February 03, 2008

Google Maps vs. Friday Night Indecision

I've been meaning for a long time to play around with the Google Maps API. For non-technical folks, the API lets you use Google's lovely map technology to create and manipulate maps of your own. It's relatively easy, and quite flexible.

The other day, I thought of a practical -- and food-related! -- application. Every few weeks or so, D and I (and occasionally some unlucky friend) decide that we're hungry and want to go out in Manhattan, but can't think of a place to go. We're usually at work, and the indecision can sometimes drag on for over an hour while we browse Chowhound or get sidetracked by food-related videos or whatever. I KNOW there are restaurants we should try -- places I've read about and tried to remember, but for some reason they never come to mind late on a Friday, when this frustrating phenomenon usually occurs. If they do, I can't remember where they are or what they're called. Sometimes we leave work and meet at some neutral place to kick-start the process, but still can't think of anything, and so wander around aimlessly. It's pathetic.

Enter Google maps. If we had all of the restaurants stored in a list and mapped, we could use D's Blackberry to visit it and pick something from the list. This probably exists on a restaurant site somewhere, but it's fun to create your own. At the moment, I've implemented a pretty hack-y version. The places aren't in a database or even in XML (though I have a version of this that does pull from XML, but which is not ready for prime-time yet). Also, the places are all expensive, so when last Friday rolled around and we couldn't think of anything, it didn't help AT ALL. Still, we'll get there. If the novelty doesn't wear off, I'll add a little "Add a restaurant" section which will update my XML or DB or whatever.

Take a look and let me know what you think.

Posted by csageday at 12:24 PM | Comments (2)

January 28, 2007

How To Eat at a Sushi Bar

I came across this spoof of sushi bar etiquette (and foreign interpretations of Japanese culture) a while back. If you regularly eat sushi and hear about how to and how not to do things (e.g., do not soak your sushi in soy sauce), it's pretty funny. D and I now say "ma ma ma ma" and "o toh toh toh" and crack up when pouring beer at Japanese restaurants -- I though I'd post this so people know what we're laughing about. The reference to 3.2 inches and 48 degrees at the beginning should tip you off, even though the whole thing is put together as a pretty convincing instructional video. I'm sure there are a many references that we're not getting, too, but many are pretty obvious ("toro is a junk food for low income earners. The fish is recycled..."). Maybe Clay or someone else with a bit more Japanese know how will read this and explain it to us.

Posted by csageday at 01:54 PM | Comments (0)

December 22, 2006

The Candy Cane Problem

I had a day off last week, so I went looking for candy canes. I like putting them on the tree and using them to spiff up my wrapping jobs (I use mostly fabric and yarn to wrap, so the candy cane is the one non-recycled flourish). I decided that I needed cheap, regular candy canes for decorating purposes, and D directed me to the many discount shops on fifth avenue.

The only problem was that the ones I found there all looked wildly different from each other. The companies that created them did the least possible amount of work to get them in the store. They also had that too-white look -- this means that if you bite into them, your teeth sink into the first slightly moist and gummy outer layer. I don't mind that so much myself (it's the year-old candy cane phenomenon) but it can clog up your teeth.

The only alternative in the string of 99 cent stores and chain pharmacies was the branded version: Starburst or Skittles or whatever. That seemed like cheating. I don't think Santa would approve. Also, there's something to be said for the peppermint candy cane tradition. But it was my only option, so that's what I got. Since then, I've seen a more normal-looking "natural" candy canes at Whole Foods, which I think I might use next year. Still, though, I don't get why our standard candy cane selections have to be so lame. Maybe I'm not looking in the right place?

I'm also lamenting the loss of neighborhood candy places. You know those candy sticks they sell in New England? I used to love those as a kid -- they come in many flavors. Cherry, watermelon, strawberry, lime, butterscotch, etc. (Why can't someone arrange for candy canes to be GOOD like that? There must be a candy cane monopoly. I see artisanal candy canes, but they're usually sold individually and they're too expensive.) There's Dylan's candy shop and the chains have candy selections, but the independent, well-stocked candy store seems to be hard to come by.

Posted by csageday at 01:07 PM | Comments (0)

September 22, 2006

Glamorous Groceries

I took a little self-indulgent, nostalgic side-trip on my way home from Union Square this evening. Walking down 9th street, I was reminded that the old Balducci's on 6th Ave and 9th St.--the first gourmet grocery store I'd been to--had turned into a Citarella. The change happened a while ago, but I rarely come to this neighborhood, and when I do I'm usually accompanied by someone who has a low tolerance for leisurely browsing at pricey cheese counters. Because I still have fond feelings for that corner, I went in for kicks. (I've also just realized that I enjoy food shopping much more than any other shopping. I don't understand the whole clothes & accessories marketplace, but when it comes to food, I could (and do) spend hours in a grocery store. Soho clothes-shopping trips for me usually end up in Dean & Deluca, where I find an excuse to spend an hour inspecting sardine and anchovy packaging.)

When I first started coming to the city on my own, I usually ended up in the West Village -- Elephant & Castle was nearby, and 8th street makes itself accessible to teenagers (cheap hot dogs, racy t-shirts). I'm not sure when I first shopped at Balducci's, but I know it was pointed out to me by my parents as a swanky food establishment (they used to live in the neighborhood, which is possibly why I was familiar with the general area before I discovered, much later, that the city extended north of 14th and south of Houston). I remember being thrilled to find jamon serrano there while in college -- first, because it was something I loved in Spain (my Spanish mother took great pains to find a vacuum packed version that I could bring back in my suitcase), and second, because I could identify something behind the counter, which meant that I could participate in the number-taking and waiting and ordering as if I belonged in Balducci's and knew my way around the meat counter.

Today, the layout of the store is pretty much the same, and the items on offer are similar. I know a bit more about the food, thankfully, but am still wary of counters. I didn't plan to buy anything other than a wedge of cheese, but I kept picking things up. First, I found fresh dates on a vine, which I'd never seen. They were yellowish and some looked as if they had "ripened" to the point of being regular dates, while others looked like plums. I picked up some Italian plums for Derek and one of those overpriced blocks of fig cake. I also got fresh figs, a pomegranate, and some caramel cubes for munching on at work. I almost bought some "artisinal" salami.

I couldn't resist comparing the selection to the co-op. The prices were pretty much doubled, and aside from the salami and fig cake, I could have gotten everything there instead. I was paying for the old-style gourmet-grocery experience, though. There were all sorts of European offerings (but no sign of my favorite co-op yogurt, which I think is Australian or has something to do with a kangaroo). I walked past a woman whose cart was filled entirely with pre-made Citarella packaged meals (typical Manhattanite behavior). The checkout proficiency, I have to say, was nearly worth the extra cost (no explaining what everything is -- they KNOW!). It's not like I need to go there again for another five years, but it was a nice side trip and I left thinking that someone might mistake me for an old-school old-money West Village sophisticate.

Afterwards, I took my inflated ego and Citarella bag over to C.O. Bigelow to extend the fantasy. I convinced myself that I needed some travel supplies for the Spain trip. C.O. Bigelow is so quaint and lovely that you feel you need to have a lofty shopping purpose. The store feels European, too, which helped. Before I went to Spain the first time, I remember elaborate preparations (it was my first time leaving home for an extended period) and several new trip-specific purchases. They seemed extravagant to me at the time, because we couldn't really afford them, but the TRIP was all important and demanded such extravagance. I think I had a different wardrobe over there. Remembering this, I decided that I could spend $12 on a hair thing because, while I might not wear it here or really have a purpose for it, in SPAIN, well, it's another story. My Spain self will wear it incessantly. Also, Ladies who Lunch and shop at Citarella wear them, too.

By the way, why do we dress differently when we travel? Is it because we can, because people don't know us, so we can take risks? Or is it the location? Or is it just me?

One more food note: Derek's parents returned from a trip to Scotland with many, many packages of authentic Hob Nobs and digestive biscuits for us (they know what we like). I've been eating the non-chocolate ones for breakfast and the chocolate ones for dinner. They're like oatmeal, right? It's not like they're cookies or anything.

Posted by csageday at 01:34 AM | Comments (2)

July 27, 2006

Little Dishes and Stinky

I had such big plans for Little Dishes, newly opened on 7th Avenue. The name suggests tapas that are not necessarily Spanish. Little decadences.

Some little dishes do deliver. The pork butt is yummy. It's a little on the spicy side, but good and meaty and sweet, and great when eaten with the crusty bread underneath. The special cucumber soup we had the first time we went there was fabulous -- it was a perfect cooling summer dish.

As for everything else, it's uneven. The sardines, which I expected to be grilled, are more like ceviche, which just wasn't as exciting. I like the fishy oiliness of sardines, and when they're boned and soaked in citrus, they lose whatever it is I like. So, no go. The salt cod cakes were okay. The cheese plate was good, with a nice Spanish goat cheese and a wonderful fig cake to pair with the cheese. The stuffed squid we got was disappointing -- it was overdone, and the stuffing was bland. The mushrooms are interesting -- good near the cap, rather slimy at the stem.

I think we may go back to try things we missed -- watermelon and cheddar, for instance, or the meat and cheese plate. I could also go any time just for some wine and oysters. I've liked their oysters better than what I've had at Bar Minnow, but that could be related to what was available -- I'm not an expert in this area (or any food area outside of what tastes good to me, for that matter, but this is beside the point).

One more thing, though -- a new cheese shop called Stinky is open on Smith. I must, must, must go, because all I look for at cheese counters is the stinky stuff. If I use the word "stinky", though, I get condescending stares and no help at all elsewhere. Stinky labels their cheeses according to stinkiness (one nose, two noses, or three), so it was clearly established just for me. They also offer interesting pickles and a good selection of sausages. It's like someone stocked a store with all of my favorite things (aside from the pickles, which I'm mainly only interested in for D's sake, but still).

Posted by csageday at 01:58 AM | Comments (0)

July 16, 2006

Ruth Reichl

Earlier this summer, my mother and I both got on a Ruth Riechl kick and read Comfort Me with Apples, followed by her latest book, Garlic and Sapphires (we haven't read Tender at the Bone yet, her first). The first is a fantastic memoir about her introduction to the world of food writing and her rise to LA Times food critic, and then New York Times food critic. The second covers her life at the NY Times, where she developed a number of elaborate disguises in order to review restaurants undetected. Mom and I devoured these books -- staying up way too late and wasting entire summer weekend days in bed, reading, but it was worth it.

I'm so glad I finally read these. Since I love food and writing, I was completely wrapped up in each book. Reichl has a very accessible style, and she's extremely matter-of-fact. She writes about personal struggles in each book, and I feel as if I'm hearing stories from an aunt or older friend whom I adore and who has had a difficult and extraordinary past. She shares these stories with nostalgia and a combination of vulnerability and confidence. I finished reading each chapter feeling as if I could have ended up in many of the same situations (she makes them seem familiar), although some of her turns of fate are incredible.

She also has an extraordinary talent for identifying flavors in food and describing an exceptional dining experience. She is an expert on food and cooking, even early on, but she shares what she knows as if she's just discovering things, so you never feel out of step with her. I think this explains her extremely successful career.

On Thursday, I was looking around for something interesting to do after work and was reminded that she would be at the 92nd St. Y on a panel, so I headed uptown. When I bought my $25 ticket, I got a Gourmet gift bag (Reichl has been the editor in chief there since 1999). It included the current issue, a special summer issue (the focus of the panel), and a mold for four ice pops with an accompanying recipe ("Honeydew Lime Popsicles").

The panel was great. Riechl was joined by various contributors to Gourmet's special "August Summer Reading" issue, which contains a bunch of short, satisfying pieces about writing and food or travel. Leonard Lopate moderated skillfully, engaging each panelist equally and keeping the conversation funny and interesting. Ann Patchett, author of Bel Canto, was there. She provided a nice contrast to the rest, since she professed having no interest in food (she likes, gasp!, Spagetti-Os) and won't eat anything with a hoof. She explained that she had been obsessed with Charlotte's Web as a child and had received the gift of a pig for her ninth birthday, and instituted the hoof rule then. This provided fodder for conversation with David Rakoff, who is hilarious and whose contribution to the issue had been subtitled "What is it about Jews and Pork?" I didn't know anything about Rakoff, but he kept cracking me and everybody else up. I hope he writes a book. The other members of the panel were Jane and Michael Stern, authors of the "Roadfood" column in Gourmet. They finish each other's sentences and have a large collection of funny stories about their visits to backroads American food establishments. Ruth herself wasn't quite what I imagined, but her measured tone and benevolent attitude matched her prose.

The conversation ranged, and I got a glimpse of the panelists' opinions about current culinary trends. For instance, there is an abundance of salt options available now -- sea salt, kosher salt, volcanic salt -- and it's hard to know what to do with them all. David Rakoff responded to a question about an intimidated buyer by saying "you're picking salt, not finding an oncologist!" Ruth countered with facts: these salts do have different tastes, but more importantly, they are shaped differently and so will be absorbed differently.

There was a good deal of talk about organics and "gourmet" food, and how local food really trumps both for sustainability (with organic food now coming from China, local food will be better tasting because it's more fresh, and its transport will have far less impact). There was some discussion about how Americans still don't want to know where their food comes from, at all, and a mention of Michael Pollen's latest book, The Omnivore's Dilemma, where he explores the origins of four meals. When asked about America's best cuisine, Ruth answered by saying that we are the world's best eaters, because we embrace a culturally diverse collection of foods.

I was especially pleased to hear Ruth's condemnation of mass market livestock production, and how it harms both the quality of the meat and the environment, and I was glad that she explained the advantages of eating local food. She may have been preaching to the choir, but she has great influence through Gourmet, and when I flipped through the mag, I saw the same recommendations. This trend has been going on for a while in urban communities, but I wasn't sure if it extended beyond that. I hope it does.

When we left, we were handed ice pops, made from the recipe in our gift bags -- nice touch, no? For more details at the panel, there's a good recap here.

Posted by csageday at 02:33 PM | Comments (1)

June 14, 2006

Red Horse Cafe

I tried out the newly-opened Red Horse Cafe right up the block last week, since it's a prime candidate for morning coffee and self-indulgent pastry purchases. I'm quite attached to Naidre's at this point, but I have to walk up not-so-pretty 12th street to get there, and the Red Horse Cafe would allow me to change that route.

When I walked in, I noticed that a task force from the Tea Lounge had already staked out the leather couches to take advantage of the free wireless access (strike one). At the counter, a woman with 15 children or so seemed to be in some sort of endless negotiation about which cookie to get for which child, or which cookie should be split in two and be served on different plates for different children, or something like that. She took forever to make up her mind. There were two people behind the counter, and both seemed absorbed in helping her. Neither seemed quite confident enough to be the owner.

When I got service, I asked what the two available baked goods were, exactly. I know the place is new (I think this was the second day), but the woman I asked had to walk back around the other server and look at a piece of paper taped to the register. When she came back, she informed me that the scones contained cherries and chocolate, and the biscuit had cheddar and something else which sounded fine but not what I was in the mood for.

I looked at the scones again closely and was amused to find that they obviously had nothing to do with cherries or chocolate. They had blueberries -- the bits of blue throughout gave that away -- so I figured that they were either three-berry or blueberry and ordered one anyway (it was blueberry and it was good). I also got a cappuccino, just to try things out, and it was pretty awful (strike two, but hey, it takes 10 years to break one of those machines in, right?).

I went back to try their regular coffee yesterday, and I think I might have ordered from the owner. He seemed very nice, but pre-coffee, I'm not much for conversation. The coffee wasn't very good -- way to strong for my taste, which really doesn't bode well for future visits (strike three, sadly). The blueberry muffin was yummy, though. I'm rooting for Red Horse to do well, since it'll improve things on my closest corner, but I think they have some work to do. I really don't think a place with "Cafe" in the name can survive for too long without good coffee. But then again, there's Starbucks.

Posted by csageday at 01:29 AM | Comments (0)

May 29, 2006

Happy Memorial Day!

Posted by csageday at 11:57 PM | Comments (1)

May 25, 2006

NYC Food Ramble

There are a number of places on this list of NYC tourist food recommendations that we haven't been to. For instance: Babbo, The Spotted Pig, or Snack Taverna. On the other hand, we did go to Bouchon Bakery for dinner last Friday (Derek is a genius -- it's always packed for lunch but getting seated for dinner is no problem, so we went pre-movie). The duck confit sandwich we had was heavenly. It came with escarole sauteed in duck fat on a toasted, house-made potato bun. The duck was very tender and flavorful -- too bad it's a special and not on the regular menu.

In other news, when Sara came to visit we all took ourselves to Saul on Smith street. Derek and I have been there a few times for the prix fix, and every time, the food has been excellent. It's our favorite restaurant on Smith, beating out The Grocery and Patois, although we do have a thing for Zaytoon's. They have a limited menu, but whatever they do, they do very well. We've had amazing duck there a couple of times, and I remember some wonderful appetizers. That said, I can't say I was terribly pleased with the squab I had on Sunday -- it was basically raw -- just braised (or whatever that cooking term is -- seared? This isn't actually a food blog, despite evidence to the contrary, and I don't know these things). Everyone else's dish was fantastic, though -- diver scallops, lamb, rabbit.

And in the completely-unrelated-breaking-news category: Juste Milieu has determined, through an exhaustive analysis, that Madonna is a right-wing nut.

Posted by csageday at 12:11 AM | Comments (0)

May 03, 2006

Russo's

I feel very fortunate to live within two blocks of Russo's. It's an Italian deli on 7th Ave. between 10th and 11th streets. I'm amazed that more people aren't devotees. It can be a bit pricey, but they have some wonderful things.

There's a large selection of imported Italian foods: canned tuna and anchovies and tomatoes, sodas, and pastas. They have wonderful fresh pasta and amazing pesto in the fridge. The cheese selection is decent, and they make fresh bread regularly. We've found that it can run out late in the day, but try to snag the ciabatta if you can.

My two favorite items, though, are the fresh mozarella (so fresh it's sometimes warm when you pick it up) and the marinated or roasted artichokes. I usually thinly slice the artichokes and have them with slices of ciabatta -- it makes a great picnic item. The mozarella can break the bank (a largish ball I bought recently set me back $8), but it's good. Wait until tomatoes are in season and then treat yourself.

Posted by csageday at 12:24 AM | Comments (1)

April 11, 2006

Bouchon Bakery

I wasn’t planning on blowing $6.50 to get over the mid-afternoon caffeine- and sugar-low hump today but I read about Bouchon Bakery (on the third floor in the Time Warner Center) in New York Magazine this morning and, um, it was on the way to the bank. I waited in line with a well-dressed toddler in a Bugaboo and an older woman with excellent posture, a vintage outfit, and designer sunglasses. On display were brioche, muffins, madelines, tortes, and upscale sandwiches. Selections are presented to customers on silver platters by waitstaff dressed in identical green striped Thomas Pink shirts (okay, possibly not Thomas Pink). The carrot muffin is fantastic and so is the chai latte, but I found the set-up a little, hmmm, rich? I’m thinking this is where I would spend an occasional afternoon if I were drowning in cash and self-pity.

Posted by csageday at 04:36 PM | Comments (1)

March 30, 2006

Sleep In, Dine Out

It occurs to me that instead of checking obsessively for comments, I should post something new on the blog.

Still, I don't have anything interesting to say. Sometime this morning, my brain started to feel as if it had been brined and pickled, and ever since I've been a blithering idiot. I'm wondering if this is associated at all with the large amount of bee pollen I ate last night. Possibly not, since my coworkers seem to be passing something around and I probably just caught it, but I can't help wondering.

Here's a bit of news about the outside world. Dine In Brooklyn -- the week during which you can eat a three-course meal at many fine Brooklyn dining establishments for a mere $20.06 -- is fast approaching. It starts Monday, April 3rd and runs through the 11th. I suggest you call your favorite bklyn restaurant and make a reservation if you haven't already. (Derek, this means you. I'm too sick.)

Here are some recommendations for Park Slope (it's funny: I was surprised to find so many other neighborhoods participating -- I had forgotten that a) Brooklyn is huge and b) Park Slope is not the center of the culinary universe).

12th Street Bar & Grill
1123 8th Avenue
718-965-9526

Applewood
501 11th Street
718-768-2044

Blue Ribbon Sushi
278 5th Avenue
718-840-0408

Rose Water
787 Union Street
718-783-3800

Stone Park Café
324 5th Avenue
718-369-0082

And now, back to the task of drinking the entire glass of yellowish-blue Emergen-C.

Posted by csageday at 09:41 PM | Comments (1)

March 20, 2006

TG's

Thank you, ck, for telling me about Trader Joe's being open (finally). I feel like a negligent foodie for not knowing the exact date myself. I now plan to avoid Union Square until the mayhem has died down a bit (there's a line just to get in the door, I hear). Every New Yorker has been talking about this for months. It's standard elevator conversation, because the city is a damned mecca for foodies.

Here's a little story to illustrate my point. I was in an elevator, having the usual conversation about Trader Joe's. It goes like this:

"You know, Trader Joe's is opening up soon." [this is followed by an expectant, meaningful glance at the other person, to see if he/she is in the know or needs to be converted]

[eagerly] "Yeah, I LOVE Trader Joe's. I've been getting their [insert product name here] from [Connecticut/Long Island/Delaware] for years. In Union Square, right?"

[knowingly] "Yup, sometime in March."

[doubtful] "It's going to be right near three other grocery stores."

[rolling eyes] "Yeah, but it's so much cheaper than Whole Foods and everything else."

"So when's it opening again?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, but they were actually bringing food in last I checked."

Right, so a total stranger came into the elevator at the "when's it opening again" part, and without hearing any of the earlier bits, immediately said "Trader Joe's, right? March 17th."

Posted by csageday at 09:08 PM | Comments (0)

March 13, 2006

Figs and Dates

Whole Foods has been the source of two fruit fetishes of mine over the past year. First, I discovered organic figs while on my endless search for snacks to eat during work. Recently, at the same counter, I discovered organic dates. Now I constantly mix the two up, so if this blog entry makes no sense just substitute one for the other.

A little history: I am, and always have been, constantly hungry. I have to maintain a survival strategy while stationed at a cubicle during the day. I keep snacks like banana chips or granola stashed away in my desk. I live in fear of being caught without something interesting to snack on. It's a wonder I'm not obese. I try to keep healthy snacks nearby to fend off trips to the vending machine, since our vending machine is stocked with unworthy chocolate and regrettable experiments: Reses bars with caramel, for instance, or Snickers pieces. It's a necessary strategy.

I think I'm also still getting over a childhood-inspired amazement about just how much food (and good chocolate) is available in the wide world, and how much I can afford to buy. I no longer have to satisfy my cravings with cous-cous (a favorite after-school snack in elementary school). I went through an entire bag of Cadbury mini-eggs last week in blissful self-indulgence (until the headache and stomachache kicked in, anyway).

Back to the (organic) figs and dates. For a while, they kept me away from the chocolate and Skittles at work. Both can be bought at Whole Foods at exorbitant prices and eaten right out of the box. The figs are wonderful -- they're sweet, but not too sweet, they have a nice texture. The structure and color is pretty, too, if you slice them open. Not every fig will be perfectly sweet and ripe -- you have to pick out the duds. Still, they're fine on their own. I had a little fig fetish over the summer and always meant to cook with them, but never got around to it since I had eaten them all by the time I got home.

With dates, I feel like I have discovered candy that grows on trees. They're very sweet and gooey, like caramel that still has the tannic quality of undissolved sugar. First, I ate them during work, wondering if anyone thought it was strange that I was eating black turd-like fruit. Then I brought them home and started eating them for breakfast and dessert. And snacks. I would reach a saturation point and then crave them desperately the next day. I know I've had figs before and haven't found them quite as good -- there was a taste I didn't like. I'm wondering if my tastes have changed or Whole Foods just has better dates. My mother tells that she made the same discovery at my age, so maybe it's genetic (she also tells me a creative affair with balsa wood is inevitable and I, ahem, just recently bought some).

Wikipedia has interesting information about figs and dates. Dates, for instance, may have been cultivated since 6000 BC. Eve's apple may have been a fig (this explains everything). They're also good for you.

My next, somewhat more exotic fruit experiment will be the cherimoya, purchased at the Coop yesterday. We're supposed to check it daily and eat it when it's soft, like an avocado.

Posted by csageday at 10:05 PM | Comments (1)

March 05, 2006

Whiskey Sours and Cocktail Hours

In regard to my rambling post about finding a favorite drink:

1. There was a drink I knew I liked but couldn't remember: it was a whiskey sour. This is a serious contender for the signature drink category -- I may not like whiskey but whiskey sours are great.

2. A friend told us last night about her grandparents' "cocktail hour" tradition. Classy people, these grandparents. No matter what the circumstance, they kept a tradition of sitting down to cheese and crackers and cocktails at 5 p.m. every day. The kids were banished and other pressing matters were postponed so they could devote that time to each other. If they were in the car, they would PULL OVER to the side of the road, get the travel supply of cheese, vodka, and whiskey from the glove compartment, and keep the appointment. When our friend asked them what had kept them together for 60 years, her grandmother responded immediately with "cocktail hour." Whether this referred to the alcohol or the private time was unclear.

3. I had a glass of port last night, and I have been dutifully drinking my Sauternes dessert wine in the evening. This doesn't fall into the cocktail category, sadly, but I wonder if I could bend the rules. I LOVE port. If I'm trying to stick with the 50s tradition of drinking, which seems to be the appropriate classic example to follow, port is unacceptable. It's an after-dinner embellishment, not a cocktail hour standard.

Posted by csageday at 10:48 AM | Comments (0)

February 25, 2006

The Usual, Jeeves. Thank You.

Since my stress level has been slightly elevated lately, I've been having cravings for quick drinks at the end of the day and the phrase "something to take the edge off" suddenly makes much more sense (don't worry, I still hardly ever drink so I'm hardly at risk for alcoholism). The problem is, I'm not a big drinker and I don't have a favorite drink. I've dabbled in fruity cocktails like cranberry and vodka or Sex on the Beach, but those seem sort of wimpy and more appropriate for college-aged kids. Derek and I both love Malibu rum and pineapple juice, but that's kind of like a pina colada -- you just can't have it every day. It's also a one- or two-season drink, like a mojito -- it's great in the summer but it doesn't seem quite right in the winter. I spent last summer drinking gin and tonics, and I had a serious affair with Bailey's while in Barcelona in high school, but neither regularly appeals to me. As for beer, I'll drink Magic Hat #9, but I can never seem to finish a pint before everyone else has finished two.

More sophisticated drinks, like good scotch or a martini, involve too much alcohol for my taste (and I don't really like whiskey, try as I might). Wine is great, but sometimes I feel like something different, and the wine in bars isn't usually worth the expense. I need something classy that I can order in some swanky, time-honored institution. Something I'll enjoy drinking. I feel like this sort of thing comes with adulthood but I must have missed that part of my 20s. I obviously didn't drink enough.

My parents both have signature drinks: Dad a bloody mary and mom a rum and tonic. My grandmother drank vodka and water right into her 90s. Friends of ours love whiskey and drink it straight. Other friends own an ice crusher, keep martini glasses in the freezer, and have mastered a whole host of classic cocktail recipes. And most people we know just seem much more familiar with cocktail names -- over the holidays a group of us were matching people up with the drinks they most resembled (I think I was something rather simple, bordering on a Shirley Temple, which I still resent), and someone was a sidecar. I like the name and it matched the person, but what the hell's a sidecar? I've never had one. And what's a Rob Roy? Or a Tom Collins? Dad just mentioned a "Singapore Sling" and a "Boiler Maker". Clearly his time at debutante balls during the 50s educated him well in this area. He's talking now about how coal miners in Pennsylvania drink Boiler Makers (a beer with a shot of whiskey dropped in, which you drink quickly) and chase it with pickled eggs. "They're probably all dead," he says (I'm writing this in the car as we're driving home from a cousin's 80th birthday in MA. We're heading to NJ to celebrate Dad's 70th tomorrow -- Happy Birthday Dad!). But I digress.

Last summer, I tried to catch up by mixing my own concoctions -- the recipes in books always seem so simple. It's harder than it looks, though -- my drinks were pretty awful. I would spend 15 minutes in the kitchen mashing up lime and other fruit and randomly combining fruit juices and sodas and alcohols and the result would always be completely unimpressive. Derek wouldn't even drink them. I don't seem to have any talent for it.

I think there must be some rite of passage involved in selecting a signature drink. The drinker probably has to go through a particularly difficult time or, alternatively, spend a summer working as a bartender. Since I'm not really up for either option, I'm thinking of a Julie-Jullia project, only with alcohol. I recently bought our whiskey-drinking friend a book called "Mr. Boston", which seemed to be a definitive collection of standard cocktail recipes. I wonder if my liver could survive a drink from that book each evening? If I try every recipe I have to find something, right? Or maybe I just bring the book to Commonwealth, randomly flip open the book and hand it to the bartender. I'm thinking Derek's not going to be too enthusiastic about this plan, since neither of us can really handle any sort of drinking on weeknights anymore. But this is a predicament, no? Not having a signature drink? We have to do something!

Posted by csageday at 07:48 PM | Comments (0)

January 21, 2006

Starbucks Virgin

Yesterday, for the first time in years, I ventured into a Starbucks. I recently switched buildings at work. At the old building, we got free Starbucks coffee; at the new one, we don't. While I've never liked Starbucks coffee (too dark) from the store, the House Blend they had at the old building was perfect.

I usually get desperate for coffee -- specifically, the old-building coffee -- around 3pm. Substitutes like soda, tea, or chocolate just don't cut it. So after lunch yesterday I decided to do the previously unthinkable: buy a cup of coffee at Starbucks. I've boycotted the place for years (except in the case of a severe hot chocolate craving), because it's expensive, not independent, lame, neighborhood-wrecking, and not fair-trade. But this was an emergency.

So I walk into the store, walk up to the register, and realize I have no idea how to order a regular cup of coffee at Starbucks. The menu is way too complicated to make any sense of in a few seconds, and I can't find plain old coffee. I've never learned the latte-skim-double-grande-soy-tall language everyone else uses. It's so familiar that people make jokes about it, but I can't seem to figure out how to say "small coffee with milk". So I stutter:

Me (cautious): "Can I just get a regular coffee?"

The barrista looks perplexed, then she smiles like she thinks it's funny.

Barrista: "Um, [smile], what do you mean?"

I don't find this funny. How can the biggest coffee chain in history not understand this simple request?

Me (realizing I need to specificy a size, but only remembering "grande", which can't be small): "A small coffee with milk?" I gesture with hands while saying this, as if there's some sort of language barrier and she won't understand "small."

Barrista (really smiling now): Okay, one [small coffee in Starbucks language].

She comes back with the coffee and starts babbling about steamed milk, like she wants to impart some Starbucks knowledge to me so I won't be such an embarrassment to the Starbucks institution next time I come in. Maybe she things I'm from the midwest or Sweden.

Barrista: "mumble mumble milk."

Me: "What?"

Barrista: "You can get milk over there. If you order milk at the counter you can get steamed milk."

Me: "Um, okay..."

Barrista: "Steamed milk takes longer and costs more."

Me: (nodding, like I might possibly order steamed milk next time ...) "Okay, thanks."

Did she really think I meant steamed milk? Was she trying to imply that Starbucks isn't really the place for regular coffee, but really meant for higher forms of the art, like cappucchino and latte? As if this weren't completely obvious by all of the hissing and steaming and snobbery behind the counter?

I think about it again -- maybe she wants to warn me, the innocent Starbucks virgin, of the high Starbucks cost of coffee? I decide to look at the register display: $1.77. I want to say out loud: "It costs MORE?!?" but keep my mouth shut.

I realize Starbucks must price the normal cup of coffee this way to discourage people from buying it -- it's not a wallet-friendly or morning-friendly price. 77 cents!? That involves pennies and calculation and is just obnoxious.

I feel slightly condescended to in some way -- it seems like no one in the history of the store may ever have come in NOT knowing the Starbucks ordering language before. I slink away to the milk counter and leave, feeling as if the barrista might be watching me as I went out the door.

Oh, and the coffee was terrible.

Posted by csageday at 01:45 PM | Comments (5)

Bogota

One of the advantages of having a blog is the ability to rant about bad service at restaurant and hope that maybe some restaurant owner will stumble across it and feel a twinge of guilt (highly unlikely, but still a comforting though while you're fuming at your table).

A month or so ago, when it was absolutely freezing cold, we ended up at Bogota (at 5th Ave and St. John's) with some friends. We went there for drinks and found a friendly bartender and all sorts of nutty cocktail choices. There were fruity mojitos (just stick with the plain kind, which is the best) and other Colombian mixed drinks involving guava and coconut and mango. There were also interesting beer combinations -- there was spicy beer, which involved tabasco and burned your lips, and someone ordered a Colombian specialty: a glass half full of beer and half full of vanilla soda, which is exactly what it tasted like. Overall, it was fun and D and I promised ourselves we'd come back for the food, which looked tempting.

So last night, we did. And I have to admit that I was exhausted and cranky after a long week and just really wanted a good drink and good food and sleep. I was also hoping we'd find a great new place to eat, so maybe my expectations were too high. It was packed and I got there first, so I ordered the Bogota Especial -- a rum cocktail with banana liquor and fruit juices. It would have been fine, but something was a little off with the alcohol -- it tasted like vodka was used where rum should have been, and it was kind of harsh.

Derek arrived and we sat down at a table. Now, for a Friday night, I understand if it takes a while to order. So I tried to be patient, but it felt like eons went by, and other people who came in at the same time started getting food (or at least it seemed that way), and we still hadn't gotten to order. My alcohol wasn't dealing with my accumulated stress from the week, either, so I started getting obsessed with the service. I saw two waitstaff people talking to people at tables nearby and started to feel jealous, and of course once you get into that line of thinking it's hard to quit. The time started to drag, I was getting hungry, and I couldn't make eye contact with any staff at all. Derek found this all very amusing. Eventually, I asked him for the time and figured we'd been waiting for 25 minutes (D said 20), which is, even by a non cranky person's standards, too long. So my efforts to get attention were doubled, and I started trying to convince Derek we should just leave so we could get some food somewhere else. Finally a waiter came within earshot and my inner nasty person came out and said, rather loudly and well within earshot of diners nearby, "Can we PLEASE ORDER?!?"

So finally, there's the food. I ordered an arepa with avocado salad, which was okay but not terribly interesting. D had corn-on-the-cob with chipotle mayo and queso blanco ("it was okay"). Next D had a cuban sandwich which was "great", and I had chuletas -- pork chops. The chops were a little dry through the flavor was good, and I missed the usual accompaniment of applesauce. I really liked the special side, though: a sweet potato mash with plantains and some other stuff -- I probably would have been fine just eating that, since I couldn't finish half the food on my plate (it came with rice and beans). It was yummy. Derek also said his Mojito tasted a little harsh, possibly just because of the type of rum used and the amount of it (too much).

Our waiter apologized for the delay and checked up on us regularly after we finally ordered, so I felt better about things later on. We also got some free chips with guacamole. We'll probably go again to explore other menu options, but just not on a Friday.

Posted by csageday at 12:30 PM | Comments (0)

January 10, 2006

New Year's Resolution Update

Miracle of miracles, we managed to avoid eating dinner at a restaurant unless absolutely necessary last week. Instead, I've been making great use of the Le Creuset pots Derek got me for my birthday.

First, I tried a vegetable frittata with the skillet. That was decent, but not fluffy enough for my taste. I think I need to beat the egg whites or add cream. I started with onions, added green veggies and some Italian-deli marinated artichoke (possibly my favorite vegetable), poured in the egg and cooked until firm on the bottom, sprinkled with parmesan cheese and cooked in the oven. In no cookbook did it say to add parmesan cheese, but I remember a friend doing this and it definitely helped.

Next, I made a 50s style casserole for the folks at home (adding sherry to the mushroom-sautée step helps), and a beet and mandarin orange salad that I love (and cannot find the recipe for, but all it has are cubed cooked beets, mandarin oranges from the can, salt, minced garlic and olive oil). Finally, I made pea soup, twice. Once in New Jersey in a stock pot (takes decades), and once here in the dutch oven (only take a few hours). It takes time, but it's so easy -- just throw a quart of vegetable stock and a quart of water together with 1 lb. of split peas, 1 carrot, 1 celery stalk, an onion, a bay leaf, marjoram, and some diced ham (you can leave this out, but I haven't found a great substitute yet). Let simmer until it looks like pea soup. Voila.

Posted by csageday at 11:30 PM | Comments (2)

January 03, 2006

Another Post about Food

There is hope for a month (or some reasonable compromise of time) of home-cooked dinners. Last night, Derek made great vegetable cous cous (with a hint of curry) and tonight I made some lemony spinach with pine nuts and Derek made pasta. And I've just read The Amateur Gourmet's New Year's post, which includes a six course vegetarian meal, so I'm adding asparagus soup and corn fritters to my list of new things to make. Finally, a blog I've been reading lately has launched a food blog, so there's peer pressure (CK, that paella looks great. I'm jealous. I spent a year in Spain and didn't learn how to make a paella. How could I let that happen?)

Of course, it can't be THIS month because we went to the Lemongrass Grill on Sunday, Which reminds me: Did you know that Thai food isn't exactly light and healthy? I thought it was. I was looking for a light dinner to counteract all the Hob Nobs and hollandaise, so I picked Thai. I ordered steamed dumplings and pad thai, Derek ordered some veggie rolls and a curry coconut vegetable dish. It was all good (the pad thai was passable -- I probably should have gotten something more adventurous) but the servings were humungous and Derek's main course, though delicious, was pretty heavy because of the coconut milk involved. And then, of course, there's the obligatory Thai iced tea, which it really condensed milk with some tea at the bottom. I think I knew this about Thai food, but conveniently forgot it. Thought I'd share my little epiphany so you, too, can feel guilty when you eat Thai food.

Posted by csageday at 10:25 PM | Comments (0)

January 02, 2006

Post-Christmas Afflictions

As a result of our very successful trip to Chinatown for stocking presents, I am addicted to various Chinese candies and snack foods. Mainly "Haw Flakes" -- little paper-thin fruity sweet disks that stick to your teeth -- and "Jane-Jane Prepared Dried Shredded Squid." D, horrified by my squid munching, describes it as "something petrified and fishy and dead." He made me take it out of our bedroom so he wouldn't have nightmares about the smell. Also, I keep eating Hob Nobs just because we got about 15 cannisters of them and why not? I haven't even gotten to the Jacques Torres.

Oh, and Sudoku is addictive and bad. And, obviously, a huge time sink. You know it's bad if it keeps you up at night and then -- even though you left it at home on purpose to avoid wasting your entire commute on pointless puzzles -- you find yourself thinking about at work. What's worse is that I skipped ahead to a "difficult" puzzle, hoping to discover my inner Sudoku prodigy, and even though it took me ages to finish and was supremely frustrating, it has spoiled the easy stuff for me. My mother can no longer be mad at me for giving her Francis' Sit and Solve crosswords book (it destroyed a good chunk of time for her), since she gave me this damn Sudoku book. We're even now.

Posted by csageday at 11:00 PM | Comments (0)

December 31, 2005

Happy New Year!!

I did successfully follow through on a New Year's resolution once: I went vegetarian three years ago and stuck it out for seven months. Either the bangers and mash at Chip Shop or my cousin Ruth's stewed chicken threw me off the wagon -- I can't remember which. I still try to eat meat only occasionally, but over the holidays I have been eating meat as if I were trying to make up the lost time, which is bad.

I'm off to celebrate in a bit and I don't seem to have an idea for a resolution at all at the moment. Spend less? Go back to school? Learn how to make a souflee? Actually, the souflee idea doesn't sound half bad, since there's a great bleu cheese souflee recipe in the Barefoot in Paris cookbook. It's also not as lofty and impossible as the "spend less" resolution. It's a little pathetic for a resolution, though.

If I'm feeling ambitious, I could add this: Do not eat out for one month. If I can get D to go in on this one with me (I think he got the idea in my head in the first place), we'll have a fighting chance. It would force us to hone our cooking skills (much needed), and the side effect would be a little saved money. I'm highly doubtful of success, though. I'm a little scared of a month without sushi or Red Hot chinese take-out or brunch. That's a very non-New York thing to do. And what if I have a bad day and have a killer craving for the squash soup at Souen?

And which month would it be? Would it include lunch? Derek buys lunch at the Sony commisary every day, so that might not work for him. We could just focus on dinner. I suppose we'd have to invite people over if we wanted to be social, which is not something we're terribly skilled at (it involves cleaning the apartment). Still, it would be a worthy experiment. I say we try for March. There are no birthdays that I can think of then.

I'm betting we don't last a week.

Posted by csageday at 08:32 PM | Comments (4)

December 17, 2005

Mystery Solved

It was the candy thermometer. Or, more specifically, my reading of the candy thermometer, that produced the chocolate goo. I tried again with a different recipe tonight and things went much more smoothly. When the chocolate mixture is heating up it takes quite a while to reach 238. I mistook 225 for 250 last night. Tonight's batch solidified pretty quickly and is much more giftable. I'm thinking of throwing batch #1 on the stove again for another go (this may be disastrous, but the alternative is that I slowly eat all of the chocolate goo myself, which is bound to happen if it sits in the fridge any longer).

Update: Saving Batch #1 did not go well. The candy cane crumble on top somehow turned everything into toffee when I heated it up again. It is now officially Failed Fudge, and even I don't want to eat it.

Posted by csageday at 11:18 PM | Comments (0)

Fudge Debacle

A word of advice: Stay away from the section of the cookbook labeled "Candy" unless you have a degree in the culinary arts. And patience. And at least a 700 on the math section of the SATs. And excellent eyesight, so you can make out exactly where 238 degrees is on a candy thermometer without steam fogging up your glasses.

I think I just made chocolate jam. Does anyone want a jar of chocolate jam for Christmas? You could spread it on ice cream. It certainly won't solidify or anything like that. I know this because I was aiming for chocolate fudge. You know, the kind that you can slice up and put in 100 little candy cups and give out at work?

At least we have a backup plan: Derek's Mom's cookie recipe. Derek has purchased a professional-looking cookie press and we bought sprinkles, and there will be no candy thermometer involved. Still, I'm pissed about the fudge. I love fudge. My Aunt Sue used to send us homemade fudge for Christmas. It was great fudge, too -- just the right amount of graininess and chocolate. I usually hogged the box.

Maybe someone out there has fudge advice. Here's what happened. At a holiday party earlier this month someone had made fudge for the first time and described it as "easy". It involved chocolate, vanilla, and evaporated milk, and some stirring. I thought I could handle that, so I looked around for recipes online. Like an idiot, though, I settled on the complicated one in Joy of Cooking because I figured it might turn out to be REALLY GOOD (when it comes to cooking I am an over-achiever). The Joy recipe calls for half-and-half, heavy cream, corn syrup, bittersweet chocolate, sugar, vanilla, and butter. I should really know better. My mother goes through candy-making trauma every Christmas, and I've been witness to plenty of cursing and ruined batches of candied nuts and candy-thermometer distress. Candy-making is hard -- you have to measure everything perfectly right, and then god forbid you miss the crucial temperature mark because your syrup will turn to mud or rock candy or, in my case, chocolate jam.

Derek and I actually did math, on a sheet of paper, to calculate the proper amount of chocolate. I measured everything else very carefully, and even warmed the water to be used by the pastry brush (I should have realized when buying the pastry brush that I was in over my head). I forced myself to read the directions through once before starting to avoid the usual mid-recipe panic. I chopped chocolate and left the candy thermometer on the stove so it wouldn't be cold when I put it in the pot. I heated the sugar and cream in the pot until syrupy, then added the chocolate and stirred until it melted, and boiled the mixture for about a minute (probably at too high a heat, but it wouldn't boil, damnit).

Then, I added the thermometer and took pictures because I was so proud of my little cooking adventure. The temperature creeped up ever so slowly, and I decided to get a little cleaning done while waiting. I also got a bowl full of ice water ready to stop the cooking when it reached 238. The next time I looked at it, it was at 250. Since it was a new thermometer it took me a second to recognize 250, which possibly made things worse. I moved the pot to the ice water and waited. It took forever to cool down. I cleaned the entire kitchen and listened to a CD of annoying Nick at Nite TV Christmas songs (Derek was in charge of the music). Somewhere in the cooling process I remembered to add the last ingredients -- butter and vanilla. I did not stir anything during cooling because Joy forbids it.

When it was finally cool I was meant to stir it with a wooden spoon until it "snapped" or lost its sheen. I stirred and stirred. I didn't really know what "snapped" meant, but figured I'd find out when I got there. No such luck. When my arm got tired I brought the pot to Derek and he stirred mightily. We tried different stirring methods. The "fudge" was like shiny chocolate syrup that tasted a little odd. We went online for help and were advised to throw in some confectioner's sugar. I did so, but it did nothing in the way of reducing sheen or thickening or snapping. Finally, I gave up and poured it into the pan to "set", if that is even possible given it's liquidity. So sad. I'm not exactly sure what to do with it if it doesn't turn out to be edible. Maybe I can use it for fondue?

Update: Oh, man. It's such a shame. It sat for an hour and I covered it in candy cane pieces and it's soooo good, but it's never going to be solid. This is tragic.

Posted by csageday at 12:02 AM | Comments (1)

November 28, 2005

"Fossil Foods"

A friend asked me a while back why it was important to buy locally-grown food. I stumbled through the answer (more fresh, in season, less fuel used in transport), but just came across an article that explains it much better. Also, the overwhelming reason would be to reduce the amount of fossil fuels used to produce what you eat. According to this article, we use as much fuel to grow and transport food now as we do to heat our homes and fill our gas tanks. Here's an excerpt on how to reduce this amount a bit:

First, eat lower on the food chain. That means more fruits and vegetables, and fewer meats and fish. Meats, poultry and fish contain necessary proteins, but most American diets contain too much protein - about twice the recommended amount. Since 80% of the grains go to feeding livestock, the amount of energy used indirectly to support our diet of double bacon cheeseburgers is staggering. And, if you do eat meat, then try to avoid animals grown in feedlots or factory pens. They take far more energy calories to raise than free-range, grassfed critters, which have only about a third of the embedded energy.

Second, eat more fresh foods and fewer processed foods. Fruits and vegetables again, but also whole grains, legumes and other less-processed foods, have much less embedded energy. In general, the more packaging, the more processing - and the more energy associated with its production.

Third, buy local. Incredibly, the food items on U.S. grocery store shelves have traveled an average of 1,500 miles. And some foods are much worse. Table grapes grown in Chile, transported by ship to California and shipped by truck to Iowa have traveled over 4,200 miles. In response, some agricultural scientists have proposed ecolabeling programs based on CO2 rankings or broader lifecycle assessments.

Posted by csageday at 08:52 PM | Comments (0)

November 27, 2005

Gnocchi

Lidia said it was possible (she makes things look so easy on TV). From the pictures in the book, it didn't actually look terrifying. Aside from the "potato ricer" reference (what's that?), the ingredient list was short, and the instructions pretty straightforward. I've always wanted to make it. So, tonight I decided to make gnocchi so we could throw into the aforementioned turkey soup.

I rediscovered the recipe while reading Lidia's Italian Table in the bookstore and picked up some potatoes at a deli on the way home. I also asked for a potato ricer at Tarzian's. They had some midieval looking contraption, but given the abundance of contraptions in our kitchen already I decided to go with Lidia's alternate suggestion of forcing the cooked potato through a sieve with a wooden spoon (bad idea). I got home, boiled and peeled the potatoes and got to work. Turns out the sieve method is nearly impossible with a fine-wire-mesh sieve (especially when you haven't cooked the potatoes enough, ahem) -- I think my arm's going to be sore tomorrow. After about 20 minutes of sieve-ricing I resorted to the food processor, which worked fine. Then I had fun making a complete mess all of the counter and the floor while trying to mix the dough together. Gnocchi dough sticks to EVERYTHING. It sticks, dries out, and refuses to be washed off easily, which complicated the mid-gnocchi-making picture taking.

The whole experience took up most of the evening (a good portion of that was cleaning) Also, the recipe I was using in the Italian-American Kitchen didn't call for grated cheese, but I think it's necessary. The resulting gnocci were very good, but a tiny bit bland. I also remembered that I don't really like potatoes (oops). But at least I finally gave it a try, and I have a bunch of frozen gnocci in the freezer to play around with now. Wish I could give them away as Christmas presents.

Posted by csageday at 11:34 PM | Comments (0)

Turkey Tip

Every year, I look at the post-Thanksgiving-dinner turkey and think that someone, somewhere knows how to make great soup out of all of the bones and little turkey bits that never get eaten. Finally, this year, after a traumatic incident where the turkey carcass and a bunch of other turkey goodness was nearly tossed in the trash, I took matters into my own hands. I found this recipe and it turned out great. If you have a turkey sitting in your fridge that's destined for the trash, try this.

It's so easy. I threw all of the bones and carcass, along with some carrots, celery, and onion and salt and pepper into a big pot and left it simmering for a few hours. Then I strained it, tossed the veggies and bones (I saved some, thinking it was a shame to toss them, but they're pretty spent and don't have much flavor) and refrigerated the broth. The next day, I heated up some broth, added shredded leftover turkey (dark meat works well), carrots, celery, and pasta, and had a very comforting bowl of soup. D and I are thinking of adding barley or rice to the next batch instead of pasta.

Posted by csageday at 12:15 AM | Comments (0)

November 12, 2005

Soup for the New Yorker

I was in the mood for soup all day long yesterday, but too busy to go and get any. It was uncomfortably cold on the way to work. I should switch to my winter outfit of long johns, a heavy coat and heavy scarf, but I'm defiantly still wearing corduroy. Soup just seemed like the right thing to eat. I wasn't craving thick soup, though -- I wanted broth with noodles -- there's a Japanese noodle place on 56th and 6th Ave that would have been perfect. Matzoh ball soup also would have sufficed. Maybe I was dehydrated.

At some point during the day, while trying to strike a healthy balance between stressful work email and blog-reading procrastination, I read about the ramen noodle place Rai Rai Ken on Gothamist. Later, after watching Capote at Angelika (good movie, go see it), we went in search of it. Neither of us could remember the name or location (I had IM'd the URL to Derek but neither of us wrote anything down). We wandered all around Japanese row (9th St. btw 2nd and 3rd) and eventually visited the St. Mark's bookstore to find it in a book.

The search was worth it. It's on 10th street off of 1st Ave, and it's a tiny place with one long counter -- the kitchen's on one side, and a low counter for customers is on the other. There is only room to walk single-file to a counter stool. The place feels like it has been there for a while and it has a very comforting, cozy feel. Derek says it reminded him of Bladerunner, if that means anything to anyone (I haven't seen the movie). It feels like some friendly chefs have gotten together to cook you a warm, restorative meal. It also reminded me of a short (Japanese?) movie I saw once about a man trying to develop the perfect broth for noodle soup so he could open a lunch place. The movie ends up with a shot of business men all lined up at a similar counter eating soup with chopsticks and tipping their bowls up to finish the soup (a sign of really good broth). Anyone know what I'm talking about?

The menu at Rai Rai Ken is simple: there are three types of ramen noodle soup -- Shoyu (soy broth), Shio (seafood broth), and Miso. The menu also offers dumplings and a few other choices. Derek ordered the miso-based bowl of ramen with chicken, and I had the seafood-based broth with a boiled egg, seaweed, scallions, bamboo shoots, ramen, pork, and spinach (Shio). We shared some vegetable dumplings. The noodles were wonderful -- more chewy and tasty than the supermarket variety -- and my pork was really tender. I noticed some special prep work happening on our way out that seemed to involve meat and wool and wrapping -- perhaps a method of cooking the pork and retaining flavor?

We felt very pleased with ourselves when we finished (and grateful to Gothamist and the blogging world in general, the source of many good food experiences lately).

Posted by csageday at 06:46 PM | Comments (4)

November 08, 2005

Meet the Arepa

On my way home from an Oktoberfest outing with coworkers at Zum Schneider tonight, I passed the Caracas Arepa Bar. It looked packed, I was a little hungry, and I was intrigued by the description of the Venezuela "arepa": It's a dense corn tortilla that sounded like it had more flavor than your average Mexican corn tortilla, and can be stuffed with a variety of fillings: cheese, black beans, plantains, etc. I read a bunch of favorable reviews posted in the window, eyed the scene, walked away, thought about the arepas, decided to live dangerously (I had already eaten), and came back. I went in and ordered one called "La del Gato" to go. It came with avocado, plantains, and a kind of cheese I've since forgotten the name of. It's round -- about the size of a hamburger bun. It was excellent after-drinking comfort food. There's something about it that makes you crave another one. I can't wait to try the cheddar version and the one with black beans. It's somewhat of a staple in Venezuela, and I can see why -- it's basic, filling, and can be made a thousand different ways. It's a nice variation on a sandwich, and it's also fresh and warm.

Posted by csageday at 11:50 PM | Comments (0)

November 05, 2005

If there were a 50s-style bake-off going on somewhere I'd probably have an entry...

I should rename this blog Blue Domestic Goddess Sage. I'm currently wearing a dish towel on my head (can't find an elastic), pumpkin bread is baking in the oven, and I am finishing a (somewhat eclectic) baby blanket. I'm also a cranky mess, so Domestic Goddess isn't really appropriate, but there's definitely some sort of 50s homemaking madness going on. Work is stressful and I somehow haven't managed to fit graduate school into my schedule, so I seem to have given myself over to cooking and knitting and working-on-the-apartment. Maureen Dowd says this is the trend of 20-somethings. I disagree with some of her points, but the subtle backtracking of feminism has troubled me. I wonder if I've somehow been influenced by the trend as I've seen it cropping up elsewhere. There has been a half-ironic return of gentlemanly seniority and 50s fashions in pop culture. Dowd's article mentions the vintage-styles aprons for sale at Anthropologie. I've actually been thinking about sewing a retro one with some vintage pink fabric and old lace. The slow food trend and Martha Stewart are encouraging tedious, detail-oriented domestic tasks that require hours of free time and no career other than homemaking. To some extent, playing hostess is appealing to me and I want to be a good cook, but I don't want to have anything to do with a trend that suggests in the general popular consciousness that women are better suited to managing households than managing companies. There's a delicate balance to be maintained here, and I hope the generation to which Dowd refers comes to their senses in this respect. Since D and I share household task pretty much 50-50 (with D picking up more than his fair share when I have bouts of addiction with blogs and blogging) and have similar jobs, we're not exactly working toward the 50s model, but Dowd seemed to suggest an opposite trend. I wonder what the long-term implications are ... a more casual feminism that is palatable to a larger crowd? Perpetuation of the same old stereotypes that keep women from succeeding in the workplace? Younger women seem to be both more liberated (they feel entitled to respect and equality) and less so at the same time (they're less likely to stand up to mild sexism). How exactly are the 50s clothing and cooking trends related to this, if they are at all?

Posted by csageday at 03:24 PM | Comments (0)

October 30, 2005

Bringing Home the Baking

I just made another loaf of banana bread (I'm going to try the pumpkin bread recipe next) and realized that, for the first time ever, I have a kitchen that lends itself to baking. I have counter space! Lots and lots of counter space. I could make Christmas cookies. I could have a party devoted to making Christmas cookies. I could make BREAD. I have enough counter space to roll out dough. This calls for some serious experimenting. I could probably even fit a cooling rack somewhere (that thing recipes always mention and I always ignore), or a pasta machine! Hand-made ravioli might be worth a try. Maybe. I've been so used to a tiny little kitchen that I haven't been using this new kitchen to its full potential. I should probably investigate baking holiday gifts this year. Not that I need the stress, but hey -- it's probably cheaper that way. My mother has been making spiced walnuts for years, and lately has courageously branched out into peppermint chocolate bark (it came out great, but I think it involved Dad chopping up candy canes for hours on end).

Since I have been in love with food since I was born, I had my first baking phase somewhere around age 10 (my parents have a huge old kitchen that lends itself to baking and cooking phases). First, I had the epiphany that cookie dough was much better than actual cookies. It was so disappointing when all that good batter went into the oven, never to be tasted in its most elegant form again. (I still feel this way, especially with brownie batter. I always spend time eating the batter before I cook it. Banana bread batter is really good, too. I had a good quarter cup of it this evening -- there's a fine balance you have to strike to get that much. I'm no so much of a glutton that I'll pour some out for myself, but I leave a liberal amount on the spoon and in the bowl, spill some on the rim of the cooking pan, etc.) Anyway, one day after school I decided that I could make a batch of batter to have all to myself. I mixed together a bunch of ingredients that I remembered being in cake and cookie batters -- eggs, flour, vanilla, sugar, possibly some flour. I made a huge mess in the kitchen. It didn't taste quite as good as the other batters, though (the proportions were woefully off, I'm sure). I was a little disappointed, but I put it in the fridge, thinking it would be good enough for a snack. After a day or so, it became increasingly unappetizing. It was disgusting. It looked like bright yellow soup. When my mother asked if I wanted to keep it about a week later (with hardly a smile on her face -- or at least not one that I noticed), I said no. This was long before cookie dough ice cream, so I was definitely on to something, but I reluctantly stuck to the snickerdoodles recipe in my kids cookbook from then on, snacking on batter along the way.

My next baking phase (although you can't really call the batter phase a baking phase) involved bread. I found a recipe and followed it to the T. I kneaded the dough. I covered it and let it rest. I kneaded it again and let it rise in the oven next to a pan of hot water. It sort of rose, a little. I kneaded it again. I put it in the oven. I checked on it later, and it had a gorgeous brown crust and looked perfect. I was so excited that I gathered the entire family in the dining room for a tasting. I set out of spread of butter and jam and plates. Then, mom sliced it open. Despite the perfect exterior, it was still dough on the inside. Given my previous experiments it probably didn't surprise the family too much, but I think I remember some grumbling about being hungry from Dad and Nick. I kept at it, though, and ended up making a few (well, maybe two?) loaves of bread that were perfectly edible. That first attempt haunts me, though -- I'm always amazed when I hear that someone has made bread at home (and without a bread machine!). The Food Network makes it seem so easy. Hopefully being an adult this time around will help.

Speaking of food, I wish someone would figure out what caused all of New York City to smell like maple syrup. I mean, it was pleasant and all -- I thought some restaurant nearby might have been having a pancake festival or something -- but hello??? Can someone explain it, please? Did an experiment go horribly wrong at the Ministry of Magic? Or maybe Cooper Union? Was there an accident involving a barge full of maple syrup? Was it a marketing campaign for aromatherapy?

Posted by csageday at 11:28 PM | Comments (0)

October 28, 2005

Chocolate

I am consoling myself at the moment with a bar of chocolate after a stressful couple of days, and I thought I should take this opportunity to inform all and sundry that the best chocolate bar you can buy in this country, bar none, is from Green & Black's. Hershey, Lindt, Dove, Godiva, they don't compare. Jacques Torres sells some wonderful fancy chocolates that might win prizes in other categories, but not for a perfect chocolate bar. Cadbury is a close second -- it can serve as a backup in an emergency, but it's not quite as decadent.

I should clarify that I'm only talking about milk chocolate here. I'm sure the Green & Black's dark chocolate bar is good, too, and G&B sells all sorts of odd flavors, but I can't vouch for those.

Whatever it is in chocolate that my body craves is satisfied by G&B best. It has the perfect melting temperature -- anything warmer than room temperature. I'm currently dipping it in hot tea -- the inside melts but it doesn't melt into the tea -- if I take it out just in time, I get a perfect square of liquid cocoa.

It's expensive: $3.60 at Whole Foods and $2.40 at the Coop (it's organic), and it's not widely available, but it's certainly worth investigating if you consider yourself a fan of chocolate.

One more thing: If you really like chocolate, I recommend a pilgrimage to Cadbury World in England. Derek and I went years ago and were too late to take a tour, but we must have spent an hour in the World's Biggest Cadbury Store buying up interesting chocolate concoctions.

Posted by csageday at 12:21 AM | Comments (1)

October 23, 2005

Stock?

Derek has spent the afternoon juicing celery, onions, tomatoes, and carrots for vegetable stock. The plan is to juice said vegetables in the juicer, then throw them into a pot with the pulp, and cook it for 20 minutes. This is meant to produce vegetable stock, with hitherto has been made in a span of hours, not minutes. In my opinion, this method will produce cooked vegetable juice. Something along the lines of warm V-8 juice. It's just not natural. The last time I made vegetable stock it took seven hours in a crock pot. D says the juicing method is "in a recipe" and therefore acceptable. I'm highly dubious. For chicken stock, are we meant to shove raw chicken through the juicer and cook the result for 20 minutes?

Posted by csageday at 06:03 PM | Comments (3)

October 22, 2005

Al Di La

We've just been to Al di La for dinner and it is fanstastic. Wonderfully buttery and fresh. My beet-ricotta ravioli was clearly house-made and perfect. Derek's rabbit was incredibly tender. The tagliatelle was sublime. The plum bread pudding and tarragon ice cream was the best dessert I've had in a while.

This day started out crappy -- I had an awful sleep last night and developed a splitting headache by 3, there seemed to be no heat in the apartment, and it was raining, but now I'm perfectly happy. Good food, good wine (and good desert wine) completely turned things around. The trick to getting a seat without waiting is to get there exactly at 6, when it opens. Also, save your appetite for dinner so you can order both a primi and secondi plate.

Knitting note: I finally paid a visit to The Point (cute store) and got some more baby blanket yarn today -- something I'd been meaning to do for weeks. All in all, a successful Saturday.

Posted by csageday at 08:35 PM | Comments (0)

October 21, 2005

Restaurant Update

Cookshop looks like it's worth a visit (it's a new local, sustainable food restaurant in Chelsea). Also, a very purple-looking "beet" restaurant opened last night on 7th Ave and 9th Street (Park Slope) -- it smelled good. Might have to give it a try.

Speaking of restaurants, Add Your Own is a new wiki-style review site for restaurants/bars/etc. The Park Slope section is pretty big. I couldn't help but contribute a few bits of information about restaurants I like. It's amazing how Brooklyn restaurants are getting top billing in Zagats and elsewhere these days -- Applewood (right up the street!) is one of the top three restaurants in New York, Stone Park Cafe and Al Di La get recommended consistently, and Rosewater gets top billing for brunch. I've always felt spoiled by all the amazing restuarant options nearby, and I've wondered whether Manhattanites really appreciated it -- now they can't ignore us!

Posted by csageday at 12:01 PM | Comments (3)

October 10, 2005

Fall Food Update

It's so sad. I didn't make it to a single OHNY event this weekend, due to various family- and baseball-related activities. Did anyone go?

For want of juicy details about a visit to the Montauk club or canoe trip on the Gowanas, here's an update on our latest cooking exploits.

I still don't quite have the cooking experience needed to "throw something together" and have it actually be good. I'm not sure if that skill comes from genes or cooking experience, but I'm hoping for the latter. It's frustrating when there's a fridge full of overripe produce begging to be used and I can't just, say, make a paella or something -- I know too well that my improvisational cooking skills still leave something to be desired. Having a grill is nice because just about anything can be grilled, but even then, things usually turn out better if I stick to a recipe. I'm hoping that if I spend a few years following recipes, a la Amateur Gourmet or The Julie/Julia Project, my "throwing-dinner-together" talent will somehow emerge. I'd love to walk through the farmer's market, see some arugula, funny-looking squash, and kale and say, with a French accent: "Alors! I know exactly vat to do vit zose!" (Regarding ze accent: I am very envious of a friend of mine who took time off in college to go to the Cordon Bleu in Paris.)

Case in point: I took another stab at chile relleno because a recipe for it on Gothamist looked promising. This time, I remembered to put the chiles in a paper bag after broiling them, and the skin came off much more easily. For filling, we probably deviated a bit too much from the recipe. We used gruyere, mushrooms, baby eggplant, and pomegranate seeds (I wanted to use figs but there were none at the Coop).

The pomegranate was a first for us -- I assigned D the task of getting the seeds out of the red thing we brought home, and he stared at it for a while as though he didn't quite know where to begin (he usually preps for new cooking experiences by reading the full history of the food in Joy, but I convinced him that slicing the thing open would be fine) Once it was open, I kept sneaking seeds away because they make for a good little snack (although the seed is a little bitter). The resulting stuffed chiles were better than the last batch, but still not fantastic. The filling just isn't interesting enough (chorizo would have helped), and the poblano peppers were a little bit too hot (it's possible that I left seeds in them by mistake). Oh well. Practice makes perfect, right?

On the positive side, we tried out a recipe from the Barefoot Contessa Parties! cookbook (thanks Mel!) for Grilled Herb Shrimp with Mango Salsa. It was fabulous, and the leftover mango salso goes well with just about anything. The ingredient list is longish, but entirely worth it. And since we completely destroyed our last shimp-on-the-grill endeavor by overcooking everything (a perfect example of rash creativity in the kitchen), I was relieved when the shimp came out perfectly tender and tasty with this recipe. It was a nice finale to our grilling-on-the-roof season.

On the baking front, I found a wonderful recipe for Banana Bread on Simply Recipes. I've always been disappointed with the New York Times Cookbook version because it's a little dry -- I think banana bread should be moist and as banana-ey as possible. This recipe involves using only a wooden spoon so things don't get too blended, and with 4 very ripe bananas, it makes a great loaf. It's fantastic with butter when it's warm. I'm definitely on a cake and comfort food kick right now, with the cold weather creeping up on us. I'll probably have my winter weight on by the end of the week.

Here's another highly recommended cake recipe that was a hit upstate this summer: Blueberry Pudding Cake from Epicurious (again, thanks Melissa!). It's lemoney and the blueberries turn into a wonderfully sweet syrupy goo. It's perfect with ice cream in the summer.

I'm starting to realize that my recipes are in a sorry state -- they're loosely collected in a binder and some are on the web -- if a website decides to take them down I'm in trouble. I'd like to find some good recipe-management software that could print recipes on index cards or something. Not that I'd ever be organized enough to use software like that.

One last thing while I'm on the subject of cooking: we had some great scrambled eggs earlier this summer. The secret ingredient: cream cheese. Worth a try. (Fresh basil and cream also works well.)

Posted by csageday at 05:59 PM | Comments (1)

October 04, 2005

On the Food Front

The magically low-priced organic health food store, Trader Joe's, is finally coming to New York (not Brooklyn, alas, but close enough). It's going in the old Palladium space, two blocks away from Whole Foods and the Greenmarket and across the street from a Food Emporium. This is truly an era of dueling grocery chains. So much the better for the food-obsessed public (of the lox-loving, taleggio-eating, organic-locally-grown-tofu-sauteeing variety).

We now have Fairway, Zabar's, the Union Square Greenmarket, Sahadi's, the Coop, Whole Foods, a multitude of other fine food establishments with fabulous cheese counters, and Trader Joe's. We also have epicurious.com, the Food Network, and food bloggers giving us recipes and tips 24/7. So why am I not an excellent chef? I place the blame squarely on the insanely good restaurants in the damned neighborhood. God we're spoiled.

A food-blogger version of Survivor is in its final round, with two bloggers' New Orleans-inspired dishes facing off for the prize. The Amateur Gourmet is responsible for this Iron-Chef-of-the-Internet.

Two restaurants I want to try: The Little Giant and A Pizza Napoletana. Other possibilities: Fatty Crab, Stone Park Cafe, and The Spotted Pig when it reopens. I'm also trying to find a suitable occasion to convince Derek to go back to Al Di La.

Posted by csageday at 05:33 PM | Comments (0)

September 25, 2005

Hangover Helper: Rosewater

We splurged and went to Rosewater for brunch today with Jersey-City-pioneering friends Melissa and Steve. I desperately needed wholesome, organic, completely non-toxic food. I'm no longer capable of drinking with wild abandon on a Friday night (it was a coworker's last day) and then actually getting out of bed the following morning.

It wasn't exactly a Lost Weekend, thanks to Derek's sage hangover advice ("just drink this 14 billionth glass of water and go back to sleep"), but yesterday was a Lost Saturday. I had high hopes for a day of shopping on Smith Street, since there are so many shops that I'm forced to walk by, but not enter, when D and I go out for dinner there. But no, I spent most of the day in bed.

I managed a shower around 8pm and my only trip outside involved taking out the garbage at 9. Knitting was too difficult a task. Anything that involved focussing on a spot less than 5 feet away made my head hurt. This morning, having recovered 90% of my cognitive ability, I was walking around saying "alcohol sucks" and trying to get some Vitamin C in my system, so I was very happy we had brunch plans.

Rosewater, for the uninitiated, is a restaurant on Union and 6th in Park Slope that serves American-style food made with local, mostly organic, in-season produce. We've had dinner there once, but the brunch is more interesting and much cheaper ($12 prix fixe). We've had a fantastic squash frittata, great peach pancakes, and good challah french toast. The bread basket comes with homemade compote (the flavor varies), and sometimes the cake or focaccia in the basket is the best part of the meal.

The combination of ingredients can seem a little strange on the menu -- an egg-white omelet with trout and blue cheese, or a beet and greens salad with a poached egg and tomatoes -- but the dishes are very good. The drinks are creative, too -- I had hibiscus and rose-hips iced tea, and D had peach juice with ginger. The red velvet peach pancakes Melissa ordered weren't actually red (most likely due to the health-conscious, dye-averse kitchen) but they were very flavorful -- not your average fruit-in-a-pancake recipe. While nothing blew me away today, Rosewater is still one of my favorite brunch places -- it's worth a visit if you haven't been. Plus, if you have a healthier relationship with alcohol you can order their watermelon sangria.

Posted by csageday at 11:50 PM | Comments (0)

September 14, 2005

Go! Eat Tomatoes and Corn! Now!

'Tis the season for amazing corn and insanely good heirloom tomatoes. We've lucked out the past few weeks with some beautiful and delicious tomatoes, from the Thursday farmer's market across from Lincoln Center, and some perfect organic corn from the Coop. We've been doing the corn thing for a while now -- stopping at produce stands upstate and buying different kinds in search of that perfectly ripe end-of-summer corn. We've had some good ears, too. We grilled corn from two different places at a dinner with friends upstate -- some was from the local supermarket, some from a stand on the side of the road. Oddly, the supermarket corn (which is local) was better, but both were good and we had a discussion about how the one batch was was great, but the other was heavenly, and that's an important distinction, etc. So the organic corn we got from the coop Monday has to be described with yet another superlative. It was -- the next category of corny goodness -- sublime. It had very small kernels, and they weren't fully mature at the end of the ear, but it was so sweet and good that I kept trying to suck more out of it long after it was done. (We also bought the non-organic kind at the Coop, thinking it might be fresher, but it was sort of tough).

Here's a tip from Derek for cooking corn -- forget about the stove and use the microwave. To cook two ears of corn, put them in the microwave, without shucking them, for four minutes. Then let them sit in there for a bit, then do 30 seconds more. (For one ear, just microwave it for three minutes, rotating it once in the middle if it's not spinning). Shuck, butter, salt, and eat with relish (not the condiment). Microwave results may vary depending on the power of the microwave.

Posted by csageday at 11:42 PM | Comments (1)

July 29, 2005

Pineapple Daisies and Strawberry Roses

I got a call a few minutes ago from the front desk at work saying I had received a package. Had no idea what it could be, but when I got there I found this. It's a flower bouquet assembled entirely of fruit, with pineapples cut to resemble flowers and and strawberries doubling as roses. A company called Edible Arrangements makes them. One arrived in Mom's office recently and she thought it was so funny she sent one to me just for fun. Thanks Mom! At the moment a crowd of curious, camera-phone wielding (and possible hungry) coworkers is crowding around it. Of the various baby, birthday, and sport-themed flower bouquets I've seen, this takes the cake. It's edible!

Posted by csageday at 01:31 PM | Comments (1)

June 23, 2005

Tost

We tried out Tost on Tuesday night -- the new panini place in Park Slope. The wine list is pretty decent and the menu is simple enough: bruscetta for $2 apiece, salads, panini for $7 each, and some great desserts. We ordered two pieces of bruscetta and a panino each -- ham, fontina, mustard and pickles (ew) for D and portobello, caponata, fontina and arugula for me. We thought that would tide us over -- sounds like a good amount, right? Except the bruscetta was actually half a slice -- piled high with interesting ingredients -- but still, not a whole slice. D almost asked if they were bringing out the rest of the appetizer later. I felt like we were in that room in the Willy Wonka film where everything is cut in half.

Everything was really, really good, though. The bruscetta, though small, was perfectly made -- it had just the right balance of toasted bread and topping. The panini was tasty. For dessert, we had the panna cotta with a fig and biscotti. My God that was good. Decadent. And the fact that all the breads are made with organic flour made us feel better about the bill.

In other news, Gothamist says the new IFC Center has some good food, and everyone recommends the documentary Mad Hot Ballroom (Stay Free has an article about the film's copyright hurdles). A line-up of indie rockers will probably draw record crowds to Celebrate Brooklyn this Saturday.

And finally, if you want to learn how to sail, there's a two-day sailing instruction workshop at Sebago this weekend that still has some open slots. I'll be helping out both days -- email me if you're interested.

Posted by csageday at 09:00 PM | Comments (1)

May 31, 2005

Coffee

When Derek tries to say goodbye in the morning, pre-coffee, he's happy to get any response from me at all. Usually it's the least amount of movement I can get away with. Anything I say will be incoherent. Sometimes I think I'm saying something he can understand but find out later (when he calls me at work to make sure I got there) that I didn't actually say anything at all.

Coffee on the way to work is something I don't really know how to do without. If I don't have at least a few sips of caffeine before I get on the train I tend to walk into things, swipe my Metrocard upside down, or attempt to enter the turnstile without swiping the Metrocard at all.

Trying to order coffee in the aforementioned state of consciousness isn't always easy, though. Here's what I've learned.

1) There are many ways of ordering coffee.

I'm not counting the stupid Starbucks ways which are just annoying and pointless. Coffee is coffee. Latte frappe nonsense is just self indulgent. At respectable coffee establishments (delis, carts, diners, anywhere but Starbucks), there's an ancient coffee-ordering code. There is "coffee, regular", "coffee, light and sweet" (cream and sugar), and "coffee, black". I'm not exactly sure what coffee regular is, but I think it involves milk and sugar. It seems logical to abbreviate things this way, since people can't be trusted to handle complicated speech in the morning and they're usually in a rush. But I can't, for the life of me, figure out how to order what I want -- coffee with milk and no sugar -- in a shorter way than I do. The shortest thing seems to be "Small coffee, milk, NO sugar." This is specially engineered so that there will be no additional conversation -- the size and milk and sugar questions should be taken care of, right? Except it is ALWAYS followed by the question,

"Sugar?"

...to which I reply,

"NO sugar."

I still get sugar about 10% of the time.

Am I ordering wrong? Is there a New York coffee ordering code I'm not following? Should it be "coffee not regular"? I could ask someone but I'm afraid they'll mess up my order.

Once I saw a man come into a deli and say, decisively, "Coffee." I was amazed when the deli guy didn't ask for clarification. He just got the man some coffee. What kind, I have no idea, but it was impressive. This is what I aspire to.

2) A coffee vendor who remembers what kind of coffee you want from day to day is priceless.

There was a coffee cart guy on Lafayette and 2nd who always knew exactly what I wanted and didn't screw it up. Even if his line was ten people long I would wait. Nothing beats not having to be alert enough to monitor the coffee-making process for added sugar.

These days, I go to the same damn place every single morning and order the exact same thing. I see the same guy behind the counter -- there's never a line -- and he always looks at me like he's knows me but has no idea what I might order. So I say my usual "regular coffee, milk, no sugar," except it's sort of slurred because I'm still waking up, so it's "regulacofeemilk NO sugar", which, as custom demands, is occasionally followed by "You said sugar or no sugar?" at which point I wake up and clarify things because I despise sweet coffee. Even so, I get sugar once a week and don't find out until I'm just far enough away that I can't take it back.

3) You must seek out a coffee vendor of minimal chattiness.

Few coffee sellers in this city have the skill and finesse to negotiate my morning mood, make the right kind of coffee, and complete the transaction without ruining my morning altogether. Coffee vendors who like to strike up conversations before noon must be avoided. I really like the coffee at Dizzy's and I'm willing to endure a line for it, but when the guy there started to recognize me every day and make conversation I had to give it up. The coffee transaction is a ritual. You say something, they get coffee, you pay, you leave. This is necessary because a) my mood is pretty nasty before coffee and b) I'm late for work. I don't want to offend the coffee guy by being a bitch but it's unavoidable if he tries to be friendly. I really, really, really don't feel like talking about where I went on vacation or what the weather's like. I'm just there for coffee, okay?

4) Cheap coffee is good coffee.

Starbucks coffee is like burnt coffee with half the caffeine removed. The 15-word orders and the acrobatics the Starbucks people do behind the counter with the steamers and whatchamacallits are unnecessary. The coffee at the deli is good stuff. It's fresh, it's cheap, it works. Fancy schmancy crowded chains weren't meant to be part of the non-morning-person's routine. Avoid them.

Posted by csageday at 11:42 PM | Comments (3)

April 11, 2005

Farm-a-Lox

After reading up on seafood a while back I decided against eating salmon since most of it is farmed and has PCBs. It was hard to pass up my usual plain bagel with lox spread at La Bagel Delight but I'm managing. Since lox is such a staple for brunch in New York, though, a lot of people are being duped by retailers selling farmed salmon as "wild" -- a safer, but hard-to-come-by alternative to the farmed stuff. This weekend the NYT published a great article about this. The tagline is "Tests performed for The Times on salmon sold as wild by eight New York City stores showed that the fish at six of the eight were farm raised." There's a little blurb about each store's lame explanation. This one's pretty classic:

A whole salmon sold to this reporter as wild from Slavin's in the Fulton Fish Market was pulled from a box marked "farmed Canada."

"I know you are looking at the label, but believe me," the clerk at Fulton said. "Don't pay any attention to the label."

Yeah, sure it SAYS it's farmed but you listen to me, okay? I'm telling you. It's wild. Trust me. Okay? You wanna argue wit me?

Posted by csageday at 12:30 AM | Comments (0)

April 04, 2005

Comfort Food: A Good Middle Eastern Platter

Right in the middle of walking through an Egyptian exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum on Saturday I had a craving for the pita bread at Zaytoons on Smith Street. So much so that I decided to tell Derek immediately (I was tired and hungry) in a not-exactly-museum-volume tone of voice and got stares from people.

The association was lost on me then (our brains were fried after the Marilyn and Basquiat exhibits) but my craving probably had something to do with the over-the-top Egyptian decorations that used to be at Mr. Falafel. While Mr. Falafel has decent Middle Eastern food, these days I'm getting more and more attached to Zaytoons and The Olive Vine. Zaytoons is near the Carroll Street F stop and is probably the better of the two, but last night we ended up at The Olive Vine on 7th Avenue at the Flatbush end (there's another location at 7th Ave. and 15th St). Both places have brick ovens and the homemade pita is heated to order. Both have combination platters, so I can get a little bit of everything -- humus, babaghanoush, lentil/bulgar, foule (beans), stuffed grape leaves, cucumber/yogurt, etc. Both have fantastic mint tea and lentil soup (with lemon on the side). Maybe it's the brick-oven smell or the laid back staff, but lately I've found these places to be really comforting -- especially when you're worn out after a stressful day. The cost of dinner there won't break the bank either, and the food is pretty healthy, which can't really be said for al di la, as much as I try to convince myself otherwise.

Posted by csageday at 11:35 PM | Comments (0)

March 24, 2005

Chile Relleno, Brooklyn-Style

Blue Sage is going to be a food blog for a day. I'm jealous of the Amateur Gourmet's large readership. Plus, this recipe needs help.

Chile Relleno (stuffed poblano peppers) was one of my favorite food finds in Mexico, so I made a valiant effort to make it at home last week. I looked around for recipes and found a few complicated ones, but nothing that sounded perfect. I bought two poblano chiles and an assortment of ingredients I thought might work as filling (since I'm trying to stay vegetarian while not on vacation). The usual options for fillings in Mexico were cheese or beef -- I thought sauteed mushrooms or eggplant with cheese might work.

I brushed the chiles with oil and broiled them to soften them and get the skin off. While waiting, I sauteed the mushrooms with some garlic, salt, and pepper. When the chiles were cool enough, I got to peeling and seeding them but in the process I managed to shred them a bit. I'm not sure if there's a secret to dealing with that -- the same thing happens to me with roasted red peppers. Getting the skin off is time-consuming, messy, and it looks like the pepper has been destroyed when you're done.

I stuck some cheddar chunks and mushrooms inside each one and used toothpicks to get them somewhat closed. I dipped each one in eggs and then a flour/cornmeal mixture and fried them in oil for a couple of minutes. The end results was something like the chiles we had in Mexico but with something missing -- probably a spice. It just wasn't as flavorful (we also had to be careful of the toothpicks). On the whole, the mushroom, cheese, and peppers were good together but the oil and outer coating were too greasy and gritty.

I think there's probably an alternative to the egg/flour/frying-in-oil cooking method. It wouldn't be the same but the flavor of the chile is what makes this dish work for me and that would still be there. I could try baking them in a red or green sauce. If anyone reading this has any insight on cooking chile relleno/stuffed poblano peppers, let me know.

Another quick food-related item: AG posted a ridiculously easy swordfish recipe the other day -- worth a try.

Update: Gothamist has a Chile Relleno recipe, based on Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill version, that looks interesting. Also, the secret to peeling the skin off is to stick the chiles in a bag after broiling them. Duh.

Posted by csageday at 06:00 PM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2005

Ise

My parents love Japanese food. My father is a major fan of sashimi and tends to make friends with the entire staff of any Japanese restaurant we go to. The waiter we know at Yamato (Park Slope) still asks after him, and it's been over a year now since he's been there. He's a typical American diner -- he uses the warm moist towels to give himself a facial instead of just cleaning his hands, and he soaks everything in gallons of soy sauce. He also makes an impression by ordering sea urchin with a quail egg on top (you can see where I get my food habits). But the upshot of this is that we're used to Americanized Japanese restaurants, and so are most New Yorkers. Authentic Japanese food does exist in the city, but you need to know where to find it.

Last Wednesday, Derek and I had dinner at Ise (56th street near 6th Ave) with Clay (a friend from work), his wife Rie, and their friend Megumi. Lucky for us, both Rie and Megumi are from Japan and have magical powers when it comes to ordering food in a Japanese restaurant. Ise is also a great place to go for Japanese -- it attracts a sizable crowd of Japanese businessmen (a good sign) and offers several private tatami rooms.

Clay, Derek, and I got there first and ordered a bunch of dishes on our own -- vegetable tempura, spelt, grilled eggplant, edamame, hijiki salad, and age dashi tofu. We tried to order adventurously but we couldn't seem to find the right things on the menu. I ordered some plum wine but it tasted like a liquid jolly rancher. We kept joking that all the good stuff must be on the Japanese menu, which, of course, turned out to be true.

When Rie and Megumi joined us, the fabled Japanese specials menu appeared -- it looked a lot like ours but had about twice as many options. Two things were tantalizingly circled, and Rie and Megumi and our waitress had extended conversations (in Japanese) about what to get. I think the chef even came out at one point for a consultation. They ordered a homemade tofu dish that had to cook at the table for about fifteen minutes and was fantastic, with a silky texture and good flavor. Dishes kept coming -- I don't remember them all but one broiled (I think) whole fish was perfectly tender and sweet. The sardines were also good. (One tip for sharing dishes with a group if you want to be polite -- you can flip your chopsticks around and use the other end to grab your food from the shared plate, then switch them back to eat.)

For dessert, more consultations and animated conversations resulted in one exotic dessert, along with green tea flan and deep fried ice cream. I can't remember what Rie and Megumi ordered, but it came in a martini glass and had sesame paste at the bottom and was, of course, very good. My choice (English menu) wasn't too bad either -- I highly recommend the green tea flan.

I'm considering asking for the Japanese menu next time and pointing at anything circled, just for kicks. Somehow I don't think it'll work. Anyway, thanks Clay, Rie, and Megumi for a great dinner!

Posted by csageday at 01:04 AM | Comments (0)

February 05, 2005

Casa Mono

Casa Mono is a one-year-old tapas restaurant at 52 Irving Place. It was in the "Tables for Two" New Yorker column this week so we tried it out. Very impressive. We ordered five dishes to share and two "cuartos" of wine. We started with Pan con Tomate -- a staple of every meal in Catalunia -- which is toasted crusty bread rubbed with tomato and garlic and topped with olive oil and salt. Casa Mono's was good though a bit too salty. The bacalao (salt cod) croquettes over orange alioli (not the Italian aioli, which bothers me on menus because I feel like it's missing an "l", but Spanish alioli) were good -- the orange flavor in the alioli was interesting but not something I would make at home.

Since we were sitting at the bar, we chatted with a neighbor and watched each dish being assembled by the staff. One plate looked absolutely decadent and turned out to be one of ours. It's currently my favorite dish anywhere -- I haven't gotten over it yet. It's a sunny-side-up duck egg on top of sautéed fingerling potatoes and topped with salt-cured tuna (Mojama) and, the kicker, truffle sauce. The egg and potato and Mojama and sauce perfectly complement each other. I barely tried the cauliflower with capers (good) and passed on the sweetbreads because I was busy taking a bite and closing my eyes because it was sooo goooood. Must go back soon. I'm a sucker for luxury ingredients (truffles, duck eggs, anything imported).

Here's the menu and the NY Times review.

Posted by csageday at 11:08 PM | Comments (0)

February 04, 2005

Ode to Elephant & Castle

When it comes to eating in Manhattan, I'm a creature of habit. I have a few restaurants I feel at home in, and as much as I try to go to the latest place-with-lots-of-buzz, I usually end up at one of the old standards. Going to one of them is like going to an old friend's house. If I drank regularly I would feel the same way about a bar, but since I'm more of a food addict I have these three stand-bys: Veselka, Souen, and my original favorite, Elephant & Castle.

Elephant & Castle opened in 1973 and hasn't changed much since then, although it doesn't feel outdated so much as worn in, like a good pub. There's a great story about the name here. Apparently I was taken there as a baby when my parents lived on Perry street. I don't remember going there as a child, but I must have known about it because I always took friends there on trips into the city in high school (it was the only place I knew of and it was within walking distance of Washington Square Park and the PATH).

It's the default setting for small family reunions and a good place for a long conversation. Derek and I come together sometimes, but since our mutual favorite is Veselka, E&C has earned the designation of being the place where I go to discuss our relationship ad nauseum with friends (one of whom, incidentally, was born across the street at St. Vincent's and was probably also an early customer).

Wood paneling, old-style windows, the British name (Elephant & Castle is the name of a traffic circle in London), and a collection of ceramic elephants give it a cozy feel. The menu has a mix of simple and complicated dishes, ranging from omelettes to sautéed shrimp to crepes. There are a interesting items like Boston Indian Pudding, and "Puréed Spinach with Poached Eggs, Melted Cheese and Potato Pancakes" (for brunch). The special soups can be fantastic. The Grand Marnier crepe is a bit much for me, but I love the Casa Blanca (with fudge and ice cream). The house salad comes with a great mustard dressing -- my mother asked for the recipe for it years ago and makes it at home sometimes. Bowls of milk with orzata, café au lait, or hot chocolate are all on the menu. The coffee there is always perfect. Derek tells me the burgers are great. The Green 'n Gold omelette (cheddar and spinach) is a good choice if you don't know what to get.

I must be an Anglophile. Londonist yesterday, and this today. But if you haven't been dragged to E&C by me at some point, I highly recommend it. It's interesting that Souen and E&C are both 30-year veterans of the New York restaurant scene and Veselka has been around forever -- they can each please a loyal crowd of regulars while attracting new clientele at the same time. I'm probably drawn to them because they remind me of how long I've been in the city (10 years) -- they make me feel like a New Yorker (say that with an accent).

Posted by csageday at 12:44 AM | Comments (0)

January 23, 2005

Sardines

I am the only person I know who loves canned sardines -- the ones that come in those little tins that appear in comic strips (usually in reference to rush hour on the subway). I know people who like the slightly larger, more respectably sized sardines served in restaurants, and I know my father probably has a soft spot for the canned version, but