Rick Koster: This column grilled to perfection

Apr. 28—I was up in the attic a few days ago, hunting for the mummified remains of the Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno, which I'd "liberated" from its crypt in Salamanca Cemetery, Philippines, back in those "wild 1980s." I thought now might be a good time to return him to his proper place of rest.

I couldn't find Miguel but — possibly more interesting — I did come across a few of my old college journalism textbooks. One was "Intro to Foundations of Restaurant Review Crafting," and another was "Message Processing and the Science of Better Dining Criticism."

It occurred to me to flip through those ancient and hot sauce-stained tomes and refresh myself in a few of the core concepts of food writing; that perhaps YOU, the readers, would benefit.

One chapter, "Mean is Funny — Till it Ain't," resonated with me because I'm getting increasingly ill-humored and more impatient as I approach senility like a high-flying bird speeding towards the engine of a 747.

For example, a few months ago, I wrote a food review that originally contained the following sentence — until my editor wisely excised it.

"The duck looked as though it had been bobbing, crab-pecked, in a stagnant tide pool after a tanker carrying liquid nicotine had capsized, and the dish's berry sauce bubbled with an eerie glow like it'd been tie-dyed with sepsis."

And I LIKED that dish!

What resonated more, though, was how my old textbooks reminded me I've become overly reliant on tired cliches. For example, from a chapter titled "Try Not to Be An Idiot":

"Avoid cliches, and particularly avoid the adjective 'tired' before 'cliché' as it's redundant. You idiot."

Going further into the trite, though, I can't count the times I've written that something was "grilled to perfection."

Too, readers have presumably rolled their eyes when I describe a dining room as "intimate" and the service as "friendly."

On the other hand, I've avoided writing that a dessert was "decadent" because, frankly, I spent a summer as a house cleaner in Los Angeles and Leo DiCaprio's bachelor shack was on my route. It was like cleaning the fall of Rome. THAT'S decadent. Not a pie.

The thing is, words and phrases become cliched for a couple of reasons. One is — yes — laziness on the part of the writer. But it's also true that maybe there simply aren't enough words to describe a particular thing.

For instance, we're all weary of reviews that claim the lettuce in a salad was "crisp." BUT: Have you looked at some of the synonyms available for "crisp"? Brittle. Fragile. Friable. Crumbly.

Not one of those adequately described any lettuce I've ever had on a salad — at least not one that I was writing favorably about. Seems there aren't any good lettuce-y words other than "crisp."

Here are other overused phrases you'll come across in food writing: Artisanal, food porn, toothsome, mouth-watering/melt in your mouth, foodie, sammich (I've beaten that one to death), veggie, taxing the gag reflex, veggies and yummy.

Going forward, I will endeavor to minimize my use of any of the above and, yes, I threw "taxing the gag reflex" in there just to see if you're paying attention. It's not real.

What about you? Are there any food/restaurant words and phrases you hope to never read or hear again? Let me know at r.koster@theday.com.

Meanwhile, we had some nice responses to the last column, which was about the eternal joys of ice-cream. Here's a sampling:

"1. You had me at Rum Raisin. Total yum.

"(There's a seasonal cousin of that, in New England, called Frozen Pudding. Google it... LOL. When Dad would see in the grocery store, he'd buy every container they had.)

"2. Anything with chocolate or chocolate chips

"3. aA some of the smaller, family run stands, anything with coconut is my go-to."

— Linda Blais, Niantic

"Orange Herbert and vanilla. "

— Tom Moretti, Norwich

"When I was a kid, Higgins Pharmacy in Pawcatuck had a soda fountain. In 1958, through the very early 60's, you'd go there and get a small ice cream sundae, nuts, and a cherry on top included, for 20 cents (a large was 40 cents). What a deal! I always got the small sundae with coffee ice-cream, and that is still my go to flavor."

— Fran Bonardi, Pawcatuck

"Yeah Rick, I as a teen worked in an ice-cream shop up at Lake George, NY, and I had to try every possible combination of flavors mixed into milkshakes. Some were pretty disgusting."

— John E. Dreslin, Stonington

"Growing up south of Boston, Frozen Pudding ice-cream was always my favorite and still remains my favorite. I now live in Connecticut, and I cannot find Frozen Pudding in New London County.

"I always thought Massachusetts had the best until my daughter moved to New Hampshire, and theirs is to die for. When I visit her, I always make sure I have a cooler to bring 1/2 gallon home.

"I do want to mention that my second favorite is Rum Raisin, which I have no trouble getting in my area. I would like to suggest if you've never had Frozen Pudding ice-cream and you find yourself in New Hampshire, go to the Beach Plum in Epping, N.H for a real treat."

— Rodney Philbrick, Niantic