Busboy

I once got into a bit of a spat with the proprietor of one of DC's old-line and well-respected wine shops (Bells, for you locals) when, as he hekld one of his regular Saturday tasting sessions I said that I was looking for an inexpensive red for an dinner of omlette and fried potatoes with garlic and parsley. He, and the other tasters were aghast: "you can't drink red with an omlette!" they cried. The moral being that I do like a butchy little red with eggs if I'm matching them with fried foods and there's pork to be included (like a bacon omlette or Eggs Benedict). As to the larger question, I don't see fine dining as an intellectual exercise, demanding that senses and palate remain pristine throughout the evening. Rather, it's an exercise in delight, in which food, companions and, perhaps, something intoxicating come together in a mysterious alchemy, each element bringing out the best in the others. I prefer to eat a meal, rather than dissect it, knowing that there is no exam to follow. One of my favorite meals ever was lunch at the old 4-star Bouley and Mrs. B and I got completely whacked on excellent Burgundy (then available for less then the cost of a new car), to the point where we were reduced to wordless giggling at how fucking good the food was. Would I have a more precise memory of the roast duck with wheatberry (or was it barley? I knew less then) Chef Bouley served as my entree? Probably. But would the meal itself have been as memorable? Absolutely not.

I had the opportunity to attend a pre-opening dinner Saturday night and the $19, Kobe hot dog -- a well-spiced weiner served with Kobe chile and an assortment of condiments, including chipotle ketchup, champagne mustard and a cheese sauce made with century-old cheshire -- is far more than a mere footlong. It is immense and well turned out. We also tried the signature "Gotham Rib," which was also huge. I felt like Fred Flintstone attacking a bronto-chop, if Fred had had access to well selected, properly-aged prime bronto. Served in a manly steakhouse style -- ie, don't ask for Bernaise, you fop -- it was one of the best pieces of beef I've had in a long time. The "Tuna Martini" was a bracing combination of fresh tuna, seaweed and toasted sesame and, while I am no New Yorker, the cheesecake struck me as a serious and tasty bit of work. The space is very modern -- "Modernist" in the formal sense -- for a Steakhouse, light and laid out in a circle beneath bold ceiling forms, and featuring the occasional large square of primary color on the wall, as though Ellsworth Kelly were part of the design team. Sommelier David Russell is doing the lord's work, trying to pull together a Kobe-worthy wine list in Montgomery County, with a California focus. I thought that the Rhone-ish blend (didn't get the name) he was serving Saturday night showed a little flair and worked well with both steak and hot dog, so the future looks promising for both the vino and the beef. Formal opening is tonight.

Amen.

ARRRRRRGGGG! Of course it's inhumane, they're not humans, they're ducks! ARRRRRRGGGG!Putting a chicken in a cage for all of its 3 months of life is also inhumane. Keeping the lights on 23 out of 24 hours a day to increase egg production is also inhumane. They're not humans, they're my dinner!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (calm down... step away from the keyboard...) ← I'm pro-foie gras myself, but this argument, which is made often is irrelevant ind ineffective. If a practice is cruel, ending the practice is a legimate response, even if other cruel practices remain legal. We have to have a better argument than this, or we will lose. We also have to admit that the fact that we like something doesn't necessarily mean that it's OK. (I'm working on it...)

Whew, I thought you were talking about me. That said, some sort of dinner at my place will be in order once I get past early July. ← Get yourself married and we'll talk once the dust settles.

After a frantic phone call with my wife, I did want to point out that pretty much every eG'er who has ever been to my house for anything more than a Budweiser has reciprocated in one fine way or another, with invites to their house or on nights out, special invites to hard-to-reserve restaurant meals, organizing picnics or other gracious events -- and we've only known many of you in person for a couple of months. It's The Others I was talking about. The one who don't read this board. Reminds me, I need to have Mal over.

According to the Washington Post, and my own experience, there are a growing number of dinner guests who either weasel out of extending a return invitation or are just too bumpkin-like to remember the manners momma taught them. It's an unacknowledged truth of modern life: There are hosts and there are guests -- many of whom get invited back time after time -- but the roles aren't as interchangeable as they used to be. "Tit-for-tat socializing," in the words of San Francisco etiquette writer Charles Purdy, aka Mr. Social Grace, "is sort of old-fashioned." I'm broke, I'm hungry and I want someone else to cook Saturday night. You?

I used to live a little further up Georgia Ave, so we didn't spend much time in Wheaton (did used to spend my allowance money on 45's at the long gone Waxie Maxie's), but the Hot Shoppes was important in my life -- I think you get bonus points.

I'm with Brooks. Kind of. Forget the service, pick up something to-go from wherever you think best, and go down to the river over by FDR memorial or the Jefferson and watch the sun go down. Bring a six-pack and a roll of paper towels. If she passes that test, take her out for drinks at Madam's Organ afterwards.

I've got a great, mess of a recipe that was inspired by good dinner at a cheap taverna in Athens. (All measurements are made up) Slowly sautee two onions in lots of olive oil until transparent and sweet. As the onions are sauteeing, slice thick rounds (since it's kind of a stew, thin slices would melt during cooking) off three eggplants and brown in more olive oil. Slice the rounds in half (our whatever you feel looks right) and throw on top of the onions. You should have about twice as much eggplant as onion. Cook on low until the eggplant begins to get mushy. Add a large can of whole tomatoes, drained and crushed. When the eggplant is fully mushy but not dissolved, take off the heat. You can add capers, chopped oregano, and a squeeze or two (or more) of lemon if you'd like. You have to add fresh crumbled feta cheese. Serve warm or room temperature with roast chicken or lamb sausage.

I've done something like cdh's prep, but threw in some cream and capers after the roe was finished, yielding a bacon-cream sauce, (just in case the roe itself isn't rich enough). The esteemed Michel Richard served it to me with only a bit of herbed mashed potatoes and potato "tuiles." That was quite good as well. According to this well-worth-reading piece, by Todd Kliman in the Washington City Paper, the "preparation of the season" is shad roe with grits. (Europhiles and Yankees can substitute pancetta and creamy risotto, I suppose).

What city/county? Not that I'm a chef, but this forum does cover four states, so narrowing the request might be helpful. Also what time commitment is involves and the time of day.

My thought would be: for the same reason that a rare steak is tougher than a medium steak (though not as tough as a well done steak). Heat tenderizes the meat, less heat could result in less tender lobster.

I think "Sous Vide" involves a sealed plastic bag, and boiling water, right? So, not the same preparation, but one also involving relatively low temperatures. The meat (in my limited experience) comes out with a different texture and the meat doesn't firm up as much as I'm used to, making it a little harder to dispose of with a traditional fish knife. Keep in mind that this may be my bad technique causing this phenomenon, not Keller's recipe.

My experience with the lobster-poached butter thing at home is that the lobster does come out more chewy than a lobster that's steamed or grilled, I expect because it's not cooked very long or at a very high heat.

Hmmmm....maybe the Times decided that DC does have some decent food after all. Or maybe Johnny's many years here and elsewhere have given him a view of the world a little less Steinberg-like than some of his fellow Times-persons; Johnny also gives Todd Gray and Equinox a little loving in Newsweek this week, as well.

Um... I was joking about the foam and gelee. ← So, now what am I supposed to do with all the gelatin sheets and nitrous chargers I bought?

I noticed that there are a number of bookstores, including a cool used book store (could be Bonifant) a Jewish book store, a Christian book store and a dirty book store all on the same strip. Perhaps I'll stock up on reading materials next trip. ("As a matter of fact, I did buy this magazine for the articles, got a problem with that?") I don't know about the Royal Mile, though. Isn't there anything divier in the area? When I go in for a Bloody Mary next Sunday, I don't want some place that's trying to sell me food.

Dang -- you're not getting what you need at the "fancy schmancy" places and now your neighborhood trattoria is giving you a hard time about the salt. Tough Spring! Possible root cause: chefs at every level taking themselves and their "art" too damn seriously.

Sounds like it is too hot. I generally sear my steak and then throw it in a preheated 350 oven for 5-10 minutes, depending on the thickness and desired doneness. ← I usually let steaks -- and most meat -- sit out on the counter for an hour or so before cooking them so that the internal temperature comes rises and it takes less time to warm through.

I've always thought not putting salt on the table is a little pretentious, but I did work at one place where one of the main reasons they did it was because the crystal salt cellars kept going home with guests. I don't have any problem asking for salt to be brought to the table, and have never encountered any attitude when asking for it. Seems easier than having one more thing to remember to bring, and to bring home, every time you go out. You can buy salt and pepper shakers at campging stores. They're not elegant but they don't leak and they're cheap if you leave one sitting on the table.

Just a few minutes north of the sanitized, chain-restaurant hell that is The New Silver Spring (with some notable exceptions), lies my new favorite suburban dining destination, a stretch of strip malls and grime bounded by University Boulevard, Viers Mill Road and Georgia Avenue known locally as "The Wheaton Triangle." I'd wandered through the area before, having a some very good Indonesian food at Sabang and, like 90% of the parents with kids in school bands in DC and the close-in 'burbs, dropping by Chuck Levin's Music Center. But, lately, an odd confluence of events gets me into the neighborhood almost weekly, and every week I'm more impressed. It began when hjshorter pointed me toward the Little Bitts (sic) shop to pick up some sheet gelatin and to check out the endless supply of cake-oriented supplies they carry (I also ended up with a tall spring-form pan for when I get around to trying Keller's quiche). Then onto An Binh, where we bought spectacularly addictive Vietnamese submarine sandwiches from a tiny kitchen on one side of the store and the most beautiful pork belly I've ever seen from the other side. Had one of those flattering/embarrasing moments where both the sandwich lady and the checkout lady made a big deal out of the pork belly, I guess they don't see too many Anglo customers buying it. They've got a full line of groceries, as well -- including endless supplies of Thai Basil. Next stop: Pollo Rico, where the line was out the door last Sunday, and the smell of roasting chicken coming out of the shop's chimny explained why. Or maybe the Kosher bakery. Or the Spanish bakery. Or the Brazilian place across the stree. It's a great and funky little spot, I hope the urban planners don't kill it with some misguided redevelopment program. In the mean time, anyone else have any tips and experience for my next trip north?

Success! Well, the skin was a little salty and I think the fish was a bit overcooked but, dammit, that skin was as crisp as a saltine and any other problems can be overcome. We (by which I mean Stephanie, my wife) did the squeegee/salt/squeegee thing and, after heating the oil to the point where it began to smoke, we fried the hell out of a decent bit of red snapper, omlette pan on top a la lambfries. A little sorrel-cream sauce (with wine, vermouth and fish stock) on the side. Very tasty and nicely crisped. Thanks all for your advice.

Since this topic resurfaces fairly regularly, I often try to recall a time when a child, other than my own, had a significant affect on a restaurant meal. In thirty years of dining out and more than a couple of years as a waiter, I can't remember a single instance. Maybe I'm lucky, maybe I have a higher tolerance than others for background noise. But I sometimes wonder if the plague of ill-tempered children is as inescapable as it is sometimes described. I need to do a lot more research on restaurants in France . My experience, however, is that French kids are pretty much as fussy as American kids, but people are just a little more mellow about the whole restaurant thing. To a certain extent, eating at even a relatively nice restaurant seems more comparable to eating at a neighbor's house -- dogs, cranky children and all -- than a formal event. People are more serious about the food and their manners, and less serious about the occasional random wail or uncontrollable event, and I find that very appealing and -- as a dad -- much more family-friendly than a lot of American places that attempt to cater to kids. I also enjoyed the idea that -- even though my children are too old to be getting special treatment -- more than once a chef or patronne offered to cook a special meal for my kids, as children (maybe only American children ) weren't expected to be able to appreciate a proper meal. The whole thing seems much more practical and matter-of-fact over there.

I just thought I'd mention in passing that I strongly disagree with the suggestion that Schoenberg's works lack warmth. So there! And back to discussion of fancy shmancy food... ← As I was typing that line, I knew you'd have something to say. I'm still trying to work through both modern food and modern music, but I'm not quite there yet.