I stopped by Whole Foods in West Hartford yesterday to start building my New Year’s Eve cheese plate. When I got home, I emailed my list of choices to the party host. She read the list to her husband, and later recounted the following conversation:

Mrs. Host: “Sottocenere aged truffle cheese…”

Mr. Host: “TRUFFLES?!?!  I fucking LOVE truffles!”

Mrs. Host: “Gorgonzola dolce…”

Mr. Host: “Ohhhh wow, gorgonzola is delicious.”

Mrs. Host: “And in tribute to her Irish hosts, Leeanne got Kerrygold Dubliner with Irish Stout.”

Mr. Host: “Are you fucking kidding me?  They make such a thing?!?!  Jesus, what an incredible lineup.  WOW…..”

Happy New Year, everyone.

Some brilliant, brilliant soul has tapped into my brain waves and distilled all my gripes about horrendous restaurant websites into this pithy, perfect Tumblr blog:  Never Said About Restaurant Websites.

(I’m so pissed I didn’t think of this.)

My favorite entries:
“I love downloading PDFs. Even if the menu is totally out of date, it’s worth the thrill.” - Absolutely no one.
“I prefer instantly outdated ‘pizazz’ over the ability to make a reservation.” -  No carbon-based life form.
“A website taking forever to load because of too-big images and dopey animations is a status symbol and I’ll dine at an establishment with nothing less!” – No human being ever

Badly-designed restaurant websites are a minor annoyance to your average user, who might be doing a little reconnaissance before a weekend night out or special occasions. But when you’re a dining writer, and your ENTIRE workday consists of surfing restaurant sites for listings, menu items and other information useful to your daily work, then horrible sites make you more than a little bit stabby.

And no one can quite figure out why this industry typically boasts some of the worst web presences in history. It’s entirely one thing if a restaurant owner attempted to build a Geocities-era site with blinking GIF files all on their own. But in my own experience, most restaurateurs don’t have the first clue where to start, so they farm that task out to designers/developers.

People who should know what they’re doing. People who should be following best practices, but instead create the least user-friendly products possible. No HTML pages. Multiple PDFs, all over 1MB. Splash pages that take a full 60 seconds to load. Sites designed entirely in Flash, so they’re not viewable on most smartphones. Useful information like addresses, phone numbers and hours embedded into JPEG files (so there’s no way to copy and paste.) Bottom line, a bunch of useless shit that does nothing but frustrate visitors.

NSARW does a good deed, though, by offering tips on “How to make a less horrible restaurant website.” And yes, it really can be that easy. At the absolute minimum, restaurants should create a Facebook fan page with the bare-bones, basic need-to-knows, and maybe menu scans uploaded as JPEGs.

It’s 2011. Time to do better.

Okay, I admit. New Year’s Eves past have not been about the food for me.

Sure, there’s always been food at whatever party we’ve attended or hosted. Usually some sort of potluck meatballs, calzones, buffalo wings and other caloric fiesta fare intended to absorb heavy alcohol intake. Certainly, food that serves its purpose during the second wave of hunger post-midnight.

This year, our friends have decided to throw a “classy” NYE affair, with suggested semiformal dress and a dinner party with cocktails, hors d’oeuvres and upscale dishes. They’re planning accompanying wine selections, and there will be plenty of champagne.

I’ve elected to bring the cheese, and you’d better believe there will be Cato Corner Farm on that plate. We’re planning to get there first thing Friday morning to get the best selections. Crossing my fingers for Aged Bloomsday.

I really wish we had a fantastic fromagerie like Caseus – or my friend Amy’s favorite, 109 Cheese Shop – closer to Hartford. But hey, maybe that’s my calling.

As this is my final New Year’s Eve in my twenties, a part of me wants to party like it’s 2003. But I don’t feel like having a five-day hangover. It sucks getting old.

In case you’ve ever wondered what my work as a freelance writer is like, I deal with a lot of PR professionals on a daily basis. Most are great, a select few are cringeworthy. But this parody video hit WAY close to home.

“I sent a press release to every single person [at the paper], including the business editor, the political editor and the sports editor…I figure if I spam everyone’s inbox, you will have to write stories on my clients just to make me go away.”

“Want me to send you a box of grasshoppers so you can taste them yourself? They are delectable.”

“I must know the exact line of questioning…I will need you to email me your questions in advance so my client can prepare canned, evasive, self-serving answers.”

“No respectable publication would allow a source to read a story before it is published. And you cannot dictate where the story runs.”

“When is your deadline?” “Thursday.” “Super. I promise to get back to you Friday.”

Proving that I have some of the best amigos on the planet, I came home yesterday to find a big Amazon box in my mail. When I tore it open, I found my very own copy of Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc At Home cookbook, courtesy of one of my very best buddies, Kate.

Perhaps even better was the gift message she sent along, “This way no one can snatch any food off your table!”

I was thrilled about this gift, as it had been on my wishlist even before our visit to the restaurant a few weeks ago. And it’s absolutely beautiful – almost more of a coffee table showpiece than a functional cookbook meant to absorb kitchen splatters and spills. But you know I’m making that fried chicken recipe this winter.

I’m afraid I left the impression that our Ad Hoc visit was full of intrusive, drunken mussel stealers. It was not. To prove it, here are some photos of our delicious five-course dinner:

Baby beet and citrus salad: roasted chioggia, golden beets, blood orange, pomelo, ruby grapefruit, marcona almonds, living watercress, belgian endive, citrus yogurt dressing

Mussels in a saffron-mustard cream sauce with leek coins

Grilled flatiron steak with cauliflower whipped potatoes, braised kohlrabi, black eyed peas, shiitake mushrooms, savoy cabbage, sweet pepper vinaigrette

Central Coast Creamery's Seascape cheese with Hobbs' pork belly, oven dried tomatoes, little gem lettuce (a take on a BLT, they explained)

And the finale: monkey bread with vanilla ice cream

As you can see, fun comfort food with a fresh and upscale twist. Rob, who proclaimed himself “full” three bites into the entree (the bread preceding the meal was pretty fabulous), ate his entire dessert. And of course I lost my mind over the cheese course with crispy pork belly.

Part of Ad Hoc’s fun is the daily menu announcement – each morning, the staff posts that evening’s four-course offering online and sends an email blast to subscribers. We were at Grgich Hills when the email arrived in my inbox. I excitedly showed it to Rob, and the tasting consultant overheard me and asked, “Oh! What are they serving tonight?” The next morning, we arrived for our first tasting at Goosecross Cellars and when the consultants asked where we’d had dinner Saturday, they had the same reaction.

Very much looking forward to using my cookbook – I think I might get the most mileage out of it in the summertime, when the produce is at its freshest.