The Better Than an Entree Appetizer

Jean asked me where I wanted to go for our date last night, and without hesitation I picked Cafe Asean. It’s one of my favorites (cheap and GOOD), and they have a very romantic yet unpretentious little candlelit courtyard, and that was just what the beautiful, body-temperature-perfect evening called for.

This was my first visit to Cafe Asean when their courtyard’s frosted glass roof panels were retracted. Once seated, I looked up and gasped at the beauty of the night sky glowing through the branches of the massively tall tree that sprouted right from the corner of the room. I’d sat right up against its trunk before and never known it was so huge!

photo: cafeasean.com

The main reason I was here tonight was to get my chai samosa (I call it wet samosa) fix. Each order comes with two triangular bundles of vegetables wrapped in tofu skin (bean curd) and smothered in spicy coconut sauce.

I didn’t see it on the menu, and then our cute, bobbed waitress confirmed it: no more chai samosa. EVER. Well, she said it in a much nicer way, but I was still crushed.

Being too besides myself with grief to pick another appetizer, Jean ordered the Ca Bam: monkfish parcels ($8)- something I never would have picked. I think it’s the monk part. Sounds too much like muck. Murk. Spunk. Whatever – I wanted my wet samosa!

A Leg Up on Summer Grilling

48 hours ago, Jean got a call from his friend Kwaku. Kwaku was back in town after months on the road for his job, and we were both happy to hear from him. In a moment’s time, they decided that the perfect reunion would be a Memorial Day BBQ on our rooftop. I reminded Jean about his show that night, so they decided it would be an early party, and everyone (including the band) would arrive at 2pm.

After Jean hung up the phone, we devised the menu. The main attraction would be swordfish and lamb skewers. We invented these together one cold night in Soho, where I’d had my own little studio apartment. The stove there was about two feet wide, but it did have a broiler. So, to combat the winter blues, we charred the skewers – for that BBQ grill effect – and plopped Bob Marley’s Kaya onto the record player.

Now, summer was here and it was time to get down to some real grillin.’

Over Sunday brunch, I called the fishmonger, the butcher, and the vegetable stand to see who was open for the Holiday. Over giggles from the boy (yes, only food-obsessed dorkuses have these kind of emergency contacts), I found out we would only be able to get veggies, so we called Kwaku and he agreed to bring the meat and fish from Queens. Then Jean and I continued our day as planned, with a trek to Water Taxi Beach for a party (and a delicious Motz burger for me!).

Kwaku called us back and announced that he’d bought a butterflied LEG of lamb! I went into momentary cheapskate shock. “But that’s too good! I always get the cubes that go into stew!” (And then marinate the heck out of them.) I began to envision too-tender cuts of meat melting through the grill and fizzling away on the coals.

That night, I stayed up ’til 6 baking muffins, and then got up early to start the potato salad and hummus while Jean cleaned the house (I just had to put that in there so everyone knows I’m not chained to the stove while he’s kickin’ back). The first guests were Jean’s friend/guitarist Allan and his 4 year-old clone, (and the cutest kid in Brooklyn) Sid- who’d both slept over.

Kwaku arrived with the fish and the gloriously red leg of lamb. Sid sat very close by as I got to work breaking the beautiful thing down into small pieces. It seemed like a crime to destroy it, but my tiny BBQ grill (purchased to accommodate previously mentioned Soho studio) didn’t have enough space or firepower for a whole joint of any animal. My angst was alleviated by the running commentary from Sid, which included; “Is that the butt?” “Where is the butt?” and “Are you sure that’s not the butt? It looks like a butt.”

After I’d threaded the meat, baby tomatoes, onion, and fish onto skewers, I stood back and took in the scene. There was a lot of meat. Plus whole ears of corn, hot dogs, and buns to grill. And the guests were arriving. Could my tin can pull it off?

Caution: Contents Hot!

A snack blog is probably the last place you’d expect to find politics, but it can’t all be “I had a yummy today!” in this life. And there’s no way to deny…food is a very political topic.

One of my secret vices is that I read a gossip blog. While reading it today, I found out that several conservative American political commentators are upset at Rachel Ray for wearing what looks like a keffiyeh in her latest Dunkin’ Donuts ad. A keffiyeh is a black-and-white or red-and-white houndstooth-patterned scarf with tassels. They are traditional head scarves worn throughout the Arab world – most notably – in Palestine.

They are also worn throughout my NY neighborhood.

Brooklyn is the world capital of street fashion. Sometime last winter, the hip-hop kids and hipsters around here began wearing keffiyehs- but with a twist. They were worn around the neck, not on the head, and came in colors like neon green and bright purple. Some were even laced with gold thread.

I have an aversion to anything “trendy” (which is why you’ll rarely/never catch me posting about celebrity chefs or restaurants with “Momofuku” anywhere in the name) so, although I was happy to see this enthusiastic show of solidarity for the people of Palestine, my will to buy one of these colorful creations dwindled as their popularity increased.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was walking through Time Square toward my cousin’s apartment when I saw a pert, blond, sorority-sister-type tourist sporting a keffiyeh and strutting through town with her Burberry-patterned mother. I stopped dead in my tracks and wondered: Are keffiyehs the new Tiffany sweetheart charm bracelet?

Gimme the Gouda Stuff

Yesterday I met my friend Audrea for lunch at AQ Cafe, inside the Scandinavia House, which itself is nestled amongst the consulates along Park Avenue below Grand Central Station. As you can guess, the menu is Scandinavian, and headlined by Swedish meatballs. They are served in a creamy sauce, with a side of mashed potatoes, pickled cucumbers, and lingonberry sauce (a lot like cranberry sauce).

We tried those, along with a salmon platter that included smoked salmon, gravlax, cold potatoes, sour cream, and something that tasted like sweet and sour sauce. Both were okay, but the part of the meal that I just can’t stop thinking about was the Tomato and Cheese soup Audrea ordered ($5).

Instead of using spoons, we ripped pieces off the stack of hearty yet soft whole grain bread, thin crispbread and homemade crackers; dunked them in the soup; and took bites while we talked about funerals, pigging-out in Japan, catcalling/harassment of women on the streets of New York, and recycling etiquette.

The soup was made with gouda, and since we were dipping instead of sipping, it reminded me of fondue…a lusciously tomato-y fondue. I will definitely go back again for this, order the bigger bowl (seen above is the cup-sized portion) and a double-tall stack of bread.

Since fondue is a social activity, I should also bring more friends. Or maybe I’ll just eat it all myself

AQ Cafe
@ Scandinavia House
58 Park Avenue (between 37th and 38th Streets)
Midtown

Cucumber Salad with Mushrooms

I was craving mushrooms last night, and not just any mushrooms- RAW mushrooms, as in unabashed fungal goodness.

I decided to add mushrooms to the somewhat run-o-the-mill cucumber salad I was planning, to go with some simple roasted eggplant and oven-warmed pitas. The results were completely satisfying, as the mushrooms gave the salad a richness and depth (like cheese!) to counterbalance the cool neutrality of the yogurt and cucumbers. Yum.

Cucumber and Mushroom Salad

1 large cucumber, sliced

8 white mushrooms, sliced

1 individual size yogurt, drained

½ c. chopped dill leaves

¼ c. thinly sliced & chopped red onion

¼ c. chopped sundried tomato (optional)

Juice of 1 lemon

2 tbp. vinegar

2 tbp. oil

salt and pepper to taste

 

Combine all ingredients in a medium bowl and toss. Serve immediately.

 

Alternately, whisk together the dill, lemon, vinegar, oil, salt and pepper and chill all ingredients until ready to serve. Before serving, combine the other ingredients and toss in dressing.

 

Note: the longer you let the salad sit, the more marinated the mushrooms will be. This can be good: if you want a richer flavor, or bad: if you want the “crunch” of crisp mushroom slices between your teeth. I recommend you have one serving right away, and then another later, so you can have the best o’ both ‘shrooms!

 

This would also go well with grilled meat…kebabs, lamb burgers. I had it and loved it with a veggie burger, too.

 

*UPDATE* The Nation’s only mushroom museum, in Kennett Square, PA, (the “mushroom capital of the world“) has closed!

 

When I was 13, my Dad took me there during one of our frequent, post-move road trips from D.C. to Pennsylvania. All I can remember is watching a video of a worker shoveling manure onto shelves in a dark barn and a time lapse video of mushrooms growing on it.

 

After a moment of revulsion, we went out for a mycelian feast at a local inn that specialized in dishes featuring buttons, portabellas, oysters, criminis, shiitakes… I had linguine with mixed mushrooms. It was my first moment of Pennsylvania pride!

 

Recently, I noticed that a package of Brooklyn vegetable stand mushrooms I was opening was from Kennett Square (sigh).

 

Rest in peace, mushroom museum.

The Off-Broadway Chicken

Does food make everyone this emotional? All I did was stop by Piece of Chicken, the 99-cent fried chicken ’n’ fixins takeout window on West 45th Street, order some food, and take it to eat in the little park further down the street. And it made me lonely!

Why?

Because my box of chicken, collard greens, and dirty rice reminded me of picnics…of family, friends, music, BBQ smoke drifting through the air, and children playing…but I was sitting by myself under a potted tree in a concrete jungle, between two towering office buildings…surrounded by other potted trees under which people in ties or Easy Spirit pumps were also eating by themselves. No music, no fun…the antithesis of a picnic!

But it was sunny. And I’m a sucker for nostalgia. And $1 food. So I closed my eyes and relished the salty goodness of the tender meat in my hand. Salt was the main attraction in all 3 of the $1 items I tried, so be ready. The breading on the chicken is thin and crispy, more like homemade then the thick and crunchier fast food types. I like that.

If I went back to Piece of Chicken, it would be with friends and/or BEER. I would also walk west, toward Hudson River Park, instead of east, toward solitary lunch confinement.

When in the area, I recommend you try it, too. Maybe it’s all the Broadway Marquees you pass on the way, or it maybe it’s the breading. But there is drama in that $1 piece of chicken.

Piece of Chicken

362 West 45^th Street, between 8th and 9^th Avenues

Midtown

 

Going the Dumpling Distance

One of my most valuable learning experiences to date was getting published in Bon Appetit Magazine. (The article is no longer posted, but the recipes are here, here, here and here).

It was almost a year ago that my recipes went through the hoops and hurdles of the BA test kitchen. I remember nervously opening the email from the editor with the final versions, and being delighted that, while slightly different than my original versions, the recipes remained true to my style and taste. Still me; but with an exclamation point. It’s kind of like when Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tinman and the Lion got all dolled-up to go see The Wizard of Oz.

What I learned was that my preoccupation with simplifying everything, minimizing ingredients, and streamlining recipes was misplaced. Where I’d held back, their version took a dish one step further. Where I’d thought “that would be overdoing it,” they fearlessly added a step, an ingredient, a twist – with stunning results. The process gave me an even greater respect for those genius ladies in the BA test kitchen, and showed me exactly where I had to shed inhibitions.

A beautiful example of taking a dish “to the max” was the $5 plate of Jade Seafood Dumplings Jean and I shared at Sea last night (to kick off our “sweet yet sophisticated” dinner ‘n’ a movie date). The menu described them as“steamed crab meat & shrimp wrapped in green wonton served with massaman curry sauce.”

What I pictured was a plate of flat dumplings with a little ramekin of dipping sauce. What we got was a plate of plump green globes smothered in a thick, deep green curry sauce, with crunchy bits of dry rice noodle mixed in. The dumplings were tender and juicy; delicate, while still holding their own against the smoky and richly complex flavor of the sauce.

On their own they would have been great. In just the sauce, they would have been heavenly. But the dumplings in the sauce punctuated by the crunchy noodles was a flavor, texture, and overall sensory experience that had me reeling.

As we continued onto a whole fried snapper in tamarind-chili sauce, I confessed “I would give anything to spend a day hanging out in their kitchen, seeing how they make all this stuff.” Jean replied “You know, I feel the same way about music. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when a musician I admire is creating a sound that I really like.”

So, can anyone get me backstage passes?

Sea Thai Restaurant and Bistro
114 North 6th Street, Between Berry and Wythe
Williamsburg

In the Name of the Father

My Dad was slightly offended that I insinuated he ate beans out of a can in my last post. His beans were made from scratch!

Check out my Dad’s Appalachian mountain man recipes in the comments.

Sushi, Squared

I am so proud. My cell phone and computer both got their bluetooth cherries popped by each other last night so there will be many fuzzy cell phone pics coming your way. Get ready!

Last night was a first for me, too. I ate Spam.

The only other time I ever came close was when I was 6 years old and we went on one of our many family visits to western North Carolina. My Dad had spent his late twenties there, in a mountain shack; philosophizing, writing a book and eating beans out of a can. In the process, he met and befriended his only neighbors, the Anders family- Bob and Janet, their four kids, and a dozen hunting dogs.

The Anders’ house was humble, but there were fresh baked biscuits on the table at every meal (made in a woodburning stove). Janet would open a jar of green beans or cabbage, made with vegetables they grew on a patch of land beside the house, and we would feast. I was pretty young, so I don’t remember much about what was discussed around that rustic kitchen table, but I imagine it was a mix of local legend, hunting stories, and cursing.

One day we went to Grandma Anders’ house for lunch. It was a beautiful little place a mountain or two over, with a fresh little stream rambling by. She had set her table with a simple linen cloth, white china, and an entirely different spread. Everything was store-bought, and included coffee for the adults, a stack of buttered white bread, mixed pickles, and a small, smooth pink brick on a plate. It reminded me of modeling clay.

Raised in D.C.’s suburbia, I’d never seen Spam face to face, and waited for someone else to cut a piece before I dared to try. Unfortunately, not a single person touched the thing and I left just as mystified as ever.

So, how could something as inedible-looking as Spam be made appetizing? How could something so ridiculed be taken seriously?  And who really eats this stuff?

I first heard about musubi in Linda Stradley’s genius I’ll Have What They’re Having, Legendary Local Cuisine - part cookbook, part anthropological survey - featuring our most beloved, multi-cultural American snacks, from California date shakes to New York knishes. According to the book:

“Residents of Hawaii consume more Spam than populations anywhere else in the world: More than four million cans every year, or an average twelve cans of Spam per person per year.”

Stradley offers a recipe for musubi, a Hawaiian “sandwich,” or slice of fried Spam layered on a square of rice with a strip of nori to hold it all together.

I was intrigued. I’d tried and liked onigiri, the triangular japanese rice balls filled with fish or meat, and musubi was like its tanned, beach bum cousin.

Last night, my friend and fellow sushi-lover Malika and I went to St. Mark’s Place. Since we are both on a budget, she suggested we try Park Sushi – a place she frequented in her NYU days – where they offered 50% off specials. It turned out to be right next door to Pommes Frites, and is now called May’s Place. Just look for the place with the schoolgirl-clad waitresses (sorry; knee-length).

We took our seats in the back of the long, busy, wood-paneled room, ordered sake, and opened our colorful menus. 

Something about the phrase “dollar menu” sends my cheapskate heart a-flutterin,’ and when I saw that page, I thought “this is my kind of place.” Among the same-old miso soup and edamame selections was $1 musubi! Now was my chance.

We each ordered a salad off of the regular menu (seaweed and tuna-avocado), and an assortment of $1 sushi. And at the last minute I excitedly ordered my musubi.

 

The musubi arrived and looked quite appetizing. The meat (can I call it that?) was slightly charred around the edges and gleamed with a think layer of fresh grease. The rice was seasoned and plump, and the taut nori completed the package.

It took some muscle to pick the thing up with my chopsticks, but I managed to get it from the plate to the soy sauce and up to my face. My first bite was juicy and flavorful. Spam tastes like a tangy hot dog when grilled, and the wasabi I put in the soy was perfect for balancing out its subtle brininess. The next two bites went by much too quickly…and then it was gone.

It was a fun, yummy and memorable snack.

The salads tasted a little off. The $1 sushi was $1 sushi. The sake was gone too fast. But I will be back for more musubi.

Next time, I’ll grab a few to go, order some fries from Pommes Frites, and have a sidewalk picnic. Or walk over to Thompson Square park.

This would also be a fun accompaniment to the six pack of beer you are bringing to a party…especially if that party is at my house!

May’s Place Sushi

121 2^nd Avenue, between 7^th and 8^th

East Village

 

Vegan Value Meal al Diablo

Last night, I stopped into Eva’s on 8th Street for the first time in years. I’d just logged 2 hours at the gym and wasn’t in the mood for my usual gluttony.

I was delighted to find that the space had been expanded and renovated, but had retained much of the original charm. If you have never been to Eva’s, it is decorated from ceiling to floor with framed, autographed pictures of “oompa loompa orange-” skinned bodybuilders, boasts an on site nutritional supplement store, and has a carrot for a logo.

Basically, everything on the menu is low-calorie, low-fat…and, surprisingly, delicious. How did I find it? I’m glad you asked!

About 3 years ago, I had a dream that I was swimming in a waveless ocean at sunset. Everything in the dream was gold; the water, the sky, even my bathing suit. As I stepped out of the water onto a wooden platform, I looked down and noticed that my body was flecked in gold, and I was skinny.

In the waking world, most people would have considered me overweight, though I loved my body and didn’t care much about what others thought. But something about that dream got to me, so I joined a gym. I also started borrowing habits from healthy friends of mine, and stopped eating beef patties with cheese and pepperoni as a late-night snack.

I went on a strict diet that included the following: