jaybee

One of the most memorable meals we've enjoyed in France was at Restaurant Greuze in Tournus. The signature chicken roasted with garlic was so good that I would be tempted to make a special trip just to eat it again. The place is a throwback to traditional Burgundian foods and preparations, comfortable and elegant surroundings and good natured service. I haven't seen it mentioned on more recent posts and wonder if this well travelled group contains others who've eaten there. I'd welcome reading about their experiences. http://www.1france.com/features/fwr_greuzetournus.html

Good question. I must admit to ignorance here. I simply told the butcher I wanted two pounds of ground beef; to combine 1/2 lb ground brisket and 1 1/2 lbs ground sirloin, well mixed. That's what he says he gave me. The result was delicious burger.

Had a stone crab feast at Joe's in Miami last night. It was quite good. I used to eat them at Cy's Rivergate. I have to believe there are more "down and dirty" places to eat stone crabs in the Miami area. Any suggestions? BTW: How does one edit a typo in the title of a post? As in "stoen" crabs.

No, the brisket is raw (uncooked) when it is ground into the sirloin, so the mix from the butcher is an amalgam of sirloin and brisket. I make patties from this mix and broil them. I believe that is the way they make them in City Hall too. I've never tried foie gras mixed in, but I'll leave that for a restaurant experience.

Not to worry Steve. Reading your descriptions, one word is worth a thousand pictures. I wouldn't want to sacrifice your narrative for graphics. But then I was born before TV. Calvin T, move over, Fat Guy is comin' through!

I didn't specify that to the butcher, but generally, their fresh ground sirloin is about 15% fat. With the brisket added in, the overall % of fat probably approached 20% which, as Roger McShane says, is minimum for a tasty, moist burger. I later asked Meer if I was on the right track with my homemade mix and he smiled and said he hoped I would still come back and eat at his restaurant anyway. I think he uses a lot of cuttings from his pot roast and sirloins to make his burger mix. This one worked for me!

Great narrative and descriptions, big fella. You bring back memories of my favorite story teller, Jean Shepherd. He did a video segment on South of the Border for his PBS series "Jean Shepherd's America." I have them all on VHS. One day, I hope to follow in your tire tracks, at least part of the way. May your tank be full and your stomach feel empty.

Apology accepted. Glad you liked the story. Yes I have. It happened only once, because most times, an establishment will offer another plate or will remove the charge voluntarily. In this instance, they were so rude that I tore up the charge slip and paid cash for the part of the meal we ate, leaving a tip for the waiter, which I placed in his hands directly (since he was not at fault). I absolutely refuse to be pushed or browbeaten by corporations or service establishments. More than once I've written or emailed to the CEOs of large establishments (AMEX) and gotten satisfaction by their interjection in the dispute. But that might make a good thread on the general forum--STORIES OF REVENGE! What did they do" What did you do? Goodie, I think I'll start it on the "General" forum.

I would never eat something that didn't please me so as not to insult anyone in the kitchen. On the contrary, when not happy with my dish in any important way, I will tell the staff about it and expect to be satisfied. If not, I will not pay for it. In the case of my story, however, you seem to ignore the point that the host was going an extra step to make up for his faux pas in forgetting the original order. He was such a nice and genuine man, that I didn't want him to think we rejected his peace offering. Obviously my brother-in-law and his wife had the same thought and did the same thing.

We've strayed far from your original question here, John, but the discourse prompts me to write of an event that happened many years ago and still lives large in the annals of our amusing trip experiences. On our way to Les Baux, we stopped for a night at an Auberge de Noves that had, at one time two Michelin stars, but then was down to one. (I think it has come back to fame and fortune again). The place was beautiful, the host charming, and as we signed in and set a time for dinner, we all agree to a souffle for dessert, for this was a signature dish of the place. Fast forward several hours, many bottles of champagne and wine and a very satisfying meal, and the dessert trolly is wheeled to the table. Looking confused, we said, "oh, but we'd commanded souffles all around." A bit of awkward back and forth revealed that our host had failed to put in the order. So we enjoyed a good desert from the trolly and reitre to our beautiful, antique-filled rooms on the second floor. Groaning, I lay on the bed and opened my belt. Soon a knock on the door. "Yes?" "Ici la souffle," came the reply. Opening the door in disbelief, there stood the waiter with two beautiful souffles, one for us and one for our travelling companions. I took ours and heard a similar act repeated down the hall. No way either my wife or I could even take a meaningful mouthful (well I did). What to do? Can't insult them by not eating it. Aha, the toilet. An antique affair with a wooden tank about ten feet in the air and a long pull chain. With so little pressure, it took about ten flushes (fifteen minutes) to get the delicate, lighter than air masterpiece to disappear. Nest morning we met our friends at the breakfast table in the courtyard and exchanged "bonjours" when my sister in law blurted out "do you know how hard it is to flush a souffle down these toilets?" Howls of laughter. That souffle is the most memorable dish I never ate.

Cabrales, now I understand what you mean. Yes it can cast a pall over one's mood when for weeks a particular place has been on your radar screen and you can't get to it. But then, if the "substitute" rises to the occasion, it should make the experience even sweeter, since it was serendipitous. The mention of planning vs. spontaneity is an interesting subject. We often reserve the real highlight places but also leave at least half the choices open for decision on route. Sometimes moods change, the previous meal affects one's appetites or preferences, so it's good to have some room to maneuver. That is as long as you have good reference sources available to you. On a trip through the Sologne, we made a wide detour to go through Tournus to eat at Grus. It was one of the best meals we've ever eaten. That was a planned stop, However, on the same trip, we stopped at the Hotel Tatin in Lamothe-Beuvron (the birthplace of the famous tart tatin), and enjoyed a spectacular meal of venison and game birds (of course finsihed off with a piece of the tart). As we've become more experenced travellers, we seem to make fewer "firm" reservations and more on the trail.

Not exactly on topic, but a numer of posts include photos. Are these your own or lifted from a web page. If they are your own, how did you get them into the post? I tried and failed. Must they be converted from JPEG's to another format? Sorry to interrupt an excellent and potentially valuable thread but I had to ask.

Do you mean that you think less of the places you go to because they are "default" choices and not your first choices? That hasn't happened to me, on the contrary, some of the most pleasant experiences have been spur of the moment changes or choices. That doesn't mean I don't carry around a sense of "unfinished business" and try to go to the missed place on the next trip, if possible.

I used your approach until I got grandma's coffee grinder. Now I crank out enough cracked pepper for a couple of tenderloins or giant rib-eyes in no time. I guess I'm just a cracked head.

Not really. A pepper mill grinds pepper too finely, even at the coursest setting if what you want is "cracked" pepper. These are much larger pieces, usually used to coat a piece of meat or fish to make a pepper crust. More finely ground pepper gets too strongly imbedded and spread over the surface of the meat and makes it too hot. When putting pepper in a recipe, you want to use a mill.

We stayed there in October. It is a spartan place with huge rooms, minimally furnished. The most enjoyable place there is a small salon where you may enjoy an excellent armangac in the evening. John, the restaurant is a waste of a meal. The food tastes as though it comes from frozen, prepared meals! You would do well to eat a big lunch and small supper if you do not want to wander afield at night for dinner. If you do want to go out, I would recommend the Moulin de Roc which is not far from Brantome. I'll post some photos to you via email.

Coursely cracked pepper is a great ingredient in many dishes, but a pain to do, until I bought a seventy year old hand cranked coffee grinder from a neighbor who was clearing out his mother's kitchen. It has a "mason jar" up top that threads into the mouth of the grinder, and a large set of burs turned by a cast iron handle. The residue falls into a large open mouth pestle I keep below the device. I bolted the whole to a piece of 6x6 mounted on a plywood base about 8" square. I keep the jar filled with a five peppercorn mix plus some course sea salt. Two or three turns and I have coursely cracked pepper. It is the best appliance in my kitchen.

And is called The .....MOMOBILE?

Steve, I hope you, your best friend and your other best friend have a wonderful, exciting, safe, good tasting, revealing, memorable, fun, and fulfilling trip. Maybe I missed this, but what are you driving?

I was contacted by a gourmet food importer who was friends with Jean and his wife. I don't recall how she got my name. I was running a large advertising agency at the time and we may have met at some media event. She was aware that I had a young son and thought he would make a good "companion" for the boy for two weeks. They offered to host my son for two weeks at the inn in Roanne in return. (I suggested I would be a better exchange student :)). As I said, JT was planning a move to New York, and since the boy had a French father (Yannick's previous husband), they wanted the boy to be as comfortable as possible with the move. This was during the period when several French chef's came here (La Coze for one). I think they wanted to escape the punative taxes and labor policies in France (this may be worth a separate thread), and also tap into the energy of New York that the Parisians seem to adore. I have no knowledge of the others in his family.

Robert you're mixing up your Jays. 'Twas I, JayBee, who told the story of Jean Troisgros. It was one of the most unreal situations we have been in, not to be able to tell this boy anything for two days, knowing the way his life was going to change! To answer you, I don't know what happened to him. I understood that the family did not take too kindly to Yannick after Jean died (I think she was a second wife), so I imagine she and her son left the restaurant. I've had no further contact with the family and have not been back to Roanne since. Jean was a very warm and serious person and, as you describe, Pierre was the more dramatic one. I understood that Jean was more the "student" of cuisine and Pierre is a master in the kitchen, but these are only impressions. I do recall that the salmon in sorel sauce was one of the dishes on the meal that Jean prepared for us. It is isad (and too bad for us New Yorkers) that Jean did not live to realize his plan to move to New York and open a restaurant here. BTW, isn't the CT in CTs Claude Troisgros, his oldest son?

Ajay and Robert, you are both right. I neglected to say that Paris has been the jumping off point for every trip we've taken. I took that for a given, but it should have been said. A typical itinerary includes two or three nights (meals) in Paris at the start and often one or two before flying home. Our Paris meals have been mostly in bistros for the past few years, owing to research for my in-law's guide book "Paris Bistros", and also because we enjoy the food and the less formal atmosphere that one finds in the starred places. My one regret, never having been at Robuchon's places. My sister-in-law found him in Jamin when it was a tiny place and raved about his food.

Lizziee, Lizziee, Lizziee, how could you imagine such posts as yours would be boring to ahhemm such enthusiasts as we? They were just the kind of thing (as well as the others here) I was hoping to elicit from this well travelled and super knowledgable gang. This is way better than porno! (not that I ever....) :D :D

Robert, your description of Troigros is very accurate, as well as the that of the brothers. We had the delightful cooincidence of agreeing to put up Jean Troisgro's step son, (then nine or ten) in our New York apartment about two weeks after our return from a trip that included eating at Troisgos. It seems Jean was planning to move to New York with his wife Yannick and her son, and they wanted the boy to feel comfortable with New York. My son, age twelve, was pressed into being an ambassador to a boy who spoke no English. We looked forward to getting into Roanne and meeting the parents. When our party of six arrived at the inn, we were greeted warmly and when seated in the dining room, the menus were pulled from our hands and the maitre 'd announced that "Msr. Jean will make you a meal." I have notes somewhere on the meal which I will attempt to retrieve and post here. (this was 1982). I recall it started with pan seared fois gras in a sauce that included pears (my first taste of such a dish), accompanied by a glass of chilled sauterne. One dish followed another in a splendid succession and I finished off the meal with a Hoyo De Monterrey Double Corona from Cuba. The rooms (we stayed in the inn) were air conditioned (fortunately since this was the hottest summer on record in France) and decorated in rich dark wood, much like a ship's cabin. The sad ending of the story is that one month later, (the boy had been with us for about five days) I picked up the New York Times on my way out the door and saw a small article on the bottom right front page headlined "Famed French Chef Dies." Apparently he was playing tennis in 100 degree heat and had a heart attack! We were asked not to tell the boy anything until his mother could come and get him in a day or so. A very sad ending to a wonderful encounter. A brief note about La Pyramide. We ate there in the late 70s when Madame Point was still overseeing the place. We had some trepidations, knowing what can happen when a restaurant turns into a museum. Our fears were groundless. We ate at a table in the garden in a beautiful setting. One dish I remember well was a large bowl of crayfish in a clear stock that was startingly tasty. (My notes on this meal are also buried in a drawer with old menus). I recall at the end of the meal I asked if we could get the famous "marjolane" (sp?) chocolate cake and the waiter smiled happily and said "toujours." Madame greeted us after dinner, showed us the kitchen and signed our cartes "Unne hommage gatronomique." It was also a very good meal.

Thanks to mchoi, Steve S, Wilfred, and Vingroff. We enjoyed a very satisfying dinner at City Hall: fried oysters, half shell oysters and clams, Delminico steaks, onion rings, hash browns, brussel sprouts, grilled tuna, mussles and martinis. A completely haimische (sp?) meal. The kind of place I want to come back to at least once a month if not more. I basked in the praise of my dinner mates for my choice! Henry Meer is a charming host and the service was flawless in a comfortable table that was ours for three hours. All at a price that was 25% less than I expected to spend. Steve S. (I think) said Meer has a knack of cooking food that tastes the way you remembered food tasted. I agree!