Wilfrid

News you can use?

Actual AI response to a Google search. Whatever I was looking for, it wasn't details on wombat faeces.

I try to spare you all my obsessions with Japanese and Chinese cinema, but I will make an exception for This is Not What I Expected for food-related reasons. It's a romantic comedy about a very junior chef -- who turns out to be highly talented -- and the CEO of a hotel chain. The first 20 minutes had me falling out of my chair; I will never believe it wasn't directly based on Ratatouille. That's qualification enough for any movie, but the rest continues to be very funny indeed and the food, throughout, looks great. The link above is to YouTube, which has the original soundtrack and subtitles. If you have Prime, you can get it there, but when I tried I could only find it dubbed into English, which is just not as good. Unless you can't do subtitles.

Canora's comments in the article were interesting (quoted above by MitchW). If you try making mocktails using fancy teas and juices, he says, they can cost as much or more to make as alcoholic cocktails. I find that plausible if you make mocktails that way. Of course a soda is going to be much cheaper. I learned to drink before college: over-achiever. Of course, it helped that the UK drinking age is 18 and back when I was a teenager nobody checked IDs (because IDs as such didn't exist and 18 year olds rarely had driving licenses); you just had to look and act 18.

Ah, that's the longer version. The original infelicity survives in the new openings blurbs.

On a similar note: That's like "British and Welsh influences."

Most useful, thanks. I think I have the Black history and music lined up. And 'ssippi is a funny name for a wine bar.

Interesting piece. It didn't surprise me that it's a thing; the extent surprised me. I assumed it's a younger cohort. I do see people posting things like "$14 for a mocktail!" on social media.

Since a Mississippi/Alabama trip looks complicated, I am thinking of a simple few days in St Louis. If anyone has been there at all recently, comments appreciated. I have noted the hot salami; maybe I should also try the St Paul Sandwich (basically, egg foo young on white bread). This is what I have on my list so far: Restaurants: Wright’s; Brasserie by Niche; Vicia; Robin; Gioia’s (hot salami); Pappy’s Smokehouse Bars: Planter’s House (cocktails and food); ‘ssipppi (natural wine); The Hideaway (piano bar); Pop’s Blue Moon Museums: Contemporary Arts Museum; Kemper Art Museum; St Louis Art Museum; St Louis University M of A; Scott Joplin House; Griot Museum of Black History; Missouri History Museum; National Blues Museum

The photos ehibited here through April 18 may be familiar, but the gallery has come up with massive, very high quality new prints (60x60). As good a way as any to celebrate 50 years of Horses and indeed Blondie (released December 1976, it says here).

Author of The Ipcress File and Funeral in Berlin at 97.

Helen Rosner's take.

Simon Hopkinson's Roast Chicken and Other Stories doesn't even have drawings.

Steady progress through Portrait of a Lady. I recall the bad marriage Isabel makes, but had forgotten that it's hundreds of pages before that suitor appears. Pages that are amusing enough, although one sometimes thinks James is really writing for the stage.

He's going to break his teeth on my little buddy.

Apparently there's a photo of the Ends Meat terrine.

A few months since I have called at Schaller & Weber but no surprise that the suelze is still delicious.

Not the mouse?

I'll have the tripe please.

I know its's not cheese, but worth noting that Formaggio's meat display has suddenly been swarmed by products from Ends Meat. Based on the dense, rich terrine with pistachios I just tried, this is no bad thing. To stay on topic, Cabricharme is a raw goat's milk, washed rind Belgian cheese. It looks mild and buttery, but get your nose close to it and it has a compelling and delightful stink. Pictured here with Tomme de Savoie. And a mouse.

And I now see Smith's closed in 2024. This made me think of Holland Bar, a short walk downtown from there and across to 9th. That was a classic, narrow dive, the wall decorated with old beer mats and patrons in states of disrepair. I think it was spruced up a little in its later days. I have stories about Port 41 too.

Although the name Mudville always drew my attention, I don't think I ever walked in.

Right, picking some old spots to revisit in the Theater District recently, I thought of McHale's, knowing it was gone. Nearby Smith's is still there, but transformed from the dive it once was. Back in the day, a few theater-goers but mainly Local something union workers and al fresco sex workers taking a break. The two Irish bartenders could keep order because they had a baseball bat behind the bar. The tiny guy in a waistcoat and bowtie bussed dishes like Broiled Fresh Waterfront and it was not unusual to see people drinking there with open wounds. Old New York.

A couple of occasions to celebrate recently led to me visiting old haunts in the theater district, my neighborhood when I first lived in the city. A lot has changed, of course, but some places remain exactly the same. Met up with my cohort at The Rum House. First nostalgia stop, Don't Tell Mama's. I was thinking I hadn't been there for years, but then remembered that a friend had a cabaret show there about a year ago that I attended. I once alternated visits to Mama's with the piano bar at Danny's Skylight Room across the street (long gone). Late nights drinking whisky sours. Shout out to Elaine Brier who was serving and singing here more than 20 years ago and is still on the roster. Then Sardi's. I know when I was last here; five years ago with, among others, Sneakeater. The now veteran bartender who joined the staff when I was a regular still remembers me. Cunningly, I had my daughter go to the bar to order some snacks, telling her to ask the bartender why the cheese and crackers are no longer free. For years they were set out on the bar for drinkers to help themselves; now they're $18 an order. He looked across the room at me, raised his eyebrows, and comped us a huge tray of the stuff. Then he and I reminisced about how Rita Moreno used to keep her credit card attached to her wallet with a rubber band so she wouldn't lose it. Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ? (Earlier in the day I took a photo of my first apartment building on 57th Street. Oh and I dropped by Zibetto, celebrating its 20th anniversary with prices from 20 years ago: espresso $2).

The Golden Steer. For all my trips to Vegas, I had never heard of this place. But then, I wasn't really looking for steakhouses for dinner. Dates from 1958, apparently. What makes me curious is that it has opened in that very familiar and distinctive space that once housed Otto. I have spent some time in there over the years, although I didn't go to the Forgione restaurant that closed last year.