Reading the Fish Wrap (#5)

Bravo to the wraps’ editors this week. Both The New York Times and The Washington Post put out supremely interesting, non-mock-worthy food sections.

Over at the Post, what living life under the fed’s new salt guidelines tastes like; a review of the new Vernon Square location of Mandu; and a look at gin and tonics that should be read and discussed.

Jason Wilson jumps on the Estadio bandwagon: the reimagined G&T. (I inadvertently got on it last week, but was quickly bounced off.) At Estadio, they make their own tonics, a term which seems here to only mean “with fizz.” So, gin + fizz flavored with orange and thyme + saffron and orange peel garnish = a gin and tonic. NO, NO, NO, says a purist. Like Mr. Wilson, I’ve had G&Ts on the brain, and, in fact, ordered the above-mentioned imposteur just last week. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything like what I was craving, and I did not have a second.

Not to get too off-topic, I must mention here that while the food at Jaleo is mostly inedible, their G&T is truly remarkable. It arrives looking much like a painter’s still life. A large globe of ice fills the bowl of a tall wine glass; it’s nearly submerged in Hendrick’s gin. Like nude poods lolling by the pool, a round of lime, a ribbon of lemon peel, a couple of juniper berries, a bay leaf, and a mint leaf frolic. A bottle of Fever-Tree tonic stands to the side like a chaperone. What can I say, it’s a stunning presentation, and, ah! it tastes like that most marvelous of concoctions that it is. That is what I call a reimagined G&T.

Over at the Times, I’d say read it all.

The Fluff: Learn about DIPE, or documented instances of public eating. That is, when skinny actresses prove they don’t have eating issues by pigging out during interviews. Psst: People are on to you.

The Exciting: Grant Achatz’s ambitious New York endeavor

The Grub: Melissa Clark’s got pigs’ feet; and Florence Fabricant’s razor clams are the “It” ingredient.

The Review: Jeffrey Chodorow’s new Bar Basque is the perfect restaurant to bring out Sam Sifton’s two greatest writing gifts: describing food he loves and tearing apart questionable reastaurant decors, concepts, scenes, which in this case he equates with “a future in which everyone lives inside a mobile device.”

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