Gosh, I have absolutely positively not much of an excuse for not having posted parts II and III of my culinary adventures in Charleston, and I still will. I swear on the soft little head of my I-have-a-new-fun-for-mommy-habit-of-peeing-on-the-bathroom-floor cat that I will. Soon.
In the meantime...
Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl and But Enough About Me: A Jersey Girl's Unlikely Adventures Among the Absurdly Famous by Jancee Dunn: read it
"Veronica Mars" season three: watch it
"Half Nelson": see it
EastVillageRadio.com: listen to it
The Red Hook Ball Fields at the corner of Clinton and Bay Sts. in Brooklyn. The Times recommends: huarache or quesadilla with pork or chorizo; Honduran tacos with beans and cheese or with grilled steak; ceviche mixto; pupusas with beans and cheese; and chicken tamales, through the end of October; Annie Leibowitz exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, opens October 20th: go to it
Clam dip and miniature heirlooms from the Union Square Farmer's Market; bento boxes at Sapa; and limencello purchases and wine tastings at the relocated Astor Wines & Spirits: eat and drink it
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Vacation Degustation Part Un
Thursday, September 147:30 a.m. Wolfed a Newman's Own "O," an Oreo-like cookie, while stressing over last touches on freelance story on maintaining a healthy weight. Maintaining many "Oreos" on a plate was a necessity for me during the writing of said story. I like the smell of chocolate-coated irony in the morning.
10:30 a.m. Shooing all thoughts of Morgan Spurlock away, or so I thought, at La Guardia I ordered a sausage and egg biscuit from McDonald's. The first bite was soggy yet flavorful, and the sausage reminded me of the Saturday morning fast food syrup-coated pancake and sausage breakfasts of my youth. A few bites later, and getting more disgusted by the minute, I began to wonder from what exactly that extra crispy crunch of the sandwich sprung. Then, Morgan Spurlock apparated in front of me. I looked around to see if I was dreaming. Everyone else in the airport continued reading their papers and talking on their cells, but they were New Yorkers, aka primed to ignore the outrageous. With Morgan at my side, I declared aloud that I’d never eat McD’s again (not even a chocolate sundae), and tossed the remnants of my food into the trash as I walked back to the food court for a Luna bar and a Volvic. I also got Jon a German Chocolate Cake lollipop.
3:00 p.m. Having missed my connection from Charlotte to Charleston (to my dismay, Morgan opted to stay in New York), I sidled up to a bar stool and ordered a spicy Bloody Mary. Bloody hell, I thought, if I am going to have to spend yet another precious vacation day stuck in the airport, I might as well enjoy myself. Damn terrorists. I ate my leftover plane pretzels as extra consolation. Then I explored the Charlotte airport. Wonder of wonders, not only does it have rocking chairs, a business center, a live piano player, cheeky moving sidewalks, and nice light, it also has Brookwood Farms BBQ, Rocky Mountain Fudge, the Yadkin Valley Wine Bar, and Yovana, some new kind of yogurt shop from the folks at TCBY. I left Jon a gleeful message about the German Chocolate covered apples at the fudge shop and sampled the peanut butter fudge.
6:30 p.m. All week I'd been looking forward to dinner with my dad at G&M upon my arrival in Charleston. I would have had a glass of sauvignon blanc, the best gazpacho in my world, and a toasted croissant smothered in goat cheese. I've been ordering the latter two there since I was in high school. I blame the damn terrorists for instead forcing me to order a Bean Burrito and a 7-Layer Burrito at Taco Bell. As I did, I silently apologized once more to Morgan. But I didn't feel too bad: I didn't want to risk missing one moment of 36 Views, the lovely, unusual play that's currently in production at Charleston's Pure Theatre, which was directed by one BFF, Dana, and stars another, Matt.
12:00 a.m. Matt and I threw what little caution was left to the culinary wind, and split a double order of smothered and diced hash browns and nursed decafs at Waffle House.
Despite my early morning, bad food, late flight, and missing luggage, it was good to be home.
Coming up in Part Deux: Gazpacho and croissants aren't the only things that take me back to high school. Find out what I ate at my 10-year high school reunion.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Date Night
It was a dark and stormy night (a Friday in New York City, to be precise) on which even Edward George Bulwer-Lytton would have stayed in; the weather down South had blown wind and cats and dogs of rain up the coast, and street trash sped across a mostly deserted Houston Street like it too wanted to evacuate for the last weekend of the summer.
As Jon and I hurried to our favorite dive bar, we reminisced about our first time there, which was a month or so after we met. The dive is next door west of Nolita House, and I do not know its name, nor do I want to. The name has been a mystery to me for the last 5+ years, and I'm happy for it to stay that way so that we can continue to call it just, "our dive bar."
After playing a rousing game of we've-got-the-whole-back-room-to-ourselves musical chairs, Jon and I settled into a stiff-backed leather banquette. He with his preferred Sierra Nevada Pale Ale draft, and me with my appropriately named Dark & Stormy. When I saw it on the drink board, I took one glance outside and knew I couldn't resist. The dive's recipe called for rum, fresh squeezed ginger juice, Rose's Lime, a splash of soda, and two slices of lime wedged on the rim. The tartness of the lime juice was enhanced by the ginger's spiciness and both were countered just so by the smooth rum. My dearest took a sip, looked at me like I was a madwoman, and yowled that the drink had burned a hole in his throat. I smiled unsympathetically and noted that I'd like another except it was time for dinner.
While our flavor palates don't always align, they're similar enough that Jon and I could share all of the swoon-worthy pintxos (tapas) during our virgin meal at Bar Carrera. This one-year-old this month bar and dinner spot is next door to and owned by the same smart dude as Bar Veloce, and focuses on Iberian wine, Spanish sherry, and Basque tapas. We ordered all five of the plates that the waiter recommended, which at $3.50 a pop are easily the best deal in the city. As we waited for our food and sipped glasses of red, I admired the lean set-up of the kitchen: there were no empty bottles or adornments for show. Each foodstuff and piece of equipment behind the bar was there to be used, from the small deep fryer for patatas brava, to the olive oils, breads, cheeses, chocolates, and only mildly offensive Serrano ham legs.
Along with the patatas brava, which are served with red-pepper mayo, we had the pan con tomate on grilled brioche topped with olive-oil powder; 80-day aged Serrano (not at all offensive to the taste); crisp yet luscious chorizo sandwich on a honey mustard coated baguette, and the most heavenly slices of juniper glazed pork belly served with white bean puree...you know how the phrase "melt-in-your-mouth" is sometimes used to describe something that is tasty but does more of a crumble-as-you-chew disintegration in your mouth? Well, the pork belly really did melt over my tongue. Oh the delight of the real deal!
I skipped with light food coma delight as we walked home discussing plans to return and order the rest of the menu on a future date night (yay, a second date!). Next time, after I taunt Jon with another Dark & Stormy at our dive, I will also order a glass of Bar C's Txacoli Txomin Etxaniz, a white wine that's traditionally poured from as high as the bartender can arch his arm. The bartender/waiter at Carrera is tall, and boy did that wine look pretty as it toppled into others' glasses.
***
I have started writing for a new women's online magazine called Form and Style (formandstyle.com). For the time being, my first story, on women and cooking, is subscription only. If you happen to read it, yes, the description of the fridge's contents was an apt description of mine until the boy and I moved in: condiments, low-fat milk, olives for martinis, a Brita pitcher and some leftovers.
***
If you live in or near Charleston, go see 36 Views at Pure Theatre. My BFF Dana directed it and my Matt is in it.
***
Crikey. Rest in Peace, Crocodile Hunter.
As Jon and I hurried to our favorite dive bar, we reminisced about our first time there, which was a month or so after we met. The dive is next door west of Nolita House, and I do not know its name, nor do I want to. The name has been a mystery to me for the last 5+ years, and I'm happy for it to stay that way so that we can continue to call it just, "our dive bar."
After playing a rousing game of we've-got-the-whole-back-room-to-ourselves musical chairs, Jon and I settled into a stiff-backed leather banquette. He with his preferred Sierra Nevada Pale Ale draft, and me with my appropriately named Dark & Stormy. When I saw it on the drink board, I took one glance outside and knew I couldn't resist. The dive's recipe called for rum, fresh squeezed ginger juice, Rose's Lime, a splash of soda, and two slices of lime wedged on the rim. The tartness of the lime juice was enhanced by the ginger's spiciness and both were countered just so by the smooth rum. My dearest took a sip, looked at me like I was a madwoman, and yowled that the drink had burned a hole in his throat. I smiled unsympathetically and noted that I'd like another except it was time for dinner.
While our flavor palates don't always align, they're similar enough that Jon and I could share all of the swoon-worthy pintxos (tapas) during our virgin meal at Bar Carrera. This one-year-old this month bar and dinner spot is next door to and owned by the same smart dude as Bar Veloce, and focuses on Iberian wine, Spanish sherry, and Basque tapas. We ordered all five of the plates that the waiter recommended, which at $3.50 a pop are easily the best deal in the city. As we waited for our food and sipped glasses of red, I admired the lean set-up of the kitchen: there were no empty bottles or adornments for show. Each foodstuff and piece of equipment behind the bar was there to be used, from the small deep fryer for patatas brava, to the olive oils, breads, cheeses, chocolates, and only mildly offensive Serrano ham legs.
Along with the patatas brava, which are served with red-pepper mayo, we had the pan con tomate on grilled brioche topped with olive-oil powder; 80-day aged Serrano (not at all offensive to the taste); crisp yet luscious chorizo sandwich on a honey mustard coated baguette, and the most heavenly slices of juniper glazed pork belly served with white bean puree...you know how the phrase "melt-in-your-mouth" is sometimes used to describe something that is tasty but does more of a crumble-as-you-chew disintegration in your mouth? Well, the pork belly really did melt over my tongue. Oh the delight of the real deal!
I skipped with light food coma delight as we walked home discussing plans to return and order the rest of the menu on a future date night (yay, a second date!). Next time, after I taunt Jon with another Dark & Stormy at our dive, I will also order a glass of Bar C's Txacoli Txomin Etxaniz, a white wine that's traditionally poured from as high as the bartender can arch his arm. The bartender/waiter at Carrera is tall, and boy did that wine look pretty as it toppled into others' glasses.
***
I have started writing for a new women's online magazine called Form and Style (formandstyle.com). For the time being, my first story, on women and cooking, is subscription only. If you happen to read it, yes, the description of the fridge's contents was an apt description of mine until the boy and I moved in: condiments, low-fat milk, olives for martinis, a Brita pitcher and some leftovers.
***
If you live in or near Charleston, go see 36 Views at Pure Theatre. My BFF Dana directed it and my Matt is in it.
***
Crikey. Rest in Peace, Crocodile Hunter.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Around Town
I'm in love with Kerry Burke, the pavement pounding heart of Bravo's "Tabloid Wars." At first glance, he's not quite my type, but his pure, effervescent love of the story, his ethics, honesty, and thoughtfulness wake up the little girl in me who dreamed of either being a nose-to-the- ground reporter or an astronaut. Burke says things like, someone's gotta love the perp, even if he doesn't love himself. I don't tend to read the New York Daily News or the Post, just the headlines in the news bins while I careen through the streets, or a few words over a stranger's shoulder on the subway, but I certainly have a much greater appreciation of them now.Zippity-doo-daa, Caracas, the Venezuelan arepa spot, recently expanded two doors down from its original location, which is now counter service only. The Times gives it a great review.
Have you tried the cardamom coffee at Hampton Chutney Co.? Do.
It was a mystery, it was a Birdbath, and then it was City Bakery's East Village extension. Build a Green Bakery sells CB's famous cookies, coffee, Arnold Palmers and Alice Palmers (anyone know what the latter is?). The store is located on the site of an old family bakery and was redesigned with an "emphasis on environmental good using sustainable, renewable, biodegradable, recycled, recyable, vintage and found materials." The floor is cork, the walls are made of wheat, the wallpaper is recycled polyester, you get the picture. It is clean and stark, with no chairs or stools. When I peek in, I think, is that all there is? Something's missing, maybe the murmur of people. The cookies, thank god, are freshly made.
Why doesn't NYC have recycling bins on every corner? It's recoculous.
I tried to go to "Montezuma's Revenge," an exhibit at the Nicole Klagsbrun Gallery, where artists comment on recreation, artificial paradise, hedonism, and the pursuit of fun, but I forgot that most of the galleries close on August weekends and could only gaze through the glass and furrow my brow at the merriment that surely awaited inside.
Someone's gotta love Montezuma even if his own people didn't love him.
Photo: Me around age five in front of my family's Apple IIe
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Beantown
Does the old adage go, distance makes the heart grow fonder, or is it, distance makes the stomach grow bigger?
I think some of both happened for Jon and me during the two years he was in grad school at MIT.
Cambridge reminds me of a New England colored Brooklyn, with its beautiful old homes and low-key hip-ish family neighborhood feel (depending on which part you're in, as it's much bigger than I originally imagined, and without a car we only explored bits and pieces). Those bits and pieces are somewhat walkable, and very livable. Amongst the New England charm, images from various John Irving books pop into my head, as do thoughts of pilgrims with funny hats, socks and shoes (the mind wonders, the mind wanders).
To celebrate our five-year anniversary this past February, and later Jon's graduation, we feasted at Oleana restaurant, a James Beard Award winning Turkish extravaganza in Cambridge with prices that are low compared to NYC. According to its Web site, the cuisine "centers on the Arabic influenced foods of the Mediterranean with a strong lean towards Turkish." What this means is that every bite is a gift and the depth of flavor and smartly sprinkled spice in each dish is remarkable. For me, a restaurant as superb and special as Oleana defines why I love to eat and why I love to spend time eating. It also sets the bar high for restaurants that dare charge more than $25 an entree or sell themselves on a celebrity name or pomp and circumstance.
Oleana is a soft, warm restaurant that doesn't get too loud, even when it's full. In the winter there was a cozy fire going, and this past June, the back garden was in vibrant bloom. You can't go wrong with the menu. I recommend sharing everything so you can taste more. Jon's absolute favorite dish is an appetizer called Sultan’s Delight. It's a piece of tamarind-glazed beef with smoky eggplant purée and pinenuts. You can call it glorified brisket if you must, but lemme tell ya, my Grandma Flo is a great cook and she never made it like this! The beef is as tender and soft as the palm of my hand (trust me, it's soft), and the eggplant mellows the tamarind's tartness.
Other favorite starters, called Pret a Manger on the menu, are the Warm Buttered Hummus with Basturma (a dried, spiced beef that was new to me) & Tomato, the Whipped Feta with Sweet & Hot Peppers, and the Ricotta & Bread Dumplings with Red Wine, Porcini and Lettuce.
For mains, the Halibut Wrapped in Fig Leaf with Fig Butter, Orzo & Egg-Lemon Verbena Sauce was prepared so beautifully, and the combination of flavors melted in my mouth. The verbena sauce was good enough to drink. On my palate, savory dishes that count figs as an ingredient gain a higher sophistication.
We also like the Lamb Steak with Turkish Spices & Fava Bean Moussaka and the Flattened Lemon Chicken with Za’atar & Turkish Cheese Pancake.
I've only had Baked Alaska four times in my life. Being a lifelong foodie, I happen to remember that the first time was in kindergarten. Sadly, I didn't have it again until six years ago on a riverboat cruise of the Pacific Northwest rivers with my Dad. Neither can compare to the Baked Alaska with Coconut Ice Cream and Passion Fruit Caramel at Oleana. The passion fruit caramel sauce is one of those earthy flavors, like truffles and dirty martinis, that I live and lust for, and the creamy coconut instead of a more traditional ice cream flavor sends this dessert into the creative stratosphere. Jon's Dad and I had a spoon war over the Frozen Chocolate Mint Soufflé & Chocolate Tartlet with Mint Salad, and another highlight of the dessert menu is the Sicilian Almond Cremolata with Warm Chocolate Panino (the warm chocolate panino alone would be dessert). Sadly, the Olive Oil Ice Cream with Poached Apricot Galette did not even lay a finger on Otto's.
Parish Cafe in Boston has one of the most original dining concepts I've tasted. Every item on the menu is created by a well known Boston chef. So for example, while I could be eating the L'Espalier sandwich (fresh Maine crabmeat salad with homemade spicy remoulade served on peppercorn brioche with sliced avocado and mango), which was dreamed up by Frank
McClelland, the chef and owner of L’Espalier in Boston, my dining companion could be chowing down on The Icarus (a spice rubbed, marinated, sliced pork sandwich served on a sesame roll with a dried cherry-mustard) created by Chris Douglass, chef and owner of Icarus, Boston. Oh and at night, don't forget your ID like I did on Jon's and my four-year anniversary. No ID, no sandwich.
Oddly enough for such a cold, windy, New England clime, Boston has ice cream shops up the wazoo. My favorites are Toscanini's (Cinnamon, Grapenut, and Belgian Chocolate stand out) and Christina's (along with the basics, they have bizarro flavors like Avocado, Sweet Corn, and White Asparagus), in Cambridge. There's also local chains like J.P. Licks and Herrell's, and Emack & Bolio's, which originated in Boston and is now national.
Sadly, Jon spent most of his two years eating multiple meals a day at the MIT student center, but when he could escape from school-jail, he raved about the prix-fixe Saturday brunch at Henrietta's Table at the Charles Hotel on the Harvard side of Mass. Ave.
Even though everyone else and their mother recommends it, the one meal we had at Legal Seafood should have been illegal, and we never went back.
Also, I never actually drank Pete's coffee in Boston, but I meant to as I like it and it's from there. And, I love the pastries and coffee at Carberry's Bakery in Cambridge.
Before Jon left for school, we made a
list of things to do (Duck Tour, Swan Boats, kayak the Charles), places to go (Walden Pond, Newport, R.I., North Adams, Mass.) and restaurants to try (East Coast Grill is another favorite), and slowly we crossed some off the list. During my last visit there, to attend his graduation, we realized it was time to make a new list, for when go back and visit -- together.
Photos 1-2: Harvard Bridge from the Boston side. How many Smoots did you walk today?
Photo 2-3: On Walden Pond
I think some of both happened for Jon and me during the two years he was in grad school at MIT.
Cambridge reminds me of a New England colored Brooklyn, with its beautiful old homes and low-key hip-ish family neighborhood feel (depending on which part you're in, as it's much bigger than I originally imagined, and without a car we only explored bits and pieces). Those bits and pieces are somewhat walkable, and very livable. Amongst the New England charm, images from various John Irving books pop into my head, as do thoughts of pilgrims with funny hats, socks and shoes (the mind wonders, the mind wanders).
To celebrate our five-year anniversary this past February, and later Jon's graduation, we feasted at Oleana restaurant, a James Beard Award winning Turkish extravaganza in Cambridge with prices that are low compared to NYC. According to its Web site, the cuisine "centers on the Arabic influenced foods of the Mediterranean with a strong lean towards Turkish." What this means is that every bite is a gift and the depth of flavor and smartly sprinkled spice in each dish is remarkable. For me, a restaurant as superb and special as Oleana defines why I love to eat and why I love to spend time eating. It also sets the bar high for restaurants that dare charge more than $25 an entree or sell themselves on a celebrity name or pomp and circumstance.
Oleana is a soft, warm restaurant that doesn't get too loud, even when it's full. In the winter there was a cozy fire going, and this past June, the back garden was in vibrant bloom. You can't go wrong with the menu. I recommend sharing everything so you can taste more. Jon's absolute favorite dish is an appetizer called Sultan’s Delight. It's a piece of tamarind-glazed beef with smoky eggplant purée and pinenuts. You can call it glorified brisket if you must, but lemme tell ya, my Grandma Flo is a great cook and she never made it like this! The beef is as tender and soft as the palm of my hand (trust me, it's soft), and the eggplant mellows the tamarind's tartness.
Other favorite starters, called Pret a Manger on the menu, are the Warm Buttered Hummus with Basturma (a dried, spiced beef that was new to me) & Tomato, the Whipped Feta with Sweet & Hot Peppers, and the Ricotta & Bread Dumplings with Red Wine, Porcini and Lettuce.
For mains, the Halibut Wrapped in Fig Leaf with Fig Butter, Orzo & Egg-Lemon Verbena Sauce was prepared so beautifully, and the combination of flavors melted in my mouth. The verbena sauce was good enough to drink. On my palate, savory dishes that count figs as an ingredient gain a higher sophistication.
We also like the Lamb Steak with Turkish Spices & Fava Bean Moussaka and the Flattened Lemon Chicken with Za’atar & Turkish Cheese Pancake.
I've only had Baked Alaska four times in my life. Being a lifelong foodie, I happen to remember that the first time was in kindergarten. Sadly, I didn't have it again until six years ago on a riverboat cruise of the Pacific Northwest rivers with my Dad. Neither can compare to the Baked Alaska with Coconut Ice Cream and Passion Fruit Caramel at Oleana. The passion fruit caramel sauce is one of those earthy flavors, like truffles and dirty martinis, that I live and lust for, and the creamy coconut instead of a more traditional ice cream flavor sends this dessert into the creative stratosphere. Jon's Dad and I had a spoon war over the Frozen Chocolate Mint Soufflé & Chocolate Tartlet with Mint Salad, and another highlight of the dessert menu is the Sicilian Almond Cremolata with Warm Chocolate Panino (the warm chocolate panino alone would be dessert). Sadly, the Olive Oil Ice Cream with Poached Apricot Galette did not even lay a finger on Otto's.
Parish Cafe in Boston has one of the most original dining concepts I've tasted. Every item on the menu is created by a well known Boston chef. So for example, while I could be eating the L'Espalier sandwich (fresh Maine crabmeat salad with homemade spicy remoulade served on peppercorn brioche with sliced avocado and mango), which was dreamed up by Frank
McClelland, the chef and owner of L’Espalier in Boston, my dining companion could be chowing down on The Icarus (a spice rubbed, marinated, sliced pork sandwich served on a sesame roll with a dried cherry-mustard) created by Chris Douglass, chef and owner of Icarus, Boston. Oh and at night, don't forget your ID like I did on Jon's and my four-year anniversary. No ID, no sandwich.Oddly enough for such a cold, windy, New England clime, Boston has ice cream shops up the wazoo. My favorites are Toscanini's (Cinnamon, Grapenut, and Belgian Chocolate stand out) and Christina's (along with the basics, they have bizarro flavors like Avocado, Sweet Corn, and White Asparagus), in Cambridge. There's also local chains like J.P. Licks and Herrell's, and Emack & Bolio's, which originated in Boston and is now national.
Sadly, Jon spent most of his two years eating multiple meals a day at the MIT student center, but when he could escape from school-jail, he raved about the prix-fixe Saturday brunch at Henrietta's Table at the Charles Hotel on the Harvard side of Mass. Ave.
Even though everyone else and their mother recommends it, the one meal we had at Legal Seafood should have been illegal, and we never went back.
Also, I never actually drank Pete's coffee in Boston, but I meant to as I like it and it's from there. And, I love the pastries and coffee at Carberry's Bakery in Cambridge.
Before Jon left for school, we made a
list of things to do (Duck Tour, Swan Boats, kayak the Charles), places to go (Walden Pond, Newport, R.I., North Adams, Mass.) and restaurants to try (East Coast Grill is another favorite), and slowly we crossed some off the list. During my last visit there, to attend his graduation, we realized it was time to make a new list, for when go back and visit -- together.Photos 1-2: Harvard Bridge from the Boston side. How many Smoots did you walk today?
Photo 2-3: On Walden Pond
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