bourdain

Oh yeah..The Greater Good. I think Robert Moses was big on that--with similar effect.

mogsob is indisputably right about a couple of things: The New York smoking ban is indeed here to stay. No question. There is no putting the toothpaste back back in the tube. Non-smoking bars, restaurants and public places are without question, the future. Here--and in the UK and Europe. And smokers are no doubt a minority. A despised minority. And my post detailing one working class bar, one waitress, one strata of people in New York City (unfortunately the same strata I've drank with and hung out with for my whole drinking life) is indeed "totally without merit from a statistical point of view" . Exactly. Donald Rumsfeld couldn't have said it better.

JJ Hunsekker here, reporting from the foodie heart of darkness: Ahh yes...another interminable, self-congatulatory cluster-fuck.Excrutiating, endlessly repeated (and very bad) music, hideous stage design, utterly inept video presentations--and the inexplicable choice of Swoozie Kurtz as Master of Ceremonies (What's the food connection there?). After a bizarre salute to the Buffalo chicken wing (really!) and a moment of feigned civil disobedience from ST MARIO BATALI (in black tux, cut off at the knees with bright orange high tops) he threw fistfuls of cigars to the crowd--a not so impromptu salute to the pleasures of tobacco. Some good guys actually brought home the gold. Big winners? FRENCH LAUNDRY for Outstanding Service....(CW Spenser--when brought back from Coventry will be dismayed to read that Allegedly odiferous Jean-Luc Le Du of DANIEL won for Outstanding Wine Service)...GRANT ACHATZ of TRIO as Rising Star Chef....ZUNI CAFE big winner as BEST RESTAURANT....but best moments for me were MARCUS SAMUELSSON winning Best Chef NY and (drum roll please) ERIC RIPERT winning Outstanding Chef US. VERY happy to see that. It was nice to see him acknowledge his crew--by name--and he shut down service a few moments at Le Bernardin after receiving the award to conference call with his cooks. Downstairs, white clad extortion victims doled out snacks to a mix of winners, losers, those who love them--and the usual schnorrers (a goodly number of whom apparently spent the entire ceremony at the 8th floor bar) . BLACKBIRD's PAUL KAHAN served up some very tasty sweetbreads..the utterly fabulous always-on-the-job ARIANNE DAGUIN of DARTAGNAN gabbed your humble reporter in a head-lock and force marched him over to her table to try a medallion of venison (delicious)..THOMAS KELLER, wandering alone and largely unrecognized through the crowd much of the evening made me squeal and blush with girlish delight when he said he'd really enjoyed the legendary FRENCH LAUNDRY SEGMENT on A COOKS TOUR . In a rare friendly overture to my fellow FN toilers, I offered a hand and a compliment to ALTON BROWN (who I'd never met and whose show is pretty damn informative, I think). He responded as if I'd just deposited a warm deposit of whiskey shit in his paw. Cutting me pretty much cold. Have I ever said anything bad about Alton? Don't think so. Well let me change that now: The Spiky-haired twat's earlier award presentation was arrogant and brainier-than-thou--(Poindexter looked like he'd rather have been mowing his lawn)-- and about as well-received by the crowd as an envelope full of ebola. So there! Later, with the victorious Eric Ripert and soon-to-be-a-mom wife, SANDRA (looking beautiful as always) to Balthazar to scarf towers of truly wonderful shellfish: with fellow revelers ROCCO DI SPIRITO, ALAIN DUCASSE, MAGUEY LE COZE, ALAN RICHMAN, LAURENT MANRIQUE and others; a really nice assortment of mussels, oysters, clams, head-on shrimp, crab claws, lobster, whelks and periwinkles..followed by dinner. In my case, a very nice sardine appetizer, a decent steak--and the worst fucking frites EVER. Rocco, by the way, was extremely, extremely gracious, proposing a very generous and well-worded toast. Rocco surprised the hell out of me with his beautiful command of French (which pissed me off no end cause I suspect it's better than mine--and I JUST spent six damn weeks at Berlitz brushing up!). The whole ceremony will be aired on A&E, I believe this Sunday

So the already hard-pressed working class unreformed (and not-likely-to-reform) smoker--already taxed 6 bucks a pack for his or her smokes should continue to patronize an establishment which no longer offers them any joy at all--for reasons of social responsibilty? Sort of as a way of subsidizing all the nice people who the law is throwing out of work? Seems to be that if anyone subsidizes this new "healthy, smoke free" morning shot-and-beer concept it should be the well-intentioned architects and supporters of this law.Hard to imagine a bunch of yuppies, mountain-bikers, orange-carrying waterheads making the pre-noon rush at Desmonds anytime soon. Actions, laws and causes have effects. Supporters of this total ban should--at the very least-- own up to the results.

The bar experience, for a very large sector of working class smokers, is simply not enjoyable anymore. The question was raised before: Do people go to bars to drink--or to smoke? The indisputable fact is that a lot of bars survive on clientele who patronize them to do both. The smoldering cig next to the whiskey with draft beer back is an essential ingredient. An enormous sector of the bar business--the small owner-run establishments, the 9th Avenue dive, the TV over the bar place with the ancient regulars, the daytime drinker hangout, the repository for broken dreams, the places that quite simply exist to cater to the needs of hard-working, still-functioning alcoholics, the after-work joint where white collar types go to relax after 8 hours in a smoke-free cubicle. These are the places that are hurting most. And the already-marginalized clientele on whom they depend are melting away. Perhaps to a relatively joyless gallon jug of Fleischmans, at home, to the more convenient to home (but hideous) TGI Fridays or Bennigans (or similar chain dunghole) for a quick maintenance drink..who knows? Fact is, a major (if not the ONLY) enjoyable social time of their lives is altered, gone. The "we know better how you should live" crowd who rammed this law through--as one of their primary assertions, stated that businesses would in fact benefit from the hordes of newly liberated non-smokers who would flock to these establishments, more than making up for any lost smoking customers. That claim was patently ridiculous-and is now provably false. The old joints were never in the business of attracting the health conscious--and they will gradually disappear--to be replaced by chains, fern bars, more upscale places. The old gin mill? Going going gone. Which is kind of what they wanted all along anyway, isn't it? Like Times Square, where once stood a Blarney Stone, Starbucks, Disney Store, Victorias Secret, Chilis, TGI McFunsters will ooze in to fill the gap.The mallification of America continues.

The Scene: Bar "X", a once very busy workingman's bar near Les Halles. For ten years, every morning at 10AM, the bar filled with truck drivers. elevator repairmen, off duty transit workers, electricians.. Every afternoon, 4PM, the post-shift, afterwork rush, Bar two deep with customers, reading their News and Post sports pages, nursing draft beers, Bud Lites, smoking their butts, griping and joking about work. Now? It's empty. " The law killed us," says the bartender, spotted outside at 4pm, huffing a Parliament in the rain. "It KILLED us...Now we have NO afterwork business at all. Nothing. " I look inside. The bar is empty for the first time in years. As it is, apparently, every day now. The first tangible effect of the "protect the workers" smoking ban? They laid off the single Mom waitress. Hey. At least she won't be breathing sceond hand smoke, right? I'm sure she's grateful.

I tend to get evangelical when I run into a book I enjoyed this much. Up till now, if you wanted to read about what it was like coming up through the old system of marmitons and stagieres--the early-to-mid century style European hotel kitchen, you had only Orwell's few wonderful chapters--and the hard-to-find Freeling. But this is Pepin talking here: selecting lowest quality veggies at the market with his frugal Mom to merchandise for the family bistro, enduring the hazing and pranks of his first months doing dogsbody work (literally) at a hotel..moving up the ranks, bouncing around Paris--the Plaza Athenee...private chef to De Gaulle...then some great dishy stuff about NYC's Le Pavillon, --and its loathsome Henri Soule (a colossal, legendary shit-bag). Pepin cuts a Zelig like figure in culinary history. A really unique and thorough account of a world very different but still very much the same...and absolute caviar for working cooks, chefs and especially commis. If you need somehing to make you feel better after a double shift on the salad sation--this is the answer. Well written..And if you like that "behind the scenes" stuff? You'll love this.

Yes..Yes...YES!!! Oh God YES!!! Nice to see some good porn on egullet.

When You Lunch With The Emperor--the adventures of Ludwig Bemelmans ..in ms. More inspired madness from the original bad boy of the NY restaurant/hospitality underbelly

I'm never down there--and have no involvement in the place.

Siberia can be found by entering beneath the single dim red light bulb on 40th Street (downtown side) a few yards East of 9th Avenue. Still owned by Tracy who is very much in attendance most late nights. Bellevue-in which he remains a partner, is around the corner. Haven't been to The Cell yet--though I'm going this week. I think he took over the Pakistani restaurant nextdoor--and if he makes his usual improvements--will probably just screw in a few red light bulbs, maybe haul out a ratty, jiz-encrusted couch and open for business. Can't wait.

There is, of course, the fabulous Holland Bar on 9th, between 39 and 40. And the new Tracy Westmoreland (Siberia, Bellevue) joint, 'The Cell' --all fine establishments.

Very recently, Fabio Maranhao was shot to death--for no discernible reason--by person or persons unknown. He will be remembered by all of us lucky enough to have known him. He was exactly as you saw him. A good hearted, good natured, outgoing guy with a sense of humor--and a true carioca.

Congratulations Fat Guy! Well deserved!

((a true Provencale ratatouille)) Back to the question of: You want it good as it can be? Or you want it "authentic"? After a few nights in the fridge,your "good" ratatouille will become more authentic as it becomes more sludgelike and sinister colored. Bon appetit!

Yes. Cook each diced veggie seperately, then combine later--or you'll lose all that nice color and it'll end up as monochromatic mush. Garlic and onions can go in together.

Clem and Ursie's--a clam bar, drive-in on Shankpainter Road P'town makes good Portugese squid stew and kale soup, lobster rolls, stuffed clams , shellfish on halfshell. Spiritus Pizza in P'Town is still good. The Portugese Bakery on Commercial is worth a trip for their meat pies, rabanadas and pastries.

I find smoking chefs (and chefs whose palates are beginning to burn out), tend to under-season, consciously going the other way to compensate for their predisposition to go heavy with the salt and pepper. It's the nonsmokers who seem to like tossing around sea salt, pepper and sugar as an easy route to that much desired "pop".

So you grab some nice, fresh, clean mussels--wild if at all possible--PEI's okay if not...You sweat a little diced leek and shallot --a little bit of garlic in a pot in a little olive oil. Toss in some roughly diced fresh chorizo--the wet stuff that bleeds all that nice grease and spice into the oil as it begins to cook, when your oil starts to turn red from the sauzeech, add mussels, a good squirt of white wine, a handfull of ripe roma tomato concassee or diced filet....season with salt and pepper. Cover and hit the heat. When mussels are open--remove from flame and quickly swirl in a fat knob of whole unsalted butter (without breaking please). Dump in a bowl, sprinkle heavily with freshly chiffonaded Italian (flat) parsley and eat. Mop up the sauce with a rough hunk of crudely toasted country bread.

Youi already trust chefs who smoke. You just don't know that they smoke.

Say hello to Jingles for me. Last time I saw him he was doing very well... And Ciro's is owned by the Luster brothers now (James being the real "Tyrone" of KC). The Flagship still stands--but as a Southwest kinda joint or something now I think--and the Pot? That's never disappear.

Seen canoodling at the Beacon Beefsteak. . . Fat Guy That is all.

((Can someone please tell me where Bourdain worked in Provincetown, and what years? Thank you much.)) The Flagship 72-75...including a short, brutal stint at Ciro and Sal's . A one nighter at the Wharf Luncheonette..and Nancy worked at Spiritus. Pals at the Lobster Pot, Gifford House etc....

((. I expected you to hook up with some late night over-over-the-hill go go girls and have them drag you around to their favorite haunts.)) As Chris and Lydia would say, " We have plenty of that footage already."