VittlesVamp

France's Choice

Nope. Not talking about France's recent Presidential election.

I am talking about dessert.

As an American, the image above -- a perfectly made Paris-Brest from a dinner in Paris (yes, I went back yet again) -- epitomizes the notion of a French dessert. This wasn't just a notion though. This drop-dead gorgeous pastry rightly finished off a magnificent bistro supper at Chez Michel in the 10th Arrondissement.

But, dessert in France isn't always of a sweet nature. In fact, it is often crumbly and funky. Or sometimes it is smooth and buttery...

Yes, fromage. Add some good honey and toasted nuts and, well, hello! In France, cheese might as well be a religion. And, I think I would be happy praying to a perfectly ripe Saint Marcellin or Bleu d'Auvergne.

In this case, I did not make a choice when it came to closing out the meal. My dinner companion and I did both.

Both is a choice too though, isn't it?

The Best Apple Pie In Amsterdam

It had been nearly a decade since I'd been to Amsterdam.

And, ever since I took that trip I'd a soft spot in my heart for the Apple Pie at Winkel 43. It's often regaled as the best in the city. I even searched for their recipe to make it at home, but ended up deciding it was too much work. Better to fly to Amsterdam for another slice, yes?

Well, after my latest trip to the Dutch capital, there is a new Apple Pie champion that owns that soft spot in my heart - Cafe t'Papeneiland. See that photo above? How can anyone resist it?

Need a closer look? Allow me...

Oh, hot damn.

Literally - hot Dam!

And, if that isn't enough to get you to hightail it over to this 17th Century cafe, let me tell you that the place is cozy beyond measure. Chock-a-block with Delft antiquities, this Dutch "brown bar" embraces you the second you walk through the door.

Need a closer look? Allow me...

Now, if that isn't enough, there is also an historic tale of religious freedom and secret tunnel to go with.

But, in all honesty, the Apple Pie should be quite enough to get you to pay call. More than enough.

Wonder if I can find the recipe...Or maybe I'll just need to wing it back to Amsterdam for another slice, yes?

It's All Greek To Me

Didn't keep my passport tucked away for long after that trip to Rome and Paris. A few weeks later I packed up my bags and flew across the Atlantic once more - this time to Athens.

For years I had heard dreadful tales of the Greek capital. It's grimy. It's ugly. Just see the Acropolis and then quickly get to an island!

But then a few folks whom I trust started telling me a very different tale. One about a burgeoning arts scene and a rising culinary mecca.

Clearly, I had to check it out for myself.

My verdict? Those "few folks that I trust"? After my visit to Athens, I most definitely still trust them.

I know you aren't here to get details on a Rebetika concert that inspired grown women with high heels to link arms and start dancing, the offbeat Greek fashion spied in boutique windows, or the glorious art and antiquities that were on view in museums, galleries and even flea markets. You're here for the food and drink. In Athens, there was plenty.

Bear witness to the photo above. That was a cocktail hour meze repast at Dexameni, a small cafe with outdoor seating at the foot of Lycabettus Hill.

For breakfast? How about Greece's version of a bagel?

This beauty was had in the Psirri neighborhood at a 24/7 bakery called To Koulouri tou Psyri.

Really hungry? How about a pile of freshly grilled lamb chops?

Yaaaaassss! This platter of thinly sliced chops was enjoyed in the garden of a popular family-run paidakia named To Steki Tou Ilia. Those babies were delicious!

And, how about something a little healthy? Don't worry, alongside fresh feta cheese galore, there were vibrant veggies to be had...

Then, of course, you need to off-set all that veg goodness with something sweet. Athens delivered...

This warm, out-of-the-oven slice of Bougatsa Cream Pie from Bougatsadiko Thessaloniki, was eyes-roll-back-into-your-head-time. Seriously. If this place was near my apartment in Brooklyn, it'd be a problem. Thankfully, it is all the way in Greece and is a memory for now and a must-do the next time I return to Athens.

And, I will return to Athens!

Apero Hour Hits Paris

For those of you who aren't aware, not only did I fall down the pandemic rabbit hole of tuning in 6 days a week to watch cookbook author and former pastry chef David Lebovitz shake and stir up Instagram Live "Apero Hours" for several months - but I took it one step further. (Are you surprised? I think not.)

When Paris reopened from lockdown in late May 2020, David Lebovitz declared that he was putting an end to the regular "Apero Hour" series. I understood completely. But was still upset - not just about losing my daily fix of David himself, but because of the others that I had met virtually in the chat box.

Odd to think you can "meet" people in a chat box, but somehow we managed!

Well, when he declared that "Apero Hour" was coming to an end, I suddenly typed up an "Oh, no! We're going to need to set up an IG hub to keep this group together!"

I said it. Now I had to do it. And so, it was done.

I recruited two other "Apero Hour" regulars to join me: one from Portland, Oregon - Heidi, known as @UncommonMuse on Instagram, and the other from Olso, Norway - Judah, known as @StreetofTrees on IG. For 15 months, the three of us each posted one photo a week and a thought starter or such to keep the conversation going.

And so, it went.

We finally decided to have our own "Apero Hour Fans" handle come to a close in September 2021, vowing we'd start it up again whenever the three contributors were able to get together - in Paris.

Just a few weeks ago, we made that happen. The photo above is from our very first lunch all together at Les Rubis in the 2nd ARR. That's a Duck Heart Brochette if you're curious. It was delicious. But, much more importantly, Heidi, Judah and I felt like peas in a pod. In this case, the pod was the City of Lights. More specifically it was Sentier and the incredible foodie wonderland that is Rue Montorgueil...

and Rue du Nil...

Yes, there was pastry...

And, we even left the neighborhood a few times to imbibe...

Quite memorably, the above drinks were sipped at Sister Midnight. Other gorgeous cocktails were had at CopperBay, while bubbly Vouvray Brut was enjoyed at Le Bon Georges.

The pièce de résistance? It happened here...

A trip to Belleville to go to the much-lauded Combat bar. There, we raised a glass (okay, a couple of glasses!) with David Lebovitz and his husband Romain Pellas.

Yes, that's right. That's how we roll.

Tchin-tchin! And, considering the threat of variants still looms large, let me add a - Santé! - for good measure.

Mangiare e Bere a Roma Pt 2

In many ways I had two stays in Rome during my recent trip. First, I was the guest of my friend Tracy in Esquilino. Second, I absconded to a dreamy hotel - the Locarno - near Piazza del Popolo. Decorated in muted jewel tones with an air of the roaring twenties, the hotel made me feel transported. A perfectly made cappuccino in a sunny garden courtyard? That is a perfectly normal breakfast experience. Isabella Rossellini a few tables away? Par for the course at this magical spot.

The days whirled by with a mix of wandering Rome and working until dinnertime - conducting the latter from the Locarno's rooftop lounge.

Not too shabby, right?

And, yes, it is a perfect spot for a nibble. The kitchen wasn't serving upstairs one afternoon, so I took the opportunity to grab a Porchetta Sandwich for lunch and make a picnic of it, computer by my side.

Not a bad office lunch situation, right?

And, what did I do for a big finish? I nabbed a barstool at Il Marchese - a gorgeous bustling spot with a Michelin Bib accolade and an Amaro Bar with nearly 500 labels on offer. Needless to say, the cocktails were spot on...

So was the food - from a half portion of Carbonara to a luscious helping of Steak Tartare, dressed with the sunniest yellow egg yolks on the planet and thinly sliced, pink pickled onions...

And, for dessert? I did dip a spoon into a Pistachio Tiramisu, but the sweets after dessert were particularly sublime...

Così incredibile!

Mangiare e Bere a Roma Pt 1

So, that markets in Rome post was nice - but where is the rest?

I'm sorry to have made you wait. I promise it'll be worth it. Why? Because it was so damn good.

My first evening started with the clinking of glasses. The place? My friend Tracy led me to a spot for locals - Wine Art Di Tiziana Ciampetti E C.- where Tiziana herself presides over a minuscule shop bursting at the seams with bottles of wine. Makeshift tables and folding chairs take up the sidewalk by the store and Esquilino neighbors chatter, drink, and nibble away the evening. Tracy and I could have kept up with the crowd, but she had to run home for a late work event and I had to hightail it over to one of the hottest seats in town - a spot at a restaurant called Retrobottega.

Tracy had insisted that I go and embrace a whirlwind of elegant small plates accompanied by wine pairings. She was absolutely right. The tasting menu delivered a cavalcade of flavors and textures. Favorites included a dish of Sweetbreads with Cauliflower and a gorgeously lush helping of Tagliatelle with a Creamy Saffron-Chicken Ragu...

And, then there were the wines. Oh, yes...

That was a terrific way to cap off my arrival in Rome. And I still had five days to go! I filled them. I filled them with loads of chicories and other bitter greens...

I filled them with a second-hand shopping spree at Borghetto Flaminio Market. I also filled them with a visit to a seafood mecca known as Assunta Madre, where we dined on a sea creature that neither of us could identify...

I filled them with a trip to the "Brooklyn of Rome," a neighborhood called Testaccio, decked out with hipster boutiques and deceptively low-key exteriors to truly expensive apartment buildings. There was also lunch, a seafood lunch at La Torricella that included Tonnarelli with Shrimp and Zucchini...

There was more walking to follow. Thank goodness!

Needed to walk that pasta lunch off, so I could journey the next morning to the city's most beloved pastry stop - Esquilino's own Regoli Pasticceria...

Proof positive that this was the real deal? A real line in front of the place at 9am. A real long line. I waited for over 45 minutes before I was allowed through the door. It was worth it. So worth it. So good. So damn good.

I told you.

A Tale of Two Markets

First of all, let me say that I made it out of the country. Yay! Made it all the way to Rome. And, my first stop after the obligatory espresso? A market.

My stay started at a friend's place in the Esquilino neighborhood, a hodgepodge of ancient relics and vibrant community. That community includes generations' old Italians and immigrants from India, China, Morocco and elsewhere. At moments when passing through the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II, I could breath in the aromas of coffee and curry all at once.

Unsurprisingly, the Nuovo Mercato Esquilino was buzzing. My senses were overwhelmed by stands filled with spices and olives...

And, then this seafood stall caught my eye...

I left empty-handed, since lunch at a local trattoria awaited, but I vowed to cook a little while I was in the city. Thankfully, the next day I journeyed to Circus Maximus and visited Campagna Amica. This market had a different feel from the one in Esquilino. The tip off? These at the entrance...

The man wielding a knife at a massive porchetta and loads of pork products vacuum-sealed, ready to go...

Then there was the verdure...

Magnificent! Bellisima! I pounced on some puntarelle, which is almost impossible to find in the States. Radishes were bought. A salad would soon be born. It wasn't major cooking, but with the additions of good Italian olive oil, a few chopped anchovies, and a splash of white wine vinegar, it was delizioso!

Dude-ssert

The other night I saw a few friends. We had a few drinks. And, I have no memory of how we ended down this particular line of discussion -- but at one point they dared me to compare men to desserts. Seriously. Align different men I had dated with different baked goods and confections in my repertoire.

Ummmm...?

First off, who's to say that all of them would qualify as sweet? I mean once in a while a gal likes a bit of salt in her gent. Well, then maybe they would be salty black licorice, like the kind favored in Scandinavia?

Hmmmm...!

Maybe I can do this after all!

That Argentinian gentleman I dated a while back could most certainly have qualified as "sweet buns."

Wait. That's way too juvenile. Let's try this again...

Nope. This one has me stumped. I either go for obvious, sophomoric humor - potentially involving eclairs - or I give up.

Frankly, I think giving up is the best option here. Better I find a good man -- or a good dessert. The two together might be a bit too much blue skying. But, heck, let's aim for a bright, glorious blue sky on the horizon!

Dining Omicron-Style

It's all a bit internal debate. Do I feel safe enough to go indoors right now for a dinner or drink? I'm triple-vaxxed, but still...Numbers are starting to get better in New York City, but even when it was bad I categorically refused to lock myself away, instead bundling up to see friends out-of-doors whenever and wherever possible.

Holiday nibbles at a makeshift, sidewalk buffet outside a friend's ground floor apartment? I'm there!

A balmy 35 degree day, when I can grab a seat at Henry Public's front patio with a heater over head, tucking into brunch and downing a Two Cents Fancy cocktail that, unsurprisingly, felt very fancy (even while I was wearing my puffy coat)? I'm in!

Taking at-home Covid tests before a friend comes over to my apartment for a casual home-cooked dinner? Yes. And, the friend coming over tested negative as well. (Totally worth the trouble, when you find out that my version of a "casual" home-cooked dinner is typically at least three courses.)

Then, when I once again feel like letting someone else do the cooking, there is the question of whether or not it's even worth it to order something hot outside in the winter chill. Let's be honest: no matter the dangling heat lamp above, that lovely hot dish is going to turn ice cold in record time.

Low 30s, sitting out front at Clover Club? Soup and a cocktail sounded divine, but I suddenly imagined that soup turning into a popsicle right quick. Oysters were a much better choice...

And, how am I thinking about navigating things as the numbers appear to get better in the city?

Carefully. But, I'll be out and about -- layered up and ready!

Ice Cream For Teddy

I was seriously nervous. I knew that a review from Teddy would be unadulterated, unfiltered honesty.

He's four. Candor in food reviews are a hallmark of his set.

The words "blech" and "ew" are often trotted out, when youngsters are confronted with new foods. No sensitivity here for the beleaguered chef.

How did I get into this situation? Innocently enough, I had made some kid-friendly chocolate chip cookies for my neighbor Teddy (which he kindly shared with his parents), and since he knew I made ice cream as well, he declared that next I would be making him a frozen confection. Pushy, yes, but I liked his pluck!

I agreed, and inquired about his favorite flavor. He took a beat and then said that he loved "chocolate dipped strawberries," asking if I could do something along those lines.

Hmmm. Not quite Balsamic and strawberries, but pretty darn sophisticated for a four-year-old nonetheless. The gauntlet had been thrown down.

Admittedly, it was several months before I picked it up.

I had baked some Rosemary Shortbread and shared a few with Teddy's parents. Teddy saw the hand-off and immediately remarked "Where's my ice cream?"

I had to pony up -- pony up big time. The question was whether I tempered the flavors for a child's palate or if I went full-throttle.

I think you know which way I went.

I heated milk and steeped cocoa nibs for two hours. I made a slurry with exceedingly good cocoa, yolks and sugar. Mixed that all together, stirring over a medium flame until it thickened, and then added 3 bars of high-grade bittersweet chocolate. Put that in the fridge and then sous vide strawberries with sugar. The next day I tossed the chocolate ice cream base in my freezer tub and let the machine do its thing. Then I grabbed a Tupperware container and layered the ice cream with intense strawberry bits before letting it freeze overnight.

Oh, yeah. This was some solid ice cream goodness. But, was it too much for Teddy? I didn't know.

I asked his Mom to shoot me a text after he tried it -- and even if he didn't care for it, not to hold back. She promised.

Three days later and I was on tenterhooks. No review. Was his Mom too embarrassed to tell me that the ice cream had elicited an "ick" from her son?

I saw her for coffee and after a few niceties I had to ask.

"Oh my, gosh -- he loved it," she said. "I took a video of him eating it and completely forgot to send it to you!"

I breathed a sigh of relief! And then she forwarded the video, so I could hear for myself.

Teddy's words as he took a bite: "Let's see about this...Hmmm...I like it! It is soooo good. Yummy, yummy, yummy!"

Poetry. Pure poetry. I don't think I've gotten a review that pleased me more.

"Yummy, yummy, yummy!" will be the words that carry me into 2022 with a bit of optimism!

My Winter Kitchen List

There is nothing like a really great restaurant meal to get me to do culinary cartwheels in my own kitchen. I often end up trying to recreate a dish. Sometimes I simply ride the inspiration into a delightful home-cooked meal.

Well, two brunches last weekend have definitely set me down a gastronomy rabbit hole (and, yes, rabbit might even be involved.)

First up, was Saturday brunch a Agi's Counter in Crown Heights, where the Eastern European fare was front and center. Hungarian pastry lined the countertop. Protected by glass panes, it made for an irresistible window shopping experience while I waited on line to place my brunch order. No surprise, a warm slice of Cinnamon Bread showered with sea salt was had. So was a swoon-worthy Caraway Shortbread Cookie. Savory followed in the form of an open-faced poached chicken sandwich with buttermilk and grapes that was swoon-worthy in its own right. And, then because brunch is about being excessive, we had a Hungarian Nosh Plate that included a buttery chicken liver mousse, 6-minute deviled eggs, housemade pickles, and more.

I loved everything that was served -- but all I could think about was "Why haven't I made Chicken Paprikash in ages?"

And, yes, thinking that homemade spaetzle are a must do too.

But then there was Sunday brunch. It was had at Lowerline near the Brooklyn Museum of Art. The place tasted much more like Bywater than Brooklyn. Take a look at this Crawfish Étouffée...

Yeah. Gumbo needs to be made. Perhaps Rabbit and Dumplings need to be rustled up as well. And, let's say "yes" to Bananas Foster.

Anyone interested in joining my table this winter?

I Adore You, But You're Not Coming Home With Me

Dark and handsome. Not so tall, but really, who cares when you look this good? Besides, this after dinner sipper goes down smooth.

It's name? St. George NOLA Coffee Liqueur. I call it "Yes, please" for short.

Am I inspired to purchase a bottle to enjoy at home from time to time? Of course I am. But, I want to keep the spark alive. I want to keep my relationship with this java and chicory creation going -- keeping it just out of reach, except for the rare magical occasion when it is spotted on a menu at a restaurant or watering hole.

I won't be walking down the aisle (the liquor store aisle, that is) with St. George NOLA Coffee Liqueur, but I expect the romance to last for years to come.

Yes, please.