Humble Cook NYC

The Subway, M&M's, and Unhealthy Children

2012-04-28T22:23:00.000-04:00

I was riding the subway home from work yesterday. It was rush hour on Friday, which may be the most unagreeable time to be a straphanger in New York City. I could compare it to other moments in history when people were made to ride trains in deplorable conditions. This would be overly dramatic, and to many, rather tasteless, so I will not head down that slippery slope. What I will say is that, without fail, riding a Friday evening rush hour 1 train will undoubtedly make you fall out of love with this city. The good news was that I captured a highly coveted end seat at the Chambers Station, allowing me the solace that comes with never having to deal with someone on one side of you. Everyone longs for the end seat, and I was the envy of an entire row. My self satisfaction was erased a few stations later when an elderly woman with a cane boarded the packed train and I was forced into gentlemanly action. Though the end seat is the subway's version of the Iron Throne, it is also the most precarious, for situations arise outside of our control, forcing one to relinquish control over the Realm. Suddenly I found myself in the unenviable position of standing, with a messenger bag and a grocery sack, for the duration of the ride. I swear I heard the elderly woman snicker, followed by a distinct "sucker" uttered from the cavernous expanse of her dark soul.

As has happened many times before, I found myself standing next to two construction workers who I surmised were from Chiapas, Mexico. There is no rational explanation for why I decided on this story of ancestry, but it is what I envisioned. I am not afraid to admit that I spend an inordinate amount of time creating imaginary back stories for random people I cross paths with. They were short, landing somewhere around five feet tall with the help of the large heels on their work boots. Why is this important? I'll explain. I am rather tall and lanky, a condition that is both a blessing and a curse depending upon the situation. My arms are longer than their legs, which would matter little if not for the fact that I have to reach for a bar to hang on to. Now envision me reaching up for a handle, with two small construction workers situated perfectly underneath my armpit. Now attempt to ride motionless for the next twenty minutes. Awkward does not even begin to explain what this is like. They say nothing, I say nothing. They stare at each other, mere centimeters from me. We accept our imperfect union and precede with our days. I imagine that they are glad that I wear very good deodorant.

I peer over and see the 'two-seater', this scourge of humanity who feels entitled to take up two seats on a crowded subway. Though this species of rider comes in all shapes and sizes, this time he is a young buck, Beats headphones on, daring anyone to challenge his stronghold. I am quite sure this young gentleman has never been punched in the face. People who have been punched in the face tend to have a remarkably different worldview, wherein their negative behavior is seen to carry very real consequence. My mind drifts to the imaginary confrontation I could have with this young man, laying out for him the errors of his ways. Mostly I am just mad at his youthful indiscretion, or is it just his youth? And then I see it--a scene that seems to play itself out everywhere these days. Mother and child together, locked in the familiar interplay of a new American pastime: snacking.

The child, perhaps four years of age, is handed a large bag of M&M's. The mother tears into her own bag of peanut M&M's. They sit in silence and eat. The child doesn't even look excited about the prospect of mainlining sugar. I watch as the woman turns her package around and actually reads the nutritional information on the back of the bag. I'm not sure why she does this. I watch the tiny boy polish off his entire bag. I don't think I've ever been able to finish an entire bag of M&M's in one sitting. This was not a 'fun size' bag or a 'kid's size' bag, but the regular size, which seems to grow bigger and bigger with the passage of time. He does so in a casual, 'I've been here before' sort of way. I believe it is safe to say that this is not his first time at the rodeo. What happened to "you will spoil your dinner"? I swear I remember my mother saying this to me quite often throughout my childhood. For the sake of full disclosure, I will tell you that I had a real sweet tooth as a child. Indeed, I thoroughly enjoyed the insulin spike of a tasty treat. But never, and I mean never, would my mother have given me a whole bag of M&M's to stuff my face with. This boy couldn't have been more than four years old, and I watched him pound 300 calories of sugar in about five minutes. I was so amazed that I even forget about the two construction workers from Chiapas who were peacefully residing under the shadow of my armpit. As soon as the bag of M&M's had been extinguished, the mother handed the child a smartphone, upon which he began to play a game. I am going to take a shot in the dark and say that the featured entertainment was not educational in any way.

My amazement turned to sadness as I began to envision this little boy's future, one in which he perhaps becomes an underpaid model for some anti-diabetes advertising campaign (who lets their child pose for these anyway?). Or perhaps he ends up on some evening news story that shows overweight children either from behind or with their faces removed from the shot. I like those news stories for their presentation of common sense principles. A heavily botoxed anchor stares into the camera proclaiming "A new study shows that if you eat too much food you will become fat!!" or "Scientists show that soda is lacking in the nutritional value that children need for proper development." Thank you for the update, you have provided some clarity on these issues that were really perplexing me. And please do not misunderstand what I am upset about. I don't think candy is inherently bad. I enjoy some candy from time to time. But anyone who thinks a four-year old should eat an entire bag of M&M's is out of their mind. What happened to some fruit? What happened to tap water? And for God's sake, what happened to children playing? This sight on the subway led to another thought that I frequently have, which seems to be the other side of the health coin for America's youth. Do children play anymore?

Was this child headed to burn off all those calories in a nearby park? Doubtful. Yes, I live in a city where outdoor recreational spaces are limited. Want to play tennis? That will be $15,000 a year plus your first born child. That beautiful swatch of grass that is the only green thing in a one mile radius? That is for looking purposes only, how dare you think that you could play on that. But this lack of outdoor activity is not limited to cities. In the last couple of years, I have been in the suburbs of New Jersey, Connecticut, New York, and Colorado. Across the board, I am amazed by how few children I see playing. Where are they? What are they doing? Are they inside watching 3-2-1 Contact, The Electric Company, and Mr. Rogers? Sorry, wrong era, that was me. Are they inside playing video games, while drinking a soda, and munching on some sort of gummy treat that is fortified with minerals and vitamins, tricking people into believing that they aren't really candy? What happened to Little League and orange slices? Gatorade used to only come out for a soccer game. The other day I saw a fat 10 year old leaving the bodega with a giant blue Gatorade, undoubtedly to rehydrate himself after an excruciating hour playing Gears of War. We are getting soft people!!!

Here is what my childhood looked like. When it snowed, we played in the snow. No one complained about it being cold out. We had a blast throwing snowballs, sledding, building forts, and eventually earning money shoveling driveways. When it was hot out, we played Wiffle Ball, rode bikes, shot baskets, and played catch. No one complained about how hot it was. We were excited to play all day, and all night, until the long summer evenings ended and we were forced to come inside. We were 'forced' to come inside. In the fall the boys played football. We played street hockey, we climbed fences, hide and seek, swam, ran around, girls and boys alike. When the ponds froze over we played hockey. When we ate candy, it was small amounts, and then we ran around for six hours straight. I don't know what happened, but things have changed. I think technology is magnificent, but it seems that children are suffering from the glut of products that are nothing more than overblown time consumers. What happened to imagination, exploration, and physical activity. I rarely see children outside anymore. The newspapers claim everyone needs more Vitamin D! Maybe it's because no one goes outside.

These thoughts raced through my head, until I suddenly realized I was at my stop. I bid the Chiapan construction workers farewell with a kind nod, and stepped off the subway into my station. I looked up and saw an advertisement for a new diet pill that would ensure that you would be sexy and slim. I think a cast member of Jersey Shore was a spokesman. The next add was a PSA decrying the evil effects of sugar in soft drinks. The last add I saw was for McDonalds. If you wonder about the allure and grip that fast food has on our nation, let me tell you this. There is a fast food restaurant (that may or may not begin with the letter M) four blocks from my apartment. I recently walked by and saw that the posted grade (required of every New York City eatery, and given by the Dept. of Health) in the window was a "C." A "C" Health Grade is akin to back alley debauchery ala Upton Sinclair era travesties. It is the first time I've seen a "C" Grade in New York. A "C" is as bad as you can get while still staying open. Getting a "C" is like failing middle school, you really have to put your mind to it, and it is still difficult to do. Walking into this restaurant is the equivalent of throwing your arms up in the air and saying "okay, I don't mind additional feces on my food that has already been treated with chemicals because of fecal contamination." There was a line out the door. You heard me correctly, a line out the door. It wasn't like anyone couldn't see the giant orange "C" grade in the window. What is going on? Where did we go wrong? And why did that boy look so sad eating an entire bag of candy? Maybe he can see the future.

No Reservations: Is Anthony Bourdain hosting the best show on TV?

2012-04-13T08:28:00.001-04:00

There are many people out there today who say “I don’t watch television”. It usually has nothing to do with whether they can afford television. Instead, it has become a calling card for coolness to say that you don’t. Many of these same people watch endless streams of videos on their Macbooks or iPhones, but somehow they think that this is different. People are silly. The silliest thing about this is that television has never been better. It has also never been worse, but that is the inevitable price we all pay for the infinite variety of content. The point is that there are some amazing shows on television. Game Of Thrones, Boardwalk Empire, Family Guy, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Charlie Rose, Bizarre Foods, Louie, Frontline, Sons Of Anarchy, Justified, and any others you care to add to the list are all great viewing. Has television ever been better? I don’t think so. In the category of non-fiction, No Reservations has officially placed itself atop the heap, a show that is now in its eighth season, and continues to get better and better. This fact, in and of itself, makes it a remarkable production.

No Reservations is hosted by the enigmatic Anthony Bourdain, the former journeyman chef, who has, against all odds, turned himself into a media powerhouse. Bourdain travels 200 days a year, hosts two television shows, has written several books, contributes to magazines, does public speaking engagements, writes a comic book, is a contributing writer to the HBO show Treme, and is the head of his own publishing imprint with Ecco. That is a lot of cookie jars to have your hands in, but what is more astounding is the fact that each of these avenues is incredibly high quality. Bourdain has certainly been a man to speak his mind, stir up a little controversy, and essentially blaze his own trail. And nothing is more indicative of this than No Reservations, a show that simply has no peer, and accomplishes things that may never have been done on the small screen.

This past week, the eighth season debuted, with an episode exploring Mozambique. If I’m being completely honest, I will have to admit that prior to this week I would have been hard pressed to pick this country out on a map. I knew it was in Africa, but that was the extent of my limited knowledge. In the course of a forty minute episode (one hour minus commercials), Bourdain and his Zero Point Zero production team took viewers on a roller coaster ride through Mozambique that was part history lesson, part human interest piece, part food odyssey, part celebration, and part cinematic gem. It was that good. I was literally choked up at times with the sensitivity at which the struggle of poverty was portrayed, never condescending, with zero shock value that would have cheapened the story. There were also moments of great hope and humane beauty that flew in the face of all the odds that are stacked against an all but forgotten former colonial outpost.

What first drew me to No Reservations was food, and in this episode there was beautiful food. The killing of a goat in a place where the chance to eat meat is so rare, and so celebratory, as to make our own life of privilege seemed rather unjustified. No Reservations is a food and travel show, and this episode was no exception with the Pir Pir chicken, a crawfish the size of a small dog, and the pounding of cassava each beautiful in their own right. Yet, to see No Reservations as merely another food show is to miss 90% of what makes it so incredible in its breadth. It is really a show about people, culture, history, and an appreciation of the common threads that bind us. I just so happens that food is the greatest common thread that binds people, grounds them, and makes them who they are. It is Sustenance, pleasure, community. Food is universal, and if you really follow the food, a deeper story is always unraveled. Mr. Bourdain has often talked about the way that sharing a meal with people creates an opportunity to see them in a different light, or simply to connect on a level that is otherwise missed. The various locales where each episode is shot differ dramatically, but without exception (maybe Iceland), a story is told. Always a true story, and always one that makes the world seem both bigger and smaller at the same time.

Some people may find Mr. Bourdain’s humor offensive, crude, or simply not their thing. I don’t experience any of these issues, and find it incredibly refreshing to see someone on TV who is so unabashedly different from the norm. The truth is, Bourdain is both incredibly funny, and deeply intellectual. In the end, it is his unique personality, with all its flaws and foibles, which make the show so compelling. His writing first brought him to prominence, and his gifted storytelling abilities shine through in his dialog, his voice-overs, and his unpretentious outros. If you have never watched No Reservations, please do yourself a favor and rectify this situation immediately, you will be a better person for it.

What Are Your Favorite Things To Eat?

2012-03-26T09:06:00.002-04:00

I find it somewhat comical that I titled a blog post in the form of a question to readers, knowing full well that I am about to answer it myself. So, what are my favorite things to eat?

-Pizza.
-Asparagus, in season, with a bit of butter.
-A delicious steak, with a nice pan sauce.
-Vanilla Ice Cream.
-Roast Chicken.
-A simple plate of pasta.
-Cured meats.
-A lightly dressed salad of ripe summer vegetables.
-A juicy peach.
-Apple Tart.
-Noodles and Cabbage.
-Really good tacos.
-Slow cooked pork, in all its myriad styles.
-A good burger.
-Chinese Stir Fry (that is pretty broad, but just go with it).
-Fresh bread with butter or olive oil.
-Oysters.
-Dumplings, either potstickers or soup dumplings.
-A perfectly ripe tomato with sea salt, and perhaps a touch of pepper.
-A delicious piece of fish grilled, fried, baked, or poached, it matters not. Simply seasoned.
-Caramelized Onions. Just put them on something, and I will probably like it. They make burgers better, pizza better, and they take tacos to the next level.
-A steaming bowl of delicious ramen.
-Chocolate Chip Cookies.
-An ear of sweet corn.
-A bacon, egg, and cheese. Deli style.

I am sure there are things that have eluded my mental faculties, escaping my memory, but sure to pop up at the most random of times. Think for a second, what is on your list? More importantly, why is it on your list? If this is your last week to eat, what is on the menu?
For me there are two primary things going on with the foods I have listed. The first is that many of them conjure up memories in some form or fashion. It isn't even a case of specifics remembrances of times gone by, but an underlying tone of place and attitude that informs the enjoyment of their consumption. Secondly, these are things that are simple and delicious. Easy to eat, easy to enjoy, and hard to resist. There is a reason why so many of these things are classic dishes that people consistently return to. Just because fast food is a scourge on society and good eating, doesn't mean that burgers aren't totally amazing. Pizza Hut simply isn't good, so don't confuse it with pizza, or let it taint the real article made in a caring way. Don't judge any of these foods by their worst incarnations, but instead think of the times when they were spot on. These are the things I would want for a last meal. I like elaborate fancy food, but its not what I crave deep down in my bones. I love sushi, but its not the thing that I would hunger for if the clock was ticking down to zero. Instead I would opt for a perfect bowl of ramen, another Japanese classic, but far different in what it evokes emotionally. That's just me, perhaps you are different. Once and a awhile is great for certain things, but this list could be it for the rest of my life, and I would be totally okay. Almost. I crave simple, done the best way possible, with care, and a whole lot of love. What do you crave?

Over the next few months I will talk about each of these foods. I will cook them, and I will report on why I love each one so very much. Hopefully you will give me some inspiration or recommendations to add to the list.

Cooking, Running, Tebowing, and Lin-Sanity!!!

2012-02-27T22:06:00.001-05:00

There was a time in my life when people used to tell me I couldn’t cook. More often than not, the ‘couldn’t’ was peppered with a big dose of shouldn’t. “Why would you do that”? This is one occasion where I am thoroughly happy that I paid little heed to what others told me. I never cooked as a child, but my parents brought me up in an atmosphere where food was cherished and celebrated in a working-class, un-foodie manner. This environment allowed for enjoyment, but never really included me in the practicing of the actual production. One day in my early twenties I decided to start cooking. I don’t exactly know how what happened, or what spurned it along. My guess is that it seemed practical, enjoyable, and creative at a time when these were the things I sorely needed. As a guy playing college athletics, and living the life that went along with it, cooking wasn’t exactly high on the list of activities that my friends were aching to get into. The first things I made weren’t great, but always edible. Believe me when I tell you that it was a process. I wasn’t gifted with some secret talent for the stove that allowed me to ascend to culinary greatness at break neck pace. I read books, and most of all, I practiced. I do remember the first time I made something that thoroughly surprised a detractor. It felt good, to have achieved something through repetition and resolve. Cooking remains something that I practice; never something I know or fully understand. When I moved to New York a few years ago, I found myself in a position where cooking took on a whole new light. Living in one of the most expensive cities in the world—where eating out three times a day is de rigueur for so many—with a limited budget thrust me into a position where cooking became essential. It also became fun. I cook all the time, and because of this my abilities have improved. I have answered the criticism of those who questioned why I ever wanted to learn to cook, or whether I could pull it off.

A year ago I found myself living the tale as old as time where men of a certain age realize that they are beginning to slide into the abyss of being out of shape. My truth was that moving to New York had been followed by a long period of inactivity that had taken its toll. Most people wouldn’t really have noticed, but I did, and it began to weigh on me. I didn’t feel my best, and was confronted with that age where our sins of health are no longer absolved. I made the decision to do something about it, and after several weeks of severe resistance and procrastination, I pulled the trigger. I made the decision to start running. From the time I was young, running had always been my own personal Chinese water torture. I had competed in sports my entire life, but running as a part of training was accomplished solely out of spite. I had been told so many things: “you have the flattest feet I’ve ever seen”, “your knees are bad”, “your ankles are weak and skinny”, “you have asthma”. All of this added up to the common conclusion that everyone always told me, “you will never be a runner”. I certainly used all of this as fuel and justification for my hatred of the activity. My decision to start running was fueled by several factors. It was a cheap activity that was never constrained by schedule, partners, or contractual agreements. My friend Ben had gone from an overweight cigarette huffing machine, to a svelte non-smoker who was hitting the roads on a regular basis. And good old vanity was the final catalyst. This was a vanity not defined purely by looks—though looking better for my girlfriend certainly played a role—but born more of the desire to embody a certain sense of health and vibrancy. The first day I ran ¾ of a mile and thought I was going to have a heart attack. Seriously, I thought I might keel over in the street. A ten-minute run required a fifteen minute cool down. This wasn’t ¾ of mile run at breakneck speed either, but more of the loping variety that resembles stumbling forward rather than graceful movement. I could barely get out of bed the next day, and walking down the stairs of the subway station almost led to a full collapse due to the phenomenon I like to call ‘jello legs’. This was right about the time when I very easily could have listened to all the people who told me I would never run. Instead, I was back at it again a couple of days later. I didn’t care what I looked like, or whether I had the coolest matching outfit on. Excuse the gratuitous pun, but I just did it. I read about running, about runners, and gained inspiration wherever I could. It was the model I had learned from my quest to learn about cooking, where the craft and its practitioners had served as the beacon for me to strive for. I ran when it hurt, when it snowed, and when it was quite possibly the last thing I wanted to do. I have run in the dark, the burning midday sun of summer, and the altitude of Colorado. I don’t run fast, and elegant is probably not a word anyone is tossing around to describe my style. Diligent is the adjective I prefer. A few days ago I ran ten miles in perfect weather, finishing at the southernmost tip of Manhattan. It was one year to the day I had begun my little journey to be a runner, and one year to the day I stopped listening to what everybody told me I would never do, instead deciding to practice the age old art of hard-work and repetitive diligence.

So essentially this post is all about me telling you how incredibly awesome I am. I’m kidding, but for a second I began to feel a little silly for tooting my own horn. Self-aggrandizement is not something I really like to engage in, but I do believe in the ability of personal triumph to deliver a message of hope to others. So what is the hope that I am selling? Hard-work pays off. If you want to do something, start doing it, and see where that process takes you. So many people I talk to express an interest in food or cooking, yet stop short of going anywhere with it. They think cooking is out of reach, or that it is for women, or maybe it is just for professionals. They think that they are above it, below it, or not in possession of some mysterious talent that they perceive as integral to the successful consummation of the activity. These notions become all the more crippling because of the world we live in today, where cooking is not only unnecessary, but often portrayed as inconvenient and a waste of time. I don’t think any of these things are true, but the only way to prove that idea is for more people to get in the kitchen. If you are already in the kitchen, help someone else make their first foray, and pass it on. We currently live in a world where the Food Network gets massive ratings, and yet the vast majority of people watching never actually cook. We have become spectators, instead of participants in the things we find interesting. If cooking seems like something you would like to try………try it. Don’t give up at first failure, and don’t listen to what anyone else tells you.

This is the stage of the essay where I reference sports. If you hate sports, I apologize, but not in a heartfelf or genuine way. Sports are amazing, and there are so many lessons to be learned from what happens on a field, a pitch, a court, or in the ring. Let’s take two of the biggest sports stories of the past year, Tim Tebow and Jeremy Lin, and see if we can root out anything that resembles what I have been talking about. Do I think Tim and Jeremy are the best players in their respective sports (football and basketball)? No. Do I think that they will be long term stars in the NFL and NBA? I have no clue. Do I think they exemplify exactly what I have been talking about? Indeed I do. You see Tim and Jeremy are the quintessential examples of guys who were told all along how they would never succeed at a certain level, yet had the resolve to continue to work hard, keep their head down, and never give up. These are incredibly honorable traits that should be celebrated. Neither man was blessed with the physical talents of the players that they are often competing with and against. One player was told he would never be a QB in the NFL, only to lead his team to the playoffs in his own unique style. The other wasn’t even drafted, only to find himself in the starting line-up for the New York Knicks, and having one of the most amazing two weeks in professional sports history. Everyone always focuses on their ‘character’ off the field, or religious beliefs, or ethnicity, or anything else that can serve as a distraction from the real truth that is playing out in front of us. These are guys who worked tirelessly to get where they are. They never bought into all the negative things that people peppered them with, and they emerged as genuine heroes. Are they heroes because they can throw a ball, or shoot a basket? No. They are heroes because they embody diligence. Their hard work paid off. Some would say luck had a big part in it, and it is true that every great story has fortuitous moments attached to it. But both guys were ready when luck opened the door of opportunity, and that simple fact can never be overlooked. Through repetition, perseverance, heart, and diligence, they both succeeded where everyone told them they would fail.

(For all the readers in Russia, Colombia, Italy, South Korea, Brazil, England, and The Ukraine, I will use a soccer analogy in the near future. Thank you all for reading, and thank you for putting up with my American sports references. And I must tell you that is is both amazing and humbling that anyone ever reads my posts, let alone someone in another country. So thank you.)

I was lucky to move to New York, and have access to a world of food diversity. I was also lucky to have access to The New York Public Library and its millions of books, putting a wealth of food knowledge at my fingertips. But hard work allowed me to become a capable cook, with a good deal of insight into the topic of cooking. I am capable of making an endless variety of ice cream, gelato, and sorbets because I worked at it. I perfected a signature Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe because I repeated the process every time my girlfriend uttered the words, “I would love something sweet.” (My recipe continues to change, and I will post an updated version soon). My dexterity at whipping up a weeknight pasta dish came from doing it a hundred times. It came from coming home late and not succumbing to the ease and comfort associated with bad take-out. I have burned myself badly, and cut myself on occasion. I have cooked in a tiny apartment kitchen with little ventilation, and no air-conditioning in the middle of a heat wave. Does this make me a badass? No. If you want to find a badass, go into a restaurant kitchen and watch the Mexican immigrant who cooks your meal, and has been doing it day in and day out for years. I’m just a guy who doesn’t want to stop learning, and doesn’t et bump in the road or a challenging set of circumstances dissuade me from turning out another meal. When I want to see real toughness, I just look at my girlfriend who is completing an Ivy League education. She embodies hard work, and I know this because I have witnessed it firsthand. Her diligence always reminds me of what it takes to get better at anything we wish to pursue. When I serve her a meal I always hope that I put just one ounce of the passion and resolve in my food, that she has given to her path. She inspires me to keep writing, to keep cooking, and to keep trying to produce bread at home that is anything close to palatable. Get in the kitchen, and if you stay there you will become a good cook, a better cook, or at the very least, a person who can put a little love on a plate.

Valentine's Day Part 2: Recap, Raspberry Souffle, and Chris Matthews

2012-02-24T13:07:00.001-05:00

Valentine's Day was both successful, and incredibly enjoyable. Heeding my own advice, I went for a menu that was easy enough to pull off, and delicious enough to make the occasion feel special. The meal was a beautiful strip steak with carmelized onions and sherry pan sauce that we split, with sides of roasted brussel sprouts and crispy roasted potatoes. Classic, not too heavy--due to the reasonable sized portions--and thoroughly satisfying. There was candles, a hand penned note, and a good deal of comfort. I think Ash enjoyed it thoroughly, and I know unequivocally that I did too.

Dessert is something that we both have a deep seated affinity for, so a Valentine's Day would never have been complete without a sugary flourish to finish. Raspberry souffle with chocolate truffle center, chocolate gelato, classic truffle, raspberry sauce, and whipped cream. It was fun, tasty, and romantic. Small portions, and a light-as-air souffle made sure that we weren't left in a food coma.

A few days later I heard a funny blurb from Chris Matthews, political pundit and host of Hardball, wherein he officially made the, "oops, I said something stupid" list.

“I don’t watch television the way most regular people do, meaning most people come home, they’re tired they go in the living room, maybe they watch T.V. while their wife, in some cases, making dinner, or the husband — in some weirder cases — is making dinner.”

Apparently Chris Matthews hasn't checked his calender recently enough to realize that the year isn't 1956. I like cooking dinner. I am also a man, which in Chris Matthews' eyes, makes me weird. Don't get me wrong, I have said plenty of stupid things in my lifetime, and in most cases people have pointed out my folly, so Chris, I am here to point out yours. Wake up, don't be an idiot, and realize that people take many different approaches to life. You should probably let them. What world are you living in that a man making dinner seems weird? Not only do I enjoy making dinner, but also enjoy romantic flourishes along with it. I'm comfortable with that, and I won't ever question that decision, based on the ramblings of a man that is obviously out of touch with the America that he wants to comment on. I'm glad I never bought in to this line of thinking, or my Valentine's Day dinner never would have happened, and that would have been tragic.

Valentine's Day Part 1

2012-02-13T22:03:00.001-05:00

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, and it is to be spent at home with the girl I love. Staying in means that I am cooking—that’s just the way it goes down in my house. I cook, and Ash eats. She doesn’t eat nearly as much as I do—being that I am twice her size—but she does enjoy a good meal, so it is my job to produce them on a regular basis. I never complain about this arrangement because I honestly enjoy cooking. The question is, what do I cook for dinner? This is an even bigger question when you add the pressure of a ‘holiday’ that is meant to signify love between couples. Let me briefly address said holiday. I play along with Valentine’s Day, and definitely enjoy it. I like holidays in all their forms, primarily because they usually involve the gathering of loved ones and food in some form. In my mind, these are good things. With that said, I think it is important to note that if the actions of February 14th—namely the purchase of chocolate, a card, roses, or jewelry—are required to solidify the idea that the person you are with loves you, an honest assessment of your relationship might be in order.

The funny thing is, I can be my own worst critic as a cook, putting an immense amount of pressure on my shoulders to produce something magical. This is a strange phenomenon, seeing as I know logically that my girl won't love me more or less based on the dinner I cook for Hallmark Day……or will she? See, that is how my brain operates. Is it silly; absolutely. Does it make any rational sense; not a chance. And yet, there is that thought that can well up within my mind, telling me that what I cook won’t be good enough. Is this something unique to me; probably not. Is this isolated to a Valentine’s Day dinner, or is it a larger problem that has pushed people away from the stove, for fear of epic failure? The stunning development to all of this is the realization that I can cook a bit, and in spite of this fact, self-doubt can often rule the day. So what is it like for someone who would like to tackle a special meal, but has little experience in doing so? Probably terrifying, but there is good news on two fronts. One is that take-out could always save the day in the event of total collapse, and two is that most decent hearted people will be more appreciative of the effort than the actual product that ends up on the plate. Believe me when I tell you, not all of my cooking experiments have turned out as gems. I can safely assume that Ash hasn’t loved me any less during any of these debacles. So if you are thinking of attempting to bang out a meal for FTD Day, go for it! If you try it some other time, that’s great too. The point is to give it a whirl, have fun with it, step through your own neurotic fear—I say that as a person who knows self-centered fear on an intimate basis—and try something new.

Let’s go over some rules for a successful V-Day—or any other romantic evening—meal preparation. For starters, don’t go way out of the box on what it is you are attempting to make. Figure out what the person you are cooking for actually likes. This is not the time for creativity and the ‘let’s try something new’ approach to cooking. If the person likes steak, and you do too, then simply go with that. Maybe they are a huge fan of pasta, so that would be a safe choice. You want the meal to be enjoyable in a manner that sets the tone of ease and comfort, where the focus is on the enjoyment of the company as much as the food on the plate. Don’t try a preparation that is terribly complicated on Russell Stover Day, especially if you don’t spend a ton of time in the kitchen. Simplicity is sexy, and often times, highly underrated. Since it is Kays Jewelers Day, it is only appropriate to finish with something sweet. If you aren’t going to have the time, purchase this part of the meal. With very little time you could make up a batch of homemade whipped cream, and serve that with strawberries. Once again, this is very simple, with loads of impact. If you want to craft a dessert, anything with chocolate will fit the occasion nicely, but be sure not to place yourself in a position where you spend the entire night in the kitchen. Don’t make the meal too big of a production, and don’t make the meal too big period. This isn’t a time to stuff yourself and the one you love with too much food.

For Valentine's Day a selection of classic 90’s R&B always fits the bill…………but no one did it like Marvin!

Andrew Carmellini, The Dutch, and How My Best Meal Of 2011 Came To Be

2012-02-03T20:10:00.001-05:00

I ate some wonderful meals in 2011, from simple creations at home, to elaborate feasts at restaurants with friends, but one meal stands out as a very special experience. It is a story of so much more than the food on the plate, though that alone would have been memorable. For me, it was a seminal moment in both my appreciation of food, and my appreciation of the kindness of someone I admired. The story goes like this….

My love of cookbooks has been well documented and the morning of October 18^th was a big day in my world. American Flavor by Andrew Carmellini was hitting the shelves and I was incredibly excited. Growing up, I loved heading to my local record shop to buy an album that had just hit the shelves. I would eagerly head home to listen to the tape—later CD—in its entirety. I would sit, holding my guitar, eagerly listening for chord changes, yet never playing a note. It was solitude in its finest fashion. Tuesdays have remained special for me, because that is the day that music and books—two of my favorite things—are released. In many ways I treat books with the same reverence that I once held only for music. I will bring a book home and settle in to absorb every nuanced word. I do this with cookbooks, reading each recipe in much the same way I listen to a new song. American Flavor was part of a short list of cookbooks that I needed to own last year. I am not afraid to admit that I am a disciple of the joys that the New York Public Library has to offer, but some books are meant to be purchased, hopefully one day to pass on. So that Tuesday had two things on the agenda, work, and picking up a copy of American Flavor.

I happened to be in Tribeca as I was finishing up work, so I headed to the closest bookstore, only to discover that Chef Carmellini was doing a book signing at 6pm. I purchased my copy of his book and sat down for the signing and discussion. I dove right into the text with determination and purpose, hoping to absorb as much as possible before the author’s arrival. Book signings in New York are a strange affair, sometimes garnering hundreds of people, and sometimes just a handful. The level of attendance rarely has any correlation with the quality of the author or work that is featured, so I wasn’t particularly stunned to realize that at 6pm there were only fifteen or so attendees. It mattered little to me; I was thrilled to be there.

Having eaten at Locanda Verde—Carmellini’s Tribeca restaurant—several times, and being somewhat obsessed with his first cookbook, Urban Italian, I was pretty excited. Some people could care less about chefs, or food in general. I am not one of those people. I love food, and I thoroughly appreciate the craft of cooking that is exemplified by high level practitioners. Whether it is the old lady who hand makes fresh tortillas, or the four star chef who leads a brigade of talented cooks, I find inspiration in the dedication to producing good food that nourishes people. Cooking with passion and purpose resonates with my soul, and Andrew Carmellini has come to exemplify that in my head. Chef Carmellini walked in, assessed the situation, and decided against the podium that had been set atop a stage of sorts. He politely asked those in attendance to gather closer, and he too pulled up a chair. He discussed the inspiration of the book in a casual and disarming fashion. It was completely devoid of the pretentious quality of many literary conversations, and Chef Carmellini even opted for a bit of crowd participation, asking people what they thought ‘American food’ was. He asked me that question, and I must admit I don’t remember much of what I said. It had something to do with the regional food that I grew up eating in New England, but I’m pretty sure the delivery lacked any real poignant insights. It mattered not, because Chef Carmellini listened intently, and made me feel—for a brief second—like I was part of his world. When all was said and done, he graciously signed my book, and I was off.

I finished the book the following morning—not unusual for me—and reflected on the experience of the day before, with two things standing out in my head. First off, chef Carmellini had been incredibly gracious and down to earth with everyone at the book signing. The second thing was that the book was incredible, and some of the stories had transported me back to my childhood memories that continue to shape my food experiences today. I felt that a email to thank him was in order, so I composed something quickly and sent it off before leaving the house for work. This was not an email sent with the intention of generating a response, but simply a cordial attempt at thanking someone for taking the time to interact with others, and doing it in a genuine way. I have made it a habit to thank people for things that they do because it seems that this is lacking in our society. I believe in the idea that gratitude to others goes a long way. Within the email I mentioned that I was looking forward to eating at The Dutch—his latest restaurant in Soho—though I figured it would be sometime before that became reality due to the ‘hot new place’ status it had generated.

I was shocked when Chef emailed me back that day. There was an offer made to help with a table if I wanted one. With my girlfriend Ashley in school, and interviewing for jobs across the country, Friday or Saturday was all we would have been able to do. I felt a bit awkward asking for a weekend spot.... but I did. Chef made it happen for that Friday at 7:30pm. This whole thing deserves a bit of context. For starters, The Dutch had received one of the most glowing two-star reviews in memory from NY Times critic Sam Sifton (a two-star review for a restaurant that insists on a fun and comfortable atmosphere is a huge win). Andrew Carmellini is widely considered one of New York’s very best chefs, and this was his newest venture. The Dutch was a restaurant where bona-fide people of importance or celebrity were clamoring to eat. And in New York, getting a table at a hot restaurant on a Friday or Saturday between 7 and 10 is a genuine blood sport. Another thing to consider is that at this time Chef Carmellini was releasing a book, working on the opening of a new location of The Dutch in Miami, and doing appearances at the Today Show, Google, and other media outlets. Add all this up and you have the perfect storm of factors that should have precluded me from ever enjoying a reservation, courtesy of the chef, at 7:30 on a Friday night.

Ashley and I were pretty excited come Friday evening. We don’t get to eat out often, and this was certainly a special occasion, mainly because we had been unable to spend much time together due to our schedules. We jumped on the subway and headed down to Soho, Ashley listening as I droned on about how excited I was. She puts up with me and my interests, and I make up for it by cooking her enjoyable meals and desserts. We arrived at Houston St. and walked the short distance to the corner of Sullivan and Prince. Strolling through Soho at night is both romantic and engaging, in a way that is unique to downtown New York. Lights flicker, side streets are quiet, people move with graceful purpose, and restaurants and shops project a glow and warmth that is lost during daylight hours. Arriving at the Dutch, I was struck by the fact that the restaurant resembles the image I had always created in my head of the quintessential corner restaurant in New York. It is truly inviting, yet still retaining that special air of ambiance, a coolness that speaks to the imagination, conveying that this is exactly where you want to be.

We headed inside and were led into the rear dining room that sports an open view of the kitchen. We were seated in a large u-shaped leather banquette that was home to two separate tables. This arrangement allows for a couple to sit adjacent to each other, which I find to be the best experience where romance is concerned. My positioning allowed for a wonderful view of the kitchen, while also being able to soak up the dining room itself, resplendent in reds, tans, black, and various shades of wood. It is a comfortable space that is elegant, classic, and modern at the same time. I was flooded with gratitude at the opportunity to dine there, at that table, on a coveted night in New York City. We were greeted by our server, who turned out to be excellent, both in personality, and the level of service he provided, hitting that special zone of hospitality that lacks any semblance of overbearing qualities. During the evening I was reminded of how much great service can accent a meal, and that so few places nail it like The Dutch. It really was a perfect setting for a great night, in a beautiful room, with my girlfriend who looked amazing, and a chef at the helm who knows how to take care of people.

We began the arduous process of narrowing down our choices, which can be quite difficult at a place where everything is something that I would like to try. Our order was placed, and we settled in for our meal, which consisted of:

Cornbread

Asian White Boy Ribs

Smoked Chicken Stroganoff

Glazed Pork Chop with Apples and Greens

Sides: House Made Fries, Spaghetti Squash

Buttermilk Pie

At first glance, the menu looks somewhat simple, and it is, but underneath the implied simplicity is superb technique, impeccable ingredients, and soul. Yes, I just used the word soul to describe a white chef who grew up in Cleveland, and I stand by the description, because that is exactly what Chef Carmellini brings to the table. I could describe with intricacy and detail, the nuances of each dish, but I won't. I could have taken pictures of the food, but I didn't, because I feel that this often stands in the way of a great restaurant experience. My memories are what matters, and they are vivid, easily transporting me back to that night. This is food that you really want to eat, that nourishes the spirit, and is always fun. Shouldn’t eating be fun? I think it should. Every dish we had was top flight, from the ribs with their succulence (I’m a sucker for anything with Asian-American flavors), to the Smoked Chicken Stroganoff that was probably the best thing I tasted last year. I long for that sauce in a way that is potentially unhealthy. Whoever would have thought that a dish with stroganoff would be the best thing I tasted last year? Certainly not me, but that is why Chef Carmellini is a killer cook. It is also important to note that the bookends of the meal were stellar. Kieran Baldwin, pastry chef at The Dutch, opened with the best cornbread I’ve ever eaten, and finished the meal with a dessert that really made me remember why I’ve always had a sweet tooth.

The Chef

The Chef (beat maker, street art lover, and swell guy to boot)

At some point during the meal, as I was enjoying a mouthful of the pork chop, I realized that Chef Carmellini was standing at our table. He was incredibly gracious, introducing himself to Ashley simply as ‘Andrew’, and inquiring as to how we were enjoying the meal. This was both unexpected, and incredibly memorable. Giving me a table was kind enough, but to leave the kitchen to say hello made an impact that has stayed with me to this day. It reminded me of how far kindness can go, and certainly put the icing on the cake of the best meal I ate in 2011. It is good to know that an incredibly successful person, at the top of his game, who often interacts with famous people, could be so down to earth. I was left feeling like I would love to hangout with Andrew, and not because he is a famous chef, but simply because he seemed like a genuinely good guy. Thanks Chef, and thank you to the entire staff of The Dutch for a wonderful evening.

Last Year's Best Music.....And What To Eat With It

2012-02-01T09:26:00.005-05:00

This is a simple list of my favorite music from last year.

These are albums that I listen to all the time.

You may disagree with many of these choices, and that is okay. It's nothing to fret over, I simply have better taste than you. (I'm just kidding........try not to take yourself and your tastes too seriously)

You may deride me for choosing bands that are popular and not underground enough. Sellouts you may say. First off, stop shopping exclusively at Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, and thrift shops in order to solidify your hipster image. Next, stop listening to music you really don't like in order to establish an identity and something to talk about. Stop disliking bands because they are able to earn a really good living. And finally remember that Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and The Notorious B.I.G. were all popular. Incredibly popular. If you tell me there was someone out there in the 'underground' doing it better than any one of them, please let me know.

I love underground music, and am constantly seeking new artists to enjoy, but the fact that no one else knows about a band doesn't make their art more special.

If you only like one 'genre' of music, you are probably a boring person.

If you are not pairing food with music, or being inspired to cook through music, you are missing out.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR: Bon Iver- Bon Iver

From the soft opening of Perth to the quasi 80’s appeal of the final track, Beth/Rest, this album is stunning. There are times when it is beautifully melodic, and others when it tugs at memories of heartache and despair, seducing the listener in a comforting fashion. It is complex in its genre defying scope, and a testament to one man’s vision and drive to create something that is unique in both its delivery, and sweeping ambition. Plus Kanye loves it!

This is music to curl up to, enjoy a good cup of coffee, and maybe put a stew on the stove. Something braised, and deep in flavor, that cooks long and slow.

Jay-Z and Kanye West- Watch The Throne

Watch The Throne is ambitious hip-hop, showing off the best rapper alive, and the most unique ‘artist’ in music. Jay-Z continues to crush every track in his path, with swagger for days. Kanye continues to be far too honest in his rhymes, and I can’t help but love listening. The album is packed with great beats throughout, along with superb guest spots from Beyonce and Frank Ocean. Bonus points for funniest line in a song all year: New Day, Kanye, “And I’ll never let my son have an ego, he’ll be nice to everyone wherever we go, I mean I might even make him be Republican, so everybody know he loves white people.”

If I drank champagne, this would be the music to do it to. Instead, I’m going to vote for something clean and sexy, like high end sushi, or a perfect plate of pasta with shrimp, crushed red pepper, and olive oil.

Washed Out- Within and Without

Atmospheric electronic music with sparse lyrics, and a hypnotic quality that is hard to pinpoint. This one gets the “I never thought I would like this” award, as well as being my favorite album to write to as of late.

This one makes me think of modern culinary techniques. Break out the liquid nitrogen or an immersion circulator and get creative. Or just go to WD-50 and call it a day.

The Decemberists- The King Is Dead

Incredible mix of folk, country, and rock, with some of the purest songwriting I’ve ever heard. The album sounds vaguely old-fashioned, as if torn from another era, while retaining a distinctly contemporary vibe throughout. It’s like an R.E.M. album that I would actually like, and ‘Why We Fight’ is the jangle rock song of the year. The Decemberists have always been more of a progressive outfit, but this stripped down collection presents a stage for all their finest qualities. It is a shame that they broke up last year, but lead singer Colin Meloy will hopefully use his extensive talents for new projects in the future.

The King Is Dead is a perfect album for strapping on the apron and baking a pie, say classic apple, or maybe butternut squash. Maybe some cookies would suit the tone, or perhaps a go at making preserves or jam.

Frank Ocean- Nostalgia-Ultra Mixtape

The highly gifted singer from the Odd Future crew puts out a gem. Ocean’s voice is smooth and distinctive, allowing the tracks to feel organic and never forced. The subject matter is also interesting in its scope, covering everything from getting high at a festival with a girl, to belief in the goodness of people, marriage, suicide, and why he sings (women). This is not run of the mill R&B (thank goodness), and his first true major label release next year should be great.

For reasons yet to be identified, this album gives me a craving for Chinese take-out (though I make a lot of Chinese take-out at home), or perhaps some Americanized Thai food, because Pad Thai seems to be the new General Tso’s Chicken. There would definitely be a soda on the side, probably Dr. Pepper, or Strawberry Fanta. Dessert would be candy, maybe swedish fish.

Bayside- Killing Time

The New York based punk band delivers a 35-minute slice of rock and roll perfection. Bayside have been touring relentlessly for the past ten years, and in that time have released six solid albums, each one showcasing Anthony Raneri’s knack for writing stellar songs. Jack O’Shea is one of the best guitarists in rock and roll, proved once again on Killing Time, and the fact that he is given free rein in a punk band makes it even better. With most of the album centered on the subject matter of Raneri’s divorce, there are plenty of moments of angst and disgust, but his range as a songwriter shines with the show-tune inspired ballad of hope, ‘On Love, On Life’. Raneri has openly spoken of his love of a wide range of musical styles, particularly the songwriting at the core of good pop music, and it shows in the way his songs become infectious, and hard to forget.

Anthony Raneri has often expressed his love for New York, particularly his native Queens where he grew up, and continues to reside, so we will opt for a good NY-style bagel with butter, or cream cheese if you insist.

The Weeknd- House Of Balloons, Thursday, Echoes Of Silence

A 21-year old from Toronto drops THREE free albums in the span of a single year. Each one is like nothing you have ever heard. What?! Futuristic R&B from another planet is the only way I can really describe it. It is all sex, drugs, and rock and roll, minus the rock and roll. The trilogy is haunting and emotive, with each album containing its own special blend of weirdness, artistic triumph, self-deprecation, and story-telling. What?! Just listen, they are free!

Chocolate covered strawberries, and various other classic romantic desserts. Crème brulee, or chocolate souflee for two?

Adele- 21

Adele blew up in 2011, and for very good reason. She sings with bonafide soul, reminiscent of an earlier era, where vocalists weren’t trying to sound perfect, but instead poured there heart out in the booth. The album is loaded with heartbreak, and we all know that a broken heart can lead to some beautiful art. ‘Turning Tables’ and ‘Someone Like You’ are stunning ballads, smoky and weathered, while everyone at this point has bobbed there head to the bluesy ‘Rolling In The Deep’. The album makes you root for this young woman who sings with a passion so far beyond her years that is easy to ponder where it all comes from.

A cigarette perhaps? How about a bacon sandwich? They love those in England. Maybe fish and chips under an umbrella in an old part of town would suit the bill.

Action Bronson- Dr. Lecter, Well Done w/ Statik Selektah

The former chef from Flushing, Queens delivers two heaters, staking his claim as one of the best lyricists in the game. With a voice that is reminiscent of Ghostface, but a flow that is distinctly his own, Action has proved that you don’t need fancy hooks or gimmicks to get the job done. Peppered with food references and love for his native borough, Bronson crushes every track he gets his hands on. Best New Rap Artist, hands down.

These albums call for some good charcuterie, a hearty pasta course, and a perfectly cooked rib-eye steak. Wash it down with a good vintage wine, because that is what Action would do. Or break out the San Pellegrino if you are behind the wheel.

Wilco- The Whole Love

Without a doubt, Wilco is the most underrated band in America. For close to twenty years, Jeff Tweedy and his bandmates (who have actually remained constant for several years now) have been making incredible albums, The Whole Love being no exception. Seamlessly weaving between the worlds of experimentation, country, folk, rock, and progressive composition, Wilco are a band that first demands to be listened to alone, in a dimly lit room, to fully absorb the nuances inherent in everything they do. Jeff Tweedy is probably this generation’s greatest songwriter, stretching back to his days in Alt-Country pioneers Uncle Tupelo. He has even managed to buck the trend of artists who fall off creatively after getting sober, instead producing some of his best work in the years since he emerged from rehab a new man.

Something Mid-Western seems apropos. Better yet, start the day by making a stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes, with a nice pat of butter, and real maple syrup. Some time later, it will be time to light the grill, toss on some meat, and let the wafting scents transport you back to a memory of that perfect holiday barbeque back in the day.

Drake- Take Care

It has become quite popular as of late to hate on Drake, but I refuse to fall into this trap. They say he is too emotional, sings too much, or he isn’t hard enough! Rubbish, all of it. He sings, he raps, he tells stories, and he lays his thoughts and emotions squarely on the table. I applaud him for this, because there is only so much fake bravado I can stand. Drake makes albums that blend elements in unique ways, both sonically and lyrically. Take Care was a million times better than his mentor Lil Wayne’s subpar Tha Carter IV, along with just about anything else that came out last year. The thing to remember is that Drake isn’t trying to be Wu-Tang, Tupac, or Kool G Rap, he’s just being Drake, which is refreshing. If Drake was from the projects in Brooklyn, what would you think of him? Instead, he is half-white, hails from Toronto, and acted on Degrassi High, which too many people can’t seem to get past. It doesn’t matter where Drake came from, or who he is, Take Care is an amazing album, end of story.

Late night eats for sure. We could give a nod to our brothers to the North with a plate of poutine or a dozen oysters, but I think a serious plate of chicken and waffles would do just fine.

M83- Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming

M83 is Electro-pop that will get under your skin, in the best way possible. ‘Midnight City’ is the catchiest song of the year, and it was memorably featured—perhaps the perfect marriage of song and television—at the end of an episode of HBO’s ‘How To Make It In America’ where the characters are in a taxi riding through the streets of NYC (how did they cancel that show?!). Though there are many stand out tracks, this is a real album, and deserves to be listened to as such. With 22 tracks that vary considerably, this is a dense piece of work that will continue to reveal itself over time.

Make some really delicious tacos at home. If you want to be out and about, I suggest a taco truck, or a couple of kick ass arepas at Caracas.

The Black Keys- El Camino

El Camino is a dirty rock album, plain and simple. It sounds like it was birthed from the stage of a nasty little dive bar, complete with weathered wood floors, and an old-school juke box. It makes you tap your foot uncontrollably with every beat of the snare drum. This is the perfect album to drive fast to, preferably in an American made muscle car.

Drink whiskey, or a bottle of beer. If you don’t care for that, may I suggest Fried Chicken, stewed okra, and the best damn BBQ you can get your hands on!

Jay-Z + Kanye West + Adele- Brooklyn, Chicago, London Mixtape

Best mash up mixtape I heard last year, mainly because the three artists seem to go together like cheese, dough, and sauce. You can decide who is who.

Staying true to my analogy, this album deserves to be rocked in the headphones, while eating a slice on the go. It must be eaten on a paper plate, and it must be folded. Either BEST Pizza in Brooklyn, or Joe’s in the Village.

Honorable Mentions:

We Are Augustines- Rise Ye Sunken Ships

Childish Gambino- Camp

The Roots- undun

City and Colour- Little Hell

Fleet Foxes- Helplessness Blues

Best Kale Chips.......Ever!!

2012-01-26T19:31:00.003-05:00

Crunchy and delicious

I have proclaimed the virtues of kale chips in the best, but it is time to get people producing these morsels of joy. Whatever you do, please do not pay $8.99 for a tiny container of disgusting packaged kale chips that have been smothered in ‘vegan cheese’, whatever that might be. You can buy a basket full of kale for less than that, and don’t even get me started on ‘vegan cheese’, which is an oxymoron that only someone with a marketing degree and too much time on their hands could ever come up with. Unfortunately we live in a silly world where people (especially silly vegans, who are characterized by their propensity for processed garbage that falls under the all-mighty vegan label) fall for this type of stuff. I digress.

Absolutely ridiculous!

Why are kale chips so good? Do a quick web search and it won’t take you very long to discover that kale is literally one of the best things you can eat from a health standpoint. To call it a super-food would drastically undersell its benefits. Combine this with the fact that when roasted at very low heat, kale transforms into a crispy delicious treat, and you begin to see why I love them so much. Here is the problem. Food manufacturers have jumped on the bandwagon and begun to produce prepackaged versions of a treat that is ridiculously easy to make at home. They then feel the need to slobber them with flavorings that destroy the texture of the chip, while completely undermining the taste of the kale itself. If you aren’t really a cook you can still make kale chips. If you have never ever cooked a single thing in your life, you can still make kale chips. If you absolutely hate food that is healthy for you, I encourage you to try these at once. You can thank me later.

There are untold numbers of recipes for kale chips floating around the world. Food sites, blogs, and books have all presented their take on the subject, but many fall short in an area that I think is very important—technique. Recipes are inherently useless if you don’t understand the nuances of cooking or the things that really make a difference in any given process. I am fortunate to have had many opportunities to both cook and read material on the subject, which fosters a basic sense of what should be happening in the course of a preparation. But I am all too aware of how many people do not have this same understanding. This lack of technical knowledge is what prevents so many people from making successful attempts at cooking. It is what breeds fear about the outcomes, or a lack of even knowing where to start. There was a time when people learned technique side by side in the kitchen with someone who had more experience. Many people today never had this, and few are willing to go through the process of teaching themselves through literature, trial, and error. Therefore I will write this recipe with the person who has never cooked in mind. Put a bowl of these out at your Super Bowl party and watch them disappear after the skeptical are converted.

The Best Kale Chips

2 Bunches of Kale

Olive Oil

Salt

Pepper

Herbs and/or spices

1. Separate the leaves of kale and lay them flat on a cutting board. Cut along each side of the stalk/stem to release the actual leaf from the tough stalk. Now chop the leafy greens into chip size pieces, or whatever size you would like to produce. Repeat with all the kale. (The final product is very crispy and lends itself to bite size pieces. If the chips are so large that people try to bite them in half, there can be a bit of a mess.)

2. It is time to wash the kale. Place the chopped leaves in a large bowl (you will probably have to work in batches) and run under cold water. Agitate the leaves under the water to make sure they are free of dirt or particles. Drain the kale. You can dry the kale in a salad spinner, or shake it vigorously until it is semi-dry, then place it on a clean kitchen towel. It is imperative that you get as much moisture off the leaves as possible. Whenever you want something to brown or caramelize, a dry surface is imperative. (That goes for everything from a steak to potatoes) I like to spin the leaves, then lay them out on a kitchen towel for a bit to air dry, insuring that they will roast properly.

3. Preheat the oven to 275 F.

4. Place the dry leaves in a large dry bowl. Sprinkle with a tablespoon or two of olive oil and toss them around with your hands. You don’t want the leaves wet like a dressed salad, which will weigh them down. Instead, you want a very light sheen on all the leaves. Start with a bit of oil, and you can always add more if you need to. (If you do add too much oil, add more kale to disperse it amongst more leaves) Sprinkle the kale with a bit of salt and pepper. At this point go easy on the salt, as we will finish them with seasoning when they emerge from the oven.

5. Place the kale on a baking sheet in a single even layer. Don’t overcrowd the pan, so if need be, cook the chips in several batches.

6. Place the kale in the oven and bake for twenty minutes.

7. When the twenty minutes is up, test one of the kale chips for crispness. You are looking for a crisp, almost brittle texture, but without any real dark spots. Taste one. If the chips aren’t done yet put them back on the oven to continue baking. My chips typically take 25-30 minutes, but different varieties of kale and overall moisture content can affect the length of baking time.

8. Check the kale every few minutes to achieve the desired crispness, but make sure that they don’t begin to burn, which will produce a carbon taste that is unpleasant.

9. When the kale is done, remove the baking sheets from the oven, and allow to cool. Taste the kale and add salt. I like mine salty like a potato chip, but your preference is your preference.(If you are trying to avoid salt for some reason, you still have a few options.Low-salt Mrs. Dash or other spice blend would work, as would a little splash of vinegar if you like a little tang.) Not enough salt? Add a little and taste again. At this time you could also add a scant sprinkle of cayenne for heat, a sprinkle of thyme, or leave them as is. Just please don’t cover them in ‘vegan cheese’.

10. If you store the chips, place them in a paper bag or a container that will allow a bit of air to get in. I have found that storing them in a container that is air tight can lead to a loss of crispness. Enjoy!

Paula Deen And The Epidemic Of Obesity

2012-01-19T16:05:00.002-05:00

Every voice in the world of food has seen fit to add their two cents to the drama surrounding Paula Deen's decision to first hide her diabetes diagnosis, then capitalize on it, all the while pushing food that can directly lead to the diagnosis in the first place. So, being the opinionated person that I am, I decided to loft my pennies into the wishing well too.

The population of the United States is currently eating themselves to an early grave. This is the undeniable truth of what is happening in our country, and people seem to want to avoid the subject. Suddenly Paula Deen makes millions off of endorsing a medication to help people 'live with' diabetes, and the world comes down on her from the perch of their high horse. There are several things that are going on here, and I believe that all of them deserve attention. First off, if someone offered me millions to endorse a product, I would have a tough time turning that down. Barring some extreme examples, I wouldn't even think about it, the only response would be "where do I sign?" The difference between myself and many other people is that I have the capacity to be honest with you, and with myself. Paula Deen has diabetes, and someone offered her and her sons generational money to be celebrity spokespeople. She took it, essentially because she isn't an idiot. After all, money talks in a big way.

The stickier situation seems to arise when you begin to ponder the career of Ms. Deen, who has been instructing people in a form of cooking that could best be described as decadent, to put it mildly. She loves her butter, she loves her fat, and she damn sure loves her sugar. She has made her name being the self-proclaimed queen of a form of southern cooking that is neither authoritative, nor airtight in its authenticity. The legacy of southern cooking is about much more than just butter and deep frying everything in sight. Its roots are really that of an agrarian society that was shaped by the bounties of it's harvests. This is not the legacy Ms. Deen has chosen to embrace, and unfortunately, millions of her fans have followed her down the dark path of overindulgence. With all this in my mind, I must admit that I am a huge fan of butter. I love fat, particularly the variety that comes from the pig. I have also been known to wallow in the joys of sugar, and the creation of desserts that feature luxury ingredient prominently. Yet this holy trinity is not always on display in the way I cook or eat. I practice moderation while recognizing that these things do not have to be at the forefront of every meal. Julia Child taught everyone, including me, about how beautiful butter could be, but the manner in which she did it was worlds away from the over the top decadence that Paula Deen has employed. She has used unhealthy foods as her calling card, only to find out the cost first hand. Ms. Deen has now claimed that she has "always encouraged moderation". I find this statement akin to a drug dealer uttering the same words, trying desperately to hide the grin that is brewing just below the surface.

I don't even have a problem with the fact that she has promoted and extolled the virtues of a diet that is undoubtedly unhealthy, she is free to do so. My problem lies in her refusal to own up to it in any convincing manner. Seeing Paula and her sons on a talk show doing damage control spin, all the while dancing around the subject with the finesse of ballerinas, is remarkable indeed. Ms. Deen has known of her diagnosis for the past three years. and during this time she continued to promote the same lifestyle that led to her own health problems. Now she felt that it was time to let the world know that she has diabetes. Oh yeah, it also coincides with the beginning of her endorsement of Norvo Nordisk's new diabetes medication. Anthony Bourdain summed it up best when he twittered the astute analogy, "Thinking of getting into the leg-breaking business, so I can profitably sell crutches later." This is sketchy to say the very least, but is Paula Deen really to blame for all this? Yes and no. She has certainly avoided any public responsibility, but do we not live in a country that is avoiding this reality at every turn?

The real problem is that we, as a nation, are refusing to admit and become proactive about the problem of obesity, diabetes, and poor food choices in our country. Not convinced that this statement is true? Well ask yourself, how comfortable do you feel in discussing the health issues associated with being overweight? How about talking directly to someone who is overweight? Ask anyone who smokes whether people have any problem with pointing out the dangers of smoking. If you are a smoker and you go to a dinner party with people you barely know, without fail, someone is going to bring up the fact that you should quit. If someone is overweight, will anyone at the party have the balls to say something to them? I think not. People try to rationalize this by saying that smoking is an unhealthy choice that people make, and being overweight is 'who someone is', and therefore it is discriminatory to say anything about it. Somehow, being overweight has become a special protected class that is strangely untouchable. How does someone become overweight? Barring the very rare cases of medical conditions, it is from the over-consumption of products that aren't healthy for you, usually combined with a sedentary lifestyle. Smoking is the over-consumption of a product that is unhealthy for you. Do you see where I'm going with this? So why have we turned on smoking, yet we remain strangely ambivalent towards the epidemic of obesity that is ravaging our nation?

I have empathy for Paula Deen and anyone else who is overweight or afflicted with diabetes. My own father is terribly overweight, and suffering the horrific health consequences that come along with it. It is heartbreaking to watch, and at times, even more heartbreaking to talk about. When I think of my father and what he is going through right now, I am often brought to tears. But I won't do is stand by silently as people I love are suffering. I smoked for years, and people who cared about me encouraged me to quit, supported me during the process of several attempts, and congratulated me when I got on the other side. I have known grandmothers who sent their smoking grandchildren newspaper clippings on the dangers of their habit for years on end. Would they have done the same if they were overweight? Doubtful. It is time for everyone to step up and speak the truth.

Being overweight does not make you a bad person, or weak, or second-rate in any way shape or form. It is a problem, and one that can be tackled and remedied both individually and as a community. While Paula Deen is busy promoting a drug to help 'manage' Diabetes, we all seem to forget that the disease is both preventable and treatable through two things, food and exercise. Unfortunately, large pharmaceutical companies won't make any money from those two options. Oh yeah, fast food companies would take a hit too. And the corporations that churn out thousands of new processed food options every year? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be happy either. It is no big secret that pharmaceutical companies have long dreamed of the day when they would find the mythical unicorn of a disease that is 'managed' by the consumption of one of their products each and every day. Unfortunately they have found the ailment in the growing waistlines of our population. Lipitor, which helps lower cholesterol, is the highest selling drug of all time, and new drugs to battle the effects of an unhealthy diet will continue to hit the market. These drugs will be a boon not only for the companies that sell them, but for the food industry as a whole. Because the effects of a poor diet can be 'treated' by a pill, the same food that has made so many people sick, will continue to be the norm. It's time to take a stand on this issue, because it's not too late to turn the ship around.

The most unfortunate result of the the Paula Deen debacle is that it is a lost opportunity. Had Ms. Deen come forward to tell her story in the hopes of helping others not fall down the same hole, the world may have been changed for the better. Instead, she went the rout of spokesperson, with no accountability for past transgressions, rendering any hope for positive change futile. But maybe Ms. Deen knew something that the rest of us have failed to acknowledge--that we simply aren't ready to look at the problem. If you think that isn't true, I ask you to consider the way our First Lady Michelle Obama has been lambasted for her stance on better food and a healthier lifestyle, the issue she has chosen to champion. Forget any politics associated with her husband for one brief second and simply consider that Mrs. Obama has chosen to tackle the task of helping people to become healthier through the use of pure healthy ingredients, and the reliance on exercise to increase effective health. For this stance she has been lambasted. Is it not crazy that she has been attacked from all sides for the simple desire to help our nation be healthier? This is indicative of the real problem in our country when it comes to food and health--we don't want to hear it. Unfortunately the time has come where we can no longer claim ignorance. People are literally dying everywhere you look, long before their time. As a community we need to help each other, we need to stand together, and we need to stop pretending that this is just going to go away. It is time to listen, and it is time to speak. It's time for a change.

2011 Food, Music, Film, Comedy, etc. Part 2

2012-01-18T15:30:00.005-05:00

The Year Of The Rabbit

What were the exciting things in food that happened during the last revolution of our planet around the sun? What were the things that I could have done without? There are so many candidates for exploration that I am almost at a loss for where to begin. Always remember that my perspective is decidedly shaped by the fact that I live in New York City, and therefore have access to things that many people simply don’t. With that said, I think most ideas are universal, and simply take longer to filter out to other regions.

The economy continues to struggle, and with this simple fact, the food world continues to be shaped in many ways. From my standpoint, the greatest benefit and also the most negative consequence comes with people cooking at home more regularly. Being a home cook who is constantly extolling the virtues of this basic activity, I am thrilled that people are eating out less. Many people would be stunned to discover that they can cook food that is not only healthier, but far more delicious as well. In my experience, these benefits also come with the undeniable reality that it is far cheaper to produce things in the home. Simple meals constructed with basic ingredients can be incredibly satisfying, both in taste, and in the sense of accomplishment. There is a certain sense of spiritual connectedness that comes with the exercise of a well put together meal. These things are all wonderful, and if we are finally returning to our kitchens, I couldn’t be happier. The negative side of all this is that many people are resorting to processed food as an integral part of cooking at home.
Eat out less, but don’t stay in and heat up a Lean Cuisine. This is unnecessary, and no matter how ‘lean’ they say it is, your health will probably suffer because of it. Look around you and decide whether ‘healthy’ processed food is really healthy at all. The supermarkets have been filled to the brim with foods claiming to somehow be healthy for the last three decades, and yet we, as a nation, continue to get fatter. Throw out those freezer packs of chicken nuggets. Please, right now, if you have some in your freezer, get rid of them. Have you ever seen how those are made? If not, take my word for it, it will not prompt hunger and excitement. I understand that people use these items for convenience, but cooking something from scratch is not only possible, but quite easy. The economy has forced us away from restaurants and back into the home, so let’s make the most of it
.

I love eating out as well as cooking in, but I do it sporadically. This leads both to excitement to eat out, and the enjoyment of being served by others. When you eat out all the time, this is lost. When I grew up, my family would occasionally order Chinese take-out or a pizza, and would eat at a restaurant a few times a year. Now I am not saying that anyone should only eat out a few times a year, but what I am saying is that infrequent participation in a behavior adds to its aura of specialness. Try eating out less, but really enjoy it when you do. Don’t waste these occasions on fast food, or subpar chain restaurants. In the world of restaurant food I noticed some interesting things last year.

-Ethnic restaurants are taking a chance and serving the food the proprietors would actually eat. There is a long history in this country of immigrants changing their cuisine to play to our nation’s propensity for sweetness and middle of the road tastes. We seem to like the vanilla version of everything, but the time is now to expand our taste buds. What’s great is that more and more restaurants are cooking the food that they want to eat, and I do too.

-Casual, or comforting (not comfort food) food no longer implies inferior. As more and more chefs have seen the profitability in more casual ventures, this genre of restaurants has become much better. Many of these comforting classics simply needed a facelift, or new inspiration to recreate them in a much better fashion. In many cases it has simply meant that these dishes are being produced with better ingredients, and better technique. This is a good thing, all the way around. After all, most of these became classics for a reason.....they are delicious.

-Speaking of classic grub, let’s touch on the burger for a second. Enough already with the fancy pants burgers that are designed to blow minds, and fatten the bottom line of restaurants everywhere. I’m sure the ‘triple-platinum purple label infinity cheeseburger’ tastes pretty good. Actually, it probably doesn’t, because I don’t want my burger to be thicker than a meatloaf. I don’t care what special blend of meat is being used. How about you use good quality ground beef, cook it on a griddle or in a skillet, toss a slice of cheese on there, and serve it on a good bun. I don’t want truffle mayo on a burger. In fact, who are these people who are clamoring for truffles on a burger, because I think they need to be sequestered in a padded room. Beyond simple good quality ingredients, the most important factor in a burger is the magic ratio of bun, to cheese, to burger, to toppings. Why would I ever want a burger skyscraper that is ready to topple over as it is being brought to my table? “Excuse me, Mr. Chef…..I would like a burger that I could actually fit in my mouth!! Yes, that is correct. I would appreciate it if this sandwich could be eaten like one. Thank you.” Smashburger makes a great burger. So does Shake Shack. What I don’t want is any more celebrity chefs to start making burgers that probably suck anyway.

-Can we stop with the ridiculous behavior at restaurants surrounding being a locavore, or overly environmentally conscious, or essentially being an ass-wipe? I am all for the sustainable food movement and the good it can do, but spare me the injustice of having to sit next to some overly yuppified couple that insist on sucking any fun out of a restaurant experience. A few weeks ago at Momofuku Milk Bar, a gentleman and his wife refused to accept that a cookie was wrapped in cellophane after they had purchased it. He threw a hissy fit that made me embarrassed for him, and left the poor guy at the counter beside himself with what to say. He actually decided he could not in good conscious consume this cookie, therefore wasting a cellophane wrapper. Apparently this is the thing that could keep him up at night. As he was leaving the store he kicked a homeless man who was lying on the ground (ok, I made that part up). To you sir, I award the first annual D-Bag of The Year Award. Let's just all use a little common sense and not get too lofty with our pretentious need to feed our own self-righteousness. I love the Earth. I love food that is local. I love the heightened interest in food in general. I do not love people who act a fool!

-Some restaurants are finally starting to make vegetarian dishes that are just as good as their meat centric offerings. I like this a great deal. I am a card carrying carnivore, but not every day, and certainly not at every meal. The problem is that most talented chefs are cooking meat, and most vegetarian restaurants are average to poor (but not Dirt Candy!! Check it out). Dishes without meat can be so delicious, and some big names are coming around to this idea. John Fraser of Dovetail in NYC is a fine example. Jean George’s ABC Kitchen is another.

-Taim remains the pinnacle of what a tiny place that only makes a few items can be. Long considered one of the best places for falafel in New York, Taim continues to be packed (which means there are eight customers squeezed into a space the size of a closet), delivering the goods every time. Their falafel sandwich is so amazing that I can’t even begin to describe it. Once a month I get an insane urge to have one that builds until there is simply no denying what has to be done. I make my way to Taim, order a sandwich, and then take it over to the steps of the now closed St. Vincents Hospital. I sit, I eat, and I watch the traffic and the people of New York pass by. I am happy. If only more restaurants would put all their focus into a few really good items, instead of bogging themselves down with too many offerings.

-I really feel that Asian food is so important right now. The most expensive restaurant in New York City is a temple to sushi. Some of the cheapest, most delicious meals to be had are restaurants cooking Chinese, Thai, Korean, Vietnamese, and Japanese. Every price point in between is filled with Asian options, yet the amazing thing is that we are just scratching the surface, and I continue to be excited by the prospect of what to eat from these far away cuisines. This is not about authenticity, because that is a silly notion. We are in the United States, so any food will be filtered through that lens to some degree. Yet Asian immigrants and second and third generation Asian-Americans, continue to both evolve these cuisines, and stay true to their original influence. The bottom line is that Asian food is off the chain! There are so many variations, so many specific culinary preparations, and so many deliciously balanced flavors that it takes eating to a higher level.

-With Asian food in mind, I will say that fusion is no longer the dirty culinary word it used to be. Forgiving the transgressions of the ‘90’s (think wasabi mashed potatoes), fusion is now being employed at level of competence that makes it a success. Whether it is Korean tacos (the pioneer of which is Roy Choi of Kogi fame, he gets OG status), or the simple use of foreign ingredients to heighten a dish of another culture, the blending of cultural food techniques is really making strides, and I am all too happy to eat the results.

Where To Eat in New York City Right Now! (better known as a list of places I like to eat at)

-Totto Ramen

-Yakitori Totto

-BaoHaus

-Co.

-The Dutch

-Cocoron

-Best Pizza

-Roberta’s

-Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao

-Frankies Spuntino

-Momofuku Milk Bar

-The Meatball Shop
-Xi'an Famous Foods

-Any Momofuku restaurant

-Barbuto

-Locanda Verde

-Boulud Sud

-Too many others to name that I just haven’t gotten to yet. After all, I rarely eat out.

2011 Food, Music, Film, Comedy, etc. Part 1

2012-01-14T14:03:00.004-05:00

2011 was a great year, like any other that we are still alive to experience. There will always be amazing things that sprout out of a particular calendar cycle, just like there will be things to leave behind. What mattered to me? I'm about to tell you.....

Andrew Carmellini is the coolest celebrity chef, who somehow isn't a celebrity, and therefore the Food Man Of The Year! Outside of New York City it is a safe bet that people don't know about him, or his incredible range, but he had a huge 2011. He is a chef's chef, having made his name at Lespinasse, the helm of Cafe Boulud and A Voce, then finding his stride as chef-owner of both Locanda Verde and The Dutch, which was named 2011 Best New Restaurant by former New York Times restaurant critic Sam Sifton.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/28/dining/sam-siftons-top-10-new-restaurants-of-2011.html

Simply put, Mr. Carmellini can absolutely cook his ass off. Perhaps more importantly, he has been able to build teams around him with the same passion and dedication to putting out great meals. He actually spends service in his kitchens, and seems to genuinely enjoy doing so. On top of all this, Mr. Carmellini is the author (along with his wife Gwen Hyman) of two of the best cookbooks out there-- American Flavor and Urban Italian. He also finds time to make music, post on a blog, be a huge Yankees fan (forgiveness granted for this), appear on TV, and was at the helm for the best meal I had in 2011, which I will write more about in a future post.

It is no secret that I love cookbooks, and though it may not have been the biggest year ever on this front, some gems did hit the pavement.

1. The Art Of Living According To Joe Beef: A Cookbook Of Sorts by Frédéric Morin, David McMillan, and Meredith Erickson

-Hands down one of the best cookbooks I own, or have ever read. It manages to be informative, funny, historical, and irreverent all at the same time. It is a lifestyle guide to how two men, and the restaurant trio they built, like to live. The cooking is beautiful, comforting, and distinctly from Montreal and the Province of Quebec.

2. American Flavor by Andrew Carmellini and Gwen Hyman

-One of New York’s best, and most respected chefs travels through America and his trove of memories to compose a wonderful look at the real food of our nation. The recipes actually work (not a given for most cookbooks), and the food represents the sorts of things you really want to eat. It also represents the ethnic and cultural quilt that is the bedrock of the history of this country. Perhaps the greatest testament to how the book succeeds is its ability to conjure your own personal memories, allowing them to infiltrate and inspire your own daily cooking.

3. Mission Street Food by Anthony Myint and Karen Leibowitz

-A story of one of the most unlikely success stories in the food world. The first cookbook from the independent publisher McSweeney’s is a win for both literature and gastronomy. It is safe to say you don’t own another book quite like it.

4. Momofuku Milk Bar by Christina Tosi

-Tosi’s exploits with sugar have been well documented in the media, but this serves to tell the real story of the New York phenomenon that is Momofuku Milk Bar. From gold painted sheeters named Beyonce, to the creation of Crack Pie, this book covers all the intricate nooks and crannies that have made Tosi and her merry band of dessert wizards so great. From simple recipes, to elaborate examples of the ingenuity and thrift that has made her creations so appealing, Momofuku Milk Bar is a book for adults with a child’s propensity for all things sweet and snacky.

5. Essential Pepin by Jacques Pepin

-Jacques Pepin is the OG of the Celebrity Chef game, and he is still going strong. Compiling 700 of his favorite recipes, updated for the times, Pepin will show you how to really cook. It also includes a DVD that covers techniques every cook should know. If you question the relevance of Pepin in 2011, I implore you to do two things. First, watch his shows on PBS and witness the way he cooks, not what he cooks. He moves with a fluidity and grace that is real samurai shit, and never tries to wow for wow’s sake, instead letting great food speak for itself. Second, read interviews with today’s greatest chefs and you will inevitably find many of them praising Pepin both as a personal influence, and for changing the game in America as a whole. Show respect, kiss the ring!

6. Rustic Italian Food by Marc Vetri

-One of the best Italian chefs in the United States delivers an understated love letter to the simple pleasures of the Italian table. This is the kind of food you can pull off, and completely enjoy, whether strapped for time, or possessing an abundance of the same commodity.

7. An Everlasting Meal: Cooking With Economy and Grace by Tamar Adler

-I wanted to dislike this book from the get go. Written by a woman who had worked for Alice Waters at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA, Adler embodied many of the fairy tale principles of the sustainable food movement that are easy to loathe. Highly educated, elitist white liberals on a crusade to save the world one plate at a time can sometimes turn the stomach, but Adler sidesteps these traps and delivers a book inspired by M.F.K. Fisher (what female food writer hasn’t used this line of thinking), ringing true to that author’s original intent. The book is about real life cooking, on a budget, where waste is not an option, and taste is elevated to a personal art form. For someone looking to become a home cook unbound by recipes, or a seasoned pro looking to remember the simple beauty in things like roasted vegetables, Adler succeeds in a big way. Bravo, despite everything I brought to the table as far as preconceived notions, you squashed them, and put out one of the best books of the year.

8. Lucky Peach Issues #1 and #2

-David Chang and Friends come together with McSweeney’s to put out a food magazine that breaks all the rules, in a good way. There is a sense of humor that flows throughout each issue that is not pure comedy, but instead a poignant reminder of the fact that food is fun, and taking yourself too seriously is never a good idea.

9. Cooking In The Moment by Andrea Reusing

-Southern cuisine that is decidedly North Carolina, yet globally influenced at the same time. Some of the best recipes for really enjoying the bounty of produce and meat that is available throughout all the seasons. This is seasonal cooking without the hype and pretentiousness that is a hallmark of the locavore movement. Her stories and recipe leads bring the reader into her life in a manner that is both comfortable and inspirational, while never being preachy.

10. Tender by Nigel Slater (US Version)

-Nigel Slater is one of best food writers on the planet. From a literary standpoint, he is tough to beat. His sentences swirl through the mind in a manner that is reminiscent of the great fictional writers of history. Yes, I just said that, and I stand by it. He can transport you to a dreamlike state where you are in his garden, watching the morning dew drip down a string of runner beans. This book is Slater’s love letter to the vegetables he grows, procures, and cooks. It is decidedly romantic, but few people couldn’t learn from the practical advice that fills its pages. Slater is so English it hurts in the very best way possible, and I have come to find great comfort in my impression of him (pretty spot on if I do say so myself), always bringing a laugh to me, myself, and I. Slater has been turning out some of the best books in food for a long time, and he seems to be elevating his game with each new offering.

In my next post I will discuss great music, as well as the things that people refer to as trends in the food world.

A Meal That Matters Most

2011-12-28T17:30:00.003-05:00

The holidays are a time to gather with loved ones and appreciate the time we get to spend together. Whatever it is that you celebrate, or whether you don't celebrate anything at all, the idea of coming together with those you love is a universal theme that transcends age, race, religion, gender, or anything else that is supposed to make us different. I happen to really enjoy the holidays, and for me, that means Christmas.

Christmas is interesting in the fact that the night before is just as important, as the day of. This year I found myself in an interesting position that was a poignant example of the importance of food, particularly in my life. This is my 'Twas The Night Before Christmas story, except it is real, and it doesn't rhyme. To set the mood, we shall begin with a short video interlude of Michael Buble. (Who is this Buble character? How did he become so big, and why am I unable to escape his reach? Damn you Buble! Your lounge act vocals haunt me like a ghost in the night!!! Everywhere I turn, there you are, crooning! Who croons these days? Can Buble and Josh Groban engage in a cagefight to the death? Please?)

The week leading up to Christmas Eve had been dominated by a serious health scare for someone that is close to my heart. I avoid certain details of my personal life, but the best way to understand the situation is to know that when the people you love have someone they love in trouble, it effects you just as much. Grace was on our side and a hospital stay turned into a patient release on Christmas Eve, just in time to fully enjoy the holiday with family. Ash called me to ask if I would be willing to cook dinner for family, and naturally I obliged. Dinner for six, with dietary guidelines to adhere to, and very little time for preparation. Ash volunteered to help, and though she is seen in a kitchen as often as a banker at Occupy Wall Street, I was grateful for her assistance.

There was definitely a moment of panic that set in, because the truth is, as much as I love food, and as much as I cook, pulling off this meal seemed intimidating on many levels. First off, what to cook? Second, eating at midnight wasn't an option, which left only a few hours to get to the store, procure ingredients, and prepare the dinner. Thirdly, this was a holiday dinner, one in which someone at the table had just had a harrowing health complication, making the fact that they were there all the more special. I will go ahead and say that this was the most important meal I've ever cooked, purely because of what was at stake. No one put pressure on me to perform in any way. People have been cooking meals like this for all of time, but I had never found myself in this position, so the stakes seemed high. What would the theme be, and could me and my sous chef Ash pull it off. But first, the special ingredient.....

We went to the market to try and put together a menu that would work for the evening, and garlic was the first thing I grabbed. I love garlic, and garlic is good for health on a number of levels. Based on what I saw available at Whole Foods (I'm in Denver, so Whole Foods is the best option for fresh ingredients), it looked like an Italian theme would reign supreme. I love simple ingredients prepared in a simple fashion, so this served well for my style of cooking. We grabbed zucchini, artichoke hearts, spinach, a bag of good dried pasta, canned Italian tomatoes, three New York strip steaks, herbs, baby yukon potatoes, parmesan, and a big head of garlic.

A word to the wise....when cooking for others, go with what you know. I am left awestruck when people try to cook something complicated that they have never tried for an impending dinner party. This is always a bad idea, and the lands are littered with the untouched dishes of too many a ruined gathering. I appreciate ambition, but restraint and a little finesse are undervalued in the home kitchen. The meals we remember are not filed away in our heads for the intricate and complicated process by which they reached the table. Flavor, comfort, and the joy of a shared meal are what usually take the cake. So I opted for simplicity across the board, things that I know most people will eat, and that could be brought together in a reasonable amount of time. Vegetables had to play a major role for health reasons, and three steaks were to be split amongst six people. Ash typed out the menu for each place setting on special gold paper and it read as follows.......

..............that last part is a joke. There was no typing, and no gold paper, though it would have been pretty cool...........

Farfalle Pasta with Homemade Marinara

New York Strip with Garlic and Thyme Pan Reduction

Roasted Baby Yukon Potatoes with Garlic and Rosemary

Sauteed Zucchini with Pan-Fried Artichoke Hearts

Sauteed Spinach in Olive Oil and Garlic

...........super simple, but made to please. Me and Ash strapped on flowery aprons (a guy has to do what a guy has to do, and sometimes flowery aprons are all that is available) and got down to business. The potatoes went in the oven first, and the pan sauce was finished last. In between there was a furious amount of cooking, and I am glad to report that Ash held her own in the kitchen. I must say I was mighty impressed with her performance. She even found the time to pop in a batch of Pillsbury Crescent rolls (Though I like to lie and say they don't taste good, I can't, they do.)

The biggest issue was that I overcooked the pasta. I know, with everything that I spout about people ruining pasta, I did the unthinkable. In my humble defense, there was a lot of dishes all coming together at the same time. Timing can be slightly difficult when you are using unfamiliar equipment, but alas, I really have no excuse. Excuses aren't meant for the kitchen. I screwed up, even if it went unnoticed at the table. With Ash by my side, we were able to pull it off (I was proud of her), and if I do say so myself, it was delicious. Garlic and olive oil tied together a spread that had both variety, and familiarity, and most importantly love. That's right, love. It is the secret ingredient that makes food shine, and it was all over this meal.

Meat on a wood cutting board. Carnivorous beauty.

Roasted potatoes are easy and appealing to young and old alike

Where's the meat?!

This post really isn't about cooking, or food in general. It's really about the gratitude and happiness that comes from the sharing of a meal with those you love. Was it the most important dinner I've ever cooked? Absolutely, being the first time I've ever been behind the stove for such an important occasion. I think it all went well. Food was shared, stories were told, and our time together became the focal point of a simple Italian meal. I was honored to be able to help, and the experience reminded me of why I started cooking in the first place. As I sat at the table on Christmas Eve I knew why food mattered, and why people matter so much more. Life is far too short to fret over silly things, so do me a favor and go share a meal with someone you love. Peace!

Just a slice of the BEST Pizza!

2011-12-23T14:45:00.001-05:00

A typical night in Brooklyn

Best Pizza in Williamsburg, Brooklyn is my favorite slice shop in New York City. It is a special place on so
many levels, including many that people might miss. On a quiet stretch of Havemeyer St. between 7th and 8th, Best is, in my estimation, what is great in food today. You may ask, how could a slice joint in Williamsburg be what is great in food today? First off, I've never been anywhere quite like it. Opened in a small space that formerly housed The Brooklyn Star (after a fire it moved to a new location), and employing a brick oven with turn of the century roots (not the most recent turn), Best Pizza turns out food that is at once simple and amazing. The space is under the stewardship of Frank Pinello, with backing from The Brooklyn Star and Roberta's (both must visits in their own right). In a New York Times article Frank stated that he preferred the term 'pizza man', to the now overused 'pizzaiolo', and in many ways this sums up what I like about Best Pizza. They do it, and they do it well, without all the pretentiousness that is often espoused in culinary circles these days. Frank is a young guy from Bensonhurst, with quite a resume for a 'pizza man'. But that is the beauty of it, because Best Pizza doesn't rest on hype, accolades, or bullshit. The food is what matters, and it delivers every time, a simple pizza shop that overdelivers. Here are the reasons why, in no particular order:

1. House-made mozzarella. This is a big deal, and it is evident in the quality and flavor of each pie.

2. They carry Cheerwine soda. A regional cherry soda from North Carolina. It is an amazing accompaniment to anything on the menu.

3. The white slice is understated, yet amazing. Mozzarella, ricotta, pecorino, caramelized onions, and sesame seeds on the crust. The caramelized onions set it off, balancing the saltiness with a hint of natural sweetness.

I never take pictures in a restaurant without permission so this is taken from http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2010/11/williamsburg-best-pizza-brooklyn-star-nyc-review.html

4. The chicken parm sandwich is insane!

5. It feels like a local shop. It feels like part of a community, as evidenced by the staff and the patrons. The last time I was in was great evidence of this fact. I was seated with two slices in a suit, having come from a work meeting. Frank was working on their basement, fixing something or other, buzzing about from the shop to the basement and back again. There is always a DIY feel to the place, and not in an unprofessional way, but one that speaks to resourcefulness. A teenager was using one of the tables to design, and draw signs for the shop. Cardboard cutouts with a street art feel that were really well done. A father, with his two young daughters were enjoying food at another one of the tables. A pre-teen African-American boy strolled in clearly having just left school, ready to enjoy a slice. The shop's ubiquitous delivery man shot through the door after making a drop. He is by all accounts unique, and a fixture of what makes Williamsburg fun, without the trappings of extreme youth, or a trust fund. Where as many people in this neighborhood try really hard to appear as if they aren't trying hard, this is the guy who really isn't. He is funny. Behind the counter are two guys that are always there, and this consistency is evidenced in how good the product is. They are generally nice in an authentic manner.This diversity and community spirit can't be denied, especially since so many places lack it. Just another day at Best Pizza.

6. One day I sat next to another 'pizza man' who writes and answers questions on food websites. His own restaurant is a destination for pizza lovers. It sure sounded like he said, "this is the best slice around". I would have to agree.

7. It is cheap. Maybe not as cheap as every slice joint, but considering the quality, it is a bargain. Go with one other person, order a chicken parm to split, a slice each, and a soda. The best $20 you could collectively spend. If you are still hungry, get another slice. I always do one cheese and one white, because I love them both. The point is, this is great food, that isn't going to break the bank.

8. They play music that I'm sure many people hate, including the 'pizza man' mentioned in #6 (he brought it up). I happen to like it. Getting a heavy dose of Raekwon, Nas, and Biggie straight out of the mid 90's puts a smile on my face, and it is especially good because it feels devoid of formula, instead a simple representation of what the people who work there like. On my last visit there was country in the mix, which added an element of surprise.

9. Their crust has perfect char on the bottom. A wood fired oven is rarely, if ever seen in a slice joint. It produces a pie that is heads and tails above any competition.

http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2010/11/williamsburg-best-pizza-brooklyn-star-nyc-review.html

10. They give a shit about what they serve. We all know the feeling of getting food at an establishment that is lacking this crucial factor. It is painful to watch, and usually painful to consume whatever is turned out in places that lack this part of the puzzle. There is a lot of love put into what is being turned out at Best Pizza, and it can be tasted in every bite.

I could easily write fifty more reasons to eat here, but I think you get the picture. If you live anywhere in New York, or are visitng, this is a must eat stop. Thanks to the entire staff at Best Pizza for doing what you do, I really appreciate it. If only more places cared as much.

Home Alone.....with a Hanger Steak

2011-12-14T22:57:00.000-05:00

Dinner For One

So I find myself home alone on a Friday night in New York City. My girlfriend is away for the weekend, and I am traveling tomorrow, so here I sit. This is a big city, with an endless stream of things that someone could do. I could meet up with friends for dinner and a movie. I could head downtown for a gallery opening. I could travel out to Flushing to have the priceless rush of being a foreigner. Some would say I should party like tomorrow doesn't exist. None of these things appeals to my sensibilities right now. I decide to stay in for the night. I enjoy doing this very much from time to time. I get in a good workout, since this always helps me feel better about everything, alleviating some of the focus off of Ash being gone. The truth is I like when my girlfriend is around, and when she is gone I certainly miss her company. This sentiment can be unpopular in some circles, where the presiding logic seems to be something akin to a goal of hanging out with your significant other as little as possible. I am lost in attempting to understand this line of thinking. After working out there are few things that are as satisfying as a good piece of red meat. Something about it just feels right to me-though I'm sure my vegetarian friends would disagree.

Cheap and Delicious

I head to the my local market and spot a nice pile of hanger steak in the butcher case. Hanger steak is often sold much cheaper than other cuts of red meat. On this particular day I paid one third the price of a strip steak, and half as much as skirt steak. It was cheap, which is funny because there is only hanger on each steer. Delicious and cheap are two words that are rarely paired, yet beautiful together. Hanger steak has a mineral taste that accentuates its beefiness. Here is all you need to know to confirm its worthiness, it used to be called a butcher's steak. Would you like to know why? It's because butchers wouldn't sell them, preferring instead to take them home for their own eating pleasure. This is akin to finding out the contents of Warren Buffet's portfolio. Whatever is in there is probably a pretty safe bet. The same logic applies to butchers and what they are bringing home. I also pick up some spinach. Having a heaping portion of greens with meat seems to cut the heaviness, playing a perfect supporting role. Though it is popular at many steakhouses, I did not feel compelled to make creamed spinach. This decision centered mainly on the fact that creamed spinach is gross.

Ready for a ten minute rest

Infinitely more appropriate than the creamed variety

A simple yet perfect duo

Pan sauce will change your life!

I got home and put on my apron. I like aprons, regardless of what Al Roker recently said in the press. They keep my clothes clean. Al's assertion that it isn't okay for a man to wear an apron does not even warrant a response from me. There are too many snide comments I could make about Mr. Roker, but I prefer not to shoot fish in a barrel. So, it is Friday night in New York, I am home alone, and wearing an apron. I am quite comfortable with this state of affairs. I season aggressively, then cook the hanger steak at high heat in a saute pan. I always encourage people not to be afraid of heat. When you see a professional kitchen in action, what type of flames do you see? The fact that you can see them should give you a hint. The hanger is rather thick so I deeply brown each side, and then finish in the oven for a few minutes. I don't overcook the steak, because that would place of veil of deep regret over the remainder of the evening. I set the steak aside to rest. I place the pan back on a medium heat and toss a minced shallot in the pan. I deglaze the pan with a little sherry, then add beef stock and reduce. I saute the spinach in another pan with olive oil, garlic, and shallot. I season, because salt makes greens taste so much better. I mount the pan sauce with a bit of butter, swirling it off the heat, adding a bit of thyme to finish. If you learn how to make a simple pan sauce it will change your life, it certainly changed mine. I slice the hanger steak against the grain, and plate in a simple fashion. I enjoy it thoroughly. I read The Art Of Living According To Joe Beef: A Cookbook Of Sorts. Definitely one of the finest cookbook/memoirs out there. It makes me want to go to Montreal.

It officially makes my Top Five Cookbooks Of The Year List. I then realize that I don't have a Top Five Cookbooks Of The Year List, but should probably now come up with one. In no way do I regret my choice to stay home, I rarely do. I resist the temptation to eat a pint of ice cream. I sleep like a hibernating bear.

Beef Stew, Keeping Us Alive For Hundreds of Years

2011-12-13T21:26:00.000-05:00

First day

When it is cold out our bodies naturally crave certain things. This is not up for debate. Actually it is up for debate, but because I'm right, it is a waste of time to engage in the process. When it is cold out our bodies naturally thirst for filling food. You know why? To keep ourselves alive. For 99% of human history, staying alive was numero uno on the agenda of things to do. In fact, there really wasn't many other things to worry about. In fact, a good portion of the world lives like this today. So the next time your top priority of the day is to find that flashy new case for your iPhone, try to remember for a second that billions (yes billions) of people are concerned with only one thing, eating enough food and drinking enough water to stay alive another day. If that thought doesn't bring you right out of your self-centered universe, I'm afraid you may have a cold heart. I digress. So people have always eaten filling food in the winter. It helped them stay alive. The other key component of all this is that you have to remember what is growing in the winter. Nothing! Actually that isn't true, but for the most part, the pickings are slim. Root vegetables, meat, dried grains, and pickled and preserved products. Not exactly the bounty that we have in other seasons (or the seasonless cornucopia of modern day supermarkets). If you live in a cold weather climate, these are the type of things that will make your body sing with delight. I'm not a crazy locavore who thinks you should only eat things that come from no further than fifty miles away. This is stupid, and I will delve deeper into the subject at another time. I eat local products whenever I can, and they are wonderful, but I am willing to balance local products with things that are produced in other areas. For instance I love coffee, tea, spices, olive oil, and bananas, and have no inclination to give these things up because some twenty-old from Brooklyn has decided that I should. After all, people have been eating and drinking products from other parts of the world for centuries.

Second day

Forget all that, let's just make it super simple. What is better on a frigid rainy night, a nice garden salad with raspberry vinaigrette or beef stew? If you answered a nice garden salad, you should stop reading this immediately, because clearly there is nothing romantic left in your soul, and your world view is probably lodged in some alternate universe that I can't relate to. I love a good salad, but when compared with the delight that comes from beef stew on a winter evening, I believe there is no comparison. Imagine writing a story about an idyllic scene in winter, a family surrounding a table, a fire blazing in the other room, the family dog cocking his head to the sky hoping for a scrap from the table. What is on the table? If you said a salad, you are a jerk, or you have yet to come to grips with the fact that life is short, and needs to be enjoyed every chance we get. Are you a vegetarian? Then imagine a vegetarian stew with hearty beans, maybe a crusty loaf of bread on the side for dipping. Most meals I eat are vegetarian, so don't think this is just a meat thing (although just about any vegetarian dish becomes ten times better with a bit of bacon or chorizo). You want to know the best part about making a stew? It's cheap. Dirt cheap. Right now I have a huge pot of stew simmering away to tender perfection. You know how much everything in that pot cost? Thirteen dollars. And that is relatively high end products, purchased in New York City. It will produce enough stew to eat for several days. Let me repeat that...... thirteen dollars (the same price as a pack of cigarettes here in NYC, for which I no longer partake), for several days of really delicious food. Here is the inherent beauty of stews and braises....inexpensive products become sublime because of the cooking method. It is brilliant. And here is the biggest kicker of all, stew tastes better a day or two after it is made. It is true. Brilliant! Make it in a crock pot if you want (my Mom did, and her stew was pretty damn good), it bothers me not at all. If you make stew for other people you will feel human connection on a deep level that has spanned the ages. And most importantly, you will enjoy yourself.

Beef Stew (this is not a recipe, but an idea)

1 1/2 lb. Beef Stew Meat (Chuck, Shoulder, something cheap and tough)
1 large onion chopped roughly
1 shallot minced
3 large carrots chopped roughly (one carrot at beginning, two for later)
4 cups of beef/chicken/ or vegetable stock
1 cup sherry/red wine
6 medium yukon gold potatoes (or double for the small variety) chopped roughly
flour for dusting
2 Tbs. Oil
1 tsp. dried thyme (or a few sprigs of fresh)
1 bay leaf
handful of chopped parsley and other herbs on hand
salt
pepper

1. Make sure that the beef is close to room temperature. Heat a dutch oven, or other large pot over medium heat. Liberally salt and pepper the beef. Now lightly coat the meat with flour, banging off any excess. Add the oil to the pan and slowly add half the beef, making sure not to crowd the pan. You are looking for a nice loud sizzle. Cook until well browned on all sides. Remove from the pan and reserve, adding the rest of the beef and repeating the process.
2. Add shallot, onion, and one chopped carrot. Cook until the onion is slightly browning, adjusting heat to insure nothing burns, about five minutes. Add the sherry or wine and deglaze the pan making sure to scrape the pan to get all the fond up from the bottom (the good stuff). Cook until the sherry or wine is cooked off by half.
3. Add the meat back to the pan. Add the potatoes, thyme, bay leaf, and a bit of salt and pepper. Now add the stock until the ingredients are barely covered. Allow everything to come up to temperature. What you want is barely a burble, like the pot is whispering, not yelling. The goal is never to allow the liquid to boil which will toughen the meat. Cover and allow to slowly cook for 1 1/2 hours. Check once or twice to be sure the liquid doesn't boil.
4. Uncover, and add the rest of the carrots (ensuring that all the carrots won't be mush). Continue to cook at a burble for another 1 to 2 hours. It could even take longer. What you are looking for is the meat to be tender, so you have to check and taste at half hour intervals. The sauce will cook down and reduce, so occasionally stir to keep everything moist.
5. When the meat is done, taste the broth. Does it taste good? Salt and pepper to taste. Add the chopped parsley. Serve. It will be better the next day.

Snickerdoodles, John Legend, Brooklyn Decker, and The Legend Of Andy Roddick

2011-12-10T09:15:00.006-05:00

I just turned on The Cooking Channel and saw John Legend making cookies with his model girlfriend. What?! John Legend, R&B crooner, confidant of Kanye West, rolling cookies on The Cooking Channel as part of a cookie exchange cocktail party show?
I'm not sure how I feel about this, but in honor of his appearance, and the classic faces he was making as his girl was talking nonsense throughout the show, John Legend's classic album Get Lifted will be on as I write this. He also makes the top slot in today's Listening To, so congrats to you John. As a side note, Brooklyn Decker (yes of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue cover fame as well as movies) also made an appearance on the show. Now Brooklyn is incredibly beautiful, and obviously a big star, so what is she doing on The Cooking Channel? Not even The Food Network (which has become almost entirely unforgivable these days), but instead, it's minor league sister channel. Cooking Channel is quite good in its programming, so to see Brooklyn Decker making cookies was strange to say the very least. As she talked about how she could never really these cookies unless she wan't working, I began to feel used. I mean, would I want a vegetarian who occasionally slipped to show me how to cook a steak? Listen, I'm sure Brooklyn is a nice girl (though her husband Andy Roddick was questionable when I met him during his Mandy Moore days. He was pretty much 'that guy' in a club. True Story. Despite all this, watch any press conference after an Andy Roddick loss and you will be entertained. The dude is kind of funny.), and maybe she even bakes at home once in awhile, but come on! I will take Ina Garten making cookies any day, in her hushed tones that exude care and attention to detail. When the Barefoot Contessa whips up a batch of cookies you know they are good (plus I secretly want to be Ina's neighbor because she is always bringing her neighbors food. As if living in the Hamptons wasn't awesome enough, these people have The Barefoot Contessa dropping by with a picnic basket loaded with delicious treats.)

Oh well, most people probably thought it was completely freaking awesome. What is funny is that the whole reason I workout is so that I can eat cookies. Am I stuffing my face constantly with cookies? No. But I like to get in enough physical activity that I don't have to worry about whether I can have a couple cookies. So let's make some. With the holidays coming up you can't go wrong with a Snickerdoodle, and there is clearly no cookie with a better name.

Snickerdoodles

(Adapted from a recipe by Joanne Chang, owner of Flour Bakery in Boston, MA. If you ever get a chance to go to any of the three locations, seize the opportunity, because her products are hella good. Plus she is super gangster having graduated from Harvard with honors and then said, "I think I would rather be a pastry chef." Go out and buy her book it is pretty amazing.)

12 oz. (2-2/3 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. table salt
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 lb. (8 oz.) unsalted butter, softened at room temperature
1-3/4 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 Tbs. ground cinnamon

Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F. In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, salt, and cream of tartar to blend. Using a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and 1-1/2 cups of the sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes (I like to beat the butter longer than most people say. If seems to make for a better cookie. We will call it the Milk Bar technique). Scrape the bowl with a rubber spatula. Beat in the eggs until thoroughly combined, about 2 minutes. Scrape the bowl again. With the mixer on low speed, slowly blend in the flour until incorporated, about 30 seconds.
In a small bowl, mix the cinnaamon and remaining 1/4 cup sugar. Drop the dough by rounded tablespoonfuls into the cinnamon sugar and roll around to coat. Set the coated balls of dough about 3 inches apart on greased cookie sheets. Bake until golden brown on the edges and slightly soft in the center, 15 to 18 minutes (I go shorter rather than longer, because I like a soft Snickerdoodle). Let the cookies cool on the sheet for 1 minute before transferring them to a rack to cool.

Listening To: John Legend- Get Lifted

Jay-Z+Kanye+Adele Mixtape- New York, Chicago, London

Black Keys- El Camino

Singles Soundtrack (I love the 90's)

The Joe Rogan Experience Podcast

The Good And The Bad #1

2011-12-07T12:16:00.001-05:00

There are things in the world that I like, and plenty of things that I don't. I'm not just talking food, but in general. Every once and awhile I need to get these things off my chest, so here goes....

Speculoos or Biscoff Spread: This is crack for people who don't do drugs. What is it you say? It is essentially gingersnap cookies (of the Belgian variety) made into a delicious spread. Think peanut butter or nutella, but made from spiced cookies. It is amazing on waffles (a great example are the Waffle & Dinges trucks in NYC), spread on toast, on an apple, or used to make ice cream base. Is it the healthiest thing? Absolutely not, but you just don't use a lot of it. I know that is a novel concept, but it is possible to enjoy sweets in moderation. Buy some of this stuff immediately, you owe it to yourself.

Kale Chips (not the kind you buy in the store): Most people at this point have heard of kale chips, but I would contend that more people should be eating this stuff. The kind you buy at the store are gross. Buy one or two big bunches of kale, wash and dry, then cut out the stems/ribs. Chop them up a bit, then toss with a little olive oil, and a generous amount of salt. Bake them in a single layer at 300 F for 25-30 minutes (basically until crunchy). Enjoy. They don't have to be a snack either. Serve them as a crunchy side with a juicy steak. Break them up over an omelet for texture. Or just zone out on the couch and eat them like potato chips. When finished, you will have consumed a large portion of one of the healthiest vegetables on the planet. Not a bad idea right?

Juicing: I know, it smacks of elitist hippie health food store adopted by celebrities bullshit. But...it happens to be a really good thing. One of the biggest problems these days is that people don't eat enough vegetables. In fact, I know people who don't eat any vegetables (that is a recipe for some epic constipation). I'm no vegetarian, but if I could only eat one category of food, it would be fruits and vegetables. Here is the thing though, I don't always have the time or the inclination to eat a trough full of raw vegetables. Go watch a vegetable juice being made some time. I could never eat that many vegetables in a sitting, but I can certainly benefit from the vitamins and nutrients that they contain. I promise that hitting the juice will make you feel better. Instead of a bad meal, have a juice and some nuts. You will be full, and your body will appreciate what you are putting into it.

99% of places that serve green tea suck at it: For thousands of years people have cultivated, harvested, and consumed green tea. And for thousands of years, people have known how to make it. So why does almost every place that serves green tea today in America feel obligated to royally fuck it up? Rule #1-Use water in between 140 and 170F. Why is it that every time I order a green tea I get a scalding cauldron of water. It's almost like these places are trying to defy the laws of physics and science to see if they can raise the boiling point above 212F. Guess what guys, this makes the tea taste like it was made from the clippings of your front lawn. And it isn't like this is secret knowledge or something. IT IS EVERYWHERE! We have this thing called the internet where you can look things up instantly. You could also discover this information in any library or book store (though I am beginning to believe that I'm one of the last people who find these places appealing). Rule #2-It takes about 45-90 seconds to brew green tea. So, if you can spend 3 minutes making a coffee drink, why the hell can't you brew my tea behind the counter? This way I could have my tea ready to consume. Instead you hand me my scalding cauldron of hot water that I can't even hold, then expect me to magically know how long it has been brewing, then manage to take off the flimsy plastic top and discard the tea bag (I don't even care that tea bags suck, I can work with that) without dripping skin melting water all over myself? I don't even care about the hot water, I burn myself all the time when I cook, it is just that this is a stupid system. Why not just leave the tea bag in you might say? Just because some soccer mom, who drinks green tea because the The View told her it would make her skinny, leaves her tea bag in, doesn't mean I need to (after all, she is the person who drinks the tea to make her skinny, then orders the brownie as a small snack to go with it. I love brownies and green tea, but the logic here is ass backwards). Steeping tea too long makes it taste bitter and nasty, and if we would look to people who know about tea, we would figure this out. People in Asia have been down with tea for THOUSANDS of years!! If only we were paying attention.

Food Allergies: Can we stop with this stuff. Please. Can we just get over our rampant narcissism? Some people really have food allergies, and you people that don't are ruining it for them. Currently, 30% of adults in America believe they have some type of food allergy. The truth, based on heaps and heaps or REAL science, is that 4% of adults really do. So, the 26% needs to be called on it. Reality is far different from what people say. I'm afraid to try that particular food is the truth, an allergy is the excuse. I want to be skinny is the truth, an allergy is the excuse. I'm bored with my life and I want people to pay lots of attention to me and cater to all my wishes and desires is the truth, an allergy is the excuse. I enjoy being difficult is the truth, an allergy is the excuse. We need to offer free allergy tests by reputable professionals for anyone claiming to be allergic to food. Let's expose this nonsense immediately.

The Grammy Awards: Embarrassing.

Meat grilled over fire: Is this ever not good? It is always good. It smells good, it tastes good, it makes you feel quasi primal. Instead of eating a sloppy disc of ammonia treated carcass scraps at a fast food joint, why not eat some grilled meat. Find out where people from other countries live near you, because chances are they know all about the simple beauty of grilled meat. The meat is there somewhere, you just have to seek it out.

Why Is There A Line Of Twenty Kids With Two Parental Chaperons At Starbucks: 10 Year Olds simply don't need to be at Starbucks. This is silly. Starbucks sells highly caffeinated drinks, indulgent sweets, and other assorted calorie bombs. So why are there twenty kids all ordering Frappuccinos at 2 in the afternoon? I mean seriously, what is going on? Obesity is a real problem, and all you have to do is look around to figure out why.

Thought Of The Day: America is a place where many of our poor citizens are fat, or even morbidly obese. Let's all marinate on that idea for a minute. Our poorest people are often times incredibly overweight. For all of human history, only incredibly wealthy people were at risk of being fat, strictly from overindulgence. Now, our poorest people somehow have the ability to eat themselves to a shorter life. Does this strike anyone else as completely crazy? When you see pictures of 'poverty' anywhere else in the world, do you ever see a really fat person hanging out in the background? No you don't.

Listening to: Frank Ocean- Nostalgia Ultra Mixtape

Bon Iver

Fleet Foxes- Helplessness Blues

Wilco- The Whole Love

The Roots- undun

New York Pizza vs. New Haven Pizza

2011-11-02T12:51:00.000-04:00

Who has better pizza? This is one of those questions that people will debate until the end of time. It is similar to the New York vs. Chicago pizza question. The only difference is that New York and New Haven both make pizza, while Chicago prides itself on making a casserole whose best attribute is making people morbidly obese. I recently had the pleasure to be on a road trip with two great friends who were game to stop in New Haven on our way back from Boston to fully indulge in a pizza tasting tour. I am the humble cook nyc, but there is a twist in the fact that I consider myself to be a New England boy at heart. That's right, I bleed the red and blue of Red Sox Nation, and find people who don't pronounce r's to be quite endearing. I am a born and raised Connecticut boy who loves apple cider, maple syrup, the Hartford Whalers fight song (Brass Bonanza by Jack Say), and being from the Nutmeg State (even though no one is sure where that name comes from). With all that being said, it would seem clear that I would be predisposed towards New Haven pizza love. I grew up on the stuff, and pizza is definitely one of those foods where our childhood exposure solidly informs our preference later in life. I stood in line for two hours, in the freezing cold outside of Frank Pepe's long before 'foodies', The Food Network, and the bro-tastic stylings of one Guy Fieri captured the nation. In Connecticut, people always loved food, and pizza was no exception. You know why pizza is so amazing? It is soul satisfying food that is good everytime you have it. Think back to all the cool restaurant dinners you have had, now tell me that going out for pizza wasn't just as satisfying, maybe more so. Pizza is one of the cheapest ways for a family to eat out, and no one is leaving that table disappointed. Pizza is delicious, filling, and even when it isn't that great, it is still pretty amazing. Sitting around a table with a couple of pies (that is what we call them in Connecticut as in, "How about I pick up a pie tonight?"), a pitcher or two of tasty beverages, and family or friends is a sure fire way to enjoy oneself. To tell you the truth, I need to get some pizza right now, so I will be back............................

So we stopped at three celebrated New Haven pizza institutions, Zuppardi's Apizza, Modern Apizza, and Frank Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana. We would have gone to Sally's (my old personal favorite) but they are only open for dinner, and we breezed through in the afternoon. Our selections were the fresh shucked clam pie at Zuppardi's, a pepperoni and black olive pie at Modern, and a plain pie at Pepe's. Were any of them bad, no. Were any of them ethereal, no. They were good, solid, thin crust pies with smoky char on the bottom and plenty of flavor, but these simply were not the magical unicorns that people have made them out to be. Don't get me wrong, they were delicious, but not in a mind blowing sort of way. To be honest, the highlight of all three establishments is that they serve Foxon Park White Birch Beer, which may be the perfect beverage to wash down a couple of slices (Cheerwine cherry soda would be a close second). In fact, I can safely say that I ate twelve slices of pizza in the span of a couple of hours and the birch beer served as the perfect counterpoint to this somewhat gluttonous activity. "Here's the thing" (in quotes due to the fact that this statement is credited to my friend Ben, who usually follows it up with some sort of zen, common-sense break-down type shit), good pizza simply isn't great pizza, it is just good pizza, and that is okay. So to New Haven I say unto you, congratulations for making really good pizza, and when you want to have truly great pizza, shoot down I-95 to New York City.

Before I address what i think are spots to check out in City, I must tend to a matter that continues to bother me at a deep level. What is it about smaller restaurants, particularly pizzerias, where it is acceptable to treat people like crap? Is this supposed to make the pie taste better? Am I meant to feel privileged to enjoy your pizza, as evidenced by the disdain you convey to me for being a customer of your establishment? Listen, I'm not expecting you to roll out the red carpet or kiss my ass, but am I completely crazy to think that being marginally hospitable is too much to ask? I left all three New Haven establishments feeling like I had been a major inconvenience to the staff for handing over my money for the products that they sell. Do you not want my money? I will always be kind and respectful to you, because the truth is I have infinite respect for what it is that you do. You are collectively partaking in the process of feeding people, and I think that is honorable, and should be a source of pride for those that do it. And this is not isolated to New Haven, because I have been on the receiving end of this in New York as well. Okay, I'm done with that particular rant, so onto New York pizza.

New York seems to have more pizzerias than coffee shops, which is amazing, considering we have an awful lot of coffee shops. It feels like every corner has a shop slinging utility slices that are delicious for what they are. A utility slice is simply the basic slice that is made at thousands of shops around the City, usually taken to go on a plate, and folded for ease of consumption. These slices are cheap, filling, and relatively delicious, particularly when hunger pains are overwhelming you as you emerge from the subway. These are standard, but what pizza lovers really want, is something amazing. The truth is that I have eaten at a small smattering of pizzerias in New York. There are so many to try, that it would take true singular dedication to really produce an accurate take on everything going on in the New York pizza scene. But I have visited several establishments, and many of them have smoked New haven pizza in a big way. One of the interesting things about New York, is that you actually have a big palette of pizza styles to choose from. There is New York style pizza, but I'm no longer sure what that even denotes anymore. For a classic thin crust pie, I like John's on Bleecker (just elbow the tourists out of the way.....just kidding....sort of), and Trevor (who was part of the New Haven tasting) swears by Grimaldi's under the Brooklyn Bridge. The truth is that there are a ton of old-school places that generate rave reviews from people, and most are deserving of the praise. What is really exciting in New York is that you also have a wave of newer Neapolitan style pizzerias doing incredibly exciting things, including Motorino, Roberta's, Keste, etc. So what are my favorite places for pizza in New York? Now is the moment when I pause for dramatic effect..............and then I reveal that I have two favorite places, who do completely different things. BEST Pizza in Williamsburg, and Co. in Manhattan are where the magic happens. More to come on these two gems.

One thing I can say for sure about this whole experience is that good company will always make good food better, great food a lasting memory, and bad food tolerable through a few laughs. I am fortunate to have amazing friends, and I try never to take this fact for granted . Sharing food with phenomenal people is one of the best things that life has to offer. I was lucky enough on this trip to share several meals with two of the finest people I have ever had the pleasure to know (the drive to Somerville not withstanding), and it all reminded me of why I love food so much. It is never simply about the food, but instead about people, context, and the joy of living.

A Tomato Sauce For All Seasons, and Why Your Freezer Is Important

2011-10-12T13:54:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking more and more about the strange things we consume these days. Our grocery stores are filled with products that are highly processed, often times not even resembling food itself. Most grocery stores only contain somewhere in the neighborhood of 5% of their inventory in whole unprocessed foods. Maybe that doesn't strike anyone else as being strange, but it is somewhat alarming to me. What would happen if tomorrow stores no longer carried any processed foods? I will even make a few exceptions. Keep the cheese, dried pasta and noodles, bread (so long as the ingredient list doesn't contain strange unrecognizable substances), and a few choice condiments and oils. Aside from that, you are looking at vegetables, fruits, grains, meat, seafood, eggs, butter, milk, salt, sugar, etc. What do you do? I know what I would do, but I'm reminded more and more these days that I am in the minority. Let's up the ante a little, shall we? What if you couldn't eat at restaurants? Now don't get me wrong, I love restaurants, but for arguments sake, what would you do?

The point is that I will continue to espouse cooking as a fundamentally important skill and activity. It allows you the opportunity to eat real food, instead of a warped science experiment passed off as an edible substance. Is there any debate about the superiority of a diet composed of unprocessed or minimally processed food? The only debate might come from the people who are selling you sugar laden breakfast cereal with claims of superior health benefits. When did we all become stupid enough to believe that cereal with marshmallows in it is a great choice for health? Really? I happen to think marshmallows are pretty tasty, but I've never put one in my mouth thinking it was rounding out deficiencies in my diet. If you ever want to have a good time, wander the aisles of a supermarket and notice how many processed foods have labels claiming righteous health benefits (if you don't at least have a slight chuckle you may have been lost to processed food forever). It seems strange that with all this 'healthy' food at our fingertips we are getting fatter and unhealthier as a nation. How did we get here? In my humble opinion, we got here because we don't know how to cook, or are too lazy to do so. I know you are busy, most people are, but cooking can and should be incorporated into daily life. I promise you that the closer you get to your food, the happier you will become.

With all this in mind, I can think of no more striking an example of our separation from good food than the average American freezer. Open up most people's freezers and what do you find? Typically it is cornucopia of processed foods, in colorful packages designed to blind you to what really lies inside. Often times these products are laden with preservatives. Let's ponder that for a second. Hopefully it just hit you that a freezer is an amazing piece of technology that can actually safely preserve food. So instead of using it as a storage bay for for the byproducts of a chemical laboratory, why not fill it with food that you cooked for the times when life is incredibly busy. I suppose it would only be fair to reveal the contents of my freezer. Sweet potato gnocchi, tomato sauce, chicken stock, speculoos ice cream, pork and leek potsticker dumplings, pie crust dough, and ice cubes. All of those things are homemade when I had time, and ready to go when I don't have a surplus of time to cook.

As a gift to you, in your quest to reclaim your freezer and your sanity, I give you my recipe for tomato sauce. It freezes well, and could last months, though it never does in my house. It can be stored in small containers that allow you to use only what you need. I use it with pasta, to braise meats in, with vegetables, in soups for flavor. It is awesome if I do say so myself. I will right a future post about how to sauce pasta, because it is one of the single easiest home cooking errors to fix.

Tomato Sauce

Ingredients:

4 28 oz. cans of good Italian style tomatoes (I use LaValle)

1 small carrot (finely grated, or chopped super fine)

1 medium onion (finely chopped)

4-8 cloves of garlic chopped (depending on how much you like garlic)

some herbs (fresh basil or thyme is great, dried oregano and thyme is also acceptable)

1/2 tsp. dried red pepper flakes

salt

3/4 cup of olive oil

(I am not a great recipe writer so bear with me)

1. In a small pot warm a 1/2 cup of olive oil over low heat. Add the red pepper flakes and whatever herbs you are going to use. (A big fat handful of fresh basil, or about a half teaspoon each of dried thyme and oregano). Let the red pepper and herbs cook over very low heat for about 10 minutes, then turn off the heat and let it steep and cool.

2. Heat a large pot over low heat. Add a 1/4 cup of olive oil. Add the onion and a pinch of salt, and allow to slowly saute without getting brown. Translucent and soft is what you want. After five minutes, add the carrot (this adds sweetness to the sauce that cuts the acidity of the tomatoes. You could also add a bit of honey or sugar at the end if you don't have a carrot), and continue to sweat for another five minutes over low heat. Add the garlic and cook for about two more minutes, making sure not to burn the garlic, but allowing its aroma to begin to perfume the kitchen.

3. Add the tomatoes. Here is where you have some choices. You can add all the tomatoes and crush them up in the pot with a large spoon or potato masher. If you are lucky enough to have a food mill, grind them up right into the pot.

4. Bring the sauce up to a low boil, then turn it down to a low simmer and let it cook for about 30 minutes. It all depends on how watery the tomatoes are, so it could only take 20 minutes, or up to 45 minutes to bring the sauce together.

5. Taste the sauce, and finish with a little salt if necessary, and a pinch of good dried oregano, or fresh parsley. Store in the freezer for up to 6 months, or in the fridge for a few days. Enjoy.

Toll Booth Willie Chocolate Chip Cookies!

2010-12-15T13:27:00.001-05:00

Is there anyone out there who doesn't love chocolate chip cookies?! Okay, besides vegans and their disdain for butter, and maybe people who don't like chocolate. (both groups should probably be brought in for questioning and subsequent evaluation.......just kidding!) All jokes aside, chocolate chip cookies are a treat that has the ability to warm the soul of young and old alike. So why are there so many bad cookies being served out there in the world? So many tasteless discs wrapped in cellophane packages with stickers denoting their shelf life, whose ingredient lists more closely resemble a science experiment than a baked good. How do we remedy this? It's easy, bake your own. You will enjoy them thoroughly, and I promise you will have no problem giving them away to people who will be more than happy to take them off your hands. They are a perfect addition to your politically correct non-denominational holiday party! Great for that PTA gathering that has been looming on your schedule. Be the ultimate soccer mom and bring these to the next game (just don't forget the orange wedges and Capri Sun!). Running late in the morning, coffee and two cookies will hold you until lunch. In big news here at thehumblecooknyc offices, we have decided to publish our very first recipe, our Toll Booth Willie Chocolate Chip Cookies! Now there are a few things to know about this recipe, whose name clearly pays homage to an American classic. Unlike many food writers out there (many of whom have recognizable first names) I will not deceive you into thinking that I am presenting some groundbreaking recipe. So many of the chocolate chip cookie recipes swirling around the web, or slipped into the latest "how to be a Mom" book are a blatant rip-off of the recipe featured on the ubiquitous yellow bag. They change one measurement and pretend that they spent years perfecting their perfect concoction. As Anthony Bourdain would say, I call BS! The reason people do it is that so many of our food references are built in childhood memories, and for so many people that included a batch of 'yellow bag' cookies. The truth is, that recipe makes a damn good cookie. I give credit where credit is due, so our recipe is simply enhanced. Think of it as the HD Digital Cable Widescreen Dolby Surround Sound version. After all, the original recipe was invented by Ruth Wakefield in 1930, around the time TV's first became commercially available. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be satisfied to watch a tiny black and white TV, so why settle for the cookies that people ate at the time. That being said, let's all give thanks to Ruth for creating THE cookie, the one whose impact on American culture is without parallel. It's impact has been so great that I can't think of another recipe (savory or sweet) that has stood the test of time as THE standard like Ruth's has. (As with many great things, Ruth and her Toll House Inn were from New England, and she basically added chocolate chunks to a classic colonial recipe for Butter Drop Do cookies). One final thought about cookies that was prompted by a conversation I had with a friend recently. I am a guy. I like to watch football. I love to play sports, and I don't mind being dirty. I insist on carrying heavy things by myself, even when it hurts. Asking for directions is always a painful endeavor. But I really like to bake cookies, and I am one hundred percent fine with that. I like to strap on the apron (figuratively, seeing as I don't own one) and get it done. I prefer baking cookies to hanging out with guys who drink beer, eat chicken wings, and generally act as if they were an incredibly vulgar seven-year old. Gentlemen.....it is okay to enjoy baking, cooking, or what have you. The kitchen is not off limits to those who want to retain their masculinity.

So here is our recipe (rip-off?), but read on to hear our thoughts on some important points.

Toll Booth Willie Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 3/4 sticks of unsalted butter, softened (7 oz.)

3/4 cup sugar (5.25 oz)

3/4 firmly packed light brown sugar (6 oz.)

2 large eggs at room temperature

2 teaspoons of pure vanilla extract

2 1/4 cups of unbleached organic all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon of fine sea salt (actually just a smidge under 1 teaspoon is perfect)

1 teaspoon of baking soda

1 cup of dark chocolate, preferably 60-70% cacao, chopped into small chunks (6 oz.)

1 cup milk chocolate chips (7 oz.)

1. If you plan to bake the cookies immediately, preheat your oven to 350F and line your baking sheets with parchment paper or a silicone mat.

2. Place the butter, brown sugar, and sugar in a mixer. Beat until smooth, light, and creamy, about 2 min, or longer if mixing by hand.

3. Add the eggs (pre-beaten) and vanilla, and beat until just combined.

4. Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt together in a medium bowl. Add the flour mixture to your wet ingredients and beat on low speed just until the flour is combined, no more.

5. Add both chocolates, and again beat on low speed until your dough comes together and looks delicious!

6. If you are baking your cookies immediately disregard this step. If you want the ultimate Toll Booth Cookie, cover your bowl with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator, preferably overnight, but a few hours will also work.

7. Place the dough in rounded tablespoon like mounds on the baking sheet, giving them plenty of room to spread. Bake for 7 min, then rotate the pan and continue to bake the cookies for another 5 to 7 min. It is better to have the cookies looking underdone in the center, instead of browning, because they will continue to cook after removing them from the oven (allowing for a chewier cookie). Take the cookies out of the and let them sit on the pan for at least a few minutes before using a spatula to move them to a cooling rack.

8. Repeat

9. Eat and enjoy with family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, or random people you have never met.

Let's talk a little bit about the Toll Booth Willies, and what makes them special.

First things first, ingredients. This is incredibly important because you simply can't create something that is better than the building blocks you use. If your ingredients are sub par, your cookies will be too, no matter how good the recipe is. So.....

-Use the freshest eggs possible, looking for vivid orange yolks.

-High quality dark chocolate is a must, and makes all the difference. Valhrona is the best, but Callebaut makes some solid chocolates that are far more affordable.

-This recipe ups the ante with vanilla because we feel that it creates are far better cookie. Please use real vanilla extract, not the imitation stuff that tastes like a gas station.

-King Arthur Flour is highly recommended. It is available almost everywhere, and the quality is solid.

Some notes on the recipe itself......

-If you can, get yourself a small oven thermometer. So many people fail at baking simply because their oven dial is miles away from the temperature actually being created inside. Baking these cookies at 350F allows for a chewier cookie than other recipes that call for 375F, which tends to crisp the edges too much.

-The refrigeration of the dough really allows the flavors to take shape, and it also prevents the dough from spreading too quick and overbaking.

-When a recipe calls for room temperature butter, it usually means just that. If the butter is still cold at all, it simply doesn't cream properly with the sugar. You want the airy, yet creamy texture that only warm butter can produce.

-We bake one sheet at a time, but I employ two baking sheets in the process. The second sheet to go in should be cold. If you use the same hot sheet pan the bottoms of the cookies brown too quickly. If you only have one sheet pan, cool it off under running water before using it for the second batch.

Don't skip the dessert!

2010-12-08T08:54:00.001-05:00

Classic desserts are something that simply never seems to go out of style. I can vividly recall many a meal that has been mediocre at best, yet was saved by a splendidly sweet flourish at the end of a meal. Do I have a sweet tooth, yes indeed. Is there ever a time when dessert seems like a bad idea? Not likely. If I cared to be fully honest I could disclose the fact that as a child I may have overindulged in sweets, but this assessment rests precariously on the notion that consuming a half gallon of ice cream in a sitting qualifies as overindulgence. Fortunately I made it out alive, and let go of some of my childhood obsession with sweets. Don't get me wrong, I still crave sweets, but moderation is certainly the order of the day. I believe that erroneous thinking has taken over America, one in which dessert is the enemy. My theory is that sweets are wonderful, and should be eaten regularly. I would rather eat a slice of pie and never touch HFCS laden soda. Skip the Big Mac, and instead bake yourself a delicious batch of cookies. It's all give and take, but rest assured, you can maintain a reasonable weight while fully satisfying any sweet craving that comes down the pike. I say this from experience, being that people always comment about how I eat like a horse but remain by most accounts, rather thin. I could tell you that I have a fast metabolism, or that I exercise like a fiend, or that the new diet book to hit the shelves was a real winner. Lies, all of them. I don't eat like a horse. In fact, most people would be amazed at the fact that I eat much less than previously realized. Strange, being that I seem to have a bit of a preoccupation with food. Simply put, I eat what I want, when I want, mostly healthy, home-cooked food. I try and do some active things, but you aren't going to catch me running a marathon anytime soon. Food is meant to be enjoyed, and enjoy it I do. And dessert certainly factors in heavily to that equation. Few things can transport us back to childhood joy and innocence like a scoop of really good ice cream. Few things pack the memory filled punch of a freshly baked pie. And few people can say, with a straight face, that they don't love the smell and taste of a batch of chocolate-chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Life is just far too short to deny our biological wiring that overwhelmingly shouts that sweet equates to good.

I do not begrudge the pastry chefs out there who are doing amazing, modern interpretations of their sugar laden fantasies. (If you aren't up on it, check out Michael Laiskonis of Le Bernardin or Brooks Headley of Del Posto, who both turn out incredible creations from their pastry kitchens.) Yet for as stunning as many modern desserts can be, what I usually crave are classic flavor combinations that harken back to simpler times. Perfectly sublime vanilla ice cream? Why yes, I would love some (and so easy to make at home, I promise). Elegantly smooth and rich pumpkin pie? Indeed. Brownies? If you insist. Strawberries with freshly whipped cream? How could I ever say no (Actually I will quickly say no if it is January, because the last time I checked, strawberries don't grow during the winter, at least not where I'm from. And there is something devastatingly disappointing about a rock hard and fully tasteless strawberry that has spent weeks on a truck getting to the supermarket.) The other interesting thing about dessert is that making them at home will naturally limit the amount you will ultimately eat. I am not busy turning out sugary treats each and every day (though my new mixer certainly upped the ante for a couple of weeks), but am instead waiting for inspiration or a craving to dictate when the time is right. The other magical byproduct of homemade desserts is that it creates a decidedly altruistic approach to food. Bake some cookies and bring them with you the next time you are going to be around a group of people. I promise you that smiles will be your reward. Dessert makes people happy, and it can soften the hardest of folks into a state of childlike wonder.

So what have I been making? Well there was the Black Bottom Cheesecake Cupcakes (that's a mouthful) that are from a newspaper article my mother clipped sometime in the '80's. They are a true crowd pleaser, with the chocolate-chip cheesecake playing the perfect counterpoint to the decadent chocolate cake. Many cupcakes suffer from the 'I need a glass of water' syndrome, dryness outweighing flavor, but these little babies are as moist as could be. There was also a classic chocolate souffle that was divine (strong words, but it really was transcendent). Pulling a hot souffle out of the oven is a show stopper. Puffed up, with just the slightest jiggle to its velvety consistency, the heady perfume of dark chocolate filling the room. And a show stopper is sometimes just what the doctor ordered on a night filled with endless dreary studying to tend to. Souffles are slightly tricky, but certainly not impossible, the hardest part being the achievement of perfect consistency of the egg whites. Now, having a stand mixer certainly makes this much more feasible, but prior to receiving one as a gift I hand-whipped everything. It is possible, and if you want to build forearm strength, whipping egg whites may be the finest exercise. There was also a pumpkin pie that was so rich and tasty that it made me question how anyone could ever think that the inclusion of squashes in the realm of sweets is an error in judgement. One last thing to consider is the fact that freshly whipped cream makes just about anything sweet that much better. It is cream and sugar after all!

Go make yourself some dessert. Better yet, make someone else some dessert. You will both feel better about the world.

Soon I will be revealing my ultimate chocolate-chip cookie recipe.......stay tuned.

Let Them Eat Pie

2010-11-10T12:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes things happen outside of our control that dictate the food we eat or cook. This is part of the adaptive nature of good cooking that I have spoken about frequently. I think it is more exciting to go with the flow, shall we say, allowing life to come at us with inspiration. The other morning I was incredibly grateful to find a brand spanking new KitchenAid mixer sitting on my doorstep (thank you so much Mrs. G). For a cooking enthusiast, it was my Christmas morning. I couldn't unpack it quick enough, rearranging my tiny counter to make room for my new toy. Later in the day I turned on the television and was welcomed by the soothing voice of Ina Garten, The Barefoot Contessa. Now it is not a mystery that I find many of the shows on the Food Network to be paltry at best, but Ina's does not fall into that category. There is something idyllic about her impossibly unrealistic for the masses Hamptons lifestyle. Yet as distant as her world seems from mine, I find myself really believing that this is how she lives. Shopping at quaint markets, always baking treats for friends, and holding impromptu parties on the beach while braving less than ideal Atlantic wind gusts. Beyond all of that, I think she makes some pretty wonderful food. Never complicated, always straddling a reference point that most people could easily grab hold of. But Ina holds a special place in my heart for an entirely different reason. The single thing that endears her most to me is the shows that start off with a monologue about "Jeffrey", her husband of 41 years. Now anyone who has been in a relationship knows that at times things can be difficult, even for the best of unions. At times the people we love can drive us crazy like no one else. So I think any relationship that stands the test of time is something to be applauded. What's so great about Ina is her desire to "make Jeffrey's favorite dinner" or to indulge a memory of "our first time in Paris", or some other incredibly adorable little statement. This isn't about a woman in servitude to her husband, but a clear representation of one person who enjoys doing things for the person she has been with for 41 years. Call me a hopeless romantic, or call me silly, but I like things like this. It's not the glossy Hollywood version of love, but a small expression of caring and devotion that registers as far more Norman Rockwell in an HDTV world. Cheers to you Ina!

So I had a brand new mixer, and a heaping scoop of inspiration from Ina. Ashley was leaving the next morning for North Carolina and was feeling the stress inducing effects of another tough semester. With all this in mind I decided that it would be a good time to make a delicious dessert for us to share on her last night before departure. I strongly believe in the restorative effects of dessert, it may not have been proven by University research, but I just think they haven't looked hard enough. The question became pumpkin or chocolate. She swiftly responded with chocolate. I can say with marked assurance that the word chocolate has never caused me anything but elation, never negativity. With my shiny new mixer beckoning to be broken in, I settled on a classic Silk Pie. Classic only in the sense that it is served at diners everywhere, where it is almost never bad, but rarely good enough to remember. One thing that I always try to remember about pastry of any kind is that there a some ingredients that are considered 'bad', and yet they are the very things that make pastry and desserts so good. Cream, eggs, butter, sugar, chocolate, flour, more sugar, maybe a smidge more butter. If you don't want to eat these things, you probably shouldn't eat anything that will ever emerge from a good pastry kitchen, just stick to fruit with honey (which I love, although these days some people think honey is bad too. Militant vegans, you simply have to love them!). When making anything with chocolate I believe that it is key to get really good dark chocolate, which has become increasingly available. I happen to love Valhrona, which to my palette is worth every single penny. Get really fresh eggs if you can, the kind whose yolks are a color reminiscent of Tang (I used to love Tang!). Making fresh whipped cream is also a real eye opener for many people. Now I know what you might say, "easy for you to say with that fancy mixer", but rest assured I have been hand-whipping cream for years, now its just easier. The crust had to be real Oreos, I simply couldn't justify the use of anything else. With some great ingredients as the foundation, the pie came together beautifully. It was dark and rich, with the whipped cream serving as the perfect counterpoint to the decadent filling and crust. We sat in our tiny apartment and enjoyed a delectable slice with some creme anglaise (i love it on just about anything sweet) on the side. The best thing about that night was my girlfriend's smile, which made every minute in the kitchen well worthwhile. So thanks Ina, and thank you Mrs. G!!

All-American Apples

2010-10-31T21:52:00.000-04:00

I have been feeling incredibly proud to be American as of late. One of the interesting things about the process of food writing is that you discover a great deal of what makes you tick as a person. I have explored ethnic cuisine, and have read about the history of food and its direct correlation to culture. I have cooked things that have no reference point in my my own upbringing, and have explored ingredients from across the globe. And when all is said and done, I cannot help but return to a place of gratitude for the fact that I had a privileged upbringing in this wonderful country. A country so diverse that a notion of a clearly defined 'American' cuisine is virtually impossible to define (it brings tears to my eyes that many people in the world would consider fast food as our defining culinary offering). This is not about politics, conquest, the lens of history, or some notion of global superiority. My country is my home, and I love it dearly. I never went hungry as a child. I was given a wonderful education. I was allowed to be the person I became, to think freely, to express myself as I saw fit. This has not been the collective experience of every American, but we continue to make strides to realize a better America for everyone. The story of our country is certainly sordid at times, but I am enamored with the manner by which so many people have come here to forge a new existence, a better life, pulling up a seat at the the table for "a piece of the American pie", a pie that in my humble estimation would most certainly have to include apples.

The apple is a remarkable ingredient to say the least. Its mapped genome contains 57,000 genes in comparison to a human being which clocks in at about 30,000. That makes it one amazingly complex fruit, and it has spread around the world with a seemingly endless amount of varieties available today. Like so many of our ancestors, apples are not native to the Americas, first coming to this country with colonists who quickly planted seeds and developed orchards upon arrival. Most of the apples went to the production of cider (cider always referred to the alcoholic beverage until Prohibition when unfiltered apple juice came to be called cider, with anything containing alcohol now referred to as hard cider) which became the most common beverage of Colonial America. Young and old enjoyed alcohol with every meal, making it hard to imagine how so many things actually got done. With their apple seeds the colonists also brought recipes for pie, which had been a staple since medieval times. Over the centuries Apple Pie has become part of the American lexicon for good reason, with greater results. It is delicious, it tends to conjure up nostalgic memories, and it is something best made in the home. I long for the days when home economics was part of a basic education. Bring it back, and make the gentlemen take it as well, and for God's sake, teach our next generation how to make pie!

With a healthy helping of American pride, and an ever-growing fascination with apples I came to the conclusion that making an apple pie was paramount to an enjoyable fall season. I had never made a pie from scratch, so I perused several recipes until I felt that I had a pretty good base of knowledge for the technique. Throughout the process of making the pie I tried to keep memories of childhood at the forefront of my mind. Cooking has a wonderful way of bringing out the distilled essence of the events that make up the formative years of our existence. In the case of apples I was blessed with a New England upbringing wherein fall was always marked by trips to orchards to pick or buy apples and fresh unfiltered apple juice (cider as it is best known today). This would always be followed by a fresh baked apple pie, which has a way of scenting a home in a way that seems just right, for lack of a better description. With these images and scents floating through my consciousness I set out to bake a flaky pie. The results were lovely, though it quickly became apparent to me that pie making is most certainly an art learned over time, which probably accounts for the lack of home production these days. It is all about the crust, the humble, yet defining vehicle for the apples we love so much. My pie was delicious, flaky, and just far enough from what I remember to make apple pie my current project. As soon as I craft my rendition of the perfect apple pie, the recipe will be posted. Until then I will continue to experiment, thoroughly enjoying every mistake and triumph along the path.

With the current abundance of apples at the farmers market, in all their inexpensive and tasty glory, I decided to also try my hand at some form of an apple cake. I settled on an Apple Kuchen, which is a German cake by ancestry. I love the idea of new people bringing old food to our land, and the Kuchen seemed to embody that perfectly. I made a Brown Sugar and Cinnamon Apple Kuchen with New England Cranberries. Because of my propensity for moistness when it comes to cake, I decided to make an apple jelly (essentially homemade apple sauce pressed through a tamis to remove any trace of fibrousness, allowing for a silky mouthfeel) and a classic creme anglaise for service. It looked amazing, and filled the house with a smell reminiscent of Christmas, a fireplace, and a well written short story. This morning it made for a wonderful day starter, as an accompaniment to press pot coffee. I will continue to cook with apples, and I will continue to love my American experience, fore they seem to go hand in hand.

"For Mom and Apple Pie"

-stock answer given by soldiers to journalists when asked why they were going off to fight in World War II

Raise Your Glass To New Experiences!

2010-10-27T21:42:00.000-04:00

I have often been described as a person who is not afraid of a little adventure, and yet for all my interest in the culture of food, I do not have a litany of notches in my culinary belt. I have never traveled outside of North America, I have not eaten at any of the gastronomic temples of haute cuisine, and my experience with most ethnic foods is limited. If someone would like to pay for me to do any of these things, I am more than willing. Until then, I will have to make do with my books, my home cooking, and the fact that I am privileged enough to live in New York City where cultural diversity is a way of life.

This weekend I ventured out to Flushing, Queens for the very first time. I had an appointment in the vicinity, and with its reputation as the Asian capital of New York, I must say I was thrilled to check it out. My plan was to shoot out to Flushing on the subway, grab a bite to eat, and head to my appointment. It seemed simple enough, until I strode up the stairs of the subway station onto Main St., and my head nearly exploded. It was Saturday night and the sidewalk was an undulating mass of people moving in every possible direction. It was a situation where the quick pedestrian merge was required, lest someone barrel me over. My decided advantage in the situation was my height, allowing me to peer out over the throngs of people. My decided disadvantage was my height which made me stick out like a sore thumb in this crowd of primarily Asian people of shorter stature. That and the fact that I had no idea where I was or where I was headed. I didn't hear a single person speaking English, so instead of asking for directions, I did what so many male travelers have done before me, I pretended I knew where I was going. After walking a few blocks I realized I was headed in the wrong direction so I decided to cross the street, then head back from where I came. Why didn't I just stop and turn around? That's a very good question. I suppose I was convinced that the elderly Chinese woman directly behind me would spend the remainder of the evening telling her whole family about the uncomfortably tall white man who didn't know where he was going. I know it's silly, but in that moment, that's exactly what was going through my head.

As I walked down Main St. I was overcome by an urge to eat. There was roast duck hanging in several windows, glistening, calling out to me in some primordial kind of way. There were markets overflowing with produce, some of which were completely foreign to me. There were people hawking various food items right on the sidewalk, shouting out in what I am guessing was Mandarin (Mandarin is the dialect of choice in Flushing). There were smells wafting out of every restaurant, scenting the early evening air with an intoxicating perfume of culinary triumph. Seriously, the whole scene was amazing. So I did what any good aspiring gourmand would do: I freaked out. That's right, sensory overload got the best of me and I froze like a flagpole in a Midwestern winter. I had given myself so little time that I felt pressured to make a choice about what to eat. Unfortunately most of the restaurants used Chinese as their only form of writing which did not exactly help my cause. The other problem was that I saw so many exciting things that I just didn't know where to start. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the foreign language, the fast-paced excitement, it got to me. I realized that I would have to walk to my appointment, on an empty belly no less. As I strolled through the residential neighborhoods of Flushing the reality that I am not the culinary equivalent of Indiana Jones set in. It was a tough blow.

After my appointment two acquaintances asked me to go out for a bite to eat, upon whose completion they would give me a ride back into Manhattan. If I'm being honest, I must confess that my initial reaction was clouded with a great deal of skepticism. You see, I have been the victim of countless outings where the company was far better than the food. I have a real problem with going to a hack restaurant where I'm charged an incredulous sum for some insipid meal that makes me curse my decision to attend. Am I a food snob? Maybe, but not in an arrogant highfalutin kind of way. I just like to eat good food, where I don't feel completely ripped off. Tales of $8 bowls of watery oatmeal and the $12 Diner Pancake incident of 2009 come to mind (where I could actually see the Biquick on the shelf in the kitchen, I guess this is acceptable on the Upper East Side). Or maybe the unspeakable moments of terror induced by the phenomenon of "friends making friends go to bad restaurants". Everyone has been a victim of this cultural malady. You have a group of friends who always go to the same place. The food has always been bad at said place, it's never getting any better, but they 'know us there' goes the logic, as if we were inviting the staff to dine with us. Some how I'm convinced that they aren't the only restaurant that will gladly take our money. It's better to eat bad food at a place that knows us than try and go to a place where the food is actually enjoyable to eat. I make a proclamation right here, right now: people who do this are being stupid! There, I said it. I feel better already. The thing is, I love many of the people who are all to happy to fall victim to this gastronomic transgression. But alas, I digress. (I've always wanted to say that)

I decided to agree to a meal with my new close friends Dan and Simone. Whenever I am putting my eating fate in the hands of someone else, we have officially become quite close, hence my new close friends. Fortunately I didn't make a huge mistake. I asked where we were going to be dining, expecting a response that would induce fear, maybe 'Charlie O'Toole's' or 'BJ's Grill', or any other faux Irish or generic American sounding restaurant of which I had no desire to offer my patronage. As I cowered in the back seat like a child who had just pissed Dad off, ready for a verbal scolding, Dan eased all my fears by saying that we were going to a little place in Flushing called OK Ryan. Strange name to say the least, but I was intrigued. It was a small place located in a strip mall slightly off the beaten path. When we arrived I had an overwhelming sense that everything would be okay. And it was.

The menu at OK Ryan seemed like some amalgamation of Chinese with a Taiwanese influence, but that is gathered from the ten seconds I spent looking at the menu. Basically I deferred to Dan and Simone, deciding that we would share several dishes, their choice, being that they had experience with this restaurant. This is where I must confess that I am a vociferous omnivore, with a substantial appetite, and incredibly poor food blogging skills. As the food started to come, I suppose the thing to do was to begin taking pictures of each dish, with the camera that was in my pocket the whole time. Instead I was drawn in by the food and the great conversation to the point where I forgot about my food writer aspirations. And yet, as I write this I am beginning to feel that this might not be a bad thing, that food is to be enjoyed more than fetishized. And the truth is that I enjoyed every minute of our meal, every morsel of food, every aroma. To my recollection the meal consisted of this:

Eggplant with Chiles and Minced Pork: Unbelievably good, to the point where I kept going back for seconds, then thirds, then the "well.....if no else wants to finish this I guess I will have to."

Smoked Eel: My only experience with eel is Unagi sushi, but this was long fillets in a red sauce, maybe Taiwanese, but I'm not sure. It was melt in my mouth fantastic, very rich.

Noodles: A chow mein type dish that was good, but not the highlight.

Pork with Bamboo Shoots and Vinegar: It was very unusual. Unlike anything I have ever had in its tang. That said, it was addicting!

Salt and Pepper Soft-Shell Crabs: I believe that I was born to eat soft-shells. Some people are born to hit a baseball, some folks are drawn to be doctors, and some paint exquisite landscapes. I believe I may have been placed on this earth to eat soft-shell crabs, and this version of fried soft-shells in a salt and pepper spiked coating was just so good.

Orange Slices: Who doesn't love the orange slices at the end of a meal? It is an awesome end to a meal. I love it every time.

It was a great meal, and my gratitude goes out to Dan and Simone for a wonderful Flushing experience, my very first, and for reinstating my deeply held belief that good food for reasonable money still exists. I will be returning to Flushing very soon to explore, to learn, and to seek out the deliciousness I smelled and spotted when I first landed on Main St.