2010 by the Numbers

I remember, back when I used to have more functioning brain cells than I do now, how much I used to enjoy reading the "Harper's Index" that was in every issue of the lefty-leaning Harper's magazine. As a final sendoff to 2010, here's my take on the year just past in the same format, except I may have made up at least 50% of the statistics in this list (including that one):

Food For Thought's Index

South Florida restaurants (or food trucks) written up in FFT in 2010: 38^[1]

Non-South Florida restaurants written up in FFT in 2010: 18^[2]

Cobaya - Gourmet Guinea Pig dinners written up in FFT in 2010: 7

Number of dinner experiences in 2010 I enjoyed more than III Forks: 364

Number of contemporary Asian restaurants opened in Miami in 2010: 9^[3]

Percentage of restaurants opened in Miami in 2010 that are contemporary Asian restaurants: 79%

Number of steakhouses opened in Miami in 2009: 8^[4]

Number of steakhouses opened in Miami in 2010: 3^[5]

Number of seafood restaurants opened in Miami in 2010: 6^[6]

Number of big-name outsiders to open restaurants in Miami in 2009: 11^[7]

Number of big-name outsiders to open restaurants in Miami in 2010: 3^[8]

Number of South Florida food trucks on Twitter in December 2009: 2^[9]

Number of South Florida food trucks on Twitter in December 2010: 35

Percentage of South Florida food truck menus featuring burgers and/or tacos: 90%

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To Do List

You may have noticed that the pace here at FFT has slowed up lately. It's certainly not for lack of subject matter, but rather lack of time. In fact, despite the still-sluggish economy, these seem to be relative boom times for Miami restaurants, and not only for casual, modern Asian fare (though there is plenty of that to go around). Just the past couple months have seen a number of intriguing new places open, with more in the pipeline. Plus, there are still remnants of two trips (Maine and Spain) to discuss, including a really pleasant surprise in tiny Lincolnville, Maine (The Edge), some disappointment in another highly regarded Maine restaurant (Primo), and a tapas-fest in Barcelona.

Sometimes when things start to pile up it helps to make a list. So here is my FFT "to-do list." Which surely is going to be subject to any number of distractions along the way. Plus CSA season starts today, which means I may again subject everyone to my stumbling efforts to cook through my veggie share.

Any suggestions for other places that should be on this list?

New & Have to Try:

DB Bistro Moderne
Vino e Olio
De Rodriguez Ocean
Eden
1500°
Cecconi's

Newish, Need to Revisit & Write Up:

Il Mercato
Kantauri

Not So New, Still Worth Mention

Scarpetta
Mercadito
Solea
Canyon Ranch Grill
Xixon
Chu's Taiwan Kitchen

Waiting to Open

Sustain
Pubbelly
Wynwood Kitchen & Bar

Truckin'
(Lots of these I still need to try, or try again)

Fish Box
Yellow Submarine
Latin House Grill
Grillmaster Cafe
Rolling Stove
CheeseMe
Doggi Style
Bites on Wheels
Feverish Ice Cream
Dolci Peccati Gelato

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Great Moments in Food Truck Tweets

It's nice to see the spirit of cooperation overcome any rivalry among South Florida's food truckers:

Grillers stick together, I guess.

elBulli - Roses, Spain - September 15, 2010

It seems not even remotely coincidental that if you draw a line between Figueres and Cadaqués, the sites of two museums dedicated to the life and work of Salvador Dalí, you will come very close to going right through elBulli. There is more than a bit of surrealism going on at Chef Ferran Adrià's famous gastronomical outpost next to Cala Montjoi, along the Costa Brava. The stripping of objects of their normal significance, the incongruous, dreamlike juxtapositions, the subversion of expectations, the quest for a more vivid, superior "reality" - I don't mean to dive right into the debate of food as art vs. craft, and maybe I'm disproprotionately influenced by our visit to the Dalí Theatre-Museum on our way out to elBulli, but the parallels seem ineluctable.

There has been so much said and written about elBulli that it is daunting to try to add something meaningful.^[1] A good place to start, which captures both the history and the current state of things, including the announcement earlier this year that the restaurant will be closing after next season, is Jay McInerney's recent piece in Vanity Fair, "It Was Delicious While It Lasted." But having been afforded the extraordinarily rare good fortune of securing a reservation there, I feel obligated to try.

It comes as no surprise to regular readers here that I am a committed advocate of contemporary cooking concepts and techniques like those that Chef Adrià has championed and sometimes even invented - not out of any loyalty to novelty for its own sake, but in the interest of good eating. A couple years ago, I said it this way:

As for my thinking generally about “molecular gastronomy” or “alta cocina” or “experimental cooking” or whatever you want to call it - I'm fascinated by the new techniques, love a clever presentation, am always open to new combinations of flavors, but in the end the ultimate test is, "Does it taste good?" In a truly successful dish, it goes beyond that - the technique or approach not only tastes good, but tastes BETTER than customary preps or ingredients. There’s an intellectual element to it, for sure – look, by the fact that we’re all here, reading [this], that tells you we’re probably thinking about food more, and perhaps more analytically, than the average bear – but in the end the clincher has got to be the pleasure of it.

Which puts me in a bit of a quandary when it comes to evaluating our dinner at elBulli. Because, having now had the opportunity to experience it first hand, it is abundantly clear that "delicious" is only one of many things that Ferran Adrià is looking to accomplish. This is food that looks to provoke, to confront, to test boundaries, and above all, to be like no other dining experience. It aims to be creative as much, if not more so, than to be delicious. In "A Day at El Bulli"^[2] it is explained:

Creativity is what keeps elBulli open.^[3] This is not only because it is central to the passion and commitment of every member of the team, but also because the creativity of the food is what makes people want to eat here. The restaurant is like a workshop where new dishes, concepts and techniques are developed and shared with the guests. Without an audience, the creations would have no meaning. The guests' enjoyment of the food is difficult to quantify because every person has their own views about cooking and the types of food they enjoy. Creativity, on the other hand, can be measured: it is possible to document a technique and to establish whether it is new. But to be truly creative, a dish must be interesting as well as new. The aim at elBulli is to create dishes and techniques that engage guests' sensory, emotional and intellectual facilities to the full, to surprise them and to encourage them to experience food in new and unexpected ways.

So do I judge by my own standards, or by those that the chef has set for himself? Perhaps let's table that question for now, have a run through the actual experience of our meal, and then see what answers present themselves.

The complete set of pictures from our meal is in this Flickr set: El Bulli - September 15, 2010.

The elBulli experience begins with the journey there, a journey that usually starts from the Costa Brava resort town of Roses and perhaps further encourages the surrealist analogies. Winding along the coast through rugged mountainous terrain, past vineyards, olive trees, and the relics of abandoned stone farmhouses, you begin to feel as if you are entering some dream world. A taxi is highly recommended. Also recommended: not arriving too early. The gates do not open until exactly 7:30pm, and if you arrive early for a 7:30 reservation, as we did, there's not much else to do but to kick pebbles.

Once those gates do open, a further dreamscape appears. The white-stuccoed, barrel-tile-roofed building that houses the restaurant and kitchen overlooks a small beach circled by rugged cliffs. The repetitive beat of the surf washing onto the beach can be clearly heard from the restaurant's terrace.

This is the menu that was posted in front of the restaurant on the day we were there. It is close, but not identical, to what we were actually served. After the meal we were given menus in English to take home.

After a tour of the (surprisingly small, extensively populated, and remarkably quiet) kitchen and the chance to meet Chef Adrià,^[4] we returned to the terrace to begin our meal. While sipping glasses of the house Cava (Agusti Torelló Gran Reserva), we were presented with a quick succession of "cocktails" and "snacks":

strawberry

René Magritte might say, "Ceci n'est pas une fraise." Rather, it is a representation of a strawberry, in semi-frozen form (frozen exterior giving way to a still-liquid center), infused with a bright sweet-sour strawberry flavor, bolstered with the bittersweet note of Campari - an edible cocktail.

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Spiceonomics 101

As mentioned peripherally in my last post, it's become increasingly common practice to kvatch about Miami Spice season, and to bemoan the absence of "values" among the $35, 3-course offerings. I'll be the last person to defend the ubiquity of the "Spice Trifecta" (farmed Atlantic salmon, chicken breast, churrasco); but I'm equally underwhelmed by complaints about restaurants not offering their "signature dishes" as part of the Spice menu, or the suggestion that restaurants are generally raking in money through their Spice deals.

As to the latter issue, it's one that Lee Klein of New Times seems to be pushing in his latest Spice post, "Five Annoying Things About Today's Herald Story on Miami Spice." Among other things, he points out that Florida restaurant sales totaled $27 billion last year, a statistic that prompts him to ask: "You kinda have to feel sorry for this industry, right?" It goes from there to a brief rant that restaurants whose non-Spice price points average higher than the typical Spice bill have an "effete, elitist, could-care-less-about-locals" attitude.

This faux populism is really rather unbecoming, particularly from someone who just recently praised a restaurant with $17-23 appetizers and $40-50 entrées.^[1] The implicit suggestion that restaurants are getting rich off your precious $35 seems an unlikely premise, particularly for restaurants where the average bill is usually higher.

Let's do some math. I've never run a restaurant, so my assumptions here do not come from experience but rather from some haphazardly researched educated guesses based on reported industry averages. Nonetheless, the information I came across was reasonably consistent. Let's assume that at the typical full-service restaurant, food cost averages around 30%. That means that if the average bill per person is $50, the restaurant's food cost for those items is around $15.^[2] So where does the other $35 go? Mostly payroll, then rent, utilities, insurance, maintenance, marketing, financing costs, tattoos, recreational drugs, and ideally, some profit. With a little more guesswork, it's reasonable to hypothesize that the average profit margin (pre-tax) is around 5%. So out of that $50 bill, the restaurant is actually making ... $2.50. And that's for a successful, profitable restaurant.^[3]

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Point Counterpoint - updated

This will be a short one. Yesterday, Shola Olunloyo, an opinionated and thought-provoking Philadelphia chef who is in the process of opening a restaurant called Speck, put up a post noting "We are desperately trying to find a reason why we should not cook virtually every piece of meat in this restaurant sous-vide." And the same day, chefs Alexander Talbot and Aki Kamozawa of the creative hive that is Ideas in Food, though not apparently in response to Shola, provided an answer:

Sure, functionality, speed and consistency are important, but there is something special about a gorgeous piece of meat (or two) cooked properly in a salt dusted skillet; it's fat renders into the pan and the constant turning (a la McGee) allows for uniform cooking and a beautiful crust. A quick pan sauce made with wine and butter, finished with fresh herbs snipped from the garden and a warm rest (we used a pyrex pan with a lid) resulted in different textures and flavors playing off one another with delicious results. The depth and consistency of the crust changes with each bite and the inner meat is supple and juicy. It may take a little more effort by the cook but every so often old school is the only way to go.

Hmm.

So how do you like your steak?

UPDATED: It's been suggested (by Chef Olunloyo, anyway) that I've either  predetermined a conclusion or attempted to create a non-existent controversy with this post. Yes, internet conversations can be slightly odd. So since Chef Olunloyo has not posted the comment I added on his site (which is always a great read), I will try to duplicate it here.

I have no predetermined conclusion on the subject nor any desire to create controversy. I certainly didn't call anything "boiled meat in a bag," and indeed, in context, it ought to be clear I'm no enemy of sous vide cookery. If I'm guilty of anything, it's perhaps an excess of brevity, or stated more simply: bad writing. The fact that I couldn't initially find a good picture of any sous-vide cooked steak (a deficiency I've now remedied, though the photo quality is still suspect) also may have suggested a taking of sides. But it really was intended as nothing other than a simple inquiry as to technique and preference.

Personally, unless I'm starving and iron-depleted, I usually find that eating a bigger cut of steak can become monotonous, and so the textural contrasts of which Alex and Aki speak are indeed something I often find desirable. On the other hand, in other circumstances (and Chef Olunloyo's post does make clear he is talking about skinnier, more flavorful cuts - skirt, deckle, hanger) I may well agree that sous vide cooking with a quick sear to finish is the way to go.

Josh's Big Fat Free Wedding

A couple days ago I started writing a post which led off with the following line: "Not to go all Ozersky on you, but I just ate a couple free meals from a chef who I idolize and now I'm going to tell you how great there were." Then I realized: (1) such an admission might compromise my credibility with readers; and (2) some of you who do not compulsively follow the national culinary interwebs might not even know what I was talking about. Plus, Blogger was refusing to load the photos from my freebie meals.

So first, a recap, though the story has been covered extensively and others have had many smart things to say about it already. Josh Ozersky, a/k/a "Mr. Cutlets," is presently the master of ceremonies of Ozersky.TV and a regular food writer for Time.com, and formerly the online food editor for New York Magazine, editor of Grubstreet NY and Citisearch NY, grand poobah of The Feedbag, and restaurant critic for Newsday. A couple weeks ago, he penned a piece in Time.com entitled "Great Wedding Food: Tips from a Newly Married Critic."

The premise of the article was more than a little goofy: catered food sucks, so instead, why not have some of the top restaurant chefs in your city provide the food for your wedding? Ozersky proceeded to describe how, instead of having a caterer for his recent wedding, he somehow managed to convince several of the top chefs in New York City to each cook something after he "cherry-picked my favorite dishes from half a dozen restaurants": mezes and hummus from Orhan Yegen of Sip Sak; salad from Ed Schoenfeld of Red Farm, bread from Jim Lahey of Sullivan Street Bakery, lasagna from Michael White of Alto, Marea and Convivio, moussaka from Michael Psilakis of Kefi, smoked tofu from Doug and Laura Keiles of Ribs Within, steak and scallops from Ed Brown of Ed's Chowder House, wedding cake from Heather Bertinetti, pastry chef for Michael White.

Broad generalizations such as "most caterers aren't really good cooks" infuriated people who make a living in the catering business (plus just seemed stupid and ill-informed, if for no other reason than that many restaurant chefs, even very highly regarded ones, also run catering operations); while precious statements like "There are restaurants all around New York City that are objects of my special passion - why wouldn't I want their best stuff at my wedding?" and advice like "Forget the caterer! Plug directly into the source of your hometown's culinary delights, and happiness, enduring and radiant, will immediately follow" sounded distinctly like a 21st century version of "Let them eat cake." The notion that any shmoo could somehow command a half-dozen of the city's top chefs to cook up a little something for 200 people at their wedding just seemed a bit ridiculous.

The story prompted Robert Sietsema of the Village Voice to raise some pointed questions in "An Open Letter to Josh Ozersky": who paid for all this bounty? Why was there no disclosure of that information? If it was free, would chefs really provide such things gratis with no expectation at all of anything in return? And do the circumstances call into question the credibility of Ozersky's over-the-top praise for the food, to say nothing of his general advice on wedding food?

It didn't surprise anyone in the know that Ozersky, a notorious freeloader and hobnobber with celebrity chefs, didn't pay for any of the food (On the other hand, readers of Time.com with a more casual interest in food would have had absolutely no reason to harbor such suspicions). In fact, he didn't even pay for the venue, the Rooftop Bar atop the Empire Hotel, which was provided for free by Jeffrey Chodorow - the restaurateur behind places including Ed's Chowder House and Red Farm (a restaurant that has not yet opened from which Ozersky somehow managed to "cherry-pick" a "favorite dish"). When New York Times' Diner's Journal picked up the story, they estimated that the cost of such an event would range between $200 to $500 per person.

Ozersky and Time.com issued a "clarification," prompted, according to Ozersky, by the notion that Sietsema's open letter "makes me look unethical rather than dumb." In it, he attempted to explain that some his closest friends are chefs and "when they asked me what I wanted for a wedding present, instead of a crystal decanter that I would never look at, I told them to just cook some lasagna or bake a few loaves of bread that I could share with other friends." (I will not bother dissecting the preposterousness of that statement, as it's been very effectively done already by New York Journal in "Josh Ozersky Still Doesn't Get It"). After a "mea culpa" for not being "more explicit about the fact that I did not pay for any of their delicious contributions" (yes, saying nothing at all leaves plenty of room to be "more explicit"), Ozersky attempted a bit of defense, noting that "I am not an anonymous critic and I don't review restaurants for TIME (or anyone else)" (never mind the "Tips from a Newly Married Critic" headline). To the New York Times, he protested that "Bob makes it sound like a sinister plot to extort lasagna."

Suffice to say that "unethical" and "dumb" are hardly mutually exclusive.

(continued ...)

TV Dinner

I've been watching a lot of food-related television programming lately. Truth is, I've always been a regular watcher of Top Chef, but this season has particular appeal, with local hero (and one of my favorite chefs) Andrea Curto-Randazzo, of Talula and the newly opened Water Club, on as a contestant. Let me be clear: I hate "reality TV." I like cooking shows. Though Top Chef may skew more towards the former than the latter, there's still enough real cooking going on to hold my interest, and though there are a good number of contestants each season who are clearly Starfleet Red Shirts, it has provided an opportunity to highlight some genuine talent as well.

The season premiere for Top Chef Season 7 was this past Wednesday, and though it didn't feature much of Andrea, she did move on to see another day. If, like me, you didn't get enough Andrea during the episode, you can find some more on YouTube, where she's uploaded a three-minute interview (wine glass in hand) she calls "I'm Just Sayin'."



In it, she gives fellow contestant Kenny Gilbert, a/k/a "Kenny G," yet another nickname, dubbing him "Twenty G" for having won the initial $20,000 Quickfire; considers giving some grief to another fellow contestant, Angelo Sosa, for being cocky, but decides better of it since it was so obvious to everyone; proceeds to give Padma Lakshi a lesson in "Miami 101" for not recognizing the "Miami" in her Elimination Challenge dish,^[1] a chorizo-infused gnocchi with slow-roasted pork, calabaza, manchego and orange gremolata, suggesting that maybe instead she should have served a blackened mahi-mahi with mango salsa; and closes out by making me spurt my drink through my nose with a "Jam out with your clam out, rock out with your cock out" sign-off.

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goes around ... comes around - milkshake edition

Richard Blais, former Top Chef contestant and present proprietor of Flip Burger Boutique, with locations in Atlanta and Birmingham (no relation to the Flip Burger Bar just opened in North Miami - and just wait till he gets wind of that) is all up in arms that a burger joint in Denver is serving a milkshake that he thinks bears a more than passing resemblance to one served at Flip Burger. He's so upset his hair is standing on end!

The details: Flip Burger's menu features several liquid nitrogen-chilled shakes, including one with Nutella and burnt marshmallow. A place in Denver called H Burger (Blais didn't name it, though Eater quickly figured it out) lists on its cocktail menu a liquid nitrogen-chilled "Nutella Marshmallow" shake with vanilla vodka, hazelnut liquor, nutella, and vanilla ice cream topped with roasted marshmallows. Though Blais' column noted the similarities between the two - that is, Nutella and burnt marshmallows, liquid nitrogen, and a similar presentation ("right down to the pint glass and red straw," which, I've got to say, doesn't exactly sound as novel or unique as, say, the peacock used at Alinea) - he omitted that H Burger's, unlike Flip Burger's, is an alcoholic libation.

Anyhoo, Blais thinks H Burger is ripping off his steez: "On the street, you don't copy someone else's style." He's so mad "it makes me want to load up my smoking gun and do a mother fucking drive-thru drive by." Of course, Blais is smart enough to know, and acknowledges, that recipes can't be copyrighted or patented. He's also smart enough to know, and acknowledges, that he didn't invent either the ingredients or the techniques involved in his particular concoction:

I didn't invent liquid nitrogen, or its use in food preparation. Shit, chemistry teachers have been making LN2 ice cream in classrooms for 30 years, at least. I didn't create marshmallows. Or Nutella. Or milk shakes. Or straws and pint glasses for that matter.

So what's he all bent out of shape over? Perhaps it's a matter of credit or attribution. He says:

I have been so sensitive to the topic, that if I find a dish of mine is similar in spirit to one I've seen, I'll denote it a "remix." Maybe it's in my blood. I don't think Wylie Dufresne is going to find me on a corner and put a cap in my ass. But that's how I approach it. Inspiration is a funny thing. Sometimes you can't remember exactly how you got there or who helped, but I believe you know if you're completely ripping someone off.

All right. So Chef Blais thinks his milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and damn right it's better than yours. But this all gave me a strange sense of deja vu. And then I remembered why. A couple years ago, I came across press blurbs about Blais' "creation" of something he called a "Popcornsicle," a ball of popcorn frozen with liquid nitrogen and served on a stick. The press blitz came complete with photos of the chef blowing liquid nitrogen smoke from his nose and mouth as he ate one. Well, other than the stick, Chef Blais' "creation" just happened to be identical to an item that was regularly served at José Andrés' minibar, where it's called "Dragon's Breath Popcorn," and where I'd just happened to have eaten a week earlier. And I said so. That prompted a discussion on Chowhound about the nature of "copying" when it comes to cooking. Back then I noted:

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Joël Robuchon - Molecular Gastronomist and Revisionist Historian?

Of the chefs who are typically credited with the popularization of "molecular gastronomy," several may jump to mind: Heston Blumenthal, for sure, who was a participant in the first 1992 "International Workshop on Molecular and Physical Gastronomy" (Harold McGee, one of the other original participants, has written a great history of the event); Pierre Gagnaire, the only other chef participant in that original workshop, and a regular collaborator with scientist Hervé This since then; Ferran Adrià, who was doing his own pioneering work in experimental cooking at the same time and whose food is often given the "MG" label;^[1] here in the U.S., Grant Achatz, Wylie Dufresne, Homaru Cantu.

And Joël Robuchon? Yes, if he is to be believed. In a recent interview in the New York Post, Robuchon is quoted as saying:

Too many chefs are attracted to molecular gastronomy. ... It's not the kind of cuisine that should be important, with all the additives. I know I was really the first one to make it famous, but I have complete control of what I'm doing. The danger is that those who don't have the knowledge and that control start using additives that are not acceptable.

***

Right now, I am doing the reverse of molecular gastronomy. I'm working with scientists to find ingredients and produce that are proven to be good for you. Turmeric is very good for you. White tea is better than green tea. One of the dishes I'm experimenting with is carrot purée with turmeric. Also white-tea gelee and sea urchin.

Robuchon is undoubtedly a great chef, duly recognized as "Chef of the Century" by Gault-Millau in 1989.^[2] And yet there is no way around it: he has absolutely positively no clue what he's talking about here.

"I was really the first one to make it famous." WTF? Unless you consider the physics of incorporating a stick of butter into a pound of potatoes to be "molecular gastronomy" (and of course, it actually is, but I don't think that's what he means), then I don't think there's another soul in the food universe who would back up that claim. Indeed, a Google search of "Joel Robuchon molecular gastronomy" yields nothing at all until 2006 (nearly 15 years after the term was coined, and so late in the game that other chefs had made a point of disassociating themselves from the term "molecular gastronomy" as describing any particular style of cooking, much less their own), and even then, none of those references would remotely suggest he had anything to do with making it famous.^[3]

"Additives"? What is an "additive"? Agar agar (a seaweed derivative)? Gelatin (derived from animal collagen?) Cornstarch? Flour? And is there really a significant risk that restaurant chefs are serving untested ingredients to unsuspecting diners, and waiting in the kitchen to see if they blow up like Violet Beuaregard? I suspect there's more danger for diners lurking in all that butter in the potato purée.

But even more absurd: "Right now, I am doing the reverse of molecular gastronomy. I'm working with scientists to find ingredients and produce that are proven to be good for you." Chef, I don't know how to break this to you any more gently: using science to understand your ingredients better is, um, the definition of molecular gastronomy.

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

^[1]Blumenthal and Adrià, among others, issued a statement years ago noting that "The fashionable term 'molecular gastronomy' was introduced relatively recently, in 1992, to name a particular academic workshop for scientists and chefs on the basic food chemistry of traditional dishes. That workshop did not influence our approach, and the term 'molecular gastronomy' does not describe our cooking, or indeed any style of cooking."
^[2]He apparently actually shared this honor with Paul Bocuse and Fredy Girardet.
^[3]Robuchon was, perhaps, an early adopter of sous vide cooking. But it turns out it was actually Marcel Vigneron who taught Robuchon everying he knew about "molecular gastronomy," as Vigneron claims in an interview mentioned here last week.

Grossest Restaurants in South Florida

Not really the grossest restaurants, rather the highest grossing in terms of revenue. The annual report by Restaurants & Institutions of the top 100 revenue-producing independent restaurants in the United States in 2009 is out, and there are a few South Florida names on the list. You can see the full list here.

Joe's Stone Crab is in the same #3 spot as it was in last year, and it would seem the recession really hasn't touched it: 2009 sales of $26,272,000 compare pretty favorably to last year's $28,827,328, and the number of meals served (roughly 320,000) and average check size ($65-68) have both held steady.

Also holding firm is Myles Chefetz's cash cow, Prime 112. P112 is on the list at #14 for 2009, with $18,889,430 in revenue and average ticket of $115, again almost exactly even with last year's figures.

Meanwhile, DeVito South Beach is still on the list, but barely. DeVito, which made its first appearance on the list last year at #19, with $17,800,000 in revenue, dropped to #98 this year with $10,000,000. Of course, many of these figures appear to be based on estimates by R&I rather than information reported by the restaurants, so who knows what they really mean.

In the aggregate, the top 100 restaurants on the list saw a roughly 10% drop in revenue, and even the restaurant in the top spot on the list the past couple years - Tao in Las Vegas - was off by about 13%. There are some other interesting insights at R&I, including some anecdotal takes on the "new normal" and the prospects of restaurant business picking up this year, and on the success stories of 2009.

What does it all mean for South Florida restaurants? I'm not so sure, but possibly not all that much. In large part, I think the mega-restaurants on this list operate in something of a parallel universe to the rest of the restaurant world (though it's interesting that P112 is one of the smallest restaurants on the list with only 120 seats), though I am somewhat surprised that places like Joe's and P112 didn't show at least some impact from the recessionary climate. I suspect smaller operations are much more susceptible to the ebbs and flows of the economy and the heft of the wallets of their customers, and it was easy to see that last year, pretty much all restaurants locally were feeling the slowdown.

It seems, though, that things are picking up. It's purely anecdotal based on my own observations, but restaurants feel busier, reservations (particularly on weekends) have been somewhat harder to come by, startups like Sugarcane have found traction quickly, and stalwarts like Talula seem to be bouncing back. I've been out lately on some Mondays and Tuesdays (typically slow restaurant nights) and was surprised to see places bustling.

So perhaps the time is ripe for the pretty lengthy list of restaurants that are just opening or getting ready soon: Mercadito, The Forge, Zuma, DB Bistro Moderne, Norman's 180, plus many others I'm sure I'm overlooking.

Goes Around ... Comes Around: Small World Edition - UPDATED

[Updated - see below]

I initially scoffed when South Miami restaurant Town Kitchen & Bar, which has been in business for a few years now, complained about their new neighbor, 72nd Bar + Grill. Town even went as far as issuing a notice that "someone in the neighborhood has copied us" and that Town was the "original neighborhood joint." Indeed, I suggested that after claiming to have invented the neighborhood joint, next Town would be claiming to have invented the question mark.

After looking at each of their online menus, I'm beginning to understand why Town is so sore. Here, have a gander yourself:

Town Kitchen & Bar:

72nd Bar + Grill:

Almost identical color scheme and font style, right down to the use of the "+" between descriptors in the menu. Pretty much the same menu groupings: salads; "starters"; pizzas; burgers; "certified angus beef steaks" vs. "from the grill"; "Old Town Favorites" vs. "72 Favorites". Even 72nd's circle logo bears more than a passing resemblance to Town's.

The actual food items are different in many respects, but it's hard to imagine how there could so many commonalities in the look, layout and format without it being a deliberate copy.

Perhaps the most disappointing thing about it all is the incredible lack of inspiration from Juan Mario Maza and Vani Maharaj, the chef-owners of 72nd Bar + Grill. The husband and wife team, both Michelle Bernstein alumni, also operated Alta Cocina, which recently closed after a two-year run in South Miami just down the street from the location of their new restaurant. Is it wrong to expect a bit more creativity out of folks with that pedigree? Of course, it'll all be just fine if the food is good. If so, hopefully South Miami is big enough to handle two neighborhood joints.

UPDATED:

After this post went up, I received an email from chef Juan Maza. With his permission, I am now reprinting it here in full. I'm glad to see that Town and 72nd have apparently cleared the air, and I thought this was a thoughtful and clearly heartfelt response:

I have read you post about the menus with Town. I would like you to know that we have allready apologized to Brandon "Town's owner" and are redoing our menu formats. We both talked like gentlemen and although we never intended to copy him or anything similar they just ended looking similar. As for the logo we agreed they are not similar as you can see on his webpage.

As for the comments of Chef Bernstein we have nothing but the greatest respect for her, when we left Michys and open Alta Cocina everyone seems to think we did it becuase we know it all, and it is not like that, we had only one option to stay in the country and it was to obtian an investor visa through opening a business. Alta Cocina was the toughest learning experience we faced and for two cooks with one year of experience in the kitchen we did well and we learned through very tough criticism. We risk everything we had and own for a better oportunity in the country, but no one knows that but Vani and myself. Now we are residents Alta Cocina did its purpose, we have a better oportunity for us and our future children for our future.

We are not trying to be superstar or super chefs, all we want is to be able to learn and grow and pay our bills.

We are nice people who work hard , not copy cats or anything like that. If you may know we took a big risk, all food bloggers and critics seem were are just trying to shine on someone elses talent, it is not and never been like that I am the first one to tell that all i ever did in Michys was the most simple prep work, and you know I have trained my self almost everything including working the line and I really think for what we achieved at least for being a top Zagat new comer we should just get a little break.

Thank you for taking the time read this and I hope you are a gentleman with this email and if you ever come to us I will love to be able to get your opinions on our food and learn from you.

Juan Maza

I wish them the best of luck and much success.

Where Are South Florida's Best New Chefs? - Part 2

Not so long ago, the local press was bemoaning the absence of new young chefs in South Florida. When Food & Wine announced its "Best New Chefs" in the Spring of 2009 and there were no South Florida candidates, New Times instead offered its own alternative list of local "Best Old Chefs 2009." (Of course, they could have noted that two of the chefs honored by F&W, Vinny Dotolo and Jon Shook of Los Angeles' Animal, actually do have Miami roots, having cut their teeth with Michelle Bernstein at The Strand). A few months later in August, Lee Klein of New Times posited that the Miami food scene was stalled, and pondered whether or not there was a "farm system" of younger talent that had trained under the chefs like Michael Schwartz, Michelle Bernstein, Norman Van Aken, Dewey LoSasso, Jonathan Eismann, Allen Susser, Kris Wessel, and so on, who were ready to "pick up the torch and start opening personal, passion-fueled places that showcase their own distinctive vision and approach to cooking?"^[*]

A good question, and one that hadn't gone without asking here at FFT. Indeed, almost exactly a year ago when the 2009 James Beard Award semi-finalists were announced, I asked "Not a single Florida nominee for the "Rising Star Chef of the Year" category - what to make of that?" and in April asked again "Where Are South Florida's Best New Chefs?," actually trying to answer the question that New Times raised in response to the F&W announcements.

What a difference a year makes. All of a sudden, it seems you can't lift a fork without poking into a chef whose resume includes a stint with one of the venerable names of South Florida cookery. One of them was even nominated for a James Beard "Best New Chef" award this year: Samuel Gorenstein of BLT Steak is a Chef Michael Schwartz alum, something I probably should have figured out when I tried his porchetta di testa, done in exactly the same fashion as at MGF&D.

But Chef Gorenstein is not alone. Simon Stojanovic, another MGF&D alum, will be heading the kitchen at the reincarnated Altamare. Timon Balloo, chef at the newly opened Sugarcane Raw Bar Grill, was in the kitchen with Michelle Bernstein, Allen Susser (Chef Allen's) and Tim Andriola (Timo) before going out on his own. Frederick Kelley, still another chef listing a stint at MGF&D on his resume, is co-chef with Jeremy Fernandez at the new JB Kitchen and Bar (f/k/a Badrutt's Place). A year ago Alejandro Pinero, who had worked at the Strand with Michelle Bernstein and Talula with Andrea Curto and Frank Randazzo, became chef de cuisine at Fratelli Lyon. Juan and Vani Maza spent a brief time in Michelle Bernstein's kitchen at Michy's before going it on their own at the now-closed Alta Cocina, and now the recently opened 72nd Bar + Grill. Gerdy Rodriguez, who has been everywhere, including at Mundo with Norman Van Aken, now is the chef at MIA at Biscayne. Maria Manso, who cooked the line at Norman Van Aken's A Mano on South Beach, is the executive chef at the Delano. As Michelle Bernstein has opened more venues, she's created more opportunities for younger talent like Berenice de Araujo, the chef de cuisine at Sra. Martinez, and Jason Schaan, who has that position at Michy's. Andrea and Frank are stockpiling some young talent in the kitchen at Talula with sous chef Kyle Foster (highlighted, among other places, in "Sous Chef Kyle's Tapa of the Day"). Edited to add: Norman Van Aken seems to be grooming a real, bona-fide next generation, with son Justin Van Aken working with him on the opening of Norman's 180.

It was interesting to see that in an interview today, Chef Kris Wessel at Red Light, (who himself got started locally with Mark Militello), also mentioned the importance of younger chefs breaking out on their own and spreading their wings. Edited to add: And Sam Gorenstein likewise says many of the same things in an interview which came out just hours after this was first posted.

But the question remains: can the progeny cook? Or perhaps more to the point: do they have the creativity, vision, and drive to create unique, distinctive restaurants that will add something meaningful to our local dining landscape? And - to be fair - will they be given the opportunity?

Obsessed With the Food-Obsessed

In the past year I have written about more than eighty restaurants. Not once have I felt compelled to use the word "foodie," nor any of the hyphenated euphemisms for it that the New York Times' editorial policy appears to require (as I've previously noted).^[*]

Meanwhile, in nearly half of the sixteen restaurant reviews he has published since taking over the helm last October, Sam Sifton has given us some variation on the "foodie" theme (never, though, actually uttering the word, which apparently has the same effect as saying "Beetlejuice!" three times). His first three reviews brought us "food-obsessed mouths," followed the next week by the converse, a wine list that "may run unfamiliar to nonobsessives," returning the following week to the "food-obsessed in New York."

There was a brief respite, but it seems to have returned with a vengeance. A few weeks ago the "food-obsessed" came back to discuss the decline of French cooking in New York. Then someone apparently broke out the thesaurus, as we heard last Wednesday about the "food crazies," (who know from Chef April Bloomfield - at least the New York "food crazies" do), while this week brought us the "food-enthralled" (who apparently call guanciale "face bacon").

I'm not sure which bothers me more: the incessant reference to what the food-obsessed/crazy/enthralled think or say, or the pussyfooting around over using that most dreaded word - "foodie."

As for the former, honestly, who cares? Aren't I reading to find out what this one particular food-obsessed critic has to say, not what the rest of the flock may be gibbering about? It's all the more frustrating to me because Sifton clearly has the ability to communicate with a unique and witty voice. This is someone who described The Breslin as "Hogwarts for hipsters," who in describing the crowd at La Grenouille says that "some have spent too much time in the sun, doing nothing much more than turning the pages of a book," while others "examine the restaurant and chart customers as handicappers do horses at Belmont." Please, more of that, less about the "food-obsessed."

As for the latter issue - "foodie foodie foodie" - look, I don't like it either. But these tortuous euphemisms are certainly no better. Which brings me full circle to a question I briefly pondered (and quickly abandoned) when I started writing here: if not "foodie," then what? Well, what do we call someone who enjoys and appreciates art? Or music? If "art lover" and "music lover" will do, why not "food lover"? Is the concern that we'll confuse a "food lover" with the "Chicken Lover"? Actually, in his latest review Sifton gives another alternative: "gastro-nerd." I'd take that over "food-obsessed" any day. At least I don't have to be reminded of this:

^[*]Actually, "foodie" makes regular appearances in other parts of the NYT, so this must just be a Sifton thang.

A List For the New Year

First, a resolution: next year, I will do my "year in review" list before the actual expiration of the year. And next, a confession: I am terrible at "best" lists. I can tell you the high and low points of fifty different restaurants or dishes, but if you ask me to pick a favorite I am usually flummoxed. It's not just food. Favorite movie, song, author? I struggle with the superlatives. In fact, I'm so bad at it that when asked the simple question of what was my favorite meal of the year, I gave two different answers! If you ask me again, I might give still a different answer, particularly if I were to think back on our dinner at Arzak at the beginning of the year, or include our meal last week at Stella in New Orleans.

So, in no particular order, here are eleven (because these go to 11) thoughts on food over the past year:

1. Best Defense Against Foreign Invasion: 2009 started as the year of the invasive exotic species in Miami. Scarpetta from Scott Conant (actually opened December 2008), Eos from Michael Psilakis, BLT Steak from Laurent Tourondel, Gotham Steak from Alfred Portale (also a late '08 opening), all from New York, Hakkasan from London's Alan Yau, Au Pied de Cochon and Caviar Kaspia from Paris, Area 31 from Boston's John Critchley, Red the Steakhouse from Cleveland, Apple from L.A.'s Bryan Ogden, Mr. Chow from London by way of New York, and his evil twin Philippe, and surely others I'm not recalling, all opened in the past year (and some have already closed). But at year's end, it seems to be clear that the best cooking talent in Miami is still local-grown. Michael Schwartz with Michael's Genuine Food & Drink, and Michelle Bernstein with Michy's and Sra. Martinez, are still king and queen of the city despite the influx of foreign invaders. Kris Wessel and Red Light have hit on the right price point and vibe for the "new economy." Jonathan Eismann found Pacific Time's groove again in the Design District, branched out with PizzaVolante, and in the coming year will be adding a barbecue restaurant "Q" and a fish place "Fin" to his repertoire. No doubt some of the foreign interlopers are putting out some good food - Bourbon Steak (opened late 2007), Scarpetta, Hakkasan and Area 31 in particular - but the best stuff is still local.

2. Best Gastronomic Wonderland: San Sebastian. From high-brow to low, old-school to new, there may be nothing else like it in the world. Everything you have read or heard is true. Blocks and blocks of tapas bars with lavish spreads laid out on the counters, each more appealing than the next. Possibly the highest concentration per square mile of Michelin stars in any particular geographic area. Cutting edge cuisine, but still inextricably linked to longstanding Basque cooking traditions. I want to go back to there. Now.

3. Best Dining Phenomenon: Cobaya. Forgive me for tooting my own horn here a bit. Starting last year a group of Chowhounds started getting together for some great dinner experiences. Several months ago a couple of us began kicking around the idea of putting together something like the "underground dinners" that have taken root in other cities. The idea, very simply, was to gather up a group of adventurous, uninhibited diners who were willing to serve as guinea pigs for talented, creative local chefs to provide off-the-menu (and, sometimes, out-of-the-restaurant) experiences. Our first event brought sixteen diners together with Chef Andrea Curto-Randazzo and her talented Sous Chef Kyle Foster for a great meal at Talula (one of my favorite meals of 2009!). For our second experiment with Chef Jeremiah Bullfrog in a penthouse apartment in Midtown, we had so much interest we added a second seating. A group of guinea pigs also came out to Harvey's By the Bay in the American Legion Post for a pig-fest with Chef Jeremiah that was in part a testing ground for his new gastroPOD mobile food project. Our most recent dinner with Chef Jonathan Eismann at his not-yet-opened restaurant Fin in the Design District sold out 34 seats in less than two hours. The Cobaya Group now has over 250 members, and one of the most gratifying experiences for me over the past year has been seeing that there is in fact a like-minded community of eaters who will support and seek out unusual dining experiences like tripe risotto and trotter tacos.

4. Most Unexpected Discovery: NAOE. I stumbled across NAOE while browsing OpenTable and was intrigued by the brief description of an entirely chef's choice menu of "natural Japanese cuisine." After my first visit, I walked out not quite sure if what I had experienced was a dream. Repeat visits confirmed it was not all in my head. Seventeen seats, one chef, no menu. An omakase bento box with 4-5 items, followed by a procession of the chef's choice of nigiri until you cry uncle. Everything is either shipped overnight from Japan, bought that morning off the docks at nearby Haulover Marina, or unique items procured fresh from all around the country (like the best uni I've ever tasted, from off the Oregon coast). There is, quite simply, nothing else like it in Miami.

Straight Outta the Hamptons

The next culinary trend? Forget fried chicken and food trucks. Rap is where it's at.

I'll give credit to the good Mr. Sifton for getting this party started in his first New York Times review, wherein he said of Daniel Boulud:

His food game, as they say in rap precints, is tight.

Word.

Now everyone's getting in on the act. None other than Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart are proclaiming their hip-hop allegiance, as picked up by Eat Me Daily this morning.

Though I genuinely feared viewing the video might prompt a reaction similar to the "entertainment" from David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, I was able to safely screen the first few minutes without going catatonic; enough, at least, to experience this exchange quoted at EMD:

Martha: Puffy's having his birthday party next week... and I got an invitation. Did you?
Rachael: No I didn't...
Martha: ....All those rappers are cute. Don't you think?
Rachael: I think they're all pretty darned cute. The ones that have come by my show... but it didn't get me invited to anyone's birthday party.
Martha: I think I have something on you. They like me for my wherewithal.

So when did "wherewithal" replace "badonkadonk" in the Urban Dictionary?"

Here, look how cute they are!

Sifton Through Some Things

While it was perhaps not nearly so momentous to me as it may have been to some New Yorkers, I followed the changing of the guard for the New York Times' food critic post with some interest. Despite all the sturm and drang of late over the decline of printed media, the NYT remains one of the most powerful reviews in the country, with the perception still holding relatively firm that the doling of stars can have a profound effect on the success - or failure - of a restaurant.

The scouting reports on the new guy, Sam Sifton, seemed promising, and from reading some of his earlier work it was clear he could turn a phrase or two. His first reviews upon taking over the job seemed to engender mostly enthusiastic responses. Hey, he has a working knowledge of 1970's punk rock and can sure make Daniel Boulud's food sound really good (wait, is that so hard?). He'll venture out to Queens for Cantonese food. He looks just like that dude from Shaun of the Dead (do you think Simon Pegg is wondering why he keeps gets multiple dishes "from the chef" and such obsequious service every time he goes out in New York City these days?). And no doubt, the reviews of DBGB, Marea, and Imperial Palace prompted that "I want to go to there" reaction from me.

And yet ... certain things have nagged at me.

1. Phrases that initially sound so elegant, but upon further reflection signify little or nothing:

- A restaurant that "bears masculine charms atop its cool concrete floors." Can a restaurant bear charms atop its floors? Maybe it's that in a fit of dyslexia, I keep thinking that the restaurant charms masculine bears atop its floors. Which would be pretty cool indeed, actually.

- A burger that arrives "as if a passenger on an old Cunard ship, with confitted pork belly, arugula, tomato-onion compote and a slab of Morbier". Is that what the dress code on those old cruise ships was like?

- A dish that "offers exactly the sensation as kissing an extremely attractive person for the first time - a bolt of surprise and pleasure combined." That sounds witty, but you know what? Some extremely attractive people kiss like cold fish.

- Geoduck that "explains in one bite why men would dive amid huge swells to retrieve the things from the angry Pacific." "Huge swells"? The "angry Pacific"? Do they harvest them on "dark and stormy nights"? But perhaps more significant: geoducks are harvested from mud flats. About the worst thing that can happen is you get your pants dirty:



- "A hunk of striped bass acting as pack animal for a load of sturgeon caviar"? Actually, that doesn't sound at all elegant. And that was for a dish that he liked!

- "Sable served sizzling over more black bean sauce, like a special at Nobu or a gift from a friend." What? A gift ... of fish?

2. "food-obsessives"

This is apparently the Timesian translation of "foodie," and variations on it appeared in each of Mr. Sifton's first three reviews:

- "More food-obsessed mouths, however, will desire sausages."

- The wine list at Marea "may run unfamiliar to nonobsessives."

- "Among the food-obsessed in New York, interest in Cantonese food has faded as it has risen in the spicy (and tasty!) flavors of China's interior."

Enough obsessing over the "food-obsessives."

3. "meh"

Firstly, "meh" is no more a "New York expression" than, say, "yummy" or "delish" or "FAIL". Secondly, like those others, it has no place in any serious restaurant review. And a "Your mileage may vary" too, in the same review? Why not just "YMMV"? OMG! Please: never again.