Take Me to Morocco!
Sunday evening... keys clicking under fingertips, but my hands feel empty. Something is missing. The night feels a little, well, dry. Aha, that's it. Here I sit without a martini or a bourbon or even a glass of wine. The urban gastronomer lush you've come to know so well is unpredictably typing this week's entry sans cocktail.
Could it be true?
It is, but don't worry. It's not another sign of the bad economy or some supernatural happening. I can still afford a bottle of liquor, and I am not possessed by a rampant teetotaler spirit from beyond. (Heaven forbid!)
I am simply trying on a little moderation to see if it fits better than the pants in my closet, which as a direct result of all the good homework I do to write this blog, no longer button. Fall is my favorite season, but if there is one thing I love about summer, it's A-line dresses.
Writing about food and drinks makes me want a to enjoy a glass of something just about as much as being in a bar. Can I make it all the way through one short blog post without cracking the ice and hitting a bottle? Only words will tell. I've been spectacularly good this week... nary a drink since Tuesday night. Of course, I haven't been out socially since Tuesday, which is just about the best way to avoid wine, cheese, and late-night pizza or falafel after an over-run happy hour.
Where, you might ask, does Morocco fit in?
Well, Tuesday evening, LP and I went to Sintir, a lovely Moroccan restaurant on East 9th Street between 1st and A. We were shown to a small table for two in the otherwise empty restaurant. A few moments later, after hearing their BYOB policy, we were on an errand to the local wine store. I don't think our gracious hostess, who is the owner's wife, thought we would come back. How could we not? Sintir is beautifully decorated, and the menu was tantalizing even for a Moroccan-food novice like myself.
When we did return, we moved to a table in the back garden. Over the next two hours we enjoyed a relaxing feast. We started with a homemade hummus that rivaled that of the previously mentioned Pita Hot. It was served with khobz, a small warm round of bread with a slightly sweet flavor and a dense texture. We then shared an appetizer plate with three vegetable dishes: spinach with olives and preserved lemons, tomatoes and roasted peppers, and eggplant and okra. The spinach was particularly fabulous--delicious, fresh and not overcooked.
For a main course, we had lamb zitune, which consisted of a lamb shank flavored with marinated lemons and green olives served with a side of couscous spiced with cinnamon. (It comes with french fries, but you can ask for couscous.) It is rare that I will rave about a meat dish. Often I find non-meat dishes so much more interesting and discernible to the taste buds. I must tell you, though, the lamb zitune at Sintir is fantastic. The meat was tender, well seasoned and perfectly complemented by the couscous.
As I admired the striking decor, savored the flavors and listened to LP and our hostess talk about Morocco, I decided I absolutely must visit. I'm not sure when, so in the meantime, I may just have to travel back to the East Village instead for another meal at Sintir. The hostess told us they have a dish you can reserve in advance in which the lamb is cooked for 15 hours. Next time! If you live in NYC, go to Sintir. They opened only four months ago, and I would like to see them stick around.
Well, here we are. The post has come to an end. And here I sit, both hands still empty. The night is silent, missing the sound of ice melting in bourbon, or condensation slowly forming on an ice-cold martini glass or red wine breathing shallowly in its bottle.
Moderation isn't so bad, one must suppose. My jury remains out. Stay tuned!
Sunday evening... keys clicking under fingertips, but my hands feel empty. Something is missing. The night feels a little, well, dry. Aha, that's it. Here I sit without a martini or a bourbon or even a glass of wine. The urban gastronomer lush you've come to know so well is unpredictably typing this week's entry sans cocktail.
Could it be true?
It is, but don't worry. It's not another sign of the bad economy or some supernatural happening. I can still afford a bottle of liquor, and I am not possessed by a rampant teetotaler spirit from beyond. (Heaven forbid!)
I am simply trying on a little moderation to see if it fits better than the pants in my closet, which as a direct result of all the good homework I do to write this blog, no longer button. Fall is my favorite season, but if there is one thing I love about summer, it's A-line dresses.
Writing about food and drinks makes me want a to enjoy a glass of something just about as much as being in a bar. Can I make it all the way through one short blog post without cracking the ice and hitting a bottle? Only words will tell. I've been spectacularly good this week... nary a drink since Tuesday night. Of course, I haven't been out socially since Tuesday, which is just about the best way to avoid wine, cheese, and late-night pizza or falafel after an over-run happy hour.
Where, you might ask, does Morocco fit in?
Well, Tuesday evening, LP and I went to Sintir, a lovely Moroccan restaurant on East 9th Street between 1st and A. We were shown to a small table for two in the otherwise empty restaurant. A few moments later, after hearing their BYOB policy, we were on an errand to the local wine store. I don't think our gracious hostess, who is the owner's wife, thought we would come back. How could we not? Sintir is beautifully decorated, and the menu was tantalizing even for a Moroccan-food novice like myself.
When we did return, we moved to a table in the back garden. Over the next two hours we enjoyed a relaxing feast. We started with a homemade hummus that rivaled that of the previously mentioned Pita Hot. It was served with khobz, a small warm round of bread with a slightly sweet flavor and a dense texture. We then shared an appetizer plate with three vegetable dishes: spinach with olives and preserved lemons, tomatoes and roasted peppers, and eggplant and okra. The spinach was particularly fabulous--delicious, fresh and not overcooked.
For a main course, we had lamb zitune, which consisted of a lamb shank flavored with marinated lemons and green olives served with a side of couscous spiced with cinnamon. (It comes with french fries, but you can ask for couscous.) It is rare that I will rave about a meat dish. Often I find non-meat dishes so much more interesting and discernible to the taste buds. I must tell you, though, the lamb zitune at Sintir is fantastic. The meat was tender, well seasoned and perfectly complemented by the couscous.
As I admired the striking decor, savored the flavors and listened to LP and our hostess talk about Morocco, I decided I absolutely must visit. I'm not sure when, so in the meantime, I may just have to travel back to the East Village instead for another meal at Sintir. The hostess told us they have a dish you can reserve in advance in which the lamb is cooked for 15 hours. Next time! If you live in NYC, go to Sintir. They opened only four months ago, and I would like to see them stick around.
Well, here we are. The post has come to an end. And here I sit, both hands still empty. The night is silent, missing the sound of ice melting in bourbon, or condensation slowly forming on an ice-cold martini glass or red wine breathing shallowly in its bottle.
Moderation isn't so bad, one must suppose. My jury remains out. Stay tuned!
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