VittlesVamp

Downhill Dining & The Slippery Slope of Service

Okay. I know it's shocking. How could I dislike the hottest new restaurant in New York? Well, I did. And, all of you will just have to deal with it. (Feel free to post in opposition below.)

Last night, I hooked up with chef-in-training pal Matt to check out the uber-hip foodie spot of the moment: Spice Market. With Jean-George Vongerichten teaming up "Wonder Twins" style with Gray Kunz, it seemed like a winner: white hot meatpacking district location, a magnificent interior that blends antiquities from Buddhist monasteries with lush fabrics and lighting that would make Quasimodo look good, not mention food that has been highly praised and applauded.

I fully admit that the place is jaw-dropping gorgeous. And, sitting at the bar munching on Wasabi-Covered Peanuts and Five-Spice Almonds while sipping a cocktail composed of passion fruit juice, blackberry liqueur and champagne, I had high-hopes for the evening.

After downing our drinks, we were seated a few minutes before our reservation. Very good.

The doe-eyed waitress approached and not being able answer questions about the wine list, sent over the sommelier who helped us with our wine selection. Very good again.

Then our server reapproached. Her eyes grew wide as she pointedly recited the party line about the menu, explaining that sharing was de riguer. When Matt immediately declared that we wanted to be left in the chef's hands, except for a couple of sundry picks, she seemed pleasantly delighted by our decision. All fine.

The appetizers arrived within a few minutes. With a honey-sweet smile, the waitressed gushed as she told us how to appropriately eat our dishes.

Two of the three were stand-outs. The plate of sauteed shrimp with eggplant and pineapple in a slightly spicy, sweet sauce was lovely. Then we grabbed our spoons and attacked the best dish of the evening: ruby strips of sashimi-grade tuna in a pool of coconut juice and kaffir lime, surrounded by a few hits of chili heat and gelantinous pearls of tapioca. The chicken samosas were bland in comparison.

After a couple of bites, the real showstopper arrived - or I should say, returned - our waitress. She wanted to know if everything was okay at the table. We immediately told her "yes." And then, she just stayed there. Really. I mean it. She was never more than 3 feet away from the table. She hovered like a helicopter over South Central, as we tried to enjoy our meal.

Needless to say, enjoying our meal was a challenge considering her constant questions about whether or not we were pleased with the food. For a server to check-in once or twice over the course of the meal is fine. Eight to ten times is excessive in anyone's book.

The entrees arrived and we realized that the food was going downhill - fast. The Chicken in Kumquat Sauce was dominated by the bird's black-scorched skin. The Halibut was completely zing-free, accompanied by a sad tangle of rice noodles and carrot. Ginger fried rice, which smelled divine, was a real letdown. Yes, there was ginger, but there was also a fried egg and a myriad of spices that ended up taking my palate all over the map - in a jet lag kind of way.

And, of course, the waitress was always close at hand. In fact, at one point she was even close at backside - writing up a check for one of her other customers, with her fanny only centimeters away from our table's edge. Matt and I had to put down our utensils and stare in disbelief.

Once she was done with her check-bearing duties, she immediately returned to our table. Why? To chat of course! She had "overheard" our conversation, and had to ask us if we were in the restaurant business. Matt mentioned that he worked at Picholine and tried to pry her away from the table with a promise of special treatment if she ever went to the restaurant. Seemingly satisfied, she walked away - for a moment.

Minutes later, when we were discussing the City of Brotherly love, she walked the full three-feet from her post to talk about places she'd eaten at in Philadelphia. We tried to be polite, while giving her the subtle hint that we wanted to dine as a twosome. But, subtlety most certainly didn't win the day.

At one point, Matt got up to go to the bathroom. She intercepted and insisted that she walk him there. As soon as he was whisked to the men's room door, she hightailed it back to gently refold his napkin. She gave me a beautific smile and before she left, basking in the glow of her own insanity, began to fondle Matt's chair.

Now, I'm sure many of you are thinking: "This Matt must be some sort of hotty!" I will say that he is certainly an attractive man (especially in Spice Market's kind, golden light), but he is no Smith Jarrod.

That said, when Matt returned, I let him know about the fondling incident and we realized that our waitress was simply the evening's entertainment.

Wanting to pull the focus back to things gustatory, I insisted that Matt order the Durian Ice Cream for dessert, since he had yet to try this delectable tropical fruit. The odor didn't disappoint. It smelled, as Matt so whimsically put it: like hazelnut infused horse manure. Mmm good!

Then that funfilled waitress returned with two other desserts. One involved a stick of a fudge-like substance doused with an Ovaltine cream. One rich bite and I needed no more. The bruleed rice pudding with hints of cardamom was a bit better, but it didn't set my taste buds aflutter.

We paid the check and our server seemed discernibly deflated to see us go.

As we left Spice Market to head to Florent for a less intrusive after-dinner spot, I couldn't help but turn my head to see if the waitress was following in fast pursuit, hoping to join us for a nightcap. I breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn't. We were safe.

Then again, she has Matt's full name from the credit card receipt and knows where he works...He seriously may want to consider carrying his chef's knives with him at all time.

Pinot, Pork & The Plaza

What could be bad about that combination? Absoluely nothing is what I'm thinking. So, I was tickled pink when I recieved this invite from the friendly folks at Kobrand Wines & Spirits:

It'll be a rare day when pigs fly. But this April, they'll soar to heights of culinary perfection. Kobrand Corporation, together with Niman Ranch and Fairmont Hotels & Resorts, is hosting a series of tastings at which you can compare the extraordinary diversity of pinot with the no less extraordinary diversity of pork.

Featured will be six of the world's finest wines made from the pinot noir grape. They'll include Old World expressions from the slopes of Champagne and Burgundy along with New World expressions from the foremost vineyards of Carneros, Napa, Santa Barbara, and Sonoma in California.

Accompanying them will be an equally spectacular wealth of dishes made from pork, including naturally raised Niman Ranch pork. They'll range from classic chops to innovative, spicy barbecue, prepared by top chefs from Fairmont Hotels & Resorts and other leading restaurants in each city.

Tickets start at $45. Proceeds will benefit Slow Food U.S.A., a non-profit educational organization that celebrates regional food and wine traditions from all over the world.

The event will be held in 6 different cities across the country, ranging from San Francisco to Washington D.C. - all at fancy schmancy Fairmont Hotels in those areas.

And, at a reasonable $55 price point for Slow Food members, I might just end up riding high on the hog at the NYC tasting at The Plaza on April 19th.

A Voice Against Choice

I am well-known amongst friends as a rather indecisive diner. I have no problem picking a restaurant, but when it comes to the menu options I'm often stymied. Like last night at Suenos for a b-day party I opened the menu and was betwixt and between: Should I get the Roast Chicken and Squash Blossom Enchiladas with Pumpkin Seed Sauce or the Duck Breast with Cranberry Mole, Sweet Potato Puree and Endive?

I went with my standad-operating procedure of having the waitperson decide.

I fully admit that my M.O. can be annoying when I can only narrow the choices to three or four, and to top it off, I'm having a multi-course meal. So, I find it a great relief when instead I'm sitting down to a prix fixe, pre-set, chef's tasting dinner, such as the one I kvelled about at Philadelphia's Vetri.

Lucky for me, it looks like these no-choice meals are becoming increasingly popular. Today's Wall Street Journal offers an "Eating Around" column on the subject, saying:

It's the ultimate chef status symbol, more prestigious than having a line of cookware or a television show. Today, a handful of authoritarian cooks run restaurants where customers can eat only what the chef wants them to -- there are no la carte options. Masayoshi Takayama of Masa in New York City serves his choice of appetizers, sushi and dessert -- for $300 a head.

Other restaurants featured are thankfully well below that pricetag. For example, the venerable Chez Panisse in Berkeley offers one 3- to 4-course meal nightly with a dollar figure that increases as the week goes on. But, for regular folk like myself, the $75 bill on Saturdays is still within reason. What do you get for your moolah? Here's this Saturday's menu:

An aperitif
Chanterelle and asparagus salad with puntarella and anchovy vinaigrette
Ricotta and chervil gnocchi with fava beans in brodo
Grilled Cattail Creek Farm rack, loin, and leg of lamb with Marsala sauce, crispy
artichokes, green garlic, and new potatoes
Tangerine souffl

Wine, Wine and a Little More Wine

Last night the Puck Building was filled to the rafters with hundreds upon hundreds of bottles of award-winning Italian wines, hundreds and hundreds of sparking wine glasses at the ready, and hundreds and hundreds of food and wine writers, restaurant owners, wine industry insiders, sommeliers and foodies. To top it off, the Puck was gorgeously adorned - with loads of handsome, chic Italian wine distributors and vineyard owners.

Ahh...The Annual Tre Bicchieri Wine Event, a celebration of vino awarded the prestigious Tre Bicchiere (Three Glasses) by Italy's most authoritative wine guide, Vini d'Italia 2004 (Italian Wines 2004, edited by Slow Food and Gambero Rosso). Heaven to oenophiles or lovers of fine Italian men. Hell to those with fear of crowds or lovers of wine in a box.

Following what I call "The Epcot Strategy," after my posse and I dropped our coats at the coatcheck, we headed straight to the back of the Grand Ballroom to work the tables in reverse order. Needless to say, we barely made it out of the room to the other parts of the Puck before all the bottles ran dry.

Once our sipping began at about 5:15pm, we were quickly joined by a fellow food blogger who was charmingly inebriated (and who will remain nameless to protect the reputation of the not-so-innocent). Lucky for us, he is infinitely more knowledgeable about wine than yours truly, and even in his soused state (which admittedly was due to a Wildman Grand Tour tasting event at lunch combined with a "trade" 2pm arrival at this one) adeptly weaved us through the tables to hit the best of the bunch. Some of the highlights:

*Syrah

The Passion of the Vittles

Last night, I went to a taping of "Inside the Actor's Studio" featuring comedian George Carlin. Host James Lipton was his usual pompous self, but Carlin didn't seem to mind and riffed on and on about his urban Catholic School upbringing and how it impacted his life and comedy.

Of course, my mind turned to the impact of religion on food. (I'm an obsessed freak - I know!)

Just this past week my friend Maggie mentioned that she noticed that Wendy's had started to sell a fish sandwich. What's the religion hook? According to Maggie, it's only available on Fridays. Of course, the Catholic Church has allowed its followers to eat meat on Fridays for a good long time now, but still the implication is clear.

And, Wendy's is most certainly not the only fast-food chain riding the religion bandwagon. Chick-Fil-A, which lays claim to the chicken sandwich niche in the fast-food world closes its doors on Sundays - all 1,125 of them. The company's Web site provides an explanation:

Admittedly, closing all of our restaurants every Sunday makes us a rarity in this day and age. But it's a little habit that has always served us well, so we're planning to stick with it.

Our founder, Truett Cathy, wanted to ensure that every Chick-fil-A employee and restaurant operator had an opportunity to worship, spend time with family and friends or just plain rest from the work week. Made sense then, still makes sense now.

But, can we call this cross-section between food and religion a "new" trend? C'mon folks: I'm Jewish, but I've even heard the story of the fishes and the loaves.

And, for the last century or so church suppers have been at the center of many a Christian community. Although, we often hear about the glorious Fried Chicken and Soul Food Suppers that are had at Baptist churches across the country, if a report from The Material History of American Religion Project is to be believed even Martini-sipping Protestants have found religion over a meal or two:

For many church-going Americans, church meals are often as important as services, doctrine, or ethics...

...Most studies of food and religion in America focus on cultures that seem to be "exotic." Anthropologists and folklorists are fascinated with the foodways of Jews and ethnic Catholics, while ignoring food practices among white middle class Protestants; this prompts one colleague to wonder if Protestants eat at all. While foodways scholars ignore them, much of the rest of the culture laughs at food events in Protestant churches. The work of Garrison Keillor and such cookbooks as They Glorified Mary . . . We Glorified Rice are just two examples.

I believe, however, that we can learn more from Protestant church meals than just a good Jell-O salad recipe. No matter how laughable these meals might appear, this paper argues that, for these Protestants, church meals both reflect and shape the structure of the world.

And, I won't even start in with my people and the smoked fish-athon that is the typical Yom Kippur break-the-fast. For those of you that read the site regularly, you'll know that it's a scene and a half at my place.

So, religion and food, religion and food...Since, I really don't have a good wrap-up on the topic, I'll let a few choice religion and food comments from George sum it up:

Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

When cheese gets it's picture taken, what does it say?

I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose... it'll be much harder to detect.

Whever you see the word cuisine used instead of the word food, be prepared to pay an additional eighty percent.

Last Sweet Fling With Winter

On Saturday, March 20th the first day of spring officially arrives. Of course, living in New York I expect to deal with frigid weather for a few weeks longer, until I can break out my short-sleeved shirts and take the covering off my A/C.

Nonetheless, the change of seasons does inspire a shift in the kitchen. For example, instead of craving a rich, warming lamb stew, I begin thinking of making lighter recipes that take advantage of spring favorites, like asparagus.

And, nowhere is the changing of seasons more noticeable than on the dessert plate. Out goes the default to cinnamon and spice and in come the berries and citrus. So, with only one week left of winter, I feel it my obligation to extoll the virtues of winter desserts.

Just last week, as you may recall, I threw a Thankgiving fete for a number of pals. Why T-day in March? As I mentioned, it's just plain, stubborn foolishness that keeps us from dining on roast turkey and all the trimmings on a more regular basis. (Turkey coma aside.)

In my earlier posting I promised to share the lowdown on my T-day dessert finale. One week later, it's pictured above: Spiced Gingerbread Cake with Pumpkin Ice Cream.

I outright stole the gingerbread recipe from Gramercy Tavern's Claudia Fleming. But, if you're going to be a thief, I highly recommend stealing from the best.

One whiff of the heady aroma of molasses and Guinness Stout boiling together on my stove and I knew the cake would be a winner. The cloves, nutmeg, cardamom, cinnamon, dark brown sugar and loads of ginger put it over the edge into dessert heaven.

Ginger is one of those intense flavors that either raises a dish to new heights or overpowers food with its spicy zing. And, for all that it seems to be happily married in pickle-form to sushi and sashimi, to me it's the quintessential winter baking spice.

And, I'm sure no one will argue that pumpkin is another ingredient that speaks of palate-pleasing comfort and warmth on a harsh winter day. According to Australian news sources it's actually produce worth pinching on a grand scale:

A thief has hit a giant pumpkin competition on the New South Wales north coast stealing a ute-load of vegetables due to go before the judges.

I decided to be a bit tamer about my pumpkin acquisition and went to my local Korean deli. But, I can understand the sentiment nonetheless.

Unable to imagine a Thanksgiving dinner complete without something pumpkin, I dug up an old Saveur recipe for Pumpkin Ice Cream and set to work, mixing and heating the cream, yolks, sugars, pumpkin and spices. Licking the spoon after the custard had chilled I found myself swooning rather inappropriately in my own kitchen. (Add a battery, and I might never have left!)

After a one taste of the final product, my guests' faces froze in unadulterated bliss. It was, in the words of one guest, "scrumptious." The cold, rich, custardy ice cream was an ideal companion to the dark, spicy cake.

Those that said they would abstain from dessert found themselves asking for second helpings. Several asked if I would be willing to make the ice cream by the barrel full - I should just name my price. To top it off, I was later informed that the ice cream had taken centerstage that night in a guest's dream - a dream in which she found herself joyfully cavorting on a mountainside made of the frozen orange stuff. (I'm not going to attempt to interpret what that was really about. And, please, do not post suggestions below.)

Alpine dreams and batteries aside, I think the success of this winter-inspired dessert at a time when all of us are dying for sunshine and the arrival of a few paltry crocuses, proves that winter sweets have a power all their own. A power to be revered and put on a pedestal. (A pedestal made of pumpkin ice cream, perhaps? Battery operated? Nah - It isn't even necessary.)

Wine - The New Beer?

I know that they've been around for a while now, but more and more wine bars seem to be sprouting up around the city. And, who am I to complain?

Not that I don't enjoy a lovely draft selection at bars like DBA, Blind Tiger Ale House or even Virgil's for that matter. But, for me, there is an experience much more transcendent to be found in a Spiegelau wine glass rather than a frosty glass mug.

One of my favorites, since it opened in 2002, is Bar Veloce on Cleveland Place (pictured above), a narrow slip of a place that is sleek and understated. The decor is simply the ultra modern wine rack that runs along the entire side wall of the restaurant, showing off the various vintages available. No bartenders are to be found here - but sommeliers dressed in stylish suits, ready to help you find the right wine to compliment a bruschetta or paninni selection.

The bar also has an older sibling in the East Village, infamous for a hostage situation a few years ago. And, now, helping the wine bar movement, it seems that the owners are opening a third Bar Veloce in Chelsea.

Of course the new Bar Veloce won't be alone, as there are many other new wine bars on the scene. So, in the name of foodie journalism, I felt it my VittlesVamp obligation to do some swirling, sniffing and sipping around the last couple of days.

My first stop - Stonehome Wine Bar in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn. Home to King's County hot spots like A Table and Moe's, Stonehome is a civilized, decidedly adult oasis of oenophile delights. Warm, where Veloce is sleek, but still crisp and modern in design, the staff is knowledgeable and unstuffy. And, according to a recent piece in the New York Post:

Stonehome Wine Bar owner Bill Stenehjem is a 20-year Fort Greene resident with a surprising background: He spent 15 years in the public high-school system as an intervention counselor. "It's an interesting segue," he says with a laugh. "I like to mix it up a bit."

The wine list mixes it up a bit too, offering over 140 wines from around the world - many by the glass. And, particularly appreciated were the flight choices that allow you to sample three at a time to educate your palate - and expand your wine file for future liquor store purchases.

Continuing the grueling research last night, I stopped by the wine cave-inspired In Vino in the East Village with friends. The place is completely devoted to wines from the Southern regions of Italy, so I didn't recognize most of the grape varieties and vineyards on the list. Not one, but three adorable Italian fellows behind the bar promised that my inexperience wasn't going to be a problem. They would happily guide me through the hundreds of options - providing as many samples as I liked. Mamma mia! Italian accents and exotic vino? How is a girl to resist?

Still waiting for my friends at the bar, one of them let me taste a few of the whites until I settled on a glass of dry, light Grillo, Arancio. Then, once seated at one of the room's rough-hewn, rustic wood tables, we were entranced by a dizzying range of reds - some very dry, others rich with the haunting flavors of licorice and dried plums. Unfortunately, after a few sips, I completely forgot about taking notes. Guess, I'll just have to go again...

And, lest that I forget their food, I have to say that I'm in strong agreement with food writer Andrea Strong who recently said:

The food in simple, honest, tasty, and fun to eat, and like most wine bar eats, it is portioned to share with a big group, or just to feast among two. The menu is unique, going well beyond the standard cheese and cold cut plates, offering Crostini in Bagnacauda ($5)

The NRA Show

Just rifled through my mail at the office (bad pun intentional), and was a little freaked to see an invite to The NRA Show.

Could Charlton Heston have noticed the inclusion of the Remington Arms Company's Bear Steak recipe on my site and thought it an indication that I would be receptive to attending this type of event? Or, is it possible that once he noticed the comment, his "people" did a thorough background check and discovered that my mother had been a member several years ago?*

*(Note: The sole purpose for my Mom joining the NRA was the incredibly deep discount the membership provided when she rented a car to cart me back to college each year. The nifty NRA logo hat and the impact it had on neighborhood kids when she wore it to do gardening work in the front yard, was simply an added bonus.)

Once I looked at the invite more carefully, I realized that I had no need for concern. The NRA Show isn't for the National Rifle Association, but the National Restaurant Association.

Must say, the National Restaurant Association desperately needs to stop using the acronym. (Where are those branding firms when you need them?)

Although, the two NRAs might want to consider joining forces to sponsor a rootin' tootin' Bear Steak event...Don't think Slow Food would approve. And, in truth, my Mom wouldn't either - unless a discount was involved.

The Restorative Powers of a Civilized Lunch

My foodie colleague Craig and I have been gabbing about restaurants and my food blogging ways for months now. Seemed about time that we actually indulged in a gourmet adventure - or adventure withstanding, a damn fine lunch.

Mindful of our budgets we agreed on finding a prix fixe lunch spot near our office by Grand Central Station. We were considering Patroon or Tropica, but rather quickly Craig's craving for red meat swayed the vote: Michael Jordan's Steakhouse.

One step out of the office's door at 1:15pm with the expectation of a lunch, complete with real glassware and silverware, and we both breathed an audible sigh of relief.

Walking into the grandeur of Grand Central Terminal and being whisked to a sumptiously set table overlooking the grand hall didn't hurt either.

Although tempted by the full menu, we staid the course with the $23 prix fixe and were delighted with our identical lunch selections: Frisee salad with Pickled Onions and Toasted Walnuts, Seared Rib Eye Steak with Herb Butter and French Fries, followed by a Mint-Chip Ice Cream Sundae. Although it wasn't refined fare, it was well-executed and quite delicious.

If only we could've had the leisure of ordering some red wine to compliment the meal. But then, we probably wouldn't have made it back to work.

Nonetheless the temporary oasis of a real lunch is an indulgence I think I'll have to take up on a more regular basis. And, at Craig's suggestion, I think we'll be trying the more pocketbook-friendly O'Casey's next, where I understand a miracle of a ham sandwich awaits - along with real glassware and silverware.

"Family" Dinners

Think my foodie instincts have started rubbing off on my friends. Watercooler talk yesterday consisted of Martha and "The Sopranos" new season debut. On the latter, I was surprised when one of my friends commented on how much the crew ate in the course of a one-hour episode. (A total of four meals, not counting the swig of OJ that Tony took from the family fridge.)

She was taken aback by the way that food seemed to be a real centerpiece to the show. I was taken aback at how she hadn't noticed it before. Red sauce/red blood. Seems a natural fit, no? Such a fit, in fact, that a couple of years back HBO published "The Sopranos Family Cookbook." And mafiosa gourmands can also purchase a number of handy Sopranos-themed kitchen/food items, ranging from The Sopranos Grill Set to The Artie Bucco Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar Gift Set.

Prior to the season opener, food media got on "The Sopranos" mob meals bandwagon. The New York Daily News got the scoop on the casts' favorite Italian haunts in NYC:

*Areo, 8424 Third Ave. (between 84th and 85th Sts.), Brooklyn, (718) 238-0079

*Arturo's Pizzeria, 106 W. Houston St. (at Thompson St.), (212) 677-3820

*Don Peppe, 135-58 Lefferts Blvd., Queens, (718) 845-7587

*Esca, 1559 Richmond Road, Staten Island, (718) 980-5006

*Il Cortile, 125 Mulberry St. (between Hester and Canal Sts.), (212) 226-6060

*L & B Spumoni Gardens, 2725 86th St., Brooklyn, (718) 372-8400

*Manducatis, 13-27 Jackson Ave. (at 47th St.), Queens, (718) 729-4602

*Peasant, 194 Elizabeth St. (between Prince and Spring Sts.), (212) 965-9511

*Pine Tavern, 1913 Bronxdale Ave., the Bronx, (718) 792-5956

*Rao's, 455 E. 114th St. (at Pleasant Ave.), (212) 722-6709

Newsday's Sylvia Carter, on the other hand, looked at how the show has inspired a resurgence of the Italian classic Osso Buco on menus:

About 15 years ago, chefs say, this robust traditional dish had all but disappeared from restaurant menus.

But nowadays, restaurateurs are offering it at least one day a week, and most say it always sells out. Some chefs attribute its newfound popularity at least in part to the character of Tony, as played by James Gandolfini on the popular HBO series "The Sopranos," which starts a new season Sunday. Tony eats lustily in many scenes. That may, they claim, make customers hungry for the meat and pasta he favors.

And, not to be out done by the New York "families," the Boston Globe had noted Beantown chef Todd English create a meal that even Tony would love - featuring detailed recipes for the four-course mangia-fest.

But, with today's announcement from the Muse Hotel, it looks like New York once again has the corner on "The Sopranos" feeding frenzy:

Honoring the family business unraveling on "The Sopranos" this spring, The MUSE hotel invites guys to "shake down" in the Big Apple with "Bada Bing" weekends this spring. Starting at $190/night per person April 1 through June 30, 2004, the package includes accommodations, a "Sopranos" outing to the show's shooting sites from the Bada Bing Club to Satriale's, a round of martinis, cigars and a deck of cards for the ultimate poker game.
Guests at The MUSE enjoy an expedition to sites from the Emmy award- winning show including the infamous Bada Bing night club, the store where Big Pussy met with the FBI and Tony's pork store hangout, Satriale's. Other hot spots include the diner where Chris was shot and opening credit scene sites such as Pizzaland and Muffler Man. The gangster journey concludes with "Sopranos" behind-the-scenes information over cannolis and hopes that no dirty rats in the group have to "sleep with the fish."

For more mafia madness, goodfellas will visit Sparks Steakhouse on the Eastside for prime steak and red wine -- the scene where John Gotti "iced" Paul Castellano (head of the Gambino family) on the street in front of the restaurant.

Hmmm. I'm thinking after the season's opening episode, a bear steak might be more appropriate. Thankfully, the lovely folks at Remington Arms Company, U.S. manufacturer of both firearms and ammunition products and one of the largest domestic producers of shotguns and rifles, are happy to provide a recipe.