An Effing Foodie

Day-Trippin': Peekskill Brewery and Restaurant, Peekskill, New York

Update, 10/12/09: In case you're curious about the sit-down restaurant, the NY Times posted a review a day after this post.

A dear friend of mine shared a great flick called The Station Agent--it's one of those quiet films that brims with understated human quirks, tenderness, humor, and a good dose of unassuming beauty. 

I won't get into plot synopsis or anything, but much of the film was shot in a tiny non-town called Newfoundland, NJ, and watching the characters follow train tracks and dip their ankles in lakes sparked a hippie wanderlust in me. 

So it was a happy coinkydink that I found myself in Peekskill, NY, not a week later.  Peekskill-proper leaves something to be desired, but the train station for this town is right on the bank of the Hudson, with a perfect-sunset-park on the river-side of the tracks...

...and the Peekskill Brewery just on the other side.  The intrepid Pour Some Sugar On Me had caught wind of this lil gem, and a homegrown pub is a better excuse than most to take a long Hudson drive on a bright, pretty day.

Like Daddy-O or the now-defunct Little D's Eatery (sob), Peekskill Brewery is a neighborhood haunt that makes you wonder why your own neighborhood isn't so lucky.  Some of the food invokes upscale-pub (burgers, pulled pork, wings, fish-n-chips), but some tilts toward bistro/ international drinking food (croque monsieur, steamed mussels, herb-roasted chicken).

The common thread in the spread?  As the name implies, Peekskill Brewery prides itself on beer-nerdery, and all the food (whether in the restaurant wing or in the pub) is geared toward pairing with their rainbow of yeasty bubbles, including 3 of their own custom draughts and beer-babies like Ommegang and Smuttynose. 

Let's face it, most bars (particularly beer-geared ones, however fancypants their aspirations) aren't places you want to be in until after dark, if only to avoid sunlight vertigo.  Not so here.  Peekskill Brewery is the daywalker of its kind--given the choice, I'd rather while away an afternoon than an evening here, soaking up the sunshine, suds, and gracious staff.

PSSOM and I planted ourselves in the short end of the L-shaped bar, to better soak up the rays through sparkling clean windows and read the chalkboard specials menu. Fried oysters for $8??? Yes, please!

Fried oysters are hit-or-miss with me (I was born to slurp), but these were textbook classics on how frizzled bivavles should be--crisp but not greasy, custardy and bustingly briny within.  And at half the price for subpar gussied-up lies in the city.  More.  MOOOOORE.

The Brewery Sliders were similarly juicy (4 for $12) and way tastier than their hot-dog-bun appearance might imply. (Martin's Potato Rolls, please?):

But as I learned on a later visit to The Man, the Sliders pale in miniaturized comparison to the 8-oz. Brew Burger ($9, $10 with cheese, birds-eye view pictured above):

Beefy, dripping, packed just right (neither cemented meatloaf nor fall-apart) cooked to temperature (medium-rare) she could have used a little more salt, but otherwise, this IS HOW EVERY BAR BURGER SHOULD BE.  Under $10, and a handful of multicolored drooling satisfaction.

Other prime sandwich options: PSSOM and I couldn't pass up the Croque Madame ($11), a hot mess of a ham-n-cheese covered in bechamel and a fried egg. 

Yup, we be wretched, gluttonous creatures...but look at her.  That's an oozy pile of primordial dairy love.  Pass the Tabasco.

Old Dogs, New Fish, and Cocktails on the Down-Low: Crif Dogs, Jimmy's No. 43, PDT (East Village, NYC)

When it's a sunny-but-not-TOO-sunny day in New York, it's hard to imagine voluntarily drinking in a bar that's dark before sundown.  But one late afternoon, Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady and I found ourselves traversing the basement stairs to the subterranean gloom of Jimmy's No. 43 for two good reasons:

1. Happy Hour Draft Specials (Daily, Noon - 6 PM), $4 American Microbrew Pints
2. New Catch Holland Herring from Russ & Daughters

There was a ton of press about these seasonal piscine visitors from the E.U.; worthy of festivals in their native Holland, herring are a definitive cornerstone of the Dutch diet, as readily available a street food as hot dogs are in NY.  New herring--the first catch of the spring--are especially cherished, eaten spanking-fresh and unadorned.

I'd just finished off a book about regional Dutch food and quirky herring eating procedures (AKA haringhappen), so I was eager to put all those diagrams of smiling, fish-gulping Dutch folk to good use.

C'mon.  There's nothing more appealing than a couple of chicks tossing back herring and beer like so much drunken, back-talking sea lion.

We went with one order of the "traditional-style" New Holland Herring ($7):

 

...which quickly became two orders (and would have multiplied to 3 had good graces and budget not intervened).  SSFL and I had no problem polishing ours off: Tilt your trap back, lower the fish into said trap by the tail, chew, order more.

Garnished minimally with chopped onion, these lightly cured fish were fatty, tender, and redolent of the sea--like giant, high-grade anchovies. 

Dutch Delight mentions that the new herring aren't raw "in the strictest sense": On the herring ships, they are immediately gutted, salted, and frozen.  So basically you've got curing and quick-freeze to buffer you against any narsty Baltic-borne parasites.

We also got the training-wheels version of the Holland Herring, perched atop ricotta and toast ($7):

Pretty, but we both felt the delivery mode sublimated the briny goodness of the herring.  Go hard or go home.

Woman cannot (afford to) survive on herring alone, so we gave into an order of Fraegola with Sugar Snap Peas, Mint, and Pecorino ($12?):

Simple, verdant, and definitely replicable in a home kitchen--I'd add a poached egg, but I tend to think everything needs an egg on top.  I wanted to think the mint helped us from walking out reeking entirely of fish and onions.

It may have still been light out when we emerged from Jimmy's, feeling happy and suitably appetized...but not full.  So we went in pursuit of vaguely less seasonal, basement-based prey:

That's a Spicy Redneck ($4.75), with a small (???) side of tater tots ($2.50), a la Crif Dawgs.

Spicy Redneck = Deep-Fried Hot Dog (Wrapped in Bacon) + Chili + Chopped Jalapenos + Cole Slaw

No worries, I've made peace with my maker.

Bring Me...The Plate: Daddy-O, West Village, NYC

Tripping on a good bar is one of the things I love best about NYC.  Granted, I was guided here by a roving group of revelers almost a year ago, but every time I've found myself in the neighborhood, this little place was just packed.

Daddy-O is a happy conglomeration of 3 things you almost NEVER see together in a Manhattan Bar anymore:

1. A long list of cocktails that are well-made and balanced, but not priced to the point where you'd have to call the barkeep a "mixologist".  Cheers!
2. A short menu packed with reasonably priced barfood that's tasty, filling, and skirts the line between gritty and precious.  It's a cheeky kinda greasy that's easy to love, and the kitchen is wide open until 4 AM.
3. A lit wall PACKED with brown liquor: If you're a whiskey whisperer, this little corner bar has got your back.  Aforementioned cocktails include commendable quaffables that embrace bourbon, scotch, and dark rum.

Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady and I wandered in around dinnertime on a Friday evening, during a rare, blessed lull, so our experience with the service is probably not what you're going to typically encounter.  Go early, or on an off-day, and you can expect a steady stream of libations and eats from laid-back-yet-attentive servers.

I've only heard about the legendary Garbage Plate of Rochester, but being that it shares the same basic dish-DNA as a plate lunch, it's a reference I've carried near my heart, and is on the list of roadfood goals (along with the original buffalo wings from Anchor Bar).

So when I glanced on an item called "The Plate" on Daddy-O's short menu, my Spidey-senses tingled.  We were in the presence of a homage to the Garbage Plate!  Granted, SSFL and I were supposed to be on our way elsewhere for dinner...

...but the power of The Plate could not be denied.

Stuff It, Stockings: Emergency Effing Presents!

Tick-tock!  By now, friends/drinking buddies/loose acquaintances/clients/distant relatives have made their way out of the woodwork to pounce on your unsuspecting, holiday-bewildered self, and good 'ol standards and practices dictates that they must each get a well-thought-out bauble...or bottle. 

So, here's a list to ease the effing way!

For the sweet folk:

Bee Raw Honeys: Unpasteurized, single-variety honeys that will make you grateful for myopic, monogamous bees.  Try the frosting-like, buttery Sweet Yellow Clover or Star Thistle on toast (or better yet, biscuits!), the rich-n-tangy Wild Raspberry drizzled on blue cheese, or the darkly funky Buckwheat in your gingerbread or oatmeal.

Can't choose/commit/decide? No worries, for those who've been VERY good, they offer varietal variety packs! 

Need sweets more pimpin', less hippy? Yarra Valley Truffle Honey is a half-step from liquid gold, making it ridiculously easy to look like a cheese plate genius. 

(If you're in NYC, Murray's carries both Bee Raw and Yarra Valley honeys--the selection varies, but I've seen Bee Raw at Dean & Deluca, Whole Foods, and the Food Emporium as well!)

For the cheese nerds and otherwise cheese-curious:

Invite a friend out for a night of queso-based bonding with Murray's cheese classes (with an emphasis the booze-oriented ones); you can brush up on the basics, learn a thing or two about bourbon pairings (like the one I went to!) or expand your knowledge of all things stinky.

(By the by...I am currently not and have never worked for Murray's...all this super-schillin' merely demonstrates how pathetically dependent I am on them for tokens of good tidings and moments of personal indulgence.)

For those in need of a more potent yuletide fix:

Compass Box Whiskey: Sorry kids, these are not single-malt, but vatted malt (i.e., blended) Scotch whiskeys--don't let the lack of trendiness deter you, though.  The Peat Monster is a great find for all the gruffed-voiced loves in your life; the almost floral Hedonism and Asyla will help to ease the Scotch-uninitiated; and winter nights are that much cozier with Orangerie and a square or two of dark chocolate. 

Four Roses: No need to cross an ocean for solid brown booze--described as a "high-rye" bourbon, Four Roses has a spicy, fruity complexity that was practically made for spiking eggnog and dipping Grandpa's dentures.

Cabrito's Aptly Pegged Happy Hour!

Over La Weekend, I heard some wonderful news from a lovely bird!

Remember Cabrito?  The little corner of Mexican contentment on Carmine?

Well, now's the time to go, folks! More specifically, Monday through Friday, between 4 PM and 7 PM, whence they are offering:

A PBR with any taco at $8:

 

Top, Chorizo Taco, Beer-Battered Fish Taco; Bottom, Lengua (Tongue) Taco

Famous Frijoles Puercos (That's beans larded with housemade chorizo, people! YOU NEED IT!), $4:

Additional incentives:

• Jalapeño Rellenos (stuffed with red snapper, raisins, peptitas (pumpkin seeds) & capers), $2
• PBR & Well Shot, $7
• Hornitos Plata Margaritas, Single $7, Pitchers $40

So the next time you're wandering Bleeker, tilt westward for a happy, boozy surprise...you've earned it!  There's no reason it can't be warmer weather in your gullet.

Tall-Table Noshing: Vintage Irving, Union Square, NYC

Most of the time, I'm not an eater with a plan.  Given the choice, I'd much rather wander with a fellow intrepid noshmonkey and a craving than adhere to a predetermined gustatory destination.

Luckily, Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady (SSFL) shares this disposition, and demonstrates great patience as we comb through blocks of window-mounted menus for our next meal.

Even luckier are the days where we don't have to meander far at all!  Mere steps from being spit up from the subway, we stumbled on a spiffy-new yet unassuming space, offering much in the way of wine, thought-out cocktails and small plates: Vintage Irving.

I hadn't heard much about it, apart from the fact that they tout absinthe cocktails, but the cheese offerings, an uber-nerdy wine/beer list (that includes a glossary of terms for pairing), and super-sweet gentleman host pretty much sealed the deal.

SSFL and I planted ourselves at the tall-stooled communal tables, and contemplated booze.

"One of us should get an absinthe cocktail."

<Hesitation.> "Yeah...Do you like Pernod?"

"Nope."

"Neither do I."

So we dodged the Green Fairy, and settled with rose and a dirty martini instead--SSFL's martini came equipped with a "dirty" ice cube of olive brine.

(Um, I thought salted water doesn't freeze.  Did Mr. Wizard lead me astray???)

As I sipped my wine and worked my way through the descriptive, text-heavy menu, I noticed a chemical, burning smell.

And realized that I'd lit the back of the plastic-covered menu with a tea light.

Such are the hazards of short, klutzy folk breaking bread at tall tables.

Christmas Came Early! Murray's Bourbon and Cheese Pairing Class, West Village, NYC

When I saw "Bourbon and Cheese" on Murray's Cheese Class Schedule, I couldn't click fast enough. 

If my loved ones were forced to stage an intervention on my behalf, it would probably have less to do with sweet, sweet booze, and more to do with stinky, stinky cheese.

As much as I enjoy gnawing and cataloging my way through Murray's Everest o' Queso on my own, nothing lights me up quite like Murray's classes.

Yes, there is booze AND cheese.  But more importantly, most of us aren't born with an intrinsic knowledge of which boozes and cheeses were meant to be together, and Murray's classes have stepped in to reduce the guesswork of pairing.

The fantabu-rrific cheese empath, Nora Singley (formerly of Murray's and currently cooking in Martha Stewart's test kitchens), and overall-clad LeNell Smothers (Brooklyn/'Bama's own bourbon expert and spunky purveyor of spirits), presided over the merry marriage of congealed curd and brown booze with wit, ease, expertise, and bawdy tales.

Stuck on the idea of bourbon and cheese together?  To be fair, it is a matter of taste; if you favor, say, white wine spritzers and mild cheeses, these pairings may be a hard sell.  For me, I tend to heart the rankest of the rank, cheeses that are tough to pair with wines, ports and sherries--so bourbon and scotch pairings seem like the next logical step.