Paris (et Italia) Je t’aime!

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I may have grown to loathe Michelin and all that it stands for, but France will always have a special place in my heart. As will Italy.

That’s where I’ll be for the next two weeks (after a weekend in D.C.) because that’s where I go when I want great food with no attendant bullshit…bullshit being the main thing defining restaurant culture in America these days.

Whether it’s Michelin, the James Beard Foundation, Instagram, or Yelp, the restaurants throughout America have become like a bunch of slobbering dogs barking for attention. Everyone’s on the make; everyone wants “recognition,” and simply cooking good food for clients who enjoy it has become secondary to the endless chase for publicity.

And it’s exhausting (even for an old pro like me) to see the constant social media bombardment.

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So I’m off to Paris and northern Italy for a while, and here’s why I’m going:

the food is better

the wine is better

the great wines are cheaper

the great restaurants have become a bargain

almost everyone speaks at least a little English these days

people are friendly, even in Paris (the supposed snootiness of the French is a relic of the 1950s)

Google maps makes navigation (by car or foot) a breeze

you can sit all day in a cafe and no one bothers you

every chef in the country isn’t trying to be famous

wine bars are everywhere

drinking coffee in Italy is one of life’s great pleasures

eating pastries in France is almost better than sex

two words: unpasteurized cheese

the people-watching in both is spectacular

most of the great restaurants (and many casual ones) are not allergic to linens

you can spend a three hour lunch debating where you’re going to have a four hour dinner and no one looks twice at you

in between meals you can take a two hour walk that seems like 20 minutes

there’s always something to see

there’s never any music in restaurants

and did I mention the salumi and charcuterie?

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Europeans have a closer connection to their food — a passionate relationship that Americans can only dream of.

You can feel it when you walk the streets, you can smell it everywhere.

America was, and always will be, about chasing a buck. The artisanal dedication of European chefs may be fading in the digital age, but the cultures (of Italy and France) still revere food and cooking on a much deeper level than we do. Here, it’s all about getting an award, or getting on TV so you won’t have to slave away at the stoves anymore. In other countries, slaving away at the stoves is a lifelong calling. They don’t have the luxury of a (potential) escape hatch and empire-building like America affords its success stories, so people spend a lifetime perfecting a dish, or a sushi slice, or creating a quintessential experience. It’s drudgery sure, but it’s also pure.

I have found those quintessential experiences many times in western Europe — sometimes in a cathedral of fine dining, and sometimes in a dark little wine bar — and I’m going back in search of more.

So I’ll see you in a few weeks.

In the meantime, feel free to follow me on Twitter or Instagram if you have a hankering to see what I’m up to across the pond.

Bon appetit!

Buon gusto!

And remember: Michelin is bullshit.

2017 – My Year of Dining Deliciously

The end of 2017 is nigh, and all kidding aside, it’s been one of the best years of my life — personally, professionally, and gastronomically.

All those troubles of the past 20 years: the relationship troubles, the career problems, the financial difficulties and the overindulgence in various vices seemed to fade away this year — and many, many positive things came into focus for me.

Marriage and maturity will do that to you. (For the record: yours truly is proof positive that you’re never too old to grow up.)

With so many “issues”  disappearing in my rear-view mirror in 2017, it’s time to look ahead. More to the point, now that we’ve grown up, what do we want to do with the rest of our life.

Before we get to that, let’s review some of the highlights of the past 365 days:

We went to Rome for a Roman wine tour. (All that one week in Rome did was whet our appetite for more Italian travel.)

We went to France, twice, which only whetted our appetite for more France.

Amongst all this travel, there were side trips to Canada, Chicago, Atlanta, Arizona, Germany and Switzerland.

In between all that, we even had time to carve out a North Carolina ‘cue quest.

For the 23rd year in a row, we ate in more Las Vegas restaurants than we could count, and distilled them down into the 6th edition of EATING LAS VEGAS – The 52 Essential Restaurants.

(This edition, unlike previous ones, contains a number of essays about my life as a galloping gastronome, as well as some overall observations about the Las Vegas restaurant scene, past, present, and future. If you still haven’t ordered your copy – and you know you want to – you can do so by clicking here.)

For the umpteenth time we wrote the Chef of the Year and Restaurant of the Year articles (among others) for Desert Companion magazine.

For about the 100th time, we went out of our way to remind the world what a piece of shit the Eater Las Vegas web site is.

But enough ax-grinding, let’s get to our year in food. Sadly, most of the highlights took place out of this country, or out of the state of Nevada.

Memorable Meals of the Year (in no particular order):

La Bouitte

Allen & Son

Le Grand Vêfour

Twist by Pierre Gagnaire

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Edulis

La Mère Brazier

Restaurant Eugene

Topolobampo

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Lameloise

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Kaiseki Yuzu

Specific standout dishes/meals of 2017:

Oysters of the YearLe Dôme:

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Photogenic Dish of the Year – Summer fruits salad at Jean-Georges Steakhouse:

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Steak of the Year – the aged-on-the-hoof beauty from TXOGITXU – Basque beef:

Runner up: the Charolais côte de boeuf at Le Sauvage in Dijon, France:

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Japanese Meal of the Year – Kaiseki Yuzu (see above)

Sushi of the YearYui Edomae Sushi:

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Pizza of the YearContento Pizzeria and Bar:

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Vegetarian Meal of the Year – Twist by Pierre Gagnaire (see above)

Deer of the YearWaldhotel Sonnora, Dreis, Germany:

https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/disney/images/0/06/Bambi_-_Render.png/revision/latest?cb=20160614120622(Sorry, Bambi)

Beef Bourguignon of the YearRestaurant Caveau des Arches, Beaune, France:

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View of the YearCanoe, Toronto, Ontario, Canada (see pic at top of page)

Decor of the YearLe Clarence:

Image may contain: 1 person, smiling, sitting, table, living room and indoor(Minimalist and understated, just like ELV!)

Gamiest, Rankest, Earthiest, Dirtiest Dish of the Year – AAAA Andouillette a la Chablisienne:

(It tastes exactly like what it is: the insides of a barely-cleaned intestine.)

Italian Meal of the YearFerraro’s:

(Gino Ferraro: the consummate restaurateur)

Cheese of the Year – a mimolette so old Louis XIV probably sampled a slice:

Barbecue of the Year – Toss up: Picnic/Allen & Son (see above)

Beer of the YearThe Exchange Brewery in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario:

Eclair of the YearBreizh Café:

Cheese Cart of the Year – a turophiles dream at Hostellerie Des Clos in Chablis, France.

Wine List(s) of the YearLe Pot d’Etain:

Runners up: Les Climats:

…and La Bouitte:

Image may contain: 1 person(Wine lists are a two-fisted handful at La Bouitte)

Vegetable Dish of the Year – Winter vegetable melange at La Bouitte:

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Fish of the Year – no fish dish haunted my dreams more than this omble chevalier at a little roadside restaurant outside of Annecy, France called Auberge du Roselet:

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Cold Cuts of the YearCesare Casella’s artisanal prosciutto at Carnevino:

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Most Intense Dessert of the YearSebastien Polycarpe’s clay-baked pineapple at Restaurant Guy Savoy:

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Bistro of the Year – Le Comptoir du Relais, Paris, France:

Coffee and Doughnuts of the YearTim Hortons:

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Yes, it was a helluva year for sheer travelocity and intrepid epicureanism. But amidst all the gourmet jewels, there were some zircons that stood out. and managed to pee in our cornflakes

Lowlights of the Year:

Alinea – To put it as succinctly as possible: Anyone who appreciates the gastronomic temples of Europe can see what a joke this restaurant is. Strictly for Midwestern rubes and impressionable Instagrammers,  and the writers who speak to them.

Momofuku – I love what David Chang has done for Asian food in America. But his restaurants are not nearly as good as they think they are.

Terrible Italian – Bad Italian food continues to pull ’em in in Las Vegas. If I had a dollar for every yokel who tells me how much they “love” Piero’s, Cafe Chloe, Battista’s, Chicago Joe’s, et al, I’d have a wine cellar full of grand cru Burgundies. It pains me to say it but Maggiano’s and Buca di Beppo are better than most of our locally-owned Italians.

Food writing in Las Vegas – Can the Review-Journal get any worse? Oh, yes it can. It can cover chain restaurants and “cocktails of the week” while continuing to aim its appeal at the Sun City crowd. Someone needs to put this dead horse out of its misery.

Our Moribund Corporate Hotel Culture – This is the thing that depresses me the most. The heyday of the Vegas restaurant revolution ended for good around 2010. What the great celebrity chefs wrought (Spago, Emeril’s, Le Cirque, Picasso, et al) the big hotels are now either running into the ground or milking for all they’re worth. There hasn’t been an original thought in a Vegas F&B office in ten years. There hasn’t been a new, food-forward/chef-driven place since Bazaar Meat opened in 2014. Instead of cuisine, we get whatever re-packaged crap they can slap Gordon Ramsay’s or Giada’s name on. There are still restaurants on the Strip that I adore (and buy my book and you can read about them ;-) ) but I’ve been falling out of love with the Strip for years now, and nothing I see is going to re-kindle the flame of passion I once had anytime soon.

Summer Truffles – If one more chef puts one more tasteless summer truffle on my plate (always with a BIG smile like they’re doing me a favor) I’m going to get a concealed carry permit, strap a .38 to my thigh, and put a bullet through the plate. There is no excuse for these dreaded, bill-padding fungi, and you insult my intelligence (and taste buds) by expecting me to be impressed.

Truffle Oil – See above.

Octopus – If I never see a piece of cephalopod again it will be too soon.

Scallops – Ditto.

Drinking Wine/Drinking in General – I took Carnevino to task this year for its obscenely-priced wine list. It is the most egregious offender, but is by no means alone in playing the rape-the-tourist/price-gouging game — e.g. the Wynncore – an entire hotel whose F&B price structure would make P.T. Barnum blush, and the $30 gin and tonics at Jaleo. In the past 20 years (ever since they learned they could “sell” Vegas and a world-class eating and drinking experience, our hotels have turned the town into one, gigantic edible tourist trap. We should be ashamed of ourselves. I can barely bring myself to order anything but a glass of wine these days….or some cheap vermouth…in any of our Strip hotels. Spend a couple of days in any wine region, anywhere in the world, and you’ll see how fucked up drinking is in Las Vegas.

Which brings me to my conclusion…at the conclusion of this most significant year.

As you know, we’ve been struggling with what to do with this web site for the past year or so. It’s becoming harder and harder for us to get enthused about restaurants I have visited dozens of times, and, as I just mentioned, there isn’t a lot of excitement on the horizon. I try to gear what I write to people like me, or those who may have been like me 30 years ago when I was hungry to learn all I could about food, dining out, travel, and the world of restaurants. I like to think of my readers as a black belt foodie audience, but within the realm of Las Vegas restaurants, there is less and less that I can teach them.

Right now I’m pondering whether to write more about my travels (next up: Spain, Italy, Normandy and Scandinavia), or maybe even expand into home cooking. Unbeknownst to many, I used to be an avid home cook, and people love recipe websites more than they do restaurant reviews. There will definitely be a change in graphics sometime in the new year. (I’m quite aware that the look of this site is cluttered and dated and it’s all my fault.) The new look will be simpler — more Drudge Report than Bon Appetit — as soon as I can find a graphic designer.

Until then….

Happy New Year from the Curtas BBQ Boyz!

Image may contain: 3 people, people smiling, people sitting and sunglasses(Real men toast with white wine.)

 

Why I Love France

There is nothing more precious to a food lover than to experience a cuisine, or a dish, or an ingredient in its native habitat. Whether it’s clams in Ipswich, a Cuban sandwich in Habana, or tortellini in Bologna, the holy grail of gastronomes is to be in a place known for a certain type of food, and to consume that food where it originated.

People who count their Michelin stars, or jump from the latest hot spot to the next miss the whole point of eating well. Eating well is not just about dining in restaurants — although great restaurants are essential for bringing a cuisine into focus — it is about diving deep, and about learning about distinctions and differences while you’re paddling above the surface, or submerged beneath it.

People are fond of saying that the best of any cuisine is found in people’s homes. Ask any Italian, and they’ll swear by their Nonna’s pasta e fagioli over any version in any restaurant. Go to Germany and what you get in their restaurants is basically the same food they serve at home. (Only in their tonier restaurants do they venture into fancier, French-influenced dishes.) I haven’t traveled south of Mexico, but I think it’s safe to say that South American cuisine in all its multi-cultural forms takes almost all of its cues from what people grew up with — restaurants there (and almost everywhere) being a distillation of what people eat in their houses.

For what are restaurants, really, but a place to get sustenance when one is away from home?

Street food is something different entirely. Street food is by and large peasant food — quick and easy ways to sustain a busy worker through the day. Food writers the world over have gone to great lengths to elevate kebabs, noodle soups and all sorts of meat pies to “gourmet” status, but what they miss are the cultural underpinnings of these things as quick and easy ways to quell hunger and provide fuel for our furnaces. High-end sushi may be a “thing” in Tokyo and New York, but it started as a way for Edo (Tokyo) workers to grab a quick snack on the go. Only in the modern era (and by “modern era” we mean the last twenty five years) have braggadocios gastronomads elevated fish on rice to the fucking ridiculous.

Table and chair restaurants — from the Far East to the American Southwest — do one thing: cook the foods of their homeland for strangers. Many of these customers are natives (surely their harshest critics), but some are travelers looking to sustain themselves on whatever voyage of discovery they happen to be on. Being strangers in strange lands, though, one can never hope to understand a cuisine like a native. Unless you are fortunate enough to have friends who live where you travel, you have little hope of experiencing a beef bourguignon from a French housewife, a Cornish pasty from a Welsh coal miner, or cuy (pronounced “kwee”) from a Peruvian farmer.

That’s where France comes in. In France, restaurants are, in and of themselves, a cultural landmark. French food, more than any other, achieves it apotheosis in restaurants — restaurants as humble as a sidewalk cafe to a haute cuisine palace. Food may be a passion in Italy, but in France it is a religion. Indeed, French cuisine (more specifically the “French gastronomic menu”) has been recognized by UNESCO as one of the world’s great cultural artifacts.

The French are prouder of their food than any other country on earth. From the humblest cheese to the most fantastic dessert cart, the average Frenchman knows his country’s food (and restaurants) have set a standard for the rest of the world to follow. To be sure, there is terrible, corporate food in France. There are lazy brasseries and slip-shod bakeries and acidic wines and all forms of half-assery that seeks to profit from France’s reputation without putting in the work.

But there’s also more great food in more little corners of this Texas-sized country than in most of the rest of the world put together. A lot has been written about French food being under siege. Fast food, global economic pressures, and the world-wide cult of immediate gratification has endangered many things about the French way of life. But the depth of knowledge in France about its cuisine is profound, and the currents run deep. Yes, there are Hawaiian fishermen who know the bounty of their sea backwards, and Iranian epicures who can tell you everything there is to know about caviar, but no country on earth has spent centuries celebrating its food — from the humblest peasant fare to feasts fit for a king — like France has.

What France did, starting over two hundred years ago, is institutionalize (and publicize) the (previously very private) act of eating meals. France turned the act of eating out into a form of theater, and to this day, its restaurants are a daily celebration of food in all its forms. A restaurant meal in France is a way to “restaur” yourself, but it is also so much more. What restaurants in France represent, is a form of socialization, indeed, civilization at its apex.

What do I love most about French food? Well first, it is that menu — a light to heavy escalation of everything from the color of the wine to the weight of the calories. (Fun fact: service à la française originally meant serving everything at once, buffet-style. It was only in the early 19th  century that service à la russe – serving things in individual courses – became popular in France.)

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Everything about the French menu is a ladder with each rung representing another form of advancement up the food chain. There are white wines to start, and the freshest, briniest shellfish to get your gastronomic juices flowing. From there you graduate to soups, and legumes, and cooked fish before ascending to the plats principaux (the main courses). Through it all there is bread (the best on earth), and at the end are desserts — dessert being a French word that the French understand better than anyone.

So, let’s take stock: the best bread, the best shellfish, the best butter, the best wine (sorry, Italy), the best sparkling wine, a way with small birds that is the envy of cooks the world over, and a myriad of soups, stews, and beef dishes to beat the band. And did I mention the cheese? What’s not to love? Well, I can hear some naysayers kvetching about the lack of street food. True, the French don’t do street food all that well, but for the occasional crepe, but when there’s a sidewalk cafe on every corner, full of chocolat, cafe au lait and croque monsieur, why eat standing up? Eating standing up is what farm animals do.

Modernists love to point to the course-by-course progression of a French dinner as hopelessly outdated — preferring instead to extol the virtues of some new Nordic wunderkind or 30-course slog through some chef’s “vision.” But what they miss is the intellectual debt all fine dining owes to the French menu. Until the French figured out the natural progression of how we should eat, meals the world over were pretty much a free-for-all. The reason you start with oysters at Arzak has more to do with Le Grand Vefour than anything Ferran Adrià did.

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So I return again and again. For the 10th time in a few days, to take another bite out of the country that first captured my imagination as a law student reading Gourmet magazine — back when I could only dream about visiting  all those wonderful bistros, brasseries, and temples of luxurious dining. But visit them I have, from Alsace to Lyon to the French Alps I have explored this country, and I haven’t tired of it yet. Paris holds many charms for me, as it has for so many Americans, but what I enjoy most of all these days is tasting the countryside, the places where the wine and the cheese and the ouefs meurette are made. What is most compelling of all, now that I’m in my sixties, is seeing where this cuisine came from, and continuing to learn why it is the greatest food on earth.

ELV note: I will be traveling to France in a few days (Paris-Chablis-Beaune-Burgundy) and will not be posting anything on this site until mid-December. Please feel free to follow my epicurean adventures on Twitter (@eatinglasvegas) or Instagram (@johncurtas). Bon appetit!

A couple of apropos quotes:

“French food is like jazz: it begins with theory, technique and organizing principles, and comes alive through playfulness, spontaneity, and, ultimately, extemporization.” – Richard Olney

 “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” – Mark Twain