In which I overdo it (a bit)

The Time Out New York 100 Best Things We Have Eaten and Drank this year is one of my personal challenges. In that, I would like to try everything on it. What makes it even more challenging is that I have 2008's list in my wallet, shrunken down to a smaller size as well as 2007's list. I'm making my way through it, slowly but surely. But you really have to make an adamant effort to get to certain neighborhoods, since some of the foods just aren't around them. One of those is the Lower East Side. There are a TON of great restaurants on the LES. Most of the time, if you just walk into one, it will most likely satisfy. However, for those living in Central Harlem, the LES isn't the most convenient destination. On Sunday night, Rohit and I attempted to scratch off three of the top foods and drinks to be had in NYC. Our first stop was Macondo, a place I have eyed before when getting off the F train. In the summers, this breezy place resembles some of the surfer shack type bars I saw in Costa Rica, with their garage doors open to the passing breeze and the cocktails strong and cheap. We stopped to sample the Aguacate + Mezcal, a frozen concoction made of honey, avocado, agave nectar, midori, cointreau, lime juice, and scorpion mezcal. Always a little wary of frozen drinks, I was a bit hesitant. But, boy, was this unreal. It had the sweetness of something that goes down wayy too easy, yet the subtlety of something made with class. We also sampled the Maracuya + Vodka, a bright orange cocktail with flecks of jalepeno, passionfruit, sobieski, canton ginger liquor and lime juice, which was actually my preferred drink, even though it technically did not make it onto the TONY 100. See? Sometimes they aren't always right! We shared some fried oysters pressed with panka crumbs and a poblano-cilantro sauce. Delectable. Even though we'd planned on hitting Clinton Street, I got a little greedy and we ordered the Almondegas, a Brazilian meatball made with guave sauce and tetilla cheese. Melt-in-your-mouth. I was rather impressed by the tastes we had and would certainly come back here for dinner, provided we could sit at the window bar as we did on this particularly balmy Sunday afternoon. After quaffing a bit, we headed to Frankie's Spuntino.

Even though Frankie's is not on the TONY 100, this is another example of when I think it should be. The restaurant is adorable. It's small, dark, and seems like it could be someone's personal kitchen. We sat at small wooden tables and shared the Frankies’ Greens with Cipollini Onion Cider Vinaigrette, the Roasted Cauliflower and their signature dish, the Home-made Cavatelli with Faiccos Hot Sausage & Browned Sage Butter. Heaven is a place on earth. That dish should definitely be on the list of best things they have eaten all year. Perhaps it has been in the past? After another bottle of wine (I was reeling at this point), we walked to Cake Shop, which boasts vegan desserts and live music. We didn't stay for the latter, but picked up a pumpkin whoopie pie and the peanut butter bomb. Peanut butter? Chocolate ganache? As Joey says on Friends, "Put your hands together." Nothing could be better. I'm usually not a fan of the whipped cream, but on Whoopie Pies, there is no cutting corners. Although I was sated to the brim, of course I dug in.

Two days later, we were seeing a movie and I shopped around for a pre-movie picnic. The mission was to stick to the TONY 100 list yet again. This time, I hiked across town to Sullivan Street Bakery, which is no longer on Sullivan Street, but on W 47th Street between 10th and 11th aves. It was a rather annoying hike, but I knew that Jim Lahey wouldn't displease me. I have had the pizza bianca before, but not recently enough that it counts, and certainly not recently enough to qualify for the TONY 100. I grabbed a slice of that ($2) and took advantage of the being in Hell's Kitchen to purchase a piece of pistachio baklava from Gazala Place, which I thought was rather outrageously priced at $6. Hopping on the 6 train, I ended up at Amsterdam Ave between 84th and 83rd streets, where I had called Flor de Mayo ahead to order a pollo a la brasa, a whole roasted chicken, Peruvian style. After picking up the succulent bird, I headed down Amsterdam Ave towards Levain Bakery, to grab one of their famous chocolate chip walnut cookies. Finally, my arms weighed down by the chicken, pizza bianca, and baklava, my final TONY 100 stop for the day was Salumeria Rosi, for their unparalleled proscuitto. I was told to keep the proscuitto out of the sun so as not to let it dry up. With a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, the picnic was complete.

Setting everything out on a table (we sat at the island where Amsterdam Avenue, Broadway and 66th street intersect) and ate until we couldn't eat anymore. Part of my character is this weird obsession with checking things off lists. Whether it's making lists of books that I read, movies I watch or best things to eat in NYC, I feel compelled to fulfill all of them. I don't know how healthy this is going to be for me in the long run, but for now, my box-checking obsession on the TONY 100 (including both years 2008 and 2007) are shaping up to be very, very tasty.

Boston Bites (ie What I Ate this Weekend)

Okay, there was certainly more than a few bites. The weekend in Boston spent with Daniella and Will was a gastronomic adventure. I had read up some of the city's best offerings, and there were some that I just had to try (yes ma'ams and sirs, iced cream was at the top of the list). But first things first:
Friday evening, we were greeted by Daniella at South Station and by Will at her place who was cooking up some Beef Steaks in a Port Balsamic Sauce. Mmm...what a welcome.
The next morning, we headed out to explore the South End neighborhood, where Daniella bought an apartment last year. There were a lot of options on Tremont Street, but we chose Metropolis, which was packed and seemed cheerful, which is always a good sign. After only a 10 minute wait (no, Toto, we're not in New York anymore), we tucked into some delicious brunch: both us couples ordered the same exact thing and shared: three pancakes (one banana, one chocolate, one blueberry) and the omelette of the day: spinach and applewood bacon with roasted potatoes and wheat toast. We tried our best to restrain ourselves, since we were planning on eating dinner a mere 6 hours later. After brunch, Rohit headed to meet his aunt in Roslindale and Daniella, Will and I headed for a nice long, 6 mile walk along the Charles and though Cambridge. Taking the Mass Ave bridge, we walked through MIT directly to Toscanini's, voted best ice cream in Boston. Boy, was it! It was heavenly. It tasted like gelato. I got Burnt Caramel and Hazlenut. Daniella got Burnt Caramel and Gingersnap Molasses, which had full chunks of gingersnaps in it! Will got Sherry, which not too surprisingly, tasted just like sherry!
What to do next? Hmm...when in doubt, walk to Harvard Square to Will's favorite restaurant in Boston to drink margaritas until we had to meet for dinner! The Border Cafe served up some excellent margaritas which our server promised had no added sugar, but were made with pure agave. Mmm... we each polished off two and reeling, got on the Red Line for Scampo, dinner at the Liberty Hotel, where we met Kate, Matt, Brett and Caroline. It seems like Barbara Lynch owns half of Boston. This restaurant, along with three others that I know of, were on my mom's list of restaurants to hit (B&G is another one) It was excellent. Scampo specializes in pizzas and pastas, so while the rest of the table ordered pastas, the four of us shared two pizzas (white clam and bacon and white asparagus, burrata, and walnuts). Daniella and Will had tandoori scallops and Rohit and I shared what I will unabashedly claim to be the best gnocchi I have ever had. Yes, folks, even better than Gennaro. These little pillows literally melted in your mouth. I don't think I chewed more than twice for each one. They were made with potatoes and mascarpone. Heaven. We were stuffed to the gills, so we skipped dessert.
Brett, Caroline, Rohit and I headed to the Beacon Hill Pub, where we played a rather pathetic game of darts (Rohit and I were beaten solid) and found Bin 26 Enoteca, the best wine bar and we were informed by the owner, the only wine bar in Boston. Bin 26 was charming. We ordered a bottle of the house wine (a very reasonable $32), a cheese plate and some olives and essentially waddled home in the misting rain afterwards.
The next morning, after a rather unpleasant night for me (very allergic to cats, sadly) Rohit and I stopped at Flour bakery, near Daniella's apartment, for a nice little breakfast, consisting of a lemon ginger scone and a croissant. Both were excellent. Rohit headed to the convention expo to pick up his things and Daniella and I headed to Shilpa's place for brunch. The girls outdid themselves: more scones (orange ginger), a feta and beet tart (the signature dish from Rupa's girls only Valentine's Day party, a torte, and some potent Bloody Marys. Phew. Lots of food in one morning. Shilpa's apartment was really darling and her cat, Luka, is one of the prettiest all-black cats I have ever seen.
The next hour was spent in bliss: Daniella and I took a nap in the water fountain in the park. I needed it. After a quick pick-me-up at Flour- yes another one!- we got Chai Lattes and shared a wonderful pecan oatmeal chocolate chip cookie , we walked to the ICA to see the Shepherd Fairey exhibit, aka the guy who made the Obama poster. It was an excellent show, even though we had about a half hour to see the entire exhibit. Propaganda art, gotta love it!
Finally, the four of us met back at Daniella's place where we deliberated over where to go for dinner. East Coast Grill, it was! We ordered pork and crab dumplings and mussels steamed in coconut milk to share. I order a pulled pork sandwich, Rohit ordered the ginger noodles with scallops and shrimp, Daniella had the bluefish special of the day and Will ordered the beef brisket sandwich with two ribs: one sweet and one murderously hot. Habanero and scotch bonnet pepper hot. Painfully hot. He succumbed after three bites. Then it was off to Christina's, next door, the runner up for best ice cream in the city. It was definitely a runner up. Toscanini's has them beat! Together, we had peppermint stick, carrot cake and Mexican chocolate. The next morning, with Rohit already starting his run, the three of us hit Uptown Cafe for some coffee and pastries to fuel us while we waited for the runners. Looking back on the weekend, I felt rather gluttonous while I watched the runners sprint to the finish line, but at least we walked a lot. Boston has some great food. There are a few things still on my list that we didn't have a chance to try out. But don't worry; I'll be back for Bartley's!

"The Runners Are Coming!"

This was the ebullient shout from a child while we were waiting for the runners to show up at the Boston Marathon this weekend. The wheelchair participants had already been through and boy, were they inspiring. Daniella, Will and I were waiting on Commonwealth Ave between Charles Gate East and Massachusetts Avenue, just before the downhill underpass which leads to the the last uphill climb before the finish line. We watched the women finalists, including a triad of elites running together as they made their way to the last 400 meters. We watched the men, admiring two Kenyans in similar garb who chose to run together. And then we looked out for Rohit who was making his way to his own triumphant finish.
Rohit's goal was to make it under a 3 hour marathon and I say he accomplished his task. He finished in 3:00:25. I blame the 25 seconds on a water station, but we were so proud. So proud, in fact, that we went straight from the family meeting area to B&G Oysters, which has been voted the best lobster roll in the city. That is certainly a victorious meal. Daniella, Will, Rupa, Meenakshi, Arup, Rohit and I were settled into the seven seater banquette, ordering Harpoon IPAs, Pabst Blue Ribbons, and Radebergers. We ordered a selection of oysters, both from the East Coast and the West Coast. We deemed the East Coasters far more flavorful and succulent. We ordered a rather tame fried calamari to share. But then we got down to brass tacks. A sore, but beaming Rohit and I shared a Lobster BLT and the famous Lobster Roll. The lobster roll was excellent, if a little dry for our taste. Perhaps the roll itself would have fared with a dab of butter after it had been toasted. But it paled in comparison to the BLT, which was absolutely perfect. The bacon wasn't greasy, which helped balance out the richness of the lobster. The fries were cripsy and fragrant, having been fried with bits of parsley. Both dishes were served with pickles and the best cole slaw I have ever had. Not too soupy, not too mayonnaise-y. An excellent race with a well-deserved meal.

Food with no Soul

Have you ever sat down to a meal at a restaurant everything smelled fine, tasted fine, the right ingredients were in the right place with the right proportions, the price was probably a little higher than you were willing to spend, but somehow you leave feeling just a little...empty even though you're technically full?

My brother Neil calls that eating "food with no soul." It's what you get when you take perfectly all right tasting food, combine it with a decent decor, ambient music, adequate service and a nondescript restaurant theme. It's not that the food isn't good; it's that it lacks that feeling you get when you eat something.

While I am writing this, I am tucking nicely into a smoked mozzarella, tomato and basil sandwich, dressed with balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil. Even though this sandwich was made hurriedly last night in my kitchen, while I was slightly tipsy from a three hour dinner with friends, every morsel of the sandwich had soul. I can't explain it; it's an indescribable feeling surrounding food.

Most homemade food has soul, although I have been to a few peoples' homes where they served food that I felt was thrown together without preconceived thought or love of the food they were serving nor the people they were serving it to.

Food without Soul usually happens in a rush, when people are distracted, lots of times at restaurants when I get the feeling that the cooks in the back are disgruntled with their lives and couldn't care less about what they are dishing up (I just read Waiter Rant and am feeling a bit cynical).

Last night I was dining out with friends at Red Eye Grill. Again, perfectly tasty food (they are known for their seafood). I ordered a seafood paella, and Rohit ordered a crab/shrimp cake. Both were fine and would have won points in any paella or crab cake contest. There was just something lacking. Maybe it's emotion. Maybe, more specfically, it's love. For me, food with no soul, much like many Little Debbie cakes, are not worth the calories, the time or that empty feeling you get even after you leave the table stuffed.

India Represent!

(Note: this event actually took place on February 22, 2009)

This year's Oscars was possibly the most triumphant yet. I had seen about 6 of the nominated movies and felt very strongly about one of the contenders specifically. Slumdog Millionnaire (SM) mania has swept the nation -- and the world -- in the past few months. The story of the underdog making his way into wealth and simultaneously finding love is a fairytale indeed, especially during these harsh times. And, of course, it made making the themed dinners I throw for the Oscars that much more fun since SM takes place in Bombay and what better food to have in Bombay than chaat??

The Nominees:

SLUMDOG MILLIONNAIRE: BHEL PURI (I can't take credit for this: Mom had prepped all the ingredients, brought them, and her own mixing bowl over, as well as newspaper in order to make genuine cones to eat the chaat from.

FROST NIXON: This one was a toughie, since the entire movie doesn't mention or eat a particular food at all. The obvious thing might have been to serve something with FROSTing, but I thought I would be a little more cerebral than that. In the movie, Nixon calls Frost in the middle of the night, rather intoxicated, on the night before their third and final interview and proceeds to psych him into feeling terribly worried about the next morning's impending conversation, the rather ominously-themed Watergate. The following morning, after sleeping off the effects of his multiple Scotches, Nixon doesn't recall the conversation, nor does he remember calling Frost in the first place. "What did we talk about," he asks Frost. "Cheeseburgers," Frost answers. And BRAISED SHORT-RIBBED BURGERS it was.

MILK: Again, another obvious choice would have been to serve milk and cookies, but please, I'm a little more challenging than that. In the movie, Harvey Milk's lover makes dinner for him. For dessert, Milk gets a pie in the face. In this capacity, I made BANANA CREAM PIE. I had never made it before, so it was interesting. Suffice to say that it wasn't the most popular dessert I've made, including with me.

THE READER: German food. What is there to say? I made a Braised Red Cabbage Salad. Nothing too exciting.

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON: Yet another movie without much food, but there was a bit of drinking in the beginning, so I whipped up a batch of rather red-sticky looking Hurricanes, straight from Emeril's Kitchen.

The night was fab, a smaller event than usual, but we were chuffed when SLUMDOG took it home! It must have been the bhel.

Role Reversal

Most people who know me know that I define myself as a feminist. (Side note: if you are a woman - or even a man for that matter- and you don't define yourself as a feminist, I am judging you. Harshly. Because if you are a woman and you don't believe in equal rights for women and men, well then you just don't have any self-respect). I don't believe in gender roles, ie a man bringing home the bacon and a woman cooking it, or a woman vacuuming the house while a man fixes appliances. In fact, and this is to glorify Rohit rather than any attempt to emasculate him, but in our apartment, I am the one who fixed the handle to the shoe cabinet last week while it's Rohit's responsibility to vacuum, since it's a job I detest. (For those who are interested, we share the the laundry role equally and we each clean our respective bathrooms). We both do love to cook. For different reasons and through different motions. I rely heavily on recipes, or at least for inspiration from foods I've eaten or recipes I've read, while Rohit is completely creative in the kitchen, using the cast iron pan as his personal white canvas. We both cook with the same intention, though, of providing a delicious, well thought out meal to fuel our tired, hungry bodies.

I read lots of food blogs. It's like porn for me. It's my form of procrastination, and I revel in it. During this, I pick up lots of recipes and ideas and I put them into a folder on my desktop I call "Yum?" The sad thing is, I have never ever had a chance to go through the entire catalogue. Try as I might, I always accrue more recipes than I have time to make. Especially when work gets in the way.

Advertising can be a very rewarding career. It pays well, but the catch is that you're expected to pull some mighty long hours. At my last job, this was certainly the case. It found me leaving the office sometimes at 8, 9, sometimes as late as 1 or 2 in the morning. Not conducive to a relaxing evening at home and certainly not conducive to unwinding while cooking a meal in the kitchen. So, certainly without conscious intent, with our schedules set such, Rohit took on the role of cooking, while I took on the role of collapsing in the front door and shoveling food in my mouth at some ungodly hour. Rohit nothing if not patient, and he would sometimes wait until midnight so we could eat dinner together. These were painstakingly made meals, from the crevices of his mind. One night, I came home at 12:15 to find him putting the finishing touches on a trio of tapas: turkey meatballs, scallop ceviche and a beet salad. Friends are always amazed when I tell them that he loves to cook and feed friends and family. But they are even more amazed when I tell them that he does the majority of the cooking in the household. In fact, I think I managed to shell shock my paternal grandmother when I told her that Rohit cooks. They've never met, but I think it's safe to say that he passes her books with flying colors with that simple fact in her gender role-ironed-cultural world: A man cooks?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a man cooks. Not only does he cook, but he cooks well. Not only does he cook well, but he enjoys it. Sometimes, when my guilt (and my embarrassment that he knows the spice rack a thousand times better than I ever will) gets the better of me and I offer to cook him dinner while he watches sports and unwinds with a beer, he can't help but loiter around the kitchen, sitting at the bar, coaxing me to tell him what he can do to help. I'm beginning to think it's physically impossble for him to be around a person cooking while he simply sits there (though this rule doesn't apply in restaurants, don't worry). Don't get me wrong, it's a great affliction to be blessed with.

Since my new job hasn't ramped up entirely and I'm not working crazy nights (yet, touch wood) I was able to cook for Rohit for an entire week, while HE worked later than usual and hit the road for his marathon training. This was role reversal as I knew it. The woman in the kitchen while the man came home for dinner. Unbelievable. But these are the rare nights, and I know this will not fall into a pattern. Though, some of the best times I have had in the kitchen are when the two of us are cooking together. On Valentine's Day last year, we made gnocchi, the same gnocchi that Sebastian taught me to make more than three years ago. It's the collaboration that's the most fun. But you sure can say that I am part of a forward-thinking relationship, and certainly a woman of 2009 when I have to beg my man to get out of the kitchen so that I can step in.