Through Hard Work And A Lot of Eating

My interest in getting started on Yelp was accidental. We got invited by one of my wife's friends to go to an Elite Yelp event last year. For some reason, I never thought an event of this kind ever existed. The event was all about desserts and it was free to those on the invite list. Free food. Free party favors by Yelp. Great way to meet new people to talk about food. Did I mention the food was free?

We talked to one Elite "Yelper" that day and she said it wasn't too difficult to become an Elite Yelper. You need to eat and write a lot of reviews and use Yelp as often as you can. I do eat A LOT. I do like to write, even though my wife is right that I need to proof read what I'm writing [which is what I'm doing right now] because there are a lot of grammatical mistakes the first go around. But the draw was the free food that day. And it wasn't a bunch of Oreos and Chip Ahoys sitting on the table. There were some really fabulous desserts there and even though it was sugar overload, it was a fun way to have food as the catalyst for social networking. So, why not?

For the last year, as you can see above, I have made "friends" on Yelp, written about 100 reviews locally and from our travels [most notably New York, London and Paris], offered tips, and created lists. I've come to really enjoy writing reviews and reading other people's reviews. On October 14, 2010, I officially became an Elite Yelper. The angels sang, the heavens opened as I dreamt about the different Yelp events we will get to go to...[Taking a moment to look out the window in bliss]...OK, the angels didn't sing, the heavens didn't open, but nonetheless, I was still really happy.

Food is still, to me, the quintessential social force that draws people together. One can argue alcohol is, but I still think food is what evokes the memories of people when they remember their past the most. It helps chefs/cooks innovate new dishes based on classics of yore. It creates memories of places and people that perhaps only music, as the other medium, could conjure up. But what even music can't even do is to get a small group [less than 20] of people, friends or not, to come together and be the focal point starting conversation and leading that to people talking about their lives, interests, hobbies, etc. I don't hear a lot of people saying, "Hey guys, got the new U2 CD, come over and we'll see how it compares to their other ones." While music still has high impact in connecting people, food has flourished in the social media. People are passionate about great food and service as well as crap food and service. People want to express themselves in the way they prepare food, eat food and write about food. As with music, there is a lot of high and lows about making something out of basic ingredients. But we have to be realistic, not everyone can be Bono or Chris Martin, but everyone needs to eat. Whether you're making a simple PBJ or creating a new dish from the basic PBJ, there's a process that goes from an idea or just basic hunger, to putting food on a plate and eating it. Not everyone can be Thomas Keller and Gordon Ramsay, but everyone prepares food in one way or another. Not everyone loves food or the passion to cook food, but everyone has a palate that tells them if what they just ate was good or bad.

Being an Elite Yelper, I've come to realize, it's not just about writing reviews endlessly, get the Elite status and you're done. It's more than just putting your "Yelper" flair to what you write. It's still about remembering the moment in which you are at a particular restaurant and eating a particular food. It has helped me to remember our travels as much as, if not more,writing a review about my apathy towards Baja Fresh. And that is what being an Elite Yelper means to me. Yes, it's really cool to continue to be an ambassador for Yelp, but it's also about meeting new people, reading what they have to say, and having a connection, even if it's a digital one, to other people. In our day and age, where people starve for relationships, where Facebook and Twitter has become the norm in how we keep up with our friends, it is only realistic to do the same with food. Because food is still what brings people together.

How Corporate America Makes Us Unhealthy

The coupons section of the Sunday paper, for many, must be a treasure trove of money saving goodness. Where else can you get multiple sections of coupons and savings every single week. And on the things that we need to subsist on [namely food], no less! Only in America, right?

I used to think that coupons in the Sunday paper was so great. You can clip and save a ton of money when you go to the grocery store. But over the last 15 years, there have only been a handful of food coupons that I have actually used. Why? Don't I want to save money? Am I happy to pay retail for food? But if you look at the coupons that Corporate America [Nabisco, Coca Cola, etc.] are handing out, they are telling you what you want to eat. And you know what? It's scary. I would say for every 10 food coupons [I'm not talking about make up, dog food, and useless supplements] I see, there are only 1, maybe 2 items that I would even eat. And not on a regular basis. The coupons you see are mainly frozen foods, processed foods, buy-more-than-you-can-eat-so-you-can-save-$0.50 kind of food. Even though there are granola bars, Healthy Choice, Lean Cuisines out there to be had and saved money on, it is loaded with sugar and sodium. Two ingredients I think we can use less of.

But how can a family of 4, with a single income survive without some savings? How can Timmy and Sally get their nutritious meals without costing mommy and daddy a king's ransom? Well, our food industry has solved our problems. They have kindly sent coupons of their own foods to our home every week. How thoughtful of them to give up some profit for the sake of a family to buy already packed meals at a discount! Once again, Corporate America has come to the rescue.

It really is a bunch of crap. Corporate America, out of their need to increase shareholder value and the bonuses of their upper management, has taken America's health to the limit. Sugar, sodium, and preservatives have ruled the food industry for years. And our minds are force fed, every day, that our time is too precious. Too precious for anything and anyone. Cooking? Puh-lease. I get that when you have a family, it takes every last ounce of energy out of you. And I'm not about to stand on a soapbox to say that life is easy or that everyone in this country can knock out meal after meal in their kitchen with organic products and made-from-scratch meals. But damn, we have got to try. The amount of sugar and sodium that is in that prepackaged crap we call food is not investing in our health. A home cooked meal of fresh ingredients doesn't have to mean an 18 course tasting menu from the French Laundry. It does take more time to prepare, mentally, what needs to be cooked. But I'm with Jamie Oliver, Gordon Ramsay, and Anthony Bourdain on this one: Cook SOMETHING. The amount of money you think you're saving by buying crappy frozen foods, no matter how many coupons you clip, cannot be compared to the money you're really saving by making your own spaghetti sauce and freezing that instead. No, you cannot freeze it for 3 months, but you get to control the salt, sugar, and other ingredients you're eating.

I'm not against all sugar and salt because heck, I love going out to eat. But we never buy frozen foods as a meal. NEVER. Our lives cannot afford it. No matter how many coupons we clip and no matter how much money we think we're saving. We have to bring cooking back into the homes in our country. Our lives depend on it.

Being Uppity and Loving It

If having afternoon tea at the Grosvenor House in Hyde Park, London makes me snobby or uppity, my response would be to quote the once beloved but later maligned Marie Antoinette, "Let them eat cake [brioche]!" Which is to say, "I don't care what you think."

No matter how you feel about afternoon tea, you must overcome this colonial travesty of the upper crust drinking tea and eating scones with clotted cream while the oppressed locals work in the fields. That is a separate issue than the dining experience itself. When done well, like the Grosvenor House Park Room in London, it is one of the quintessential experiences of what the British has brought forth to its colonies - India, Hong Kong, just to name a couple. However, if legends be told is true, it originated in Portugal, only to be brought to England when Catherine of Braganca married Charles II in 1661. It wasn't until Anna Maria Russell, Duchess of Bedford, transformed afternoon tea into more of a meal in the afternoon than a refreshment. Of course, many Brits don't normally take in the afternoon tea ritual anymore, but nonetheless, it is a tradition that's been well kept, even if the people who partake in the tea now are tourists.

History lessons aside, when the tower of morsels come to the table, one can only imagine what it must have been like to be a Duke or a Duchess back in the 17th or 18th century. The main attraction, of course, is the tea itself. To me, there's nothing finer than eating a scone/finger sandwich/pastry and washing that down with an English Breakfast blend with the right amount of milk and sugar. That is, I'm told, the proper way of taking tea. And to be even more proper English, to drink and eat from fine china is the penultimate of enjoying afternoon tea.

We definitely got all that and more at the Park Room in the Grosvenor House. For about 2 hours, we embrace that dining experience as much as anything else on our trip. To me, it's not just that it's English afternoon tea, but that it has to be properly done. You can't just throw in any type of tea. You can't serve it with a Starbucks scone and say you've had English afternoon tea, although I am sure many do that nowadays. It's got to be with fine china, loose leaf teas, finger sandwiches comprised of cucumber, salmon, and egg salad, and an assortment of scones and pastries. That's the way a duke or duchess would have it. Anything else would be, well, uncivilized.

The Agony of the American Food Court

Why is it that every time I walk into a food court, almost always exclusively in a mall, I get this sense of dread. A dread that slowly turns to death. The death to foods, which ironically should be found in a food court, where battles are won by how tragically low we Americans have come to the state of a meal.

Now, the rest of the world is no stranger to the concept of food courts. You can find them in Asia and Europe. But there's something amiss in the food courts that we so desperately hold on to as "food" that we miss the point of a food court. A food court should be a place where one can find good food. The first and foremost thing about the food court is, imagine that, the food! But we have perversed the notion of a food court to a cheap experience where food is not central, but by how fast and how cheap the food can be that has become the standard by which we contemplate our taste for anything resembling food.

The picture I took above is from Harrod's Food Hall in London. Now, Harrods is the world's biggest department store. It is both magnificent as it is intimidating. And for thousands of shoppers at any given time, you have to keep them happy, if not by the selection of your merchandise, then by keeping them in your store for as long as possible by offering them food. But this Food Hall is so very different than ours here in the States. There are different areas, one that serves seafood, one that serves grill foods, one that serves pizza, etc. You might say, "Well, that's not that different than what we have here." If you looked at the surface, you would be right. But sit down at the seafood counter and you are greeted by items such as crab and rock shrimp dumplings, seafood bouillabaisse, pan roasted halibut with seasonal vegetables and the like. Here in the States, you will find "Pretzel Wetzel" and "Hot Dog on a Stick". Let's not even start with the taste of the foods. We ordered the seafood bouillabaisse and it tasted like it came from a really good seafood restaurant with a bill to fit. Amazing bouillabaisse period, regardless of where it's being served.

Now, to be fair to the cheap American substitutes we find here, the Harrod's Food Hall is not cheap. But you can't put lipstick on a pig and bring her to the prom. The bouillabaisse is damn good. Harrod's could not stiff you with a £14 bouillabaisse if it were crap. You would cry bloody murder and let's face it, the Food Hall would be empty. But look at the picture! It was taken at 4PM on a WEEKDAY. It is humming with people - people from all over the world. We sat next to a family from Italy. On the other side, a family from Russia.

That's where the "let's be fair" ends. Because we seem to love Auntie Anne's more than bouillabaisse. We seem to love hot dogs on a stick served by teenagers with weird Halloween costume than eat crab and rock shrimp dumplings. Why? I think it's because our values are different. Clearly different. We value fast, quick, cheap, so we can get to the other fast, cheap, bargain at the Gap. We don't want to sit down and enjoy a meal at the mall, we want to shop dammit! And nothing will get in our way of totally destroying our credit line, not the least some good food! Just give us the crap you wouldn't even serve your kids. We'll eat it!

It's sad really. I like Auntie Anne's and I don't even know who she is. Or if she's even a woman in real life. But I just cannot be OK with the type of food we are setting a standard in our lives. It's not OK to shove a sBarros thick crust pizza that's nothing but frozen dough and crappy cheese so we can keep shopping. As guilty as the next person, I need to stop and enjoy a meal, no matter where I'm at. It doesn't have to be bouillabaisse and it doesn't have to cost a lot. But it needs to be good and fresh ingredients. My existence depends on it.

Creating Memories

London. Paris. Rome. They're such iconic cities. Names, when uttered, evoke emotions. Memories. They are totally different, yet they are very similar.

We had the fortune to have visited all three cities now. Rome in 2008. London and Paris in 2010. Whereas Rome is known as the Eternal City, London and Paris has its own eternal aura about them. The English, for so long, have been derided for their lack of imagination in its cuisines. Even fish and chips, as iconic as that dish is, has its day in the shadows to the Italians and French in its culinary circles. And yet, over the last decade, England has created and forged many of the best restaurants in the world. Gordon Ramsay, a Scot, has the most Michelin stars of any English chef in the world. In fact, he is only behind the "Chef of the Century", Joel Robuchon in the number of Michelin stars. "Fat Duck" has been perennially been competing with Spain's "El Bulli" as the best restaurant in the world.

So, it's not hard to believe that once you get past the obvious, the sights and sounds of London and Paris, that what rests in the soul, or at least the gastronomical souls, of traveling through these two magnificent cities is the food. I could write for days on end about the Westminster Abbey, Parliament Square, Buckinghamd Palace, the Louvre, Versailles Palace, etc. And yet, I can also write for days about the foods we had on this trip.

Haute cuisine did not greet us every day on our 12 days splash to London and Paris this summer, but that's not the only way memories are created. A cup of "cafe", the smell of a boulangerie, the grand luxury of afternoon tea - these are not "haute cuisines", and yet, they brand our hearts and minds with association to cities we've visited. On this trip, we certainly had our fair share of haute cuisines, although we did not visit the royal-ness of a Joel Robuchon or a Gordon Ramsay, we nonetheless ate well in both cities.

Now, whenever I drink a "cafe", I will always remember Paris. More specifically, I will always remember La Regalade, that wonderful restaurant on Rue de Honore by the Louvre. The next time I have a scone, I will always be transported to the Grosvenor House by Hyde Park. These are memories that God willing, will stay in my heart and mind until I am no longer here, only to be greeted by it again when I get to heaven.

Traveling isn't just about seeing the sights and understanding how they are incorporated into the history of that city. It's not rushing into the Louvre and snap some pictures of the Mona Lisa and it's on to another piece of artwork without understanding the importance that painting and artist has had over the ages. Traveling is also about the tastes and smells of the foods that bring us comfort and that open the door for us to see and experience new things. The comfort of English tea will always remind me of England, but eating and experiencing something new, like a tuna tartare at Le Regalade will always remind me that food is ever changing and evolving. One doesn't always have to eat fish and chips where the fish is always cod. Hammock and chips is just as good, if not better.

Part of life is about creating new memories that will fill our lives with richness and depth. We ought to appreciate the importance of why the Magna Carte is so important to the history of democracy. And, we also ought to appreciate the tastes and smells of a city as defined by its foods. There's nothing wrong with eating at McDonalds when you're in Paris, but why transport a memory you already own to a place you have never visited, or have not re-visited in a long time? Isn't it time to create some new memories? It was for us. It was for me.

Two Numbers That Changed The World

You could see the sign if you looked for it, but in the throngs of people walking toward whatever destination they were headed to, it's a little tough to tell. The picture above was taken in Times Square, June 2010. It was a hot and humid day and we had already walked from The Met to the Apple Store on 5th Ave and 60th Street via Central Park. We then walked from there to Rockefeller Center and finally to Times Square. We had walked a lot that day, especially in the suffocating New York summer.

The sign I referred to above is The Roxy. I've eaten at The Roxy twice. The first time was with my brother when I visited him in CT and we had gone down to New York to watch one of the best plays in recent memory: Angels In America. For lunch, he took me to The Roxy, a delicatessen that would give Adam Richman, of Man vs. Food fame, a run for his girth. I remember what I had ordered: A chicken salad bacon sandwich. What came out was not a sandwich. It was a statement. A statement that said, "I dare you." And of course, there was no way. A triple decker sandwich that was loaded with at least 1/2 pound of bacon and then another 1/2 pound of chicken salad with 3 slices of gigantic bread and cheese to boot. It was by far, the scariest, yet inviting thing I had known to that point. We gorged on our own sandwiches with delight, but ultimately defeated with ignominy.

The second and last time I ate at the Roxy was clearly on September 14, 2001. Four days after 9/11. Who would have thought the numbers 9 and 11 would forever be imprinted in our minds and hearts for those who lived through it, no matter what city or country you were in at the time. For us [my mom, brother and I], we were right dead center in New York City near Wall Street, 5 avenue blocks away from the World Trade Center. It took us 3 days of calls to United Airlines and my cousin finally getting through in San Francisco to get my mom and I back home. My brother, who had lived near Wall Street at the time, had to live through the aftermath of a city that to this day, no doubt, continues to heal from that infamous day.

The day we finally left the city to my cousin's home in New Jersey was a rainy and cool September day. With public transit still down, we walked with our suitcases, dozens of blocks to the nearest working subway line to get a train to Times Square. We had time for one more meal in New York, and we settled for The Roxy.

I still remember what I had that day: Pastrami and eggs with hash browns. The boat load of food came and I looked at the portions thinking, "The city was just struck by the worse terrorist attack in history and The Roxy is still churning out ridiculous portions." Those eggs and pastrami never tasted so good. I can still feel the taste and the heat of the food down my throat and into my empty stomach. You have to understand that for 3 days, nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing was open where we were except for various places in Chinatown. Nothing was getting down to Downtown. No deliveries, no news, no electricity, no hot water. NOTHING. So, when I put a forkful of eggs and pastrami in my mouth, it imprinted not only the taste, but a memory for me. On our way out of Roxy to get the ride to Jersey, I had gotten a gigantic chocolate dipped palmier. That sucker was the size of a frisbee. And I took that thing all the way to Jersey and on the plane when we finally left the city on 9/16.

That was the last taste of New York for me for almost 9 years. We didn't eat at The Roxy on our recent trip to New York. We didn't have enough meals to fit it in our schedule. But I had to take a picture of the place where I ate my last meal in New York just days after the terrorist attack.

The Roxy is not the best place to eat in New York, nor would anyone say it's near the top 5 delicatessens. But for me, it's a place of refuge where we had none. A place where people, still talking about the events of the World Trade Center, came to eat, live, and be satisfied - if only to satisfy their hunger. It took 9 years for me to go back to New York. Not because of 9/11, but life happens. This time around, I am married and I enjoyed the city as if it were my first time there because I came with my wife. Next time, I will surely visit The Roxy again, if only to get the cartoonish frisbee size chocolate dipped palmier.

Wait, But Is It A High Class Food Court?

The first thoughts I had about the Chelsea Market is how chic and wonderful it is. We have nothing like that around these parts, not unless you want to count outdoor "malls", which I don't. It's filled with various cafe's, markets, and dessert shops. One of the places I saw was a spot called Fat Witch, which we didn't try because we just didn't need anymore sugar and butter to our already fattening dining itinerary. But oh did it look good and boutique-y.

We did eat at a spot called Ronnybrook Dairy Farm for lunch, which you can read about my review here. It was a spot for both savory and sweet and it was a good spot to hit on the day we left. Iron Chef Masuharu Morimoto has also opened his restaurant there called Morimoto, but we didn't get a chance to dine there.

Then I started to think. Is this really just an upper crust kind of food court? I mean, there are food courts [the kind you find at the outlet malls] and then there are food courts [with italics to show they're unique and kind of snooty]. And in doing research on Wikipedia about the Chelsea Market, it is labeled as an "urban food court". So my thoughts were not totally off, but can you really call it a food court? To put the Chelsea Market in the same breath as a sBarros and a Charley's Steakery just doesn't seem right. And, it's not. No matter what category you think Chelsea Market ought to be in, it is not, in my mind, a food court. There's no "court", a central area where you wander aimlessly to figure out what grotesque food item combos you're going to ingest, then sit down with the other tired shoppers who are eating to merely get mor energy to pump more money back in our battered economy. There's also no Auntie Anne's or Wetzel Pretzel, a sure sign that you are definitely in a food court. And of course, there's no sBarros, the pantheon of all food court royalty cafes where they somehow think that more processed Parmesan cheese is what diners want.

I would be proud if we had a Chelsea Market where we lived. But for now, I'm staring down the barrel of Panda Expresses, sBarros, and pretzel places where our appetites and diets go for a slow death. I don't hate food courts, heck I've eaten at them with gladness at times, but no one can deny that as far as food goes, there is a fine line between edible and barely edible. And that's where food courts come to help you decide. The Chelsea Market offers fresh, organic, and truly good food that doesn't lead one to think how much chemicals did I just ingest. It's a place where one can wander and let your senses dictate what you want to eat. Then you go in to that cafe/restaurant and eat. No centralized area where people are herded like cattle to sit and dine. You sit and dine where you order your food. What a novel idea.

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So Close, And Yet So Damn Close

Gray's Papaya. It's meant to illicit thoughts of hot dog heaven. Everyone in New York knows about Gray's Papaya. So, we had to go and try it, right? Right.

Gay Pride Parade. It's meant to illicit freedom of individuals. Everyone in New York knows about the Gay Pride Parade. That's a good thing, right? Sure.

Gray's Papaya, meet the Gay Pride Parade. Gay Pride Parade, meet Gray's Papaya. That's what happened to us on our way to Gray's Papaya near Greenwich Village. We had walked a lot that day. I mean A LOT. We had only had a bagel sandwich and half of a crappy chicken salad sandwich at 'WichCraft, of which you can read about my scathing review here on Yelp. We needed energy. We needed, a hot dog. And not just any hot dog, because we could have had one via the Sabrett hot dog carts. No, we had to have Gray's Papaya.

When we reached Greenwich village, we were met head on by the parade and its barricades. We walked patiently along Waverly, then turned right on 6th Ave. Pushing, shoving, weaving through the throng that was amongst us in the heavy afternoon air on a hot summer day in June in New York. We get to the corner of 6th Ave and 8th Street. And there it was. The picture you see above. We were about 50 feet from Gray's Papaya. And we crossed the....Wait. There is a metal barricade blocking us from crossing the street to Gray's. Oh no. It was the parade. 50 feet!!!! Could we climb over the barricades and jump over to Gray's? No chance. The NYC police were strewned along the street. And then the free condoms were thrown into the frenzied crowd and we were defeated. Defeated because we had come so far only to be stopped by the Gay Pride Parade from our destination. But that did not deter us. We walked along 8th Street back towards 5th Ave. Our legs felt heavier by each step. Side stepping overly excited supporters who would not let the heat stop them from being part of the party. We walked to the end of the parade and crossed the street. Again, being pushed, shoved, and shuffled our way for another 15 minutes until we got to Gray's.

We had arrived. Gray's Papaya. We were hot, sweaty, tired, and parched. We saw a sign that read, "Stimulus Combo - 2 Franks and a drink for $4.99". Bingo. That was our ticket to energy and dining heaven. One plain Gray's Papaya hot dog and one with "everything". We looked at each other and thought, "For what we had to go through to get here, this better be one damn tasty dog." We took a bite. "Dammit. It tastes like a damn hot dog," I thought to myself. I expended my last bit of energy for a hot dog. Nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a damn dog.

Sure, our experience of struggling to just get there took all of our expectations to new heights. But at the end of the day, it is just a dog. A dog that had been on the griddle and shoved in a bun. Just like many other dogs. Nothing is ever what it seems. We thought we would be enjoying a great hot dog from a local favorite spot and what we got was a gallon of sweat, energy sucked to the bone, and unmet expectations.

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Escape From Food Stills

Leave it to Anthony Bourdain to give us such classics as the infamous "Kitchen Confidential", "A Cook's Tour", and now "No Reservations".  And yet, he's able to give us more than a dream, the dream of eating and traveling.  He's given us, "Food Porn".  "Food Porn" are two episodes from his acclaimed "No Reservations" show that basically specializes in money "shots", video stills, of mouth watering and finger licking shots of beautiful foods.  You get the picture [so to speak].  I'd like to think that he's also satirizing people like me who use to take pictures of their food before we eat.

I've read a lot of food blogs out there.  While I can attest that many of the blogs are quite good, I am now feeling deflated about taking pictures of food, preferably before eating, during a single 3 [or more] course meal.  On a recent trip to New York, I had to ask myself, "Why do I take pictures of food, even if only to innocently share them on the internet?"  There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking pictures of food, especially if you are a professional photographer, chef, cook, or pretty much make your living from the food industry.  I call that, livelihood.  But for us amateurs who just want to enjoy ourselves, what gives?

I recently read that many chefs would scoff, no, would puke at the thought of diners taking pictures of their food like they're Ansel Adams.  Different angles, different lighting.  Chefs can be a short fused bunch I hear, and it would be no surprise to me that if they were to ever see me take pictures of their food, they would come storming out of the kitchen and say, "Just eat the f-ing thing, will ya!!!!"

More than just my fear of cooks/chefs, is my respect for food and those in the food service industry.  I don't have to take pictures of every single damn course at a Daniel Boulud restaurant to be tickled pink that I am about to have an amazing dining experience.  Even though the old saying is a picture is worth a thousand words, what they don't tell you is that pictures are, at best, 2-dimensional.  You can see it, but you can't experience it.  And in dining, it's about the experience and the memories it either creates or illicits.  So, during our short trip to New York and hereon moving forward, you will no longer see "food porn" shots from me.  It's a good thing really.  I'm just a guy who loves to experience food at its finest and sometimes, not so finest.  And to take pictures of it seem to cheapen that experience by giving a blow-by-blow like I'm a boxing announcer ["And here comes the appetizer...holy smokes!!!!".  We need to start using our imagination more, especially when everything isn't explained to death.  So, just imagine what I'm writing as something that would take you into that dining experience.  It won't be the same, but then again, that's a good thing.

Eating Landscapes Need To Change

Living here in Orange County has some great advantages.  Safe, clean, and new.  But in the underbelly of the culinary and food landscape is a dangerous undercurrent of the "big box" restaurants taking over.

Before I go any further, I don't mean that in a specific sense - that there are no good restaurants in the OC.  That's just not true.  With restaurants like Marche' Moderne, Mastro's, Sushi Kappo and the like, there are dining experiences to be had.  What concerns me is the frequency and regularity in which big box restaurants like BJ's, Chili's, Yardhouse, CPK, PF Chang's, Panera Bread, and let's not forget the ever present and ubiquitous Corner Bakery, have risen from the ashes of capitalistic companies that will stop at nothing until you hand over your taste buds.  Many of you will say, "Hey, lay off BJ's, they have great happy hour!"  To which I say that I actually eat at BJ's.  I like it.  But to have a place like BJ's define my taste buds for what a pizza should taste like is scarier than watching "The Exorcist" with the lights off on Halloween.

As I drive around town, I can't tell you the number of big box restaurants that are opening.  What I can tell you is that it is increasingly clear that there is no room in the OC for new family run restaurants that give a community its identity.  You will never find Guy Fieri's ghastly "Diners, Drive-In, and Dives" in Orange County.  Why?  Because the old establishments are gone and new ones that rise do not rise where big box restaurants come to hunt and kill.  "To kill and be killed", they say.  Well, with deep pockets like the Cheesecake Factory and Olive Garden, a place like "Sushi Wasabi" doesn't stand a chance.  These big box restaurants can ride out an economic dive with only 25% capacity.  Sushi Wasabi losing 25% of their clientele is like losing its life line and quite frankly, the entire business.

Which is to say that while there is nothing wrong with big box restaurants, they have become so entrenched in our every day lives that at some no-so-distant future, our reference point for a good bolognese will be what they're serving at your local Macaroni Grill.  And to add insult to injury, the baseline for Chinese dumplings will not be at Din Tai Fung, but the ghastly and awful establishment known to us as PF Chang's.

Part of the problem with the picture above is that it reminds us of too many restaurants we already know and perhaps even frequent too often.  It's too indistinguishable from all the other restaurants taking over America.  When I look at it, I don't know if it's a BJ's, a Chili's, a Yardhouse, a Claim Jumper, etc.  It just looks like a big box restaurant.  So please, I implore all of you to go and find that good family run business and frequent it often.  So often that they know you by name.  Try to get out of the ease of driving towards another BJ's to have another freakin' pizookie.  Try to eat Chinese food at a restaurant where utensils are not part of the name [i.e. Wok Inn, Chopsticks Heaven, or the ever growing popular Pick Up Stix].  Yes, that may require you to drive to some ethnic parts of your city.  Get over it.  Our generational identity in our appetite for food depends on it.

The TED Award Goes To....

I don't know how anyone feels about Jamie Oliver.  Some think he's a great chef.  Some think he's just another TV cooking personality.  Some even think he isn't that great of a cook.  But when I watched the following video, I think we can put our personal feelings aside and whole heartedly agree that food and obesity is one of the biggest problems we have in the fabric of American life.  We need to "re-learn" how to cook in this country.  We need to know that food doesn't always, or even have to, come out of a drive thru window or thrown in the microwave.  The clip in the video below that struck me most are the elementary school kids who don't know what a tomato looks like.  They don't know what a potato is.  It's a real shame.


So, let's do our best.  We live busy lives, but it doesn't mean we have to kill ourselves by eating crap.  As Mark Bittman writes in his book, Food Matters, if what you're buying at the grocery store has more than 5 or 6 ingredients, think about putting it back.  We don't need all that sugar.  We don't need all the additives.  We need to eat right and we need to do it now.

Not My Kind Of Town?

Sinatra sang about "my kind of town", but that was Chicago, not New York, and certainly not Las Vegas. When I think of Las Vegas, I pretty much think of The Strip. I don't think about Henderson or Sumerlin, both nice areas of Vegas that I never visit.  Heck, I don't even think about the Hoover Dam.

So, after the most recent visit to Vegas, I have to say that it's just not my kind of town. The Strip, that is. I don't mean that it's not a cool place to visit, but I guess it's just not for me. I don't gamble. I don't drink. Partying to me looks more like fine dining then throwing back Corona after Corona in the Golden Nugget at the craps table. I guess of all the things that Vegas is known to offer, I don't gravitate towards any of them. And this last trip validated that even though Vegas is a great dining town, I would rather visit those establishments [Fleur de Lys, Bouchon, Bouchon, Craft to name a few] at their flagship cities like Napa Valley, San Francisco, or New York than to go to Vegas each time to say that I've been to a Thomas Keller or Huber Keller restaurant.

Don't get me wrong, we had a good time, but I guess rather than visiting these restaurants in Vegas, I would rather visit different cities where these places originally reside. And if I had to be completely honest, staying at hotels where drunk people rampage down the hall yelling, laughing and screaming at two in the morning, just isn't my thing. Nothing wrong with having a great time, but I guess I'm just too old for it now.

So here's to Vegas. We'll go back one day, but if it were up to me, it'll be quite a while before we go to The Strip again. One fabulous meal doesn't necessarily make me want to head back right away.


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Floored by Fleur de Lys

There's something special about the French.  It's not just that they have a je ne sais quoi about their culture and presence that make us non-French think we're the antithesis of art and culture.  And they're not even trying to be a snob.  As the Merovingian said in the Matrix trilogy:

"I love the French language. I have sampled every language, French is my favourite - fantastic language, especially to curse with. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your ass with silk, I love it."

There's a reason why Paris was/is the epicenter of the art culture.  There's a reason why many of the world's chefs base their training on French cooking.  No one is arguing there are more ancient and perhaps even equally great cuisines of the world, but none has transformed our views of food than the French.  And when we visited Fleur de Lys in Las Vegas, it reminded me that cooking is a service.  That service speaks about one's character, one's dedication to an art, and one's passion.  And Hubert Keller, like so many of his contemporaries, wants everyone to know that just because his restaurant is in Las Vegas, there is no compromise on excellence.

Amus Bouche

For those who isn't into eating/dining, this will be an over-stuffy, over-priced, French restaurant that throws its nose up in the air.  But one should only push aside their preferences and enjoy the creation that's coming out of that kitchen.  To only view food of this caliber as a way to sustain life is to look at a piece of art as a mere hobby.  There is real artistry to make a single strand of fettuccine rolled up with duck ragu bathed in warm truffle onion soup that is imaginative and well executed [see below].

I know many food reviewers give this place less than the maximum rating because of the price.  But on the website of the restaurant, it clearly states that for an average check, it will cost $82 per person.  If you are expecting the king's ransom for a meal this good, please just go to Nathan's hot dogs at the MGM food court.  I never understand people who bury a restaurant rating merely because of the price.  Certainly, there are overpriced restaurants who deserve the rating they get, but at Fleur de Lys, I would challenge anyone to tell me their food simply sucks.  I don't believe someone like Hubert Keller would allow that at his establishment.  It's his reputation on the line.  And in the culinary world, if you don't have your reputation to bring people in to spend $100 per person, then you will close down in less than 6 months.


The 4 Course Prix Fixe Menu:

• Amus Bouche: Tempura Cod with Potato Risotto and Creme Fraiche
• Truffled Onion Soup
• Chorizo Wrapped Seabass
• Stout Braised Short Ribs With Guinness Reduction
• Warm Chocolate Fondant Cake

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'WichCraft

A sandwich, apparently, is not just a sandwich.  It's more than just 2 slices of bread wrapping itself around deli meat.  It's not Subway or Togo's, nor is not, good heavens, Quizno's.  It should also be a culinary experience, and Tom Colicchio has given us 'WichCraft, a casual sandwich stop inside the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. 


Here's my review of 'WichCraft.  Good to the last bite.  I wouldn't drop everything to go there, but we were already staying at the MGM, so it was a good excuse to get on the culinary roller coaster and see what's on the other side.  


What I realized was that no matter how good of a chef you are, you really are as good as the ingredients you've chosen for your craft.  Tom Colicchio would have gone with your typical bread choices [white, wheat, rye, etc.], overstuff it with some Boarhead deli, and charge $15 per and called it a day.  But the skirt steak, fried eggs and oyster mushrooms on a roll breakfast sandwich packed a good punch for $10.  I think we're all pleasantly surprised when we are expecting a run-of-the-mill sandwich, even if it's Tom Colicchio, and we get something better.  To be honest, a sandwich is a sandwich in that the components are basically the same.  2 slices of bread or roll cut in half.  Meat.  Condiments.  But throw in a twist, like the fried egg, and everything lightens up and the sandwich makes more of a statement [below].  

Pleasant surprises are always good.  Like when my wife won $20 on a $20 slot credit for MGM guests on the first pull.  It's not world changing, but for a few moments, life is good.  Same with 'WichCraft.  It's not an earth shattering sandwich, but for the time it took to eat it, life is good.  Life doesn't have to be limited to the passionless, visionary lacking turkey sandwich from Subway [sorry Subway fans - especially Jared, who's their spokesman].  It can be more, even if it's just a sandwich.

What was ordered:

• Skirt steak, fried egg, and oyster mushroom sandwich
• Roasted turkey, avocado, and bacon sandwich
• Toscana soup [sausage, roasted peppers, and spinach]

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