Turning into a Chrismoose: A Week in NYC

For the first twenty two years of my life, my only real knowledge about the island of Manhattan consisted of the city at Christmas time. Every year my parents would pack up the whole family for a trip into the city to see the holiday splendor: skating underneath the tree at Rockefeller Center, carriage rides through Central Park, window shopping down 5th Avenue. To me, New York City was ten square blocks of Christmas cheer that smelled of hot pretzels and horses. It was love at first sight.

Manhattan at Christmas time is one of the most magical times to be in the city, which is part of the reason I chose to bare the cold and snow to spend a full week back home. I hadn't been back to New York since we moved to San Francisco last July, so it was long overdue. To say I was excited is a tremendous understatement. Such excitement can only be monitored and controlled with a list. Is that weird? I write lists to calm down, clear my head and focus at the task on hand. Which this December was hitting up all my favorite spots in NYC in exactly seven days. I am a wild child.

Here is my very own personal pocket guide to dining in NYC - a quick hit list of favorite institutions of all shapes, sizes, wallets and scenes. Perhaps not as 'on trend' now that I live 3,000 miles away, however this list was made with my heart for the pleasure of my tummy:

The Heat's Hottest NYC Restaurants

Soho:

• Balthazar: French bistro. Great for brunch.
• Jane: Terrific brunch.
• Boqueria: Spanish tapas, fun atmosphere. 
• Shorty’s .32: small, casual restaurant in Soho. Great vibe and food.
• Il Mulino: Expensive Italian. 
• Raouls: French Bistro with the best steak frites. 
• Torrisi Italian Specialties: Casual Italian in Soho. Great sandwiches too.
• DBGB Kitchen and Bar: Casual Daniel Boulud, burgers, sausages, great atmosphere. 

West Village:

• Mary's Fish Camp: My favorite lobster roll.
• Mercadito: Bite sized tacos and spicy margaritas. 
• The Spotted Pig: Fun, crowded gastropub.
• The Waverly Diner: For a 4am Waverly melt: a burger patti inside a grilled cheese.
• Taim: Best falafel. 
• Bleeker Street Pizza: my favorite NY slice. 
• Yerba Buena: Fancy Latin fare, terrific drinks. 
• Little Owl: American fare in the Friends apartment building.
• Commerce: Great bar for cocktails and roasted chicken, on a quintessential block.

Greenwich Village

• Babbo: Best pasta sampler menu. Worth the dough (pun intended).
• Minetta Tavern: Great steaks, tough reservations. 
• Hundred Acres: Lovely brunch spot. Great Bloody Mary selection.
• Blue Hill: Farm fresh American fare near newly renovated Washington Sq Park

East Village

• Motorino: Amazing Neopolitan pizza. Casual, fun atmosphere. Small space. 
• Frank: Homestyle Italian, no reservations. Get the ragu. 
• Ippudo: Noodles, noodles and noddles. 
• Gemma: Beautiful Italian restaurant, fun atmosphere in the Bowery Hotel.
• Il Buco: Quirky Mediterranean fare on Bond Street.
• Mermaid Inn: Casual seafood. 
• Heche en Dumbo: Trendy Mexican. 
• The Smith: French bistro, fun atmosphere. 
• Momofuku Ssam Bar: Haute Asian, great experience, reservations. 

Midtown East

• Sushi Yasuda: The freshest sushi, clean atmosphere. 
• Convivio: Fancy southern Italian in Tudor City.
• Bukhara Grill: Terrific, albeit pricey Indian. 

Midtown West/Meatpacking/Chelsea:

• The Breslin: Gastropub at Ace Hotel. Also a great sandwich spot in there (Sub No.7)
• Marea: Fancy seafood on Central Park South
• Scarpetta: Haute Italian, however their simplest dish is their best: tomato and basil pasta.

Lower East Side:

• Kuma Inn: Best overall Asian. Casual atmosphere, BYOB. 
• Frankie's Spuntino: Homestyle, inexpensive Italian. 
• Little Giant: Small, hip, great for brunch. 
• Beauty and Essex: Trendy American, small plates, beautiful restaurant.

Gramcery/Flat Iron/Union Square:

• Aldea: Portuguese/American fare.
• Casa Mono: small plate fare from Mario Batali (Bar Jamon for drinks before/after). 
• Tamarind: My favorite Indian spot. 
• Gotham Bar and Grill: Manhattan staple, American fare. 
• Gramercy Tavern: Fancy American fare. Expensive, but worth it. 
• Union Square Cafe: NY staple. American fare (order the duck). 
• Veritas: Known for their winelist, but terrific food too. Very expensive. 
• Shack Shack: Best burger. All over the city now, but I love the one in Madison Sq Park.
• Dave’s Bagels: best bagel in town. 

Tribeca:

• Locanda Verde: Small plate Italian, haute atmosphere. 
• Smith and Mills: nymag used the term hipstaurant, and accurately so. A real gem.
• Max: Meatballs, meatloaf and truffled ravioli.
• Bubby's: Comfort food at it's best.
• Landmarc: Half bottles of wine and affordable French bistro fare.
• Perry Street: Beautiful restaurant on the West Side Highway. Great views.

Upper West Side:

• Dovetail: Expensive French UWS.
• Sushi of Gari: Avant garde sushi. Very expensive. 
• Celeste: Pizza/Italian. 
• Nonna: Homestyle Italian. 

Upper East Side:

• Cafe D'Alsace: Belgian beers and Alsatian food
• Poke: Affordable sushi, BYOB, casual. 

Brooklyn:

• Peter Lugers: My favorite steak house, under the Brooklyn Bridge.
• Tanoreen: Turkish fare far off in Brooklyn.
• Hibino: Pressed sushi in Brooklyn Heights.
• Henry's End: Wild game in Brooklyn.
• Vinegar Hill House: Cozy American fare, Vinegar Hill.

While I didn't check off every food item on my list, I did squeeze in my fair share of fare in between visiting all my loved ones. And while the trip was an overall success, I didn't realize just how much of a whirlwind my vacation was until I landed in laid back, quiet, San Francisco. As hectic as the holidays always are, this year proved to have more obstacles than normal. In just seven days we had a case of the stomach flu, a shopping bag of gifts stolen, lost our friends' car in Brooklyn, broke and almost lost my Christmas gift over a penthouse balcony, a blizzard, a delayed flight home with a screaming baby and a partridge in a pear tree. But despite all the mishaps, when I walked into work Monday morning at 6am with just under three hours of sleep, and my coworkers asked me 'how my vacation was' all I could do was smile. Because even after all that, I still ♥ NYC.

We all know how prohibitively expensive it'd be to actually purchase the items from the beloved carol, The Twelve Days of Christmas, so I wrote my own version, as an ode to the dear city that never sleeps and how fat it made me in just one week:

♫On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me,

♪Twelve David's bagels, 

♪Eleven risotto balls,
♪Ten bowls of pasta,
♪Nine chicken parms,
♪Eight frozen hot chocolates,
♪Seven ramen a-swimming,
♪Six lamb shwarmas,

♪Five dirty dogs,
♪Four lobster rolls,
♪Three pretzel croissants,
♪Two Shack stacks,
♪And a Bleeker pizza just for me! 

Nothing like shrink wrap to mark the end of the season.

Happy New Year!

- The Heat

First Impressions: A Month in San Francisco

First impressions are just that - instant generalizations that will change, grow or vanish with time. My first blanket statement comes from firsthand experience. Californians are bad drivers - but in the nicest way possible. They'll let you go ahead of them, give you time to parallel park, and never ride your bumper. But they will also wait to excel at a stoplight until after they light their cigarette. Stop in the middle of the road if they spot a free parking spot. And rear-end your car to give an ambulance sufficient space to pass by. But afterward, they'll be really very sweet about it. And so I sit here with a sore lower back, a whip-lashed neck and a banged up car. And I'm not even mad about it! California must be rubbing off on me.

This next point should come as no surprise: San Franciscans are very accepting people.  Whatever your cause, religion, culture, sexual preference, language or choice of attire, San Francisco is home to all and accepting of everyone. Do you like to dress up in full armor and throw knives at invisible combatants? Feel free to do so in Golden Gate Park. Is your calling in life to sing silent karaoke on the corner of Market Street? While you may not have an audience, you are welcome to stay...all day, every night. What if you have a point to make, but it's in a language known to only you? Scream away, buddy. Scream it out. After a month of thinking I must 'just be on the wrong block', I've concluded that San Francisco is indeed the Capital of Crazy. We have the burnouts from our parents generation to thank for that. So really, Just Say No. For I have seen what happens when you always say yes.

"The coldest winter I've ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." Mark Twain wasn't kidding. While all of my comrades back East have been enduring one of the hottest summers to date, I have been battling one of San Francisco's coldest. Under the impression that I was moving to sunny California, naturally I packed all my warm clothing in storage. Never really needing an excuse to shop, I was forced (forced I tell you!) to to buy some new duds to bare the windy, foggy, 40° weather - everyday. Now that I am properly clothed, I have also had to master the art of layering. Every morning involves some combination of a t-shirt, long-sleeve, sweatshirt, windbreaker, and of course, comfortable shoes -  these hills are no joke. I've had to put my heels away permanently, which I unfortunately learned rather quickly.

Once I realized I wouldn't be in a bikini any time soon, I dove face first into San Francisco's famed culinary scene. My first breakfast consisted of an enormous sourdough baguette and a huge cup of coffee from Four Barrel Coffee. I was a pig in poop. I knew there was more to offer than their famed fermented carbohydrates, so I moved on to a genre that's a bit lacking on the East Coast - Mexican food. Taqueria's can be found on almost every street corner in many neighborhoods, and everyone seems to have a favorite, which they follow with cult-like fervor. I am willing and able to pound the pavement and find mine. So far Taqueria CanCun in the Mission District holds first place for their Burrito Mojado - a beautifully crafted belly bomber that's covered in three types of condiments - the key to my heart. An $11 dinner for two, which also doubled as a late night snack, is reason enough to return - though I may opt to wear a bulletproof vest next time - sketch.

My next Mexican meal was in a much nicer setting - the lovely seaside town of Sausalito.  After a 10mi bike ride around the city and across the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, our group was in need of nourishment. We stopped in at Sausalito Taco Shop for some fish tacos and margaritas. Situated on their front deck on our first beautifully sunny day since arrival (hallelujah), we were quite content. So content in fact, that we missed the last ferry back to city and had to bike back over the bridge...another 10miles...uphill(both ways)...in the oncoming fog and wind. Did I mention we had just eaten Mexican? It was not pretty. The first hill had me keeled over on my side on the shoulder of the road, heaving and laughing uncontrollable (it was the margaritas). Maybe I'm not a Cali girl just yet.

Besides increased exercise and a decrease road rage, San Francisco has had another positive impact on my health - I now love fruit. I have never had much of a sweet tooth, and unfortunately that means that fruit often falls to the wayside. As a child, the only way my Mom could get me to eat fruit would be to arrange it on a plate as a face, which in retrospect seems a little Silence of the Lambs for a four year old, but hey, it did the trick. Now that I consider myself a mature adult, the only time I eat a full serving of fruit is in a frosted glass with a shot of Patron. I blame my aversion more so on the availability of fresh, seasonal fruit in New York. Only three months of fresh fruit and then I'm back hulling tasteless Driscoll strawberries to add to the blender. Out here, the fruit tastes better. And restaurants use it in everything! I'm learning to grill it, use it as a substitution in recipes, add it to savory dishes, and, get this, eat-it-whole! Quite the transformation.

My best discovery yet came from a wonderful dinner at a restaurant in SoMa called Marlowe. Recommended to me by a friend back East, Marlowe hinted at my old neighborhood Tribeca, with it's industrial feel and exposed wrought-iron beams. With cozy, minimal seating we were served a plethora of amazing dishes. Brussels sprout 'chips' (you know those lovely little burnt leaves you pick at when you roast them?) came drizzled with sweet Meyer lemons and a dusting of sea salt - like healthier, heartier potato chips. The dish that has forever changed the role of fruit in my life was a new take on  caprese salad. Substituting ripe peach wedges for tomatoes, creamy burrata cheese for regular mozzarella, flaked smokey sea salt and chili peppers for basil and a lavender infused olive oil, this salad was perfection. That Saturday at the Ferry Building Farmers Market - my heaven on Earth - I gathered all the necessary ingredients to recreate the salad. I am on a burrata cheese waiting list if you can believe it - so I used mozzarella until my number gets called - sigh. I recommend splurging on flaked sea salt. It has a really unique texture - sort of like a salty snowflake - that will give your food a little something extra. I love the smoked varietals if you can find it. As for the olive oil, I personally don't care for lavender, so I opted for a high quality extra virgin. If you can find it, either a basil infused or citrus infused oil would be awesome.


Peach and Burrata Salad:
(serves two)
2 ripe peaches of any variety, sliced
1 ball of burrata cheese, cut into similar sized chunks as the peaches
1t. flaked sea salt
1/4t. chili flakes, roughly chopped
1/4 cup or less of good quality olive oil

Arrange fruit and cheese artfully on a platter, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and chili flakes. Serve immediately.

Real Cali girls bike in the nude apparently - I'm not quite there yet (thank god).

The Capital of Crazy.
- The Heat

3200 Miles of Food: Eating My Way Across the USA

The trip started off shaky - a brutal hangover, terrible tunnel traffic and two bathroom breaks pre-New Jersey thanks to a gigantic iced coffee (I'm nicknamed Tiny Tank for good reason). It took us over two hours just to get off the island of Manhattan and I wondered aloud if we should turn back and try again another day. Maybe I was just melancholy about leaving NYC - or apprehensive about moving to a city I have never even been to. Perhaps I was just sad to be leaving my friends and family. Whatever it was, once we hit New Jersey I handed over the wheel, crawled into the backseat with my trusty canine, and was lulled to sleep by the sounds of tropical storm-like gusts and torrential downpours. I repeat - it was a shaky start. At that point there was nowhere to go, but up. Here's what was tops from East to West:

My goal was to eat my way cross country, focusing on local, authentic fare rather than fast food or chains (with the occasional slip-up expected - I heart snack-wraps). What I didn't fully realize was that I had voluntarily started down a dangerous path of nothing, but barbecue, wild game, and Tex-Mex for the next two weeks. In retrospect, suffice it to say I am not shocked we have obesity epidemic in this country. Warning: if you are on a diet, this post will not help matters.

Our first culinary destination was Columbus, Ohio where a tribe of my family resides. While their hometown of Powell, Ohio houses Oprah's favorite ice cream, Graeter's, my savory taste buds have always ruled my roost. I headed downtown for lunch at The North Market, Columbus' only public market, which holds roughly 35 vendors of all shapes and sizes. After approximately four laps and excessive taste testing, I settled on a light lunch of ribs, brisket baked beans and coleslaw from Holy Smoke BBQ. I washed it down with freshly made lemonade from Bubbles: The Tea and Juice Company and promptly needed a nap by the pool.

For those that have not driven it border to border, Kansas is an enormously large, tirelessly flat state. There was little reason to stop other than my baby sized bladder, until we stumbled upon the Blues and BBQ Festival in Hays, Kansas. I was a tad nervous about crashing a small town festival. I knew we wouldn't blend in, New York plates notwithstanding. When a man approached us as we picked our way tentatively through the grills, smokers, coolers and tents, I thought for sure we were going to be asked to leave. "Uh, we're looking for some barbecue, sir..." I started meekly, feeling rightfully so, like a lame, out of place tourist. "Well, why didn't you say so"?! I was guided by hand towards a mound of aluminum foil trays piled high with pulled pork, beef brisket, bbq chicken, beans, coleslaw, buns, and a cooler of ice-cold beers. "Everyone is inside watching the awards ceremony, but help yourself to anything." And off he went. Stupefied and stupidly grinning ear to ear, we built ourselves a plate and ventured inside to watch the remainder of the awards. Our new friend and his team - "Rubbin' Tail n' Chuggin' Ale" - won 5th overall in the Kansas State BBQ Championship and 2nd in barbecue chicken. I thought their beef brisket was tops, with it's sweet and spicy rub and wonderfully moist meat. But I wasn't a barbecue expert - yet.

After not much great in the Great Plains, we finally caught sight of the Rocky Mountains - I've never been so relieved and excited for a change in terrain. We rolled in to Denver late and ravenous; so we headed straight to City Grille for a mountainous burger (pun intended) and some ice cold Coors (when in Rome). Though it wasn't the best burger I've ever had, it was generous in size, piled high with grilled onions and served with a pile of their 'famous' coleslaw. The atmosphere alone was worth the visit - a no fuss dive-bar with a rock-n-roll sound track, salty bartenders and hoards of hungry hipsters, some in denim tuxedos - an unexpected, yet kind of expected surprise.

After a hike around Red Rock Amphitheater and an art show in Boulder, we started our next leg of the trip through the plateau of Wyoming. Our lone stop, besides the biggest Walmart I have ever witnessed (it had it's own hair salon, optometry center and food court!), was Bernie's Burrito's in Laramie, Wyoming. We discovered Bernie's thanks to a pile of his piping hot burritos stacked at the check out register of a local gas station. Hungry and curious, we took our chances and splurged on a black bean and beef burrito, which the cashier claimed he sold hundreds of each month. With our appetite whet for more, we found our way to the storefront and filled out our order with a chicken burrito and order of tacos. Fast food this was not - fresh, vibrant Tex-Mex it was. We were happy campers:

Nike Taco:

We started eating BBQ in Powell, Ohio and didn't stop until we got to California. Don't for one second think I'm complaining. By the time I got to Wyoming, I had become quite astute in my barbecue knowledge. And the BEST we came across was at Bubba's Bar-B-Que in Jackson, Wyoming. A friend and local had recommended Bubba's, thankfully, as I would have driven right past this diner look-a-like without a second glance. What the ambiance was missing, the food more than made up for. In my professional opinion, it was their barbecue sauce that was the secret to their amazing meats: ribs, chicken, brisket. It was also the secret ingredient to their unbelievable baked beans - which I lapped up with a slice of their two-inch thick Texas toast - heavenly. It was real deal, lip smackin', rib stickin', thigh slappin' barbecue and I imagine it'll taste even better after a day on the slopes this winter.

After gorging myself on piles of red meat, I felt it would be appropriate to continue the Western theme, so we headed to the well-known Million Dollar Cowboy Bar for some live country music and swing dancing cowboys. Dressed in my most Western attire (a laughable combination of turquoise jewelry, jeans and Frye boots), I found myself the largest saddle stool there was and drank it all in (literally).  I became increasingly aware that I was the only patron with both feet in the stirrups, one hand on the pommel, one hand in the air with my beer, maybe every once in a while letting out 'whoop' of joy. Eventually I relinquished my seat for one closer to the dance floor. And further from embarrassing my boyfriend.  Let me tell you - if there were room in the old CRV, I would have bought myself a saddle and brought back to San Fran. How much fun would your morning cereal be with one hand in the air? Yee haw!

To ease myself off the food coma from Bubba's, I treated myself to a sticky bun and eggs benedict from The Bunnery, a breakfast institution in Jackson. The line to be seated was down the block, so we took ours to go and ate overlooking the National Elk Refuge just outside town. Though we saw no actual live elk, we saw plenty of elk chops on the menus in Wyoming (ironic for a species that has a national refuge, no?). Equally as ironic is the arch of elk antlers that are presented in the town square. My dog thought she had died and gone to doggie bone heaven:

The Bunnery's famous Very Berry Pie: a combination of straw, blue and rasp - berries.

Our next destination was Yellowstone National Park to see some wild game. Unfortunately we ended up seeing very little wildlife, so we decided to go eat it instead (sorry, PETA). We spent the night in Big Sky, Montana after we struck out finding a hotel in or near the park.  Exhausted and starving (a recurring theme) our expectations were low, settling for any kind of hot meal our Best Western provided and a decent night's sleep. We hit the unintentional jackpot. The restaurant attached to our hotel, Buck's T-4, is a high end, first rate Montana establishment and our meal there was tops. Chef Todd Christensen is famous for his adventurous take on local wild game. We dove right in and started with the Buck's Sampler: house cured duck bacon, smoked trout and Montana elk carpaccio, turmeric aioli, flathead cherry compote, huckleberry grain mustard and to be spread, dipped, and covered on a crisp baguette. I tend to get shy when faced with really gamey meat, but the flavors were smooth and fresh, never overpowering. Next we cleansed our palates with a crisp heirloom tomato salad, which was served in a golden balsamic with shaved fennel, crispy basil and flakes of sea salt. After perusing their list of entrees, which sounded like a guide to the petting zoo (camp fire elk, new Zealand red deer, pheasant, bison tenderloin, walleye), we settled on their famous red deer tenderloin and the king river salmon. Much to Bambi's detriment, the red deer stole the show. Pan seared and served in a port wine butter sauce (a lovely combination of two of my most favorite things), it came over a pile of reggiano and truffle risotto and a few spears of asparagus, just to make you breath easier. Needless to say I slept soundly that evening and Buck's T-4 will see me again. That, I promise.

I thought this was so artistic, but in retrospect, fairly lame: Old Faithful Ale with Old Faithful steaming in the background:

Mr Bison, you sure are ugly, but I sure do like your meat.

Our next destination was to visit a friend and her boyfriend in Park City, Utah where unfortunately we only spent one night. Park City in the summer is perfection. Sunny days with a constant, yet gentle cool mountain breeze. Evenings mild enough and virtually insect-free to leave open screen-less windows and doors. I haven't slept so well in months. That could also be in part due to the whiskey tasting our friends gave us at their kitchen table the night before. Maybe.

The next day we set off after a leisurely breakfast in town and headed into the heat of the Nevada desert. There is not much to report about Nevada, save Reno and Vegas. I did have my first taste of Taco Time, a Taco Bell competitor out West. My official review of both the chain and the state is 'eh'. I couldn't wait to get out of Nevada.

So finally, after 3200 miles of road (we made a few detours), we entered our new home state of California. Though we were antsy to get to San Francisco, we had been on the road for 12hrs, so we decided to spend a night in Lake Tahoe. Our evening consisted of takeout Italian served out of Styrofoam containers and eaten with our hands as they forgot to include cutlery - and red wine from our hotel mugs. But with our feet firmly planted in the California sand and beautiful views of palatial Lake Tahoe, we felt deep gratitude and a sleepy sense of excitement that we had finally made it.

A special thanks to our Driver, Nike. Surprisingly well-behaved and constantly on high alert for wildlife, she made sure her driving companions were as awake as she, with her consistent canine flatulence. A most effective method.

Sincerely,
The Heat SF

Love and Lobster

This past weekend I attended a wedding in the Bush-friendly, resort town of Kennebunkport, Maine. From the start it had all the signs of a great wedding: beautiful weather, picturesque seaside setting, great friends, and boatloads of crustaceans. Based on my current state - complete exhaustion, a sore scalp from bobby pin torture, and freshly scraped knee - the weekend was a great success. Before you all start making assumptions of debauchery, I'll have you know that I scraped my knee pre-cocktails, thanks to a graceful digger off the top step of our trolley. Luckily our photographer came prepared for such occasions with an ample supply of tissues and a flask of Jim Beam. Can't take me anywhere.
 

The highlight of the weekend, besides the beautiful display of true love and vows of holy matrimony, was, of course, the food. Lobster to be exact. Lobster salad, lobster rolls, lobster bisque, lobster quiche, lobster pot pies and of course, steamed whole lobster.  I was one bite away from having to use the Jaws of Life to get out of my bridesmaid's dress - and it was totally worth it. I'm a little embarrassed to admit my favorite dish of the weekend. I'd feel better about myself had it been the steamed lobster in all it's delicious simplicity. Instead I choose arguably the most complex, diluted and undoubtedly gluttonous version: the Lobster Pot Pie. Imagine taking something as rich as lobster meat, adding butter and cream and then topping it off with a freshly baked biscuit. A bit much? Maybe. But not for me. It was the first thing I'd eaten all day and I still had blood pouring down my shin. Perhaps context is everything, but suffice it to say I was a very happy girl. Never one to be shy, I shoved the biscuit rather crudely down into my soup - and voila! - a giant, lobster soaked crouton. My knee stopped hurting immediately.

That's not to say there were any real losers this weekend. I generally enjoyed every single bite of lobster I had, whatever the form. But I wasn't the only critic in town. The Travel Channel was in Kennebunkport filming their hit show: Food Wars. The contenders were the dueling lobster rolls from The Clam Shack and Alison's. The show's official winner won't be announced until later in the season, but for those sitting at the edge of their seat, our wedding party did it's own extensive research and crowned The Clam Shack as favorite, finding Alison's too mayo-y for our liking.

Back home in NY, we have a similar food war going on. Where can one buy the best lobster roll? Pearl Oyster Bar? Mary's Fish Camp? Luke's? Ed's? Montauk is battling it out too: should I go to Duryea's or Lunch? And though I too have my favorites (Mary's and Duryeas's - no contest), lobster is meant to be loved, not judged and I will have a big, fat smile on my face wherever I am.

 

Speaking of love and lobster, my fellow bridesmaid and long time friend has a tradition of preparing this Lobster Cobb Salad with her boyfriend every Valentines Day (salad for dinner, how L.A. of you two). He kills the crustaceans, she chops the veggies. Ain't that cute. Since I am moving to Cali in a mere 15 days, I figure it's time to lay off the pot pie's and embrace my new culture. When in Rome:

Lobster Cobb Salad: (Serves 4-6)
For the Vinaigrette:

• 1.5T Dijon mustard
• 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (apprx 2 lemons)
• 5T good olive oil
• 3/4t kosher salt
• 1/2t freshly ground black pepper

For the Salad

• 2 ripe Hass avocados
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 1.5lbs cooked lobster meat, cut in 3/4" dice
• 1.5t kosher salt
• 1/2t freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2lb lean bacon, fried and crumbled
• 3/4 cup crumbled English Stilton, or other crumbly blue cheese
• 1 bunch arugula, washed and spun dry

1. For the vinaigrette, whisk together the mustard, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper in a small bowl.
2. For the salad, cut avocados in half, remove the seed, and peel. Dice into 3/4 inch pieces and toss with lemon juice. 
3. If the arugula leaves are large, tear into smaller pieces.
4. Put the lobster and tomatoes in a bowl. Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper and toss with enough vinaigrette to moisten. 
5. Add the diced avocado, crumbled bacon, blue cheese and arugula and toss again. Serve at room temperature.

 
Post bobby pins and startin' to feel the knee again...

I think I'm going to need more lobster,
- The Heat

Time to Chill Out

The past 30 days has been a month of change. I have a new job, no apartment and have decided to move to a new coast. Let me explain...

I am going to try my luck in San Francisco (ding ding!) - I leave in 30 days. I can hardly believe it. No really - I can't even imagine it seeing how I have never even been to San Francisco.  I have pulled my ripcord and will be cascading into the unknown this summer. To be honest, I am one big ball of emotions - excited, anxious, sad - but I am ready to embrace them all. And I will have plenty of time to mull over my feelings on my drive cross country. I say drive, but what I really mean is EAT. The plan is to eat my way cross country. I want to experience what this country has to offer...my stomach. I will report my findings for you all right here - and on Twitter. Please stay tuned.

Unfortunately this change in destination has required me to relinquish my beloved West Village cubby hole. Charmingly cute, perfectly located and more importantly, MINE - I will miss my apartment more than I care to admit. As the site of my first experience living alone, I fear I will have a lingering nostalgia for all 300sq feet. Yes, there are things I may not miss - the hoards of mice and their lovely droppings, my cold-as-ice British neighbor who's inability to say 'hello' never ceased to amaze me, and the dog-sized rats I stepped over whilst disposing garbage. And while I look forward to a time and place when I can keep a plant alive (henceforth my move to the Golden City), I am saddened to leave that dark, mouse infested closet. However, in an effort to keep this less than four pages, I will save the 'what i'll miss list' for another post.

So here I am, homeless, living out of a suitcase, worked to the bone by day, planning a move cross country by night. And now (hopefully) you understand the title of this post.
 

Through the madness, eating, and unfortunately not exercise, has been my stress relief (thank goodness this all coincides with bikini season!) Lunch is not just a time to refuel the tank - it's ten minutes of silence and bliss. So you see, I must make a good choice, and it's one I ponder over for much of my morning. Thank goodness NYMAG came out with it's list of the top 101 sandwiches in NYC - making my lunchtime decision that much easier. If I actually DO succeed in eating all of these sandwiches in the next 30 days, it might be time to break out my dear, old friend Mr. Tankini. God help us.

The Heat's Must Munch List:

• Red Hook Lobster Pound: Connecticut Lobster Roll - say goodbye to mayo and hello to double popped collars.
• Fatty Crab's Tea Sandwiches - I'll admit, it IS pretty nice when someone cuts your crusts off. Though Mom never served pork belly.
• Prune: Bacon and Marmalade on Pumpernickle - wins my to-be-replicated-at-home award, where I can avoid judgemental stares.
• Russ & Daughters: Super Heebster - to relive my days at UPenn
• Sullivan Street Bakery: PMB - pancetta, mango, basil. One question: WHAT TOOK US SO LONG?!
• Blue Ribbon Bakery Market: Egg Toast - sounds all innocent and cute - and then in walks the pickled peppers.
• Le Bernadin: Smoked Salmon and Caviar Croque Monsiuer - what? This is a dream list.
• Resto: Tete de Cochon Sandwich - a condiment competition - pickles, curry braise, aioli - the way I eat when no one's looking.
• Terroir Tribeca: Meatball Sandwich - because they didn't mess with a good thing.
• Vanessa's Dumplings: Sesame Pancake with Beef - wrapping meat in pancakes has been around long before Vanessa's (I made a mean sausage sammy at Ihop) but Vanessa's does me proud.
• Sunny and Annie Deli: the 'PHO Real' - do you really need another reason to order it?
• Barros Luco: Chacarero Competo - thinly sliced beef, mild melted cheese, avocado, tomato, mayo, chiles, and stringbeans? I love the replacement of drab lettuce with veggies that crunch.
• Patacon Pisao #2: Llanero Patacon - have fun with your food and convince a carb-a-phob that fried plantains are better than bread.
• Sukhadia's: Bombay Pav Vada - 'deep-fried-potato-and-chickpea croquette, painted with chutneys and smushed inside your choice of a burger bun or what looks like a KFC dinner roll'. The closest I'll ever come to the chain. 
• The Smile: Harissa Honey Smoked Chicken - 'with a ensemble cast of sweet roasted peppers, melted manchego, and preserved-lemon mayo'. I'm in for anything with preserved Meyer lemons.
• No.7 Sub: Eggplant Parm - 'deep-fried, true, but the sauce is puréed squash and the cheese is Fontina. And, of course, tucked-inside, potato chips'. Who doesn't love a good potato chip sammy?
• Caselulla Wine and Cheese Bar: Pig's Ass Sandwich - just because I'll giggle when I order it.
• Tulcingo del Valle: Cemita Al Pastor - 'commingling of seasoned pork, pineapple, chipotles, avocado, Oaxaca cheese, and refried beans that makes this one so delicious'. A step up from my beans-on-toast routine.

And when I need to ease myself off all the bread, I'll puree it and add it to this soup:

Gazpacho Soup:
(from a class I assisted at called Portuguese Food and Wine at The Astor Center)

• 1/2 pound rustic bread, stale or lightly toasted
• 6 tablespoons (divided) extra-virgin olive oil
• 3 garlic cloves, passed through a garlic press
• 1 1/2 pound (divided) ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded
• 1 cup vegetable broth
• 1 small green pepper, diced small
• 1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano
• salt
• red wine vinegar

1. Cut off the crust from the bread and break up into large crumbs (a little like poultry stuffing). Divide in half. Toss half the crumbs with about 2 tablespoons olive oil and toast in a 350°F oven until lightly toasted. Set aside.
2. Combine half the tomatoes, the garlic and vegetable broth in a blender.
3. Gradually add the bread that has not been toasted until the soup is moderately thick.
4. With the blender running add the remaining olive oil, oregano and salt and vinegar to taste. Depending on the tomatoes you may need to add more or less of the vinegar. Start with a tablespoon. If the tomatoes aren’t very good a pinch of sugar may be needed as well.
5. Dice the remaining tomatoes and stir into the soup along with the peppers. The soup may be made ahead to this point.
6. Just before serving, stir in the toasted crumbs. Serve at room temperature

"The coldest summer I ever spent, was a summer in San Francisco."

Mark Twain a la, The Heat

I, Robot

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity - so crazy I got whiplash from it - literally. Between weddings, showers, birthdays, graduations and holidays, my body finally called it quits and forced me into the horizontal. I threw out my neck, an old soccer injury that likes to revisit me, and was forced to the floor for days. Ice, heat, three massages, two rounds of acupuncture, a decompression brace and a medicine cabinet's worth of (prescribed) pills later and I was boarding a train to Philadelphia for a friends' wedding - super cool neck brace and all. Luckily I was able to remove the brace for the actual wedding - mauve foam is so 2009 - and made it through the weekend thanks to a handful of meds and an even bigger handful of friends.

Now that it's Monday and the neck brace is back on, it's time to hide behind my computer and reflect. I'll work backwards: The wedding was held at The Trust Venue in Old City, Philadelphia. Originally a bank and now an art gallery, most of you will recognize the building as the Real World Philadelphia house from 2004. For the real fans out there, I thought you'd like to know that they actually kept that unisex bathroom in tact - and it's still pretty awesome. As was the food, which was catered by Steven Starr, owner of some of Philly's best and most famous restaurants. We had our choice of food from Buddakan, a trail blazer in Asian Fusion, or Barclay Prime, home of the $100 cheese steak. Naturally I took a picture of the menu, all of which I consumed.

After three hours on the dance floor doing my own awkward version of 'the robot', appetites were satiated thanks to arguably the BEST goody-bag-stand-in to date: soft Philadelphian pretzels and bottles of water to go! I left the candy for the kids.

And a night in Philadelphia isn't complete without a late night trip to Pat's and Gino's (I am a Pat's girl, but Gino's is more fun to take pictures with):

Ah, the wonders of Cheese Whiz:

In juxtaposition to this weekend of debauchery, Mother's Day Weekend was beautiful and calm. I spent it walking, talking and eating with the Woman of Honor and her suitor (Dad). Our menu was simple and fresh: marinated flank steak, grilled then thinly sliced, sauteed mushrooms kissed with marsala wine, a mixed green salad with a homemade Dijon dressing, and baked sweet potatoes which were given a quick char on the grill - simply delicious. Gifts included a Spring bouquet of light pink peonies and an even bigger picture of myself to grace her walls (what?!) The picture was in jest - I was given a poster-sized photograph of myself from a photographer I worked with - and the only person on Earth who could possibly want that is a Mother. Even so, I expect it'll be stored away with all the other non-wall-worthy pictures (Aka, every picture taken between the ages of 11-14. Damn you bangs!)

One gift that did make the cut was actually given to me by my Mother: a recipe box filled with old recipes from my Great Aunt Doris. While I never met my Great Aunt, I feel some kinship having read something as intimate as her recipe box. Hand written notes, magazine clippings, doodles, name's and sketches gave me a small glimpse into her life - and my history. I've always been interested in the historical context that certain ingredients, methods and recipes suggest. For me, the history of a dish goes far beyond the taste and texture.

For most families, food is a source of tradition and familiarity - you can find the same dishes gracing dinner tables from decades past. And many of my childhood memories are linked to my taste buds. Pats of liverwurst from my Grandmother's meat drawer. Tea with milk and honey on sick days with my Mom. My Aunt's famous banana nut bread, which I stash in my freezer for a slice of family anytime. Even family members I never knew have a taste bud dedicated to them: my Great Grandmother's 'quick and easy' appetizer - Ritz crackers topped with chili sauce and bacon. Vanilla ice cream topped with fresh raspberries - my Great Grandfather's summertime specialty.

After combing through dozens of recipes (ten cheese ball variations, two dozen casseroles, chex mix, spaghetti pie and countless recipes that included cream of mushroom soup - God love her),   I've pulled out a few recipes from my Great Aunt's collection to add to my own repertoire - and my history:


Great Aunt Doris' Shrimp de Jonghe
(Shrimp de Jonghe is a casserole of shrimp covered in garlicky, sherry-flavored bread crumbs - give it a try!)

• 3/4 cup firm butter
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1t. salt
• 1 cup lukewarm dry sherry
• 1/2 cup finely chopped parsley
• 1 3/2 cups bread crumbs
• 2lbs cooked, cleaned shrimp
• Parmesan cheese, grated

1. Beat butter with an electric mixer until very light, about 5 minutes.
2. Add garlic, salt and sherry, a little at a time.
3. Add chopped parsley and 1 cup of the breadcrumbs, reserving the 1/2 cup leftover for topping.
4. Toss cooked shrimp in 1-2T of melted butter and place in a baking dish.
5. Cover with breadcrumb mixture.
6. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese, top with more bread crumbs, plus some more melted butter.
7. Bake for 25 minutes in a preheated 350 degree oven.

 Unless you'd rather try her Arizona Chicken

• 1 bottle of Wishbone Russian Dressing
• 1 cup apricot jam
• 1 envelope Lipton onion soup mix

Mix and pour over raw chicken pieces and bake at 350 for 1.5hrs. Yes, I'm serious.

Back to my brace,

The Heat

Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Mozzarella

I am one step closer to being entirely self sustaining. I bought a make-your-own-beer kit. I learned how to produce my own wine (and sound hip by calling it unfiltered). And now, thanks to a class at Murray's Cheese, I can make my own cheese! Once I learn how to bake bread, I'll consider myself prepared for anything life throws at me. Lock me in a cellar,  drop me off on a deserted island, leave me abandoned in a cabin in the woods - and I will survive! Bread, wine, beer and cheese - my four food groups.

Tuesday night I worked at a Mozzarella Making class at Murray's Cheese. It was a bit like playing with playdough in preschool - except now you're supposed eat what you just played with. I had a thing for Elmer's glue too - I guess you could say I started developing my palate at an early age. As for the cheese making, it was more like cheese molding. We started with cheese curd from Lioni's in New Jersey (New Jersey?!) because it's important for the curd to be fresh, so shipping from Italy is out. The curds were flavorless little lumps that reminded me of firm tofu. We bathed the curds in tepid bath water, stretched them into string cheese, rolled it into a croissant-like shape, and then pushed it through the "OK" sign made with your thumb and index finger, which created a smooth surfaced ball. We dropped the balls in the leftover bath water which we salted generously - and voila! - mozzarella (pronounced 'moo-za-rell' if you're Tony Sixpack from Long Island). I may have said it that way all night.

A young mozzarella maker:

We also did a mozzarella tasting as part of the learning experience. We started off with Lioni's own fresh mozzarella, which was delightfully soft and lightly salted. Mozzarella di Bufala was next, a gamier, sharper version of the prior. I may lose some fans with this admission, but I didn't realize that 'di bufala' actually meant that it was made with buffalo milk. Water buffalo to be exact. Call me ignorant, obtuse or just plain silly - but I never saw water buffalo wandering around the Italian countryside. Well, they do - and do so in a highly irritable, noisy way. They can't regulate their own body temperature, so they wallow in water to stay cool, hence their name. If they get hot, they get cranky and bellow excessively (sort of like me in the subway). They eat a ton, need space to roam and will only produce milk if happy. Huh - I guess I'll have to revise my Christmas list.

Next up was a personal favorite - burrata cheese. Not to point out the obvious, but burrata literally means 'butter' in Italian, which explains my affection for it. Burrata is served as a firm purse of cheese, that when cut into, oozes out dairy gold and stracciatella - wait, what? Basically it's a hallow ball of cheese that's filled with sweet cream and ribbons of fresh curd - Mamma it's good. When packaged it comes with a bright green palm leaf, whose purpose, I learned, is to act as a freshness indicator. If the leaf is brown, the cheese is old - brilliant. As if I need another excuse to eat cheese, our instructor suggested we try it for breakfast, with a touch of honey and freshly cracked pepper. If you're looking for the full experience, try it as an appetizer at Lil Frankie's, where it's served as  a creamier version of a caprese salad, drizzled with balsamic glaze and spicy olive oil. Stracciatella has also become a favorite - spread over a toasted baguette at Frankie's Spuntino with a bottle of their house red - perfection.

We ended our tasting with a smoked mozzarella that was also from Lioni's. Not normally a personal favorite, I was surprised how much I enjoyed theirs. I was told it was due to the smoking of the cheese, with hickory and cherry wood, rather than adding liquid smoke to the curd, a more common practice that adds an unnatural, strong flavor. The smoked mozzarella was complimented with a surprisingly sweet Portuguese tomato jam, a few slices of a delicious wild boar salami and a crisp glass of prosecco.

I still have four balls of mozzarella cheese in my fridge, which I will hopefully stay away from late-night and instead use in this modified version of a caprese salad. Ina Garten roasts her tomatoes before arranging them in the salad - a lovely change to the tried-and-true favorite:

Roasted Tomato Caprese Salad: (Adapted from Ina Garten's recipe)
6 servings

• 12 plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise, seeded
• 1/4 cup good olive oil, plus more for drizzling
• 1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
• 2 large garlic cloves, minced
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 16 ounces fresh salted mozzarella
• 12 fresh basil leaves, julienned

1. Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.
2. Arrange the tomatoes on a sheet pan, cut sides up, in a single layer. 
3. Drizzle with 1/4 cup of olive oil and the balsamic vinegar. 
4. Sprinkle with the garlic, sugar, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. 
5. Roast for 2 hours until the tomatoes are concentrated and begin to caramelize. Allow the tomatoes to cool to room temperature.
6. Cut the mozzarella into slices slightly less than 1/2-inch thick. If the slices of mozzarella are larger than the tomatoes, cut the mozzarella slices in half. Layer the tomatoes alternately with the mozzarella on a platter and scatter the basil on top. 
7. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Serve at room temperature.

His name is Moo Zarell,

- The Heat

Recalling Everything I Ate at Age 28

This past weekend was a whirlwind of birthday activity. It has taken me until today to recover from it.  I spent my birthday exactly how I pictured it: with Friends, Family and Food. And maybe a few drinks...

Friday night was supposed to be a quiet night in anticipation of Saturday night's festivities. Dinner, wine, and a movie if I could stay awake that long. So you understand my surprise when at 4am I found myself elbow deep in two grandma slices from Bleeker Street Pizza. What the heck happened? Lets rewind the tape:

Our first stop was Cafe Katja, a tiny, unassuming gem that serves upscale Austrian fare with an array of rare imported beers. It started off innocent - a glass of a biodynamic white wine (I'm so in vogue) and a hot soft pretzel (okay, maybe not). It was a solid start. The problems arose when the pretzel came served with what can only be described as the lovechild of Butter and Cheese. Hold on it actually gets better - it's whipped and lightly dusted with chives! Okay, now you can breathe. This heavenly concoction was called Liptauer Cheese - and thankfully they don't call it Liptauer Butter, because it sounds more socially acceptable to eat an entire bowl of cheese than an entire bowl of butter, right? Right?!

Next up was an enormous platter of cured meats, spreads and pickles, which is what I imagine I'll encounter when I walk through the Pearly Gates. Low and behold, guess what it was served with? Oh hello, little bowl of creamy goodness. I spread Liptauer cheese on everything in sight - bread, pork belly, pickles, directly on my tongue (hey, it was my birthday!).  It was getting out of hand. Luckily our entrees arrived: an apple/cabbage slaw in a light lingonberry dressing and a hefty serving of brats and kraut to really put the nail in the coffin - well and the various 'nightcaps', celebratory shots of tequila and two slices of late night 'za. Sigh.

But what DID help matters was the incredible breakfast I woke up to. A little elf ran about the West Village and gathered up some of my favorite pre-noon eats:

Soft scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and the best croissant in the city from Out of the Kitchen
The featured brew from Joe's Coffee - smooth and dark
Dipped Fruit Bouquet from Edible Arrangements (the perfect hangover aid and as it turns out, late night snack)

In a state of sugar, fat, and caffeine induced bliss, I launched into a day of shopping in Soho with a long lost girlfriend who came to town for the weekend (lost to the world of marriage in Michigan, but couldn't be happier for her!) Eventually we needed to rev our engines, so we ducked into Faicco's Pork Store on Bleeker Street for fried risotto balls, broccoli rabe with sausage bread, and one of the best Italian subs I have had to date. We chased down our lunch with a bottle of Brunello, which was given to me as a gift from the friend I visited the actual vineyard with, called Fattoria dei Barbi.  Alongside the vino, she also gave me a vintage 1946 edition Le Cordon Bleu cookbook, which I will report back on as soon as I can see straight next week:

With a solid foundation of booze and food, we took a quick nap to prepare ourselves for the night ahead. Dinner was at Lil' Frankie's, the (larger, louder) offspring of Frank's in the east village. Known for it's brick oven pizzas and hearty pastas, Lil' Frankie's had me at hello with their burrata cheese appetizer. Next up was an array of pizzas, though the showstopper was more of a focaccia with robiola cheese, procuitto di parma and a drizzle of truffle oil stuck in between two thin pizza crusts. It must be shared or be prepared to sweat truffle oil all night - unless you're into that sort of thing, (which I could kind of get into too). For an entree, I chose a light dish of spaghetti limone: butter, parmigiano reggiano and a squirt of lemon juice, which I will undoubtedly recreate at home.

Based on the remnants of red sauce on my plate, it appears I made my way around the table testing everyone else's dishes before diving into my own (typical). And after all of my extensive research, the polpettini ragu (mini meatballs) takes the cake:

Speaking of cake...it was chocolate, it was decadent and it was shared 10 ways:

You'd think I'd be full, but yee have little faith in the Heat! Sunday I was treated to a homemade Bo-saam at my sibling's abode. What is Bo-saam you ask? Basically it's the Asian answer to bbq pulled pork. Except this time you wrap it in lettuce leaves with sticky white rice, a slathering of ginger scallion relish and dollop of hot sauce. We used David Chang's recipe off NYMAG.com, and while time consuming (you slow roast the pork for hours), it is a fairly easy recipe to master and perfect for a hungry crowd. For sides we had home pickled red cabbage, jalapenos, and skewered hoisen shrimp with pineapple.

And it's not a birthday party without a cake! Angel food with fresh berries to be exact - washed down with our last drops of Prosecco and lulling me into the deepest of birthday slumbers.

Thanks to all for the warm birthday wishes! And for those that forgot, I'd like a bucket of Liptauer cheese, please,

- The Heat