From Michael

A week after I returned, my guy from the Brooks Brothers at Liberty Plaza sent me a card - what a touch of class. And all I bought was a few cardigans and bow ties. Old school, all day, all day.

DF

Outlook

You know, lost amidst all the foie gras and red Burgundy and fried cuttlefish, I failed to mention that I had spent an entire extended weekend in America. And I found Americans to be delightful. Despite what I was expecting, the Americans I met were nothing but polite, kind, and pleasant. No way will you receive the same reception in Shanghai. Not that my people are pricks . . . at least not on purpose.

I think I kind of like Americans now. My father, at dinner, tirades every night about how evil Americans are because of their constant pressure to the Chinese to revalue the RMB. Not that it has anything to do with him. Not that he at all understands the actual issue at hand - not when he thinks of Chinese gossip forums as sources of legitimate news. And he mocks me for reading the New York Times everyday. Right. Listen, I'm as big of a Chinaman as you'll find, but you have to get your news from multiple sources to really understand the issue. An important lesson I learned from one of my 4th year Economics professors. The news is only as complete as what the editor wants printed, and it's delusional to think that any one source presents an accurate picture.

Exciting things coming up, planning another trip up to Niagara - let's see how the 2009's are doing, and check up on teh fledgling 2010 vintage.

DF

Mismatched, like Harry

Oh how I feel like such a weight has been lifted . . . now we wait.

In the meantime, look at how beautiful my new cufflinks are. What do I love the most about them? They don't match. The colours of the stripes are different - and one say Paul, the other, Smith. I met the great Harry Rosen a few years ago, when he gave a lecture at the University of Waterloo. One of his trademarks is always to wear separate cufflinks. I like that about the man. Because it's a personal detail that only he really knows - unless you look really, really closely at his wrists.

Mismatched, like Harry.

DF

Loop and pull

I love bow ties. Sadly, there aren't many occasions to wear one, without looking like a completely affected jackass. But I still love bow ties. From Brooks Brothers. I don't have a label I fixate one for neckwear, but I usually avoid Brooks Brothers. Don't like rep ties, I'm not American, not WASP, not the son of a senator. But the way they craft the neck size on this example is very interesting. Bow ties come with adjustable lengths, for different neck sizes. I'm kind of in an awkward place about 14 and 3/4 but this one actually accommodates that. They use a hook that faces in, and increments of 1/4 - you can adjust the tie length anywhere from 13 to 18, I believe. Very interesting - I have bow ties which use buttons for adjusting, but this hook is more accurate.

Now. I need an occasion to wear it. Anyone getting married soon?

DF

For driving

I already have a pair of driving gloves. Why does everyone need a pair? And why do I need two? Because when you see beautiful calf skin gloves with a classic clasp, you go for it. You try gripping a freezing steering wheel in the middle of a Canadian winter.

DF

L.B. Evans Aristocrat Opera

L.B. Evans was a shoe shop opened in 1804 in South Reading by the Evans brothers, who started off not making the entire shoe, but the uppers, counters, soles, and heels. The tradition continues today of crafting fine leather footwear for the discerning gentleman. Aspiring as such, I bought a pair of leather slippers in New York. They are incredibly comfortable, but I don't dare wear them while I'm cooking. A single, stray drop of oil . . . that's all it takes.

DF

For fall

Toronto's cooling down, big time, and what better to warm my ass up than digging out some older wines. Something softened by bottle age, warm, and friendly - white or red, it matters not. Old Rioja, Bordeaux, red Burgundy . . . old Sauternes, riesling, white Burgundy. Yes, yes, and yes . . . like the warm embrace of a silky-skinned, long-legged beauty. Delightful.

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Municipal election voting tonight, made my choice of who I want Toronto's next mayor to be. But somehow I have a feeling things are going to go horribly wrong. Voting took place in my old elementary school gym, a bit unsettling, and it would have been so creepy if I started wandering the halls.

DF

Just do it man

I need to go on vacation. A real vacation. One where I don't have to do shit I don't want to do, go to places I don't want to go to, and eat and drink myself stupid. Literally, drink myself until I start speaking fluent French. Not saying that New York wasn't fun, but I'm going to Paris. Or Barcelona. Either one is fine. Just do it man.

DF

Fall tasting menu at Craft Restaurant

Last night in New York, and as it was fall, season of freshly harvested treasures, one would hope to see fresh root vegetables, wild mushrooms, and oh Dios mío, game . . . perhaps I was over-thinking it, because I saw none of those things at my last dinner in the city.

Reservation for Craft Restaurant, by Union Square, the flagship restaurant of one of America's most celebrated chefs, Tom Colicchio. Wall decor is a mess, but you're not there to stare at the walls - fixtures are nice though, dimly lit, exposed lightbulbs. Nice wood tables, no fussy table cloths, comfortable chairs. And finally, servers that are dressed properly, no idiot penguin uniforms. Arrived early, so sat down at the bar for a Victory Pilsner from Pennsylvania first. Right. I was there for the fall tasting menu, so ordering was simple. Wine, a red Burgundy of course.

Yeah, the food was confusing. Intellectual, perhaps, but there's always that danger of a chef over-thinking the menu, and trying to take the ingredients in a direction they shouldn't be headed. Fall, right, so I had expectations of what was in season. First 3 courses, a strange combination of Japanese ingredients, using French techniques - sublime cooking work, but flavours just don't work. A hamachi sashimi, the most amazing, perfect fish, but ruined by a sprinkle of salt - it's served with a preserved plum purée (already well-seasoned), and the added salt obliterates the delicate sweetness of the hamachi. Next, a stuffed zucchini blossom, fried as a tempura. A bit too rich, at this point of the meal. Third course was wonderful, a pan-seared suzuki fish, just so buttery and tender - cooked to absolute perfection. The only course that made me sit up and left me speechless. A thick fish, it's so difficult to cook, but the skin was perfectly crisp, the centre cooked all the way through. It's so clichéd to say that something melts in your mouth, but this fish literally dissolved on the palate. Overall, impressed with the starter courses. Not so much with the following proteins.

The duck, overseasoned, too rich. Yes, it's possible to overdo a dish, just like you can overdo a wine - the sauce is just so concentrated, so extracted it sticks in the throat. Suckling pig course was the most unsatisfactory course of them all - can't tell which cut of the pork used, doesn't show off the tenderness of this kind of pig, and again, the sauce is so thick it literally dries in the throat before it manages to trickle down. Dessert was nice though - the celery juice/lime sorbet soda served in a shot glass was a perfect complement to the creamy, rich panna cotta. Cocoa crêpes with a assam tea ice cream, a nice end to the meal.

The wine, a 2003 Louis Boillot Les Brouillards, AC Volnay 1er Cru. Nicely matched both the fish and meat courses. High acid tends to do that. The fruit gets purer, finer with air, long finish, mineral and linear. If I could drink Volnay more often, I'd be very happy indeed.

I wasn't disappointed with the meal, that's not the impression I want to share - it was a great experience being surprised as to what the next course was going to be. Overall though, over-seasoned courses was an issue, as was a propensity to over-concentrate many of the sauces. Service was wonderful, attentive yet very discreet. And look, they give you cupcakes on the way out.

DF

2008 Mosel at Terroir Tribeca

2008 Erben von Beulwitz Riesling Kabinett, QmP Kaseler Nies'chen, Mosel

In my planning for eating in New York, my first thought went to Terroir Tribeca. Sort of the mecca for German riesling lovers, a wine bar above all others. I wanted my Sunday to be about nothing but wine, with stops at 3 wine bars and at least one wine shop planned, but alas, when you're not on a (solo) vacation, things never work out as hoped.

Dropping in after an exhausting morning, thirsty and hungry, riesling was my oasis in the desert. The wine menu is long, and in this blogger's opinion, clumsily written in hipster talk - but it's the wine that matters, and this is where the proprietor excels. Very comprehensive selection of German rieslings, and I had a long discussion with our server about the wine I was looking for. Unfortunately, not as many older rieslings as I had hoped, so I narrowed on 2008. As vintages go, 2007 is universally praised as fantastic, but at this point, still far too young. The austerity is something to watch out for, in contrast to 2008, which is showing much riper and purer fruit at this point. As well, I wanted a natural wine, and as it turned out, there were 2 rieslings to choose from. The 2008 Erben von Beulwitz Kabinett, my choice.

Delicious like nothing else, pungent, oily minerality, beautifully ripe citrus, an ethereally long, mineral-tinged finish - served at a nice temperature too (cool, not chilled). An appetite for brunch. The calamari salad, acidic but very fresh. Charcuterie platter was stunning, especially with the wine. Likewise the duck proscuitto sandwich, toasted perfectly. Prices fairly high, but the wine is nicely priced.

Terroir Tribeca, definitely as good as advertised, although more older vintages would be nice to see. Riesling, my love has never been stronger.

DF

2004 Santenay 1er Cru

2004 Domaine Nicolas Potel Clos Rousseau, AC Santenay 1er Cru

Sitting in the dining room of Café Boulud, it was time to order the wine. Cue the slick sommelier, who quickly floated over - very professional, very calm, very impressive. They take your order, show you the bottle, and open it away from the table. I suspect they have a discreet taste first, so when they meet idiots who insist a healthy bottle is flawed, they won't have to be ungraceful and taste in front of the customer.

I was in the mood for red Burgundy. Eating rustic French country food, it only made sense to drink a rustic French country wine. From Santenay, a rustic, wild wine, lots of character, but somehow I feel like I should have asked for a decanter. With the earthiness of the mushrooms, fantastic. With the more delicate foie gras, less so. But with that wild venison loin, a dream. Develops a pure core of red fruit, but that rusticity is primary - I believe the French refer to it as chicken coop. Certainly pleasant with the food, but any more complimenting would be delusional.

DF

Revelling in Café Boulud

I'm a simple man - I like to eat. I refuse to vacation in places without a food culture because, well, you can lie on a beach for a week anywhere, but eating a properly cooked foie gras chaud? Not so much. I have a hideous disgust for people who take photos of each course before they eat - please, it's tacky and disrespectful. No one gives a shit because really, it's not about the food. You posting all these photos up is all about how much taste you have, yes, I'm so mature and cultured, look at my fabulous wining and dining hobby. Keep that nonsense at home, please don't bring it into a restaurant. Not a proper one anyways. And despite what you might think, all-inclusive resort food is shit.

Fate was on my side - the Michelin Guide was just released for New York City on October 6, a few days before I arrived. And my reservation? For Café Boulud, part of Daniel Boulud's empire of restaurants and owner of one beautiful, shiny Michelin star. Lovely. Got dressed; burgundy dinner jacket, slacks, silk handkerchief . . . yes, DF was ready to eat.

On the Upper East Side, the dining room is elegant, certainly with a polished, upscale feel completely unbefitting what the name implies. Very French, in that luxe, calme et volupté manner. Handed over to Gavin Kaysen, the menu combines seasonal ingredients and classic French country cuisine, with a surprising international section on the menu . . . undecided how I feel about that, sitting in a Frenchman's restaurant.

I went straight for the seared foie gras to start. Served with what seems like poached pear, it is, in a word, exquisite. Wow. Also began with a butternut squash soup (silky like nothing else), and a velouté of mushrooms (intensely earthy). Next, on to a pan-seared venison, cooked perfectly medium-rare and utterly, utterly delicious. Served with shaved truffle, this was a dream. Vermont rabbit was so inspiring, perfect in flavour and texture. Cooked a few ways - ribs were seared and loin was cooked as a Wellington. I learned what proper rabbit meat can taste like - so light, so fragrant, like eating the most amazingly perfumed, silky meat. Pan-seared flounder was cooked perfectly as well, flaking right onto the fork.

What an amazing meal. Perfectly cooked, seasoned, and presented food, the chef clearly respects the ingredients - everything's in season, with all the elements are in balance. The wine I ordered, coming up. Service was professional, very slick. I lucked out - the next table was having the truffles course - the most amazing white truffles, shaved over a simple pasta. As it hit the heat and the oils were released, a stunningly rich, earthy aroma came wafting over - I stopped eating for a minute to lose myself. Amazing

Might not hold as importance in North America, but yes, I'm convinced more than ever that earning a Michelin star means something. Will be coming back, hungry for more.

DF

Jamón ibérico

Not a sinister device of the Inquisition - merely the most amazing cured meat in the world. Jamón ibérico enjoyed, immensely, at Casa Mono. They carve a plate for you, in front of you. Was it bad that I wanted to jump on the bar and just start chewing on it?

DF

NV Cava

NV Codorníu Brut Rosado, Cava

Thirsty and famished after a long morning of walking, I plopped down on Casa Mono's bar and lusted for a sparkling wine. Yes, a 100% pinot noir Cava, sharing the same Catalan heritage as the cuisine served. So refreshing, so delicious - bright red berries, minerally and intense. Finely textured, just delicious with our seafood, and especially with our ethereal jamón ibérico. Great length, and not surprisingly, I drank most of the bottle. Wandered back downtown full, a bit tipsy, and very, very happy.

DF

Gorging at Casa Mono

It's been a while since I've been to a restaurant that's been absolutely inspiring, where every single course was a lesson in how emotional food can be. Casa Mono, in Gramercy Park, where we dropped in for lunch after an exhausting morning spent on 5th Avenue. I hate being forced to go shopping because that's what you're supposed to do in New York.

This is opened by Andy Nussar, Mario Batali, and Joe Bastianich - quite a small, cozy little dining room, with only a few tables, bar, and an open kitchen. We didn't have reservations, so we sat at the bar, which actually enhanced the dining experience. The tapas was extraordinary, from the fried sardines, to the grilled cuttlefish, to the baby octopus. The incredible pork face torchon sandwich, with Spanish hot peppers (name of exact variety escapes me). And of course, the reason I wanted to go, a plate of the most amazing jamón ibérico. My goodness, just silky, rich, and so intense, perfect in flavour and texture. Mind-blowing, inspired cooking that's suddenly become all too rare. And my goodness, the stunning simplicity of the dishes . . . just proper, authentic tapas with fresh ingredients, and cooked to perfection. Staff was attentive, professional, very helpful with the menu written entirely in Spanish.

A real treasure, a real find for me . . . eagerly awaiting my next visit.

DF

Long live the World Trade

My hotel was a block south of the World Trade Center in lower Manhattan. Wasn't able to go up to the observation deck set up, but certainly got a sense of how massive the space is. Building furiously, the plan is to be completed by the 10th anniversary.

DF

Brooklyn Lager

Being hungry and thirsty, I went for beer to accompany our dinner at The Place Restaurant. A few bottles of Brooklyn Lager, a traditionally made beer that was stunning. One of the finest beers I've drank, period, and it's been a week, so I'm not suffering from the vacation glow. Nice deep amber colour, very fragrant, beautifully hoppy and round. Just delicious. And served in proper, manly glasses - we talked about which vessel you should be drinking beer out of a few weeks ago. It would be a crime to drink this one out of bottle.

DF

Eating at The Place Restaurant

Dinner the first evening was like a treasure hunt. Fresh off the utter nut-dragger that was the United Nations, I was famished. And when I get hungry, the only words I can manage are BEEF. RARE!!!

We wandered to the Village, where I spotted this quaint, charming little place - and of course, it was called The Place Restaurant. Cozy little spot, nicely decorated, very Mediterranean feel. Food was good, not spectacular. Let me explain why.

Sharing appetizers, we began with an endive and chicory salad, fresh but unfortunately blandly dressed. The wild mushrooms were nice, although you couldn't distinguish which types of (presumably) wild mushrooms were in the dish. I devoured my hanger steak, slightly charred, dry on the inside. Served with spinach and nice potatoes. We also had a pan seared Atlantic cod (overcooked to a crisp), and duck breast, a bit too firm. Ordered an American beer for dinner. But I'm sounding like we didn't enjoy the meal - we did, but execution could have been better. We were eating quite early though. Great atmosphere, attentive staff - certainly a charming little restaurant that cooks good, not great bistro food.

DF

Bulldog bum

I loved walking around New York. This was the Lower East Side. Weather was just stunning, perfect temperature and lovely sunshine all weekend. So many people walking their dogs. I just want to pet your fat furry bum.

Right, the drive down. It was as horrendous as I had imagined. We left in the middle of the night Thursday, with the plan being to arrive in the city mid-morning. Didn't turn out that way because someone was being childish and insisted on stopping multiple times to find fast food restaurants. Idiot. The highlight of the drive? Besides me almost falling asleep and drifting across the lanes? Passing through Scranton, Pennsylvania, and giggling at the signs for the coal mine tour and the Anthracite Museum. Don't get it? Too bad.

We made it alive though, and intact. Coming next - the food!

DF

Moping at the United Nations

My first day spent in New York, after a 10 hour drive, at the headquarters of the United Nations. What a monumental waste of time. Our guide was pretty enough, all legs and sexy Eastern European accent, but damn, the building was shabby, crowds were all stamped from the same bad tourist mold, and the General Assembly Hall is hardly as impressive as you'd imagine. And I had to pay for the tour!!

Don't do it. My goodness, don't go.

DF