A Gennaro Goodbye

Generally, I dislike when people hype up something because when I end up experiencing it for myself, I tend to be somewhat underwhelmed. This pertains to movies, books, vacation spots, and yes, of course, restaurants. Rupa has spoken about Gennaro, the tiny Sicilian place reminiscent of Le Zie, in her Upper West Side neighborhood. She's raved about the beef carpaccio, which she recreated on her Valentine's Day party, and the gnocchi and many other dishes, but the beef carpaccio is by far, her favorite. I stayed at Rupa's on Tues night, the last night I would see her before she moved to India on Friday. So we decided that we had to go to Gennaro, together, one first and last time. We ordered a bottle of white wine, on this sweltering night. One that the waiter recommended. And then we ordered everything on the menu, or what felt like it. Rupa wanted the beef carpaccio, and the veal ravioli. I opted for the mushroom with polenta and proscuitto and the gnocchi, with basil and tomato sauce and we shared the mussels. The food was unbelievably similar to the food I had in Italy- honest to goodness quality ingredients which made each bite make me want to burst into song.
I am still on my no-meat kick. Meaning that I eat seafood and eggs, but I haven't touched chicken, beef, pork, lamb, turkey, etc in about two months. I also tend to do what we call in Konkani "kanna-ruchi," which literally means tasting by the ear. So I have had a few bad gnocchis in the past and now I am very wary of them. But this gnocchi was melt-in-your-mouth fantastic. They were like small pillows of floury, mozzarella with fresh Jersey tomatoes and spicy basil. Changed my entire outlook on gnocchi for good. They were very similar to the gnocchi I had at Costanza, at Mercato Centrale in Roma. Freshly made and melt in your mouth, no kidding. I nearly inhaled it before Rupa got a fork in edgewise. Rupa's ravioli, sans veal was absolutely stunning- the garnish around it was so comforting. The mussels were spicy and in a broth that had couscous that I couldn't stop eating, even though I was full long before. The evening was bittersweet, like a Last Supper, even though Rupa is coming home for a wedding in September and I will be visiting in December. The waitstaff brought up a fantastic flourless chocolate cake with freshly whipped cream. Though I was stuffed, I managed to take it allin. The plan was to go home, drink more wine and talk into the night. But either we didn't want to deal with saying goodbye, or we were just that fat and happy, because we fell asleep almost as soon as heads hit the pillow. Bittersweet. Delicious, homey and comforting. But slightly painful.

The Farewell begins...

I'm not too sure what I am going to do once Rupa leaves for India. She's one of my closest friends, an amazing person and inspiration on so many levels and importantly, my foodie soulmate. I find that we have similar tastes in many things, but above all that we enjoy a wonderful meal with good friends and good wine above most other pleasures in life. I mean, really, what are those?
I've been somewhat on her back to go to nice restaurants (and to take me with her) but in the past few weeks, she has been just so busy that she hasn't been able to do that with all of her heart and soul. But the few times we have been able to jump in with gusto, we've done ourselves justice.
Last Friday six of us went to Alta, Rupa's favorite restaurant in the city. It's a beautiful place, in a small, humble brownstone on W 10 st, the perfect place to sit in the back room behind the kitchen and watch the rain pour down with the aura of the streetlamps pouring in and the chatter of other tables closeby.All the furniture is so earthy and solid, real man's dining tables and chairs and everything is candlelit. It's a wonderful place, even without all the food. But add that in, and it's heaven.
We ordered four bottles of wine- Case de la Ermita (Jumilla) and then it's older sister, Petit Verdot, both of which were mouthfilling and comforting.
The tapas kept coming and I pretended not to notice that there was chorizo in some of the dishes, as amazing as they were. Recall, I'm in my anti-meat phase. The tuna tartare with chorizo, macademia nuts and avocado was spectacular. The cauliflower with chorizo, manilla clams and mushrooms were out of this world. Brocolli rabe with pecorino cheese and hunks of roasted garlic. Brussel sprouts with fuji apples, creme fraiche and pistachios (my personal fave). Deep-fried smelts with salt and pepper and fresh lemon. Fried goat cheese balls with lavender honey. Gnocchi...I can't remember the specifics, but I remember them being melt in your mouth lovely, accompanied by a full tomato sauce. Potatoes with a creamy spicy mayo sauce, roasted with chili powder dusted on top. A strawberry-rhubarb tart with fresh phyllo dough. Chocolate fondue with pistachio biscotti. Parmigiano-reggiano cheese with balsamic. Fantastic. So good. I was happy. And sad. It was bittersweet. And emotional. This is going to be harder than I thought, namely because I hadn't prepared myself for it. And now it's almost here.