Like many partly determined people in the world using the new year as the motivator for a fresh start, I decided that as soon as I finished gorging over the holidays, the early days of 2012 would be different.  I bought myself an Ellie Krieger cookbook and everything!  Unfortunately, I’ve had several meals since that have been a giant middle finger to this notion.

I’ve always had a tough time shaking the idea that eating healthfully is super unsexy.  Like, it can only consist of leveling measuring cups of Special K, gnawing on snacks of nasty dried fruit, and determining portion units in relation to the size of a deck of cards.  But, if I can get away with meat and potatoes and call it “healthy eating”, then…cool. I’m in.

Looking at Ellie’s mashed potatoes, I wondered:  ”Wait!  Where’s the whole milk and sour cream?  Can you even mash potatoes withOUT those things?!”  But I tried to stay as true to the recipe as possible and limit the riffing.

However, I couldn’t overlook one direction on the page that seemed to pulse with wrongness: steamed garlic for the mashed potatoes.  Now, I’ve never had steamed garlic.  And it may be fantastic.  But I’ll gladly trade those calorie savings for a fat drizzle of olive oil over a head of roasting garlic.  Not only is it fun to prepare, and damned photogenic, but it fills the house with olfactory gloriousness.

For the chimichurri:

• 1/3 cup Italian parsley leaves
• 1/3 cup cilantro leaves
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 large clove of garlic
• pinch of red pepper flakes
• salt
• pepper

For the potatoes:

• 1 1/4 pound of Yukon gold potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
• 1/4 cup low-sodium chicken stock, heated
• 1 medium head of garlic
• olive oil
• salt
• pepper

How It Was Done:

A QUICK NOTE:  Timing is everything in preparing a meal.  You’ll notice I jump around a bit as I describe the method.  This is my attempt to relate how the tasks overlap with a goal of everything being ready to serve at the same time.  I swear that it’s not just a monumental lack of focus!  Okay, let’s get on with it…

The garlic, pre- and post-roast.

Heat the oven to 400 degrees.

Puree the chimichurri ingredients in a small food processor until it’s sauce-like.  Transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Now let’s get the garlic rolling:  remove the outermost layers of garlic paper and cut about 1/2-inch off the top (non-root) of the bulbs. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.  Wrap the garlic in foil and roast in the oven for about 30 minutes.  Set aside until show time.

With the garlic in the oven, put the potato chunks in a steamer basket suspended over a large stockpot filled with a few inches of boiling water.  Cover and steam for about 15 minutes.

Once you drop the lid on the potatoes, spray a grill pan with Pam and place it over high heat.  Give it a few minutes and then place your hand a couple of inches above the pan:  if you can only keep it there for a few seconds, it’s ready for meat.

Season a 1-pound rib steak with salt and pepper and cook for about 3 or four minutes per side for medium done-ness.  If you wanna look like a pro, rotate the steak 45-degrees after a couple of minutes for diamond-patterned grill marks.  It’s a crowd pleaser.

Flip and do the same.  And please, use tongs when dealing with meat on a grill.  You know all that juice that runs out if you pierce it with a fork?  Yeah, that’s flavor that could have been on your tongue.

Move the steak to a plate and cover it loosely with foil to let the juices settle before slicing.

At this point, your potatoes should be done.  Discard the water, dump the potatoes into the stockpot, add the chicken broth and smash.  Squeeze the cloves from the roasted garlic bulb into the potatoes, add some salt and pepper, and finish mashing.

Slice the steak in thin strips, across the grain, and serve with the chimichurri sauce and potatoes.

Simple.  Delicious.  Healthy.  I feel so good about myself!  Though as I type this, I’m washing down a chocolate chip cookie with a Sam Adams…so, I guess it all evens out.

I enjoy finding ways to get fresh chorizo into my diet.  I love the spice, the texture, and the flavor that creeps, seeps and blesses whatever is lucky enough to be cooking in the same pan. More than a superstar, it’s also a selfless partner.  And so I thought chorizo would make a great ensemble player in a risotto, spreading flavor love to the onions and rice and lending some edge to the creaminess of the dish.

Risotto is always a big win.  It’s actually pretty easy to prepare, but people are always super-impressed when it’s served.  Sure, if you want to kick up the degree of difficulty, try mixing it like this guy.  I would love to hone that method (let me know if I can use your kitchen for practice, ‘cuz I’m not gonna ruin my own in the process).  Risotto is equally well-suited for a table calling for something sophisticated as it is for a dressed-down stick-to-your-ribs menu.  It’s substantial, but doesn’t leave you feeling like you’re toting around a post-meal bowling ball.  In short: a great dish when the temps start to head south.

The rice is paired here with a roasted tomato lifted from an episode of Brunch at Bobby’s.  These sweet plum tomatoes practically dissolve on your tongue.

What’s In It:

• 2 plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise
• 2 tablespoons of bread crumbs
• 2 tablespoons of grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 tablespoon of butter
• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
• 1 cup of Arborio rice
• 1 medium onion (about fist-sized), small dice
• 1 link of fresh chorizo, thinly sliced (about 3/4 cup)
• 3/4 cup of cooked chicken breast, cubed
• 1 cup of white wine
• 5 cups of chicken stock, hot
• 1/2 cup of grated Parmesan cheese

How It Was Done:
Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Grease the bottom of a baking dish with butter and place the tomato halves skin side down.  Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, cracked pepper, bread crumbs, a dash of paprika and 2 tablespoons of the parmesan cheese.  Roast in the oven for 25 minutes.

Meanwhile…

Sweet, juicy roasted tomatoes, y'all

Get a tablespoon each of butter and olive oil good and hot in a dutch oven over medium heat and cook the chorizo slices until browned on both sides: about 3 minutes per.  Add the onion and cook for about 5 minutes or until soft.  Dump the rice and mix it well, making sure to coat it in the pan juices.  Toast the rice for about 5 minutes, stirring a couple of times.

De-glaze with the wine, scraping the bottom of the pan to incorporate those tasty brown bits and cook until the liquid is reduced by half.  Mix in the cubed chicken.

Stir in 1 cup of the hot chicken stock and cook until it’s just about completely absorbed, stirring occasionally.  You want the stock hot so that it doesn’t bring down the temp of the rice mixture every time you add it in.  Once underway, you want to maintain a consistent level of heat.

Repeat this process until the rice is al dente.  Remove the dutch oven from the heat and stir in a tablespoon of butter followed by the rest of the Parmesan.

Serve risotto on a plate with two halves of tomato, drizzled with olive oil and a pinch of salt.

Accept praise and shrug it off like it ain’t no thang.

Quick note for any leftovers on Day 2:  pack golf-ball sized scoops of risotto, dredge in egg and panko crumbs and deep fry until golden brown.  Sprinkle with kosher salt and grated parmesan as soon as they come out of the oil.  Seriously.  Do it.  You’re welcome.

A recent visit from my parents brought with it a 5-pound bag of  salt potatoes.  This is a ubiquitous Central New York taste of summer:  new potatoes boiled in water so salty that the steam crystallizes on anything it touches, and drenched in butter.  And yes, it’s as delicious as it sounds.

A bag of Hinerwadel’s Famous Original Salt Potatoes comes with it’s own salt packet, which looked to be about a cup-and-a-half.  I felt a little like Tony Montana bouncing the flat sachet of white granules in my hand.  Street value?  About thirteen cents.  You cock-a-roach!

I boiled the entire bag a couple of nights ago, and now have a shitload¹ of salty, tender new potatoes  at the ready.  Dinner for breakfast, anyone?

This dish is a riff on the “cheesy hash brown” dish from Bobby Flay’s “Brunch @ Bobby’s”.  With the potatoes already boiled, this came together in no time (using one pan, no less).

And it goes a little somethin’ like this…(hit it!)

What’s In It:

• 1 Tablespoon of butter
• 1 small onion, small to medium dice
• about 7 or 8 new potatoes, boiled to fork tender and cooled (a couple of Yukon Golds would work here as well)
• 4 strips of bacon (if you want more, go for it!)
• 2 eggs
• ¾ Cup of grated cheddar cheese

How I Did It:
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Melt the butter in a non-stick skillet over medium-low heat and add the onions, cooking until soft.  You don’t really want to fry these guys, so keep it slow and low.  Transfer to a bowl

Return the skillet to the flame, raise the temp to medium-high and fry the bacon until just crispy.  Please, pleeease don’t over-cook bacon.  This is a general statement.  (Please?  For me?)  Move to a  paper towel-covered plate to cool, and then chop into ½” pieces.

Kill the heat and get rid of some of the bacon drippings in the skillet, but keep enough to cover the bottom of the pan.

In a large mixing bowl, smash the potatoes with a fork:  you’re going for chunks here, not a smooth mash.  If you prefer, you can dice the potatoes and then add them to the bowl.  Mix in the cooked onion and bacon pieces.

With the heat back to medium-high, pack the potato mixture into the skillet and spread out evenly.  Fry side A in the bacon drippings for about 5 – 7 minutes:  you want the potatoes to get a nice crisp working.

Spice side B.  Since the potatoes were already crazy salty, I just added some fresh black pepper and a sprinkle of paprika.  But do what you feel here.

This thing is not a pancake, so when it comes time to turn it over, you’ll need to dig in with a spatula and flip sections at a time.  Just use your spoon to re-pack the potatoes one they’re turned over.  Add your spice to side A.

After about 5 minutes, use the fork or spoon to make a shallow well on facing sides of the potatoes.  Crack one egg into each well, and sprinkle the rest of the open real estate with the grated cheese.

Pop into the oven for about 8 minutes or so:  just so the white of the egg sets but the yolk is still runny.

And there you have it!  Split this between two dishes — careful not to break the yolk —  and serve immediately.  I added a half-grind of fresh black pepper and a couple of dashes of Frank’s Red Hot to make it juuuuust right.

Yes, it’s butter and salt and bacon and potatoes pan fried in bacon juice.  And in’it great?!

Where: 601 Queen Anne Ave. N., Seattle, WA 98109
Price: $10

Where: Screen Door, 2337 E Burnside St., Portland, OR 97214
Price: $10.95

I am not a big breakfast guy.  I like to sleep in as late as I can, and I wake up slowly and with little grace.  During the week, this usually results in rushed mornings to get out the door for work, and the “most important meal of the day” goes wanting.  But even when time permits, breakfast doesn’t occur to me.  I am just not hungry that early in the morning.  And I really like to eat.

Brunch, however….well, yeeeah.  I like brunch.

And while planning a scouting trip to Portland and Seattle one night — the Cooking Channel providing a background soundtrack — images from Unique Eats flickered across the screen, stopping Shan and I in our itinerary-making tracks: six-inch stacks of fried chicken breast piled atop sweet-potato waffles, caramelized bananas foster french toast and fried chicken sandwiched within biscuits and gravy.  Yowza!

Backing up the DVR to catch the beginning of the segment revealed fantastic news: the restaurant was in Portland!  The plan for our Portland Sunday plan.

Service, in motion. The Screen Door kitchen slangin' vittles.

Almost every review I read of Screen Door mentioned an hour-plus wait on the weekends, so Shan and I planned an early arrival.  Thirty-minutes before opening at 9am, a line of two-dozen hungry patrons had already queued at the entrance.  This is clearly an operation that is used to accelerating from zero-to-sixty as soon as the front door is thrown open.  Hostesses filled the dining space swiftly.  We were in line early enough to be among the first to be seated.  Customers left standing are treated to complimentary coffee, or one of a handful of seats at the bar for a breakfast cocktail.

An open kitchen looks upon the dining room. Servers hustle in and out while carrying plated skyscrapers of heapin’ helpin’s in each hand and balancing more along their forearms. I grinned like an idiot as our waitress laid the platter before me.  A spicy fried chicken breast roughly the size of my hand lay smothered in sausage gravy within a huge buttermilk biscuit speared with a steak knife.  This is a big plate. Visions of John Candy’s Old ’96er scene from The Great Outdoors popped to mind as I stared at my meal.  Wait…am I sweating???

Shaking off the images of fictional gluttony past, I concentrated on the gluttonous immediate future.  I closed my eyes and filled my nostrils with the salty aroma of the gravy.  The buttermilk battered chicken crackled when pierced with fork and knife, and gave way to perfectly tender breast meet.  Each bite was a glorious combination of pillowy biscuit, warm velvet sausage gravy and crunchy spiced chicken breast.

The potatoes were an afterthought when I chose them over grits as a companion, but were a pitch perfect take on home fries.  I didn’t venture to the starch side of my plate until I was about a third of the way through my biscuit sandwich, but realized that I was approaching now-or-never territory to try them out.  The crispy exterior is well-spiced with a peppery zing that is a great complement to the tender center.

Anyone that can actually finish the whole of what he or she is served here would be worthy of their name engraved on a plaque affixed to the corner of the dining room.  When the carnage was over, half of my potatoes lay untouched.  BUT, while scraps of biscuit remained behind, I made a point to finish the chicken.  What’s worse than wasted fried chicken?  And even after polishing off a potent portion, I didn’t feel make-it-stop full afterward.

Sure, I was walking a little more slowly and perhaps enjoying more frequent deep sighs than normal as we left, but I was also on vacation.  That’s what you do: eat well, slow down and enjoy the good life. Even if that means eating at 9am.

Hoo boy! It’s been a while since I’ve stepped to the mic. Things have been a little hairy on this end lately between work (freelance on top of 9-to-5), parenting and a trip to the Pacific Northwest (posts of our scouting trip/food tour to come).

But I’m back in the house, and I bring you the O.G. half-moon cookie recipe from Hemstrought’s Bakery. To wit:

“Half-Moons originated in Utica, NY at the famous Hemstrought’s Bakery in the early part of the 20th century.” (The ever-dependable Wikipedia)

This was most likely the cookie served at Dan-Dee Donuts when I was a kid, so no exploration could be complete without a shot at making these at home.

Saveur magazine published the recipe in 2000.

I started the process at 8pm on a Saturday night.  Do yourself a favor: begin much, much earlier in the day.  Yes, Saveur classifies the recipe as “easy”, and while definitely not super-complicated, making a batch of these cookies is involved.

And messy.  But then again, I am a novice volume-baker.  And since the 30-yield recipe posted by Saveur was already an adaptation of a version that produces 2,400 cookies, I didn’t want to re-adapt it for a still smaller batch.  It was too late at night to do the math.  Besides, like sea turtle hatchlings scurrying to water, I knew that not every cookie was going to make it intact from Silpat to cooling rack, so having extras couldn’t be a bad thing.

The standard black and whites I see around the City have a vanilla cookie base.  That’s a shame.  Chocolate is the foundation of a Central New York half-moon cookie.  After sifting and mixing, beating and scooping, the batter mousse-like in density and appearance.  Sure, the batter doesn’t look so appetizing coming out of the ice cream scooper, but 12 minutes in the oven creates magic.

My stand mixer received a workout. Its motor whirred and body rocked from side to side while first mixing the batter and then the buttercream frosting.  Plumes of confectioners’ sugar billowed from the bowl while mixing the latter, dusting the countertop.  The confectioners’ sugar was the ingredient that stood out most to me when making my shopping list, mainly because the fudge and buttercream icings combined to call for over eleven cups of it.  But…MMMAN, was the buttercream good!

Once the cookies were baked, and the buttercream mixed, I fired up the (makeshift) double-boiler for the fudge icing.  I’ve done chocolate-covered fruit before, so the technique wasn’t entirely new to me, but there was a moment when I freaked, thinking my melted chocolate had seized beyond salvation.  A few tablespoons of water brought us back from DefCon 1.

Okay, so we’re now past 11pm, and I haven’t even begun icing (let alone cleaning up).  I started frosting the two-dozen cookies fudge side first.  So, to keep the fudge spreadable, the mixture remains on the double boiler.  I held each cookie aloft in my left hand while spreading the fudge over half of the cookie with a frosting spatula in my right.  And yes, I dripped molten lava fudge on the fingers of my left hand.  Repeatedly.

By the time I was ready for a second pass, armed this time with buttercream, the fudge had cooled and set to form a bit of a shell on the cookies.  The vanilla was much less dangerous, and honestly made me a little gitty to apply.  It was happening!  My counters overflowed with THE cookie I hadn’t eaten in twenty-five years.

So, I ate half-moons for a week and a half.  And it was a delight!  Almost like a ragù, a couple of days of settling actually seemed to enhance the flavor and composition of the cookies.  The time certainly made them more stable for one-handed eating.

But yeah, it was a LOT.  I thought about bringing them to work the following Monday, and then I thought: “Nah.”  Maybe next time.

I’m a little half-mooned out, and it’ll be a little while before I get back on that horse.  But for a glorious ten-day stretch, pounding half-moons and pint glasses of cold milk transported me to an earlier age.  All that was missing was the USA Cartoon Express.

[Visit Saveur.com for the Hemstrought's Bakery half-moon cookie recipe.]

Where: 32-20 Broadway, Astoria, NY
Price: $2.75

I’d been hopeful for a while that the Omonia Cafe Patisserie would add black and whites to its impressive array of desserts.  But maybe it was too simple to join the shelves of complicated strawberry-glazed cakes and chocolate-dipped cookies.

But as autumn turned to winter, a sign appeared in the window of the defunct Greek deli next door that a new Omonia enterprise was on its way with an “extended” line of products.  Hmm…could the black and white be among them?

I walk by the location on my way to the train everyday, and was easily able to keep an eye on the progress of renovations.  Finally, a grand opening date was posted for the literally if not cleverly named Omonia Next Door. Months of wondering would soon be answered.

I peeked in two days after the opening.  The display cases glow in the dimly lit space and even before walking through the front door, I spotted the telltale two-tone coloring.  I saw as I approached that instead of perfect discs, every cookie on the tray was a  misshapen splatter of batter.  Now, I don’t subscribe to the notion that food needs to be pretty to be delicious, but flanked by trays neatly packed with treats perfectly produced with assembly line precision, the rough appearance of the black and whites seemed out-of-place.  The top of the cookie I purchased was shaped roughly like the Millennium Falcon.  And that was probably the most positive part of the experience.

My black and white had a goiter.

The bottom bulged to one side — as if the baking tray was jolted before the batter had set — which resulted in uneven baking and thin edges that were a little well-done.  The icing seemed hastily applied and definitely spread too thinly in spots, exposing the crown of the cookie through translucent vanilla.

But looks aren’t everything, so I was still hopeful that months of anticipation wouldn’t fall flat.  Unfortunately, the flavor and texture of the cookie were even more disappointing than its hunchback appearance.  And so, its failure was complete.  (Let it be known that I have nothing personally against hunchbacks.  Look at Quasimodo or Big Man on Campus…solid fellas.)

The base was dense, dry and brittle, much more “cookie” than “cakey”.  The vanilla icing — what there was of it — provided a satisfying sweetness, but the chocolate was almost flavor-neutral and had more presence as texture than flavor.  The CHOCOLATE!  (I die inside a little bit to think about it.)  Each bite was too much cookie, not enough icing.

Siiiiiigh.  Well, you need the cold to appreciate the warmth, clouds to appreciate the sun, and a clunker like this to appreciate that “simple” does not always mean “easy” where food is concerned.

Where: Southeast corner of Madison Square Park, at 23rd Street
Price: $8.50

Since the line at this trendy Flatiron kiosk can get prohibitively long during the summer, I took advantage of a cool but manageable off-peak-season day to visit the Shake Shack near my office.

The brain-child of NYC restaurateur Danny Meyer, Shake Shack serves up high-end burgers, dogs, shakes, ice cream and drinks to a mix of lunch-hour office workers, tourists, and generally beautiful and stylish New York City park-goers that seem to be in the business of…well, being generally beautiful and stylish.

Since I am there so infrequently, I decided to order a mashup meal: the Shack Stack®.  This sandwich combines their standard ShackBurger®* with the muenster and cheddar-stuffed fried portobello from the ‘Shroom Burger.  The latter seems to assume that being a vegetarian doesn’t necessarily mean that you give a crap about your cholesterol level.

A cross section of the Shack Stack’s oozing ‘shroom

This is the type of sandwich that you hold in your hand and wonder how you can possibly unhinge your jaw to actually take a bite.  The mushroom is conspicuous: about an inch-and-a-half tall, and two-thirds the circumference of the burger and bun.  Your first bite pierces its crispy shell, unleashing the ooze of cheese within and collapsing the sandwich just enough to make additional bites much easier.  And ooze it does.

The portobello is clearly the star of the show.  The burger — ground fresh daily, cooked to medium and topped with American cheese — is simple, tender and spice-neutral.  You don’t really need to mess with the flavor of quality beef. The slices of plum tomato and leaves of lettuce are almost superfluous, and the ShackSauce# is nearly imperceptible.  But that might just be relative to the fact that each bite is dominated in taste and texture by the flesh of the mushroom, its crispy coating and velvet interior.

I was left satisfied and pleasantly surprised by how “light” the meal felt.  Don’t get me wrong: this is not a side salad by any means, but I didn’t need a ShackNap^ or looser ShackPants^ when lunch was done.

Next time, I’ll dine in the park with a beer in hand and soaking in the sights and sounds of beautiful and stylish New York.

* There are lots of registered marks dotting the menu and liberal use of the word “Shack” as a prefix with camel-capitalization to name the products.

# See what I mean?

^ Trademark pending

This is one of my wife’s favorite dishes and when it appeared in an episode of Brunch at Bobby’s, her silent “Ohhh, SNAP!” face and hopeful sideways glance told me this would be a big hit as brunch this weekend.

Like a lot of things you do for yourself when toddlers are running around, I took an easier route.  Yeah, homemade biscuits sound delicious, but cutting flour with butter, kneading and cutting biscuit dough sure does sound more time-consuming than opening a tube of Pillsbury’s Grands.  So I opted for Door #2.

The biscuit is a fantastic pillow for the crisp saltiness of the sausage and a ready-made sponge for the pools of sausage gravy on your plate. This comfort dish comes together quickly and is a great meal for people that like to sigh and chew slowly after every bite. Or, at least that’s where our minds were while the sounds of our boys banging their tin toy pots against the coffee table bounced around the apartment. Sometimes, it’s pretty incredible what you’re eventually able to tune out.

On to brunch bliss…

What’s in it:

• 2 or 3 links of fresh sweet Italian sausage, casings removed
• 2 tbsp. butter
• 2 tbsp. flour
• 2 cups of whole milk, heated
• Your ready-made biscuit of choice;  If you’d like to make the biscuits from scratch, the original recipe is here.
• Chopped chives for garnish

How I did it:
Bake the biscuits as instructed and set them aside to cool.

Form the sausage into thin patties and cook in a little bit of oil on a griddle pan over high heat until brown and crispy (3 or 4 minutes per side).

While Side A of the sausage is cooking, get a medium sauce pan good and hot over high and melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and mix for a few minutes, until the combo starts to turn golden. Is your sausage ready for a flip to Side B? Check it. Add the milk and continue to whisk to keep the bechamel smooth. Bring the liquid to a boil and keep stirring as the sauce thickens. Remove the sausage from the pan, set aside on a plate and add the sausage drippings to the beschamel. Add salt and pepper and give it a taste: when the raw flour taste is gone, you’re good to go.

Now bring it home: split a biscuit, place a sausage patty inside and drizzle with the gravy. Place the biscuit top, add more gravy, top with the chives, sit down, and enjoy!

The dishes I prepare largely revolve around meat. As you keep coming back, you’ll see that.  My mind just doesn’t consider delicate greens when dreaming of dishes, and my use of produce is generally unsophisticated.  I’m working toward making veggies less of an “oh, yeah” afterthought.  Well, I WILL BE…I can’t say that I’ve started in earnest.

For now, a typical example for including vegetables as a co-star in a main dish is the caramelized onion and pepper in a cheesesteak.

Baby steps.

What’s in it:

• 1/2-pound thinly sliced (or pounded flat) top sirloin
• 2 tbsp. butter
• 1/2 large Vidalia onion, sliced
• 1/2 green bell pepper, sliced
• 1/2 red pepper, sliced
• salt and pepper (does this really need to be said? Prolly not)

For the gorgonzola sauce:

• 2 tbsp. butter
• 2 tbsp. flour
• 1 1/2 cups whole milk
• about 1/4 cup of crumbled gorgonzola cheese

How I did it:

Sauté the onions and peppers in a large skillet, flipping to coat with butter and over LOW heat for about 20-30 minutes.  Emphasis on the low heat:  torching them on high will not give you the sweet, silky results you’re looking for.  Transfer the peppers and onions to a bowl, add the seasoned beef to the pan, crank the heat, and sauté until almost cooked through.  (I added a couple of dashes of Worcestershire sauce.)  Add the veggies to the pan and mix with the beef.

While the meat is cooking, rock your sauce: melt the butter in a saucepan over high heat and whisk in the flour.  Adding cold milk may give you a lumpy sauce, so heat it up before pouring it into the roux. As the mixture begins to thicken, stir in the crumbled cheese and cook it until the cheese melts and the sauce reaches your desired thickness.  If it’s too thin, cook it down some more.  If it’s too thick, add some more milk.

If you’re inclined to do so, grill or toast your roll.  I spread a foot of split baguette with herb butter and toasted it under the broiler for 5 minutes, which gave each bite a hint of thyme and rosemary, along with a satisfying crunch to complement the tender fillings.  Add the meat mixture to the roll and pour the cheese sauce over the top.

And enjoy it with a side salad of frisée and mint!  Okay, I had cheddar and sour cream chips with mine.

Like I said, baby steps.

With hindsight, maybe it was just a typical diner.  But as a child, Dan-Dee Donuts was a weekend family destination. It wasn’t the type of greasy spoon that left you reeking of fried lard and required a change of clothes upon returning home. Dan-Dee’s was essentially a bakery with a large griddle, serving no-frills fare to its regulars.

There was nothing especially kid-friendly about the layout of the place: a gumball machine near the entrance, and a Popeye arcade game against the back wall were the only items that might draw a child’s attention.

But more than twenty-five years later, I can still picture walking through the front doors and seeing the waitresses in their yellow uniforms and white aprons circulating among the tables, double-fisting pots of coffee to offer refills to old-timers in faded flannel jackets and work boots, the brims of their trucker hats pushed high atop their gray heads.

I hear the squeaks and groans of loose seat tops on chrome stools at the counter, the hiss of sugar pouring from dispensers, and the clinks of spoons stirring ceramic cups followed by the fading reverb of the spoon settling on the countertop.

My father would read the newspaper, turning and folding pages over a buttered roll and black coffee.  I would mimic the action, turning over the weekend funny papers and sipping my hot chocolate.

But of all the eggs, hash, rolls, donuts and loaves the space churned out, my unwavering loyalty was reserved for a single item: the chocolate Half-Moon cookie.

A frosted black and white from Crumbs

I enjoyed every moment, bending and breaking off smaller pieces from the cookie, never biting from the cookie itself.  I would eat two in a sitting with a big glass of cold milk, savoring the final bite as much as the very first.  When I was done, I’d use my index finger to corral any last crumbs on the bakery paper, pressing down to stick them to my finger and enjoy one final taste.

As years passed, sports replaced my Saturday morning routine of cartoons and Half-Moons: practice trumped pastry.  Dan-Dee Donuts eventually shut down, and my obsession faded.  But after moving to New York City I began to see Black and Whites everywhere, and I knew that I had to have them.

While I am thrilled to live where this delight from my childhood is so readily available, I am often disappointed by the pervasive poor quality.  Cheap versions line the shelves of bodegas and delis, sweating inside their individual cellophane wrappers and topped with rigid icing that cracks like a windshield when breaking pieces off. These are an affront!

My mission is clear:  to search the greatest city in the world for a Black and White that can replicate the sweet satisfaction of Dan-Dee’s cookies.  After all, if I can find a gong or a bear costume to purchase on a Tuesday at 11am, why not a quality Half-Moon cookie?

That two-pound bag of frozen shrimp turned out to be a great investment: four dinners-for-two.  Having already prepared a risotto and a lemon-shrimp pasta dish, my thoughts turned fried (full disclosure: fried food is never that far from my mind).  I pictured a sandwich in my head, and the result was pretty much exactly as imagined.  This seldom happens (did you know “seldomly” is not a word?  I did not).

I’ve used this red pepper aioli as dipping sauce, salad dressing and now, condiment, working it into meals whenever I can.

So for a great sangwich, read on…

What’s in it (for 2):

• 14 large shrimp; deveined, shells and tails removed
• flour, for dredging
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup panko bread crumbs
• 1 1/2 cups fat for frying, mas o menos
• 1 large beefsteak tomato, sliced
• 3 leaves Boston lettuce
• 2 Portuguese rolls, split and grilled in butter

For the aioli:

• 1 large red pepper, roasted and sliced
• 3/4 cup mayonaisse
• 1 large clove of garlic, roughly chopped
• juice of half a lemon
• salt and pepper to taste

How I did it:
To prepare the aioli, add the roasted red pepper, mayo, chopped garlic, lemon juice, salt and pepper into a food processor and process until smooth. Dip a finger and adjust lemon, salt and/or pepper ’till you get it how you like it.  Refrigerate this until you’re ready for it.

Wash and pat dry the shrimp, season with salt and pepper.  And then standard dredging sequence: flour, egg, panko, oil.  I had some parmigiano reggiano in the fridge, grated some and added it to the panko, along with some salt, pepper and Italian seasoning.  What do you need to say about parmigiano reggiano?  It makes the world a better place.

With the shrimp sizzling in oil, line your grilled roll with lettuce leaves and tomato slices.

Flip the scrimps after a few minutes, and when golden on both sides, remove to a paper towel-lined plate, hit with salt and let cool.  Place them on the bed of lettuce and tomatoes and drizzle with aioli.

Boo ya! Po’ boy, y’all!

Flaky biscuits, a couple of tablespoons of sweet butter, fried chicken and hot sauce. As a sandwich?  Um…HELLS YEAH!

Shan and I took the boys into the City today, mainly to get the chicken biscuit from the Pies n’ Thighs booth at Madison Square Park.  Today is the last day the booths are open, and since yesterday’s late-afternoon attempt was thwarted by arriving after the lunch crowd had already swept through, 86′ing my target from the menu, it was today or bust.

I was not disappointed.

The preparation really could not have been much simpler: split a biscuit, slather a heap of honey butter on with the back of a spoon, dip a fried chicken cutlet in a bath of hot sauce, and bingo!  A side of angioplasty would have made it the perfect value meal.  As the heat from the chicken and biscuit melted the butter, a wonderful pool, dotted with hot sauce, collected in the bottom of the parchment — all the better for dipping.

The only negative was the hipster cashier who needs a lesson or two in graciously accepting a compliment:  Fine, dick, I WON’T tell you how ridiculously good it was.

But I WILL be making this at home.  Count on it!