetta and topped with a fruit compote, a chunk of mackeral served up with a sauce that cuts the oil but leaves the fish, slices of whatever meat is hanging along the wall. The food reeks of authenticity, if they aren't serving this stuff back in Italy, they should start. And now we have Dino's (thread here), where this type of cooking isn't overshadowed by the pizza. Just opened, it's well worth a drop in, before it gets any more discovered than it already is.

← Nope. I think all the places mentioned here are eclectic enough that they'd have equal appeal whichever England you're from -- "New" or "Merrie Olde".

Don't go to Dino's. Please. Let me have it for myself. I promise to go often and tip well, so that you don't have to. Unless we all take the time to think this through, we're going to create one of those restaurants that get so popular that nobody goes there any more, and I'm going to find myself in a line snaking down Connecticut Avenue waiting endlessly just to get a bite. When I get hungry, I get cranky and I start deleting posts out of sheer cussedness, and none of us want that. In an Italian restaurant environment too often defined by red sauce and forgettable pastas on the one side and high-end elegance on the other, Dinos finds another space to occupy, lifting simple, peasant foods to new heights in way that you rarely see in thses parts, outside of 2 Amy's. Based on a relatively modest sampling of the food, only a couple of days after the opening, I think Dino's has the potential to fundamentally change the way Washingtonians think about Italian food. I never thought anyone cooked octopus better than the Greeks, but Dino's Octopus, braised in red wine and served with a chickpea puree, may have changed my mind in that regard. The crostinis each nailed down a distinct, earthy flavor -- liver, anchovey, garlic, salt cod -- this is not food for the faint of palate. Lasagnette al Ragu Bolognese, wove together a delicate pasta and"rich & creamy ragu Bolognese" with veal breast that made me wish winter were here and such dishes were mandatory. The place isn't perfect. )Overcooking kicked a rotisseri cooked lamb with olio and tomatoes down from "transcendant" to merely "very good." The roast chicken was kind of OK, but since my wife makes the finest lemon, herbs and garlic chicken on the planet, we're a little spoiled. And if anyone ever asks me if I want "water service" again, I may barf. Any faults, however, were well within the realm of expected for a restaurant just getting its sea legs. The service was attentive, the owner was prowling the floor, clearing dishes and making conversation, the price is right and the food is only going to get better. At which point, the lines will start forming and I'll not get my table. You've been warned.

After all the hubbub I ended up at Ray's Sunday night, getting a late reservation (through the regular listed number, for those keeping score). We were greeted by a genleman who looked almost exactly like Michael Landrum except that he had apparently shaved and was not in chef's whites. The crowd was one of those happy mixes that denote "neighborhood joint:" a chic Japanese couple at one table, three "girls" with big hair on a night out at the next, families all around including -- gasp-- children. Despite the lack of written instruction, however, the children seemed to be having as good a time as everyone else, and there was generally a pleasant energy to the place. I can't add much to the previous three million posts except to say that the new guy in the kitchen seems to have learned well from the master. Our blue devil and steak au poivre were perfectly cooked, lovingly sauced. The shrimp appetizer jumped out at me as something I should have noticed before, one of those "holy shit" moments. And the wine list remains temptingly priced and well stocked with fine reds (we had a DeLoach Zin, kind of a metrosexual wine: manly and strong, as though it went daily to the gym, and yet nuanced and subtle, as though it used hair care products and remembered anniversaries). Y'all come.

I second all of Bill's suggestions -- especially the crab shack idea-- save that I prefer Pesce, about three doors down from Johnny's, to Johnny's, for reasons unclear even to myself. (From a review I wrote) "Save the occasional soup or salad, Pesce is all fish, all the time. The restaurant’s attitude, energy and small size give the place a European feel... Pesce’s customers come for the simple charms of a well-roasted red snapper, sauced only with olive oil and lemon, or a garlicky brandade that, with a little bit of cream and potato, transforms salt cod into refined dining. Though Pesce’s Italian roots show through, the kitchen borrows freely and well from other cuisines. A pair of batter-fried shrimp, each seemingly the size of a small banana, come with a Southeast Asian dipping sauce spiked with sugar and fish sauce. A burly chunk of bluefish meets its match in a pungent tuna bolognese with plenty of garlic and black beans. But it’s the grace note added by chard and mushrooms, braised in soy and sesame oil and secreted beneath the filet, that make the dish memorable. " Perhaps proving that fish restaurants, like fish, travel in schools, yet another fish joint, Hank's, has opened just across Dupont Circle from Johnny's and Pesce. Word of mouth has been mixed but positive, and edited to make it look as though I'm a native English speaker.

If they're in the markets in your neck of the woods, just some spectacularly fresh tomatoes with equally fresh basil. I love corn with crabcakes, too, on the cob, as a relish or made into little corn pancakes. Nothing quite says summer like crabcakes, tomatoes and corn, and I like to eat them with a manly pink wine from the South of France.

The phone number and address are practical, useful pieces of information and therefore have no place in this thread. Between you and me, I have no idea what people are always going on about either. We are sort of the Bad News Bears of restaurants: Most people think we are a little better than we really are and forget that it's just Little League. Some people get a little carried away and root for us too much, and some people for some reason feel threatened and go way, way too far out of their way to tear us down. Take us for what we are--have a good steak and some good wine--and you'll have a good time. ← A new era dawns: RTS 1725 Wilson Blvd. Arlington, VA 703-841-7297 Heather -- see if you can fit Bleachboy into your party... Michael - come to think of it, it does get a bit like the soccer league sidelines in here sometimes. Or the back seat of a car on a long, long drive.

Heather is a hot chick. She deserves the number for the Bat-phone. Just PM me and I'll pass it along to her.

It seems as though every time I leave the computer for twenty minutes, this thread gets pissy again. If it happens again, I will lock the thread. Ad hominem attacks are against Society regs and will not be tolerated; endless, by-now-pointless and vitriolic discussions will be deleted mercilessly. If you don't have anything nice to say, say it politely. Thank you.

In honor of the people of France, and the spirit of liberte, egalite and fraternite we will leave the pits in our cherry clafoutis. (We will also learn how to put accents onto our e's.) Mrs. B and I are scheduled to cook an "authentic" french bistro meal for eight on the night of the 16th -- our services were purchased at auction at our daughter's school -- so perhaps we'll turn that into a Bastille Day bash, late though it is. Any suggestions on traditional Bastille Day dishes? (Did I ever tell you about the time I wandered around Place du Bastille looking for the Bastille itself?)

We had a wonderful meal at Les Florets, just outside of Gigondas -- one of my favorite meals ever, on the terasse with a view of the dentelles. It's just outside of town (folow the signs). Is this the one you're thinking of? It was, and may still be a Michelin Bib Gourmand, so the price/quality ratio is high. 04 90 65 85 01. The Guide Micheline also lists L'Oustalet in Gigondas, actually in the town, if that name rings any bells. 04 90 65 85 30. If you do get to Gigondas, there is co-op tasting room right on the main drag in the village (to the left as you walk in) and a tourist center to give further guidance. If you want someplace inexpensive and, in my opinion, delightful, you can go to the next village down, Vacquyras, tast in the wine shop next to the church, and have a dinner of meat grilled over grape clippings beneath the plane trees at the village entrance. It ain't haute cuisine, but it's a nice place to be when the sun goes down. Beumes-de-Venice, btw, has a public pool, so if you've had a hot day of drinking young red wine and need to cool off, that's the place to be. Speedos only, for men.

Because, as I said earlier, I've had good luck at Italian restaurants in small towns. Because, I've found "local" restaurants to be a very low percentage bet. Because many Italians came to America and brought their cooking traditions with them (while very few Mexicans have gone to France, which does offer very good Algerian and Vietnamese food.) That's why, as was also pointed out up thread, the U.S. is, generally, the one country where you can go and get a variety of reasonable quality foods of different origins. Because that's where the kids wanted to go.

Ray's has 16 pages because they have earned through quality, accessibility and coontroversy. Ray's turns out excellent steaks at reasonable prices and friendly and accessible in a way that has won a loyal following . Chef Landrum has been very generous of his time and wit with the eGullet community. And there have been a couple of group dinners and factional dust-ups, each of which has generated significant traffic. In short, Landrum and their team have earned their coverage which, it should be pointed out, no one has to read if they don't wish to.

I did get to the Pink Cadillac and enjoyed it immensly. It's the kind of place I'm looking for when I get off the highway. I am in no position to judge the white gravy or the grits as I had never eaten either before, but I did enjoy them. I have been told since that ordering hot sauce for the grits would not have been out of line and that might have made them perfect. Always great to be able to get country ham with breakfast and the atmosphere is wonderful, as was our 6 foot blonde waitress. The only disappointment was the biscuits, which were undercooked and served with that weird Land o' Lakes margarine you see everywhere. The life-size King Kong in the parking lot is compelling, too.

I never had Mexican food in France, but I did go to an upscale-ish place in Athens that offered Mexican, Indian and Chinese. Not that the Greeks are on par with French in terms of local quality -- though they are equal to the french in creating lovely places to dine and staffing them with talented professional -- but eating "ethnic" in Greece dramatized the difference between their ability to turn out good Greek food and anything that originated outside the Med. We in the U.S. do do a greater variety of cusisine well here than anywhere in the world. As I noted upstream, red-sauce Italian has become a mainstay of my roadtrips. That being said, beware small-town Chinese. And, in response to FG's earlier post, I respect the pizza craving, especially from a New yorker, but it's Thai that I crave coming home from abroad. Home cooking the second night -- unless I've been travelling alone and my wife is kind enough to put something together while I'm en route. But that first night back, I'm calling for Thai within moments of the cab dropping me off.

I am a moron, after all. I was thinking to myself "this sounds like something that should be in that book Bourdain was shilling on eG"... which, of course, it is. eGullet discussion of the book, here.

I think a guide would be a good start, but let me make it clear that I do understand that it's only a partial measure, something that would, hopefully, make the difference between a good restaurant going slowly out of business and being able to survive -- not something that's going to have 2-star chefs fleeing Manhattan for Rockbridge County. Even with everyone on eGullet clutching their copies of of the new Backroads Dining Guide, no place is going to stay afloat without local support. I'd guess that that means a reasonable price by local standards -- my Italian joint did have $20 entrees, I believe, so the prices don't have to be rock bottom. I can't see anyplace that requires a necktie surviving long. The menu would have to acknowledge less sophisticated tastes -- hell, there's nothing wrong with a good grilled steak, and even in France nice places will pull together a children's menu. And there would clearly be a breaking in process, both to introduce people to new food and to convince folk that you're not some yuppie snot who has a problem with biscuits and country ham. A location that allows the (free) view, rather than expensive decore set the tone; a couple of free meals to the local restaurant critic, a couple of charming luncheons for the local Ladies Who Lunch (make sure that ice tea is made right!) and the occasional bourbon on the house for their husbands, a high-end wedding every now and then -- locals and outsiders -- and enough tourists coming through based on their dining guides....maybe it can be pulled off. Until then, it's still fun to keep looking...when there aren't any church suppers around. I'm sure people are doing

A brief but amusing piece in the Washington Post Magazine about a Chef, a wedding cake, and a doberman. I don't care if it was 25 years ago, I'm not sure I'd go public with this one. No sooner did I squeeze the cake into the refrigerator than the shelf collapsed under the tremendous weight, and both the shelf and the cake crashed to the bottom of the refrigerator. I heard the distinctive tinkle of breaking glass again -- the second dove had been destroyed. With a sigh, I lifted the lid of the box. There they were, crystalline shards piled on top of the cake. Anybody else been the perpetrator or victim of such an act?

That's not limited to small towns. I've seen it in some of America's bigger cities and places I was told were tops. There is a pastry and dessert place that was once owned by a famous D.C. chef. He sold the place and his name with it. I don't know if it's still open,, the last time we went was about 6-7 years ago. The sweets were awful, disgusting chocolate mousse served in a plastic cup, but the place was still getting written up as one of the best in LA. ← Would that be this famous chef?

Maybe you should talk to them about doing some consulting. You could change lives, influence a local economy, and spend some time in a very beautiful part of Oregon. ← Sadly, that's not going to happen any time soon, for a number of reasons (including the fact that my restaurant work credentials are now more than a decade old). But, perhaps, someday, after the kids are out of college (though the boy does want to check out OSU and Lewis and Clark!), after a couple of visions and revisions ...there will be time.

You're not argumentative at all. In fact, after I wrote that, I was thinking about the same thing. Obviously not everyone who grows up in a small town turns into a tastebud zombie, since *I* didn't , but there are so many who simply don't think outside the box. I think maybe part of it is that people learn not to associate good food with restaurants. I know my 70-year-old father doesn't; he hates going out, and a lot of that is because he doesn't think the food is as good as the stuff my mother makes. My mother could be the poster child for "good home cook." She doesn't make fancy food, and she doesn't have a huge repertoire, but what she does make is excellent. The sad fact is that they don't expect the same when they go out. It's like they don't go out when they want good food, they go out when they don't feel like cooking at home, and they expect that the food will be bad. As far as how it translates into the dreck... I honestly don't know. I'm trying to think of some of the local places, and one thing that stands out is that a lot of the more popular restaurants here are second or third generation restaurants, places that someone's parents or grandparents started and now the children own them. So maybe they were really good back in the day, but over the years the kids don't show the same dedication or knowledge as their parents did, but enough people still go there out of habit to keep them in business. The made-from-scratch marinara of 1962 has been replaced by Sysco, and the meat is three grades lower than it used to be, but the name of the restaurant is the same and they still serve strong drinks, that kind of thing. ← A couple of years back, the family stayed at the Lodge at Oregon Caves, near the major metropolis of Cave Junction, Oregon. It's a beautiful old place built during the depression, I believe, and it has a "fine dining restaurant" (more info here), that we wandered into because there was ten miles of wining road between us and Cave Junction and, once you got there you weren't exactly on restaurant row (cool Womyn-oriented ice-cream shop on the main drag, though). They may have improved since then (the menu looks slightly different) but the dinner was immensly bad. Don't get me wrong, as arrogant as I sound, we took it all in good humor and were scrupulously polite and drank the local wine and tipped well and had a fine old time of it all. And we came to that same conclusion. As hard as he is trying to live up to his conception of a sophisto French waiter, how can some teenager who grew up in Cave Junction possibly know how to serve wine (wine service always seems to bring out the absurd in these places). And the cook? I'd guess he's a local boy himself, whose made the jump up from Art's Red Garter (the kind of one-stop diner counter/"fancy dining room"/private room for the Rotary Club and wedding recetpions place you see around) whose never been to dinner in San Franciso or Portland to eat well. People at a lot of these places are just trying to play way over their heads without much idea what a real filet in demi-glace is supposed to taste like or, sometimes, how to open a bottle of wine with a corkscrew. In my greatest fantasy, I get the job as restaurant manager at the lodge and spend two years living amidst the old-growth trees, sourcing local products and patiently turning the restaurant into a great, off-the-beaten-track gem.

I don't think any college town qualifies as rural... small, maybe, but there's enough pretension there (Chadron, Nebraska, and certain small Wyoming college towns may differ) to pretty much rule out the vast majority of rurality. At least in the US... ← There was a tractor dealership on the edge of town. It is the county seat, but with only 6,900 people (I'm sure there are dormitories in Columbus and State College bigger than that), surrounded by mountains and farms and stocked with people who all have accents like they sing in a buegrass band, it felt pretty dang rural to me. And, have I mentioned the food?

I've been pondering this for a couple of days in light of some of the comments -- Fat Guy's in particular -- and I'd like to throw out an idea: In France, the omnipresence of the Michelin Guide and, perhaps, Gault-Millau significantly contributes to the quality of dining in rural France. Why? Because a restauranteur can open up a place in even the most obscure location and know that every serious diner who passes through around lunch- or dinner-time has a reasonable chance of knowing of that restaurant's existence. I'm not the obsessive gastro-tourist that FG portrayed earlier, but I did have my now-battered and out-of-date Guide Rouge with me when I was in France the last couple of times and used it as a go-to guide for good food wherever I was. It appears that just being listed denotes a certain minimal standard (though the one memorably, expensively, bad meal I've had in France was listed, though not recommended); I hone in on the Bib Gourmand, high quality/price ratio places and have never been disappointed (and occasionally delighted). And, of course, you can star-gaze as your budget and waiste-line allow. A talented young chef who wants to set up shop in the beautiful foothills of the Shenandoah's (or the UP) has a problem. How does he let me know that he exists, in a way that's inexpensive for him and simple for me? Put a brochure in the racks of advertising Natural Bridge and other roadside attractions? Buy a glossy ad in the back of one of those hotel magazines they leave on the nightstand? Pit up one of those 100 foot illuminated signs like the truckstops have? It's tough. But, if there were a U.S. or regional equivalent of Michelin, then I've thrown it in the car along with the maps and pretzels, "just in case." In fact, every food person travelling down I-81 has one, and they're likely to plan their stops around a good dinner. So the talented chef gets a free recommendation from a respected source, which also helps bring in business from that portion of the local population who don't necessarily appreciate good food but enjoy the status of dining at a starred/bibbed place; and I know where to eat when I find myself where I didn't expect to be. Now, maybe I should be reading the Mobil Guide, but even if it's as useful as Michelin (for all Michelin's faults) it doesn't seem to be as widely read as Michelin/G-M, and thus less likely to significantly increase a restauran't chances for prosperity. And Zagat, aside from being suspect, seems very much to be a big-city guide.