there was a time when it was theatre, not food, that made my pulse race. it was the houselights going down and the curtain raising that gave me shivers and made me weep, feeling pleasure and warmth, and the sense that all things are worthwhile and possible.
over time theatre has left me less and less sated, a meal that always sounds better on the menu than it does in execution--both onstage and off. today it was a complete repast for me at a sunday matinee of "spring awakening." i felt 12 again, mouth agape at what can only be called (no avoiding the cheese) the magic up under the lights in front of me. raw and electrifying, surprising and exciting.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
lobster five ways
The perks of the job started rolling in last week; I was able to snag an invite to a dinner at the James Beard House, hosted by wisconsin chef/proprietress and slow food supporter Tami Lax. She and Justin Carlisle, the chef from her Madison restaurant, Harvest, prepared lobster 5 ways, with a wine pairing.
The Beard House is an awkward space, ill-suited, it seemed to me, to host the sort of dinners they are trying to host. That being said, it was one of the top 5 meals of my life.
amuse: lobster financier, uni, micro shiso
paired with: tempier bandol rose, france 2005
[very interesting lobster flavored pastry like base with uni cream/foam]
first course: sashimi of spinny lobster, vanilla, wasabi, fine herb salad
paired with: moon rabbit sparkling sake
[astonishing! raw lobster--a first for me. smooth and strange, like tasting sushi again for the first time.]
second course: lobster and salsify tapioca
paired with:zind-humbrecht pinot d'alsace 2004
[absolute favorite, surprised me since i didn't think i liked tapioca balls. a chowder of sorts, rich and toothsome. the wine was musky and wonderful, a perfect complement.]
third course: roasted lobster tail, truffle spaetzle
paired with: fevre chablis champs royaux, france 2005
[straightforwardly delicious. huge truffle slices]
fourth course: lobster and pleasant ridget reserve fondue
paired with: belrondade lurton rueda blanco, spain 2002
[rich and cheesy, with a hunk of lobster of a skewer]
hard not to be drunk as a skunk after 5 glasses of wine. not too drunk to realize lobster is good all ways and any, but especially good as prepared by these talented folks from Madison.
The Beard House is an awkward space, ill-suited, it seemed to me, to host the sort of dinners they are trying to host. That being said, it was one of the top 5 meals of my life.
amuse: lobster financier, uni, micro shiso
paired with: tempier bandol rose, france 2005
[very interesting lobster flavored pastry like base with uni cream/foam]
first course: sashimi of spinny lobster, vanilla, wasabi, fine herb salad
paired with: moon rabbit sparkling sake
[astonishing! raw lobster--a first for me. smooth and strange, like tasting sushi again for the first time.]
second course: lobster and salsify tapioca
paired with:zind-humbrecht pinot d'alsace 2004
[absolute favorite, surprised me since i didn't think i liked tapioca balls. a chowder of sorts, rich and toothsome. the wine was musky and wonderful, a perfect complement.]
third course: roasted lobster tail, truffle spaetzle
paired with: fevre chablis champs royaux, france 2005
[straightforwardly delicious. huge truffle slices]
fourth course: lobster and pleasant ridget reserve fondue
paired with: belrondade lurton rueda blanco, spain 2002
[rich and cheesy, with a hunk of lobster of a skewer]
hard not to be drunk as a skunk after 5 glasses of wine. not too drunk to realize lobster is good all ways and any, but especially good as prepared by these talented folks from Madison.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
avant garde
Those of you who know me have probably wondered when I'd get around to fusing my two passions. When would I write a play about pea soup or cook a meal in three comedic acts? Perhaps you wondered these things with a bit of dread. Connie, and her illustrious band of pranksters have provided that venue-- a delectable evening of food and, um, theatre. As of now I am on board as resident menu planner and co-cook.
I don't want to say too much about this venture, because the joy of attending as an eater and audience member is not knowing what to expect. However, please save the date --March 17-- for the next installment of Avant Garde Restaurant. New Year's Eve Eve's show had a menu of
Assorted Appeteasers
Curried Butternut Squash Soup
Celery Root/Green Apple/Walnut/Gorgonzola Salad
Wild Mushroom Quiche and Swiss Chard Quiche
Make your Own Sundae
We seek to use seasonal ingredients, and make food that tastes good. And to make you eat and drink until you plotz. Also you will laugh, maybe dance maybe make a few new friends.
The three keys to a good quiche:
1. Buy a good crust (unless you are a gifted crust maker, which I am not).
2. Buy a good cheese, such as gruyere or smoked gouda. What's nice about smoked gouda is that it gives a smoky taste that convinces the eater that they are eating ham or bacon. A great vegetarian trick.
3. Use cream.
And so:
Saute your vegetables in butter, garlic and generous seasoning (salt, pepper, thyme)
Grate the cheese and line the bottom of the crust with it. It provides a shield from the wet ingredients so your crust doesn't get soggy.
Beat about three eggs with some whole milk and some cream. Salt and pepper the egg mixture.
Place vegetables over the grated cheese.
Pour in the egg/cream/milk mixture.
Cook at about 375 until quiche is firm and golden on top.
Eat hot, cold, room temp, whatever.
See you on the 17th.....
I don't want to say too much about this venture, because the joy of attending as an eater and audience member is not knowing what to expect. However, please save the date --March 17-- for the next installment of Avant Garde Restaurant. New Year's Eve Eve's show had a menu of
Assorted Appeteasers
Curried Butternut Squash Soup
Celery Root/Green Apple/Walnut/Gorgonzola Salad
Wild Mushroom Quiche and Swiss Chard Quiche
Make your Own Sundae
We seek to use seasonal ingredients, and make food that tastes good. And to make you eat and drink until you plotz. Also you will laugh, maybe dance maybe make a few new friends.
The three keys to a good quiche:
1. Buy a good crust (unless you are a gifted crust maker, which I am not).
2. Buy a good cheese, such as gruyere or smoked gouda. What's nice about smoked gouda is that it gives a smoky taste that convinces the eater that they are eating ham or bacon. A great vegetarian trick.
3. Use cream.
And so:
Saute your vegetables in butter, garlic and generous seasoning (salt, pepper, thyme)
Grate the cheese and line the bottom of the crust with it. It provides a shield from the wet ingredients so your crust doesn't get soggy.
Beat about three eggs with some whole milk and some cream. Salt and pepper the egg mixture.
Place vegetables over the grated cheese.
Pour in the egg/cream/milk mixture.
Cook at about 375 until quiche is firm and golden on top.
Eat hot, cold, room temp, whatever.
See you on the 17th.....
Saturday, December 23, 2006
village
My job is in DUMBO, and I have come to find that DUMBO is its own little village, a kind of urban industrial waterfront arrondissement, replete with a French chocolate shop (Jacques Torres) and neighborhood bakery, the almighty Almondine. In Paris, there is this wonderful certainty that on every corner you can find a terrific baguette and a darn good croissant. In New York City, there is no such guarantee (in Ohio you are up shit's creek without a midwestern paddle).
It calms me to know that four short cobblestone blocks away I can find terrific baguettes, outstanding pretzel bread, financiers, fresh quiche, daily soup specials, sandwiches--with ingredient lists that read, for example, "prosciutto, butter, artichoke hearts(!)..." and a variety of cookies, pastries and cakes.
For Thanksgiving, I bought a pumpkin pie, and was corrected in my previous belief that pumpkin pie isn't worth eating. The pie, sadly, could not save Thanksgiving, but that wasn't the pie's fault. A pie can only do so much.
For Chanukah I bought a traditional German Christmas stollen, which may seem sacreligious, but our Chanukah parties need all the icing sugar they can get. A stollen is a light airy fruitcake made with yeast, water and flour, and usually dried citrus peel, dried fruit, nuts, and spices such as cardamom and cinnamon. The finished cake is sprinkled with icing sugar, and though it too cannot save a family dinner, it can provide you something with which to stuff your face and avoid conversation. Plus it is good for days and days and makes for a nice breakfast. Why Almondine is in the business of making German fruitcakes, I do not know, but mine is not to reason why, mine is only to eat the darn thing and then sing from the moutaintops that this limited edition loaf of loveliness is a MUST HAVE.
It calms me to know that four short cobblestone blocks away I can find terrific baguettes, outstanding pretzel bread, financiers, fresh quiche, daily soup specials, sandwiches--with ingredient lists that read, for example, "prosciutto, butter, artichoke hearts(!)..." and a variety of cookies, pastries and cakes.
For Thanksgiving, I bought a pumpkin pie, and was corrected in my previous belief that pumpkin pie isn't worth eating. The pie, sadly, could not save Thanksgiving, but that wasn't the pie's fault. A pie can only do so much.
For Chanukah I bought a traditional German Christmas stollen, which may seem sacreligious, but our Chanukah parties need all the icing sugar they can get. A stollen is a light airy fruitcake made with yeast, water and flour, and usually dried citrus peel, dried fruit, nuts, and spices such as cardamom and cinnamon. The finished cake is sprinkled with icing sugar, and though it too cannot save a family dinner, it can provide you something with which to stuff your face and avoid conversation. Plus it is good for days and days and makes for a nice breakfast. Why Almondine is in the business of making German fruitcakes, I do not know, but mine is not to reason why, mine is only to eat the darn thing and then sing from the moutaintops that this limited edition loaf of loveliness is a MUST HAVE.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
coming home
Waking up from a three week stint as someone who resembled me but wasn't me was like coming home. Suddenly back in my own skin, feeling my own rhythms (quick, muscular, motivated), seeing my true face in the mirror, it was like emerging from a chrysalis after too much time.
In the name of homecoming, I write about two newcomers to my neighborhood--one I love, the other left me underwhelmed.
Bocca Lupo ("in the mouth of the wolf," literally; figuratively it means "good luck"), on Henry and Warren is just what my 4 block radius needed: a wine and panini bar that doesn't seek to be anything other than what it is, which is a good neighborhood place. The salads and panini are really solid, and the atmosphere is warm, and the wine keeps flowing and is very delicious.
Lunetta on Smith between Pacific and Bergen left me wishing we'd gone to Noodle Pudding instead. I had a great glass of Valpolicella and delicious fried artichokes, but we followed the waitress' suggestions and ended up with three mediocre dishes. Orecchiette with broccoli rabe and sausage lacked seasoning but had cream. Cream? The penne with braised lamb was a little dry, and probably should have been tagliatelle, or a noodle, not a tube. The cripsy friend chicken was extremely tasty but seemed better suited for a Chinese restaurant and came with nothing on the plate except the many large chunks of deep fried chicken. Hmmmm....odd. Probably will not go back. With such good Italian in this city, there is no reason to eat anything less than something excellent.
In the name of homecoming, I write about two newcomers to my neighborhood--one I love, the other left me underwhelmed.
Bocca Lupo ("in the mouth of the wolf," literally; figuratively it means "good luck"), on Henry and Warren is just what my 4 block radius needed: a wine and panini bar that doesn't seek to be anything other than what it is, which is a good neighborhood place. The salads and panini are really solid, and the atmosphere is warm, and the wine keeps flowing and is very delicious.
Lunetta on Smith between Pacific and Bergen left me wishing we'd gone to Noodle Pudding instead. I had a great glass of Valpolicella and delicious fried artichokes, but we followed the waitress' suggestions and ended up with three mediocre dishes. Orecchiette with broccoli rabe and sausage lacked seasoning but had cream. Cream? The penne with braised lamb was a little dry, and probably should have been tagliatelle, or a noodle, not a tube. The cripsy friend chicken was extremely tasty but seemed better suited for a Chinese restaurant and came with nothing on the plate except the many large chunks of deep fried chicken. Hmmmm....odd. Probably will not go back. With such good Italian in this city, there is no reason to eat anything less than something excellent.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
round-up
1. Pasha: As the children of NYC pounded the pavement dressed as genies and princesses and slutty fairies, Z took me to Pasha, home of the Turks on West 71st street. She ordered everything, and everything was good. Little "ravioli" in a yogurt sauce, filled with chopped lamb, a soft artichoke heart, excellent olives (firm and salty), zucchini cakes, lamb, etc. For dessert, 2 milky, cream-based confections whose names I have forgotten. I always find that with Turkish food, it is the appetizers and the desserts that excite me the most. In this case, it was the company that excited me the most; it is a rare delight to get quality face time with Miss Z.
2. Flatbush Farm: haven't had the food yet at this ParkSope/Prospect Heights newcomer, but the bar is lovely--spacious, and feels like it's been there forever.
3. 5 Borough Ice Cream: From a tip in "Edible Brooklyn," I sought out this small batch ice cream at Forager's in DUMBO. I bought "Soho," which is cappucino ice cream with hazelnut biscotti crmbles and espresso chocolate chips. It rocks. it resides in the freezer at work, and is making the perfect afternoon snack.
4. Sugar-covered apple cider donuts:not just for people! Brought back a few from the farmer's market this morning and Seymour, the cat, got her way into the bag. She emerged with sugar crystals on her nose, purring like a fiend. She stumbled around, high on sugar, rolling on her back, snuggling my ear. No surprises there, I mean sugar is delicious; it makes me roll around too.
2. Flatbush Farm: haven't had the food yet at this ParkSope/Prospect Heights newcomer, but the bar is lovely--spacious, and feels like it's been there forever.
3. 5 Borough Ice Cream: From a tip in "Edible Brooklyn," I sought out this small batch ice cream at Forager's in DUMBO. I bought "Soho," which is cappucino ice cream with hazelnut biscotti crmbles and espresso chocolate chips. It rocks. it resides in the freezer at work, and is making the perfect afternoon snack.
4. Sugar-covered apple cider donuts:not just for people! Brought back a few from the farmer's market this morning and Seymour, the cat, got her way into the bag. She emerged with sugar crystals on her nose, purring like a fiend. She stumbled around, high on sugar, rolling on her back, snuggling my ear. No surprises there, I mean sugar is delicious; it makes me roll around too.
fast food nation
I read Eric Schlosser's book "Fast Food Nation" in 2001, the year it was published, and the year it began its 2 year residence on the NYT bestseller list. Joan handed it to me and said: "you must read this." I was a vegetarian at the time, and fairly health conscious, so I hadn't been in a fast food joint in several years. After reading the book, I felt strongly that:
a) I would never, ever set food in a fast food joint ever again.
b) I was against the industrialization and commercializtion of the food supply.
c) There are a few, a very small few examples of compassionate capitalism; it is possible, if only greed weren't so seductive, so slippery and delicious (like a Big Mac, or a large fries, washed down with a supersized Coke).
That book was the beginning of my journey into the world of food and food politics.
The other night I attended a preview screening of the film of "Fast Food Nation," which is not a documentary but rather a narrative feature film written by Schlosser (and the director Richard Linklater of "Dazed and Confused" fame), inspired by the book. It is an ambitious and important and strange and ultimately (I think) unsuccessful movie. I am eager for it to come out so you all can see it and we can discuss it, because my head's in a bit of a muddle about it. In the meantime, for those of you who have not yet read the book, it is never too late. It only becomes more and more relevant; and if you are looking for a way to break yourself of your occcasional fast food habit, I guarantee this book will do the trick.
(in related news, I have not had a Diet Coke in 6 days, and have not used a pack of Equal in even more. Adios, fake sugar, we're through!)
a) I would never, ever set food in a fast food joint ever again.
b) I was against the industrialization and commercializtion of the food supply.
c) There are a few, a very small few examples of compassionate capitalism; it is possible, if only greed weren't so seductive, so slippery and delicious (like a Big Mac, or a large fries, washed down with a supersized Coke).
That book was the beginning of my journey into the world of food and food politics.
The other night I attended a preview screening of the film of "Fast Food Nation," which is not a documentary but rather a narrative feature film written by Schlosser (and the director Richard Linklater of "Dazed and Confused" fame), inspired by the book. It is an ambitious and important and strange and ultimately (I think) unsuccessful movie. I am eager for it to come out so you all can see it and we can discuss it, because my head's in a bit of a muddle about it. In the meantime, for those of you who have not yet read the book, it is never too late. It only becomes more and more relevant; and if you are looking for a way to break yourself of your occcasional fast food habit, I guarantee this book will do the trick.
(in related news, I have not had a Diet Coke in 6 days, and have not used a pack of Equal in even more. Adios, fake sugar, we're through!)
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
baking cakes
In the book (and movie) "The Joy Luck Club," there is a painful scene in which a woman, separated from her husband and unlikely to get back together with him, bakes him a cake. He will come over that afternoon and the cake--the result of much effort, a manifestation of the love she feels for him and the lengths she will go to for him--remains uneaten and unappreciated.
At age 22, after watching the movie, Mara and I vowed that we would stop "baking cakes" for guys. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we did not. Mara bakes cakes now, but she does not "bake cakes." When you're married to someone who would do the same for you and more, it is no longer a metaphor, it's just a cake.
When I visited Mara and CJR at their home (their first one, not the new fabulous one) last year, Mara baked me a cake. It was what I have always dreamed a chocolate layer cake could be. Mara is a very good baker, so I had no way of knowing if its excellence would be easy for me to repeat. I finally attempted it this past weekend for Mom's birthday. It was pretty easy and amazingly good. It looks like the Duncan Hines cake on the box , but actually tastes good, moist and rich.
Mom's Chocolate Cake
Food and Wine, March 1990
2 c all purpose flour
2 t baking powder
2 t baking soda
1 t salt
2 c sugar
4 oz unsweetened chocolate
6 T butter
1 t vanilla extract
2 eggs lightly beaten
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour two 8 x 1.5 round cake pans. Line bottoms with wax paper (I used parchment paper).
2. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt. Set aside.
3. In a medium saucepan, combine sugar with 2 c water. Bring to a boil over high heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour into a large mixing bowl. Add chocolate and butter and let sit, stirring occasionally, until melted and slightly cooled. Stir in vanilla. Or if you're me, forget to do this part. Whoops.
4. Beat the eggs into the chocolate mixture using hand mixer until combined.
5. Add dry ingredients all at once and beat at medium speed until smooth (It will be liquidy).
6. Divide batter evenly between pans and bake for about 25 minutes or until the top springs back when pressed or a cake tester comes out clean.
7. Cool cakes in their pans on a rack for 25 minutes, then invert onto the rack to cool completely.
Chocolate frosting:
1 1/3 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cup sugar
6 oz. unsweetened chocolate
1 stick and 2T butter
1 1/2 t vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1. In a medium saucepan (you can use the one from the cake), bring sugar and cream to a boil over moderately high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally until liquid reduces slightly, about 6 minutes. Pour mixture into medium bowl and add chocolate, butter, vanilla and salt. Let stand stirring occasionally until butter and chocolate are melted.
2. Set the bowl in a large bowl of ice water. Using a handheld mixer, beat frosting on medium speed scraping the sides occasionally with a rubber spatula until thick and glossy, about 5 minutes. Use at once.
3. Put frosting on top of the first layer, cover one cake layer with the second. Then frost entire outside of cake.
At age 22, after watching the movie, Mara and I vowed that we would stop "baking cakes" for guys. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we did not. Mara bakes cakes now, but she does not "bake cakes." When you're married to someone who would do the same for you and more, it is no longer a metaphor, it's just a cake.
When I visited Mara and CJR at their home (their first one, not the new fabulous one) last year, Mara baked me a cake. It was what I have always dreamed a chocolate layer cake could be. Mara is a very good baker, so I had no way of knowing if its excellence would be easy for me to repeat. I finally attempted it this past weekend for Mom's birthday. It was pretty easy and amazingly good. It looks like the Duncan Hines cake on the box , but actually tastes good, moist and rich.
Mom's Chocolate Cake
Food and Wine, March 1990
2 c all purpose flour
2 t baking powder
2 t baking soda
1 t salt
2 c sugar
4 oz unsweetened chocolate
6 T butter
1 t vanilla extract
2 eggs lightly beaten
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour two 8 x 1.5 round cake pans. Line bottoms with wax paper (I used parchment paper).
2. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt. Set aside.
3. In a medium saucepan, combine sugar with 2 c water. Bring to a boil over high heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour into a large mixing bowl. Add chocolate and butter and let sit, stirring occasionally, until melted and slightly cooled. Stir in vanilla. Or if you're me, forget to do this part. Whoops.
4. Beat the eggs into the chocolate mixture using hand mixer until combined.
5. Add dry ingredients all at once and beat at medium speed until smooth (It will be liquidy).
6. Divide batter evenly between pans and bake for about 25 minutes or until the top springs back when pressed or a cake tester comes out clean.
7. Cool cakes in their pans on a rack for 25 minutes, then invert onto the rack to cool completely.
Chocolate frosting:
1 1/3 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cup sugar
6 oz. unsweetened chocolate
1 stick and 2T butter
1 1/2 t vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1. In a medium saucepan (you can use the one from the cake), bring sugar and cream to a boil over moderately high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally until liquid reduces slightly, about 6 minutes. Pour mixture into medium bowl and add chocolate, butter, vanilla and salt. Let stand stirring occasionally until butter and chocolate are melted.
2. Set the bowl in a large bowl of ice water. Using a handheld mixer, beat frosting on medium speed scraping the sides occasionally with a rubber spatula until thick and glossy, about 5 minutes. Use at once.
3. Put frosting on top of the first layer, cover one cake layer with the second. Then frost entire outside of cake.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
growth
personal growth is good, if it's of the metaphorical kind. when it's a literal, physical growth, you go to the doctor. here i am, post-surgery, and lovin' my growth-free life. my first meal was a chocolate milkshake, and as i slurped i wondered "why the taboo against milkshakes for dinner?" it felt so darn good, i'll definitely be doing it again.
the growth i love the most is the growth of good stuff by the farmers who supply my CSA. tonight i made string bean salad with the lovely yellow beans i got last week.
string bean salad
trim ends off of raw beans
boil water, heavily salted
cook beans for 4-5 minutes
drain
in a small bowl, mix a few glugs olive oil, a few glugs white wine vinegar and a tbsp of dijon mustard
salt and pepper the mixture and add a pinch or two of dried tarragon
whisk
dump in the warm beans and toss, using tongs
enjoy immediately, although also good after a few days in the fridge, i bet.
the growth i love the most is the growth of good stuff by the farmers who supply my CSA. tonight i made string bean salad with the lovely yellow beans i got last week.
string bean salad
trim ends off of raw beans
boil water, heavily salted
cook beans for 4-5 minutes
drain
in a small bowl, mix a few glugs olive oil, a few glugs white wine vinegar and a tbsp of dijon mustard
salt and pepper the mixture and add a pinch or two of dried tarragon
whisk
dump in the warm beans and toss, using tongs
enjoy immediately, although also good after a few days in the fridge, i bet.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
bon voyage
"bon voyage thyroid! though we hardly knew ye...i guess we'll miss you," toasted c. and then we ate ourselves silly at al di la. heirloom tomatoes, grilled calamari, corn tortelloni, pork ribs, risotto, saltimboca, affugato, and on and on.
because "it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and to say it was good."
because "it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and to say it was good."
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
what would you do for a klondike bar?
How far will I travel, to what lengths will I go for the perfect meal? You and I both, I think, know the answer to that question. Now and again, though, I take a look at myself making some ridiculous pilgrimage in the name of food, and I think: "woman! get a hold of yourself."
Last week I took a cab, a plane, a train, and then another cab to make it to Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA in time for my 9:15 pm reservation. Well, I wasn't on time, but I did make it. My heart racing, my gastric juices churning, my imagination running wild, I showed up and breathlessly handed to the hostess my overnight bag, and my dress for that weekend's wedding.
First we ate bread. Really really good bread, and excellent butter. And olives. Oooh, I loved those olives.
Then began the set meal for the evening:
Green bean salad with farm egg and pancetta. Which doesn't even mention the teeny, explosively delicious cherry tomatoes. And doesn't even begin to suggest that the pancetta was in thin little delicate strips, salty and crispy. or that the egg was soft boiled with a yolk the color of sunshine.
Salt cod ravioli with yellow tomato coulis and basil oil. If you've ever had salt cod, you know it's a bold choice. I liked it, despite its intense fishiness. And the tomato sauce was basically hot, pureed golden tomatoes, with chiffonaded basil. Excellent.
Grilled Wolfe Ranch quail, with figs, corn, wild mushrooms, onion rings, and stone ground polenta. A moist, succulent little bird plopped on top of all kinds of good things. The figs were especially delightful, as were the thin thin thin red onion rings on top. A surprising touch.
Then we did the unthinkable--ordered the optional cheese course. In an effort to eat ourselves to death, apparently. The cheeses were good, but not transcendant, and I wish I'd taken a pass on them.
Dessert was amazingly, unbelievably good, even though there wasn't a lick of chocolate in sight (well, unless you count those truffles they brought at the end of it all). Roasted Red Cal peach with raspberry granita. Which doesn't even mention the creme anglaise. Or the whole raspberries. Or the sinfully good almond tuile-type cookie that accompanied it. WOW!
This is excellent cooking, but simple, so simple. But one is struck by the basic truth behind a place like this--if the ingredients are excellent, and if they are each chosen for being at their absolute peak at this moment in time, your meal will reflect that. It will be wonderful. And it was.
Last week I took a cab, a plane, a train, and then another cab to make it to Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA in time for my 9:15 pm reservation. Well, I wasn't on time, but I did make it. My heart racing, my gastric juices churning, my imagination running wild, I showed up and breathlessly handed to the hostess my overnight bag, and my dress for that weekend's wedding.
First we ate bread. Really really good bread, and excellent butter. And olives. Oooh, I loved those olives.
Then began the set meal for the evening:
Green bean salad with farm egg and pancetta. Which doesn't even mention the teeny, explosively delicious cherry tomatoes. And doesn't even begin to suggest that the pancetta was in thin little delicate strips, salty and crispy. or that the egg was soft boiled with a yolk the color of sunshine.
Salt cod ravioli with yellow tomato coulis and basil oil. If you've ever had salt cod, you know it's a bold choice. I liked it, despite its intense fishiness. And the tomato sauce was basically hot, pureed golden tomatoes, with chiffonaded basil. Excellent.
Grilled Wolfe Ranch quail, with figs, corn, wild mushrooms, onion rings, and stone ground polenta. A moist, succulent little bird plopped on top of all kinds of good things. The figs were especially delightful, as were the thin thin thin red onion rings on top. A surprising touch.
Then we did the unthinkable--ordered the optional cheese course. In an effort to eat ourselves to death, apparently. The cheeses were good, but not transcendant, and I wish I'd taken a pass on them.
Dessert was amazingly, unbelievably good, even though there wasn't a lick of chocolate in sight (well, unless you count those truffles they brought at the end of it all). Roasted Red Cal peach with raspberry granita. Which doesn't even mention the creme anglaise. Or the whole raspberries. Or the sinfully good almond tuile-type cookie that accompanied it. WOW!
This is excellent cooking, but simple, so simple. But one is struck by the basic truth behind a place like this--if the ingredients are excellent, and if they are each chosen for being at their absolute peak at this moment in time, your meal will reflect that. It will be wonderful. And it was.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
on the farm
On the urban farm, the sun crisping my neck and shoulders, crouched over, grabbing leaves of dinosaur kale, cursing the bugs who are enjoying the lack of pesticides, I look up at my surroundings:
Roxbury, inner city Boston, apparently a hard part of town, segregated, isolated, bleak? Not to me. Here lies the urban farm of the Food Project—the oldest, largest, most successful example of youth development through agriculture.
I’m surrounded by teenagers, both “urban” and “suburban,” harvesting cranberry beans and swiss chard and helping neighbors to remediate their soil to address its high lead content.
And tomorrow we’ll head to the suburbs and in the pouring rain we’ll plant lettuce and the 16 year old next to me will give me agricultural tips while she explains that she’s been held back in school. Her mom died last year and she missed too many days of school. We talk a little bit about that. We plant more lettuce. We get very wet.
I leave my 3 day institute in love with The Food Project, in love with their mission and their ideology, yes, but even more so with how damn good they are at execution. How easy to dream up something like this and how rare and amazing to realize it and keep it going strong and vibrant for 15 years.
Roxbury, inner city Boston, apparently a hard part of town, segregated, isolated, bleak? Not to me. Here lies the urban farm of the Food Project—the oldest, largest, most successful example of youth development through agriculture.
I’m surrounded by teenagers, both “urban” and “suburban,” harvesting cranberry beans and swiss chard and helping neighbors to remediate their soil to address its high lead content.
And tomorrow we’ll head to the suburbs and in the pouring rain we’ll plant lettuce and the 16 year old next to me will give me agricultural tips while she explains that she’s been held back in school. Her mom died last year and she missed too many days of school. We talk a little bit about that. We plant more lettuce. We get very wet.
I leave my 3 day institute in love with The Food Project, in love with their mission and their ideology, yes, but even more so with how damn good they are at execution. How easy to dream up something like this and how rare and amazing to realize it and keep it going strong and vibrant for 15 years.
slow
My very first blog entry, about a year and a half ago, was a call for change. Change has been slow for me, sometimes not deliberately so. But it makes it all the more fitting that my new job--finally--is at Slow Food.
Going to work each day feels oddly sinful. Sitting in a room with ten or so food-obsessed compatriots, thinking, talking, planning, writing, all of it in the service of a movement devoted to the preservation and enjoyment of food.
For more on this very cool new job of mine, check out the website www.slowfoodusa.org.
Going to work each day feels oddly sinful. Sitting in a room with ten or so food-obsessed compatriots, thinking, talking, planning, writing, all of it in the service of a movement devoted to the preservation and enjoyment of food.
For more on this very cool new job of mine, check out the website www.slowfoodusa.org.
how to order well
At an excellent restaurant, one assumes, every dish on the menu soars. Yet experience has shown me that there is variation, a gap between the best items on a menu, and the worst.
On a glorious sunny Sunday—hot and bright—six of us met in Pocantico Hills, NY at Blue Hill at Stone Barns. The interior, a refurbished dairy barn, is a study in coolness, a respite from the blaze outside. It is not a place to curl up and get familiar, but I appreciate the crisp elegance; it feels like a special occasion. Most of the food comes from just outside the windows, and the kitchen is run by experts. When the runners bring your food, they circle the table, six at a time, silently and synchronized, placing plates.
The winners: the culinary student among us notes that, if something as mundane as meatloaf is on this elegant menu, it must be something special. She is correct; it is outstanding. The panzanella with seared tuna freaks me out in description but in actuality is tremendous. The secret weapon: heirloom tomatoes, perfectly in season. A lesson duplicated by the unexpectedly sublime green bean salad—they, too, also at their natural peak. The pasta was apparently a disappointment. Lesson 3: it had nothing in its description that was perfectly in season and no meat to wow or lend favor.
It helped me start to think about how to navigate menus, and how to make the right choices. At Blue Hill at Stone Barns, however, it is hard to go too terribly far afield. Even the losers were winners (like corn soup with a crab cake), and the desserts--thanks ot our man Tony in the kitchen--can right any wrong.
On a glorious sunny Sunday—hot and bright—six of us met in Pocantico Hills, NY at Blue Hill at Stone Barns. The interior, a refurbished dairy barn, is a study in coolness, a respite from the blaze outside. It is not a place to curl up and get familiar, but I appreciate the crisp elegance; it feels like a special occasion. Most of the food comes from just outside the windows, and the kitchen is run by experts. When the runners bring your food, they circle the table, six at a time, silently and synchronized, placing plates.
The winners: the culinary student among us notes that, if something as mundane as meatloaf is on this elegant menu, it must be something special. She is correct; it is outstanding. The panzanella with seared tuna freaks me out in description but in actuality is tremendous. The secret weapon: heirloom tomatoes, perfectly in season. A lesson duplicated by the unexpectedly sublime green bean salad—they, too, also at their natural peak. The pasta was apparently a disappointment. Lesson 3: it had nothing in its description that was perfectly in season and no meat to wow or lend favor.
It helped me start to think about how to navigate menus, and how to make the right choices. At Blue Hill at Stone Barns, however, it is hard to go too terribly far afield. Even the losers were winners (like corn soup with a crab cake), and the desserts--thanks ot our man Tony in the kitchen--can right any wrong.
Monday, July 24, 2006
hillary
Many of my favorite meals have been prepared by or with Hillary. After college we lived together for a year and I have fond memories of big burrito meals, and even of meals made entirely of cheese and crackers (good cheese. Good crackers). I have eaten very well at buffets at her mom’s loft. I remember the summer after my father died, going to visit her at her dad’s country house. We sat together in the evening light outside, eating one of her trademark delicious salads, a hunk of Vermont cheddar and a big beautiful bread. Since then there have been many happy times in Millbrook, with corn, sausage, lasagnas, apple crisps, and butternut squash soups. Up in Cuyler, at Cerry’s parents’ house, she made the best peach and corn salsa (ok, maybe the only peach and corn salsa) I have ever eaten in my life. For my 30th birthday, she made platters of heirloom tomato salad that made everyone’s jaws drop.
Like many things she is good at, Hillary does not present herself as a cook. Her style is simple, fresh, and abundant; it is impossible to go hungry at her table. So it was only fitting that this past weekend, her wedding to Kofi, I had some superlative meals. Hillary and Kofi, it seems, not only make good food themselves, they attract similarly gifted cooks to their sphere, including Andrew and Jennifer. My first night in Chatham, I was greeted by Andrew’s grilled ribs, collard greens, fried green tomatoes (from the garden) with buttermilk dipping sauce and fresh mac and cheese. For dessert? Jennifer’s blueberry tart made from freshly picked blueberries. Eaten with white wine at an outdoor table as the sun set. Absolutely one of the best meals of my life.
The wedding was a feast in every way. A feast for the eyes—Hillary and Kofi, beautiful and radiant, weeping and smiling, the most beautiful brew. A feast for the ears—their voices as they read their vows, the sound of the rawest, truest emotion, voices that knew the depth of what they were saying. A feast for the heart—love, love, love, all around me love.
And of course, a feast for the stomach. The buffet looked like it could have been in Hillary and Kofi’s home: grilled asparagus, tomato/mozzarella/basil salad, and corn. The highlight was our take-away; each of us got a jar of jam, made by Hillary and Kofi with fresh-picked berries from the Hudson Valley.
As I danced my heart out all night long, I was filled with the most electric sense of sheer joy, for them, of course, mostly for them, but also for me—to know these two beautiful people, and to eat with them, for the rest of my life.
Like many things she is good at, Hillary does not present herself as a cook. Her style is simple, fresh, and abundant; it is impossible to go hungry at her table. So it was only fitting that this past weekend, her wedding to Kofi, I had some superlative meals. Hillary and Kofi, it seems, not only make good food themselves, they attract similarly gifted cooks to their sphere, including Andrew and Jennifer. My first night in Chatham, I was greeted by Andrew’s grilled ribs, collard greens, fried green tomatoes (from the garden) with buttermilk dipping sauce and fresh mac and cheese. For dessert? Jennifer’s blueberry tart made from freshly picked blueberries. Eaten with white wine at an outdoor table as the sun set. Absolutely one of the best meals of my life.
The wedding was a feast in every way. A feast for the eyes—Hillary and Kofi, beautiful and radiant, weeping and smiling, the most beautiful brew. A feast for the ears—their voices as they read their vows, the sound of the rawest, truest emotion, voices that knew the depth of what they were saying. A feast for the heart—love, love, love, all around me love.
And of course, a feast for the stomach. The buffet looked like it could have been in Hillary and Kofi’s home: grilled asparagus, tomato/mozzarella/basil salad, and corn. The highlight was our take-away; each of us got a jar of jam, made by Hillary and Kofi with fresh-picked berries from the Hudson Valley.
As I danced my heart out all night long, I was filled with the most electric sense of sheer joy, for them, of course, mostly for them, but also for me—to know these two beautiful people, and to eat with them, for the rest of my life.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
reviews
I have some shout outs that are long overdue.
1. Franny's. Joanie Joan finally gave me a reason to get my butt over to Franny's on Flatbush several weeks ago. I didn't socialize much at the birthday party. Instead I holed up at the bar, chowing down on their organic, sustainable, local, amazing menu. The bruschetta with ricotta cheese and fresh peas was so good tears came to my eyes. The bartender saw, and he understood; he works there for chrissakes. The zucchini fritto was delicate, crispy, summery. The pizzas were perfection. And Joan's boyfriend showing up to surprise her as a birthday treat? Well, that was the icing on the proverbial (organic, sustainable) cake.
2. The Good Fork. Well, you know how I feel about Red Hook. This place is one more jewel in Van Brunt's crown. It is very cute, very good, and the service (though problematic the night we were there) is friendly. I had their signature "steak and eggs and kimchi" and it was weird and wonderful: slices of flavorful juicy steak, nestled into a ball of kimchi rice, topped with a fried egg, eaten with chopsticks.
3. Queen. If you have ever walked down Court street, from Borough Hall to Atlantic, you know it is a gastronomic wasteland. There are some bad delis, a few pizza joints, Wendy's, McDonald's, some tacky looking Italian joint...wait! That tacky looking Italian joint is a FANCY RESTAURANT! And, wait, are those REVIEWS in the window??? It is so very unlikely, but Queen is an excellent Italian restuarant masquerading as a mediocre, suburban mall restaurant. And although few people I know have been there, it was full the night I was there--a Thursday, by the way. The maitre d' is adorable-knowledgeable and friendly. The menu is extensive, and everything we had was terrific. The focaccia they bring to the table is soft and fluffy. We followed it with a fritto misto (calamari, zucchini, lemon) that was so flavorful, red dipping sauce was unnecesary. The arugula, mozzarella, pesto salad was perfect. We had three main courses, one better than the next, with scallops stealing the show.
1. Franny's. Joanie Joan finally gave me a reason to get my butt over to Franny's on Flatbush several weeks ago. I didn't socialize much at the birthday party. Instead I holed up at the bar, chowing down on their organic, sustainable, local, amazing menu. The bruschetta with ricotta cheese and fresh peas was so good tears came to my eyes. The bartender saw, and he understood; he works there for chrissakes. The zucchini fritto was delicate, crispy, summery. The pizzas were perfection. And Joan's boyfriend showing up to surprise her as a birthday treat? Well, that was the icing on the proverbial (organic, sustainable) cake.
2. The Good Fork. Well, you know how I feel about Red Hook. This place is one more jewel in Van Brunt's crown. It is very cute, very good, and the service (though problematic the night we were there) is friendly. I had their signature "steak and eggs and kimchi" and it was weird and wonderful: slices of flavorful juicy steak, nestled into a ball of kimchi rice, topped with a fried egg, eaten with chopsticks.
3. Queen. If you have ever walked down Court street, from Borough Hall to Atlantic, you know it is a gastronomic wasteland. There are some bad delis, a few pizza joints, Wendy's, McDonald's, some tacky looking Italian joint...wait! That tacky looking Italian joint is a FANCY RESTAURANT! And, wait, are those REVIEWS in the window??? It is so very unlikely, but Queen is an excellent Italian restuarant masquerading as a mediocre, suburban mall restaurant. And although few people I know have been there, it was full the night I was there--a Thursday, by the way. The maitre d' is adorable-knowledgeable and friendly. The menu is extensive, and everything we had was terrific. The focaccia they bring to the table is soft and fluffy. We followed it with a fritto misto (calamari, zucchini, lemon) that was so flavorful, red dipping sauce was unnecesary. The arugula, mozzarella, pesto salad was perfect. We had three main courses, one better than the next, with scallops stealing the show.
sorrel
I love my CSA. I paid for my share, but that was weeks and weeks ago, so when I enter the church on Court street, sign in, and start grabbing beautiful produce to take home, I feel like I've won the produce lottery. Last week I got, peaches, cherries, lettuce, radicchio, onions, fava beans (!), and a choice of rosemary, dill, or sorrel.
I had never seen sorrel or tasted sorrel, so I grabbed a bunch figuring I'd learn something. It turns out that sorrel is somewhere between a green and an herb: lemony, earthy, and unique. If used in salads, people suggest mixing it with other greens, because its flavor is very strong. I found several internet recipes for a Jamaican favorite: sorrel soup. I tweaked them some, made my own, and was pretty pleased with the results.
Sorrel Soup
3 cups veggie broth
2 handfuls basmati rice
1 bunch sorrel, washed and de-stemmed
1 tbsp half and half
salt and pepper
Boil veggie broth, add rice
Let rice cook for 8 minutes, stirring now and again
Add sorrel, stir for 1 minute, turn off heat
Use immersion blender to puree the soup
(Rice pieces may fly out at you)
Add half and half and salt and pepper
Stir.
Eat.
I had never seen sorrel or tasted sorrel, so I grabbed a bunch figuring I'd learn something. It turns out that sorrel is somewhere between a green and an herb: lemony, earthy, and unique. If used in salads, people suggest mixing it with other greens, because its flavor is very strong. I found several internet recipes for a Jamaican favorite: sorrel soup. I tweaked them some, made my own, and was pretty pleased with the results.
Sorrel Soup
3 cups veggie broth
2 handfuls basmati rice
1 bunch sorrel, washed and de-stemmed
1 tbsp half and half
salt and pepper
Boil veggie broth, add rice
Let rice cook for 8 minutes, stirring now and again
Add sorrel, stir for 1 minute, turn off heat
Use immersion blender to puree the soup
(Rice pieces may fly out at you)
Add half and half and salt and pepper
Stir.
Eat.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
i love ditch plains
I’m not sure why, but I think I can count the number of new restaurants I have been to in the past year on one hand. Ack—maybe even on 2 or 3 fingers. I read about restaurant openings, but it is so hard to keep up; they are cropping up like weeds. A few weeks ago I made a short list of places I intended to try this summer, and on this past Monday night, I checked off my first one.
I love Ditch Plains.
Named after a surf area on the North Fork of Long Island, this place purports to be a beachy fish shack, but it’s a bit too clean and classy for that. It serves the ubiquitous NYC $23 lobster roll, clam chowder, mussels, oysters, salmon, burgers, fries, etc. But the food is elegant and excellent, and if it was served in paper baskets and brown paper cones, I really didn’t notice. I remember white porcelain; I wonder if that’s the case.
P and I had:
1. Friendly service. We stayed for nearly 3 hours taking up a huge booth and we were treated with nothing but smiles, and languorous generosity.
2. Good white wine.
3. A spicy fried calamari salad that was unusual and delicious: chopped romaine and radicchio with battered and fried calamari and a spicy red chili salad dressing.
4. Oyster shooters: basically bloody Mary shots with a raw oyster at the bottom. Fantastic.
5. Steamed littleneck clams with our chosen sauce of shallots, white wine, parsley, and butter. They were tiny and flavorful. My only complaint: no bread to soak up the marvelous leftover sauce at the bottom of the pot. We used spoons (classy).
6. A lobster roll that certainly rivaled, if not surpassed, Mary’s Fish camp, served with excellent sweet potato chips.
7. Mississippi Mud Pie, served with our own bottle of whipped cream. Awesome.
So, my dear readers, surf on over to Bedford and Downing, in Manhattan, and if you can walk by ‘ino without being sucked in there first, pop into Ditch Plains.
I love Ditch Plains.
Named after a surf area on the North Fork of Long Island, this place purports to be a beachy fish shack, but it’s a bit too clean and classy for that. It serves the ubiquitous NYC $23 lobster roll, clam chowder, mussels, oysters, salmon, burgers, fries, etc. But the food is elegant and excellent, and if it was served in paper baskets and brown paper cones, I really didn’t notice. I remember white porcelain; I wonder if that’s the case.
P and I had:
1. Friendly service. We stayed for nearly 3 hours taking up a huge booth and we were treated with nothing but smiles, and languorous generosity.
2. Good white wine.
3. A spicy fried calamari salad that was unusual and delicious: chopped romaine and radicchio with battered and fried calamari and a spicy red chili salad dressing.
4. Oyster shooters: basically bloody Mary shots with a raw oyster at the bottom. Fantastic.
5. Steamed littleneck clams with our chosen sauce of shallots, white wine, parsley, and butter. They were tiny and flavorful. My only complaint: no bread to soak up the marvelous leftover sauce at the bottom of the pot. We used spoons (classy).
6. A lobster roll that certainly rivaled, if not surpassed, Mary’s Fish camp, served with excellent sweet potato chips.
7. Mississippi Mud Pie, served with our own bottle of whipped cream. Awesome.
So, my dear readers, surf on over to Bedford and Downing, in Manhattan, and if you can walk by ‘ino without being sucked in there first, pop into Ditch Plains.
Monday, July 10, 2006
ireland
There are people who are not very interested in food. A friend of mine in grad school used to eat cup o’ noodles every single day for lunch, and it was clear to me that food, to her, was merely sustenance. There was no pleasure taken in the eating of it, no disgust with too much sodium, no boredom with eating the same thing day after day. The truth was, I think she barely noticed what went into her mouth, and though I pitied her, I was also envious. If I stopped thinking so much about what to eat and when, or how to find the perfect lunch, or fondly remembering the perfect dinner, think how much brain space I would have for other things! Also, nota bene, she was skinny.
The past two weeks I spent in Ireland, and I discovered a nation of cup o’ noodles eaters. When I went to eat in Dublin, I checked two different guidebooks, and the paucity of food recommendations was my first clue that, although a pretty cool city, Dublin is not a place you go to for the food. Things I ate a lot of in Ireland: bacon, sausage, mayonnaise, scones, brown bread, chips and crisps. For two weeks I was hard-pressed to find a vegetable. Chicken curry was served with rice and chips (that’s French fries). It was like “side of vegetables” was never invented. A side salad could be found with some searching, but it was iceberg lettuce with a tomato wedge, some canned corn and “salad cream” on top. Once, my salad had olive oil AND salad cream. One salad, two forms of fat. Very efficient.
But enough negativity; let me mention the few fabulous things I did find. And let me also say that Ireland is a lovely country, full of friendly people, beautiful countryside and amazing history.
1. Sheridan cheese mongers. Right off of Grafton street, in Dublin, this place was a small haven, filled with wheels of cheese from all over the world. I asked a saleswoman to help me with some local Irish cheeses. She guided me through a tasting, based on my likes and dislikes, and I left the store with three wedges of excellent cheese, and a recommendation for a nearby bakery. With cheese that good, why was I having such bad food experiences?
2. La Maison de Gourmets. This French bakery, on Castle Market, was the bakery to which I was directed. I sought it out hoping to find the best scones in the city but discovered when I got there that it was—as the name suggested—strictly French. I bought a traditional boule and an almond croissant, and both were excellent.
3. Angela’s Coffee Emporium. In Clonmel, a small rural city, I struggled mightily with finding decent food. I found it finally here, at Angela’s, an organic sandwich and coffee bar where I could rely on getting good cappucinos, very good scones, and even (gasp!) fruit salad.
Rather than focusing on the worst sandwich ever made, at “The Gourmet Store” in Kilkenny, or the kebab in Dun Laoghire that gave me food poisoning, I will remember those cheeses, goat’s milk-tangy, richly cheddared….
The past two weeks I spent in Ireland, and I discovered a nation of cup o’ noodles eaters. When I went to eat in Dublin, I checked two different guidebooks, and the paucity of food recommendations was my first clue that, although a pretty cool city, Dublin is not a place you go to for the food. Things I ate a lot of in Ireland: bacon, sausage, mayonnaise, scones, brown bread, chips and crisps. For two weeks I was hard-pressed to find a vegetable. Chicken curry was served with rice and chips (that’s French fries). It was like “side of vegetables” was never invented. A side salad could be found with some searching, but it was iceberg lettuce with a tomato wedge, some canned corn and “salad cream” on top. Once, my salad had olive oil AND salad cream. One salad, two forms of fat. Very efficient.
But enough negativity; let me mention the few fabulous things I did find. And let me also say that Ireland is a lovely country, full of friendly people, beautiful countryside and amazing history.
1. Sheridan cheese mongers. Right off of Grafton street, in Dublin, this place was a small haven, filled with wheels of cheese from all over the world. I asked a saleswoman to help me with some local Irish cheeses. She guided me through a tasting, based on my likes and dislikes, and I left the store with three wedges of excellent cheese, and a recommendation for a nearby bakery. With cheese that good, why was I having such bad food experiences?
2. La Maison de Gourmets. This French bakery, on Castle Market, was the bakery to which I was directed. I sought it out hoping to find the best scones in the city but discovered when I got there that it was—as the name suggested—strictly French. I bought a traditional boule and an almond croissant, and both were excellent.
3. Angela’s Coffee Emporium. In Clonmel, a small rural city, I struggled mightily with finding decent food. I found it finally here, at Angela’s, an organic sandwich and coffee bar where I could rely on getting good cappucinos, very good scones, and even (gasp!) fruit salad.
Rather than focusing on the worst sandwich ever made, at “The Gourmet Store” in Kilkenny, or the kebab in Dun Laoghire that gave me food poisoning, I will remember those cheeses, goat’s milk-tangy, richly cheddared….
Monday, June 26, 2006
my old haunts
For the past six years, rehearsing different plays has been a way for me to spend concentrated time in different neighborhoods of New York City. The fall and winter of 2002-2003 were spent in the West village, and I got to know all of my favorite cafes and cheap eats. The winter of 2001 was spent in Soho and I came to love La Jumelle, the Soup guy attached to Fanelli, Gourmet Garage, and Pain Quotidien. Several springs were spent on way west 42nd street, and I got to know the 9th avenues treats very well.
This past week was spent rehearsing at Clemente Soto Velez on Suffolk and Rivington, a few short blocks from my old home(s), and I had the opportunity to go back to some old favorites and find a few new treats.
Highlights of the week included:
Sugar Sweet Sunshine, home of rich and delicious cupcakes, and—I found out—an excellent iced coffee.
The Dumpling House on Eldridge, of which I write about often. I introduced it to my castmates, who marveled at the goodness and the cheapness.
Tiny’s Giant Sandwich shop, which has expanded into a not-so-tiny-at all space, with excellent air conditioning and an amazing veggie burger.
Nicky’s Vietnamese sandwiches on 2nd street, home to some truly good banh mi, probably the only real deal banh mi above Houston street.
Frankie’s Spuntino on Clinton, a new place I mentioned in my previous post. Actually, it is an offshoot of the original Brooklyn Frankie’s, which a little researched revealed is only blocks from my apartment. Sometimes you have to travel “far” from home to find what’s right outside your door.
This past week was spent rehearsing at Clemente Soto Velez on Suffolk and Rivington, a few short blocks from my old home(s), and I had the opportunity to go back to some old favorites and find a few new treats.
Highlights of the week included:
Sugar Sweet Sunshine, home of rich and delicious cupcakes, and—I found out—an excellent iced coffee.
The Dumpling House on Eldridge, of which I write about often. I introduced it to my castmates, who marveled at the goodness and the cheapness.
Tiny’s Giant Sandwich shop, which has expanded into a not-so-tiny-at all space, with excellent air conditioning and an amazing veggie burger.
Nicky’s Vietnamese sandwiches on 2nd street, home to some truly good banh mi, probably the only real deal banh mi above Houston street.
Frankie’s Spuntino on Clinton, a new place I mentioned in my previous post. Actually, it is an offshoot of the original Brooklyn Frankie’s, which a little researched revealed is only blocks from my apartment. Sometimes you have to travel “far” from home to find what’s right outside your door.
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