An Effing Foodie

Calçotada, ChachaCHA: Springtime @ Savoy, SoHo, NYC

I'd heard fables of calçotada via Anthony Bourdain and similar globe-hopping eaters; much as foodies stateside go apesh*t over ramps, Catalans eagerly anticipate the arrival of calçots:

[C]alçotada, a party centered around eating piles of messy calçots, or green onions, that are blackened over open fires and served with a garlicky romesco sauce of toasted almonds, toasted bread, and smoky ñora peppers.

Calçots are a Catalonian specialty grown in a unique way: harvested in early summer, they're replanted and then repeatedly covered with dirt so that the white part of the root elongates, producing a sweet and tender vegetable. (Calçots take their name from the Catalan calçar, which means to put shoes on, a reference to the process of covering the roots.     [Saveur]

It was on the castle-in-the-sky To Do List, as I've no earthly idea what spring I'd be able to trot around Spain.

And then, I caught wind that Savoy and Back Forty were holding calçotada respectively.

Bless Peter Hoffman for cheerily provoking New Yorkers to eat with their hands and cavort with strangers!

The elder of the 2 Effing BroBros joined me for this soiree of charred carousing; we knew we were in for a treat as we saw clouds of onion-and-lamb affected smoke wafting down Prince St.

Dinner included dangerously drinkable bottomless rosé, both in-glass and arced directly into mouths by a porron-wielding Peter Hoffman himself.

"It's all in the arms!"  Hoffman happily demonstrated, the blush-colored wine catching light as it streamed neatly into his open mouth.

Family Effing threw down, but not nearly to as impressive effect.  (My lips touched glass as I tapered off--FAIL!) Cheers to our table, where every single diner gave the porron a go.

Like snarfing new herring or dismembering decapods, haphazard method and humbling communal messiness seems half the point of eating piping hot calçots:

After sliding off the onions' scorched outer layers, all present, from children to grandmothers, dunk the calçots in romesco (see Grilled Green Onions with Romesco), tip back their heads, and lower the long, white stalks into their mouths, leaving behind sooty fingers and a mound of carbonized leaves. [Saveur]

Our green onions were not as hefty or sooty as the Catalonian ones described, so no stripping was necessary; the helpful grill-master's mate showed us how to coil the onions and scoop up romesco from the large shared bowl.  Big, greasy smiles and blackened fingers followed.

The romesco was rich, coarse and thick, like a red-hued pesto, chunky with mortared almonds.  The brazen garlicky-fattiness of it mingled beautifully with the sweet-n-bitter grilled green onions, flame-cripsed at the ends and tender within.

EF and Effing BroBro: HUMuhgwd. Eesh go good.

I wish I'd thought to scoop out a big blob of it to eat with my lamb, greens, sausage and beans...but I was too busy eating lamb, greens, sausage and beans. 

Everything was that stripped-down stripe of satisfaction.  The grilled lamb was a lovely medium-rare, with a good sprinkle of flaky sea salt; the kale with maybe a little lemon and olive oil; the botifarra sausages were plump, generous, and totally unadorned; and the beans tasted...like beans, not sugar or pork, tooth-tender and creamy. 

Crispy-topped crema catalana capped off the bloat:

Catalans claim that their custard is primordial creme brulee, but when you've got a trap full of heavy cream and burnt brittled sugar, you're unlikely to quibble over chicken-or-the-egg.

Spoons plonked to pause down our long table of good-humored, rosé-glowy company, live flamenco tumbling the whole restaurant along.  'Twas a mighty fine way to spend a spring night.

Score One, Cult of Crust: Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana, Yonkers, NY

Just as top-notch ramen and pork buns are a Hawaiian prerogative, New Yorkers aren't shy about asserting their God-given right to superior pizza.

(Be advised, New Yorkers: Don't eat pizza in Hawaii.  It's just going to give you agida.)

As a transplant, I'm not as invested in the finding the Golden Slice as the natives, but I do appreciate that their standards make it harder to settle for subpar, and am happy to ride the high tide of quality cheese and crust.

To wit: The Dough Whispering universe was all worked up about the opening of Frank Pepe's in Yonkers. OMGOMGOMG we don't have to go to New Haven anymore!

...and then, they were all a little slow to get their asses to Yonkers.  Chuckle.

The Man and I aren't far from Frank Pepe's at all, so we decided to see what the Cult of Crust was going through.  Upon reading the menu, Frank's had me at "clam pie".

For the purposes of the pipingest pie, we should have probably eaten our pizza on the premises, but they looked like they were close to closing, and we didn't want to keep anyone.  We took home one small Original Tomato Pie ($7.70, with mozzarella):

...and one small Original White Clam Pie ($12.30, sans mozzarella):

In my woefully underqualified opinion, these pizzas were FN impressive.  The crusts had an appealingly charred, air-bubbled terrain, and were thin-crisp-yet-nicely chewy. 

Of the 2, I think the clam pie suffered more for not being eaten straight from the oven, but even in its cooled state, it was oceany and rife with garlic, pecorino and a gloss of olive oil. 

But the belle of the ball was the simple plain pie: The woody char and blistered mozzarella, the caramelized tomato sauce marrying all on a lilting axis of rich and savory, sweet and acidic. 

Consider me converted, and pity the fools who can't bear to make it to Yawnkahs.

NYC Wintertime Treats: Shake Shack, the redhead, 2nd Ave Deli (and Random Acts of Hot Toddy)

I'm a crybaby wuss when it comes to the cold, so it tickles me when NY tosses out treats and winter work-arounds for those willing to brave the bluster (and those who've been felled by it).

--> To help ease the bitter, Bolshevikian line for Sports Dogs and 'Shroom Burgers, Shake Shack is meeting its Madison-Square-adjacent burger junkies halfway by offering a winter call-in service: Place your order in advance and they'll give you an exact time to go and pick it up.  Danke, Daddy Meyer!

--> Chances are if you've eaten a homey, rib-sticking Southern meal at the redhead (small caps theirs), you haven't saved room for this little beauty: The Hot Chocolate Car Bomb.  Thick hot chocolate, Guinness and Jameson's topped with a homemade Bailey's marshmallow, this absurdly sexy caloric KO is reason enough to hunker down at the bar before (or after!) the packed dinner rush.

--> Besides bequeathing us with the uber-handy mecha-list of soups, NYMag lets flu-bitten Midtowners in on a handy little tip: The reborn 2nd Ave Deli delivers half-gallon jars of their Chicken in the Pot.  For $24.45 (including the deposit on the jar), you get half a kosher chicken with feather-light matzo balls gently adrift in golden Jewish Penicillin, 6 half-sour pickles, coleslaw, and 4 slices of rye.

--> If chicken soup alone can't clear your head and warm your toes, a hot toddy will probably get you the rest of the way: Saveur and the NYT share some insights, history, and recipes for toasty toddies and their fancier cousins, Tom & Jerrys.

Holiday Gift Guide, 2009: Fancypants Nosh from the BKLYN Larder

I'm an unabashed fan of Franny's, the BKLYN Larder's big-sister venture, so when I got the Larder's newsletter for Christmas goodies, a little involuntary drooling and clapping may-or-may-not have happened.

 

Jasper Farm?

Mast Brothers?  (Going to visit their factory this weekend, stay tuned!)

Neal's Yard Stichelton???

To all who have been sweating presents and are in spitting distance of Park Slope, now's your chance:

• Call them at 718.783.1250 to place your order. (Or visit them in person!)
• They ask that you place your orders by December 20th.
• They are open 7 days a week, plus from 10 AM to 6 PM on Christmas-Eve-Day for to pick up said order.  (They'll thankfully be closed Christmas Day!)

Browse their cornucopia of baskets here.

They're doing catering, too, for all the Christmas cheer with none of the toiling! 

Same rules for ordering apply.  Don't corner or kid yourself--you know if you're too busy to cook!

Summertime, Sausage and Pepper Sliders, and Nanny's Cucina!

Just as mangoes in Hawaii have ruined mangoes from anywhere else for me, the bulging beauty of East Coast tomatoes have made boxed-still-green supermarket tomatoes a bitter pill to swallow.

That said, I generally prefer to melt down fresh tomatoes for sauce, deferring to whole canned kind when the freshies are looking wan.  Occasionally I'll dip into tomato paste when I'm looking for a hit of sweetness, color, and depth in whatever I'm making.  Even though I do keep it around, I find that I hardly ever use prepared tomato sauce.

But...that may change!  An always-in-the-know food friend of mine was kind enough to point me in the direction of Nanny's Cucina Marinara. 

Handmade in small batches from roma and grape tomatoes, this deeply red sauce has a glossy patina, pleasing, slow-cooked sweetness, and a bit of a spicy bite-back that beats the pants off your run-of-the-mill jarred marinara.  It's like sticking a finger into an old-school Sunday Dinner.

Prepared food goblins can step off--The Sauce is a great example of a flavorful time-saver, made only from ingredients you can pronounce. (That, and it just plain tastes better than anything a mere mortal could pull off on a weekday.)

Regina, I think you've done your Nanny's recipe proud--witness, Sausage and Pepper Sliders made possible--nay, scrumptious!--by your lovely sauce.

 

>CHOMP<

Alas, The Sauce isn't available in stores yet, but you can order it online via Nanny Cucina's site, where there's also recipes and some great family photos, too!

What's next for Nanny's?  A yet-spicier Arrabbiata Sauce and their version of Puttanesca, pegged All About Olives...can't wait!

These Are a Few of My Faaavorite Things: Lox Benedict, Avi and David's, NYC

Being workaholic midtown bachelors, The Effing BroBros eat a lot of takeout. SeamlessWeb has a vested interest in keeping the EFB hungry and unwilling to cook.

And anyone who's trolled around on their lunch hour knows, there's a plethora of crap food in Manhattan's ramming-speed midsection.  SeamlessWeb may offer enough midtown delivery choices to make the heartiest glutton blush, but I'd venture to say about 70% is not worth eating, much less getting gouged over.

So, when the BroBros stumble over a restaurant that delivers more than condensation-soaked lies, they're uber-loyal repeat customers.  One Sunday morning fixation of theirs is Avi and David's Kosher Bagels.

(Single-subject-porkaphiles, step off now.  See you soon!)

I know, I know, Avi and David aren't on the consecrated list of what's-what in bagel lingo (i.e. they're not Zabar's or Murray's).  But they are marvelously consistent, with real homemade food that meets the standards of God's Chosen People!

We've been well-pleased by their standard-issue stuff--Challah French Toast with Berries, Bagels-with-a-Schmear--but on a recent lazy Sunday, an Effing BroBro and I opted to branch out and order some house specialties.

We were a little perplexed and mecha-intrigued by the description of "David's Bagel Lox Benedict" ($9.99): Toasted Bagel or Bialy, Nova-Scotia Salmon, Over Easy Egg with Scallion Cream Cheese, Garnished with Bermuda Onion.

Scallion cream cheese AND a oozy egg AND smoked salmon?  It had to be kosher, but it didn't sound kosher.

Lovin' in the LES: BaCorn @ Roni Sue's Chocolates, Pancake Month @ Clinton St. Bakery, NYC

Accursed holiday conventions aside, my ever-so-patient man deserves treats.  (Nope, this is not mushiness--this is an admission of guilt on the part of an irrational, food-crazed unladylike-type.)

So if the V-Day makes it easier for The Man to get his comeuppance, then HURRAY!

Enter Roni Sue's Chocolates...yup, I wrote about them last Valentine's, too, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it. 

Where else are you going to find 6 handmade truffles for $10 (or $2 a piece, $18 for 12 pc, $22.00 for 15 pc), honey-and-tea lollipops ($1.50 each), or the CrackerJack™-cum-pig creation, BaCorn ($5 a bag)?

A $5-bag that goes WAY TOO QUICK, in my humble opinion; molasses-y popcorn that's not too sweet, with a scattering of chile-seasoned pine nuts and candied nuggets of bacon (of which there were too few, sayeth The Man--in a positive way, not a I'm-feeling-deprived way).  Love means being unembarrassed about your yen for candied pork.

The Man was tickled about the truffles I'd picked out too; no snoozy or overly fancypants fillings here, RS is willing and ably embracing chocolate-minded booze hounds.

L to R, top row then bottom: Dark-n-Stormy (ginger and rum), Manhattan (Knob Creek bourbon, sweet vermouth, bitters & a cherry), Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Caramel, Portly Fig (dried figs infused with Port wine), Pomegranate (Poma liqueur), and one Three-Layer Hazelnut Truffle (Dark, white & milk chocolates, each mixed with hazelnut praline).

Ladies and gentlemen, singles and couples, that's a lotta love for $10.

But what if you're not the candy-buying type?  What if an eyelid-sagging, satisfying brekky says l'amour to you?

Well, it's Pancake Month over at Clinton St. Bakery, and in honor of forced seasonal intimacy, on Feb. 13th and 14th, the special featured pancakes will be decked in Strawberries and a Champagne Zabayon.  I hate waiting in line for food more than your average chowhound, but the Clinton St. pancakes...they do something to me.  Check out the chocolate-chunk specimen ($12) that I shared with the Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady!

 

Tender, moist, studded with bittersweet chocolate, these somehow managed to be indulgent but not cloying.  We were sad to see them disappear so quickly (but happy to be the lucky co-culprits).  Pancakes are usually something SSFL and I avoid--I'd rather Benedict than have to soak dry disks of dough with liquid sugar to make them palatable--but these babies didn't even need the warm syrup doodad (butter rum?) off to the side.  Yes, yes, a thousand times, YES!

And speaking of Benedict, they managed to churn out an off-the-hook variation of that, too:

 

'Twas another special of the day, the Corn-and-Clam Fritter Benedict ($15).  It's as exactly as dirty as it sounds--hot hush puppies with chopped clam and corn topped with poached eggs and an Old-Bay spiked hollandaise.  Though I couldn't really taste any clam besides a welcome hint of brininess, and the eggs were done a little hard (medium, no oozy yolks) it was still damn good, and went perfectly with the pint-o-peppery Bloody Mary ($9). 

Plate-licking most certainly crossed our noggins, but somehow SSFL and I managed to show some restraint. 

But YOU won't have to! 

**Wink** 

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.

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.

Super-Expressive Foods: ChikaLicious Dessert Club's Espresso Ice Shot

I'd like to think I'm slowly getting better at taking appetizing piccies of eats, to ultimately provoke the lot of you into mid-day, mid-cubicle hunger.

But I still end up with 'lil beauties...

<====like this fella.

BEHOLD, the Many-Eyed Affogato Monster! BLAUGH!!!

Be kind.

He's a little misunderstood...and apparently, as curious about you as you are of him!

More importantly, he's darned tasty! Billed as "Espresso Ice Shot", Many-Eyed Affogato Monster is a caffeine-bathed balm on your summer-sapped senses--vanilla bean soft serve, chocolate-coated crispies, and a shot of espresso.

He's a bit heavy on the soft serve to be affogato proper, but if you want less ice cream, I'm sure the affable (if overwhelmed) purveyor of sweets would be happy to oblige.

You'll find him at the ChikaLicious Dessert Club (right across the street from the original ChikaLicous Dessert Bar on E 10th St) in the company of some good-lookin' cupcakes (including an INSANE toasted-marshmallow-topped s'mores specimen), cookies, puddings, smoothies, and a rotating sorbet.