Drinking the Kool-Aid Out of German Lead Crystal: Reidel Glasses

So, Maximilian Reidel, 33 year old CEO of Reidel Crystal of America, was in town recently with the Reidel Travelling Medicine Show to sell a few wares and preach the gospel of wine glasses. For those who have never heard of Reidel glasses, let me respectfully suggest that you come out from under your rock and try some wine. Reidel is pretty much the gold standard for wine glasses these days. Seriously, if you haven't heard of Reidel glasses, there is a serious question of how much and what types of wine you've been drinking. Sincerely.

Anyway, Max himself, 11th generation of the Reidel family, was in town for a Reidel glass tasting event at Callaway's this last week. If you've never been to one of these events, you must go. The event was entertaining, educational, and you walked out with four spectacular wine glasses. This is the second Reidel event that has occurred in the last few years here in Sioux Falls. If I am not mistaken, the last event featured Max's dad, Georg.

For those who haven't perviously been formally inducted into the Cult of Reidel, let me explain the format for the event. The event started with a reception featuring champagne served in the very cool Reidel "O" champagne glasses. (The "O" series is stemless. Very cool champagne/sparkling glasses.) There were also a few non-descript finger foods. One then adjourns to the next room where tables are laid out in a classroom sort of arrangement. At each place is a glass for water and a place mat set with four big, beautiful, lead crystal glasses, each holding a respectable tasting quantity of wine. In this case, we are talking about the new Reidel Vinum XL glasses and the set consisted of a glass for Riesling, Montrachet/Chadonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Pinot Noir (specifically Oregon pinot.) Also at the place setting is a standard issue wine glass typical of those found at almost any large-attendance event. Not those goofy "tulip" glasses like one would expect at a wedding dance at any particular Ramkota, but still, a standard, who-cares-if-you-break-it glass.

Max then introduces himself and starts the magic show. The program consists of starting with one of the pre-poured wines, usually the "lightest" in this case the Riesling. You take a big sniff out of the Reidel glass and listen to Max explain his impressions, It goes something like this:

"Ahhh, smell zat! Pear! Pineapple! Granny Smiss Appul! (Max is German) Honey! Sunlight!" Then you taste and get more of the same impressions. Then comes the trick. Max instructs the group to pour the wine out of the Reidel glass and into the standard-issue "Joker" glass. "Vhat do you smell? Nothink! Vhat happened? It's gone!"

Okay, at this point, I'd really like to ridicule Max about this alleged alchemy, but he's right. The shape of the Joker glass can't contain the beautiful aromas and subtleties of the wine. The same drill ensues when the crowd is invited to drink out of the "Joker." Sure enough, the first taste of the exact same wine you just drank tastes nothing like it did moments ago. To drive the point home, Max then has the crowd pour the wine into an ordinary plastic cup, to demonstrate that the same wine has less aroma and less taste now.

This process continues through the other glasses at the table and varies only with invitations to pour a varietal into a glass designed for an entirely different varietal. Think a big Oregon Pinot Noir in a glass specifically designed for Chardonnay. Despite the quality of the glass, the right wine in the wrong glass doesn't work.

Okay, so what the fork? Can a glass really make a difference? And, if so, why?

Well, turns out you don't need to be a German engineer to figure this one out. Engineering has nothing to do with it. These glasses are the work of artisans who have worked on glasses specifically designed to showcase the colors, aromas and tastes of specific wines. During part of the demonstration, Max invites everyone to tip the glass forward as one might do to examine the color of the wine. He directs your attention to the shape the wine is making in the glass. This is important. You should notice that the differently-shaped glasses shape and direct the wine in different ways. For instance, a Cabernet glass directs the wine to a relatively sharp point, while the Chardonnay glass allows the wine to flow more widely. You place the thin, cut rim to your mouth et voila, the glass directs the wine to different parts of your tongue. What this does is allow the wine to make it's first contact with critical points of your mouth's tasting apparati.

Reidel makes several series of glasses covering various tiers of prices. These lines cover everything from the hand-blown Sommelier series to the stemless "O" series. Irrespective of what series of glasses you have, chances are there is one that is specifically designed for a particular varietal. In the higher-end lines (Sommelier and Vinum, for instance) there are a LOT of varietal-specific glasses. There are glasses specifically designed for Spanish Tempranillio, Chianti, Port, and Burgundy, as well as glasses for single-malt Scotches or sake. The glasses we tried were part of the new Vinum XL series and, like t-shirts, the XL is for extra large. These suckers are big. The Caberet glass has a capacity of something like 22 ounces. As Max explained, the glasses are bigger these days for the simple reason that wines are bigger these days. Today's winemakers are producing wines that are bold and flavorful. Bigger wines, bigger glass. Works for me. I like a bigger glass for wines because it facilitates swirling the wine and shoving your whole nose and half your face into the glass. (I think you can tell infintely more about a wine by smelling it that you can tasting it.)

This isn't alchemy, though. The glass cannot change what is in it. That's still the same wine in there, the glass just presents it to your nose and your palate in such a way that the first encounter with it is amplified. Just to prove that point, I tried my own little experiment, which, in a way, debunked a little of the mystery. I took a drink from the Reidel glass and then made a point to work the wine aggressively into every corner of my mouth. This is what highly-proficient tasters do. Literally chew the wine and be sure to open your mouth a little and work in some air. I then did the same think with a drink of the same wine from the plastic cup. Turns out working the wine aggressively around your mouth is the great equalizer. Nevertheless, the Reidel glass did showcase the wine from the moment it hits the lips and tongue. The other glasses did not do so.

So, is an investment in glasses like these worth it. If you are serious student of wine or are hoping to increase your knowledge, the answer is an unqualified yes. If you care more about what is in the bottle than how cool the label looks and are willing to spend more than 5 bucks on a bottle, you should invest in some decent glassware. If you are going to paint, you need good brushes. If you are going to ski, you need good skis and boots that fit your ability and style. Basically, you need the right tools for the job and these glasses will compliment and accentuate your wine experience.

One last thing. If you treat these glasses properly, they will last a long, long, time. For such thin glass, they are amazingly strong and durable. A little care while washing and some attention will keep these glasses working for you long into the future.

Go buy the glasses, but clear out some cupboard or bar space for them, a full set of these puppies is going to take up more space than all those hurricane glasses you have brought back from New Orleans over the years. And, if you still have some space, pick up a decanter. You should see the Eve decanter that Max designed! But that's a whole other story for another day.

Parker's: A Very Promising New Addition to the Sioux Falls Dining Scene

After a soft opening in late September, I finally got around to trying Parker's a little while back. Any new food place in Sioux Falls gets a lot of attention, and soft openings are becoming de rigeur. What's a soft opening you ask? A soft opening is when a new restaurant or bar opens without a big announcement that they are opening on some specific date. People find new places in Sioux Falls without a lot of advertising and attention. Patrons begin to trickle in and this gives the staff a chance to sort of ramp up rather than be faced with a packed house from the word "go." It allows a place to work out the kinks instead of having to open full-throttle.

Parker's occupies a space that has undergone some fairly extensive remodeling. It's on Main Avenue, near 10th Street in a space formerly occupied by a Mexican restaurant, an attempt at a Brazilian joint and a place once known as the House of Soccer. The building has benefitted from the City's facade easement program and features Sioux quartzite and large windows.

Parker's has been billed as creole/cajun/american, which I must say made me a little skeptical. The cajun craze has passed and, face it, no one (at least no one with any sense) really expects authentic cajun cuisine this far from the bayous of Lousianna. The indoor decor of the place is definitely an homage to New Orleans, though: bare brick walls, goofy flooring, old building that leads back to different rooms, high ceilings. It's pretty nice, but the lighting could be better. It's just a tad dark in there at night.

The kitchen is open- that is to say, the chefs work behind the front "bar" area in view and within earshot of the diners. Personally, I couldn't do this. I don't mind people watching me cook because I am on display anytime we cook at my house. The problem would be the diners listening to me and the things they might hear.

The menu is not very extensive, but it features some great items. The dinner menu is divided into courses: starter, salad/soup, entree. Expect familiar items: beef, pork, chicken, fish, but don't expect it to be prepared and presented like something you'd see at Minerva's or Foley's. For instance, there is usually a fresh fish item on the menu. On the night I was there, it was halibut. However, it was coated in a curry sort of rub and pan roasted. Halibut is a phenomenal fish and this particular piece was cooked exactly right. It was cooked just to the point of being done so the flesh was moist and the curry-dusted outside was dry, and well-seared, but not crusty. The halibut was served with fresh cucumber cut into ribbons and dressed with a creamy sauce- rather reminiscent of the sliced cucumbers your grandmother made during the summer months, only more delicate and definitely prettier. The other side was, as I recall, Isreali couscous. Couscous is pasta that is basically milled into the consistency of grain. It's great stuff, takes on flavor like a sponge and cooks in about five minutes. If you aren't familiar with it, you need to get with the program. Isreali couscous is bigger in size- kind of like small tapioca pearls. Personally, I thought the couscous could use a little more flavor, but I was glad to see it on the plate.

Other menu choices include a pork chop, chicken and flatiron steaks. I can't wait to try more. It all sounded great and it was hard to make a choice.

The salads were interesting and feature fresh local produce. There was an heirloom tomato salad with some balsamic glaze and fresh mozerella. This is an example of good menu writing, because in reality, this is a salad caprese- tomatoes and fresh mozerella- for nine bucks. There is also a gumbo on the menu. (Cajun/creole homage to NOLA.) Not bad. Really good creole/cajun food has an amazing quality of prolonging spice. It should be spicy, but not the sort of punch you in the mouth like wasabi or vindaloo hot. I thought the cup of gumbo I had could have used a little more front-end heat and a little less rice in the bottom of the cup. It also could have used just a tad more texture. The feature was the andouille sausage- hand-made. That was great. Like I said, though, the gumbo needed more texture. If you have it in NOLA, you might have a piece of chicken here or there or some vegetables that haven's entirely dissolved.

The real shining star of the menu, however, was the lamb sausage on the appetizer list. You have GOT to try this. Handmade by the chef, and accordingly cooked to the rare side, it is just a tad spicy and oh, so delicious.

The menu of Parker's puts it in the same category as, say, Cafe 334, K's, and probably a few places you may have visited in more metropolitan places. It's good food, but prepared with more imagination than what we have become used to here. The presentations come to the table absolutely camera ready. I guarantee you'll pause when the food makes it to the table to take in the presentation.

The staff is very competent and helpful. Ben Josten, formerly of Food & Fermentation, is there. Ben is a definite asset. He has a passion for wine, a very good understanding of food, and a talent for pairing the two. If you are in doubt about anything on the wine list, seek Ben's assistance. You can't go wrong.

I am reaching the point in my dining and food snobbery, that I wonder if an absoultely perfect dining experience is possible. Taste, after, all is subjective. Nevertheless, if you want to know what I thought could be a little different, or a little better, here it is:

• Tweak the lighting. The food is gorgeous, but it's a little hard to see. Hell if I know how to adjust lighting. I am not a lighting engineer, but I know it could benefit from the assistance of someone who is.
• Punch up the wine list. The selections were very nice, but there can be more of them. You don't need a Sears catalog sized list, but a few more selections would be great.
• Emphasize the ingredient sourcing. In passing, the wait staff mentioned that all the fresh ingredients for the menu, with the obvious exception of the seafood, are obtained locally. Like from within 100 miles of Sioux Falls. That's phenomenal and I think Americans, in general, are finally coming around to what the French have understood for centuries- great, fresh ingredients obtained from people who care and know what they are doing make a HUGE difference. Why doesn't the menu tell me that pork came from a Lincoln County farmer? It should. Frankly, I really want to know this before I order.
• Punch up the flavors, especially in the sides. Don't get me wrong, I thought the food was well-prepared, but I look for amplification and compliments to the natural, subtle nuances of fresh food. Don't be afraid to season with a heavier hand.
• I hope between Ben and the culinary staff, you will try some special paired wine events.

Overall, I was quite pleased with my first experience at Parker's and I am looking forward to many return visits. I think Parker's has great promise and has the potential to be one of the crown jewels of dining in Sioux Falls, and South Dakota for that matter.

Holy Frijoles! Authentic Mexican Food in Sioux Falls: Nikki's Taqueria

A couple of years or so ago, I was reading about Nikki's, a store and restaurant on East 10th Street- in the little strip mall where Subway is located, near Cliff Avenue. The point of the article was that Nikki's had become a sort of community center for the local Hispanic population, particularly those who speak very little English. I also noticed that the article mentioned good food.

Nikki's has opened a large new store on 8th Street and Indiana. The restaurant is still on 10th Street. (I don't know if a move is imminent.) I stopped in for lunch expecting a very authentic Mexican food experience and I am pleased to report that I was in no way disappointed.

Nikki's is the real deal. If your idea of great Mexican food is a Taco Bell Encherito or a big old burrito at Qdoba, the food at Nikki's is going to seem very foreign to you. On the other hand, if you have fond memories of some little tacos full of some really tasty mystery meat you ate during your last trip to Mexico, you are in luck.

Nikki's has a pretty nice selection of entrees and al a carte items. It was lunch and the taco special- four tacos for five bucks made a great deal of sense. The choices far exceeded beef or chicken, hard or softshells. (Actually, they make it pretty clear that there are no hard shells. As a matter of fact, the soft shells are corn, not flour- a plus on the authentic-meter.) There were tons of choices for fillings and you were free to mix and match them as you desired. Here are the choices I can remember: asada (spiced grilled beef), picadillo (shredded beef), pastor (a seasoned pork), carnitas (a different type of seasoned beef), chorizo, lengua (beef tongue), tripa (beef tripe), fish.

Naturally, I had to try the tongue, and rounded out my selections with chorizo, pastor, and the asada. Each taco is barely the size of an adult's palm and is comprised of two little corn tortillas with two or three tablespoons of your designated protein mounded in the middle. You can forget cheese, lettuse, sour cream, etc for toppings. In this case, you got onions and some chopped cilantro. There were also a couple of slices of fresh radish on the side.

As is so often the case with food, these simple little tacos were a great experience of flavor and textures. The soft and somewhat sweet corn tortillas palyed off the textures and subtle spiciness of the proteins. Then you get the sweet pungency of the onions and the salty-spiciness of the cilantro. Phenomenal.

Yes, the tongue was good. Tongue is an unfairly maligned cut of meat. Yes, it looks wierd in whole form and even I would have to do some research to figure out how to cook one, but it really is good stuff. It tastes beefy. Like so many odd beef cuts, the flavor is rather like the taste of a slice of cold pot roast straight from the fridge. That's probably because it has been stored in a fridge. The texture is not too soft and it's not tough by any means, either. It is very fine grained and yielding. Seriously, you have to give it a try.

I wasn't quite up for tripe- beef stomach. Don't get me wrong, properly cooked tripe is a beautiful thing. I actually had a meal at a much ballyhooed restaurant in San Francisco where the the best thing I had was the tripe appetizer. (I thought the rest of the meal frankly sucked- keep this in mind while you watch "The Next American Iron Chef" this fall because the executive chef at this particular restaurant is Nate Appleman who will be competing.) Anyway, considering the love and care put into the lengua, I bet the tripa is pretty darn good, too.

Truly, one of the best things about Sioux Falls these days is the absolute embarassment of riches we are experiencing in terms of diverse cultures. That means great food choices and Nikki's is a shining example. When you can get such a great sampling of flavors for all of five bucks, why wouldn't you?

Out on the Wine Dinner Trail: Carnaval

Hit a wine dinner the other night. I haven't been to one for a while because since Food & Fermentation closed the doors I haven't yet settled on a home base for a dinner.

For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about, there are a number of wine retailers who have paired up with local restaurants to feature a particular set of wines with a meal. Generally, each course is paired with a specific wine. The idea is to try new wines and see how they can be paired with certain foods. There are also usually representatives from a particular winery and, of course, folks from the local distributors. Incidentally, some of the local distributor representatives are good people to know. They can clue you in on what is what and if there are particularly good values to be had in the local market.

Carnaval, the Brazilian restaurant over in the Foley's-Century Theaters area, along with JJ's hosted a dinner featuring a four course menu, plus appetizers paired with wines by Seghesio- a three-generation winery located in northern Sonoma County. Edd Lopez, the national sales guy for Seghesio, and practically a member of the Seghesio family, was on hand to talk about Seghesio and the wines. Keeping in mind that Edd's job is to sell the wine, he did a great job of describing each wine and telling the Seghesio story. He was very informative and I didn't feel like he had memorized tasting notes. As one more aside, you simply have to encounter someone from wine country, especially a winery employee, and listen to them describe the flavors of what is in the glass. This is where you get all the comments about pears, hint of leather, blah, blah, blah. I seldom agree, but it is always entertaining.

The wines were fantastic. If you see Seghesio around, I highly recommend that you pick up a bottle of their Zinfandel and their Pinot Grigio. Very good stuff.

The paired foods had some highlights and some low lights, but from what I could tell, the crowd was very happy with the effort.

The evening started with a glass of Seghesio Pinot Grigio and a selection of cheeses, crackers, and some Brazilian sort of hush puppy that had the consistency of rubber. The Pinot was really great. Seghesio ferments their Pinot Grigio slowly which results in a much more developed structure. It was rich and creamy, like a Chardonnay, but without the oak and the overwhelming butter sort of feel.

Next course was a salad of spinach greens with shrimp, some croutons, and a nice fruity dressing. All-in-all, a really nice effort on the salad. The greens were fresh and cool and the shrimp was cooked just right. Spot on. I can't recall the name of the wine. It was a white, lighter than the Pinot Grigio. It paired well. Normally, I hate trying to pair wines with salads because the acidity of the dressing can clash with acidity in the wine. This worked well, though.

Now onto main courses. We were presented with two glasses of Zinfandel (one of the Fork's personal favorites). One glass was the Seghesio Old Vine Zin- which is pretty much exactly what that sounds like. This is wine from grapes grown on really old vines. It is everything a good Zin should be- spicy, somewhat tannic and well-developed structure. This was a 2006 and perhaps just a tad on the tight side. Not overly tannic, but a 2005 would have been nice. The other glass was Seghesio's Rockpile Zin. Rockpile is a new AOC- that is a specifically designated appellation- an officially recognized sub-region. This was also good wine and was quite different from the Old Vine. Perhaps a bit more minerally. It was different up front. By the way, these wines were poured in great glasses- big Reidels- exactly the sort of glass a big wine like that should be served in. The paired food was a seared ahi tuna with the obligatory gingery-garlicy sauce; two smoked lamb lollipops (two overcooked lamb chops) with an odd minty lemon butter; and some braised pheasant. The pheasant was good. The tuna was okay (really, if you don't overcook good tuna, it's pretty hard to mess up), the lamb was a loser. Meat as delicate as a lamb chop does NOT benefit from the application of smoke in my humble opinion. Between the smoke and the over-cooking, you had something that really didn't let the flavors of the lamb shine through.

Next course was a smoked pork tenderloin with some kind of sauce. Joining it on the plate were servings of a carrot and parsnip puree. The vegetables were good. The pork was fine, but again, what's with the friggin smoke? It was a little too heavy. The sauce served with it was a Seghesio Omaggio. This was the most expensive wine served that evening. Omaggio retails somewhere around 60 bucks a bottle. It's a blend of Cabernet and Sangiovese- sort of a shot at a super Tuscan blend. It was really rich, smooth, and full of dark fruit flavors.

By this point, I was confronted with a very unique problem: too much wine. I know that is an extremely odd "problem" to have, but really, by this point in the evening, we were on the verge of being over-served. Granted, one is not required to consume every drop of wine set in front of you, but geez, you don't want to waste it. The Fork likes drinking, even on a Wednesday night. The deal is though, the more wine you drink the less you are actually going to taste. As it turns out, alcohol seems to affect one's body and that includes your tongue and other parts of you tasting apparatus. This is why people who are doing serious tasting aspirate (fancy word for spit out) wine after thoroughly tasting it. I could tell the gross differences between these wines at this point, but after you have had five generous pours (not a bad thing), ferreting out the subtleties is not going to happen. The glassware at Carnaval is also a bit odd. The Pinot Grigio was served in those big globular glasses- the one hoisted by Chef Tracy in the Carnaval television commercial. These look cool, but they would be better for keeping a pet goldfish than drinking wine. The white glass for the wine paired with the salad and the glasses for the Zins were perfect. Then it went downhill. The Omaggio was served in one of those silly-ass stemless glasses. The bowl (well, the whole glass, since that's all it is) was too small for a wine that big. The only thing I could smell with that glass (even after five big glasses of wine) was the soap or hand lotion used by the servers who handled the glass before I got it. (One last rant as long as we are on the subject of scent. Carnaval had burning on our table a vanilla scented candle. WTF??!! Candles are nice for setting the mood, and a scented candle is great in a family room or bathroom, but NEVER on a table where people are trying to enjoy food. Major screw up in my book, but easily remedied.) The last wine, a Port actually, was served in a small snifter- not real keen on those.

Okay, last course- a huge fudgy chocolate brownie served with about two tablespoons of vanilla ice cream and three raspberries. As mentioned above, it was served with a Port that is not even offered here in SD. The Port was very rich and had lots of character. It also had lots of punch with a 24% alcohol content. My glass was also full of sediment. The dessert was good, but it was too much. I was worried I would contract gout sitting right there. Count 'em- by then four big glasses of red wine (we got a bonus pour of the Rockpile Zin- THANKS!), preceded by two whites and then very rich chocolate and a rich port. Something a tad lighter may have been in order.

Bottom line: Phenomenal wines and a nice try at the food, but a lack of follow-through on the execution. The meal definitely looked better on paper. But, like I said, a lot of people seemed to enjoy it and the Fork is definitely spoiled when it comes to food, which means I can admittedly get overly critical about details at times. I would be willing to try another wine dinner at Carnaval, but Chef, you've got a strike against you.

By all means, if you like food and you like wines, even if you are a wine beginner trying to increase your own knowledge- especially of how to pair wines with foods- go try a wine dinner. Just ask your favorite wine retailer if they sponsor these sorts of dinners. Chances are they do.

Support Local Businesses- Or Else!

A quick review of news here in South Dakota turned up a story in today's Rapid City Journal about the last day of business at Fjord's Ice Cream. The owner cited a lack of support from the local community and further stated that most of her business came from tourists in the area who actually sought out Fjord's.

Go check out the story at www.rapidcityjournal.com

It's a sad, but true, fact that if local people do not support local businesses, chances are those local businesses are going to have a tough time staying open. Granted, it's a lot easier to whip through a drive through lane of franchise place that sells frozen treats and lots of those sorts of places are also owned by local folks. But still, if your community has a local treasure like a Fjord's, you need to make a point to go out of your way to give them some business.

Really High End Fine Dining: What, Where and Why It Matters

In this neck of the woods, very few people are ever exposed to truly high-end dining. I am not talking about a trip to one of the legendary steak houses, such as Lawry's, Ruth Chris, Murray's or Manny's in Mineapolis, or ever Sparks or Peter Lugar in New York. I am not talking about a meal that simply costs a lot of money. (Even though this type of eating does cost alot. A whole lot.) I am talking about once-in-a-lifetime culinary experiences designed and executed by extremely talented chefs. I am talking about meals in establishments such as The French Laundry in Napa, Gary Danko in San Francisco, Everest, Charlie Trotter's or Alinea in Chicago, and, even closer to home, La Belle Vie in Minneapolis. These are places where, for the mere price of a car payment or (more likely) a house payment, you can indulge in culinary delights beyond your imagination and step into a rarified world of cuisine that very few will ever experience or imagine.

The menu in these sorts of places is not divided into sections such as "appetizers, salads, entrees and deserts." There is no salad bar. In some cases there is actually no menu. More often than not, the menu is divided into courses. When it is possible to "order" diners are confronted with making a series of selections from various courses. This is an option at Gary Danko and La Belle Vie, for instance. However, the real treat and the piece de resistance is the "tasting menu" or menu degustation that has been carefully crafted to showcase exquisite ingredients and the talents of the chef who painstakingly engineered the ingredients into an unforgettable experience. These menus are generally presented through 5 to 15 (or more) courses, each consisting of portions that are literally three or four bites. These courses look a lot like what is presented to the judges on television programs like Iron Chef America or Top Chef. Each course is literally a work of art to be enjoyed by all the senses.

I am not forking with you about the price of these meals. For most people, this isn't a one a month or even an annual experience. Prices can literally run from just under one hundred dollars per person to nearly three hundred dollars or more. And, that's before you have a cocktail or consider the wine options.

The places of this caliber that I have had the privilege to visit have cellars that boast some of the finest and rarest wines on the planet. Fortunately, if you don't have the foggiest idea which vintage of Chateau Moulton Rothschild will pair with the third course of a braised Kobe short rib in an ancho-cocoa sauce, or the third course consisting of Idaho steelhead trout paired with salmon caviar and some sort of foam (hmmm, the vintage 1945 or perhaps the 1968), the diner can elect for wines that are paired with each course.

The Japanese call this sort of dining omikase, which literally means to put oneself in the hands of the chef. That is basically exactly what one does on these occasions. Forget about whether a particular item sounds "good" or not. Chances are the average person wouldn't dream up some of these combinations in a million years and sourcing ingredients would be impossible. Sit back and indulge your senses.

Besides the extreme talent and imagination of the chefs who design these experiences, another thing that places this sort of dining in a league of its own is the sourcing of ingredients. In many of these places, the menu chages on a seasonal basis- it is a matter of what is very good during a particular season, although in some cases the menu can change due to what is the best that very day. In some cases, these ingredients are sourced down to an individual producer. For instance, if you find yourself enjoying a particular piece of fish at Charlie Trotter's, chances are it was swimming in a stream in Idaho, or in the South Pacific a matter of hours before it landed on your plate.

So, where does one experience this sort of dining? Well, as it just so happens, I have had the extreme pleasure of dining at several of the temples of degustation, and having visited this rarified world, have developed a short list of other places I hope to someday visit. If you ever have the opportuinity, try these places.

Restaurant Gary Danko, San Francisco

We ended up at Gary Danko in San Francisco because we failed to secure a reservation at The French Laundry in Napa. (Important lesson- you have to get reservations for The French Laundry at least, and almost exactly 60 days in advance.) Even though we ended up at Danko as a second choice, the experience and the food was first rate. Danko allows a diner to custom build their own experience by selecting three, four, or five courses and then choosig among various offerings for each course. For instance, Glazed oysters with Osetra caviar, zucchini pearls and lettuce cream; horseradish crusted salmon medallion with dilled cucumber; and, for dessert try chocolate souffle with creme anglaise and warm Belgian chocolate.

Although the food was etherial, the service at Danko definitely took the experience to a higher level. Each staff member was impeccably and identically dressed in a designer suit. Dishes were unobtrusively, if not stealthily, whisked away after each course and new place settings delivered. The wine servers were knowledgeable and happy to answer questions about each selection. Overall, an outstanding experience.

Charlie Trotter's, Chicago

Charlie Trotter's Restaurant has been a pinnacle of fine dining in Chicago for over 20 years. Trotter's is a much more rarified experience than Danko. You better like your dining mates because at Trotter's you probably aren't going to be chit-chatting with the folks at the table next to you, as you might at Gary Danko. Also, at Trotter's you are not going to be presented with a choose your own sort of menu. You will have two to choose from, the Grad Cuisine menu or the Vegetarian menu. Rather than hear me describe the items, go look for yourself at http://www.charlietrotters.com/. You will also be confronted with several beverage options. when we were there, one could select from two different "grades" of paired wines, which can be referred to as the good stuff and the REALLY good stuff. (For instance, Perrier Jouet champagne vs. a 1996 Dom Perignon.) Ironically, unless you are REALLY into wine, waaay beyond the sorts of wines you can get and experience here, you aren't probably going to recognize any of it. If wine isn't your thing, you can also have the beverage pairing which consists of teas or other infusions designed to accentuate and accompany each course of the menu.

Then there is the kitchen table. At Charlie Trotter's there is a table in the kitchen. It takes a huge degree of luck or patience to get a reservation for the kitchen table. There is no menu at the kitchen table, it is a matter of whatever the chef thinks is the best that particular day. Wow!

If you dine at Trotter's you are going to get a tour of the kitchen, and there is actually a chance that you will see Chef Charlie Trotter there. He was when we visited. Kitchens at places like this are rather like magic science labs. They are fairly quiet and the actions of each chef almost choreographed. Think about it, these aren't places where the waiters are walking in yelling for steaks cooked to three different degrees of doneness, or that table six is still waiting for its appetizers. The menu is set, it is just a matter of concentrated, flawless execution.

At Charlie Trotter's you will also get a tour of the wine cellars. Wine museum is more like it. Again, jump on line and go look at the list. Ever wondered what a magnum bottle of a 1945 bordeaux looks like? Here's your chance.

Another really neat thing to do at Charlie Trotter's is to use the restroom. Seriously. It's jsut a restroom, but while you are in there attending to the usual course of business, take a look at the decor. In the restroom adjacent to the main floor dining room are a number of framed menus from very small, private dinners hosted by chefs, for chefs, and many of them are autographed. You'll find names like Emeril Lagasse, Ferran Adria, and others who you have probably only seen on television. Truly amazing.

If there is one drawback to Trotter's, it is the service, which I found to be a tad on the snooty side and seemed to go out of their way to make you feel that you were the one who was lucky to be forking over major cash for the experience. Case in point was the sommelier. This guy was not going to make any effort to stoop to our level to engage in a conversation or attempt to educate us to some degree about the wines. He was happy, though, to talk about procuring extremely rare vintages and recently stocking Charlie's cellars at his new venture in Las Vegas. I have never given much consideration to the rare wine trade or how one locates cases of very special and rare wines. I do know enough, however, to know about things like corks that can fail or "corked" wines. I wanted to know how one knew that a particular old rare wine was really any good. The asnwer: It better be. Allllrighty, then.

La Belle Vie, Minneapolis

One need not travel to the bay area, Chicago, or New York City to experience this rarified sort of dining. La Belle Vie, in the Loring Park area of Minneapolis, near the Walker Art Center, offers very big city experiences close to home. Take a look at the menu at http://www.labellevie.us/. The service was an absolute joy when we visited a few months ago.

Of course, for a lot of people the question is how do these places survive, especially in this economy, and why do they matter. Good questions. They survive because as long as there are people in this world who are so very interested and intrigued with cuisine, there will be people who are willing to spend the money necessary to have this level of experience. This is similar to other aspects of the art world- people who are willing to fork over thousands of dollars for an original painting instead of purchasing a ubiquitous print for a fraction of the cost.

This cuisine is important for the same reasons the space program has been important to so many aspects of daily life. Just as space technology spun off and trickled down to so many aspects of daily life (velcro, microwave ovens, electonics of all sorts, etc.) innovations in the culinary arts trickle down. That molten chocolate cake you enjoyed at Applebees last week was probably first presented in a high end restaurant years ago. Places like El Bulli, The French Laundry, and Charlie Trotter's provide the places where chefs can pair first-rate ingredients with their wild imaginations in places where people will gladly pay a premium to sample the product. Who knows what sorts of flavor innovations and inspirations await?

Book Review: My Life in France by Julia Child

A good friend and fellow foodie loaned me her copy of My Life in France by Julia Child and recommended I read it. I was a little skeptical because the front cover of the paperback included a picture of Meryl Streep in her role as Julia Child in the upcoming (or perhaps already released) film "Julie and Julia." Personally, I do not have a great deal of interest in seeing the film about a young woman who undertakes the seemingly Herculean quest of cooking her way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking cover to cover. However, if someone I deem to be a credible source reports that a good dose of the movie is more about Julia than Julie, I might reconsider.

At any rate, My Life in France begins at the end of World War II, when Julia Child's service with the OSS, the forerunner of the CIA ended and her relationship with Paul Child began. After the war, Paul Child remained a member of the US foreign service and was assigned to Paris. Julia was not content to remain a member of the somewhat cloistered group of fellow Americans in the foreign service in Paris. Although she didn't speak a word of French, she had a strong hunger to immerse herself in the culture of France and Paris. And, as anyone should know, a large part of the culture of Paris and France involves every aspect of food and cooking. This eventually led her to enroll in classes at Le Cordon Bleu. My Life in France provides heaping helpings of Julia's thoughts and insights as she took the first steps that would eventually lead her to the status of a living legend and icon of cooking and cuisine.

The book also explains in considerable detail the toils, triumphs, and frustrations of developing and writing Mastering the Art of French Cooking and seeing the book published. My Life in France is required reading for any dedicated foodie.

Reading the book caused me to reflect on Mastering the Art of French Cooking and to realize just how truly ahead of its time it was. In order to put the book in perspective, one has to reflect on the history of America and its cuisine in the Twentieth Century. Right up to and following World War II, especially during the years of the Great Depression, in many parts of the United States, putting food on the family table was a considerable task. One doesn't have to look very far back in their family history, especially here in the Great Plains, to find a time when almost everything that appeared on the table was produced and prepared within the 80 acres or so where the farmhouse was situated. Animals were slaughtered and meat preserved. Vegetables were grown and canned. Eggs were gathered. Cows milked. Loaves of bread were baked several times a week. Sure, there were trips to a market to buy things that simply could not be produced, but the trip to the grocery store as we know it today just didn't exist. Daily life and things we take for granted today required hard, relentless work. On top of those daily challenges were heaped the hardships of the Dust Bowl and the rationing and sacrifices of World War II.

After the war, things got better. The country experienced a boom, not only in terms of the economy, but also in technology. The era of modern conveniences was upon us. Great minds turned their attention to making daily life easier and more convenient. Besides being able to produce and ship all sorts of foods all around the country and the globe, the country was also introduced to things like cake mixes and all sorts of pre-cooked foods that could simply be popped into the oven, or eventually, the microwave. As automobile travel expanded and the average American became more affluent, things like fast food and an abundance of restaurants followed. In short, food and eating simply became a heck of a lot more convenient. Not necessarily better, but certainly a lot "easier."

The United States was in the midst of the Space Race and the Cold War when Mastering the Art of French Cooking was first published. My Life in France details the skepticism of publishers about the likelihood of success of the tome about French cooking, something to this day the average American is likely wont to describe or define. (Just ask someone what they believe to be French cuisine. Snails? Emphasis on sauces? Lots of cream and butter? French bread? French fries? Try it. Ask some non-foodie friends.) Nevertheless, the book sold better than expected. In my opinion, however, it still remained far ahead of its time.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking is not a work for the faint of heart and it is decidedly not the go-to source for simple little recipes to whip up something a little different for the next dinner party. I can think of no better example than the recipe for French Bread found in Mastering, Volume II. The bread requires four very simple ingredients: flour, water, yeast, and salt. Nevertheless, the recipe covers something like 10 pages and describes in great detail how to develop the dough, form loaves, and bake them to get as reasonably close approximation to the real thing as one can expect using everyday equipment and everyday ingredients. (Hint: the story of how this recipe was developed is one of the highlights of My Life in France.)

Mastering the Art of French Cooking is experiencing a major revival thanks to the book Julie and Julia and the movie. There is no doubt that the country is re-discovering food and cooking. Although we continue to enjoy many modern conveniences, people have discovered, or rediscovered, the older more labor-intensive ways of producing and cooking food. The difference is that it is now somewhat of a luxury to cook this way (wanting to do it versus having to do it). In addition, people have learned that mass produced, processed foods are not necessarily the best foods or the best for us. It seems more people than ever are interested in cooking and have the desire to purchase the tools and commit the time necessary to master the type of skills that are necessary to produce truly great food. Just look at the sort of equipment that is available to the average cook today, let alone the highly specialized equipment available to those who can afford it (induction cooktops, ovens that inject steam, etc.). If Mastering the Art of French Cooking has a time, that time is probably now, 40 years after its publication and several years after Julia Child's own death. It seems that just now people are interested in the nuances of good food- where it comes from, who brought it to us, how it is made, and how to make it ourselves.

Read My Life in France. It's not only a good read, it's a great glimpse into the life of a truly remarkable woman. I encourage you to read the book and reflect on how much of your own relationship with good food and good cooking has been influenced by Julia Child.