Margaret Pilgrim

Rather than describe what I was looking for in a “restaurant with rooms”, perhaps I should describe one that we enjoyed in Bath, England in the early ‘80s. The chef was a pioneer in the new English food, at about the same time as Clarke in London. The place was improbably named “The Hole in the Wall” and because of the young chef’s passion and creativity, quickly became a destination restaurant. Both restaurant and the several rooms upstairs had been meticulously designed, carved out of and installed in a Gerogian building on Charles Street. Every surface and installation reflected the quality and craftsmanship maintained in the kitchen. There wasn’t a hint of the glitzy or pretentious. The bedrooms were light, spacious, very comfortable and beautifully decorated. There was a stunning breakfast room where breakfasts were prepared to order. As I remember, the rooms were a bargain at around 贶-175 a night in 2001 $$$. In short: 1) a destination dining room; 2) adjacent accommodation so that one could park once, rest and refresh before dinner, enjoy a meal with worry about driving afterward,be able to retreat after dinner to a comfortably equiped room that reflected the quality of the dining experience. What I would not need or expect would be a concierge, turn-down service, a 24hour desk, room service with the exception of breakfast, fitness club or public spaces. One might well ask, "Why not just go to an inn? Very simply, because, done right the simpler r-w-r offers a more intimate retreat and a feeling of closer identification with the chef-owner. I know that many starred dining rooms in the countryside are destination inns as well, but had hoped that within this forum someone might have experience with places that were less well known, insider’s secrets so to speak. Bux’s recommendation earlier this year of the Bistro d’Eygalieres would have been perfect had it come sooner and had we not already had long standing reservations which caused us to visit at lunch instead of dinner.

Reereenforcing Bux's recommendation of AGiT as well as his warning regarding the coming changes in artisan foods in Europe, particularly in France, we had a long conversation with the manager of the Androuet shop in our quartier. He said without hesitation that they fully expect eventual, sooner rather than later, compliance with the new regulations, and therefore the dumbing down of most production. When I raged at the concept, he shrugged and said, "It's been that way in America for decades! Why should France be any different?" I, of course, told him, "Because France IS different!" AGiT tells us that one of the major reasons there has been so little resistance from the small French producer is that much of this product is manufactured and sold "without benefit of clergy" or off the books, however you want to phrase it. So it is rather difficult for these extralegal producers to rebel about new regulations in an industry in which they are supposedly not participating.

Because France is the only European country with which I identify and whose currency is as familiar to me as our own. It is the only country where I am completely comfortable with pricing of goods and services. In other words, it is the one country other than my own where I feel that I have substantial equity. Again, I somehow think that my original post is being misread. It was written as a whimsy, and is coming across as simply fatuous.

I wonder if I am the only person who laments, no, mourns the passing of the franc. While intellectually I can tell you within pennies what my purchase would be in US dollars, to be honest, in most instances I just don't bother. I am used to what most things cost in francs, but not in dollars or, until this last year or so, in euros. I can relate to a 350FF dinner, a 250FF bunch of flowers, a 250FF bottle of wine, but I haven't a clue what a ฿.30 dinner, or a ั.33 bouquet or bottle of wine looks or tastes like. Adding to the emotional disturbance is the fact that they are taking away one of the enjoyable mystiques of travel. I am delighted with a 24FF or 30FF macaroon, but I'm going to be far less enthusiastic about a ū.24 or Ŭ.05 "cookie"! I really don't WANT to have prices posted in a currency that is so close to the US dollar. Until the conversion, I could always turn a blind eye to the euro price, but next year it will be my only option. I am quite up in arms. My husband says that it will take me at least 48 hours to become comfortable with the new pricing, and that during that time he will just have to listen to me rage! (Such a cynic!) Am I alone? Ammendment: When I posted the above I assumed that it was so obviously facetious that smilies were redundant. Maybe it's simply female logic and/or my appreciation of the absurd that accepts that having a foreign currency interface between you and your VISA bill can make such an enormous difference in one's enjoyment of travel. (Edited by Margaret Pilgrim at 9:02 pm on Dec. 24, 2001)

More than fading taste organs, I wonder if diminishing appreciation isn't at least partially a function of a jaded palatte or the demand for an element of surprise. I know that I have been enchanted by a meal at a restaurant, returned, reordered the same dishes that had given me such joy, only to find that, yes, that is what I ate before, and yes, it is pretty good. I read something the other night that startled me with its truth. I also have the feeling that it is something that Bux has been trying to tell me for a long time. Supposedly it is an old saw, however I had never heard it before: "Expectation is the mother of resentment."

The flourishing small restaurants to which I refer are indeed different from the ones you, Robert, Bux and Wilfred remember with such fondness. They are the work of young restless chefs who have left important kitchens to strike out on their own. Eric Frechon left Crillon under Christian Constant to start his eponymous restaurant in Paris' 19e, which he ran for roughly a half dozen years before being tapped to head the kitchen at Le Bristol a year or so ago. Pascal Barbot and Christophe Rohat left Passard's Arpege in order to start now wildly successful Astrance, Paris' 16e, just over a year ago. What these and others of this movement have in common is the desire to serve highly creative and inventive menus at unbelievably low prices. This they accomplish by using the highest quality of the less expensive ingredients, and charging supplements for foie gras, etc. There are now dozens of these neo-bistros in and outside of Paris, and the best of them are amazingly good. And interestingly, many have extensive wine lists that may or may not be priced like the food. OT: No, Robert, we don't have a Dim Sum a Go Go in SF. We live a half dozen blocks from a major Asian restaurant street that tempts us with several nationalities' snack foods: dim sum, Vietnamese rolls and sandwiches, ricetables, Korean hot pot, sushi. Good excuses for shrugging your shoulders when spouses come in asking for the carte!

REALLY off topic, but I would love to see what each/any of us chooses in our own neighborhoods when the question becomes, "What's to eat when there's nothing to eat!". We will find something from the pantry this evening, but went wandering around looking for lunch. We settled on Vietnamese rolls: barbequed pork, fine noodles, bean sprouts, cilantro encased in soft rice wrappers, served with fish sauce. 2 orders at Ū.50 for 2 piece order, take out. They always take good care of me since I am the usually the only foreigner in the dining room and I scare them to death. :)

Robert, as you have noticed by now, I am not a big dog; we visit no-star and one-star restaurants almost exclusively. Is the general state of this type of establishment in decline? I think that Elizabeth David wrote to this topic half a century ago, and even Leibling suggested that a good many of his meals were more stellar in quantity than in quality. That said, I think that, to the contrary, there are probably more good small restaurants now than in any recent memory. The last two decades brought us a tremendous number of "young turk" chefs who left mentors in multi-starred kitchens to strike out on their own, and unlike previous generations, they have brought their cuisines to market at the middle price range. Eric Frechon comes immediately to mind, and of course more recently the dynamic duo of Pascal Barbot and Christophe Rohat. Are these fine, inexpensive restaurants easy to find? Yes and no. They are certainly harder to pin-point than three stars! I find the yearly lists in popular food and travel magazines very disappointing, both behind the time and not as discerning as one would wish, continuing to tout familiar names we certainly would not return to or recommend. I read everything I can get my hands on, and have found that my best indicator continues to be the annual "big yellow" French edition of Guide France, Gault Millau, with its lengthly descriptions which I find far more informative than Michelin. If you read between the lines, and choose restaurants that they rate from 15 through 16, even some 14s, you will very likely find a well conceived and prepared and often highly innovative meal in the 200FF-400FF range, before beverages.

Bux, I have attributed our malaise to living beyond well. It is, I think, possible to surround yourself with so much that you were actually better off when you had less. I have always thought of France as a place where one was given some kind of dietary dispensation, where there were no "no-nos", just "Why nots". And we savored every morsel during those splurges. Then for some unexplained reason within the last year we have been doing the same at home. Rather than the occasional treat, we seem to be making sure that we always have a supply of great cheese, pate, chocolate, and fabulous bread, something we used to bring into the house only with premeditation. And so we go to France and while quality and variety can be better there, we simply are not hungry for these and, unfortunately, many other good things.

You have probably figured out that prowling brocante venues is our excuse for going to France so that we can eat! I am still mulling over our dining experiences from our October trip. We had many wonderful evenings, excellent dishes but few perfect meals. I attribute this to two things. First, I think we weren't "hungry" this trip, as if we had experienced an embarrassment of riches for some time before we left home. And second, I always try to stretch my experience and understanding when ordering, and frequently wind up with very unusual plates, to say the least. But all in all, we enjoyed dinners at old addresses and were introduced to several new ones. We aren't scheduled to return until March, when we will enclose a week in the Pays Basques between a few days in Paris. But at present, my husband has dug in his heels, complaining that he needs an extended down-time at home.

Although we spend a lot of our travel time prowling through antique venues, Robert Brown brought to our attention a term we had never noticed before: Vide Grenier or a private party offering his less-than-precious personal goods for sale, much like our garage sale. Yes, Robert, we did find one, 300 locals who hauled their stuff to the sidewalks surrounding the park in the center of Place de Rungis in Paris' 13e. We didn't buy, but that didn't take away from the festive mood of the place and the sellers. There were, in fact, a handful of these sales advertised in Aladin (the French monthly antique/brocante venue locator) for central Paris, and scores listed for provincial locations. I can't say whether you are on the cutting edge of a mushrooming phenomenon or whether this is another case of "heightened awareness" for us. Either way, thanks much for introducing us to this new wild goose sanctuary! ;)

You're all too young to know about it, but the original and quintessential frozen candy bar was the U-NO bar. It was, as I remember, a premium candy bar made of rich whipped nougat coated with dark chocolate. It was introduced to me by an octogenarian lady in the early '40s, and sold for 10 cents then, an outragious price when Hershey et al were only a nickel, and a U-NO was only about 1"x 3"x 1/2".

In March we visited a new restaurant that was receiving tremendous notice. We each ordered three courses from the carte. We loved what we had respectively selected and were delighted by the offerts that appeared between each course. The meal was memorable in every detail, the evening was charmed. We didn't get around to reserving in June, but made an effort to get a table in October. We decided to give the chef his rein this time, and ordered the tasting menu. It was disappointing to find that a signature dish started the progression. Unfortunately, its components are readily available in our area, and we had used it as a lunch dish at home for several months. Of the next three courses, one was bland/ordinary; another was very good; and the third was in our opinion quite awful, badly conceived, although its components were interesting and could have been knockout in different contexts. The dessert was enormous and extremely heavy to be part of a many coursed meal; the waitperson, when taking away my almost untouched portion, shook her head and commented that it was very, very rich. Could we have enjoyed our meal and evening more had we ordered a la carte? I have no doubt. I have always been able to enjoy a set menu when it has been the only option, but am rethinking choosing one after this rather miserable disappointment. Although a tasting menu usually costs less than three courses chosen from the carte and sometimes sounds like a no-contest choice, we will continue to read both sides of the menu studiously, but will probably choose to create our own menus. Thoughts and experiences?

Fat Guy, some times it takes only to be reminded of the rules: 8 glasses of water a day; eat and drink all things in moderation; use your stone to sharpen, your steel/ceramic/diamond to hone. Thanks for bringing my stones (yes, two) out of the cupboard. After a not-all-that-long session with a stone and several passes with a diamond rod, my favorite and most used knife now passes my test: a ripe tomato in my left hand; one pass from a knife should make a clean and immediate slice from the top. Today the trial. Tomorrow I'll work on the others. Many, many thanks.

Your diagnosis is most probably correct. I used to use a stone on my knives, and somehow got seduced by ceramic and diamond "sharpeners". I have taken my knives to professional sharpeners, but haven't been too impressed with their results. I use my knives a lot, and I think properly, but they seem to "fail" much faster than I think they should. Are you suggesting that I should simply go back to my stone/s?

I don't know if this should be a new thread or not, but my major knife question pertains to sharpening. My knifes are mostly Hendkles, a few Wurstoff. I have gone from steels to ceramic to diamond sharpeners, and am now finding that even diamond sharpeners are wearing out with annoying frequency. I never cut against anything except wood, kill anyone in my kitchen who uses a good knife on marble, china or metal, and still find that I am constantly having to sharpen my knives. Any suggestions on both obtaining and maintaining an edge?

With our surveys ranging from favorite kitchen gadgets to favorite cooking utensils, I suddenly wondered how many meals a week each of us cooks at home. And on a continuum from scratch to re-heat, how do you define "cook". To start things out, my husband doesn't boil water, so I cook all meals. Lunches 5 days a week, dinners 7. We buy at farmer's markets, our local grocer and butcher. Just about everything is from scratch. Although we are surrounded by what are considered excellent restaurants, we eat out very occasionally when we are in town, probably because it is just easier to eat at home, and there are always the makings of a better than average meal in the pantry.

I have had a wussy electric stovetop with a wussy overhead fan, and I have had a high BTU gas stovetop with a suck-the-lids-off-the-pots fan. I believe without doubt that the fan is the determining factor. I could get more out of the electric stovetop than the ineffective fan could handle, and therefore limited my stovetop cooking to the capacity of the fan. Now, because of an effective fan, I can fire up the stovetop to its top performance level. (Our son does not cook beyond pouring milk on Cheerios because of the problem of cooking odors in his small apartment!)

Oh, Robert. While we very much appreciate your introducing us to this entirely new venue, you will have to accept responsibility for doing so. I am boggled as I think of the new possibilities! You haven't opened a new door; you have opened Pandora's Box! So much brocante; so little time! (And all of the towns and restaurants in between!) Many thanks!

Responding also to Andy's Indian reference, on the 700 block of Valencia Street in San Francisco is Bombay Bazaar which sells Indian foods, herbs/spices, cultural objects, and has an adjacent ice cream factory which churns out extraordinary flavors: all of the expected tropical fruits, teas, and spices, of which cardamom is my favorite. I would happily order this or a trilogy of these after an Indian meal.

Robert, tell us a story. We don't know the term "vide grenier". Does it mean estate or house sale? We haven't been to this kind of sale in France, and love new windows. Would they be advertised in the local daily journal? Besides the large shows that are our targets, we find smaller venues in the monthly magazine "Aladin". PS: This is the first fall Brimfield we have missed in 17 years. As my husband describes us, some people go to Hawaii and sit in the sun; we go to France and chase other people's discards. In answer to your question, although Brimfield is in a definitive category of its own, I'd have to vote for France for both brocante and food! ;)

I hate to tell you, Danielle, that we go to France 3 times a year for a total of about 45 days for two things: to go to major antique/brocante flea markets and to eat! On off days we visit museums. The market we will attend this month takes place twice a year at the Hippodrome in the Bois du Vincennes, and opens at 4am. We will take two Noctambuses to get there at 3:55am, and be home in bed at noon. We are pros at packing and customs declarations: asparagus plates, pyrogen, 19th C. toy engines, tarbais beans and nougat?

The Lille Braderie takes place the first weekend in September. Most hotels will not book for this period before the first of April, but rooms then fill very rapidly. Information is available from the Office de Tourisme, place Rihour, 59000 Lille. tel. 3.20.21.94.21

re basil in a sweet context, one of the more interesting desserts I have had consisted of not-overly-sweet lemon sorbet flanked with fennel which had been slowly simmered in spiced (star-anise, cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, cardamom and black peppercorns), drizzled with some of the syrup, and showered with basil chiffonade. Intriguing interplay. Another concept is one I recently posted in the "best dessert..." thread on General. It consists of basil ice cream served with cabernet-syrup soaked fresh figs on a slice of cabernet-cocoa cake, fresh basil garniture. Basil ice cream is wonderful. We are using up the leftover ice cream with a hot chocolate sauce drizzled over it. (70% dark chocolate melted with sweet butter) Another wonderful combination.

We buy beans exclusively at Peet's. (Decades ago, Peet's partner split off and started Starbucks. In Northern California, your patronage of Peet's vs Starbucks is both a gastronomic and political statement. Peet's product is generally a darker roast, and Peet's represents to us the small, local business. However, all of this is relative.) I have found that coastal people prefer Peet's roast, while those from the hinterland/midwest prefer Starbuck's which is probably closer to familiar American coffee brews. We use African beans in a French press, usually Kenyan, but when we can get them, Aged Camaroon is incredibly aromatic. AC hasn't been around in some time due to political instability in Africa, but is worth looking and hoping for.