VittlesVamp

Having A Ball - And Not Of The Meat Variety

Promise that this will be my last spherical-theme post for a while, but these babies warrant a shout out.

Crisp on the outside, tender and creamy within, Arancini Bros. knows their balls -- their rice balls, that is. A tempting treat at Brooklyn's DeKalb Market, the one at the back was infused with pesto, sporting a center of bright cherry tomato and an oozing of Mozzarella. Up front, the soft arborio rice had been cooked with deep yellow saffron and its middle was graced with a zesty meat ragu with peas.

So, I guess the headline isn't completely accurate.

Accurate, schmaccurate.

These lovelies were divine! My recommendation: Run out and get a pair!

I Fell In Love With A Jerk

Tried something new this weekend when I met up with Mama Vamp in Philadelphia. Instead of checking out the latest and greatest restaurants to make the scene in The City of Brotherly Love, we took to the streets. And, boy howdy, am I glad we did.

I have beloved recollections from my college days at Penn of filling up on fantastic street food. The grub was good, fresh, cheap and piled high enough in white styrofoam shells to account for both lunch and dinner.

After volunteering with the folks at the Vendy Awards last fall, I was surely overdue for a visit to University City to embrace the street food of my youth.

Still, intentions aside, we didn't get that far. In fact we didn't make it much past 30th Street, where we sidled up to an alluring pastel pink truck called Denise's, which had won raves online for its Caribbean-styled Soul Food that promised to satisfy.

Let me just say here and now -- it did a heck of a lot more than simply satisfy. Denise's Jerk Chicken was so good it made me want to slap my Mama...

Well, not literally. Mama Vamp has a mean left hook.

But still, this moist, kickin' Jerk Chicken was a marvel. The side of Rice and Beans was divine. Dang, even the freakin' Cabbage was fabulous, sweet and wilted to toothsome perfection. (Yes, that's right! I'm raving about Cabbage!)

Needless to say, I think I'll be spending more time on the streets when I visit Philadelphia. Call me a "streetwalker," if you will, but you best remember that I've inherited that mean left hook from Mama Vamp. Better to just mind your manners and pass me some more of that Jerk.

Keep On Truckin'

First Calexico jumped the cart and hit Court Street in Carroll Gardens.

Then Dessert Truck decided to go all "brick-and-mortar" on the Lower East Side.

Now word is that Van Leeuwen Ice Cream is going to have a storefront in Greenpoint.

Taking the trend West coast, Kogi Korean Taco Truck legend Chef Roy Choi is heading indoors as well, despite LA's temperate clime.

Still, there is something undeniably tempting about street food. Moving to a four walls and a roof situation just doesn't have the same vibe. And, no matter how many street meat operations go restaurant, I firmly believe that dining al fresco from well-wheeled vendors is here to stay.

If you agree, sign up as a Vendy Awards Facebook fan and start following their Twitter feed for good measure too.

After all, the Vendy Awards have been called "the Oscars of the street food scene" here in New York. Now, if only this year's event included a red carpet entrance! (Made of ketchup or Sriracha chili paste perhaps?)

Vendy Adventure - Part 2

Have you been watching your computer screen with bated breath wondering if I was able to secure the necessary serving trays for the Vendy VIP tables?

How could you doubt your Vamp? Of course I did! And, when I returned to the Queens Museum of Art with Mr. Dan, the trucks began to offer Vendy volunteers and board members some early tastings, starting with the gloriously, sweet and decadent Belgian offerings of Wafels & Dinges. As pictured above, it is a dessert to be reckoned with.

The rest of the fare ranged from Cravings' Taiwanese grub...

...to the spicy chow from Jamaican Dutchy...

...to the crack-cocaine allure of Schnitzel & Things, deep-fried, crispy Schnitzel...

The "Things" were tasty too.

No surprise, but dinner was a big "no" when I got home.

Vendy Adventure - Part 1

Having joined the Vendy Awards planning committee several months ago, I had anxiously looked forward to the "big day." The day when a bevy of popular New York City street vendors would descend upon Flushing at the Queens Museum of Art, the Unisphere ominously in the background, awaiting a crowd of street-meat fans and a collection of glittering judges (sadly, not actually wearing glitter).

Well, yesterday, the "big day" finally arrived with the sound of my alarm going off at 5:30am. Ugh. I am not a morning person. But in the name of the Vendy Awards and the charitable organization they celebrate and support - the Street Vendor Project - which provides vendors with legal representation and much more, I arose.

Hitting Manhattan's Ceci-Cela for early a.m. croissant and coffee for the team with my murse-wearing pal Kyle, we soon ventured forth to Queens en masse in a high-stylin' van. Still, I could hear my bed calling my name all the way from Brooklyn. Hmmm. Maybe I could nap during the trip. Zzzzzz...

Once we parked at the museum, the caffeine started to kick in. Within minutes, we were put to work and then the beloved trucks and carts started pulling in one by one, like debutantes arriving at the ball. It was an amazing sight to see, from spying the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck getting all gay-ed up (see above) to gazing at the unstoppable smile belonging to Freddy, the King of Falafel, as he set up his station (see below).

And then, there was a crisis. The party rental company had dropped off the tents, tables and chairs with no problem, but had forgotten about the all-important serving trays for the Vendy's first-ever VIP table service guests. Unfortunately, the folks at the Queens Museum of Art didn't have trays to lend and they categorically refused to let us rip the priceless canvasses from the wall to create makeshift ones.

What's a Vamp to do? OMG! I suddenly realized that the museum is located in Flushing, and Flushing means only one thing to a Vamp -- CHINATOWN. Surely, there we could find a kitchen supply spot with ample wares and the necessary trays could be purchased lickety-split. I quickly corralled the amiable Dan, another committee member, to join me on the hunt. Why Dan? He had wheels and an ulterior motive: he desperately needed coffee.

We headed to the parking lot, stopped along the way by our main museum rep, who suggested we hit the nearby Western Beef instead of going farther afield. So, we did.

There were no trays there, but joyfully for Dan, this Western Beef outpost laid claim to another outdoor eating favorite, brethren of food carts and trucks -- the food stand.

He finally had his shot of caffeine. But, before we ambled back to the car and headed to Chinatown, we spotted a sign that assured us that all would go well on our quest.

It wasn't exactly a thumbs up or anything, but I decided it was good luck nonetheless.

Booze In The Backyard, Tacos Off A Truck & A Quasi-Celeb Sighting In Queens

A visit to Queens had been on my "to-do" list for a while. My friend Jenn lives in the Woodside section and insisted that I paid call for an evening that would span the globe from Ireland to Mexico in mere blocks.

Her tour didn't disappoint. A bit o' the Irish was found in the backyard of a friendly pub called Gaslight Bar. We didn't get very lit there, but definitely lit enough to ramble down Queens Boulevard and onto Roosevelt Avenue chattering away with bad Irish brogues.

Then I saw it.

A sight that made my eyes pop and my mouth water: a bonafide taco truck. And, from the smells radiating from the small vehicle and the Mexican patrons lining up for evening repast this seemed like a chowhound experience not to be missed.

I ordered up a Carnitas Taco and the woman by the grill set to work.

Within minutes it appeared.

Within seconds it was gone.

The tortilla was warm from the grill, emanating the seductive aroma of maize. The meat was well-seasoned and slightly chewy. The diced onions and bright green of the cilantro gave the dish some necessary zest. The green salsa was pretty darn good too.

Mmmm...

To think, dinner was yet to come!

We walked a couple more blocks and grabbed a seat at the itty, bitty neighborhood fave La Flor, where a bizarre mix of Mexican and Continental fare greeted us on the menu. But there was no going back to Continental after that truck taco.

Mexican was the plan. Mexican was ordered.

Then I saw him.

A sight that made my eyes pop and my face twist in confusion.

There, sitting at a long table filled with garrulous men decked out in various modes of stylish dress was the New York gossip icon himself - Michael Musto.

I didn't think La Dolce ever left the isle of Manhattan, let alone would venture to a common-place outer-borough establishment like La Flor.

Yet, there he was.

Hmmm...

Did this mean I was in a certifiable "it" hot spot?

One bite into the kitchen's Chicken Enchiladas, drowned in mole sauce and I knew the answer was no.

On the other hand, the Flan was fantastic and Musto and company did seem to be having a fabulous time.

Guess another trip to Queens will be in order this summer.

I'm hoping to spy Perez Hilton next time around.

Taco Kisses

Last we left our intrepid Latin American food vendors at Red Hook's soccer fields, they were in danger of being forced out of the park by the city government.

Well, apparently, these fine makers of tacos, pupusas and ceviche are going to be allowed to return to Red Hook once more -- or six more as it were. According to the Associated Press:

The soccer tacos have been saved, after a monthslong fight pitting city regulation against a delicious tradition...

...The department previously threatened to effectively end the seasonal, decades-old culinary draw, which provided Latino New Yorkers a taste of home while they watched weekend soccer tournaments and offered the city's foodies a bite of authenticity.

"It's a family affair, not just for the vendors ... but also for our patrons," Cesar Fuentes, executive director of the Food Vendors Committee of Red Hook Park. "It's 33 years that we've been in that park. That means there are a couple of generations that have grown up eating there."

New Yorkers had organized a fierce campaign to "save the soccer tacos," located in a working-class neighborhood that has recently become a hub for gentrification and commercial development. The city's food bloggers religiously followed the vendors' plight, and the cause attracted high-profile supporters including New York Democrat Sen. Charles Schumer.

"The vendors have been at the vanguard of the Red Hook renaissance, and now they have another six years to continue their delectable work," Schumer said Monday in a statement.

Dim Sum & Dragonfruit

Venturing into Manhattan's Chinatown yesterday morning, I thought my appetite would be satisfied by the extravagant array of dim sum options at Jing Fong. That, however, was not to be the case.

Mind you, I'm not complaining about said dim summerie. Jing Fong had a mighty fine selection.

Carts clattered away through the dining room's maze of tables, each stacked high with steaming bamboo baskets encasing Sharks Fin Dumplings, Shu Mai, Sticky Rice in Lotus Leaves, Barbecued Pork Buns, Stewed Chicken Feet, Vegetable Dumplings, and so much more. Platters came forth with thick ribbons of rice noodle stuffed with sweet shrimp, which I happily sprinkled with salty soy sauce. Other plates featured braised chicken and veggies swaddled in a sheaths of chewy bean curd, and skewered beef complimented by sugary chunks of pineapple.

It was definitely a first-rate brunch-time feast.

But once I exited the restaurant and hit Chinatown's bustling sidewalks, I couldn't help but get caught up by the showmanship of the food stalls that lined the streets. Everything from fat chestnuts to fresh squid to clumps of longan berries to baby snow pea leaves were on display. My stomach might have been full, but my tastebuds were watering. Then I spotted them...

...the most bizarre fruit I'd ever seen. The Chinese produce seller explained that they were called dragonfruit -- and that their bright pink flesh would give way to a kiwi-like honey center. I had to try one!

And try I did, the second I got home. Considering the fruit's spiky green leaves, I thought the center would be green as well, but instead it was snow white, dotted with dark seeds galore.

Unfortunately, the dragonfruit's visual impact wasn't matched by its flavor. The texture was reminiscent of watermelon and the juicy center was slightly musky - but not terribly memorable.

In the end, I guess I would have been better off bypassing the dragonfruit altogether and going back to Jing Fong for another order of dumplings. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind going back there right now. Too bad dim sum is only available in the AM, and I have to work tomorrow morning. Guess I'll just have to wait until next weekend to get my dumpling fix. In the meantime though, I think I'll go out and rent Eat, Drink, Man, Woman to put me in the mood.

Fair Fatigue

I was hoping that the Atlantic Antic would shake me free of my street fair ennui...

Looks grand, doesn't it?

Not so much.

It was simply a never ending sea of beer swilling, Peruvian sweater buying, Mozzarepa eating Brooklynites. That, and middling food, uninspiring music and high prices. ($8 for a small plate of paella!?!? It was only $5 last year!)

To top it off, the festival organizers held the Atlantic Antic on Ramadan, so the luscious, juicy, Arabic spice-inflected gyros from the annual Oriental Pastry & Grocery stall weren't on-hand.

So all in all, the fair was feh.

And if the Antic couldn't pull me out of my street fair fatigue, nothing will. Then again, it could've turned around had Sammy and his tasty halal been on hand...

Street Fairs Take Over New York

It was an embarrassment of riches - street fair riches. I was torn in two yesterday, debating between events in Queens and Brooklyn. The Taste of Jackson Heights beckoned, as did the DUMBO Arts Festival and Cranberry Street Fair.

It was soon decided. A bi-borough street fair adventure was a "go."

Luckily for me, my street festival lovin' pal Ron offered the use of his convertible to shuttle us from fair to fair to fair. First on the list - Taste of Jackson Heights, where we joined Queen Celeste and her brood to indulge in ethnic goodies that ranged from searingly spicy vegetable samosas to Argentinian flaming sausages, doused in a sweet, seductive sauce of cognac and saffron oil.

After lapping up those delectable tidbits and more, Ron and I knew we had to hold on to a few precious food tickets. The organizers had secured a culinary coup, convincing Vendy Award-winning Pakastani food vendor Sammy's Halal to appear at the event. This was a "must-do."

The aromas that wafted off of Sammy's cart made our mouths water with anticipation. As we made our way to the head of the line, Sammy asked for our order. "Whatever you suggest," we replied. He winked and quickly scooped up a mound of fragrant rice, topping it with perfectly seared lamb and chicken, a bit of crisp lettuce, and then squirted a series of three mysterious sauces atop.

What the heck do you call this colorful mishmash? I had no idea. All I knew was that the juicy meats soaked up the spices and the grains of soft, tender rice gave my tongue intermittant relief from the sinus-clearing heat of Sammy's red hot sauce.

Yum!

Ron and I could see why taxi drivers double and triple-park to get a plate of Sammy's gold-standard halal.

Floating on a halal high, we suddenly remembered that we had two more festivals to hit, so we bid Queen Celeste and her gang adieu, passed the requisite sea of strollers at the festival's exit...

...put the top down on the car, and zipped back to Brooklyn for a taste of DUMBO's delights.

But DUMBO wasn't as delightful as year's past. Yes, there were a few pieces of notable art...

...but all in all, the festival seemed to lack energy and enthusiasm. Where were the outdoor food stalls, entertainingly original performance art installations and hipster throngs that I had come to know and love?

That said, the festival organizers did offer up a bizzare family attraction, in keeping with the district's Disney-fied name.

Yes, that's an elephant. Her name is Dondi. She drew oohs and aahs from the crowd as she used her massive trunk to paint modernist pictures. Apparently, she trained at the Elephant Art Academy. (No joke.)

After witnessing pacyderm painting, the wee Cranberry Street Fair paled in comparison. I couldn't even bring myself to snap a photo or two.

Maybe it was simply a case of street fair overload.

But, as the ever-wise Scarlett once said: "Tomorrow is another day!"

That "tomorrow" is today, and today plays host to the grand-daddy of Brooklyn street fairs, The Atlantic Antic. So, I will grab my camera, tastebuds and sense of adventure -- and report back shortly on how the fair fares.