VittlesVamp

A Happy Meal in Curry Hill

Did you think I got my fill of Indian cuisine in India? Hell to the no!

Luckily for me, one of my clients is located in the middle of Manhattan's Curry Hill, allowing for easy access to top-notch Indian eats without the 20 hour flight. One of my fave menu picks? A lunchtime thali. What's "thali" you ask? Why it's a platter with numerous tastes of several different dishes - a prix fixe of sorts. You could even liken it to an Indian pu pu platter - or to my mind, the happiest of Happy Meals.

No decisions to be made. A wide array of flavors and textures. Well-priced. All in all, a winner lunch.

Still need to be convinced? Take a look at the thali above, from Pippali on East 27th Street.

I just can't imagine any all-you-can-eat Indian buffet being as soul satisfying. To be sure, it is a feast for the stomach. But, it is also a feast for the eyes.

Let me know if you're game to try one. If so, I'm all in on a thali lunch date!

My Go To's: Noodle Pudding

It's taken a while for me to write a proper post about my all-time favorite neighborhood Italian go-to. Why? My excuse has always been that I can never get a good photo of the food at dinner. Just too dark. But really, I might just have wanted to keep the place to myself.

Well, the latter has been shot to hell. A lot of people are "in the know" about Brooklyn Heights' Noodle Pudding. That's right: Noodle Pudding. Horrible name for an Italian restaurant - a direct translation of owner Tony Migliaccio's last name. But, oh, what a fantastic neighborhood spot! So good that people line up to wait for a table, despite its cash-only policy and low-key vibe.

Everything is fresh. Seriously fresh.

Vinnie's Montauk Bass on the menu? It was likely brought into the restaurant by Vinnie that morning, still flapping its gils.

The Tagliata, a dish of sliced "fresh meat" prime rib with rock salt and rosemary, accompanied by super crispy potatoes and thin green beans, is a carnivore's dream come true.

And, the pastas? Just take a gander of the snapshot above. Homemade Garganelli, served Cacio e Pepe-style with farm-fresh asparagus and a bright yellow egg yolk. The risottos are equally gorgeous.

Dessert isn't an afterthought either, with solid classics like Tiramisu at-the-ready. Still, I'm often content with a few slices of sweet watermelon from the kitchen. And, if nothing sweet from the kitchen appeals that evening, there is nothing wrong with an espresso and shot of Sambuca to finish off a classic Italian meal in the County of Kings.

But, to be clear, I have yet to be disappointed by anything that comes out of Tony's kitchen. Noodle Pudding's menu is ever-changing based on what's best at the market that day - and that unwavering commitment to quality is evident on the plate.

What doesn't change at Noodle Pudding, for the most part, is the staff. Tony keeps very good people. Great people. People I like to see behind the bar and table-side on a regular basis.

Oh, and he keeps a bevy of regular customers too. So, regular, that he put small brass plaques on the bar to mark out a couple of regulars' territory. (I know your next question. I'm there often, but I don't warrant a plaque!)

There. I did it. I wrote a post about Noodle Pudding. Don't think it'll land me plaque-qualifying status, but as long as I still can get a seat once in a while, I'll be just fine.

Welcoming Loretta To My Kitchen

Death reached my doorstep last week. My refrigerator died in an untimely fashion in the height of summer.

Aargh!

You don't know how good you have it until it's gone. And, my fridge and freezer was most certainly a goner. Hundreds of dollars of food needed to be tossed.

It was a sad day in my kitchen.

But, there was little time to mourn. As we all well-know from "The Lion King," the circle of life persists. A new refrigerator would be had.

I sought counsel from Consumer Reports and then placed an order for a LG French door unit that arrived late Friday. And, as the delivery team gently put the new refrigerator into place, I had an epiphany.

I had failed my previous fridge. It was a warhorse in my home, and yet I hadn't given it the love and admiration it deserved.

Things had been so different with another major kitchen appliance: my trusty dishwasher. Within moments of it entering my home, I was besotted and immediately decided that a name was called for. What name? Sven. Seriously. I like thinking that Sven is my buff manservant, at-the-ready, with dish cleaning expertise. Five course dinner party for six? Clean-up isn't a worry. "Make it all clean for me, Sven!," I cry out. And, he does.

It's a great relationship - and one, I suddenly realized, that had been going for about a decade.

Now, I need to make the same kind of commitment to the newest appliance in my home. So, please meet Loretta. She is beautiful and tough - and can be cold as ice when she needs to be (which is always).

She is going to fit in around here just fine!

The Importance of Eating Oysters

Only a few years ago, freshly shucked oysters were a rarity on New York City menus. Platters of uncooked bivalves were solely the purview of seafood specialists like the Grand Central Oyster Bar or Soho's Aquagrill.

No more.

Oyster happy hours are everywhere in these days, and I am delighted by the trend. I never tire of oysters. There are so many kinds to enjoy and they have such evocative names -- from Moonstone to Malpeque and Belon to Beau Soliel. Slurping down a half-dozen sweet or salty beauties is a joyful endeavor. It's like a brief seaside trip without getting sand where it doesn't belong.

I'm partial to West Coast lovelies like Kumamotos, but I can be taken by a plump East Coaster as well. All depends on the mood -- the mood and the mignonette.

And, is it true about oysters putting you in the mood for love?

Depends on my mood, the mignonette, the Moonstones, the Malpeques, and the man in question.

Garden & Gun & Good Eating

Visitors to my Brooklyn apartment are typically treated to a healthy dose of hospitality. Often that comes with a shaken or stirred cocktail, nibbles aplenty, and once in a while it arrives with a flurry of coursed out dishes meant to tempt, soothe, and delight.

And, typically, new visitors to my home are not only struck by the hospitality at Chez Vamp, but are also taken by a collection of magazines on my coffee table -- a pile of Garden & Gun issues that sport cover photos of hunting dogs, Southern beach scenes, and mouthwatering food and drink from below the Mason-Dixon line.

What is a nice gal in New York City doing with a subscription to a magazine called -- of all things -- Garden & Gun?

Did you not just read the earlier sentence about the dogs, beaches, and food?!?

This is a magazine about the modern South -- but a bit mythologized and curated by design. From tales of roadtriping and partying from New Orleans-based author Julia Reed to an essay of a bad dog gone good by non-fiction writer S. C. Gwynne to thoughts on Mardi Gras and the importance of bees from literary legend and humorist Roy Blount Jr, the writing is top-notch.

Plus, a wealth of insights on Southern travel, books, music, and more.

And, then there are the photos. Lush. Sly. Transporting.

Oh, and did I mention the recipes?

More than once, the magazine has inspired me to whip up a bit of Dixie. Most recently, I tried my hand at making James Beard Award winning cookbook author Virginia Willis' cast-iron skillet Blueberry Cobbler (pictured above).

It was divine. Are you surprised?

I anticipate that my kitchen will be taking many a "trip down South" this summer, compliments of recipes and inspiration from Garden & Gun. If you're lucky, you'll get an invite to my table.

Word to the wise though: don't mock the mag. It might not be the hand that feeds you, but it's certainly feeding this home cook's imagination.

Take a Dip

It's getting warm out there. It's time for rooftops, chilled rosé, and a cool dip. And, yes, you know I'm referring to the foodstuff rather than a dip in the pool -- not that I couldn't go for both.

The dip pictured above is of the layered variety, Spanish escalivada -- basically, a blend of smokey grilled eggplant, red bell peppers and onions -- spooned over labne, and showered with a mixture of bright green herbs. I'm a big fan of labne, in all its thick yogurty tartness, serving as a rich first layer, supporting anything from a green olive tapenade to toasted walnuts with pomegranate seeds and fresh dill.

And then there are the Greeks. Yup, we're talking taramasalata packed with roe, garlicky skordalia, and creamy tzatziki. Hummus and baba ganoush, classics that need no introduction, straddle Greece and the Middle East in their dippable glory.

Then, of course, we have the all-Americans -- spinach dip and onion dip -- which are perennial winners.

And, what will I be dipping into this summer? Will give that a think -- an likely share some recipes along the way.

Toasting in Sonoma

I went to Sonoma. I had wine. I had a lot of wine. Yet, my most memorable toast didn't include the clinking of glasses. It was literally just, well, toast.

I was on kitchen duty at the elegant farmhouse we rented. What was I to make for breakfast among the vines and olive groves? Toast was on the morning menu.

Of course, Avocado Toast was a must-do, dusted with cumin and topped with a sunny-side egg, oozing bright sunshine yellow across the plate. But, I think the Ricotta Toast was my fave. Pictured above, I slathered the grilled sourdough slices with fresh, soft ricotta cheese, sprinkled on some fleur de sel, black pepper, and orange zest, and then finished it off with a drizzle of honey.

Come to think of it, maybe we should have raised our mugs of coffee to toast the toast.

Will have to remember to do that the next time I'm whipping up Ricotta Toast in Sonoma. (And you know there will be a next time!)

Eating in India

You are expecting me to regale you with tales of an Indian wedding feast in Bangalore. Sorry to disappoint, but my friends' "Big Indian Wedding" is a blur of joyful color, laughter, and love -- and food was only a small part of the spectacle.

Instead, what stuck with me on the culinary front in Bangalore were glimpses of market vendors down a winding path, and the image of a smiling young boy selling all manner of crisps in a small storefront in a busy commercial zone...

And, the meal that haunts me still was had on the veranda of a beach house in Goa. It was breakfast among friends post-wedding. It consisted of a bright yellow curry of potatoes and peas, coconut chutney, and freshly made Poori bread that surely is the food of the gods...

All at once hot, puffy, airy, and rich, we couldn't get enough. Layer the golden, poofed beauties with a bit of the potato and chutney -- toss an egg on for good measure -- and roll it up to make a newfangled, irresistible Indian breakfast taco. Some were even more sacrilege, slathering Nutella and slicing bananas atop.

And, the Poori kept coming.

And, we kept eating -- eating until there was no more.

It certainly didn't make for a traditional Goan start to the day, but it was the most giddy, glorious breakfast I can recall. Isn't that what a meal with friends should be?

Foodgasm in Bangkok - Pt. 2

What's better than going to a world-renowned food market in Bangkok?

Going to said market with a local chef by your side.

Luckily, my hotel was keen on making my foodie dreams come true and the Lebua's Thai Chef de Cuisine Prayong Khundongling graciously escorted me to Or Tor Kor Market, guiding me through colorful aisles filled with pristine produce, dried fish and seafood piled high like jewels, bags of every type of rice imaginable...

...stalls packed with mangosteens and Thai rose apples, bottles of freshly pressed sugarcane juice, tray after tray of just-laid and pink preserved eggs...

...whole roasted ducks and chickens, bowls overflowing with dried chili peppers, and enough platters of Thai specialities to keep anyone happily grazing for days...

And, as if that wasn't enough to get my foodie on, Chef Khundongling whisked me away from the market and back to the hotel kitchen to teach me how to make a few regional dishes, including Gaeng Kiew Wan Khae (Thai Green Curry with Lamb), and Yam-Sam O (Pomelo Salad with Prawns)...

It made for a swoon-worthy lunch.

I followed that up with an all-important local tradition - Thai massage.

Two-hours of brilliant stretching and pummeling later and I was ready for another hard-hitting session of relaxing by the pool with a G&T in hand.

And, after all that, a final dinner in Bangkok meant hailing a cab and heading over to one of the most popular restaurants in town - Issaya Siamese Club. Just off a small side street, the restaurant is the flagship of famed Thai chef, cookbook author, and TV personality Ian Kittichai. Hidden from view until you walk through its gates, Issaya ushers guests through a lush garden, onto a magical terrace, and into an exquisite dining room brimming with tropical flowers and a mix of Thai and Moroccan antiques.

Oh, and then there's the meal. What a meal!

A blur of beautiful plating, intoxicating aromas, and intense flavors, I had a hard time not moaning at my table, especially when tucking into dishes such as a fork-tender Australian Veal Cheek Simmered in House Blended Spices, served with a generous drizzling of coconut milk and kaffir lime leaves.

Okay, I may have moaned a little. And, yes, it might have gotten me a bit of attention.

But, at least some of that attention was from Chef Kittichai himself, just returned from snagging number 21 at the 2017 Awards for the Top 50 Restaurants in Asia. He was utterly charming and I was delighted to thank him for such an amazing dinner. He smiled and thought it wise to send me off with a special opportunity to continue my Bangkok foodgasm at home...

...presenting me with a signed copy of his Issaya Siamese Club Cookbook.

So, I may be back in Brooklyn, but New York has plenty of Thai groceries available, and I'm armed with some mighty fine recipes.

There's no reason for this foodgasm to stop now - or ever.

Foodgasm in Bangkok - Pt. 1

I had expected to be taken with Bangkok, but I think Bangkok might have taken me. And, it all started with this view - from my hotel suite.

Wow.

The city skyline from the 54th floor of the Lebua Tower Club. I was on the balcony, gazing out in amazement at the never-ending sea of skyscrapers, when there suddenly was a loud "Bzzzz..."

I opened the front door and in an elegant whoosh a gentleman laid out a complimentary box of gourmet chocolates and...

...a welcoming platter of perfectly ripe fruit. And, with another whoosh, the gentleman was gone.

Oh, yes, I was in the right place.

There was just enough time for a late afternoon dip in the pool and a G&T before heading out to dinner to Thong Lor district's Soul Food Mahanakorn.

I'd heard good things. They weren't nearly good enough.

My appetizer of Southern Thai Samosas was sublime, crackling crisp springroll wrappers tightly wound into triangles around spice-tinged lamb. One dunk into the mint-yogurt dip alongside and I was a goner. Then there was the Crab and Lemongrass Curry with Rice Noodles, a small bowl of incredibly fragrant, spicy crab curry stew. I gleefully spooned in rice vermicelli noodles to sop up every last drop.

Now, those were just my first few foodie hours in Bangkok.

Once firmly ensconced in my sweet hotel suite post-dinner, I happily drifted off to sleep, ready to take on the city in full-fledged tourist mode in the morning.

Little did I know that food-focused adventures awaited me well before 8am, starting with a train stop streetfood stall...

Yeah, we're talking about Spicy Papaya Salad expertly made only a few short feet from the railroad tracks. And, there were juicy, marinated Pork Skewers too.

My kind of breakfast!

And, then I got onto a train - one bound and determined to drive us right through a bustling food market...

Yes, took that picture from aboard the choo-choo, watching the vendors at the Maeklong Railway Market quickly pull back their awnings and edible wares as the train pulled in, along with a thousand tourists snapping photos to catch the action.

Walking through the market post-choo-choo, I bought some sliced pomelo for the road, as I headed to another famous Bangkok market - this one on water...

Bangkok's Floating Market is every bit as crowded and touristy as you might expect. Still, I was able to get my hands on a bowl of heady chicken broth with homemade noodles that had me slurping joyfully as I was paddled through the canals...

The day was far from over. I took in other awe-worthy sights, including the glittering Grand Palace and epic Wat Pho temples.

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was nearly too exhausted to check out Lebua's famous Sky Bar.

Nearly.

Thankfully, I rallied and made my way to the 64th floor open air rooftop lounge.

Greeted with a panoramic view of the city, twinkling at night, jazz playing in the background, how could I resist the pull of the rooftop's Perrier-Jouet champagne bar Flute? I couldn't. I didn't. It is the highest al fresco champagne in the world. I had no choice. Vintage champagne was happening. Happening big time.

Toddling back to my room, I realized that I wasn't going to get back out into the city for dinner. Perhaps I'd been a bit too "big time" with the champagne. No need to worry though. An order of exquisite Pad Thai from room service did the trick and I soon hit the hay, catching some much-needed zzz's.

Had to be well-rested. Tomorrow morning, Bangkok's legendary Or Tor Kor Market was on the menu...

The Fruit Wars of Kuala Lumpur

Breathtakingly beautiful. Looking up at the Batu Caves, Kuala Lumpur's legendary Hindu shrine, I was overwhelmed by its otherworldiness.

And, then I looked down and across the sun-drenched plaza and got very, very thirsty...

Oh, yes. This is how coconut water was meant to be had. No bottles needed here. Just the real stuff, straight from the source.

And, later visiting one of the city's bustling wet markets, it was clear that a great deal of gorgeous Malaysian produce is at-the-ready.

Coconuts and pineapples are plentiful. I even spotted dragonfruit at a local supermarket. Yet, I couldn't help but notice that the locals were obsessed with one fruit alone - the stinkiest fruit on the planet.

We're talking about durian. I have friends who rhapsodize about this custardy, pungent fruit. They're not alone. I saw durian candies, durian coffee, durian cookies, and durian chips crowding Kuala Lumpur market shelves. Elsewhere I spied durian tea, durian cakes, durian mochi, and durian ice cream. And, that's just scratching the surface of the country's durian fixation.

I just can't do it. I've tried. I've really tried. But, it's just too freakin' noxious for me. (Let's remember, that many local hotels - including the one I stayed at - forbid guests to bring durian to their rooms, lest the stench pervade the premises.)

So, I stuck with the coconut in all its many delicious forms. I not only rejoiced in drinking its water and spooning out its tender white flesh, but also enjoyed its milky essence in the beloved national dish - Nasi Lemak.

This stupendous plate of rice, chicken, sambal chili, hard-boiled egg, cucumbers, peanuts, and dried anchovies is the product of Village Park, a place celebrated for its genius Nasi Lemak. I've already found a recipe which is reported to replicate their shatteringly crisp and spicy fried chicken, but I need to figure out how to make the dish's signature coconut and Pandan-scented rice at home. I think freshly squeezed coconut milk is one of the primary ingredients.

So, we're back to coconut once again. I realize that I'm outnumbered by durian lovers when it comes to Malaysia. Even so, I'll stick with the preferred tastes of this particular Malaysian...

I really think he's got something there. Mind you, he's also got something caught in his teeth. But at least that "something" is a bit of coconut goodness. No durian in sight.

I'm with the wild monkey on this one.

Getting My Bollywood On!

Last leg of the trip includes a wedding Bangalore and beach respite in Goa. And, I would imagine that some Indian eats will be had. Only rule: No tap water. Going bottled all the way. Now let's see if I remember to brush my teeth with the stuff and say "no ice" in the Southern Indian sun! If not, I promise no pictures.