Harry Covére

Has anyone tried infusing vodka with juniper berries? I'm guessing the result would be something like gin. Or vodka with sloe berries?

It made me smile when I bit into it, it was exactly like eating a moist bread version of a pretzel, as opposed to a big soft pretzel. It had a beautiful bi-colored top. I don't believe I've ever had pretzel bread before. I'm almost certain it was baked by Eli's Bread, I bought a few things, yesterday, and didn't pay close attention. ← which garden of eden?

Does anybody know where to get a loaf of pretzel bread or pretzel rolls in the city? Help!

love her enthusiasm or hate it, she can talk and cook at the same time like nobody i've ever seen. and she's selling more cookbooks than anyone else. i think her mag will fill the void between gourmet/bon app and martha stewart living.

yes, FG, but would you actually propose such an arrangement to your "friends" before going out to dinner?

From the LA Times: "(We would split the cost of any bottle we bought at the restaurant when we split the entire bill at the end of the evening, so I've always felt that the proper etiquette with a bottle from my cellar is that we split my original cost on the bottle. This saves everyone money since it's always less than we would pay for a heavily marked-up restaurant bottle. Everyone we've eaten with has seemed to appreciate both the savings and the wine — which is generally older and better than what most restaurants have at the same price.)" Does anybody else charge their friends for the wine they bring to a dinner party or restaurant? Shaw responds to allegations of being a cheap-ass in and email posted in the Wine Spectator forums: "well, all i can say is i'm not rich, andi can't afford to give away bottles of wine from my cellar several nights a week, no matter how much i like and enjoy sharing wine with my friends. i don't get any psyhic income from folks' expressions of appreciation and i sure hope i don't preen in response. my friends don't "worry" about what their share of my wine will cost because they know me well enough to know that i won't bring something beyond their means."

Hesser is no stranger to the corrections page.

experts: how much would holding the bowls in your hand actually affect the wine? say, you're at a party, swirling and sipping for 20 minutes without putting the glass down: would that warm it up to a point that the wine flavor would be effected?

dinner for 4, late night monday, march 1

FG, we'll hold you to that. And if J.M. takes the gig (please, lord, no) I'll eat my boxers (blanched, of course, with beurre blanc).

according to andrea strong's web site, and now gawker hmm, guess who's picture will be posted on every hostess stand from here to hackensack.

I heard the Mr. Wizard of the kitchen is coming out with a new book real soon. Anyone heard about this?

Has anyone found any premium boxes in NYC?

not sure what your facilities consist of, but i know a fine food distributor who installed a simple river rock bedded fountain in one of his warehouse's walk-ins, which he swears by.

I use the Gallery of Regrettable Food to cheer myself up anytime I flub a meal. It's absolutely the funniest thing you'll ever see.

A couple more places to find the book are listed here.

I must be alone in my happiness for Paloma, but I'm not really that surprised. Raise your hand: How many of you love Merlot the mostest? (Let's see: one, two...four--only two of you?) Okay, how many have tried the Paloma? (Umm: one, two...that's it?) I don't love Merlot. I tried the Paloma. Loved it. Not the best wine I've ever had, maybe not the best 2001 wine I've had (I'm Pinot Noir guy), but incredible nonetheless. Then take into account that I paid $40 for it (the sky's the limit now), that Merlot's tough to grow in California, has been the laughing stock of California wines since its fall from popularity, and since it exemplifies everything a California wine should: small-production, careful craftsmanship, dedicated winemakers. Should these characteristics receive bonus points? Definitely, if WS is ranking these wines using more criteria than taste alone. (Plus, for you point-chasers, it's the highest related Merlot (by WS) ever. Does that mean it's the best Merlot ever? Doubt it. But it's very damn good.) Based on what I drank, would I have named it Wine of the Year? No, I'd probably have gone with the Donnhoff, unless I was feeling patriotic that day. I don't pay much attention to who advertises in Wine Spectator, but I've never seen a Paloma ad and I doubt I ever will. I was really surprised at this year's prices (why didn't you reprint those, Craig?) They seem down from last year. I read somewhere the average is around 35 bucks. Someone mentioned WS and its repeated shellacking for its WOTY picks. Last year was even worse. Check it out.

here, here. ditto on the muj and the falafel is great, too. i'm there at least once a week for lunch.

KL, I couldn't agree more about Joly and his ilk. I think that's why French biodynamic and organic wines continue to be the best vehicles for experiencing terroir, or climat. The winemakers and vineyard managers simply eschew all the high-tech toys (BTW: great article, Craig) and stick to what their grandpappies taught them. Okay, so it's not all Steinbeck and granola, but their goal in the whole process is to celebrate, not hide, the flavor of the land.

I'm also skeptical about the benefits of dung-filled cow horns and quartz dust solutions, but I also see a homeopath. Hey, I'll try it until it stops working. If I found b.d. wines to be categorically superior to similar, non-b.d. wines, I suppose I'd keep drinking those too. But I just can't say I do right now. Why not do a blind tasting: pick a few b.d. wines and some non b.d. wines from the same appellation (I'd recommend French because they've been doing it the longest and no other country has the same strict certification process) and taste them against each other: see if you can't pick out the b.d. ones, and if you can, figure out what characteristic tips it off. I've asked some sommeliers and wine geeks what they find distinctive about b.d. wines, and no one can seem to put his or her finger on it. The best answer I got was "it's something terroir-ish, but not really terroir. Sort of earthy, but not quite." This, coming from a guy who gets paid to say stuff like this, only makes me more skeptical. I think he's full of cow dung too. I agree with Russ that it's probably the patience and TLC these farmers (or grape-growers, if you prefer) are showing their land and crops that is making their products consistently great. That, and someone who is as careful and diligent in the grape growing process as Joly and Leroy (and more locally, the Freys and Fetzers) will carry these habits into the winemaking process.

FG: I too Mixed it up recently and agree with most of your assessment. I can't stress enough how softspoken and -- I dunno -- deceptively modest the menu is: simple approach, classic French technique, superb ingredients, superb execution. And I think it is this way solely because of the softspoken, deceptively modest guy working the pass every night: Psaltis is not a whimsical Keller or culture-humping Batali -- He's just Doug, a kid from Long Island who can paint that big yellow line between novelty and genius (although I think the restaurant as a whole tips the novelty scale), and curiousity and confusion without getting his brush dusty. Yes, Ducasse played a big role in planning the menu, but the great impresario is back in France (although Doug told me he flies in every couple of weeks to check in) and it's hard to run a kitchen (and Oh, what a kitchen! Get a tour!) from across the Atlantic. Anyway, I'm the kind of Joe Diner who enjoys that blast of appreciation that comes hours after a meal is over, when you're lying in bed and realize why-- Wake up, Jackie!--the sonofabitch used lemon cream in the pot pie. The only thing that made me whince was the wine list: anybody see this manifesto? The first three (out of four) sections (after wines by the glass) are devoted solely to France and subcategorized by organic, biodynamic (read: voodoo) and Ch.-du-Pape wines. Then comes "le monde", which is French for "we included a couple of California wines so you don't bitch when you can't recognize or pronounce anything else." That poor, patient sommelier. What's he doing to himself? So what did you think about the wines? Or did you leave the restaurant saying "Ah! Finally -- a restaurant that understands the rewards of planting cow horns under full moons!"

Wine Spectator dispelled this theory last year, after Ann Noble's infamous "UC Davis Test." I've tried it myself, with some friends: bogus. It is a little more difficult to distinguish between the two when the reds and whites are both at room temp, but that's the whole point of chilling white wine and drinking reds around 60 degrees--to maximize their characteristics. Has anyone else tried this?

Not sure if any of you are football fans or not, but Bro J's offers what I consider to be the best deal for armchair quarterbacks, espcecially those from out of state who can't find their beloved Seahawks or Rams or Packers on the tube. Every Sunday, Bro J's offers all-you-can-eat ribs (try all three varieties) and all-you-can-drink beer and a dozen different footballs games for $20. You definitely need a reservation; call and request a table near your home team's TV. And set aside some time afterwards for a Sunday afternoon nap.

I'm a confessed potato pre-cooker as well, and this is the best way I've found to keep the spuds moist and fluffy (for up to an hour or so) until the rest of the meal is finished. This especially works best with whipped or pureed potatoes: Make your potatoes as normal, but hold back just a little bit (on or 2 tablespoons) on the butter. Through the rest of the butter in a mixing bowl or bain marie over a hot water bath, add the potatoes and cover with plastic wrap. The butter will melt on the bottom and keep the potatoes on the bottom from drying out, and you can stir it all up (with a little more cream/milk) just before serving to restore that nice sheen. Another thing: I usually go with a half cream/half milk mix when doing this, because cream tends to break when potatoes are held for extended periods of time.

So much about choosing your favorite hot dog is subjective. Like the best sex you've ever had or the best concert you've been to, it all depends on the events leading up and surrounding the experience -- Who were you with? How was the lighting? Were there thousands of people screaming? --all of these influence a great hot dog (and great concerts, and sex, for that matter) as much as the weiner, bun, and condiments themselves. That said, I noticed that my favorite hot dog has yet to be mentioned in this thread, so I decided to give it a plug. Here's why it's my favorite: I'm a big fan of Danny Myers' restaurants, and when I heard he opened a hot dog cart Madison Park last summer, I figured it'd be something worth biting into. The first summer it was open, I wasn't able to get up to Mad. park to try, but when I started a new job just a couple of blocks away, I wandered over one day to try out the Chicago-style hot dog (the only one in NY?) that I'd been hearing so much about. The line at the 11 Madison Hot Dog Cart is usually 20-30 people deep at lunchtime, so bring a newspaper. On this particular day the line was slightly shorter, due to an intermittently rainy day. When I was about 10 people back, the heavens parted and the most ferocious rain started pounding the park. The kids (and they are kids; the staff tops out around 20, I'm guessing) at the cart looked up in surprise for a second, then at us, and then resumed what they were doing, ignoring the fact that they and their unbudging customers were already drenched (the prep area is covered by a 10x10 tent, which was keeping only the food dry). I considered running for shelter, but my nanosecond of hesitation was long enough for the rain, which was coming down so hard that even under an umbrella, it bounced off the pavement and up into your face, to saturate me down to my soul. It started raining harder. This was insane. One of the hot dog kids invited those of us without umbrellas to seek shelter under the tent; pretty soon the prep table was surrounded by dripping, shivering customers. I had an umbrella, so I stayed in line, along with an elderly gentlemen. He gave me a smile and nodded, and answered the question I had been asking myself since the first drop hit the ground. "Yes, it's worth it," he said. And it was. A few minutes later, we all had hot dogs (the crew continued assembling until everyone in line had what they wanted), and we all huddled beneath the tent, eating the freshest Chicago-style dogs (they have NY dogs as well), drinking homemade lemonade and laughing at sloshing shoes. After he got his hot dog, the old man next to me in line set his dog down on the table, grabbed a stack of napkins, and dabbed the face of the girl who was taking orders and making change, who's task forced her to stand under the edge of the tent and directly beneat the waterfall of runoff. When she had finished with the last customer, the old man picked up his hot dog and walked away. It was, I guess, I New York moment. It was, I'm sure, worth it. It was, for now, the best hot dog I've ever tasted.