|
You can call me SL, this is about living.  |
churning the ice cream
January 19, 2012 Like many others in the whole of the world, I overindulged during the holiday season. Thanksgiving should be included in that estimate along with the days from then until Christmas, Christmas itself, and New Years. I ate freely and this past weekend was no exception. For Christmas, The Swede gave me "The Perfect Scoop" by David Lebovitz and a KitchenAid ice cream attachment. Since The Swede and I were planning to have a couples friends over for lunch, I thought this would be a great time to christen the ice cream maker. I texted my friend and asked her what were her first and second favorite ice cream flavors. I had every intention of making one of her favorites but decided on chocolate. How I came to that decision still puzzles me. Chocolate isn't my first or second favorite flavors either. But somehow while browsing the book, I kept coming back to it. And it didn't disappoint. I have to toot my own horn or David Lebovitz's or KitchenAid's because it was the silkiest ice cream I have ever tasted. Like liquid truffles or a velvety gelato. For the menu, we planned as many homemade foods as we could manage, along with good times with good people. Those foods included baguettes, ragù, spinach tagliatelle, and the ice cream. The foods not homemade were cheeses, dried and fresh fruits, nuts, salad, beer, wine, cookies from Martha's, and coffee from Philz. So you get the point, the overindulgence never ceased and my body spoke. I planned a three day detox as a penance. But I think my body knew what was to come and in protest, it got sick. And we all know the only cure for illness is homemade chocolate ice cream. With a little sea salt sprinkled on top (optional). archives: Food |
coffee, aftermath of rhubarb pie, a Marimekko "Tantsu" tablecloth by Maija Isola
Öland, Sweden from my 2004 archive November 29, 2011 Aftermath I am going on my sixth day of eating turkey and am having a hard time getting back to normal after the holiday. The stuffing, gravy, and cinnamon ice cream were finished as of yesterday, the pumpkin pie made it until Monday, and the Brussels sprouts met their fate on Saturday. The only foods left to tackle are mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and turkey. At whatever point The Swede and I finish the turkey, we will have eaten 10 lbs of meat between the two of us. (Minus the weight of the bones, an important calculation according to The Swede.) I had zero intention of participating in any form of Black Friday, but after a visit to the New Museum, The Swede and I went into Whole Foods for lunch and came out with a one gallon beer making kit. We then found ourselves in Crate and Barrel, where I purchased a "Unikko" apron by Maija Isola, my favorite Marimekko designer, and subsequently into Sur La Table, Dean and DeLuca, Muji, and then CB2. So much for not shopping. archives: Food, Miscellaneous |
vendor offering me a strawberry at the Fatih Market
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
vendor proudly shows off his cabbage at the Fatih Market
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
vendor selling phyllo dough sheets at the Fatih Market
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
vendor giving me the "shaka sign" at the Fatih Market
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
vendor and his spices at the Fatih Market
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive September 30, 2011 Fatih Market Having accomplished nearly all of my to-do list in Istanbul, I set out to find a mosque and a street market off the beaten path. The neighborhood in mind was Fatih and it seemed complicated and easy to reach all at once. It turned out to be both. The planned route would take me through Sultanahmet (Old City), three stops past the furthest one I have been, from there a short walk to a Metro line, one stop, and a short walk to the Fatih mosque and surrounding markets. This all becomes exponentially more difficult once you miss your stop, no one speaks the same language as you, and you have to desperately use the bathroom. I got it together, backtracked to the right stop by walking parallel to the tram tracks, and "felt" my way there. Prior to venturing to Fatih, I read that it had a more local scene, was more conservative, "so dress accordingly." In the center of Istanbul, you will find a disproportionate number of men than women. When I arrived in Fatih, I realized where all the women were, they were shopping in the market for things like clothing, housewares, and food. Prices were lower, fresh fruit and vegetables outnumbered other items, skirt hems were longer, more women were "covered", and more men were wearing caps. And vendors were more friendly. Understandably, in main tourist areas like the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, vendors can have short tolerance levels (tourists are annoying after all, myself included). The vendors at the Fatih Market were excited to have a foreigner amongst their regulars and no one minded me taking photos of their offerings. Many in fact, asked to have their photo taken. A customer even asked me to photograph he and his daughter. As he scribbled onto a torn piece of a paper bag, I realized he wanted me to email him the photo. I did, and he likes it. He replied. archives: Food, Travel |
süt misir (sweet corn) cart outside Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia Museum)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
süt misir (sweet corn), price - 1TL outside Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia Museum)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
vendor and customer cooking süt misir (sweet corn) outside Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia Museum)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive September 22, 2011 Süt Misir Similar to the way hot dog, bagel, nut, and Halal carts are the face of New York City; corn, chestnuts, Turkish bagel (looks like a pretzel), and pomegranate juice carts are the face of Istanbul. I assume süt misir means sweet corn. It is eaten by all and naked cobs can be seen littered around the city. (At least it is biodegradable.) As The Swede and I were looking for a cab to hail, a taxi driver pulled over, parked his car, got out, and bought a süt misir. We approached unsure if he was for hire, but he said he was free to take us. We halfway assumed we would wait for him to finish his snack, but he insisted he was ready. Off we went. He proceeded to drive us back to our hotel, one hand on the wheel, one hand eating his cob, all the while talking and pointing out various points of interest in the city. It was a nice ride, at a nice pace, unhurried, and smooth. Turkish drivers are known for being...not the best. Perhaps eating a corncob while driving helped our driver to take it easy. archives: Food, Travel |
street vendor juicing pomegranates outside Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia Museum)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
pomegranates on ice outside Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia Museum)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive September 20, 2011 Forbidden Fruit There is an expression in Chinese that roughly translates to "watch what you eat," or "refrain from eating." It does not have so much to do with dieting, as with being cautious in indulging in something you know is not good for you. I have good self control when it comes to limiting foods that are artificial, or that are rich in fats and sugars. But I could do much better when it comes to food safety. I have learned my lesson many times. After two very serious bouts of food poisoning earlier this year, I am being good. So far. Fresh pomegranate juice is tempting me at every corner. Everywhere in the city, there are beautiful ruby red pomegranates that are squeezed by order. And it is inexpensive. In the past I would have thought nothing of it, but like I said, I went through two serious bouts of food poisoning, one that included oysters. Not fun. Although the tap water is perfectly safe in Istanbul, The Swede and I are being cautious. There is nothing worse than getting sick while traveling. So we have stuck to bottled water, even when brushing our teeth. I learned this "trick" years ago. No matter how carefully we ate, my family and I always got sick on trips to Asia. We were told that even brushing our teeth with tap water could cause illness. On a trip to Thailand, my Mother and I were doing great sticking to the bottled water routine. No sickness. Then we visited a roadside farm stand where we indulged in fresh squeezed orange juice. Unpasteurized orange juice. My Mother was instantly sick, a few hours later it was my turn. Conveniently being in the middle of nowhere at the Golden Triangle, a very kind local man let me use his bathroom, which turned out to be a wooden shack. No comment. So alas, no pomegranate juice for me this trip. (But secretly, I keep thinking maybe I should have it right before the flight home. If I do get sick, at least I will already be on my way home...) archives: Food, Travel |
Tarihi Eminönü Balik Ekmek (floating fish boats) as seen from Galata Köprüsü (Galata Bridge)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
fried fish sandwich with onion and lettuce (fish species unknown), price - 5TL
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
pickled cabbage and cucumbers, price - 1.5TL
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
cook preparing deep fried hamsi (anchovies)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
fish menu
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
deep fried hamsi (anchovies) served with onion, lettuce, lemon, price - 6TL
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive September 16, 2011 Fish The Swede and I wandered around the ancient streets of Sultanahmet (yes, we are in Istanbul, Turkey!), confused, sleep deprived, and in culture shock, in search of hot food. We came to the Galata Bridge on the Golden Horn and spotted bright lights and throngs of people. We headed towards them. Then came the wonderful scent of fish. Spurred by hunger and a recollection of an Anthony Bourdain episode that I halfheartedly watched before departing, I sprang into action. I blurted to The Swede, "I remember this, I know how to do this, give me some money." I observed a paper sign with a number on it, handed a man standing in front of a docked boat 10 Turkish lira and held up the number two with my fingers. He took my money, walked a few steps towards a man frying fish on the boat, received one sandwich, then another, then he handed them to me. We quickly found seats on tiny wooden stools at an equally tiny table supplied with salt and lemon juice as condiments. We bought a plastic cup filled with cabbage and cucumbers pickled in beet juice (?) from a man walking around with a tray and chomped away. We were hungry, the sandwich was large, the fish was fresh, and it was cheap. We were happy. During the course of the 20 minutes we sat consuming our sandwiches, children endlessly tried to sell us candy. I assumed it was gum because it reminded me of children in Mexico that try to sell "chicle" to foreigners. But that is an assumption based on prior experiences, so next time I will buy some to find out what type of candy they are really selling. On the other side of the Galata Bridge, we found a fish market selling fresh fish to take home and for consumption on the spot. Still hungry and still curious, we bought a portion of deep fried hamsi (anchovies). The fryer had a well in the middle with a wide brim where the fish was laid when it was ready. Again, it was a large portion, the fish was fresh, it was cheap, and we were happy. The hamsi had a more distinct character and was slightly salty. The Swede and I both agreed that we preferred the hamsi to the fish sandwich based on taste alone. Having taken our hamsi to-go, we headed towards the tram to find our way back to our hotel. Along the way, a small kitten ran out from under a bush towards us. It was a cute little thing with one eye. We gave it two pieces of our fish, and it contently ate them, completely ignoring the masses of people 50 times its size that passed, some stopping to take photos. In Istanbul, there are a greater number of stray cats than stray dogs, but plenty of both. I have observed the people being very loving towards the strays, stopping to pet them, feed them, and you will find bowls of water and food laid out on stoops. I have yet to spot any rodents. Perhaps New York City needs a controlled number of strays to patrol its streets and subways. And it could definitely use some boats selling fresh fish along its shores. archives: Food, Travel |
foreground: the lamb roasting on a spit
background: guests huddled under the grape canopy, meats cooking in the smoker Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive 
gazpacho
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive 
carving the lamb
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive 
lamb thighs and arms
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive 
lamb neck
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive August 12, 2011 A Day of Indulgence Part II The second half of the day turned out to be equally indulgent as the first half. When I said a lamb roast was serious business, I was right. The Swede and I were invited to a barbecue by "a stranger" I met in the garden several weeks ago. Obviously, he is a stranger no more, he has fast become a friend. He is a graduate of The French Culinary Institute, so after trying his cured meats, we dared not pass up his invitation to a lamb roast. By the way, the salumi, I still have some in the fridge. They are neverending and that is a good thing. The barbecue took place in a one bedroom ground floor apartment with the largest backyard I have ever seen in New York City. The Swede and I could not stop talking about how wonderful the yard was, it was about four times the size of the apartment. A true luxury. Anyone who lives here knows how rare or nonexistent outdoor space is or indoor space is for that matter. The average New York City apartment is not even close to how it is portrayed on television or in the movies. Unless you are a millionaire, you live in cramped quarters. For the first two hours of the party it rained. Half of the guests spent their time huddled under a grape canopy, the other half huddled under a tarp where the lamb was roasting. (Smart guests arrived later in the night after it stopped raining.) The Swede and I went back and forth between the two, alternately watching the lamb turn and sampling meats pulled from the smoker. Although everyone invited knew they were attending a lamb roast, it was interesting to witness people's reactions when they actually saw the lamb turning on the spit for the first time. By far, the strangest/funniest reaction came from a girl who shrieked, "Is that a dog?" Once the lamb was finished, everyone gathered around to watch the lamb being carved. It was wonderful. I learned a fact, lamb becomes mutton when it reaches 35 lbs. Likely due to its age, the lamb was extremely succulent and not gamey at all as lamb usually tastes. My favorites of the night were the smoked pork ribs and a piece of lamb crackling. The crackling was crisp and full of flavor. Shamefully, The Swede and I ate chips and ice cream when we returned home. I have no idea why, we had gorged ourselves all day. Here is a rundown of everything we ate the second half of the day: pulled pork buns gazpacho smoked sausage link smoked beef short rib pulled pork plate with homemade pickles and pasta smoked pork ribs lamb (part unknown) lamb neck lamb crackling cheddar and sour cream chips Häagen Dazs coffee almond crunch bars archives: Food |
Smorgasburg
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive 
Switzel drink made with organic black tea, organic blackstrap molasses, ginger, lemon, honey
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive 
pork belly, kimchi, cucumber, perilla chimichurri and a watered down Switzel
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive 
beef bulgogi, sesame apple slaw, cilantro, hot sauce
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive 
balsamic vinegars
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive 
garlic dill pickles
Williamsburg, NY from my 2011 archive August 9, 2011 A Day of Indulgence Part I This past Saturday, a planned long distance bike ride with friends was canceled, so the day was wide open for The Swede and I. We decided to venture to Smorgasburg, a new open air food market in Williamsburg. For the evening, we accepted an invitation to a barbecue with lamb on the menu. A whole lamb that was to be roasted on a spit. Serious business. The Swede wanted to bike from Astoria in Queens, to Williamsburg in Brooklyn which is a 30 minute bike ride. Not so far. It is scenic and easy, the ride takes you through Long Island City, over the Pulaski Bridge into Brooklyn, through Greenpoint, and then into Williamsburg. The weather forecast predicted 85 degrees with 80 percent humidity. Gross. I convinced The Swede to take the subway instead. Once we arrived, we quickly discovered the forecast was wrong. It was overcast, cool yet warm, with a breeze. We should have ridden bikes. It was perfect biking weather. Next time. We did a loop around the market to scope out each stall. Along the way, we sampled olive oils, balsamic vinegars, pickles, and jams. We ended up purchasing a bottle of "Traditional Style" balsamic vinegar and a jar of pickles. The vinegar, which is reduced by 30 percent is amazing. It is extremely rich, flavorful, syrupy and decadent. The pickles have a nice garlicky brine which is unusually tart, even for pickles. Love them. (I did choke on them a little since they were so sour.) My favorites of the day were a beef bulgogi bun and a beverage with roots in the West Indies and the American Colonies. The "Switzel," as it is named, is made with organic black tea, organic blackstrap molasses, ginger, lemon, and honey. Going on taste alone, it is average, but somehow familiar and refreshing. I recommend it, it is different which I appreciate. We also waited in an insanely long line for donuts. They were a little oily for my taste when it comes to donuts. I prefer Donut Plant but am willing to give Dough a second chance. They had a Chocolate Earl Grey flavor that sold out, and I have a weakness for anything tea flavored. Here is a rundown of everything we ate the first half of the day: breakfast (at home) olive oil tastings balsamic vinegar tastings pickles tasting jam tastings blackstrap molasses tea beef bulgogi bun pork belly bun grapefruit basil soda hibiscus donut lemon poppy seed donut To be continued, the lamb roast... archives: Food |
background: Mexican grilled corn known as "elote"
foreground: fried eggs, lettuce, avocado, tostada, sweet potato puree, black beans Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive 
fried pollack, citrus habanero aioli, cilantro, onion, tomato
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive August 6, 2011 Ancho Battered Pollack After almost a decade of living without fish tacos as part of my regular diet, I have found one that excites me. I typically prefer fish tacos unbattered with a fish like wahoo or mahi-mahi, but Pachanga Patterson's are genius. They use pollack with an ancho batter. They are delicious. The ancho is fragrant and adds a little heat to the mild pollack. Add pickled red onions and succulent tomatoes and you have perfection. The dishes are Mexican in origin with influences from other cultures. The dish, "Veggie Jenga," pays homage to the game because of its layered stack. It is quite beautiful to look at and is still hearty despite being a vegetarian dish because of the fried eggs and beans. The elote was fine, not great but satisfactory. In its defense, I ate it at the end of my meal. So it was cold, which is probably not the best way to experience grilled corn slathered with mayonnaise, Cotija cheese, chili powder, and lime juice. All the flavors had coagulated by the time I was ready to eat it. As a California native, I have had a long love affair with Mexican food. I would not say that my expectations are unrealistically high, but I yearn for what I know as Mexican food. Or specifically what is probably better described as California Mexican food. During my childhood, I remember the only food trucks in town were Mexican food trucks, just bare bones, mobile trucks with no frills. They were nowhere near the haute food trucks that I see around New York City today. They served things like beef tongue and brain tacos. During high school, I developed a fondness for one particular Mexican restaurant that without fail, always gave me food poisoning. A wise person would never go there again. But my taste buds and hunger for this place was intense. I continued to frequent the place and continued to be sick from it...not recommended. On one trip to Rosarito, Mexico during my college days, I dared to repeat my ill judgement. Across the street from my group's usual eating haunt, I noticed a taquería that was frequented by locals. My sister warned me not to stray, since the place where we were eating was designated by tourists as a place known to be "safe." But I could not resist. On the last day, I gave in. No one would join me. The tacos were delicious but I paid the price. For the next week, I was sick. Again, not recommended. Lessons learned and my love for Mexican food continues. archives: Food |
salumi from my 2011 archive July 19, 2011 Cured Nosiness disguised as curiosity resulted in the kindness of a stranger. I chatted up a guy who was being photographed around my community garden yesterday. He is starting a charcuterie, and he gave me some salumi to sample. The one on the left is about as long as a corn cob. The one in the middle is made with black truffles. Swoon. archives: Food, Garden |
left: Gravlax, red bell pepper, avocado
right: imitation crab, red bell pepper, avocado, radish sprouts from my 2011 archive July 5, 2011 Rolls The Fourth of July is all about spending time with family and friends, barbecuing, and watching fireworks. Unfortunately, a work commitment prevented The Swede and I from celebrating the way we normally do, which is going to Prospect Park to barbecue with friends. In lieu of hamburgers, hot dogs, ribs, and chicken wings, we made sushi. We had Gravlax, purchased from IKEA, in the fridge that needed to be eaten so we decided to try it in a roll. The Swede could not get over the taste, and I could not get over the color combination. Amazing. The only thing missing was a bit of wasabi, we were out. Years ago, when sushi was not yet mainstream, a friend of mine mistook wasabi for avocado. She put the entire chunk of wasabi served with her sushi in her mouth... archives: Food, Miscellaneous |
Nutella in two sizes
Chelsea, NY from my 2011 archive June 1, 2011 Nutella There are a lot of things I love, and two things that have captured my heart are Chelsea Market and anything Italian. I had a friend in town, and I took her to cruise around the famed indoor hall of stores. We stopped by the quaint Italian grocery store, BuonItalia to drool over the selection of dried pasta and to look for squid ink (more on that another time). The store has an amazing selections of oils, vinegars, grains, flours, spices, cheeses, and the biggest jar of Nutella you will ever find. The jar holds 11 lbs. of the creamy hazelnut spread! If I had $69.99 to blow on the oversized jar, I would---trust me. archives: Food |
Bobby, "The Butcher" Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive April 25, 2011 You never know. A friend was visiting from Upstate New York over the weekend, and we set out in search of Greek food. The restaurant I had in mind would not seat us when we arrived. They were closing early in anticipation of Easter Sunday and stopped seating people an hour before closing. Disappointment is an understatement, we had to quickly leave before our pangs of hunger were further intensified. We were surrounded by oval platters of seafood and lemony potatoes that looked and smelled amazing. Instead of taking the subway a few stops to another restaurant, we decided to walk so she could get a better sense of the neighborhood. (And to buy time to get over the meal we would never have that night.) Along the way, we came upon a man carving whole lambs in the back of a truck with a bandsaw. There were two customers waiting for their order who were initially suspicious of our curiosity. Bobby, "The Butcher" stood there carving away and throwing the pieces into a garbage bag. I fully expected him to turn around at any moment and yell at us for taking photos. Instead, he turned around, mumbled something about us making him famous, putting him on the news. He then invited us to visit his farm in Pennsylvania. He asked the female customer to get us a business card from the truck's cabin, to my relief. I was not really ready to be handed a business card from him with lamb bits on it. His card reads: Goats, Lambs, Baby Cows, & Pigs We walked away in disbelief, laughing off the absurdity of the surprises our neighborhood has to offer, such as finding a man with whole lamb carcasses spread out onto cardboard sheets in the back of a parked truck, with no refrigeration and a bandsaw. I guess I should not be too surprised, we do have the Statue of Liberty statue here. But really, Bobby is at a whole other level. archives: Food |
pink Peeps and olive oil
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive April 24, 2011 Easter Like other brightly colored treats, the presence of Peeps in stores signals that spring and Easter are coming. The juxtaposition of the Peeps against the backdrop of the olive oil is a testament to the Mediterranean heritage in my neighborhood. I personally prefer the olive oil, the grassier the flavor, the better. I have never been a fan of Peeps, yellow or pink. But they are cute. The Swede and I do not have plans except for dyeing eggs and getting some work done in the garden (if it ever stops raining). I am going to use beet juice, coffee, turmeric, paprika, and anything else I can manage to rummage up as dyes. I will post the results at a later time. Happy Easter to you and yours. archives: Food |
interior, Patel Brothers
Flushing, NY from my 2011 archive |
round eggplants
Flushing, NY from my 2011 archive |
coriander seeds, turmeric powder
Flushing, NY from my 2011 archive |
turmeric root
Flushing, NY from my 2011 archive April 20, 2011 Alphonsos My quest this past weekend included Dim Sum and mangoes. Years ago, 2004 to be exact, my friend invited me to her parents' house in an area in Sweden known as Dalarna, home of the wooden horse statuette. Her father frequently traveled on business to India and brought back a case of mangoes whenever they were in season. They were served as dessert. Hands down, the best mango I had ever eaten, very few fibers and a sweet concentrated flavor. I immediately inquired about them, made a sketch of their case sitting on the balcony under the moonlight, and captioned it, "Alphonsos." Once back home, I set out to find where to buy them. In my research, I found stores did not carry them. In fact, they were banned! How was this possible? The King of the "King of Mangoes," I would never have them again unless I went to India (which would be fine by me). But a change of luck a few years later, the U.S. lifted the ban on Indian mangoes in 2007. Every year since then, I have tried to get my hands on a case and have failed. I have either missed the season (April and May only), or stores were sold out. After stuffing ourselves with Dim Sum, a group of friends joined The Swede and I on a short trek, with fingers crossed, to an Indian grocery store that carries the Alphonso variety. No luck, they did not have them. The cashier told me, "Check next week." I bravely got over it, not wanting to cry in front of my friends over mangoes. It was a great opportunity however to look around the store. I am one of those people who loves grocery shopping. I like to discover something unfamiliar, and then research its origin, uses, variations, and prices. I recently ran out of Madras curry powder and Patel Brothers stocks it. I also bought yellow and black mustard seeds, all for $4.27. In the produce section they sell turmeric, in fresh root form. Previously, I have only seen it as a powder. Turmeric is believed to be a preventative herb in fighting cancer. It has a slightly musty taste and a vibrant yellow, orange color. I think I will buy a piece of it when I go back for the mangoes and put in the garden to see what happens. It will probably look gorgeous grated over some white basmati rice. archives: Food |
donut artworks
Chelsea, NY from my 2011 archive 
pistachio, chocolate, and strawberry donuts plus coffees
Chelsea, NY from my 2011 archive April 17, 2011 Donuts Ohhh, nostalgia. When I was little, my Mom would occasionally take my sister and I to get donuts. She always encouraged us to get an "old fashioned" donut which she somehow thought was healthier. How she got rationalized that, I have no idea. We were permitted one each, so we had to choose carefully. I often went for a glazed donut which is not overly complex in taste, and lets the donut flavor come through. Another memory from childhood of donuts...in the sixth grade, a friend and I gave a presentation on how to make them by first poking a hole in refrigerated Pillsbury biscuits, frying them in oil, then dusting them with sugar and cinnamon. Easy. A classmate went home to try it for herself and burnt down her parent's kitchen. Not a joke, real story. Donuts can be as gratifying as any complicated sweet if they are made well. There are too many out there that are just not very good, they leave a film in your mouth. The Swede unfortunately had a few of those experiences when he first came to America. He participated in a challenge to consume a dozen donuts in one hour without being permitted to drink fluids. He was able to eat nine; he said after the fourth donut, the tongue becomes like sandpaper. The result, it has turned him off to them. But being the person that he is, he believes in trying everything twice. My friend introduced us to the Donut Plant. Heavenly. Not heavenly in the way one swoons over rich and delectable treats. But heavenly in that the Donut Plant has not gone too far. I chose a yeast pistachio donut which had a mellow, nutty flavor and was not overly sweet. The Swede had a cake chocolate donut, and my friend chose the yeast strawberry donut. I consider myself a conscious eater, so when I go for a treat, I try to go to places that make things with quality ingredients. In addition to embarrassing myself at galleries, I also like to wait outside restrooms for my turn when no one is inside. This happens to me way too often. Note: if you go to Donut Plant, ask them to buzz you in if you need to do your thing. Once inside, beware--a disco ball and walls covered in reflective tiles await you. archives: Food |
mushroom empanadas
Upper East Side, NY from my 2011 archive March 30, 2011 Coffees and an empanada On my way to meet The Swede, I passed a hole in the wall cafe that caught my attention. I paused shortly to assess it: looked cute, had coffee, small bites, counter seating, and a line of 3-4 people. Once I met up with The Swede and mentioned the place, we decided to give it a try. We ordered two coffees, a mushroom empanada, and one soup. In addition to mushrooms, the empanada was filled with ricotta cheese (not cheddar as the label stated) and spices. It was perfect. The texture of the dough was just right, soft with a very slight crunch to its outer crust. And the filling, delicious. The counter seating seats three comfortably and has a large mirror hanging over it. The mirror gives the illusion that the cafe is bigger than it is, great interior trick. It is also good for spotting people staring at you, as to why you are taking so long to take a bite of the empanada that you are sharing. I imagine the place is busy throughout the day; there was a continuous line while we were there. It is quaint, inexpensive, and perfect for a quick bite or for a grab-and-go. archives: Food |
clockwise: blueberry banana pancakes with strawberry butter, burger and salad,
fries and ketchup, yule log, three versions of coffee and one iced tea Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive |
looking out onto Astoria Boulevard
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive |
fries and ketchup
Astoria, NY from my 2011 archive |
|
March 18, 2011
A good french fry. When I come across a good one, I will remember it. I love fries but do not eat them too often for obvious reasons. The Swede and I called up friends with the intent to catch up over coffee and dessert. We chose a local spot, home to the salty lemonade. When we got there, The Swede was the only one who ended up getting dessert. I looked thoroughly through the display cases at the gorgeous offerings, but in the end decided on fries. Sounds boring but nine times of out ten, I will favor savory foods. AND a good fry is underestimated. (Once in a great while, I indulge in fries from the unmentionable Mc...) I also abandoned my plan to get coffee and went for a gingerade instead. They were out so I contemplated getting salty lemonade ("sea salt lemonade" to them). But I could not bring myself to order it although I promised to give it another try. Instead I settled for an iced tea. One of our friends had the blueberry banana pancakes that came with a side of strawberry butter. The pancakes were amazing, as was the strawberry butter (of course). They tasted "homemade." I think that is what keeps me going back to Astor Bake Shop, the "homemade" feeling--in the food and the simplicity of the décor. archives: Food |
San Francisco Chinatown, CA from my archive February 3, 2011 Happy Lunar New Year, here is to the Year of the Rabbit! Hop. Hop. I am hoping for a great year. Last year was a little rough around the edges. Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year to me) is a big deal. It is a time to celebrate with family and there is much superstition surrounding it. In my family, we follow a few traditions but otherwise we keep our superstitions to a minimum (thank goodness because any more and I would not be able to handle it). I once broke three mirrors within a few weeks time and by my calculation (seven years per mirror) that would mean twenty-one years of bad luck... The house must be cleaned and you must bathe/shower the day before the new year. You are not to shower or clean on the day of the new year; otherwise you wash away your good luck. It is a few minutes past midnight, and I am ready to ring in the new year. My betta fish, Phuket is also ready. He received a water change about an hour before midnight. There are certain foods that should be eaten such as noodles which stand for longevity, boiled white chicken for purity, dumplings which resemble nuggets of gold, and countless other dishes. This year instead of going out for dinner, I plan to make a few dishes at home. I also plan to have Dim Sum this weekend with friends (any excuse for Dim Sum). Wishing you much prosperity in the new year! archives: Food, Miscellaneous |
exterior of One If By Land, Two If By Sea West Village Manhattan, NY from my 2011 archive February 1, 2011 Restaurant Week 2011 For Restaurant Week 2011, I went to a cosy/romantic/live piano music restaurant in the West Village with The Swede and another couple (who treated us, thank you!). For Restaurant Week 2010, I went nowhere. If you live somewhere where Restaurant Week does not exist, then it is a week where participating fine dining establishments offer a prix fixe, three-course menu at $35 a person. It is well worth it. We were served a Portobello mushroom soup (compliments of the Chef) in a glass (sans spoon). After a quick debate, my party decided we were supposed to drink it. I quickly scanned the room but unfortunately no one else was at the same stage in their meal. I felt a bit uneasy every time the wait staff came around (I think I prefer to experience my soup with a spoon) because who knows if we were SUPPOSED to have spoons. I started with the calamari, followed by the red snapper with preserved lemon, and finished with the mousse (there were three variations of banana in my dessert). All were wonderful but the fish deserves special praise. It was cooked perfectly to my liking and the skin was crisp and flavorful. Overall, the meal was very well made, presented equally well, and the wait staff was attentive but not invasive. A beautiful bottle of champagne along with coffee to finish complimented the meal (not included in the $35). The Swede chose butternut squash soup (with the nutmeg making its presence known), steak with bulgur wheat, and cheesecake with spiced wine "foam." I am (mostly) used to restaurants where they use inventive terms to describe their dishes, but I could not/have not really accepted the term "foam." I read numerous reviews about this establishment's offerings at Restaurant Week which were mostly negative. I have to say that I disagree with all of them. Perhaps I went at the right time, perhaps I had low expectations (due to the reviews), or perhaps those people have differing taste from mine. Apparently, the Beef Wellington is the thing to order here. I had Wellington once and it was a Vegetarian Wellington (at my sister's wedding when I WAS a vegetarian). It was delicious so I imagine Beef Wellington must be incredible. I must note that One If By Land, Two If By Sea has an incredible interior (and exterior, fell in love with the copper hardware on the carriage door). Ambient lighting is abundant, a fire rages at the entrance, long-stemmed red roses seduce, and wood paneled walls and banisters keep this place cozy on a cold winter's night. Looking forward to Restaurant Week 2012! archives: Food |
vegetable ash "rocks" from my 2011 archive (the one and only photo from the experience since the hostess [who literally ran over] requested "no flash please") January 31, 2011 vegetable ash and rocks (?) On a recent visit to California, an old friend invited The Swede and I to "Oakland's First And Only Restaurant To Garnish The Prestigious Award Michelin Guide 2011." Apparently, the celebrated Chez Panisse in neighboring Berkeley lost their one and only star entirely this year which I found surprising (and a little shocking). Alice Waters, what is going on? Regardless, she and her beloved are still legendary. I had the fortune (and a bit of misfortune because I not in tip-top shape that day) to experience dinner at Chez Panisse last year. I had to make the reservation exactly one month in advance (no sooner because it is not permitted and no later because I would not have been able to get a table). I also had to put down a deposit. Yes, a deposit. I had never done that before. Back to the topic of vegetable ash and "rocks." The first course served to us was (something, something) "with vegetable ash," (something, something) "Parmesan," (something, something) and "chervil." Unfortunately, I was messing about with my camera and did not remember the waiter's exact description. But the words vegetable ash and Paremesan stood out, and I distinctly remember the description ending with a punctuated CHERVIL. Since there were three of us dining, it made sense to me that there were three "rocks" served and topped (or in restaurant speak, finished) with chervil. Still messing about with my camera, I heard different mumblings and The Swede say something to the effect of, "I don't...that is...real..." then I heard my old friend say, "I think..." I looked up in time to see my friend across the table with a REAL rock in her fingers, lowering it from her mouth. The REAL rock was damp (pause for effect). We started laughing in disbelief (including her) and we realized my friend was--let us say confused. She had not understood there were three vegetable ash "rocks" lying on a bed of REAL rocks. She had actually bitten into it twice...we could not stop laughing (which I am sure the Michelin rated restaurant loved) at the situation and it made the night. The meal could only get better from there. What do Commis and Chez Panisse have in common you may ask? The answer is locally sourced, in-season ingredients and dinnerware from Heath Ceramics. archives: Food |
freeway view in Chicago, IL from my 2009 archive July 8, 2010 salty lemonade, hmm… This is my first post (congratulations to me!). It is very fitting because (1) it is about salty lemonade which is coincidentally close to the title of my blog and (2) my salty lemonade experience happened a few days ago, so my procrastination is spot-on. After going to water my garden plot, I stopped by the new and very charming corner bakery that just opened a few weeks ago by a pastry chef who has worked at many-a-famous hot spots in THE borough. I happen to live in the other, OTHER borough. I went in for a lemonade (to-go please), walked out, took a sip, and was confused. Was it some weird alternative sweetener? I could not quite pin in down, but something was OFF. My companion, who I will call The Swede said, "it's salted." Hmm…salty lemonade. It took me 7 blocks to aquire the taste for it. By then, it was mixed in with melted ice, and it was still 85 degrees at 9pm. So, salty lemonade it was, an experience that still has me reflecting days later. Did I love it or hate it, or am I indifferent? Not sure. Will report back after I give it another try when it is not hot and humid out. archives: Food |
©2010-2012 I Salty Lemons I All Rights Reserved
|