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Front Royal Element was a cute place to stop on the way to Skyline Drive this week. The crab tomato dill soup was off the hook--one of the best soups I've had in a while (despite a couple of small pieces of shell and the need for a touch of salt). And the curried chicken salad was really tasty. My dining companions said their sandwiches were "fine." The little wine shop off to the side is cool too, and our server, who also turned out to be the wine buyer, was really excited to talk about his wines and recommend good vineyards in the area. I don't know how much else there is around there, but Element makes for a decent pit stop.

Pearl Dive is open for lunch during the week only on Fridays. I'm not sure if folks don't know that or if lunch traffic just isn't that big in the neighborhood, but it wasn't more than half full during our 90ish minutes there. The service was terrific. We had one main waitress, but everyone kind of pitched in whenever they spotted a need. She happily offered my mom a fried oyster plate, despite the fact that it's not on the lunch menu, since mom had a crazy craving for fried oysters on their own, not in a po boy. (She deemed the oysters a mix of good to great, with some having more yummy "burst" than others.) The CEBLT is SO good, but with one flaw: it's too damn big. Two filets of (beautifully fried) catfish are layered on the reasonably short bun, which not only makes it nearly impossible to eat (especially after the egg breaks and all that slippery yolky goodness oozes out), but too much fish and breading throw off the balance and makes it overly salty. I took one of the filets off and voila, problem solved. The fries are great, and the Guinness is spot-on.

A beautiful bowl of just-made broccoli soup A just-baked, fantastic apple and cheddar muffin A delicious 2008 French white wine with too many words on it for me to bother typing it all Three for three! I'd never made the muffins before, but they're really good. Fluffy and cheesy and not, actually, very apply; the apple just adds a bit of clean sharpness to the flavor. Keeper!

See link in my initial post.

Good point, and I agree that, regardless of any other issue, it's in way, way too many products. But aren't many US foods--including sugar cane and sugar beet--genetically modified? (This list is crazy!)

I'll bite: what's wrong with high-fructose corn syrup? Why is the anti-HFCS movement so vehement? Is it health issues? Or the issue of government subsidies? If so, do folks also avoid soy and wheat and other sectors receiving sizable support? Michael Pollan recently said that there was nothing "intrinsically" wrong with it and that it's no worse that sugar. So what's the hubbub? (I'm honestly asking here because I'm wondering if there's a side of the issue I'm just not getting.)

And to an AMAZING post-season. I [heart] baseball.

This is one of my favorite dishes, both in Africa and the US. But as with everything, the flavor on the continent edges out anything we can make here. That's not only situational (because food always tastes better in its homeland!), but also because the groundnuts in Africa are different than anything I've been able to find here--and insanely good. Generally no larger than a pea, each nut is a tiny explosion of peanut so flavorful they seem almost like a different species. Also, there's the palm oil, which simultaneously adds an indefinable layer of flavor and at least a millimeter of clot to your arteries. But yum--what a great idea. I think I need to make this soon, lesser peanuts be damned.

You know, now that I'm thinking about it, one of the best dishes I've ever had was at Arzak's, a perfectly cooked egg with a thick chorizo sauce on the side. I wonder if this was an inspiration for the famous Mike Isabella pepperoni sauce...

He's a really, really nice guy. After our dinner there, we went downstairs for a drink. He came up and asked how everything was,* and we got to chatting and he ended up sitting down and having a few drinks with us. Pretty damn cool. *Freaking amazing

Hill Country? Medium Rare? Fogo de Chao? Lost Society? (I love "butch" as a menu descriptor.)

Veggie stock to be followed by carrot soup It smells so good in here. I love autumn!

I hadn't been to 701 since they'd remodeled. And though I've got to say I preferred its previous design incarnation, I decided to bet on it for a pre-theater meal* with a friend. Assessment? Push. The bar was quite loud because there was an office party in the area behind the beaded curtains. No biggie--in fact we both observed that this would be a great place for an office cocktail party. The bartender seemed to be serving for the whole restaurant, including the party, but still managed to be really friendly, though very slow--it took a lot of time for us to get drink refills. I started with the bourbon apple salad, which was FABULOUS. After my first couple of bites, I made my companion, who didn't order a starter, tell me a story so I could stuff my mouth continuously without needing to speak--the apples were saturated in butter and sugar, and were beautifully balanced by the earthy greens and pomegranate seeds. But then came the next course. My vegetarian companion ordered three of the veggie sides; there wasn't much for her on the menu aside from the pasta, which she wasn't in the mood for, but she was totally happy with just the sides--"these are going to be my entree, so can I just get them all served on one plate?" Sure. Except, well, of course not. They brought out three bowls of vegetables, each served on a large plate with its own serving spoon. And then they left her to stack the plates and spoons and juggle the bowls in the small bar space--no recognition of the situation or offer to assist. For my second, I got the corn and crab chowder, which was served to me with a bowl of stuff in which the server poured the liquid.** The thick liquid tasted almost entirely of uncooked flour. After a couple of bites, I pushed it aside, where it sat for quite some time, until I asked the bartender to take it away. "You don't like it?" (Busy bar, not wanting to announce it to all my neighbors): "No, it doesn't taste right," to which I got a look of confusion. "I don't think the roux was totally cooked because it tastes of flour." "So you don't like it?" "Well, no... but it's not just me--" Soup whisked away. The veggies were all tasty, which I know because my friend offered me tastes when I had nothing else to eat... because the busy bartender never mentioned the soup, offered me any replacement or menu or suggestion for something else to eat. The soup wasn't on the bill, so kudos to them for that, but what a 'feh' night. I'm giving the place an 'okay' overall because the salad was so good, and I really want the place to work, but there were some systemic-seeming things here that annoyed me, perhaps multiplied since I took someone new to town who is trusting me on restaurant recommendations. Push. *I don't usually do the fixed price deals because I generally don't want dessert. ** Listen, I totally understand why they do this, but I still find it kind of twee for my taste. Doesn't the menu tell me what's in the soup?

Despite its (relatively) low ranking on the DR dining guide, I decided to take a friend to lunch at J&G Steakhouse today. She's in from another country, and a desolate one at that, and I wanted to take her somewhere with a range of price points and high-quality proteins because I don't know her taste that well. It was... fine. I had the crabcake sandwich (sans bread because although I'm very pro-carb, I find that crabcakes fall apart like sloppy joes when smushed in bread, which also dilutes the crab flavor). It was nice, with big chunks of good crab. The filler was mostly a mayo sauce, which I liked, though it did include a random piece of bread the size of a pair of dice. The fries were okay, the sauce served on the side was good, and the slightly pickled cucumber relish was delicious. My companion really enjoyed her salmon salad, and our lattes were nice. But the service was just weird. The outdoor hostess sent me inside (down some steps then up some steps then around a corner), and then the indoor hostess sent me back outside; I told the outdoor lady I'd prefer the patio if we could be in the shade, at which point we were seated in the sun. The server tried to upsell us 1) cocktails, 2) a bottle of wine, 3) dessert, and 4) after-lunch drinks (I don't mean just asking if we wanted them, but really, really pushing them; he was also really pushing the sauv blanc--from before we knew what we were going to order to after we asked for suggestions on what would pair best with our meals--"the sauvignon blanc would be excellent!"). He was there and interrupting when we didn't need him and vanished when we did (it took over 30 minutes between the time I asked for the check and the time he returned my receipt). So while I appreciate a nice lunch place near my office (god save me from any more Aria and Chef Geoff's), $77 (pre-tip) for two glasses of wine, two entrees, and two coffee drinks will probably deter me from laying out for it again any time soon.

A pinot noir that's improved by a couple of ice cubes (There's nothing in the house and it's been that kind of week.) (Don't judge me.)

I really like the steakhouses--Capitol Grille, Charlie Palmer, Prime Rib--for lunch. It's the same food you get at dinner for about half the price, and they're unique for their DC power lunch vibe.

I am drinking to the hope that my HMO won't kill me, despite the mounting evidence of incompetence and just plain meanness.

Or perhaps just gender stereotypes are? A "guest's menu" would be cool though.

What's wrong with buttered noodles?

Is it too late to count myself in?

Fresh peaches roasted with Toigo apple and peach blossom honey, vanilla, a squeeze of lime, and a touch of salt. Pondhopper Oregon goat cheese from Cowgirl. G&T with lime. My tastes are getting stranger by the day.

I finally scoured my patio of the leaves and mud and debris from the storms and take great satisfaction in knowing that I have disrupted and/or ended the lives of millions of creepy, crawly, tedious, blood-sucking insects that seemed to have hunkered down at my home for the multi-legged equivalent of a kegger. Mwahahaha....

I fly overseas a lot for work, and have been lucky to be able to, more often than not, upgrade to business class using the copius frequent flier miles accumulated on these trips at a zero-sum rate because they don't charge too damn much to upgrade to the places I fly. I dare say I'm ruined for steerage. On my recent flight back from Ghana, United "misplaced" my request for an upgrade, and I was stuck in the back, deeply exhausted after 27 solid days of work and deeply grumpy about it. I picked at my awful dinner, trying to be absorbed in a movie on a 4"x5" screen and annoyed at the cost of booze and the fact that the large man next to me decided that he not only deserved the armrest (he had the middle seat--him getting the armrest was a given) but also six inches of my seat on top of it. But it was the coffee service pushed me over the edge. Not because it occurred 45 minutes after my tray was cleared and well after the cabin lights were turned off, but rather because the flight attendant managed to spill an entire cup of scalding tea down my arm. I yelped because it hurt like hell, but luckily I had a shawl on that seemed to wick much of the liquid away. Also luckily: the woman who spilled on me was the purser, which seems to be the only position in the cabin with the power and the desire to do good. While her immediate reaction was unimpressive and just made me a hell of a lot grumpier (though I swear I had started laughing at the absurdity of modern-day air travel by this point), she eventually brought me out an ice pack and apologized profusely that first and business were full, or she would have moved me. About a half an hour later, she asked me if she could get me anything--"a sundae? I'm sure I could scare one up from up front." How about some wine, dear? At which point she swooped back to me with four bottles, poured my choice into a glass (a GLASS glass), and said she'd instructed all the other attendants to keep it full. About a half hour after that (I don't sleep on planes, but was still somewhat annoyed that she kept interrupting my microscopic movie), she brought me a first class toiletry kit and a cheese plate. Okay, that's good. Then a half hour later she brought a card that had a website and a code where I could get my choice of "I'm sorry" gifts once I got home (I picked the 7,000 miles). Then a half an hour later she asked if I'd like some wine. Well, I have a full glass here, I said, but thanks. She said, "No, I mean something to take home. Do you like champagne?" Why yes I do. At which point she brought me a fancy-cellophane-wrapped bottle of Diamant Vranken Brut. (I have no idea what this is, but I've been advised that it's better than plonk.) Thus ended the last and only acceptable coach flight I've taken in years. And I had to be scalded with cheap tea to get it.

A sandwich of toasted French bread, sliced hard-boiled egg, cheddar cheese, and green goddess dressing. (Don't judge me. There's nothing in the house and the writer's blocked mind wants what it wants.)

This is the view to the left of an eatery at Cape Point, South Africa; the view to the right is just as breathtaking. Too bad the eatery is a run-of-the-mill tourist joint that doesn't even have good coffee to recommend it.