John Whiting

This is a wonderful collection of old-mates'-tales [the PC version of old-wives'-tales]. Aix provides a very plausible explanation for their survival. They are yet another example of "common sense", which, as a scientist has pointed out, is wrong about fifty percent of the time. An example of a non-myth which really does work is allowing a piece of meat to rest after cooking to retain -- not reabsorb -- its juices. The longer it rests the more it retains. For instance, if roast chicken is to be served in a warm sauce, I let it cool virtually to room temperature before carving and then gently reheat it in the sauce. The moistness and suppleness of the flesh is astonishing, even if part of the meat is reserved and reheated the following day.

No point -- you've already demonstrated your unreliability by adding an LOL. Edit: I've also added an emoticon. They're so omnipresent here that any post lacking a nudge in the ribs is in danger of being taken at face value. . . . . . Look out! There goes another one! . . . . . . and another . . .

I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect that the red star may not be finally determined by the person who writes the review.

The others aren't reliable; they have communicated with me privately in a friendly manner. But I don't think this is an appropriate forum to pursue your obsession. If you can't relate to that, perhaps you'd better discuss it with your analyst.

I feel a sense of accomplishment. After seventy-two years, I've finally made a reliable enemy!

U Kalicha is a historic beerhall/eating-place which has probably been touristified since we were there several years ago. They're likely to still be serving heavy stews and big plates of wieners and sauerkraut -- don't go there for haute or nouvelle cuisine! It now has a website, which is probably a bad sign http://www.ukalicha.cz/english.html

Exactly! A quarter century ago John & Karen Hess called attention to the American predilection for starchy fillers, which applies also to much of James Beard.Another Anglo-American obsession is sugar, which can usually be cut in half unless it's a vital part of a chemical process, such as in preserving. Even here, I prefer to use much less sugar and, if necessary, refigerate or freeze the result. Oversweetened preserves tend to taste more like each other than like the fruits from which they are derived.

Always to be be relied upon for a graceful response to a gentle jape.

It's called getting each other's goat.

What I want to know is, could these incredibly witty exchanges between intellectual acrobats of the highest order take place without the verbal goadings of the world's weightiest gadfly?

Here the conductor/orchestra analogy becomes highly relevant. A great conductor can do little with a bad orchestra; in a large kitchen a visiting chef would have little control over detail.It's interesting that conductors, like soloists, spend much of their time flying from one orchestra to another, while brief "guest appearances" by chefs are relatively rare. I suspect that if restaurants were laid out with the tables surrounding the work area, the irrelevant "cult of personality" would be even more prevelant than it is. I can see the spotlight zeroing in a virtuoso onion-chopper!

And a very fine staple it is!

Suvir, that's not so much an amazing meal as the Eighth Wonder of the World. What most amazes me is how complexity and simplicity interweave in the details of this domestic panorama.

Steven, that's brilliant! Now, if you were a German . . .

Steven, that's a great essay, including the following immortal line: Or, as Shakespeare *really* wrote before an editor got it wrong way around, "If music be the love of food, play on, give me excess of it . . ."

Steve, once again you're making up quotations for the purpose of refuting them. Keep it up and I shall take you to task for declaring that the greatest Italian restaurateur was Chef Boyardee.

Any meal prepared by SF Chronicle columnist Marlena Spieler. With over thirty cookbooks under her ample belt, she improvises everything as she goes along. Her meals couldn't have menus because every dish, by the time it reaches the table, is liable to have been transformed into something else. In other words, all her published recipes are merely progress reports. She could never be allowed to compete in "Ready Steady Cook" -- all the suspense would go out of it.

The fact that we have been pursuing an analogy which places a dinner on the same level of human achievement as a fine performance of a great symphony makes a claim at which even Brillat-Saverin would raise his eyebrows.

I'm content if this happens occasionally. In a life made up exclusively of unique experiences, the unique would become commonplace. As a concertgoer and as a diner, I'm happy with a *good* -- or even a partially good -- performance. The mountaintop revelations have come as happy surprises.Edit: Mike echos my own experience in working with symphony orchestras. Solti's method, for instance, was often to force the tempo in performance just a little faster, stopping short of the point at which a challenge would become an impossible barrier. Magic sometimes occurs when a great conductor works with an orchestra which is accustomed to an entirely different manner of performance -- for instance, Simon Rattle with the Karajan-trained Berlin Philharmonic. The musicians loved the change of pace so much that they demanded, over the heads of the city fathers, that he be their new conductor. I think that the music/food analogy works best if one is talking about a tasting menu which is truly improvised from available ingredients. One of my favorite French chefs -- not famous -- never served the same tasting menu twice. I could stay at his hotel for a three-day weekend and know that every dish would be a surprise. They didn't all work, but most of them did. He knew that I'd accept whatever came as an adventure, and so felt free to play.

Physician, heal thyself!

Your comments on the translation of the new Larousse bear out what I've been told by the best gastronomic translator I know. Apparently the accuracy varies considerably from section to section depending on which member of the team was responsible. As for sources in French, Lacour has done facsimile reprints of a number of classic texts, including Lheureux's _La Cuisine Méditerranéenne_ and Hours/Veeyrun's _La Cuisine de Nos Mamées_. (Photos? What are they?) Appropriate for pomme de terre!

I feel sorry for anyone whose relationship with someone he calls a friend makes no allowance for occasional -- even gross -- imperfection. Four thousand dollars must have represented a lot of dinners, however extravagant, and they must have been good to lead on to so many repeat performances. If friendship is not merely a euphemism for subservience, then a discussion was in order, not an ultimatum. Who's perfect? In 1967 I heard Rubenstein give a terrible recital. He was not a friend, but I felt sympathy, not anger.

I agree heartily with Tonyfinch about the Time Out Guide. The relevant question is not, "Is it infallible?" but "Is it useful?" I have generally found it so. Some of the reviewers are outstanding -- for instance the Chinese section is in the hands of Fuchsia Dunlop, whose "Sichuan Cookery", published last year, is a modern masterpiece.

This thread makes me thankful that I have never been able to afford such a horrendous budget for dining out that a screw-up would be as serious as if my Rolls were to break down in the middle of Death Valley.

Peter Hertzmann’s comments on French cookbooks and his fascinating web site take us back into that often-occupied battleground of “authenticity”. His analysis of Julia Child’s approach to French cuisine is accurate -- indeed, she explained that she did these recipes over and over using only ingredients available from the US military PX in Paris so that they would be feasible in the American hinterlands. It is also true that authentic French ingredients are now much more readily available in the US than they were when she wrote the book. But in most of non-urban America it is as difficult as it ever was to obtain anything beyond the commonplace. Those not living in a metropolis who want to pursue French cuisine untutored will still be grateful for Julia’s compromises – unless, of course, they can afford to have their ingredients flown in to special order. Another aspect of authenticity is whether one is in search of historical purity (whatever that may be) or a cuisine that approaches the way that a culture actually cooks today – or indeed, some point along this slippery slope. As Rachel Laudan reminds us, modern Mexican middle-class families freely make use of the bottled ingredients, sauces and condiments from Doña Maria. And according to Valentina Harris, ninety percent of the risottos made in Italian homes, however prosperous, make use of stock cubes. As for eccentricity, it’s true that Richard Olney’s approach to French cuisine is often idiosyncratic, but the French themselves have nevertheless honored him at the highest level. The essence of a great cuisine lies more in its individuality than its unanimity, and so in exploring its riches I like to be guided by a Virgil who illuminates its detail with his own unique torch.