April 2007 Archives

At the Li-Lac Chocolates counter in Grand Central, getting my weekly mocha fudge fix. I notice a sign that says supplies will be low while Li-Lac moves its factory to a new Brooklyn location.

ME: [with feigned nonchalance] So where in Brooklyn will the new factory be?

CHOCOLATE SALESGIRL: In Sunset Park.

ME: [with undisguised glee] That's where I live!!

CHOCOLATE SALESGIRL: [frowning] But it's not open to the public.

ME: [disappointed] Oh.

[UPDATE: Apparently, my roommate La Doug had the exact same conversation with the counter person at Li-Lac on Jane St. down by his work. We've decided we're going to get into that chocolate factory somehow. Stay tuned for an embedded report.]

Did you know you can buy sheep's heads from the Greenmarket? Violet Hill Farms often has them, frozen and skinned, eyeballs and all. Apparently they're great for curries and stews. People go crazy for that beef cheek ravioli at Babbo. Why not sheep cheek? I won't lie, it's a bit disconcerting to be able to look your dinner in the face. It's like that human jerky Bodies exhibit. But I'd try sheep's head curry sometime.

On a side note, I went to DSW and Century 21 today to try and find a pair of commuter shoes that would be appropriate for when I'm in business drag. Is there anything more torturous than trying to discount shoe shop on a Saturday? I thought, this must be cosmic punishment for not being able to suck it up and pursue a lucrative career like my parents told me to.

Late nights at the job this week (hence no You Are What You Eat for the week). Last night I made myself an 11pm omelet, then went straight to sleep. I had a long, wild dream all night. The storm kept me just on the edge of sleeping and waking, and that omelet did a number on my subconscious. Do you have crazy dreams when you eat late?

Last weekend, in a malaise of storm-induced depression, I totally shut myself in the house and decided to bake. I'm not a great baker. I hate recipes. And baking often requires that you follow recipes. If I could learn to do dry good proportions by feel, it might be different. But I hate following words. I also can't read music for shit. I have a vague feeling that these two things are related. The part of my brain that connects inscription to action is just a burnt bridge in the synapse web.

Anyway, I spent last Sunday watching that horrifying Jonestown doc on PBS, which fucked me up and totally set the tone for the entire week. I believe in anesthetizing my grumps with carbs. I decided on a Boston Cream Pie recipe I'd been eyeballing in an issue of Everyday Food. The cake was a bit sturdy for my taste, I forgot the vanilla, the custard not quite rich enough, but it's an easy recipe you can make with ingredients already in your pantry or easily obtained at the bodega (or the nearby gas station, in my case). I also love topping cakes with chocolate ganache instead of frosting. Next time, I'll probably try Gale Gand's recipe, which uses sifted cake flour and requires beaten egg whites.

Then Monday's shooting happened, followed by one of the deadliest days in Iraq. So my 9" cake did little to lift my spirits. The only Netflix we had at home were Why We Fight, a doc on the Iraq War and the history of the military-industrial complex post-Eisenhower, and Parallel Lines, a doc on a woman's life post-9/11, which I couldn't even touch. And, of course, there was no escaping the coverage of Virginia Tech.

Questions I've been stirring around this week: What would an interactive photo gallery of the Iraqi civilian victims look like? What words would their loved ones use to describe them? How do you teach a loner to love themselves? Will teachers be earmarking disturbing works from future Bret Easton Ellises, Ryu Murakamis, Trevor Browns? What does it take to make a mother feed her child cyanide?

I ate the whole cake all week, with the exception of two slices, by myself. I ate it cold, straight from the fridge, with wet, jarred pears. It didn't numb me, it just made me feel a little bit bad about myself. Some weeks, you can't just eat your questions away. I can accept that.

Name: Chad Hoffer

Occupation: Tournant at BLT Prime en route to BLT Market @ the (Ritz Carlton)

Borough: Manhattan

Relationship status: In Love [Bless. –Ed.]

What did you eat today?

Breakfast: nothing
Lunch: roasted pork loin and rice noodles in a cilantro pesto
Dinner: left-over steak from the restaurant
Late Night Snack: Whole Foods Mac and Cheese with some Amstel Light to top it off

What do you never eat?

There's nothing I won't ever eat. [I like you. –Ed.]

Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:

Beer - thats it, I dont have the time to cook at home, not that I dont want to, just no time.

What is your favorite kitchen item?

Knives

Where do you eat out most frequently?

Saigon Bakery (Bahn Mi Sandwiches) and Piola (for chillen at the bar and just having a good pizza)
AND at three in the morning Halal food on 53rd and 6th (best meal in town)

World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?

The tasting menu at Per Se.

Winnie Y. turned me onto this wrinkly little gonad of goat goodness. Chabichou du poitou is a raw milk goat cheese with a complex but not musty flavor and a firm, fudge-like texture. It's the perfect hostess gift for a dinner party held by your judgmental food snob friend (meaning I will accept this offering at my table). Plus, it's just fun to say shabby-shoo doo pwa-too. They're $13.99 from Murray's.

Had a dinner party last night chez David -- 11 people, many dishes, AND I cooked after work, from about 6:20-8:30. I think that's pretty impressive. Okay, I did some prep the night before, I enlisted many of the guests to help with mise-en-place, and I had to break out the reliable standards when cooking in someone else's kitchen. But still, I count it as a great success. The menu:

Golden and red beet bruschetta with parmigiano
Sauteed zucchini and organic grape tomatoes with oregano and mint
Roasted yukon gold potatoes with rosemary
Slow-baked wild Alaskan king salmon
Meyer lemon relish (thinly sliced seeded cored lemons with skin, shallots macerated in white wine vinegar, chopped chervil, chopped parsley, olive oil, salt and pepper -- from the Chez Panisse Cafe cookbook)
Windfall Farms mesclun with pea shoots and mint
Delice de Bourgogne with pear mostarda (Killer combo -- you must try)

But the first hot hors d'oeuvres were the show-stealers -- bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with goat cheese and marcona almonds. That's the recipe right there. I first had them at my friend Julie's house. You take dates, slit them lengthwise down one side to take the pit out, then stuff the cavity with a bit of goat cheese and a marcona almond. Wrap each date in half a slice of bacon, secure with toothpicks. Then put them under the broiler for a few minutes on each side til the bacon's crispy and done. Impossible to fuck up as long as you don't burn them and utterly heartbreaking. The bacon provides a smoky, salty foil for the caramel sweet, melty date. The little marcona almond in the middle of the tangy cheese sits where the pit would be, but you can bite right through the whole thing. I even broiled a few bacon-less dates for the vegetarians.

Note: I got nice fat organic California medjool dates in a clear plastic clamshell box at Whole Foods. You can find them in the produce department, not the dried goods aisle. They're amazing. I could eat a whole box by myself. I know that those dates come to Whole Foods in a big red box because I used to pack them in those clamshells. (And maybe I used to sample a few while I stuffed those boxes.) I've seen the same dates for sale, loose, at Fairway. I'll bet they've got great dates at Sahadi's and other Middle Eastern grocers.

P.S. Graham brought a lovely $6 rosé from Trader Joe's -- I think it was La Ferme Julien. It has a red rooster on the label. Fruity but dry, no bitter bite, lovely raspberry color. Great with wild salmon.

La Doug has a subscription to Cook's Country and we love it -- heirloom recipes for things we've never heard of like Runsas, little sweet buns stuffed with meat and cabbage, or a potluck mac and cheese that unabashedly uses evaporated milk and American cheese. I think the magazine really supports the idea that this country's culinary identity goes beyond McDonald's, and that we can take pride in regional foods made with real ingredients. But probably my favorite feature is the weekly "Find the Rooster" challenge. In every issue, they've hidden their little rooster logo somewhere in the magazine. You'd think it would be really easy, considering that there aren't that many photos in the magazine, but it's pretty tough. Or maybe my eyes are getting worse. I was totally late to work the other day because I was trying to find the rooster over my morning yogurt.

What a lovely place. Dim, warm mood lighting, dark wood, glass bottles against white walls, touches of sage gray, modern branch arrangements, parchment colored menus. We walked in at 7:30 on a Saturday night and had no trouble getting a roomy table for three. Started with a generous $10 app of crispy breadcrumbed chicken livers with soft whole shallots, haricots verts and frisee. For entree, I had rabbit ragout with pappardelle -- restrained and elegant, ribbons of fresh pasta in a very light, brothy ragout with slivers of zucchini, sun-dried tomato and fresh parsley. Sprightly spring simplicity. Winnie's pulled pork was sweet and well-spiced, with a side of cider vinegar splashed collards. Crisp and tender biscuit halves looked so golden and beautiful in the candlelight that I wanted to make love to them. Winnie tells me their brunch of those sexy biscuits with sausage gravy is fantastic. I may break my no brunch out rule to try it. Desserts were excellent, the favorite being the warm, round walnut cake (steamed?), topped with a fan of poached pear, dipping its edge into a pool of dark, sticky caramel and leaning up against a quenelle pillow of creme fraiche. Divine. Total per person, with tax and tip, was $38. Brooklyn's got Manhattan beat when it comes to combining hip class with comfort. It's becoming harder and harder to find a good reason to leave the borough on the weekends.

Flatbush Farm
76 St. Marks Ave. @ 6th Ave.
Brooklyn
718.622.3276

Name: Tanya Wenman Steel

Occupation: Editor-in-Chief, Epicurious.com

Borough: Westchester, NY [The sixth borough? --Ed.]

Relationship status: Married with identical twin boys

What did you eat today?

Breakfast: Oatmeal with raisins, sunflower seeds and cinnamon and three caffe lattes; lunch: curried chicken salad on whole wheat wrap with mixed greens; afternoon snack: Kit Kat bar; dinner: vegetable dumplings, creamed spinach, strawberries and red grapes; late-night snack: big bowl of Ben & Jerry’s peanut butter cup ice cream.

What do you never eat?

Brussels sprouts [If you ever change your mind, which I’m sure you won’t, I recommend the fried Brussels sprouts with fish sauce vinaigrette at Momofuku Ssam. --Ed.]

Complete this sentence: In my refrigerator, you can always find:

All manner of chocolates and coffees, Portuguese muffins, gallons and gallons of organic milk, plus healthy snacks for the boys like yogurt, mini carrots, sugar snap peas, strawberries and red grapes.

What is your favorite kitchen item?

Without question, tongs.

Where do you eat out most frequently?

Nha Trang in Chinatown. I love their beef pho, spring rolls, soft-shall crab, and beef rolls.

World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?

At home with my family, eating a spread that would include barbecued flank steak, raw sashimi-grade tuna, creamy mashed potatoes, creamy spinach, crusty sourdough, chocolate layer cake, and several bottles of Clos des Papes Chateauneuf-du-Pape 2004.

Tanya's blog is the epilog, over at the shiny and new Epicurious.