An Effing Foodie

What the "R" Rule Means to You and Oyster Stew

I was recently perched at Lelabar for a friend's birthday (great place, by the way, with a fun selection of chocolates and cheese) when I spied their raw bar, brimming with ice and oysters.  I steepled my fingertips in anticipation...

...and then remembered it was June.

Cartoons aren't the best place to pick up a basic understanding of physics, but they're not bad for occasional gustatory guidelines. (Those in a hurry, skip to 2:05.)

I don't subscribe to all oldsy-timesy rules about food, and many have argued that the "R-in-the-month" rule is a bogus holdover from European oyster eaters. 

Unfortunately, through rigorous trial, error, and expense on my part, the old "R" rule has been proven true enough--a May/June/July/August oyster won't kill you, but they just plain taste better when the water is cold. 

Which SUCKS, since cold seafood seems more appropo in the summer, and it's not like those suboptimal oysters get cheaper when it's warm out.

Why, you ask?  Well, summertime is lovin' time for oysters, and the energy that would generally go into building fat reserves goes into spawning instead.  So what you're left with is a skinnier, waterier oyster that's basically in heat. Yum.

And if it's Gulf Oysters you're eating, it's recommended that you cook them from April to October, tacking an extra 3 months to the "R" rule.

Bivalve devotees need not fret--raw June oysters may leave a gal wanting, but they're perfectly suited to Oyster Stew.

Check out this particularly bacon-studded specimen at Seymour Burton:

Since this one's got potatoes and the aforementioned swine in it, it's technically an Oyster Chowder.  But it was very old-school oyster-stewish in spirit; not thickened at all, with cream-based broth more warm than hot, so's not to assault the gently-cooked oysters.

These Are a Few of My Faaavorite Things: Enchanted Pork, Szechuan Gourmet, NYC

You read right! This is MAGIC pork, people...I stayed at a soul-crushing job months longer than I should have, for the sake of lunchtime proximity to Szechuan Gourmet's Enchanted Pork.

I stand by my decision.

Ed Levine and Midtown Lunch have weighed in on Enchanted Pork, but my co-cubical prisoners can testify that I was drowning my sorrows in piggy spiciness LONG before it was on the blogger radar.

Conjuring porcine magic involves wok-seared leeks, blistered green chilis, and thin strips of fat-ribboned side meat (think bacon), the whole brought together by a goodly dose of red chili oil.  Every mouthful is an eye-opening blend of rich, porky heat, best tempered with rice.

At lunch, Enchanted Pork is a screaming deal at $6.95, and if you eat-in, you get respectably vinegary hot-and-sour soup, too.  For those unwilling to deal with the lunch mob, SG does old-fashioned delivery AND Seamless Web.  The same dish is a little more expensive at night ($11.95), but the portions are bigger, and it's a mere pittance to eat your beast in peace. 

Treats for Grown-Ups: Apricot and Pistachio Nougat Roll-Ups

I'm finding as I get older, my sweet tooth keeps diminishing in size, and I'm more prone to favor the savor. (Vegemite-enriched Cup-of-Soup with Saltines, anyone?)

Somewhere in my mid-twenties, I mutated from someone with an ice-cream eating disorder into a quesophile; I stopped seeking out cake at gatherings (and gatherings solely for the sake of cake); I won't drink cola unless there's a bunch of Jack in it.

So when I recently brought a friend from Hawaii to the sweets counter at Dean & Deluca, I wasn't really on the lookout for personal pleasure.  But amid the heaps of prettily-wrapped premium confections, these little fellas caught my eye:

Cheery, no?  The packaging wasn't particularly informative--they were labeled as "bulk miscellaneous candy", with no ingredients or names for the product / producers / distributors.  (Um, is that legal?)  But it was pretty clear that it was nougat studded with pistachios, wrapped with a fruit puree that was likely apricot or orange.

People, if you see these, snatch them up immediately!  The nougat was feather-light yet gooey-sweet, ingeniously counterbalanced by acidity of the fat, toothsome apricot band of fruit roll-up in every bite.  They're not cheap--$6.66 for 6 individually wrapped 2-inch pinwheels (the DEVIL'S CANDY!)--but you could do a lot worse in D&D's hallowed halls.

If you're allergic to stone fruit or just plain don't like apricots, they sell the nougat on its own, too. 

Alas, they are not available online, and I can't vouch that they're at every D&D location, but they were definitely at Madison and 85th--so get yourself a bag, and wander through Central Park all hopped up on sugar and springtime.  

Prune Restaurant, East Village, NYC

 

Like Franny's, Prune is one of those restaurants with a cult following and an almost mythic reputation that belies its modest appearance.

And like the nutjobs that will wait patiently for the privilege to stuff their craws at Franny's, the nutjobs huddled outside of tiny, perpetually-packed Prune are totally in the right.

I'd read a piece by the chef and owner, Gabrielle Hamilton, back when I first moved here in 2001; I loved her no-bullsh*t sensibility and tone, her fearless menu items of then-unfashionable marrow bones, deviled eggs, and Triscuits topped with sardines. 

Problem was, everyone else seemed to dig this, too, and I'm not one who enjoys the notion of jockeying with Chelsea Clinton for a seat at brunch.

So, years later, after the trend-eaters trailed off in pursuit of newer New York Times raves, I was wandering around 1st and 1st and remembered my dream deferred.  After all, I've got no problem jockeying for tables with true devotees.  This is my new-old favorite spot to go toe-to-toe with trusted, serious eaters.

I truly heart the staff here.  Recently my friend Susan (AKA Soft-Spoken Feisty Lady) and I poked our heads through draft-reducing door drapes, and asked as sweetly as we could if they were able to accommodate a couple of hungry knockabouts. 

Caravane Camelbert: Camel-Milk Cheese in NYC!

You know you want some.

One particularly drunken, lactose-loaded night, my friend Heathie and I mused on all the cheeses we've yet to try, and tip-toed right into the fanciful: Seal cheese!  Pig cheese!  Camel cheese!

Turns out, some fanciful wishes are more easily fulfilled than you'd think.  Camel cheese has hit our shores, people!

The cheese, known to some admirers as Camelbert, has had a difficult time clearing regulatory hurdles in the European Union. But with the help of Gary Guthrie, an American importer, it has received a green light here. About 100 pounds of Caravane will be available in New York beginning this week at some Garden of Eden stores, Sahadi's, Stinky Bklyn, Zabar's and Todaro Brothers.

--PERVAIZ SHALLWANI, NYT

Camelbert is in the style of its conceit, camembert, with a bloomy-rind and a rich, creamy center.  At $30 a pound, it's a bit of a splurge, but if you can swing it, swap it for brie on your next cheese plate, and cross off another milk-bearing animal in your ongoing cheese conquest.

Holy Jameson Cupcakes, Batman!

I hope everyone had a rainbow St. Paddy's Day, and weren't hurting too badly on Tuesday...

(You've never really lived until you've heaved in the office.)

I wish I'd heard about this BEFORE St. Paddy's, but Babycakes--the celebrated vegan bakery down in the LES--makes cupcakes spiked with Jameson Whiskey in honor of the Irish!  Thanks to my fabu friend Cin (AKA The Office Alpha Asian) I was a lucky recipient of such a cupcake:

Isn't she a beaut'?

The frosting is cream cheese-y cloak for the very moist, discernibly boozy crumb of the cupcakes; as with all of Babycakes treaties, it was IMPOSSIBLE to discern that it was vegan.

Hushed whispers in the background: It's black magic! WITCHERY, I tell you!

As you've probably gathered by now, I'm not a lady who would take the omission of dairy very lightly, particularly when concerning baked goods.  But trust me, these babies could hold their own against any in the onslaught of sugary indie cupcakes.

Unfortunately, the Jameson cupcakes are not part of the regular Babycakes lineup, but I'm told that if you are super-savvy, you can order them in advance for a special occasion (just give the gals at least 3 days notice).

And if you're feeling a little less savvy, just trot on down and get yourself a box of the regulars: carrot, red velvet, chocolate and vanilla, all available in spelt or gluten-free (Dear Lord, there's a phrase I'd never thought I'd be typing).

Uni for Me, Uni for You...

My stomach is not a complex animal (actually not animal at all, but you get the idea). Most of the time (particularly mid-week) I'm not really particular about what I shove in my craw.  But every now and again, I'll have an irrational, insatiable, oddball craving that just eclipses all other foods.

September 2007 - November 2007 = The Autumn of Uni.

There aren't many folks who are on the fence about uni--either you lust after it, or it's the wrongest, most wretched seafood representation of baby poo that ever tube-footed its way around the earth.  I'm of the former camp. 

When I'm trying to win over uni virgins, the easiest way I can describe the sensation and taste is that it's the Stinky Cheese of the Sea: Runny, creamy and rich (the way the best oysters are!), with undertones of sweet, fatty funk, and more than a whiff of seawater.

So I searched high and low, and with the help of a few patient, steadfast eating partners, we had a few dishes that definitely scratched my Cheese of the Sea itch. Here are my favorites:

Cold Uni Ikura Soba at Soba-Koh
(November, 2007; East Village, NYC)
Tasty, but maybe a better choice when it's not friggen frigid out. 
Remember to wave to the soba-maker in his glass box!