VittlesVamp

A Double-Header

I went above and beyond the call of foodie duty last Friday - I had not one, but two Restaurant Week three-course meals. It was all in the name of VittlesVamp reportage - of course.

It's tough to be The Vamp...

Lunch was idyllic. I climbed the steps to Tudor City Place and found myself in a world of quiet repose - with L'Impero, Scott Conant's well-regarded Italian eatery at the center of it all. Gleaming mirrors, creamy white walls, whisper-thin drapery and powder blue leather greeted me at the door along with a gracious hostess. Walking towards my table, with my pal Stacy heading up the rear, we were amazed that this little slice of urban sanity was actually located across the street from the chaos that's the UN.

So, I guess L'Impero is the Switzerland of restaurants. (Notice how I'm continuing with my "diplomacy" theme from yesterday's posting?) Thankfully, however, the food kept to the Southern side of the Alps - no Schnitzel today. Instead, Stacy swooned over a bowl of chilled Sweet Pea Soup with Riesling Gelee. I went for the heartier option of Fricassee of Seasonal Mushrooms with
creamy polenta and truffle reduction.

How decadent. How delicious. How civilized.

The main courses didn't fare as well. Stacy's House-Made Spaghetti with
Tomato and Fresh Basil was definitely tasty - although nothing outrageously special. But, my Roasted Free Range Chicken with Currants and Almonds was just that - nary a side dish to compliment. The chunks of poultry were nicely seasoned and well-prepared, but it missed the mark without a proper foil. Next time, I strongly suggest they throw some veggies into the mix, or at least a brave bean or two.

The desserts were also a mixed blessing. Stacy's sorbet plate lacked punch - althought the Passionfruit Sorbet really tried its darnedest. And, my Sesame Cannoli with Strawberries also aimed to please, but fell short.

Still, there was something so sophisticated about the dining room that we both left feeling like we'd been pampered. And, at $20.12 a head, we definitely felt that to be quite a bargain.

My dinner wasn't as successful. Making our way through a monsoon, my friend Jennifer and I hightailed it up to the Upper West Side to take advantage of Calle Ocho's three-course deal. The restaurant is beautiful (pictured above), but the noise level and tight tables make the eatery feel like a frat fave, rather than a fine dining destination.

And, then there was the food.

Fuggedaboutit.

The Mushroom Empanada appetizer was bland. (I think that might be considered a cardinal sin in Latin-American kitchens. No?) My main dish of Steak Rollatine stuffed with Spinach was a bit better, but I can't really give it an enthusiastic thumbs up. Add to that a Passionfruit Tart that featured a wimpy crust and gummy center and I'd have to say that I won't return. Heck, even Jennifer's regular menu entree of Pork Chop was just mediocre.

Hasta la vista Calle Ocho.

And, now that the weekend is behind me, I finally feel recouped enough to venture out for another Restaurant Week expedition. I better run, lest I be late. Tonight: I Trulli. Tomorrow: the full report.

Comfort Food

There are times that I forget that my friend Joy is half-Syrian (perhaps it's because the other half is pure-bred WASP). But, the other night, when we hooked up among the hookahs on Brooklyn's Atlantic Avenue to grab dinner at one of its many Middle Eastern eateries, Joy's heritage not only became quite apparent - but turned into a windfall for the culinary diplomacy process between the Arabs (Joy) and the Jews (moi).

We settled into the "pretty in pink" Fountain Cafe, which really does feature a small fountain in the middle of the dining room, and I let Joy take reign of the menu. She smiled warmly as she glanced at the offerings, regaling me with stories of her family - including her Grandmother's gifts in the kitchen, her belly-dancing aunt and the antics of her entire Brooklyn-based clan.

It became clear that meat-stuffed Grape Leaves (pictured above) were to her what Matzoh Ball soup is to me - comfort fare, pure and simple.

And, with comfort always in short supply in the big city, we ordered big - happily stuffing ourselves with a vegetarian plate that featured Baba Ganoush, Hummus, Fried Cauliflower, Falafel, Tabbouleh and a crisp, green salad. We also dug into an appetizer portion of warm meat-stuffed Grape Leaves, which according to Joy, weren't a home-run due to their lack of yogurt sauce, and shared a heaping platter of Fool Moudammas, an Arabic bean salad.

Once a good deal of lemon juice had been squirted upon the lot of the dishes, along with a fair pinch or two (or three) of salt, Joy had to admit that it all did taste a bit like home. All it really needed was a tad more garlic to take the meal over the edge and firmly ground it in the realm Joy's childhood memories. But, alas, we couldn't ask for a few minced garlic cloves, without insulting the Fountain's chef.

And, goodness knows what might've landed in our Tabbouleh the next time, had we incited his wrath. Don't even think that our mission of peace could persuade him otherwise. But, diplomacy will forge onward.

Guess next time Joy and I go out, I'll have to introduce her to real Jewish comfort fare - Chinese food.

Orange You Glad That There's Cauliflower?

It wasn't enough that we had to paint alcohol blue and dye ketchup green - now folks have developed a breed of orange cauliflower:

Do not adjust your set. That cauliflower on your plate really is orange. After its discovery in a Canadian marsh more than 30 years ago, the brightly hued crucifer is finally hitting the U.S. market.

The cauliflower hybrid now being sold in garden catalogs was developed by breeders at the New York State Agricultural Station in Geneva, part of Cornell University.

Michael Dickson, the breeder who led its development, says orange cauliflower has caught the attention of restaurant chefs because of its superior appearance. The hybrid also has about 25 times more vitamin A than its pale cousin, making it more appealing to health-conscious consumers.

Dickson says he expects the vegetable to do well.

What can I say? Blame Canada!

Morel Imperative

I've 'shroomed - at least when it comes to dining on wild ones. Morel mushrooms are a particular favorite. But, who knew about the wild the life of morel prospectors? Apparently, the folks at the Wall Street Journal do:

Word spread last winter that spring would bring riches to the Whitefish Range slopes around here. That brought prospectors from around the country to Hungry Horse. Last month, almost overnight, a city of tents sprang up in the wilderness outside town.

These prospectors are gathering morels, a mushroom prized by restaurants and gourmets. The morel hunters are here because fires around Hungry Horse last summer consumed more than 240,000 acres of land. It's axiomatic among morel hunters that a forest fire one year means a bountiful harvest the next.

When he loaded his family into a beat-up white Chevy van and drove here in May from his home in Randle, Wash., Hassan Voir figured he'd be earning as much as $800 a day. A Cambodian native, Mr. Voir has become a professional picker of wild mushrooms -- matsutakes in September, chanterelles in January. When hunting morels, Mr. Voir travels in the path of wildfires, which his brother tracks for him on the Internet.

Mr. Voir has also learned that picking is just one way to earn money in this business. Another is buying. Structured markets don't exist for wild crops. But markets emerge wherever these products are found. Here, crude white tents with signs that read "mushroom buyer" have sprung up on the dusty washboard road that winds north to the Canadian border. One of those tents belongs to Mr. Voir.

The 38-year-old Mr. Voir rises before dawn each morning and strikes out to pick, carrying along an empty pickle bucket and walking as many as five miles, looking for burned logs, riverbanks and other spots where morels thrive. When he returns 10 hours later, he opens his buying tent and starts his second job. Nearby, his wife and three young children live in a rugged tent with a blue tarp spread out before it like a front porch. Mrs. Voir warms her infant son Jamal's milk over a fire.

Like Mr. Voir, many of the morel prospectors are Cambodian. At night, they gather around low tables made of plywood and cinder blocks, where they eat noodles with fish sauce, gamble and drink shots of whiskey as disco music plays on a karaoke machine.

Two For Two

And so, once again, I am swept up the flurry of bargain-basement haute-cuisine that is Restaurant Week. It's only Day Two and I've already broken my promise to keep my "involvement" to a minimum. At this point, I'm going two for two.

Last night it was Marseille for dinner. Today it was Union Square Cafe (picture above) for lunch.

Food at both was superlative, although I do have to take off points for the overly cute addition of celery sorbet to my Marseille dessert of Crunchy Peanut Tart. Service was gracious at both as well, although more points are going to have to be taken off for the 50 minute wait between the appetizer course and the entrees at Marseille. (OK - I'll give 'em a point back for the regular rounds that the "bread guy" made to our table and the yummy herbed butter that accompanied.)

All in all though, I'd have to give both a thumbs up - with an extra nod to Union Square Cafe for faultless, warm hospitality.

It's a good start. Taking tomorrow off from Restaurant Week. And, needless to say, I visited the gym tonight. (How long do I need to stay on the cross-trainer to burn off Union Square's Lemon Verbena Creme Brulee? What did you say? Oh, well, I guess I've got to log off now. Gotta get back to the gym.)

Forget Route 66 - Take the B77

Saturday was gorgeous - not a cloud in the sky kind of gorgeous. A field trip was required. Thankfully, I already had one mapped out with my friend Mary and her 18-month old tot Theo.

Now, I know most sane adults would think that a trip to a park or zoo might have been called for with a wee one in tow. But Mary, a like-minded foodie and Brooklynite, was quick to agree to a much more adventurous excursion.

And, so we took the glamorous B77 bus all the way to Red Hook. Our destination: The Brooklyn Waterfront Artists' Coalition Pier Show. Housed in a ramshackle warehouse at the end of a pier, jutting out into the harbor and overlooking Lady Liberty, we wandered through rows and rows of home-grown King's County art. Most was juvenile. Some was laughable. But, every once in a while we'd come across real sparks of brilliance: paintings, photographs or sculputures that resonated.

Theo was particularly fond of a painting of an elephant, which inspired him to do his best Dumbo impersonation for a solid 10-minutes. I, on the other hand, was entranced by some miniature multimedia pieces that played beautifully with texture and color on a miniscule scale. Mary was partial to photos - especially those of her friend Arden, double-exposed black-and-white images of New York City street scenes.

After an hour or so of wandering through the art, it seemed inevitable that we get back on the B77 - not to go home, mind you - but to head towards the soccer fields at the corner of Bay and Clinton to indulge in authentic Central American fare. I knew about this little corner of Latin American heaven long before the press got wind of it. However, even articles in the likes of Time Out haven't brought droves of "gringos" out to Red Hook's wild terrain. Good news for me. But, oh what my caucasian brethren are missing:

Every Saturday and Sunday, local Latin American cooks break out grills and hot plates and set up a dozen or so food stands along two sides of the field, selling tortillas stacked with inky black beans, tacos loaded with piercing chilies, fried plantains stuffed with cream, and other regional specialties. Youth soccer leagues and the players of Liga Guatemala and Liga Mexico have been coming here for 20 years, but the spot only recently became an alfresco international food court

A Tough, Old Bird

I am most certainly a carnivore. But, watching movies like "Charlotte's Web" and "Babe" I have a newfound respect for those on the vegetarian bandwagon. And, by all accounts, today there is another animal that can join the pantheon of beloved animals that we wouldn't want to see fricaseed:

Matilda really is a magic chicken.

Long a prop in a magician's show, the hen from Bessemer has been certified by Guinness World Records as the world's oldest living chicken.

Matilda, who works with Keith Barton in his "Mort the Mystifying" act, is 14 years old. The little gray bird is believed to be an Old English Red Pyle hen.

"She used to have an understudy, but she outlived it," said Barton's wife, Donna, who also is in the act as the magician's assistant.

Matilda's role is to appear in a pan that moments earlier seemed to contain only a fresh egg yolk and a few drops of hot sauce.

I think it's safe to say that Matilda will be spared the deep fryer treatment and live out her life in relative "indentured slave/magic assistant" comfort.

Hmm...Fried chicken...Haven't had that for a while...Is there a Popeye's near here?

Chow Fun

For those of you that thought you only had to worry about eating one too many poppy seed bagels before your next company drug test, check out this report from Bloomberg News:

More than 200 restaurants in the southern Chinese province of Guizhou were closed after they were found to be spiking their food with opium poppies, the South China Morning Post said, citing provincial officials.

Acting on tip-offs, Chinese police inspected 2,640 restaurants, seizing 3.2 kilograms (7 pounds) of poppy seed and 1.7 kilograms of poppy shells, the Hong Kong-based English- language newspaper reported...

...``Local people are not aware of the harm they will do to their health,'' provincial drug-control official Zhang Xing was quoted as saying. Eaters of poppy-spiked food can become addicted, the Post said.

And you thought the food from your local Chinese takeout was addictive!

Cocktails, Leather & Truth

As I've documented time and time again on this site, I am a sucker for a fantastic cocktail. Throw in a luxe enviroment I'll be grinning from ear to ear. Add a gentleman companion and I'm practically in heaven.

But, it wasn't until I ventured forth to the ever-swanky Flatiron Lounge with a particular gent, that I discovered that all it takes to gild my lilly is a particular topic of conversation: leather.

Over a Juniper Breeze (for me) and a Gibson (for him), I stumbled upon my companion's deep-seated knowledge of and love for leather goods. (No, not leatherwear or leather whips - we're talking luggage, handbags and briefcases! Mind you , I wouldn't have had an issue if a penchant for leather shoes was in the mix. But, alas, a girl can't have it all...)

There was something sublimely seductive about discussing top grain and tough hide with a bonafide straight man, while slowly sipping a cocktail.

Clearly, the evening couldn't end now. Food seemed to be the next logical step. And, as my companion was a foodie, we were debating the merits of several options, until the gentleman was suddenly possessed with a singularly brilliant idea: Veritas.

We immediately set off down the street, the three blocks to a rather non-descript restaurant entrance on East 20th (pictured above) - known to foodies as the domain of lauded chef Scott Bryan and known to oenephiles as one of the holy grails of vino. As we entered the serene scene, we were greeted with smiles and, as it was a Monday night, were immediately shown a table - even without a reservation.

The table was in fine form - but it was the chairs that made me feel like Veritas has been our dinner destiny: They were composed of woven strips of leather.

We settled in quickly with a couple of glasses of white as the gentleman perused the mammoth wine list for a potential bottle selection. Pages and pages later it seemed to be fruitless exercise. Th llist was too overwhelming. So, we turned our attention to the dinner menu and figured that our main course selections would help us determine the right bottle for the night. An amuse bouche of delicately smoked salmon atop cold, rich creme fraiche and slivers of cucumber set us off in the right direction and we quickly agreed to focus on the sea with our appetizers.

Tucking into Hamachi Tartare with Chilis, Cucumber, Avocado and Shiso, it was clear we hadn't made a wrong turn. Our other app, Maya Shrimp Ravioli with a Ginger, Red Curry and Basil Cilantro Emulsion, was even more intensely flavored, allowing for a burst of sweet ocean and spicy earth in each bite.

Just in the nick of time, my companion finally gave up on navigating the wine list on his own and solicited the help of the sommelier. We ordered up a bottle of Languedoc red and revelled in its blackberry, tobacco notes, as we relished our entrees of tender Braised Veal with Parsnip Puree, Porcini Mushrooms, Glazed Carrots and Barolo, and a rich, toothsome Roast Saddle of Lamb with Chevre Potato Puree, Byaldi of Vegetables, served with a Rosemary and Garlic Confit.

We had no need for dessert at this point, but it was part of Veritas' prix fixe regimen. Who were we to say "no" to a fragrant Apricot Tart Tartin with Apricot Coulis and Lavender Honey Ice Cream and a gorgeously decadent Callison composed of an Almond Orange Tart, Melon Coulis and Crisp Meringue.

Between dinner, the wine, the conversation and the leather, we had arrived at a giddy state of Nirvana. It was dizzying and delightful.

Needless to say, I was too blissed out to notice the grain or texture of the backseat in the cab that drove me away, into the night. For all I know it was vinyl - but, frankly, I could've cared less.

Ol

Just got an invite to a wine tasting benefit for the fine folks at City Harvest. As you've probably guessed from the nifty map above, the event is going to spotlight Spanish varietals:

Join PJ Wine for the top summer wine tasting event of 2004! On Tuesday, June 29 PJ Wine sponsors "Spanish Wine Festival 2004 To Benefit City Harvest" in New York City. Don't miss out on the tapas, cheese and fun as we celebrate well over 100 of the top Spanish selections from every major wine region of Spain, including such classics as Rioja, Ribera del Duero, Priorat and Sherry and hot emerging regions like Toro, Bierzo, Jumilla and more.

Where: Landmark on the Park, 160 Central Park West, across from Central Park at 76th Street, one block south of the Museum of Natural History.

When: 6:30 - 9:30pm Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Cost: $65.00 per person. Space is limited. Register today!

Registration: Register Online or for further information call 212 567-5500.

Tasting highlights will include, Vega Sicilia Unico, Pingus, Pesquera Gran Reserva, Mauro Terreus,