Login | Register

Bravo!
Jen, as someone who is not even remotely a foodie person; I was nonetheless, riveted. You should write a regualr column. I know a blog is a regular column, but I’m thinking a wider readership. It could resemble Herbert Muschamp writing about architecture. It is cultural criticism that transcends the particular genre. So smart and so interesting. It is artful and nuanced essay writing. Man, your cooking must rock. Lately I have wanted to promote and sell all of the great writers and musicians I meet. Is this an affliction? Does this mean I should be an agent? Too old--but a salon has appeal. The blog salon.

Heh.  I read about the awful fritatta this morning, and I confess the second thing I thought (behind “what a waste of good caviar") was “I bet Jen is going to write the rant I want to write” Thanks for doing a better job than I was going to!

Awful frittata is right. I agree with you completely, Ms. Bakerina. I’m sick to death of seeing food all tarted up with so many expensive and ill-matched ingredients that you can’t possibly taste them all, let alone really enjoy them.

A comparatively very mild example I’ve noticed: In recent years, white chocolate has been the “upscaler” of choice in mid-level restaurants’ dessert menus. It’s treated as though it can go with anything (which it can’t, in my opinion--in fact, I don’t even like the stuff, although I understand that many do), and as a result every cheesecake, frosting, pastry, cookie, cream pie, ice cream, and whatever else is tainted with it. Raspberry-white chocolate. Key lime-white chocolate. Hazelnut-white chocolate. Chocolate-white chocolate. Enough!

Food does not have to be boastful to be good.

What a waste.  Truly, just wasteful.

Well, if someone were to make a habit of eating like that, I could see how there might be a problem, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Ordering so many dishes allowed them to sample many different kinds of food, and I’m assuming that the food left uneaten went into massive doggy bags that fed Claiborne and his companion for days afterward. If they left it all behind, then they were not only wasteful, but complete idiots. Also, if this was done just to show off and not for actual enjoyment, then I totally agree with you.

In any case, there’s something to be said for enjoying good food in mass quantities, even if it kills you. (Some meals are worth dying for.) I have been known to eat three pounds of fresh mozzarella in a single sitting, and despite the horrendous aftermath, I’ve never regretted it.

i also have to agree.  i think my biggest problem with said frittata is how with all those flavors competing, how could you enjoy any one of them?  i just think all those flavors would muddy up, much like trying to use all the colors when you were a kid finger painting. 

besides, i’m the biggest fan of simple food there is.  one or two really lovely flavors that i can enjoy completely and thoroughly, not a whole bunch duking it out like rock ‘em sock ‘em robots on my tongue.

Once again, I have to thank everyone for such kind feedback.  Who knew that this sort of thing hits such a nerve with normal people as well as hopeless food cranks like myself? 

Leigh, I thank you for your words even as I am convinced that they are better meant for someone else.  Hey, I think you should be an agent, but a blog salon would be a pretty neat thing, too.

Now, David...I don’t think this is any better than the rant you would have written.  So write it, already!  You know I’ll read it.

Jamie, I agree with you on the white chocolate phenom.  I like white chocolate a lot, but I’m picky about it.  The only brands I really like are Wilbur and Valrhona, which are not cut with any vegetable fats, but are pure cocoa butter.  Wilbur in particular has a lot of milk solids, so you don’t want to combine it with anything that doesn’t blend well with dairy.  Like so many of the best ingredients, white chocolate really benefits from a light hand.  I have used it as a support ingredient in white cakes and icings, but I’m not a fan of white chocolate cheesecake at all.

Court, once again you nail it, in your own beautiful idiom. 

Now, Tvindy, before I get all contrary with you, you know I love you, right?  I agree with you that sometimes special events warrant special circumstances, but there’s a big difference between eating three pounds of mozzarella (which I could certainly do, horrendous aftermaths notwithstanding) and spending $4,000 on a meal for two people.  Keep in mind that this is $4,000 in 1975 dollars.  Adjusted for inflation, that’s over $14,000 in 2004 dollars.  I don’t care how many doggie bags you take with you (and I have to admit that I don’t know if they took it with them, but I doubt it, as most of the dishes served were very fragile, like poached fish with beurre blanc, which does not keep or reheat well); spending $14,000 on a meal that only feeds two people is so wasteful to me that the motivation behind it is beside the point.  One of the criticisms leveled at Claiborne and Franey is that they were trying to to replicate the classic a la Francaise table service, which was common in wealthy households and did comprise several dozen dishes. However, a la Francaise service was not only designed to feed a large party, but it was a given that everybody would not be sampling from each dish; either you took what you were interested in eating, or, more commonly, you took whatever was sitting closest to you at the table.  It sounds to me like Claiborne had a certain idea of what fine dining was about, but in the Chez Denis dinner, he ripped that idea from its proper context and jammed it into a place never meant to accommodate it.

Receptionista, I’m a big proponent of the simpler, the better as well.  I do make exceptions for certain Asian cuisines.  I like the “layering” found in some Thai dishes, for example.  When you look at the ingredient lists, they can be daunting, but once you taste them, you see how the ingredients come together to make something different and new.  In general, though, I like those simple lovely flavors too—and I love the rock ‘em sock ‘em robot simile. 

This is such a fascinating topic! It’s not really possible to judge without knowing more details. I googled it and learned very little. Finally I purchased Craig Claiborne’s archived article column from the NY Times archive. Here’s what I found out.

It wasn’t a matter of Claiborne thoughtlessly going into the most expensive restaurant he could find and then ordering practically everything on the menu. In his column he says that he spent weeks just choosing the restaurant. He actually dined at Chez Denis beforehand with two other people to determine its suitability. He then spoke with the chef and asked him offhandedly about what he could come up with as the most finest dinner for two in all of Europe. The 31 dishes and 9 wines were selected by the chef to be in his judgement the best way to fulfill the order.

One complication was that Claiborne did not want to reveal that he was a food critic or that American Express was footing the bill, so the two-person limitation imposed by American Express could not be made known. The chef explained that many of the dishes would have to be prepared in certain quantities and that the meal could easily feed four people and as many as ten. Claiborne was encouraged to invite additional guests at no additional cost, but the two-person limit prevented that. The $4000 total was determined by the chef (not Claiborne) and included the food and wine as well as “service and taxes”. For one expensive wine, it was necessary to open three bottles just to find one that was in the proper condition for such a meal.

It should also be noted that the meal took place over the course of five hours, so it was enjoyed slowly, although Claiborne himself stated at the end of his column that “you cannot possibly sustain, start to finish, a state of ecstasy while dining on a series of 31 dishes.”

So what we have is a case of a prestigious food critic (someone for whom food is his life) taking advantage of the opportunity to go into one of the finest restaurants in the world and order the greatest meal they can provide. I think much of the criticism that followed was the result of the NY Times’ choice to publish that particular column on their front page. As a result, many readers who did not normally follow such columns were exposed to it and did not see it in the context of a food review, which is basically what it was. American Express may have ended up footing a much larger bill than they originally intended, but they also got front page publicity.

Tvindy, I hope you’re having a good time with this, because I’m having a blast.  I’m so stoked that you bought the Times archived Claiborne piece.  Even though I’ve been coming down very hard on Claiborne, I would still recommend that people read the actual review if they can get their hands on it, simply because it is a fascinating little slice of culinary history, regardless of your point of view.

Speaking of point of view, mine may still diverge from yours, but I understand yours.  I know that Claiborne did not undertake this dinner as a spontaneous ill-conceived stunt.  I know that what could have been much more straightforward was complicated by Amex’s prize rules, and that Claiborne and Franey had discussed the size of the menu directly with the chef.  I still maintain, though, that even with the chef’s input and his determination of the final bill, this was still an over-the-top, antigastronomic stunt, one that did no favors to the dishes themselves, to the restaurant, to the chef or to Claiborne. 

I will admit that I could be bringing some “Claiborne baggage” to the table here; I’ve read a lot of his work, and it strikes me that he has a real affinity for unnecessary expense and affectation.  One of his NYT columns was for a New Year’s Eve dinner that would set one back $900.00; he did say, however, that he had picked the most expensive (not the best, mind you, just the most expensive) wines in each class, and agreed that if less expensive but still drinkable wines had been selected, the cost would drop to around $90.00 for the dinner.  And for all that he was a lover of good food—and I do believe that he was—his culinary training was at a famous hotel school in Switzerland where only about a third of the curriculum was cooking; the rest was table service, which could explain why he was so taken with presentation, particularly the presentation in haute restaurants.  He did make concessions for “home food” such as meatloaf and noodle casseroles (which is only shocking until you consider that Franey, his partner, was a consultant chef for Howard Johnson’s), but he usually surrounded them with “well, it has low-rent connotations, but imagine my shock to discover that it was good, too!”

Lest it sound like I’m carrying my Claiborne grudge too far, I will concede that he is responsible for one of my favorite cookie recipes, the cardamom cookies originally published in An Herb and Spice Cookbook and reprinted in Maida Heatter’s Brand New Book of Great Cookies.  They’re like gingersnaps, only with cardamom.  Beautiful flavor, beautiful texture and fun to roll out.  Maybe I’ll bake some this weekend. 

lol, yes, this is an interesting subject. I wish the NY Times didn’t make everyone pay for their old material and that you could just put up a link to it.

I don’t know enough about haute cuisine to be able to judge Claiborne’s meal. A lot of what he ate I don’t even understand what it was. And I know even less about wine. But I like that he took advantage of an opportunity to follow his dream, even if his view of good food was closely tied to price. I was also amused that he complained that some of the serving plates were “ordinary”. Of course, if I had just paid $4000 for dinner, I’d expect nice plates too. Also, I suppose that a columnist is sort of like a blogger in that one is always looking for something novel to try so he can write about it.

I’m curious what your ideal meal would be and how it would be different from Claiborne’s. Suppose the baking genie appeared to you and offered to grant you your ideal meal. Assuming there were no limits in terms of price, location, historical (or prehistoric) time period, and availability of ingredients, what would you be having for dinner? That would certainly make for a fascinating post.

By the way, did you see that David Letterman ate a $1000 omelette tonight?

Okay, Tvindy, it’s a deal.  I will give it some careful thought, and I’ll post that Ideal Meal Exhibition, hopefully by the weekend.  Thank you for the link, incidentally. 

I also have a lot to learn about haute, and even more about wine.  One thing I did learn, thanks once again to my good friends the Hesses, was that Claiborne was way off when he said that “the beurre blanc should have been very hot.” Beurre blanc is a fluffy emulsified butter sauce made by combining diced shallots and white wine vinegar over heat, reducing the vinegar until the pan is almost dry (watching closely so that the vinegar doesn’t brown), then beating in quantities of cold cubed butter until you have a thick, shiny, gluey, mayonnaise-like sauce.  It has to be kept at a very gentle heat; if you get it too hot, the sauce will break.  I know that some chefs get around that by adding heavy cream to the sauce, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s a cheat.  It’s like adding gelatin to mayonnaise—it’s just not necessary.

Oh, I missed David Letterman eating the $1,000 omelette!  I did, however, pick up a Daily News today, in which their restaurant critic, Pascale Le Draoulec (author of American Pie, a book I just read and loved), went to the Parker Meridien and ordered it, just to see how the server would react.  She did not identify herself as a journalist; she just showed up and ordered it.  The waiter brought her the egg-white and rock shrimp frittata; when she explained that she wanted the Zillion-Dollar Frittata, she set off a shock wave at the restaurant.  First the waiter apologized; then he plied her with champagne and fruit; then the manager rang a cowbell and announced “this is the first woman ever to order our Zillion-Dollar Frittata!” She said that you can’t expect to order this thing and maintain a low profile.  She also said it was prepared magnificently.  I have no doubt that it was, but I still think it’s a pointless extravagance, and I’m still not buyin’ it, in any sense of the word.