A few months back I sampled a Japanese Kobe Burger at The Beverly Hills Hotel in LA, and it was a truly great meal. Something to do, perhaps, with the fact that I had a perfect view of Catherine Zeta-Jones, in all her sleek Hollywood perfection, schmoozing some studio exec two tables away. But also because the beef, produced from cows fed with beer and treated to regular massage and acupuncture in their native Japan, was of sublime quality, the garnishes were crisp, fresh and grown-up tangy, and I knew it had been cooked to order in a kitchen that cared.