OK, maybe it’s beginner’s luck, or first-load excitement, but my silverware is shining again. My plates are cleaner.
Thank you New York Times for that dishwashing article.
I made all the possible adjustments:
–bought powdered detergent, yes, Cascade
–spent the big bucks on Cascade Complete
–did not scrub clean the plates, and
Got the results I crave: The Shine.
My silverware thanks you.
Anyone want a liquid gel?
Remember how the world was: “sorry, we are fully committed for that evening, that time, would you like me to check next month!” Seriously, some said, “next month.” Oh, that was so long ago in the dining universe. Now, we are gracious, our front greeter is actually friendly, the hostess knows what we want from the reservation, and the wait staff, well, it waits. Yes, it is a more pleasant production.
Unfortunately, there are fewer of us dining out, and the restaurants that were so snobby about our reservation are now so much more solicitous. I saw it last week in New York City at an Upper West Side spot (Ouest) that was difficult to get into several months ago: now, no problem. Actually, by 10:00 the restaurant was almost deserted. That’s new.
Maybe they should take their prix-fixe menu one step further and extend it beyond 6:30. For the record, the special menu was printed on the regular menu and never mentioned time restrictions so I believe it’s the logical next step. I will say the waiter was shocked that we inquired about ordering from it at 8 PM–he may need a little further training! (Not everybody got the “love the customer” memo)!
Today Frank Bruni of The New York Times confirmed what I saw on my quick two-day city blitz: Restaurants want to give us “a hug.” We are ready to accept their offers of kindness in terms of more options at better prices. Knowing full well that restaurants do not operate on as high a price margin as one would expect, there are ways we all can change. The forecast for restaurants is rather bleak; just like for consumers!
In Washington, DC, the new darling of the food world, there are also cutbacks. Today’s Washington Post points out Michel Richard Citronelle has decided to cut back on the days they are open for dinner. Hard to know the next step. Cautious is the word of choice. Restaurants are hurting, but so are customers.
This is the true economic stimulus.
It’s hard to believe that the most basic of all staples has come under health scrutiny. Peanut Butter. Seriously how could something like this happen? It turns out we should have learned about this a long time ago. OK, I get it. We were probably better off without knowing that little piece of info.
Only the most allergic ever grew up without peanut butter. It has always been an option, a possible sandwich solution, and most importantly, a relatively affordable, easy-to-stock item. With food prices skyrocketing, peanut butter sales were quite impressive: 6 lbs of peanuts and peanut butter a person is an impressive figure! Now according to the FDA, we have a problem. We can even sign up for alerts and notices so we can track what has become our problem!
Basically no one seems to know the extent of the ever-escalating recall, but recognize the salmonella outbreak is pervasive. That’s the worst. Remember last summer when the enemy was tomatoes–tomatoes in the summertime. True sacrilege. Now the all-season, all-purpose peanut butter could be causing severe illness. Whether a chunky or a smooth lover, this cuts to the heart of our sandwich culture, and our ice cream, our power bars, our candy bars and the endless possible fears associated with Girl Scout cookies. It’s almost un-American!
Maybe cartoonist Mike Luckovich said it best:
mike luckovich
Let’s look out for the real toxins and get our lives back on a steady keel. We need our peanut butter samwiches, our cookies, candy, ice cream, and…
What’s next?
No matter how many times you say it, it’s not redundant when you repeat how excited you are about the upcoming administration. No matter how dismal world news has become, you can’t help but get on The Hope Wagon. It’s contagious, and there’s room for all of us.
You don’t have to be at the Memorial, the Mall, or the Capitol to feel the energy. Of course, if you are there, it’s a naturally electrifying 
experience–one giant emotional surge of a powerful wave. The city and the country already feel different ,and the change of power is not official yet.
We are ready. OK, that’s an understatement.We have been ready. Now it’s time to put all the programs into place. To demonstrate the leadership we all know the Obama administration is capable of. The country, the world, they have been patient, anticipating the good that will come. T he polls tell the story: No one expects an overnight turnaround, but everyone believes the all-important changes that have been mentioned will be implemented. The country needs money into the hands of the people and not the greedy banks that are keeping the bailout money. Today’s New York Times has that frightening expose.
Health care has become a rallying cry as everyone has a provider or insurance nightmare. That is, the people that have health care. Emergency rooms are strained with people who need to see a doctor but do not have a doctor who will see them because they do not have insurance. This is barbaric.
The list goes on. We all have footnotes that can be added. Let us not lose sight of the moment and let us be redundant as we sing out our song of hope. Time to catch the concert. Thank you HBO for letting us watch the stars share their talent. Yes, we are one.
We can believe.
Everyone can agree: times are tough. Just how tough became apparent a short time ago when I learned that the rich don’t eat out that much anymore. Whoa! The rich are being careful. This is a problem, and it’s taking its toll. What about the average guy who’s trying to figure out how to cut basic expenses?
Look when times are flush, great chefs can thrive. They can buy the most expensive ingredients, create the most beautiful dishes and dazzle diners with preparation. People blink, a small blink, when the check is presented. When times are tough, truffles get replaced by mushrooms, and high-end diners have to consider what is unique about this experience that warrants the hefty price tag. Even when dining concessions such as prix-fixe menus, two-for-one specials, and half-price wine nights do not do the trick, something big has to change. The chef often gets caught in the middle of the tussle.
This is a long-winded way to say that Fiamma the restaurant in New York City is no more. It has become an event space. Washington DC sent one of its top tier chefs, Fabio Trabbocchi to the big city to cook his creative high-end Italian dishes to the glitteri in New York. He was the star of the Ritz Carlton at Tysons Corner in Virginia with his restaurant Maestro, where he was the true conductor, the master. The name continued, but it lost its headliner. He was lured to the food mecca of New York with the promise that his star would shine even brighter. He did well. The economy did well. Then, poof, it was extinguished. He has become a story of the economy, an example of food lore.
Yes, I am sure he will be cooking somewhere else soon. It is just such a shock to have this type of industry casualty. It quickly teaches us that money is tight. That expense accounts are being counted. That people have to consider where they go and how often they can go out. Yesterday Frank Bruni of the New York Times broke the news. I personally feel the restaurant world, especially those who had dined at either Maestro or Fiamma are a little rattled. I am.
Fabio’s gift was in the details. He mastered the basics and used expensive ingredients to make restaurant magic. He was a serious chef who understood that Americans were interested in fine food, and he was able to bring some of his Italian childhood flavors into the high court of gourmet food. The ever present rumor was that his New York benefactors would let him return to Washington as the star chef at their new hotel. Not so fast.
I will never forget the special dining room smells when he would roast foods over hay. He will cook again. Someone just has to have the money to let him man the stove and find the diners who will once again support his style. Even if he takes it down a notch or two, it will take some time to regain the crown achievement.
I have hope. I can wait.
No, I do not mean Rice Krispies , but they are a food product that I will always hold dear with positive memories: my Mom’s favorite late night snack. This “crackle” comes from a wood-burning fireplace. There’s nothing quite like it. All the sounds, the smells, and the sense of warmth as it saps the heat from the rest of the house. That’s a shame, but the fireplace room is its own haven of content.
There is something about the world that seems all right while you read in front of cacophonous fire. Just as long as you read sections of the newspaper that have nothing to do with real world issues. Start with the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times and rush to the back, to the wedding stories. They are so much fun. Of course, there are the Bill Cunningham party photos. Skip over the real life, potentially sad articles, and go for the morning fun and begin your day with a relaxing tone.
Then, you can ease into that splendiferous cup of espresso. Did I mention I made it to Wegmans. From earlier posts, you’ll know it’s not around the corner but worth the drive. I get less expensive gas in Virginia and then head over to the shopping mecca which somehow seems to do as much damage to my credit card as a trip to Costco. Bad financial week, hit both of ‘em in a matter of a few days.
Now it’s time to analyze what it is about their whole bean dark roast espresso that keeps me hankering for a true cup. Maybe it’s the price. Certainly doesn’t hurt that the 32-ounce bag of beans is under $10. Flavor wins from the bean’s oily richness that engulfs the coffee machine’s bean holder. It transcends any other coffee bean experience of late. Hit the buttons, grind, and punch up a double espresso.
Now the morning has promise, a crackling fire ,and a true cup of espresso. I haven’t even started the potatoes yet. More on that later.
Crackling sounds and a steaming cup of coffee. A perfect pairing.
