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QUOTE(melkor @ Nov 28 2006, 12:45 I braved the freezing cold (for San Francisco) weather[...) ← How cold was it? Radish (daikon) kimchi? Potato slices?

Yeah, I _did_ figure that was probably you! So, who is it and why are you using that avatar? Any food-related reason?

We already know that. But we're so glad that we get to experience the delicious results vicariously!

Awesome, Percy! (And I just want you to know someone's looking and appreciating.)

I'm really digging this thread! Those look like what are called "Ipoh beansprouts" in Malaysia - would you agree, TP? What country are you posting from, peony?

Si, the corned beef and brisket are good at Katz's, and the turkey is great, but the pastrami is what you're there for. I wouldn't recommend you try anything else on one visit. Get one whole pastrami sandwich and share it. And as for taking it on the plane, it'll taste great, but it IS better hot. In terms of Grand Sichuan, there are many good recommendations of dishes to order in the Grand Sichuan thread. I think you'll really enjoy your adventure!

It's definitely worth going to Flushing, even if for something other than dim sum (such as the great Sichuan-style food at Spicy & Tasty). Dim sum in Flushing (and the "Outer Boroughs" generally) is much more extensively covered on Chowhound. My suggestion to you is, look through some of these search results: Chowhound "Flushing dim sum" search results Pick some places that look good and report back on your experiences. For the record, Gum Fung, which has been mentioned in this thread, has still been getting high marks in recent Chowhound posts. I think it's pretty likely that the best dim sum in the city is now at Chinatown Brasserie, but it costs over four times as much as you'd pay in Chinatown, and perhaps up to eight times as much as you'd pay in Flushing.

That's a good point about the pastrami sandwich, Robyn, but you can get one and share it, which is still a substantial meal but not a humongous one.

Percy, I just caught up on this thread. Thank you very much for letting us experience your meals a bit, vicariously! It's clear how much you loved Le Cinq, but would you like to comment more on what you thought of the food you were served at Arpege (how you rate it)?

Sorghum to me is a poor man's maple syrup and quite different in taste from any kind of cane-derived product.

Rogelio, thanks for letting us in on that interesting and stimulating discussion. One statement stands out to me as quite an exaggeration, though: "if we were always eating the same we will die" No, it's actual lack of nutrition that causes many people around the world to die. Always eating the same thing is merely very boring. But I suppose he didn't mean to be taken literally.

Your house is beautiful, Rachel! Thanks for showing it to us.

Rachel, somehow, I've lost track of who Caro is. A daughter?

Rachel, I love how you make both down-home American cooking and East Asian cooking. Have you cooked Chinese and Vietnamese food?

mascarpone, the potato/onion loaf is called a kugel, and I really like it, too.

Rachel, Your Thanksgiving feast looked amazing, and that fairy story is so cute!

I still think that the Grand Sichuan on 9th Av. just north of 50th St. is overall the best (as always, if you stick to the Sichuan and Hunan menus and special menus like the fresh chicken menu and the dishes for the Prodigal Daughter). If you don't mind taking the time to go to Flushing (and seeing a nice view of Manhattan from the train), Spicy & Tasty is better and a bit cheaper and has a much longer menu, without American-Chinese items. Chinatown Brasserie was mentioned. They serve great dim sum items, but it's expensive and would throw the idea of saving money at a Chinese restaurant out the window. I don't know how good the dim sum is in England, but the dim sum at CB is probably the best I've had in the U.S. to date. Oh, one other point: You may be able to bring your own food onto the plane and not have airline food. I've been known to bring a Katz's pastrami sandwich and a large cole slaw onto a plane. I haven't kept up with the current regulations on what you can bring on planes, however.

I figure it's time to revive this thread. I'm sick today and had to miss the celebration. Surprisingly, I struck out on trying to get delivery. I called a little after 2 PM, and Grand Sichuan St. Marks, Taksim, and Teresa's were all closed. Congee Village and Cafe Mogador were doing only takeout. I got the following at Mogador: 16 oz Lamb/harissa soup Chicken tagine (1/2 of a small chicken) with charmoula and extra harissa Moroccan tea Two pitas from a commercial package were also provided. The total cost of the meal was $27 and change, and the food was very good. Attendance at the restaurant was pretty sparse at the time I was there waiting for and picking up my food.

Exactly so, Sandra. ← Besides, if I may say so, the meals of any group of people are on-topic.

That's a big loss, since the desserts are the best thing there.

You guys are on!

I didn't mention this before, Lorna, but I think Saturday lunch is a bad time to go to Katz's. It'll be totally mobbed with clueless tourists, who unlike you will not know to tip the counterman at least $1 per sandwich. You'll wait in a long line, or you'll get waiter service and not be able to pick out the best possible meat. Plus, I work until 3 PM at Brooklyn College on Saturdays.

What a unique article! Fascinating. Do the refs have any special regimens?

I really had three grandmothers -- two by blood, and one fictive. My mother's mother was called Grandma ("Gramma"). The main thing I remember her cooking is stuffed cabbage, with dried fruits and ginger snaps. I always loved it, but when my mother and I have made it from her recipe, it's never tasted like I remember it. Maybe I just don't like it as much, or maybe it's missing the magic of a grandmother's love. I still miss her. Grandpa ("Grampa") died when I was four or five, so I don't remember as much about him, except that he was so tall (only 5"6', but I was little then) and a benevolent presence. I remember him giving me guava juice to drink when I visited my grandparents in Miami in 1969. My father's mother was called Baba, Ukranian for Grandmother. My father drove us across the Queensborough Bridge every Saturday to visit Baba, and I always remember the delicious smell of the bread baking in the Silvercup factory below the overpass on the Queens side; even though Silvercup bread was not good, the smell of it baking was delectable. Baba was a diabetic when I knew her, so I remember her having various kinds of dietetic cookies around, like Stella d'Oro breakfast treats. But I also remember that there was always ripe fruit and compote - not for drinking, but for eating. Stewed prunes and so forth. And I always liked it. I also remember that there were almonds and filberts and walnuts in quantity and a wooden nutcracker that we passed around. Baba was a forest Jew, having been born in a village in a forest clearing in what's now Ukraine (then part of the Austrian Empire). There were always flourishing, leafy plants of all varieties in her apartment. Unfortunately, I never met her husband, who was a heroic labor organizer: He died when my parents were not yet engaged. Baba died when I was eight, and it took me some time to get over that, because we were very close. She used to sing me a lullaby from the old country that had a melody like one of Bartok's Romanian Folk Dances (actually, all of those dances feel very nostalgic to me, and I have a deep affinity to them). I remember that when Baba died, people came to our apartment and I think some of them brought food for us. We had cold cuts like tongue, pastrami, and turkey; cakes, vegetables and fruit, I think. I remember that many relatives and friends came by and my father was reeling and my mother wasn't doing so well, either. Put yourself in the place of an 8-year-old who had never seen his father so shaken and who was upset himself and unable to fully comprehend what was going on, other than that someone he loved and who loved him had just died. I felt that it was a good thing that all the more distant relatives and friends came by to distract us, be stronger than us, and bring us food, although the whole thing seemed a little unreal to me. I thought it was too bad when they left and we were left by ourselves again. My fictive grandmother was Mrs. Carr, whose first name was Ethel. She was a Baptist from Mississippi, and lived on 112th St. and Lenox Av. in Harlem when that was a really awful, dangerous neighborhood. She used to come once a week or so and help clean things in my parents' apartment, and she also sometimes babysat me (she loved children and was an excellent block-player). But as I recall, she never arrived emptyhanded. She always came with some wonderful home-cooked delight - sweet potato pie, peach cobbler, apple pie, black-eyed peas, collard greens, cornbread, bread pudding -- you name it. My mother always told her she needn't have, but it gave her pleasure. My mother paid her as well as she could from funding from a Danforth grant for her graduate school, which had a line item for child care. Later, when Mrs. Carr was too old and frail to work and I was older and didn't need a babysitter so much, the checks continued to come, and my parents just sent the money to Mrs. Carr. She was invited to come and have dinner with us every so often, and my mother would cook for her. She was a wonderful person, and my taste for soul food comes from her beautiful soul. I remember that in spite of all the hardship she endured, she always had a smile for everyone and called everyone "Sugar," not because they were sweet but because she was. After her apartment had been burglarized five times, my mother prevailed upon the proud old lady to leave behind her beloved neighborhood church and friends and accept an offer from a nephew to move into his place in the Pittsburgh area. We never heard from her after that, so we figured she must have died shortly thereafter. Rachel, thank you for helping me to remember my grandparents. I love and miss them all and I hope they are enjoying their alternate existence, whatever state they are in.

Yes, Chettinad, referring to the Chettiars. Chettinad Chicken is one of my family's favorite recipes. We use a recipe by Madhur Jaffrey, but change it by quadrupling the amount of urad dal we use, because we love the nutty taste of that pulse so much.