Stone

I've heard great reports about Swans. It's only open for lunch and usually has a line out the door, so I haven't been able to get by.

Someone asked me where to go for good seafood in SF. I was surprised that I didn't really have an answer. Aqua and Farrallon are too expensive. What's left? Not looking for Asian fusion, but a good piece of grilled fish, crab, lobster, etc. My friends were told to go to Scomas, and I blanched.

ditto Aren't you supposed to leave the top knob off the lid when blending something hot? So it DOESN'T explode? Yes, the little knobby in the middle. I put a towel over it to keep the stuff from flying out the little hole. But I don't expect to need much pressure, and it often flies out the sides.

I'm not sure this belongs here, but the same guy that used a fork to stir his eggs in my new non-stick calphalon, called to ask me how I like my wok -- since he scrubbed it clean for me. About 15 years of carbon, literally down the drain.

Definitely true, and I hope I remembered to put that qualification into the review. (I don't know if they're openly acknowledging anything. I was eavesdropping a bit. Poor ettiqutte on my part?) But even if the pizza is a rehearsal, go for the gelato. And one of the many authentic original rays is right up the block at 11th street.

Hey, this place is pretty good. And it's in Chinatown. What's up with that? Some friends were in town and they were told to go here. Since I've been told that it's pretty good, I didn't try to change their minds and we went over there last night. We sat downstairs in a big open room. There were the obligatory tanks of large crab and lobster and lots of fish that must have been those dreaded Chinese walking fish because they were all sitting on the bottom of the tank. In fact, they must have just walked a marathon, because they were panting like they couldn't catch their breath. The first course was seafood and tofu soup. A thick clear broth, with tofu and chunks of shrimp and scallops, this had very little flavor. Not bad, but not good. One of us had hot & sour soup, which she liked a lot. We ordered a bunch of entrees: The famed salt and pepper crab, roasted lobster with special sauce, R&G beef with secret recipe, eggplant with ginger, baby bok choy with garlic and veggie fried rice. It was all excellent. The crab was a large dungeness crab, broken into pieces, dipped in a salty batter and deep fried. It came piled high on the plate and topped with the crab body. Although it was difficult to get at the meat, it was delicious. The lobster was amazing. Still in the shell and chopped in chunks, it came served in a slightly sweet white sauce with scallions and some chili. The meat was plump and tender. Very messy, but very good. The beef reminded me of what is usually served on skewers as an appetizer. Marinated in a sweet sauce and grilled, it was served dry over shredded lettuce. Very tender and very tasy. The eggplant was much better than average. It was not overcooked mushy, and not stewing in oil. Even the veggie fried rice had a good flavor without the meat.

This raises a very good point. Once Mario learned that he could not install a pizza oven in the kitchen of his pizza restaurant, why didn't he just find a new place? It seems terribly unnerving that a restaurantuer of his stature would let the space dictate how he was going to cook food. Imagine if Danny Meyer decided to open his BBQ joint in a place that wouldn't permit a smoker, but instead of finding new digs, decided to work around it by dipping all the meat into vats of liquid smoke? Or if a Brazillian rotisserie BBQ just had 100 Ronco rotisserie's in the back room.

I thought it benefited greatly from an overly salted foccacia.

Isn't that what pizza is? Would people have been happier if Otto had more of a raised edge? When I grew up, pizza was "NY" style (maybe New Haven style, I had pizza once near Yale but I don't recall it being much different) or Sicilian. Every pizza had cheese and tomato sauce. Topping including sausage, pepperoni, onions, peppers, mushrooms, olives. That's about it. When I first saw fried eggplant, sauteed spinach, artichokes, sun dried tomato, and, God curse the demon son of the devil, pineapple on pizza, I cringed. Was that pizza? Pizzaria Uno sells a grease laden monstrosity with a pastry crust. Then came white pizzas with ricotta. Pizza is now served as salad pizza. (Stone them.) With pesto. And then, California Pizza Kitchen appeared to destroy everything traditional about the world. BBQ Chicken pizza. Pad Thai pizza. Feh pizza. Maybe this will be Fat Guys' next Elle article, now that he's blown the lid off folks who slice and roll a peanut better sandwich and call it sushi.

(February 14, 2003) URGENT URGENT URGENT WARNING -- NEW YORK CITY IS IN A HIGH ALERT TERROR WARNING PROTECT YOURSELF HAVE THE GELATO FIRST DO NOT RISK THE DELAY I found myself down on 8th Street at lunch, so I hopped, skipped and jumped over to the infamous Otto (pronounced "Otto") to have some lunch. Not that I needed lunch, or any other dietary intake for the next few weeks. To get an understanding of what I'm talking about, see the first ten minutes of the movie "Seven". (Actually a good film, notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Pitt just can't act. Don't ya think that he and Jamie Oliver could have a nice fat tongue contest, whatever one of those may look like.) I had been to the place a bunch of times when it was Clementine. It was dark and trendy with a long oak bar that ran down the length of the place. As mentioned above, Mario gutted the place. I think the only similarity is the cute little window on the door leading to the bathroom. It is, in my opinion, spectacular. Whereas I'd always found the entry foyer dark, they managed to open up the windows and get a surprising amount of natural light. The front room is filled with tall, rectangular tables topped with cool, clean white marble, streaked in grey. They were probably made for the restaurant (unless someone else above reported otherwise) but they look as though they were rescued from a vintage bank or post office and restored. Here's a dark picture, and a picture of the antipasto station, with the odd choice of framing prominently a large collumn: Following the general genius of Italian cuisine, they took a few simple and fresh ingredients and made a beautiful room. The long white marble of the bar, framing a deep stained red wood bar back filled with hundreds of bottles of wine, spirits and grappa; The neat and clean block lettering. I thought it was an incredibly comfortable place, appearing, to my limited Italian experience, quite authentic, without at all looking like it was decorated by Pottery Barn. I got in a 12:30, and there were only a few diners at tables in the main restaurant and one middle-aged couple at the bar. He sat curled on his bar stool, comfortable in cordaroys and marroon sweater vest, with a well-trimmed beard and thin hair pulled back in a pony tail. He reminded me of what I think Papa John would have looked like if not for all the herion. As I sat down, the waiter handed him the bill and said, "grazie". Hmm, actual Italians, I thought. She was small, wearing three shades of black, with black rimmed glasses and short, spiked salt and pepper hair. The she squinted behind the bar, and a breath of air lifted from her lungs and passed over what could only have been a rusty No. 9 wood file imbedded in her throat: "Graapa?" (think aapple) "Honey, whaat's graapa? Look at those pretty bottles." The menu has been discussed at length above, so I wont go into it here: I decided to skip the antipasto, notwithstanding the raves it has received. The plates that other diners (who followed me) received sure looked good though. I chose two pizzas, figuring I'd eat a little of each. After all, the pizzas suck, don't they? I chose the fennel & bottarga, and the prosciutto and arugala. Whilst waiting, I overheard an interesting converstion betwixt the waiter and a customer discussing the kitchen's continuing experimentation with the dough. Seems that they are well aware of the criticisms, and are trying something new every few weeks. (This means, of course, that the pizza I sampled may have been different from what other, less satisified people at a few weeks back.) I ordered a glass of the Fratteli Tedeschi Amarone Della Valpolicela 2000 ($18), and the waiter poured a nice portion into a small decanter. I was so cold coming in that the first taste felt like warm tea. But as I warmed up, the wine got much better. I was also brought two slices of bread, wrapped nicely in paper: The pizzas arrived, and looked thus: At first glance, I thought the crust would be as bad as I'd heard. But it wasn't. Sure, this is not Original Famous Rays or othewise what I would think of as "New York" pizza. But this certainly wasn't matzoh or pita. The crust was thinner than average, and therefore not as chewy. And it doesn't have the ability to absorb some of the sauce. But it was not at all dry, crisp or crunchy. Nor was it without flavor. Perhaps it benefitted from the tomato and a white pizza would not have been as good. As can be seen in the pictures, the sauce and topping covered an appropriate and adequate portion of the pizza. The cheese was sublter -- nothing like the chewy melted moz from the usual slice. The taste was, pretty good. (I have been suffering a little bug, so my palate was not up to its super-tasting best.) But not great. I just didn't think the flavor of the toppings came through. On the fennel and bottarga, the fennel was cooked with the pizza and added a very nice afterflavor. Not a strong anise bouquet, but rather a gentler caress in the back of the mouth towards the end of the bite. I didn't taste much of the bottarga at all, which surprised me. (Bottarga is a salted, dried block of tuna (or salmon) roe, that is powdered for this purpose.) But that could have been my illness. For the proscuitto and arugala, it appeared that the toppings were not cooked with the pizza. Instead, the prosciutto was laid on top after slicing, and fresh arugala added thereafter. Have you ever tried to slice prosciutto with a table knife? It's not easy, and I ended up pulling ham all over the place. Mario, bubby, slice the damn ham with the pizza. The fresh arugala was a very good touch, with the aromatic greens giving a much different flavor than they would had they been cooked. Again, however, I didn't get much flavor from the prosciutto, and it was not nearly as salty as I expected. I ate half of each and boxed up the rest. Then the gelato. Pistachio, raison, and hazelnut. A bit stiff at $7 for what I'd call a medium sized bowl. But every bite was like falling into a thick, soft cushion. But this has been said above. So, then, my final assessment. First, the question of whether this is pizza. Of course. What I was served is pizza. I've been to upscale places that try to appeal to the every-man by putting pizza on the menu and then serving a dull flat bread (like Tuscan no-salt bread) with inane "California" toppings. (I don't know, something like chiptole rubbed mango with seared ahi.) This wasn't that. It was a thin crust pizza. Thinner than average, to be sure. If it had been loaded with toppings it would have lost its rigidity and flopped forth like a flaccid pizzle. But it's not that kind of pizza. It's a lighter and gentler animal, that probably fits better in a meal where the appetizer of antipasto is more substantial than a regular appetizer and the entree is pizza is toned down more than a typical American entree. I think this pizza makes a great lunch. On the other hand, I doubt if the pizza itself would have made a thoroughly satisfying dinner. Good pizza is a great thing. A mouthful of hot, chewy crust, with acidic tomato sauce and a spicy sausage or pepperoni topping is a wonderful, visceral, and absorbing eating sensation. This is not that. And then there's the cost. The pizzas I got were, I think, $13 each (total of about $53 for the lunch). I'm guessing they were about 50% of the surface area that a "regular" pizza would get for the same price. That a lot of money for cutting back on the oomph. But at Otto, you get a beautiful room, and the opportunity to have at that gelato. What's that worth? (Of course, I've never been to DiFara's, nor do I claim to have. Not that it counts anyway, being in the outer burroughs.)

We had an assortment of dim sum, but I can't really remember specifics. I thought they were good, and the fried stuff a little better than I usually get. One particularly strange fellow ordered a tripe dish. Not having eaten tripe before, I tried some. Not really a big deal. Not bitter, like I expected, and a little crunchy instead of chewy. Almost vegetable like in a way. Chinese hamburgers were terrific. Little spiced meat patties served on an Asian style bun -- similar to a Peking Duck pancake. They went well with a little minced, pickeled ginger 'chutney' on the table. I thought some of the entrees were the best. The ginger beef was very good -- thin sliced beef in a dry ginger sauce. I'm told it went well with the candy wine. And some good shrimp with asparagus (or some green veggie that I can't remember). Being close to critical mass, I didn't try everything. [edit: by admin to remove reference to a deleted post]

Yeah, it's not much different from other spice mixtures I've seen. But it is Emeril. That said, nothing goes into hamburger meat. (I think salt changes the texture a bit, but only a 7.5 palate could tell.) (Hey, JB, quick, take the picture out of the quote. Don't you read the guidelines?)

No need to apologize. But can you expand a bit on this wisdom?

I'm asking about making burgers, not finding true love.

There are many threads on restaurant burgers and one perfecting the composition of home-ground burger meat. But I didn't see one on how to cook the damn thing. I'm talking about in a pan on the stove (not a grill). Perhaps this is easy for everyone but me (like making pasta or finding true love), but I usually end up with either an overly crisp outer crust a mushy/raw center; or a uniform greyness. I know I need to just experiment more, but how about some tips? The only advice I recall hearing is to start on medium heat or the outside will burn before the interior gets cooked. What methods do y'all use?

Really? Some of my favorite burgers came from Citarella's lean ground chuck. I'm assuming it had a lower fat content.

Smug wine swilling, haute cuisine eating bastard.

someone's got too much time on his hands.

Being useful is my special purpose.

Flying in from the West Coast, I arrived in this frozen pit of hell and high alert late on Saturday night. Wending my way through the welcoming womb that is John Fitzgerald Kennedy airport, I pondered mightily on where I might find my first meal. But since I would be meeting friends for a late night drink in the little village down on the Eastern shores of that tiny island off the coast of America, I knew Great Jones Cafe would be my destination. I dropped my baggage at the hotel (if only it were that easy) and walked three blocks to the subway, realizing with every step that I had forgotten to zip the warm thermlo liner into my coat. Boo for me. I exited the subway at Union Square to enjoy a few extra blocks walk through the old homestead, realizing with every step that if God had wanted people to live in this climate he would have provided us all with an extra thick layer of blubber and, more importantly, made it attractive to the opposite sex. Where was Allah's burning fire of damnation when I needed it? As I strolled down Lafayette, I doffed my non-extistant cap to that honorable French warrior who came to our assistance way back when, assuring the bond of comon defense between our two countries that would last until we twice saved their haute heinies and they realized that gratitude is not just a river in Egypt. Luckily the ire raised my blood temperature sufficiently to keep it from becoming a thick cold sludge as I trudged through this ungodly frigid zone. But as I turned left on Great Jones I left behind my discomfort and saw the welcoming glow at the end of the block. Soft and warm, it was like an orange sunset low on the horizon after a long Autumn day. Orange memories of pumpkin pie, creamsicles, and ripe persimmons flooded back and quickened my step to meet my utimate destination -- blackened catfish, sauteed kale and the best damnded bloody mary from here to Pescadero. The room was as I left it, with a bust of the King in the corner, as was the juke-box and the crowd of villagers that reminded me of course of those playful hobbits dancing about the Shire. Our village may lack the buccholia (sp? sounds like a horrible bacterial infection) of Middle Earth, but can anyone not raise a smile seeing those sprightly little ones chipper about gayily putting aside all thoughts of our troubled times? "Blackend catfish and a bloody mary" i said to the gentleman behind the bar, whose long curly locks laid somberly about his face. "Kale." The bloody was freshly made as always with a shake of celery salt, a squirt of worcestheehsreivishrieres shouce, hearty dash of tobasco, a healthy scoop of horshradish, blood bright tomotao juice and, yes, vodka. "Don't go far, sir, I'll have another." The catfish arrived and it was wonderful. A long thick filet of fish, the complex spice mixture was strong enough to offer flavor and a bit of heat, yet not too overpowering to cover up the unique flavor of the catfish. Tapered, as most catfish filets will be, the thin end was a bit dry and crisp, but the meaty upper region was plump and moist and yummy. The kale was, as always, stupendous. Roughly chopped, it had a deep pine green color. Sautted with garlic and a bit of butter (perhaps some stock), they achieved a perfect balance with the bitterness of the green. The crisp bite of the leaves made it a perfect accompanyment to the fish. Other terrific dishes include a rotating variety of gumbo, hearty jambalaya, ribs and crawfish in season. I once had a party in the place, renting it out for $2,000, which got me tons of food and lots of drink. I'll leave with one question. Why don't we see more kale in the world?

I felt similarly about Danko charging and extra $6 for the crepe dessert preparation. I understand that preparing tableside does take a significant amount of the waitress's time. But $6? What's the point? That can't recoup the time cost (as if it's at all possible to meaningfully quantify the 5 minutes spent preparing the dish), so why appear so cheap? I can kind of understand an extra $20 charge for foie gras, assuming that the ingredient is far out of line with the other ingredients on the menu.

I saw sweetbreads on the menu. Don't recall any double-guts surprise. (Reminds me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, with live eels stuffed in a large python.) The waiter said the restaurant used to be something else -- Strapa? But that old place had a Mexican chef who turned the Greek food into Taco Bell. They now have a Greek chef.

I saw sweetbreads on the menu. Don't recall any double-guts surprise. (Reminds me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, with live eels stuffed in a large python.)

(Some new pictures added above.) (There, their, they're. Etc.)

The bill came to $100 for three, including the glass of retsina and a good shot of ouzo at the end. A little pricier than Uncle Nick's (Hell's Kitchen), but much better all around.