St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Annie Gunn's: The BLE

We had lunch at Annie Gunn’s not long ago, and overall things were, not surprisingly, very tasty. But one dish stood out. Even visually, it was enough to make us gasp when the server placed it in front of us.

Described on the menu as a BLE, it begins with a base of a large slice of sourdough toast, a layer of Jarlsberg cheese and what’s called mustard aioli, which adds some horseradish along with the expected garlic. Then comes a pile of the housemade bacon, a little romaine lettuce, a couple of slices of heirloom tomato and a couple of sunnyside up eggs.

While the python-jawed among us could possibly eat this without utensils, even they would end up with a drool of egg yolk down the front of their Hawaiian shirts, so we attacked it with a knife and fork, and let our fingers do the walking to the hand-cut French fries. All in all, deeply satisfying.

And with it a glass of that rarity, a chilled red wine. From J. Lohr came "Wildflower" Valdiguie, from a French grape that’s similar to Beaujolais. The 2008 from Monterey County, California, was full of berries, although properly light, a fine combination on a hot summer afternoon.

Barrymore

One-person shows, especially about actors, are major problems for small theater companies. With few exceptions, these are about great actors, and small St. Louis companies don’t have great actors. They have very good actors, like John Contini in "Barrymore," which opened over the weekend as a production of the Avalon Theatre Company at its space in Crestwood Court, where it will run through July 12. And it isn’t really a one-person show.

Playwrights also have problems when they write about great actors, because playwrights realize that they cannot find actors as good as John Barrymore to recite their lines. So William Luce, who specializes in plays of this type, has written one in which the actor does not have to create the magical Hamlet or Richard III that Barrymore supposedly did. He must merely show the actor at his worst, caviling about the world and how badly it has treated him – and he it. Luce won a Tony for "The Belle of Amherst," about Emily Dickinson, and also wrote about Zelda Fitzgerald, Isak Dinesen and Lillian Hellman, among others.

As a result, the Avalon production of "Barrymore," keenly directed by Erin Kelley, provides sufficient entertainment while it shows an old man, addled by drink, remembering his youthful successes on stages and in bedrooms past, forgetting his lines on stages present.

Luce’s conceit is that Barrymore, in 1942, considered a comeback, rented a theater, hired someone to be the prompter and stage manager and began what he laughingly called rehearsals. Scott McMaster handles that task excellently, though we don’t see hm until the curtain call. In truth, we see him rearranging the furniture during intermission, though those of us who do not know him will not be able to put a name to the face.

Contini gives Barrymore more dignity than he deserves, and the play is fitfully entertaining, though I wonder if Luce’s Barrymore is like the New York media’s Yogi Berra, credited with lots of funny lines he never said.

At the Crestwood Center through July 12

-Joe

This Week's Wine June 28, 2009

We’ve always been great fans of California’s Sonoma County, and not just because of its wines. We like the fact that it’s a little more relaxed than Napa, just across the mountains to the east. We are awed by Sonoma’s fertility and the great abundance of crops in addition to grapes. We enjoy fact that it extends to the Pacific Ocean on the west, and it is close to Bodega Bay, where succulent oysters grow.

It’s home to dozens of wineries, and on a recent visit to the area, we stopped at Clos du Bois, in the town of Geyserville, to taste some wine and visit with winemaker Erik Olsen, who is responsible for nearly two dozen different labels. Clos du Bois works on four levels – 10 Classic Varietals, all under $15; a half-dozen examples of the Reserve Series, all with area designations and all but one under $20; three Proprietary Series offerings, delicious and delicate and more expensive, of course; and eight regarded as limited releases, sold at the winery and including several that may some day move into one of the other categories.

Olsen, relaxing in the Sonoma sunshine on a glorious day, has been at Clos du Bois only a half-dozen years, but is a winemaker of great experience and a broad academic base that includes a B.S. in fermentation science from the University of California-Davis (a school that produces winemakers the way Notre Dame or USC produce football players), a master’s in food science from Cornell University, in the heart of the upstate New York wine country, and an M.B.A. from the University of Washington. He made wines at Robert Mondavi and Simi in California and Chateau Ste. Michelle in Washington before moving to Geyserville.

The winery was deeply involved in sustainable agriculture before Olsen arrived, but he has extended and deepened that culture in the four appellations – Russian River Valley, Dry Creek Valley, Sonoma Coast and Alexander Valley – that provide most of the grapes for Clos du Bois.

"It all starts in the vineyard," he said, looking toward the bright green vines that stretched for what seemed like miles. And sustainability also starts in the vineyard, with a program that recycles 90 percent of solid waste, including grape-processing waste, which is composted and mixed into the soil that feeds the vines. Vineyards are irrigated with a drip method, and waste water from the winery is recycled and rerouted to the vineyard, where cover crops encourage the growth of "good" insects, whose meals and recreation come from catching and devouring "bad" insects.

Winemakers are about as trendy as teachers or physicians, so Clos du Bois is not the only winery to ride the sustainability track. Good farm practices may not necessarily produce great wines, but they don’t hurt the process, and sampling nine of Olsen’s wines was a treat. All are easy to recommend, but four were true standouts, three of which will improve with a few years more of bottle age.

The exception is a 2007 Rose, a beautiful, bright, light-hearted wine for summer. Olsen’s blend is slightly different from many winemakers; he uses 70 percent Syrah and 30 percent Merlot, which adds considerable color and makes the Clos du Bois rose a little darker than most. At the same time, the Merlot adds a lot of flavor, so the wine is brisk and easy to drink on a picnic, but with more flavor than many of its counterparts. And at about $12, it’s a real bargain.

Olsen’s ‘06 Alexander Valley Merlot (about $20) is another winner, with some Cabernet Sauvignon adding a little structure but with the Merlot’s fruit extremely forward, its richness underlined by black cherry and spice. A similar ‘06 Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel (about $16.50) is a remarkable wine (Olsen likes to blend a little Petite Sirah into his Zins), showing blueberry in aroma and flavor, and a backbone that makes it a delight with pulled pork or ribs from the barbecue. So is his 2005 Marlstone Cab, an Alexander Valley Meritage, aon the expensive side at about $50, as are all Meritage wines. This rich, delicious offering, with plum and dark cherry overtones, is primarily Cabernet Sauvignon (89 percent), blended with Malbec (5), Cabernet Franc (3) and Merlot (3). Once again, there is softness from the Merlot, and a fine structure throughout.

Clos du Bois also turns out a delicious Riesling from the Santa Lucia Highlands ($12); a splendid Carignane ($22) from the Alexander Valley, a little hard but with some delicate edges that are fascinating; a fine, barrel-fermented Chardonnay called Calcaire, from the Russian River Valley, always a source of good Chardonnay grapes ($25); a bright Pinot Noir from the Sonoma Coast ($25); and a well-aged Tempranillo, from a Spanish grape that produces a hearty red from the Alexander Valley, softened by the addition of some Cabernet Sauvignon for softness ($18). A treat from Erik Olsen and Clos du Bois.

* * * *

ON THE LOCAL WINE SCENE: Mark Baehmann, winemaker at Mount Pleasant Vineyards (Augusta) since 1992, has moved to the Chaumette Vineyards and Winery in Ste. Genevieve. Baehmann, who made wines for Chaumette’s 2000 vintage, when the Ste. Genevieve winery was　just beginning, is bottling the 2008 wines now and will be more deeply　involved as he turns to other projects.

Cheri

Michelle Pfeiffer, as Lea, is uncommonly beautiful, glittering like a diamond and equally hard. As an actress, she’s sometimes satisfactory, mostly inadequate, as she shows (but never too much, in terms of skin) in "Cheri." On the other hand, Kathy Bates, as Charlotte, may be plus-sized and voluptuous, but she’s a splendid actress, and her work is far and away the best part of the movie, which opened here yesterday.

The title character, Cheri, is a beautiful young man, played by Rupert Friend, and he’s the son of Charlotte. She and Lea are classic Parisian courtesans of the early 20^th century, well-dressed, well-paid and loved richly if not wisely or well. Selling sex, yes, but also somewhat more in terms of relationships with wealthy men.

The original story, by Colette, is one of her brittle, rather coy, slightly satirical looks at this part of French society. Christopher Hampton wrote the screenplay and Stephen Frears directed; it’s the same team that collaborated on "Les Liaisons Dangereuse" and other productions for stage and screen.

But "Cheri" is lacking, and the fault lies with Pfeiffer and Friend. Both perform as if they are working in front of a mirror, admiring themselves as they speak or move, not involved with another person, even in the supposed throes of passion, when Pfeiffer always is delicately covered, to the point where it’s hard to think that’s she’s actually making love with another person. That’s part of the Colette satire, of course, but it limits more earthy enjoyment.

Bates is, as usual, larger than life, Rabelaisian in her love of gossip.

The original story is very slight, and while the arrival of Felicity Jones, as Emee, adds a dash of drama, it isn’t nearly enough to bring the film to any sort of life.

At the Plaza Frontenac

-Joe

O'Horten

Odd is his name and odd is his movie.

"O’Horten," a Norwegian film that opened here yesterday, is a very different film, which is the kindest way to describe a movie written and directed by Bent Hamer. Odd Horten, played with wonderfully dead-pan skill by Baard Owe, is an engineer on the Oslo-Bergen railroad line, a beautiful trip through the mountains across the country.

He’s a man of extreme silence, with a woman friend in Bergen, perhaps one in Oslo, as Sir Alec Guinness had in "The Captain’s Paradise." He’s also a man of rigid habits; he says little and he lives his life in a dedicated routine.

Either way, he has reached the end of the line. It’s time to retire, to take his gold watch.

But he and some railroad companions go out for a drink, and, in his own way, Horten gets into trouble. Looking for a friend who works at an airport, a place Horten has never visited, he goes wandering around the tarmac, can’t understand the furor when he lights his pipe. Later, deeply into his cups and trying to connect with a woman, he climbs into the wrong window and lands in a small boy’s bedroom.

Hamer is a writer with dry wit, and a director who goes, very simply, from point A to point B. But "O’Horten" is just too dry and too simple to offer much entertainment.

At the Plaza Frontenac

-Joe

Food, Inc.

The surest way for a critic to cripple attendance at a movie he thinks is important is to say, "This is an important movie!"

And yet, I’m going to have to chance it, because "Food, Inc.," which opens here today, is an important movie. It’s a very important movie, one that may have an effect – perhaps a major effect – on how we live, one that shows, sometimes painfully, how and why Americans are being forced to eat an unhealthy diet.

How? By the actions of mammoth company feedlots, farms and processing plants that are perfectly content to produce food that they know contains harmful bacteria.

Why? Because it makes lots of money for corporate executives.

Robert Kenner, a veteran documentary filmmaker, directed "Food, Inc." and was part of a team of producers and writers that included Eric Schlosser, author of "Fast Food Nation," Elise Pearlstein and Kim Roberts, who also edited. In addition, Michael Pollan, probably the nation’s best-known food and nutrition writer, shows up as a speaker and an advocate. Pollan is the author of "The Omnivore’s Dilemma" and "In Defense of Food," among others.

Kenner is an advocate, too, and the film certainly is one-sided. Monsanto, one of the major villains of the story, Perdue and other giant corporations reportedly ordered those in working relationships not to speak on camera and generally stonewalled the entire project. Monsanto has an entire website here  to say the film is "one-sided and biased," and to dispute Kenner’s claims.

I believe Kenner.

And I believe him because I believe the people he interviewed, like the woman who lost her contract to grow chickens for Perdue because she refused to cover all the windows in the giant coops where the birds live from birth to death. And the farmer in Indiana who insisted on his right to use seed from this year’s crop to plant next year’s, and who sold seed to his neighbors who did not want to plant Monsanto’s, genetically modified with potential harmful results to future generations of people. Monsanto sued, forced him to name his buyers and finally drove him out of business because he could not afford the legal fees to continue his battle. And Joel Salatin, who knows the animals he raises, is unromantic about their fate and still loves them

Film of chickens being slaughtered, of cows unable to stand, are often unsightly.

Film of people who discover that soda costs less than milk, that candy costs less than fresh vegetables and who talk about a child who died from E. Coli poisoning are more so.

A small change in buying, cooking and eating habits could make a large change in the way our food suppliers treat us and what we eat, and that’s the importance of "Food, Inc."

At the Plaza Frontenac

-Joe

My Sister's Keeper

It’s a perfect entertainment trifecta: A hospital drama, a courtroom drama and a dying child.What more could anyone ask for summer movie-going? Certanly not "My Sister’s Keeper," which opens here today. Someone should have taken this overwrought, dishonest tear-jerker and drowned it in the nearest bathtub.

Of course, it’s based on a Jodi Picoult novel, and she specializes in novels about helpless children in imminent danger. Jeremy Leven and Nick Cassavetes wrote the screenplay, and Cassavetes directed in four-handkerchief style. His only moment of imagination came with Alec Baldwin’s service dog, whom he named Judge, opening lots of lines for a publicity-seeking, TV-using attorney to use in or out of court. (Imagine him calling, "Here, Judge, you miserable S.O.B.")

If you can imagine two more disgraceful and abusive parents than Sara (Cameron Diaz) and Brian (Jason Patric) Fitzgerald, I’d like to hear about them. But when these people discover that their daughter, Katie (Sofia Vassilieva), has cancer and will die, they coldly and calculatingly create another daughter, in a Petri dish, with all the genes to become a child whose purpose in life is to serve as a garage of replacement parts for surgical donation to her sister. Abigail Breslin is this one, Anna, and she’s excellent, as is Evan Ellingson as Jesse, another child of the family. Vassilieva is your movie-typical dying child, bleeding, vomiting and suffering while emoting the usual platitudes, (Remember Charles Dickens’s "It is a far, far better place. . . " etc.)

Where was the doctor who oversaw this conception and birth? And where was the medical insurance company? I know this story is fiction, but Picoult has millions of readers, many of whom will be sure this is based on some USA Today-style factoid.

As much as I thought the movie was nonsense, I admired Diaz’ performance. Unable and unwilling to admit an error, she is a mother possessed, convinced that more and more medical treatment, more and more surgeries, will save Katie’s life. "You can’t heal without stainless steel," sometimes a surgeon’s mantra, obviously is her guiding light. And as a lawyer, she also is positive that she can win any argument, convince any of her children, her husband, a jury, that she is correct and her way is the right way. Diaz is terrific – and she made my stomach do flip-flops.

Baldwin is sturdily excellent, his kindness overcoming his image as the all-too familiar "Are you hurt? We’ll make ‘em pay" personal-injury lawyer seen in TV commercials. He has a medical problem, too, and just to make it unanimous in terms of people in pain, even Joan Cusack, as the judge brought in to hear the suit by Anna against her parents for medical emancipation, also is a victim of recent personal tragedy. No one involved in this film can let well-enough alone; we are inundated with illness, pain and tragedy from start to finish.

And speaking of finish, Cassavetes gives us about a half-dozen, ratcheting up the demand for tears with each. There were several low-key, poignant moments where he could easily have cut to the credits, but this is not his style. We get beach scenes, lake scenes, mountain scenes and others as Anna brings forth always more cliches about death and dying, in a rhythm that goes right along with the teary snuffles and nose-blowing honks of some of the audience.

At multiple locations

-Joe

Coco Louco Brasil

Weekend samba-ing is now possible in the Central West End and caipirinhas are available seven nights a week. Such are the benefits offered at Coco Luoco, now located at the northern end of the Euclid strip. Jorge Carvalho of the late Café Brasil in Rock Hill has set up shop in larger premises, minus the covered outdoor dining but with a separate bar.

St. Louis’ gradual introduction to Brazilian food seems to have been slow but successful, and we’re fond of it, a pleasant change of pace to the usual options. Lots of seafood, frequent emphasis on red meat and tasty vegetable treatments usually lead the way. But is that enough for success?

On a weeknight without music, the place sounded energetic, with overhead music plus the sounds from the bar where a television played what seemed to have been "Brazil’s Got Talent," or something similar. It was accompanied by lots of laughter, which was from real people at the bar. Most of the entrees include the house salad, generous but rather generic with iceberg and romaine lettuce, carrots, cheese and red onion, with a creamy vinaigrette and some deeply wan wedges of winter tomato. About three minutes after the salads arrived, there were our appetizers being served.

The Brazilian equivalent of empanadas, called pastels, are offered as beef, chicken or cheese. Large as a sixth-grader’s hands and deep-fried, the pastry, a little too chewy, held seasoned ground beef, pleasant enough, or a single layer of chewing-gum-like cheese seasoned with oregano, missing the mark altogether. But an order of mussels, described on the menu as "in a spicy red sauce" arrived open-faced and seemingly unsauced, turned out to be spicy after all. Sitting on a light paintbrush stripe of an orange-colored sauce, they had apparently each been daubed with some of the same mayonnaise-textured stuff, and were quite tasty, moist and flavor-forward.

From the churrasco section of the menu came an espeto misto, more or less a mixed grill, served off a sword-like skewer as churrasco sometimes is. Remarkably, the piece of chicken breast wrapped in bacon had remained remarkably moist and flavorful, thanks to its porcine coat and a deft hand with the kitchen’s timing. The sausage turned out to be a chunk of what was much like a thick, high-quality hot dog and a shrimp was a tad overcooked. Two chunks of beef, one described as filet, which was wrapped in bacon also, finished things off. One was cooked to medium, the other to medium rare, and while both were flavorful, both had considerable gristle and the non-filet, described as "Brazilian cut steak" was almost half fat. Alongside came beans, white rather than the promised red or the frequently-seen black, but extremely tasty, rice that looked run-of-the-mill but was considerably better seasoned than that, and some collard greens that were so flavorful, the accompanying vinaigrette sauce was superfluous. Farofa, the toasty sprinkle made from manioc flour, the same thing that’s used for tapioca pearls, a traditional accompaniment to these sides, was also on hand. And so were batons of carrot and celery as the vegetable side dish promised by the menu, but overshadowed by the other components.

Rather more exotic to the American ear is the bacalao Portugues. Please don’t panic at the phrase "salt cod." Cod is a lovely, mild fish, and properly cooked, salt cod isn’t the least bit salty. It’s very mild, perfect for the person who’s hesitant about exotics. This preparation, layering the fish with sliced potatoes and onions, drizzling it with olive oil and baking it in an individual pan, produced excellent results, the onion and fish flavoring the potato, little bits of crisp brown onion dancing around here and there, everything in harmony. More rice, collards, and the celery-carrot combo, came alongside.

Among the dessert options were two kinds of flan and tiramisu, but we opted for tres leches cake, something we can’t resist, because it’s one of those everyone’s-granny-made-it-differently dishes that offer infinite possibilities. This one, despite its problems, was one of the best. The cake itself was fairly dense, like pound cake. The square had obviously been cut quite some time ago and left to sit in the fridge because the corners were clearly drying out. And yet, that chewiness here and there, especially with the marshmallow-y frosting, just added another texture to the dessert. Moist and mellow, extremely tender where it wasn't chewy, it was smile-worthy.

There’s quite a cocktail menu here, beginning with the traditional Brazilian caipirinha, much like a real (read: not frozen and/or coming from a mix) daquiri. The caipirinhas we had were strong, sweet and lime-y, and we differ on whether they were too sweet. (In our experience, they’re always strong.) Served in faux-coconut shells, they’re worth a smile, too.

Our server suffered from not enough information, but we’re not sure how much of it was a language gap. Every question we asked about the menu sent him running back to the kitchen for an answer. A request for salad dressing on the side was acknowledged but lost somewhere along the way. And the question, "What’s for dessert?" brought us someone else to answer.

Coco Luoco Brasil

512 N. Euclid Ave.

314-367-1600

www.cocoloucobrasil.com

Dinner nightly, Brunch Sun.

Smoking: Yes

Entrees: $15-$20 

Wheelchair access: Good

Atlantic City

A couple of years ago, we raved about the food of chef Stephen Kalt when we ate at his Corsa Cucina in Las Vegas. Kalt has moved on, and this week, he told us that he’s opening a restaurant in Atlantic City in the Borgata Hotel Casino & Spa.

Named Forneletto, its menu - and Kalt’s talent, lauded by fans like Gael Greene - is enough to make us consider a detour the next time we’re on the east coast. You can read more about it here . It's scheduled to open next week, Kalt says.

San Francisco 2009

Re-visiting San Francisco always fills us with a mixture of delight and anxiety. We love the city and its environs, filled with interesting things to delight the eyes, the nose, the mouth, even the ears. But the serious business of deciding where to eat is an early and then constant focus. How many of our meals do we want to spend going back to favorite places? For that matter, how many of our favorite places are still open?

Most of the places we choose are not in the heart of tourist San Francisco. That’s not a deliberate choice, for the most part. We’ve discovered that we enjoy driving around town and thereabouts, so having a car and staying somewhere that we can park without paying $35 a night for the privilege is what we prefer. We landed a room at the Buena Vista Motor Inn that averaged under $100 a night, including parking and continental breakfast. It’s not fancy, and since it’s on busy Lombard Street, traffic noise could be a problem for some. But more money for fun, we think, and besides, the room was twice the size of a budget-ish hotel room near Union Square.

The single place we succumbed to for a return visit was Bar Tartine in the Mission District. We blogged about it last year, and you can read about it here. The most remarkable dish we had was dessert, which ought to be no surprise since Bar Tartine is an offshoot of the remarkable Tartine Bakery & Café. It was what’s called a vacherin, ice cream atop a meringue base. We hadn’t had one since we were in Paris several years ago, and this one was stunning. The strawberriest ice cream ever sat atop the crispy-chewy meringue, which was flavored with pink peppercorns. Talk about flavors tap-dancing on the tongue...it was fab.

And speaking of ice cream, interesting ice cream flavors are the hot thing in San Francisco. Among the leaders of the pack is Humphrey Slocombe—that’s the name of the shop, not (apparently) a real person. Folks who recoil in horror at the idea of offbeat combinations like carrot-mango and milk chocolate-passionfruit should save themselves a trip. But for the rest of us, a visit to this modest little shop whose signature dish is called Secret Breakfast and is flavored with cornflakes and bourbon, is pretty much a necessity. After tasting several things, we ended up with a cone of coconut sorbet and Thai chili lime sorbet, and a dish of balsamic caramel. The combination on the cone was perfect, the coconut cooling off the sharp chili-lime mix, and the balsamic caramel, which is apparently something people either love or hate, was absolutely addictive.

Humphrey Slocombe

2790 Harrison (@24 St.), San Francisco

1-415-550-6971

www.humphreyslocombe.com

Noon - 8 p.m. Tues.-Thurs and Sun., noon-9 p.m. Fri.-Sat

Credit cards: No

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Dim sum, the Chinese breakfast-lunch consisting of dumplings and other small dishes of assorted goodies, not all of which are completely identifiable to the uninitiated, is, for most serious eaters (and us), a necessity in San Francisco. The immense place we found on a side street in Chinatown three years ago has disappeared, so we began snooping around for a new spot. What we came up with was the Mayflower Seafood Restaurant, in the Outer Richmond neighborhood. Warning: Leave extra time for finding a place to park. It’s always tricky in this neighborhood, but Sunday mornings seem absolutely forbidding. Still, the hoof of four or five blocks is worth it.

The food, served from carts, is a mixture of new things and items regular St. Louis dim sum-lovers have seen before and more exotic choices. Actually, in many cases, it only resembles what we’ve seen before. Stuffed eggplant, for instance, seemed like it had been hand-stuffed with a more coarsely chopped shrimp filling than any we’d seen around town, rather than the almost factory-similar pieces often showing up hereabouts. The char siu bao, the steamed buns filled with pork contained shredded, rather than chopped pork, minus the red coloring, porkier and more alluring than any we’ve ever scarfed down. Among the exotica were dishes of tiny squid in a tangy, gingery sauce.

Generally a remarkable dim sum, and as we were leaving, we discovered it’s one of a group of 3 restaurants, the other two farther south on the peninsula, and one of whom is the sibling of the now-gone-and-much-mourned Hong Kong Flower Lounge, which had been just down the street from where the Mayflower is now. Good people-watching, as so often happens at dim sum in California, with multigenerational family groups and scads of cute, well-behaved kids.

Mayflower Seafood Restaurant

6255 Geary Blvd, (@26 th St.), San Francisco

415-387-8338

www.mayflower-seafood.com

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $9-$35

And we do have a couple of "don’t bother" places. Yuet Lee, the ancient restaurant at the corner of Broadway and Stockton whose lime-green exterior for years had no signs in English at all except Coca Cola and who put out ethereal seafood, has fallen on hard times. Prices have risen, customers seem to stay away, and the food just isn’t what it once was. And the Washington Square Bar & Grill, once owned by the legendary St. Louisans Sam Deutsch (Fran Landesman’s brother) and Ed and Mary Etta Moose, and a watering hole for the powerful and famous, has re-opened under the original name. For nostalgia’s sake we had lunch there. Unremarkable food, distant staff, a sad reminder of what used to be.