VittlesVamp

Hallå Stockholm

And now I journey to the land of tall blonde people, who eat reindeer, herring, and meatballs. I anticipate enjoying my fair share of cardamom buns and great coffee. More soon.

An Early Report From Berlin

I will have stories to tell - stories of Berlin. These stories will involve scorching heat, without proper A/C in sight. These stories will involve a gracious local food blogger, a politically-inclined brewpub host, and a friend of a friend, who is now my friend as well. And, yes, some of these stories will feature beer.

But, all of that is for later. Now, I just want to share some snapshots of an afternoon visit to Winterfeldt Platz Market in Berlin's Schöneberg district.

I wasn't the least bit disappointed by the fruit on display...

And, food stalls were punctuated by tables filled with funky jewelry, linen tablecloths, vintage knives, and...

shoes. Not to mention several stalls filled to overflowing with...

...fresh flowers. There were cheesemongers on hand, as well as the requisite...

...German sausages sizzling on the grill. A few stalls even catered to those with...

...vegetables on their shopping list. Still, carrots, cabbage, and alike were a rarity among the foodstuffs on display. Who was I to fight the German penchant for all things sweet, rich, and artery-clogging?

Bring on the apfelstrudel!

Hallo Berlin

After a very quick stop in London, I should presently be hitting Berlin. And, what better way to welcome me than with a heat wave? Tomorrow is set to be a scorching 99 degrees. That's not exactly schnitzel weather, but one can safely assume that some beers will be downed in an effort to cool off and chill out. More details soon...

Cocktail Canine: Tale Of A Friendly Neighborhood Wanna-Be Drunkard Dog

Her name is Ellie Mae. Pictured above, sucking down a squeaky toy version of a Pina Colada, you can't help but fall hard for this pooch.

I knew I had it bad when my neighbors across the hall brought her home as a pup and invited me over for cocktails and nibbles to celebrate.

Unusual for a canine, the dog wasn't making eyes at the grub on the table. She was staring at my Manhattan with a steady fixation - a fixation that was rewarded by my swirling my pinky into the glass, and holding it out for a greedy lick or two.

Oh, yeah. I fell hard.

So, clearly I needed to buy Ellie Mae some hard liquor. It came in the form of a chew toy shaped like a bottle of bourbon, emblazoned with a Bark Daniels label.

She chewed up that chew toy in short order.

So, I decided to introduce her to the finer things in liquor life. I bought her a bottle of Dog Perignon.

She apparently savored that particular plush toy, as one should with a quality vintage.

Yet, when I ventured across the hall this evening for afterwork cocktails, I knew I best not come empty handed. I brought some proper Gin and bottles of tonic, alongside some kaffir lime leaves for muddling. That was for the human contingency. Miss Ellie Mae got a whole bottle to herself of something else...

Yes, that's a plush bottle of Dog Julio that she has her snout in.

It didn't make it past an hour. She literally tore the stuffing out of it. Or should I say "good to the last drop?"

Not sure what to get her next. If she laid waste to faux tequila that quickly, dare I get her a bottle of Kennel One?

Oh, Ellie Mae. Nothing but love and an open bar-k for you here, young gal!

Heeding The Siren's Call Of Parker House Rolls

Resistance is futile.

Bread is my downfall. I once found Satan in a bread basket, so why shouldn't I hear the tempting strains of Sirens calling out to me, when presented with warm Parker House rolls at a new LIC hot spot?

Sing on, you starchy Sirens!

Parker House rolls have been "on trend" for quite some time now. And, well before hitting LIC's Bellwether last night (home to the Parker House rolls pictured above), I have inordinately fond memories of slathering butter on piping hot Parker House rolls at Chef Tom Colicchio's now-defunct Craft Steak, and then his Colicchio & Sons in the same location shortly thereafter.

I have yet to bake up a tray of these browned, puffy, delights in my own kitchen. I imagine sprinkling Maldon sea salt atop before thrusting the dough in the oven, waiting breathlessly for the "ding" of timer to release them from the constraints of my stove - and then enjoying them with unrestrained glee.

Sing no more Sirens! My hips cannot handle it! Parker House no more!!!

Yeah, maybe I have a bread problem.

The Melon Trick

Can't take credit for this incredibly simple trick that takes melon to a new level.

Chef/owner Tony Migliaccio at my beloved neighborhood Italian hang Noodle Pudding served me up a beautiful slab of melon for dessert one night. But it wasn't just melon. He zested an orange on top for a bit of bite and citrus.

I don't think I can eat melon again without a sprinkling of orange zest to take it up a notch.

This trick paid off big time when I decided to make melon and prosciutto. SO. DAMN. DELICIOUS.

I implore you to try this at home. You'll develop a whole new appreciation for a slice of melon at any time of day.

A Refugee Chef Brings A Taste Of Iran To Manhattan

I had no idea that a Refugee Food Festival existed, let alone that it had started in Paris and expanded into restaurant kitchens across 15 cities the world over. It's an impressive endeavor, designed to change perceptions about refugees and find common ground - all through sharing food at the table.

Food has a power all its own. A meal made with love and talent can bring people together in a way that nothing else can. Think Babette's Feast. But, this wasn't about Blinis Demidoff or Cailles en Sarcophage. The setting may have been very French - Gramercy's Le Coq Rico - but the dinner was pure Persia. This past Saturday night, Chef Nasrin (who only goes by her first name to protect family still in Iran), served up a mesmerizing menu filled with saffron, mint, and pomegranate - food that excited the senses and satisfied the soul.

Starters, pictured above, featured a baked rice cake called Tahchin, with a crackling, crisp rice crust encasing moist delicate saffron-infused grains and bits of chicken, sprinkled with dried barberries and nuts. It was accompanied by yogurt-cucumber-mint dip called Mast Khiar, and a Persian roasted eggplant and walnut dip topped with frizzled onions, called Kashke Bademjan. Then came the main course...

...a pomegranate and chicken stew called Fesenjoon, served atop sour cherry rice. Sweet and sour, rich and bright, it was unlike anything else I've ever eaten. A couple Iranian falafel also graced the plate with a vivid green chutney, just in case you needed the combo of crunch and cilantro to serve as a palate cleanser.

When the chef emerged from the kitchen, I couldn't congratulate her enough. I wasn't alone in doing so. Diners flocked to her side to compliment the meal and recognize her gifts.

While I know proceeds from the dinner are going to help causes that fight for refugee rights in this country, I can't help but think that one weekend of festival events is not nearly enough. Refugees fill restaurant kitchens in New York and all over the U.S., feeding us all year round. They need to know that they are home. We need to find a way to welcome them, their cultures, their cuisines, their families, their hopes and dreams.

The American melting pot will be all the better for it.

BBQ Dreams

I took Mama Vamp to Austin and she joined me in eating some mighty fine BBQ. We're talking Freedmen's for some serious smoked turkey and ribs, and a killer G&T. We followed that up with a Mother's Day brunch stop at Kerlin BBQ for the decked out plate pictured above. See that brisket? See those pork ribs? How about that sweet ear of corn?

How was it?

Amazeballs.

And, now Hill Country is buzzing about opening up an Austin-style food hall in downtown Brooklyn, with - what else? - BBQ. Breakfast tacos will be thrown in for good measure.

Will I be there?

Why, yes!

Will Mama Vamp be in tow?

You better believe it!

A Sandwich That Has You At "Hola"

It is Cinco de Mayo, so food sites, Facebook pages, and Twitter feeds are filled with talk of tacos and burritos, as well as tequila and mezcal.

Now, I am most definitely a fan of a fine taco, as attested to recently on this blog. I also adore a well-made tamale. But, there is a Mexican foodstuff that rarely gets the attention it deserves - and that is the one-and-only cemita.

The cemita is a "torta" - better known by Gringos as a "sandwich" - that originally hails from the Puebla region of Mexico. It is a killer, layered beauty.

The specimen pictured above was most definitely a masterful example. It was from one of Durham's most beloved taco shacks, La Vaquita. Juicy roasted pork (aka carnitas) was piled high on a toasted sesame roll, accompanied by a slathering of fried beans, a glossing of ketchup, mayonnaise, sliced onions, lettuce, pickled jalapenos, avocados, and tomatoes.

It was messy. It was massive. It was love.

Similar beasts are available in Brooklyn at various outposts in Sunset Park. My favorite? La Flor Bakery. Haven't been there in ages, but after being enraptured by that carnitas cemita in North Carolina, I think a visit to Sunset Park's Little Latin America is most certainly in the offing.

Stop Messing With My Sazerac

Why do barkeeps continue to do wrong to what is so right? Why, unless I am in New Orleans, can't I order a Sazerac cocktail with confidence?

Both Maison Premiere and Jack the Horse Tavern in Brooklyn understand the finer points of the drink - but they are a rarity in a field of disappointments.

It's not an inordinately complicated cocktail, but I am always astonished at places that say they can make me one and then don't have a key ingredient - like Peychaud's bitters or an anise-flavored spirit like Absinthe, Herbsaint, or Pernod.

A glass of Rye whiskey with Angostura bitters and simple syrup is not a Sazerac folks. Try to substitute orange for lemon peel? That is a big nope!

The recipe for a Sazerac is quite simply...

A chilled glass coated with an anise-flavored spirit - preferably Absinthe. Then in a separate glass, Rye whiskey, simple syrup, and several dashes of Peychaud bitters (maybe Angostura too) are stirred over ice and strained into the other awaiting glass. Take a piece of lemon peel and run it around the lip of the glass, twist over the drink and drop in for good measure.

It is a classic for a reason.

So, stop screwing it up!

Tell me that you can't make it or don't have the ingredients. I will happily order something else. But, please, no more f*cked up Sazeracs. It is a drink that deserves respect and when rightly made, has earned it.

Cooking in California: The Spanakopita Edition

My pals Amelia and Shyam just moved to Oakland and their new apartment has a great kitchen - a baller kitchen. How could I resist playing in said baller kitchen when I was lucky enough to be their houseguest this past week?

My dinner dish of choice? Spanakopita. Had I made it before? Nope. Did I consult several recipes and then toss them in a jumble to create my own take on the Greek classic? Yup. Was it delicious? Hell to the yup! Is the recipe below? Um, yeah...

Spanakopita

1 box frozen phyllo dough (defrosted)
3 10oz. boxes frozen chopped spinach (defrosted)
8 oz. good feta (diced or crumbled)
5 scallions (thinly sliced, whites and greens)
1 shallot (minced)
1 lg. garlic clove (minced)
1 cup fresh dill (chopped)
1 TBSP salt
1 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
3 eggs
3/4 cups ghee (melted)
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease an 8X8 pan with a bit of the ghee. Strain the spinach using cheesecloth or a dishtowel to squeeze out all of the liquid. Saute the scallions, shallot, and garlic in two tablespoons of the melted ghee in a small pan until just starting to brown - about 4 - 5 minutes. Add to the spinach. Mix in the feta, dill, salt, pepper, and nutmeg into the spinach as well. Lightly whisk the eggs and then incorporate in to the spinach mixture. Layer the phyllo at the bottom of the pan (neatness is not necessarily) and brush with melted ghee and sprinkle with breadcrumbs in between each layer. After 6 - 8 layers, place the spinach mixture in the pan and spread evenly before layering on another 6 - 8 sheets of phyllo with ghee and breadcrumbs on top. Finish with a layer of phyllo brushed with ghee. Bake for 1 hour. Allow to cool for 10 minutes before cutting into squares and serving,

Croissant Curmudgeonry

It's Passover. I should be thinking about all things unleavened. Instead I am thinking about croissant. Yes, puffy, flaky, buttery croissant.

But, there is a new trend that is turning the classic croissant into a fad-riffic Instagram star -- I call it croiss-insanity. Bakeries across the country are contorting croissant dough around a never-ending merry-go-round of unorthodox ingredients. Think purple yam, cod roe, black garlic, white miso, chamomile tea, and pineapple jelly. The New York Times calls them "frankenpastries."

I have tried to be open-minded.

The croiss-insanity pictured above is called an "everything croissant" and was purchased at my local Joe's Coffee. It was so very wrong. It didn't taste bad, mind you. It just wasn't a croissant. It wasn't an everything bagel. And, in the end, it wasn't enough of either to be anything I wanted to eat.

I ventured to Supermoon Bakery on the Lower East Side, where they have a croissant described as: "dual core croissant with matcha creme patissiere and lemon curd, topped with white chocolate shards." Don't get me started on the "cruffins." Each croiss-insanity was spotlighted in a precise, highly photogenic line on the counter, like a parade of overeager models strutting down the catwalk for the paparazzi. And, oh the paparazzi arrived. They descended in the form of foreign tourists. They thrust their cell phones in front of each other to snap the odd colorful frankenpastries, grabbing at a bit of social media foodie glory.

I think it is time for me to close my mind now - snap it shut tight.

Give me a perfect plain croissant with a bit of raspberry jam and I will be more than content. A chocolate croissant also has a place in my heart (and stomach). And, an almond croissant, when made expertly, is a thing of beauty as well.

I have no need for this newfangled breed of pastry. You can keep my "everything" on a bagel, thank you very much.