Busboy

That is because French universities are heavily subsidized as much as the fact that some American waiters are heavily compensated. Of course, don't you have to spend two years studying full time (with no time to work) just to pass the entrance exam? Or is that just X.

I think most 15% is fine. But, it's harder to calculate so I picked 20% to minimize the "vulgarity" FaustianBargain finds in the act of tipping. As a former server and insecure diner trying desparately to buy love and respect, I tend to go 20% +.

The decision has been made for you: 20%. Just move the decimal point one position to the left and double the figure. That way you don't have to do anything so vulgar as think -- just some third-form multiplication. If you have been particularly moved, one way or the other, by the service, you can absently adjust the figure and then return to your port.

One really easy thing to do is pick up a couple of fairly comprehensive wine books -- maybe Parker's global buying guide -- and then a more scholarly general reference book -- at one point I spent a lot of time with Hugh Johnson's Encuclopedia. The, whenever you buya wine of reasonable quality, look it up as you drink it. Look at the maps and see where Chambertin or New South Whales is. Glean the distinguishing characteristics of the wine and the grape from the books and see if you can taste them. Read the history of the region and, if it's in there, Parker's opinion of the grower. Or, if you're in the mood, do it backwards. Get a couple of friends and pick a grape or a region or a vineyard and, working with your local wine guy, get a couple of representative bottles and compare and contrast. It's kind of a random approach, but it's fun and it doesn't feel like work. And the reading you do while drinking the wine -- at least early in the evening -- will stay with you.

Whether or not the waiters get the message, there's still no point in tipping well for poor service. Screw 'em. If the service is bad enough that I'm tipping poorly -- a rare occurance, btw -- it's not likely I'll be back anytime soon; I don't much care what the server thinks. And I think waiters are a little more perceptive than that. Decent ones, anyway. I waited tables for a while and there are any number of signs that people are just lousy tippers as opposed to being angry at you. Tourists, foreigners, people who clearly don't eat out much, tables that divide up the check with a calculator all tend to skew low. People who praise you effusively for no apparent reason, or find tiny flaws in your service and make a big deal of them are almost inevitably bad tippers. Blowhards trying to impress their dates have a bifurcated distribution: overtipping to look like a big spender, or undertipping because they tried to impress their date by going to a restaurant they can't afford. Watch out for oldsters who remember when 10% was standard and a martini was $1.25. When I got a bad tip, I usually asked myself why, and not irregularly was able to pinpoint where I fucked up. Implying that waiters just write off bad tippers as cheapskates is, I think, a little condescending.

When your wife asks what you want for dinner and you say "onglet with anchovy-garlic butter and pommes persiladier," and she says "again?" When you feel you need to go back to Europe again because you're almost out of the "good" olive oil. When you sneak a little red wine and beef stock into the tomato sauce your kid is making.

Thank you for so concisely framing a view I've long held but never been able to satisfactorily articulate. I intend to steal this and nonchalantly trot it out at the first available opportunity. As the sincerest form of flattery, of course. ← Bought a tomato lately? ← Hell no. But we're not really talking about personal sourcing here. Look, it's mid-summer in the other half of the world, right? What's the philosophical difference between a July Hanover tomato three days from vine to your restaurant table by truck and the January, I don't know, say, Chilean equivalent that makes the same journey by air in the same time? And, while we're at it, why are we apparently happy to accept a piece of fish that was hauled from the deep off the coast of distant New Zealand, but will get the vapors unless its garnish was demonstrably grown no more than six feet from the restaurant's back door? It's one thing to argue it's more likely that local, seasonal produce will be fresh and tasty, it's quite another to adopt as an article of faith that anything that isn't local or seasonal won't be. ← This is a bit of a cul de sac from the original question, which is what, if any, standards a neighborhood restaurant should be held to. However, since you asked, the differences between the July Hanover and the Chileanm equivalent are 1) The July tomato is picked already ripe and makes it to my larder the day after it is picked. The Chilean equivalent is picked green, many days before it arrives at the wholesaler's warehouse, where it lingers until ending up at Safeway until finally some misguided consumer (or me, shopping for my son) buys it. 2) The Chilean tomatoe is not a Hanover, it is some hideous variety bred for its ability to be transported slowly across national boundaries and still look at least somewhat like a tomato when it is ready for retail. Some produce can make that journey, proper tomatoes cannot -- particular those being bought by a "neighborhood" restaurant looking to control costs. 3) Similarly, fresh fish well-handled can make the flight from New Zealand in pretty good shape. Ripe-picked heirloom, or semi-heirloom tomatoes, simply can't. Your point is well taken. I don't have a seasonal fetish; we're scheduled to turn hothouse basil into pesto tonight, and God knows where the broccoli is from. I'd suggest, however, that tomatoes are a bad argument for immigrant produce.

I've heard that, because of their small size, you can use quail eggs to make thousand year eggs in only 400 years. Sorry. It also strikes me that you could do a fun variation on egg drop soup or what my cookbook calls Spinach Jade Soup, poaching the eggs whole in still water rather than swirling in a chicken egg while stirring for the traditional look and texture. My knowledge of Chinese cooking is limited, but it strikes me that there are relatively few recipes that use whole eggs in any form, this limiting your ability to play around with quail eggs. On the other hand, Asian markets are usually a good source for quail eggs, so they must be doing something with them.

Thank you for so concisely framing a view I've long held but never been able to satisfactorily articulate. I intend to steal this and nonchalantly trot it out at the first available opportunity. As the sincerest form of flattery, of course. ← Bought a tomato lately?

I remain curious to see the review. Was it a professional or someone on-line? Bottom line is that it's the critic's job to describe the restaurant accurately and with enough insight and judgement for people to figure out if the palce is worth their dollars. There are good neighborhood restaurants and bad neighborhood restaurants. Standards at that level are different than the ones by which you would judge a "fine dining establishment." But they exist, and critics -- and diners -- should hold restaurants to them. Again, I think most people know the difference between Tonic and Galileo, and that they take it into account when they read the review.

It seems to be a fantastic addition to that neighborhood, and one more reason why Washington DC has indeed become a great dining town. Cheers, Rocks. ← DonRocks 9.12.05 You coming around on DC? Or just underscoring a disjoint between perception and reality...

I think most critics here in the DC area do a reasonable job of, to paraphrase SF88/Klc, looking at what a restaurant is trying to be. But the critic isn't writing for the regulars, who have already made up their mind about a restaurant, as for people who haven't been there yet. As a potential customer, knowing that a restaurant serves out-of season tomatoes sends a potentially significant signal to me. Without the context of the rest of the review, I can't make a decision, and I'm happy that the regulars -- who are the backbone of any restaurant -- are happy, but maybe I don't want to go cross town or spend a rare big night there. Which brings me to a second, related point. Since I can't seem to find the review in question, I can't tell, but a number of restauranteurs are (understandably) thin-kinned about criticism. Let someone write ten paragraphs of praise and then trash the desserts and the criticism becomes "unfair", "biased" "based on only a couple of experiences." If a restaurant is high-enough profile to warrant a critic's interest, they're going to be judged against a certain standard, and have to have enough confidence in their own decisions and the judgement of the dining public to not get wound up over every critical word. Full disclosure: I've dabbled in low-level restaurant criticism and may be a bit of a crank.

sorry folks--my spoken words, upon reading the ending of Mr. Hanbury's quote, were completely unprintable in either a family publication or in egullet. ← Not a very illuminating quote but I wouldn't pillory the guy for it. I'm sure that, as head of the tourism council, things that don't draw tourists doesn't exist in his world, and he probably doesn't get out of his bubble very often. Besides, while googling around (to see if I could find proof that he actually lived in Herndon) I found this. And the group's website does a credible job of presenting the city's neighborhoods as tourism destinationa. So I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. Truth be told, it is not long ago that the city was broadly viewed as corrupt, bankrupt and dangerous. And, in fact, was. Difficult to sell the honeymooners from Ames on a week in DC when there are 400 murders a year and the mayor is under indictment. As a long-time resident and frequent defender of the District, I am annoyed by condescending New Yorkers as much as anyone, but it is interesting to note that the chefs who travelled to New York all work in neighborhoods that were essentially restaurant wastelands a decade ago (if you count DC Coast as Thomas Circle ). It's not unfair to say that the ability to market DC beyond the Federal Core has expanded dramatically. Ironic, though, that "Tourism officials are aggressively chasing the urbane visitors, people who are inclined to catch a play at the Shakespeare Theatre, take in the latest art exhibit at the Phillips Collection ..." given Hanbury's quote: both institutions have been thriving for decades.

I really love eating a good dinner with good friends. But there's something about getting into my grungy clothes, knocking back more wine than is strictly necessary and and putting "cooking music" on, LOUD (The Grateful Dead. So sue me.) that really transports me. Knives and fire, as Jinmayo said, adrenaline and wine, primal urges and crative outlets. Don't talk talk to me, don't turn on the TV and don't get between me and the stove. It's as close to ecstatic dancing as I've ever come. Except for some of those Dead shows.

We made the leg of lamb with flagelots over the weekend. As always, ridiculously complicated and tremendously good. For those unfamiliar with the recipe, you carve out the various muscles in the leg, roll and tie them so that they can all cook for different lengths of time. And the lamb jus, which he describes as simpler to make than a stock, is actually more complicated and time consuming than the stock recipe in the French Laundry cookbook. Oh well. My guests were blown away just by the presentation which, admittedly, is what caught my eye while leafing through the book. And the lamb-bean combination is spectacular. One caveat: I found his estimated cooking times to be off the actual cooking times by a significant margin -- it took much longer -- and my guests find the temperature TK recommends -- 125 degrees -- to be a little rare for their tastes.

I look forward to finishing leftovers from good home-cooked meals at work -- I have to make sure I get into the kitchen to salvage, for example, sausage and cannelini and get it into the tupperware before my son, who cleans after dinner, throws it away. I'm trying to train my wife to pre-slice the leftovers, since it's such a pain to try to cut up meat with plastic office forks, especially if you're eating out of a one-quart container that once held hot and sour soup. I was once told not to "bring any more stinky cheese" to work. If one more person fills the office with that microwave popcorn/fake butter smell, I will not be responsible for my actions.

According to the magic marker graffiti scrawled above my stove (keep meaning to get that repainted) pork shoudl go to about 145 and then allowed to rest for a while, at which point the internal temperature will creep up a bit. According to Alain Ducasse, meet should rest half as long as it cooked, but that seems excessive for a large roast. Inside should be a pale pink. If you need to borrow a meat thermometer, we have two.

Hey, you dissin' Velveeta? No soup for you! Find one modest change that will actaully improve the dish and suggest it. "This is great. You know, if you're ever just fooling around, you might try grating sharp cheddar into the soup. It has a little more bite than the Velveeta and it really sets off the mushrooms." Balancing that with a bit of praise -- "where's you get these mushrooms?" is a good idea. It strikes me that talking about the joys of friendship when somebody asks about their food is a sure way to set off someone's bullshit detector.

Even a sandwhich shop has to be a chain to survive today. Sandwhiches - cheap, simple, almost foolproof, yet Joe Public would rather go to Subway. We're doomed - move to a big city. ← See point 2, "if I was feeling snotty." Fortunately, from my house in DC, I can walk to probably 50 independent restaurants in less than half an hour (I like to walk). Now, they're not all worth walking to, but it's a luxury I appreciate more every time I visit my parent's in the Atlanta suburbs, where it seems there's barely 50 non-chains in a 30 minute drive.

That's the $64,000 question, isn't it? If I was feeling philosophical, I'd say that in a world where seat-belt laws are enforced, diving boards are taken out of public swimming pools, cookbooks are banned from public libraries and little league coaches are fingerprinted, we've lost our capacity for risk, and thus, adventure. Why risk the local joint with its odd recipes and uncertain cleanliness, when Applebie's offers a consistent replica of home cooking, nationally known brands and little cards on the doors that tell you exactly when the bathroom was cleaned? If I was feeling snotty I'd say that -- despite the massive growth in the "gourmet" food, media and restaurant industries -- American palates are crap, and that most Americans prefer "perfect," tasteless produce to "hand-raised" food; they prefer grease, sugar and salt to flavor, technique and spice; and that they prefer the same food they grew up with -- every damn night -- to the joys of dicovering something odd and delicious. If I was feeling pragmatic, I'd say that there's something to be said for finding a place that offers a known price-value ratio at a nearby intersection with a guaranteed minimum quality, as opposed to hunting through restaurants of unknown quality and price to find a hidden gem. If I was feeling bitter, I'd say that too many independent restaurants are just as lousy as the chains, and that pre-fab, pre-fried food doesn't taste any better from Mom's Kitchen than it does from TGI Friday's, and, at least Friday's takes American Express. If I was feeling demographic, I'd say that so many areas have grown so quickly that independent restauranteurs just can't keep up -- it takes the shark-attitude of a chain to smell blood when ground is first broken on the new intersection, and get a store put up before a local would-be restauranteur even knows a subdvision is coming in. And, if I was feeling optimistic, I'd say that it's because the revolution has only just begun, and when we come down from the hills, The Cheesecake Factory will be a thing of the past. PS: Making the most of where you are is certainly a categorical imperative. But just because there are a few good things doesn't mean that the scene as a whole doesn't suck.

word... ← Why restrict this to heterosexuals? (Okay, maybe substitute "chat rooms" for "porn sites" for the gay men...) ← The funny thing is that I've spent so many years working in liberal communications shops, I actually asked myself if I was being sufficiently "inclusive" enough before I posted. In the end, I figured I'd stop at dragging my own demograhic group into the gutter and let other cohorts speak for themselves.

I hate to generalize, but in my Travels Through America, such as they are, there just aren't that many good restaurants scenes, period, outside of major cities. And often, in fast-growing areas like Naples is (I assume), chain-led mediocrity either camouflages or drives out of business good local stuff -- rib shacks, raw bars, the OK food but charming waitresses place where they call you "hun" and remember how you like your steaks cooked and your martini made -- so you can't even find them. So, not that this is a particularly helpful post, but you can take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. PS -- no disrespect to the many good high-end or worthy local spots scattered about the country in between the coasts. I know they they're out there, there's just too few of them.

Forgive a dumb question, but why braise fish? It's already moist and tender. Seems like it would dry out (why I never eat paella) and fall apart. Is it a "real" long-term braise or a briefer encounter between the fish and water?

When you're a heterosexual male with unlimited computer access, and you spend more time on food sites than porn sites.

Indeed, and not just the legs -- Chicken With 40 Cloves of Garlic is a classic that has the twin vitues of tasting delicious and being almost impossible to screw up. Serve it atop mashers or creamy polenta, to maximize consumption of braising liquids. Lately we have brought much joy to the neighborhood by braising pork shoulders -- or is it pork butts? I know it when I see it -- in an in a more-or-less random ratio of apple cider, gewurtztraminer and calvados. On week two we take the leftovers and make barbecue sauce for them.