Tell me the dishes that made you moan.

Nantucket bay scallops with white-truffle broth at The Four Seasons. Pig's feet, beef shanks, and foie gras terrine at Eleven Madison Park. Bay scallops with uni, mustard oil, and tomato water at Union Pacific. Tuna tartare at Tropica. Truffle-crusted salmon with red-wine sauce at Montrachet. Ravioli of celery root and black truffles in truffle beurre blanc at Lespinasse. Roasted rabbit on risotto with green peas and a hint of mint at Bolo in the spring. The just-baked bread that never stops coming at Pasha. Turbot filet in champagne-caviar butter with oysters and leeks at Le Bernardin. Jean Georges's heady chestnut soup with mushroom ravioli. Forbidden Broadway, a sundae so monstrously awesome it terrified a child at the next table in Serendipity. Lusty pasta al ceppo with black cabbage, toasted garlic, and bread crumbs at Babbo. Wednesday's special jerk-chicken lunch from Yvonne's Jamaican Mobile Restaurant: The truck is parked at 71st Street near York Avenue. And cheese-smeared corn on the cob at Café Habana.

What do you do when the chef gets restless?

When chefs roam, I follow. Often the uprooting brings a jolt of fresh energy. When Christian Delouvrier moved to Lespinasse, I was ready with a yawn, expecting vapid fussy food to match that vapid, fussy room. But the challenge of stepping into Gray Kunz's clogs has lifted Delouvrier to a new level of creativity. As in his ragout of tiny vegetables with scattered salt crunch, lush butternut-squash soup with duck breast and foie gras, venison in two chapters served side by side, and magnificent suckling pig with cassoulet beans. Chef Remi Lauvand, recruited from Tropica, has brought a welcome Escoffier gloss to Montrachet. There's just enough cream in the champagne sauce blanketing the oysters, just enough butter in the lobster garbure and the roasted sweetbreads, to make Montrachet fans feel pleasantly dissolute. Franck Deletrain has never been better than now, swimming with the fishes at Tropica. In a town infatuated with tuna tartare, his miso-ginger-wasabi-touched rendition is stellar. For winter, he floats poached-halibut-and-pumpkin dumplings in lobster consommé with white truffle and sears sea scallops on quinoa with oxtail soffrito. Chef Bill Telepan was orphaned when the persnickety West Side failed to support Ansonia, so now he brings welcome brio and flavor astonishments to JUdson Grill with such voluptuous notions as foie gras in a mini-pumpkin, his sheep's-milk-ricotta gnocchi with truffles, and sea-urchin-shrimp-and-leek stew. Iced quince-pomegranate soup makes a jolting thrill of a finale.

I can't find my way in the maze of Chinatown anymore.

Chinatown has many secrets. I wish I knew them. Once in a while I stumble on a find. Alas, raves have left Joe's Shanghai with the mechanical hum of a factory assembly line. But now there's a tsunami of new Shanghai feeding spots flaunting that city's famous soupy buns, so-called because they spurt all over the table if you're not an expert slurper. Goody's, of Rego Park, where I first sampled the supernal dumplings of Shanghai, has begat an offspring on Chatham Square. Try flaky turnip pastry, sweet crispy eel, marvelous Shanghai noodles with seafood, or starchy rice cake with squid, shrimp, and scallion. Torrid Sichuan-peppered prawns are a must. The family that once ran the beloved Say Eng Look has opened New Green Bo with glaring light, glass-topped tables, and an unusually friendly welcome. After the obligatory steamed dumplings, we share tiny boiled shrimp, exquisitely delicate, with seaweed (to scoop up in a soup spoon and sprinkle with vinegar), excellent tong po pork, carp tail with brown sauce, and winter-melon soup with dried young bamboo shoots. And Shanghai Cuisine is that rare duck, a Chinatown spot with style, as well as fried seaweed with peanuts, hot and gingery bean-noodle casserole with crabs, the classic braised pork with brown sauce, and a fine version of carp tail.

So what happened to the Golden Age of midtown Chinese restaurants?

Shun Lee Palace and its western outpost, Shun Lee, are the sole survivors in my book, even though occasional brusque indifference to strangers can be especially annoying at these haute-couture prices. Still, no one can better orchestrate his chefs' eclectic skills to produce a stunning banquet -- authentic, nouvelle, and China Lite -- than proprietor Michael Tong. Best of all, Shun Lee will deliver anything from a banquet for 1,000 to a dim sum feast for two, all day -- river to river -- between 34th and 96th Streets.

Arepas? Am I missing something?

New York mouths are gobbling up South America, and soon even the derrière-garde will be hooked on these rich little corn cakes. Arizona 206 has morphed into Bolívar, with piqueos (Pan-American snacks including, of course, arepas with crème fraîche), cebiches, aperitivos, and meat from the Argentine parrilla -- I especially like the mixed grill. In the Village, Campo borrows (with reasonable success) from south-of-the-border kitchens. Loved arepas, yuca turnovers with corn, ropa vieja, and marvelous mushroom-studded cheddar grits. Rafael Palomino has found a spiritual home at Sonora -- good for a neighborhood lacking a lively canteen. (I liked the Cuban sandwich, the yuca pastal with leek and foie gras, and monstrous barbecued ribs that for some reason he's dropped from the menu.) Best of all, Doug Rodriguez still does his risky and exhilarating high-wire act at Patría.

My guy's fantasies are still frozen in a disco mode.