StephenB

As a longtime tennista, I agree with you. But it's disconcerting to hear John McEnroe and Rafael Nadal talk about how they prefer soccer (futbol) because it's a team sport and they get to be with their friends.

After reading http://www.nybooks.com/articles/19056, I would like to go, and plan to do so.

June 27 is fine with me.

When I was there a week or so ago, I inquired about it and the waitress said it had expired. A moment or two later, she came back and said Michael wanted to honor it, so I had the Caesar's Salad and Escoffier had the crab bisque. Two desserts, a key lime pie and a mousse, also appeared at the end of the meal without being ordered, for the four of us to split. That Michael drives a tough bargain. Incidentally, they don't take reservations any more but they do keep "a list." Go figure.

Quoth Don Rocks: <<About an hour into the Paris-Washington flight, the food poisoning crept up on me, and I began literally counting the minutes on that damnable flight-status screen with over seven hours remaining. Upshot: fever, chills, shaking, and me finally going back and pleading for help, eventually collapsing prostrate on the back row of the airline while the flight attendents threw a blanket over me and occasionally came over to poke me to see if I was still breathing - and they were having a jolly good laugh over my plight, too, even joking about it in French thinking I didn't understand! A truly hellish experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone.>> I had a similar experience many years ago, although not as dire. After a (raw) seafood dinner in Madrid, I was in agony the entire night. I remember taking a three hour cool bath in an effort to settle myself. I was booked on a flight to Gibraltar that noon, and I decided I was going to get on it because I preferred to be in a British hospital. I boarded with my cameraman subtlely supporting me and did what I consider the greatest acting job of my life since I knew I'd be thrown off the aircraft before it took off if the BOAC stewardesses perceived my ill health. By the time we landed, however, I felt much better. No hospitalization required.

This barbecued meat, with outrageous hot sauce, was the best thing going. It had several levels of flavor that kept on exploding. Lots of competition from an amazing variety of offerings from all corners of the world, but in in this instance Guam ruled the planet. Thanks for importing the meat (from California) and cooking it so well. Another standout was the cherry cheesepie. And as one who's spent time in Brazil, I can say that Shogun's caiparinha had an authentic, tart sting to it. This was not an occasion on which even the most demanding epicure would go hungry.

I imagine that world peace is important to some wimpy types. But to someone like Our Leader, who has devoted time, effort and pocket change to running an informative, clean, streamlined electronic site, his preferences should be a guide to those of us who benefit from his creation. Now that I think of it, single spacing is the first step toward world peace.

That sounds exorbitant to me. Your own system would be easy to set up and have no carrying costs. The startup cost would be the computer and the development of a relatively simple piece of software. The advantage of OpenTable from the point of view of the consumer is that if he (she) can't get the reservation he wants, he can simply switch restaurants. Ray's, with its unique qualities, doesn't need that service.

Michael, I've been telling you for months, but you, cyberphobe, are too obtuse to understand, that a computer system can solve these problems for you. People don't care about notes and signs and placards and elegantly reasoned principles, they just wanna eat. Ray's is not the only good restaurant in the world -- why don't the others have your problems? What you need to do is hire some kid (I know one who can do it if he has the time) to devise some simple software, and then let it do its thing. It's hard to ignore the possibility that you get some sort of sexy charge out of screaming out what you consider to be irrefutable logic in fancy language, and then being ignored or opposed by the scrofulous masses. Get with it. Grow up. Go computer. Or just humbly accept success.

"Good poets borrow, great poets steal." --Thomas Stearns Eliot

hardboiled egg irregularly shelled rancid lettuce charred bagel 3 kinds of tea

One could weep over your use of the preterite.

Tonight was the last iteration of the Bistro Special: crab bisque and ongelet for 20 smackeroos -- a bargain! I made my appearance at close to 5:30 and was immediately seated. The gentleman at the counter, not Michael, asked me if I was on "the list" -- apparently that's the euphemism for the now taboo reservations. I thought I'd be hanging around until the official opening time, 6. But there was an early bird private party in progress, and so the wheels were already turning. I was disappointed to learn that Simone, the beautiful Porguguese-speaking server (who always allowed me to trot out my rudimentary command of her language) had returned to Brazil. But those on hand, while lacking her linguistic skill, were equally charming and adept. I ordered the steak medium rare (is there another way?) and it arrived almost as soon as I'd finished the bisque. The aforementioned gentleman, plus Michael and the server, all stopped by to ask about my level of contentment. I told Michael that the excellence of the food was outshone only by the elegance of his attire. That remark may have bumped me up from third- to second-class service. After I had consumed about half the steak, I said to Michael that though the meat was rich and tasty on its own, I would like to try one of his dressings. He brought the brandy with mushrooms and the blue cheese. I would be hard pressed to say which was better, but they were completely different. Then it was time to choose a dessert -- key lime pie, chocolate mouse or strawberries and cream. This was too tough. I needed time to think. I decided on the mousse. But then I had to choose regular, white or dark. I didn't want to hold things up any more, and so I opted for the dark. It was a generous portion, accompanied by the demitasse of hot chocolate that Ray's veterans will reconize. Chocolate heaven! For some reason, Michael had comped the dessert, perhaps because of my tongue-in-cheek sartorial observation. Anyway, this feast came out to 22 bucks, plus tax and tip. Only a cardiologist could complain. On the way out, I bumped into MelGold, HillValley and a couple of other rockwellian inconnus. Thus endeth the era of the Bistro Special, a time that history will not soon forget.

I intend to attend. I'll be bringing along my not-yet-famous deviled eggs with caviar.

<<The Bistro Hanger Special will be offered for today and tomorrow>> OK, let if be tomorrow (Wednesday) then. I'll try to get there early (at 6). Any other rockwellians interested?

<<StephenB will have to tell you what his dessert was, and I vaguely recall mention of eating a coconut shell>> The dessert was a coconut purée, and of course as everyone knows the meat of the coconut is on the inside of the shell, as Meaghan, who took a taste, can testify.

I've just been relieved of a Tuesday obligation. Too late to sign up for Minh's? Am I correct that the location is a few blocks past Ray's?

dim sum for one no fun ergo ego non sum

Who-all is up for tomorrow at Lucky Three?

Lucky Three on the 23rd is ok with me.

I organized something similar Summer 2004 for 17 people. Our major banquet was at L'Auberge Le Saint-Gabriel, which is the oldest inn in North America and is located in the old part of town, Vielle Montréal.. The highlights of that meal were venison and ice wine. I can provide the full menu if you like. In smaller groups, we also ate at Le Brunoise, which is charming, delicious and run by youngsters. I liked that place a lot. Also Café Yoyo, which has good food and a BYOB policy. Also Toqué, the height of elegance, very expensive, worth it. Schwartz's Hebrew Deli, fantastic smoked meat and a friendly atmosphere. Au Pied de Cochon, high energy, crowded, a unique menu, a place where it is easy to meet your fellow diners. For Sunday brunch, I recommend the dining room at Hotel Sofitel, an exquisite room, great service and carefully prepared dishes. People are quite happy to speak to you in English once they find out you're not Canadian. I arranged group rates at Sofitel and the Marriott. More on request.

I read The New Yorker piece with avid interest. I was particularly interested in the controversy between the slurpers and the chewers. This is a subject that has occupied me and some of my friends for years. The purists, including the people in Buford's piece, seem to think that slurping (swallowing whole) is better but even they confess to two or three quick bites in order to liberate the flavor and incidentally to prevent a living entity from occupying their stomach. My practice has been to slurp at least two out of every dozen. The proper way to do this is demonstrated by Edward G. Robinson in "The Cincinatti Kid." Buford also calls attention to the importance of the liquid -- the briny mixture of seawater and oyster excretion. This is their statement of origin, their pedigree. So many people who enjoy oysters don't bother with the liquid. I like my oysters with a sprinkle of lemon juice or perhaps a dash of vinegar. Buford doesn't go into sauces but the less said about that horrible tomato stuff the better. I love the part about how it's better to coax an oyster to relax its muscle when shucking, rather than going in with brute force.

Lucky Three on Apr 22 or 23 is amenable to me. I'll pass on the Hollywood East event.

Michael, we hardly missed ye.

I am content to leave the ordering to Mr. Shen (Pandahugga). He has never led us astray so far. And I trust his instincts in this matter more than my own -- or those of the other participants. With two dozen people, this is really a chance to hold Peter Tseng's feet to the fire (figuratively speaking).