Hot Plate

A Motley Cru

2004-09-11T16:50:00.000-07:00

Has the slew of new restaurants opening left you foaming at the mouth? Well, if basil and sake foam wet your palette, then call now for a reservation at Cru, which you will then have in a month. Though Cru has a head start, having been open for over a month, with a plagued location, high prices and high concept food, it just might need it to compete with Per Se, Cafe Gray and all the other highly anticipated choice tables this fall. I was not the only one eager to try Bouley alum Shea Gallante's food, I looked around the dining room to find the newly anointed president of the James Beard Foundation, the editor of Food and Wine, and one of the city's most prominent food critics. The buzz was out and the buzzards were circling. I had secured my reservation for 9:30 and found the dining room half full upon arrival. The restaurant seemed to rest on a delicate precipice between young and old. Diners ranged from groups of yuppie couples dressed to impress to Armani clad upper east siders who had braved the $20 cab downtown or had their drivers waiting outside. Though the staff was young and enthusiastic, guiding you though the menu and wine list, or rather the wine bibles, two of them to be exact, their youth seemed at odds with their dark conservative suits and the staid mahogany wood and marbled wallpaper decor. Immediately after ordering, food began appearing from the kitchen, a cone like amuse bouche, a crudo sampling and a trio of small bites. I would have been thrilled to explore everything, if only I had known what I was eating. Each plate was presented by a runner, an individual whose main responsibility is to run the food from the kitchen to the table and though I have the utmost respect for all members of restaurant staff, having been one myself at times, I could not understand what I was eating even after a few "I beg your pardons." Despite the confusion I deduced that I was eating a prosciutto wrapped fontina grilled cheese, soggy but delicious, a crispy halibut cake and an apple currant tuna sashimi with cucumber sorbet and sake foam. I bit into each one with eagerness delighting in the opportunity to preview the kitchen's ability to manipulate ingredients. We waited patiently for our crudos of white tuna and kanpachi to arrive eyeing the pearly flesh of the two bite-sized pieces that were soon placed on the table. Each slice of meaty fish was accompanied by a slew of accoutrements, such as olive praline, caper-espresso, micro celery and lime salt, but I had to search for hints of these seemilingly familiar ingredients in their more elaborate incarnation. The obligatory heirloom tomato salad delivered as promised reminding me of the ability of such a simple fruit to embody such deep flavor and also of the limited time left to savor it. Gooseberries peaked out from underneath a basil foam, but the other ingredients such as currants and even an aged balsamic stayed hidden. The entrees also presented hits and misses. The spiced turbot was far from spiced, and though the rich shallot confit and braised red cabbage complimented the meaty fish, at $36 not even the red wine jus distracted me from the fact that the filet was dry. The vegetarian at the table was accommodated with a buttery sweet pea risotto with barley mushrooms was cooked to perfection but a pint-sized portion left little room for sharing. Despite feeling as if we had been eating all evening we eyed the dessert menu hoping that it might prove more satisfying then dinner. We settled on a hacienda concepcion chocolate parfait, a tasting of sorbets and after much debate involving numerous staff members the nightly "spontaneous desert." The chocolate was chocolate and by spontaneity I guess the kitchen meant ordinary since we seemed to be served leftover almond tea cake with vanilla ice cream and raspberries. At this point in the evening another dining companion discovered that she may have been served an allergic substance. As we contemplated the emergency room, the waitress assured us that milk powder did not contain any milk, and we picked at the petit fours that accompanied our check. There was the almond tea cake again, along with some nuts, a jelly candy and a chocolate pudding, deductions I came to again on my own. Had we come to early? Did the kitchen only need time to refine its formula? Perhaps the point of Cru was to lure you in with complexity but serve you simplicity. Either way my meal had left me hungry for more, fortunately New York is always ready to oblige. Cru 24 Fifth Avenue (212) 529 1700

It Takes Le Village

2004-09-07T18:49:00.000-07:00

The Internet is a wonderful place. Where else can you be browsing the pages of the New York Times and moments later be purchasing French lemonade and shopping the aisles of LeVillage.com. Described as an epicurean oasis, Le Village offers gourmet products from France and beyond out of their headquarters in San Francisco. Upon entering the site I felt as if I had just discovered a neighborhood gem down an alley on the Left Bank. Filled with helpful insights such as "Wine of the Month," which turned up a Chateauneuf du Pape from the Rhone and the "Pick of the Week" that highlighted a Dijon mustard in a baby metal pail and milk chocolate mini bars with lavender. Do I want to display these items or eat them? Just when I finished browsing the cellar, cheese, butcher and grocery sections I peaked in the boutique to see a selection of French hand soaps from Le Petit Marseillais in flavors good enough to eat such as sweet almond and lemon verbena. Vintage French posters decorate each page taking you back to a time when the only things the market on your corner sold were Diet Coke and Fritos, not 10 different types of olive oils. Though accessibility has its perks, sometimes it's nice to stumble upon a little place like Le Village to remind you of how some things are harder to find, until of course you get online.

LA Story

2004-09-07T08:34:00.000-07:00

It seems lately that most of my eating has been in and around New York City, so I was grateful and excited about the opportunity to take it across the country to Los Angeles. Though the trip was business, the business revolved around attending the Western Foodservice and Hospitality Expo for three days. Surrounded by sugar free cheesecakes, low carb tortillas, pre-made margeritas, fried seafood and soy chorizo, I wondered if I would have room to taste any food outside of the Convention Center. Fortunately we had been invited to eat at Cafe Pinot, one of Joachim Spichal's nearly 30 restaurants , by the executive chef Mark Gold. After a day long cocktail party where the h'ors d'oevres abound but you leave hungrier than you came, I showered away the best that the foodservice industry had to offer and hopped over to Cafe Pinot excited to eat sitting down. Located in downtown Los Angeles, home to mostly office building and the Standard Downtown, Cafe Pinot sits in front of the Public Library gardens and has a large outside dining area where we settled in the shadows of LA's skyscrapers and beneanth the glow of our heat lamp. Though we perused the menu, our meal had already been decided by Chef Gold, who came out to greet us with great enthusiasm. A native of Brooklyn, he confided that he had started cooking after repeatedly being forced to eat his grandmother's spaghetti and ketchup. One look at the menu and I could see that we were a long way from the Brooklyn of his youth. Though I take every meal seriously, there is something about a tasting menu, especially when paired with different wines, that elevates the dining experience to a new level. A tasting meal becomes an event, an activity, even entertainment in the right company and with the right chef. One reason I usually avoid tasting menus is because I loathe to eat the same thing as my dining companions. However, with five or more courses and inquisitive dinner mates, one can get a true sampling of a chefs abilities and can share the experience in depth. As I pondered the implication of the meal we were about to digest, I was pleased to see that the sashimi of Japanese yellowtail I had been eyeing on the menu was chosen as our first course. Garnished with a yuzu granita and a ponzu sauce, the cool pearly fish slid down my throat with a sweet spiciness and a deliciously satisfying beginning. I had retained a copy of the menu to examine from where the Chef's inspiration came. The offerings ranged from a typical caesar salad to a more adventurous organic beet salad with goat cheese and meyer lemon vinaigrette. I saw a sense of humor not only in the descriptions such as "Of course we have a simple green salad with garnished crouton" and "Our soup today is a sweet summer corn with a grilled cheese sandwich" but also in the choice of ingredients with a foie served with roasted marshmallow, a breast of duck with forbidden rice and a filet of beef with licorice braised carrots. Each dish listed both the origin, the preparation and the details of the ingredients, leaving my mouth watering for what might come next and wondering whether it would live up to its literal incarnation. The menu indeed delivered. Our eyes lit up as our servers approached with the aforementioned seared foie gras nestled in a bed of toasted homemade marshmallow with a graham cracker cookie and hint of pomegranate seed. I have since described this in detail to others eliciting doubtful grins, but trust me, it worked. The combination of flavors and textures tasted like a chewy s'mores with the marshmallow perfectly crisp from the fire melting onto a graham cracker, but in place of Hershey's chocolate was a glistening piece of foie gras. The pairing of Chateau Reusuac Sauterne mixed with the sourness of the pomegranate cutting into the dense syrupy sweetness of the wine. At this point I was done, but knowing that many courses were to follow I delighted in the pleasure that I saw in the chefs eyes as the foie quickly disappeared from our plates and we sang the praises of the unique preparation. What followed included a lean cod with broccoli two ways, roasted and pureed topped with homemade raisins, a Kobe beef with crispy garlic and candied orange and to seal the meal before dessert a Spanish plate highlighting a locally cured soppresetta, marcona almonds, three slivers of manchego and a serrano ham bruschetta. We devoured the delicate cod delighting in the depth that the broccoli took on next to the juicy raisins. I imagined the kitchen nurtuting these raisins from grape to purply dryness and then laying them on the cod once they had reached their desired state. The Kobe beef was prepared using the cap of the filet, a cut of the meat that most kitchens discard, but that Chef Gold discovered was even more flavorful and succulent than the traditional cuts used at most restaurants. Part of the pleasure of our meal, which was slowly reaching hour three, came from watching Chef Gold take such pride in each creation that appeared from his kitchen and each ingredient that contributed to making it complete. As we nibbled on Spanish almonds and chewed on the shiney fat of the soppresetta, he appeared from the back with the actual soppresetta in hand, measuring at least 30 inches, and proceeded to launch into a discussion about the producer and origination of said meat. As we lingered over a curranty glass of Zinfandel, a delicious plate with a caramel malt and toasted mocha cookie appeared. Though satiated and stuffed beyond good reason, I threw caution and my waistline to the wind snapping up the cookie and sucking down the malted through a straw that seemed to concentrate the milky caramel thickness in a dense slush as it traveled to meet the other flavors in my stomach. I wondered what the Spanish manchego might say to the kobe beef straight off the farm from Snake River, or would the homemade raisins look at the Japanese yellow tail and wonder who had invited him to this party. Did the foie gras even know what a caramel malted was? Though from different corners of the world and kitchen everything we had eaten appeared united on the plate and seemed to exist peacefully in my stomach. The garden grew darker with the flickering of heat lamps and candles signaling that after three hours our time here was coming to a close. Dining at Cafe Pinot had been full of lessons. I had learned to embrace the experience of the tasting menu and the ability to share food while eating the same thing. I had learned how one chefs youth full of ketchup and spaghetti had spawned a well honed talent full of culinary creativity, passion and ambition. Most importantly I felt as if this kitchen in LA, where international ingredients created harmony from their diversity, could teach the world a lesson or two. Cafe Pinot 700 West Fifth Street Los Angeles, CA 90071 213 239 6500

Monkey Business

2004-09-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

I am eternally on the look out for a good neighborhood spot. Though I love the wasabi peanuts at Spice Market, the garden at 5 Ninth, a glass of wine at Ara, a margarita at Tortilla Flats or the crowds at the Spotted Pig, sometimes all you want is a seat, a beer and a waitress (not an actor, model or musician) without attitude. As the meatpacking district rides the expansion wave with a new nightlife impresario opening an exculsive high-end club every other week, neighborhood spots that fit this bill are becoming scarce (NY Post). Enter the Brass Monkey. Past the neon lights of the Highline and down the block lined with meat delivery trucks, this new bar rests quietly just steps from the west side highway. The modest exterior leads you into a cavernous space lined with oversized wooden booths spacious enough for big groups but intimate enough for smaller ones. You will never be short for a seat at the bar which extends down the length of the room leading you into an additional rear room dotted with bar tables and stools. If you're hungry you can order from the typically pub style menu that lists mussels as the specialty of the house and at $13 it could be worth a try. If you're prone to exploring more traditional British fare the Monkey (what I imagine I will be calling it soon) offers fish and chips, shepard's pie or bangers and mash. Of course you can always have a burger and if you would rather fill up on beer there are salads or a smoked salmon platter to choose from. Though relatively quiet on Wednesday night, there was a couple on a date at the bar, some post happy hour revelers in the back and other groups scattered casually throughout. One young lady fresh off the boat and in New York only two weeks revealed she had been drawn to the Monkey by her cousin, whose couch in Brooklyn she was sleeping on and who had discovered it after her shifts at Tortilla Flats. Though locals in the know seem to be coming, the word on the Brass Monkey is definitely not out yet. That is fine by me because I will definitely be back to sample the extensive beer list, for the mussels and most importantly for a seat. Brass Monkey 55 Little West 12th (212) 675 6686

Raising the Bar

2004-08-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

Anyone who eats out in New York has noticed the evolution of dining at the bar. As pointed out in the New York Times recently, bar dining has spawned its own set of challenges for bartenders (excuse me, mixologists) and restaurateurs alike. I am often one to choose bar dining in place of reservation seeking, scheduling and confirming because it can be a less formal way of enjoying great food. So it was with that in mind that I ventured to the Spotted Pig on Saturday night, 8:00 pm eastern standard time. Though I have waited for a table here twice, the full menu is served at the bar and with waits ranging from 30 minutes to an hour and a half on previous occasions, I figured obtaining a stool seat was a better bet. As anticipated the hostess informed us that there was an hour wait for a table and though we put our name down we had our sights set on the bar. With only about 12 stools we were able to size up the competition immediately. Two in the corner were in for a while, having just ordered martinis and thoughtfully perusing a menu. Three in the middle also looked comfortable, one was biting into a hamburger and the other two drinking pints of the Spotted Pig ale and nibbling on their friends’ shoestring fries. The far end of the bar was a gamble, mostly drinkers in groups of two with others flanking them in conversation. One seat quickly opened up in the corner and we immediately staked our claim. As my dining companion glanced at the menu, I spotted a family of five lingering over one seat at the bar three seats down from our secure location. They seemed engaged in conversation with the hostess over the discrepancy in the time she had quoted them versus the time they had actually waited. Just as it appeared they might be seated shortly another order of shoestring fries floated down in front of them (by this time I had also begun to think what the people next to me might do if I reached onto their plate for a bite of thin fried potato crispiness). I snapped myself back to reality and just in time for the hostess was advising the family that their table was ready. I made my move nearly tripping on a bar stool, spilling the gimlet of the nice couple standing between the seat and me and swiftly placed my handbag on the stool. Though two seats were now secured I then had the task of convincing the three bar eaters/drinkers in between my friend and I to move down so we could dine together. This classic maneuver though usually easy can often bring the same look of disdain you once probably received from the person on the aisle seat when your mom would ask them if they would switch with your window so she could sit with her child. Fortunately our fry eating neighbors were quick to oblige and we at last settled into our stools, hung out handbags on the hooks place conveniently under bar, avoiding the female dilemma of where to put your handbag while eating at a bar and faced our next challenge, ordering. The bartender though friendly enough was not interested in answering our questions regarding the ingredients or level of spiciness in the summer succotash. We order two glasses of wine and requested some spiced almonds, olives and two glasses of water. Wine arrived but our other requests were ignored or forgotten though I could see the almonds resting in a large glass canister just out of reach. I wondered how the bartender might react if I just helped myself but we ordered our food and quenched our thirst on a fruity pinot noir instead. After a short deliberation my friend had settled on a summer succotash and a ricotta gnudi (the reason for our visit) while I chose the oysters and soft-boiled duck egg with asparagus and arugula. As soon as this order left my lips I wondered if this combination might produce undesirable results in my stomach and was immediately stricken with ordering paranoia, the brief panic that arises from the realization that you placed an incorrect order (not to be confused with ordering envy, when you are consumed by what someone else ordered, or ordering opposite, when you order the exact opposite of what you really wanted). By the look the bartender gave me when I told her to eighty-six my oysters and egg you would think that I had asked her to trade a seat in first class for the one next to the bathroom that doesn't recline! However, I was a patron and she obliged by ducking out from the bar to tell the kitchen that some girl was driving her crazy and wanted the roast halibut instead. While she was gone I noticed that although there were many mid order and many more waiting to be served there was a subtle acceptance of the laissez fair attitude that permeated the Pig. The bartender returned and since I figured she already disliked me I tempted fate, asking again for almonds and water. This time with success, so we settled into our stools, nibbled our almonds and watched as people gave their names to the hostess and congregated in the limited space around the bar, eagerly attempting to make eye contact with our bartender. Our service also began to improve once I aided her in locating a misplaced cocktail shaker, though her thank you was more of a "Duh, I knew where it was" as opposed to a "thanks for helping." By signing on as bartender here she must have known what she was getting into especially on a Saturday night but as we paid our check I arrived at an interesting revelation that perhaps there was a defined source of her aggravation. Could it be she was trying to impress someone and could that someone be the gentleman she leaned over and kissed sitting next to me? After all, though we had asked her to perform host, waiter, server, and busser for our meal, she was not super bartender, only a human being whose "boyfriend" was watching her work. No one seemed to mind this public display of affection and the Pig oinked along noisily pumping out pints of beer and serving up consistent uncomplicated fare. We had survived our bar adventure, there had been obstacles, challenges, but our efforts had been rewarded with good food, so we could not complain. As we left I noticed that most of the people filling the stools had been there before us and they remained eating, drinking and chatting away without a care for the others who might covet their position. Perhaps they knew that scoring a reservation at a high profile small restaurant requires speed dial, but getting a seat at the bar requires skill and giving it up, well that's just a sin. Other Bar Bites: Red Cat: Dates stuffed with goat cheese wrapped in bacon Biltmore Room: Stuffed zucchini blossoms Brasserie Perrier: Philadelphia favorite Gramercy Tavern: Spiced nuts Craftbar: Arancini RIP: Mini hamburgers at Merge Email me your favorites

Don't Go Hungry

2004-08-23T10:45:00.000-07:00

These are words that I would pass on to anyone dining at Pure Food and Wine, the most noteworthy newcomer to the raw food scene on a quiet block off Gramercy Park. With a high profile backer (Jeffrey Chodorow) and two experienced chefs (Matthew Kenney and Sarma Melngailis), I was eager to sample the food. I had even read some glowing reviews from a few sources, "each dish was better than the next" and "the desserts were slamming." Yes, each dish was better, since they most certainly could not get worse, and the desserts were slamming if by slamming one means slamming your fork back on the table not wanting to take another bite. Though all the food we ordered was not entirely without merit, they all seemed off on some level. The tomato tartare was floating in a frothy Kaffir Lime broth that added no flavor, but rather detracted from the simplicity of the tomatoes. The Thai Lettuce Wraps were tasty, made better by a Tamarind Chile Sauce, but they were wrapped in a lettuce leaf that was as tough as leather. The shining light in the whole meal was the delicious Zucchini and Green Tomato Lasagna with Basil-Pistachio Pesto. Thin layers of zucchini and tomatoes were alternated with a pignoli ricotta and a sun dried tomato sauce, creating a well-balanced celebration of summer. Despite the cold and lukewarm food, nothing is prepared over 116 degrees; the experience was not entirely without pleasure. The staff was knowledgeable and had a good sense of humor about the concept and plethora of quotation marks on the menu (one dish was served with "sour cream," actually a cashew puree that our waiter assured us tasted just like the real thing); the wine list was extensive and well priced with a number of nice organic selections; and the back garden was a wonderful urban oasis that quickly made you feel as if you were somewhere else. If only that somewhere else had been next door at Casa Mono!

Best of Upper East

2004-08-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

Burger: J.G Mellon Bread: Amy's Bread Spare no Expense Hors D'oeuvres: William Poll Sushi: Sushi of Gari Italian: Nicola's Bagels: The Bagelry Fresh Produce: Grace's, Citarella, Vinegar Factory Irish Soda Bread: The Post House Designer Restaurant: Nicole's (Nicole Farhi) Madison Avenue Lunch: Le Charlot Brunch: RSVP Food and Art: Cafe Sabarsky & Neue Gallerie Chinese: Pig Heaven Bocce and Veal Parm: Il Vagabondo Candy Store: Dylan's Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup: Sarabeth's 24 hours: H & H Bagel

Going Home Never Tasted So Good

2004-08-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

I never thought growing up in New York City was a big deal until I lived in Philadelphia for nearly 7 years. In my experience there and in other cities, living in an apartment and surviving without a backyard or basement, is foreign to many people. Though I consider the entire city my home, two neighborhoods are closest to my heart. My newly adopted neighborhood in the far West Village where I fall asleep to late night revelers at Tortilla Flats and the Upper East Side, where I sleep beneath the creaks in our pre-war apartment. When I return to the Upper East Side, it is usually to see my family and when I see my family eating is always involved. Having lived in the same building for nearly 26 years, we have seen our fair share of comings and goings in the area. We mourned the passing of Shelby's on Lexington and still dream about their cinnamon donut holes with caramel ice cream. We welcomed Citarella and Amy's Bread, while Petit Hulot gave way to Swifty's. William Poll produces the most divine (and expensive) watercress dip and P.J Bernstein will give you a great pastrami sandwich. Every family I knew growing up had their standard Italian dinner spot, either Parma, Due or Elio's but ours always was (and still is) Nicola's. Though New Yorkers are quick to sing the praises of Greenwich Village eateries (Blue Hill, Pearl Oyster Bar, Sumile), the creative newcomers of the Lower East Side (WD-50, 71 Clinton, aka Cafe), the power house favorites of Union Square (Gramercy Tavern, Gotham Bar and Grill, Craft) and the renaissance of the Upper West Side (Ouest, Cesca, Aix), the Upper East side gets lost in the culinary shuffle, exisiting as a clubby locale for the conservative old guard and young guard who wants to be old. Despite the anti-hot neighborhood feel, on a quiet corner off Madison Avenue, Cafe Boulud still shines as a dining destination. I had not been to the Surrey Hotel since the space had been the original Daniel. Nearly ten years later I found myself there again but this time older, wiser and utterly an omnivore. Four tables perched on the tree lined sidewalk outside the restaurant. An older solitary gentleman sat drinking a glass of wine, reading the New York Times and enjoying the unusually cool August night. Was I at a celebrity chef restaurant or a neighborhood bistro? It is between these two seemlingly dichotomous categories that Cafe Boulud exists so comfortably. The foie gras terrine with apricots and macarona almonds and the exquisite wild Alaskan king salmon tartare with pickled onions and lemon pepper gelee scream gastronimic paradise. The six lightly seared goat cheese ravioli with grape tomatoes was simple but delicious. The attentive service and diverse wine list are evidence of a well orchestrated dining experience, while the walk-ins off the street in jeans and the father enjoying a late supper with his son felt much more downtown cool than uptown chic. Make no mistake (and not that you would) but Cafe Boulud is the real thing, an ambitious kitchen churning out well conceived creative dishes served by a impeccably invisible staff in a comfortable room. Under Daniel Boulud's direction, Chef Andrew Carmellini has created menus that range from classical French to thai inspired, each with a modern and global flair that emphasizes seasonal ingredients. As we sipped our Cuvee Daniel, I was consumed by the robust flavors in my maine sea scallops with fricasse of corn and shitakes. I think I have eaten this dish before at the Laundry in East Hampton during the height of corn season, but it never tasted as good as this. I sampled the roasted duck breast with turnips, swiss chard and black mission figs, whose flavor though appropriately summery tempted me with its Fall earthiness. By the time desserts arrived, a mocha cake, a chocolate caramel brownie, spiced cherries and perfectly crisp on the outside and airy on the inside madeleines, I was deep into a food coma. It was the kind only induced by a Boulud created meal, where the food is so plentiful and delicious that your stomach cries "No" but your mouth turns a deaf ear. As I rested in this seratonin slumber I thought fondly of the restaurant, the city and my neighborhood . We strolled onto Madison Avenue and basked in the shadows created by the illuminated designer windows as the Whitney rose ominously on our left. Our wallets were a little lighter, our pants were a little tighter but our spirits were definitely higher. Where else can you eat like this on a Tuesday night, window shop on one of the most famous streets in the world and stand next to a house of contemporary art all at the same time...Only in New York, I thought and on this particular evening, only on the Upper East Side.

British Invasion

2004-08-17T06:45:00.000-07:00

With the arrival of the Spotted Pig and now UK New York, it seems that the City is on the verge of a British invasion. While I am happy to welcome April Bloomfeld's Ricotta Gnudi into my stomach, there are still other ways to create a thoroughly British experience. Take the drinking and movie watching suggestions below, so graciously provided by one of my "hot" contributors, and you'll be floating down the River Thames in no time. The Secret of Pimm It’s the middle of August and by now I am ready for something new to quench my thirst on these hot summer days. Nothing against my usual summer picks - ice-cold lager, crisp sauvignon blank (especially from New Zealand), minty mojitos and classic gin and tonics; but I want to serve my friends some new cocktails on the roof deck. Then I remember a day back in 1993 at college when one of my good friends had surprisingly had his fill of Natural Light for the week and wanted to introduce me to one of his favorite warm weather libations. He had just come back from studying abroad at Oxford and the classic beverage of choice for young Oxonians spending a day on the river banks watching the crew teams cruise by is something called Pimm’s and Lemonade. He made a jugful for us that day and, after that, it became a staple in our house. Sweet yet herby; overflowing with a forest of fresh garnishes; refreshing enough to keep you drinking yet strong enough so you never forget its gin at heart – a Pimm’s and Lemonade right now would definitely combat my summer drink doldrums. The core of Pimm’s and Lemonade is, surprise, surprise…Pimm’s. Pimm’s No. 1 (as its officially called) was discovered in the 1840’s by Joseph Pimm, the owner of an oyster bar in London, who originally concocted it as an aid for digestion. Essentially a gin based drink, Pimm’s also includes quinine and some highly secret mixture of herbs. Eventually a whiskey based Pimm’s No. 2 appeared and a brandy based Pimm’s No 3, all the way on to Pimm’s No. 6. Decades later, only No. 1 survives in the U.S (although No. 2 is still available in the U.K) and is available at most big liquor stores in the city. In addition to the Pimm’s No. 1 you will need lemonade. Stop right now before you go to the corner bodega and pick up a few cans of Country Time. The British lemonade used in the classic Pimm’s and Lemonade is very different than the American conception of lemonade. British lemonade is less sweet, slightly bitterer, fairly clear in color, and has some carbonation. A good substitute is French sparkling lemonade (Lorina is my favorite). But, lets be honest, Lorina French lemonade is kind of expensive, isn’t really accessible and having experimented with that as my mixer, I kept wishing for something with a little more carbonation. The best bet is plain old 7 Up (Sprite actually happens to be a little too limey, pardon the pun, for this British drink according to my taste). The final key is the garnish. The bare minimum in each glass is a cucumber spear, orange slice, lemon slice, apple slice, and a mint sprig. The apple, lemon and orange bring sweetness and a nice summery zing while the cucumber and mint add the essential neutral coolness to balance it out. These garnishes are the mandatory, but feel free to be creative – I have tried it with blackberries and strawberries and cantaloupe in addition to the staple garnishes. To bring it all together, find a couple of big old tumblers. Fill with ice. Pour in some Pimm’s and some 7 Up in a roughly 2 to 1 ratio (2 parts of 7 Up for each part of Pimm’s). No hard and fast rules here so feel free to adjust if you like it a little Pimm’s-ier or a little 7 Up-ier. Garnish with cucumber, apple, lemon, orange and anything else you like. Find a nice spot outside on a warm day (think roof deck, poolside, beachfront, back yard, local park, etc.) and start sipping. Bask in the sun and try not to think about how in a few months we’re all going to be freezing our asses off. Repeat as often as possible but remember that those secret herbs I was talking about before combined with the natural aromatics in the gin can leave you absolutely mullered if you over do this one. 80’s Movie Pick of the Week 80s movie pick of the week – Hmm….Pimm’s and Lemonade…..Oxford……80’s movie pick……of course it has to be that 1984 Rob Lowe classic Oxford Blues. Valet parking college student from Las Vegas lies about his test scores, gets into Oxford, joins the rowing team, and finds love with a hot British royal (Amanda Pays). God, I miss 80s realism. As in any good 80s flick, Ally Sheedy makes a strong showing. Good luck finding it though – I don’t think its out on DVD. brought to you by ronny krishana

Cool, Warm, Hot

2004-08-13T10:35:00.000-07:00

Nova Scotia Lobster (Alias) Carrot Cake (Little Pie Company) Seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings (Annisa)

Alias

2004-08-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

While the meatpacking district may be so "Not" the Lower East Side, and particularly Clinton Street is definitely "Hot." Until recently (WD-50) I had shied away from trekking over to this side of the city but last night I made it back again to dine at Alias. With a new chef at the helm, Anthony Rose, late of Washington Park (which in case you hadn't heard opened as Cru this week) the menu has taken a turn for the seasonal, highlighting fresh local produce in all of the dishes. The space is tiny with a view into the kitchen from almost any seat in the room. On a Thursday at 9 the restaurant was full and lively with some locals lingering at the bar. The menu changes daily and tonight heirloom tomatoes, fresh corn and okra were the featured items. We ordered some plates from "Medium" and "Tomatoes," starting with a delicious green and yellow bean salad with fennel, sage and parsley. We also sampled the heirloom tomato salad with fried okra and buttermilk aioli and a flaky sweet onion tart with fresh mozzarella and tomato. Though I hail the arrival of the praised heirloom tomato as much as anyone, I have not been overly excited by their appearance on menus across the City. The most inspiring tomato salad I've eaten was at of all places Steakhouse V (which received yet another luke warm review to appear in New York Mag on Monday), which was served simply with a basil oil and frizzled onion rings. My advice for the rest of the summer would be to skip the tomato salads, buy some yourself at the Greenmarket or Manhattan Fruit Exchange and enjoy in your own kitchen. It was a heavy "Fish" crowd so I was able to sample each if the choices, the tuna with cranberry beans and olives, mussels with bi-color corn, potatoes and okra and Nova Scotia lobster with creamed corn, cherry tomatoes and portabello. The one meat eater had the hanger steak with potato mash and another tomato side, which was pretty basic and a bit tought for my liking. The flavors were all straightforward and well integrated in each dish, but the lobster was hands down the winner, though the most prominent flavor in it was most definitely butter. For dessert the Il Laboratorio Sundae was delightfully refreshing composed of brownie, mint chip gelato and fresh fruit. We also tasted a fresh (but small) piece of a very peachy upside down cake. The menu advertised for a $25 Sunday Supper of three courses (a steal!) and as the weather turns colder I am sure that this will be the perfect Sunday night spot to sample autumnal flavors and ingredients. Though I will definitely return to see what turns up come Septembet, with restaurants lining the block and others opening soon, I have much more to taste before then. Alias 76 Clinton Street 212 505 5011

The Porktarian

2004-08-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

Between picky eaters, food allergies and dietary restrictions, dining out can often become a stressful situation. This person can't digest milk, that one is off carbs and she only eats chicken. While eating with a vegetarian used to seem challenging it is now the type of eater that I am most eager to welcome. By now restaurants are used to accommodating vegetarians and with the rise of side dishes as a veritable menu item, many restaurants have become a vegetarians paradise. My favorite vegetarian out there and my frequent dining companion is my cousin. Though restricted by her chosen way of eating, she is never one to complain over a restaurant choice, or absence of veggie options and she always manages to find something to eat wherever we go. One day though she confided in me that she had tasted some turkey pastrami and loved it. Her admission, though strictly against her diet, signaled that times were changing. The cured deli meat must have piqued her interest enough to try bacon barely a few weeks later. I was shocked! Though her vegetarianism had grown out of a distaste for meat, poultry and fish, bacon is far and away the most anti-vegetarian product to consume. I have since seen her order bacon on many occasions and I am not just talking about a bite or two at brunch, but even the slab of bacon with fresh peas at 5 ninth! I recently asked her if she realized that she could no longer describe herself as a vegetarian and so the name porktarian was born. Though she has made room on her plate for pork products (and sometimes other cured meats) she has not forgotten her vegetarian roots. I am hoping one day to convince her of the merits of bacon on a burger, but until then.... Top 5 Veggie Burgers: Houston's Josephina Zen Palate Le Monde (by Columbia) Better Burger

Eating Fried Mayo...And loving it

2004-08-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

When Wylie Dufresne moved up the block from 71 Clinton Fresh Food I had a reservation hours later, but due to circumstance beyond my control (a detour to Daniel) I had canceled the reservation vowing to return soon. Flash forward to nearly one year later from the canceled reservation and from the opening of WD-50. Since then I had read reviews, heard opinions and even had a sample of the corned duck and rye crisp at a tasting event, enough of a taste to convince me I had to form my own opinion. I was expecting far fetched concoctions, deconstructed dishes, mix matched flavors; all presented in tiny portions by an overly eager staff whose enthusiasm made you cry uncle. Despite my misgivings I armed myself with the perfect companions, a food writer, a wine seller and a politico, even if the food was a bust at least we would drink well, know what we were eating and have good conversation. My party arrived at 7:00pm on a Tuesday evening and we were promptly seated in a spacious booth that made me feel as if we were having a private meal in a public restaurant. Warms tones of copper and red sent me back to Sedona and the brightly colored deco light had a similar hand blown by a hippie in Arizona feel. I sat down comfortably and armed with a copy of the menu that my friend had printed the day before I opened the leather bound menu. A black and white lip photo appeared on the first page. Was it reminding us that this was in fact the menu? Was it telling us that we needed to use our mouth the eat? I like to think that it was a symbol of my favorite of the senses, taste. We immediately began to strategically plan who would order what. Everything on the menu reads like a grocery list, only listing the ingredients, which left the actual description of each dish up to our server who executed her explanations with ease, enthusiasm and a humor that we welcomed throughout the evening. I questioned her about the venison tartare and she quickly told me it was one of her favorites and that having asked about it I must be a candidate to enjoy it. I liked the idea of being a candidate for an appetizer, but instead settled on the Goldbar squash soup served at room temperature with jonah crab, marcona almonds and cherries. In addition to the soup, I was able to taste the cockles, steamed in a broth with sake noodles and kimchee chips, the hamachi with roasted pear that was topped with a finely ground mushroom streudel, and one of Dufresne's more well known dishes the corned duck on a rye crisp served with purple mustard and horseradish cream. Each bite I had was more delicious than the next exploding with a subtle flavor that I let linger on my tongue, since these are dishes are meant to be savored and contemplated by both your eyes and your mouth. As we sat discussing the complexities of our first course a plate sent from the kitchen appeared with paper-thin slices of calf's tongue, a tomato molasses, finely chopped romaine and fried mayonnaise. I do not eat tongue nor am I one to enjoy mayo except when it is sparsely mixed into dishes before I consume them, however this was an evening to experiment and I dove into this tribute to the LES with anticipation. All I have to say is that WD-50 is worth going to if only to try the fried mayo. There is no other word to describe this deconstructed tongue sandwich other than scrumptious. Even the non-tongue eaters agreed that they had never envisioned that mayo could take the form of something so utterly delicate in taste and texture. (New York Mag) The entrees that followed consisted of the lamb loin, snapper, wild king salmon and pork belly. Each dish was partnered with two to three additional components creating some of the most interesting combinations I have ever tasted and even better they worked. The aged goat cheese grated finely over the lamb loin balanced the sweetness of the hibiscus date puree and the dried apricots and curried califower almond puree complimented the clean saltiness of the snapper it rested beneath. I kept eating and tasting, and yes there was food to eat. Despite being warned of leaving hungry the portions were substantial and there was enough to go around without feeling that each bite might be your last. There was so much lamb I could not even finish it, but I also restrained myself since by this point we had decided to try each of pastry chef Sam Masons desserts that we had gotten a sneak peak of at the bottom of the menu. As our plates were cleared we awaited the arrival of our dessert feast chatting still about the range of foods and flavors we had just been witness too. The desserts arrived and forks flew to get a bite of the celery root cake, the chocolate panna cotta, the coconut tapioca and the delicious coffee soil. Everyone had their own favorite, mine being the chocolate cream with tonka bean ice cream and coffee soil while others felt the celery root cake with coconut sorbet and peanut foam was the clear winner. The losers also managed to have a following as the caramelized apple with miso ice cream and plum puree grew on me with a hint of saltiness when each of the three components were combined. Since it was also my friend's birthday that week, I had tipped off the waitress and we were treated to a WD-50 birthday cake, a dense chocolate mousse with a flakey wafer base topped with a single candle. Even the check did not come alone, but rather with four bite sized chocolate curried truffles. As I bit into this small morsel I felt as if I could taste all the spice and smells I had experienced on a brief trip to the spice island of Zanzibar a few years ago. Perhaps it was the whole evening that had contributed to the feeling that I had been transported somewhere else or perhaps my taste buds had been elevated to another level. Whatever it was I could not get over how such a small morsel of food could have such a resounding effect on my mind, body and mouth. As I parted ways with my friends, I felt that I would definitely return. This is not a restaurant for the faint of culinary adventure or for those just looking to eat good food, so it should not be judged in this light. It is an all-consuming experience, so go prepared to experiment, discuss but most importantly to eat. Maybe the critics of WD-50 are right and we had only hit the kitchen on an incredibly good night. Either way, the company, the food, the flavors, the wine, the room and the chef had all played an essential role in cooking up such a delicious evening. WD-50 50 Clinton Street 212-477-2900