Accidental Hedonist

Food Porn: Liverwurst on a Baguette

As always, the Food Porn collection is my way of washing away the filth that comes from discussing food politics.

I recognize that there are Liverwurst haters out there. To them I say...more for me!!

How does it feel to be a Sugar Lobbyist?

So, looking at the chart above, can you guess which year the idea of a national soda tax was floated about?

The chart, which comes from the LA Times, was used to supplement an extraordinary piece of journalism that details exactly how the lobbying industry can and does influence public policy in regard to food.

Within the story appears a gentleman by the name of Kevin Keane, who is the senior vice president of public affairs for the American Beverage Association. From my perspective after reading this article, all this person needs to make his public persona complete is a Snidely Whiplash mustache and an evil laugh. Some of his gems include:

"The industries in our coalition realized that this (soda tax) is a slippery slope, that once government reaches into the grocery cart, your business could be next,"

Right, because all of our food that way get from the supermarket is currently tax free.

"Cigarettes kill. Soda doesn't," Keane said. "They pick and choose the facts that support their view and they attack anyone who disagrees,"

Clearly Mr. Keane is hoping that the common lay-person has never heard of the scientific method.

"It's scientific McCarthyism."

I'm not even sure what this means, but I'll take a stab at it: Is he saying that the scientific community, which would include nearly every nutritionist and doctor on this planet that recommends that overeating sugar is a bad thing, is conducting a witch-hunt against Coke and Pepsi, companies who make an excessive amount of money off of a product that provides absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever?

The American Beverage Assn. website for the campaign against the soda tax points to three studies in peer-reviewed journals that dispute a link between soda and obesity.

One was conducted by an author working for Archer Daniels Midland, a major producer of high-fructose corn syrup. Two were conducted by a researcher who now works for the beverage association; one of those studies was funded by a grant from the association.

Despite the funding source, "the researchers worked independently and their findings were published in a peer-reviewed journal. That's the gold standard in the scientific community," Keane said.

Wait, wait, wait...is he really trying to say that the research funded by Archer Daniels Midland (the research which, by the way, ended up benefiting ADM) was not biased by said funding? Yet the research which shows ADM products in a bad light was sloppy and reeked of Scientific McCarthyism?!?

Seriously, Mr. Keane. Do you stand in front of a mirror every morning and practice your "Muah-ha-HA-HA!!"?

Finally, let me point to this quote:

Keane also says that soda accounts for just over 5% of the average American's calorie intake, and that blaming soda for the obesity epidemic "defies common sense."

Some numbers for you, dear reader, that come from from Marion Nestle's book What to Eat, which in turn came from the USDA:

Below is the pounds per capita consumption of sweetners here in the US, one in 1980 when HFCS took off, and in 2004.

Total caloric sweeteners
1980 - 120 lbs.
2004 - 142 lbs.

refined sugar
1980 - 84 lbs.
2004 - 61 lbs.

HFCS
1980 - 35 lbs.
2004 - 78 lbs.

others
1980 - 1
2004 - 1.4

Now, this extra sugar has to go somewhere, right? But where?

In 2004, Americans spent $66 billion on carbonated drinks, and the soft drink industry produced approximately 52 gallons per year of sugar-sweetened and "diet" soda -- or 18 oz per day -- for every man, woman, and child in the United States. In 1942, the US annual production of carbonated drinks was approximately 2 oz per person per day, such that in the last 6 decades, per capita soda production has increased nearly 10-fold.

Those numbers come from Liquid Candy: How Soft Drinks are Harming America's Health (Warning: PDF).

If these numbers are to be believed, I'm not sure how anyone can fail to see the logic behind how scientists can put forth the theory that growth of obesity in America has been influenced by both the increase of sugar production and a related increase is soda consumption, a product whose primary ingredient is....

wait for it....

sugar.

Look, Mr. Keane. You're full of it. And the worst part is, you know you're full of it. Instead of adding to constructive dialogue, you throw around buzz phrases, red herrings, and straw men, while behind the scenes you throw around money.

And I say this as a fan of sugar! Though my days of soda are behind me, I currently have a book proposal out there that deals with the joys of sugar, specifically in the form of candy. I'm no saint here.

But you? Wow. Seriously, dude. Say it with me:

"Muah-Ha-HA-HA!"

There. Doesn't that feel more natural?

Dumbing it Down: Thai Food and America's Palate

There was recently a conversation on Slog about Thai food, and the "typical" American's response to it. Apparently there is a practice that occurs in some Thai restaurants of presenting a dish with less spice than what the restaurant would serve themselves. In other words, they have a definition of "5-Star spicy" that they use for themselves, and a less hot "5-Star spicy" that is applied to everyone else.

The resulting conversation is indicative of two major food camps here in America. On one side we have those who want to experience the true "exotic" nature of a dish, not one that has been watered down for the standard American palate. On the other side is a group of people who want the food their way, regardless of how authentic it may or may not be. Both of these positions were mentioned in the Slop piece.

The first camp was represented with Jonathan Gold, a food writer who carries around a card with him written in indic script that essentially reads "Please give me your your best spices. I can handle it. Honest", so that when he's in Thailand, he's gets the a real meal, not one dumbed down for a tourist.

The second camp was represented by a family in a Thai restaurant here in America who stated that they wanted absolutely no spice in their dish at all.

Setting aside for the moment the incorrect assertion that all American's have roughly the same tastes, I do find this divide between approaches to food utterly fascinating, mostly because there's false assumptions being made by everyone.

I love the idea that there's this "authentic" dish floating out their in the ether some where, and that there are a handful of self-described food anthropologists out there who believe that they can find it. Recipes are a reflection of culture. Period. The fact that there is more than one way to prepare any given dish is indicative of that. When someone tells me they've cooked an authentic Italian meal, I honestly have definitive idea what that means. Authentic to what Italians eat today? What they are fifty years ago? One hundred?

Food changes generation to generation, and is influenced by swath of variables as simple as farm production, and as complex as class structure. Recipes change based off of the availability (or lack-thereof) of said food. Add to this the fact that recipes are also an individuals interpretation of an idea and what we're left with is no definitive recipe for bolognese sauce or kaeng khiaowan. That's not to say that recipes can't have definitive characteristics, but how those characteristics are achieved can be vast or minimal.

All of this is my way of saying looking for an authentic imported cuisine experience is almost always a lost cause, because the word "authentic" is undefinable.

Add to this is the fact that there is not one single imported cuisine that has been brought into the United States that hasn't been altered in some manner to accommodate our tastes. Spaghetti and Meatballs is about as Italian of a meal as General Tso's Chicken is Chinese. Hell, Mexican cuisine didn't even make it across the border before being altered into a variation called "Tex-Mex". There's a long standing tradition of having inauthentic "authentic" cuisines here in the United States. American-Thai cuisine is just another in a long line of interpretations passing itself off as "real".

That being said, anyone who goes into a Thai restaurant asking for "no spice" deserves to be kicked out on their ear. Asking for "no spice" at a Thai restaurant is akin to going to a steakhouse and asking for a veggie burger. It smacks of that very American tradition of "the customer is always right", an idea that is demonstrably wrong. But business is business, and I'm sure that the restaurant, working on thin margins to begin with, doesn't wish to risk throwing any revenue out their door, even if it means compromising those defining characteristics mentioned above.

Now let's address the issue of two different standards of "5-star". Honestly? I'm not that concerned about it. Because I know , deep in my heart, somewhere in each Thai/American community found here in the States is that one Thai restaurant who, when they say "5-star spicy" actually mean "5-star spicy". And when I find such a place, I swear by all that is delicious and good that they will see my business on a regular basis.

And those places whose "5-star spicy" doesn't raise a single bead of sweat will never see a dime from me again.

The Politics of Publishing

There's plenty of evidence out there that supports my thesis that I am a very naive person.

Take the recent dispute between Amazon and MacMillan. Being a first time book author, I never gave Macmillan much thought. I knew, in a vague sort of way, that they owned St. Martin's Press (who published 99 Drams of Whiskey). but I believed that this was a nugget of information that was only relevant to me indirectly. My agent and I are working with St. Martin's, and we're trying to develop some long term writing/publishing relationship. I imagine that this is a regular process that many writers go through.

Think of it this way. In my experience, writers and publishers have an open relationship. When a writer hooks up with a publisher to release a book, the experience can go either well (the publisher makes money, or a firm foundation is set to make money in the future, and the writer is treated fairly), or not well (the publisher loses money and/or the writer is treated poorly).

From all evidence, St. Martin's and I are having a good relationship. As I mentioned, we're working on developing new books, and they have the right of first refusal on my next few proposals. The open relationship comes into play if they turn down those proposals, I can pursue other publishers.

This is my extended way of saying that I have some measure of loyalty to St. Martin's. I want to see them succeed, and want to ensure I have some future with them.

As far as Macmillan goes? They're my partner's parent whom I've never met. What happens with Macmillan has little bearing on me, being a mere once-published writer trying to hold her own in the big bad publishing world.

That changed this weekend. Amazon, in a snit, had stopped directly selling Macmillan books this weekend, and has removed many a Kindle edition from the Macmillan library from their Kindle shop. As St. Martin's falls into the Macmillan family, this means that 99 Drams of Whiskey was pulled from their list, along with literally hundreds, if not thousands, of other authors.

What this means is that, because of a feud in an arena that is many, many layers above my tiny position in the world, I will now make less money now, than I had if this stupid, stupid reaction from Amazon hadn't happened at all.

I am a realist here. I don't think for a moment that the money lost equates to anything more than a few dollars. 99 Drams is a niche book that was selling steadily, but it was certainly not breaking sales records. We had conservative sales goals with the book, and it was hitting the marks it was supposed to hit.

But for any once published writer trying to establish a reputation and credibility, every sale counts. It matters not if it is an e-book sale or a hardcover edition. Numbers matter. What Amazon has done was shut down a well-traveled road that allowed me to establish those numbers.

Suddenly, my indirect relationship with Macmillan matters a whole bunch. This week, I bet there are a whole slew of writers waking up to that realization.

We can all talk big picture here, and decide whether Amazon or Macmillan are in the right. But I have a huge bias here. Amazon is impeding my future in their own small yet pathetic way.

And it pisses me off.

Haggis

There's a bit of a problem when it comes to developing an opinion of an idea of food, especially when that idea runs dead on into the reality of said food. I've been thinking about that a lot this week as the United States Department of Agriculture considers lifting a 21-year import ban on haggis.

Haggis is one of those foods that allows for people to develop an opinion about it without actually having tasted it. Talk to your average American about haggis, and they're bound to reply with some level of knowledge.

"It's made in Sheep's stomachs", some might say.

"There's oatmeal in it", others might contribute.

"It's Scottish, isn't it?", still others will add.

And many will either wrinkle their nose at it, or perhaps consider the fact that haggis can be made with sheep's hearts, livers, and yes, even lungs. This is the part that makes me shake my head. I want to ask these people if they've tried haggis before showing their disgust. It would be a pointless question, to be sure, because their actions have already answered it before even asked.

Rest assured, for those of you who are curious, haggis, when made well, is quite delicious. It is peppery, savory, and has a texture which is not much different from ground beef. When made poorly, it's just as disappointing as a badly made corned beef and hash.

So what brings haggis into the world as a culinary novelty? The ingredients, plain and simple. For some, the "novelty" of using offal in a dish offers the opportunity to imply the oddness of the Scottish diet. The dish allows them to cast hinted-at aspersions on the exotic tendencies of others. We see this all the time when people talk about foods from other cultures.

The reality of this, for me, is that the novelty surrounding dishes such as these actually shines a light onto those casting those aforementioned aspersions. If we lived in a country where brains, hearts, and lungs were eaten on a regular basis, then haggis would hardly be a blip on our cultural radar.

Maybe it's no big deal for me because of the way I was raised. I grew up seeing deer, rabbit, and other game animals gutted every hunting season, with most every part of the animal used in some sort of dish. I'd like to think that farmers of livestock have found very little of interest in haggis, because they know that such dishes make the most economic sense.

Or perhaps I've gotten it all wrong, and people are actually freaked out by the use of oatmeal in such a dish, an ingredient we here in the States rarely use for anything but a healthy breakfast, and topped with nothing more complex than cream, butter, and brown sugar.

Nah. 'Cause we Americans tend to see blood pudding in the same exact light.

The Sanctity of Restaurants

I have a standard practice here at Accidental Hedonist - I try not to talk about restaurants and restaurant experiences that have played a part in my personal relationships. Partly this is because you, the reader, don't need to hear about every bit of food I consume. Partly this is because this can assure my partners that not everything that happens to us becomes fodder for public consumption.

But sometimes? Sometimes it's because the restaurants have taken on a quality of sanctity. They become places that represent something more than a simple night out. Restaurants can become a near personal Holy site.

There are no rules on how a restaurant becomes such a private location, but most often something personal and intimate had occurred there. Sometimes it's a simple as your local eatery was the first place you saw your partner. Perhaps it was location where you had your first date, or marriage was proposed. Other places can take on an iconic status when you repeatedly have a good time there, and you don't wish to jinx it.

How can you tell if you've sanctified a restaurant? Simple - there are only two criteria;

1) You speak of the restaurant with nothing but fondness.
2) You steadfastly refuse to go there except for under very specific circumstances.

If you only go to a certain restaurant with your partner, and refuse to go there with any one else, you've sanctified a restaurant. If you only go to a certain place due to a ritual behavior, you've sanctified a restaurant. If you and your friends only meet at one location, you've sanctified it. In all of these points, the place has taken on greater meaning than simply being a "place to eat".

At face value, this sort of behavior sounds a bit silly. But it happens far more often than you think. There are breakfast locations around the country that make a fortune on Sunday morning, because people go there on a regular basis after church. I know of sports fans who believe that they help their team by having a certain meal at a certain location right before a game. I can name two different friends who absolutely will not go back to a restaurant because they had the best meal of their life at that restaurant, and don't wish to ruin whatever memories they had there.

But if you look at these behaviors, there is a value there. They imbue our lives with moments and memories of good times. That "greater meaning" that I spoke of above are part of what defines us. I can't tell you what I had for dinner two weeks ago. And I'm sure there are countless restaurants that I've forgotten, or feel indifferent about. But I can tell you the meal I had in 2003, when I went on my first date with Tara, and the name of the restaurant. That place, since closed, will always be part of me.

Food is often just food. We mindlessly consume it, because our bodies require it for sustenance. But there are times when it takes on a bigger role in our lives, something greater than simple nutrition. Restaurants have a similar characteristic. Tara and I spent the weekend paring down our list of sanctified places, and we've decided on two places that we absolutely won't go with anyone else.

I could tell you the names of those places. But I won't. Because then they wouldn't be ours anymore.

Another Super Bowl Reminder

For me, the Super Bowl represents the true end of a Holiday season that started back in October with Halloween. What makes this season so wondrous to me is the fact that all of them have food play a distinct part in the festivities. Having said that, it is important to note for all of you would-be Martha Stewarts out there that the Super Bowl comes with its own set of rules and traditions.

I seem to mention these rules every year, but almost always some yahoo goes ahead and ignores them, and then makes a faux pas that clearly indicates that they have no idea what is so damn important about Super Bowl Sunday.

So what is so important about the football day to end all football days? After growing up in Pittsburgh during the 1970's and living off Campus at The Ohio State Univsity, where tailgating is an art, I have found a clear answer. Super Bowl Sunday is about all things football. This includes the teams participating, the game itself, the commercials supporting the game, the halftime show. In short, it's not about you.

This is not your time to shine, this is not your time to whip up a fancy meal. No one who is there to watch the game with any seriousness gives a rat's-patoot on the fact that you've spent day's looking for the perfect recipe for your lime sherbet punch. And the phrase "Healthy Super Bowl Recipes" should be avoided at all costs. Where other holidays have food at or near the top in importance, for Super Bowl Sunday, food ranks somewhere below the importance of whether the commercials were entertaining and whether the halftime show is worth sacrificing the all important bathroom break.

Don't get me wrong, the food needs to be good, but anything that smacks of attention grabbing is a no-no. Here are some guidelines:

Don't go fancy: Keep it simple, and stick to recipes that have a broad appeal. Hamburgers and hot dogs work well, but your Grilled Eggplant Sub with Mozzarella and Tomato Jam reeks of "too much effort." Ditto for your "smoked salmon pizza". Honestly, no one is going to care if you put pomegranates in your guacamole.

Go to the unhealthy: This day, more than any other in America, is the one where it's okay to eat as if you're a college freshman with money to burn. Barbecue, pizza, and beer are the standards, not the exceptions. If you must have salad, steer towards those with mayonnaise.

It's a buffet: On Super Bowl Sunday, there are no appetizers and desserts. Insisting on otherwise means that you want to control when food is served. The pace of the football game is likely to dictate otherwise.

The more finger food, the better: Chips and dip, sandwiches, and Buffalo Wings are long established football tailgating traditions that, by design, leave eating utensils as an option. Foods that require anything more complicated than a fork should be left for another day.

Drinks: Think back to any football game you've attended. Did they serve wine? Leave your bottles corked and stick to beer and drinks that require minimal amounts of effort, and don't leave your guests tipsy by the end of the first quarter. Margaritas are okay, Long Island Iced Teas are not.

No Soups: Seriously? Soup? Have you even been to a football game? Stews on the other hand are somewhat acceptable, with Chili being a classic dish.

Menus can highlight the teams in the Big Game: That means Gumbo, Jambalaya, and Étouffée for New Orleans (and Hurricanes for you amateur bartenders). For Indianapolis it means... I don't know, what? A gallon of milk? Who goes to Indianapolis for food?

The key point to remember here is that the food is here to support the viewing of the game and any conversation surrounding topics relating to the game. It is not a focal point. If you feel as if Super Bowl Sunday is better served by you foisting squash salad on your guests, and demanding that everyone sit down at the table in order to eat your New York Cheesecake that you made especially for the event, you better re-evaluate your position. Because Super Bowl Sunday is also the one Food Holiday in the year where you, the chef, are not important, and can easily be replaced by a quick run to the 7-11.

It's Natural Vs. Organic and Organic is Losing

Sometimes I weep for the average consumer.

Okay, I'm embellishing just a bit, but sometimes I can't help but think that the game is rigged against the Joe and Jane Doe of Averageville, Kansas. They go into a supermarket, and see "Natural" products placed right next to "Organic" products, and, if they think about their options at all, come to the conclusion that "Organic" is simply a fancy way of saying Natural. And since the Natural products are cheaper, they make the purchase that makes them feel good about themselves and save a few cents in the process.

From Food Biz Daily:

Despite well-defined certification standards, organic products have failed to win consumers’ trust: 31% said “100 percent natural” is the most desirable eco-friendly product label claim, compared to 14% picking “100 percent organic.”

Despite strict regulations, shoppers think of the organic category as both more unregulated and, of course, more expensive.

But, as I mentioned above, the game is rigged.

Let's create an example. I have a new product called Kate's Natural Corn Flakes. Does the FDA have any regulations in place to ensure that my Corn Flakes are, in fact, natural?

It depends upon your perspective. The FDA has no holistic definition that can guarantee the consumer that my finalized product is thoroughly natural. What they do have are requirements that define what constitutes "natural" ingredients or flavorings. To their thinking, if all of the flavorings and ingredients are natural, then the entire product has to be natural, right?

Unfortunately, the requirements for what constitutes natural and artificial are open to interpretation. The official FDA definition of natural flavoring is published in the Code of Federal Regulations (21CFR101.22). It states:

The term artificial flavor or artificial flavoring means any substance, the function of which is to impart flavor, which is not derived from a spice, fruit or fruit juice, vegetable or vegetable juice, edible yeast, herb, bark, bud, root, leaf or similar plant material, meat, fish, poultry, eggs, dairy products, or fermentation products thereof. Artificial flavor includes the substances listed in §§172.515(b) and 182.60 of this chapter except where these are derived from natural sources.

The rest of the sections seeks to clarify the of 21CFR101.22 If you can read through all of it, the end definition of natural allows for multiple interpretations, and fails to discuss the means in which the ingredients have been processed and or created. Due to this, labeling claims are reviewed on a case by case basis. And because the FDA is horribly understaffed, many claims of a product's "Natural"-ness get into the marketplace unchallenged. The most famous example I can think of is 7up's claim that their soda was "all natural", and it took a somewhat loud public backlash to revert that claim. Of course, now they call it "7up with 100% natural flavors", which is really just a question of semantics at this point.

"Organic", on the other hand, is not defined by the FDA, but by the USDA. The regulatory requirements for what constitutes "Organic" do not only cover ingredients, but each production or handling operation or specified portion of a production or handling operation that produces or handles crops, livestock, livestock products, or other agricultural products that are intended to be sold, labeled, or represented as “100 percent organic,” “organic,” or “made with organic”.

The entire certification requirements are spelled out in 7CFR205...the reading is long and as dry as you can imagine. But the point here is that "Natural" only deals with the ingredients of the products upon the shelves. "Organic" deals with the entire process. Process which, by the way, adds on costs to the end consumer.

So when the consumer sees Kate's Corn Flakes on the shelf for $3.00 a box sitting next to Barry's Organic Corn Flakes for $3.50 a box, which one do you think they're going to buy? Do you really think that the every day consumer has taken the time to understand the nuances of these definitions?

Beer Review: Delirium Nocturnum

I'm a sucker for an interesting bottle. This very likely makes me a shallow person and one that is easily taken in by careful marketing. Take this bottole of Delirium Nocturnum from the folks at Brouwerij Huyghe in Belgium. A faux stone bottle with a pink elephant upon it? I never had a chance.

Appearance: A deep hazy brown, akin to a cola, but more opaque. A full head developed with tan coloring. Belgian lacing was there but less than I expected.

Aroma: The malt aroma is strong, but just underneath that is a oak aroma with hints of apple. Typical of Belgian Darks, this aroma is far more complex than that of lagers (or other even other ales). I Love, love, love the smell of this.

Taste: Big on the yeasty malt here, full bodied and strong (although that's redundant, isn't it?), with coffee and prunes all swirling around underneath. Then the alcohol hits, giving a nice hot and spicy hit to the the nose.Finish arrives a bit dry, and with a sour apple flavor that makes a brief appearance.

Mouthfeel: Surprisingly weak for a Belgian Dark Ale. The complexity of the aroma and taste are not done justice by the average amount of carbonation. The alcohol hit was nice, and is common in Belgian Darks. But there's no zip here, nothing to make it stand out. It comes across rather surprisingly...ordinary.

Drinkability: This is another great beer taken down a notch by the mouthfeel. Should you search this beer out? Yes, but only just.

Rating: B+

That being said, if you ever do make it to Brussels, I highly recommend heading towards Brouwerij Huyghe's pub called Delirium Café of all things. It's one of the better beer pubs in Brussels, and they carry many, many different types of beers, with over a hundred on tap alone. Many a weary traveler have found their way there and have spoken of its greatness. It was one of the places I happened to hit during my all to brief stay in Belgium, and can attest to its wonder.

Impasse de la Fidélité 4
1000 Bruxelles, Belgium
02 514 44 34

The Menu Wall

I had a friend in college who always ordered steak or a hamburger when we went out to eat. It didn't matter what type of restaurant we visited, if these options were available, then they were the ones ordered. If we happened to be at a place where such options weren't typically available, then the menu item that seemed least exotic was chosen. On more than one occasions, requests were made to the kitchen to see if steak and/or hamburger could be obtained.

As I get older, I find this sort of approach to food confusing. It's akin to a Buddhist trying to explain their religion to a Christian. Logically I understand that there are people out there who don't have an ounce of curiosity about cuisine, but such an outlook is simply not part of my genetic makeup. To NOT try something a new dish, especially when said dish has been tried and tested by countless others is like asking me to not breathe.

In looking at a menu, I am typically drawn to two types of items.

Specials of the day
Items that seem out of place on the menu

Granted, some restaurants have specials just to get rid of certain food products, or because they know that a certain dish sells better when it's not offered that often. And sometimes odd menu items are their because the owner/chef can manage their menu effectively. But sometimes these are ways that a dish that is special to the owner or chef can find its way onto the menu. This was their one way to get that special dish served.

Two examples:

- A teriyaki restaurant that my co-workers and I frequent has kimchi on their menu board. The first time I noticed this, I picked up an order.
- A Greek restaurant that is a favorite of mine had kreatopita on their menu. Having never tried this dish before, I ordered it. It turned out to be this wonderful meat pie, with rich, savory ground lamb mixed with bechamel sauce and peas, then topped with filo.

One of the results of both of these orders is that the owner of the place came out to see who in the heck ordered these dishes. The teriyaki owner came out because she said she had to see who would order her kimchi, because it was seemingly a rare event. She then commented about how the recipe was her grandmother's and that she put it on the menu because she ate it several times a week, because it made you healthy.

The owner of the Greek place also came out to see who ordered his special dish, and then went into great detail about the ingredients he used, demonstrating just how proud he was of his meal.

Aside from getting a great meal at both of these places, there was an additional value to be had here. There's a joy to be had in listening to a chef or owner talk about their food and what it means to them. It opens up the dining experience that much more, and imbues their dishes with a personalization that can be lost at times at restaurants. Yes, the menu is the critical part of the restaurant, but it comes at a bit of a cost. The menu can act as a wall between the staff and the consumer. If you know where to look, there are times when it brings you something truly special. This is something you cannot get if you only order steak or hamburger.