Waitman

I gotta weigh in with Joe here. And he's only scratching the surface. Why aren't we pulling kids out of school at 13 to go down into the mines any more? If it was good enough for great-grandpa, it's good enough for me. I remember the good old days where workers you to fight for jobs that let then suck asbestos fibers into their lungs ten hours a day, six days a week. My very own grandfather (really) worked in a cotton mill and got to spend his whole paycheck -- and more! -- on company housing and food from the company store. I wish my children could have that same opportunity! Change that benefits the laboring classes is really the opposite of "progress" and the more we people hear this uncomfortable truth, the better.

I know it's not done to say anything nice about Mike Isabella on this site but the lamb sandwich at G is quite tasty. While this is slightly off topic, I find that the perfect thing to do with leftover lamb leg is to slice into sandwich-sized bits, throw it in a container with some feta (or any goat cheese), a couple of sprigs of rosemary and enough olive oil to cover the whole thing and forget about it for about a week, at which time you toast some bread, turn on The Game (or a great movie) and eat like a King. Or, anyway, an Earl.

Picked up a couple ounces of portable Ma La yesterday. Those attempting to hunt it down at Great Wall should be forewarned that the stuff is billed as "prickly ash" on the packets it's sold in. The brand we bought actually called them "Sichuan Peppercorns" in tiny print on the back, but the front was completely Chinsese so no obvious help there. Those contemplating purchasing a package should consider as well the very wonderful lamb/cabbage fusion combo that apparently-noted West Coast chef Sang Yoon reccommends for "Sangsgiving." The recipes are on the upper right of the page.

The place out in Merrifield? A long drive but always a worthy field trip. Tweaked -- probably don;t have time to order but will keep that in mind of the sous chef vetoes the dinner selection for Saturday night and I have more leisure to lay in provisions.

We ended up doing most of our own cooking -- after provisioning at Denver Bread Company and Oliver's Meats (Berry Oliver RIP, alas) -- since resort town dining is such a crapshoot. While killing time waiting for the daughter's delayed plane, I was reminded, that Federal Blvd. on the East Side is a great ethnic haunt. North Federal, where the low riders cruise on Cinco de Mayo, is a nonstop strip of Mexican restaurants and grocers, while South Federal is an elongated Little Saigon. We went south and had a tasty meal at Saigon Bowl, highlighted by "Vietnamese Meat Balls" and a very credible squid curry. If you want to get a bite on your way to the airport, or if you're staying at one of the seemingly dozens of discount hotels that line Tower Road just around the corner from the terminal in anticipation of an early flight, you could do a whole lot worse than the Moonlight Diner. It's a little kitschy-corporate-50s but but on a slow Sunday night it felt far from corporate America. Metro Denver disappears into prairie pretty quickly, and our fellow diners ranged from pioneer women to younger guys in cowboy boots and their old FFA jackets to a guy who looked like a meth cook but was probably pretty nice and was there with the waitress's baby girl -- who got a ride around the diner on mom's hip as she took orders. More to the point: excellent green chili* smothering an immense burrito, a very good meatloaf sandwich and real milkshakes in a variety of flavors. Very friendly and laid back, even if those probably weren't really Elvis's gold records on the wall. *"In case you haven't heard, Denver is a city that's obsessed -- like, really obsessed -- with its green chile. We smother it -- unlike everywhere else in the country -- on absolutely everything. We've even heard stories of people who put it in milkshakes, on top of chocolate cake and in baby food -- you know, to get the kid hooked before he enters the crack phase of his life. Oh, wait -- green chile is crack." -- Westword,

Anyone know where to get those little guys? I have a hankering to cook some fusion cuisine.

When i read the reiview, I was struck by the fact that I find a lot of the dishes mentioned pretty mediocre in the Washington location -- I'm looking at you, chicken nuggets and faux gras!

Looks like a pretty reasonable explanation to me, though the situation was initially imperfectly handled by the restaurant. Not that I would ever go back there under any circumstances -- it's pretty awful on a number of levels.

First, you have no idea if anyone will threaten you. If this ruling stands, it would certain serve a number of establishments to sweep the web every day and send out routine notices. And, as much as I love this site, there are many others that would be affected. Funny you should mention checking voter ID, since the only point of the recent ballot security fad is to discourage and intimidate legitimate voters.

You don't know they are liars, and neither does the plaintiff. All we have is his word. And, whether or not Hadeed is correct, allowing this tactic will empower every company with a form cease and desist notice and a paralegal on staff to threaten posters and site owners with legal action anytime a proprietor don't care for a review. It opens the door to blatant intimidation. if the point of the internet is to democratize the conversation, this is a direct attack on that.

A BS ruling that allows a legal tactic whose only purpose is to intimidate critical posters. The Post is exactly right, and the implication that you want businesses to be able to force you to reveal the names of critical members is distressing.

Is this still the land of under-publicized ethnic gems? Hollywood East, etc? Looking for a late-ish night spot (serving until 10:30 would probably work).

My son used to work at Clyde's and he said that the Gallery Place location was widely considered the worst place to work in the chain. perhaps not surprising, then, that the quality of the servers stuck working there is low. I think it's also too big to have any really effective quality control.

Breckenridge [doubling up here so I have twice the opportunity to receive your wisdom] Also, does anyone have suggestions for Breckenridge? Just burgers and pizza? Or something worth making a reservation for? We'll mostly cook at the rental, but don't want to be chained to the stove. Also, are there any bars in Breck where a -- let's just say -- mature gentleman might have a cocktail without his eardrums being abused? But maybe not so boring that the kids -- 21 and 25 -- will hate me? I think at their ages, I need to chaperone them more than ever (Or will they be chaperoning me?).

Will be skiing later this month and looking for a fine Sunday night dining destination in Denver before an early Monday plane ride. Anything beyond those listed above? We will be starving, and I kind of think of Italian as not a first choice, but we're pretty open. Also, does anyone have suggestions for Breckenridge? Just burgers and pizza? Or something worth making a reservation for? We'll mostly cook at the rental, but don't want to be chained to the stove. Also, are there any bars in Breck where a -- let's just say -- mature gentleman might have a cocktail without his eardrums being abused? But maybe not so boring that the kids -- 21 and 25 -- will hate me? I think at their ages, I need to chaperone them more than ever (Or will they be chaperoning me?). Hey -- Potager was my favorite restaurant when I lived in Denver, too. And it was to blocks from my house -- Do you live in my old house? More important, than your residence (to me ) , how's the beef at Oliver's these days? We'll be provisioning in Denver, so any suggestions are appreciated regarding cheese, fresh vegetables (is the Alfalfa's a Whole Foods yet? Still there at all?) bread (is the Denver bread company still alive and well? We had just closed on the house and we drove by to say "holy shit, I can't believe we own such a cool house" and we went to the closest restaurant, which turned out to be Potager and had, among other things the first decent bread we'd gotten at a restaurant in our year in Denver, and found out from the server where we could but it retail. That was such a good day). Thanks.

The key, of course, is the addition of Heinz's mysterious "Chili Sauce," which adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the assemblage. Never as good at home as when they make there in the pots, but quite serviceable on a cold night.

I found the Iron Gate Inn both delightful and disappointing. it is an extraordinary setting and the service very gracious, if over-informative. I thought, however, that food was only pretty good -- enjoyable, but sort of a weak link in an otherwise very strong chain. Because of the unseasonably warm night, we were led through the elongated, elegant bar area to the patio, rather than directly to the dining room, where our first course was served. The grape/wisteria arbor isn't much in December, but I like fire escapes and old brick almost as much, and the wood fires scattered about for warmth and effect made it a quite charming location for a spread of antipasti and a good deal of (gratis) prosecco. Of the antipasti: there were a lot of them, most of them were pretty tasty, but none of them left much of an impression -- pickled vegetables, bulgar and cherries, wild mushrooms and so on. After a refill of the Prosecco, we were led to a lovely table in a lovely room in front of a lovely fireplace. I think it would be almost impossible for me to have a bad time in so comfortable a room. I'm sure they touched it up, maybe even dramatically, but it felt old and impossibly apart -- in the best possible way -- from the city around it. Having noshed at Mockingbird Hill and Southern Efficiency before heading over, and having plowed through eight or ten antipasti, we opted for the four-course with wine pairing. We started dinner with a small aperitif that tasted (and may have been) a slightly sweet amarro that tasted distinctly and in a good way of Coca-Cola, a swell little grace note. The seafood -- squid "with crispy tentacles," as the server made sure to point out and a single immense scallop served atop wheat gnocchi with a smattering of sea urchin -- was quite tasty. The lamb three ways was also quite good -- rich, if not particularly exciting -- while the sweetbreads with carrots were disappointing, bland and the battery gone limp. I see the menu describes them as "sweet and sour" and if you think in terms of a sweet and sour at a decent Chinese carryout you can form a general impression. I very much liked the servers but it's one of those places where you can spend almost as much time talking to the servers as talking to your date. Part of this, I suspect, the excitement of opening a cool new restaurant with a good story behind it, and who doesn't love a little history? But it does get old eventually. On a related note, I quite enjoyed the wines and was very pleased to see a lot of Greek wine on the list -- I think they're interesting, a good value and neglected. But, really, if I need to know a lot of details about which part of the Peloponnese the grape was grown in, or whether the acidity in the finish sets of the carrot puree, I ask. Just remind me the of the name and I'll figure out if I like it. My favorite course was the Gianduja terrine, a very tasty chocolate concoctions, served with a spot of muscat from Samos on the side. Rich and crunchy. I don't know if it's the nature of Greek cooking, which tends to be more heartwarming than elegant, or the restrictions seasonal menus face this time of year, but the food, while tasty and well prepared, lacked a wow factor and that the rest of the experience delivered. Not that I won't be going back, I will. It really is a wonderful place.

Anyone know a good source for the stuff in the city limits? Just donlt have time to motor out to the 'burbs today. Thanks.

Congrats.

McGuire's Irish Pub serves a damn good steak in a rowdy atmosphere. If your guy is a wine guy, the list at McGuire's is pretty amazing and more-or-less bargain priced. Well worth checking out. The Fish House is pretty good food in a great location.

With her permission, the list former DR contributor and current P-G restaucritic Melissa McCart was kind enough to send me (thanks, Zora, for hooking us up):

Well, it seems I have little to add, since the consensus around Salt of the Earth -- apparently named after a Rolling Stones song -- existed long before I stumbled in the other night, having been drawn by proximity and availability (Cure was booked) as much as the sterling and trusted recco's here. But having nothing to add never stopped me. I wandered into Salt late-ish with the boy and decided against the kitchen bar because why is watching a saute station fascinating? And that shit is loud. We switched over to the communal table with the other socialists, and I decided that the woman who'd guided us looked decidedly familiar. Unlike Don's kid,* mine favors designer neckties and designer cocktails and so I left him waiting for his unfortunate Scotch concoction and looking for a local girl who appreciated his gangster style and made my way back to the front to confirm that the manager was indeed better half to former DR Superstar John Wabeck, the esteemed Melissa Horst. Melissa pretended to be glad to see me, which was heartening, and texted Wabeck who immediately texted her back not to tell me where he worked. The food was quite tasty. Tastier, in fact than some of the newer and better-reviewed spots here in DC, in a sort of pan-global, neo-American kind of way.** Chestnut and celery soup tasted more, it seemed, of celery, but I liked it -- bright on the palate and stuff. It's hard to fuck up beef cheeks with cavetelli, but Salt went one better than not fucking up, the rapini and pepper lifting it (them?) from comfortable to intriguing. The winner of the night was pork belly -- again, an easy winner, and again elevated by a deft touch, in this case, steaming the belly to the melting point and then sauteeing the outside until crisp. You practically expected it to run liquid onto the plate like a ripe Epoisses after you cut through the crust. The boy stopped checking out the girls until he was through. The millionaires shortbread -- gilded with a little gold leaf left behind when the Mellon family fortune fled East Liberty for the suburbs -- tasted like a million bucks, stupid good with peanuts and chocolate and caramel atop the shortbread. if there was a downside, it was a rather lame wine list, chalked on the wall and featuring pedestrian selections like Lohr Cabernet and Trapiche Malbec and such-like. So, put me on the SOTE bandwagon -- I left wishing that they'd move the whole operation a little closer to my house, where I'd be among the many to make it a regular stop. And let's drive the bandwagon past the projects that also sprang up when the Mellon Family Fortune fled, in the general direction of the less menacing Whole Foods that sprang up more recently, and park in front of Spoon, where John Wabeck seems to have assembled a fine wine list despite the absurdity of Pennsylvania's liquor laws. Their kitchen was closed and we were too happy with what we'd already eaten to eat more but John -- who, I was happy to see, seems immensely happy with life -- generously poured out a few glasses of Italian and Portuguese plonk. No tasting notes, alas, but the selection was creative and tasty and I suggest that the Pittsburgh-bound consider exploring the list, and the food, at greater length. Primanti Brothers has a certain low rent charm, a great place for a breakfast beer before the Steeler's Game or a drunk munch anytime after. It's hard not to like it but I'd have to be too drunk to drive to drive out of my way for it. And the Strip itself was surprisingly un-horrible -- you know how these redeveloping yuppie magnets can feel more like a "concept" than real life. The Strip gets a little bit of everything in terms of customers and sellers (it seems) so you can buy organic, raw milk cheese and grass-fed onglet at the barely-relocated Pittsburgh Public Market and then bulk frozen wings and fries at the butcher shop a half block down (and then -- a breakfast beer, of course, and some hippie tiny donuts). I wish I'd had more time. I'll let you know about the cheese and onglet. *Don, you do know you can just change in the amusement park parking lot, right? Hell, I once changed in a rest-stop restroom on the New Jersey en route to lunch at Jean-Georges. Aside from the sound of a key in your mistress's front door, nothing much makes you dress faster than realizing you're in a Turnpike men's room stall wearing only socks and a pair of plaid boxers. (yeah, get THAT image out of your head, bitches!) (Sorry, Breaking Bad marathon). **Once we get past the inevitable "fresh, seasonal and local" drivel, what do we call the sort of cooking that these days pretty much defines any not-obviously-ethnic mid-to-up-scale place that does all those things that everybody does now: slices heirloom tomatoes in the summer, braises pork belly in winter, revels in root vegetables and pasta stuffed with corn and other oddities, serves kale 24/7/52, and appropriates techniques from whatever culinary culture seems appropriate at the moment? If I was 65 (instead of a stripling of 54), I'd call it "Continental (except when they play with curry or raw fish) and if it was the 80s I'd say "New American." There was a lot of "Mediterranean" talk there for a while, because of pasta and arugula and cured pork, but then people rediscovered butter and the French and ladled those on top so, while it's often very good stuff, I'd say today's benchmark style lacks a shorthand name to slap on it. If anyone calls it "mindful," I will punch them.

Do they still throw Supreme Court Justices, cabinet members and U.S. senators out onto the street? (Admittedly -- all liberals and thus probably riff-raff)

I have to say that apart from scoring some Belon oysters there years ago -- long before Black Salt, which sometimes has them, even existed -- and in-shell scallops, neither of which I ever saw a second time, I found the selection at Cannon's limited and unappetizing. Their commitment to the retail trade seemed unenthusiastic, and its ongoing existence confirmed my prejudice that most people don't know how to buy fish.

I'm spoiled by the 14th Street theaters and think of the Mandarin as almost in a different time zone than Arena, given the challenge of walking from one to the other in a timely fashion. But, to my larger point, I think pre-theater diners are a thin reed to build a successful restaurant on, given their tendency towards light meals, modest alcohol and early exits.