Elissa

I've taken to wandring up and down the ailes in Chinese supermarkets, lost. What for instance do you do with dried lotus seeds?

sometimes in the south of Francewhen you wrench yourself from bed to sit down for coffee and newspaper (Nice Matin) you've missed the morning Its time for pissaladiere. As there may be no superior meal - didn't James Beard say his favored meal was an onion sandwich? - to my mind this particular dish has the responsibility of giving you some reason to get out of bed. I could have unreasonable expectations though that would be the first time here's to 'em.

Thanks for the interesting ideas. In his book the "Philosophy of," Andy Warhol notes that people from the highest strata in the USA drink coke and eat burgers. I think the agility with which our lo/lo culture flips, to hi/lo and lo/hi, is its richess: from McDonalds Mesclun and to the new (haute?) Snackbar (17th bet 6/7.) Or sidling between say chinatown and 66 or Jefferson.

jeeze louise. i just like my pissaladiere square, with diamonds of anchovies and black, maybe green olives in the middle, because that's how i remembered them from Nice. glad to hear the pistou's good.

spanish saba is my favorite: and maki, without rice

color: dark lipstick liner smear; straight-backed dancer's tarnished red velvet dress, browning. fruit: rotted november plum as it slides down a skateboard ramp in a park at dusk. plummy, but also d.o.a. imbalanced and sliding. i guess all i like in wine is magic, which i did not find there. to compensate - shoulda quelled expectations - i opened the other bottle i had handy, a Chateau Camplazens - was that named for you Craig? - La Clape reserve from Laguedoc. 1999. That I liked.

is that supposed to be funny or significant?

sounded half priced

with lamb, a la rosemary? lavender pine (choc&van) granita lime pine vodka martinis i cannot drink gin they put it in retsina, no?

drank it last night. not bad, but not the Pam Anderson I was expecting from my last 88 northern rhone: a Cuillerons, St. Joseph. alas

For me, pine evokes walks in woods and forrests; the protection and intimacy trees afford; freedom midst nature's vastness and adventures in unpaved terrain. Pine smells new and old, warm and cold, unbridled, bold, evergreen and of comfort. Newsflash: Pinesol ™ did not create pine. Some pine trees are 5000 years old. Of the roughly 120 species and subspecies known world-wide, almost all are found in the northern hemisphere; only one species (P. merkusii) extends about one degree south of the equator, in Sumatra. Pine grows from desert edge to rain forests, from sea level to treeline. He may not have created pine either, even within culinary contexts, but it would seem that Achatz- with Louis Sullivan, FL Wright and Mies - makes Illinois a curious tourist's destination.

WHO endorses rational caution, here today in the NY Times

oh oh oh: meeeeee love pine trees. i've noticed the shorter needles smell a bit spicier, the longer ones more sweet. you?

In Arabic and Moorish food one finds lamb and fish with dates.

Excellent deal Alex. Enjoy!

sv: sounds good. perhaps an anchoaide, a tapenade, craisins? toasted almond slivers too, but spare the beets. steam rather than blanch: submersed, greens loose nutrients and flavor into water. great greens in bali. i think they fry the garlic and shallots til crisp then remove. then saute greens, add a blend (?) of chili, galangal, ginger, lemon grass, shrimp paste; place crispy fried aromatics atop to serve jason you remind me of the grilled greens at lupa. id bet grilled beet greens could be good. the other night i had a fried grape leaf: thin and light

with you Smarm, contra sweet: honey mustard most of all

ummmmmm best foie gras i've had outside of france. perf'ct 1997 madiran for $27. frisse salad with oversized dice lardons and a poached egg: meal in itself. couldn't eat much more, apres moma, feasting on second helpings of matisse goldfish oysters figs and les demoiselles gobbling grapes. tournesol opens at 5:30- i did not know. with a half hour we strolled down to the water: what a view. clear; a few drops but no rain.

paraphrasing g. stein, there's no [real] pissaladiere there though sea bass wasn't bad

The 1997 Campaccio is great; however imho the Campaccio wax seal reserve is not worth it. On the other hand the Ceppate, which is about twice (?) the price of the [magnificent] Campaccio, is a great, great wine. If money's not an issue, do give it a go.

Terrabianca

Excellent. Bollinger's: breakfast of champions

tommy, seems to me, rather hits the crux here. In general, diners are vulnerable and have no way of knowing if their chefs are of the lunger-hocking sort or not. However, customers can also be spoiled and base their rejections on ghosts in the wind. That concerns me too, but it seems as if none of the chefs here have had that happen much. The other night - inspiring this thread - I dipped into an Italian place I'd wanted to try in the East Village about which several eGs had good things to say. I ordered sea bass, my friend ravioli. We didn't order apps, but I ordered a side broccoli rabe it because it is one of my favorite things to eat, ever. He had a beer and I was drinking deLiciouS Allegrini by the glass. When the food arrived, the sea bass smelled fishy. Sometimes that fish smell leaves and the fish turns out not to be bad, so I moved it over to dig into the broccoli rabe: the friend with whom I was dining is one of those 'don't eat anything green' types anyhow. The waiter, who was really nice and seemed quite pro, came over and asked if something was wrong. I smiled and said: yeah, the fish smells kinda funky. He swept the plate away and brought me a menu. I ordered steak instead, rare, which arrived actually just as my friend finished his ravioli. This oddly made the timing kind of perfect: the ravioli turned out to have been an appetizer for us (he gave me a couple , though he did not try the rabe - which was subtle and perfectly done) and we shared the steak - which was really good. Great I might say, with one of those potato gratin square thingys on the side that was perfectly browned on the top; also maybe some string beans. Turned out to be a fine meal: under the stars on a warm night, with good wine and good food. One of the few meals at restaurants of this caliber whose stunning medioricty wouldn't piss you off. And for interested parties I'd recommend a visit soon, as such quality is bound to pass. But then the bill came, and on it there were three entrees: ravioli, fish and steak. I had the feeling, that I now think was mistaken, this was purposeful; that the chef or whoever had decided that there was nothing wrong with the fish I returned and that he was going to charge me for it anyway. The place had not been full when we arrived, but by this time was indeed slammed. I looked at the check, added it up, and realized that were we to leave $100, more than 20% would be included for the waiter. If, that is, the fish were removed from the bill, which as is came in at $96. Now, I rather think I should have said something at the time, but assume they figured it out. Have to wonder though: was that a mistake? Did they expect me to pay for the fish? It seemed a good confrontationless solution, just to leave money and juke without altercation, but I felt bad afterwards. In the end I would have rather asked if they intended to charge me or not. Next time...

nope. loft building maybe 5 or six stories high. or is that too much information?

Popped into Mei Lai Wah and can happily report that its inimitable charm and authenticity seem resolutely in tact. Would not have been too terribly suprised if Bruce Lee himself slunk right up next to me at the bar, where I plan to spend a good deal of my bright future. Uncle Lee plated me up a big steamed bao (not the roast pork, but the big one our friend's grandad liked [see above quote]) with all the fixins, those being a cup of coffee and Trapper's hot sauce. Inside: pork sausage, pork ankles (?) and some chicken (?) or at least several meaty looking products. Not too much, not too little, and not too sweet either: actually precious little flavor a'tall. Did fall straight away for Uncle Lee tho, and he for me. Good thing I saved the roast pork bao for a second trip. However the only dumplings I'd recommend, of those I've had in Chinatown over the course of my so-far week-long residence, are from the place Buxoms suggested first: Shanghai Village. Their soup ones (pork) are good, but their steamed veggie cousins are unbelievably subtle and divine. S'pose that's a bit off topic here, alas, Have not yet found Li Chung though I spy Chatham Square out the window.