foodie nyc

A Drink to Celebrate Unprincipled Veggies

After a tough year, I began 2007 with a few challenges for myself.   

One of them was to open my mind beyond the preconceived notions of what I thought I needed to be fulfilled and satisfied.  As I had a new social life that I needed to build again, I promised that I wouldn’t be looking for carbon copies of myself to spend time with, which unfortunately had been the standard upon which I measured compatibility. The 2007 version of myself was all about having an open mind, open plans, open to sharing anything.

On the dating front, that turned out to pose interesting dilemmas.  Take, for instance, the fact that I’ve been on dates with three vegetarians.   That’s something I wouldn’t do before this year. I mean….do you read this site?

But being open minded means giving people a chance, even if that means challenging yourself to look beyond what on paper could be a bad match.  Of course, all of them turned out lame.   The last and most recent social experiment was the most ironic of all.   I had to dig deep and attempt to be open minded on a variety of major issues, many of which were way deeper than being a veggie.   It turned out to be an unappreciated attempt, which was slightly comical to me.   I thought people could see when they were asking more of someone and would value the effort.   Weren’t veggies usually the incredibly thoughtful, principled, types?

Despite popular opinion, I’m not against being a veggie.  I love vegetables more than anyone, so I could imagine celebrating them above all else.   But I love bacon, and that’s just in my DNA.  What I can also respect about being a veggie are life decisions based on principles or health related goals.   If someone wants to live a lifestyle free of animal fats and what not, I kind of get that.   Kind of.    Humanitarian issues?  Certainly a point for debate, but one I respect and admire.

But every veggie I’ve met had nothing of substance supporting their lifestyle choices.   The most frequent explanation I’ve heard was “texture” – they didn’t like how certain proteins felt in their mouths.   In fact, this last person wasn’t even committed to being a vegetarian.  She could be talked out of it seemingly at a whim, which I would say ended up being metaphor for issues of greater substance.   Commitments can be tricky, especially when they seem to be rooted in whimsy.

So after the latest and most recent veggie debacle, I’m at the crossroads of whether I’d bother going on a date with another veggie.   Gut instinct says bad match.   But the open-minded me says that would be a shallow move.  When it comes down to it,  it’s not about eating veggies, bacon, or foie gras.  It’s about the substance that lies behind the choices we make.   Veggies with principle and conviction, you still make the cut.   Lucky you (?).

To celebrate the failing of my new open-minded romanticism, I offer you a drink that I’m making at home to ponder my recent veggie follies. Velvet Falernum is an amazingly aromatic simple syrup/alcohol concoction.   You need to track it down – it’s shockingly delicious and completely challenges what you’d expect from a spirit.  It’s almost like a little taste of Fall - bursting with spices, nutmeg, cinnamon and all things that remind you of pumpkin pie, falling leaves and unprincipled vegetarians. 

A recipe for my favorite drink with Velvet Falernum is below.

Cravings: Caracas 'Los Muchachos' Arepa

Maybe about once a week, the right side of my brain starts to twinge.  My stomach growls.  I begin to look around nervously.  I begin to drool.  People speaking to me begin to sound like that teacher from Snoopy.  My IQ drops 10 50 points. I nervously check my watch and realize it's almost time for dinner.  My boss asks me to do something and I look at her as if insane.

Instincts tell me exactly where to go and what to do.   "Los Muchachos", I whisper to myself. I bundle up for the cold and walk out of the office as if under hypnosis. "Los Muchachos", I whisper as I pass people on the street.  I begin to lightly foam from the mouth.  People pass me and look in horror - I hear a woman wonder whether I have rabis. I don't even notice - I just barrel my way toward 7th St and Caracas Arepa Bar. 

I head right to the counter, at this point gasping for breath and sopping wet, as if it were pouring rain outside.  The woman doesn't acknowledge me as she continues to play with the cash register.  I do not notice that she's not paying attention to me. All goes silent. I just whisper "Los Muchachos".  She knows who it is. 

I jest....I obviously do not have rabis. 

But I admit that Caracas Arepa Bar does have a hold on me.   Caracas has many Venezuelan arepas on the menu, but none like "Los Muchachos".  The arepa - made from corn flour - has a crisp, chewy texture that gives way to grilled, smoky chorizo and a broiled/fried spicy white cheese.  There are jalapenos inside, as well as slices of soft, sweet red peppers that balance the spicy flavors within the arepa. I am addicted to the "Los Muchachos" and urge you to run down and try one.  I can't think of a better way to spend $5. 

Cravings: Momofuku's Pork Buns

While I generally think that all of the hype around Momofuku Noodle Bar is well deserved, I have only begun to understand it's true beauty.  At it's core, Momofuku is a kick-ass casual neighborhood restaurant.  I've recently moved a few blocks from Momofuku and can tell you first hand that the charm of this restaurant is being able to pop in spontaneously, sometimes during odd hours of the day, to slurp down a $12 bowl of porky noodle goodness or better yet, have a few of the pork buns for $8. 

I love these pork buns.  Slices of what I presume to be pork belly have a slightly crispy exterior, yet are layered with soft, flavorful pork meat and a thin layer of fat that adds a flavorful richness and gently reminds you not to eat too many. These luscious slices of pork are offset by a crunchy, gently pickled cucumber, a soft bun, a few sliced scallions and a sweet soy -like sauce.  I like to dose my pork bun with the sriracha they have on the table for an extra kick.

Cravings: The Modern's Squab and Foie Croustillant

I can't stop thinking about a dish I had at Danny Meyer's latest restaurant,  The Modern.  We spontaneously called for a reservation in the dining room on a Saturday night and were seated only twenty minutes later.  While I enjoyed many of the dishes I tasted, I can only remember one thing  - layers of silky foie gras and medium rare squab wrapped in cabbage and then a thin, buttery, flaky crust.  The croustillant is sliced in half, showing off layers of the decadent squab and foie. Underneath it all (and not pictured in the above photo featured on the Modern's website) was a truffle sauce.  Earthy, silky, creamy, buttery - it was a classic French dish executed utterly perfectly. 

The irony of enjoying this dish at a restaurant called The Modern did not go unnoticed by me. While most of the food I tasted featured modern ingredient combinations presented on cutting edge dinnerware, the dish that continues to inspire me a month after eating at The Modern was an old school, traditional French preparation with history behind it.   Quite refreshing, actually.

Cravings: Black Cod with Acacia Honey

(Ed note:  This is a new series I'll be writing on this site, called Cravings.)

One of the best dishes I've had so far in 2006 was at BLT Fish, in the fancy upstairs restaurant. 

I generally believe that of the two times of I have eaten upstairs and the 5 times I have eaten downstairs at BLT, I have had some of the freshest fish a person can enjoy in NYC on a given night.  The fancy dining room upstairs features a Black Cod, which is marinated in Acacia honey and vinegar, then roasted in the oven to achieve a slightly caramelized exterior, brilliantly accentuating the luscious, moist piece of cod that flakes into chunky, juicy pieces.  The  exterior of the cod is earthy, a touch sweet with just a slight background of acidity.  The caramelized texture of the roasted honey works to highlight the freshness of the pristine fish.  I need to learn to make a dish like this....this is A+ material.

Why I Can't Write Restaurant Criticism

I'm been trying to muster the energy to write another Restaurant Notebook post.  Considering I've  been saying that to myself for months, I decided to stop pretending to like writing about my restaurant experiences. I just don't. 

It's not that I don't have anything to report.  I went to Blackbird and Topolobampo in Chicago last week, which was one of the best back-to-back dinner nights I've had recently.  In the past month, I've had one of the best meals I've had this year at 11 Madison Park, felt painfully underwhelmed at Gramercy Tavern, bummed and craved a trip to Babbo after an expensive night at Del Posto, all followed by some exciting hits and misses at WD50.....and it keeps going. 

This would surprise everyone who knows me, since I an generally discussing restaurants frequently.  I get plenty of requests for recommendations, which is never a problem as I generally have a list of five places where I want to dine on a particular night.  (I can't believe I just typed 'dined' .  My bad.). 

I firmly believe this site should feature nice food photos and, to be honest, snapping pictures of food during an amazing meal is simply a low priority for me. My favorite meals and experiences are just that - experiences.  Delicious, thoughtful, creatively prepared food paired with a heady wine are moments to charish. On top of that is the amazing, fun and interesting company I'm usually lucky to have.   A camera at the table seems totally out of place to me.

Not to mention, I generally don't think random photos of restaurant food does a chef and kitchen team the justice their creations deserve. Poorly lit food photos from restaurants rarely convey any of the appeal we experience.  Plus, there are plenty of other sites I read frequently that do this much better than I ever would.  Let's be real - if I read, let alone write - another blog post about Robuchon NYC I'm going to barf on my keyboard (no offensive to any of you that have  - I am commenting on the redundecy of reading the latest and greatest reviews  that all come out at once - right at the opening).

Instead, I'll start to write about dishes or tastes I've had recently that leave me longing for them days or weeks later.  This series will be called, lamely, Cravings.  I hope to do them regularly, as I expect that documenting these dishes and tastes will inspire some of my future cooking.  And maybe interesting for you to read (did you catch that italic on maybe? Good, just checking.). 

(Oh.  Sorry.  Above is a picture of Catherine Chiarella.  She is a little food lover in the making.  During one of the days at the villa in Umbria, I remember watching Catherine devour a very ripe Umbrian peach as a stream of juices ran down her cheeks.  When she finally removed herself from the peach and looked up at me, I asked her if she loved food. She smiled at me and gave me a resounding, mouth-full-of-peach, yes. I love the very small piece of pasta she is rolling in this picture.....too funny. Also, a photo of me wishing someone would give me a wine refill at a tasting in Chianti.  I know, I know....I just ooze class.)