Byline: By richard siklos section: Section C; Column 5; Business/Financial Desk; Pg. 1 Length
URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT
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URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: AUTOMAKERS (90%); MOTOR VEHICLES (90%); TRADE SHOWS (90%); NEW CAR MODELS (90%); PRESS CONFERENCES (78%); ELECTRIC VEHICLES (78%); AUTOMOBILE MFG (77%); AUTOMOTIVE SALES (77%); AUTOMOTIVE MFG (77%); AUTOMOTIVE TECHNOLOGY (72%); PRODUCT RECALLS (61%); INTERNATIONAL TRADE (60%); OIL & GAS PRICES (54%); BASEBALL (70%) Automobiles; Utility Vehicles and Other Light Trucks; International Trade and World Market; Trucks and Trucking; Automobiles COMPANY: GENERAL MOTORS CORP (58%); TOYOTA MOTOR CORP (85%) ORGANIZATION: Toyota Motor Corp; General Motors Corp TICKER: GMR (LSE) (56%); GMP (PAR) (58%); GM (NYSE) (58%); TYT (LSE) (85%); TM (NYSE) (85%); 7203 (TSE) (85%); GMB (BRU) (58%) INDUSTRY: NAICS336112 LIGHT TRUCK & UTILITY VEHICLE MANUFACTURING (58%); NAICS336111 AUTOMOBILE MANUFACTURING (58%); SIC3714 MOTOR VEHICLE PARTS & ACCESSORIES (56%); SIC3711 MOTOR VEHICLES & PASSENGER CAR BODIES (56%) PERSON: RICK WAGONER (56%) Jon Gertner; Jim Press GEOGRAPHIC: NEW YORK, NY, USA (79%) NEW YORK, USA (79%); KENTUCKY, USA (76%) UNITED STATES (79%) Japan LOAD-DATE: February 18, 2007 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH GRAPHIC: Drawings (Drawings by Nathan Fox) PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company 1118 of 1258 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final Happiness Is Where The Kitchen Is BYLINE: By Robin Finn. E-mail: theisland@nytimes.com SECTION: Section 14LI; Column 1; Long Island Weekly Desk; THE ISLAND; Pg. 1 LENGTH: 820 words KIDS, don't try cooking, or eating, this at home: Uccelletti scappati are tiny dead baby birds that, after being defeathered, dunked, cooked and preserved in a garlic, herb and extra virgin olive oil confit, are held by the beak and eaten whole. Really! Matt Connors, the chef and owner of the Lake House in Bay Shore, his hometown, and an avowed nonviewer of ''Top Chef,'' the reality show where toque-worthy humans, some from Long Island, wage war in the kitchen, was reminiscing the other day about the strangest concoction he had ever cooked. Definitely the uccelletti. It was a dish served, on demand, for members of a private club in Umbria, Italy, where he spent a formative eight-month sabbatical in 2000. For the diners, consuming uccelletti was a test of machismo. For a chef in his 20s who started cooking the classic French way at age 15 in Commack at La Mascotte, so was preparing it. ''You eat the whole thing, guts and brains and all, like a soft-shell crab,'' he explained. ''It tastes like a cross between a Buffalo chicken wing and foie gras. I think they are highly illegal also, which kind of adds to the allure.'' Mr. Connors, 32, did not wow diners with uccelletti in his seven years as chef de cuisine at Veritas in Manhattan, nor does he offer it at the Lake House, which may come as some relief to the ducks and other assorted waterfowl that decorate the lake. (The bad news for them: He's a big fan of foie gras.) The best news for customers of Mr. Connors's signature butter-poached lobster with chanterelles, butternut squash, bacon and leeks in a basil emulsion is that he is back on Long Island after realizing that ''the entertainment side of cooking'' holds no intrigue for him. Not so for many of his homegrown peers. In an era when reality television delivers instantaneous, if dubious, celebrity for contestants wily enough to prevail, Long Islanders with gastronomical proclivities -- or pretensions -- probably know that this region has produced two winners in the two seasons of ''Top Chef.'' A coup, sure, but a calorie-free coup for Long Island: Neither winner cooks here. Harold Dieterle of West Babylon was the sole survivor of the debut season; in the just-completed second season, with millions tuning in for the finale, the last chef standing was Ilan Hall of Great Neck, formerly a line cook at Casa Mono in New York City. Exporting winners is swell. But locating a top chef who sticks around and cooks on the Island? Selfish as it sounds, this seemed a pressing pursuit after hearing that, like Mr. Dieterle, Mr. Hall had restaurant fantasies that involved investing his $100,000 winnings in a New York City eatery. If it strikes a hungry soul as annoying that these culinary starlings flit away instead of sticking around to feed the locals, Mr. Connors's reverse commute last year stands out as a ''You can go home again'' breakthrough. Aside from bulking up the portions and deducting sweetbreads and squab from the menu (most Long Islanders, he finds, don't like them), he said he had made few artistic concessions, so he does not regret ''regressing.'' Local customers tend to arrive happy, he said. City customers? Not. Ask Mr. Connors about Long Island's true top chef and he defers to Tom Schaudel, above, the irreverent, eclectic chef and entrepreneur who has an ownership stake in five establishments and regularly turns up in the kitchens of two of them, Coolfish in Syosset (he calls it a Le Bernardin for Long Island) and Jedediah's at the Jedediah Hawkins Inn in Jamesport, a postcard restoration of an 1863 sea captain's house. As for ''Top Chef,'' Mr. Schaudel, whose most beloved ingredients are fish and foie gras -- he is adding the words ''foie gras'' to the heart-and-ribbon tattoo on his chest because, he said, ''I'll never break up with foie gras'' -- is unsmitten. ''These days kids come out of the Culinary Institute saying, 'I want to be a TV chef,' '' he said. ''I don't get it. I'd rather cook myself stupid all day than become a cartoon of what I originally set out to be.'' Mr. Schaudel, 53, of Carle Place, started out as a dishwasher at the Sirloin Steak Pub in 1968 ''and through a comedy of errors wound up cooking on the line.'' A high school guidance counselor, noting his fondness for black clothing, suggested that he take up mortuary science. With visions of groupies, applause and artistic concoctions, he opted for cooking -- less elusive a goal than rock stardom. ''Though I guess you could say I am a taxidermist to some degree,'' Mr. Schaudel said glibly from the kitchen at Jedediah's. He estimates he has owned and sold 17 restaurants (among them, the renowned Panama Hatties of Huntington Station) and cooked at nearly 30. ''It makes me sound like I have A.D.D.,'' he joked. ''I consider myself an overnight success that took 35 years. I'm like Keith Richards: I haven't eaten dinner at home since 1967.'' URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: COOKING & ENTERTAINING (90%); BIRDS (89%); RESTAURANTS (90%); RESTAURANT REVIEWS (77%); REALITY TELEVISION (76%); LAKES (76%); ISLANDS & REEFS (70%) Restaurants ORGANIZATION: Lake House, the (Bay Shore, Ny, Restaurant) PERSON: Robin Finn; Matt Connors; Tom Schaudel GEOGRAPHIC: NEW YORK, NY, USA (92%) NEW YORK, USA (92%) UNITED STATES (92%); ITALY (56%) Long Island (NY) LOAD-DATE: February 18, 2007 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH GRAPHIC: Photo (Photo by Deirdre Brennan for The New York Times) PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company 1119 of 1258 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Correction Appended Late Edition - Final
''Basically, it was filled with pockets of crud,'' Dr. Sackner-Bernstein, 46, said later from his home in Dobbs Ferry, N.Y. With renewable fuels seen as a way to end the nation's dependence on foreign oil, more drivers are turning to biodiesel, a fuel made from the chemical reaction of mixing animal fat or vegetable oil -- even recycled grease from French fries -- with methanol and lye. Emissions can be substantially lower than those from a petroleum-powered vehicle -- up to 78 percent less carbon dioxide, according to a study by two federal agencies, the Departments of Energy and Agriculture. That may account for its growing popularity: 225 million gallons of biodiesel were produced in 2006, up from 75 million in 2005, according to the National Biodiesel Board. Enthusiasts were pleased when President Bush, in his State of the Union address last month, called for the expanded use of ''clean diesel vehicles and biodiesel fuel.'' But while the idea of speeding down the highway in a car fueled by recycled fat can seem like an easy answer to global warming, the reality is far more sobering. Fatty deposits, legal restrictions and uneven supply are some of the roadblocks that early adapters have to navigate. ''This is not a panacea,'' said Jerry Robock, 56, of Community Biofuels in Yorktown Heights, N.Y., who lectures on biodiesel use in Westchester County. ''You're still burning hydrocarbons, you're still contributing to greenhouse gases, you're still putting stuff in the atmosphere,'' he said. ''But it's at a much lower level.'' All diesel-engine cars can run on biodiesel, but buying and registering a new passenger diesel car in New York is almost impossible because the state adheres to California emission standards, some of the strictest in the country. The same emission standards take effect in Connecticut and New Jersey in 2009, making the buying process a little easier, for now. Several car manufacturers are also working on introducing cleaner diesel cars; Volkswagen AG and DaimlerChrysler AG recently unveiled plans for a line of diesel-powered vehicles that meet more stringent clean air standards and should be available by 2008. But by far the biggest difficulty is obtaining the fuel. About 1,000 gas stations around the country offer a blend of biodiesel mixed with gasoline, but there are places with no commercial pumps at all. The National Biodiesel Board lists a handful of suppliers in Connecticut and New York, including on Long Island, in Brooklyn and in Troy, north of Albany, but none in New Jersey or Westchester County. ''I have customers from Westchester coming here all the time,'' said Carl Vogel, 39, of Vogelbilt Corporation in West Babylon, on Long Island. ''They'll bring extra containers,'' he said, ''Some bring 55-gallon drums with them and stock up on fuel every couple of weeks.'' Mr. Vogel, a former organic farmer, sells the fuel to customers by appointment only, but business is thriving and he plans on expanding. Mr. Vogel is not the only entrepreneur to recognize the growth potential in alternative fuel. Richard Reilly, 37, of Fairfield County, Conn., has been involved in several biodiesel businesses since first hearing about the fuel years ago while listening to an interview with the actress Daryl Hannah. His newest venture involves a biodiesel production plant in Cheshire, Conn., that will run on recyclable oil and that he predicts will produce three million gallons of biodiesel fuel a year. ''There's so much money rushing into this industry right now,'' Mr. Reilly said this month in a phone interview from San Antonio, where he was attending the National Biodiesel Conference. ''But like any industry, there's going to be growing pains, and we need to make sure we're doing this the right way, by focusing on sustainability as well as safety.'' Ms. Hannah, a longtime user and promoter of biodiesel, said by phone from the conference that interest in the fuel had never been higher. Four years ago, she said, the conference ''was 400 farmers sitting in a hotel in Palm Springs, and now we're talking thousands of people and importations from all over the world, just to get a product out on the market.'' But questions on cost and safety remain. Thanks to government subsidies, biodiesel costs about the same as regular gasoline and gets about the same mileage as regular diesel, depending on source ingredients. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein, however, said that like many consumers, he preferred using pure biodiesel, as opposed to a blend, so he pays more to have a company in New Hampshire deliver 100 percent biodiesel to his home. ''On average, I pay about one extra dollar per gallon,'' he said. For those who don't want to pay extra, there is another option: making the fuel. Mr. Robock oversees the Hudson Valley Biodiesel Co-op, a group of more than 20 enthusiasts who rely on used cooking oil from the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park and Vassar College in Poughkeepsie to mix their own at their private plant. But working with such flammable ingredients can be dangerous, even illegal. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein experimented with making his own biodiesel but was tempered by village codes that restrict the amount of methanol residents can store on their property. There are also strict federal standards on the use of homemade fuel. ''Doing it yourself is a whole other can of worms and oftentimes not legal,'' said Jenna Higgins, a spokeswoman for the National Biodiesel Board. But for those dedicated to the idea of going green, the costs and hassles are worth it. ''I'm not sure there is a perfect solution, but biodiesel is the optimal choice among all others,'' Mr. Robock said. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein recently bought aquarium heaters to warm the barrels of biodiesel in his driveway to prevent clogging. ''I've had the pain of breaking down once already,'' he said. ''I don't want that happening again.'' Despite the challenges, he still views biodiesel as the most viable way to end the country's dependence on foreign oil. ''I feel that this is important enough that these roadblocks are not going to stop me,'' he said. ''I want to make a statement, and if enough people make a statement, all of a sudden, there's impact.''
(Photo by Vic DeLucia for The New York Times) PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company 1120 of 1258 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Correction Appended Late Edition - Final
''Basically, it was filled with pockets of crud,'' Dr. Sackner-Bernstein, 46, said later from his home in Dobbs Ferry, N.Y. With renewable fuels seen as a way to end the nation's dependence on foreign oil, more drivers are turning to biodiesel, a fuel made from the chemical reaction of mixing animal fat or vegetable oil -- even recycled grease from French fries -- with methanol and lye. Emissions can be substantially lower than those from a petroleum-powered vehicle -- up to 78 percent less carbon dioxide, according to a study by two federal agencies, the Departments of Energy and Agriculture. That may account for its growing popularity: 225 million gallons of biodiesel were produced in 2006, up from 75 million in 2005, according to the National Biodiesel Board. Enthusiasts were pleased when President Bush, in his State of the Union address last month, called for the expanded use of ''clean diesel vehicles and biodiesel fuel.'' But while the idea of speeding down the highway in a car fueled by recycled fat can seem like an easy answer to global warming, the reality is far more sobering. Fatty deposits, legal restrictions and uneven supply are some of the roadblocks that early adapters have to navigate. ''This is not a panacea,'' said Jerry Robock, 56, of Community Biofuels in Yorktown Heights, N.Y., who lectures on biodiesel use in Westchester County. ''You're still burning hydrocarbons, you're still contributing to greenhouse gases, you're still putting stuff in the atmosphere,'' he said. ''But it's at a much lower level.'' All diesel-engine cars can run on biodiesel, but buying and registering a new passenger diesel car in New York is almost impossible because the state adheres to California emission standards, some of the strictest in the country. The same emission standards take effect in Connecticut and New Jersey in 2009, making the buying process a little easier, for now. Several car manufacturers are also working on introducing cleaner diesel cars; Volkswagen AG and DaimlerChrysler AG recently unveiled plans for a line of diesel-powered vehicles that meet more stringent clean air standards and should be available by 2008. But by far the biggest difficulty is obtaining the fuel. About 1,000 gas stations around the country offer a blend of biodiesel mixed with gasoline, but there are places with no commercial pumps at all. The National Biodiesel Board lists a handful of suppliers in Connecticut and New York, including on Long Island, in Brooklyn and in Troy, north of Albany, but none in New Jersey or Westchester County. ''I have customers from Westchester coming here all the time,'' said Carl Vogel, 39, of Vogelbilt Corporation in West Babylon, on Long Island. ''They'll bring extra containers,'' he said, ''Some bring 55-gallon drums with them and stock up on fuel every couple of weeks.'' Mr. Vogel, a former organic farmer, sells the fuel to customers by appointment only, but business is thriving and he plans on expanding. Mr. Vogel is not the only entrepreneur to recognize the growth potential in alternative fuel. Richard Reilly, 37, of Fairfield County, Conn., has been involved in several biodiesel businesses since first hearing about the fuel years ago while listening to an interview with the actress Daryl Hannah. His newest venture involves a biodiesel production plant in Cheshire, Conn., that will run on recyclable oil and that he predicts will produce three million gallons of biodiesel fuel a year. ''There's so much money rushing into this industry right now,'' Mr. Reilly said this month in a phone interview from San Antonio, where he was attending the National Biodiesel Conference. ''But like any industry, there's going to be growing pains, and we need to make sure we're doing this the right way, by focusing on sustainability as well as safety.'' Ms. Hannah, a longtime user and promoter of biodiesel, said by phone from the conference that interest in the fuel had never been higher. Four years ago, she said, the conference ''was 400 farmers sitting in a hotel in Palm Springs, and now we're talking thousands of people and importations from all over the world, just to get a product out on the market.'' But questions on cost and safety remain. Thanks to government subsidies, biodiesel costs about the same as regular gasoline and gets about the same mileage as regular diesel, depending on source ingredients. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein, however, said that like many consumers, he preferred using pure biodiesel, as opposed to a blend, so he pays more to have a company in New Hampshire deliver 100 percent biodiesel to his home. ''On average, I pay about one extra dollar per gallon,'' he said. For those who don't want to pay extra, there is another option: making the fuel. Mr. Robock oversees the Hudson Valley Biodiesel Co-op, a group of more than 20 enthusiasts who rely on used cooking oil from the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park and Vassar College in Poughkeepsie to mix their own at their private plant. But working with such flammable ingredients can be dangerous, even illegal. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein experimented with making his own biodiesel but was tempered by village codes that restrict the amount of methanol residents can store on their property. There are also strict federal standards on the use of homemade fuel. ''Doing it yourself is a whole other can of worms and oftentimes not legal,'' said Jenna Higgins, a spokeswoman for the National Biodiesel Board. But for those dedicated to the idea of going green, the costs and hassles are worth it. ''I'm not sure there is a perfect solution, but biodiesel is the optimal choice among all others,'' Mr. Robock said. Dr. Sackner-Bernstein recently bought aquarium heaters to warm the barrels of biodiesel in his driveway to prevent clogging. ''I've had the pain of breaking down once already,'' he said. ''I don't want that happening again.'' Despite the challenges, he still views biodiesel as the most viable way to end the country's dependence on foreign oil. ''I feel that this is important enough that these roadblocks are not going to stop me,'' he said. ''I want to make a statement, and if enough people make a statement, all of a sudden, there's impact.''
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