The Housewives’ Moroccan adventure went out with a bang.  Just when you thought the drama filled Middle Eastern whirlwind would wind down with the ladies sitting around smoking hookah and laughing together over the fact that LuAnn got her ass kicked by a camel, the tension reached a boiling point and definitive lines were drawn between the b*tchy brainless brunettes and the blacked-out blondes.  This episode put the prior squabbles between Cindy-Sonja and Ramona-Jill to shame.

Part III picked up with Ramona still convulsing in her bed over her fight with Jill.  Even in her drunken stupor, she made her way downstairs to be comforted by the other blondes.  Ramona was so shaken up, she could barely speak.  Sonja cried, “Somebody call a doctor!  This girl needs some pinot grigio!  Did anyone hear me? Get the pinot grigio!  This woman is going to die if we don’t get her some pinot!”  That’s what I heard, anyway.  It was all very General Hospital.  As a side note, I loved how Ramona grabbed Sonja’s large glass of what-looks-like water, throat parched from her feud with Jill, and asks “Is this water?”  Sonja replies, “Not exactly.”  Just to get an idea of how drunk these women were, in this moment Sonja was casually drinking 8oz. of pure vodka. 

Then, into the room rushes LuAnn, who for purposes of this review will be re-named “Jafar,” the villain from Aladdin.  LuAnn and Jafar oddly resemble each other in looks, egocentricity, narcissism ad nauseam, and have a red-feathered parrot in their ear.  (That’s you, Jill.)  Jafar proceeds to blame Ramona for starting problems, but is mostly upset that the fight is disrupting her trip.  I am not sure why Jafar kept saying that she wanted to “show the ladies Morocco,” as if she is some sort of expert on the culture because Calypso started making Moroccan-inspired kaftans to wear to the beach.  She reprimands the others for trying to get a better look of the belly dancers at the Moroccan strip club, and says, in the most condescending way possible, “We are not tourists.”  Um, Jafar, by definition that is exactly what you are. 

After the fight, Kelly initially pretended not to take sides.  While staring at the ground, she mumbles something to that effect, but before she could finish, Sonja tries to create a diversion and says, “Got your Pucci on?”  Kelly, in all her awkward glory responds, “It is Diane von Furstenberg.” “And I wore it so that you can see how far apart my boobs are from each other.” Ok, I made up the last part.  But good g-d, that has to be some sort of scientific phenomenon.

I knew the rest of the episode wasn’t going be pretty when Ramona said to Alex “I need you to be my wingman tonight.”  Alex silently chanted to herself, Yes! I have another message.  I have another message.  I have another message.  Over the years, we have learned that when Alex has a message to deliver, stifled screams and hives will ensue.  Armed with the honor of being Ramona’s wingwoman, Alex charges into the room, valiantly stating, “Ramona has asked me to defend her against LuAnn.”  Jafar disgustingly dismisses Alex’s feelings, and delivers the most heinous dig in housewife history:  “Alex, go back to the closet you came out of.”  Did Jafar just call Brooklyn a closet?  We already know she thinks everyone is beneath her, but this was just straight up sickening.

It was all downhill from there.  The desert heat must have given Kelly’s brain a circuit shortage and after Alex’s dramatic outburst at Jafar, Kelly started spewing words out of context (like, “authentic”), and repeatedly saying “you’re weird” over and over again.  At which point we all had a flashback of Scary Island Kelly, in the purple dress (again, with the boobs spread freakishly far apart) saying “I threw up.”  Although Alex didn’t approach Jafar in the best way, it really had nothing to do with Kelly, and it boggles my mind why Kelly went bizerk.  Kelly accused Alex of causing a “casino” (the word that came out when Kelly attempted to say either “scene” or “chaos,” to no avail).

Then Kelly delivered the gem of the evening, “My tattoo is ruined.  You ruined my tattoo.  Who is going to fix it? Who? Santa?!”  Oh, dear.  This is worse than I thought.  Poor girl must be suffering a heat stroke.  She thinks they celebrate Christmas in the Middle East.  Kelly’s incoherent rambling actually worked, and she managed to confuse Alex into apologizing for ruining the henna tattoo.  Alex was so flustered, and clearly had no control of herself or her mind, that she actually listened to Kelly who had her performing what-looked-like a DUI test or an improv skit.  “Open your eyes. Close your eyes. Open them. Talk with your eyes closed. Stand on one foot. Spin around three times.  You’re angry.  You’re sad.”  The whole thing was just so over the top.

I wish I could say that the drama ended there.  Jafar organized a dinner at the Riad, but only told the brunettes about it, and then got upset when people arrived late.  She sat on her throne, first dismissing Alex from dinner, scornfully saying, “You should have known better.  You have an education. You can go now, slave.”  Then Sonja and Ramona showed up an hour and a half late, smirking with guilt, as they had clearly just heard about Jafar’s assault on Alex.  At this point, Jafar is about to blow a gasket, and refuses to have them served food.  “This is not the Plaza Hotel, this is Marocc-O,” she cries.  Let’s get real, Jafar. I’m sure that when Brad Pitt stayed at the Riad last week (which you probably lied about), and was an hour and a half late for dinner, the Riad worked it out.  Cindy and Kelly nodded obediently at Jafar, hoping she didn’t take away their food as well.  Self-titled “Fifi the poodle” (Jill) was conveniently getting, yet another, Diet Coke from the kitchen when this feud erupted.  Someone tell Jill that Diet Coke is not a food group.

All-in-all, Morocco was a shit-show.  Each wife left the desert with a more skewed perception of reality and socially appropriate behavior.  Even Jill and Ramona realized they had gone too far, and temporarily resolved their differences for the conclusion of “The Trip of a Lifetime.”  As a final goodbye to Morocco, the ladies donned custom gowns they had commissioned to an exclusive restaurant, and pretended that nothing went down.  (A.K.A Bravo told them they better go to dinner together and put on a happy face for the final shot.)  That is one thing I truly admire about the housewives.  The can have life-altering, friendship-ending brawls, and then break bread without so much as a second thought.

I, on the other hand, am still recovering from the Moroccan vacation, and could use a vacation of my own.  Even though I didn’t need a fortune teller to show me what a real C U Next Tuesday (or in this case, Thursday) LuAnn was, her true colors came out and it was quite unhinging. 

Does anyone have a good gastroenterologist?  This season is giving me an ulcer.

More than any other season, the summer revolves around food. Maybe it is the taste of your dad’s ribs that festers in your mind from Memorial Day to Labor Day, or that half melted salty margarita you sip while the sun beats down outside Dos Caminos Soho. Or maybe it is the buttery lobster you have down the shore or out East, that makes the overtime and Saturday hours you put in this winter seem not so terrible in retrospect. You even start thinking that maybe your boss might be a nice guy… (I’m getting carried away. He’s a tool. Lobster doesn’t heal all wounds. Only 85%.) My point is that everyone has a list of foods that call to mind the very essence of summer. The tongue-tickling things that make summer, well… summer.

While reading over the things that make my love affair with summer a stable and enduring one… think about the foods you have jonesed for all winter long, and don’t let this summer slip away without a little nookie.

From the annual crowd pleasers to the newbie summer spots, these restaurants and recipes should be incorporated into your summer bucket list. Trust me, they are worth a notch (in the wrong direction) on your belt.

Dave’s grill – Montauk, N.Y.

Why not start with the tip? Dave’s Grill couldn’t be further from Manhattan civilization. Literally, one step east and you are in the Atlantic Ocean. I wouldn’t have you schlep all the way out to Montauk if it wasn’t the best. Dave’s Grill is a real local type place, on the water, with the freshest of seafood and a bouillabaisse with healing powers. Not so fast. They don’t take reservations in advance. Guests can call day-of starting at 4:15pm for a reservation, Thursday through Sunday. I find the “everyone-in-our-party-repeatedly-dialing-from-different-phones-starting-at-4:00pm-method” works best. Get the Mini-Barbara for dessert and thank me later.

The Dutch – Soho, N.Y.

Oh, the witty titles I could come up with for a review of this place… Dutch Baby, Go Dutched to The Dutch, I don’t need Rosetta Stone to speak Dutch, Soho’s Newest Pearl, Puff Puff Pass the Cornbread. When I asked how they came up with the name, the manager replied, “it just sounded cool.” I can live with that. Wanna know what I can’t live without? The Dutch’s Little (fried) Oyster Sandwiches or their Asian White Boy Ribs. I can only suspect that a person with – let’s call it clouded judgment – came up with these delicious concoctions.

The rest of the menu, which includes an extensive raw bar, perfectly executed Asian, Southern, and American inspired dishes, and desserts like Devil’s Food Cake, fro yo sandwiches and homemade pies, are a stoner’s dream team. Highlights: Start with the complementary cornbread, then get the oyster sandwiches, ribs, Grilled Escolar, and the Devil’s Food Cake for dessert. The Dressed Crab in bloody mary cocktail and the Smoked Ricotta Ravioli were also amazing. If your stomach is up for the challenge, go for them as well. Do not pass The Dutch. (Last one, sorry).

Cyril’s Fish House – Amagansett, N.Y.

You know your are onto something good when a quarter of a mile out, cars are lining Montauk Highway to park, and happy hour-goers appear to be frolicking their way to the entrance of a shack just off the highway. Cyril’s is truly the epitome of summer. The are few things in this world that can compare to sitting outside at Cyril’s, washing down an order of coconut shrimp and a lobster roll with a signature BBC (Banana Baileys Colada) – add a “floater” – while listening to the live reggae band play No Woman No Cry. Being at Cyril’s feels as though the year was meant to culminate in that one afternoon of summer bliss. Keep an eye out for Cyril himself. He’ll be the dirty Santa look-alike chewing on his cigar. Lunch, Cyril’s well-known competitor from down the street, doesn’t compare. Tip: call ahead to see what days the band is playing at Cyril’s and head over after your mid-afternoon surf lesson.

Bowtie Pasta Salad with Asparagus and Peas

Obviously, like myself, you did not allocate your vacation days appropriately, and plowed through a majority of your days off during your mid-march crisis. This recipe is perfect for a stay-at-home Sunday night BBQ, or, to bring along when whoring yourself out to anyone with a pool in the tri-state area. This pasta salad is best at room temperature, so it travels well.

Ingredients: 2 packages of bowtie pasta; 2 packages of frozen peas; 2 large bundles asparagus; 2 Vidalia onions; salt; pepper; parmesan cheese.

Directions: Chop the onion and the asparagus into bite size pieces (asparagus should be about an inch in length). Sauté onions and asparagus in skillet with a little olive oil until tender. Add frozen peas. Add salt and pepper to taste. In a large bowl combine cooked pasta and veggies. Mix in a generous amount of parmesan cheese just before serving.

Teqa’s Tasty Mahi Mahi Tacos

In the past I have always wussed-out and made the kit of Old El Paso when making tacos, as I felt “authentic” tacos were out of my reach. With the help of Teqa, my new favorite taco spot in Murray Hill, I have learned a delicious and easy-to-repeat recipe for Mahi Mahi tacos. Teqa’s head chef helped me come up with a recipe to bring the fish taco from their kitchen to yours. Perfect for those margarita filled summer nights.

Ingredients: 1 package of flour tortillas; Mahi Mahi cut into strips; salt; pepper; Napa cabbage; red cabbage; jicama; lime juice; guacamole.

Directions: Season the fish with salt and pepper. In a screeching hot sauté pan, sear the fish on each side (use tongs to flip). Place the sauté pan in a 450 degree oven for 2-3 minutes to finish off the cooking process. Cooking the fish should only take 5-6 minutes total. To make the slaw, julienne the cabbage and jicama and combine in a mixing bowl with a little lime juice. Plate the fish with the slaw and a dollop of guacamole on top.

Imperial No. Nine – Soho, N.Y.

Savor the summertime in Sammy Talbot’s new garden greenhouse functioning as a sustainable seafood restaurant in the Mondrian Soho. It is there you can sip fruity cocktails and nosh on small bites while feeling like you are at an Alice and Wonderland tea party. Do not skip the cauliflower fritters and the king crab a la plancha. (To see the full review of Imperial No. Nine click here).

Hope you enjoy these summer recommendations from Legally Hungry!

The newest addition to the Mexican tapas social scene, Empellon, is a definite pass. Everything at Empellon is just a little off.  Let me explain.  It is located too close to 7^th Avenue, and therefore comes off slightly gimmicky.  Sorry, but is hard to immerse myself in the quaint West Village culture with high school students looking for a new smoking piece and tourists swarming around me.

Also, the atmosphere at Empellon lacks character.  Not that every Mexican restaurant should have a sombrero wearing mariachi band playing La Cucaracha in the corner, but there was absolutely nothing that made it feel authentic.  It has stark white brick walls, a graffiti mural behind the bar with no apparent significance, and brand new sleek dark wood furniture.  When they go out of business in 9 months, it will be an easy transition for the trendy sushi place that takes over.

Locale and atmosphere aside, the food was just not good.  Here’s my position:  If you are going to have a limited menu, and thereby corner diners into ordering food the way you see fit, every single thing on the menu should be delicious.

The guacamole and chips were average, nothing to go back for.  The White Tuna Ceviche with beets and guava puree was almost inedible.  I like beets and love tuna so I’m not sure how they managed to make it taste so bad.  Ceviche should be light, refreshing, and clean.  This was heavy, creamy and left a bad taste in our mouths.   It was at that point one of my girlfriends said, “ugh oh, I hope this isn’t foreshadowing the whole dinner.”  I silently hoped the same.

The Tetilla with Rajas and Nopales (basically a bowl of white cheese mixed with sautéed onions and peppers which you wrap in tortillas), was just eh.  It tasted like a Philly cheese steak, minus the steak.  The Tamales of Short Ribs were dry and overly seasoned.  The Chipotle Shrimp Taco was undercooked and unappetizing.  And, the Skirt Steak with beans was good, but not great.  The Fish Tempura Taco was the best thing we ordered, however the portion was very small, and probably only good in comparison to the other lackluster items.

The one, and only, redeeming thing about Empellon were the drinks.  The drink list is extensive, creative and playful.  We tried a bunch of the signature drinks and margaritas, but the shining star was definitely the ¿Por Que No? (meaning, why not?), which had tequila, pineapple, serrano pepper and cilantro.  It was spicy, inventive, delicious, and even came with a little sidecar.  It felt like we were getting two-for-one.  However, even the innovative drinks couldn’t make the food at Empellon taste good.

The girls and I were in complete agreement, and, judgment was rendered.

So, ¿Por Que No go to Empellon? … Because all I got from Empellon was a hangover and a stomachache.  If you are looking for modern and trendy Mexican, go to Yeurba Buena in the East Village.  It is there you will find the progressive Latin cuisine you desire and equally as good drinks.

Located at:

230 West 4th Street

New York, NY

Forgive them father, for they have sinned.  I feel a little better after having showered off the filth that was sticking to my skin after watching this episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey, but in all honesty, I am still recovering.  The mind-blowing 90-minute series opener was nothing short of disturbingly fantastic.  Not for one second did I think that just because the most deluded of them all, Danielle Staub, was gone, RHONJ was about to quietly die down and ultimately surrender to the fate of its sister wives (RHODC) and an inevitable series cancellation.  Instead, these grown-up greased monkey juicehead gui-tards managed to break through all the Jersey reality TV noise, and come out victorious.  I guess the saying is true, if you scream the loudest… you will get heard.  Or… arrested.  (Over/under for Joe Gorga getting locked up this season?)

The feud that emerged on the series opener was unlike any other Housewife feud in history.  Lines were drawn between brother and sister, culminating in an alcohol induced riot at a baby’s christening.  Teresa Giudice and her brother, Joe Gorga, may have permanently damaged their relationship beyond repair, but, this was a small sacrifice to pay for continued Bravolebrity status.  Or, in Joe Gorga’s case, the title of scummiest Bravo Househusband.  (A big congrats to Jim Bellino for acceding the throne.)  I have a feeling the Giudice v. Gorga battle will rage on all season long, and I will be courtside watching in 3D glasses.

With this season came two new wives and oodles of entertainment.  Sister-in-law, Melissa Gorga, is vicious, jealous and competitive with Teresa, though there is clearly no contest.  Melissa’s husband is a lunatic (please don’t have me whacked), her Guido spawn are not nearly as cute as the Giudice clan, and she doesn’t even say “bubbies.”  Though she vied for the spotlight with every ounce of her spray tan, her “work ethnic” [sic] did not pay off.   While a singing career seems to be working in Kim Zolciak, LuAnn de Lesseps, and Simon Van Kempen’s favor… my prediction is that Melissa’s will be about as successful as Jo de la Rosa’s circa OC Season 2.  She should keep up her day job as a self-proclaimed “whore in the bedroom.”  Team Giudice all the way.

Newcomer Kathy “Wackadoo” Wakile is already annoying.  This twice removed cousin, or whatever she is, needs to take her bug eyes and go away.  The “two-faced old lady” has already been done by last season’s Kim G., and I only have bug eyes for one woman. (Wink wink, Ramona).  She does seem like a good mom, so I will give her that.

Now, onto the vets.  Yes, Teresa, “Bankruptcy is so not good.”  I’m glad to see you have taken a page out of Bethenny’s cookbook, and are attempting to capitalize on your fame, but I would hardly define “being conservative” as not throwing parties.  Side note:  Did anyone else think the reason the entire Giudice fam had diarrhea at the christening was maybe because Joe should have refrigerated the cheese at his pizza place?

Who would have thought that the Manzo tribe would be on the outskirts of the drama this season?  All the Manzos seem to be doing great, and the boys have finally moved out of their parent’s house at the ages of 47 and 49.  Caroline, I love ya, but you remind me a little of Marisa Tomei in Cyrus.  It was about time your sons go forth and prosper.  All told, the Manzos are really cute.  They have their own, slightly racist, secret language called “Cajun”, and it is obvious they really do love each other.  Sometimes they lay it on a little thick.  Like, we get it… you guys cook Sunday dinner together.  Dammit, I want to be a Manzo.

Without fail, Jacqueline embarrassed her daughter, Ashley, in front of her boss, made her hysterical cry, and was then utterly confused as to why her daughter was upset.  We have seen this show before… one too many times.  I tried to pay attention to what was going on, but truthfully I was very fixated on Jacqueline’s face and trying to figure out what work she had done.  I’m going with a nose job and Botox.  I miss naïve, wholesome, and slightly overweight Jacqueline in the heinous blue and gold blouse of the table-flipping era.

Just when I thought Bravo couldn’t possibly do it again, another Housewives series slides into my weekly rotation, edging out Gossip Girl for the second season in a row.  Can you blame me?  RHONJ is so sleazy, yet so entertaining that it is impossible to look away from the train wreck.  If this is what Jesus’ Kingdom feels like, consider me a convert.

Hold onto your disco fries, I think this is going to be the best Housewives season yet.

New York Magazine restaurant review guru and word extraordinaire, Adam Platt, said it best… “Studiously chic, nouveau-rustico Italian establishments have been popping up around town like mushrooms.”  However, this statement was directed in reference to Spasso, one of Ciano’s pesky little (and looking back) pre-pubescent, and quite awkward, little competitors.

Ciano is not just another mushroom.  It is a truffle.

Ciano has garnered significant attention in the brief six months it has been open.  Of course, I had to try it.  For research purposes…

The décor is upscale, but still warm.  Pinkish-orange hues tint the dining room filled with old-but-new farm-esque furniture.  White linens over the tables contribute to the restaurant’s overall elegance.  It is as if Restoration Hardware had a change of heart and decided to try its luck as a restaurateur.

Ciano is fancy, but not stuffy.  Jackets are not required, but if worn, diners will so-perfectly blend into the setting and complete the overall portrait owner and chef, Shea Gallante, intended.

This is a restaurant worth changing out of sweats for.  Even the wait staff was dressed impeccably, buzzing around the restaurant in their blazers, diligently carrying out the whims of dinners.  Oh-so-attentive, without being annoying.

Worth mentioning is the beautiful fireplace, which is in the process of being converted from wood burning to gas.  Parked in front of it, the sommelier serves up wine a la carte.  Patrons can order any wine the house carries by the glass, half bottle, or bottle.  If that isn’t freedom of choice, I don’t know what is.

After taking in the beautiful décor, I thought to myself that there was no way the food could possibly live up to the expectations created by the atmosphere.  But, the ambiance was just foreplay.

We opted for a la carte, instead of a tasting menu or the Chef’s Collection.  The meal started with three different types of complementary bread, accompanied by truffle butter and red pepper olive oil.  They had me at hello.  Of the Assaggni (which means small plates or tapas) we got the Pizzette with Roasted Peppers.  It was a great one-biter to get things going.  I am not really into beets, but I have to admit the insalata of Rainbow Beets with Whipped Robiola and Balsamic was delicious.  Do not skip the Warm Artichoke Salad.  The Roasted Veal Meatballs served with Creamy White Polenta, are a must.  The meatballs are considered one of their signature dishes, and, it is no wonder the kitchen is reproducing them faster than you can count the rabbits on the wall-length mural.

If I had to pick, the Green Garlic Cavatelli with Smoked Maitake, Poached Egg and Fava Beans was probably my favorite pasta, though the Pappardelle with Duck Bolognese was pretty amazing as well.  The Spring “Siamese” Ravioli with Sweet Pea & Burrata Filling was better than average, though I don’t feel like it got a fair chance, as it was on the other end of the table and I only got a bite or two.  It was every man for himself at that point.  I could have done without the Cortecce Pasta with Baby Octopus and Bread Crumbs, which we ordered off the Chef’s Collection menu.  It just didn’t hold up to the others by comparison.

The Chicken For Two comes baked in a clay pot, which they proudly present to you, prior to slicing.  It was a bit of a turn-off to see the skinless bird in there.  Although the chicken was extremely moist, tender, and juicy, I did not love the texture.  If I am going to order chicken at a restaurant, I want golden, crispy, salty, skin that melts in my mouth.  That said, everyone enjoyed the chicken, and the sauce it is doused in, is plate-licking worthy.

While I am not usually one to comment on dessert, Ciano really blew me away. The biscotti was not your typical plate of dried almond bread.  There were baby French macarons, caramel squares and an assortment of goodies, each one delicious in its own right.  The Cioccolatini was also a hodgepodge of truffles and chocolate-covered small bites, each morsel more scrumptious than the next.  Both desserts were perfect for sharing, and went a long way when it came to divvying up dessert.  The Apple Napoleon was beyond.

To say the least, we left Ciano over-indulged.  I wish I could say that it was not worth the exorbitant prices, but I would be lying through the food still stuck in my teeth.

Ciano is located at:

45 E 22nd Street New York, NY

This is my go-to recipe for meat sauce, and a meal I make once a week.  It is the type of recipe that, once adopted, you will recreate an endless number of times over the course of you culinary life.  It is also extremely easy to execute, freezes well, and tastes like it was a lot harder to make than it actually is.

The beauty of this meat sauce is that you can make it yours.  I like it over large shells, extra spicy, with a dollop of ricotta cheese mixed in at the end.  A side of garlic bread brings it to the next level.  If you have a love affair with penne, hate spice, or can’t bear the thought of ricotta (blasphemy), that is fine too.  Find your Bolognese-identity through this delicious and savory recipe.  On this journey of self-awareness, keep in mind that there is no right-or-wrong, just a delicious bowl of starchy-goodness on the other end.

Ingredients:

1 lb ground beef; large pasta shells (they aren’t really all that large, just a little bigger than Velveeta shells); ¼ white onion diced; 2 cans of Raos marinara sauce; ½ can of whole peeled tomatoes; garlic powder; salt; pepper; oregano; red pepper flakes; ricotta cheese.

Directions:

In a large skillet, sauté the onion with a little olive oil, until translucent.  Add ground beef.  Immediately season with a ton of garlic powder.  While browning, continue to season with salt, pepper, and then oregano.  Once the meat has browned, add 1 can of sauce and the ½ can of peeled tomatoes.  Break up the tomatoes with your spoon.  If the tomatoes are on the harder side, they will have to sit a little longer to soften  (if you are short on time, you can skip the peeled tomatoes all together).  It is also delicious to add spinach or peas at this stage, but not necessary.  I like it more saucey, so I add most of a 2^nd can of marinara.  Add red pepper flakes to desired spice and let simmer for 10 minutes.  Serve over shells in deep bowls, with a dollop of ricotta on top.

As I said, this is the meat sauce that speaks to me.  Mario Batali ain’t got nothing on it.  Once you find your Bolognese-ID, you will carry it with you forever.  And, yes, meat sauce is a metaphor for your 20-something life crisis.

Executive Chef Sam Talbot’s newest venture in the Mondrian SoHo received a 9 out of 10 on my personal scoreboard.  The judge’s panel in my head, which happens to oddly resemble the panel from Dancing With The Stars, based the score on chef celeb status, ambiance, and menu.

In case you don’t remember, Chef Sam Talbot was the McDreamy of Top Chef Season 2.  He is also the chef at Surf Lodge in Montauk, which is the place to see-and-be-seen on a low-key night in the Hamptons.  This Top Chef semi-finalist and hunk has created what he likes to call a “sustainable seafood restaurant.”  Just throwing this out there…what does sustainable even mean?  Confusing me just adds to his sexiness.

Chef Talbot is also like the John Mayer of the chef world. He aims to please, yet doesn’t give a fried lentil.   His menu makes no distinction between appetizer, dinner, or side dish items.  Chef Talbot just throws them all on a list, and is basically like, “figure it out for yourself.”  This Chef may be bad, but he’s perfectly good at it.

The ambiance is ideal for summer.  Imperial No. Nine has a great indoor/outdoor feel and is, frankly, one of the most beautiful restaurants I have been to.  Crystal chandeliers hang from the glass roof of this garden-esque space, and odd shaped tables spackle the room, giving it character and a casual, unstuffy feel.  One drink in and you have completely forgotten that you are in Chinatown (you can call it SoHo but we all know anything within one block of Canal is Chinatown).

The mixed reviews about Imperial No. Nine made me skeptical about trying this new and trendy summer hot spot.  It is clear that my fellow foodies have not been as wowed by the Chef’s food and menu as by the space it is served in.  However, if you go to Imperial No. Nine with the right mindset, I think you will come away satisfied.  That is because Imperial No. Nine is all about drinks and apps.  Start with one of the specialty drinks numbered one through, yes, you guessed right, 9!  From there move on to the apps, all of which should be shared.

When ordering, the Cauliflower Fritters, Fried Oysters, and Toasted Cous Cous are a must.  The star of the evening was the King Crab A La Plancha.  The king crab was a big portion, perfect for sharing, or to be ordered as a main course.  I was not a fan of the Shrimp and Blue Corn Grits with Poached Egg.  It tasted like Tostitos chips meets oatmeal.  Next time I plan on venturing out and trying the Slow Cooked Octopus and the Raw Tuna.

Our friends at Morgans Hotel Group got it right by pairing their new hotel with Chef Talbot.  In fact, I liked Imperial No. Nine so much I am even willing to look past the Chef’s brief stint with Kelly Bensimon.  We all know how I feel about Kelly.

Of course, as a lawyer I must protect myself, and this near perfect-scoring restaurant comes with a disclaimer:  If you are picky, don’t do well with limited menus, or grimace at the idea of spending $15 on a bellini, this is not the place for you.  If you like trying new things, thinking outside the box, and can truly appreciate dining in a fabulous garden as the sun sets somewhere along the border of Soho and Chinatown, Imperial No. Nine is up your alley.

Located at:

9 Crosby Street

New York, NY

From one princess to another… Kate, this one’s for you:

10.  Always make twice than what you need, and freeze the extras for a rainy day.

Since London isn’t exactly known for its gorgeous climate, I imagine this rule will come in handy more often than not.  One day, when your staff of 800 is on Holiday, you will want those meatballs, extra sauce, chili, and soup you prepared back in October.  Just label with the date, stick it in the back of the freezer, and forget about it until you bunker down with a blanket and your future King.

9.  Don’t be afraid to experiment.

Now, I am no Alton Brown but I try to experiment with a new dish once per week.  It is easy to make the same four “safe” meals every week, but it gets old, real fast.  Devote one night to switching it up and trying a new recipe.  You will be surprised how often you are successful.

8.  Everything is better with butter.

Yes, everything.  The saying really is true.  No need to go crazy, a little bit of budda goes a long way.  Don’t sacrifice great taste because you are afraid of using a sliver or two of butter.  It makes everything from your fish to veggies to pasta more flavorful.

7.  Never cook more than two dishes at each meal.

Ina Garten taught me this one.  If you’ve made a main course and a side dish, go with an easy salad or microwavable veggies.  If you’ve made two impressive side dishes, buy a roast chicken.  Never, under any circumstance, cook more than two out of three of the meal’s components.  Instant rice is one thing, but attempting to do everything from scratch will result in too many pans, plates, and, an inevitable dinner-making burn out.

6.  No phones during dinner.

Even if it’s the Queen of England calling (which probably happens in your home more than mine), reserve this 15-30 minute window each day just for the two of you.  Be free from outside distractions and chaos.  This is my favorite time of the day and the reason I don’t think of dinner as a chore.  After dinner, feel free to tweet me at @legallyhungry and tell me how much you bloody loved my Salmon with Salsa recipe.

5.  If you are cooking, he is cleaning.

This rule is all about compromise.  After a great meal, there is no better feeling than knowing I can, pun intended, wash my hands of the meal and go relax.  Sure, I’ll help a little, but I know the heavy dishwashing is up to him.  Plus he looks super cute in gloves and an apron.

4.  The sporting event sacrifice.

You say football, I say soccer. We both say, “Please no overtime.”  When the big game is on, you are going to have to take one for the team.  This means good food and ale, in front of the television, with plenty of extras for those unexpected guests.  Although he would never admit it, he’s keeping score of what a great wife you are.

3.  T is for Thursday, which is also for Take-out.

Confucius says, “There is no shame in ordering take-out.”  However, even on Chinese-night, I like to spruce it up a bit and take the food out of the containers and put it into normal bowls.  I am not saying bust out your wedding china, but taking it out of the cartons goes a long way.

2.  Always bring home leftovers.

“Leftovers” may as well be my middle name.  Which, would be weird.  However… always, always take home leftovers.  Yesterday’s untouched side of penne could be tomorrow’s chicken and pasta dinner.  Or, in your case, yesterday’s mashed potatoes could be tomorrow’s Sheperd’s Pie.

1.  Never underestimate the power of your King’s stomach.

You know the saying, “Happy wife, happy life?”  Well, “Happy Hubby, is a chubby Hubby.”  With those extra five pounds comes un-begrudged, almost enthusiastic, furniture shopping for your new digs.  I use the term “digs” loosely, as Buckingham Palace isn’t exactly a modest starter-home.  Bottom line, a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  A way to a woman’s heart is through end tables.

Despite this lack-luster episode, my girl Kelly Killoren Bensimon (KKB) did not disappoint.  So pretty, yet so stupid.  I have to believe she is playing it up for the cameras because no one is that ridiculous. Especially someone who graduated from Columbia University with a major in Journalism.  Guessing she had “friends” in the Dean’s Office or a “lucky scrunchie” like the girl from Legally Blonde.

LuAnn told Kelly the reason that she is having a hard time finding a guy is because Kelly “can’t trust.”  I am going to go out on a limb here, and say that I think Kelly can’t find a guy because she lacks a certain volume of brain cells.  During the wine tasting/speed-dating event, one of the men tells Kelly he is studying at Julliard to be an actor.  Without hesitating, Kelly proceeds to ask him, “So what instrument do you play?” Errr…Knock, knock, Kelly.  Is anyone home?

Then Kelly has him “role play” and pretend he has cancer and is dying.  Way to keep it light for a 5-minute speed date, Kell.  In typical Kelly fashion, she squeals with excitement, “Eeeehhhhhhhhhh. HIIIIIYEEEEE. I love you. Oh my goddddddddd. Ahhhhhhhh.”

Interestingly enough, Kelly decided that she hates Ramona this season.  She has re-watched the St. John Scary Island footage from last season and has come to the conclusion that it wasn’t Bethenny that was “trying to kill her in her sleep,” it was Ramona.  To get back at Ramona, Kelly decides she won’t attend Ramona’s event and attempts to fire off a passive-aggressive text message to her.  But… She can’t get the words out.  Watching Kelly try to put a coherent sentence together was almost as sad as watching a small child learn to read.

“Dear Ramona, I am unable to attend… I am unable to attend…I am sure… I am sure that…” Cat got your tongue, Kell?  Sometimes I honestly think Kelly is from another planet and wish she would E.T. phone home.  The look of utter shock on Cindy’s face said it all.

And for reasons I can’t even begin to understand, Ramona got mad that Kelly couldn’t come!  Ramona, don’t you remember Scary Island?  Why would you want that jack-in-the-box anywhere near you on your big night?  Kelly has bigger problems than attending your event.  Like figuring out why the sky is blue, or how many days are in a week.

Kelly (in tow with children Sea Urchin and Teddy Bear), Cindy, and a staff of 12 nannies were gracious enough to attend Alex’s birthday on Governor’s Island.  Since I have never been to Governor’s Island, and in fact, hadn’t even heard of it until this episode, I can’t really comment other than to say that it looked like an odd choice for a birthday party.  Simon, I would have thought you’d given up on-screen birthday bashes for Alex after the infamous town car ride where the driver “ruined the __ing surprise.”

Kelly and Cindy were obviously miserable and disgusted by this bourgeois birthday party, noting “everyone’s pretending that we are, like, on this beautiful island where the sun is coming down and the kids were running around playing….It was just a few people and a picnic table… freezing.”  I have to side with Kelly on this one.  Between Alex’s child getting a champagne bath, and Simon trying to wipe chocolate on Alex’s white coat, there were so many things wrong with this birthday, on so many levels.

Alex could have definitely benefited from Kelly’s amazing picture-taking skills during her modeling shoot. How can we forget? “Johann. Johann face, Alex. Johann. Baby face. Soft face. Oh my god, that’s it! That is so hot!” Alex looked like something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show or the Adams Family.  And that’s without makeup.  Ramona, please hit Alex up with some TruRenewal.

Lastly, the ladies attended a waxing party at Cindy’s salon.  They acted as if they had never gotten a wax before, kept saying, “female landscaping” like “wax” was a dirty word, and were largely uninformed about grooming.  Who knew the RHONY wives had such longhaired chihuahuas?

As I said, other than Alex’s hair and some award-winning Kellyisms, this was a pretty tame/lame episode.  Regardless, still not missing Jill and Gingivitis.

As a bonus, I am providing a link to one of my favorite Kelly YouTube spoofs.  Enjoy!

I am fairly certain that I’m not the only one with a love/hate relationship with chicken.  It is the most popular protein, yet sometimes I stand in my kitchen, looking at the raw chicken, praying that when I open my eyes it has magically turned into spaghetti Bolognese.

When it gets to a point where you are holding your nose while swallowing the grilled or breaded chicken you made, it is time to switch it up. 

Chicken Savoy is the perfect solution. 

It is flavorful, tasty, EASY, and nowhere near boring.

Ingredients:

Chicken breasts with skin and bone (Ask butcher to cut it up into parts.  Usually 2-3 per breast.  If you aren’t squeamish you can do it yourself); fresh ground pepper; oregano; crushed garlic; garlic powder; parmesan cheese.

Idaho potatoes; kosher salt; olive oil.

Directions:

Pre-heat oven to 500 degrees (yes, 500).  In Pyrex dish, place chicken skin side down.  Place chicken close together.  Season with pepper, oregano, a lot of crushed garlic, and a ton of garlic powder.  Generously sprinkle parmesan cheese all over.  Cook the chicken for 40 minutes.  Then turn the oven OFF and pour 1 ½ cup of balsamic vinegar over the chicken.  Let it sit in the oven and marinate all together for 10 minutes.  Then enjoy!

As for the potatoes, scrub with warm water and then poke holes all over with a fork.  Give your potatoes a head start by microwaving them for 5 minutes on each side.  Without burning yourself, place potatoes on a baking sheet and coat all over with olive oil.  Sprinkle kosher salt on both sides.  Place in the oven with the chicken so that everything is ready at the same time.  The longer the potatoes cook, the better!  The skin is obviously the best part!

If you want to get fancy, throw some brussel sprouts on the baking sheet and make Burnt Brussels as a side dish.

Enjoy this K for P (but also great for anytime) meal.  Don’t be a chicken…Try it!