July 2004 Archives

Beets are in at the greenmarket. I'm often asked what the difference is between the beets. Here's my take on Alex Paffenroth's many colored beets:

Red -- classic beet flavor, beautiful deep jewel color, stains your hands and clothing. Sweetest.
Golden -- classic beet flavor without the staining properties, beautiful mustard color, very nice paired with the red, equally sweet.
White Sugar -- beets used to make Spreckels sugar, these beets have a bit of a more flat, sweet flavor, less tang than the red and golden beets, more of a woody flavor. Nice and sweet, but can oxidize and turn black if left out.
Chioggia Striped Beets -- striped pink and white inside, pink skin on the outside. Very pretty, but not as sweet as the others; in fact, there was a hint of bitterness in my bunch. My least favorite of the 4.

My favorite method for cooking beets: Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Scrub your beets well and trim the long root end. Pierce each beet several times with the tines of a fork. Place beets in a foil packet with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a few cloves of smashed garlic. Roast for 45 min-1hr or until beets are tender.

In most publications, the stalwart food editor must visit a restaurant several times to make sure their great meal wasn't a fluke, or their horrible meal wasn't the result of the chef's bad day. In my book, you get one chance at greatness, and if you suck, I ain't coming back. That's the way it is with everybody anyway.

That said, I went to Jewel Bako Makimono last night with two friends. Here's the rundown:

THE SPACE:
Well, it looks like a cement block on the outside, and it's a bit cozier on the inside. The bathroom situation does leave something to be desired. There are two cubbies, and you really have to shoehorn yourself into the back area to get in them. It's like my old Chinatown apartment -- you can go to the bathroom and wash your hands at the same time. The tables were ample, and the chairs pretty comfy. They could have stood to turn the air conditioning down a bit -- it was so cold that it was making the sushi rice hard.

THE SERVICE:
Personal space, people, personal space. The folks at JBM hover. I guess there's not much room there, and with three people doing the serving for, like, 6 tables, I guess they have no choice but to hover. But waitron, please, don't unwrap my chopsticks and set them up for me, and for the love of God, don't open up my napkin and attempt to place it in my lap. It makes me feel dirty, and I'm sure it makes you feel dirty. And they filled our little bowls with soy but whisked the mini pitcher away to make sure we didn't refill on our own. If I want that kind of passive-aggressive "cosseting" I'll go eat at my mother's house, thank you very much.

THE FOOD:
I balk at having to spend $3 on a tiny tetsubin of green tea when I go to sushi. My friend's $9 less-than-half-full glass of wine was woefully chic. The broiled yellowtail collar was nice, although the green-flecked miso was a bit over the top. The edamame had some good chunky sea salt on it, but let's be real, it's boiled peas, not rocket science. The white miso soup was made interesting with the addition of a meltaway pillow of fish flavored with yuzu. Delicious!

The sushi: My $8 piece of chu-toro was delicious. And it should have been. At $8. At Takahachi, I can get 4 big, super fresh pieces of toro with a nice mound of grated daikon for $11 . The negitoro makimono roll was beautiful -- a pressed rice cake with yellow takuwan and green shiso chiffonade in the middle, topped with the thinnest, stingiest layer of rosy toro i have ever seen. With strong flavors like takuwan and shiso, and waaaaaay more rice than necessary, the flavor and texture of the fish was totally obscured. They should have called it a takuwan shiso rice roll with toro. The salmon roll with shiso furikake and bonito flakes was undistinguished. The fish seemed pretty fresh, but there was nothing exciting about it really.
We each wound up paying about $45. And last time I checked, $45 is a lot more than $25. And we only had that one third glass of wine.

THE VERDICT: Not bad, not great, especially for the price. I won't be going back. I'd much rather eat at the aforementioned Takahachi, where the specials are as fresh as anything you'd get at JBM and portions are a little more realistic, or splurge and go to Sushi of Gari for the omakase. Omakase for two at Gari can be as little as $100 including hot dishes from the kitchen, and the sushi is really fresh, inventive and stimulating. And they don't charge you for tea at either place...

Sarabeth's At least two locations in Manhattan -- upper east side and chelsea market. Pumpkin, blueberry banana, corn, and bran. Bran is my favorite -- impossibly light, rich with butter and plump rehydrated raisins. Always excellent with Sarabeth's preserves if you're at the upper east side sit down.

Veselka They have a surprisingly good raspberry crumb muffin and whole wheat blueberry muffin -- definitely not low fat or low carb, a little on the heavy side, but good with a hot cup of tea.

Mud Coffee Shop Two types -- blueberry and choco chip banana. Greasy, heavy lumps. taste like those greasy hostess mini muffins. only bigger. (*please note, the astor place mud truck sells delicious sarabeth's muffins. why the mud coffee shop does not follow suit is a mystery)

Panya Best fucking muffins ever. One caveat, they are only available Mon-Fri after 10 am, and often sell out by noon. Delicious, floating crumb, super soft, not dense at all, comes in delicious flavors that change daily. I love them all -- pear coconut, choco banana, blueberry...the only one I didn't like was pumpkin spice which was too heavy on the nutmeg and molasses.

Whole Foods Whole Foods Chelsea has better muffins than WF TWC. I don't know why. The WFC has the best pumpkin muffins ever -- light, moist, crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, topped with toasted pumpkin seeds. They also had an incredible choco chip muffin with hints of cinnamon and a super light crumb. WF TWC's muffins are much denser and spiced with a heavier hand.

Magnolia Bakery Magnolia once had an Apple Breakfast Bun which I have never forgotten -- sweet, golden cakelike, buttery, tender crumb with a warm applesauce filling. It was heavenly. And then they never had it again. I always asked for it and it never came back. The counter people always tried to shoo me away with the old "whatever's in season" line.

*Best overall: Panya or The elusive Magnolia Apple Breakfast Bun
*Best pumpkin: Whole Foods Chelsea
*Best bran: Sarabeth's

How to pick a good tomato:

The Basics First of all, what time of year is it? If it isn't July, August, or September, your tomato might be alright but it's not going to be incredible. Smell the tomato. Does it smell like a tomato? That's good. Look at the stem end -- it shouldn't be green or hard up there, and the body should should give to the slightest pressure from your fingers or thumb. It should be heavy with juice. It should be room temperature because tomatoes go mushy if kept in the cooler. When you get it home, leave it in a nice friendly bowl on the counter, or in one of those hanging baskets, out of the plastic bag. Only refrigerate once you cut it open.

Varieties When you see those "vine-ripened" tomatoes from Holland, still attached to their pretty green vine, keep on walking and do not make eye contact. The fact that they are still on the vine almost always means they were not ripened on the living vine. Those deceptively red tomatoes are always tasteless and mushy. What good does the vine do after they've cut it off the plant? It's dead, people, and it's not helping those poor tomatoes anymore.

Hothouse tomatoes are passable these days; I like the brand Eli's and Ali's (I think that's what it's called) from Vermont. When you buy tomatoes, or any produce from the supermarket for that matter -- the brand can tell you a lot. Like what part of the world it's coming from, what farming methods they use (organic vs. conventional) and what variety of tomato they grow. You don't necessarily have to know the difference between your beefsteak and your big girl, but if a certain brand makes a tomato that you enjoy, take note -- chances are they'll be growing that tomato every year.

But for really good tomato flavor and smooth satiny flesh, stop hankering for tomatoes in January. Even the California growns are ugly cousins to the warmer weather tomatoes. Think of all the traveling those tomatoes had to do, packed into crates and shipped in a refrigerated truck for days from West Coast Warehouse to East Coast Warehouse. That is a tough and weary tomato. In fact, think about where your tomato has traveled from. If it is from Israel or Holland, it has traveled a long, long way to get to your table. Which probably means they were picked green and gassed with ethylene for color. And those are not qualities we appreciate in a tomato. Good tomatoes are tender, sensitive things; they are high maintenance and full of sunshine. So in the winter, eat canned San Marzanos in your soups and sauces, and add apples and pears to your salads for succulence. Then, when July rolls around, hit the farmer's market for field grown tomatoes that are truly vine ripened and fragrant.

Even better, try one of the dozens of varieties of heirloom tomatoes available now. There's green zebra, brandywine, black prince, and tons of other varieties whose names I don't know. They're all old school varieties that were imperfect in appearance but tender and flavorful. Sycamore Farms at the Greenmarket has some really beautiful ones that smell and taste like tomato truth.

And don't be afraid of the little guys. Del Cabo Organic Tomatoes, widely available at places like Whole Foods and Gourmet Garage etc., come in the little clear plastic clamshell and are quite flavorful and nice. They have a huge variety -- from sweet 100s to yellow pears to sungolds to the sensual black plum tomato. Lady Moon Farms also grows sweet grape tomatoes. And they don't quite have that tough, impenetrable skin that other grape tomatoes have.

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I always loved that scene in A Wrinkle in Time where the girl sneaks down to the kitchen, makes herself a tomato sandwich, and reluctantly makes one for the old lady. It was just so exotic -- a tomato sandwich! You could never do that with those ashen winter lumps from the supermarket.

Mango Chicken Salad
Windfall Farms teenage lettuces
Trimmed, chunked French Breakfast radishes
Sliced Red Onion
a smoked chicken breast from Quattro Game Farms (also at the Greenmarket)
A champagne (hairless) mango (available at Whole Foods, Chinatown stalls, etc.)

Dressing:
Lime juice
Soy sauce
Grapeseed Oil
Minced cilantro
Honey
Shichimi Togarashi (Japanese red pepper mixture)

Toss the lettuces, radishes, onion in the dressing. Slice the chicken breast and mango, arrange on top. A delicious summer lunch.

Working the Greenmarket has its privileges. For me, the best thing is being able to see the vegetables in their fresh, dewy glory, before the hordes of hungry new yorkers have swooped in like a swarm of locusts, destroying our beautiful displays. For those of you who are only used to seeing the Greenmarket in the afternoon, try coming by at 9 am some Saturday when you haven't gotten soggy drunk the night before. World of difference -- the veggies jump out and dance with life, the arugula and cilantro stand up tall, the restaurant chefs have not yet come by to stake their claim on the good stuff. Contrary to popular belief, we do not give the best stuff solely to the chefs. Well, that's the way it is at our stand anyway. It's first come first served -- if you want to come at 9 am, you'll probably beat the voluminous Modesto of Gramercy Tavern to the pick of the lot.

Anyway, the Greenmarket is glorious right now. Come check it out. Here are my picks for the week:

Queen Anne Cherries -- They may not be as huge as their West Coast cousins, but they are sweet, delicious, firm and ripe with a full cherry flavor and gorgeous blushing yellow color. Refrigerate these puppies and you've got the most delicious snack in the world, or the perfect compliment to a nice cheese.
Shelling Peas -- I love fresh peas. Actually, I love frozen peas too, but there's something fantastic about fresh peas, raw and right out of the pod. They're picking them a nice size right now too, not too large. The best peas are the smallest ones.
French Breakfast Radishes -- I love f.b. radishes in a salad. They add nice crunch and spice to any kind of salad. I think French Breakfast are milder than the red radishes, which are milder than the white icicle.
Multi colored carrots -- Do yourself a favor and buy some fresh carrots sometime. Those carrots are right out of the ground and super sweet. When you go to the supermarket and you see those sad assed carrots with their heads cut off, often split down the middle from thirst, use those for your colon cleansing juice, or your beef stew. But when you get those stiff, crunchy carrots from the greenmarket, with the tops still attached, you know those carrots are still alive, and you will feel an immediate difference in the texture. Also, when you get those carrots home, cut the green tops off -- the tops will just steal moisture from the root, leaving you with a limp, wimpy carrot. The yellow carrots are sweet and delicious, the red and purple, a little less so, but with pronounced carrot flavor. Cut some up for your salad, or shred them and make a salad with lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and grated garlic (my friend Yuka's recipe).
Windfall Farms lettuces I only recently started eating this. Windfall Farms grows the best sized lettuces -- not baby mesclun, not big adult heads, but what I've heard Chef Peter from Savoy call "teenage lettuce." It's big enough to provide a little bit of crispness, but not so big that it's fibrous and bitter. This lettuce goes with everything and withstands a nice tossing.
Puntarelle -- I know it doesn't look like what you had when you were in Rome, but it is delicious, people. This bittersweet green is the perfect foil for a strong dressing made with anchovies, lemon, and olive oil.
Strawberries I think everyone's growing the Tri-Star these days. All the strawberries I've been eating from the market have been fantastically sweet, soft, ripe and red as a berry should be. These berries are nothing like those bullshit Driscoll's berries you get at the supermarket. I hate those guys -- they grow a gigantic mushy strawberry with sugar but no flavor. All year round. And their organics are hard as rocks and don't taste the way a strawberry should taste. A strawberry is nothing without the rich sweet tart balance and complex fragrance. The market berries are dripping with red juice. They are sinful. A good fruit should be able to stand on its own, without flourishes like whipped cream or sugar or chocolate or any of those other cover-ups.
Epazote You can get fresh epazote right now. Epazote is a key herb indispensable in Mexican cuisine, often paired with oregano. Cook your beans with it -- it's supposed to reduce flatulence. Not that I have a problem with flatulence...

Also, here's a tip -- when you buy basil from the Greenmarket, store it outside of the fridge in a glass of water with a plastic bag over the top. Basil gets killed off by the first frost -- it doesn't like the cold. This is an easy way to keep it from turning black and preserving those huge bunches you get for longer. Another easy way to take care of any remaining basil is by pulsing it in a food processor with olive oil and freezing the basil in ice cube trays. Pop the cubes into a plastic bag and you have summer basil for the winter. Just drop a cube or two in your soups or stews towards the end of cooking to release all that beautiful aroma. Trust me, it'll be much better than the sad greenhouse basil you buy fresh from the supermarket in January.

More when I think of it. Come on people, eat locally. It's totallly worthwhile.

my friend Dottie is the greatest. She sent me this note:

Lorna gave me what she called a "hairless" mango she said they come from the Phillipines....I thought, hairless, like most Asians?  "..but all mangoes are hairless", I protested,  to which her reply was that it was hairless inside.

Last weekend I bought uncured frankfurters from Violet Hill Farms at the Greenmarket. I don't know if they're any better for you, but they taste damn good. Especially in my favorite yellow trash specialty, hot dog fried rice. With peas and ketchup. Yum.

On a side note, I will be working at the Paffenroth Gardens stand this Saturday. One of the guys in Alex Paffenroth's Tibetan army of market helpers is going to Nepal for a couple of weeks and I'm subbing. So come by and say hello if you're in the area. And no, you can't have free vegetables.

Cucumber salad, my family style, is one of my most favorite things to eat in the world. There were times when I was growing up that I would hunker down with a nice big bowl of rice and steadily pick away at the piquant mound of crisp julienned cucumber. Everyone else would finish eating and I would still be sitting there, an hour later, spooning the salad juice over the last clumps of jasmine rice in my bowl, savoring every last drop.

It's a variation on the classic Thai dish som tum, which is normally made with green papaya. Don't get me wrong, I love green papaya, but sometimes you don't have time to go to the asian market. These days I certainly don't have the patience to deal with the rabid throngs in chinatown. Besides, you can't always get a good green papaya -- sometimes they're difficult to track down, and when you finally find them, the few available are pockmarked and soft, oozing gross milky white papaya blood.

So in my house, instead of green papaya, we often substituted the widely available kirby cucumbers, maybe three large cucumbers for one plate of salad. My mom or I would shred the crisp, cool flesh, skin and all, into julienne-like sticks by bouncing the knife on the surface of the cucumber lengthwise creating parallel knife marks 1/4 of an inch deep, then slicing the surface horizontally to create a pile of uneven, crunchy shreds.

Then I'd sit down on the floor with the clay mortar and pestle on the rag rug, along with my other ingredients: a tomato, a lime, fish sauce, sugar, dried shrimp, thai chili, and a couple of cloves of garlic. the chilies and garlic go in first. my mom said there's a superstition about the chilies -- you should always use an odd number of chilies. for my taste, I liked three well pounded chilies -- my mom can take seven. also, the more you pound your chili, the spicier your dish gets. anyway, pound the chili and garlic together a couple of times -- it doesn't have to be a paste. then add your dried shrimp, and give them a nice pounding. i like pounding them til i can't tell that they're shrimp anymore.

Now slice the tomato into uneven pieces directly into your mortar. At this point, I also like to add the seeded section of the cucumber, cut into 1/2 inch pieces. Squeeze the juice of one lime in there (and don't be lame about it -- use a fork if you have to, but squeeze all that juice out.) Now add some nice healthy squirts of fish sauce. I like Tiparos fish sauce, and for that dish, I measure four one-second squirts to start. Add maybe 1/2 tsp. of sugar (palm sugar if you have it) and start pounding lightly. It'll slosh around, but you don't need to pound it for too long, maybe just 10 poundings. then add your julienned cucumber and give it another few poundings.

Now, most importantly, taste it. It should be tart and pungent with fish sauce. It should make your saliva start running. The sweetness should be coming mostly from the tomato. It should have the bite of raw garlic and it should be as spicy as you can stand (remember, you're eating it with lots of rice). If the lime-fish sauce balance is uneven, add a little more of this, a little more of that. If the whole thing is too salty-tart, add a touch more sugar.

Serve with a fresh pot of jasmine rice and a protein of your choice. On Sundays, we had it with take-out from El Pollo Loco, or a little KFC. It'd be just as good with a home roasted chicken, or a salt-baked fish, or some fried dried beef and sticky rice.

But sometimes just a nice deep bowl of steaming rice with a big spoon will do.

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Incidentally, now is the best time for kirbies. The greenmarket is selling them three for a dollar if you get the large ones (which are best for this dish) -- they're super crisp and unwaxed, unlike their supermarket brethren.

I don't understand why people want to dine outdoors in New York City. I understand if you are in the loving hands of Thomas Keller in pristine Yountville surrounded by napping lettuces and the sweet smells of a lush green herb garden; where the only sounds you hear are the rich ting of expensive china being replaced at the table and the soft thwak of a rabbit being conked on the head for your coniglio agnolotti.

But what is enjoyable about sitting out on the NYC sidewalk while eating food? I used to live on Bleecker and the Bowery and the restaurant downstairs insisted on having outdoor seating for their patrons. And I always wondered, was it the sound of cars honking interminably six feet away? Was it that intoxicating perfume of dogshit, garbage, and exhaust that heralds summer in New York? Was it the charm of the bum from the next-door men's hotel pissing away the PBRs he threw back over at Mars Bar, getting ready to swoop in and steal the waiter's tips from the table? Was it those pesky West Nile Virus carrying mosquitos? And the sticky humidity itself? All while you have to chew and swallow crab cakes and poached eggs? How can people eat like that? All for a little anemic sunlight and a fetid breeze or two?

Can somebody explain it to me?