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As far as American culinary plaudits go, a four-star review from the New York Times is like winning the Pulitzer, despite Michelin's attempts at stateside gastro-kingmaking. Sam Sifton, the Times' restaurant critic, who replaced Frank Bruni over a year ago, has not yet placed a quad-asterisk crown atop an NY restaurant -- until today. And the winner is...Del Posto, the first Italian restaurant to have that sacrosanct honor since 1974.

What makes this a story of note for us non-New York food lovers is the review itself. While any hack can write a smarmy take-down, only the best food critics can write eloquent praises that are enjoyed for their own merit. Also, a persuasive four-star review instantly puts a restaurant on the Must-Conquer List of every fervent and far-flung foodie.

Here are the opening paragraphs of Bruni's excellent 2004 review of Per Se, a piece that was the eventual-catalyst of an incredible meal, and a considerable budget re-allocation, of mine earlier this year:

The butter-poached lobster almost did it, but not quite. I had been wooed with succulent lobster before. The Island Creek oysters and Iranian caviar, mingled in a kind of sabayon that I was served during that same dinner and during others, made a seductive case. But I was wary of such ostentation.

In the end, it was a different night and a nine-course vegetable tasting, of all things, that made me drop any reserve, cast aside any doubts and accept the fact that I loved Per Se — and that this preening, peacock-vain newcomer deserved it.

I ordered the meal out of a sense of duty, with a heavy heart. Jicama ribbons? Warm potato salad? How transcendent could those be?

Silly, cynical, carnivorous me. The jicama was sensational, so packed with moisture and so faintly sweet that it could have been a new, undiscovered fruit, and the cilantro and avocado that came with it were like idealized essences of themselves, so flavorful that they seemed to have been cultivated in a more verdant universe. The bite-size marble potatoes in the potato salad popped like grapes in my mouth, and an exquisitely balanced mustard-seed vinaigrette gave them a subtle zing.

Lobster is easy; potato salad is hard. And a restaurant that turns a summer picnic staple into a meal-stopping, sigh-inducing dish — and makes that dish a legitimate course in a $135 tasting menu — cannot be denied. Per Se is wondrous.

Sifton's review seems limp by comparison:

Great restaurants may start out that way. But an extraordinary restaurant generally develops only over time, the product of prolonged artistic risk and managerial attention. An extraordinary restaurant uses the threat of failure first as a spur to improvement, then as a vision of unimaginable calamity. An extraordinary restaurant can transcend the identity of its owners or chef or concept.

And of course an extraordinary restaurant serves food that leads to gasps and laughter, to serious discussion and demands for more of that, please, now. The point of fine dining is intense pleasure. For the customer, at any rate, an extraordinary restaurant should never be work.

Consider Del Posto, which opened in 2005 on a wind-swept corner of that grim Manhattan neighborhood that is neither Chelsea nor the meatpacking district, in the shadows below what is now the High Line park. The restaurant’s owners, Joseph Bastianich, Lidia Bastianich and Mario Batali, and its chef, Mark Ladner, envisioned a temple to Italian cooking to match any ever built to honor a European cuisine in New York, a 24,000-square-foot palazzo of mahogany and marble devoted entirely to the pleasures of Italian food and customer satisfaction.

Five years later Del Posto is that and more, a place to sit in luxury and drink Barolo, while eating food that bewilders and thrills — an abalone carpaccio to start your meal, perhaps, and absolutely a celery sorbetto to end it, as well-played Gershwin and Kern tinkle in the background.

Del Posto’s is a pleasure that lasts, offering memories of flavors that may return later in a dream: a tiny cup of spiced gazpacho, say, rimmed with a salty dust of dried capers; or a plate of the square-cut whole-wheat pasta known as tonarelli, with fiery little chickpeas, fried rosemary and bonito flakes in place of the more-traditional bottarga; perhaps a nectarine cooked into slow and amazing submission, with a savory grilled lemon cake and intense basil gelato. And, oh, that wine!

Here's the full review, not nearly as excellent as the food it describes.

Nanny State Watch: High Fructose Edition

New York is on a roll. Now there's a proposed bill to ban high-fructose corn syrup. Personally, I try to avoid HFCS, but I also try to avoid sugar. As Reason's Katherine Mangu-Ward notes, a calorie is calorie, whether it's coming from HFCS or sugar:

The substitution of real sugar for high fructose corn syrup is like the old riddle about which is heavier: A 10-pound bag of feathers or a 10-pound bag of lead? (Answer here, but we're going to ban anyone who needs to click through from Reason.com, so choose carefully.) A calorie of natural sugar is still a calorie. Weight gain or loss is determined by calories in vs. calories out. Ruth Kava, the director of nutrition at the American Council on Science & Health, a group that debunks food and health panics, says "I don't know how one supposedly distinguishes between ‘real' sugar and any other kind!"

Nanny State Watch

The new target in the slip slide into total state paternalism is salt:

Some New York City chefs and restaurant owners are taking aim at a bill introduced in the New York Legislature that, if passed, would ban the use of salt in restaurant cooking.

"No owner or operator of a restaurant in this state shall use salt in any form in the preparation of any food for consumption by customers of such restaurant, including food prepared to be consumed on the premises of such restaurant or off of such premises," the bill, A. 10129 , states in part.

The legislation, which Assemblyman Felix Ortiz , D-Brooklyn, introduced on March 5, would fine restaurants $1,000 for each violation.

This is madness, but it's no surprise. The crusade against personal liberty always begins with the obvious villains (tobacco and alcohol), moves on to more dubious ones (trans fats and sugar), and eventually reaches the point of sick farce.

It won't end with salt. How much longer until we see bills that mandate compulsory exercise, or a complete ban on processed food?

(HT Radley Balko)

The Tyranny of Convenience

In an otherwise good article about Wal-Mart's move toward providing relatively inexpensive locally grown produce (and the threat it poses to high end supermarkets like Whole Foods), The Atlantic's Corby Kummer writes:

In an ideal world, people would buy their food directly from the people who grew or caught it, or grow and catch it themselves. But most people can’t do that. If there were a Walmart closer to where I live, I would probably shop there.

I suspect Kummer, and most readers, would find this paragraph benignly true. But the first sentence represents what may be the two most pervasive economic fallacies accepted by the public: middlemen (which Wal-Mart is in this context) do not provide a real service, create no "social" value; moreover, self sufficiency is a high ideal toward which we all should all strive. For an extensive explanation of why they're twin fallacies, I refer you to two EconTalk podcasts: one with Duke's Mike Munger on middlemen, and the other, an excellent monologue by GMU's Russ Roberts (who normally hosts) on comparative advantage.

The second and third sentences of Kummer's paragraph reveal why the first is so fallacious. Indeed, most people can't "buy their food directly from the people who grew or caught it, or grow and catch it themselves," not because they are incapable of going to a farmers market to purchase their produce, or because learning the rudiments of horticulture or hunting and fishing would be too difficult, but because doing so is extremely costly. Costly, not only because farmers markets tend to charge higher prices, but because time is man's most precious resource.

What Wal-Mart and (to a lesser degree) Whole Foods provide is convenience, places where consumers can purchase their locally grown produce and other goods they need (in Wal-Mart's case, goods as diverse as sunglasses, Wii games, and towels), thus saving them time (and cash). Even in an "ideal" world where we're all immortal beings with no regard for time, the gloriously austere self sufficiency of growing one's own arugula requires effort that would be akin to drudgery for many. A moral failing on their part? Maybe Marx would say so.

Some people enjoy going to farmers markets. That's fine. Some take pride in the bounty of their backyard gardens. That's great, too. But these activities are enjoyed as ends in themselves, as hobbies, or for the warm-and-fuzzy feelings they provide. Ask a single working mother if she would prefer waiting until Sunday to buy her family carrots from a farmers market, or to grow them herself, rather than driving to the local Wal-Mart or Whole Foods after work. Her answer is why Wal-Mart and Whole Foods provide a genuine service, why they create value, and why they should be celebrated, not vilified.

Well Put

(HT Radley Balko via 4Chan)

More on Calorie Labeling

Megan McArdle responds to the NY calorie labeling study:

There was never any very good evidence that labelling was going to work. Most of the arguments in support seemed to rely either on self reported data, or a gut check by a handful of already pretty slender bloggers--they were sure they'd pay attention to the calorie counts, and so why wouldn't everyone else? But personal hypotheticals are at best weak evidence, and self-report is even worse. This study found that a significant minority of people reported changing their behavior as a result of the calorie information, and ordering a lower-calorie meal. But when you looked at what they actually ordered, it was no less fattening than either logitudinal or latitudinal controls.

I can think of a number of reasons for this. People may have mentally credited themselves with a savings on one item, and allowed themselves an indulgence in another: "I orderd a single instead of a double or triple, so I get large fries and a frosty!" They might just be bad at math. Or they might have wanted to look good for the interviewer, which is always a risk in these sorts of surveys. But the receipts don't lie.

There are a bunch of caveats: the study focused on poor people in fast food restaurants (on the grounds that these are the people we most want to reach.) It happened when the calorie labeling was very new, and people may have needed time to get adjusted, learning how to read the calorie counts, and remembering to do it. Public health studies of this sort are notoriously shaky, just because it's basically impossible to do a good double-blind controlled study.

Nanny State FAIL

The NYT reports:

A study of New York City’s pioneering law on posting calories in restaurant chains suggests that when it comes to deciding what to order, people’s stomachs are more powerful than their brains.

The study, by several professors at New York University and Yale, tracked customers at four fast-food chains — McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King and Kentucky Fried Chicken — in poor neighborhoods of New York City where there are high rates of obesity.

It found that about half the customers noticed the calorie counts, which were prominently posted on menu boards. About 28 percent of those who noticed them said the information had influenced their ordering, and 9 out of 10 of those said they had made healthier choices as a result.

But when the researchers checked receipts afterward, they found that people had, in fact, ordered slightly more calories than the typical customer had before the labeling law went into effect, in July 2008.

This doesn't surprise me. I think posted calorie counts only help people who are already health conscious. Yes, studies show that most people underestimate the calorie content of the food they eat, but who really thinks a Big Mac is health food? No one. If you want a Big Mac, knowing it actually contains 540 calories, not the 300 calories you might have thought it contained, probably won't keep you from ordering it. If you've decided to order it, you have accepted the fact that it's not very good for you.

The assumption here is that overweight people are overweight because they don't realize how many calories they ingest. I disagree. I think someone who eats unhealthily knows it, even if he can't quote the exact number of calories he ingests daily. These people at least implicitly accept the trade-off between eating what they want and having a flabby body.

Calorie posting probably helps health-conscious people reduce calories, at least on the margin. If you already watch your caloric intake, the shock that a Dunkin' Donuts bagel sandwich contains 700 calories might make you substitute it. That said, even a health-conscious person committed to splurge on dessert will not be deterred by calorie content.

Stop the Insanity: Food Edition

Excellent article on food politics:

I’m so tired of people who wouldn’t visit a doctor who used a stethoscope instead of an MRI demanding that farmers like me use 1930s technology to raise food. Farming has always been messy and painful, and bloody and dirty. It still is.

But now we have to listen to self-appointed experts on airplanes frightening their seatmates about the profession I have practiced for more than 30 years. I’d had enough. I turned around and politely told the lecturer that he ought not believe everything he reads. He quieted and asked me what kind of farming I do. I told him, and when he asked if I used organic farming, I said no, and left it at that. I didn’t answer with the first thought that came to mind, which is simply this: I deal in the real world, not superstitions, and unless the consumer absolutely forces my hand, I am about as likely to adopt organic methods as the Wall Street Journal is to publish their next edition by setting the type by hand.

He was a businessman, and I’m sure spends his days with spreadsheets, projections, and marketing studies. He hasn’t used a slide rule in his career and wouldn’t make projections with tea leaves or soothsayers. He does not blame witchcraft for a bad quarter, or expect the factory that makes his product to use steam power instead of electricity, or horses and wagons to deliver his products instead of trucks and trains. But he expects me to farm like my grandfather, and not incidentally, I suppose, to live like him as well. He thinks farmers are too stupid to farm sustainably, too cruel to treat their animals well, and too careless to worry about their communities, their health, and their families. I would not presume to criticize his car, or the size of his house, or the way he runs his business. But he is an expert about me, on the strength of one book, and is sharing that expertise with captive audiences every time he gets the chance. Enough, enough, enough.

Indeed.

[HT: Tyler Cowan]

"I Love Rooster Sauce!"

So do I. Here's an NYT profile on the favorite condiment in my kitchen.

Terrine of Alpo?

A new study from the American Association of Wine Economists:

Considering the similarity of its ingredients, canned dog food could be a suitable and inexpensive substitute for pâté or processed blended meat products such as Spam or liverwurst. However, the social stigma associated with the human consumption of pet food makes an unbiased comparison challenging. To prevent bias, Newman's Own dog food was prepared with a food processor to have the texture and appearance of a liver mousse. In a double-blind test, subjects were presented with five unlabeled blended meat products, one of which was the prepared dog food. After ranking the samples on the basis of taste, subjects were challenged to identify which of the five was dog food. [...] Subjects were not better than random at correctly identifying the dog food.

Before you run to Petco for a snack, there's more:

Even with the benefits of added salt, a smooth texture, and attractive presentation, canned dog food is unpalatable compared to a range of similar blended meat products.

We conclude that, although human beings do not enjoy eating dog food, they are also not able to distinguish its flavor profile from other meat-based products that are intended for human consumption.

[HT: Tyler Cowan]

Squirrel: It's What's for Dinner

Population control via ingestion, from the NYT:

Rare roast beef splashed with meaty jus, pork enrobed in luscious crackling fat, perhaps a juicy, plump chicken ... these are feasts that come to mind when one thinks of quintessential British food. Lately, however, a new meat is gracing the British table: squirrel.

While some have difficulty with the cuteness versus deliciousness ratio — that adorable little face, those itty-bitty claws — many feel that eating squirrel is a way to do something good for the environment while enjoying a unique gastronomical experience.

With literally millions of squirrels rampaging throughout England, Scotland and Wales at any given time, squirrels need to be controlled by culls. This means that hunters, gamekeepers, trappers and the Forestry Commission (the British equivalent of forest rangers) provide a regular supply of the meat to British butchers, restaurants, pâté and pasty makers and so forth.

On Tonight's Shopping List: Tobacco and Eucalyptus Branches

Alinea, widely considered to be one of the best restaurants in America, recently put out a cookbook of 100 of its most famous dishes. Unfortunately for the average cook, its chef/owner Grant Achatz bases his recipes on molecular gastronomy, i.e. this is varsity league cooking. One brave blogger, Carol Blymire, is trying to cook her way through the entire book. I've eaten at Alinea, and know that some of Achatz's recipes require some crazy ingredients. While there is nothing new to the premise--there is no shortage of blogs based on the concept of cooking one's way through a cookbook--Blymire's choice of cookbook is a brave one.

Here is an article about her from today's Washington Post.

Bubble and Squeak and Other Ridiculously Named Dishes

The Washingtonian recently published a "first look" review of CommonWealth in Columbia Heights. Seriously, guys? The place opened in early August. Tardiness aside, the review is spot-on. I'm glad the place exists, especially in Columbia Heights. There aren't many gatropubs in DC, and few restaurants match CommonWealth's atmosphere: it's cozy and boisterous. I've only eaten there once, so it's hard for me to judge the food (which was good, not great). The menu features some wonderfully named British fare, like frog in a puff and bubble and sqeak, and a ton of pressed meats.

As the Washingtonian review notes, the prices are a bit high for a restaurant that feigns to cater to the "people." Our dinner for two (with two beers) came out to $120, before tip (and no dessert). Yikes.

That said, I'll be back soon: it's hard to stay mad at a restaurant that has roasted bone marrow on the menu.