September 2006

The Last Supper & The Big Move

This is the last thing I cooked in my Chelsea apartment:

The dish was Braised Chicken Thighs with Saffron, Olives and Mint from “Molto Italiano.” I made it a few days ago before I started packing up my kitchen. It’s a pretty terrific dish. It begins when you season chicken thighs, dredge them in flour and brown them in hot olive oil:

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After that you remove the chicken and add sliced red onion and saffron. I rarely use saffron in my cooking because it’s expensive but here it truly makes a difference: you’ll love the smell. After that step, you return the chicken to the pot and add the braising liquid (I’m pretty sure it was chicken stock), diced carrot and olives. It braises for some time after that:

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I decided to serve the end product–which is finished with shredded mint leaves–on a bed of cous cous; a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. The cous cous soaks up all the juices and the juices are, indeed, lip-smackingly good. My only gripe with the dish has to do with the flour component: by dredging the chicken in flour you create a fried chickeny skin which would be great if it wasn’t soaked in liquid for an hour. But because it is you kind of get this soggy crust which I think would be far improved without the flour. That’s my final thought on this dish–my final dish here in this apartment where, I believe, my cooking skills really grew in the two years I’ve lived here.

Now I must return to the kitchen where I’m wrapping glasses in bubble wrap and finishing this tremendous, exhausting packing process. [This post is my procrastination!] The big move happens tomorrow and then who knows when I’ll have internet again—hopefully soon after. But I’m psyched for my future in Park Slope and can’t wait to blog about it. Until then, happy eating!

Sorry From Sirio

My mom got home today (to our house in Boca Raton, FL) and found a FedEx package at the door. She took it inside and opened it and inside was a copy of Sirio Maccioni’s autobiography and this letter (click the picture for a bigger version):

I suppose Sirio (or his team) tracked down my family using the credit card information from that night’s check. (I think it’s a tiny drop creepy, but not in a Jennifer Jason Leigh sense.) The letter itself is a very kind gesture and I do think it speaks to Sirio’s (and Le Cirque’s) professionalism that they’ve followed through with such care. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable going back, even if the meal is free (though that is a big incentive). If we do go you’ll certainly read about it here. [Here’s the link to the original review.]

57 Thoughts About Nobu 57

1. Nobu is one of New York’s most recognizable restaurant names;

2. People associate Nobu with trendy sushi and Japanese food;

3. Nobu’s gotten so popular it’s constantly expanding;

4. A new Nobu opened up on 57th Street;

5. We went there, two weeks ago, when my parents were here;

6. This is what the door looks like:

7. I wonder where the man in front of me bought his shirt?

Fat

I was thinking today about the word “fat.”

It’s easy to forget, once you’ve entered the world of food, how the rest of the world hears that three-letter word, a word that promises such ecstasy but which suffers such a severe stigma. Watching my usual Sunday helping of Tivoed cooking shows–Lydia’s Family Table, Barefoot Contessa, Jacques Pepin, Oliver’s Twist, America’s Test Kitchen–it’s fascinating to mark the difference between how these TV chefs refer to fat and how the rest of America uses the word.

When a TV chef (or most chefs, for that matter) refer to “fat” they do so with reverence, with appreciation. “Let the spices incorporate with the fat;” “It seems like a lot of fat but the fat gives it lots of flavor;” “Here’s a little more fat for the mushrooms to absorb.”

Each of these sound bites highlights the reasonable nature with which chefs approach fat: as a tool, a medium that enhances, enriches and unifies whatever it is they are cooking. It’s not something to be feared or reviled, it’s something that when used smartly and judiciously separates flavorless bland cooking from the exceptional cooking we seek when we go to restaurants. Great chefs know how to work with fat: they know how to dress their salads with just enough oil, they know how much bacon fat their mushrooms will hold, they know what ratios of flour, butter and sugar make a perfect cake. Fat is an essential part of good cooking, and yet fat–as a concept–suffers from bad P.R.

Out in the world, we’ve been taught to hate fat, to fear fat. We decorate bottles and bags of food with colorful labels that say “FAT FREE” or “NOW WITH LESS FAT.” Diet books scream out “ZERO FAT,” “DOWN WITH FAT,” “FAT HELPS THE TERRORISTS WIN.” We live in a fat phobic society and I need not point out the heartless way with which people who are ever-so-slightly overweight suffer at the hands of society’s skinnier members. It’s not a coincidence, methinks, that we view the word “fat” the way we view people who are fat: in both cases there’s a notion of gluttony, of waste, of going too far, of non-conformity, of unappetizing too-muchness.

I grew up in a fat-phobic family. My mother and grandmother are constant dieters and they hear the word “fat” and immediately run in the other direction. Once we went to Benihana’s with my great-grandmother and as the Japanese chef poured oil onto the table to cook for everyone she said, “Oh no oil for me, please.”

The brain equation seems to work like this: FAT IN FOOD —> FAT IN YOUR ASS.

I have a slightly different formula:

TOO MUCH FAT FROM PROCESSED FOODS AND THINGS YOU BUY AT THE STORE IN LARGE BAGS LIKE DORITOS AND CHEETOS WHICH YOU BINGE EAT WHILE WATCHING BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ON DVD ONLY TO FOLLOW IT WITH A TUB OF BEN AND JERRY’S —> FAT IN YOUR ASS.

Maybe I’m naive, but I happen to believe if you cook for yourself and use fat in the preparation of all natural ingredients you will probably not get that fat. I think people who struggle with their weight tend to eat foods they don’t prepare themselves and if they do prepare the food themselves they tend to use products with lots of chemicals and add-ins that contribute to their bad health. Of course, you can over-do it using all natural ingredients (Mario Batali isn’t exactly the peak of health with his fancy olive oils and pancettas and prosciuttos) but your overall health, I’d bet, will improve if you cook everything yourself, even with semi-generous helpings of fat.

Cooking with fat, in many ways, is like sex. Sex in and of itself isn’t bad for you: in fact, it’s been proven to be very good for you psychologically, emotionally and, certainly, socially. But take it too far–meet a 70-year old hooker on the internet for a tantric orgy with the cast of “Eight Is Enough”–and you’ll be itching and burning ’til kingdom come. Same with fat: take it too far and you’ll suffer. But use it well–with discretion and flair–and you’ll never eat better or feel better. Believe me, you non-believers you, fat isn’t the enemy–it wouldn’t be played by Jeffrey Jones in an 80s movie. Fat is Ferris Bueller, Fat is Howard The Duck. Fat, ladies and gentlemen, is your friend.

A Real New Yorker

“Congratulations to the Amateur Gourmet. Now that he has been shat on by Sirio, he can consider himself a real New Yorker. Interesting that a mere blog has the scion of Le Cirque all shook up, though. When Ruth returned the dump, it rolled right off the prick’s best side. Business must be booming in the new location if they’re actually worried about the little people.”

– Regina Schrambling, Gastropoda

The Amateur Gourmet’s Guide To His Second Year In New York

Last year I made a list (which you can see by clicking here) of all the restaurants I visited in my first year as a New York resident. Well my second year here is more than over (the two year anniversary was in August) but I figure my loyal readers, and you know who you are (hi mom!), might enjoy a list–with links–of my 2nd year reviews. And so here’s that list with a lazy star system where I give random star ratings to the ones I think deserve them. Enjoy!

Adam’s 2nd Year List

11 Madison Park

21 Club

44 & 1/2

A Voce***

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A.O.C.

Adrienne’s*

Angelica Kitchen

Aquavit***

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August**

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Balthazar* (with Fatemeh!) (with Pim!)

Bar Masa

Barney Greengrass*

Beet

Blue Smoke

Bombay Talkie

Bond 45

Bouchon Bakery**

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Brooklyn Diner

Buddakan

Café Asean

Café Gray***

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Café Sabarsky**

Casa Mono

Cendrillon**

Chanterelle*

Chibitini

Cookshop**

Craft****

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Craftbar*

Da Silvano

Daniel****

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Deborah**

Del Posto

Dos Caminos

E.A.T.

Eisenberg’s*

Empanada Mama

Ess-A-Bagel*

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Florent

Fried Dumpling

Gramercy Tavern*

Grey Dog’s

Hearth***

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Jean-Georges****

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Jing Fong*

Katsu-Hama*

Keens Chophouse**

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Koi

La Grenouille

Lady M’s*

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Le Bernardin****

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Le Cirque

Le Gigot**

Levain Bakery*

Lexington Candy Shop

Little Havana

Little Owl (The)***

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Lupa*

Megu

Michel Cluizel**

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Milon

Mo Pitkin’s

New Green Bo**

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New York Burger Co.

Noodle Bar

Orchird

Osteria Del Sole

Ouest***

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Philly Slim’s

Pink Teacup*

Prune***

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Red Cat (The)

Redeye Grill

Room 4 Dessert**

Russ & Daughters*

Shopsin’s**

Smoke Shack [out of business]

Snack*

SoupBurg [out of business]

Sparky’s

Ssam*

Sugar Sweet Sunshine Bakery**

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Taim**

Tia Pol*

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Una Pizza Napoletana***

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Union Square Café**

Vegetarian Dim Sum House*

Veniero’s*

Veritas*

Via Emilia

Waldy’s*

Wondee Siam II**

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Zitar

Out On The Scene with Ed Levine: Pizza at Adrienne’s & Pastries at Financier

I became aware of Ed Levine in four stages. Stage One was reading about him in Ruth Reichl’s “Garlic & Sapphires”; he’s the subject of her chapter “The Missionary of the Delicious.” Stage Two was seeing his books in bookstores: “New York Eats” and “Pizza: A Slice of Heaven.” (The latter involved consuming 1,000 slices of pizza in one year; I wonder if I witnessed slice #1,001 at lunch?) Stage Three was seeing him on TV: he was a guest on “Molto Mario” a few times and then a judge on Iron Chef America. Stage Four was discovering his blog: Ed Levine Eats which I began commenting on. I think my commenting led Ed to me because before I knew it he’d discovered my site, became a fan, praised my controversial Le Cirque post (he called it “pitch perfect”), and invited me to “break bread.” How could I refuse? Ed Levine is a New York icon.

Cafe Sabarsky is a Gem

I love watching old movies that feature New York. This is lame but the first one that comes to mind is Bob Fosse’s semi-watchable film version of “Sweet Charity.” In this film you can see Shirley Maclaine get pushed into the Central Park lake from the famous footbridge. I like that scene because hey, it’s fun to see Shirley Maclaine get pushed into a lake, but also because I can totally put myself in that exact location today. The people who walk across that footbridge change year after year but the footbridge is still the same: that’s what I love about New York.

Cafe Sabarsky is like the Central Park footbridge. It’s a New York institution if there ever was one: hidden in an art gallery near the Metropolitan Museum of Art, people line up, day in, day out, for Austrian pastries and what’s been dubbed the city’s best coffee drinks.

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