Let's Chile

My first meal in Chile was at Bar Liguria in Santiago, a classic bistro-style place with colorful tablecloths and a patchwork of old photographs and paintings. We ordered a rich lamb cooked to perfection in red wine, pastel de choclo (something like a sheppard’s pie made with cornmeal), humitas (similar to a tamale but with no meat), and a bowl of ripe tomatoes topped with a few leaves of fresh basil. A Pisco sour strong enough to make my legs weak rounded out the perfect welcome meal.

Lucky Me

I finally made it to Clover Club in Brooklyn, where I tasted pretty much the best cocktails I've had in a long time. The bartender, Nate, made me a Remember the Maine, his dry version consisting of rye, vermouth, just a hint of absinthe, and touch of kirsch, as well as a lovely take on an Old Fashioned that incorporated absinthe and bitters poured over an outsize ice cube. Every sip was perfectly balanced, revealing subtle yet surprising notes - mocha in the first cocktail and flowers in the second. The place itself was hip but not unbearable so, and the skilled, savvy bartenders the perfect combination of artisans-cum-alchemists. What's more, when some unfortunate soul ordered a Cosmo, our man behind the bar didn't even flinch, just made a great Cosmo served with such grace that the unsuspecting moron who ordered it had no idea that such a drink in such a bar is simply an abomination.

Un-Lucky Me

A recent visit to Manhattan by some Brooklyn-dwelling Canadians on a mission to be shameless tourists for a night resulted in a couple hours at Lucky Cheng's. I protested, then hid as I ducked into the East Village tourist trap, and eventually tried to make the best of it. But it's what you'd expect: Midwesterners and screeching bachelorettes gawking at drag queens as they sip neon cocktails that taste like off-brand candy gone bad. It's no surprise that EVers aren't exactly heartbroken that the bar is moving to Times Square. I could barely choke down a strawful of this Windex-blue sickly sweet "Orgasm in a bowl." At least I now know my snobbishness about the place wasn't unfounded. I came, I gagged, I ran out before anyone I knew saw me.

Bathwatertini

CHOW reports on a spa in Hakone, Japan that lets you bathe in a pool of wine, coffee, green tea, or sake. Talk about drowning your sorrows. Yeesh.

Wing It

At the mention of Asian barbecue, one might picture Japanese or Korean-style table-side grilling. Bar Q, instead, is a fusion of sushi, bulgogi, and other Asian favorites with good ol' fashioned Southern BBQ. The result includes grilled tuna ribs, lime-and-chili-infused crispy Buffalo wings, and grilled meat-stuffed steamed buns. Chef-owner Anita Lo, of Annisa fame, is charming and modest, and got the charming and modest Master Sommelier Roger Dagorn of Chanterelle (where she used to work) to design the wine list. But it's hard not to opt for one of the pretty cocktails: Pickletini with its shriveled green pickle and cucumber ice garnishes, and the subtle shiso Old Fashioned. Kanpai.

Say Cheese

Finally! A magazine for fans of acidified milk. Whether it's butterfat, age, stink, rind, or mold that melts you, culture may just be the read you've been waiting for.

Pin-Oh

A self-proclaimed Pinot head, I've been known to salivate at even the thought of earthy, leathery Burgundian red, full of mineral and soul. (A friend recently lamented that the poor economy had forced her and her husband to stop buying Burgundy and, as Bourgeois a tragedy as it may sound like, I felt my heart break a bit for her at the thought of it... of course, I can't afford it either.) I've found great Okanagan pinots and Washingtonian pinots and Oregonian pinots and New Zealand pinots, and have even come across beautiful pinots from Monterey in - gasp! - California (Topel Reserve... yum). But more recently, I discovered a different pinot - rather, a pineau. Unrelated to Pinot, Pineau d'Aunis is a grape indigenous to the Loire that tastes like pinot noir grown in a pine forest. It has the lead-pencil nose of many pinots but tends to be more mossy, less subtle. I've had cult wine writer-cum-winemaker Jean-Pierre Robinot's Concerto d'Oniss, and Poivre et Sel, a funky pineau and gamay blend full of spice and red fruits from O. Lemasson, a sommelier-cum-winemaker in Touraine. At about $20 a bottle, it's a steal and a likable alternative to pinot noir. Now, if only I could find a cheap alternative to grass-fed steak dinners and black-market raw cheese (both of which pair wonderfully with pineau), I'd be set.

Obamayummy

As the Obama girls head off for their first day of school, Sasha and Malia's school lunch menus have become national news. It might seem like soft news (okay, the segment on the Uglydoll hanging from Sasha's backpack was a little ridiculous), but what the girls' school cafs are serving is yet another indication that food might be an important issue during Obama's presidency. The first daughters will be fed organic, local ingredients that are baked more often than fried, which may come as little surprise to anyone paying $60,000 in elementary school tuition, but may just inform the new president's ideas on how and what the American should eat. Epicurious has a young Obama talking grub.

Mighty Duck

I have a new trick just in time for the new year. It's a party trick and, unlike my other party trick, doesn't involve inserting my whole fist into my mouth. Or, rather, it doesn't have to: Simply, bring a smoked duck to a party and instantly become the most popular person in attendance. (It also works with wild boar cacciatorini from Salumeria Biellese). My friend, Jack, a food and drinks writer, threw a fabulous New Year's Day party at his charming cottage in the neighborhood known as Victorian Flatbush. I brought the sausage; he brought the duck (now that Kurowycky is closed, he gets his smoked duck from Eagle Provisions on Fifth Ave. in BK)... and the guests were at our mercy.