Busboy

I heard that the district was named after a pub, actually, called the Elephant and Castle. Or maybe it was two pubs near one another. I have no idea if it's true or not, but it's a good story if you're opening a chain of bars. I was there once; I believe it's where the British War Nuseum is located. The neighborhood's most famous son is the estimable Sir Michael Caine.

Damn -- how many are there? Yes, we went to the one on 1st and 117th, which, to this provincial, seemed to be a pretty East Harlem address. Now that you mention it, though, I do recall there being a dust-up among several claimants to the name, however. How far from the "true" Patsy's were we?

Had cold Lombardi's for breakfast yesterday -- leftovers from decoy pizza bought to keep the kids occupied while the missus and I snuck out to Babbo (more, later) -- and Patsy's for dinner. After reading some of the "decline of Lombardi's" posts here, I was prepared for a bit of a letdown, but the pizzas I hauled back to the hotel room kicked ass. Definitely -- to my palate -- superior to Patsy's, which was a pretty stellar pie itself.

Without sounding like a paranoid tourist, what are the odds of parking a luggage-laden Jeep on the same block as Patsy's in East Harlem, and emerging an hour later with windows, stereo and luggage still intact? Probably be around dusk. My 2 cents on the pizzaria's discussed above: Lombardi's: An excellent pie. I'm more instinctual than analytical when it comes to pizza, so I can offer no analysis except to say that when I bite into one, the brain says "this is a proper pie," and endorphines are released in significant quantities. Also, if you like dark, low-ceilinged room, flickering candles and cheap red wine by the caraffe, a great place to settle in for a bit. Grimaldi's: A very good pizza, but somehow it didn't do it for me. Not sure what the difference was, but I recall the sauce as a little thin and acidic, and the crust slightly underdone. Totonno's: Loved this place, despite the screw-top wine (definitely not Bonnie Doone). My favorite in the city, and well worth the subway ride -- particularly if you've a minde to work up an appetite on the boardwalk. Crust, sauce, topping...it just all came together. Another great one for atmosphere, too.

Premium ingredients are important and good and many are the mornings I've hauled my hungover ass out of bed to make the farmer's market before the best tomatoes are sold out or the ripe melons are bought. The cumulative cost of choosing prime over choice and imported over domestic would probably, invested wisely, cover the cost of my son's first two years at a prestigious university -- assuming, of course, that he could get himself into one. For all that, though, premium ingredients are just one variable in the larger cooking equation. The recipe you're using, your technique and skill level, the amount of time you're willing to devote to something are all important, sometimes moreso. A premium green bean won't taste much better than the canned variety if you boil it until it's mushy. The best peaches in the world won't make a good tart if you can't get the crust right. Those free-range short-ribs aren't going to make a memorable meal unless you have -- and take -- the time to braise them properly. Obviously, the simpler the dish, the more important the ingredient. I get up early for those damn tomatoes because I eat them sliced, with salt and maybe some vinegar and oil. The tomato is the dish, it better be good. Also, at some point the incremental cost of incremental quality improvements becomes too high, unless you have unlimited funds. Frankly, the difference between the $20 olive oil and the $40 olive oil is too subtle for me to spend the money. And when I'm frying in the oil or it's not a major part of the dish, the crap from the Safeway is fine with me. In the long run, you're better off learning to cook Julia's way -- becoming skilled enough in the kitchen that you can make the canned green beans taste good -- than becoming a fetishist for prime ingredients. Shopping is important, and I don't mean to dismiss the wonder of buying and serving The Very Best, but good cooking trumps good shopping every time.

Wow! I'm stunned just reading about it. Yes, the reception of our baked gifts can be thoughtless sometimes. At least he loved the cheesecake, bless his heart. My nephew was a houseguest at my house when he asked for another chocolate-chunk cookie and I had to say that my son had just eaten the last one. I offered to bake up another batch right away. He said okay, then changed his mind and asked whether I could make his favorite cookie instead. What cookie is that, I asked. He said he liked chewy molasses cookies. I had never baked any, so I quickly searched through my cookbooks and found a recipe, baked a batch, and brought them to him. He took one bite and said they were puffier and less chewy than he liked. Of course I was disappointed, especially as I was exhausted after several days of being a hostess. If I had been in his position, I wouldn't have criticized the cookies. But he's still my beloved nephew, so what can I say? Nothing. I hope that, at least, he saw it as a case of "it's the thought that counts." Yea, giving of yourself makes you vulnerable, truly. ← Might be a good idea not to pile too much emotional baggage on top of a cheesecake or a batch of cookies, espcially when dealing with children and single guys (OK, all guys), who tend not to to rank among the more sensitive subspecies of the human race.

I'd have a hard time bringing anything to a potluck that I wouldn't serve my family, even if I was unsure as to how it would be received, and the rest of the world is bringing frozen chicken and Stove Top Stuffing. It just seems, I don't know, like you're puttin' on airs or something ("these people will never appreciate my...").

Freckles (et al): There's a small yellow book called "The Illustrated Greek Wine Book", by Nico Manessis, published by Olive Press, that you should be able to find at one of the book shops at the Athens airport, where I bought mine. There airport's not that big, but the book shop I used to hit was on the "left" side of the main terminal, if you're facing the ticket counters, in the international departures area. It's a little out of date -- the vintage charts go only to 2000, I think - but it's got a lot of good information in it. Here's a link. Beware: many Greek restaurants that offer menus in English have wine lists only in Greek, so navigation can be difficult. (On the other thread, the restaurants Gefseis and Hytra both have excellent lists and English-speaking sommeliers). Also, in many restaurants, I'd rather shell out next to nothing for the house swill -- which can be swill indeed, but is usual drinkable and sometimes tasty -- than pay 20 or 25 euros for a mediocre bottle. MJG (et al): My favorite Greek varietel (FWIW) is xynomavro, red wine that's kind of a pinot noir with more attitude and less elegance. Drink this with wild boar. In reds, I also developed an affection for Agiorgitiko (St. George), which tended, to my taste, to be a little more grapy and restrained. I have been led to believe that these are the two most common high quality red wine grapes, and so would be a good introduction. In whites, the fallback grape for my crew was Asyrtiko, always from the Island of Santorini. It comes oaked or un-oaked, depending on your mood, and provides a good, crisp if -- to my palate -- unexciting drink. I don't know what the grape varietels were, but my favorite whites tended to be from the Pelopponese, I thought they had more character. Greece also makes some excellent swilling pinks, a nice choice on a hot afternoon and not at all like the nasty "white zinfandels" and such that gave rose such a bad name in the US. They are dry and relatively strong, like those of southern France. I also enjoy sweet muscat from Samos, and excellent way to finish a meal and a bargain compared to French and American stickies of similar quality.

Not much to add. I wonder if the fresh favas are in from Santorini yet -- they're a personal obsession and will probably be served fresh and mashed (as opposed to dried and mashed) at the better sort of restaurant this time of year. I hear that the fish selection is better in the winter, as well, because EU regs limit harvesting of certain kinds in the summer (spawning) season. Might be a good time to hunt down a proper fish taverna. Check the links at the top of the thread, they may have updated since last fall. Have fun and I hope you'll report back.

Marcel's kicks Palena's butt. IMHO. They have a tasting menu, too (who doesn't, these days?). Not that Palena doesn't put out a pretty good meal.

So, how long does homemade mayo last?

I'm taking down the names of everyone who admits to using Miracle Whip and will use it against you some where down the line.... We do homemade if it's for something special -- cumin/lime mayo for pork sandwiches, something resembling aioli for shrimp -- but otherwise we "bring out the Hellman's and bring out the best." Miracle whip (mutters to himself...).

I'll take almost any "real" dog -- none of this chickenshit chicken (or turkey) shit -- delivered on one of those New England-style with the flat sides for grilling in butter, the way they used to make them at Friendlies (to accompany crinkle-cut fries and a frappe) and HoJos. Just to confuse things geographically, I then like to top the thing with cole slaw, a combination I first stmbled across at a Tastee Freeze in Cobb County, Georgia. Of course, if you have a bold enough sausage and a big enough bun, lightly grilled onions and grocery store blue cheese are a pretty good way to go, too.

for gyro think hero...thats how iv e heard it pronounced in many a greek restaurant Yes, but with the "he-" a bit aspirated, if that's the right term, and the "r" not as "errr" as in English. ← I've seen posters in a number of Greek diners that say: "Ask for YEE'-ROS" I believe the proper Greek word for the ground lamb/beef dish is spelled (in the Roman alphabet) "gyros" and pronounced as in the poster text above. I've seen it spelled without the "s" often enough, though, and assume that in that variation, it would be pronounced YEE-ro. ← I stand by my earlier pronunciation (above), perfected within walking distance of the Acropolis last summer. YEE-ros is just an attempt by friendly Greeks to help us out by adapting the pronunciation to American tongues.

You might consider Latin or Ethiopian food as an inexpensive change of pace. Adams Morgan has plenty of both, (Addis Abbaba for shabby but scrumptious; Meskerem for something a little more upscale. Wandering around to the general area of 9th and U will turn up another dozen Ethiopian places, we like Dukem which is somewhere in the vicinity of 11th and U streets, the restaurant row on 9th -- just south of U -- is the happening spot, but we haven't fully explored it yet. If I were dropping real cash, I'd go to Marcels.

Quesadillas. Melty, gooey cheese and -- even better -- the little crispies that stick to the pan while you're cooking.

I like eight or ten -- enough to fill the table and get a proper crowd buzz going. More than ten and it gets tricky.

Gel/flavor comes from collagen. Greatest source of collagen: skin. Greatest source of skin: feet. Second best source: wings. Peeling off/discarding skin when making stock would be akin to eating an orange skin but throwing away the flesh. The foundation, the soul, the very essence of chicken stock lies within the skin. ← Just to be cantankerous, I'd say that you have it backwards. Flavor comes from flesh. If all you want is gell and unctuous texture, you can buy gelatin in a box. ← It's very simple. Try making stock from a skinless boneless piece of meat and then try making stock from skin. Try it. You'll see where the flavor comes from. ← I confess I haven't done a scientific study, but the most flavorful chicken stocks I've ever made have been made with the carcass of a chicken roasted and eaten for dinner -- not a shred of skin on it.

for gyro think hero...thats how iv e heard it pronounced in many a greek restaurant Yes, but with the "he-" a bit aspirated, if that's the right term, and the "r" not as "errr" as in English. ← The "h" in the "hee-ro" is pronounced similar to -- but a touch softer than -- the "ch" if you're trying to get a Hebrew pronunciation of "Chanukah." In Greek, it's the letter chi -- like the Sigma Chis on Frat Row. It's a pain.

Gel/flavor comes from collagen. Greatest source of collagen: skin. Greatest source of skin: feet. Second best source: wings. Peeling off/discarding skin when making stock would be akin to eating an orange skin but throwing away the flesh. The foundation, the soul, the very essence of chicken stock lies within the skin. ← Just to be cantankerous, I'd say that you have it backwards. Flavor comes from flesh. If all you want is gell and unctuous texture, you can buy gelatin in a box.

Just curious, but wouldn't roasting the chicken first make it more of a brown stock than a white stock which is what I thought the original poster was making? It's kind of like in the middle, since most brown stocks you roast the bones, which really aren't being roasted (to browness) when the rest of the chicken is surrounding them. Again, just curious. doc ← Depends what you like. Sometimes I'm in the mood for a white stock, but generally I prefer to have something a little richer around. I suppose I'm a heathen, but I find white stock a little too subtle for most uses. A stock made with a roasted chicken is still far from a brown stock -- which I think of as a beef stock -- and makes a hell of a sauce or onion soup without overpowering anything.

I have always pronounced this meel foy (although I have heard meel fway as well) ← For the non-francophone, the easiest (and closest) is: mee fuh-yuh Don't worry about the L's in mille at all, because it's also a "yuh" sound and when the words are said together they'll disappear to most anglophone ears. ← As a French student many years ago and again now, I can assure you that the world "fueille" is one of the most brutally unpronouncable word in the language -- especially if you've never heard a French person say it. That is why Americans like to pronounce the word: "Napoleon." Personally, I'd combine the two suggestions above to get a "mee fwuay," as it hints at breaking down into two syllables more than it actually does so. Kind of like an old Georgia girl I knew who could get an extra syllable (or more) out of the common vulgarity by pronouncing it Sheeeeit. Wine names can be fun: Puligny-Montrachet; Chateauneuf-du-Pape; Trockenbeerenauslesen....

If you leave the skin on during the initial simmering, a good deal of the fat is going to render into your first pot long before you move it to the second pot. If you want the chicken fat, I'd suggest roasting the chicken before hand to catch the fat (which, to my mind, gives a better, "roastier" flavor), or pulling the skin off before simmering the rest of the chicken. Either way, you get a clearer, cleaner-tasting stock. The "thickness" of the stock can be increased by coiling it down some, which will also intensify the flavor. Alternately, you can cut the chicken up and crack the bones -- the marrow will thicken the stock -- or, as Thomas Keller does, add chicken feet.

I use an egg to bind crabcakes, and don't worry about other filler (though I like crumbled Ritz Crackers on the outside). I egg, beaten, added 1 lb crabcake. You still have to treat them gently, but it works well without adding the "filler" mouthfeel that too many breadcrumbs does.

Addis Abbaba restaurant in Adams Morgan.