The news that Pete Wells got from his doctor was too alarming to ignore: “My scores were bad across the board,” the physician told the 60-something New York Times restaurant critic.
“My cholesterol, blood sugar and hypertension were worse than I’d expected even in my doomiest moments,” Wells wrote in his Critic’s Notebook column on July 15. “The terms pre-diabetes, fatty liver disease and metabolic syndrome were thrown around. I was technically obese. OK, not just technically. I knew I needed to change my life.”
I’m still hearing from readers about my comments in last week’s review about the quality furnishings and spotless, seemingly hand-polished silverware at Perso restaurant in Shelby Park: “Those seemingly smaller signals of attentiveness and care from the moment we sat down signaled management that cares.”
In a way, we could liken dining out to a theater performance: Good food might be the lead actor, a player who struts and frets their hour upon the stage. But from decor and drinks to service and even the restrooms, it takes a quality supporting cast to turn a meal into an unforgettable show.
Just about everyone loves ice cream, and that goes double when a heat dome drops over the country like a gigantic warm blanket that nobody requested.
But that rich scoop of cold, sweet delight becomes a lot less unanimous when it comes to the details: Favorite flavor? Traditional hard frozen and scoopable, soft serve, gelato, frozen custard, sherbet, sorbet, froyo, or something else? Cup or cone or take-home pint? And perhaps the most controversial question, which local shop is No. 1 for you?
What is the advantage to a restaurant so loud that you can’t easily chat with your partner or maybe even hear yourself think? Maybe someone out there finds this exciting and attractive, but I haven’t found anyone yet who’s a fan.
Every year at Derby time, restaurant nostalgia sets in. Along with all the chatter about horses, track conditions, and betting odds, food-loving locals can’t resist reminiscing about all the beloved restaurants that aren’t around any more.
Will I ever get this constant craving for pizza out of my system? I really doubt it. Why in the hell should I even want to abandon this adorable creation?In other words, here I am again, talking about pizza for the second week in a row. You got a problem widdat? What’s more, this one is for you folks: Behold, my thoughts on 10 worthy pizzas I’ve praised in recent years.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I actually like Beyond Meat, Impossible, and the rest of the growing cadre of plant-based, meat-like alternative proteins. I think they’re better for the environment than meat, better for me, certainly better for the animals sacrificed in the meat industry. And I think they taste good.
This shouldn’t be a controversial statement, and yet, like so much else in modern life, it’s possible that someone out there reading this is feeling a burning rage at the very idea of praising meat made from vegetables. That’s right. Even meat vs. not-meat can be a political wedge issue in these troubled times.
The whole world of dining out, it sometimes seems, is divided into two kinds of people: Those who love dining alfresco, and those who don’t like it one bit.
Kathmandu: Even the sound of the name of Nepal’s historic capital, gateway to the Himalayas, evokes feelings of romance and exotic travel. The bustling, noisy city of 850,000 lies in a green valley at 4,500 feet above sea level. It’s not even as high as Denver, but on a clear day you can see Mount Everest from historic Durbar Square in the old city, home to seven Unesco World Heritage sites.
Want to go? It will take you maybe 26 hours including layover time to get to Kathmandu from here. The price? Don’t even ask.
But here’s an easy workaround: Head to Kathmandu Kitchen on Old Bardstown Road in Buechel, and you can enjoy a fantastic Nepalese meal without all the hassle of international travel.
