Urban Gastronomy

Still Life with Persimmon

2012-01-23T19:24:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago, I fell in love. Now, I'm in a relationship. And it all began this past Friday in a room with 16 strangers.

I know what you might be thinking, but there were no cocktails or fancy panties involved... or sage, butter and acorn squash for that matter.

There were only persimmons.

Yes, persimmons. Actually, I suppose it's more accurate to say I had a relationship. For already, said relations are over. And now, all I have are photos. Isn't that the way of things?

The relationship began in that room on Friday with 16 strangers before I even met those beautiful persimmons. I took a four-day food photography workshop through the International Center of Photography led by the extremely talented and gracious Susie Cushner, who photographed the soon-to-be-released James Beard Foundation's Best of the Best: A 25th Anniversary Celebration of America's Outstanding Chefs. Ms. Cushner was assisted by Benjamin Petit, a young Frenchman with a brilliant eye, beautiful portfolio, and superb technical skills. We had help in the studio from gifted food stylist Carrie Ann Purcell, who co-creates the gorgeous blog Pictures and Pancakes.

It has been a wonderful four days, but it's also been exhausting and a little intimidating. I'm not a professional, and my technical knowledge is (between you and I) embarrassing in its sparsity.

So, here I sit with a dry gin martini, garnished with a blood orange twist, contemplating relationships with food--not as ingredients that I will consume, enjoy, and be nourished by, but as objet d'arte that are visually delicious. And my, what an interesting dilemma it is to know that one does not lead to the other in the eye of the lens!

We were tasked as students to, first and foremost, take the time to observe, assess, contemplate and decide--rather than to shoot willy nilly, which is my usual approach. And frankly, I was failing at it until I met the persimmons.

They were wonderfully round and seductively warm in color. I set them in a dish upon a rich purple cloth and contemplated their enchanting features--the gray-green decay of the dried leaves crowning their tops, the tilt of one to another, their smooth curved edges, the small reflections of sunlight that graced their corners, the shadows in the cloth that sculpted the environment around them...

Oh my goodness. I fell right through infatuation into a relationship. I was so involved with my persimmons I hardly noticed that the class had returned from lunch. Susie said, "Don't move" and immortalized my affair with persimmons in the Shooting Kitchen on Laight Street with a click of Instagram.

Relationship --- Taken by Susi Cushner

And then I immortalized the persimmons--a little less easily. As with many relationships past, we started off so passionately and then we hit a wall. My first photograph was all wrong! I overexposed and clumsily compensated. My attempt to make 'things' work was illogical. And then, I panicked when asked to explain myself.

Fortunately, photographic relationships are easier to fix than their human counterparts. A little help from Susi and a photography 101 refresher, and the result was, well, you decide...

Still Life with Persimmons

As for taste, it's been so long since I ate a persimmon I can't remember what they taste like. Now, quince, on the other hand, that is an unforgettable fruit. Once you've had freshly baked quince, your taste buds are never the same. Are they quite as beautiful? You'll have to ask me after the courtship.

The Last Croissant

2012-01-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow morning, on my way to the office, I will stop, per usual, for coffee--for that essential first cup which makes the subway ride tolerable and enables me to form full sentences. And, with this cup of coffee, I will order a croissant--glorious, buttery, and golden--from Parco on 7th Avenue.

When I arrive at the office, I will reheat the remaining coffee, close my door, and enjoy every bite of that croissant in silence and solitude as seems only proper for my farewell to such a finely crafted and beloved food.

Rightly you might ask why it is that I'm sitting here on Sunday evening so deeply contemplating the breakfast I will enjoy tomorrow on a seemingly average Monday morning. Well, my friends, I will tell you... On Tuesday, I will be going gluten-free. And, I can think of no other gluten-containing food that I enjoy more than a croissant from Parco.

Yes, I know; gluten-free is quite the rage these days. But that is not why I'm jumping on the restricted-diet bandwagon. Who wants to be trendy if it means foregoing such wonderfully glutenous goods like croissants, baguettes, pizza crusts, and most other bakery products!?

Essentially, I've decided to try it out because I'm experiencing a significant amount of daily pain due to a whole group of "dysfunctional muscles," and quite possibly (though let's hope not), an "arthritic hip." Mrs. O pointed out to me that this might just be what happens as we get older.

I mean, sure! Ten years ago, Saturday night might have found me bar hopping on the Lower East Side until 5:00 a.m. instead of making risotto, drinking red wine, and watching back-to-back episodes of Downton Abbey. But no matter! I defend my position that 38 is simply too young for an arthritic hip.

Anyway...

Because I want to relate everything in some way to food and/or drinks, I asked the doctor whether there may be certain foods that could be inflammatory. "Well, of course," he replied, noting that wheat is a common allergen. He supported my idea to go on a trial period of gluten-free eating.

Thankfully, I'm well-versed in how to manage a restricted diet. It's been many years since I had to put those skills into practice, but there are all kinds of delicious possibilities--quinoa; amaranth; buckwheat; red, black, brown and wild rice...

But of course, I'll miss the croissants. So, if you happen to be eating your Wheaties while you read this post, take a moment to enjoy the gluten. And please do share... if you had to give it all up, what would you request for your last glutinous meal?

Nice Eyes once told me...

2012-01-08T12:32:00.000-08:00

...it’s easy to fall in love. You can fall in love with people everyday just walking down the street.

This, I think, was not just a belief for Nice Eyes, but a practice. Sometimes, he would nudge me on the subway and whisper, “Chris, look... that man has such a great face. And, I would look up and see something fascinating about the creases and folds or the nose or the jawline--or the way it all came together--in a stranger sitting across from us.

Some of you probably remember Nice Eyes from the days of Digital Girl (my historic dating blog). You can imagine that, in the context of the conversation we were likely having, this statement, which implied that falling in love was easy and temporary and somehow inapplicable in the moment, was not what I wanted to hear. But I can tell you now, long past our days of dating, he was right.

And really, it’s such a liberating idea. It’s a beautiful thing to live in this state where you can fall in love--in intense, fleeting bursts of wonder--every day. And it’s not just people. It’s those tiny random moments... the details of life.... from the way the paint peels on a metal door, to the sound of the water on the docks under the Manhattan bridge, to the red veins on deep green beet leaves, to the mingling of flavors in a well-made cocktail, to the periwinkle of a twilight sky.

The possibilities are tantalizing...

Imagine having full days where you see all of those things, where you aren’t just lost in getting from place to place, days through which you’re falling in love over and over again.

This has been happening to me lately with some frequency. And, I think it all started with butter, sage, and acorn squash.

I was making dinner for my dad during his recent visit to NY, and I fell upon this crazy freedom in the kitchen. I stopped trying to get from place to place, ingredient to ingredient, raw to done and fell in love with the details--the silver green of the soft sage leaves, the brilliant orange of the freshly cut squash, the dance of bringing a dish together without a recipe.

The result was phenomenal. I’ve never made a dinner so wonderful or a dish from scratch so full of flavor. And tonight, I’m going to make this dish again. I suspect it won’t quite be the same. How could it possibly be the same? We all learn very quickly it's never the same twice--even when the person or the ingredients remain unchanged.

But, there is always the hope that this time around there will be something new, something equally bright and wonderful... the taste, the texture, the feeling of content that comes with a certain amount of attention and awareness and presence of feeling. It’s just like falling in love, again and again...

Squash with Sage Butter

1 tablespoon Butter

6-8 small sage leaves

1 Cippolini onion, diced

1-2 stalks celery, diced

1 acorn squash, peeled and chopped

Olive Oil

Salt, pepper

Toss the acorn squash with olive oil and roast until tender at 400 degrees.

Melt butter in a non-stick skillet, add sage leaves and cook until crisp, remove from pan and drain on paper towel.

Add onions and celery to pan, sauté until soft. Add squash, turn heat up a bit, sauté until squash is a little brown. Remove from heat. Crumble sage and sprinkle, stir and serve.

(Also I highly recommend toasting the squash seeds. Clean them, toss with olive oil and your favorite spice and roast at 350! Yum!)

Hello 2012...

2012-01-02T12:40:00.000-08:00

...it's nice to meet you. I'm glad that you have finally arrived.

Goodbye 2011. I am happy to see you go.

It wasn't that 2011 was a bad year. There were great cocktails, delicious feasts, fantastic events, a new niece, a Northwest vacation, and many small moments of random beauty. But it was also a year of navigating a new reality, one that will be less disorienting and more familiar in the year to come.

LP and I celebrated the coming of 2012 with fabulous cocktails in the company of gracious hosts at the Bar Downstairs in the Andaz. The Bar Downstairs is on "The List" and remains one of our choice spots. The cocktail menu is creative and changes seasonally. The space is open, which we love because it allows a great view of the mixology (and, of course, the nice-looking bartenders). Some of our current favorites (drinks not bartenders) include the Fourth Estate, Somewhere in Manhattan and the Holy Mole.

Lamenting our hang-overs the next day, we blamed an off-the-menu classic--the French 75. Although it was delightfully tasty and pretty, it was also our fourth cocktail of the evening. We surpassed our usually self-imposed three-drink limit, first with a champagne toast, and then with the French 75, which was followed with a pint at an Irish pub down the street. I suppose, though, it was probably the pint that did us in.

I haven't stayed up all night and consumed that much since... hmm... I can't actually remember. But I had a wonderful time, and LP hosted a lucky New Year's day brunch that could reinvigorate even the most overindulged. She served collard greens, black-eyed peas, chicken wings, and cornbread plus her perfect hummus with just enough garlic and lemon. Perhaps most welcome, was the homemade (unspiked) ginger ale.

So, 2012 is off to quite a nice start indeed. Before I dismiss 2011 completely, I thought I would share some of my favorite UG moments from the year (in no particular order)... I would love to hear about your top gastronomic moments from 2011 as well!

Happy New Year!

Brunch at Public

Fiddelhead Ferns for a Wild and Dirty Martini

Trader Vicky's Flower Power Cocktail Hour

Oyster Mania

Mushroom Forest

CM's Chive Oil (from The Northwest and West Coast Conspiracy)

Paella for Dad's 65th Birthday

My first edible homemade pie for Sunday brunch

Professor Sprout Cocktail from Harry's Birthday Bash

Tomato Lemonade (with bourbon) from Tomato Sunday

Eggnog from Happy Chickens

Happy Holidays

2011-12-26T21:06:00.000-08:00

I would like to pretend that the holidays don't make me sentimental... that I have no emotional stock in experiencing joy over traditions, tree-decorating, eating a fancy meal, or choosing and giving gifts...

But, that would just be a ruse. I can't help myself. And, there are many things I could write about... lamb chops with rosemary and lemon zest, acorn squash with crispy sage that tasted like stuffing, holiday kale in purple and green, cocoa-espresso cookies, dirty martinis, Pink Ladies, white wine and oysters, dumpling soup, beet salad, baked brie with cranberry-apple sauce...

I could go on, but I'm still in gastronomic overload, so, instead, please enjoy a few photos from my holiday feasts. I'll see you in the new year, my friends.

Christmas Kale

Baked Brie with Cranberry-Apple Sauce

Pork Chops with Lemon and Rosemary

Tis the Season Indeed

Easy Holiday Cocktails (to Make You Merry)

2011-12-18T17:24:00.000-08:00

Friday around 4:00 p.m. I received a beacon for holiday help via email from my sister-in-law:

Could you recommend a three-ingredient (or equally simple) drink that we could bring the fixings for to a holiday party tonight? Something more fun and sophisticated than rum and coke, but not as fun and sophisticated as the organic-bitters-infused-cocktails of your heady social circles.

About an hour later, a colleague walked into my office and asked:

What can I serve at a holiday party tomorrow night that is easy but festive? Usually we just put out a gin bucket.

I'm not actually sure what's in a gin bucket, but I gave my colleague the same two options I offered my sister-in-law--a simple sparkler or a hot toddy.

Perhaps you are also having a holiday cocktail dilemma. Who has time to make something complicated? I know! Here are a few ideas that you might enjoy.

Simple Sparklers: Sparkling is always festive, and you can easily turn a nice Prosecco or Cava into something a little more fancy panties by adding a half ounce or so of a nice liqueur and a pretty holiday garnish. Or, you can go a step further and mix up a Poinsettia...

Poinsettia

Elderflower Sparkler

.5 ounce St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur

Top in a flute with Prosecco or Cava

The Stratosphere (By Trader Vicky)

.75 ounce Creme Yvette

Top in a flute with Prosecco or Champagne

Poinsettia

1 ounce unsweetened cranberry juice (unsweetened is a must)

1 ounce Grand Marnier

A squirt of agave nectar

Prosecco

Shake the cranberry, Grand Marnier, and agave with ice in a shaker. Pour into a champagne flute (or another glass), top with Prosecco. Garnish with fresh cranberries.

Notes: There are several versions of the Poinsettia floating around the holiday sphere. This is closest to the one in the wonderful book Peterson's Holiday Helper. The recipe is online in this 2008 AP article: Simple and Pretty Poinsettia Cocktail.

You can make these in batches, just multiply…

And, you only need a small bottle of Grand Marnier… not airplane small, but behind-the-counter flask size… I've squeezed at least 12 drinks out of one bottle of Prosecco with this recipe.

Hot Toddies: The variations on hot toddies are endless. They make a wonderful companion for holiday cookies. Use a nice brandy--one that you would drink alone. I like Torres 10. Here is a recipe with chai:

Chai Hot Toddy

Apple Pie Hot Toddy

1 ounce brandy
Chai tea (brewed 4 min.)
Honey to taste
1 nugget candied ginger
Squeeze of lemon and strip of zest (Meyer is best)

1 tsp. ginger syrup* (If you don’t have time to make this, you can skip it.)

Drop the ginger into a small glass. Add brandy and ginger syrup. Pour in hot tea (about 3 ounces). Stir in honey. Squeeze lemon and top with zest.

*Ginger syrup is easy to make--Simmer two cups of water with sliced ginger for 30 minutes. It will boil down to about a cup. Add 2/3 cup agave syrup and one ounce vodka. Refrigerate once made.

Classic Classics: Enjoying a Manhattan by the light of the Christmas tree is one of my favorite winter evening activities. It's a simple three-ingredient drink (plus the cherry). It's critical to use a tasty bourbon (or rye), a good vermouth (Carpano Antica, for one) and a quality cherry (no maraschino). One of my favorite homemade easy versions:

Manhattan

2.5 ounces bourbon

.5 ounce Carpano Antica vermouth

4 dashes old fashioned bitters

1 cherry (brandied is delicious)

Optional: orange peel garnish

Chill a glass with ice water. Stir the bourbon, vermouth and bitters in a shaker with ice. Let sit for 20-30 seconds. Drop the cherry into the chilled glass. Pour in the liquor. Garnish with the orange peel.

Remember, whatever you are celebrating (or not celebrating) have yourself a merry little cocktail... It will make the yule-tide gay!

The Lost Art of Being Present

2011-12-11T10:27:00.001-08:00

"I'm going to come down on the old-fashioned side of this and say, 'Just turn off the cellphone when you're at the cocktail party or when you sit down for your dinner date or business meeting.' And then if there's something [important] in the offing... excuse yourself to the men or ladies room 20 minutes in and check." ~ Philip Galanes, NY Times advice columnist, who appeared earlier this week on NPR's Fresh Air with Terry Gross

When Philip Galanes said it, I whispered a tiny hallelujah. I took a sip of the delicious martini I had just made (properly with cold olives) and thought, 'It's nice to know, I'm not the only one.'

I've silently had my fancy panties in a bunch for quite some time over what I like to think of as technology-enabled breaches of etiquette in the gastronomic realm. Simply put--too many people split their attention between their cell phones and their table-mates when out for drinks or dinner. And frankly, it's just bad manners.

You know me, ladies and g's. I'm no Emily Post. If there are multiple forks on the table, I'm confused. But using the wrong utensil says merely, "I'm not schooled in the ways of opulence." Taking a call, checking email or sending a text at the table says, "Neither you nor the drinks/food we are enjoying are really worth my time and attention."

Yes. It does.

And it's not just those active uses of the phone; it's the act of placing the phone on the table just in case. The phone is sitting there waiting... waiting for what? A message, a call, an email or a text that might be more important or more interesting than the moment you are sharing with me, than the food you are eating, than the drink you are sipping.

I know that I will sound like a curmudgeon when I say it, but here it is... the phone is disrespectful not just to the people you are with, but to the food on the table. It takes a great amount of energy, resources and time to bring a meal to the table. The least we can do is to be present while we enjoy it and give those we are with our full attention.

I'll confess that I have been guilty of pulling out my phone to take notes, snap a photo, or show someone a picture of my niece. I've decided to skip the photos, which never turn out so well, and to go back to old fashion notes. I am hereby boycotting the act of looking at my phone for any reason once stepping into a gastronomic establishment.

I hope that you join me. Of course, this also means that I have to replace the battery in my watch for those rare occasions when I need to know the time. But, I promise only to look at it during discreet moments--perhaps when you are in the bathroom checking your messages.

Holiday Cheer was a'flowing...

2011-12-04T19:38:00.001-08:00

...even as arteries were a'clogging. Friday evening, I hosted the December meeting of the NY Cocktail Club with a holiday theme. The beverages were creamy, frothy, sweet and strong. It was not a place for the faint of spirit or weak of heart!

The Poinsettia

We started the evening with a sparkling delight called the Poinsettia from my new favorite cocktail book: Peterson's Holiday Helper. The recipe calls for champagne, Cointreau, simple syrup, and 100-percent cranberry juice. (I adapted slightly by using Prosecco, Grand Marnier, and a splash of agave.) Refreshing, sparkly and sweet-tart!

The most usual suspect on the menu was eggnog. Prior to Friday, I had only ever had the store-bought version--too sweet and processed. I never cared for it. But real eggnog! Oh my. Cream, milk, eggs, sugar, rum, bourbon and nutmeg... It might just have been a come-to-baby-Jesus moment. 'Tis the season after all!

I think the key to our success was the eggs. I bought a dozen at the Greenmarket in Union Square on Wednesday. When LP saw the bright yellow yolks, she declared, "Those eggs are from happy chickens!" Indeed. Happy, pasture-fed chickens. Happy chickens make merry eggnog!

Fresh eggnog from happy chickens

A less known, but similar, holiday star is the Tom and Jerry. The Tom and Jerry is served warm rather than cold, and there is no cream. Rum with brandy rather than bourbon, and cinnamon, also changed the flavor profile. It was deeper and spicier. The Tom and Jerry is named after Jerry Thomas and was once called the Thomas Jerry. Yes, confusing, but after a few you will stop trying to figure it out!

Between the T&J and the nog, we had to beat a dozen eggs into a frenzy. Thank goodness for clubettes! HA and Trader Vicky made quick work of the eggs, and LP managed the liquor. The hardest part was nestling the punch bowl for the nog into a vat of ice. It took at least three reindeer, and it was a messy process!

Eventually the bowl sank into the ice,
but it took awhile (photo by TV)

The last drink on the menu was a naughty or nice martini. I used the recipe for dirty martinis from Dale DeGroff's The Essential Cocktail, which has very particular preparation instructions. Rightfully so as it's hard to make a great martini. I broke two rules--I used olives with pits and failed to chill them before serving, which according to Mr. DeGroff is "tantamount to putting a reverse ice cube into a nicely chilled drink." In the holiday spirit, my friends forgave me, but we almost lost Santa to an errant pit.

Trader Vicky and LP were up to their wonderful mixologists tricks as usual. Trader Vicky made two cordials: walnut and cranberry clove. The walnut was delightful in Rudolph's Red Nose, her new creation. And, a dash of the cranberry clove spiced up our final round of Poinsetta's.

LP brought homemade pomegranate grenadine! She experimented with an adaptation of a Pink Lady. It was a beautiful cocktail, but alas, it didn't taste so good. The grenadine, however, is fabulous, and I cannot wait to mix an unadapted Pink Lady soon.

The failed but beautiful Pink Lady variation

The table was loaded with morsels to keep us sober enough to open the presents that were part of our "Boozeois Elephant" gift exchange. I made the following bites:

Apricot-tarragon and rosemary, almond, parmesan cocktail cookies (by Dorie Greenspan as featured in November's Food and Wine)
Baked brie
Swedish Meatballs (I followed Alton Brown's recipe and then threw them in a Crock-Pot for a few hours on low)
Chocolate Wafers with Ginger, Fennel, and Sea Salt (but I left out the salt as I do not like salt and chocolate together, also from Food and Wine, by Grace Parisi)

The table was also graced by wonderful olive bread from New Jersey, a homemade mustard from HA, and little chocolate "bottles" that were surprisingly tasty!

All in all, it was a fantastic way to kick off the holiday season.

I'm sorry I've run on so long. It's late on a Sunday, so please forgive any typos. And, enjoy the recipes below! I've also included a few ideas for holiday gifts, several of which were from the boozeois elephant exchange.

Let us be merry and bright, my friends, from now until New Year's and perhaps even beyond!

Recipes
Eggnog

How many reindeer does it take to get the punch bowl on ice?

6 eggs, separated
1/3 cup sugar
2 cups whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
5 ounces Woodford Reserve Bourbon
5 ounces Gosling Black Seal Rum
Freshly grated nutmeg (fresh is a must)

Note: You will need a punch bowl and a bigger bowl that you can fill with ice to put the punch bowl in. We started with DeGroff's recipe, but we wanted less sugar and more booze, and the punch bowl just wasn't big enough for all that milk.

Beat the yolks until almost white, adding half of the sugar as you go. Stir in the milk, cream, bourbon, rum, and some freshly grated nutmeg. Transfer to a punch bowl. Beat the whites with the remaining sugar until white and fluffy. Fold the whites in to the yolk mixture.

Fill the large bowl with crushed ice and water and place the punch bowl in the ice water. Grate nutmeg over the top of the bowl and again in each cup as you serve.

Rudolph's Red Nose
2 ounces brandy (I like Torres)
1 ounce walnut liqueur
.5 ounce Grand Marnier
3 shakes chocolate bitters

Holiday Gift Ideas
Peterson's Holiday Helper, Festive Pick-Me-Ups, Calm-Me-Downs & Handy Hints to Keep You in Good Spirits by Valerie Peterson: I highly recommend this little book for the lush-ous lady in your life. But give it to her before the holiday so she can make good use of it!

Scrappy's Cardamom Bitters:* These bitters are pricey, but delicious. There are many flavors. What better gift for your favorite mixologist?

Fragoli:* This sweet liqueur is made from (and filled with) wild strawberries. Trader Vicky says that tiny berries fall into each pour making it a delightful and festive taste! (Also, what a nice way to enjoy strawberries off-season.)

Whiskey Decanter and Glass Set:* Give the whiskey drinker in your life a way to drink in style with a decanter and glass set!

Dripless Wine Pourer:* I don't know about you, but I hate cleaning up all those red drops. I have no idea if this works, but for a few dollars, you can find out! Looks like a perfect stocking stuffer.

Cocktail Kit: Picnics, road trips, dinner parties... the possibilities for the traveling bartender are endless with an on-the-go kit like this one!

Carpano Antica Formula: (Sweet Vermouth): You'll never go back to Martini & Rossi after you've had this delightful vermouth. Drink it straight on the rocks or make a fantastic Manhattan!

Vintage Tom-and-Jerry Bowl and Mugs: For anyone you know who loves vintage and has enough storage space to keep this for the one time a year they will use it! eBay is your best bet.

*Boozeois gift items

Dolores' Corn Pudding...

2011-11-27T11:41:00.001-08:00

What am I most grateful for this Thanksgiving weekend? Well, aside from the obvious--family, friends, gainful employment, bourbon--I would have to say, potluck!

Everyone loves a potluck, yes ma'am!

I was fortunate enough to attend one just blocks from my house at the MEs. The gastronomic talent of the attendees was quite impressive--turkey roasted with garlic, homemade cheese ball, fresh cranberry relish, caramelized brussels sprouts, savory sweet potatoes, tasty pies. It was a feast to behold!

And the cocktails mixed by MW were also spectacular. I never would have guessed that a lushalicious concoction could be made from pumpkin beer, bourbon and egg white!

I brought an adapted version of a traditional family dish we call Dolores' corn pudding. The original recipe is:

Dolores' Corn Pudding
1 can creamed corn
1 can regular corn
1 stick of butter
1 cup of sour cream
1 box of Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix

Melt butter in a 9x13 pan, mix remaining ingredients in a bowl. Pour into pan and bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees.

Dolores was my grandmother's neighbor and close friend, and this corn pudding of hers was delicious!

So, why adapt anything for the most indulgent gastronomic day of the year? It was not the butter or the sour cream, but the Jiffy. I made the mistake of reading the box, and this particular ingredient stopped me in my baking tracks: "animal shortening (contains one or more of the following: lard, hydrogenated lard, partially hydrogenated lard)."

Believe it or no, lard itself doesn't bother me; it's the hydrogenation--the process of adding hydrogen.
With a stick of butter, which is saturated fat, in the dish already, you probably think I am crazy for getting hung up on the hydrogenated lard. You might ask again, why not just let it go for one day of the year? Well, because I would rather avoid foods whose molecular structure has been altered before they are even cooked. I would rather eat without hydrogenation.

So, I took my best guess at how much wheat flour, corn meal, sugar, and baking soda are in a box of Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix. I didn't quite hit the mark. It tasted good, but it was not Dolores' corn pudding.

The good news is I can try again at the next holiday potluck!

That's all, my friends. I would love to hear about your traditional Thanksgiving dishes and any resulting hits or misses! In the meantime, you might find these articles about fats and lard of interest:

Lard: The New Health Food by Pete Wells on Food and Wine
Frequently Asked Questions about Bad Fats from the American Heart Association
Trans Fat is Double Trouble for Your Heart Health from Mayo Clinic

The List

2011-11-20T14:02:00.001-08:00

It's finally happened. I've become a snob. A cocktail snob to be more specific. I realize some of you are thinking, "Finally?" I suppose that's fair. It's been coming on for quite some time now. Here are a few of the things that drive me crazy about bars that don't measure up to my snobberly standards:

A poorly made Martini
Maraschino cherries in a Manhattan
A menu that has only sweet cocktails
A bartender or server who has no opinions about the cocktails being served
A stirred drink that has not been chilled or diluted properly

And that is just the beginning... Luckily I live in the wonderfully liquored up city of New York where there are many fine establishments serving top quality cocktails. LP, Trader Vicky and I recently made a list of these hotspots.

The List is a work in progress. One asterisk indicates places at least one of us has been; two indicates my top five recommendations. The others are places we want to try.

Eventually, there will be more information about each and links to related UG posts. In the meantime, if you would like a recommendation, send me an email!

THE LIST

Manhattan

Amor y Amargo* (443 E 6th St.)
Angel's Share (6 Stuyvesant St.)
The Bar Downstairs* (Andaz Hotel, 5th Ave. and 42nd St.)
Bar Pleiades* (The Surrey Hotel, 20 East 76th St.)
Bathtub Gin* (132 9th Ave.)
Cienfuegos* (95 Avenue A)
Death + Company* (433 East 6th St.)
Employees Only* (510 Hudson St.)
Flatiron Lounge* (37 West 19th St.)
Goat Town (511 East 5th St.)
Highlands (150 West 10th St.)
Lani Kai* (525 Broome St.)
The Lantern's Keep (The Iroquois Hotel, 49 West 44th St.)
Little Branch** (22 7th Ave. South)
Macao Trading Company** (311 Church St.)
Madame Geneva (4 Bleecker St.)
Mayahuel** (304 East 6th St.)
Milk and Honey* (134 Eldridge St.)
Mother's Ruin* (18 Spring St.)
Peel's (325 Bowery St.)
Pegu Club** (77 West Houston)
PDT* (113 St. Marks)
Raines Law Room** (48 West 17th St.)
Red Rooster* (310 Lenox Ave.)
Vandaag (103 2nd Ave.)
Weather Up* (159 Duane St.)

Brooklyn

Clover Club* (210 Smith St.)
Dram (177 South 4 St.)

Queens

Dutch Kills* (27-24 Jackson Ave.)

Sunday Dinner for Mom

2011-11-14T18:22:00.001-08:00

Sunday dinner was a weekly tradition in my house growing up. The menu: steak, baked potatoes, a salad or other veggie item, and garlic bread. Dinner was always early (around 4:00 or 5:00), so by 10:00 when we were watching Dr. Who (another family tradition), mom would heat up a frozen pizza.

Last week marked a year since my mother passed away, and I was having a hard time of it. Loss is not something that can be quantified. It cannot be planned, measured, carried out and completed in an orderly fashion--even by the most diehard "type A" gal. Believe you me (I have tried).

But sadness is tiring, and frankly, it can be exasperating. So, after quite a few days of the mopey boo-hoo's, I awoke on Friday with an idea: Sunday steak celebration... in honor of mom!

No matter that I had never cooked a steak in my life! I was armed with basic meat cooking knowledge after last week's Science of Meat class.

By Saturday morning I had a head count of five. I biked to the Greenmarket, and loaded up on Brussels sprouts, Russet potatoes, garlic, late-season scallions and fresh dill.

I pedaled home to drop the produce and then headed to Fleisher's Grassfed and Organic Meats, the butcher shop featured in the New York Times article I shared last Sunday.

I stared at the case for a few moments, in awe of all the raw, red slabs of potential goodness that were nearly shouting "Cook me!" from beneath the glass. Only the query posed by the hot and heavily tattooed man behind the counter could break that trance.

Indeed, you can help me I thought, and then I reminded myself that I was there for one thing only--grass-fed, organic steak from a local farm. And it would be best not to say anything embarrassing. Too many unknowns, but most importantly, a good local butcher is hard to find!

After a brief discussion about my lack of steak experience, my budget, how many people were coming, and their "meat-eater" status, the hot tattooed butcher loaded up the scale with 3.8 lbs of dry-aged sirloin steak (for 5 plus leftovers). He then gave me instructions that were unbelievably simple.

I carried the steaks home and emailed my dad excitedly about my plans. He knows me so well that he included in his reply: "Remember, don't overcook those great steaks!"

I was a little anxious, but the butcher had given me solid advice and had told me, "This will be the best steak you've ever had."

By golly, he was right. But the steaks were as big as my head. And, it turns out we weren't "meat-eaters" enough to put down more than one as a group.

It was great fun cooking them though, despite my anxiety. HA, the MEs, and LP talked me through it (and took photos). We salted them and waited 5 minutes and then seared them on each side for 2 minutes in separate oven-proof skillets. They then went into the oven at 325 for 8 minutes, after which, HA showed me how to test the steaks by poking at them with an index finger. It's all about the springiness!

We then dug out the meat thermometer. Although it read a solid 120, we weren't completely convinced they were done. We upped the temperature another 25 degrees and cooked them another 2 minutes.

And, they were deliciously just right in the meatiest parts! I did not overcook those great steaks!

We had a wonderful meal. (See below for the full menu.) We did not, however, leave enough room or time for pizza (which was a shame because HA came over that afternoon and made fresh sausage for a topping).

We did, however, squeeze in a few episodes of Dr. Who from the late 70s. It was a Sunday evening of which mom would have been proud. Steak, baked potatoes, garlic bread and family!

Sunday Dinner for Mom
(with a few things added by me)

Starters
Deviled Eggs (with dill and scallions)
Hubbard Squash Soup with Thyme Sour Cream (by HA)
Roasted Almonds (with jerk seasoning and soy sauce)
Blue Cheese with Fig Butter and Truffle Honey

Main and Sides
Steak!
Baked Potatoes (with basil pesto sour cream)
Garlic Bread
Brussels Sprouts with Mushrooms

Dessert
Pumpkin Cookies with Vanilla Ice Cream and Maple Spice Gelato

The Week in Meat

2011-11-06T16:38:00.000-08:00

From a prosciutto-rimmed cocktail glass to BACON-Fest 2011, this was the week of meat. When I wasn't eating it, I was learning how to cook it or reading about how to buy it.

Tonight, I will be munching on roasted brussels sprouts and hummus as atonement for this week's indulgence in salty, tasty pork products. And perhaps I'll meditate about cauliflower to cleanse the carnivorous residue from the layers of my subtler self.

Or not.

Either way, dinner will be vegetarian.

I am excited, though, about cooking up some meat in the near future, inspiration that came from attending "The Chemist and the Cook: The Science of Cooking Meat" at Brooklyn Brainery earlier this week.

The class was taught by the fast-talking and good-humored Soma. After 90-minutes, it seemed we had only just chipped the iceberg of meat chemistry, but my biggest take-away was this: sear and braise, and it's unlikely that you will go wrong.

Why do both? The outside of the meat has to come to a much higher temperature than the inside in order to reach that sweet point of caramelization that adds aroma to your tasting experience. To get there, you need fast, high heat, which if sustained long enough to cook the inside, will either burn the outside or dry it all out terribly.

The reasons for this have to do with the myoglobins, collagen, water and other chemical components of the "muscle" that you are cooking. Because that is what meat is... muscle.

I don't know about you, but once I start to think "muscle fibers" = "meat," my appetite fades. It's ridiculous (and possibly shameful) to be a meat-eater and admit this, but there you have it. I know I'm not alone. But, if you're curious and "muscle equals meat" doesn't phase you, check out Some Basic Meat Science For Outdoor Cooks on AmazingRibs.com. If you can stomach it for the short-term, you'll learn a lot of neat stuff.

Soma also stressed the importance of using a thermometer rather than guessing or cutting open the meat to find out it's done.

He explained too that grass-fed or pasture-raised meat has a more complex flavor-profile than corn-fed livestock because the cells of the animal absorb properties from what they eat. This makes sense right? Honey tastes different based on what flowers the bees have been sticking their noses in. It's the same with cows and other animals, and pasture-fed animals ingest more varied, and arguably interesting, plants than their corn-fed counterparts. Take it a step further with wild animals and you get the resulting gaminess that comes from eating who knows what out there in the wilderness.

I still have a lot to learn, but it's a good start! Now I can venture past sausages and ground meat and into the world of loins, steaks, necks, and tails! (Oh my.)

Serendipitously, there was an article in this week's New York Times to help educate me further. In the "Lost Art of Buying from a Butcher" Florence Fabricant discusses the resurgence of local butchers in New York (and a few other places) and imparts basic knowledge on how to talk to one. The article includes recipes for pork belly, lamb neck and veal shank. (By the way, some shops are now selling veal that comes from young cows who were not confined to a box. Maybe someday, we'll also have a new foie gras.)

As if all this weren't enough, CO hosted BACON-Fest2011, an annual event, which lucky for me, fell on my birthday. What more could an urban gastronomer wish for than a bacon party on her birthday? My favorite--dates that were stuffed with almonds and wrapped in bacon (served warm). Yum!

The cocktail star of the evening was provided by LP, who infused tequila with bacon and mixed it with green chartreuse and celery bitters. It was delicious! (Perhaps she will post the recipe for us in the comments.)

Beecher's Grilled Cheese Martini

All things being equal in the universe, I had another savory cocktail this week that was not delicious. It was confused! I suspect that Beecher's grilled cheese martini is not on the menu for a reason. The vodka is infused with an actual grilled cheese sandwich. There are other ingredients including tomatoes, and the rim is dressed with crushed prosciutto. If you must try it for the novelty, best of luck!

And, finally, before I leave you, here is the moment that I know you've been waiting for. The winner of last week's pumpkin massacre is HA with Winter Wonderland!!! DME came in as a close second with Owl and Tree with Moon.

Congratulations, Heather!

I owe you a homemade pumpkin pie!

Pumpkin Massacre 2011 (Please Vote!)

2011-10-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

What a day it was yesterday! Chili was served. Seasonal cocktails and tasty beers were sipped. Seeds were roasted. Innocent pumpkins were carved...

And it snowed.

All day.

It was a little disorienting to see those fat white flakes falling from the sky before Halloween has even descended upon us. And yet, it was a perfect afternoon to spend in a toasty apartment eating, drinking and transforming pumpkins into spooky (or pretty and seasonal) scenes.

There were some serious creative juices flowing, perhaps inspired by the seasonal libations which included Prosecco with pear liqueur, a pear and gin aperitif, a cocktail I've decided to call Monks at Death's Door (read the recipe below and you'll figure it out), and a new version of the Headless Horseman with Bulleit Rye. The MEs added a flavorful pumpkin beer and an aromatic coconut stout to the mix--both homemade and tasty.

The table was laden to fortify us for the hard work of carving. The menu---two chilis (turkey and veggie), jalapeno poppers, guacamole with chips, and greenmarket vegetables with ramp-pesto dip. HA made delicious pumpkin and butternut squash mini-muffins with cream cheese frosting, a wonderful pumpkin butter, and creepy gourmet wieners that looked like bugs. YN added a delicious apple pie for dessert loaded with vanilla and topped with a brown sugar crumble.

Half the team went to work on their pumpkins after appetizers and were finished lickety-split. I envied their carving prowess, particularly after my own pumpkin nearly drove me out of my gourd. (By the time the madness set in, it was too late to turn back!)

I think all of us managed to hack out an impressive creation, but I'll let you be the judge of who will take home the pumpkin prize for 2011! Here are photos.

Please vote for your top pick using the poll on the top right of the blog!

Owl and Tree with Moon

Jack-o-Lantern

Scary Cat

Haunted House

Winter Wonderland

The Raven

Hanging Bat

The carvers for each are purposely unidentified, but I will tell you they included HA, DME, Mrs. O, ML and B, YN and me. Consultation and encouragement were provide by LP and CME.

Recipes from the Bar
Pear and Prosecco
.75 oz. pear liqueur
Prosecco (enough to fill the flute)

Pear and Gin Aperitif
1.25 oz pear liqueur
1 oz gin
Squeeze of lemon juice
(Shake and serve up in a cordial glass. I used Death's Door gin which is heavy on juniper and has a spicy nip. The pear easily gets overpowered. Adjust the ratio to taste according to the gin you are using and the sweetness of the liqueur.)

Monks at Death's Door
2 oz Death's Door Gin
.5 oz Yellow Chartreuse
.5 oz St. Germaine Elderflower
Squeeze of lemon
(Shake and serve up. This is LP's concoction.)

Recipes from the Table
Pumpkin Seeds
Seeds fresh from the pumpkin
A few pinches of Jerk seasoning
A few dashes of soy sauce
1/2 tbs olive oil

Toss all ingredients in a bowl. Roast at 325 until seeds dry out and brown.

Slow-Cookin' Turkey Chili
2 tbs olive oil
3 cps chopped onion
2 green bell peppers chopped
2 thinly sliced carrots
2 tbsp minced garlic
1 Pasilla chile
2 lbs dark meat ground turkey
1 14 oz. can diced fire roasted tomatoes
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes
1-2 cups broth
3 tbs cider vinegar
1 tbs ancho chili powder
1 tbs American chili powder (i.e., the kind that is a mix of seasonings)
3/4 tbs dried oregeno
1 tbs ground cumin
3/4 tbs paprika
1/2 tsp salt

1 15 oz can kidney beans
Additional salt to taste if needed

Place Pasilla chile in a bowl, fill with boiling water, cover and let sit for 30 minutes. Then remove the stem and seeds and chop.

Saute the vegetables in a cast-iron skillet until soft. (I did this in two batches). 1-2 minutes before removing from skillet, add half the Pasilla chile and half the garlic. Remove from skillet and drain.

Brown turkey in skillet until no longer pink (in batches if needed). Add remaining half of Pasilla chile and garlic, cook 1-2 minutes longer and remove and drain.

Add vegetables, meat, and all remaining ingredients except the beans to a crock pot. Cook on low for 8 hours. Add beans and cook another 20 minutes. Add salt to taste if needed.

I served with various toppings (cheese, cilantro, sour cream) and corn tortillas.

Veggie Chili
(Adapted from recipes by Didi Emmons and Molly Katzen with inspiration from the fall NYC greenmarket. This is a big recipe. You may want to cut it in half. It's also labor-intensive. I usually chop and prep everything a day before I plan to cook this chili. And, because the flavors meld after cooking, I usually cook it the night before I plan to serve it.)

3 tbs olive oil
4 cups chopped onion
4 carrots chopped
4 poblano peppers, seeded and chopped
2 red and 1 yellow bell pepper, seeded and chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 habanero pepper, minced
1 small head cauliflower
Corn from 2 ears
1 28 oz can fire-roasted diced tomatoes
3/4 c. orange cherry tomatoes, cut in half
1 can black beans
1/2 can kidney beans
1 c. wheat bulgur
2-3 c. vegetable stock

2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp ground cumin
1-2 tsp chili flakes
1 tsp salt (plus more to taste if needed)
Sprinkle of chili powder (for roasting cauliflower)

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Cut leaves and bottom of stem off cauliflower. Rub with butter and sprinkle with chili powder and salt. Place in a roasting pan with 1/2 c. water. Tent with foil. Roast for 1.25 to 1.5 hours or until knife inserted meets no resistance. Set aside.

Place wheat bulgur in a bowl and 1/2 c. of liquid from the can of tomatoes and 1/2 c. water. Cover and let sit.

Cut corn off ears. Steam for a few minutes until just cooked, but with a little bite to them still. Set aside.

Saute the onion, carrots, poblanos, and bell peppers until soft in two batches (one in a large stock pot and one in a skillet). Combine both batches in the stock pot.

Add garlic, chile flakes, cumin, and habanero pepper. Stir and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Add wheat bulgur and stir to coat.

Add tomatoes and about two cups of stock. Use your judgment on the stock to keep the chili thick but with enough liquid to cook without scorching.

Simmer on low 20-30 minutes. Chop the cauliflower while the chili is simmering.

Add beans, corn and cauliflower. Simmer 10 minutes more.

Serve with a variety of toppings, such as blue cheese, cheddar or jack, sour cream, cilantro and chips.

Enjoy!

Spirits and Hi-Jinx

2011-10-23T20:26:00.000-07:00

Well, readers, much to my disappointment, I did not receive an email from Tyler Florence offering to take me to Spain after last week's post. Nevertheless, I did not sit around crying in my paella about it. I have been quite the party goer, in fact. Three in one weekend!

Certainly, it's hard to complain about such a thing. So much fun... and so much bread, cheese, wine and liquor! So much in fact, that even this hard-core gastronomer is a little drowsy at the keyboard tonight.

The first was a birthday party in lovely Chappaqua where I had the freshest mozzarella I've ever tasted and caught up with old friends. The second, was a fundraising event for Share our Strength hosted by photographer Myriam Babin. Please check out her blog New York Kitchen through which she documents "behind-the-scenes" aspects of New York City restaurants. Very interesting!

Witch's Fingers

The third was a spooky meeting of the NY Cocktail Club hosted by Trader Vicky. Spirits old and new were conjured and exorcized. Inspirations for the haunting libations (below) included Poe, Trader Vicky's recent trip to France, and her new assistant the chihueagle (that's chuh-wee-gle) Jinx.

I think I'm still under the spell of those terribly delicious specters...

The Tell-Tale cocktail with it's brandied heart pulsating within a delicious concoction of dark rum, Canton, cranberry, Navan, lemon and chocolate bitters... oh what a sinful, delight!

Ghoul's Gold

And the classically wonderful feeling of resurrecting the dead that comes from a well-made Corpse Reviver... the Cocchi Americano and a dash of absinthe made this a spine-chilling and tasty sipper!

And, of course some creatures of the night horde their own secret concoctions... Trader Vicky managed to steel away the Ghoul's Gold for all of us to enjoy. Pear liqueur and a slice of apple with warming Calvados made this concoction a pretty and delicious seasonal treat.

The Jinx was a little trickier (of course), but an added splash of Grand Marnier made all the difference!

To keep the spirits (of all kinds) from going to our heads, Trader Vicky served seasonal snacks (all homemade)... cheddar witch fingers, pumpkin cheese balls, savory puffs and tarts, devilish cupcakes, and colcannon (a traditional Irish potato dish with hidden treats... Tyler makes this too, but I bet Vicky's is better).

Here are some of the recipes. You have plenty of time before Halloween to stir one up in your cauldron. And you know what they say... if you drink like the spirits on All Hallow's Eve, you'll blend right in with all the ghouls and ghosts running about! (Or something like that.)

Tell-Tale Heart*

Tell-Tale Heart

1.5 oz Dark Rum
1 oz Canton
.75 oz Cranberry Juice
.25 oz Navan (vanilla liqueur)
.5 oz Lemon Juice
3 dashes Chocolate Bitters

Shake & garnish with a brandied cherry

Corpse Reviver #2
1 oz Gin

1 oz Cointreau
1 oz Cocchi Americano
1 oz Lemon Juice
1 dash Absinthe
Shake and garnish with orange peel

Ghoul's Gold*
2 oz Calvados
.5 oz Benedictine
1/2 oz Pear Liqueur
1/2 oz Lemon Juice
Shake and garnish with a fresh apple slice

Jinx

Jinx*
1 oz Gin
1 oz Calvados
1 oz Passion Fruit Juice
.5 oz Grand Marnier
Shake, shake, shake!

*Created by the lovely and talented mixologist Trader Vicky.

Heat oil in a paella pan...

2011-10-17T20:05:00.000-07:00

...and, then theoretically, you and your kitchen mates follow the recipe.

Somewhere between "Fold in the rice and stir-fry to coat the grains," and "Add chicken, chorizo and saffron." I shouted, "Where is Tyler Florence when you need him!?"

And then later... "That Tyler. He may be hot, but boy do I have a word or two for him."

Of course, to be fair, the recipe does say heat oil in a paella pan. We were using a 14-inch skillet.

I ask you, though, how exactly is one whole chicken, one dozen clams, one dozen shrimp, two chorizo sausages, two lobster tails, one 15-oz can of crushed tomatoes and four cups of rice (uncooked) supposed to fit in one pan?

They make paella pans in different sizes (including 14"), but I suspect Tyler's is at least 20". Actually, I think it's bigger. It takes up the whole stove. See for yourself: The Ultimate Paella (watch the video).

Tyler says, "You don't have to use a pan this big, but I am because I think it's kind of cool." And it is, particularly when he is making it with the weathered paella pan that he bought at the Mercado in Valencia, Spain. But, it's a challenge for us normal folk. (Although wouldn't it be nice to go to Spain and pick one up, especially with Tyler... sigh. All the wine, delicious paella, long meals, siesta, Tyler... yes that would be nice.)

Hmm... I forgot what I was saying. Oh yes! Paella. My kitchen mates were my brother K and sister-in-law CB. Between two burners, an outdoor charcoal grill, and an oven, we pulled off a beautiful dinner that fed many more than the 4-6 the recipe promised. To fix the overcrowded situation, we transfered half the rice to a sauce pan and cooked most of the chicken on the grill. The lobster tails went into the oven.

It was a feast to celebrate my dad's 65th. Happy birthday to my amazing dad! Where would I be if not for a father who loves foods like octopus and olives!?

Stay tuned my friends! And don't be afraid to make paella, but do make sure you have a lot of hungry folks to help you eat it. Trust me also when I say you can improvise with a 14" skillet and a reduced recipe, though of course it's also nice, should you have the opportunity, to go to Spain with Tyler Florence to pick up an authentic paella pan at the Mercado.

The "Eat-Where-You-Are" Citrus Dilemma

2011-10-09T19:25:00.000-07:00

At the The Bent Brick in Portland, they've found a way around the "eat-where-you-are" citrus dilemma that comes with trying to source all of your cocktail ingredients locally. Although some of the drinks on their menu still contain citrus, others get their acids from vinegars.

In fact, several of their cocktails feature shrubs. Before my trip to the BB, I thought the word shrub only referred to a small, woody plant. As it happens, there are more definitions--a syrup made with fruit, vinegar and sugar and/or a drink made with such a syrup.

According to shrub producer Tait Farm Foods, these concentrates have a presence in U.S. history; some of their recipes come from the Colonial Era. Neat!

Although the cocktail I ordered did not contain a shrub, it did include vinegar as an acid. It's called the Path to Victory and the other ingredients are bourbon, chinato (a fortified wine like vermouth), gingersnap, and bitters.

It turns out, this wasn't quite the drink for me...

Taste and smell are intimately connected. If your nose is not in the mood or finds something offensive, your taste buds are likely to come down with a headache and close the bedroom door. On the other hand, a pleasant olfactory experience can titillate those gastronomic sense receptors to heights that make some tastings embarrassing to experience in public.

So, imagine the lovely scent of citrus from a freshly cut slice of zest atop the cocktail of your choice. It's lovely!

Now, imagine replacing that olfactory foreplay with a whiff of vinegar.

There, now you've got it.

Refraining from inhaling solved the vinegar problem, but I wouldn't order this cocktail again. I would happily go back to the Bent Brick, though, and try others. (CM ordered the Stranger Things Have Happened, a delightful frothy mix with bourbon, coriander, verjus, spice currant and egg white.)

I love Bent Brick's concept of going as local as possible. And I am also now excited about either making or hunting down some shrubs for home mixology!

Before I sign off, here is a list of the hotspots I visited in Seattle and Portland. The descriptions are sparse because I lost both my hard copy and digital notes. As CM said, that's what can happen when you are drinking cocktails!

Rum Club: The drinks were great and served in different vintage glasses! The proprietor asked us if we wanted to try the beef brisket. Yes, absolutely! We could have stayed for many more drinks, but we had an agenda for the evening.

The Bent Brick (Portland): See above. And, don't miss the house-made pork rinds!

Pix Patisserie (Portland): CM and I split a French75, and I enjoyed two liqueur chocolates: one with green chartreuse and one with Carpano Antica. Intense but tasty.

Zig Zag Cafe (Seattle): My visit to this classic cocktail bar was serendipitous; friends of friends in Rough and Ready suggested their nephew might take me out in Seattle, and indeed he did! I would have been lost trying to find the Zig Zag if not for my gracious host who clearly knows where to find top libations in Seattle!

The Pink Door (Seattle): The waitress asked if I was familiar with Campari when I ordered their version of a Negroni. 'Of course!' I replied, 'Bring it on!' Apparently she's had more than one returned. I love the bitter bite of a Negroni, and the Pink Door Negroni was fabulous.

Toulouse Petit (Seattle): Breakfast happy hour! See Oh Seattle! for more details.

Stay tuned my friends! Don't miss an upcoming post on new places for UG in NYC. As a preview, if I had one thing to say about this weekend's gastronomic adventures, it's this: Red Farm may be aiming for a locavore, farm-to-table menu, but the toilet is definitely imported! (Don't eat there without using the ladies at least once and don't be shy about pressing the buttons!)

The Northwest (and West Coast) Conspiracy

2011-10-02T16:36:00.000-07:00

The Northwest continued to conspire against me until I hopped on the red-eye home last night. My will to return was nearly toppled, but alas, one must make money to buy cocktails.

Portland was the last stop on my two week trip, and my two days there surpassed my Seattle experience. (Hard to believe, I know, but much of it had to do with my gracious hosts--CM and Mr. CM.)

Friday morning, following CM's advice, I ate breakfast at Tasty and Son's. A beautiful tower of housemade buttery muffin, Beecher's cheddar, fried egg, heirloom tomato, pickled beets, red onion and mixed greens was set before me. This creation, known as the Tasty Muffin, was set aglow in the morning sun streaming through the large front windows. The flavors were as artful as the presentation from the sharpness of the cheddar and the bite of the red onion to the cinnamon-sweet hint in the creamy pickled beets.

At the Arboretum

A cup or so of rich Stumptown coffee fueled me up for a few hours of shopping. Two dresses later (from Flutter), and I was hungry again! Thank goodness for Portland's well established food truck scene. I gobbled up two delicious spicy tofu tacos from Koi Fusion that were topped with cabbage slaw, pico de gallo, cucumber, sprouts and cilantro! It was light lunch, but satisfying enough to get me through a two-mile hike at Hoyt Arboretum in Forest Park.

The CM's took me on a cocktail tour that evening, but you'll have to wait to hear about those lushous delights. I'm preparing a vacation spirits post that is coming soon.

We had a light breakfast on Saturday followed by excellent coffee from Ristretto Roasters. (I do so love the seriousness with which the Northwest takes its coffee. You can't mess around with mediocre beans or roasts with all that cloud cover.)

More shopping ensued at the delightful double decker dress shop Lodekka, a vintage store in a vintage bus! There I found three fabulous dresses and a Betty-Draper sheer robe to die for! If you are in Portland, this shopping stop is a must. The "conductress" Erin Sutherland is super friendly and helpful, and both decks are stocked with great finds.

Dress shopping was followed by grocery shopping as we prepared to make the Prosciutto-Wrapped Pork Loin with Roasted Apples and Cauliflower Soup with Chive Oil and Rye Crostini that are featured in this months Bon Apetit.

Chive Oil for Cauliflower Soup

The soup called for homemade chive oil, which was fun but required a few hours of steeping and draining. The chives were blanched and then pureed which led to a fantastic vibrant green color. While the oil soaked up the chive flavor, we prepared the soup and the stuffing for the loin.

It was an effort that took all hands on deck, but we had quite a fun time of it and sipped French 75 cocktails as we cooked. (French 75's include gin, sparkling wine, and lemon juice). We used beautiful and fragrant Meyer lemons from friends in Shell Beach who graciously hosted me the Friday evening before. I have rarely tasted lemons so lively! And to think you can grow them yourself in sunny California. Neat!

The pork loin was stuffed with kale and a sauteed mixture of dried mushrooms and apples, onion, garlic, rosemary and brandy (we used pear). Although the recipe also called for ground pork, we skipped the extra meat and added more apples and mushrooms. We then wrapped the loin in prosciutto and set it atop quartered apples with a mix of hard apple cider and water in the roasting pan. Once cooked, there is a special sauce made with the pan drippings and chicken stock.

The autumn harvest orzo I picked up at Pappardelle's in Pike Place was a wonderful compliment to the fall flavors in both the soup and the pork loin. The pumpkin and sage flavors were very present. We also served kale with roasted garlic on the side.

Dewy Grapes at Kesley Vineyard

The pork loin recipe recommended serving the dish with a bold red, and a fantastic 2009 Pinot Noir from Kelsey See Canyon Vineyards in San Luis Opisbo, CA was the perfect accompaniment.

The folks in Shell Beach were responsible for the pinot. I had a wonderful visit at the vineyard. The grapes were beautiful, the wine delicious and the music by the Mother Cornshuckers made for a foot-stomping good time. Check out some of their great music on their website (and you can order a CD there too) or become a fan on Facebook.

Oh goodness it was hard to get on a plane after all that wonderful food, beverage and vintage shopping! I hope you enjoy a few photos from our feast. And, please forgive any typos. Red-eye plus vacation brain equals who knows what kind of silliness!

Stay tuned!

Cauliflower Soup with Chive Oil

Roasted Apple and Pork Loin

Steamy Kale with Roasted Garlic

Oh Seattle!

2011-09-28T22:12:00.001-07:00

They say you are rainy and gloomy, Seattle, but today you put on your sunshine garters and shimmied. Yes indeed. You made it hard for an East Coast girl to want to go home. Worse yet... you have nearly seduced me to the point of eye-rolling ecstasy with your food and drink.

They call you the Emerald City. I cannot help but think you are more like the land of the fairies where hapless wandering travelers become trapped forever if they partake in the enjoyment of food or libations.

This, my friends, is my day's end ode to Seattle.

Today's eating and drinking fest began at 10 a.m. with breakfast happy hour at Toulouse Petit in the Queen Anne area. $7 breakfast items and daytime cocktails for $7.50! The drinks list was impressive and required much pondering. I settled on the Sunshine cocktail in honor of the day--a frothy concoction of Finlandia grapefruit, aperol, orange and lemon juices with egg white. A refreshing and lushalicious way to get the day started. The bartenders were attentive, helpful and--just like in NY--cute!

My entree was a decadent, buttery eggs 'florentine' (made with spicy arugula and flavorful tomatoes). The muffins must have been homemade, and the potatoes were perfectly crisp and well seasoned.

The view inside Toulouse Petit is quite grand. Gorgeous handmade iron, glass and woodwork fill the cavernous space with a grace reminiscent of Paris-style art deco. The colors in the highly textured walls reminded me of Toulouse Lautrec's 'At the Moulin Rouge.'

After I had my fill of liquid sun and hollandaise, I sipped a deep, rich french press coffee and enjoyed the daylight streaming through the large open windows.

Then I headed out to walk it all off. And walk I did! I started toward the Space Needle but came across a delightful fountain in Seattle Center which enraptured me for some time.

A local gent with time to kill offered to walk me over to a sculpture garden on the water. I pondered where he might fall on the potential psycho scale for few moments and thought 'Why not?' It was a sunny, well populated morning. And I still had my wits about me. So away we went. My unofficial tour ended nearly two hours later in front of Pike Place. And they say Seattleites are aloof!

Pike Place is touristy, but it is nonetheless a gastronomer's delight. Shiny fresh fish, jellies, nuts, and fruit abound! Artists sell their creations while fish mongers toss their giant catch and florists throw together beautiful brilliant bouquets. All the while, gawkers like me snap photos, sample bites and try on jewelry.

I bought two pastas at Papparadelle that I can't wait to try--chocolate raspberry gemelli and autumn harvest orzo flavored with pumpkin and sage.

I then sampled marionberry jam from Johnson Berry Farm and fell in love! Marionberry where have you been all my life!

Following a recommendation from the proprietess at Old Seattle Paperworks, I went to Michou, a Mediterranean deli for a late lunch which I ate by the water. The curried veggies were al dente just like they should be and the spicy chickpeas were delicious.

I then headed up to Capitol Hill to meet friends from my long-gone Salinas days. We caught up over a great cup of joe at Victrola Coffee.

I paused for a breath or two and then wandered down the street to 22 where I enjoyed Purgatory--not the headspace but the drink. It was a well balanced mix of rye, green chartreuse, Benedictine, orange peel (and possibly orange bitters).

The bartender at 22 was cute but apparently did not attend mixologist charm school. The friendlier waitress recommended the fish tacos from the bites menu. They were fantastic! The flour tortillas were so soft and yummy I didn't even mind that they weren't corn.

I was ready then to call it a day but I just happened to walk by High 5 Pie, and wouldn't you know, they had marionberry pie! The filling was great, but the crust was slightly dry and overdone. Nevertheless, I finished the sweet-tart dessert and a decaf Americano that tasted as good as a full fuel brew.

And now several hours later I'm enjoying a Mac and Jack's Amber Ale at the Garage--a bar, bowling alley and pool hall all in one. It's not my type of space, but the beer is sweet and spicy, and the staff is friendly. And hotel is close.

Tomorrow is an early day, so this beer will truly end my Seattle food and drink fest... unless I get trapped in the Emerald City.

Stay tuned!

The Whole Enchilada

2011-09-25T22:03:00.001-07:00

Few things delight me more than an excellent meal. And tonight's dinner at The Whole Enchilada was superb. The crab enchiladas were delicately spiced with a hint of cinnamon and served in a rich but not overwhelming lobster sauce. The crab was so fresh it must have crawled out of the ocean this afternoon. Poor guy. But if it wasn't me it would have been a gull.

We saw a few chowing down during a morning kayak tour through Elkhorn Slough. And, we spotted a sea otter crunching away on a tasty find, clearly as excited about delicious food as I am.

Our lunch was not nearly as exciting as the otter's, but we shook it off with a lovely stroll though Carmel. And a beautiful late afternoon rainbow at Asilomar in Pacific Grove proved good for the soul and the appetite.

Welcome to historic Pescadero...

2011-09-21T22:18:00.001-07:00

A gorgeous day for gorgeous food!

We set out from Rough and Ready this morning with a mind to stop for lunch in Half Moon Bay. But we flew past the popular chowder spot unawares before you could say 'clam.'

A stop in the town visitor's bureau led to a change in plans. In hearing we were headed south, the woman at the bureau recommended lunch at Duartes Tavern in Pescadero. She told me they had an artichoke and chile bisque and that right down the road from there is Harley Farms, a dairy famous for its goat cheese.

I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. And luckily, my travel companion (my dad) wasn't too low on blood sugar for the extra drive.

Duarte's tagline is 'Where Friends Meet! Since 1894.' Our waitress made us fee like old friends who just happened to drop by for lunch.

I was just shy of crestfallen when I saw only separate cream of artichoke and chile soups on the Duarte's menu. When I told the waitress though that I was trying to decide she said gleefully that I didn't have to! I could have them both in the same bowl!

Aha! You just have to ask.

The soup was artful in taste and presentation. A lovely purplish artichoke drawn into a creamy chile backdrop... with a decadent and subtly warm flavor.

Dad had an equally tasty clam chowder, and we split a crab sandwich that had toasted, buttered insides on the bread.

Sadly there was no room for dessert. Next time!

We were on a deadline to make it to our next stop so our trip to Harley Farms was quick but wonderful!

We sampled the Monet, an herbed goat cheese with edible flowers and a basil tomato chevre. They were so lovely I picked up both for my next host. A quick look at the beautiful dining loft and a hello and goodbye to the goats and off we went!

Rough and Ready...

2011-09-20T16:14:00.001-07:00

Urban Gastronomy is on the road!

First stop: Rough and Ready, California.

Great afternoon! Our gracious hostess introduced us to New Moon Cafe in Nevada City for lunch.

I started with a delicious and creamy six onion bisque. Six types of onion! I knew I must either be dreaming or in California.

My next course was a wonderful chunky crab crake on a bed of fresh greens with citrus sauce on top. Both dishes paired wonderfully with a Sauvignon blanc that had notes of grapefruit.

The special ham sandwich was gorgeous too with a raspberry barbecue sauce and topped with crunchy julienned sweet potatoes. Our hostess declared it was the best she ever had.

We had to shop after to walk of our lunch. Oh well. It is vacation after all!

"Foodie in the House!"

2011-09-11T18:19:00.000-07:00

This was Mrs. O's declaration after I said, "You know, the waffles are really good with some of that apple butter and blue cheese on top."

Oh no. Have I really become that person? Am I that friend that you describe as a "foodie?" I am contemplating this as I slather ramp pesto on top of organic goat cheese and spinach flatbread from the Greenmarket. (Yes, ramps are long gone, but I froze some of the delicious pesto I made in May.)

Okay, okay. I get it. I do. I go a little above and beyond sometimes... with the food and drinks thing. The fact that I'm still thinking about the jalapeno-infused green chartreuse I had weeks ago at Macao Trading Co. is proof. (By the way, the first drink of that evening was the Drunken Dragon's Milk, a beautiful, tall, frothy concoction of green tea vodka, young coconut, basil and five-spice bitters--yes! five-spice bitters!).

There are other signs of course. Perhaps one day I'll list them out just for fun.

But, lest you ever suspect that I am getting too big for my gastronomic britches, let me just share this...

Saturday was a DB3 baby shower to celebrate the imminent arrival of the addition of 1 to DB2. About an hour before Mrs. O's declaration, I was at the 'bar' spicing up a virgin Bloody Mary. I picked up the black pepper dispenser and thought, 'How odd! There's a stopper over the grinder. Much more cumbersome than a simple lid.'

This would have been the moment when, in most cases, common sense would intervene. But no...

I pulled off the stopper, turned over the grinder, and before I could even twist my wrist in the fanciest of foodie moves, the peppercorns came spilling out into the drink.

Who does this? Surely not a foodie. Maybe a gastronomically obsessed lush who is also a bit of a klutz. (My mother put me in ballet class at age 3 following advice from the pediatrician, who thought it might instill just enough grace to allow me to walk across an entire room without falling down. It seems to have worked, but it took a few years.)

My home pepper grinder is one of those grocery-store buys... You have to remove the plastic top, turn it upside down and twist. Most fancy pepper grinders only require two steps: pick up and twist. See? What kind of foodie am I that I don't have a fancy pepper grinder?

You can think about this and let me know. You might also note that I promised to pickle this summer, and I have failed--with the exception of ramps and fiddleheads way back when.

Before I leave you, friends, I went for a walk today in Prospect Park and happened upon the prettiest berry stems. I know not whether they are edible, though I doubt it. I saw the chipmunks eating other berries but not these!

Strike My Fancy!

2011-09-05T18:51:00.000-07:00

Hello, readers! It's so nice to see you on Urban Gastronomy! I'm glad you could make it!!!

Last night, at another wonderful backyard barbecue at the M.E.'s, I was asked twice--once by the girls and once by Mr. M.E.--what I would be up to today. "Well," I replied both times, "whatever strikes my fancy!"

This reply elicited a tipsy giggles from the girls (myself included). I went on to say, "Maybe a long bike ride will be just the thing."

Mr. M.E. did not giggle, but immediately asked, "Xbox?" (I suspect this was actually his fancy.)

"No, not Xbox, but possibly a long bike ride..."

A brief attempt at cycling to Coney Island this morning led me to the quick realization that today was not my day to enjoy a bike ride. An uncomfortable new seat and that heavy, humid East Coast summer air had my fancy panties in a bunch in no time.

So, I turned back, and instead, I went for a walk in Prospect Park. I found my way to the Audubon Center in the Boathouse, where I watched a snapping turtle eye a goldfish that was swimming around its tank. I thought about how boring it would be to have only goldfish for lunch every day. Maybe that's why they're so snappy.

Of course, the snapping turtle would have more options in the lake. I doubt those carnival-prize goldfish are even on nature's menu. In fact, if they weren't carnivores, they might enjoy a duck potato or two.

Yes, that's right; I said duck potato.

After my visit with the snapping turtle and a few other pond-inhabiting creatures, I took an electric boat tour. Why? Because it struck my fancy.

And, during this boat tour I learned about the duck potato, an aquatic plant with a taro-like tuber on its bottom that was once a staple of the Native-American diet (according to the tour guide). Harvesting is apparently best next month, so perhaps one Sunday my druthers will be to try and forage a duck potato or two.

The USDA has a rather dry fact sheet about the duck potato that states, "The seed and tubers of duck potato are readily consumed by waterfowl, songbirds, wading birds, muskrats, and beaver." They say nothing about humans or turtles. Actually a Florida forager known as the Green Deane says that even ducks don't eat them. His website includes a recipe for duck potato salad and tips for harvesting them with your feet: Sagittaria Lancifolia: Duck Potatoes Wapato. (Click on this week's Gastronomic Delight to see his video.)

Anyway, I followed my fancies home, threw together a tuber-free lunch, and then walked down to South Side for a superb cappuccino, which is often my druthers on a weekend/holiday afternoon.

But, the fancies did not end there! Oh no!

Later, I found it quite pleasing to sip a Last Word cocktail while I threw together a late-summer salsa and some tofu tacos for dinner.

LP reminded me how delicious the Last Word can be when she ordered one at 67 Orange Street on Saturday. Their version had too much maraschino in the mix. The classic recipe is 1:1 of each ingredient: gin, green chartreuse, maraschino liqueur, and lime juice. Tonight, I didn't have quite enough lime juice for the ratio, and I shorted the maraschino a touch. It was still delicious!

So, there you have it. I hope you had a lovely holiday. For the M.E.'s... if you're reading, I hope you notice the punctuational prowess of this week's post. (Hopefully it's all correct. If not, we can schedule a call with the editor and I... I mean me.)

After all, proofing is challenging after a day of fancy and more than one Last Word!

How to Prepare for a Hurricane...

2011-08-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm no expert, but most of the lists included the following basics:

Buy batteries for flashlights and radios
Stock up on bottled water and nonperishable, but nutritious, food items
Fill your tub with water (or a few buckets if, like me, your bathroom is tubless and tiny)
Make sure storm drains are clear
Move important items off floor level
Secure your home, e.g., outdoor items, etc.
Evacuate if told (duh)
Do not surf, kayak, hang out on the beach, or stand in front of large windows (also, duh)

If not evacuating, then you might also conisder:

Drinking several bottles of vodka (or other liquor) with friends
Baking and eating dozens of chocolate chip cookies with your honey or roommate
Making cocktails with random ingredients in your fridge, such as iced green tea, raspberries, cantaloupe juice, and vodka
Whipping up a feast with all the perishable food items you have and freezing ziploc bags of water to put in the fridge later if you lose power

These are a few of the activities my friends, neighbors and I participated in last night as we waited for Hurricane Irene to ravage Brooklyn.

There is nothing like pending disaster to drive one to excess. Mrs. O, who had to evacuate the lower lands of Brooklyn, came over with bags of food (and a little travel disaster kit with a flash light, toilet paper, candles, matches, and chocolate.)

Hyperlocal Hurricane Crisp

We made a flat bread pizza, pasta salad, and guacamole which we added to a spread of munchies like hummus, chutney, cheese, chips, and crackers. For dessert, we baked a crisp with peaches and raspberries. Being from the M.E.'s backyard, the peaches were hyperlocal and organic!

Mrs. O and I ate a lot, napped, awoke and ate a lot more. And, we waited. For Irene and her ravaging.

That Irene... she had a temper tantrum sure--tossing a few branches, uprooting a tree or two, and dumping quite a bit of water--but that was about it in Park Slope.

Mrs. O awoke this morning and declared "This hurricane's a bust!" Her cat Sassy agreed, but looked highly reluctant about getting back into her kitty carrier.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a bust for everyone. There are lots of folks who lost power or had their homes flooded. And the rivers continue to rise.

So, we were lucky. As Mrs. Craven put it, "The most damage was the amount of chocolate chip cookies I ate last night." We are safe, dry, and a little hungover from our various indulgences.

The winds are still fierce, though, and the rain has started again. It's a good day to stay inside, pour a drink and keep eating.

'Til next time, my friends. And, in the meantime, I would love to hear about your disaster-induced indulgences. Post a comment to share!

Tomato Sunday!

2011-08-21T21:11:00.000-07:00

Boy howdy I had a fantastic weekend! Why? Well, tomatoes, of course! And the company of several good friends in which to enjoy them. It was another brunch to remember...

I spent the week planning a menu. Like most Saturdays, yesterday began with WNYC, coffee and some random section of the New York Times. But, before Car Talk even started, I was peddling my way to the Greenmarket at Grand Army Plaza. The market is about 1.5 miles from my house directly, but I take the long way round the park and pretend it's enough exercise for the weekend.

Once there, I loaded up on produce from Maxwell's Farm, bought eggs at the Tello's, and renewed my turkey sausage supply from DiPaola. A little balancing and a few bungee cords and I made it home, eggs intact, tomatoes unbruised and basil perfectly fresh. And I was just in time for Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me!

I spent nearly all of the next 12 hours in my kitchen. It went something like this...

--Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me!: clean veggies, organize kitchen
--This American Life: melt sugar, puree tomatoes, juice lemons
--Sound of Young America: run out for cheddar, pick up sushi
--Radio Lab onward: make pie crust, chop, steam, saute, do laundry
--Prairie Home Companion: bake pie, test cocktails
--Danny Stiles: I don't recall, but I was still cooking

It was a lot of work, but I had a fabulous time! In fact, I may actually have achieved a previously elusive state of hostess zen. I did not even panic when the consomme I made following a recipe in Esquire for tomato martinis was a disaster. (Of course it was. I mean, Esquire? What was I thinking?)

There is one simple recipe that was the hit of the brunch. Tomato Lemonade (by Kat Kinsman). Even Mr. Craven who said he had a longstanding aversion to tomatoes enjoyed the brew. We spiked ours with rye because we are all lushes, but the liquor is optional.

Being of like minds, HA and I both made delicious tomato pies. And, Kukus made a comeback this week. They stuck in the pan, but in a moment of hostessing brilliance, HA suggested I serve them in my vintage champagne glasses and coffee cups. Thus you couldn't see the messy bottoms and they were fun to eat!

Another star was the Magic Vanilla Ice Cream (by Chris Kimball), which Mrs. O made. It's magic because you don't need an ice cream maker (or a couple of kids and a ball). It was rich and creamy and paired perfectly with the coconut pie that EB made and the almond tart the Craven's picked up at Lady Bird Bakery.

Here is the menu with links where the recipes are available online:

Drinks

Tomato Lemonade (by Kat Kinsman, featured in Food and Wine)
Iced Raspberry Green Tea
Hop Ottin' India Pale Ale by Buttnernuts

Starters

Mexican Slowboats (Deviled Eggs by Didi Emmons, the recipe is in Vegetarian Planet)
Five-Spice peach chutney and blue cheese on water crackers (the chutney recipe is also by Didi Emmons from the same cookbook)

Mains

Portobella, bell pepper and zucchini Kukus
Two tomato pies--both delicious (one recipe by Chris Kimball, featured on an NPR story: Seasonal Dessert Recipes to Sweeten Your Summer, and one by HA.)
Seasonal vegetable salad with lime dressing (corn, red potatoes, green and yellow beens, heirloom tomatoes, shallot, fresh basil, one tbsp olive oil, two of lime juice, salt, pepper and a pinch of sumac)

Dessert

Coconut pie (recipe by Paula Deen)
Magic Vanilla Ice Cream (also by Chris Kimball)
Almond fruit tart from Lady Bird Bakery

Until next time my friends. And thanks to everyone for coming today and bringing such great eats and drinks!

Move Over Betty, You've Got Company

2011-08-14T19:07:00.000-07:00

Today may have seemed like a preview of fall in New York, but at Casa Chris, it was high summer. I hosted brunch for some of my favorite girls. Ten years ago, we might have spent Sunday brunch recovering from Saturday night bar-hopping on the Lower East Side until 4:00 a.m. This afternoon, we sipped Bloody Mary's and talked about how close we are to 40. But, we still have our Sex-and-the-City moments... and that will probably never change.

We hadn't all been together in half an age, so I wanted to make us a brunch that was nothing short of fab. Which is to say, I went a little crazy. I wanted to make it all--cocktails through dessert--while highlighting summer produce in all its glory.

Here is the menu. I've included the recipes and/or links below.

Farmer's Market Summer Brunch Menu
*Bloody Mary's
*Croissants (from the bakery)
*Broccoli Kukus (little egg-muffin omelettes)
*Turkey Sausage from DiPaola Farms
*Zucchini and Heirloom Tomato Salad
*Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla and Cardamom served with vanilla ice cream

Bloody Mary's with Cucumber and Cilantro vodka: I started with Emeril's Cajun Bloody Mary recipe, but made several adjustments. Here is the adjusted recipe (which is also doubled):

3 cups tomato juice
3 tbsp of lemon juice and 3 tbsp of lime juice
2 tbsp of prepared horseradish
3 tsp of Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp of Emeril's Essence (I mix this myself and always keep some on hand for everything from stir-fry's to popcorn)
1 tsp hot sauce
Freshly ground lemon pepper
Mix all ingredients and chill
Add 2 oz vodka to a glass with 3-4 ice cubes. (I used a mix of cucumber and cilantro vodkas, but the flavor was a little lost in the spice.)
Pour tomato mix into glass.
Stir and garnish with just about anything--cucumber spear, pickled green been, okra, olives, slice of lime, etc.

Broccoli Kukus: What's a kuku? It's a persian-style baked omelette. Mollie Katzen took this concept and created a recipe for kukus that are baked in muffin pans. This has become one of my favorite brunch items. The recipe is in her cookbook Vegetable Heaven as Cauliflower Kukus.

My adaptation: You can see it's kind of easy-breezy. Use what's handy and have fun.

Saute 2 cups of onions (or one cup of onions and one cup of bell or poblano peppers) with a bay leaf, add 1.5 tsp of salt a few minutes in.
Add 6 cups of broccoli (or mix it up and use whatever you like) and a clove of garlic, minced.
Season with whatever you have on hand/enjoy or think will go with the flavors you have chosen (I usually throw in some essence).
Remove from heat when tender.
Add 1/4 cup of breadcrumbs and 1 medium size tomato chopped.
Fill a 12-muffin pan with the mixture, crumble feta cheese on top, add a twist of fresh lemon pepper.
Whisk six whole eggs and six whites together, add a handful of chopped parsley or other fresh herb.
Pour over the veggies and cheese.
Bake at 350 about 40 minutes.

The muffin cups will look full before you pour in the egg mixture, but never fear, the egg will seep through. (Make sure you grease the pan even if it's nonstick.)

Zucchini and Heirloom Tomato Salad:

1 small zucchini, chopped small
1 med red heirloom tomato, chopped

1 lrg gold heirloom tomato, chopped
1/2 kirby cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced
2-3 tablespoons of shallot minced
1 ear corn, de-cobbed and steamed

Chopped cilantro to taste

1 tbsp olive oil, 1 tbsp lemon juice, and 1 tbsp lime, whisked with a pinch of sumac, a dash of salt, and a few twists of lemon pepper.

Toss it all together and voila!

Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla and Cardamom: This recipe is from Bon Appetit and I found it on epicurious. Following the advice in one of the comments, I halved both the sugar and the cardamom.

This recipe called for a "Best-Ever Pie Crust." I chose to use the Basic Flaky Pie Crust from the Pie and Pastry Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum. I liked that it uses only butter vs. butter plus lard or shortening. I replaced half of the flour with whole wheat pastry flour. Boy howdy was this crust a lot of work! There is freezing, chilling, butter separating and plastic bag manipulation involved to avoid tough dough, which is apparently related to how much you annoy the little gluten molecules while making it. (Let's just say I was up until 2:00 a.m., and there was flour everywhere. I might also still have butter in my hair.)

Another challenge was that not all the peaches were ripe, which gave me great anxiety.

The result, though, was really delicious. The recipe calls for grinding the sugar with half a vanilla bean in a food processor. The vanilla really infuses the pie. The crust was wonderful and not tough at all. And the not-so-ripe peaches added a delightful bite.

I am actually really proud of pulling this off. And since pie is one of the least photogenic foods ever, I don't have a final pic. But, I do have one of the pre-oven pie, lattice work and all. Move over Betty, you've got company.

P.S. Esther came through with a finished pie photo after publishing!

Happy Birthday Harry!

2011-08-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was Harry Potter's birthday. I know we are all grown ups here, but some of us quite enjoy occasionally escaping into the world of wizards, witches, mischief and magic. Add the endless possibilities of potion making and character reflection and you have yourself a theme for a cocktail party and a fabulously fun excuse to drink.

Thus, LP named Harry Potter as the theme for July's meeting of the NY Cocktail Club. The cocktail menu is below, followed by notes about food, and finally, a list of all the ingredients at the bar.

Harry Potter Cocktail Club Meeting, July 31, 2011

Our host: LP
Contributing NY Cocktail Club Members: Trader Vicky and me (Urban Gastronomer)

Cocktails: The recipes are below. All were original except the Polyjuice. Our favorites for the evening were the magical and sparkly Felix Felicis, the lovely and composed Minerva McGonagall and the earthy Whomping Willow.

Gold sparkly cake decorating gel adds luck to Felix Felicis

Felix Felicis
(Liquid luck) (LP)

1 oz Applejack

¼ oz Grand Marnier

¼ oz Peach liqueur

Juice of 1 lemon
1 tsp Falernum
1 tsp Orgeat
2-3 dashes Chocolate Bitters

2-3 dashes Orange Bitters

A dollop of gold cake decorating gel

Shake vigorously

Familiar Cicero

Minerva McGonagall (TV)

1.5 oz bourbon

1.5 oz Drambuie

1 oz lemon juice

½ ounce cranberry

3 dashes orange bitters

Shake, add 1 brandied cherry

Completely clear veritaserum with a few "crazy" ingredients
to make you tell the truth

V for Veritaserum (LP)

1.5 oz Hendricks Gin
¼ oz Tequila blanco
¼ oz Cocci Americano
1 tsp Maraschino liqueur
1 tsp Elderflower liqueur
2 dashes Regan's Orange Bitters

Stir, garnish with orange zest

Triwizard Cup

Triwizard cup

(inspired by the Trinity at Weather Up) (LP)

1 oz Old Tom Gin
1 oz Cocci Americano
1 oz Cardamaro

Stir, garnish with orange zest

Professor Sprout

Whomping Willow (UG)

2 oz cucumber vodka

½ oz lemon juice

¼ oz green chartreuse

¼ oz yellow chartreuse

¼ oz absinthe

Fennel fronds

Shake

Fennel stem straw (optional)

Note: If you forgo the straw, strain through a fine mesh strainer to remove the grassy bits before enjoying.

Butterbeer (LP)

½ ounce Butterscotch schnapps
2 dashes bitters

1 ounce Chimay OR Stout

Polyjuice Jelly before slicing. Pretty gross.

Polyjuice Potion (recipe from Jelly Shot Test Kitchen): I substituted a neon green lime ice bar for lime sherbet, because I couldn't find it. Don't do this! The result was a very bitter jelly shot. I'm sure the actual recipe is delicious!

Menu: LP whipped up a British-themed feast: a main course of eggy in a basket with sides of roasted tomatoes, potatoes and cherry scones with clotted cream. And, there was an assortment of sweets and treats worthy of a Honeydukes display. Our host also conjured cauldron cakes, licorice wands and chocolate insects, and Trader Vicky made Golden Snitch cake balls with liqueur instead of frosting inside. All delicious!

Golden Snitch cake balls!

Cauldron Cakes!

It was a wonderful birthday celebration and our best Cocktail Club meeting yet!

The Bar List

Base Liquors: Applejack, Bourbon, Cucumber Vodka, Hendricks Gin, Tequila Blanco,

Vermouths and Amaros: Cocci Americano, Cardamaro

Liqueurs: Absinthe, Butterscotch Schnapps, Drambuie, Grand Marnier, Green Chartreuse, Maraschino Liqueur, Peach Liqueur, St. Germain’s Elderflower Liqueur, Yellow Chartreuse

Bitters: Chocolate Bitters, Orange Bitters,

Syrups: Falernum, Homemade Gold Syrup, Orgeat

Produce: oranges, lemons, fennel fronds and stems

This event was hosted of the NY Cocktail Club. A copy of this post is on the Club's blog.

Photos copyright Christina Saylor and Vicky Sweat.

The MOST Wonderful Time... of the Year!

2011-07-31T09:29:00.000-07:00

This, my friends, is it. Better than Christmas. Better than birthdays. Better, even, than springtime in Paris.

It may be the cusp of August, the eve of Summer's dog days, but, it is also tomato time. Fresh red Jersey tomatoes, colorful heirlooms, sungold, yellow, roma... What delicious beauties!

Oh, and the fresh basil! You can smell it from yards away.

And, then there are the peaches. The eggplants! Sweet summer corn! Purple garlic and jalapenos! Bell peppers. Green and yellow string beans! Broccoli! Radishes! Kirby cucumbers!

I am beside myself with the glory of summer produce.

There is little more I can say, other than if you aren't eating local produce now, I feel terrible sorry for your taste buds. So, I hope you are able to find a greenmarket in the city or take a drive into the country to visit a farmstand.

In the meantime, I have a Harry Potter birthday party and cocktail club event to attend. In the case that you can't get your hands on fresh tomatoes today, I hope you enjoy these photos of tomatoes I bought yesterday from Maxwell's Farm at the Grand Army Plaza greenmarket.

(Photos copyright Christina Saylor.)

Some Like It Hot

2011-07-24T17:53:00.000-07:00

And New York City likes it hotter.

The past few days were steamy in more ways than one. As the mercury oozed past 100, cocktails were mixed en masse, and clothing became optional. That's right, optional.

And, I played and won my first ever game of Cornhole. Before you jump to erroneous conclusions, this is not a dirty sport. Sweaty, maybe, but not dirty. Unless your from Kentucky or Ohio (and maybe, Pennsylvania), you might ask, "What is cornhole?" The American Cornhole Association is happy to tell you, but here are the basics: two white boards with a hole in one end, 30 feet, eight bean bags and four people.

Being supremely uncoordinated and generally a disaster at team sports, I was quite excited by this accomplishment. It might have been beginners luck--or the homemade margaritas I sipped before the game--but I scored a double that sealed our victory after several turns of missing the board entirely. CME mixed the margaritas up in a batch before the party--a delicious, easy drink for a crowd on a summer evening.

Saturday also sizzled as Mrs. O held a Sip, Swing and Dream party that highlighted excerpts from her Brooklyn Boudoir photography series with live theatrical performances throughout the evening.

Being the lush with a reputation that I am, she asked me to wear something sexy and help make Manhattans for 30+ people--a feat for any amateur but enthusiastic bartendress.

A few days before, I found this great post by Nora Maynard on the kitchn: How to Batch Cocktails to Serve a Crowd. The approach is simple: mix the liquor and bitters in a large batch at room temperature according to the proportions for your favorite recipe. When your thirsty guests arrive, fill a shaker 3/4 full with ice and stir. (You can mix about four 2 ounce drinks at one time.) After stirring, the mix should sit with the ice for about 30 seconds to allow dilution before straining and serving.

So, last night, in the boozy boudoir spirit, I put on my fancy panties and threw my cocktail shaker in my shoulder bag. It worked quite well. But if you walk away from the bar to mingle, be prepared that guests will pour straight from the pitcher and drink the Manhattan mix at room temperature, which in this heat wave is about 80 degrees even with AC. Yuck.

Ms. Maynard's standard Manhattan is a 2:1 mix of rye and sweet vermouth. I prefer a recipe from The Cocktail by Jane Rocca which has a 5:1 proportion (2.5 ounces bourbon and .5 ounce sweet vermouth). I typically use Carpano Antica vermouth, which is really flavorful and sweet. At the party, I went with a 4:1 mix of Old Overholt Rye and Carpano Antica.

Mrs. O and HA engineered another group cocktail with orange bitters, champagne and a cotton candy dip that turned the drink into bright pink or blue shades and looked really neat! The taste doesn't match up to the spectacle, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless.

Keep it hot, ladies and g's. And, always wear your fancy panties when mixing cocktails!

Honey, You Just Killed My Buzz

2011-07-17T20:17:00.000-07:00

From: Christina Saylor
Date: Mon, 11 Jul 2011 22:04:38
To: Mrs. O
Subject: Buzz Kill

I'm a terrible person. I just killed a bee. They are disappearing, and
I just killed one in my apartment. I was going to go with catch-and-
release, but that just seemed too risky. And it looked like it was
either trying to sting the radiator or pollinate it. Me, the girl with
the bee tattoo. I killed it. One less honey maker on the planet
because of me. One less pollinator on Earth.

This morning, I also flushed a spider that tried to share my shower.

However, I did just catch and release two giant moths (instead
of killing them also).

All in my apartment. I guess they don't call it garden level for
nothing.

I hope you had a good day.
________________________

I post this, ladies and g's, as a formal apology to the bee community. Nothing can bring back the bee that I killed. I know that. But, I would like the record to show, through the email above to Mrs. O, sent directly after the bee murder, that I was, and still am, full of remorse for my crime against nature.

It's been a bad month for bees; did you know? Take a look at Bill Chappell's post on the NPR News Blog from Tuesday: Truck Crash Releases 14 Million Angry Bees, And Honey, On Highway. Much of the swarm was gunned down by spray foam after attempts to cool them off with water failed. The local Idaho authorities were in a sticky situation... all that honey, clouds of mad bees, and according to the fire chief, bears lurking in the mountains.

I'm sure you've heard already, but bees are amazing creatures and they do a lot for the ecosystem (and human agriculture). Unfortunately, they are also in trouble. (Haven't heard about it? Visit the Vanishing of the Bees website for info and ways to help like using natural pesticides in the house and garden and buying organic.)

As the bees are in trouble, so is the honey. LP recently alerted me about impostor "honey" which is being marketed as pure, but which either contains very little or no honey. The National Honey Board has a clever campaign called Save the Endangered Honey Bear where you can help generate some of your own buzz.

Following the truck crash, LocalNews8 in eastern Idaho reported "The bees are worth 3 cents a piece, making [the truckload] worth more than $400,000."

Only 3 cents a piece? Seems like a steal considering all they do for us.

"Ice Cream Abstinence Is not Indicated"

2011-07-10T18:50:00.000-07:00

'Uh, brain freeze!' LB declared with a squint and a head slap immediately after sampling the cantaloupe from the Rita's Ice menu. He recovered quickly and was undeterred, trying the juicy pear next.

'What causes brain freeze?'

I had no idea. Is it a freezing and killing of brain cells? Were we one scientific discovery away from seeing a public service campaign with a 'this is your brain on ice cream' message? Is there a big frozen treat cover-up hiding the little known truth about the long-lasting affects of cold head?

It turns out that, no, though it is a trick of a different kind. That head pang you sometimes experience in the heat of summer after a bite or slurp of some delicious frozen treat is 'probably' a combination of reactions that begin with the cold bothering the nerves on the roof of your mouth followed by a squeezing of blood vessels and a subsequent rewarming--because, you know, it's hot.

I didn't make this up. You can hear about it on Discovery Health's Why? Tell Me Why: Ice Cream Headaches featuring Dr. Jason Rosenburg, Director of the Johns Hopkins Headache Center. Yes, this gastronomic phenom has actually been researched.

Dr. Rosenberg goes on to explain that there are lots of nerves in the face around the forehead and the eyes. The body can, apparently, be "tricked into thinking that that's the area under this painful assault."

But, rest assured, my friends, according to Dr. R., "Nothing bad is happening."

I repeat, nothing bad is happening.

Blood flow to the brain is not affected, nor does the brain actually freeze.

Dr. Rosenberg's advice? Take small bites and avoid the roof of your mouth.

Of course, some feel a doctor's advice is unnecessary. The following is from an editorial by Joseph Hulihan that was published in the British Medical Journal in 1997 (BMJ 314 : 1364; 10 May 1997):

"No treatment is usually required, and sufferers rarely seek medical attention... Most people arrive at such preventive measures without the advice of doctors. Ice cream abstinence is not indicated."

Whew, thank the gastronomic deities for that, right?

Rita's Ice Gelati is this week's gastronomic delight, if for no other reason than it sent me to my happy place. How could it not? Wild black cherry ice topped with chocolate-vanilla swirl custard.

(Photo of this Rita's cup, courtesy of LB. And now, LB, when that cutie AB asks you why? why? why? about brain freeze, you can tell him! You have a few years yet...)

'Oh no, these radishes can't come in...'

2011-07-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

'...or the cherries. And certainly not this.'

As immovable as a Rodin statue the matronly security guard at the Met would not be swayed by any plea to disregard the unearthed zucchini salad in my shoulder bag. The walls of Tupperware and tightly sealed plastic bags were not enough to appease her, as though letting me into the museum with such contraband might lead to cherry juice and radish bits on beloved artworks.

Well, she had a job to do, and I respect that. So, LP, V and I trekked up Fifth Avenue to leave the goods in LP's car for an evening rooftop feast. We then returned to the Met and joined the line for the exhibit Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty to work up an appetite. The show is a visual bacchanal. I knew nothing about Alexander McQueen beforehand. I had no idea... (Steel yourself for the crowds, my friends, and go see it for it is truly a rapturous and intriguing experience.)

There is only one thing to do after such an experience... have a drink. We sat in the 'Great Hall Balcony Bar' and enjoyed a beverage and live classical music. I wouldn't recommend the cocktails, but I had a very nice glass of local white -- a Gewürztraminer from Hermann J. Wiemer in Fingerlakes, NY. I know it doesn't sound local, and according to my trusty wine reference, "Wine for every day and every occasion," by Dorothy J. Gaiter and John Brecher, Gewürztraminer is "a distinctive, peppery grape that's a specialty of the Alsatian region of France." It also happens to be in the spell-check function on my phone. Lucky for me.

After, we headed up to East Harlem for the rooftop picnic. My zucchini salad augmented a delicious, (mostly) Middle-Eastern themed feast that LP prepared for us the night before--lemony-garlicky hummus, smoky babaganoush, tabouli with fresh parsley and mint, Moroccan tomatoes, homemade pita both plain and transformed into a little 'pizza' with olive oil, Lebanese za'atar and feta. It is not lost on me how fortunate a gastronomer I am to have friends so gifted in culinary ways.

Because it was a rooftop picnic, we drank mint lemonade spiked with Michael Collins Irish whiskey. And overhead, a brief, impromptu show of fireworks gave us a bit of a fright, but was, nonetheless delightful.

For dessert, we had two percent greek yogurt (because a little bit of fat makes everything better). The yogurt was topped with the sour cherries soaked in a little peach brandy and pistachios. A two-bite side of baklava rounded off the evening nicely.

That, my friends, was all on Saturday. V's not in town often, and the next evening, we cheered and toasted into the wee hours of the holiday. We finished the evening snacking on a range of goodies at Casa Chris, the star of which was LuLu White Truffle Honey, a present from V. and a gift from the bees (and LuLu). This spread is nothing more than clover honey, white truffle oil and salt, but oh my! Keep your panties on when you try this one, readers, it is sexy!

Today, I recovered on the beach with CME. We took an afternoon break and ate fantastic pulled pork tacos (and a substandard lobster roll--I only know this because CME explained what a lobster roll is really supposed to be! I'm such a seafood novice... one might consider this to be a plea for help, by the way...)

Happy Fourth to you and yours. And, stay tuned!

Tilt-A-Whirl+Funnel Cake+Tornado=Fun!?

2011-06-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

It had probably been more than 20 years since I set foot on any type of contraption purposely made to spin in circles and roll up and down. I understood something basic about this concept that a friend later voiced perfectly: there is something about the adult brain that is not meant to be spun in circles.

And yet, it was so tempting...

I had such fond memories of the Tilt-A-Whirl. My dad would go with me when I was kid--the age equivalent being about the same as it was between my niece and I. So, when my oldest brother handed me the three yellow tickets I needed to ride, I took them.

And, the three of us embarked on a journey that my stomach is still reconsidering.

Oh, but what fun it was! I laughed and laughed... just like the 10-year-old I once was.

When the ride stopped and the safety bar flew up, I thought, 'Hey! Look! I survived!'

The crooked canter of my walk was, perhaps, the only tell that my brain was a bit askew.

It was shortly thereafter that the debate about the Tornado began. My brother and my niece both assured me it wasn't as 'spinny' as the Tilt-A-Whirl. I was torn about what to do, unsure my adult body could handle a second spin cycle. Luckily, the debate was delayed by snack-time.

'Snack time' might be misleading, for I do not mean that we munched on nuts and dried fruit. Oh no. We indulged in that carnival favorite--the funnel cake. My sister-in-law, who wisely drew her limits at rides that spin, stated the funnel cake was one of the best she'd had... not too greasy or heavy. Having sampled only two or three funnel cakes over a lifetime, I took her word. It was, indeed, quite delightful.

I thought I might be off the hook for the Tornado, but nine-year-old children do not easily forget promised fun. There was a second teaser of reprieve when the line was empty and the operator refused to run the ride for only two. But, just as we were ready to give up, two little red-headed girls stepped up, and my fate was sealed.

'You and your mom can sit with us so it will be more fun!' one of them said gleefully.

My niece replied, 'That's not my mom!' and climbed aboard with excitement.

The thing about the Tornado is, each group of four seats has a wheel in the middle that you can use to spin yourself silly regardless of what the greater mechanism of the ride is doing.

To her credit, my niece glanced over at me and said, 'Is this too spinny?' just after red-headed girl #1 started the wheel.

'I'll be okay.' I replied nervously, and then I did something else I hadn't done in more than 20 years... I prayed.

Silently, I pleaded, 'Please do not let me throw up on these beautiful children.' It became kind of a mantra as we spun and spun. Occasionally, while the girls were chatting (like we were standing still), I would reach out a hand and inconspicuously stop the wheel--a brief reprieve before one of them noticed and started the wheel again. When the ride came to a halt, I was happy I only had four bites of funnel cake in my belly and that they stayed there.

The ferris wheel was a breeze after that, but the car ride home was rough. I had to hang my head near the open window a bit to keep it together. (But, honestly, I had a lot of fun... So perhaps next time, I'll skip the Tornado or save the Funnel Cake for last.)

Thankfully, my stomach and that part of the adult brain that is so averse to carnival rides settled in time for pizza from Lou Malnati's, one of the best deep-dish pizzas in the Chicago area. And thanks to the powers-that-be for that because there is nothing like Chicago pizza!

Bitter Sweet Pie

2011-06-12T07:52:00.000-07:00

I'm sipping coffee (first cup so excuse any typos) and staring at a strawberry pie. I think I'm going to eat a piece for breakfast. It's a healthier pie than your average. I took the recipe from Rodales Basic Natural Foods Cookbook, which has dessert recipes that use whole grain flours and natural sweeteners like honey.

It's not a pretty pie. And frankly, it's not actually that delicious. I'm sure you're not surprised since it's a 'healthier' pie. But, it is not the fault of the recipe. It is my fault.

I have a baking 'problem.' I haven't actually followed a baking recipe letter-for-letter since the 80s when I had the recipe for Tollhouse Chocolate Chip cookies memorized. I would carefully measure out each ingredient, leveling off the flour before dumping it in the sifter, pack the brown sugar with care and attention, etc.

Somewhere between junior high and adulthood I became a baking deviant. The result of this is that here I sit with a whole pie that is not worthy of sharing. This means I have to eat the whole thing or suffer the guilt of throwing it away.

The filling is actually quite tasty, which was a nice surprise. The strawberries I bought at the Greenmarket yesterday weren't very tasty. I should have guessed when this particular stall still had loads of berries left at 2:00 p.m. Even on a rainy Saturday this is unusual.

A woman next to me tasted one and declared to her husband that they were watery. I rolled my eyes thinking this was silly. Then I came home and tried one. They were watery and not very flavorful. Perhaps they would be better cooked and sweetened. Just in case there wouldn't be enough flavor, I added dried sweet cherries which plumped up deliciously when baked.

Where things really went awry was the crust. The recipe called for whole wheat pastry flour. I was out, and the nearby stores didn't have any. I used a combination of millet and chestnut flours. I also substituted walnut oil for vegetable oil. I suspected this might be a bad idea... The muffins I made last week with the same flour combination weren't spectacular, and walnuts can be bitter. But, after reading a few blogs about baking with walnut oil and crossing my fingers about the flour, I persevered.

The result of these digressions was a dry, gritty, bitter crust. It's not inedible, just not very good. The chestnut flour actually gives it a hint of sweetness. The bitterness doesn't show up until last, which is a big bummer when eating a bite of pie.

After all, pie is meant to remind us the world can be sweet. (Yes, now I can see that you are rolling your eyes.) Such is life. I'm actually not much of a pie person, as you know. I made the pie because my mom gave me several dishes from her favorite potter over the years, including two pie plates. I don't use them enough, it makes me feel closer to her to use the things she gave me, particularly those things that she was excited about giving. So, the pie is sweet and bitter. If she were still here I would have called her to lament over my failed pie. She might have reminded me that it's better to follow the recipe when baking, but she certainly would have been happy to hear I used the pie plate.

So next time, I'll follow the recipe. In the meantime, I'm going to have pie for breakfast with a large scoop of greek yogurt to help disguise that bitter crust. Perhaps that next pie will be sweet without the bitter.

Gastronomic Alternatives

2011-06-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

Mrs. O said, 'You mean for a brief moment you felt like you could change the world by riding your bike?'

'Yes! That's it!'

And, there were 2,499 other people who thought the same thing (or at least wanted to tour around Brooklyn en masse. This morning, Transportation Alternatives hosted their 7th Annual Tour de Brooklyn. 18 miles and 2,500 people. The goal of the ride is to raise awareness about cycling in Brooklyn, and boy howdy, does Brooklyn need it. Riding down the dedicated bike path on Prospect Park West is pretty similar to a 3D game of Frogger.

The ride was great until our traffic handlers abandoned us about 3/4 of the way through. Then it was a little hairy. All in all, though, it was a great way to spend the morning, and a fabulous excuse to chow down Huevos Divorciados (two eggs separated by different sauces) at Fonda, one of my favorite local restaurants.

Back at Casa Chris, the local hotspot that is my home, I decided I might also change the world by making dinner. And so, I'm announcing here and now to you, ladies and g's, the launch of Gastronomic Alternatives. As the beginning of Gastronomic Alternatives, I will only buy and cook local produce and meat at Casa Chris from now until deep winter makes this an impossibility.

I think that this is not only the way to eat the most delicious food, but it's the right thing to do. It's a way to be a better community member. In fact, I will be so bold as to say that it's irresponsible not to support local agriculture. What will happen to us if California does indeed fall into the ocean one day?

Now, there are a few things I will concede as advantages in this quest: 1) there is a Greenmarket five minutes from my office that runs Monday, Wednesday and Friday (Saturday too but why leave Brooklyn on the weekends?) 2) there is a Greenmarket about 1.5 miles from my house that is open every Saturday seasonally and 3) I can afford it (most of you can too).

This weekend I ate mostly local dinners both evenings, and I am nearly delirious with the results. Last night I had a local-beef burger which I seasoned with ramp pesto before cooking. I enjoyed it on a whole wheat sour dough roll topped with Stilton blue cheese and a mayo/sour cream concoction that included some more of the ramp pesto and a bit of truffle oil. I had sides of roasted asparagus with spring onions and potato chips anointed with the aforementioned truffle dip. Happy like a damn pig I was after that feast. (The pesto was left from a few weeks ago. I popped a small dish into the freezer when I made it.)

Like strawberries, asparagus is one of those items that, in my opinion, just doesn't taste good when it's out of season or imported. You have to eat it fresh to really taste it. It's fabulous tossed with a little olive oil, salt and lemon pepper and then roasted at 400 degrees. I threw in green garlic last week and spring onion greens this week, both of which were also very tasty when roasted.

Tonight I started dinner with a garlic scape soup, the recipe for which I found in Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking. I didn't buy enough scapes, so following the recipe notes, I swapped out spring onions. I also substituted collard greens for spinach (which required longer cooking time for the greens). By the way, this cookbook is beautiful and a great resource for eating a more healthy and whole diet.

My main course was two links of sage breakfast sausage from Wilklow Farms, a slice of morbier cheese (stinky, but delicious) and Chopped Kale with Hot Pepper Vinegar from Richard Blais, the recipe for which appeared in Food and Wine this month. Absolute heaven! It calls for caraway seeds, onions and garlic.

So, here's to home cooking with local ingredients! Get out there to your green market!

And until next week ponder this question: do I allow myself citrus, which is technically produce but cannot be found locally in any season and which is also a key ingredient in many a tasty cocktail?

Yes! Please Eat the Flowers!

2011-05-30T19:14:00.000-07:00

That was the reply to, 'Are the flowers edible?' which I asked in reference to the fluffy looking globes bobbing up from a bunch of chive stems. The young woman at Maxwell's farm was so vehement I realized if I did anything but eat the flowers it would be very wrong indeed.

I haven't tried the chive blossoms yet, but last night I had a belly full of pansies.

It was the May meeting of the NYC Cocktail Club, and the enviously multitalented Trader Vicky (and her beau ChrisK) hosted a Flower Power Cocktail Hour. The bar was stocked with floral liqueurs and mixers and the table was spread with garden-inspired edibles.

The full list of featured intoxicants and the drink recipes are below. The first floracious and flirty drink of the evening was the Stratosphere, the recipe for which was taken straight from the Crème Yvette bottle. It was surprisingly wonderful. We have tried and failed at various cocktail club meetings and individually in our own homes to mix great cocktails with this floral liqueur. A later experiment with two versions of the classic Aviation--one with Crème de Violette and one with Crème Yvette--confirmed what we had already begun to suspect. Yvette, although seemingly lovely, is crass once you get to know her. Violette, on the other hand, is a little softer, a little easier to enjoy.

Regardless, Yvette is wonderful when she is only being asked to mix in the company of Champagne, or as in this case, Prosecco. Trader Vicky concluded that bubbly was a good solution for any 'problem child.' (After a long struggle with rhubarb-strawberry syrup that ended delightfully in Prosecco, I had to agree. Bubbles and pansies just make the world a brighter place.)

As our taste buds savored the Stratosphere, our eyes feasted on lovely edibles in the much closer troposphere. The table was tiered with delightful sweets--mini-cupcakes flavored with Earl Grey and orange, macaroons in various flavors, and Biscuits Roses (a.k.a. Biscuits de Reims, French cookies that are known for being a 'perfect accompaniment to Champagne'). And, there were season-inspired appetizers, including spring rolls filled with Greek salad, which I thought was a wonderfully clever way to eat your greens!

The self-created Boulevard was the second delicious mix Trader Vicky presented. Violette was featured with Orange Vodka, and St. Germain (Elderflower liqueur). Trader Vicky had done her homework well. As a result, she proposed that St. Germain is 'friends with everyone,' a theory which held up throughout the evening.

Two other cocktails with St. Germain followed--the Nomayo with gin and Aperol and the Saint Anne with gin, mint and lemon, the recipe for which is attributed to James restaurant and was posted in February on Suzi's Blog. It is an ambrosial nectar worthy of mixing again and again.

Before we moved on to other mixes, we we enjoyed a delicious beet and goat cheese galette and a tasty crustless quiche filled with spinach and feta.

And then, the experimenting began. LP made a well-balanced cocktail which Vicky dubbed the Chamomile Can-Can. She used chamomile-infused Eldorado rum. While I thought it was a gorgeous drink, I have an aversion to all things chamomile. Nevertheless, the other ladies enjoyed it quite a bit.

There was a twist on a sour that was also beautiful, though by then, my taste buds were becoming a little confused. A tasty Blood Orange Sidecar appeared along the way. (I'll leave it to Trader Vicky and LP to post those recipes in the comments if they choose.)

I tried several concoctions with rose water. Upon tasting the first, Trader Vicky declared, 'You made soap!' Indeed. There was a drink that came closer with only one drop of rose water in a swirl of gin, framboise, and one of the creme sisters--I don't recall which and the drink was not memorable enough to chronicle. I ended the evening with a few ounces of Prosecco and a splash of the rhubarb-strawberry syrup.

The little room left in our stomachs was filled with a pretty lemon curd and fruit tart made by Mrs. O. It was delicious, but you know tart and pie just don't photograph well! So, instead please enjoy more floral libations.

And remember. Eat the flowers!

Featured intoxicants
Hendricks Gin
Pinky Vodka
Crème Yvette
Crème de Violette
St. Germain
Parfait Amour
Barenjager
Vodka Infusions: Chamomile, Lavender; Hibiscus
Rosewater
Orange flower water

Recipes
Boulevard
1 3/4 ounce orange vodka
3/4 ounce lime juice

3/4 ounce Creme de Violette
1/2 ounce St. Germain
1/4 ounce agave syrup

Chamomile Can-Can
1 1/2 ounces chamomile-infused Eldorado rum
3/4 ounce lemon juice
1 ounce pear brandy
3/4 of one egg white

Stratosphere
3/4 ounce Crème Yvette
Top in a flute with Champagne or Prosecco

Ridiculously Social (and Soused)

2011-05-22T20:52:00.000-07:00

'Are you sure that's not Ken Cosgrove?'

LP assured me that the dapper blond gentleman in the Mad-Manly hat was not Aaron Staton who plays the accounts man. I thought it was a stretch, but there was no one else who looked like they might be one of the "special Mad Men celebrity guests" promised in the event information provided by the Manhattan Cocktail Classic (MCC) for Monday evening's event Heering Goes Mad (Men).

We considered for a moment that we were being dense and couldn't identify the celebrity off-screen, but then decided that either a) the event organizers would have announced their presence and/or b) we would have noticed other people noticing.

No matter. I am more likely to swoon over a sexy cocktail than a handsome star, and that, my friends, is exactly what happened when I tasted Jamie Stephenson's delicious drink: We Got the Business. The cocktail was one of four finalists in a global competition held by the makers of Cherry Herring liqueur (fun!).

The finalists were stationed in their four respective 'corners' mixing for the crowd. LP managed to sidle up and interrogate a few of them about their ingredients and techniques. In our minds (and possibly our hearts) the winner was Jamie Stephenson. Cardamom is like a drug. I love it and can't get enough of it, though I have fallen out of habit with it. (I used to put a few crushed seeds in my coffee every day.) I was delighted to find someone had thought to use it in a cocktail. Brilliant!

And... delicious!

The syrup Mr. Stephenson used is made by Monin. Rumor had it that one might not be able to find it in the States, but it's easy to make an infused simple syrup at home. (I only know this because Trader Vicky, friend and fellow Cocktail Clubette has become a pro at making not only infused syrups but also cordials!) The full recipe is below for your drinking enjoyment. The liquors in this fabulous libation were Xanté (a pear-infused cognac) and Drambuie.

Sadly, Mr. Stephenson was not the victor in this competition. The mixologist who took home the laurels was Stacy Nikkala--her prize drink a Sour Cherry Herring Side Car. It was a good, solid drink, but it wasn't as brilliant as We Got the Business. And though there was mention of Don Draper, I can't imagine him ordering a Side Car. Whose drink would that be? Peggy's?

This MCC party was the second event LP and I had attended in two days. Sunday afternoon found us sipping various Irish whiskeys and cocktails made therewith while being schooled by the charming Philip Duff. The cocktails were mixed and explained by the seemingly shy, but brilliant (and award-winning) Sean Maldoon.

What a treat! A lesson in the history of Ireland through the lens of the whiskey bottle. I was surprised to learn that back in the heyday, if you drank whiskey it was Irish (not Scotch)! In fact, in the mid-19th century 'Irish whiskey conquered the world!' (The phylloxera--those pesty insects that decimated grape vines in Europe in the 19th century helped open up the liquor market.)

If you are an amateur whiskey geek like me, you might enjoy perusing Mr. Duff's slides: A Drop Of The Hard Stuff: The History And Uses of Irish Whiskey And Its Liqueurs, though without his presentation, it is perhaps less dynamic and informative.

The top tastes of that event were the Hot Whiskey Punch and the Lamb's Wool concocted by Mr. Muldoon followed by the straight-up sipping of Irish Mist, a whiskey blended with honey and herbs, and the Michael Collins 10-year single malt. The Michael Collins blended was also quite good. (I've included Muldoon's recipe for the Lamb's Wool below, but the house-made spiced syrup is a bit of a wild card. What I found really interesting was the use of Harpoon's Oyster Stout with the whiskey. The punch had lemon-infused Irish Mist and whiskey and a mystery house made lemon sorbet. It was phenomenal, but I doubt it could be easily replicated at home.)

The presentation and the tastings were very branded--I walked out with a goodie bag filled with an Irish Mist T-shirt that says, 'I.M. ridiculously sociable, wanna mist and mingle?,' a similarly branded compact mirror and a Michael Collins pen. I would have much preferred a few small bottles of the liquors to experiment with at home. But, on the off nights that I don't order a cocktail or a bourbon on the rocks, I might ask if they have Michael Collins.

Actually, I was ridiculously social (and soused) this week... The remaining days included a work outing at Flatiron Lounge; a visit to Craftails, a cocktail event at Colicchios' private dining room with drinks by Sean McClure (which preceded a fabulously good time at Sleep No More); and experimenting with a local gin recommended by an affable gentleman at Astor Wines & Spirits at home (more on that later... the gin, that is). Of the Craftails' cocktails, I had one with rye, Carpano Anitca, and green chartreuse. Each sip was a battle between the flavorful carpano and the heavily herbal chartreuse. It was interesting.

Anyway, I have rambled. So, stay tuned! And, in the meantime, enjoy the flowers. It is Spring after all even if NYC doesn't seem to know it.

We Got the Business by Jamie Stephenson of Corridor (Manchester, England)
(Excuse the millileters... he is British after all. I've provided ounces where I could. Best thing to do is pick up one of those handy shot-size measuring glasses.)

30 ml (1 ounce) Xante
25 ml (between 3/4 and 1 ounce) Drambuie
25 ml Lemon juice
12.5 ml (just shy of a 1/2 ounce) Monin cardamom syrup
Dash of Regan's Orange Bitters
Half an egg white

Sean Muldoon's Lamb's Wool
2 ounces Michael Collins Blended Whiskey
4 ounces Harpoon's Oyster Stout
3/4 ounce housemade spiced syrup
3.5 ounces housemade baked apple puree (email me if this is a mystery to you)
Heat and garnish with sliced apple and grated nutmeg

We lamented and sipped...

2011-05-15T18:58:00.000-07:00

...a concoction of gin and pickled ramp brine. 'At least we got a few good parties in...' Mrs. O said, as I pulled a tray of freshly toasted, locally made sourdough bagette slices from the oven. She was referring to my apartment with its wonderful open kitchen. Within each of our cordial glasses lay a ramp bulb and a gracefully curled fiddle head fern.

I confessed as I added fresh ice to the cocktail shaker that the thought of looking for a new apartment was making me queasy. But, such is life in the big fat apple--sometimes you run into a worm.

While we sipped our second 'mini' round, I smashed roasted cherry tomatoes onto half the toasts and sprinkled them with feta and chives before returning the sheet to the oven. The other half we ate smothered in honey lavender fromage blanc by Nettle Meadow in Warrensburg, NY--this week's gastronomic delight. This spreadable goat cheese has a lovely subtle floral flavor. Mrs. O and I envisioned it in warm puffy pastry or on fresh scones.

Between bites, I peeked into the pot of rhubarb bubbling on the stove to make sure the syrup was coming along.

This apartment has spoiled me forever. I don't think I could move back into a place that doesn't have a full stove. My new canning pot won't fit! Of course, I didn't use the new canning pot for the pickles we were enjoying.

My boss shared an article from Salon with me a few weeks ago that included recipes for quick but long-lasting pickled ramps and fiddlehead ferns to be used in a Wild and Dirty Martini. The recipes appeared in How to Make the Perfect Recession Martini by Felisa Rogers and were attributed to Chef Robin Leventhal.

I made the pickles last weekend, and Mrs. O I enjoyed the resulting cocktail immensely, particularly the second one, in which I kicked up the brine a notch.

The pickles themselves were a little sweet for my taste, and no matter how I prepare them, fiddlehead ferns always taste a little like grass. They are so pretty though!

I can't wait to get my hands on more ramps so I can pickle with abandon! This week, I will scour the internet for more recipes. I will make it to the ramps man on Friday before late afternoon. I will pickle with the canner or without. I will prevail!

In the meantime, I'll try perfecting cocktail recipes with the rhubarb syrup. I was inspired by a delicious mix at Quarter in South Slope last weekend (was it Alice's Mallet?), though I failed to write down the ingredients. I tried one recipe last night with mint and far too much lime juice. No good!

Oh, and I suppose I will also start looking for a new apartment... with a big stove. Stay tuned my friends!

'What's not to like about macaroni?'

2011-05-08T18:37:00.000-07:00

I pondered this thought closely.

Then, I considered that you almost never hear the word macaroni without cheese close behind unless your singing Yankee Doddle Dandy to a class of first-graders.

I thought about the texture of the dish... cooked macaroni noodles skillet-toasted with bread crumbs and topped with a fried egg. Each mouthful was a bit gooey and gritty and soft all at the same time. I think it was that gritty feeling that made me dislike the dish so much as a kid.

It was a meal born out of financial hardship--perhaps as far back as the Great Depression when my grandfather was a child. A plate of noodles and a dose of cheap protein go a long way in feeding a family of four. Eventually it became comfort food--a dish that my mom made periodically for her children not out of necessity but out of fondness.

Out of all the foods I could have made today to remember mom, I'm not sure why I chose one I didn't really like. I could have made her fried chicken, but that might have been messy. I remember the one and only time I made it. I was in my early twenties and living in California. I must have called her at least three times. She talked me through taking apart a whole chicken--just grab the leg and twist until you hear it pop. I thought I was going to lose my lunch in the pursuit of making dinner.

My father has given me cooking advice plenty of times over the years. It's always the same and he would dole it out just before handing the phone to mom--800 degrees for 10 minutes.

I cant lie; this past week has been a tough one--every store window has a display like 'don't forget mom!' or 'perfect for mother's day!' I was not exactly number-one daughter when it came to Mother's Day. About half the time, my gifts arrived late. Not that mom ever complained--and her favorite gifts were never the ones I expected. A few years back, she raved about a cute glasses case with a little handle that made it look like a mini handbag that I bought at Daffy's for less than $10. It was always in her car when I visited.

Perhaps I picked the macaroni dish because I knew I wouldn't need advice to make it, and it would be easy to make a variation. I was determined to a) not sit in the kitchen and cry and b) find a way to 'season' up this dish--in more ways than one.

And, I decided, it would also be nice to spend an entire day in the kitchen rather than be out in the world feeling blue on a day when many would be celebrating. So, I committed also to pickling ramps and fiddlehead ferns (for a cocktail recipe) and making something (anything!) with rhubarb--all three of which are in prime season. I spent about seven hours in the kitchen today, cleaning and pickling, stewing and bubbling.

To make the macaroni dish healthier, I used brown-rice macaroni rather than the traditional flour variety. To liven it up, I added ramp pesto, which I made using a variation of a recipe on Food52. I used less oil and more lemon than the original. (Yes, I finally got my hands on those ramps, and that flirtatious tramp Spring seems to have shown us her sunnier side as well.)

It was truly delicious. If mom were here, I imagined I would have made her the traditional version (knowing the ramp pesto would be too spicy). And we would have each enjoyed our dinners--she with a glass of milk and I with a summer ale. And, I would remember to thank her for cooking for me six out of seven days a week for so many years. (Saturday was evening service at church and takeout.) Without her love and graciousness I wouldn't even be able to boil water today, let along whip up ramp pesto and pickles.

Stay tuned, my friends. Wild and dirty martinis coming your way next week. And perhaps you will hear about my adventures with rhubarb and the mystery of the missing baking soda.

In the meantime, enjoy a fiddlehead on me...

Tequila and Tacos, Salud!

2011-05-01T18:34:00.000-07:00

'Tequila makes me crazy!'

This, declared by Mrs. O, who is already a little crazy by nature.

Several of us nodded and a few asserted that there was something different about tequila--some kind of mystery ingredient that riles one up. (This later proved untrue, but nonetheless, it felt like we were drinking a little crazy juice as the night wore on.)

It was the monthly meeting of the NY Cocktail Club, and Angela was hosting. When I arrived several hours late, she was mixing and shaking margaritas with home-infused blood-orange tequila while Mr. Angela manned the stove.

The NY Cocktail Club was launched last year. As LP would say, it's like book club but better. There are eight members, and we 'meet' once a month. The ingredients of study are chosen by the hostess, and each month we seem to outdo ourselves.

Tequila is not my spirit. (I'm a whiskey girl at heart, though I've also grown to like gin quite a bit as well.) There's something tricky about tequila. What exactly does one do with it beyond mixing up tasty margaritas? LP and I went to Mayahuel in the East Village on Thursday night to answer this very question with some pre-meeting research.

Mayahuel's menu is packed with tequila and mezcal cocktails, and the bartenders there know their stuff. We did remarkably well under such circumstances, having only two cocktails each and sharing a third. I started with a Loop Tonic that was made with blanco tequila, green chartreuse, vermouth, celery bitters and lime. It was bright and refreshing.

We had other delicious mixtures with sherry and Cardamaro (an amaro infused with Cardoon--a Mediterranean thistle that is similar to an artichoke except the stalks and roots are used rather than the flowering heads--and Blessed Thistle--imbibed with holiness perhaps because it was used by monks and also helped treat the bubonic plague). It's quite delicious, and I now have a bottle in my home bar.

The drink of the evening, however, was the Senorita, which is Mayahuel's signature cocktail. It's a mix of reposado tequila, Orangerie, lime, agave nectar and grapefruit bitters. Orangerie is a scotch that is infused with orange zest, cassia bark (cinnamon) and cloves. LP picked up a bottle for her collection (because it's tasty and pretty).

Guided by our research, we added these newly discovered liquors to Saturday night's bar along with green chartreuse, St. Germain Elderflower liqueur and mezcal for rinsing. Angela had infused tequilas with regular orange (in addition to the aforementioned blood orange) and jalapeno, and Trader Vicky brought a home-infused hibiscus tequila as well.

Margaritas ensued, of course, as did a wonderful springy mixture of jalapeno tequila, fresh cucumber juice, lime and simple syrup and a fabulous concoction of hibiscus tequila with elderflower liqueur and a few other ingredients. There were other experiments, some successful, some not.

Of course, a tequila evening is hardly complete without tacos. What a feast Mr. and Mrs. Angela laid out before us! Two versions of Mexican-spiced chicken, chorizo, beef, cotija cheese, guacamole, sour cream, corn tortillas and an array of salsas. (I'm secretly a taco-fanatic so I was thrilled. It's true--I had tacos for dinner three times last week!)

And this morning? Well, I turned the coffee pot on, left the kitchen to take a shower and came back to discover I hadn't placed the pot in the maker. Coffee everywhere! Nothing a few hours in Prospect Park gazing at blossoms couldn't cure. A little vitamin D goes a long way on such days.

Stay tuned, my friends. And give it up for Don Nacho... great infusing and mixing tequilas! In fact, you may want to try mixing a few of those tasty drinks. Here are the recipes from Angela:

In the meantime, happy first birthday to AB! You throw a heck of a party! Just ask Elmo.

Mom's Potato Salad

2011-04-25T21:22:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning I thumbed through the cards, packed so tightly they had to be pulled up a bit to see the titles. Some of them were torn from newspapers or magazines, but most were handwritten on plain white cards or on cute kitchen-themed slips with quippy titles like, ‘What’s cookin?’ The scripts in both were similar and reminiscent of certain features of my own. Several had names written in the corner that made my stomach grumble and my heart squeeze.

Corn pudding (Dolores)
Cheese Ball (Char)
Bloody Mary (Denny)
Pineapple Cake (Betty)
Potica (Great Grandma, grandma, mom, and hopefully this year, me)

I was looking for potato salad. Memory is a trickster. I thought I could picture the recipe written in mom’s hand... but was it on a card or on one of those long narrow pieces of paper from the kitchen pad, or was it on a Marzetti’s label that had been torn off the bottle? Why is it that I can’t remember, but I can recall without doubt how the potato salad tasted?

Just like I remember Dolores’ corn pudding--decadent and buttery. Dolores was my grandmother’s best friend and neighbor for decades. Although there were many requests, it wasn’t until I asked that Dolores gave up the recipe.

And Aunt Char’s cheeseball? I was little the first time I tried that, and it sparked a die-hard appreciation for cheese that has never abandoned me. Luckily I also inherited some of Char’s good metabolism. (Aunt Char was also the one who made a very special Easter Dinner one year...)

Denny’s Bloody Mary was a surprise recipe, but it makes perfect sense that he had a concoction for this tried and true hangover cure.

I don’t recall many of Betty’s dishes, but I do remember her smile was just as kind and warm as her sister’s (my grandmother).

In the front of one of the boxes, there were several recipe cards for both small and large versions of potica (poe-tee-za), a Slovenian family legacy (see Pumpkin Pie and Potica). I knew it was no accident they were placed in front. Mom left them there to make sure I would find them, perhaps the only indicator that she had contemplated a 'what if.' She wouldn't talk about possibilities, but she wasn't taking any chances that I wouldn't be able to find the potica recipes.

But, on Saturday morning, I was focused on potato salad. And the recipe wasn't in the box. I sat for a moment and waited. Was this going to send me over the edge? Grief is a funny thing. If you had told me I wouldn’t be able to find the recipe the day before I would picture myself in a messy pool of spent tears and tissues. But, instead of tears, my mind produced a memory.

I had asked mom one year to show me how she made the potato salad. So, essentially, the recipe was there, filed inside my head, which at that moment was about as dusty as the recipe boxes. But the list of ingredients was unclouded... potatoes, onion, celery, hard boiled eggs and Marzetti slaw dressing. Marzetti makes a potato salad dressing, but mom was very specific about using the slaw dressing.

Since potato salad is not like baking, I decided my poor memory would suffice. With some help, from my sister-in-law, I made the dish from memory. And, I came pretty close, but of course, there was one ingredient missing... But that is the way, isn't it? And if the recipes make us all feel closer to those we have lost then they are still with us, are they not?

Mom's Potato Salad
1 lb of potatoes (your choice, but reds are nice)
2 stalks of celery, diced
1 onion, chopped
3 hard boiled eggs, chopped
1/3-1/2 bottle Marzetti's slaw dressing

Boil or steam potatoes and chop
Add salt and pepper
Toss with remaining ingredients
Sprinkle with paprika
Chill
Serve to hungry folks

No matter what words come next, they will never do justice... so in memory of Cheryl and potato salad and potica and all other gastronomic delights from the Saylor family...so long for now, mom, and thanks for the recipes!

Mom's Daffodils Drooping after Rain

Flowers for Bruce (Champaign)

Two rocks and two ounces...

2011-04-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

...are just over Jill's head... that's the measurement on the glass, which is one of four fable-themed sippers that I bought awhile back at Fishs Eddy. And that's about how I feel right now, just like Jill taking a tumble down that darn hill. Jack's no help, of course. You can't see him but he's off in the distance, dazed, sitting next to the pale of spilt booze. There's only one thing Jill can do to get out of this tricky situation...

That's right. And there's nothing wrong with a nightcap on a Sunday evening after a long week of falling down. (Does the word nightcap remind you of The Love Boat or is just me? It also reminds me of someone who once took me out on a non-date of sorts and asked me if I would like to go for a nightcap. I thought who says that? And then I thought, is it ethical to take one of your patients on a date? Because you don't ask someone if they would like to enjoy a nightcap unless you are on a date.)

Anyway, that is neither here, no there, really. What's here is a glass of bourbon, me and a family of four at odds upstairs. What's here is me with a large pot, a five-piece canning set, a book with lots of instructions and no ramps. Or jars for that matter.

My quest for ramps continued this weekend. Yesterday it was cold, rainy and gusty enough to defeat any umbrella, yet I was out searching for ramps and canning equipment. My adventure began at the Greenmarket in Grand Army Plaza, where I bought spinach, carrots, onions, oyster mushrooms, turkey burgers, pork sausage and whole wheat sourdough bread. But no ramps. A very helpful woman at Maxwell's Farm explained that no one at Grand Army carries them.

I know they are out there because I ate some earlier this week with a delicious pork loin at Colicchio and Sons on 15th Street and 10th Avenue. I was almost beside myself when I read the menu. 'Are they real ramps?' I asked the waitress. She assured me they were and noted how they are here and then gone before you know it. That was Wednesday, and Friday came and went without even a moment to wander through the Greenmarket.

The dining experience at Colicchio and Sons was fabulous. I started with a corpse reviver which seemed most appropriate after my afternoon. The amuse-bouche was a shooter of creamy soup topped with truffle oil. (By the way, isn't the amuse-bouche--that complimentary one-bite nugget from the chef--one of the best concepts ever?) For a starter, I ordered a slow cooked egg with fresh peas and a Parmesan crisp over top--filling enough to be a meal, which is why I had so much leftover pork. But who is complaining--they take your leftovers and refrigerate them while you finish your meal. Now, that, my friends, is brilliant! And, they gave us all a banana chocolate-chip muffin to go for breakfast. Lovely!

So it seems that ramps are available. In the week I had failed to stroll through the Greenmarket, they had poked their savory leaves up out of the earth.

I anticipated I would be writing about my lovely pickled ramps. But, I have failed. I found most of what I need to can yesterday at Brooklyn Kitchen. It was a long journey because I misread 100 Frost Street as 100 Front Street. DUMBO vs. Williamsburg = several trains and lots of NYT crosswords on my phone.

Brooklyn Kitchen is a very cool spot. They have canning, beer brewing and baking supplies as well as many other fun items and a meat counter. I picked up a bottle of Fee Brothers Plum Bitters, this week's gastronomic delight of the week. Those bitters went very well in a dessert cocktail with some homemade pear vodka from my boss and a bit of elderflower liqueur. Yum!

That's all I have this week, ladies and g's. I hope those ramps will be around several more weeks because I will be out of town most of this week. Three plane rides should give me enough time to read about avoiding botulism. Yikes!

Stay tuned!

It was oyster mania!

2011-04-10T18:43:00.000-07:00

Mollusk madness.

Bivalve lunacy.

Within 30 minutes, we had each sucked down at least half a dozen raw oysters and eaten another half in various forms - Rockefeller, grilled, baked in pot pie, fried for po' boys and pickled. (Yes, pickled!) We had washed it all down with beer and enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches and various pickled vegetables on the side.

And then, the real craziness began.

Just as someone said, it would be great to have another po' boy, we looked up to realize we were packed like sardines in the middle of the tin. The previously half empty lot lined with stalls serving a range of East Coast oysters and other local gastronomic goodies was now packed with hungry folks standing in long lines for their first taste of oyster. The shuckers, fryers and grillers struggled to meet the quickening demands of the ravenous crowd.

We assessed and decided we had advantages--a table already staked and scouts familiar with the lay of the land who were willing to risk bodily harm, and possibly ejection, to sally forth for more oysters. We were celebrating Mrs. O's birthday and would not be defeated!

And so it was that we stayed and stuffed ourselves even sillier.

The event was an Oyster Saloon revival hosted as a fundraiser by the New Amsterdam Market, an outdoor food market and an organization that promotes local sourcing and accessibility as well as economic development in Lower Manhattan.

It was a revival because, at one time, New York was an oyster hotbed. You could gulp them on street corners, buy them at open-air markets, or enjoy them in cellars in the company of prostitutes. They were cheap, easy to come by and could be savored by anyone with a few cents in their pocket. (For more information, listen to 'History on the Half Shell' in 'Big Oyster,' an interview with author Mark Kurlansky in the archives of Weekend Edition on NPR.)

We were nearly first in line when the 'doors' of the Oyster Saloon opened at about 5:45. By 8:00, most of the oyster stalls were closed, and our bellies were sloshing.

In all the madness, it was impossible to take notes about which oyster varieties I ate and which I most enjoyed. But, there wasn't a single oyster I disliked, which is saying a lot for a girl from the Midwest. Here are a few of the highlights oysters and otherwise:

Grilled Oysters by Luke's Lobster -- deliciously seasoned with garlic and shallot

Oyster Soup from Chef King Phojanakong of Kuma Inn -- lovely tender oysters in a flavorful and magnificent coconut-milk broth

Pickled Vegetables from rick's picks -- My favorite experience of the evening was walking up to the rick's picks table, handing over my ticket and asking for whatever pickles the gentleman at the table (perhaps, Rick?) recommended. He said it was like asking someone to choose a favorite among his children and moments later handed me a paper dish with a bit of everything -- beets, green beans, carrots, cucumbers, okra. All were fantastic and inspiring for my soon-to-be new adventure into home canning (see last week and my new quest to preserve ramps for year-round cocktail enjoyment.) I can't wait to stop by their booth at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket sometime soon.

Pickled Oysters by Scott Bridi from Brooklyn Cured -- I had no idea you could pickle oysters... As Tammy said last night, "I just had a pickled oyster, and it changed my life." I might go with 'rocked my world' over 'changed my life' but impressive nonetheless. And, they had the prettiest strands of something mauve delicately placed atop the gray, silky oyster.

Gingerbread from Chef Sarah Cox at Blue Bottle -- We spent the last of our food tickets on gingerbread from Blue Bottle coffee, which is, by the way, this week's gastronomic delight. (This is a new feature of UG in the upper right corner of the blog.) This cake is dense and chewy with great ginger bite, not too sweet. It would be perfect for an afternoon coffee break.

Grilled Cheese from Saxelby Cheesemongers -- made with two different varieties of cheddar--sharp, earthy and heady--between two slices of grilled crispy bread

If you are interested in supporting the New Amsterdam Market, they are hosting an online Purveyor's Auction to benefit the market and celebrate the art of making things by hand. There are many 'experiences' on the auction block that have promise for being incredible, such as a day of lamb-birthing, a honey-tasting laboratory workshop, and chocolate making with the Mast Brothers.

There it is, ladies and g's. Stay tuned for more gastronomic adventures from the Big Erster...oh did you say Oyster? Let's call the whole thing off!

Pickle My Ramps, Baby

2011-04-03T19:13:00.000-07:00

What are you planning to do with this?
Well, I have my mind set on pickling ramps.
What?
Ramps.

The friendly gentleman at Sur la Table looked at me quizzically as we squatted on the floor in front of the canner pots.

You know. Ramps. They are greens that can be foraged in these here northeastern parts in the spring. They have the most fantastic, lushalicious garlic and onion flavor. (See ramp in the epicurious food dictionary.)

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but could clearly see, I was a woman possessed with an idea. Though in truth, I was hesitant to make the investment in canning supplies. It's a big leap, from quick-pickling to actually preserving food. I made quick ramp pickles for my spring Martini Party last year following a recipe from the Greenmarket, and they were delicious! But the ramp season is short-lived! And quick pickles are too.

I've been a bit preoccupied with ramps since I launched this blog. That fateful and hallowed eve at Blue Hill at Stone Barns... it began with a ramp cocktail...

And here we are today! We've come a long way, readers. I have since made my own ramp cocktail, and I've learned enough to forget that most folks still don't know about these greens and their secret, magical garlic-onion mystery.

It occurred to me in February as I sipped a ramp-brine martini at momofuko ssäm bar in the East Village that if pickled the long way round, ramps could be used to flavor martinis year-round. Cocktail revelation!

And so it was that I was debating the purchase of a canner and jar-rack combo in Sur la Table this afternoon. It's a big leap. You have to preheat and process and gee whiz it might as well be a science experiment. And boy if you get it wrong, well, let's just say 'botulism.'

My Sur la Table friend told me he thought the same way about investing in beer-brewing equipment but that it was really worth it. And, he said, you can always cook lobsters in this pot. Huh. True story.

So, purchase made. Though I still need a few things before I am ready to pickle, which is fine because I think there may be a few weeks before those ramps appear.

The MEs were here this evening and both independently asked me if I was planning to cook crabs. Maybe after I have pickled my ramps! One step at a time, but perhaps by midsummer I will be serving crabs with pickled ramp Gibsons in Prospect Park.

In the meantime, stay tuned!

A note about this week's gastronomic delight: Shropshire Blue

Try this creamy blue cheese sprinkled on arugula with dried cherries. Drizzle with truffle oil and season with salt and pepper!

Hot Toddy, I Miss You. Will You Take Me Back?

2011-03-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Hot Toddy,

It is with wounded pride and heavy heart that I throw myself at your mercy and ask--no beg!--that you warm my winter-chafed soul once again. My dearest love, will you consider circling me in your strong brandy-soaked arms? Will you cover me with ginger-spiced kisses and leave traces of honey on my tongue?

It's true. I know. I left you. I abandoned you for that flirty seductress, that voluptuous maiden full of vim and vigor, so alive, so free! I tossed you aside and dared her to lift her skirts and show me her bounty.

But, alas, like Ann Boleyn to King Henry, she spurned my advances. She left a few crocuses, sure. And a couple hours of daylight. But she took back that extra 25 degrees.

She is a Tease! And I am a fool.

So, here I sit, in a sweater and scarf, hat and gloves, cold and forlorn. Oh, my debonair (and delicious) Hot Toddy, I miss you.

Do you remember the good times? I do. Let's relive them tonight without care or worry for the morrow. The early hours will be fuzzy anyway.

With all of my love, and my passion, I offer this plea--come back to me!

Your Lushous Urban Gastronomer

And here, my friends, are a few recipes for your own rendezvous with Hot Toddy. Trust me. You won't be disappointed. And, don't be shy. Hot Toddy is great for groups. These recipes came from a meeting I hosted for the NYC Cocktail Club, during which nine ladies enjoyed the company of Hot Toddy all at once.

Chai Hot Toddy
1 oz. brandy
1 tsp. ginger syrup*
Chai tea (brewed 4 min.)
Honey to taste
1 nugget candied ginger
Squeeze of Meyer lemon and strip of zest

Drop the ginger into a small glass. Add brandy and ginger syrup. Pour in hot tea (about 3 ounces). Stir in honey. Squeeze lemon and top with zest.

*Ginger syrup is easy to make--Simmer two cups of water with sliced ginger for 30 minutes. It will boil down to about a cup. Add 2/3 cup agave syrup and one ounce vodka. Refrigerate once made.

Apple Pie Hot Toddy
1 oz. brandy
.5 oz. apple brandy

1 tsp. of ginger five-spice syrup*
Honey to taste (or not)
Hot water
1 dried cherry
Slice of apple

Drop dried cherry into a glass. Add brandies and ginger five-spice syrup. Pour in hot water (about 2.5 ounces). Add honey if desired. Top with slice of apple.

*Trader Vicky found the recipe for this great syrup on Cocktail Hacker.

The classic hot toddy is also not to be missed--1-2 ounces of a dark spirit, hot water, lemon, and honey if desired.

Enjoy these! As I sip, I am cooking up ideas for those fabulous ramps and some of the other spring goodies sure to come our way soon. Toodles!

Spring, You Temptress, Lift Up Your Dress and Show Me those Ramps!

2011-03-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness! Spring is nearly here! I can hardly believe it, ladies and g’s but it’s true. The long, long night of winter darkness, the gloom of the last three months, the snow laying heavy on my heart (yes my heart!).... soon it will all be gone... washed away by the flirty unabashedness of that wily mistress Spring.

Hot toddies will make way for lighter cocktails. Frozen green beens and bagged arugula from California will be displaced by an assortment of delights from the local green market! And, oh my goodness. Oh my goodness!

Ramps!

Ramps will be arriving!

Really
Awesome
Mighty Fine
Phenomenal
Spring Greens!

Ramps!

Let’s hear it...

Let’s give it up for....

RAMPS!

Stay tuned for more.

And, in the meantime, check out my foreign correspondent adventure on Jersey Pie.

Toodles!

2010-11-21T10:59:00.000-08:00

Hello friends and fellow gastronomers.

For anyone checking in over the next several weeks, I'm taking a break at the bar. A long break, perhaps at several bars.

See you again in 2011. Until then, so long for now!

2010-11-07T21:20:00.000-08:00

Witches Brew

(Note: All of the photos in this blog were taken by the superbly talented Mrs. Kari Otero.)

It was the week before Halloween and plenty of creatures were stirring, even a few mice! The pumpkins were snug all in a row...

Well... until the carving implements came out, and then their shreiks were heard for many a Brooklyn block.

The party guests had downed quite a few potions before taking weapons in hand.

The bar was stocked with bourbon, gin, rye, applejack, maple liqueur, maraschino liqueur, several bitters, brandied cherries, vodka and gin (plus additions noted below).

The Headless Horseman rode through my cozy apartment... His flask was filled with Buffalo Trace bourbon, maple liqueur, a dash of chocolate bitters and a drop of horror.

The site of this specter was enough that more than one guest uttered their Last Word... those other worldly whispers made easier with equal parts gin, maraschino liqueur, green chartreuse, and little less equal part of lime juice.

The Deadly Diamondback came through next, spewing rye, green chartreuse, Applejack and a bit of venom. It was boozy but just shy of delicious... something was missing.

What? What was not quite right with the cocktail? That is the scariest part of all!

Alas, never fear. Trader Vicki and LP were on the scene chasing the ghosties and goblins away.

Trader Vicki came prepared. She brewed a homemade pumpkin cordial following (somewhat) this recipe (attributable to Gina):

In a large jar with a tightly-fitting lid, combine 750 ml of decent vodka (we used Sobieski) with one can (14.5 oz.) pumpkin puree, 2 cinnamon stick, 12 cloves, 1 tablespoon of blade mace. Allow it to sit for a week, then strain into another large jar. Add 1 cup of 2:1 simple syrup, stir to combine. Decant into clean sterilized bottles. (And make it look fancy and nice!)

LP and Trader Vicki waved their wands with a flourish and created three new cocktails:

The Headless Horseman (revised... it fits better with pumpkin and all...)
1 oz pumpkin cordial
1 oz bourbon
1 oz applejack
1/2 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes chocolate bitters

The Ichabod Crane
3/4 oz lime juice
1/2 oz maraschino
1/4 oz chartreuse
1 1/2 oz applejack
2 dashes bitters
garnish w/ lime & cranberries

(LP - what do we call this one?)
3/4 oz Buffalo Trace
3/4 oz rye
1/4 oz chartreuse
1/4 oz maple liqueur
1/4 Carpano Antica
chocolate bitters
cranberries, twist of lime

The cranberries were a contribution from HA, who along with Mrs. O concocted many a tasty and highly photogenic dessert item.

And, not one guest lost a finger during carving or went into sugar shock before the party's end. So, it was a fabulous time. I can hardly put into words how wonderful all the guest contributions were. All of the photos in this blog were taken by the superbly talented Mrs. Kari Otero.

And the lessons learned? Chartreuse is a lovely elixir! It goes with so many things. My favorite drinks of the evening were the Last Word, the improved Headless Horseman and LP's untitled drink. Stay tuned!

2010-10-31T21:20:00.000-07:00

The Shake of the Lamb's Tail

‘Well folks, we might have a nuissancy type bump now and again... and then again. But, we’ll have you there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. That's the bad and the good...’

Did the pilot really just say that?

And the woman in front of me nearly just crushed my laptop screen (and my knee caps) reclining her seat . Not to the mention the guy sharing my row can’t sit still. Arm rest up. Arm rest down... Tray table up, tray table. Sweatshirt on, sweatshirt off...

I hate flying, and I’ve had a really rotten day.

So, when the pilot says, let us know if there is anything we can do to make your flight more enjoyable, I want to stand up and shout, ‘ You can get me a damn cocktail! That’s what you can do!’

But of course, they don’t really mean that, you know. When they say let us know if there is anything we can do, they really mean, ‘I have to say this for good PR, but we just want you to sit there and be quiet and not cause any trouble or do anything crazy like demand a cocktail immediately.

Which of course would make me sound like the lush I am. I used to think people who drank on planes had alcoholic tendencies. Ha!

But these are circumstances.

And the drink cart is way up there, and I am seated in the back.

Of course, by the time this is published I will be on the ground... one drink down. The moment will have passed. And, you might wonder where are the chili recipes, and what about those fabulous cocktails? You might say, you can’t just post photos of your goofy jack-o-lantern and leave us hanging.

And, you are correct. But tonight, you will have to cut me some slack. Because I am on a plane behind a rude woman, next to a twitchy guy. And because it’s Halloween, my favorite holiday, and I have had a rotten day.

So, now my friends, I will leave you to sip my vodka soda.

I am putting the head phones on, selecting the podcast of 'Wait, Wait... Don’t Tell Me' from yesterday and closing my eyes. Because I just can’t take it any more. All I can do is sit and wait for that little lamb to shake its tail a time or two... now and again.

2010-10-17T17:16:00.001-07:00

Cabbage Head

I think I can feel it happening, readers. I'm slowly transforming, cell by cell, bit by bit, from a keyboard wielding digital girl gastronomer into a head of cabbage.

I thought it best that I quickly write this week's blog entry before the full transformation occurs. After all, one can hardly type with hands made of overlapping leaves.

It all began on Monday. I stopped at the green market in Union Square on the way home from work. It was the end of another unseasonably warm day. The greens were mostly done for, but I picked up a head of red cabbage and a beautiful and fresh bunch of cauliflower, one of fall's green-market delights.

And, I committed myself to eating the entire head of cabbage plus the cauliflower before either went bad in the refrigerator.

I've started this new policy, you see. No more Saturdays will roll around only to find me cleaning out those damn crisper drawers once again because I've let all kinds of lovely vegetables wither and decay, or grow positively slimy or hairy with mold. No more hoary beets, flaccid carrots or wrinkled greens. The guilt that goes with throwing out what would otherwise have been perfectly edible food... well for an ex-Catholic, it's fierce, even if cliche.

So, I've decided. If I buy it, I have to consume it. I went home on Monday and made a rough slaw with cabbage, tomatoes and a green pepper. It wasn't so great, but it worked all right with the whole wheat bread topped with mushrooms and a bit of cheese (also from the market).

Okay, I thought. That's a start. But a small one, indeed. Three-quarters plus of that head of cabbage remained. By Wednesday I was still eating it. I walked through the farmer's market again but forbid myself to buy any of the new and tempting greens. I must finish the cabbage!

By Friday I had finished several more helpings of slaw in different variations, one with black beans, salsa and feta, which wasn't so bad. By Saturday night, though, I still had a little less than half a cabbage. I couldn't stand to eat another bite raw.

I chopped it up and sauteed it with onion, garlic, leftover black beans and vegetarian chorizo. With corn tortillas, chips and salsa, it was quite tasty. I had leftovers for lunch today, and tomorrow I will finish it off.

And it will be a very long time before I buy another head of cabbage. Particularly since I had pork chops and sauerkraut for dinner. Whatever possessed me to buy fresh sauerkraut at the Easter European market in my neighborhood after eating all that cabbage, I will never know.

But I did, and so tonight I had more cabbage!

And after dinner, I ate roasted cauliflower, which was meant for tomorrow. (It smelled so good!)

And do you know what family cauliflower is in?

The cabbage family!

So, if I suddenly disappear and you come to my apartment to find me, it's quite possible you will only discover a head of cabbage, sitting by my laptop on my futon sofa.

Okay, yes I admit, it's a little far-fetched. But I remain committed (or commitable). Tomorrow, new greens and root veggies and a fantastic variety of things await me at the green market. I will buy small and avoid those hearty never-ending heads of cabbage.

Stay tuned. If I don't turn into a head of cabbage, a whole new entry is coming your way!

2010-10-10T19:30:00.000-07:00

Friends Don't Get Married Every Day

Boy howdy, ladies and g's, here I sit only one week after my oxygen-deprived trip to beautiful Telluride eating butter-like truffles from the wedding welcome bag and less decadent chocolate covered almonds from the au bon pain at LGA... both paired with a nice spicy, earthy tempranillo from some nether-region of Spain.

This late-night snacking (hummus and blue corn chips preceded the chocolate) is probably why my pants are tight (although that cute gap jacket does indeed look tiny when not being worn).

I sip the wine and contemplate...

two weddings in just over two months... during one, I had a newly broken but undiagnosed foot. I spent the weekend on anti-inflammatories, unnecessarily. I only bring this up because it impeded my ability to drink and be merry. (Though, of course, all that wonderful French champagne inspired me to take a breather from the meds for the day of the actual nuptials.)

The other wedding... well I arrived at the bride's digs in Telluride on Friday night and the next morning needed medical attention at the ER. I am a terrible wedding guest. Maybe worse than your crazy uncle or your nutty Aunt Betty! And, again, I had to abstain from my lush-like ways for most of the weekend.

Thank Dionysus most of my friends are now married. Who knows what bodily harm awaits me at the next wedding I am to be a guest at? And to be forced to be prudent at a wedding reception! That is the worst of all, my friends! Is it not better to drink a little too much, dance a few hours and take a nice Texan boy to the hotel with you than to abstain and retire early to hook yourself up to the oxygen machine?!?

I ask you readers! After all, friends don't get married every day.

Ah well. C'est la vie.

I will have to be content, back at sea level, without festivities, but with tasty chocolates and spicy wine.

Stay tuned... and, oh yeah, where are your fall cocktail recipes?!?! I'm beginning to think you aren't out there, my friends!

And by the way, I've been checking out the wine/liquor venues in Park Slope and have decided that unless I'm desperate for wine and have taken the R train home, the lecture is not worth the trip to Adam's wines. All I did was say, I don't need a bag... that small remark led to a drawn out speech about how big trucks are killing the environment in America, but oooh back in Europe the big trucks have tiny engines that run on propane. This may all be true, but I was shopping for wine... clearly, a signal that I needed relaxation and possibly a little escapism! Not a reminder about the poor state of our lovely Earth.

2010-10-02T20:02:00.000-07:00

NYC - Sea Level; Telluride - 8,750 Feet

I am sitting in a bed and breakfast in gorgeous Telluride, Colorado. I am surrounded by mountains, and the stars--hidden in NY by lights and pollution--are sparkling in the dark blackness above. The night is mostly quiet with nary a car wandering the dark roads. The crickets are chirping soft and steady, and the oxygen machine is thrumming like an iron lung.

Ha, not what you expected? Tonight I am enjoying the clean crisp taste of good ole O2 through the nostrils instead of sampling the drinks and food in Telluride. Oh, I feel like an old lady, yes, but they tell me it's not that uncommon.

I am here for A and M's wedding. I arrived last night with a terrible headache, but just in time to catch the second half of the pub crawl. I did not, however, drink a drop of alcohol. I didn't even want to, so, you know how much my head hurt.

By 6:30 this morning, the oxygen deprived tides were tossing me about like a wayward sardine. And, I was tossing a few things myself. A. and her mom came to my rescue, and before I knew it, I was in the ER being seen by one of Telluride's altitude specialists and a super sweet ER nurse. She even layered me up with heated blankets. With the handsome doc, the sweet nurse and A's kind sister taking good care of me, I had little to complain about.

A saline drip, several anti-nausea medications, a shot of a steroid to reduce the swelling in my brain and some nifty pills, and I'm almost back to normal. They insisted I take the oxygen with me, so here I am in my hotel room inhaling oxygen, one of the body's key nutrients.

And all of this makes me wonder... will I better enough to have a glass of champagne tomorrow at the wedding? One can only hope.

In other news this week. A new tiki spot called the Hurricane Club opened on Park Avenue. Thursday night, I met CME and friends to taste the drinks and sample the food.

The entrance to the Hurricane Club is clever as you can't see through the screened revolving doors. After a few disorienting seconds you are spilled out into a dark hallway in front of set of large double doors. The space is huge and long curtained lights hang above angled mirrors over a large bar in the center of the room, but as CME said, it's like walking into another time when you step into the large dark space... at least until it fills up with young present-day New Yorkers and the club music starts playing.

There is still some refinement needed to the mixology at Hurricane Club... I couldn't pick out the cardamom that was supposed to be in a bourbon and apricot mix. The second cocktail that arrived at the table for me was not what I had ordered. The waiters and bartenders seem to still be learning the menu. It's no wonder since all the cocktails are numbered rather than named. I can appreciate this, as someone who struggles more with writing titles than with content. But, numbers don't have enough personality to help remember what's in a drink.

Once corrected, my second beverage was delicious, spiced with the deep earthiness of cinnamon. CME had a deliciously creamy pineapple drink, and one of her colleagues was the only one to try a frozen concoction that was a true star... delicious and lovely to look at.

The food was hit or miss, and a bit on the greasy side. Our picks were the beet and goat cheese canoli and the duck sandwiches.

I'm sure you won't read anything about this club without hearing of the shoe shine man and the rum 'fountain' near the bathroom. The shoe shiner is very charismatic, and he is also in charge of the rum fountain, which is really more of a sink. Each night you can buy a small bottle of a different kind of rum for $4. I love it. It's like a penny squisher machine for lushes. If only every bar had one!

That's it ladies and g's. I'm tired and need my oxygenated beauty rest before tomorrow! Stay tuned!

(P.S. - Family, if you are reading this, I'm okay! Really, already feeling much better!)

2010-09-26T17:35:00.000-07:00

Mmmm.... Maple Liqueur

Fall is upon us! And, once again, ladies and g's, I missed the equinox. But, never fear. To make up for it, I am this very evening, trying to motivate my very tired, stressed out brain into concocting some new fall cocktails. And, I would like your help.

Yes, that's right.

Time to step up and use the comments section.

I want your cocktail recipes. And, if you don't have any, consider this a challenge. I throw down the lush's gauntlet!

Get out your bourbon, your scotch, your gin, your tequila and/or any variety of gut-warming liqueurs. Pull out the chiles, the nutmeg, the anise, the cinnamon, the apples and pears. And bring forth, glorious fall drinks!

I have already begun working on mine, and expect you to do the same. For example, I am sipping a cocktail of one ounce of Corner Creek Reserve Bourbon Whiskey, a half ounce of Sapling Vermont Maple Liqueur and a dash of chocolate bitters. Upon first sip, I knew I hadn't quite hit the right proportion. My technique was also sloppy, due to my lackadaisical state this evening.

But as I sat here typing my challenge to you, the ice cube melted and it's rather better if a bit watery. No worries, I'll get it right. The nice gentleman at Slope Cellars did tell me the Corner Creek bourbon is 'rustic' and best with a few drops of water or mixed such as in a Manhattan. I think another bourbon might be better for this particular cocktail.

But oh, the maple liqueur is such fun. So tasty, so wonderfully dessert like! I would say velvety but really what does that mean!? I have CME to thank for that bottle. She was kind enough to bring me a souvenir from the Vermont cheese festival.

I'm going to leave you, ladies and g's, before I either geek out completely or this blog becomes boring. Perhaps those are one and the same. The problem with mixology is that you can only try so many drinks in one evening unless you want to waste the good liquor you used in the mixing, which is not an option here! This is particularly so if you have already enjoyed a wonderful Shiraz with dinner.

So, send me some of your favorite fall drink recipes! And if you all fail to comment I have no choice but to assume no one is out there. And that would be just be sad.

Stay tuned!

2010-09-19T15:44:00.000-07:00

Pumpkin Pie and Potica

Last Sunday evening was melancholy, but this Sunday evening is all about focusing on positive thoughts. I don't mean to go all Jack Handey on you, readers, but sometimes it just has to be done. And as I sit sipping a nice earthy, spicy Carmenere from Chile, I'm thinking about all the love and comfort that can be conveyed with food, not necessarily through taste, but through intention.

When I was growing up, my mom prepared dinner every night for our family (three kids, my dad and herself). The only exception was Saturday night when we went to evening mass and picked up takeout on the way home. Often, my father would call in the order before we went to church so the chicken dinners or Italian beef sandwiches would be waiting or us on the way home. At a stop along the way, we might get gas, pick up a gallon of milk, the Sunday paper or a small box or two of ice cream at Walgreen's.

It wasn't until I grew up that I understood having someone prepare food for you with thought and intention is a gift. And it's funny how some of those meals, or dishes, or holidays linger in your thoughts and bubble up to the surface occasionally creating a wash of gratitude or warmth or some other positive emotion.

Pumpkin pie makes me smile. I think about the time my mom forgot to put sugar in a homemade pumpkin pie and it reminds of my own flightiness. In fact, I left my suitcase on the step outside my apartment last night after returning home from the airport. Oops.

This savory/sweet dessert also reminds me of Kitty, the white feline who was 'my cat' and close confidant. Kitty left his nose (or paw) print in the center of one holiday pie or other, causing mom to make sure fresh pies were far from cat paws moving forward.

For some reason, popcorn balls make me remember the neighbor down the street who made them every year for Halloween and the Thanksgiving when my aunt, my mom and my grandmother got a little tipsy. That was an unusual happening.

Poached eggs remind me of the time my mom made a poached egg in the center of a piece of toast for me when I was recovering from some childhood illness. I always thought I didn't like poached eggs, but I think it was only that I was still feeling sick. They tie over-easy eggs now as my favorite. And over-easy reminds me of my grandmother who had a knack for keeping the centers perfectly runny. She served them with Pepperidge Farms toast and real butter (a true treat when margarine was the standard).

Fried chicken - I've had different versions, but moms is the best. She crushes up saltines in a plastic bag with a rolling pin for the crust. The pieces are dredged, crusted and browned in a saute pan before being baked. The standard side used to be instant mashed potatoes (do they still make those?) and frozen peas or corn.

Potica (poe-TEEZ-a) is a Slovenian specialty. Much of my moms family was Slovenian, and you can see the Eastern European features in the old black-and-white photos. They were hard workers. My mother's great grandmother had a house in Joliet, Illinois with a small farm. They would smoke meats and preserve vegetables and keep things like onions in the attic of the old house. The house is still there, but the farm is gone.

Every year before Christmas, my mom gets out the old school, hand-cranked meat grinder, not to grind meat but walnuts. She attaches it to a stair on the basement steps or the counter lip or whatever seems convenient and puts a bowl underneath it. The walnuts go in whole and come out minced.

Potica is a type of semi-sweet bread. The walnuts are mixed with other good things and spread over a huge piece of dough that is rolled and baked. The same filling is also used to make nut rolls, small cookie-type goodies where a square piece of dough is folded from two corners to the middle over the filling.

A lot of love and tradition goes into that potica every year. Food has history and provenance, and I am one fortunate gastronomer to come from folks who were not necessarily foodies, but hospitable and giving. You couldn't walk into my grandmother's house without being offered a beverage or a snack. My great grandmother, although a bit crazy, served ham sandwiches at every visit (whether you were hungry or not, so you better be hungry). My mom always makes sure guests are offered something and makes them feel at home to help themselves thereafter.

When one year, I requested the potica recipe from my mom, she said, I thought you would never ask. I suppose I assumed she would always make it for us. That was the year in my mid-twenties I didn't go back to Illinois for Christmas. I have that recipe filed away, but I much prefer to have her make it for me with love and intention than to make it myself all these miles away.

My mom was young once too, of course, and she asked her grandmother for the recipe for potica. Her grandmother purposely left out an ingredient so it wouldn't be the same as hers. Fortunately for me, I received the full recipe.

Stay tuned, ladies and g's. And send some positive thoughts to Illinois where they are needed and welcome.

2010-09-12T18:06:00.000-07:00

A Melancholy Cocktail

Well, my friends, some Sunday nights seem to be made for melancholy. There is nothing for it but a cocktail, unless of course you have a prescription for something or other. I prefer the self-concocted, or rather stirred and served on the rocks type of treatment. I suppose some refer to that as self-medicated. (Such an ugly term!)

This evening, I tried mixing maraschino liqueur with organic vodka. All I can say is "blech."

Melancholy requires tasty and well balanced and perhaps just a little indulgent, but not in a drown-the-sorrows manner. Melancholy is subtle. Any drink meant to ease such a soft-footed emotion must not be too forward.

Let's consider a few standby's for a moment shall we?

Bourbon on the rocks - a good choice for almost any time. But, it seems a little wintry, unless you add mint, which is too summery for a rainy September evening. And, I'm out anyway, except for the bottle of Pappy, and that old man only comes off the shelf for special occasions... Sunday melancholy is not such an occasion.

Gin martini - my usual martini is with olives (when available stuffed with blue cheese), a fresh-tasting gin, a drop of or two of vermouth and a dribble of olive juice. Too salty for the likes of melancholy... much better for sassy or brassy or classically catty.

Vodka mixed drink - on it's own too much of a lush's drink (I should know), and well, I don't like many mixers. Thus the maraschino debacle. I'm out of Canton... that may have been the perfectly sad drink, vodka and canton though probably it would have been just a little too spicy to be appropriately blue.

Rum something - too tropical, too sugary, and not much my style unless there is Tiki which is just way too cheery for a night like this.

Vermouth or Liqueur - too sweet for a sad soul...

So, where did I land?

Old Tom gin with a splash of Carpano Antica sweet vermouth and a dash of chocolate bitters. Stirred and served on the rocks in a vintage champagne glass.

It is perfect for a bout of melancholy. In fact, I might have to make another.

And so, my friends, I leave you. I hope you are having a fine Sunday evening. And if not, well head to the liquor cabinet, and if it's dry, swing on by. There's always something to be had at my place.

Stay tuned!

2010-09-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

Salmon, Greyhounds and Aged Gin

Happy Labor Day, my friends. I know several of you who are working today. So very American, just like the holiday! Ironic, yes, but since this is a blog about food and drink, I'll stay on topic, and share some news that is as equally horrible as having to work on a holiday.

GES

Genetically engineered salmon.

Before I do something that will get me in trouble (or might if I had a larger readership), everything I am about to say is just my opinion. It is what I think and nothing more.

Okay, then.

Consider this headline from the Business Day section of the Saturday New York Times: Modified Salmon Is Safe, F.D.A. Says.

The headline gave me the heebie-jeebies, enough so that I might consider being a GES for Halloween because a genetically modified animal becoming part of the U.S. food stream is scarier than the monster that lived in my closet when I was kid, or, if you prefer a more contemporary analogy, scarier than a Glenn-Beck devotee.

The article itself increased my discomfort. The FDA will meet 9/19-21 to discuss this GES which is "intended to be used as food."

Intended? We all know what paves the road to hell, now don't we? (And you know I mean hell in a metaphoric sense. I only feel the need to point this out seeing as how our current times are riddled with folks who actually still believe in that fiery pit of despair. Really! And they do things like hold inappropriately scheduled rallies in DC!)

Anyway, back to the GES. The company is AquaBounty Technologies and the product is AquAdvantage Salmon. The fish would be the first GE animal available for 'human consumption.'

Oh, Aquaman where are you when you are needed most!? Well, there is a coalition opposing the fish which, with a dash of genes from one species and a pinch of DNA from another, grows much faster than the natural version. (Take a look at the photo in the NYT's article.)

The key day of the FDA meetings will be the last when they discuss labeling of this potential intended food product. 'The public' will be able to comment. Let's hope members of the coalition can make a sound case for clear labeling of GES.

Fortunately, my long weekend was not all consumed with worries about GE foods. I had a delightful and gastronomically rich Sunday, which is why this week's blog is a day late.

AQ hosted a ladies brunch with several delicious courses. The meal started with a seasonal and colorful salad of beets and beet greens and a dish of white beans with red onion and feta cheese. Two quiches followed, one with Emmentaler and onion and one with feta. Heavy cream and buttery crusts! Dessert was a sweet and delicious cobbler with pears and plums topped with cream that AQ whipped on the spot in her 1950's dress with a vintage teal mixer.

Of course, no ladies lunch is complete without beverages. We began with a variation of the Greyhound, a mix of vodka, grapefruit juice, fresh mint and seltzer served in wonderful retro gold painted glasses. The Greyhounds were followed by mini martinis in delicate etched glasses. And, we finished the meal with rich coffee in antique porcelain tea cups.

The meal, the drinks, the food, the glassware and the company all lovely!

In the evening, LP made me two versions of a martini: one with Citadelle Reserve Gin and one with Hendricks. Both also had Noilly Prat dry vermouth, celery bitters and an olive stuffed with Gorgonzola.

Citadelle Reserve is a French gin aged in oak casks, not a usual practice for gin. It had a flavor that was much more complex than Hendricks. We both preferred this cocktail with the Citadelle Reserve. The cucumber in the Hendricks and the lighter overall flavor of the gin, made the celery bitters too present. The more complex gin balanced the celery flavor.

It was a superb martini... perhaps we shall call it the LP martini like the LP negroni. She has a definite knack for mixology.

LP then made a pizza inspired by a visit to a Todd English restaurant in Boston. Her homemade whole-wheat crust was topped with fig jam, Gorgonzola, prosciutto and arugula. Delicious and fortifying after several hours of shopping!

There you have it, ladies and g's. A random post I know. What do you think... is it better to split things up into more than one post in the week when the topics are so randomly mixed?

Let me know! And stay tuned!

2010-08-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

Blue Crab and Cornhole

'Do you eat crab?' CME asked. Her co-host DME had just headed down to the back yard with one of two huge trays of steamed blue crabs.

The short answer is yes, but shellfish is a new tentative gastronomic category for me.

Growing up in the Midwest didn't present much opportunity to try a range of seafood. Sure, we had fish Fridays, but those dinners were mostly fresh water fishes fried to crispy goodness. When I was seven, I overdid the tartar sauce with a fish meal while on vacation at my grandparent's house in Colorado Springs. I can still remember standing in the family room of their home in my yellow Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, color draining from my face as my mom asked me if I was going to be sick. Although the fish wasn't to blame, I spent a long time after that avoiding any type of food that once lived in the water.

But times moves on, and palates grow up and forget small traumas.

Since I wasn't the only novice at the table last night, CME gave us a tutorial. Crab is not a food you can just bite into like a cheeseburger. You've got to work for every tasty nibble hidden in that shell. (CME explained that blue crabs are smaller than other varieties. It takes a bit more knuckle grease to make a meal out of them.)

I liked the process. There was a certain slow rhythm to it that matched my current pace quite well. Sitting there, patiently cracking, carefully picking out the flesh, plucking off bits of cartilage and dipping the meat into a mix of melted butter, lemon and Old Bay seasoning... It was similar to moving through a speedy metropolis with a fractured foot... so slow and careful that the smallest accomplishment seems like victory.

However, prying apart crabs was more zen and less anger-inducing than maneuvering through New York with an injury. The company was much better than strangers on the street as well.

Conversation was animated, and there was much discussion about how the crabs were cooked (steamed live) and prepared for eating (cleaned laboriously by DME).

How do I feel about eating a crustacean that was cooked live?

Well, I'm not sure.

Superficial research first revealed that crustaceans have nervous systems that are too simple to feel pain. I sighed with relief. Then I read about a study from scientists at Queens University in Belfast that was published and made the news in March of 2009. The study indicated crabs and other crustaceans like lobsters are able to feel pain, but more research is needed. You can read about the study on Discovery News. There was nothing more recent that I could see. So, we await more research.

The meal last night was superb, and the company was delicious. The crab was served with corn on the cob and guacamole and chips. Wine and beer was plentiful. And, there was recreation in the form of Cornhole. Not sure what Cornhole is? Believe it or not there is an American Cornhole Association with a website where you can find out more. (They even have a mission!)

There you have it, ladies and g's. Adventures in crab eating. Now shrimp, that's different. I'm not sure I'll ever really get into shrimp. They just look too much like bugs.

Stay tuned! (And forgive any typos!) And thanks to CME and DME not only for throwing a great party but for coming over today in the wake of hangover to assemble my new kitchen island from IKEA. Nothing like a round of virgin Bloody Mary's for us old folks in need of a little recovery.

And my favorite conversational bit last night was this:

'I average about two glasses of wine a night... is that bad?' (me)

'No, I think it shows restraint...' (AQ)

In good company, indeed.

2010-08-22T12:58:00.000-07:00

Poached Eggs and Pisco Sours

Hmmm.... well, readers, it's a rainy Sunday here in the maddening, neurotic apple. Not just a summer shower dispelling the heat, but a day long deluge with nary a break in the clouds. Car tires on rainy streets outside the front door and the tinny pattering of rain out the back are dangerously close to lulling me in that strange city way into my second nap of the day.

But there is a blog to be written as much as I would like to slip out of conscious realty for an hour or so this drippy Sunday afternoon.

If it wasn't so wet, I might have wandered (ever so slowly with the old fractured foot) down the street for brunch. There is nothing better than perfectly poached eggs with oozing golden yolks served atop an English muffin or alongside tasty, crispy homefries and some kind of salty pork.

Yum.

Or, perhaps being so late in the afternoon and not much of a day to be in the park, I could be at the neighborhood bar enjoying some refreshing cocktail topped delicately with the delightful frothiness of whipped egg whites.

Oh, but wait.

Hundreds of millions of eggs were recalled this week because of potential links to outbreaks of salmonella. Oh sure, one assumes everyone has already checked for and discarded the recalled eggs, but it makes you think twice, doesn't it?

If you haven't read any of the press yet about the recall, you may want to give one of these articles a gander: Egg Recall Expanded after Salmonella Outbreak in the New York Times and Egg Recall: Supplier Jack DeCoster Has History of Health, Safety Violations on Huffington Post.

In this blogger's unprofessional opinion, the industry that produced these eggs is extremely distasteful and the lack of true regulation that allows such nasty violations against human health and welfare is beyond unsavory.

What are we to do, ladies and gs?

Going without poached eggs and pisco sours is not an option.

Knowing where your food is coming from is a big start. Would you buy eggs from the grocery store if you had known they had such an unappealing history?

Probably not.

But the people who bought those eggs didn't think to find out about where the eggs came from. And who can blame them? We weren't conditioned for it growing up. But now we have more and more information coming at us all the time: Omnivores Dilemma by Michael Pollan, Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser, and Food Inc. by Robert Kenner to name a few.

And, yes, anyway one of these will overwhelm you and make you wish you hadn't read it or watched it, or may inspire you to become a vegetarian until you really just have to have that cheeseburger. But it all starts with a few simple choices.

And, you can decide to understand where your food is coming from and whose hands, grubby or not, are sending it to your mouth.

We've got a lot of work to do, myself included. I ordered groceries for delivery earlier this week (first time ever due to this silly fractured foot). I'm sure some of my produce came from far away, but I didn't ask. When I eat out, I never ask about where the food comes from. I'm too afraid my list of places to eat in this wonderful gastronomic metropolis will become small and expensive.

But eggs that I buy myself, well that's easy. I can ask any one of the many egg sellers at the green market about how they care for their chickens. And many have websites where I can read about them. And with so many local options why would I want eggs distributed through national wholesalers?

Eggsactly.

Stay tuned!

2010-08-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Dirty Rum on Fire

Well, actually, the rum itself wasn't on fire. The bar was on fire. The six of us--one bachelorette reluctant to wear her bling-bling blinking tiara and her tipsy raucous escorts--were chasing blue flame around the steel bar counter with spears of tiny marshmallows. The flame was ineffective at its purpose, but when the fire goes out at Zombie Hut on Smith Street in Brooklyn, you have to drink, whether your marshmallows are properly toasted or not.

All six of us plus a few strangers popped the lukewarm, still virgin-white puffs into our mouths, bit into a slice of sugared lemon and downed the shots of rum plus who knows what from ceramic tiki-faced shooters.

We then ordered a round of drinks: two Bahama mamas, one suffering bastard, one frozen zombie and two of something I can't recall. The drinks arrived in plain glassware with festive plastic dragon stir-sticks. One sip and we all grimaced. Bad mixology. The horror!

I had ordered the suffering bastard because I so enjoyed the one I had at Painkiller a few weeks back with VS. (See Poor Suffering Bastard) And, since my fractured foot was achy and making me an impossibly slow bar hopper, it seemed appropriate. I mean really, a bum foot can really cramp the style of a lushtastic digital girl urban gastronomer trying to live it up for her bachelorette friend A.

After that first sip I was suffering indeed. It had to be the worst concoction of cheap liquor and nasty mixers I have ever been served in a bar. I knew the $8 price tag was too low for a quality beverage, but I thought perhaps they pinched on the barware and decor to keep the drink prices down. Most of the girls powered at least part way through their cheap alcohol and sugary fruit juices, but I couldn't do it. I ordered a Maker's on the rocks, which was more expensive than the abomination of a tiki drink I had just been served.

The fire was fun, and perfect for a crazy bachelorette moment, but the overall mixology was horrendous. Go to Zombie Hut for the fire, should the evening call for such festivities, and then head up the street to Clover Club for a true, quality cocktail experience.

Our evening had started well before Zombie Hut with cocktails, dinner and wine at Buttermilk Channel on Court Street. I began with the Bee's Knees, a lovely mix of Beefeater gin, honey and lemon. So simple and summery and delicious! This was followed by glass of white that the waitress had called crisp, but that I would call fruity. It was a nice match for the scallops and rhubarb, though, so it all worked out.

At the Zombie Hut things went wacky with the random rum shot followed by my safe Makers. I skipped the round of tequila shots ordered by a personable fellow for us girls, but even so, my palate was confused and my equilibrium askew by the time we made it to Clover Club.

And, so it was that I found myself telling the waitress I didn't know what to order. She was very polite, and suggested I go with the Bourbon Smash over one of the Juleps.

It was the right thing to do. Muddled lemon and mint with bourbon and the slightest touch of sugar, served on the rocks. Delicious! Refreshing! It made the ride home painless and this morning not so bad.

There you have it, ladies and g's. The best and worst of Smith Street... in one night. More on Clover Club to come, as I'm sure I'll be back in the near future! It will take another trip to appropriately write it up. Unless you'd like to hear about the one-woman butterfly mating performance dance or the palate mix-up between duck fat and truffle oil or the falling asleep of one of our party in the booth.

Nah, you don't want to know about any of that. Stay tuned!

2010-08-08T14:22:00.000-07:00

Irksome August Asparagus

This past Wednesday, I ordered lunch from one of my favorite vegetarian restaurants: Gobo. I don't order delivery often, preferring instead to go for a short walk and enjoy a little air even when it's busy in the office. Unfortunately, a stress fracture in my right foot is limiting my mobility.

I opened the container from Gobo with that certain anticipatory glee that comes just before savoring a meal from a favorite restaurant. Hmmm.... cauliflower, bean curd, asparagus.

Wait a minute. Asparagus?

Asparagus is completely out of season in NY. Well, sure Gobo doesn't claim to use local ingredients, but why would anyone use asparagus, most likely from California, in August when there is an abundance of wonderful fresh green vegetables to be had right here in New York?

Zucchini would have been a much better and more flavorful choice. Because, I'm sorry, but I don't think asparagus tastes good after it's spent several days on a truck. I love asparagus, and sadly it's seasonal window is very short. A few weeks in the spring... that's all us northeastern folks get to enjoy those wonderful green spears of goodness.

I found that asparagus really irksome... perhaps because I had experienced two fantastic local meals in the past two weeks...

The first stop on the Murray's Cheese Wheycation that CME and I embarked on was the Farmer's Diner in Middlebury Vermont (one of two locations run by Tod Murphy and Denise Perras). Their goal is to spend at least 75 cents out of every food dollar with farmers and small scale food producers within 70 miles of the diner. The day we were at the Middlebury location, they were up to 83 cents.

Our dining experience began with a wonderful raspberry lemonade sangria made with a Merlot from Vermont's Boyden Valley Winery. Two starters followed: a gazpacho with tomatoes from Long Wind Farm and a potato cake topped with a tomato basil vodka sauce. The gazpacho was fantastic. I'm not normally a fan of what often seems like salsa without the chips, but the chunky style, flavorful garlic, refreshing cucumber and hint of red wine made this dish a great start. The potato cake was delicious as well, but rather heavy with cream and butter.

The main course was a gigantic sandwich of sourdough bread with carrots and other vegetables inside. It had been dipped and cooked in Cristo batter and was covered in a generous amount of Cabot cheese. A kebab of bacon, smoked ham and maple-cured sausage was served on the side.

This course was followed by not one, but two full-size desserts: baklava and a house-made Oreo-like cookie with frozen berries and whipped cream.

I only ate half of everything except the gazpacho, and I thought I was going to explode... for several hours. My only complaint is that there was just too much food. (Another pet peeve of mine is the over-sizing of portions prevalent in U.S. restaurants...)

While we ate, Steve Getz from Dancing Cow Farm told us what life is like as a dairy farmer and cheese maker. He also talked about how difficult it is to buy a farm and make a living at it, thereby dashing my romantic notions of not getting back on the bus to NY, but staying in Vermont to farm and make cheese. One of the many fascinating things he told us was that he and his wife can taste a difference in the cheese based on which pasture the cows have been feeding on. It's all connected!

We also heard from a representative of Champlain Valley Apiaries who told us similar things about the flowers bees are pollinating creating different flavors in the honey. Founded in 1931, Champlain Valley has more than 1200 hives in the northern half of Vermont. CME and I both purchased a jar of the naturally crystallized (raw) honey.

Stuffed and sweetened, we headed back onto the giant, over-chilled bus to the creamery, which I wrote about last week.

The second local meal I had recently was the feast laid out in celebration of V. and J.'s nuptials in LA. Large Marge (who is not large at all) catered a meal of local, organic ingredients delicious enough to please vegetarians and pescatarians alike. If you are looking for a caterer in LA her company is called Large Marge Sustainables.

I might be less irked by asparagus in the winter, but in August, when there is an edible abundance so close, it seems ludicrous. And really, my opinion is that it just doesn't taste good.

Well, I've prattled on at length this fine Sunday evening. Stay tuned! I hope you enjoyed the first blog from Brooklyn!

2010-08-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

Whey Tasty

'You can make a really fine cheese with pasteurized milk.' Allison Hooper, co-founder Vermont Creamery

When Allison Hooper and Bob Reese from Vermont Creamery told a story about stopping to buy a butter churn that was sitting on the roadside back in the 80's, I pictured a small old wooden barrel with a stick coming out of the top. When I saw the giant metal vat they used to first start producing their European-style cultured butter, my romantic delusions of butter and cheese making were quickly replaced by the more scientific realty.

The butter room was not a quaint farmstead shed. The churn was not set into to motion by the turning of a pretty milkmaid or a handsome farmhand, but by an on-off switch. And, cheese making it seems is more biotechnical than I ever would have guessed.

When we first arrived at Vermont Creamery, we were treated to a buffet of crème fraîche, butter, various cheeses, plums and crackers. This came only an hour and a half after a fabulous multi-course feast at Farmer's Diner in Middlebury (details to come next week). As stuffed as CME and I still were, we had a small taste of everything on the buffet while we listened to Allison and Bob talk about the creamery's history.

We were in Vermont as part of a group of 30 people participating in a 'wheycation' offered by the West Village specialty shop Murray's Cheese. The Vermont Creamery specializes in creating artisanal cheeses, butter and crème fraîche. Someone in the group asked the question that was on many a mind: 'What exactly is crème fraîche anyway?' It is a rich cultured cream. The buffet also included fromage blanc, a new taste for my tongue. Fromage blanc is a French-style fat free cheese that is similar in consistency to yogurt.

Out of the buffet offerings, I most enjoyed the aged goat cheeses: bijou, bonne bouche and coupole. The bonne bouche is not only fun to pronounce, it was the most flavorful of the three. The cheese is ripened with the ash of poplar trees. Isn't it just wild that the ash from a particular tree can impart such a wonderful flavor into cultured milk from a goat? And who was the first person to think about using ash in cheese making?

If you're interested in learning more about different types of cheese, you can visit the Retailer/Press Resources page on the Vermont Creamery website. It contains recipe cards with information about and a recipe for each cheese. You can also read about the cultured butter, which because it begins with cultured cream, has a higher fat content than the standard butter sold in the U.S.

Before entering the creamery, we were asked to don white lab coats, hair caps and blue plastic shoe coverings. We stepped into and out of a shallow shoe bath as we entered the rooms where the cheese is dried and aged. The pungent smell of cheese mingled in my nose with a lingering chemical scent, perhaps from whatever is used to keep the surfaces in the rooms spotless.

After the aging and drying rooms, we saw huge containers where the curd is separated from the whey (which now makes me wonder, why was Miss Muffet eating both the curds and the whey?).

CME decked out in the creamery

And the butter... well, in addition to the first clunker of an industrial churn, the creamery had a custom-made high tech churn from France with an adjustable setting for the fat percentage. Fancy and neat!

As Allison led our tour from room to room, I began to understand cheese making is a complex process that requires an intricate balancing of micro-organisms. The wrong tiny bacteria or fungi can create a very large problem. In fact, an errant yeast in the curds and whey room (I'm sure it has a more technical name) ruined an entire batch of cheese. All surfaces in the creamery then had to be tested for the nasty little invader.

The tour was fascinating, but not very appetizing. I was a little relieved to shed the protective clothing and emerge back into the fresh air for more bites of tasty cheese.

Cheese drying with bay leaves

Perhaps most interesting, was the story of the creamery, their 25-year history and their relationship with local farmers. The artisanal techniques employed at the creamery may have developed out of French traditions, but their operation is all Vermont. Their goat and cow's milk comes exclusively from local farms, and they have a relationship with the farmers and the animals. (They even have goat nannies!)

And, although I've made it seem all very technical, it's the passion of Allison and Bob that make the creamery so successful. They have won quite a few accolades for the quality of the cheese and the butter. Allison shared a story about fellow cheese makers in France who could not believe her cheese was made from pasteurized milk, which is just unheard of in that nook of the world.

It was a wonderful visit. If you have an opportunity to visit a creamery, I highly recommend it! In the meantime, eat some cheese and stay tuned!

Next week... local in Vermont and local in LA. And a huge congrats to V. and J., not only on their nuptials but on throwing a great party!

2010-07-17T15:19:00.000-07:00

Homage to Astoria

Here I sit, ladies and g's, typing the last post from Astoria. That's right. It's my last Sunday evening in this nook of the crazy cranny-filled metropolis. As I sip Campari on ice from a plastic glass (the cocktail glasses having been packed), I share with you, a gastronomic homage to Astoria.

Pita Hot How I Love You
The best hummus in New York City and a Jerusalem falafel sandwich that will rock your gastronomic world. And, if they happen to have the lamb sausage and you are in the mood for meat... well then there are no words to describe the crazy delicious flavors that will end up in your pita.

My standby is the Jerusalem falafel sandwich on whole wheat pita. Two falafel spiced with some intricate mystery mixture of goodness and a little bit of everything else vegetarian, including a dolma, hummus, bean salad, sometimes eggplant, hot sauce if you like it, lettuce, tomato... all in a manageable pita package. I often accompany it with an indulgent side of jalapeno potato chips from one of the four bodegas nearby. And a beer.

The men behind the counter are all charming though they clearly learn their lines from the affable owner. 'For here or to stay?' If you are a pretty lady, you will hear this one with most orders, which I must admit, I actually quite enjoy.

And the prices are super reasonable... $5.50 for the Jerusalem falafel and only $3.50 for an order of hummus.

Oh Pita Hot, how I love you. I will miss you, dearly.

Vesta, It's Been a Long Time, but Still I Think of You
South of Crescent Street on 30th Avenue was always a no-man's land of residential buildings and the occasional bodega until Vesta opened on 21st Street. I was so excited... a great, low key wine bar with friendly, welcoming staff. I could sit at the bar and enjoy a great wine alone (sometimes blogging at the same time) or come in with friends for brunch, and the experience was always wonderful.

And the food is delicious. I wrote several times about how much I enjoy the Eggs l' Italiano, but other dishes were equally as flavorful, including the fresh seasonal salads and the thin-crust pizzas.

I have been delinquent in visiting, and this makes me sad. But, with a busy professional life and, well, looking for a new place, I just haven't had much time. I'm sure you haven't missed me, Vesta... you have so many other admirers. But alas, I still think of you and may pop in again even after I have moved.

Titan, A Greek God You May Be
Titan Foods... where do I begin? We've been acquainted since my first apartment in New York City. My first roommate, psycho though he was, introduced me to your aisles. Olives from large vats, eight different kinds of feta, dried fruits and nuts and those little sesame sticks, baklava by the pound and savory spinach pie... oh, and tzatziki... that tart plain yogurt so wonderfully full of garlic and laced with cucumber.

And I bought there, the necklace of evil eyes to protect me from errant spirits of the night.

It's all enough to make a Digital Girl a little teary-eyed. But not enough to make her stay. The stray bug that crawled out of a box of oatmeal directly after I purchased it at a nearby natural market certainly was not an incentive. And, although Petey's Burger made for a great packing dinner, it's not what Time Out NY hyped it up to be. Decent burger but certainly no In 'n Out. And the staff needs a little work on their people skills. The disgusted, 'Yes there's four packets in the bag' in response to the query for ketchup to go was a little off-putting.

So, there you have it. It's time to move! But there are certainly reasons to come back for a visit. Pita Hot, Vesta, Titan... I will miss you all!

Stay tuned! Next weekend I'm off on a wheycation to Vermont with CME hosted by Murray's Cheese!

2010-07-11T16:28:00.000-07:00

Delightfully Fortunate Tasty Goodness

Street-weary, heat-exhausted and thirsty, LP and I sat on stools at Carteles waiting in the small super cute cafe munching tasty guava empanadas. The AC may have been on, but with the door open, there was no cool air to be felt. We melted and waited patiently for Cienfuegos, the upstairs rum-based cocktail hot-spot to open.

It was one of those 100-degree days, and I had tromped all over Brooklyn until meeting LP for a late lunch in Manhattan. We went together to see a small apartment in the East Village. It was yet another building where the garbage was kept in the hall, and there was nowhere to store a bike. Top dollar for a tiny space with no charm and stairs that look like they haven't been mopped in the last decade. We tried thereafter to go to an open house that wasn't open at all. Sigh. Another dead-end lead from the pages of Craig's List.

We were in serious need of a refreshing beverage. I was a little skeptical eyeing the large churning daquiri machine in Carteles. Surely, no quality cocktail could come out that monstrosity. My cynical eye was quelled, however, by the display of interesting, and I assumed, quality rums. New territory for your urban gastronomer.

Cienfuegos is on 6th Street just west of Avenue A. It's new enough that there is nothing yet on the website, but they say it's coming soon. The space LP and I were seated in was pretty with a flavor that was part Caribbean and part Victorian garden. Cream seats and wrought iron accents stood out against the brushed aqua walls. The back room, which I spied on my way to the ladies, has an I-Dream-of-Jeannie pink plushness.

The drinks were as refreshing as a cool breeze next to some large body of water the color of those walls. I ordered the Vesperone, subtitled "Dark and mysterious, Esperanza for evening." The mixture was Ron Zacapa Centenario rum, rye whiskey, green Chartreuse, blackberries, fresh sage, agave, fresh lime juice and champagne. It was a beautiful drink, darkly colored by the sweet-tart summer blackberries. The sage hit the nose more than the palate in the most subtle and wonderful way, and the bubbles from the champagne gave it the slightest lift on the tongue. There was an herbal undertone, again very subtle, presumably from the Chartreuse and sage together.

LP had the Punch (Tuesday) 13. The subtitle stated "In many Spanish-Speaking countries, there is nothing to fear on Friday 13th." This may be so, but lucky for us anyway it was Monday. The delightfully fortunate cocktail contained Smith and Cross Jamaican rum, Leblon Chachaca, yellow Chartreuse, strawberries, fresh pineapple and lime juice and angostura bitters.

And once again, I conclude, I really need to pick up a bottle of Chartreuse. So many possibilities!

As we enjoyed our drinks, we watched a nearby couple ladle punch from a silver bowl on their table into their glasses. This is a neat feature... you can order punches for groups.

There is so much more to be tasted at Cienfuegos. I hope to go back again this summer. I was so wiped out from apartment hunting, I couldn't drink another cocktail, no matter how delicious or refreshing.

Stay tuned, my friends. More cocktails to come! I still haven't signed a lease, but things are looking promising. Send your good-home thoughts my way Tuesday morning! It may be the 13th, but at least it's not Friday!

2010-07-05T18:38:00.000-07:00

Poor Suffering Bastard

Quote of the Week: "I should just stay within the bastard family." ~ Your favorite (or at least most consistent) Urban Gastronomer

I've thought about why the bastard might be suffering. And, I've decided that clearly the bastard was suffering because he was looking for a place to live in the grand, over-priced, ridiculous and insane metropolis of NYC.

I was actually sitting at the bar at Painkiller on Essex Street on Tuesday waiting for VS., trying preemptively to ease some of the discomfort I knew was coming my way later in the week. The Tiki mixologist behind the bar had mixed a drink based on my preference for bourbon and my somewhat new interest in gin. It's only coincidence the name of the drink foreshadowed the state I myself would be in after a long weekend marathon of apartment hunting.

3.5 days, 13 apartments, 5 neighborhoods and so many miles on my birkenstocks that my feet have funny tan lines.

It's better, really, that I didn't know while sipping that glorious drink what insanity the apartment hunt would hold. Ah, the wonderful, boozy mixture of bourbon, gin, ginger syrup, crushed ice, bitters, lime and surely another syrup or two. It was my first Tiki experience. Part of me wishes I was still a Tiki virgin so I could give it up all over again. But alas, my innocence has been pierced by a pink flamingo stir stick and a good cocktail shakin'.

Or, something like that.

The drink, my friends, is one that will grow hair on your chest. But boy was it delicious. And it was served in a tall blue ceramic glass with a neat face on it that looked a little grouchy like a suffering bastard might. There were slices of cucumber, orange and candied ginger as garnish with a sprig of mint on the side.

As it turns out, the bastard progresses from suffering to dying to dead. So naturally, I had to order the dying bastard as my next drink. Add cognac to the above and there you have him. Slightly more complex than the suffering bastard and a little more delicious.

While I stuck with the bastards, VS and CK sipping varied versions of the Zombie, another category of Tiki drinks. The 1956 Zombie featured three kinds of rum and pineapple juice. Despite our better judgment, and the evil eye of the waitress, we ordered one to share as our last drink.

Painkiller is fun though menu lacks any description of what's in the drinks. So, you either have to be in the know with the Tiki culture or rely on one of the super knowledgeable staffers to help you out. Don't worry... they know their drinks! It's best when you go to sit in the back. The bar is chest high and sticks out a good foot. The stools are bolted down so there's no adjusting your seat. It feels a bit like your going to fall over any minute, which could be dangerous after more than one of those crazy concoctions!

As for my apartment hunt, alas I did not discover the home of my dreams or even an acceptable alternative, yet. But I did discover a few new gastronomic items:

Limited Edition Voodoo Gumbo Potato Chips by Zapp's.
(Way cool bag, but really just tasted like salt and vinegar.)

Butternuts Beer and Ale Farmhouse Ales in a Can
(Who knew beer in a can could be so tasty> The Moo Thunder Stout is chocolately delicious!)

And, LP and I went to Cienfuegos, a lovely new spot in the East Village. You will have to wait for next week to hear about that one. Get your rum punch on, my friends. It's the season!

Stay tuned! (And please forgive the typos. My brain is stewing in this 100-degree heat we're having in NYC.)

2010-06-27T16:11:00.000-07:00

Home is Where the Hearth Is
(and All You Need Is a Little Lovage)

'But it's on the top floor of a brownstone in a great area of Brooklyn.'

'I'm staring at a photo of you holding a rolling pin...'

Sigh.

I knew my mom was right.

Plus, it's not like the apartment is cheap, and as Mrs. O had said I haven't seen much... only three places:

A 'garden apartment' in a dumpy building in South Park Slope with missing stairs out the back door, which looks, not upon a garden but at a driveway with a car and a concrete square with a patio table and chairs

A small 'one bedroom' (i.e., two rooms with French doors in the middle) with no closets in an area too close to the borders of Stabbytown for comfort. (BTW, Stabbytown is a handily borrowed phrase from CK via VS!)

A lovely renovated brownstone apartment owned by a great family on a historic block in Fort Greene. I fell in love with the neighborhood, and the apartment is on the top floor (no upstairs noise!). It even had an old bricked in fireplace mantle with a mirror on the wall above (love that!). But there was no real kitchen. The stove, sink and fridge were nestled together like kittens in a snowstorm along one wall. No counter, no space for a drainboard... no cupboards for all the liquor bottles... And, I don't think you could stand at the stove and have someone walk in the front door at the same time.

I know, I know. I am a gastronomer. My mom is right, Mrs. O is right, EB and LB too, though LB did say there are plenty of books about making small spaces work. My life would be incomplete without ample room for cooking and cocktail shaking.

But, there's this thing that happens when you start looking for an apartment in NYC. You panic that you might not find the perfect place in time, and you become delusional about making an inappropriate space work. You weigh the pros and cons and you start to let go of your ideals.

For example, nice kitchen is the first thing on the list residing under my pillow (a suggestion by a wacky artist friend who happens to have a fabulous place to live... a little mysticism never hurts, especially in the NY real estate market). But what happens? The first not-crazy apartment I'm shown, and I get all hot and bothered and ready to ditch the kitchen.

I was actually pondering. Yes! Pondering life without space for gastronomy. Of course, it was restless pondering. And, there is only one thing to be done when the mind is churning topsy turvy with a weighty decision. Well two, actually. Take a long walk or cook.

So, into the kitchen I went. I chopped green garlic and threw it into a pan with water and salt. Then I took my knife to the Swiss chard which I sauteed with broccoli, balsamic vinegar and Essence. Once the green garlic was soft I pureed it with olives and sun dried tomatoes. I then minced lovage, grated smoked gouda and crumbled feta.

All the while I sipped Campari with seltzer and a few lovage leaves.

The lovage I bought from Keith's Farm at the Greenmarket in Union Square simply because I had never had it before. It has a very strong celery flavor, and a little goes a long way! But the neat thing is, you can use the stems as straws in drinks. I tried this with the Campari fizz, and it was quite functional, though too strong on the flavor for my taste.

Anyway, I threw everything onto a whole wheat pizza crust, and the mishmash farmer's market pizza went into the oven. I set about writing the blog, promptly lost track of time and overcooked it. At least no one else had to eat it, and I will say the pureed spread was quite interesting with the Gouda.

The cooking experience made me realize, however, there is no way in hell I can make a kitchen-less apartment work. I thought about how much I might miss my current kitchen while I opened the drawer to pull out foil to wrap up the pizza. My scream drowned out any other thoughts, and my reflexes kicked in while in a Buffy move, I grabbed the Raid, sprayed to kill and slammed the drawer shut without spilling a drop of wine.

And, that my friends, is why I absolutely have to move out of my apartment. Kitchen or no, I can't handle the roommates. But alas, I can't move into a new home without the space to cook. Whatever would I do the next time I have to contemplate a heady problem or simply just have lovage that needs to be spread about?

Wish me luck and stay tuned!

2010-06-20T17:31:00.000-07:00

OMG. That Is So Kale!

'It's Swiss chard! It's Swiss chard!'

The girl was so vehement about her belief that the green bunch she had laid upon the grocery store belt was Swiss chard. (sans plastic bag, by the way, which I am totally for at places like the Green market, but when it comes to my veggies being dragged across the same surface as a variety of other not so earthy things... I'd rather go with the bag).

Swiss chard? I looked at the leafy greens, lonely and dismantled, having lost their rubber band, on the grocery store scanner. That was definitely kale. No chard in sight.

The clerk either didn't know or thought better about arguing, which would have been fine had she not had to then go consult a colleague about what code to use for Swiss chard.

I quietly said to the girl, "Actually, I think that's kale."

Of course, I was completely sure it was kale, no thinking necessary. All these years wandering through the green market has trained me well for identifying tasty greenage. But, you know, I was trying to be polite. Because I'm from the Midwest and all, and that's what we do.

'It's not." The girl said with a set jaw and a frown.

So, I stood there, waiting, thinking 'Listen missy, I know my greens, but clearly you are in need of some vegucation. For broccoli's sake! Chard has a thick stem--in either basic white, vibrant red or yellow gold. And the leaves are broader with smoother edges, completely different than the spiky, serrated likes of that kale!'

Of course, I did not say those things because I'm a non-confrontationist. Probably also attributable to the Midwest upbringing... or maybe it's the Scorpio in me. I keep all the confrontation inside instead and brood about it until I can't help myself anymore. And then, well, thank Dionysus for cocktails.

Instead of mocking the girl, I enjoyed sporting a good smirk while the clerk and her colleague looked for the price of Swiss chard. After, I imagine, not finding it, she returned to the register and probably punched in the code for kale.

How can one be so insistent about something and be so completely wrong?

I went home with my Greek yogurt, avocado and a six pack and cooked the kale I bought earlier this week at the Green Market, which by the way, is in full summer swing.

I sauteed the kale with garlic scapes, fresh garlic bulbs, dandelion greens and chili powder. I threw in some leftover ground turkey (seasoned when first cook with a jerk mixture) and added a dash of soy sauce. The mix went onto organic corn tortillas with smoked gouda. I ate the tacos with freshly made guacamole, salsa and blue chips.

In honor of Father's Day, and my dad in particular, I had a beer with dinner--specifically a Circus Boy Hefeweizen from the Magic Hat Brewing Company in Vermont. It's a year-round brew, but refreshingly delicious and quite nice for a hot summer night with a slice of lemon.

Now, I am contently sipping a Campari appertif. I know technically an apertif is supposed to come before dinner, but what can I say? It's hot and I wanted something refreshing.

Speaking of hot, the lovely Mrs. O, HA and friends threw a fabulous tequila and tomato party in Brooklyn on Friday night. It was a delicious indulgent feast that began with a cocktail hour with three margarita stations -- traditional, orange-peko and fresh watermelon. (My favorite was the orange-peko... the tequila was infused with orange-peko tea, and the glass had a rim of dried orange peel and sugar.) Delicious salsa varieties and guacamole were served with the margaritas.

Dinner was a multi-course affair and accompanied by sippers of tequila--a blanco, reposado and anejo. Mrs. O and I did recon at Mayahuel, the tequila-based cocktail hotspot in the East Village. We struck out on finding the superb Sietes Leguas anejo the cute young bartender served us, but if I ever find it you will be the first to hear.

The food courses on Friday began with tostones topped with mango salsa, followed by an heirloom tomato and mozzarella salad. Steak tacos and shrimp skewers were presented thereafter. Mexican street popcorn (an idea that came from our trip to Mayahuel) was in abundance on the table.

All of the food was delicious, but the star of the evening was the dessert--a tomato scented flan made by the beautiful and daring pastry queen J.

And, that my friends, is all I have for you this week. Stay tuned for more vegetable madness and cocktail mayhem! In the meantime, take a trip to your local green market and buy some chard and kale too!

2010-06-13T06:03:00.000-07:00

Digital Hiatus

Well, ladies and g's, I'm taking another unannounced week off... I'm assuming nobody is checking in since I haven't sent out my usual notifications, but just in case, I'm not writing this week. If I were, however, going to write a little something about this past week's wacky gastronomy, these might be appropriate titles:

Too Many Cocktails on Tuesday

The Rum Pusher and His Dark and Stormy

My Saturday in Mayberry

Herbs, Wonderful Herbs and the Cat Who Was Crazy for Oregano

A Little Mint, A Little White Wine... A Spritzer Hardly Counts as a Drink

Another Cute Bartender on Another Bloody Mary Sunday

Contemplate those and stay tuned for more crazy adventures and gastronomic goodness to come!

2010-05-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

Bacon Cream Cheese, The Best Thing Ever

"I learned about two things today... simple syrup and bacon cream cheese, which is the best thing ever..." ~ JM at the ME's Bloody Mary Bar Brunch

This week, my friends, you've caught me in a rare state for your urban gastronomer digital girl. I'm so tired and over-beveraged, I'm short on words...

So, I present to you, a few photos from the lovely Mrs. O from our tequila-tasting adventure at Mayhuel, a gorgeous East-Village spot known for it's tequila and mezcal selection as well as the delicious and creative cuisine. You can see more of her wonderful photography, including her portraits, at her website: Kari Otero.

Tequila Flight (photo by Kari Otero)

The Herb Alpert and Palomitas (Photo by Kari Otero)

Bar Fixin's (Photo by Kari Otero)

I'll be back next week with proper bloggage... In the meantime, my digital hat is off to CME and DME for hosting a crazy tasty Bloody Mary Bar brunch!

Who knew there was such a thing as bacon cream cheese?! And thank goodness there is because nothing hits the spot better after a Bloody-Mary drinking afternoon in the sun than a garlic bagel with bacon cream cheese... and a few reheated jalapeno poppers.

Oh, and, I just have to dispel, once again, the rumor that I will some day be famous for my jalapeno poppers. It's an Emeril recipe! Here's the link: Baked Jalapeno Poppers.

I don't think one can legally become famous for someone else's recipe, but I do appreciate the growing fan base. I'll take it where I can get it.

And that my friends, must mean it's time to sign off. Stay tuned!

2010-05-23T07:24:00.000-07:00

Sundays Are Made for Being Tipsy

Some Sunday afternoons are ripe for cocktail drinking. Really is there anything better than sitting at a bar around 4:00 or 5:00 getting just tipsy enough... you know that state... reality is a little removed, and, although the wagon may be long gone, you aren't falling off the bar stool? The bar is nearly empty, the bartender is chatty and there are plenty of hours left in the evening to feel just fine on Monday morning.

Well, last Sunday, V., VS. CME and I completely surpassed this state at the Manhattan Cocktail Classic (MCC). We fell off our bar stools. In fact, between the tasting bar, the event cocktails and the post-event drinks, we were pretty much blotto. Except CME, who was hungover and had the good sense to leave before she could reach this point.

I mentioned last week that the MCC was a bit disorganized. Being the first full year of programming this isn't completely unexpected. The four of us ladies were at Astor Center where the MCC was based to participate in Spice: The Fennel Frontier, a 90-minute session about the use of spice in cocktails led by the charming and knowledgeable Tad Carducci, one of the two Tippling Bros. (The other is Paul Tanguay, who helped developed the content for the session, including a very informative and visually appealing slide presentation.)

The seminar started quite late, and there wasn't much direction upon entry as to where to go or how long the delay would be. While we waited, we sipped concoctions from the tasting bar, when we should have been nibbling the cheese and bread on the tables. There were five full cocktails served during the event with no food or water between though if you emptied one glass fully, you could pour yourself water from the neat sinks between the chairs.

The session was fantistically fun and very informative, providing as much history about spices as interesting facts about liquor. And the drinks were phenomenal. The Tippling Bros are... well let me use their words, because they are just so well said: The Tippling Bros. are: "1.(n): beverage consultants; 2.(n): perpetuators of libational awareness and enjoyment" who "roam the land, bringing their unique brand of beverage consulting and bon vivancy to hamlets great and small." Well, thank goodness for that! Every girl needs a little bon vivancy in her life, don't you think?

You know, my friends, I am not a professional anything. Oh wait, I think technically I am a public relations professional... you know in the vocational sense. But, in the gastronomic arena I am nothing more than an amateur with a zeal for fine cocktails and good eating.

I bring this up because, if we were professionals, the four of us would have been sipping once, maybe twice from each glass, but we were not. We were, instead, gleefully indulging in the delightful and spicy concoctions set before us.

It seems the cocktail kitchen was suffering the same disorganization as the event planners. Several times during the talk, Mr. Carducci seemed surprised by the cocktail that was actually served. For example, the Sea Monkey (my favorite) was meant to have a fennel salt rim, but someone back there mixed up the fennel with cumin seeds. The result was surprisingly delicious. I never would have thought to combine fennel and cumin or to salt the rim of a cocktail with these spices.

The Sea Monkey was a mix of Death's Door gin, Averna Sambuca (made with star anise), fresh lemon juice, celery apple juice (celery juiced in a blender with organic apple juice) and Fever Tree tonic water.

I normally have a strong enough aversion to tonic water that I can't tolerate it even when mixed. So, either the kitchen used seltzer by mistake or Fever Tree is not your standard tonic. According to the company's website, Fever Tree tonic contains "the highest quality quinine from the original chinchona trees (fever-trees)." Perhaps this is the difference, or perhaps three cocktails in was the difference. Stay tuned! I'll have to try it in a gin-and-tonic and let you know.

All of the drinks served during the Spice session were interesting and flavorful. The Negroni was made with G'Vine Floraison gin, the main botanical of which is the Ugni Blanc vine flower. It's plucked before it has a chance to turn into a grape, which might otherwise be used to make cognac. Two of the spices in G'Vine's recipe are among my favorites: ginger and cardamom.

The menu also included the Little Market, a heat-laden tequila-based drink with Azunia Reposado, guajillo chile syrup, lime, pineapple, green habanero sauce and fresh cilantro served in glass with a chile salt rim. Vibrantly colored and hot on the tongue, this is a great sipping drink that would have been wonderful with a mild fresh guacamole.

The Masalarinha that followed was a twist on a caparhina made with cachaca, pineapple, grapefruit peel, lime and garam masala syrup. Garam masala is an Indian spice mix that often contains cardamom, cloves, black pepper and sometimes cinnamon.

The last drink served was The Sully with bourbon, averno amaro, carpano antica, Scotch and Barenjager, a honey liqueur. If for no other reason than the bottle, I have added this liqueur to my growing bar-stocking wish-list.

All right then, it's nearly drinking time. So as much as I would love to write on about the tasty drinks I had at Raines Law Room with colleagues on Wednesday or the celebration with V. and J. at Louis 649 where I had a wonderful drink with tequila and chocolate bitters, or even the delicious crisp I made with fresh rhubarb from the Green Market, I really must be going.

I've included a scan of the wonderful menu from the Spice session (with my messy notes) below in case you are in the mood for some home-mixing.

Stay tuned for more gastronomic good times! Oh, and in the meantime, take a look at the comments from the previous two weeks for info on the band at the MCC gala and a new organic gin from Crop.

Spice: The Fennel Frontier
Tad Carducci and Paul Tanguay, The Tippling Bros.

2010-05-16T19:05:00.000-07:00

Cinderella in Search of the Perfect Cocktail
(And, sure, maybe Prince Charming too...)

I felt a little like Cinderella sitting on the grand marble steps of the lobby in the New York Public Library. Except, I had both sparkly bronze platform sandals on my feet, and I wasn't in search of Prince Charming. I came to the ball (aka the Manhattan Cocktail Classic), instead, seeking the perfect cocktail. If it happened to be served by Prince Charming, well, all the better.

I danced with many a drink that evening--shaken, stirred, and often, to my displeasure, mixed with sugary elixirs. There were quite a few concoctions gone awry, like the Belvedere orange vodka "Manhattan" and the Maker's Mark sazerac-like drink, the name of which I can't recall. There was a Martinez made with Bombay Sapphire. Oh, what were they thinking!? London Dry in the Martinez instead of Old Tom?

There were a few pleasant surprises as well. LP had the 'best negroni' she ever had. I had a fabulous (fresh) watermelon margarita made with Corzo tequila and spiced with Tajin chili powder. There was a lovely Venezuelan rum called Santa Teresa that was served neat in little plastic cups from a wooden cart being hauled around by a charming medieval-costumed wench (yes, completely random! I mean really, I doubt the pious Saint Theresa was peddling rum, and with cleavage, no less, and didn't she live in the 19th century? Completely different costume!).

Other treats included four cheeses by the Artisanal Premium Cheese Center. Among the four they served, the gouda was unbelievable! Maytag Dairy Farms also had a table. I love those Maytag folks! True midwesterners with some of the country's finest tasting blue cheese!

And, we needed it to keep tasting all those drinks! The artisanal cheese was served in a room with a small, lively swing band followed by a singer who sounded like Edith Piaf and wore the most fantastic glittery red lipstick.

Oh, and there were clowns! Not like the red-nose circus variety, but a hipper more modern version.

From there, we weaved through crowded spaces going from sponsored (though not always inspired) booths.

After the cheese, the chocolates served by Auchentoshan, a single-malt scotch company, were the perfect dessert!

Along the way, we came across some moonshine, which had a historical appeal to it, but really you can see why they stopped making it when they had other choices. (Not good. I'm sorry but the white dog ran away for a reason!)

But, alas after all the searching and tasting and munching and the high heels and sore feet and the channeling of Betty Draper, LP and I were never more satisfied than we were to have a bourbon on the rocks at the Bulleit booth in the basement ballroom. That's right. Bourbon on the rocks.

My spirits were a little deflated because my coach turned into a plain yellow taxi with an ornery driver and the horses back into the mice that live under my kitchen sink before I could find what I came for--the prefect cocktail served by Prince Charming. But, I still had fun at the ball (even if it was oversold and clearly most of the people there were industry folks at a trade show or knew someone who knew someone)!

And, oh boy, do I have some stories to tell you about my evening tonight--more craziness at the completely disorganized Manhattan Cocktail Classic. But alas, I had too many cocktails and need to go to bed...

So, stay tuned! And please forgive any sentences that don't make sense. How can a cocktail event not serve food, water or properly pace drinks without expecting some sloppy blogging?

Oh, and P.S. the band that played in the NYPL lobby at the gala was absolutely fantastic! But there is no mention of who they were on the map. I wish I could tell you more, but instead here are some photos:

2010-05-09T16:01:00.000-07:00

Martini Party!

Sunday evening. The bright, garish sun is finally setting. And, my head is now throbbing just less enough that the clicking of the keys on the keyboard doesn't hurt too much. I actually don't want to write this week's entry. I want, instead, to curl back up on the sofa and continue my marathon viewing of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes from seasons 1 and 2.

Oh, my friends, I have thrown many a party. Entertaining is in my blood. I inherited much of my hosting accessories from my grandparents who had a bar in the basement of their house. But, alas, last night I made an amateur's mistake. I didn't drink enough water, which may have been okay except I was also tasting each drink I mixed.

Toward the end of the evening it began to show. I had to remake two of LP's martinis... the first because I mixed in too much pickle juice and the second because I dropped a bit of goat cheese in it.

It was a martini extravaganza, and in the process of preparing for the party, I realized, I have finally outgrown vodka. It happened in Astor Wines and Spirits when the cute, and oh so young, gentleman working on Thursday evening told me I really need to ween myself off vodka. It's flavorless, he exclaimed! Whereas, gin has a great diversity of flavor profiles just waiting to be explored. True story, my friends, true story.

So it was that Saturday night became all about the gin with only one vodka drink that was not a true martini (since I know how sensitive people can get about calling all sorts of drinks martinis). I infused a bottle of Crop organic vodka with hibiscus and ginger. It was surprisingly tart without a hint of ginger (probably because the infusion time was only four days). At least it was a beautiful ruby color!

The top two hits on the menu were the Pickled Ramp Gibson and the Martinez. The drink of which I am most proud is the Pickled Ramp Gibson. It seems that Urban Gastronomy has come full circle. Seventy-two posts ago, I was researching ramps so I could write the first entry about my dining experience at Blue Hill at Stone Barns which began with a pickled ramp martini.

Here we are nearly a year and a half later, and I not only made the martini at home, but I pickled the ramps myself! I mean sure, okay, you could argue it would be more impressive if I had also foraged the ramps, but I'm not quite that connected to the underground (yet).

The Martinez and the Original Dry Martini were both featured in "Revolutionary Spirit" by David Wondrich which appeared in the April issue of Saveur. The article cracked open the door to the diverse world of gin, and the gentleman in Astor pushed it open a bit wider. (LP helped quite a bit too as she is true gin drinker.)

Anyhoo, there were lots of quotable moments from last night, but having been the maker and taster of many martinis, I can't recall them. Before I go to eat leftover cheese and watch more Buffy, I want to say a huge thanks to my comrades in martinis (LP, AH, L and KR, DS and A) for making the trek to Astoria, for your good company, the delicious munchies, tasty bitters and green life you brought with you!

Stay tuned!

Martini Party Menu

Martinez
"In the 1880s, Old Tom gin, a style with quite a bit more sweetness than London dry, was just beginning to gain popularity in America. This is the drink that put it over the top. " (From: "Revolutionary Spirit" by David Wondrich, Saveur, No. 128, April 2010)

2 oz. Old Tom–style gin (I used Hayman's)

 1 oz. Italian red vermouth 

1⁄2 tsp. Luxardo maraschino liqueur 

2 dashes bitters

 Strip of lemon peel 

Original Dry Martini
The original 1910-era formula (also from: "Revolutionary Spirit" by David Wondrich, Saveur, No. 128, April 2010).

1 1/2 oz. London Dry gin
1 1/2 oz. French white vermouth (I used Italian)
2 dashes orange bitters
Strip of lemon peel

Dirty Girl Martini
2 oz. gin
1 tbsp dry vermouth
olive juice to taste (slightly dirty, regular or very dirty)
Olives stuffed with blue cheese (or not)

Pickled Ramp Gibson
2 1/2 ounces London dry gin
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
1 pickled ramp
Splash of pickled ramp juice

Hibiscus Springtini
3 ounces hibiscus-ginger infused vodka
Splash of St. Germain Elderflower liqueur
Orange twist