An Effing Foodie

Dinner in a Twitter: Whole Wheat Mentaiko Spaghetti with Green Beans, Scallions and Egg

Apparently, Twitter is the new bacon.

Attention from the NY Times marks the beginning of the end for any hot fringe-trend, but this cynic was impressed by Lawrence Downes’ endearing article on Twitter recipes.  His effusive exposition of Maureen Evans’ super-spare recipe realm was a welcome tweak on the nose for bored by-the-book cooks and blathering foodbloggers (cough) alike.

Evans' Twitcipes are subtly complex and sophisticated—in 140-character bursts, she makes clear that she’s well-traveled, kitchen-confident, but not cocky.  She’s got no bread handicap (home cook hierarchy is arguably based on the successful domination of yeast), does multi-culti sweets AND savories, and could get a willing participant out of a mac-n-cheese rut quicker than Mark Bittman can warm up.

Downes' headlong energy and Evans' encapsulated charms were downright inspiring. So without further ado, I present to you my Twitcipe debut*:

MentaikoPasta: Boil 1srving WWspghti&7-min egg. Blanch 1hndful grnbeans(cut1"). Slice egg(1/4s)&toss all w/1pckt sauce +slicedscallion&nori.

Oh c’mon.  Don’t act all surprised.  OF COURSE it’s going to have a key ingredient that most of you will find narsty—some of you because mentaiko = pollock/cod roe, others because it’s processed convenience food, and still others because it's Japanese convenience food (hooray, Kewpie!), and therefore uber-unlocal.  All of you can suck it. 

I love mentaiko and tarako in their raw, unadulterated forms...which tend to spoil before I can finish them.  Squeeze-packets of shelf-stable stuff is what I like to keep around for rainy days.  If you want the genuine article, here's a legit recipe from the far classier Chubby Hubby.

While I may lack the understated grace and worldliness of Ms. Evans, I do not lack a nutritive, unami-rich dindin.  Cheers!

*Nope, I don’t have a Twitter account.  I just thought this would be funsies**.

**You know what else is funsies? Watching Maureen "Snarkypants" Dowd get TAKEN DOWN while trying to takedown the founders of Twitter.  This made my day:

[M. Dowd, NYT]: If you were out with a girl and she started twittering about it in the middle, would that be a deal-breaker or a turn-on?
[B. Stone, Twitter founder] (dryly): In the middle of what?

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.

Recipe Reeeeeemix: Chicken Long Rice with Green Curry and Leeks

I dig braised meats, deep-fat frying, and charred chops as much as (who am I kidding, grossly-more-than) the next eater, but I've definitely hit a brown-food wall.  I'm a 'lil fatigued of things that taste like they're meant to prepare you for hibernation.

Which makes me cuckoopants-nostalgic for local Hawaiian food.

Which makes me dig through the pantry...and realize that I'm a couple of staples short of a faithful reproduction of chicken long rice. 

(Perhaps in the next life, I'll learn to keep a non-sprouting hand of ginger around.)

What is chicken long rice, you ask?  It's basically broth-bathed, ginger-scented bits of vermicelli noodles suspending tender chunks of chicken, usually spooned over rice.  It's a pretty Hawaii-specific thing, amorphous by nature--neither Chinese nor Japanese, too thickened to be soup-noodles, but too thin to be stew. 

No matter! I'm recklessly tweaking the beloved, monotone classic of chicken long rice to suit the contents of my fridge and my selfish mid-winter needs.

At home, they usually make long rice with round onion and finish it with green onion; I didn't have either, but I did have some pert leeks.  Using both the white and the green parts of the leeks made a fine (if blaringly inauthentic) substitute. 

I was also missing the aforementioned ginger, which is tougher to duplicate.  But my eye landed on a jar of Thai green curry paste crouching in the fridge door.  Why not?  It's got galangal in it--not quite ersatz ginger, but closer than anything else I had on-hand--plus, the heat from chilis and citrus notes from the lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves would be an eye-opening off-beat to a generally one-note dish.

And hell, since we were taking it to curry paste, why not season with Vietnamese fish sauce rather than salt?  Let's flip in some star anise, too, as a shout-out to the Chinese.

The result?  Not a chicken long rice you'd find at a luau or plate lunch place, but a bright, soothing bowl that I'd be happy to serve to NYers and kamaaina alike.

Grab That Blowfish by the Horns: Morimoto, Meatpacking District, NYC

Momma Foodie's splurge choice was Morimoto--that is, the Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto's not-Nobu outpost, adjacent to the Food Network's Chelsea Market. 

Bright white and uber-modern, this place houses the kind of people you'd expect (you know, the guys that pretend to know everything with the women that pretend to eat), but with the big bonus of not having to compromise your dignity to get a table. 

And there, in the temple of good lighting...we laughed in the face of death! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

That's right, folks...that'd be fugu sashimi, with lil shreds of fugu skin (yubiki) all a-piled! 

What does death taste like?  Not much.  Mostly like the lovely besprinkled shiso flowers (though flesh itself was pleasingly melty-tissue-thin).  The skin was chewy and didn't really register on the palate either, but hey--waste not, want not.

The deep-fried fugu bones (fugu karaage) and fugu hotpot (fugu-chiri, also comprised of blowfish bones) proved to be tastier than the pristine sashimi.  The hotpot was the fave, with a limpid dashi soup base scented with shredded scallions and mushrooms, rich with blowfishy collagen.  Momma sipped and fished for the poached fugu bits, temporarily relieved of her frostbite blues.

Everything But the Oink: Irving Mill, Union Square, NYC

I'm reluctant to give credence to food trends, especially when they take on a "green is the new black" slant.

For instance: Pig.  We get it.  Pig is big.  Pig is tasty!  Pig is how we as spoiled bourgeois eaters are REEEEE-CONNECTING with our humble swine-raising forbears, via pricey Berkshire varietals, slivers of barely-legal jamón ibérico de bellota and $8-bacon-laced-candy-bars.  TESTIFY!!!

Psst.  As sure as foodgossipwhores will squeal and clamor for the next big thing, Pig was ALWAYS big and, God willing, will always offer a great taste-to-value-ratio.  So let's just take a moment to be glad that good 'ol pork is having its moment in the sun, so that dedicated eaters can enjoy the collateral porcine fallout.

Ryan Skeen is a name oft-whispered amongst the fans of offcuts and burger-delirious.  Having carved himself a niche doling out lamb ribs, beef cheeks, and fatback-enriched burgers at Resto, he's moved on to give the Irving Mill a much-needed jolt, delivered on the presupposed slick of barnyard indulgence.

For those who hate change, not to worry!  It's a larger restaurant than Resto, so that more of us may simultaneously partake of treats in a warmly (READ: dimly) lit room swathed in rough-hewn wood.

Plus, some of the signature highlights have trotted right over from Resto (give-or-take some glamour-tweaking); behold, the beloved pork-jowl toasts (think uber-rich croquettes), dotted with skooshed egg and caviar:

I don't think the Creator intended for any of his critters to turn up as toast...but after a couple of unctuously rich, crispy bites, I doubt He/She would mind.  In fact, He/She might be pissed they didn't think of it first.

And, of course, the modified-Resto burger:

I like a good burger as much as the next glut, but I'm by no means an aficionado, and was uncertain that I'd be able to discern a marked difference between Resto's Fatback Mountain vs. Irving Mill's Beef Flap Fantasy.  But lo, there were remarkable changes, and for the better!

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.

Shut Up and Eat: Cacao Sampaka, Barcelona

When Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady escaped the discomforting heat of New York to the surface-of-the-sun furnace of late-summer Barcelona, I was all kinds of jelly, jelly, JELLY.  (Not to mention missing eater #1, companion of the strongest constitution!)

But, I am a lucky, lucky bunny as SSFL came home burdened with bitchin' food-related swag; check out my bag!

It says: "Shut up and eat."

GLEE!!!

But SSFL really outdid her self with this:

That's RIGHT, bitches!!! That's a 16-piece Gastronomic Innovations box 'o bonbons from Cacao Sampaka.  I squealed, cried and almost knocked her over when she gave me this.

I'd read about Cacao Sampaka a couple of years ago, and have been dying to visit ever since--when a chocolatier cooks up anchovy bonbons, it's a hard thing to forget, even if it is on the other side of the Atlantic. 

The brain child of Albert Adrià (big brother of El Bulli's gastonomic magnate, Ferran Adrià) Cacao Sampaka has been rapidly expanding, bringing the worldwide market its highly-crafted, temptingly whackadoo confections.

So here's the key:

 

Top row, L to R:
1) Black Olive,  2) Anchovies & Hazelnut, 3) Balsamic Vinegar, 4) Parmesan Cheese

Bottom row, L to R:
5) Black Truffle, 6) Olive Oil, 7) Smoked, 8) Peanut

It's Fusion*! It's Metaphor! It's Toad in the Hole con Curry!

Like anyone else, I’m kinda given to cooking ruts.  My inclination is to slap steaks, chops, pasta, and variations of green beans and tomato salad in front of peeps, and nobody complains, so I rarely deviate.  But it makes for FN boring cooking (and FN boring reading about cooking, natch).

So when I blew up my router vacuuming (don’t ask), and a trusted friend of mine popped in remotely and fixed it lickety-split, I figured I owed the man some eats, and told him to name his dish.

We were chatting online, so I couldn’t see him, but I could practically hear the smile spread across his face.  “Toad in the Hole,” he said. “Con Curry.”

A little background on this guy--Japanese-style curry is his lube/eats-cornerstone of choice.  For Curry Fiend, there is no food that can’t be improved with a cloak of spicy brown, and there is no meal he’d prefer over a steaming plate of katsu curry.

His request was not as strangely fusion-disastrous as it sounds...Toad in the Hole is browned sausages enveloped in Yorkshire pudding, generally served with squishy peas, mashed potatoes and onion gravy.  Topping it with curry and pairing it with rice seemed a bare half-step from its Brit comfort food origins, and given the rapidly apparent fall chill, it felt totally seasonally appropo.

EF's Tomato Obsession Continues Unabated!

Markets crashing!
Lightning flashing!
PETA clamoring for B&J breast-milk ice cream!
Limey felled by hot sauce!

And yet, EF's consumption of 'maters continues unabated.

 
 

L to R, from top left corner: Tagliatelle with melted tomatoes, basil, ricotta, and red pepper flakes; striped heirloom tomatoes, whole and sliced; Caprese salad made with Brandywine tomatoes (PA).

Methinks this is some kind of subliminal coping strategy for the shortening days.

These Are a Few of My Faaavorite Things: Oxtail Soup, Asahi Grill, Honolulu

So...the EF has been felled by her ancient nefarious nemesis...food poisoning.

Once you've clocked a certain number of hours grasping porcelain for dear life, it's important to get right back on the horse and shove some nutrients back into your betrayed body. 

It's times like this that we bust out our personalized short lists of Never-Fail Food (one notch more crucial, particular and reliable than mere comfort food).

As I rubbed my wounded, whimpering belly in a guest room in Virginia, one thing kept coming to mind:

 

Meet the Hawaiian answer to Jewish penicillin: Oxtail soup.

Sadly, most of the oxtail temples of my childhood have shut down since I've swapped to the East Coast, but my last visit home, my BFF Allison clued me in on Asahi Grill, a newer kid on the block with old-school sensibilities and killer oxtail soup.

There are no frills involved; just tender, bone-in hunks of long-cooked oxtail suspended in consomme-clear broth scented with star anise, cilantro, peanuts and ginger.  No matter where you order this is Hawaii, you'll always get 2 scoops of rice and a little bowl of grated ginger to go with it.

Ironically, it's been an exact calendar year since I was sitting at Asahi Grill with my family, coating my insides with collagen-rich broth.  As I slurp down conciliatory Campbell's, I concede that this may be a sign from mischievous deities that I should visit the motherland more often.

Or at the very least, call Allison more.  Alli, I MISS YOU, I LUV YOU...SEND SOUP!