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mnebergall

eGullet Event - Ray's The Steaks

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Has the date been finalized?

Why not close the place for a few hours (ok, more than a few) for a private party, like Monica arranged at Passage to India? THAT would be fun.


Edited by otello (log)

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By the way, Jenny, I did not lie to you, I really am new to this--so please be gentle.

If I'm TOO gentle with you, your girlfriend might just kick my ass...

:blink:

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Any volunteers to organize this ???

I agree with Mark, a Sunday night would be ideal.

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As long as this guy doesn't get to come...

i9523.jpg

"You will pay for your bloody crimes against my

kind, Landrum. I am ... The Meatqualizer!"


"Mine goes off like a rocket." -- Tom Sietsema, Washington Post, Feb. 16.

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As long as this guy doesn't get to come...

i9523.jpg

"You will pay for your bloody crimes against my

kind, Landrum. I am ... The Meatqualizer!"

Nominee, "funniest thing I've seen this week".


Edited by John W. (log)

Firefly Restaurant

Washington, DC

Not the body of a man from earth, not the face of the one you love

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PS:  The one condition that I do have is that a registered lifeguard be on hand.  I am not taking any chances.

I was once a lifeguard,

and by this time next month, I'll be an Arlington resident .

This is a little off topic, but before you 'go away!' Michael...

I'm doing a pretty scholarly analysis on deviled eggs in this city and how a bunch of different chefs approach this glorious wonder.

I want to see how a meat and potato master would do deviled eggs. So, whenever this event takes place, I'll be down the road in the backyard, and we'll be waiting for you, all sweaty and beat by these eGulleteers; the wine keys will be in full swing, the Riedel glasses polished and waiting. And the eggs, the eggs, sitting on the counter looking at you. I'll pay $21 for a round of deviled eggs.


...

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My Dear Morela:

Since people insist on forcing on me the delusional thought that I am a real chef, I will offer up, as though I were a chef, my "recipe", if you will, for what I would call on my "small plates" or "appet-teaser" menu "Devilishly Good Eggs," or if I thought my clientele to be sufficiently pretentious, "Gatsby's West Eggs."

First, as a chef, I must insist on the finest, costliest, rarest and most seasonal ingredients and over-use them to a degree unthinkably crass in that ingredient's native region--out of season and outside of all cultural and culinary contexts that give the ingredient value in the first place, of course.

This recipe, therefore, would begin with only the freshest, local-sourced Faberge Eggs, preferably from the Catherine The Great era, but certainly from no lesser than the Nicholas the Second Regium Caesarus.

These I would bring to a boil, starting with cold, acidulated Volvic, for precisely the attention span of one of my girlfriend's while watching TRL with Carson Daly, or forty-seven seconds.

Next, I would remove the insides and fold (what non-chefs would call "mix") them with Sysco Extra-Heavy Duty Mayonnaise mixed with turmeric, paprika and roasted garlic. Except this mixture I would call "Roasted Garlic Aioli ala Mahon" so that a food critic would be able to use the word "garlicky" in a review of the dish, a prerequisite for any favorable review today, n'est ce pas?

Next, in a startlingly inventive display of my creative genius, I would repeat the same process with the freshest, brownest, organic-est, most locally-sourced egg and place that egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Done? Mais non!!

I would next, in a move sure to springboard me straight to Rocco status, repeat the above procedure with a quail egg and place THAT within the egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Those of you who know me already know what is next--that's right--a THOUSAND YEAR EGG obtained on my last helicoptor-dropped, sky-diving, hang-gliding, motorcycle-riding trek through the Himalayas where I have never been(actually, they have them at Hope Key) INSIDE the quail egg INSIDE the egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Now for plating:

I'd mix some green stuff in a blender with oil and call that an emulsion which I would squiggle on a plate with a--sorry guys, I hate to be the one to give away our secrets--ketchup squirt bottle.

Then I would take some root that used to be thrown away when the vegetable that we really wanted got dug up, preferably something that not too many people have heard of yet so that they don't know whether what they are eating is really good or not and so I can get the credit for being the first person to "discover" this ancient food source. This I would pass through this really cool Japanese crank kind of thing that you see on late night TV sometimes that makes everything all spirally and bird's-nest-y.

The real coup-de-grace comes when I incorporate an obscure condiment or seasoning that I have appropriated from another culture that I have absolutely NO knowledge of with another obscure condiment or seasoning that I have appropriated from another culture about which I know absolutely NOTHING. This combination must make no sense whatsoever and be completely and pretentiously discordant with whatever dish I was trying to prepare in the first place. The more dazzlingly out of place this combination is with MY native cuisine the better, since then no one can tell whether I can really cook or not. Especially since everyone in the local market is too provincially insecure to place any value in simple food well cooked and why we glorify any huckster with an accent and a fugitive warrant in his home country (come on, would YOU leave Italy, would YOU leave France, would YOU leave Spain? If you loved, truly loved, food and wine and exquisite cheeses? Didn't think so.). In this case it would be Uzbeki raw Yak milk creme fraiche with Tomiko, Nori and Bonito Flakes.

Ketchup squirt bottle time again, but this time in a way that Tom Sietsema could describe as "lapping the eggs." Or is it "napping the eggs?" Whatever, just make sure to use protection.

Next an egg "foam" and then an egg "powder" and then finally the server sprays you with an egg "aerosol," for an egg "eight-way" (gotcha, Mark--the Tomiko!!).

Now comes the important part, what really separates this dish from something you could do at home. First I make up some story about Nonna Giuseppina and how she taught me this dish AND about life growing up in my native village, which if you didn't come from there and didn't have a Nonna Giuseppina, you couldn't possibly know how to cook at all so shut up. Next I pay a publisist a ridiculous amount of money which I recoup through inflated prices to get this story in some food column somewhere.

This allows me to feature the dish in a special "Tasting Menu" --which I prepare personally for the select few, rich and priveleged, who delight in my very presence. Meanwhile I neglect the lesser diners who stupidly, as is their place, pay a premium for mediocre food and hostile service because my name is attatched to the forsaken, but lucrative, dining room.

The final touch is to join an other-wise pointless trade organization and join in the craven orgy of self-congratulation, and maybe win a prize.

There you have it--"Devilishly Good Eggs!"

Prep Time: Four Years, Nine Months, Two Days, Six Hours and Twenty-one Minutes

Serves: Approximately Three Egos


Edited by landrumm2000 (log)

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Wow, Michael, Dude, I was breathless when I finished reading this! I'm cornfused, when you stuff 4 things inside of each other is that called a ballotine or a gallantine? We should get together and create a dish that is based on mulched pages from Food Arts and miso.

Your newest acolyte,

Mark


Mark

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My Dear Morela:

Since people insist on forcing on me the delusional thought that I am a real chef, I will offer up, as though I were a chef, my "recipe", if you will, for what I would call on my "small plates" or "appet-teaser" menu "Devilishly Good Eggs," or if I thought my clientele to be sufficiently pretentious, "Gatsby's West Eggs."

First, as a chef, I must insist on the finest, costliest, rarest and most seasonal ingredients and over-use them to a degree unthinkably crass in that ingredient's native region--out of season and outside of all cultural and culinary contexts that give the ingredient value in the first place, of course.

This recipe, therefore, would begin with only the freshest, local-sourced Faberge Eggs, preferably from the Catherine The Great era, but certainly from no lesser than the Nicholas the Second Regium Caesarus.

These I would bring to a boil, starting with cold, acidulated Volvic, for precisely the attention span of one of my girlfriend's while watching TRL with Carson Daly, or forty-seven seconds.

Next, I would remove the insides and fold (what non-chefs would call "mix") them with Sysco Extra-Heavy Duty Mayonnaise mixed with turmeric, paprika and roasted garlic.  Except this mixture I would call "Roasted Garlic Aioli ala Mahon" so that a food critic would be able to use the word "garlicky" in a review of the dish,  a prerequisite for any favorable review today, n'est ce pas?

Next, in a startlingly inventive display of my creative genius, I would repeat the same process with the freshest, brownest, organic-est, most locally-sourced egg and place that egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Done?  Mais non!!

I would next, in a move sure to springboard me straight to Rocco status, repeat the above procedure with a quail egg and place THAT within the egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Those of you who know me already know what is next--that's right--a THOUSAND YEAR EGG obtained on my last helicoptor-dropped, sky-diving, hang-gliding, motorcycle-riding trek through the Himalayas where I have never been(actually, they have them at Hope Key) INSIDE the quail egg INSIDE the egg WITHIN the Faberge egg.

Now for plating:

I'd mix some green stuff in a blender with oil and call that an emulsion which I would squiggle on a plate with a--sorry guys, I hate to be the one to give away our secrets--ketchup squirt bottle.

Then I would take some root that used to be thrown away when the vegetable that we really wanted got dug up, preferably something that not too many people have heard of yet so that they don't know whether what they are eating is really good or not and so I can get the credit for being the first person to "discover" this ancient food source.  This I would pass through this really cool Japanese crank kind of thing that you see on late night TV sometimes that makes everything all spirally and bird's-nest-y.

The real coup-de-grace comes when I incorporate an obscure condiment or seasoning that I have appropriated from another culture that I have absolutely NO knowledge of with another obscure condiment or seasoning that I have appropriated from another culture about which I know absolutely NOTHING.  This combination must make no sense whatsoever and be completely and pretentiously discordant with whatever dish I was trying to prepare in the first place.  The more dazzlingly out of place this combination is with MY native cuisine the better, since then no one can tell whether I can really cook or not.  Especially since everyone in the local market is too provincially insecure to place any value in simple food well cooked and why we glorify any huckster with an accent and a fugitive warrant in his home country (come on, would YOU leave Italy, would YOU leave France, would YOU leave Spain?  If you loved, truly loved, food and wine and exquisite cheeses?  Didn't think so.).  In this case it would be Uzbeki raw Yak milk creme fraiche with Tomiko, Nori and Bonito Flakes.

Ketchup squirt bottle time again, but this time in a way that Tom Sietsema could describe as "lapping the eggs."  Or is it "napping the eggs?"  Whatever, just make sure to use protection.

Next an egg "foam" and then an egg "powder" and then finally the server sprays you with an egg "aerosol," for an egg "eight-way" (gotcha, Mark--the Tomiko!!).

Now comes the important part, what really separates this dish from something you could do at home.  First I make up some story about Nonna Giuseppina and how she taught me this dish AND about life growing up in my native village, which if you didn't come from there and didn't have a Nonna Giuseppina, you couldn't possibly know how to cook at all so shut up.  Next I pay a publisist a ridiculous amount of money which I recoup through inflated prices to get this story in some food column somewhere. 

This allows me to feature the dish in a special "Tasting Menu" --which I prepare personally for the select few, rich and priveleged, who delight in my very presence.  Meanwhile I neglect the lesser diners who stupidly, as is their place, pay a premium for mediocre food and hostile service because my name is attatched to the forsaken, but lucrative, dining room.

The final touch is to join an other-wise pointless trade organization and join in the craven orgy of self-congratulation, and maybe win a prize.

There you have it--"Devilishly Good Eggs!" 

Prep Time:  Four Years, Nine Months, Two Days, Six Hours and Twenty-one Minutes

Serves:  Approximately Three Egos

Dear Michel (pronounced meeeeee-shell):

Thanks for taking your time to respond to my query. Linda Roth and I will be busy for months with this one, and to celebrate your craftmenship, I'm going to call the dealership today and have my Rolls Royce delivered. I've decided on Royal Blue. Don't make me laugh so hard, my Botox is coming out of my eyes.

Why did you forget to use the words infusion and essence? That threw me off at first, because don't real chefs like to use those words too?

Best wishes,

Morela


Edited by morela (log)

...

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PS:  The one condition that I do have is that a registered lifeguard be on hand.  I am not taking any chances.

I could bring my daugher, she's a lifeguard. Assuming we do this on an evening when she is not lifeguarding. And she is a big fan of Chef Michael.

Edited to add: We should do this at a time when the most people are available. I've tried to organize something twice, and the exercise is akin to herding cats.


Edited by mnebergall (log)

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My Dear Morela:

As anyone who has seen Dr. Strangelove knows, "essence" can be one thing and one thing only; that is not for guests, no matter how well-heeled and adoring.

As well, in my own vernacular, I save my "infusions" for more private settings, real chef or not, and I make certain they never end up on any plate (ugh).

Back to the cave.

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I ate at Ray's the Steak last night and it was wonderful, i had the house special, my husband the 20 oz strip! My steak was perfectly cook, seared on the outside and with that wonderful peppercorn on ethe outside. The mushroom sauce was delicious. I couldn't finish it though. My piggy hub though ate his whole steak!

I also had the crabcake appetizer, we shared one. Mike would not tell me what his binder was, says it is a secret, I am guessing some sort of fish mousse, regardless it was wonderful!

And now I have to apologize to Mike, the table next to mine asked how the food was, I said great, but also said the desserts were so-so compared to the steaks! Mike caught the so-so part.....even though we had originally ordered only one key lime pie and then ordered another after the first. Mike I am so sorry, it really was very very good.

I have to say, this is the first time I have ever seen the chef in the dining room helping the staff! Kudo's to you Mike. I would of loved to have worked for someone like you when I waited tables! (and besides that he is kind of cute....)

I can't wait to go back! Again sorry about the desserts Mike. :rolleyes:


Edited by raisab (log)

Paris is a mood...a longing you didn't know you had, until it was answered.

-An American in Paris

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These I would bring to a boil, starting with cold, acidulated Volvic, for precisely the attention span of one of my girlfriend's while watching TRL with Carson Daly, or forty-seven seconds.

Nice!!!


I wanna say something. I'm gonna put it out there; if you like it, you can take it, if you don't, send it right back. I want to be on you.

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My Dear Morela:

As anyone who has seen Dr.  Strangelove knows, "essence" can be one thing and one thing only;  that is not for guests, no matter how well-heeled and adoring.

As well, in my own vernacular, I save my "infusions" for more private settings, real chef or not, and I make certain they never end up on any plate (ugh).

Back to the cave.

If all of what you say is true...

Why isn't your newborn son named Ray? Don't real chef name their restaurants after babies or pitted fruit? :biggrin:

Where's your website with all the photos? Where's your limo with the "Ray2000" vanity plate?


Edited by morela (log)

...

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So can we pick a date? We should keep in mind RW and our picnic on Sunday.

Mike, are you going to let us take over the place?


True Heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic.

It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost,

but the urge to serve others at whatever cost. -Arthur Ashe

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I ate at RTS last night for the first time. In good company, I dined with the venerable JohnW and MoD. Calling a full 2 hours ahead, we were able to snag the table closest to the kitchen so the chef could play sommelier and generally kibbitz. The starkness of the decor focuses eyes on the plates. I suppose large paintings of happy cows gamboling in the field would detract from the seriousness of the cooking here. We had some really tasty apps: crab cakes, scampi, onion soup and caesar salad plus a surprise dish of scallops and jumbo shrimp. Steaks were uniformly perfect, as were the sides of mashed potato and creamed spinach. Best rib-eye I can remember eating. A good time was had by all.


Mark

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I showed up at their door 30 minutes b4 opening. They were very accomadating. Oh and great winelist, had one of their summer reccomendations, a petite syrah at only 35 a bottle and it was actually so very good. Mind you I had purple teeth at the end of the meal.....


Paris is a mood...a longing you didn't know you had, until it was answered.

-An American in Paris

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Roger Troutman and I have reservations there Saturday night.

I can't wait after reading so much about it.

So in your opinion, what is THE app. to get? Do I stick with the crab cake?


Jennifer

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Skip the apps and save more room for MEAT.

Sister, I am on a low-carb diet so no problem there.

In fact I may have meat with a side of meat


Jennifer

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Skip the apps and save more room for MEAT.

Sister, I am on a low-carb diet so no problem there.

In fact I may have meat with a side of meat

I'll eat your potatoes!

(file that under "phrases that sound dirty, but aren't)

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Skip the apps and save more room for MEAT.

Sister, I am on a low-carb diet so no problem there.

In fact I may have meat with a side of meat

Devilishly Good Eggs? It's worth a shot!


...

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Skip the apps and save more room for MEAT.

Sister, I am on a low-carb diet so no problem there.

In fact I may have meat with a side of meat

Devilishly Good Eggs? It's worth a shot!

Bingo.

I shall eat the Devilishly Good Eggs WITH the Cowboy cut with shrooms and creamed spinich, I think.

I couldn't get a reservation until 9pm this Saturday. Damn, I will be HUNGRY.

But thanks Mike for getting me in.


Jennifer

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looks like we had an egullet event their last night...i was a walk in around 8:15 with my fiance...

i saw the venerable john w. walk in with his posse...

i pointed him out to my fiance...she was quite taken aback; i was jealous the rest of the night.

but i had a nice flat iron.


Nothing quite like a meal with my beautiful wife.

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