VittlesVamp

Is Frank Bruni On Crack Cocaine?

I was going to be quiet about the whole ordeal.

No - not agitation over the Times' announcement that Bruni is leaving his food critic post in August. Quite the opposite.

You may have noticed that I didn't write about my final dinner in Napa. I did so on purpose. It was a dismal experience. Unexpected to say the least. Especially because Frank Bruni had declared the restaurant of choice -- Ubuntu -- to be the second best new restaurant in the U.S. outside of New York City.

I would have remained silent, if this Sunday's New York Times Magazine hadn't suddenly regaled it once again, this time in a Spaghetti Primavera Recipe Redux.

So, I am silent no longer and here is the tale that must be told...

We were on a gal's getaway weekend in Napa. We were excited. NYT Food Critic Frank Bruni had extolled this gourmet restaurant-slash-yoga studio. It sounded all sorts of California crunchy-granola in a glorious straight-from-the-farm haute cuisine kind of way, and we'd nabbed a coveted 8 o'clock Saturday table for two.

But, after a pitiful repast at Ubuntu with my pal Karen -- a professional food writer at that -- our dream of a fabulous foodie weekend finale was dashed. Moreover, it was clear that something was terribly wrong with Bruni. Either his taste-buds had died somewhere between the tarmac at JFK and California wine country or he had a crack cocaine habit that he desperately needed kick.

Any which way, our meal was a disaster.

I should have know. The menu offered a salad composed of leaves, flowers, roots and hazelnut “soil.”

C'mon! HAZELNUT "SOIL?" The air quotes and biodynamic, downward-facing-dog pretension jumped off the page and onto the plate.

Luckily for us, not on our plate, but that of a neighboring couple. The waitress arrived with a dish containing what looked like a slice of suburban lawn and laid it down on the table with a flourish. The couple stared at the greenery dotted with nasturtium, then worked up the nerve to brave a taste -- after which they promptly plopped their forks down, never to lift them again.

The Artichoke Salad that Karen and I ordered seemed more appealing, but the app's flavorless and mushy main ingredient had us plopping down our forks as well.

The rest of the meal was equally regrettable. Even the restaurant's most famous dish, Cauliflower in Cast Iron Pot, was a textural mish-mash. And, although seasoned with a variety of Indian-influenced spices, we couldn't find a high-note among them.

It was sad. Very sad.

What made it sadder was the table to the other side of us, with ooh-ing and aah-ing patrons totally captivated by the restaurant's ethos, enraptured simply by the idea that a dish on the menu contained BOTH mint and coriander.

WOW!

I smirked. Karen's eyes rolled. Then the giggling began.

Clearly our time at Ubuntu had come to a close. We beckoned for the check and hit the streets -- unsurprisingly, in search of a late night burger.

Checking In & Checking It Out

And so the gal's weekend in California wine country began.

Karen and I made our way to the charming and historic Napa River Inn, where we delighted in our luxurious accomodations, the ample marble bathroom and the comfy beds outfitted with goosedown and such, and even the soft echoes of "choo-choo" emanating from the Napa Wine Train across the river. The only drawback? The room's working fireplace, which both made us regret that we were on a gal's weekend instead of a romantic escape.

Still, we made more than the best of it. Much more...

*Visiting Clos de Val for a wine tasting and oddly enchanting decanter demonstration involving a glass dreidel.

*Hitting a strip mall in Napa, only to find kickin' Memphis-style Baby Back Ribs and Painted Hills Brisket tucked in between the Target and Trader Joe's at the beloved barbecue joint BarbersQ.

*Being befuddled by the pirates "search for the booty" theme treasure hunt at Pine Ridge Winery for the Stag's Leap District Winegrowers Association V2V open tours.

*Tucking into a tender House-Cured Ham and Egg Salad Sandwich from the Oxbow Public Market charcuterie fave Fatted Calf (pictured below), while I pick up the latest issue of Meatpaper Magazine.

*Looking deeply into the mesmerizing gaze of a blue-eyed winemaker at Robert Sinskey Vineyards. Recognizing a wild flirt when we see one, Karen and I turning heel to focus on the winery's mesmerizing Abraxas, with hints of exotic spice and white nectarines.

*Being told we smelled wonderful by a busboy at dinner at the much-lauded Redd, where the Carnaroli Risotto with Maine Lobster and Truffle Oil was sublime, the Halibut with Sunchoke Ravioli ho-hum, and dessert of Strawberry Pain Perdu perfection.

*Realizing that we are being unwittingly followed by a burly blue-shirted gent and his Flamingo bedazzled wife, as we hopped from Stag's Leap Winery to Shafer to Regusci Winery, all the while enjoying the breathtaking vineyard views.

The finest vino experience during our stay? Not at a vineyard at all. Got you curious now, don't I? Stay tuned...

By The Bay In A New York Minute

My time in San Fran went by in a flash. Then again, I did only have a mere day and a half to log in before heading out the wine country.

Nonetheless, in between business and such, I did get a sampling of the city -- and a tail of the city too. As seen above, I was lucky enough to meet a royal figure at the Hotel Rex: a majestic, wrinkly pooch named Max. Quite the scamp with one soulful set of eyes, I almost ended up throwing him in my satchel and taking him with, but his Front Desk Manager owner kept too watchful an eye.

Guess I'll simply have to make do with my own Max back in Brooklyn. But it's not exactly like he inspires a petting session. A cocktail -- yes. A real tail -- no.

I also hit the Ferry Market Building and SFMOMA, but of course the real Bay Area bliss was to be had when I arrived at Zuni with my longtime pals Hi and Ho in tow.

I'm a sucker for classic comforts. A beginning of briny, sweet oysters and a shared Caesar Salad started us off well.

Then, of course, came the Chicken with Bread Salad.

It was delish.

That said (dare I say it?), I do think my riff on this bird is a bit better. Guess Hi and Ho have no choice now, but to visit me in New York for a taste test comparison.

Tripping In San Francisco

Heading to the airport soon for a quick trip to the Bay Area for business and pleasure.

Trying a new boutique hotel this time around. I'll be checking into the dapper Hotel Rex, chosen in part for its arty and literary sensibilities, which will happily allow for my continued observation of the hipster scene -- this time, that of the West Coast variety.

And, following my meetings and such, a wine-filled weekend is planned in Napa with the free-wheeling and fleet-footed Karen, of Argentina fame.

More when I return...Or if you're very good, perhaps I may post from the road from time to time too...

A Whale Of A Meal In D.C.

There's nothing like a meal in a suburban complex in the D.C. Metro area.

No. I'm not kidding.

Really.

Well, I could be. Just not this time. Why? Because I bypassed the Five Guys and Starbucks at the The Kentlands in Gaithersburg, Maryland and headed to a humble outpost of Moby Dick.

"For fish," you ask?

"No," I reply. "For Persian fare."

I'm not kidding.

I'm not only not kidding. I'm kvelling. Kvelling about a mammoth Lamb Kabob Sandwich, rolled in crispy, warm homemade flat-bread and stuffed with lettuce, tomato, onion and chunks of feta cheese with a creamy yogurt cucumber sauce on the side for dipping.

It wasn't a sandwich. It was a passport to Persepolis.

José Andrés can eat his heart out, cause next time I'm in the nation's capitol, I'm bypassing his dining establishments and heading straight to Moby Dick. Heck, I might even be tempted to try their sole testament to the sea: a lone Swordfish Kebab.

I like to think Herman Melville would approve.

Dumpling Disappointment

I'm spoiled. Very spoiled. I'm a spoiled princess. Spoiled rotten -- at least when it comes to dumplings. Most definitely when it comes to dumplings.

So, I couldn't help but pout a bit in the City of Brotherly Love when Mama Vamp and her pal Christina joined me at Philadelphia's new Chinatown hole-in-the-wall-du-jour Dim Sum Garden for middling Shanghai Soup Dumplings (pictured above). They weren't dreadful. They just weren't...weren't...good enough -- at least not good enough for a spoiled dumpling princess.

Once you've done Shanghai for real, I guess there's simply no going back. Or if you are going to attempt to do so, at least take the 7 train to Flushing. An Amtrak to Philly just won't do.

Beijing With The Pros

I'd been having a darn good time in Beijing. Still, the party didn't really get started until I put myself in the hands of professionals.

Get your minds out of the gutter!

I wasn't hiring out some Beijing boy toys!

Instead, I was paying for the privilege of having some gourmet guides show me around town -- guides from Hias Gourmet, an upscale boutique firm specializing in tourist and corporate culinary events and travel.

Goodness knows, I do love a good boutique, and Hias Gourmet was a winner all the way around.

First up, was a "Tea Safari" gastro-walking tour which introduced me to Jenny Yap, one of Hias' top gourmand guides. She lead me through Maliandao Street in the Xuanwu District, where I was able to visit a mind-boggling, multi-floor tea mall and spend time at an intimate, exclusive shop across the street sampling Pu'er and other fine teas under the direction of a young, but knowledgeable master of the leaf.

Jenny and I took to each other at once. And since I was the lone tourist on this particular gastro-walk, she indulged my lust for culinary exploration, following up our tea adventure with a trip to Beijing's trendy Houhai Lake area for dinner at a Hakkan gypsy restaurant. There, we ate Salt-Baked Shrimp, among other dishes, and talked world politics through the night.

Over debate about McCain and Obama -- and a few Tsingtaos to wash it all down -- Jenny promised that the next evening would be delightful as well. Luckily, I signed up for another Hias experience -- a foodie walking tour of the city's up-all-night Ghost Street with Hias Gourmet founder Adlyn Adam Teoh.

Even so, worry-wart that I am, I hedged my epicurean bets with an early evening trip to the Dong Hua Men Night Market, near my hotel. The market's red lanterns went on for blocks -- and so did the scent of rancid frying oil.

Ick!

And yet, I could understand the draw of the market's numerous stalls, chock-a-block with Chicken, Lamb and Beef Kabobs, Starfish for the eating, Glazed Strawberries and Lady Apples, frying Pork Dumplings, Steamed Buns Stuffed with Cumin-Dusted Lamb, Stinky Tofu, and bugs aplenty, all waiting to be downed by over-zealous tourists looking for a Zimmern-esque photo opp.

At any rate, I wasn't feeling particularly Zimmern-esque and I showed up on Ghost Street famished. Good thing too, because Adlyn knew the street all too well, and had been warned by Jenny that I was one for the real-deal experience.

Real-deal for Adelyn meant one thing: Spicy Duck Necks.

Cooked with pepper and spices and stewed in a low fire, Spicy Duck Necks had become a favorite guilty pleasure among Beijingers. No surprise, one bite of the peppery, tender flesh and I was hooked. I was gnawing my way through my third when Adlyn insisted we move down the street.

"Ghost Street," also called Guijie Street, she explained, is a major dining destination for Beijingers, sporting over 100 restaurant choices and hours that can stretch well past 4am. One of the most popular dining choices on the strip is Hot Pot, and Adlyn promised a genuine Hot Pot repast.

Yay! And if dipping thin slices of mutton and shrimp into a selection of earthy Mushroom, Chili Spice and mild Vegetable Broths wasn't enough of a good time, Adlyn also ordered up a platter of searingly hot and spicy Crawfish...

...which required plastic gloves in order to crack open their bright red shells to get to the sweet, chili-infused flesh.

We continued to meander and chatter until the early hours, at which point Adlyn insisted that I spend the next night -- my last night in Beijing -- in her company as well. She wanted to take me to her favorite foot massage spot in the city, followed by swank drinks and nibbles. She refused any argument.

I loved Adlyn.

Indeed, the next night she took me to an underground spa for the most blissful reflexology session of life. (If you want the name, you'll have to email me directly and prove that you deserve a similarly orgasmic, life-altering experience.)

We followed up our divine foot rubbing outing with a trip to another body part -- Face -- a luxurious Oriental dining oasis where the well-heeled enjoy top-notch cocktails and pan-Asian fare.

After our hour-and-a-half foot rubs, we certainly qualified as "well-heeled."

And, after a few cocktails and some goodies from the kitchen, I most certainly felt qualified for a few zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz's.

Adlyn ushered me into a taxi. I waved farewell, promising to stay in touch -- and hoping she'd let me return the favor by allowing me to show her the town in New York.

But, until then, it was time to say "bye-bye Beijing."

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Ducking In & Out Of Beijing

Arriving in Beijing, I did the typical tourist things. I spent a few hours touring the Forbidden City. I ventured outside the city to visit the Ming Tombs and the remote Mutianyu section of the Great Wall.

Beautiful. Awe-inspiring.

Even so, I know what my dear readers care about: How was the duck?

Don't worry. I didn't hit Beijing without tasting its most famous dish, Peking Duck. And, of course I hit one of the most lauded duck-dens in town -- Dadong -- to try an authentically glossy, dark brown, crisp-skinned quacker, sliced by a master and stuffed in wafer-thin pancakes with slivers of scallion and cucumber and a dab of hoisin sauce.

It wasn't the Great Wall, but awe-inspiring nonetheless.

That said, what really made me develop a taste for Beijing was one of those Louis Vuitton Soundwalk audio guides I'd mentioned earlier. This time, I had acclaimed Chinese actress Gong Li leading me through the labyrinth of a bustling hutong district near the Central Academy of Drama, where she had studied in her youth.

Weaving in and out of tiny alleyways, Gong Li lead me to a haunted bell tower and the homes of warring neighborhood pigeon trainers, acquainted me with local philosopher and poet Mr. Wu and cricket aficionado Mr. Kung, pointed out an old revered weeping willow tree and new cafes crammed with students, and directed me to a Muslim food stall, where I couldn't resist the aroma of frying vegetable fritters...

...purchasing a handful of these bite-sized treats for a single yuan. I popped them into my mouth as I continued to wander through the ancient quarter, passing colorful markets, the Air Force compound and the grounds of the Central Academy of Drama itself.

The tour concluded at a serene courtyard hutong restaurant called Source which specializes in Szechuan cuisine.

Glancing into the charming dining room, my stomach began to rumble and I immediately recognized that a few wee fritters didn't constitute lunch. So, I gave into Source's fixed lunch menu and quickly found myself enjoying a range of delicacies, including a spicy Pork Rib, tongue-numbing Dan Dan Noodles and flavorful Chicken with Straw Mushrooms Baked in Bamboo.

Staring out into the restaurant's peaceful garden, filled with pomegranate and date trees, listening to the sweet sounds of a bird singing, while sipping a cup of fragrant tea, I couldn't help but silently thank Gong Li, Louis Vuitton and whatever stroke of luck that had landed me there.

You rarely get moments quite like that in your life. And, they rarely come with kickin' Dan Dan Noodles to boot.

Venice With Dumplings

The water village of Xi'Tang was a dreamy maze of ancient canals, boats, stone facades, incense-perfumed temples, red lanterns, narrow alleyways and market stalls, packed with sights, sounds and scents that tantalized at every turn. From the wafting odor of an elderly woman frying up Stinky Tofu outside her doorway to the splashing rhythm of the garbage collection junk's oars to the vision of a local washing her laundry in the canal...

...the village beguiled. It wasn't exactly the "the Venice of the Orient," but it was picturesque and haunting all the same.

And, at my earnest behest, my guide agreed to let us stay in Xi'Tang for lunch, forgoing gloppy turistica Chinese-American fare on the road back to Shanghai for a more authentic meal at the Quiantang Hotel, where we dug into delicacies such as Fresh Waterchestnuts with Edamame...

Glistening Pork Shoulder Baked in Lotus Leaves...

...and a rich Duck Soup, chock full of tempting Duck Dumplings, bobbing chunks of ginger and the occasional duck foot or two...

Lunch was almost as exquisite as the scenery.

Almost.

March Of The Dumplings Continues

After an impressive introduction to Shanghai, I naturally expected to hit a few low points. Bizarrely enough though, they all happened in one day - the day I decided to book a day trip to Hangzhou, a popular tourist destination two hours from Shanghai.

The Gray Line tour company promised stops at Six Harmonies Pagoda, a local tea plantation and time to enjoy the grandeur of the fabled West Lake with its majestic causeway, gardens, pavilions and more. Sounds wonderful, right?

Not so much.

The tour guide clearly hated his job and the other two tourists booked on the tour -- an Israeli father and daughter team -- were an odd, complaining pair. Then, the stops on and off the van seemed to be more about the quick photo opp than actually learning about the place we were visiting. The only exception was the tea plantation (pictured above) which offered a respite complete with tea tasting and lovely scenery, but also included a hard sell from our "tea master" to buy, buy, buy.

Bye-bye.

Thankfully, things took a turn when I returned to Shanghai and Amelia booked us a table at one of the city's legendary restaurants, M on the Bund.

The name wasn't a lie. The lavish Art Deco dining room was most certainly on the Bund, as evidenced by the spectacular view from our roof terrace perch...

And if that wasn't yummy enough, there was the food...

This reinterpretation of Turkish Manti Dumplings wasn't exactly typical Chinese fare, but my plate of tender, plump babies stuffed with flavorful lamb and drizzled with jus and creme fraiche was a tasty treat nonetheless.

In fact, the whole dinner was a treat, from the vista to the food to the company. Now I just had to keep the momentum going.

I had another excursion planned for the next day. Could be cause for concern, but I had learned my lesson. No more Gray Line for me. Instead, at Amelia's insistence, I had agreed to fork over the yuan for a private driver and Ritz-Carlton-recommended guide in order to visit one of the famed water villages outside of Shanghai -- one not firmly planted on the tourist maps and most certainly not on any mainstream Gray Line tour.

Still, after the day's experiences I was nervous. Would Xi'tang simply be another disappointing photo opp or an authentic glimpse into China?

More to come, but until then, here's a sneak peek...