Perry, Iowa
Pork fat is forever.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Hot Doug's – One of Chicago's Premier Fine Art Institutions
On a recent trip to Chicago, I had the opportunity to visit a museum a bit off the beaten track. In fact, most people have the misconception that Hot Doug's is an eatery of sorts, but it holds one of the finest collections of HotDog Art in the Nation.
Frankfurter Gothic is the iconic American painting by Grant Food. It seems to depict the traditional gender roles of early American hot dog enthusiasts (men preferred their weenies with glasses, while women preferred theirs plain).
Many will argue that Dog of Man by Rene MagrEat is one of the most famous surrealist weiner pieces. It is often thought that the modern businessman is the son of Adam, while the hot dog represents caloric temptation.
Another MagrEat piece is The Seasoning of Images. Its famous inscription "Ceci n'est pas une hot-dog" (this is not a hot dog) is in fact not a contradiction. The painting is not a hot dog, but rather an image of a hot dog, which provokes a conversation on visual representation and food.
One of the most exciting pieces at the museum was one that I had never seen before: The Keira Knightley (formerly the Jennifer Garner and the Britney Spears). The red-hot combined with the onion and relish represents the combination of the masculine with the feminine. The sport peppers and tomatoes add a freshness to the piece that invokes the inevitability of aging. The dill pickle and celery salt represent the tangy, sour obstacles in life, while the mustard reminds us all of how expensive dry cleaning is. It truly was a masterpiece.
Unfortunately, the museum's special exhibit of french fries fried in duck fat is only available on Fridays and Saturdays, but the usual exhibit of hand cut fries was a delight nonetheless. On any trip to Hot Doug's your eyeballs and tastebuds are guaranteed unparalleled cultural stimulation.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Happy National Donut Day!!!
Since there aren't any Stan Mikita Donut Shops in NY, I recommend Doughnut Plant in the LES and Peter Pan Bakery in Greenpoint. Also, Krispy Kreme is giving out free donuts today in celebration of this magical holiday.
So, go out and channel your inner Homer Simpson. Mmmmm... deep fried goodness...
Thursday, June 05, 2008
New York Snackshot: Kentucky Fried Guitars
Boerum Hill, Brooklyn
Deep Fried Guitars. To put on your guitar hero.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
White Cheese Pizza with Ramps aka RAMPAGE!!!
It started as another spring day at the Prospect Park Greenmarket. The sun was out, the dogs were adorable, and the strollers were out in full force. All was right in the world. I just couldn't shake this weird feeling in my stomach, though. My legs started to shake. My hands started looking dry and scaly… and maybe a little green. There was an unmistakable odor of garlicky leeks in the air. No. It couldn't be. Not again.
OMGRAMPS!!!! (An abbreviation I also use when my grandpa tells a racy joke)
After punching a few buildings and eating some tourists, I ran home with my bounty. But what to do with these coveted veggies? A while back, I made an amazing leek and ricotta pizza with walnuts that I thought would be perfect for my precious ramps. Alas, my local cheesemonger was all out of ricotta. Then I remembered the old adage: Necessity breeds awesomeness.
Plus
Equals
Yum. At the time, I really didn't see what all the crazy fuss about ramps was, but their flavor finds its way into your taste memory and stays. I'm pretty sure this will be the last thing I taste before I die, and that makes me very, very happy.
White Cheese Pizza with Ramps (based on the recipe from April's Food & Wine)
Ingredients
Dough:
1/4 c. whole-wheat flour
3/4 c. all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling
1 1/2 tsp. active dry yeast
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 c. plus 2 tbsp. warm water
Topping:
10 ramps (or scallions or spring onions)
Extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing
Water-packed fresh mozzarella, cut into thin 1/8 in. slices
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 c. freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Directions
1) In a stand mixer with a dough hook, mix the flours, yeast, salt, and sugar. While the mixer is running, add the oil and water. Continue to knead on low speed until the dough is firm and smooth, about 10 minutes. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a damp towel and let stand in a warm spot until the dough has doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.
2) Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.
3) Bring a medium saucepan of salted water to a boil. Blanch the ramps until they are bright green, but still al dente, about 1 minute. They are going to smell insane. Drain, pat dry, and cut into 1-inch lengths.
4) Punch the dough (yes! violence!) and transfer to a lightly floured work surface. Roll out the dough until it is about a 10-12 inch shape. You can roll it into a round shape, but I prefer my pizza to be sort of oval or rectangular, like a flatbread. It's, um, rustic or something. Brush the dough with olive oil, and place the mozzarella slices in an even layer. Scatter the blanched ramps on top and season lightly with salt and pepper. Finish with the Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.
5) Bake on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper (or use a pizza stone if you have one) for about 8 minutes, until the cheese has melted and the crust is crisp and browned.
6) Stuff your face.
OMGRAMPS!!!! (An abbreviation I also use when my grandpa tells a racy joke)
After punching a few buildings and eating some tourists, I ran home with my bounty. But what to do with these coveted veggies? A while back, I made an amazing leek and ricotta pizza with walnuts that I thought would be perfect for my precious ramps. Alas, my local cheesemonger was all out of ricotta. Then I remembered the old adage: Necessity breeds awesomeness.
Yum. At the time, I really didn't see what all the crazy fuss about ramps was, but their flavor finds its way into your taste memory and stays. I'm pretty sure this will be the last thing I taste before I die, and that makes me very, very happy.
White Cheese Pizza with Ramps (based on the recipe from April's Food & Wine)
Ingredients
Dough:
1/4 c. whole-wheat flour
3/4 c. all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling
1 1/2 tsp. active dry yeast
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 c. plus 2 tbsp. warm water
Topping:
10 ramps (or scallions or spring onions)
Extra-virgin olive oil, for brushing
Water-packed fresh mozzarella, cut into thin 1/8 in. slices
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 c. freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Directions
1) In a stand mixer with a dough hook, mix the flours, yeast, salt, and sugar. While the mixer is running, add the oil and water. Continue to knead on low speed until the dough is firm and smooth, about 10 minutes. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a damp towel and let stand in a warm spot until the dough has doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours.
2) Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.
3) Bring a medium saucepan of salted water to a boil. Blanch the ramps until they are bright green, but still al dente, about 1 minute. They are going to smell insane. Drain, pat dry, and cut into 1-inch lengths.
4) Punch the dough (yes! violence!) and transfer to a lightly floured work surface. Roll out the dough until it is about a 10-12 inch shape. You can roll it into a round shape, but I prefer my pizza to be sort of oval or rectangular, like a flatbread. It's, um, rustic or something. Brush the dough with olive oil, and place the mozzarella slices in an even layer. Scatter the blanched ramps on top and season lightly with salt and pepper. Finish with the Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.
5) Bake on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper (or use a pizza stone if you have one) for about 8 minutes, until the cheese has melted and the crust is crisp and browned.
6) Stuff your face.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Rendangit!
There are times when I need a break from my constant diet of pork fat and beer. Times when I think, maybe cookies are a sometimes food.
Usually, I wash my deep-fried oreos down with some soy milk and feel a little better about myself, but recently, I've been trying to incorporate some actual nutrients into my diet. I've long been curious about cooking with tempeh, and when I saw this recipe for Tempeh Rendang in the March issue of Cooking Light, I was downright intrigued.
I took a quick trip to the Bangkok Center Grocery on Mosco Street in Chinatown to pick up some fresh lemongrass, galangal, thai chiles, and kaffir lime leaves. If you've never been to this tiny store, I highly recommend it for fresh and packaged Thai ingredients. It is pretty small, but jam packed with food, just like me.
Now, this was my first time working with tempeh, so I wasn't really sure which one I should purchase. I thought tempeh was tempeh; I didn't realize there were so many different varieties out there. Being overwhelmed and slightly panicked that I was not fact in the comforting candy aisle, I grabbed the Garden Veggie variety and ran for my life, before the vegetarians in the aisle smelled the pork in my blood. Next time I make this recipe, I definitely will not use the veggie tempeh. The carrot and celery seed flavor was a bit too overwhelming for the curry. I recommend using plain ol' soy tempeh so the flavors don't compete.
This dish smells insane. Every single ingredient is fragrant on its own, but together they form Voltron in your nose. The coconut milk reduces, so you're left with more of a stir-fry than a stew. Add a little jasmine rice, some cilantro for garnish, and voila.
The one unexpected downside to tempeh is that it apparently makes me burp. A lot. Fermented soybean burps. I felt like Charlie in Willy Wonka after drinking Fizzy Lifting Drinks and having to release gas in order to prevent being chopped to little pieces (the fuel for so many of my nightmares as a wee krys).
Again, I won't use the garden veggie tempeh next time, but this was a very good basic rendang recipe. I would definitely try it with soy tempeh or maybe some chicken. Mmmm. The plus side is that after two hours of burping, you're ready for more delicious curry action.
Usually, I wash my deep-fried oreos down with some soy milk and feel a little better about myself, but recently, I've been trying to incorporate some actual nutrients into my diet. I've long been curious about cooking with tempeh, and when I saw this recipe for Tempeh Rendang in the March issue of Cooking Light, I was downright intrigued.
I took a quick trip to the Bangkok Center Grocery on Mosco Street in Chinatown to pick up some fresh lemongrass, galangal, thai chiles, and kaffir lime leaves. If you've never been to this tiny store, I highly recommend it for fresh and packaged Thai ingredients. It is pretty small, but jam packed with food, just like me.
Now, this was my first time working with tempeh, so I wasn't really sure which one I should purchase. I thought tempeh was tempeh; I didn't realize there were so many different varieties out there. Being overwhelmed and slightly panicked that I was not fact in the comforting candy aisle, I grabbed the Garden Veggie variety and ran for my life, before the vegetarians in the aisle smelled the pork in my blood. Next time I make this recipe, I definitely will not use the veggie tempeh. The carrot and celery seed flavor was a bit too overwhelming for the curry. I recommend using plain ol' soy tempeh so the flavors don't compete.
This dish smells insane. Every single ingredient is fragrant on its own, but together they form Voltron in your nose. The coconut milk reduces, so you're left with more of a stir-fry than a stew. Add a little jasmine rice, some cilantro for garnish, and voila.
The one unexpected downside to tempeh is that it apparently makes me burp. A lot. Fermented soybean burps. I felt like Charlie in Willy Wonka after drinking Fizzy Lifting Drinks and having to release gas in order to prevent being chopped to little pieces (the fuel for so many of my nightmares as a wee krys).
Again, I won't use the garden veggie tempeh next time, but this was a very good basic rendang recipe. I would definitely try it with soy tempeh or maybe some chicken. Mmmm. The plus side is that after two hours of burping, you're ready for more delicious curry action.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
I'm Back and I'm Here to Stay
The last few months have been a bit work-heavy to say the least. Months of spreadsheets, emails, and business trips have a way of making you forget that the computer can be your friend, and not just a conduit for frustration and a test of patience. While I still eat out (a lot), cook (a lot), and take pictures (not as often, but still, kinda a lot), I just haven’t had the desire to put words to my experiences.
Work has been taking a lot out of me. To make a long story short, my department is relocating to a different city, and I was offered a position there. My hard work was being recognized, and it was an opportunity that I should have seriously considered, especially in this shaky economy. I was being asked to either give up my job or give up my home. I really love my job. I truly do. I take pride in the feeling that I am making a difference in the work that I do, and a great deal of my self-worth is based on this sense of accomplishment.
I’m not ready to leave yet.
I love my Brooklyn kitchen.
I don’t think there is any color in the color spectrum that is more comforting than the maroon of my kitchen walls.
I love Chinatown. I love reading descriptions of dishes like “Shrimp in Pumping Sauce.”
I love that a liquor store can claim to be AS OLD AS HILLS.
I love that you can get your candy, and then eat it inside Fat Baby.
I love that no matter what my day is like, there is always something here that makes me smile.
So my last day at my company is a few months away. I have no idea what I’m going to do next, and that doesn’t freak me out. I’ll figure it out. I’m just happy that I’m staying in New York.
Work has been taking a lot out of me. To make a long story short, my department is relocating to a different city, and I was offered a position there. My hard work was being recognized, and it was an opportunity that I should have seriously considered, especially in this shaky economy. I was being asked to either give up my job or give up my home. I really love my job. I truly do. I take pride in the feeling that I am making a difference in the work that I do, and a great deal of my self-worth is based on this sense of accomplishment.
I’m not ready to leave yet.
I love my Brooklyn kitchen.
I don’t think there is any color in the color spectrum that is more comforting than the maroon of my kitchen walls.
I love Chinatown. I love reading descriptions of dishes like “Shrimp in Pumping Sauce.”
I love that a liquor store can claim to be AS OLD AS HILLS.
I love that you can get your candy, and then eat it inside Fat Baby.
I love that no matter what my day is like, there is always something here that makes me smile.
So my last day at my company is a few months away. I have no idea what I’m going to do next, and that doesn’t freak me out. I’ll figure it out. I’m just happy that I’m staying in New York.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
An Elegy for Pies and Thighs
You can rest, your weary kitchen ever-giving
Delectable biscuits , chicken, and pies
Oh so tender, once you walked among the living
And now, your time has passed, My Pies and Thighs
Your biscuits and gravy where matched by no other
Your key-lime pie, mac & cheese, and your beans
were so good they made me want to slap my mother
And then go back for seconds for your collard greens
The line wrapped around the block, people came so far
To say goodbye, auf wiedersehen, adieu,
But cry not, oh hungry hipsters, cry not
For you will rise once more, serving chicken anew
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
People Who Live in Gingerbread Houses Should Not Throw Stones
I admit I grew up with some geeky tendencies. You are reading the blog of a girl who had near-complete sets of Marvel trading cards (1992-1994). Collecting all of the holograms was a bitch. Phoenix and the Scarlet Witch were my best friends, and not only could I gaze upon their expertly rendered visages, but I could also read interesting facts about them on the reverse sides. On a weird tangential note, I was always bothered that the cards measured not only speed and strength, but also intelligence. It bummed me out to know that Daredevil was less intelligent than the Silver Surfer. I mean come on! Daredevil went to law school! The Silver Surfer catches rad space waves! That just doesn't seem fair. Anyhoo, I would use these cards to enact make-believe scenarios while most girls were playing house with their Barbies. The only house I'm interested in playing with is Hugh Laurie. ME-OW.
One geeky thing I could never get into was model-building. I just couldn't see the point of spending so much time expertly replicating the Millennium Falcon and not even get to play with it afterwards. While I couldn't understand the motivation, I was always in awe of the dedication and craftsmanship. Because of this long-standing admiration to the craft of model-building, I ventured out this last holiday season to see the many gingerbread houses that New York had to offer.
One particularly cold and snowy weekend, I dragged Cue up to the New York Botanical Gardens in the Bronx for their Gingerbread Adventures exhibit. Five New York pastry chefs became honorary geeks for the holidays.
Ruth Seidler of JollyBe Bakery in Park Slope, Brooklyn scrapped the house idea altogether, and created a bird-themed stained glass bell.
Complete with a silver handle and (marzipan?) ribbon.
Mark Tasker of Balthazar created a true New York-style gingerbread house by replicating the Empire State Building.
I especially dig the use of props.
I wish I could get a better shot of the offering from Jill Adams of The Cake Studio, but alas, I lack the height. I just couldn't capture all of the animals and fairies that studded her gingerbread forest in one frame. Just check out the detail on that snake. That kind of steady hand can truly come in handy when putting the finishing touch on your Starship Enterprise replica.
Kate Sullivan of LovinSullivanCakes made a little something for all the sci-fi fans out there: a gingerbread house on the moon. The peppermint details were... out of this world? Heh....heh....heh. Yup. Sorry.
My personal favorite was the gingerbread castle from Kaye Hansen and Liv Hansen of Riveria Bakehouse.
Both mother and daughter share a crazy attention to detail. Just check out the shingles! Minty fresh!
Unfortunately, I couldn't spot too many gingerbread houses around the rest of the city, but I did see this gem over at the Chelsea Market.
Aw yeah.
As I previously mentioned, I lack the patience and motivation to make one of these confectionary creations, but I seeing all of those edible habitats made me crave that spicy gingerbread flavor. So, I went home and baked up a true New York classic: Claudia Fleming's Gingerbread from the Gramercy Tavern.
Instead of Guinness, I used McGovern's Oatmeal Stout, which added a lovely background note. This cake was insanely moist, and really spicy, but not all that great when eaten right out of the oven. It takes a day for the cake to really get its act together. While I may not make elaborate sculptures, I can dig gingerbread, the unofficial sweet treat of geeks everywhere, with the rest of them.
One geeky thing I could never get into was model-building. I just couldn't see the point of spending so much time expertly replicating the Millennium Falcon and not even get to play with it afterwards. While I couldn't understand the motivation, I was always in awe of the dedication and craftsmanship. Because of this long-standing admiration to the craft of model-building, I ventured out this last holiday season to see the many gingerbread houses that New York had to offer.
One particularly cold and snowy weekend, I dragged Cue up to the New York Botanical Gardens in the Bronx for their Gingerbread Adventures exhibit. Five New York pastry chefs became honorary geeks for the holidays.
Ruth Seidler of JollyBe Bakery in Park Slope, Brooklyn scrapped the house idea altogether, and created a bird-themed stained glass bell.
Complete with a silver handle and (marzipan?) ribbon.
Mark Tasker of Balthazar created a true New York-style gingerbread house by replicating the Empire State Building.
I especially dig the use of props.
I wish I could get a better shot of the offering from Jill Adams of The Cake Studio, but alas, I lack the height. I just couldn't capture all of the animals and fairies that studded her gingerbread forest in one frame. Just check out the detail on that snake. That kind of steady hand can truly come in handy when putting the finishing touch on your Starship Enterprise replica.
Kate Sullivan of LovinSullivanCakes made a little something for all the sci-fi fans out there: a gingerbread house on the moon. The peppermint details were... out of this world? Heh....heh....heh. Yup. Sorry.
My personal favorite was the gingerbread castle from Kaye Hansen and Liv Hansen of Riveria Bakehouse.
Both mother and daughter share a crazy attention to detail. Just check out the shingles! Minty fresh!
Unfortunately, I couldn't spot too many gingerbread houses around the rest of the city, but I did see this gem over at the Chelsea Market.
Aw yeah.
As I previously mentioned, I lack the patience and motivation to make one of these confectionary creations, but I seeing all of those edible habitats made me crave that spicy gingerbread flavor. So, I went home and baked up a true New York classic: Claudia Fleming's Gingerbread from the Gramercy Tavern.
Instead of Guinness, I used McGovern's Oatmeal Stout, which added a lovely background note. This cake was insanely moist, and really spicy, but not all that great when eaten right out of the oven. It takes a day for the cake to really get its act together. While I may not make elaborate sculptures, I can dig gingerbread, the unofficial sweet treat of geeks everywhere, with the rest of them.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Totonnos: A Girl by Any Other Name Would Smell.
As a young Krys, I had many a nickname. Krystopheles. Krystotle. Kryskadekaphobia. But no nickname was more enduring than the name bestowed upon me by mother: Pizza.
If you couldn’t already guess, I was dubbed Pizza because of my insatiable lust for carb and cheese-laden pie. I didn’t mind this nickname so much before puberty, but with my adolescent skin, it took on a new cruelty-filled connotation.
Surprisingly, even with the trauma of being reminded daily of my less than flawless face, I have always had a soft spot for the pizza pie. While my choices in Florida were mainly between Papa John’s and Domino’s, my residence in Brooklyn definitely has its pizza perks. September 2nd marked my 1 year anniversary in my Brooklyn apartment, and Q and I decided to celebrate by trekking out to Coney Island, to feast upon some old-school pizza.
The line outside Totonno’s Pizzeria on Neptune Ave. wasn’t nearly as daunting as the line for Grimaldi’s, and infinitely more organized than Di Fara’s. You merely stand outside the door and patiently wait with the other patrons for a seat to free up inside. Be forewearned, Totonno’s does not offer pizza by the slice so you must order a whole pie. Luckily, I only eat pizza by the pie, so this was no problem for me.
The charming interior transports you to the pizza parlors of yore. The service is friendly and they have a nice selection of Brooklyn Brewery beers to wash down your meal. We ordered our usual combo of pepperoni and garlic, and the results were tremendous.
The sauce was sweeter than most pizza sauces, and it reminded me of my favorite Italian place in Florida (Pizza Time in Coral Springs. SHOUTOUT!), which used a very sweet marinara for their pizza and pasta. The crust had a beautiful char courtesy of their impressive coal-burning oven.
Overall, I have to say that I prefer the pie at Di Fara’s, but I definitely prefer the atmosphere at Totonno’s. I guess I’ll just have to go back to both of them to be sure. Sigh. Even though my face has cleared up, I don’t think that Pizza is a nickname that I’ll ever outgrow.
If you couldn’t already guess, I was dubbed Pizza because of my insatiable lust for carb and cheese-laden pie. I didn’t mind this nickname so much before puberty, but with my adolescent skin, it took on a new cruelty-filled connotation.
Surprisingly, even with the trauma of being reminded daily of my less than flawless face, I have always had a soft spot for the pizza pie. While my choices in Florida were mainly between Papa John’s and Domino’s, my residence in Brooklyn definitely has its pizza perks. September 2nd marked my 1 year anniversary in my Brooklyn apartment, and Q and I decided to celebrate by trekking out to Coney Island, to feast upon some old-school pizza.
The line outside Totonno’s Pizzeria on Neptune Ave. wasn’t nearly as daunting as the line for Grimaldi’s, and infinitely more organized than Di Fara’s. You merely stand outside the door and patiently wait with the other patrons for a seat to free up inside. Be forewearned, Totonno’s does not offer pizza by the slice so you must order a whole pie. Luckily, I only eat pizza by the pie, so this was no problem for me.
The charming interior transports you to the pizza parlors of yore. The service is friendly and they have a nice selection of Brooklyn Brewery beers to wash down your meal. We ordered our usual combo of pepperoni and garlic, and the results were tremendous.
The sauce was sweeter than most pizza sauces, and it reminded me of my favorite Italian place in Florida (Pizza Time in Coral Springs. SHOUTOUT!), which used a very sweet marinara for their pizza and pasta. The crust had a beautiful char courtesy of their impressive coal-burning oven.
Overall, I have to say that I prefer the pie at Di Fara’s, but I definitely prefer the atmosphere at Totonno’s. I guess I’ll just have to go back to both of them to be sure. Sigh. Even though my face has cleared up, I don’t think that Pizza is a nickname that I’ll ever outgrow.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Doughnut Plant: Peanut Butter Jelly and a Baseball Bat
A few weekends ago, Q and I headed into Manhattan (a rare weekend event) to try out Shopsin’s new location in the Essex Market. However, much to our dismay, the Essex Market is not open on Sundays--information that was lurking somewhere in my Krys-brain, but which failed to make itself known. That’s what you get for not using Google before you walk out the door.
So, we found ourselves, locked outside of the market, screaming and clawing on the doors, and then we realized that tastiness was just steps away at ye old Doughnut Plant, a magical destination which doubles as Homer Simpson's dream workplace. Yes, yes, you can get Doughnut Plant donuts at many purveyors in New York, but they really are best when fresh from the source.
I dug into a sunflower seed doughnut, their seasonal offering de jour. I have to admit, I felt a little crunchy and in touch with Mother Earth. The sweet, nutty flavor haunted my dreams, and now my breakfast choice happens to be sunflower seed butter on toast. I also now use canvas bags when shopping at the farmer's market. I'm so impressionable.
Q chose a peanut butter and jelly doughnut, an unusual choice for him, as he normally avoids jelly-filled goods.
I really enjoyed how even the jelly-filled doughnuts had holes. I always get sad when filled doughnuts looked so bloated and sad next to the sexy yeast doughnuts with their perfect holes. They were always the outcasts of the fried dough world.
Ooh, and they peanut butter doughnut was filled with blueberry jelly.
The only downside of the day was the fact that The Buckwheat Boyz' hit single became lodged in my brain. This wasn't so much a downside as the best thing to happen to me in weeks.
ITSPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIME.
They also had a follow up singled called "Ice Cream and Cake." At least they knew what formula worked for them. Really, what else do you need on a summer's day but awesome tunes and tasty confectionery?
So, we found ourselves, locked outside of the market, screaming and clawing on the doors, and then we realized that tastiness was just steps away at ye old Doughnut Plant, a magical destination which doubles as Homer Simpson's dream workplace. Yes, yes, you can get Doughnut Plant donuts at many purveyors in New York, but they really are best when fresh from the source.
I dug into a sunflower seed doughnut, their seasonal offering de jour. I have to admit, I felt a little crunchy and in touch with Mother Earth. The sweet, nutty flavor haunted my dreams, and now my breakfast choice happens to be sunflower seed butter on toast. I also now use canvas bags when shopping at the farmer's market. I'm so impressionable.
Q chose a peanut butter and jelly doughnut, an unusual choice for him, as he normally avoids jelly-filled goods.
I really enjoyed how even the jelly-filled doughnuts had holes. I always get sad when filled doughnuts looked so bloated and sad next to the sexy yeast doughnuts with their perfect holes. They were always the outcasts of the fried dough world.
Ooh, and they peanut butter doughnut was filled with blueberry jelly.
The only downside of the day was the fact that The Buckwheat Boyz' hit single became lodged in my brain. This wasn't so much a downside as the best thing to happen to me in weeks.
ITSPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIMEPEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIME.
They also had a follow up singled called "Ice Cream and Cake." At least they knew what formula worked for them. Really, what else do you need on a summer's day but awesome tunes and tasty confectionery?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Warming Up to Hill Country
I admit it. I had preconceived notions about Hill Country before I walked in the door. As you may remember, I had the opportunity to try some of their beef ribs at The Big Apple BBQ aka The Happiest Day of Krys’s Year. Mih. They just weren’t that good. All bone and little squishy meat. As with any new restaurant on the scene, the hype started to build, and I was more and more turned off and confused.
Hill Country was like Jessica Simpson: Texan, loud, seemingly untalented, but considered hot to everyone but me.
So, I had pretty much made up my mind about the place before I walked in. I sidled up to the meat counter and grudgingly ordered 1/2 pound of the moist brisket (the deckle), 1/4 pound of the market chicken, and 1 ring of Kreuz Market Sausage, shipped from Texas. Just in case this wasn't enough to sate my ever-growing appetite, I ordered a small portion of Texas Black-Eyed Caviar on the side.
It was a charming set-up, I admit. Everyone was super-friendly, and it was pretty much a cafeteria-style process. You ordered your meat at one counter, your sides at another, and a waiter will make sure you have a refreshing beverage to wash down your cholesterol. I wanted to hate it, but I was starting to become seduced.
The brisket was a bit fat-ladden, but you couldn't accuse it of being dry. That sucker was moist. Moist and flavorful. I think it may be the best brisket that I've had in NYC, and that's including Katz's. Admitedly, brisket isn't my favorite cut of meat, but this was damn tasty.
Never having been to Texas, I had never tasted a Kreuz Market Sausage. Yum. It was impossible to take a semi-appetizing photo, because the butcher's paper became increasingly more grease-stained. I take that as a sign of quality.
A true standout of the meal turned out to be the market chicken. Even the white meat was moist and tender, and the smoky-sweet skin didn't need any additional sauce.
Okay, fine. It's a good restaurant. Are you happy? I tried to find fault, and I just couldn't. My only complaint it that the black-eyed pea caviar was a little dry and not all that noteworthy, but that is really being nit-picky. I really, really enjoyed Hill Country. That doesn't mean that I have to put Ms. Simpson on my ipod.
And finally, to clear up any doubts I had, the wetnaps proved that everything is indeed bigger in Texas.
Hill Country was like Jessica Simpson: Texan, loud, seemingly untalented, but considered hot to everyone but me.
So, I had pretty much made up my mind about the place before I walked in. I sidled up to the meat counter and grudgingly ordered 1/2 pound of the moist brisket (the deckle), 1/4 pound of the market chicken, and 1 ring of Kreuz Market Sausage, shipped from Texas. Just in case this wasn't enough to sate my ever-growing appetite, I ordered a small portion of Texas Black-Eyed Caviar on the side.
It was a charming set-up, I admit. Everyone was super-friendly, and it was pretty much a cafeteria-style process. You ordered your meat at one counter, your sides at another, and a waiter will make sure you have a refreshing beverage to wash down your cholesterol. I wanted to hate it, but I was starting to become seduced.
The brisket was a bit fat-ladden, but you couldn't accuse it of being dry. That sucker was moist. Moist and flavorful. I think it may be the best brisket that I've had in NYC, and that's including Katz's. Admitedly, brisket isn't my favorite cut of meat, but this was damn tasty.
Never having been to Texas, I had never tasted a Kreuz Market Sausage. Yum. It was impossible to take a semi-appetizing photo, because the butcher's paper became increasingly more grease-stained. I take that as a sign of quality.
A true standout of the meal turned out to be the market chicken. Even the white meat was moist and tender, and the smoky-sweet skin didn't need any additional sauce.
Okay, fine. It's a good restaurant. Are you happy? I tried to find fault, and I just couldn't. My only complaint it that the black-eyed pea caviar was a little dry and not all that noteworthy, but that is really being nit-picky. I really, really enjoyed Hill Country. That doesn't mean that I have to put Ms. Simpson on my ipod.
And finally, to clear up any doubts I had, the wetnaps proved that everything is indeed bigger in Texas.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Palo Santo: My Aquatic Fantasy
Sometimes I view my life like an outsider watching a movie. In it, there's a sassy guardian angel, dispensing sage advice with a kicky attitude, kind of like Queen Latifah. While the Queen boosts my confidence while teaching me the importance of keeping it real, I also have a personal cupid of sorts. Chef Jacques Gautier of Palo Santo has been creating my most romantic meals since his days at La Brunette, a fantastic French-Carribean restaurant in Williamsburg.
Whenever I ate there, I felt like Gautier was personally ensuring that Q would fall madly in love with me as he had another oyster amuse bouche. Gautier was my own personal Sebastian the Crab, crooning "Kiss De Girl."
When La Brunette closed it's doors, I had no choice but to teach myself how to cook (actually, Queen Latifah may have pushed me in that direction), but I kept my eyes peeled as to what Gautier was doing next. Because the whole world revolves around me, Chef Gautier opened a new restaurant, Palo Santo in a brownstone in nearby Park Slope. It has quickly become a favorite.
On a recent visit, we started with a green gazpacho with toasted pinenuts.
The gazpacho had a tang of watermelon, and the pinenuts and drizzle of olive oil provided a wonderful textural contrast. The soup was cool and refreshing, especially when eaten in their sunny back room overlooking a soothing fountain.
Because Chef Gautier is Sebastian the Crab in my head, I subconsciously adhered to an aquatic menu. I can't remember the name of our next dish, but our waitress explained it was a peruvian street food. I love street food, and I'm willing to try all types, including skewered duck hearts.
These were delicious. Again, the addition of yukon gold potatoes and green onions made the texture so much more interesting. You can tell that texture is a big thing with me. For his main dish, Q ordered a coconut clam stew.
I can't speak to the flavor of the dish, but isn't it pretty?!? The presentation of the stew blew me away. Q certainly seemed to love it. Personally, I decided upon the seared tuna.
I wish that I was able to photograph more of the accompanying veggies, because they were as much the star as the tuna. Blue potatoes, radishes, and string beans were all tossed in a light, lemony vinegar, the perfect crunchy side to the tuna. While my dish may have appeared a little light in flavor compared to Q's hearty stew, I thought it was perfect.
Palo Santo has a bar alongside the kitchen, where patrons can submit to the will of Chef Gautier and eat his tasting menu, consisting of whatever he wants to make for you. While I am incredibly tempted to do so, I don't want to ruin the fantasy that a tiny crab is back there, orchestrating my romantic evening. Sigh. I guess I'm willing to sacrifice that fantasy for an amazing meal. At least I'll always have Queen Latifah.
Whenever I ate there, I felt like Gautier was personally ensuring that Q would fall madly in love with me as he had another oyster amuse bouche. Gautier was my own personal Sebastian the Crab, crooning "Kiss De Girl."
When La Brunette closed it's doors, I had no choice but to teach myself how to cook (actually, Queen Latifah may have pushed me in that direction), but I kept my eyes peeled as to what Gautier was doing next. Because the whole world revolves around me, Chef Gautier opened a new restaurant, Palo Santo in a brownstone in nearby Park Slope. It has quickly become a favorite.
On a recent visit, we started with a green gazpacho with toasted pinenuts.
The gazpacho had a tang of watermelon, and the pinenuts and drizzle of olive oil provided a wonderful textural contrast. The soup was cool and refreshing, especially when eaten in their sunny back room overlooking a soothing fountain.
Because Chef Gautier is Sebastian the Crab in my head, I subconsciously adhered to an aquatic menu. I can't remember the name of our next dish, but our waitress explained it was a peruvian street food. I love street food, and I'm willing to try all types, including skewered duck hearts.
These were delicious. Again, the addition of yukon gold potatoes and green onions made the texture so much more interesting. You can tell that texture is a big thing with me. For his main dish, Q ordered a coconut clam stew.
I can't speak to the flavor of the dish, but isn't it pretty?!? The presentation of the stew blew me away. Q certainly seemed to love it. Personally, I decided upon the seared tuna.
I wish that I was able to photograph more of the accompanying veggies, because they were as much the star as the tuna. Blue potatoes, radishes, and string beans were all tossed in a light, lemony vinegar, the perfect crunchy side to the tuna. While my dish may have appeared a little light in flavor compared to Q's hearty stew, I thought it was perfect.
Palo Santo has a bar alongside the kitchen, where patrons can submit to the will of Chef Gautier and eat his tasting menu, consisting of whatever he wants to make for you. While I am incredibly tempted to do so, I don't want to ruin the fantasy that a tiny crab is back there, orchestrating my romantic evening. Sigh. I guess I'm willing to sacrifice that fantasy for an amazing meal. At least I'll always have Queen Latifah.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
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