Shelbs & Cheese

Dirt Candy

2012-05-16T15:59:00.005-04:00

Dirt Candy has been on The List for ages, pretty much since it opened in 2008(9?), in fact. I've been clamoring to get a taste of Amanda Cohen's purportedly revolutionary treatment of vegetables (or, as she calls them, "dirt candy"). Reservations are not easy to come by in the 20 seat space, and typically require booking a month in advance. That's why, when Mackenna and I were looking for a dinner spot a mere two days out, I jumped at the 9:30 pm Friday reservation as quickly as I could.

And the subterranean garden-apartment space is, indeed, teeny. There are 12-14 seats at tables against the banquette and another six lined against the opposite wall, with just enough room between them for the servers to pass through.

The menu is likewise small, offering up but a mere 4-5 choices for each course. This theoretically should make the task of ordering far simpler for an indecisive diner like me. But without the crutch of "I feel like fish tonight," and with a list of entrees that all sounded delicious and different, I faced some difficulties. Nothing a little chat with our server couldn't fix.

Though I sound like a broken record, I apologize for the poor picture quality. The light was very, very low. Also, I am a terrible photographer.

Jalapeno Hush Puppies with Maple Butter

We started with the jalapeno hush puppies, which arrived piping hot with a side of softened maple butter. The hush puppies were a pinnacle of the form, the crispy exterior giving way to a steamy, fluffy corn interior. The jalapeno provided a lingering heat, and once in a while, a real punch of spice. The maple butter was, as you'd imagine, delicious; entirely unnecessary for the exterior bites and not unwelcome for the fluffy innards. The house bread also served as a canvas for the maple butter, though I preferred dipping the focaccia-like batons into the olive oil, which had been strewn with herbs.

House bread with Herbed Olive Oil

I've had and loved the portobello mousse before, and would have ordered it to enjoy the full restaurant treatment, but my dear friend is an avowed mushroom hater (something I will never understand). It was between the red pepper soup and the carrot buns, then. Seeing as soup might be tough to share, we went with the buns.

Steamed Carrot Buns with Cucumber and Carrot Salad

I love me a good Chinese steamed bun, cha siu bao in particular, that spongy, airy dough encasing rich, sticky-sweet Chinese roast pork. The sweetness Cohen coaxed from the carrots paid homage to cha siu, but was impressive in its own right, bright with hoisin and a carrot reduction. The treatment of the roots within was inspired, as the carrots feigned meatiness. The buns were dyed various shades of orange from the juice of the different carrots used, which didn't affect the taste, but sure was adorable.

Yes, these carrot buns were delicious, but I could not keep my fork out of that little pile of awesome to the left. This, my friends, was a crispy white carrot, cucumber, ginger and sesame salad, topped with carrot halvah. Oh, never had carrot halvah, have you? I'm really sorry about that, because this was one of the more creative, no-holds-barred delicious things i have tasted in recent memory. (No, but really, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner, the carrot buns are apparently no longer on the menu.) A definitely ate more than my fair share of the salad even though we were to be going halfsies (sorry Mack).

Chard Gnocchi

Then there were the mains. Mackenna went with the chard: chard gnocchi, grilled chard, garlic granola, drunken fig jam. The gnocchi were light, if a bit on the soft side. The grilled chard crunchy, buttery, delicious. There was a thin layer of goat cheese sauce coating the bottom of the plate, which lent a lovely tang to the whole thing and perked it all up. The fig jam felt awkwardly out of place, its flavor strong and overwhelming, and not really meshing with the other elements of the dish. As it appeared as a small pile crowning the gnocchi, it was easily cast aside (and eventually eaten separately, since it was quite good in its own right).

Cucumber, Coconut Poached Tofu

I oscillated between the cucumber: coconut poached tofu, shiso galangal sauce, salsify and hearts of palm and the corn: stone ground grits, corn cream, pickled shiitakes, huitlacoche, tempura poached egg. Though the corn was the thing that called out to me immediately - I mean, tempura poached egg, for fuck's sake; top that with pickled mushrooms and huitlacoche and I was sure I'd be there. But in the end, I went for the cucumber, since it seemed lighter and brighter than the corn, and I was getting some corn (and heaviness) via the fritters. I can't say I regret my choice, either. The tofu seemed to have been seared prior to poaching, as it had a lovely golden crust on its topside. The sauce was verdant, alive with the vague citrus notes of shiso, and kept the whole dish interesting. The crunchy fried things, also, awesome. What can I say? I love crunchy fried things.

The food at dirt candy is a wonder to behold. These are not dishes that placed on a menu as a thoughtless consolation to vegetarians, but a celebration of vegetables in their own right. These are not meant to replace meat, or to substitute for it, but to draw your attention to the merits of vegetables as their best, most interesting versions of themselves.

Dirt Candy
430 E 9th St (b/w 1st and Ave. A)
(212) 228-7732

The Horchata Chronicles: 3rd Ave Taco Truck

2012-05-03T16:45:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure exactly when my love for horchata began, but I'd surmise that it was right around the time I first heard of it. "Horchata" wasn't really a word that was thrown around my household as a kid, and I fear that it was well into my 20s before I had a taste. That's a lot of wasted horchata time, if you ask me. Time to make up for it. But how, how can I ever begin to make up for all those lost tastes and the unknown enjoyment? With a horchata series of posts, of course. I'm hoping to use this series as a way to motivate me to taste every horchata that crosses my path - sweet or spicy, virgin or spiked. Especially spiked. Recommendations welcome and encouraged!

I passed by the taco truck on 3rd ave and 14th street (I believe it may be called Patty's, but do not quote me) every day for a solid two weeks before I finally stopped and treated myself to some horchata. Not sure why I chose that particular day, since it was borderline freezing out and holding the icy cup caused my hands to do that thing they do when all my blood decides to travel elsewhere in my body. Also, not sure it was worth it.

This horchata was a far cry from the horchata I love at Tacombi. Though there was a good deal of ice, the $3 serving was more than ample, particularly once I tasted it and was attacked by its saccharinity. It was very one-note - any semblance of spice was lambasted by aggressive sweetness; it tasted tasted more of pure white sugar than anything else. The drink was also quite thin; the faintly creamy milkiness I was searching for was nowhere to be found, while the cinnamon notes were barely discernible. They can't all be winners, I suppose.

#PhotoaDayApril

2012-05-01T13:16:00.001-04:00

(source)

This was the first Photo a Day challenge in which I participated. I figured with all the time I was spending in the office, it would give me a little outlet every day - a chance to do something quasi-creative, if you will. Looking for something that fit into the prompt each day proved quite therapeutic; sometimes it came to me as if on cue, while other times it required a bit of searching on my part.

Here, then, is a recap of my Photo a Day snapshots. Note that I was a bit late in the uptake here, and didn't backtrack to get Days 1 and 2, so we're going to start with Day 3. Cool? Cool.

Day 3

mail

Day 4

someone who makes me happy

Robbie, always

Day 5

tiny

a tiny S

Day 6

lunch

or at least this was lunch,
before I remembered to photograph it;
it was soup, it was good

Day 7

shadow

east 7th st

Day 8

inside my wallet

the usual: cash, cards, metrocard
and the name of a tequila that even the normally tequila-averse Robbie enjoyed
scrawled by our waiter at Mayahuel

Day 9

younger me

much younger me
(fyi, i'm the one in the bathing suit)

Day 10

cold

the cold depths of my teeny, tiny freezer

Day 11

where I ate breakfast

my typical breakfast scene

Day 12

stairs

eerily quiet at a very late hour

Day 13

something I found

found in my purse;
from a feather boa;
a relic of a birthday weekend

Day 14

how I feel today

these docs,
like me on day 14,
close to the edge

Day 15

sunset

my westward view from the 49th floor

Day 16

flower

a surprise bouquet left for me on my table by Robbie (see day 4)
when I was feeling particularly beaten-down (see day 14)

Day 17

something I don't like

these guys have gotten off to a better-than-expected start,
but I never like seeing them lose;
yes, I've had a rough go at it in my lifetime

Day 18

hair

my hair does not like staying tied back,
so I had to resort to pigtails
more than a few times in the office over the last few weeks;
very professional, I know

Day 19

orange

so first, I took a picture of
my mechanical pencil, a lawyer's best friend,
but then...

...this happened

Day 20

something I drew

so sometimes I doodle on long conference calls;
what of it?

Day 21

bottle

my office water bottle,
which I've been 'borrowing' from Robbie
for the last 8 months

Day 22

the last thing I bought

well, one of the last things I bought, and I think it's awesome

Day 23

vegetable

lots of spinach, made drinkable

Day 24

something I'm grateful for

lovely flowers from my lovely friend Sara;
grateful not only for the flowers themselves,
but to have the type of friend
who'd make such a gesture

Day 25

looking down

sick of views from my office window yet?

Day 26

black & white

my awesome teeny Fulton umbrella,
from my friend Tess' very awesome store

Day 27

somewhere I went

awesome jalapeno hush puppies
from a great dinner with Mackenna
at dirt candy (recap soon)

Day 28

1pm

don't judge me;
I was sleep deprived

Day 29

circle

fine, circles

Day 30

something that makes me sad

my amazing cousin Staci,
who passed away from liver cancer last year,
and who is missed every day

100!

2012-04-13T19:47:00.003-04:00

Happy Weekend!

Also - this is my 100th post! Let's not pay any mind to the fact that this is a milestone that took me only about, ohhhhh, three and a half years to reach. I realize I should mark it with a proper, awesome post, but how 'bout, instead, I talk about a bunch of random stuff?! Deal.

Work has been absurdly busy lately, so I don't have time to get a proper post up, but I wanted to pop in with some things that have been helping me keep my sanity over the past few weeks.

Mean Girls of Panem (and the Hunger Games in general)

You guys, I have never been a real fanboy of a pop culture phenomenon like this before. Potter, Twighlight and the like - never got into them. But I am seriously obsessed with the Hunger Games. And I know that it's bad because I am in no way ashamed to admit it.

I surprised even myself with how quickly I devoured the books. Phenomenal literature they are certainly not, but they fulfill their intended purpose quite well. I picked Catching Fire up and did not put it down until I finished it six hours later. I finally saw the movie last weekend during a brief respite from work (my initial plans to see it the Sunday night of opening weekend were derailed by my presence in the office). I fully intend on seeing it again. Yep, I don't know me either.

I could while away the hours on various Hunger Games Tumblrs like a fourteen year old (though thankfully work sets hard caps on the amount of time I have to do this). One such great time-sucker is Mean Girls of Panem, which layers quotes from Mean Girls over stills from the Hunger Games (to various degrees of success). Enjoy.

(source)

Rangers Playoff Hockey

(source)

Looking forward to the Blueshirts playoff run, which got off to a nice start last night.

Photo a Day April

I haven't taken part in any of the past Photo a Day Instagram challenges, but I decided to give April a go. The little project to find something to snap every day has proved rather therapeutic.

(source)

Text from Dog

I love both the concept and the British-ness of the whole thing. Pretty much on par with how I imagine dogs' thought processes work, or at least the awesome ones.

(source)

Amanda Hesser of Food52 on the Future of Food Writing

In an article directed to aspiring food writers, Amanda does swift work of outing the realities of the theoretically glamorous world of food writing. I never personally imagined it to be all butterflies and rainbows, but she raises some very interesting points about the future of the form. Thoughts?

Also, This Guy:

No matter how crazy it gets, knowing I've got Robbie makes me pretty damn happy.

Any other sites or distractions to help me keep my sanity?

Newport, RI: Franklin Spa

2012-04-10T16:40:00.001-04:00

Unsurprisingly, after our long, drawn out dinners inNewport, we were pretty slow-going in the mornings. But there were things to do, cliffs to walk, mansions to tour, and we needed to be refueled. Given the duration and relative fanciness of the previous night’sdinner, we wanted something casual, but (of course) not at the expense of deliciousness. Franklin Spa showed up on nearly every best-of breakfast / brunch list we came across, so we figured it must be a reliable spot. So we headed on over and found a bustling breakfast scene. After a wait of just a few minutes spent ogling the food being ushered past us, we settled into our corner booth, ready to enjoy some straight-up comfort food.

Franklin Spa is the epitome of a greasy spoon - not exactly what I had in mind when I heard the name of the joint. From the swiveling stools at a counter in front of an open kitchen to the vinyl booths and the no-nonsense yet affable hey darlin’ sort of service you’d expect from a local joint, you just know you're in for an enjoyable meal.

Most of the time, when I eat out, I am looking to experience new tastes and experiences and discover combinations I’d never have dreamed up on my own. That’s not always the case for brunch. Sometimes I am looking to be wowed, but sometimes I just want some comforting food prepared by someone else, someone who has their shit together at the ungodly hour of one p.m. on a weekend day.

Smoked Salmon Benedict

For me, comfort food at brunch time is found in the form of smoked salmon and poached eggs. It’s a go-to of mine because it’s relatively healthy (though hello, sodium!), straightforward and simple. Despite this simplicity, it’s surprising how frequently the dish falls short of its potential. I suppose I can’t expect busy kitchens to present me with perfectly poached eggs every time, but at the very least I expect to be met with runny yolks. Diners tend to be well-seasoned egg-slingers, so I put my faith in the short-order cooks behind the counter and ordered a smoked salmon benedict – hollandaise on the side (so sue me, I’m not immune to the threats of butterfat, and it’s impossible to tell just how heavy-handed a kitchen will be with the hollandaise, so I figure it’s best to just apply it, or dunk it, realistically, myself). The fellas at Franklin Spa did not let me down. My eggs were perfect – perfectly runny, not a hard bit of yolk to be found, with thoroughly cooked whites. The hollandaise was lemony and bright, though a bit clunky. A simple dish very well executed, and served with some well-spiced home fries.

Corned Beef Hash

Robbie opted for the corned beef hash with poached eggs and hollandaise. What can I say, we were a little sodium-hungry, I suppose. His plate came teeming with fatty corned beef and browned potatoes. A hangover helper if there ever were one.

Stuffed French Toast with Bananas and Pecans

CF went with the stuffed french toast, which was topped at her request with bananas and pecans. A solid move. The battered slices of bread were barely able to contain the mounds of maple-spiked cream cheese within. This was unabashedly decadent; not as sweet as you'd expect but very difficult to tackle alone. I was glad I wasn't the one faced with the task, but happy to be able to sneak a taste.

I didn't photograph CH's dish, but it was a chili and cheese omelet. CH is to chili as Rob is to hot wings. If it's on a menu, it's tough for him to look past it and order something else. When he saw it combined with breakfast food, he knew immediately it'd be his. Bad move. Learn from his mistake. Not only did he not enjoy it much, but it repeated on him all afternoon, as if to remind him of his failing.

That one misstep aside (and I'll put that one on CH, as opposed to Franklin Spa), this was a very solid meal. It was unpretentious, relaxed and really quite good. Recommended.

Franklin Spa

229 Spring St.

Newport, RI

(401) 847-3540

Happy Passover!

2012-04-06T13:26:00.001-04:00

Matzoh Ball Soup

Sundown this evening marks the beginning of the eight-day celebration of Passover, which celebrates the story of the Jews' exodus from Egypt. It's a time to relax, to eat and drink, and to refrain from leavened goods, or chametz. Chametz is anything that is made of grains (wheat, spelt, oats, barley, rye), that has been combined with water and left uncooked for more than 18 minutes. In Ashkenazi tradition, kitniyot are also forbidden; these include items that can be ground into a coarse meal, such as corn, legumes (peanuts, peas, beans, soy) and rice.

Mostly everyone is aware of matzoh, which I prefer in its brei'd form: soaked in egg and milk and pan-friend, which can be served savory or sweet. It's none too appealing on its own, though I've found my goyim friends tend to like it far more than my fellow Jews; I suppose it's a different story when eaten out of necessity.

Here are some recipes that are Passover-friendly. While some (such as the charoset) are specific to the Seder meal, there's no reason why they should be relegated to such a setting, as they're delicious in their own right (and that charoset, in particular, would be amazing in yogurt or with oatmeal).

Recipes for the Seder (and Beyond)

Matzoh Ball Soup. A classic. Spiking the matzoh balls with seltzer results in some of the best matzoh balls I've had.

I should really start making this stuff year-round

Sephardic-Style Charoset. Not your typical wine-sogged, apples and walnuts affair, this stuff is irresistible. It's fiercely demanded at every Passover meal with my family.

Gefilte Fish with Horseradish Cream Sauce. It might sound crazy to make your own gefilte fish, and I won't really try to argue with that, but the rewards you'll reap with this recipe are substantial. It's supremely delicious, but if nothing else, give the horseradish cream sauce a try - it's a bit different than your standard Gold's straight from the bottle; which isn't to poo-poo the Gold's of course, I keep that stuff stocked year-round.

Brisket with Red Wine and Prunes: this recipe is awesome for any big gathering, as it benefits from a long, slow cook and can be prepared ahead of time. It's particularly great for celebrations, since it feels a bit more special than your typical brisket.

Random Passover-Friendly Recipes for the Remaining Eight Days

Beyond the Seders, there are eights days during which I'll need to feed myself. As a devout oatmeal-for-breakfast type girl, this requires a bit more creativity on my part. While I will rely on yogurt a good amount for my morning repast, I will definitely be breaking out the quinoa more, as it's one of the few grain-type items that aren't considered chametz. While these recipes aren't kosher-kosher, they don't contain chametz. Now I don't keep kosher throughout the year, but I do try to keep chametz out of my diet during Passover. Call me a hypocrite, that's fine, but I see these eight days more as a commemoration and acknowledgment of my ancestors' past and struggles than anything. Where kosher variations are available, I've so noted.

Raw Beet Salad with Goat Cheese and Pistachios. This salad is fucking ridiculous. It's amazing how good a few simple, healthy ingredients can be. Don't forget the pistachios, they're the ticket.

Brussels Sprouts with Poached Eggs. Embarrassing to even include this is a recipe. It's more of a technique than anything, and one that is absurdly simple. Omit the bacon to make it kosher. You can add some warm, roasted walnuts at the end to make it more substantial.

Butter Poached Fish. The flavors in this meal belie the ease with which its prepared. Serve with potatoes instead of noodles.

Kale Caesar Salad. No croutons = Passover-friendly.

Duck with Red Wine Sauce and Cauliflower Two Ways. Omit the brandy in the sauce and use potato starch in lieu of corn starch to make the red wine sauce Passover-friendly. Both cauliflower dishes are kosher for Passover and should be made stat in any event because they rock.

Lamb Sausage Patties with Feta, Garlic and Mint. Fast, easy, delicious. Not kosher, though.

Beef Stew in Red Wine Sauce. While more of a winter-weather type meal, it wouldn't be unwelcome these days given the slight chill in the air that doesn't seem to want to beat it. Leave out the bacon to keep it kosher.

Desserts

Sometimes it's better to avoid the Passover-friendly facsimile of chametz-laden desserts and opt for things that were never intended to contain grains, such as ice cream, panna cotta, or pavlovas. But sometimes you just want something cakey; flourless cakes work great for these purposes; Passover-izing other desserts will have a less than ideal effect on the texture, but it can be overlooked most of the time given the circumstances. A note on vanilla: some extracts contain grain alcohol, which is technically not kosher for passover. It can either be omitted, or replaced with vanilla sugar, which is artificially flavored, and which is obviously not a match for pure vanilla, but hey, it's only eight days a year.)

This stuff is dangerous, but you'll be sorry if you don't make it

Matzoh Crack. Just make this. You won't be sorry. Your ass may be.

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream. The natural mint flavor is remarkable; far less sharp and aggressive than in commercial mint ice creams.

Frozen Yogurt with Figs and Honey. Just great.

Buttermilk Panna Cotta. A blank, tart, delicious canvas for a myriad of toppings. Fruit is always a good bet on Passover.

Cocoa Brownies. Replace the flour with five tablespoons of matzoh cake meal. The texture will suffer slightly, but it's not too bad.

Tonight is the first of two Seders, the meal at which we tell the story of the Jews' escape from slavery. I will be joining my family in Brooklyn for both. We always attempt to follow the Haggadah and tell the entire story, but by the time all is said an done we've hit the big-ticket items and proceeded to dinner. Regardless, it's a time to celebrate family, to relax and enjoy the moment, to take it easy and drink a lot of wine.

I hope you all have wonderful celebrations, wherever and for whatever they may be.

How and what are, or just are, you celebrating this weekend?

Newport, RI: Tallulah on Thames

2012-04-03T22:26:00.001-04:00

For our next, and what we’d presumed to be our last, dinner in Newport, Robbie, C&C and I decided to class it up a little bit. We secured a late reservation at Tallulah onThames, just a few blocks down from where we’d dined the nightbefore. The space was small but welcoming; dim, but not dark. Dining out as frequently as I do in New York, I kind of forget what it’s like to have space between my table and others. Like actual, I don’t even have to pretend I can’t hear those two girls talking about their relationships even though I can hear every awkward word, space. Not only was the space plentiful, but it was airy, simply outfitted and quite lovely.

Since all of the entrees hovered in the mid-thirties range, we opted for the prix fixe menu, which allowed us to select an appetizer, entrée and dessert from the menu for $50, with supplemental charges for certain dishes.

Botanica, 2009 Chenin Blanc

We selected a lovely, very interesting bottle of South African Chenin Blanc – the waitress was apparently a very big fan and doesn’t get asked about it frequently, so she insisted we give it a try. She did not lead us astray; it was awesome. I was at first thrown off by the minerality of it, but was hugely converted after a few sips, and we drank far too much of it.

Tallulah espouses the same farm-to-table sentiment that’s popped up nearly everywhere these days. Which is not to say I don’t appreciate the movement – I love sitting down with confidence that my meal did not originate in a factory.

Butter. Obvs.

I tend to place a disproportionate weight on bread and butter when deciding whether I like a restaurant. I prefer butter to olive oil (that vegan thing never stood a chance), and I think you can tell a lot about how seriously a restaurant treats its food by the butter – it should be room temperature, maybe on the cool side of room temperature, but it should never be cold, since it should spread easily. And I could tell from this butter that we were in for a good meal. Sprinkled with fleur de sel, micro greens, and edible flowers, it was just fabulous. This butter was, ironically, my jam.

But bread and butter alone do not, unfortunately, a proper meal make. Since this meal happened over a month ago and I neglected to take a picture of the menu, I am very fuzzy on what was actually consumed, but suffice it to say that everything was quite delicious. I have a general idea, though, and some pathetic pictures, so here goes anyway.

Baby greens with apples, cheese and other stuff

I started with a baby greens salad with Apples, shallots and blue cheese. Despite all the distraction in the plating, at its essence this salad was simple, balanced, and fresh. All of the flavors played off of one another and the freshness of the mache really shone through.

Endives, frisee and beets beets beets

CF started with the other salad option, endives and frisee with beets. She seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.

Appetizer win

Robbie and CH went for the broccoli and cheddar veloute. I am not a fan of cream-based soups, and thinking the veloute would be, if not, cream-based, quite heavy, I opted for the salad, and the second Rob's soup was poured I had serious food envy. It was awesome. The cheddar somehow seemed to contribute only flavor, giving a little bit of an edge to what would be an otherwise run-of-the-mill broccoli soup, but did not weigh down the veloute at all. Rob and CH won the appetizer course.

For the mains, I had been considering the fluke but was told they'd run out. So I opted instead for the cod, which was a wonderful fallback. Served with brandade, olives, and a piquillo pepper puree, the fish was cooked fantastically - crispy skin veiling perfectly moist flesh. Say what you will, call me gross even, but I love crispy fish skin, and I don't give a fuck.

Cod

Robbie also went with the cod. Typically, I'd be secretly (and, yes, selfishly) resentful that he hadn't gone with something different so that I could pick from his plate, but since the four of us had been eating from each other's plates all weekend, I knew I'd have a chance to taste a few different things.

Risotto avec l'arc de courge musquée

CF went with the seasonal squash risotto, which was good but not mind-blowing, and plated far too preciously for my taste.

Beefaroni

CH went for something far heartier - steak (I believe it was flank steak, perhaps?) cooked into a rich sauce. Piled atop some seriously delicious fresh egg pappardelle, it was the lovechild of italian ragu and beef bourguignon. I actually really liked the plating of this dish, and the portion was definitely appreciated more by the stomach than the eyes.

Ganache et al

Onto dessert we went. Since it was Robbie's birthday the following week, the staff graciously put a candle in his dessert. I don't recall what this dessert was, but I think it was a chocolate ganache with some other business going on. It was fine, but not remarkable.

Panna cotta spiked with awesome

What was, remarkable, however, was my coffee caramel panna cotta, with hazlenut crunch and "sweet milk espuma." This was just solid all around. The delicious little toffee pieces, the little crunchies, reminiscent of the middle layer of the Carvel cakes of my youth, the sweet milk espuma (just call it foam, dude) - all delicious, and the bitterness of the coffee prevented all the sweet from creeping too close to saccharine.

The prices at Tallulah seem rather out of line with the rest of Newport. The meal was by far our most expensive of the weekend, and from what I understand, the $50 prix fixe jumps significantly during the busy summer months. While I think the artiness of the plating could have been dialed back a few notches, it did not obscure the fact that the food we were eating was pretty damn great.

Tallulah on Thames

464 Thames St
Newport, RI

(401) 849-2433

Bánh Mì Saigon

2012-03-30T11:12:00.001-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself in TriBeCa, reporting for the very first time for jury duty. I found myself actually looking forward to it; I’d never done it before and it was a chance to do something a little different on a workday. I got to walk a whole new path to my destination, and I got to revisit my old high school stomping grounds for lunch.

That first day of jury duty was itself unremarkable but for the long lunch break we were granted. Though the official lunch hours were 1 – 2, by noon it became obvious that the judges were not going to be calling anybody, and we were told that we were free to go and be back by two. Now, if I’d had a mere hour to procure my lunch, I’d have made a decision lickety-split and been done with it. That I found myself with two hours made the decision that much tougher. It was also excessively gorgeous that day, and I found myself ambling around, not paying much mind to my rumbling belly. I fetched some horchata, and set to wandering.

I passed by so many potential lunch destinations, but, in typical fashion, couldn’t settle on a single one. I resisted the pull of Morgan's Market, a stalwart of my Stuy days, where I sat on the stoop outside with my grilled cheese deluxe (with tomatoes, obvs) far more frequently than I'd like to admit. So I strolled, and suddenly it was 1:30, and I was forced to make a decision lest my fellow potential jurors be forced to listen to my stomach grumble angrily at me for the next few hours (which ended up being only about hour as we were released way early; #jurydutywin). Like the professional procrastinator I am, once under the gun, I was able to quickly settle on what I wanted. And that was a bánh mì. I often crave the salty, pickley sandwiches, but I don’t often find myself near Chinatown when those cravings hit. I had to take advantage.

I marched on over to bánh mì Saigon and placed an order for a #4, the bánh mì Pate Cha: Vietnamese ham and pate and retreated to a park to enjoy. The sandwich came, as is traditional with bánh mì, on a crispy rice flour baguette, yielding but crispy, and not too flavorful so as to detract from the cacophony of flavor within. Lightly pickled carrots and daikon radish and strips of cucumber aplenty helped offset the richer flavors of the duo of pork. Vietnamese ham, or pork roll, is an interesting thing, almost like a salty, delicious Vietnamese gyro made of pork. The pate brings a mild funk to the sandwich. Mayo joins the party to add some moisture and tie together the funk, the salt and the acid with some creaminess. Cilantro brings freshness and keeps the palate from being overwhelmed. Though not the best bánh mì I've had, it's a fine example of the form.

Banh Mi Saigon
198 Grand Street (b/w Mulberry & Mott)
New York, NY
(212) 941-1541
http://www.banhmisaigonnyc.com/

Newport, RI: Brick Alley Pub & Restaurant

2012-03-27T09:54:00.000-04:00

About, oh, a month ago (wow, am I behind on these posts), Rob and I took a little weekend jaunt over to Newport, Rhode Island with our friends C&C. We'd never been before, and we were able to snag a pretty good deal on a vacation home since apparently not many people favor New England beach town destinations in the dead of winter.

We went armed with a bunch of dining options from my friend Sheera, a trusty source of food recommendations. We arrived in Newport in time for a late-ish dinner thanks to the trusty I-95 traffic, and wanted someplace casual and good. Sheera had high praise for Brick Alley pub, and a quick Google search turned up a number of encouraging articles, including the fact that Bon Appetit named Brick Alley’s lobster roll one of the best in America.

We were pretty voracious by the time we sat down around 9:30, obviously past prime dinnertime, as most of the tables were wrapping up and we were the last to be seated. We studied the immense menu (and ridiculous drink / beer list) and proceeded to over-order.

Not even close to actually being a slider, but no less delicious for it

First up, some Ahi Tuna Sliders. The waitress beamed when we ordered these, and they were good, not life changing by any means, but perfectly tasty and great for sharing And certainly one of the lighter options on the pub-fare-heavy menu.

Apparently the progeny of one of the 13 best recipes published by Bon Appetit
in its first 50 years

Next, the Portugese Clams, another dish that Bon Appetit apparently loves, going so far as to name it in its 50^th anniversary issues as one of the 13 best recipes in the history of the magazine (per the note on the menu). For a little touristy spot with a giant, pages long menu listing among its edibles nachos and spinach artichoke dip, Brick Alley has sure received its fair share of legit accolades. The clams were delicious – meaty but not chewy, salty but not thirst-inducing, and that broth was utterly chugable. Reading the menu quickly, we expected chorizo in the dish, but instead found chouriço, a Portuguege sausage that seemed more closely related to kielbasa than chorizo. One of the 13 best recipes I imagine Bon Appetit published in its first 50 years? Not sure, but it hit the spot.

Habanero on the left; normalcy on the right

Robbie has a bit of a wing problem. He might claim it an affinity rather than a problem, but whenever wings are on the menu, it’s like he has blinders on and can see nothing else. Typically, the hotter the wings the better for the Robster. So once I saw habanero wings on the menu, with a disclaimer (“may not be returned due to ‘too hot’”) no less, I knew they’d be appearing on our table. The waitress, bless her heart, managed to talk Mr. WingFace into going halfsies with the habanero and filling the rest of the order up with the Rhode Island Red Hot Chicken Wings.

As an attorney, I can vouch for the legally binding nature of this document.

This turned out to be very sage advice. If the disclaimer on the menu weren’t ominous enough, the release that Robbie had to sign seemed to seal the deal – he was in for some heat. He made it through a couple of those habanero wings, taming the fire in his mouth with his boozy mudslide; our friend Chris took one for the team as well, also requiring the solace of Rob's cold, creamy beverage. I’m not a chicken wing fan at all, but I couldn’t resist trying a bite. They were, indeed, hot as shit. Not wanting to totally kill my taste buds, I kept it at that; Rob admitted that his were useless after those wings.

Lobstery, New Englandy goodness

But really, I was in it for the lobster roll. I have a weird thing with lobster rolls. I love them in theory, but I very rarely order them because I know there’s only so much mayo-slathered seafood I can handle. When I do order them, I am typically skeeved out by them after the third bite. And three bites of a lobster roll is hardly a good investment. But I expected a lot from one named among six of the best in America – I doubt just any mayo-bomb would make that cut. And in any event, was in the mood for it. And it was good. Really good. Big, juicy chunks of lobster, tossed but not drowned in mayo, with a deliciously awesome, buttery split-top bun. It was utterly enjoyable, even the next day. But all those apps (and the bingeing in which I’d drunkenly, embarrassingly indulged the night before) did me in; despite my best intentions, I had room for jut a few bites. Not even enough to make it to the point where hoisting the roll up off of the plate was a viable option. Thankfully, we were staying in a rental home with plenty of fridge space, so into a doggy bag it went.

This plate was hubcap-sized

Rob had the generously portioned short rib, which could’ve tasted like hot flaming ass and it wouldn’t have made a difference after those wings. The bite I stole was salty, but good; the accompanying creamed spinach a fine version of the form. The majority of this came home with us as well. I’d be loath not to mention that the short rib came with access to the unlimited salad bar (including bread and soup), which was hardly necessary given the amount of food we’d ordered.

C&C went splitsies ordered a Buffalo Chicken Salad and Fish Tacos,. Since both dishes were handily demolished, I’d have to imagine they were well-received.

Far from fine dining, Brick Alley seems perfectly suited to its surroundings. Tasty, plentiful food right in the heart of Newport's tourist drag. Though we’d long been the only table dining, there was a solid bar scene going, and we didn’t feel rushed out of the place at all. Then a crowd, bedecked in green and black, some with fuzzy pints of Guiness atop their heads, entered and invited us to join them in the Great Guiness Toast. Not the types to turn down the chance to take part in setting a world record (or free beer), we accepted; the perfect capper to our admittedly gluttonous meal. Hey, we’d turned down dessert*, a little beer wouldn’t hurt.

* I suppose one could argue we’d eaten dessert throughout the meal through the stolen sips from Rob’s many mudslides. I say, irrelevant.

Brick Alley Pub

140 Thames St.
Newport, RI
(401) 859-6334

#Tebow

2012-03-22T15:13:00.002-04:00

(Source)

We've got some early adopters here, huh? Spotted on the street seemingly minutes after the deal to bring Tebow to the Jets was announced:

Good thing that snag wasn't fatal to the trade, eh boys?

The twittersphere was immediately abuzz, and incredibly entertaining:

Mark Remore ‏ @MPRemore
@SportsNation Jeremy Lin is now the 2nd best bounce passer in NY. #Tebow2:50 PM - 21 Mar 12 via web · Details

Reply

Retweet

Favorite

Going to be interesting to see how this one plays out this season.

Thoughts?

The Horchata Chronicles: Tacombi at Fonda Nolita

2012-03-20T16:50:00.001-04:00

Next time, spiked.

Horchata, in case you’re not familiar (!), is essentially rice milk, typically, sweetened with sugar or honey and spiced with cinnamon. It’s both earthy and sweet, and though I didn’t grow up with it, I’ve come to find it quite comforting.

I am far from a horchata expert. In fact, I’m not sure exactly what makes a good horchata, and I’m sure that those I’ve had are far from the best. Before I set out on my mission to try a whole bunch of different horchatas, high end and low, from trucks and restaurants, shacks and stalls, to see how they differ, to see what I like, I’m going to start with a horchata I’ve had and enjoyed on a couple of occasions.

Tacombi is an interesting little spot. Essentially a beach-side taco truck plunked down into a NoLita garage, Tacombi manages to pull off that lazy, surfer vibe despite its Elizabeth Street locale. There are tacos served out of that re-purposed, non-functional VW bus, and breakfast tacos and tortas served from the kitchen in the back. There are white bridge tables and high counters; paper napkins kept in cups atop tables and hot sauce aplenty.

Jugs

The juices at Tacombi are kept in giant jugs atop this drink station. There’s watermelon juice, a tamarind drink and couple of agua frescas at any given time. There’s also the horchata.

I’m not sure where on the authenticity scale Tacombi's horchata rests, but it ranks pretty highly on my deliciousness scale. It’s just sweet enough to make you really want that next sip, but not sweet enough to nauseate. The cinnamon is prominent, but not at all chalky.

As I was drinking it, I was amazed that such richness could be coaxed predominantly from rice, but looking at their menu now I see that Tacombi spikes theirs with sweetened condensed milk, which lends the drink a remarkable creaminess and delightful sugary burst. I’m not sure whether Tacombi's horchata is authentic, but I’m sure it's tasty.

Highly recommended.

Tacombi at Fonda Nolita

267 Elizabeth Street

(917) 727-0179

NYC: Brushstroke

2012-03-12T13:01:00.003-04:00

It was not easily that I settled on Brushstroke for Robbie's birthday dinner. We dine out a lot, so I wanted to make sure that it was a special meal - something out of the ordinary. My first choice, since I thought Rob would love it, Torrisi's 20-course chef's tasting menu, was booked solid, and while we were on a wait list, the chances seemed slim to none that we'd be called off of it (and, in fact, they were). I'd read a lot about Brushstroke, and it seemed like it would be an interesting culinary experience. I've done tasting menus before, but I'd yet to experience a kaiseki, a series of artistically presented small plates that balance the taste, texture, appearance, and colors of food. I wasn't expecting to be hit over the head with flavor, as we would have been at Torrisi, but I expected to experience subtle flavor combinations that I might not have seen before. Sam Sifton gave a glowing review over the summer, and while he's steered me wrong before, I scoured the blogoverse and most people seemed to agree that this place was something special.

(Source)

So it was that we wound up at Brushstroke at 9 p.m. We had to wait for a little while, so we sat and the bar and started in on some cocktails (which would later prove to have been entirely unnecessary). The decor of the bar is pretty awesome - at first it just looks as if the walls are covered with whatever the wall-equivalent of parquet floors would be, but upon closer inspection, the cross-hatch patterns are made by the pages of books, stacked vertically and horizontally with the spines facing in. Pretty cool. Anyway, I went with a cucumber and almond number that was strong yet balanced, and I enjoyed the extra crunch from the smoked almonds. Since I really like almonds (smoked and non-) and booze, so there was little chance of that drink failing for me. Rob had a ginger thing that was, well, gingery and, uh, boozy? Yea, I'm doing a great job here.

We sat at the counter by the open kitchen, where we were able to watch the massive team of cooks prep and slice, sear and arrange, making this the third consecutive birthday meal that Robbie and I have eaten at counters (the others being the Chef's Table at Brooklyn Fare (fucking awesome) and Momofuku Ko (also absolutely ridiculous)). Every motion, no matter how seemingly rote, was entirely deliberate and well-intentioned. Bouley must run a tight ship.

Brushstroke has gotten some flak about it's rigid dining room menu, where only an 8-course (regular or vegetarian) or 10-course menu are available. Since it was a celebration, we went balls-out and opted for the 10-course Early Winter tasting menu. We asked our waiter about the availability of beverage pairings, and he said he'd fetch the sommelier. This led to the first real misstep in the meal - the sommelier did not stop by until after the first course was served. There was likely little adverse effect of this, though, since the first course was cold, but it seemed out of order and awkward for the sommelier to speak to us for a few minutes about our options while our food sat, already served, in front of us. When we asked whether it was possible to pair every course with a wine or sake, we were presented with a couple of options. It was possible to order a few half-bottles of wine or sake (he suggested three to complement the different stages of the meal), or, "if we drink a lot", we could have a different wine or sake paired with each meal. Since we're a couple of lushes, we went for the full pairing. The sommelier was sometimes slow with the delivery and imperfect with timing his pours, but he was very knowledgeable, particularly about sake, for which Rob has a particular affection.

Hawaiian Hearts of Palm, Broccoli Rabe with Yuzu Mustard Miso

Since this was a couple of weeks ago now, I don't remember much about this dish. Except that it was cold and the flavors were bright and that, like all the dishes that followed, it was beautiful on the plate. It didn't blow us away obviously, but I remember eating it without complaint and enjoying it.

Steamed Chawan-mushi Egg Custard, Black Truffle Sauce and Uni

Now this dish, this dish is one I am not soon to forget. The flavors were so balanced, so restrained, and so perfect. It was light and tasted unlike anything I'd really had before, which is what I was banking on when I decided on Brushstroke. The black truffle sauce was understated and earthy and did not overwhelm at all the fresh salinity of the uni. I'd eat this umpteen times over.

Today's Sashimi

A variety of sashimi was next placed in front of us, tuna, mackerel and yellowtail (I believe) each paired with a different dipping sauce, fresh grated ginger and some kick-ass wasabi. More places should use fresh wasabi, by the way. The fish was all fresh and delicious, as you'd expect in this sort of setting. Not life-changing, though.

Lobster Bisque with White Miso and Sake Lees

This isn't the lobster bisque of which Cape Cod memories are made. This was thinner, with most of the body a result of miso, and as a result, it was packed with umami. The lobster was generously portioned, expertly cooked, and delicious as lobster can be. I'd pick this over a cream and sherry bisque any day of the week.

Sea Bass Sushi with Pickled Plum Sauce

I really enjoyed the sushi, topped with teeny droplets of pickly plum sauce, which was pungent enough to actually contribute a good amount of flavor despite its modest application. Rob found the sushi a bit too fishy tasting for his liking; ever the fan of fishy (not obviously non-rancid) fish, I savored these couple of bites.

Today's Oyster with Yuzu Dressing

Here is an oyster. It was delicious.

For the next three courses, the diner is asked to choose from a list of options. Where two options were presented, we obviously each chose one for maximum tastes.

Grilled Anago and Yam Dumpling with Ankake Sauce

As we just said we'd have both options and share, it was up to the waiter to allocate the dishes among the two of us. So it was that for the next course I was presented with the grilled anago and yam dumpling with ankake sauce. This was really interesting and very delicious. I love grilled eel, so I was pumped when this was placed in front of me. Add a Japanese hush puppy and I am good to go. This was awesome.

Miso Marinated Black Cod with Chrysanthemum Leaf Puree

I tried a little corner of Rob's cod, and it was among the better preparations of the now-ubiquitous miso black cod I've tried. It was meaty and substantial, and got a great blackened flavor from the grill.

Cherrywood and Chrysanthemum Smoked Duck, Malanga Puree and Chamomile

I was handed the duck, Robbie the pork belly. Duck and I are having a moment right now, so our waiter read us properly and set each dish before its more eager recipient. This duck made my duck look like amateur hour (which in all fairness, I suppose it is). It was tender, and smoky, and slightly sweet, with faint hints of spiciness and some crunch. It was, in a word, fantastic.

Yuru-kosho Marinated Pork Belly, Sweet Onion Puree, Black Vinegar Sauce

Rob was handed the other option. I have a limitation on the amount of non-bacon pork belly I can really eat in one go, so I was glad he was given that dish, and the boy has seemingly limitless stomach capacity for pork belly. He really liked it, and while I can't articulate his precise reasoning for that, I can vouch for his authority on the matter.

Now here was where there menu presented some difficulty; the "over rice" portion. Whereas the two prior courses has two options, here there were four options, but still only two of us. Obviously two dishes would be sacrificed and thrown into my memory as Things that Are Probably Delicious but that I Will Never Know. The mixed vegetables with ankake over brown rice was an easy target, particularly since I knew I'd be getting a taste of ankake in the dumpling dish. By the way, I'm still not precisely sure what ankake is, though a quick google search leads me to believe that it is a "starch-thickened broth with chunks of meat, vegetables or seafood" (thanks Chowhound). The Salmon was hard to see go, though; R.I.P. Steamed Salmon with Salmon Roe and Aonori Seaweed, I hardly knew ye and your delicious little bursts of roe.

Soft Shell Crab over Rice with Chrysanthemum Petal Sauce

After consulting with our waiter, who I must say was charming and attentive, I went with the soft shell crab. Once it arrived, any thoughts of steamed salmon dancing around my head were quelled and that first bite vindicated my choice. This was the best soft shell crab I've ever had. It's not soft shell season here, so who knows where it was shipped in from, and something makes me think that I don't want to know what the carbon footprint of our meal was, anyway. The crab was meaty, and crunchy, and just flawless. Yes, there was rice, but it was rice and I ignored it to ensure I was able to finish every last bite, save for the quarter that I (generously, if I do say so myself) bestowed upon Rob.

Stewed Wagyu Beef over Rice

The beef was flavorful and tender, the sauce not overwhelming, but I couldn't really be bothered trying to ascertain what I liked about it when I was so absorbed in my crab.

Dessert again presented us with options - though, truth be told, we didn't know what they were. Thankfully, our waiter was incredibly helpful in guiding us here as well and made suggestions from the choices he'd committed to memory.

We were also presented with a box of rice crackers that were dusted with a variety of powders, some sweet, some savory, some spicy; all quite interesting.

Soy Milk Ice Cream with Toasted Buckwheat

After divulging my tendency to shy away from the overly sweet and my general proclivity for salty desserts, the waiter told me matter-of-factly that I would be having the soy milk ice cream. I couldn't argue with his confidence, and I love me some ice cream. This was fucking delicious. The ice cream was savory, just the faintest hint of spice, but the toasted buckwheat was what really did it for me. It was nutty, salty and downright wholesome tasting. I really loved it.

Soy Milk Panna Cotta

For the birthday boy, a soy milk panna cotta with matcha sauce, served with a candle of course. The panna cotta was also rather savory, and had a great consistency, and sat atop a bed of red bean puree. It seemed to combine the understated flavors of many Japanese desserts with the sensibility and style for which the French are known.

While the meal didn't come cheap, Rob and I both quite enjoyed ourselves at Brushstroke. It doesn't have the hushed reverence of Momofuku Ko, or the cool sleekness of Brooklyn Fare, but it is a different experience altogether. I could have done without the cocktail at the outset, particularly given the amount of booze that we consumed throughout our meal, and likely would have had we not been asked to wait 20 minutes for our seats at the counter to be ready. The meal was quite different from any I'd really had before, and that was what I was hoping for when I made the reservation. I definitely never thought I'd consume so much chrysanthemum in one sitting, or at all. None of the flavors at Brushstroke will hit you over the head or send smoke out of your ears, but you'll enjoy a thoughtful, beautiful and delicious progression of tastes, all of which are pretty damn great.

Brushstroke

30 Hudson Street (at Duane St.)

New York, NY 10013

(212) 964-3771

Valentine's Day Dessert: Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Peppered Berry Coulis

2012-03-01T15:23:00.000-05:00

Though pretty much ready to burst after all of that duck and cauliflower, dessert remained. We lingered over our dinner plates for a long while and continued to enjoy our wine to allow ourselves to digest a bit in the name of stuffing ourselves further. Thankfully, my menu planning was done under the assumption that we'd be in a state of near (or over-) satiety after the entree, so dessert was light.

One of the benefits of preparing your own food, as opposed to eating out, is that you are in control of what goes into it. Which is all well and good when you're cooking healthfully. Obviously the flip side is that you know precisely what has gone into your food, and sometimes a rich chocolate dessert does not seem like the very best idea after your kale caesar, or your butter and wine-sauced duck. This is all to say that I eschewed chocolate on Valentine's day. Better to leave a romantic meal feeling rejuvenated by a bright dessert than stuffed and comatose after caloric overload. Besides, Robbie loves panna cotta, and there is something almost sensual about its smooth, delicate, velvety nature.

Of course, let's be clear, this isn't exactly health food either - things with heavy cream rarely are, unfortunately. But this panna cotta is tangy, bright, delicious, and shockingly easy to make. The buttermilk lends an almost yogurt-like quality, which was played up by the vanilla and the berries on top - like your breakfast parfait snuck under the bleachers and took up with the Skanks.

Though I've yet to try, I imagine this recipe takes well to adaptation; as a coffee yogurt lover (of both the frozen and non-frozen varieties), I already know where I'll be taking it next.

Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Peppered Berry Sauce

Panna Cotta recipe from Bon Appetit

Makes 6 servings

The original recipe from Bon Appetit makes enough for six ramekins. Since we were only two, I halved the recipe and since I have but a single ramekin, I poured the mixture into big mugs, which worked just fine. Since I'm no panna cotta expert, I decided not to futz around with the recipe otherwise, so it's merely copied below from Epicurious.

2 tablespoons water
1 1/2 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
Nonstick vegetable oil spray

1 cup whipping cream
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon peel
1/2 cup sugar
2 cups buttermilk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Pour 2 tablespoons water into small bowl; sprinkle gelatin over. Let stand until gelatin softens, about 10 minutes. Lightly spray six 3/4-cup ramekins or custard cups with nonstick spray.

Heat cream, lemon peel, and sugar in medium saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and bring just to low boil, stirring occasionally. Add gelatin mixture; remove from heat. Stir until gelatin dissolves. Cool mixture to lukewarm, stirring often. Stir in buttermilk and vanilla; divide mixture among prepared ramekins. Refrigerate panna cotta until set, about 4 hours. DO AHEAD: Can be made 2 days ahead. Cover and keep chilled.

Using small sharp knife, cut around panna cotta in each ramekin. Place plate atop each ramekin and invert, allowing panna cotta to settle onto plate.

Peppered Berry Sauce

Makes 3 servings

The Bon Appetit recipe suggests a simple thawed frozen berry topping for the panna cotta. I took it a bit further and cooked the berries on the stovetop for a little while to add some extra oomph. I didn't quite measure what I added to that pot, but what follows is an approximation. Note that these are the amounts I used to top the halved panna cotta recipe. While we had leftover sauce (which, as predicted, were awesome in yogurt), you may wish to double this recipe if making the full batch. Also, don't do what I did and top the cold panna cotta with hot berries - I suggest waiting just a couple of minutes for them to cool down just a tad.

1/2 package frozen mixed berries, or approximately 6 ounces, thawed

pinch of salt

2 tablespoons sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper (or more, depending on your tastes)

Place the berries in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, add the salt, sugar and two tablespoons of water. Cook until the sugar is dissolved and the berries are warmed through and starting to break down a bit. Add the lemon juice and black pepper and stir to combine. Adjust pepper to taste. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly before spooning atop panna cotta.

Highlights from a Birthday Weekend

2012-02-27T13:35:00.002-05:00

Rob's not going to be happy I posted this.
Happy birthday Robbie!

This past weekend was a whirlwind of fun and excitement, of birthdays, celebrations and recoveries. It's hard to whittle it down to just a few highlights, but here goes.

Friday night: Dinner at Brushstroke in TriBeCa for Robbie's birthday - 10 delicious courses with wine and sake pairings, including a delicious Cherrywood and Chrysanthemum Smoked Duck and capped off with this soy milk panna cotta for the birthday boy.

Needless to say, we were met Saturday morning with a food and drink hangover.

Schmaltzing up the chopped liver.

But that didn't stop us from celebrating again on Saturday night, this time joined by many friends for raucous birthday revelry at Sammy's Roumanian Steakhouse.

If you've never been, try to imagine a bar mitzvah...in a rec room...in the community center of your grandparents' Catskills bungalow community...in 1975, complete with bottles (and bottles) of Ketel encased in ice. Can't imagine that? You owe it to yourself to go then.

Ain't that the truth.

Super awesome Saturday night usually means a not-so-awesome Sunday, and yesterday wasn't entirely different. We did, however, cap the weekend with a wonderful dinner at Robbie's aunt and uncle's place, and, of course, some birthday cake. A far more genteel affair, and one infinitely more appropriate to ease us back into the workweek.

Will be back soon to share details, both of this weekend and a little President's Day weekend jaunt to Newport, RI. Hope everyone had a great weekend!

Valentine’s Day Dinner: Duck Breast with Red Wine Sauce and Cauliflower Two Ways

2012-02-24T17:19:00.003-05:00

Lest you think I cooked my devoutly carnivorous boyfriend a mere salad for valentine's dinner, there was much more in store. Admittedly, despite my affection for kale, a kale salad does not a valentine’s meal make. Though I'd told him a few times that I was planning on an entirely vegan valentine's feast (which he had, in fact, assured me he would devour without question), my plan was to cook something out of the ordinary.

Yes, that is a little heart drawn in red wine sauce. Yes, I am a dork.

I wracked my brain a couple of weeks ago, trying to remember the last time I cooked a piece of meat at home (bacon, soup and random meats cooked in the homes of others excepted). From my recollection, it had been about four years. Yes, seriously, four fucking years. I am not a big meat eater - this we know - but this still shocked me. Sure, I’ve cooked a few pieces of fish here and there, but even those were few and far between. Valentine’s Day seemed as good a reason as any to test my meat-cooking chops again and see just how rusty I’d become. This is not to say that, prior to the last four years, I’d been a huge meat eater / cooker – I never really have been, and my meat eating tends to be relegated to restaurants and the homes of family and friends. Since this was a special meal, though, I decided to go big, and settled on duck breasts. Duck, done well, is awesome – tender, juicy and so flavorful that any comparison to its poultry brethren is entirely misguided.

So after our salads, I left Rob for a few moments with bread and room temperature Icelandic butter sprinkled with crunchy sea salt, and of course a glass of red, to keep him occupied for the few minutes it would take me to retreat to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on and plate our second course. Everything was pretty much ready – the duck was removed from the fire just before I served the salad, so it was able to rest while we filled ourselves with roughage. I had prepared the sauce and cauliflower puree earlier in the day, and had kept them over low heat during kale time, so those were the perfect temperature. The only aspect I didn’t time quite well enough was the roasted cauliflower, which sadly got a bit cold – but it was delicious nonetheless.

Rob admitted as we were eating that he had been a bit skeptical when I told him I was making duck. I don’t think he realized it’d been four years since I cooked a nice piece of meat, but he knew that it’d been a damn long time. As we were eating, he admitted this to me, and said that he’d been worried for no reason. I had to agree – the duck was really great – the skin was perfectly crisp, the meat soft and tender, and the simple flavorings spot-on. The wine sauce was the perfect accent – leading with wine, deepened by the flavor of duck tenderloins; rich, yet light. Since the red wine imbued a bit of sweetness to the plate, I paired the dish with cauliflower, which I find has a subtle, natural sweetness. I also love having a range of textures on my plate, so I opted to treat the cauliflower two ways: pureed for velvety smoothness, and roasted for crunch. The roasted cauliflower, which I took from Smitten Kitchen, was topped with pomegranate arils post-roasting, which provided for a tart-sweet-juicy pop; a bit of a surprise texture that also served to highlight the sweet notes in the cauliflower and tie it together with the sauce. Once plated, I took a step back and felt pretty proud of myself. It was a well-composed, pretty, thoughtful and frankly delicious plate of food. And I didn't go bonkers in the process.

Peppered Duck Breasts with Red Wine Sauce

From this New York Times recipe

Serves 2

My duck breasts were significantly smaller than those called for in the original recipe, so each serving was a full breast. I couldn't finish nearly all of it, but Robbie cleaned his plate with no problems. Though I thought the duck could have been taken from the heat a good 45 seconds earlier, Rob thought they were cooked perfectly.

2 duck breasts, about 6 ounces each

Kosher Salt

1 tablespoon freshly crushed black peppercorns (I laid them out in a bowl so they wouldn't escape and used the bottom of a glass bottle to crush them)

2 garlic cloves, sliced

Thyme sprigs

1 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 small shallot, sliced thinly

1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste ( I like to use the tomato paste in the tube so that you don't have to open up a whole can for just a little bit)

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons medium-bodied red wine

1 cups unsalted chicken broth

1 1/5 teaspoons brandy

1 teaspoons potato or corn starch.

Remove the tenderloins, thin strips of meat on undersides of the duck breast, and reserve for the sauce. (NOTE: My duck breasts were already trimmed for the most part, but there were a couple of small strips of meat that came off with trimming the rest of the fat away, so I used those and a bit of the extra skin for this purpose. I mean, can you go wrong with extra duck skin? (FYI - No.).) With a sharp knife, trim away any gristle from the undersides and trim any excess fat from the edges of the breasts, preferably without slicing away the top four layers of skin on your thumb (cooking with a paper towel bandaged around your finger is inconvenient at best). With a VERY sharp knife, core the skin in a diamond-shaped pattern, without cutting to the meat. Lightly sprinkle salt on both sides, then rub 1 teaspoon crushed black peppercorns all over. Sprinkle with the garlic and a few thyme sprigs, cover, and leave at room temperature for an hour. (For deeper flavor, refrigerate for several hours or overnight, then return to room temperature to cook.)

Heat 1/2 tablespoon of the unsalted butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallot and the reserved duck tenderloins; let them brown well, stirring occasionally, 5 to 8 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and a small thyme sprig and let them fry for a minute, then add 2 tablespoons of red wine and the chicken broth. Raise the heat to a brisk simmer and let the liquid reduce to a bit less than 3/4 cup, about 10 minutes. Strain the sauce and return to the heat. Add the remaining tablespoon red wine and the brandy and cook for 1 minute more. In a small bowl, dissolve potato or corn starch in a tablespoon of cold water, then stir into sauce. Whisk in the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. Taste and add salt as necessary. (Sauce may be made in advance and reheated, thinned with a little broth.)

Remove and discard the garlic and thyme sprigs from the breasts. Heat a large heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, lay in the duck breasts skin side down and let them sizzle. Lower the heat to medium and cook for a total of 7 minutes, checking to make sure the skin isn’t browning too quickly. With tongs, turn the breasts over and let them cook on the bottom side, 3 minutes for rare, 4 to 5 minutes for medium-rare. Transfer to a warm platter and let rest for 10 minutes. Slice crosswise, not too thickly, at a slight angle. Serve with the sauce.

Cumin-Roasted Cauliflower with Pomegranate and Mint

Serves 2 generously

Adapted very slightly from this recipe over at Smitten Kitchen

I didn't really measure anything for this recipe. I drizzled olive oil over the cauliflower just until it was evenly coated, then spilled out waht appeared to be a teaspoon of cumin seeds into my palm. I decided to forego the yogurt, since we had a creamy element on the plate already, and I felt the tanginess would overpower the other items on the plate. This recipe, if you can really call it that, is such a keeper. The cumin seeds elevate it from the ordinary, and the mint and pomegranate give an otherwise earthy dish a load of brightness and a little bit of spunk.

1 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium - large head cauliflower

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Chopped fresh mint

1/4 cup pomegranate arils

Preheat oven to 425°F.Lightly coat a baking sheet with olive oil or cooking spray.

Cut your cauliflower into bite-size florets and place on baking tray. Drizzle over the olive oil and sprinkle with cumin seeds, salt and pepper. Toss to coat evenly. Toss florets with remaining olive oil, cumin seeds, salt and pepper and spread out on prepared tray. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, until the cauliflower is cooked through and well-browned. Keep a watchful eye towards those later minutes - the line between crispy and carcinogenic is sometimes a tough one to toe when you're doing a bunch of things at once in the kitchen.

That said, I LOVE those near-black pieces. When the cauliflower is done to your liking, remove it from the heat and sprinkle with mint and pomegranate seeds.

Cauliflower Puree with Feta and Garlic

Serves about 4

Inspired by this recipe

This stuff is so good, you may never turn to mashed potatoes again. May...

Yes, I put this in a bowl just to get a picture of it and then put it immediately back into the pot. Again, dork.

1 head cauliflower, 2 to 2 1/2 pounds

1 1/2 cup chicken broth

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese

2 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped

Core the cauliflower and cut it into evenly-sized, about bite-sized, florets. Pour the chicken broth into a steamer pot and add water so that you have about an inch of liquid. Steam the cauliflower over the liquid until a paring knife inserted into the florets is met with little (but some) resistance, about 15 minutes. Remove half the cauliflower from the steamer and place in your food processor of blender. Transfer the cooking liquid (about a cup's worth) to a measuring cup, and pour about 1/2 of a cup of the liquid into the blender / processor. Puree the cauliflower until it's smooth. Add the rest of the cauliflower and the garlic to the blender. Add a few more tablespoons of cooking liquid (just enough to allow the machine to process it) and puree until smooth. Add more cooking liquid as needed, with the intent of adding as little of possible, as you don't want your puree to be watery. Once smooth, add the butter, feta cheese, salt and pepper to the machine and process until combined. Check for flavoring; you may wish to add more feta cheese, salt or pepper to suit your taste.

I prepared my puree ahead of time, and let it sit over low heat. This allowed for a bit of the excess liquid to evaporate, so we were left with a smooth, creamy, decadent-tasting puree that was really quite healthy (and really delicious).

Note: If you're hesitant to plunk some raw garlic into your puree, you can place it in the pot with the cooking liquid while you steam the cauliflower. This will imbue the cauliflower with a very faint garlic aroma, and will significantly take the edge off of the garlic before you puree it. You can go halfsies too and keep one raw and one slightly leeched of flavor.

Valentine's Day Dinner: Kale Caesar

2012-02-21T13:28:00.004-05:00

I took charge of Valentine’s Day dinner this year. Sure, we could have gone out, feasted on an overpriced, underwhelming prix fixe menu, crushed between loads of other amorous patrons, but why would I pass up the opportunity to cook an awesome meal to share with the person I love? It’s so much more personal, so much more intimate, so much more special when you have personally orchestrated a really special evening for an immeasurably special person. An opportunity to create a memory that we can share down the road, which seems only fair given the number of memories Robbie has bestowed upon me (and the amount of my crazy he's put up with).

I haven’t been cooking (either for me, or him, or both or us) nearly as much as I’d like to lately, so I took the holiday as an excuse and ran with it, cooking up a storm and, somehow, not being a complete, frazzled mess of a human being when it was actually time to sit down and eat. Some good advance planning on my part led to a well-orchestrated and well-timed meal that, if I may indulge myself for a moment, was pretty bad ass.

To say that I like a good kale salad is a vast understatement. I fucking love a good kale salad. It’s easy, it’s healthy, it’s versatile and it’s delicious – what’s not to like? While I typically just massage a bit of lemon and oil into it and let it sit for a few minutes before tacking some other stuff on top, Valentine’s day calls for something a bit more indulgent. I find Caesar salads to typically be imbalanced; the dressing far too heavy and intense for the delicate romaine beneath. But kale is a perfect vehicle – it’s heartiness and bite allow it to withstand the onslaught of yolk and garlic, of anchovy and oil. Frank, a great Italian standby in my neighborhood, makes a fantastic, simple black kale Caesar, but I rarely order it, since I know exactly what goes into Caesar dressing, and despite its virtuous base, it’s not exactly health food. But this seemed like a great opportunity to recreate it, and get the meal off to an arguably healthy start.

I searched the interwebs for kale Caesar recipes, finding that, while the ingredients themselves don’t vary too much, the proportions vary widely. Some dressings call for up to one and a half cups of olive oil, albeit for more salad than I was planning on serving. That just seemed egregious to me, so I followed a far more wholesome-sounding lead, and went with a recipe I found on Serious Eats. I made the entire dressing recipe, though used less kale than called for since we were only two (I anticipated leftovers), played around (very) slightly with proportions, and dressed it relatively lightly. This recipe did not include croutons, but I find them to be an integral aspect of a Caesar, so I threw some well-oiled bread chunks into the oven while I whizzed together the dressing, which came together in minutes. It was a smart choice for a first course, since I was able to throw it together completely before well in advance of the more complicated main course (which I'll get to in another post). Which is only another reason why kale salads should be embraced: they don’t need to be dressed immediately before serving. The dressing tenderizes the kale and makes it more palatable, not to mention easier to chew and digest. Whereas a mixed green salad, for instance, would be a soggy, drippy, inedible mess after a couple of days in the fridge, a kale salad persists, and is no less delicious for it.

Kale Caesar Salad

Adapted, slightly, from here

Makes 2 generous first-course servings, with leftovers (or, I suppose, three first-course servings)

About 5 one-inch thick slices of bread, preferably slightly stale (I used a European country boule), cut into one inch-ish chunks

1 tablespoon olive oil

Salt to taste

7 ounces kale

2 medium cloves garlic

Kosher salt

2 anchovy fillets, minced (about 1 teaspoon)

1 large egg yolk

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, more to taste

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, more for garnish

Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Make the croutons:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the bread chunks into a bowl large enough to accommodate them, and pour the olive oil over the bread. Toss the bread to cover with oil, and salt liberally (or to taste). Spread the bread onto lightly greased or sprayed baking sheet and toast in the oven for 10 minutes, keeping an eye out and shaking the pan as necessary to ensure that they don’t burn. Remove and allow to cool to room temperature.

Prepare the kale:

Remove the large, thick stems from the center of the kale leaves (easy way to do this is to hold the stalk between your thumb and forefinger and slide your fingers up the stalk, so that the leaves peel away). If using black kale (also called lacinato or dinosaur kale), you can tear the kale into bite-sized pieces. If using curly kale or if your kale has a less tender leaf, cut the kale into thin strips by stacking the leaves on top of one another, rolling them tightly, and cutting crosswise. Place the kale into a large bowl and set aside while you make the dressing.

Make the dressing:

Chop the garlic, sprinkle it with a good pinch of kosher salt, and smash it into a paste with the side of a chef’s knife. Transfer the paste to a small bowl and add the anchovies (which I also like to smash into a paste before adding to the bowl), the egg yolk, lemon juice and mustard. Whisk to combine. Very, VERY slowly, whisking constantly, add the olive oil - first drop by drop, and increasing to a slow stream once the dressing has been emulsified. Taste and add more Dijon or lemon juice as desired (I added a good amount of Dijon, which I reflected in the above measurements, though I’d venture to say I added more than an additional half teaspoon; I added more lemon as well).

Dress the salad:

Add a few tablespoons of the dressing to the kale bowl, and toss with your hands to coat, massaging the dressing into the leaves a bit. Add the parmigiano cheese and toss to distribute evenly. Allow the salad to rest for a few minutes, taste and add more dressing or salt as desired. Once the salad is dressed to your liking, set it aside until it’s time to serve. When ready to serve, toss in the croutons (you can add them earlier if you’d like – they won’t get too soggy, but for max crunchiness add them just before plating). Garnish with a bit more cheese and some fresh ground pepper.

Trufflepalooza at Locanda Verde

2012-02-02T13:26:00.001-05:00

(Source)

I like Locanda Verde. I like truffles. I like wine. I saw no reason why I wouldn’t like all of these things together. Though the reservation line opened and closed before I was able to secure my spot for the third annual Trufflepalooza, I jumped at Urban Daddy’s offer of a multi-course, wine-paired meal bedecked with truffles in the cozy back room of the TriBeCa restaurant. Sure, it was pricier than the initial restaurant offer, but it included wine pairings (which proved to be generously poured), a couple of additional bites, and tax and tip, which meant that, come Monday, we were completely settled-up.

The last time Rob and I were at Locanda Verde with his family, we sat next to a table of Kardashians (Khloe, Lamar, Kris and Kourtney, the douchey-looking guy and their kid). This time, though, we came for truffles. The event was held in the private room in the rear of the restaurant. Upon checking in, we were greeted with a glass of prosecco (Aneri Prosecco Brut). I always enjoy a glass of bubbly, so not a bad start at all. Place cards dictated seating, and Rob and I nestled in to our (tight) seats in the center of one of the two long communal tables that had been set up back-to-back. All of the food (save the burrata) was served family-style on large platters, so making friends with those across from us was inevitable.

After our prosecco (the only glass of the night I was able to successfully polish off, despite leaving rather tipsy), we were given a hearty pour of Inama Soave Classico 2009, a full, round white that stood up well to the truffle flavor dotting our first courses. (The restaurant was supremely dark, so please bear with my Camera+'ed iPhone photos. Danke.)

The bread course was not immune to the truffle treatment; the black truffle focaccia was light and airy and eminently fluffy, though my piece tasted more of cheese than of truffle. Not a bad thing, of course, but not precisely as advertised.

Plates of beef tartare descended upon the table next. Portioned atop well-oiled crostini and crowned with a wisp of black truffle, the beef lacked zing. It tasted merely of cold and fat, and could have used a bit more time with the salt shaker. The truffle, though optically present, didn’t stand up to the taste of the meat, which overpowered.

Perhaps my favorite course of the evening was the burrata, though this might not be a fair contest given my deep-rooted affection for the cheese. It was everything burrata should be, creamy, salty, ooey, gooey. It played wonderfully with the roasted butternut squash and melted leeks. The truffles were perfect here – the funky earthiness a welcome complement to the salty cheese and the sweet roasted veggies. Pumpkin seeds for crunch and a light coat of dressing helped knock this dish out of the park.

Once the last licks of burrata were cleared from the table, the red wine portion of the evening commenced with a hefty glass of Renato Ratti Nebbiolo d’Alba 2009, my favorite wine of the evening. Of the three glasses in front of me by the end of the night, this was the wine I kept coming back to, pairings be damned.

Buckwheat ravioli was up next, stuffed with truffled ricotta and topped with a blanket of trumpet mushrooms, cabbage and black truffle shavings. This dish was another hit at the table, the pasta was toothsome and nutty, and despite being obviously bathed in butter, felt almost wholesome. The truffle came through very subtly in this dish, not taking over, but merely accenting the other ingredients. Not a raviolo remained when the plates were cleared.

The meat portion of the meal was paired with a big red, Grifalco della Lucania Aglianico del Vulture 2008. The chicken came portioned into quarters, flanked on all sides by chestnut chicken sausage, Brussels sprouts and apples, all atop a bed of lovely black beluga lentils (one of my favorite types). The lentils were awesome, the Brussels sprouts great, the chicken – oh the chicken – so flavorful, so well-seasoned, so…dry. The sausage was pretty good, certainly juicy with a nice snappy casing. But the chicken merely served to uphold my belief that one should not order chicken in a restaurant; sure it was tasty and well-seasoned, but ultimately, it’s just chicken.

I’ve been to Locanda Verde multiple times before, always drawn back by the sheep’s milk ricotta and, as out of character as it may be, the desserts. Karen DeMasco does supremely ridiculous things at the restaurant - by day with the pastry bar up front, by night with desserts. Never has a dessert failed to satisfy there – and it’s the rare case when it fails to go above and beyond mere satisfaction. Monday night’s dessert was no different. It was, in a word, incredible. It was the one course that sent murmurs up and down the tables, that had strangers locking eyes in mutual, contented surprise. Her carrot black truffle cake came to the table looking rather ordinary, aside from the pile of black truffles atop it, of course. It was far from ordinary, though – a crunchy, chewy crust gave way to a moist, dense, almost gritty crumb that I imagine was the product of cornmeal in the batter. The white chocolate mascarpone crema was delicious as well, thick and rich and far from sweet. The whole dessert had a very savory quality, and I kept digging my fork in well past my declaration to Rob that I was about to burst. It was, in a word, awesome.

Though there were high and low points of the meal, we enjoyed a lot of good food, which I’ve come to expect from Locanda Verde and a lot of good wine. Not a bad Monday night at all.

Locanda Verde

377 Greenwich St (at N. Moore St.)

(212) 925-3797

Rouge Tomate - Restaurant Week, Winter 2012

2012-01-27T13:29:00.001-05:00

Rouge Tomate has been on my radar for a while now. The restaurant was built up during its opening as a health- and environment-conscious Belgian import, ready to merge New Yorkers' collective (and often fanatical) love of good food and general proclivity for staying fit and take the city by storm. The concept definitely piqued my interest, and I've been meaning to stop by for a while now, but given that an estimated 98% of my dining out occurs south of 14th street (particularly during the winter), I haven't been in the general vicinity of the restaurant at any opportune time. Thankfully, that time presented itself this week, and my mother and I headed over to the restaurant for a non-committal, Restaurant Week sampling of the menu.

A word about Restaurant Week: Restaurant Week has always been a bit hit-or-miss for me; what should be an opportunity for restaurants to develop new clientele and build word of mouth about their establishment typically winds up being, well, a circus. Hopes of solid, well-thought out meals and polished service are dashed by hurried service, off-menu items created solely for the event to keep costs down, and a general feeling that you're doing nobody a favor with your patronage. It's also an opportunity to give an expensive restaurant a trial run, a peek into what it's capable of turning out before you decide to blow three-figure amounts on a single meal. A review of the proposed Restaurant Week menu is always a good idea; if I can't review the menu, I'm just not going. Rouge Tomate's Restaurant Week menu looked rather appealing, and since its regular menu does not come cheaply, Mom and I decided to give it a go.

The restaurant is located on East 60th street, half a block off of central park, and the clientele seems mostly pulled from the surrounding residences. The space is modern and sprawling, with boxes of apples (fake; "not very environmental of us", according to our server, though she was quick to share that the restaurant composts all eligible waste). The environmentally-friendly angle is played up - sustainable and bio-dynamic wines and organic beers are highlighted on the list, and the menu lists the provenance of many of its ingredients.

Beet Tartare Amuse Bouche

After selecting our drinks (an organic Samuel Smith lager for mom after some gushing on my part over the brewery's oatmeal stout - my very favorite beer - and an "unusual" Spanish red for me, which I really liked at first taste, but my enjoyment of which diminished with each sip), we were presented with an amuse of beet tartare with horseradish foam. The restaurant uses no butter or cream in its cooking, which meant that most of what we ate was kept light and undeniably true to taste. The beets were incredibly beet-y, sweet and juicy, while the horseradish foam was a bit tame for my tastes. Mom likened it to borscht, a comparison hard to refute.

Cauliflower-Almond Spread and Rosemary-Infused Olive Oil

Bread service was accompanied by rosemary-infused olive oil and a cauliflower - almond spread (remember, no butter here). The spread, again, tasted exactly as described, but was a bit thin atop the bread.

Seeded Roll and Sour Wheat Bread

We sampled each of the three offered bread types; I really enjoyed the slight sourness of the plain wheat bread, and the heartiness of the peasant roll, generously topped with pumpkin and sunflower seeds. The poppy- and sesame-seeded roll (pictured above) was regrettably soft throughout - no chewy crust here.

Autumn Squash Soup

Mom started her meal with the Autumn Squash Soup (Apple / Pumpkin Seed / Fall Spice / Anisette). It was sweet, the apple coming through loud and clear, with an anisette foam that lacked pizzazz. (Is Rouge Tomate perhaps forced to rely on foams since it can't fall back on cream? Cream (crème fraîche in particular) would have been better here, and a little dollop here and there never killed anyone. The pumpkin seeds provided a lovely textural contrast, and came through almost like granola. Pretty good overall, and Mom cleaned her plate.

Hawaiian Walu Crudo

I started with the Hawaiian Walu Crudo (Avocado / Yuzu / Soy / Jicama / Jalapeño / Lemongrass-Ginger Oil), which I really enjoyed. The fish was tender and buttery, the yuzu bright and refreshing. A little bit more in the accoutrements department wouldn't have hurt, but this dish was certainly a hit with me. (Side note on Walu, also called escolar and butterfish - WTF. Thankfully my appetizer was not rewarded with any such symptoms.)

Steelhead Salmon a la Plancha

For the mains, Mom went with the Steelhead Salmon (Five Grain Salad / Pine Nut / Broccoli Rabe / Raisins / Beldi Olive / Sauce Vierge). She'd been expecting to see arctic char on the menu, as advertised on the restaurant's website, but she loved the fish nonetheless. I tasted a corner, and the skin was cooked to a perfect crisp, and what I tasted of the fish seemed tender. The taste of Steelhead (actually not salmon, but [rainbow] trout) will just never compare with wild-caught salmon for me, though, as it lacks that certain richness. The fish was nicely portioned and plated atop a generous pile of what seemed to be quinoa, millet, couscous and a couple of other grams I couldn't readily identify, which tasted nutty and wholesome. Pine nuts provided texture, and the broccoli rabe was cooked tender, but not beyond.

Hudson Valley Duck a la Plancha

My entree was the Hudson Valley Duck a la Plancha (Endive / Grapefruit / Rutabaga / Apple / Ginger-Foie Gras Jus) (yea, I'm back). The duck was cooked superbly, a perfect rare to medium-rare (yea, sorry about the grainy, horrendous iPhone pictures). The majority of the fat was rendered from the breast (we are at a 'health-conscious' establishment after all, but the bit that remained proved to be the perfect amount, providing that lusciousness but not overwhelming the very, very tasty meat. The accompaniments were fine, nothing that really wowed, but nothing that clashed with the main event.

Onward we slogged to dessert, though I was entirely sated at this point - Rouge Tomate did not skimp on the portions during Restaurant Week. Mom ordered the Pear and Cinnamon Ice Cream Terrine
(Spiced Chiffon Cake / Poached Pear / Cranberry), and I the Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache
(Banana / Graham Cracker / Marshmallow / Maldon Sea Salt). Both desserts arrived far too cold, on plates that had clearly been refrigerated before being brought out from the kitchen in all its pre-fab, Restaurant Week glory.

Pear and Cinnamon Ice Cream Terrine

I tried only a tiny bite of Mom's terrine - it was fine, but the healthy nature of it was glaringly evident. The cranberry dollops were refreshingly tart, though, and helped offset the otherwise one-note nature of the dish.

Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache

I enjoyed my dessert a bit more than Mom's, though chocolate tends to wear on me quickly. The ganache was smooth and certainly bittersweet, hardly saccharine at all, which I favor. Graham cracker crumbs are undeniably fun, and these were no different. The little chocolate balls provided some crisp and crunch to the affair, and the sorbet was nothing more than some one-ingredient banana soft-serve. I cleaned my plate of the banana and graham cracker elements, had a couple of spoonfuls of chocolate, and my sweet tooth was perfectly content.

Overall, we really enjoyed our meal at Rouge Tomate. The restaurant put forth a solid, friendly Restaurant Week performance with really good, generously portioned food and attentive service. Since I don't typically eat out in this area of the city, I'm not sure how quickly I'll be back, but I'm sure I will be.

Rouge Tomate
10 East 60th Street (b/w 5th and Madison)
646-237-8977

Sardine and Avocado Sandwich

2011-12-05T21:46:00.003-05:00

So, where did we leave off, oh…three months ago? That’s right – that kind-of-sort-of-vegan thing. Well, suffice it to say that my efforts for healthfulness in that journey were not met with success, and for a variety of reasons I have chosen to depart from a mostly-vegan diet. Though many of my meals are still vegan, and I think that it is a truly admirable and healthful way of life, it’s just not right for me, right now. Though I’ve reverted back to my fish and cheese and egg-eating ways (oh runny yolks, how I missed you), I haven’t been as quick to jump back on the totally-omnivorous track, though perhaps that will come. Phew, now that that’s off my chest, we can proceed.

This little meal here I think serves as a wonderful bridge between my last post and what I imagine for those in the future. While fishing practices for certain species have vastly degraded the environment and left certain fish on the verge of extinction, sardines are an exception and a great sustainable choice, as they’re abundant and have high reproductive rates. Not only that, but those little buggers are healthy as hell, boasting awesome amounts of omega-3s and essential proteins, and since sardines are low in the food chain, the mercury levels in sardines are much, much lower than their big-eye tuna brethren. Eat your sardines from a can and you’ll receive an added bonus: the teeny little bones, which can barely be detected, are a great source of calcium. Oh yea, they're cheap too.

Now I realize what I’m proposing may be a bit of a hard sell. But before you balk at the mere idea of sardines, hear me out. Canned tuna is eaten with vim across this country – and I maintain that canned sardines should be too. Though they’ve gotten a bit of a bad rap from their former status as a recession-friendly food (and, fine, their stink), there are many who take great joy in eating them straight from the can with some mustard and crackers. There’s even an entire blog devoted to them. If the idea of straight tin-to-cracker sardine consumption sounds a bit intense for you, let me propose something a bit more dressed-up, which should calm some fears about the fishiness and “ick factor” of sardines. I can find little fault in a meal of sardines, dressed in a mixture of sherry vinegar, lemon and parsley. Add some avocado and delicious bread, and you have an open-faced sandwich that’s pretty damn good all around.

This sandwich idea comes from Alton Brown, who hailed it as his diet savior – and that makes total sense – this is a meal that is balanced, healthy and totally satisfying. And because sardines are oily fish, the sandwich has a certain richness while still feeling virtuous. So go on, embrace the sardine.

Sardine and Avocado Sandwich

Makes 2 open-faced sandwiches
Adapted from Alton Brown

I usually use one tin per two open-faced sandwiches, though bigger appetites may want to use the whole tin; the leftover sardine mix stays well in the fridge and makes the second sandwich a breeze to prepare. I have used both oil- and water-packed sardines with success. If you use water-packed sardines, be sure to add some oil to the mix, about a tablespoon or so will do, though do note that the oil from the tin lends great flavor to the sandwich. I like to add a little bit of Dijon mustard and onion, but both are entirely optional. Alton recommends brushing the bread with the sardine oil before toasting – I think this is unnecessary.

1 tin sardines
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley, additional for garnish
1.5 – 2 teaspoons sherry vinegar (if you don’t have sherry vinegar, substitute lemon juice, but the sherry really does add a very nice touch)
1/8 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, or to taste (optional)
1 tablespoon onion
2 slices of bread (I like using a whole wheat sourdough; try to pick a bread with a good bite, as opposed to sandwich bread)
½ ripe avocado
salt and pepper to taste

If using oil-packed sardines, drain the oil from the tin into a bowl. If using water-packed, drain off and discard the water and add one tablespoon of olive oil to a bowl. Add the parsley, sherry, lemon zest, and, if using, the mustard and onion to the bowl. Add the sardines and mix to combine, mashing a bit if desired. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside for a few minutes to allow the flavors to combine (in the refrigerator if not using for more than an hour).

When you’re ready to assemble, toast the bread. Mash the avocado half in its skin and divide between the two slices of bread, spreading the avocado evenly to cover the bread. Divide the sardine mixture evenly between the two slices of bread, spreading it out over the avocado. Sprinkle sandwiches with additional parsley and finish with a squeeze a lemon. Then, enjoy.

Pasta with Creamy Vegan 'Alfredo' Sauce

2011-09-15T21:32:00.007-04:00

So I had been working a lot. Like, a LOT. And when I wasn't working, I wasn't able to muster up the energy to write a post. My weeks this summer pretty went like this: work, work, sleep (a little), work, work, deposit self on beach, work (sometimes on beach), sleep (a little more), work. In the little time I had in between, I was reading. A lot. Too much, some (cough, boyfriend, cough) might say.

All of this reading, coupled with an over-reactionary stomach these past few months, has led me to make some changes in my diet. Big time changes. As in, no meat or dairy, kind-of-sort-of-vegan changes. I mean, I love me some cheese, though it has admittedly always weirded me out that we are the only species on earth that eats milk of other mammals intended for their young. Sick. Though cheese is delicious.

Now I don't think I can say that I'll be shunning meat and dairy forever, but I can see myself significantly restricting my intake of both for the near and not-so-near future. While I don't know that I could forever say goodbye to smoked salmon, I think I'd be doing both myself and the environment a favor by largely limiting the amount of animal products I consume. And I'm not going to put pressure on myself my placing a label on my diet. I'm not going to declare that I "am" anything, and then set lofty expectations for what I (or others) think my diet should comprise. If I want to be a "kind-of-sort-of-vegan, who sometimes eats smoked salmon, or lobster rolls or finds herself at a really great restaurant and wants to enjoy a meal sans dietary restrictions", so be it.

And honestly, it's been kind of fun. It's really exciting to get into the kitchen and wing it sometimes. To try to create really exciting meals without the crutch of bacon fat or the richness of eggs. This hasn't been about trying to recreate the non-vegan dishes I love: the macs & cheeses, the bacon egg and cheese sandwich because honestly, I don't miss them. I have not eaten a single slice of Tofurkey (nor do I intend to) - substituting meat and dairy with overly processed soy is not really going to do my body much good. This for me has been about creating foods that are delicious in their own right, but that are easy enough to digest and don't make me feel bloated or tired afterwards. But once in a while, only a creamy pasta dish is going to satisfy, and for those times, I'm glad I found a few vegan 'alfredo' sauce recipes to mash together into one. A garlicky, saucy alfredo facsimile that I felt not only not bad about eating, but great about eating.

Pasta with Vegan Alfredo Sauce

Adapted from here and here

The cashews lend this sauce a nice, creaminess, and together with the tahini and nutritional yeast give the dish a boost of protein. Nutritional yeast is a great resource for vegetarians and vegans, since it is one of very few non-meat sources of vitamin B12, and it has a vaguely cheesy taste. The sauce comes together in a blender, food processor or a magic bullet in a snap and needs just a couple of minutes of warming and thickening in a pot with the pasta, making this a very weeknight-doable meal.

I'd recommend only combining the pasta and sauce that you plan on eating at that time; if there are leftovers, the sauce and pasta / vegetables are better stored separately and reheated together in the pot when you're ready to eat the rest of what you've prepared. Once combined, the dish doesn't reheat as well, though if you have sauced pasta left over, adding a bit of almond milk when reheating will restore some creaminess to the dish.

Ingredients:

4 ounces pasta (I used whole wheat rotini)
1/2 cup frozen peas
1/2 cup chopped frozen broccoli
1/3 cup raw cashews
2 garlic cloves
3 T nutritional yeast
1 cup unsweetened, unflavored almond milk
1 T lemon juice (I added a bit more after tasting it)
2 T non-dairy buttery spread, such as Earth Balance
1 T low-sodium soy sauce
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 T tahini
Pinch of nutmeg
1/4 t sea salt
1/2 tsp paprika
lots of freshly ground black pepper (or to taste I guess)

Process:

Cook pasta in well-salted water in a sauce pot. About two minutes before the pasta is to be al dente (don't cook it all the way in the water, since it will continue to cook a bit once the sauce is added), add the peas and broccoli to the pot with the pasta. Cook until the peas and broccoli are bright green and cooked, making sure not to allow them to get mushy. Drain the pasta and vegetables in a colander and return to the pot.

While the pasta is cooking, add the rest of the ingredients to your blender or magic bullet and blent until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning as desired.

Add sauce to the pot with the pasta and vegetables and heat over medium heat. Allow the sauce to thicken and heat through, stirring frequently. Top with a few turns of freshly ground pepper and a dusting of paprika.

Serves 2.

Beer Pancakes

2011-05-18T15:02:00.008-04:00

About once a weekend I cook my wonderful boyfriend breakfast, or brunch, or whatever you'd like to call the first meal of the day that usually happens no earlier than 1 p.m. This process typically starts with a variation of an exchange in which I ask him what he'd like for breakfast, I tell him I can make him whatever he'd like, suggest a few things, and then make my way into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, I only offer to make meals that can be assembled from items that I already have on hand - the first meal of the day is not the time to go out for groceries, is it? (Let's not dwell on the fact that I have to merely cross the street to arrive at a more than serviceable grocery store, okay? Thanks.)

So imagine my displeasure when, after Robbie took me up on an offer of chocolate chip pancakes, I opened my fridge to find myself entirely out of milk, of any sort. No cow, almond or coconut milk, and definitely no buttermilk. Though he (probably) would have been happy with anything (edible) I put in front of him, because that's just the kind of guy he is, I didn't want to let him down.

But I recalled reading a Dear FloFab column in the Diner's Journal that revolved around a secret recipe for pancakes, and whether it was right for someone to insist on being given an old family recipe for pancakes that the question poser was given by her aunt on her deathbed, and is now the only person in the family in possession of the recipe. [Though now that I'm searching for this column I can't seem to find it anywhere, but I'm fairly secure enough in my sanity to say I read it at some point; maybe it just wasn't FloFab? Anyone?]

Scrolling down past Florence's pithy reply (how I love reading her responses to these questions), I came upon the comments. Many of them. And instead of responding to the question posed, instead of chiming in on the merits of keeping such a thing secret, the commenters to the post took turns guessing what that secret recipe might have hidden within it that it creates what must be the world's greatest pancakes. One of the commenters piped in: "beer!" Which makes sense, in a way, since beer contains both yeast and carbonation, which helps keep things light and fluffy, certainly an attribute when it comes to pancakes. I use seltzer in my matzoh balls to help keep those from becoming too dense, so the same logic would seem to apply to pancakes. And while I had zero types of milk in the fridge, I had no less than four types of beer. Problem - potentially - solved.

So I turned to Google, and found a few different recipes for beer pancakes, which I cobbled together. I used part whole wheat flour in part because I felt its nuttiness would play nicely with the malty undertones of the beer. And it did. The pancakes were light, but crispy around the edges, with faint yeasty notes in the backdrop that played surprisingly well with the chocolate chips.

What type of beer you should use will depend on how prominently you'd like to feature it in the taste. A cheap light beer will interfere less with the taste of the other ingredients, but will still provide a noticeable beer flavor. On the other hand, a nice rasperry lambic would work quite nicely as well, providing fruity notes that would play well with blueberries or chocolate chips in the batter. Regardless, once the bottle's open, you might as well finish it up. It's brunch, after all, and is brunch really brunch without booze?

Whole Wheat Beer Pancakes
Adapted from Multiple Sources
Serves 2

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
3 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large egg, separated
1 cup beer (I used a cheap light beer, since I didn't want the taste of beer to be too prominent)
2 tablespoons butter, melted (optional, but why not)
1/4 good quality cup chocolate chips (optional, blueberries would also be good, especially with a fruity beer)

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Add the egg yolk, beer and butter and whisk to combine. Don't overmix - it's okay if there are a few lumps.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg white with a hand mixer or whisk until soft peaks form. Add a bit of the egg white to the batter to lighten it before folding in the rest, being careful not to deflate the egg whites. Fold in the remaining egg whites to combined.

Note: if you want to skip this step, you certainly can, but I think separating the eggs results in wonderfully light pancakes. If you want to forego whipping the whites, just don't separate the egg and beat it lightly before adding it to the mixture with the beer and butter.

Heat a griddle or a skillet over medium heat and coat with a respetable layer of butter. I find that a little extra butter helps the edges of the pancakes get nice and crispy. Once the bubbles in the butter have subsided a bit, spoon the batter onto the hot griddle or skillet, using about 1/4 cup of the batter per pancake. Dot the surface of the pancakes with chocolate chips or blueberries, if using, pressing down on them gently so that they become slightly submerged in batter. When you see bubbles appear on the surface of the pancakes, about 3-4 minutes, flip them over and cook until done on the other side.

Serve with a dusting of powdered sugar and maple syrup and a healthy amount of bacon if you're hearing the siren song of a salty-sweet breakfast.

Oat Bran with Mushrooms, Arugula, Blue Cheese and Poached Egg

2011-03-02T11:49:00.009-05:00

I don't know about you, but I found this winter to have been a trying one. It feels like it snowed relentlessly, stopping only long enough for the temperatures to dip far below freezing and turn the city into a sheet of ice. Weather like we've seen this winter beckons for comfort food. For cheesy, gooey, hearty things that stick to your ribs and warm you from the inside. But it's also March now, people! I don't know how this came to be, but apparently we're already two full months into 2011. And though the weather's not quite spring-like yet, before we know it, we're going to be expected to don swimsuits and look like we were utterly and completely unaffected by winter.

This meal is perfect for this time of year. There are few things better in the winter (or ever, really) than a warm, creamy bowl of grits. However, grits are pretty much devoid of nutrition, especially the instant kind. Whole-grain cornmeal and polenta are a little better, but they take a lot of time and patience to cook - not exactly the type of thing you can whip up in a few minutes when you're looking for a quick weeknight meal. Enter oat bran: hearty, quick-cooking, yet retaining all of the nutrients that made it a dieter's darling. And no need for it to be sweet, either. Leave the maple syrup for those times you want waffles for dinner (though some may argue those are better topped with ice cream for dinner, or for any meal...some) and make this into the rich, savory and hearty meal we're all craving right about now.

Listen, I know it sounds weird. But hear me out on this one. It's delicious. Oat bran got a bad rap in the 1980's (or so I hear, anyway), when it was touted as THE HEALTHIEST THING EVER. Its popularity among the health nuts faded, and it became something of a joke. But it shouldn't be, because it's incredibly versatile - and while it might not be the healthiest thing ever, its definitely definitely good for you.

This oat bran is rich and warm, yet won't weigh you down. Strong flavors like blue cheese are - perhaps counterintuitively - great items to use when I'm trying to keep things light. The funkier the cheese, the farther a small amount will go. I used no more than an ounce of the stuff in this recipe, and that includes both what was mixed into the oatbran during cooking and what I sprinkled on top afterwards. It's got protein and fiber from the oat bran, and the arugula not only provides a subtle, peppery pop that really sets off the whole dish, but gives the dish a boost of greenness that will ease your mind and prevents the whole thing from looking too, well, bland.

Mushrooms provide a bit of bite to the dish, banishing images of gruel and textureless slop that might come to mind when oat bran is mentioned. Of course the egg does not hurt in any respect - it's the rare savory dish that is not improved by a poached egg, a runny yolk coating all components and making everything extra good. And it's one of nature's more perfect nutritional packages, conveniently portioned and packed full of protein. Not to mention that poaching is one of the healthier ways to cook eggs, since, unlike scrambling or frying it relies on no added fat. Hard-boiled eggs don't require any extra fat either, of course, but being hard-boiled, they obviously don't offer that whole runny yolk thing.

Oat Bran with Mushrooms, Arugula, Blue Cheese and Poached EggServes 1

1 teaspoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon shallots, finely chopped
1/2 cup crimini mushrooms, sliced
1 cup milk or water
1/3 cup oat bran
1 cup baby arugula
1 ounce blue cheese (I used a strong triple creme blue, but gorgonzola or really any blue should work just fine)
1 egg
Salt and Pepper, to taste

Fill a saute pan with water and place over medium heat until a simmer is achieved.

While the water in the saute pan is heating, place a small pot over medium heat. Add the olive oil and butter and heat until the bubbles from the butter have subsided. Add the shallots and cook, stirring occassionally, until the shallots are soft and beginning to turn transluscent. Add the mushrooms and cook until browned, about 5 minutes. Add the milk or water to the pot, season with a dash of salt and raise the heat to medium high. Once the liquid has boiled, add the oat bran to the pot, stir to combine, and lower the heat to low. Cover the pot and cook the oat bran for 3-5 minutes, until the desired consistency is achieved, stirring often so as not to burn and adding additional milk or water as needed to achieve your desired texture. In the last minute of cooking, add the blue cheese, reserving some if desired to top the dish with the the end. Stir to combine, allowing the cheese to melt into the oatmeal. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add the arugula to the pot and cover to allow the steam to wilt the arugula. Give it frequent stirs to help the arugula along. Remove from the heat and transfer the oat bran to a serving bowl.

In the meantime, add a splash of vinegar to the now-barely-simmering water in the skillet. Carefully slide the egg into the skillet, either directly or by first cracking the egg into a ramekin or teacup and then sliding it gently into the water, using a slotted spoon to gather the whites together if necessary. Allow to cook until your desired doneness, about three minutes or so for a nicely runny yolk. Lift the egg from the skillet with a slotted spoon and blot dry with a paper towel, and place it in the bowl over the oat bran. Finish with any reserved blue cheese, a final sprinkle of salt and pepper, crack that yolk and enjoy!

Sake Fish en Papillote

2010-11-29T20:49:00.005-05:00

I cook real food, too, you know. It’s not all ice cream and frozen yogurt and rugelach and brownies. I even cook and eat things without butter or cheese or any dairy products whatsoever in them sometimes – food that some might even consider “healthy”. Of course, it helps when such things are also delicious.

The intersection of healthy and delicious is an ideal, and one that oftentimes seems unattainable. We all know that definitely need not be so. Certain methods of cooking tend to produce healthier results. Steaming is one such method, but one that has gotten a rather bad rap. Thinking back to the steaming of our childhoods often conjures up images of sadly steamed broccoli releasing its sulfuric compounds, an unfortunate byproduct of overcooking cruciferous vegetables (that's whymost of us probably never liked Brussels sprouts much growing up, though we know how great those can be). When we dwell on comfort foods, odds are we're not hankering for anything steamed - it just doesn't carry with it delicious connotations. But that needn't be so.

But steaming, like Brussels sprouts, shouldn't be feared. Baking in parchment paper essentially allows the contents nestled within the package to steam, since the heat created during the cooking process is trapped within the package. Baking in parchment is a great little trick to have in your arsenal - it is incredibly simple - just throw a few things on a parchment (aluminum foil often works if you don't have parchment on hand), throw it in the oven for a few minutes, and just like that - like magic, really - what lies within emerges perfectly cooked. And yes, what you're eating is, in fact, steamed - but you needn't say so.

Fish en papillote, which literally means "in parchment" is the french term for baking things within a little package - and doesn't it just sound so much nicer than "steamed fish"? It's a phenomenally easy thing to prepare for a dinner party as well, you could plate it unopened, so as to require audience participation. It's always exciting to open a present, and that is no less true when there are delicious scents emanating from the package.

Sake Steamed Fish en Papillote
Adapted from Gourmet, June 2009

This recipe couldn't be easier - you throw some things in parchment, tie it up, with scallions if you want to be fancy about it, with string if not, throw it in the oven and forget about it for a few minutes. It sounds so much more complicated than that though, but who's to know? Regardless of how you advertise it, what you're left with when you open that package is something fragrant, delicate, delicious and blessedly healthy. I served it with some sauteed baby bok choy and brown rice for a round, wholesome meal.

1/3 cup sake
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon grated peeled ginger
1/2 teaspoon sugar
2 (6-ounce) pieces skinless fillet of any firm, white fish (about 1 inch thick), bones removed
1/3 cup sliced scallions

Note: You'll also need two 12ish-inch squares of parchment paper and, to tie up your parcels, some string or a couple of scallions.

Preheat oven to 400°F with a baking sheet on bottom rack.

In a bowl, stir together sake, soy sauce, garlic, ginger, and sugar.

If fish fillets are more than 4 inches long, fold ends under. Put a fish fillet in the center of each piece of parchment paper and sprinkle with salt. Divide scallions evenly, sprinkling them on top of each fillet. Holding up two corners of the parchment paper to prevent liquid from running off everywhere, spoon one half of the sake mixture over the top of one one the portions. Gather the sides of the aprchment paper together to form a pouch encasing the fish, make sure there are no openings through which the steam can escape, and tie tightly with string or a scallion. (If using a scallion to tie the pouch, quickly steam it so that it softens, which will prevent them from snapping when you try to form a knot.)

Bake on hot baking sheet until fish is just cooked through, 10 to 12 minutes.

Serves 2.

Peanut Butter Ice Cream

2010-09-16T12:08:00.008-04:00

As Labor Day has come and gone, and the temperatures have been dipping
into the chilly zone come nightfall around these parts, it seems that
summer's on its last legs. Don't tell that to my ice cream maker. I
know there's been a lot of ice cream around here, but I hope you'll bear
with me for one more before season's end. This one's worth it.

Peanut butter was never my favorite thing as a kid - in fact, I don't
think I actually touched the stuff until I was in 6th grade. Something about it
just freaked me out, and my parents were never the peanut butter and
jelly-pushing sorts. I wasn't a picky kid, so I don't think they had
to utilize the pb&j crutch on which so many parents rely just to make sure
their kids get some calories in them. (While calories weren't a problem, calcium was - I was not one for milk, and my parents finally just gave in and allowed me to eat ice cream for breakfast, sometimes even without the proper-breakfast-validating waffles. Major win.) When I finally did get into peanut butter, it wasn't the cloyingly sweet, oil-slicky smooth commercial varieties, but the chunky, grittier "natural" stuff. The texture is more substantial, the flavor more reminiscent of actual, real-life peanuts and less of sugared-up legumes.

I can't really explain then why this ice cream pulled me in, considering it calls for that processed, not-so-natural stuff. It wasn't about nostalgia, since I had sat on the sidelines, quietly enjoying my tuna sandwiches, watching my friends lap feverishly to get those smooshy soft sandwiches unstuck from the roof of their mouths; this peanut butter was never a feature of my childhood. It has to be, then, that what drew me in was the inkling I had to take the ice cream and throw a whole slew of salty stuff in there. And I think by now we know how I feel about sweet plus salty. Throw a toasty, crunchy, nutty aspect in there as well, and it's pretty much a done deal.

While this ice cream falls somewhere between a custard-based ice cream and the frozen greek yogurt in terms of complexity and involvement, it is definitely much closer to the almost-too-easy-to-be-true frozen yogurt end of the range. And that's just because of all the extras I chose with which to bedazzle my ice cream. Had I not had to chop these mix-ins (and I threw a LOT of stuff in there), there'd have been little more to this recipe than a couple of measurements and a quick buzz in the blender.

I toyed a bit with doing a peanut butter and jelly version instead, but clearly the siren song of salty-sweet was simply too much for me to resist. And I don't regret it for an instant. Neither will you.

Sweet and Salty Super Loaded Peanut Butter Ice Cream
Ice cream base recipe adapted from The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz

3/4 cup smooth peanut butter*
2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 2/3 cups half-and-half
Pinch of salt
1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup salted, blanched peanuts, chopped coarsely
1 cup dark (or milk, if you prefer, but I like the bitterness of dark) chocolate, chopped coarsely or semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup salted pretzels, chopped (note: I used standard, salted pretzels, but would probably use chocolate-covered pretzels next time, since the pretzels got a little bit soggy after a while)

* Don't be tempted to use natural peanut butter, as the oils will separate and this will not make you happy.

Combine the peanut butter, sugar, half and half and salt in a blender and blend until combined and the sugar has dissolved. Place the mixture in the refridgerator until cold. Freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. In the last two minutes of the churn cycle, add in the various mix-ins until combined. Transfer the finished ice cream to a container and freeze until you're ready to enjoy. I enjoyed a little additional sprinkling of coarse sea salt over my bowls of this ice cream.

Frozen Yogurt with Figs and Honey

2010-07-27T23:42:00.011-04:00

I knew that this guy was going to be trouble. There was no way that I was going to make it out of the summer without a severe ice cream-making addiction, so I just embraced it - there's been mint, coffee, peanut butter ice cream (that one's coming soon - stay tuned!), the list goes on. And I haven't really looked back.

OK - I looked back just a little bit, deciding that not everything that The Churnster (as I've affectionately dubbed him) produces has to be the richest thing ever (or at least the richest thing since the last thing that we made together). I made frozen yogurt. And you know what? It was awesome. It was made with greek yogurt, so it had that thick, assertive tang that I love so much about the stuff. I cut back on the amount of sugar in the recipe, since I really wanted that tang to be at the forefront of the finished product.

When I was in Greece, I ate yogurt with walnuts and honey with reckless abandon. The simplicity of it all just made me sit back and appreciate the various ingredients, which came together to form one of my favorite combinations of all time. And because that shit is awesome. Seriously - smooth, thick, tangy yogurt, tempered by the muted sweetness of thinly drizzled Greek honey, saccharine, yes, but not cloyingly so, and dotted with the crunch of bitter walnuts. I can think of almost no better dessert. Except ice cream, of course. So obviously the next logical step was to make this into a frozen dessert.

Greek yogurt is pretty much just your plain-old typical yogurt from which the whey has been strained. Since the liquid's been removed from the equation, you're left with unadulterated yogurt; in-your-face, tangy, thick-enough-to-stand-a-spoon-in yogurt. I know that a lot of people can't get into it for those exact reasons. But those very reasons are why it makes such a great base for frozen yogurt. While a far cry from the richness of an egg yolk-laden custard base, it's at once rich and delicate, with a tangy heft that makes you sit up and take notice. So even if you're loathe to eat greek yogurt on its own, give this a go; you won't be sorry.

I swapped out the walnuts for figs, for no real reason other than I had a pint of them and they don't have a particularly long shelf-life. And they pair awesomely with honey and yogurt. It also seemed a "Greek" enough substitution so as not to stray too far from the nostalgic roots of the yogurt.

I can absolutely not stress enough how easy this recipe is. There's close to nothing to be done - seriously. Take some greek yogurt, mix in some sugar until it dissolves - the stand mixer made incredibly easy work of this, but it is not much more laborious to do it by hand, add in some vanilla if you're so inclined. Then let it chill in the fridge for a little bit - both figuratively and literally, of course, until you're left with a cool and laid-back yogurt base. Throw that awesomeness into your ice cream maker and you're there. That's. It. Awesome frozen yogurt at your disposal.

Greek Yogurt with Figs and Honey
Adapted loosely from 101 Cookbooks
Makes approximately one quart of frozen yogurt

This recipe is really the easiest thing ever. It's tanginess is reminiscent of the frozen yogurts on offer at Pinkberry, Red Mango and those guys. But it's wholly unlike those, if for no other reason than that you know there's absolutely nothing in there but the good stuff. No chemicals, no stabilizers, just pure yogurt. And anything else you want to throw in. I went with figs, which I cut and allowed to freeze a bit on a sheet tray before throwing them into the mix so that they wouldn't be completely dessicated by the Churnster. The only downside with this frozen yogurt is that it's best almost immediately after it's been made, and tends to harden a bit more than is desirable in the freezer. Just take it out a few minutes before you're ready to eat it, though, and you should be good to go.

If you're turned off by the sourness of plain yogurt, feel free to add a teaspoon of vanilla, which will temper the tang and round out the flavor a little bit. Next time I make this, I'm throwing some fresh ground black pepper in the mix. I ground some over a couple of servings after drizzling some honey on top and it was a great move, so I think it deserves a place within the yogurt as well.

3 cups Greek yogurt (the original recipe calls for full-far yogurt, but given that I was trying to make this a lighter production, I went for 1 1/2 cups full-fat yogurt, 1 1/ cups 2%)*
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla (optional)
1 1/2 cups fresh figs, cut into small pieces and semi-frozen
1/2 cup honey

Mix the sugar (and vanilla, if using) into the yogurt and stir until the sugar is completely dissolved into the yogurt. Refrigerate until the mixture is cold. Freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. About two to three minutes before the churning process is finished, gently add the figs to the ice cream maker. Spread about a third of the honey on the bottom of the container in which you plan to store the frozen yogurt. Working quickly, add about a third of the frozen yogurt to the container, then another layer of honey, then another third of the frozen yogurt, then honey, then yogurt, until it's all been used. Freeze until ready to eat, or dig in immediately. Either way, drizzle some extra honey on top, and if you're up for it, a couple of twists of the pepper mill.

*Greek yogurt can be a bit expensive, so if you want to make your own, just take a container of plain yogurt and empty it into a colander that you've lined with cheesecloth or paper towels and that you've placed over a bowl (to catch the whey, since it will make a mess otherwise). Place it in the fridge and let it strain overnight. Do note, however, that the volume of the yogurt will be cut in half, so a cup of plain yogurt will produce 1/2 cup of greek-style yogurt.

Shelbs & Cheese

Dirt Candy

The Horchata Chronicles: 3rd Ave Taco Truck

#PhotoaDayApril

100!

Newport, RI: Franklin Spa

Happy Passover!

Newport, RI: Tallulah on Thames

Bánh Mì Saigon

Newport, RI: Brick Alley Pub & Restaurant

#Tebow

Mark Remore ‏ @MPRemore@SportsNation Jeremy Lin is now the 2nd best bounce passer in NY. #Tebow2:50 PM - 21 Mar 12 via web · Details Reply Retweet Favorite

The Horchata Chronicles: Tacombi at Fonda Nolita

NYC: Brushstroke

Valentine's Day Dessert: Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Peppered Berry Coulis

Highlights from a Birthday Weekend

Valentine’s Day Dinner: Duck Breast with Red Wine Sauce and Cauliflower Two Ways

Valentine's Day Dinner: Kale Caesar

Trufflepalooza at Locanda Verde

Rouge Tomate - Restaurant Week, Winter 2012

Sardine and Avocado Sandwich

Pasta with Creamy Vegan 'Alfredo' Sauce

Beer Pancakes

Oat Bran with Mushrooms, Arugula, Blue Cheese and Poached Egg

Sake Fish en Papillote

Peanut Butter Ice Cream

Frozen Yogurt with Figs and Honey

Mark Remore ‏ @MPRemore
@SportsNation Jeremy Lin is now the 2nd best bounce passer in NY. #Tebow2:50 PM - 21 Mar 12 via web · Details

Reply

Retweet

Favorite