VittlesVamp

Why Isn't Chicken Paprikash The Must-Have Dish On Every Menu In NYC?

I'm serious here. When is the last time you had Chicken Paprikash? Done correctly, made with real Hungarian Paprika and a lot of love (not to mention sour cream), it is a killer dish.

Made it recently for an Austrian-German-Hungarian feast at Chez Vamp with kudos all around. Served it with piping hot Spaetzle and a cool German Cucumber Salad. Perfect Tyrolean winter fare. (And lederhosen aside, I have to say that the mountains of dirty frozen snow in Brooklyn as of late have required Alpine hiking rigor.)

Need proof that Chicken Paprikash can take on the likes of NYC menu standards like Chicken Pot Pie or Shrimp and Grits? Try my recipe below and taste for yourself.

Chicken Paprikash

1 chicken (3 - 4 lbs) cut into ten pieces (I cut the breasts in half)
1/2 cup plus 2 TBSP flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 cup canola oil
1 lg onion minced
1 1/2 cloves garlic minced
1 TBSP Sweet Hungarian Paprika
2 plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded and diced
1/2 Italian frying pepper (aka cubanelle pepper), diced
1 TBSP tomato paste
1 1/2 cup chicken broth
3/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup Italian parsley, finely chopped

Mix 1/2 cup flour with salt and pepper, and dredge chicken pieces in the mixture, shaking off excess flour. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat, adding chicken a few pieces at a time, turning once to allow for browning on each side. Put chicken aside. Add onion, garlic, paprika, peppers and tomatoes, stirring until soft, about 5 minutes. Add tomato paste, stirring for another minute until incorporated. Pour in chicken broth and stir before placing chicken pieces back into the Dutch oven. Cover and allow to cook on medium heat for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, mix together sour cream with remaining 2 TBSP flour. Mix into the chicken and sauce. Allow to cook for another 3 -4 minutes. Sprinkle parsley on top before serving.

My Go-To's: Buvette

Thought it was time to break out a few posts about my standbys -- the spots with great food and drink that have yet to fail me; a guide to the restaurants that I turn to time and time again. First up, a heavenly slice of a French cafe known as Buvette. Chef Jody Williams created a charming, almost giddy scene, when she opened the doors to this West Village enclave on Grove Street. Streaming with sunlight, the room beckons you inside.

The only hitch? Sometimes you'll have to wait for a table or bar stool. Not a problem in my opinion. Especially when you see that democracy is most definitely in play. (Once stood outside on an early summer evening alongside Jake Gyllenhaal, who also waited a half-hour for a seat.)

Admittedly, I find myself hitting Buvette at off-hours to avoid a wait. If I plan correctly, I can immediately sidle up to the bar or grab a table, order a glass of wine or a bracing espresso and joyfully snack on the restaurant's series of ambitious small plates.

If I'm in a breakfast mood, a flaky, butter-rich Croissant with tart raspberry jam might do the trick, or perhaps perfectly scrambled eggs prepared with the steam from a cappuccino frother. Top the eggs with paper-thin slivers of shaved Proscuitto of slices of Smoked Salmon and it's quite the substantial morning or brunch-time meal. If my cravings are of the lunch or dinner variety, I often end up ordering Williams' ethereal Brandade De Morue and slather thick slices of toast with this addictive house-cured salt cod spread. Sometimes, I'll simply get a hunk of the Country Pate, served up with mouth-puckering cornichons and a few meaty olives, and compliment it with a plate of wilted leeks in a mustardy vinaigrette. Too ravenous for something along those lines? I'll go straight for a "tartinette" graced with salted butter and anchovies, followed by the hearty comfort of Coq au Vin or Cassoulet.

And, no meal at Buvette is complete without dessert. Seriously. Forgo these sweets at your own peril: an exquisite caramelized wedge of Apple Tarte Tartin with a dollop of Creme Fraiche, or a scoop of miraculously dense, ever-so-slightly bitter Chocolate Mousse. Either way, you cannot go wrong.

I've been a die-hard fan of Chef Williams since she was at Gottino, and with Buvette going strong now with branches in both New York and Paris, I expect to enjoy her hospitality and brilliance in the kitchen for years to come. And, I wouldn't be surprised if I end up purchasing her upcoming Buvette cookbook this April too. A little Buvette at Chez Vamp might be a very good thing indeed.

The Southern Fish Shack of My Dreams

Never had I thought that a takeout fish spot, two hours from the closest beach, could bring me such unmitigated culinary pleasure. But damned if Durham, North Carolina's Saltbox Seafood Joint doesn't serve up some of the most freakin' delicious seafood on the planet. Almost want to jump on a plane right now to head back to this wee shack and order up the entire chalkboard menu.

Now that I think about it, I wish I had ordered the entire bill of fare while I was at the joint's takeout window in the first place. (So foolish of me not to do so!) Still, my pal Mr. L and I were more than satisfied with the two hefty sandwiches we tried. Both served on fluffy white, butter-toasted rolls, topped with a vinegary slaw and a drizzle of housemade tartare, Mr. L opted for his filled with freshly grilled dogfish, while I went for fried oysters...

Crisp and well-seasoned, these oysters held creamy, sweet, meaty centers that practically melted on the tongue.

So. Damn. Good.

I don't think I can ever look at a bare-bones shack again without my mouthwatering and my eyes rolling back in my head for the memory of that genius sandwich. And, if I didn't know better, I think I get a whiff of the ocean and sense a little sand between my toes as I remember that miraculous first bite.

Happy Tiki Birthday To Me

Did you think it was possible to close out the year without mention of my birthday festivities? At this point, birthday blogging is as much of a tradition as blowing out the candles. And, as bdays go, I will say that this was a blowout year.

Highlights included:

*Plump Shrimp Dumplings and Sticky Rice in Lotus Leaf at Chinatown's flashy dim summery Red Egg

*A miracle of a Slow-Braised Lamb Shank at Astoria's upscale Greek hot spot MP Taverna

*Oatmeal Cookie Ice Cream, happily downed in the middle of a snowstorm at Oddfellow's in Williamsburg

*A plate of Zizi Limona's perfectly-fried Falafel Balls, balanced atop Pickled Cabbage and Charred Onion, then drizzled with Curried Yogurt

*Bowls of al dente pasta followed by dense Lemon Olive Oil Cake at the East Village's Porsena

Sounds terrific, right? But the coupe de grace was a road trip to Staten Island with my pals Jim and Max.

Yes. You read correctly. Staten Island. Why are you surprised? I've written about this much-maligned outerborough before.

This trip was different though. Food wasn't set in our Staten Island sites. We were after pleasures of another sort. The kind that came in carved out coconuts or Hawaiian surfer girl glasses, with large spears of brightly colored fruit, dangling orchid flowers and paper umbrellas.

We ventured to Staten Island for the Polynesian cocktails, preferably accompanied by plenty of 1970's kitsch and old men remembering the good old days when disco ruled and leisure suits were the height of fashion.

Arriving at the strip mall classic Jade Island, we knew we'd come to the right place. Scorpions, Navy Grog and Zombies were on the menu, the lighting was decidedly day-glo, Tiki gods lined the walls and AARP members were lined up at the bar. Yowsa!

Several potent Polynesian favorites were had as we kibbitzed with the regulars, but the libation of the night arrived in a hollowed pineapple with two kinds of rum and three straws...

Oh. Heck. Yeah! Happy freakin' Tiki birthday to me! Who needs the Big Island when you have the Isle of Staten?

Now the question is: How do we top that field trip when it comes to next year's birthday? Luckily, Jim and Max have some time to think about it...

Cookie! Cookie! Cookie! Cookie! Cookie!

'Tis the season. Time for cookies to come out of the oven and take center stage.

And, take center stage they did at my pal Max's cookie swap last night. His dining room table was brimming with cookies by the dozen, a mind-boggling array of freshly baked treats.

My fave? I had two. First up, savory buttery coins dotted with briny black olive bits. Hoping that this is the recipe, so I can make them at home. My second pick was actually my own cookies. A tad full of myself? Perhaps, but my Crunchy Jumble cookies won plenty of kudos from other party guests.

A classic from my childhood, this cookie marries the traditional chocolate chipper to the snap, crackle and pop of Rice Krispies. They are all at once light and buttery and remarkably crisp, studded with chocolate for good measure.

I'd say that I'd make them for next year's cookie swap, but the truth is that I don't want to swap them at all!

Crunchy Jumbles

1 1/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 stick butter (room temperature)
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups Rice Krispies
1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine flour, baking soda and salt. In a separate large bowl combine butter and sugar. Add egg and vanilla to butter mixture. Incorporate flour mixture one-third at a time until well mixed. Add cereal and chips. Drop by rounded tablespoon on cookie sheets with parchment paper. Bake 15 minutes. Makes 30 - 36 cookies.

The Traditional Thanksgivukkah Meal With All The Trimmings

There was no way in hell that I was letting a "once in 125 years" opportunity slip by without a nod, or in this case, a wink. My first course on T-Day paid heed indeed. And it was freakin' delicious.

I riffed on my previous Thanksgiving riff on nachos: topping low-salt potato chips with a dollop of creme fraiche, a generous spoon of caviar, and then a shower wof freshly snipped chives. This year, my variation ixnayed the chips and substituted them with silver dollar-sized latkes. A brilliant Judaic modification on an already bizarre, decadent twist on a Mexican-American favorite. All-in-all a perfect way to start the holiday feast, especially when followed by this Thanksgivukkah classic...

...served with the obligatory cocktail and remoulade sauces for dipping.

I only wish I could have had a menorah constructed out of bacon as the dinner's centerpiece. Well, maybe next year. (Or, at the very least, maybe in another 125 years.)

Don't Dis The Raisin

It's time to stand up for the wee raisin. All too often, baked goods are passed over when someone learns that they are dotted with raisins instead of chocolate chips or nuts. It's a real shame.

A prime example: The burnished and buttery Raisin Danish featured above was had at Maison Kayser in the Flatiron District. It was a beauty, studded with plump golden raisins. Wholly satisfying.

I think the real trick with raisins is in the plumping. Don't simply toss them into a recipe without giving them the love they need in advance. Let them steep in hot water or, better yet, some heated rum, bourbon or vino. Once they are ever-so-slightly reconstituted, they offer a sweet luscious addition to cakes, pies, muffins and more.

And, if you really can't bear to give raisins the old college try, maybe you should attempt to embrace their kissing cousin: the dried currant. These tiny morsels, also in need of a bit of rehydrating affection, aren't just ideal for scones, but play well in savory dishes too. In fact, I'm planning a Thanksgiving stuffing that includes these tart berries alongside sourdough bread, scallions, garlic and toasted pine nuts.

I don't know how many readers I'll really convince with this missive. But, I can assure you that you are missing out if you choose to reject the glory of the raisin.

Well, guess that leaves more Raisin Danish, Raisin Oatmeal Cookies, Currant Scones, and alike for me. And, I'll probably get to actually have some T-day stuffing leftovers for a change too!

I Missed My 10th Anniversary

I missed it. Missed it by a long-shot. VittlesVamp's 10th anniversary was September 17th. Today is November 9th. Think I'm going to have to make this up to myself big time.

At least I took the opportunity - albeit a belated one - to flashback to 2003. Couldn't help but smirk at the very first post, which detailed my quest to find frozen yogurt that tasted like yogurt; you know, with that authentic "yogurty" tart flavor.

Flashforward to 2013 to see ubiquitous Pinkberry and Red Mango outposts at-the-ready to fill that FroYo craving.

Was it all due to VittlesVamp's incredible influence? Don't think we'll ever know for sure...

Whether or not I can stake claim to the trend, I think 10 years is still worth celebrating - or at least worthy of a gift. Apparently the traditional 10th anniversary gift needs to involve tin. I imagine that a roll of heavy duty tinfoil will be in order pre-Thanksgiving anyway, so that's taken care of. Yet, if I go with the more modern theme option, I'm supposed to get myself some diamond jewelry.

This could get pricey.

Then again, I'm worth it.

Diamonds, Reynolds Wrap and a swirl of FroYo. Sounds perfect.

The Last of the Heirlooms

Boy, that went fast. It seemed like the Heirloom tomatoes of the season had just arrived and now they are about to fade away.

My favorite way to devour them this year? In salad form with a dressing of lime juice. sea salt, freshly cracked pepper, a pinch of sugar and a great deal of cumin, whipped to into a vinaigrette frenzy with good olive oil. I then add some chunks of rich avocado and a chiffonade of fresh mint.

Sounds delicious, doesn't it?

So, run out to the nearest greenmarket or produce stand and load up on the Heirlooms while you can. The season is all too short and these beauties are big on flavor!

Yes, Virginia, There is Great Mexican Food in New York City

I've heard many bemoan the state of the Mexican food scene in New York City. I'm sick of it! So is food writer Ligaya Mishan, who addresses the topic in the latest Hungry City column in the New York Times.

Admittedly, we don't live in Los Angeles or even Houston, where the Mexican culinary offerings are consistently top-notch. That said, please note that both of those cities are home to several branches of Taco Bell. (On the flip-side, I am always embarrassed that Domino's seems to thrive in the five boroughs. But, pizza isn't the focus today...)

New York may not have as many excellent Mexican restaurants, but it does have some -- and they are fantastic. In addition to the brilliant Mexican food trucks and carts that dot the city, NYC boasts some terrific Mexican dining spots.

First up, have you visited Sunset Park's Little Latin America? If not, I suggest a food crawl ASAP to tuck into Lengua Tacos, Carnita Tacos, Arabes Tacos and overstuffed Chorizo and Egg Tortas that will make you cry delicioso!

Looking for your Mexican in a fancier environment? Check out Hecho en Dumbo, which moved a while back to the East Village. Reserve a seat in the kitchen to enjoy the restaurant's Chef's Table five-course, which will set before you to a whole new range of Mexican flavors and textures. Fonda, with outposts in Park Slope and the East Village, is also a lovely spot to get some authentic Mexican dishes. And if you're in the Theater District, you would be remiss not to stop by Toloache, if only for an introduction to Mexico's version of the Ceviche, and an order of the De Lechon (aka Suckling Pig) Tacos.

Game for a trip on the 7 traib to Long Island City, Queens? Then, I strongly advise a visit to Casa Enrique. A photo of this Mexican jewel's Guacamole is above, but make sure to also order the Puebla dish of Mole De Piaxtla, a plate of chicken enchiladas enrobed in a vibrant, rich sauce of dry peppers, almonds, raisins, plantain, sesame seeds and chocolate, beautifully striped with a piping of sour cream.

So, move to Los Angeles if you must. That just leaves more amazing Mexican food in New York for the rest of us.

The Big Fix

Things go wrong. It is the nature of things. But there is that critical break or make moment when you have a chance to take a problem and turn it around. That's what hospitality is all about, and a fairly new Brooklyn Heights neighborhood spot called Red Gravy did a hospitality pas de deux the other night that deserves applause.

The evening started out well enough. At arrival, albeit, 10 minutes late for our reservation, I arrived with my pal Jenn, the birthday girl, in tow for a celebratory dinner. The woman at the check-in stand said it would be another 10 minutes and suggested we wait at the bar. Only one seat was left at the corner, so we edged our way in and ordered a round. Then our other dinner companion arrived and we tried to make the most of our limited real estate, as Jenn let it be known that she was starving. I checked back in with the front desk and was told it would be yet another 10 - 15 minutes. I grimaced, mentioning that the birthday girl was hungry, asking if anything could be done. I received shrug.

Harumph!

I went back to the bar to ask if Jenn could hold out for another 10 - 15 minutes. Now it was her turn to grimace. I marched back to the check-in stand and now a gentleman was there, who saw that I was a bit distressed and graciously asked how he could help. I let him know about the grumbling tummy at the bar and asked if we could possibly get some bread. "Of course," he replied and quickly headed to the kitchen.

A few minutes later he not only presented us with some warm bread and bean dip, but some lovely fried Arancini Balls stuffed with Smoked Mozzarella on the house. Nice!

Showed to our table another 10 minutes later, we saw that glasses of Prosecco had been set in front of our plates -- compliments of the house with regrets that it took a while to get seated. Very nice!

Menus in hand we batted back and forth a variety of delectable Italian options settling on an Uni Carpaccio special to start, followed by two pastas, and then a Grilled Steak with Lentils, along with a side of stewed eggplant. Sipping our fizzy wine, we were contented and Jenn was particularly excited to try the uni, as it was one of her favorites.

Then the waiter returned with apologies. Apparently, we had been given old menus. The steak dish wasn't available.

Harumph!

We asked for the menus back to figure out another game plan. He went to fetch them and returned with good news and bad: We had the right menus after all and could have the steak. However, they were out of the uni. At this point we just started laughing and perused the menu for a substitute. Then the manager came over and let us know that they were going send out a couple of appetizers to make up for the uni being sold out. So nice!

Totally unnecessary, but I have to say it was the kind of move that will make me not only return to Red Gravy, but recommend it to others.

Oh, and then the meal began to arrive. It was delicious, from Meatballs with Soft Polenta to Cavatelli with Corn, Pancetta and Tarragon. The steak was also superb.

But, wait -- where was the eggplant? We called over our waiter to ask and he went to the kitchen to check. Within moments he returned with a look of dismay, telling us that he had forgotten to put the eggplant order in. Giggling at the ongoing comedy of errors, we told him not to worry about it. It happens and we were more than fine!

And yet, a few minutes later the manager came up to the table, eggplant in hand to say this too was on the house.

Wow! Really, really nice!

Then the team at Red Gravy gilded the lilly at dessert, giving us an additional sweet and a round of dessert wine to boot.

All of this didn't just confirm my resolve to return and recommend the restaurant, but now I was inspired to write a blog post too.

Impressive to say the least. A bunch of missteps turned into a gigantic hospitality win. Needless to say, I hope all goes smoothly the next time I go to Red Gravy. But, if it doesn't, I know I'll be in good hands.

Breakfast in Ireland

Growing up, Mama Vamp always let me know that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. As an adult (of sorts), I've morphed that advice into a quick coffee before 9am. If I'm truly peckish, I might throw a banana or a scoop of cottage cheese into my morning routine. But, during my recent trip to Cork County, Ireland I realized that the "ish" in Jewish mama and Irish mum most certainly align at breakfast time. And with food this good, who was I to argue?

Start with strong pot of fragrant Irish Breakfast Tea and you're well on your way. Then there are eggs. But these eggs are farm fresh with deep golden yolks that make you want to say "top o' the mornin' to yah" in a totally unironic way. Of course there is also sausage, plenty of links, black pudding and white pudding too. And then there are sauteed mushrooms and roasted tomatoes.

That's just the beginning.

Did I mention the bread? We're not just talking white toast. That's available, but there are also buttery scones and slices of dark brown bread pebbled with oatmeal goodness. And to put atop? Fresh, melt-in-your-mouth, just-churned butter. (No freakin' wonder there is an actual Butter Museum in downtown Cork!)

Care for some cheese? Of course you do! Try some Cork County specialties like Oak-Smoked Gubeen, Cashel Blue and Glebe Brethan. Or how about some Cahill's Porter Cheddar from nearby Limerick? It combines sharp, tangy cheese with Irish porter to a lovely marbled effect.

There are also gorgeous slender slices of Irish smoked salmon at-the-ready. And, homemade jams and compotes starring fresh-picked rhubarb, blueberries or apricots are also on the table. Mix them with some creamery yogurt for a touch of dessert at the end of the meal.

Thankfully, the trip was only four days long. I'm back to my coffee and banana regimen, but every once in a while I dream of farmyard eggs and cheese graced by sweet, dark beer.

Clearly, the breakfast of champions.