VittlesVamp

Boozy Mexican Hot Chocolate

New York City has been blanketed with snow. Arctic winds whip down city blocks. Slush puddles greet you at street corners. The distance between a subway stop and your destination seems like a long, arduous hike, rather than a hop, skip and a jump.

Aah, wintertime.

It is the savvy restauranteur or barkeep who knows how to play to the season, offering a warm haven from the blustery, bitter cold.

This past weekend, I found refuge on Smith Street at the tapas bar Sample. A chalkboard sign beckoned me within with these words:

Boozy Mexican Hot Chocolate

Hot chocolate would've been enticement enough. But, throw in images of palm trees and beaches, as well as liquor, and I'm "in." And once "in," seated at the bar, I noticed an octogonal box of Nestle's Mexican Chocolate Abuelita (pictured above), the same-said dark chocolate, cinnamon and sugar tablets given to me by my friend Erica, who learned to love the stuff back in California, growing up in her food-obsessed Mexican-American childhood home. I glanced further down the bar to see if the barteneder had a traditional molinillo wooden whisk about, specifically designed for whipping up Mexican Hot Chocolate. No such luck.

Luck turned when it came to the booze. Ordinarily, the "boozy" in Sample's Boozy Mexican Hot Chocolate comes in the form of Scotch, but that didn't make my heart go a flutter. With twinkle in her eye, the bartender captured my heart with her suggestion - Cointreau. Chocolate and orange. What could be bad?

One whiff of the warm, creamy, drink and visions of Orange Milano Cookies were dancing in my head. Between the heady aroma, the rich chocolate and hit of intoxicating citrus, I had left winter behind.

Next time, I think Creme de Menthe is in order. Mint Milano Cookies. Get it?

Mighty Mouse

I'm sure that after yesterday's posting about eating lamb testicles, your wondering if the title of today's posting should have you worried.

No worries. Actually, I wanted to share some interesting news about the impact of green tea on our wee rodent friends:

Is green tea the secret to Mighty Mouse's amazing power?

Probably not. But green tea extract does make mice stronger swimmers, Japanese researchers report. Ten weeks of green tea supplements plus strenuous exercise made mice swim longer and stronger than mice that swam their laps without performance enhancement...

Even better news: The mice got stronger because the green tea made them burn fat more efficiently, suggests (Takatoshi) Murase (PhD) and colleagues at the Biological Sciences Laboratories of Kao Corp., Tochigi, Japan. Kao Corp. is a maker of green tea products.

Well and good for the mice. But what about me? Am I going to have to drink 8 gallons of green tea daily in order to feel "the burn," slim down, and swim like an Olympian? Apparently not. According to the experts' calculations:

...the amount of green tea eaten by the mice would work out to about 4 cups of green tea a day for a 165-pound human athlete. That's a little less than a liter of tea a day.

And, a separate medical study is underscoring green tea's fat fighting power in humans:

The study showed that people who drank a bottle of tea fortified with green tea extract every day for three months lost more body fat than those who drank a bottle of regular oolong tea.

Researchers say the results indicate that substances found in green tea known as catechins may trigger weight loss by stimulating the body to burn calories and decreasing body fat...In this study, researchers looked at the effects of catechins on body fat reduction and weight loss in a group of 35 Japanese men. The men had similar weights based on their BMIBMI (body mass index, an indicator of body fat) and waist sizes.

The men were divided into two groups. For three months, the first group drank a bottle of oolong tea fortified with green tea extract containing 690 milligrams of catechins, and the other group drank a bottle of oolong tea with 22 milligrams of catechins.

During this time, the men ate identical breakfasts and dinners and were instructed to control their calorie and fat intake at all times so that overall total diets were similar.

After three months, the study showed that the men who drank the green tea extract lost more weight (5.3 pounds vs. 2.9 pounds) and experienced a significantly greater decrease in BMI, waist size, and total body fat.

And, if all of this good news about green tea isn't enough to get you to out to the nearest Korean deli or supermarket to pick some up, how about the news that green tea is a boon for your teeth or the studies revealing that green tea can stem the spread of prostate cancer? And, for you geeks out there,it's been discovered that green tea can even help keep your computer's hardware squeaky clean.

Of mice and men, indeed. I think it's green tea that should be shouting: "Here I come to save the day!"

From White Truffles to Lamb Testicles

Variety may be the spice of life, but it's safe to say that I took that proverb a step too far last week.

It all started innocently enough, with a couple of friendly invitations - one to accompany my friend Jenn to Philly for a research project, followed by dinner at one of the city's finest dining establishments; and the other from my pal Kristin, my intrepid archaeologist friend, who longed to relive her days in Uzbekistan with dinner at an Uzbek restaurant in Rego Park, Queens.

I scheduled the expeditions two nights in a row, back-to-back. And, let's just say that these dining experiences most certainly consituted a lovely ying to the other's unfortunate yang.

First up was Vetri, a near legendary restaurant among my friends, as I often reference it as one of my all time favorite establishments. The dining room is intimate and rustic - holding only a total of 10 precious tables. The service is sublime - warm, friendly and informed, while unassuming and inobtrusive - and astonishing feat considering the close quarters.

But, it's really the remarkable gifts of Vetri's owner and chef, Mark Vetri, that make this restaurant a remarkable epicurean experience. His food is all at once rustic and homey, paying homage to classic Italian cuisine, while at the same time playfully bold in terms of marrying textures and flavors.

Case in point, Jenn's dish of Cauliflower Flan, creamy and lush, spiked with earthy white truffle. Cut into the quivering warm pudding and out oozed a gorgeous sunny yellow egg yolk, taking the dish's richness up an extra, unwarranted, yet gleefully opulent, notch.

I started with a Honey-Wheat Crespelle Stuffed With Radicchio, surrounded by an intense puddle of Gorgonzola Cream. Not exactly your "typical" Italian fare. (Olive Garden eat your heart out - with unlimited salad and breadsticks, of course!) And, then I followed it up with a knockout entree of housemade dumplings stuffed with Rabbit and Prunes, bathed in brown butter, topped with crispy slivers of pancetta.

We followed up dinner with a bowl of Raspberry Lambic Ice Cream floating in a warming Zabaglione sauce that melted the two into one luxurious, soupy confection.

Belissima.

We stepped out of the restaurant floating on air, still glowing from our foodie indulgences. We were able to avoid the cold, crisp night, by dashing into our rented car, which, miraculously, we were able to park right in front of the restaurant. Inside, safe and warm, we both sighed low moans of contentment.

Bliss.

The next evening was definitely...different. I seriously missed the rental car, as Kristin and I meandered from the subway stop down 63rd Drive through bitter cold and icy snow to Cheburechnaya in Rego Park. Supposedly the "new kid on the block" in terms of Uzbek restaurants, I was surprised to see that it was simply a lareg barebones space with several humble tables and chairs. But, then again, according to Kristin, Uzbek cookery was fairly humble. Why should the surroundings differ?

I decided to be brave. I let Kristin order. And, boy, did she order: Chebureki, a large, deep-fried turnover of sorts, stuffed with greasy ground lamb, chopped onions and cilantro; Manty, thick-skinned, steamed dumplings filled with more greasy lamb and onions; and a bowl of Lagman, a hearty, flavorful vegetable soup studded with soft pieces of stewed lamb and fat, long noodles. In regard to the "main course," Kristin insisted that we order both a heaping plate of pickled vegetables and a side dish of refreshing carrot salad, called Morkovcha, in order to offset the house specialty kebabs. Unfortunately, they weren't enough to do the trick. The oily Lulya Kebab of ground lamb played host to a wretched chunk of lamb fat. The Chicken Kebab was bizarrely greasy as well. And, the (truly daring) order of Lamb Testicle Kebab offered nothing more than tasteless, fatty blobs.

We tossed the rib-sticking, grease-fest back with some overly sweet fermented brown bread soda called Kvass. Now, I've had Kvass before and enjoyed it. But, the stuff that this restaurant served, tasted more like chocolate soda than the distinctive, malty, bubbly stuff I'd enjoyed over the summer in Brighton Beach.

No bliss here - just blech.

All in all, I felt like Vetri had played "Beauty" to Cheburechnaya's "Beast." Of course, the spell on the Beast was eventually broken and he turned into a handsome prince.

I have no such hopes for Cheburechnaya.

Produce Prophylactic

Now, this is a device that even Ron Popeil would love!

Featured in today's Daily Candy, the BananaBunker (pictured above) is a specially designed container for taking your Chiquita on-the-go. No more worries about this delicate fruit bruising in your bag or finding banana mush on your business briefs. This handy-dandy device will protect your banana and your belongings.

Why didn't anybody come up with this before?

And, if you add a couple of triple-A batteries, goodness knows how much more handy-dandy it could be!

Talk about a banana in your pocket...

SweepSteaks & Syrah

Red meat and red wine - an admirable combination. And, it looks like Kobrand Wines and Smith & Wollensky have teamed up to bring steak lovers and oenephiles the best of both:

Visit a Smith & Wollensky restaurant near you this February and you'll find a prix fixe menu of starters, steaks, and sides that's certain to delight carnivores and oenophiles alike.

Besides offering your choice of sirloin, filet mignon, filet au poivre, or other tender, prime-grade steak, it also includes three glasses from a selection of six exceptional Syrahs. These are intense wines with concentrated fruit from the finest vineyards in Napa, Sonoma, and Santa Barbara. Each has been chosen by the chef to accompany different dishes on the menu and each comes with pairing recommendations.

And, the real kicker is Kobrand's Syrah SweepSteaks contest. The prize is airfare for two plus a private tour and tasting at each featured winery in California:

Oh, The Weather Outside Was Frightful...

But, my new stove was soooo delightful...

Yes. I spent the "Blizzard of 2005" in my kitchen cooking up a pot of homemade Chicken Soup.

My soup secrets:

1. Fresh Thyme. It adds that herbal hit, je ne sais qua to the broth.

2. Garlic. Boil at least 3 - 4 large cloves cut in half, when the soup is boiling down. Most recipes only require an onion in terms of the Alliaceae family, but trust me on the garlic.

3. Boil noodles separately. Cooking noodles in the soup itself adds starch into the broth. You'll achieve a much more amiable balance between soup and noodle, if you add the noodles once cooked through.

4. Cheating (a little): I usually end up adding a packet of George Washington Golden Broth towards the end of the process for an added bit of flavor intensity.

The result this weekend was a gorgeous, savory chicken broth, teeming with herbs and onion-garlic goodness. And, with a warming pot like that on my stovetop, all I had to say to Mother Nature was this - Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Food Critic Goes Tagging

Don't know whether or not to be honored by this "ode to my criticism" or horrified:

Police arrested a man who allegedly found a messy way to complain about restaurants where he believed he had received poor service or been served bad food: graffiti.

Miguel Camacho, 29, was caught Tuesday night after eluding police for six months, police said. He was suspected in more than 60 spray-painting incidents.

Camacho scrawled his trademark tag, "VAMP," on the outside of restaurants where he had negative experiences, said Lt. Thomas Conforti of the NYPD's 112th Precinct.

His targets included a pizzeria in Queens that Camacho said served bad pizza, and a Chinese take-out restaurant in Rego Park where he believed he had been overcharged.

Mr. Camacho: If you really want to be a food critic, I strongly urge you to put down your spray-paint cans and start up a blog. But then again, with all of the press you've garnered, perhaps you can actually spin this into a TV or radio show.

Hmm...

Mr. Camacho: You need a sidekick? If so, drop me a line.

Accidents Will Happen

My hairstylist Mark is notoriously picky - and thrifty to say the least. So, when he went ga-ga for a new Mediterranean restaurant in Park Slope, insisting that I pay a visit, I paid heed. (Besides, I didn't want him disappointed and taking it out on my mane.) My pal Jennifer, also a client of Mark's, found herself in the same precarious position. We had no choice. We had to plan a dinner at Tempo.

The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of our mutual friend Stacie's birthday. Pregnant, Stacie couldn't join in the usual cocktail and vino-fest that goes alongside a tasty celebratory dinner or brunch, but the folks at Tempo said they'd be happy to provide a champagne flute filled with ginger ale, so she could share in a toast or two.

So far so good.

The night of the birthday dinner, I arrived early to scout out the scene. Located in the large 5th Avenue space that once housed Cucina, the restaurant that kicked off the Park Slope 5th Avenue dining renaissance, the new owners had certainly made the space their own. First big change: a real bar in front of the house. Other changes included a sophisticated color palate of beiges and greys, as well as the removal of Cucina's famous, but cumbersome, antipasto bar. The restaurant's two large, vaulting rooms were buzzing with well-heeled Brooklynites imbibing and ingesting.

Hmm. So far, still so good.

I grabbed a seat at the bar and debated about ordering the house special Sicilian Iced Tea, which had been profiled in the New York Times Sunday Style section. Ended up with a refreshing, citrusy cocktail composed of gin, Moscato d'Asti and lemon. Delicious! But, I'm still thinking that I'll have to return for the "iced tea," or try my hand at whipping it up from the recipe printed up in the Times:

SICILIAN ICED TEA
Adapted from Tempo
1 1/2 ounces Cointreau
1 ounce Averna amaro
1 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 ounce fresh orange juice
1/2 ounce simple syrup
Splash of club soda
Lemon wedge
Sprig of fresh rosemary.
1. Shake first five ingredients with ice. Pour into an old- fashioned glass, and top with splash of club soda and a squeeze of lemon. Garnish with rosemary sprig.

Once the gaggle of gals arrived, we sashayed over to a large table and began ooh-ing and aah-ing over the menu selections. We quickly decided to split several smaller plates, including a decadently rich order of Bucatini with Sicilian Pistachio Nut Pesto (which curiously reminded me of Chinese Sesame Noodles) and a special of Pumpkin Lune with Butter and Sage, topped with grated Amaretti Cookies (a recipe directly from Babbo, but who cares when it is this expertly prepared).

Then it happened. What happened? Didn't you read the title of this posting? Accidents will happen all right - In this case, a busboy spilled red wine on my friend Pam, staining her peach-colored courdoroys. At first he was like a deer in the headlights, seemingly more concerned about making sure that her upholstered chair wasn't stained, than taking care of Pam. But, that was quickly remedied. The manager came over, apologized and proffered a second bottle of vino on the house to make up for the accident - in addition to insisting that the restaurant take care of dry cleaning costs.

Let me say it again: accidents will happen. But, the difference between a restaurant I won't be visiting again and one that I'll endorse, is how accidents are handled. In the case of Tempo - swiftly and professionally.

The rest of the dinner proceed without incident, unless you consider winner entrees such as a succulent Niman Ranch Pork Chop with Fruit Chutney and Sauteed Skate with Beurre Noisette and Raisins as "incident"

Dessert featured a masterful rendition of a classic - Sticky Date and Toffee Pudding. (And, I thought the bucatini was decadent!)

Needless to say, I'm not hoping that a return visit to Tempo features any more accidents. But, if they happen, at least I know I'm in good hands - and that the meal will be worth the minor aggravation.

Courtside Lunch

For those of you in the legal profession, serving on a jury or simply "on the wrong side of the law," it's heartening to know that lunchtime in the Manhattan courthouse area offers a load of wonderful options, including Forlini's, which according to the New York Times, is a hot spot frequented by judges and the accused alike:

In New York's stratified legal world, one might think that you are where you eat, but in the packed blocks around the city's civic center, lunch, at least, proves to be the great leveler.

Take, for example, Forlini's, the Italian restaurant on Baxter Street whose clientele is a who's who of the court world. The restaurant's homey interior and reassuring pasta dishes appeal to police and court officers as well as to powerful members of the legal establishment. The Manhattan district attorney, Robert M. Morgenthau, is a frequent diner, as are judges and the occasional mobster.

Booths that line the restaurant's walls form a legal hall of fame. They are adorned with plaques with the names of judges like Edwin Torres, who wrote "Carlito's Way," a 1970's novel about a Puerto Rican drug dealer. Staff members have also achieved renown: A former busboy, Michael Imperioli, plays Christopher Moltisanti in "The Sopranos."

"It's a courthouse celebrity spot," said Norman Williams, a defense lawyer in private practice. "You feel like you're in a place with a lot of history."

The restaurant opened in 1956. It was a looser time: A betting ring was run from the bar, said Mr. Morgenthau, a contention that one of Forlini's three owners, Derek Forlini, did not dispute. Owners put quarters into the air-conditioners when they wanted to cool off. Mr. Forlini, the son of one of the restaurant's founders, said that on one particularly frustrating day, his father told a mobster who seemed to have a quarrel with the restaurant that he would help him blow it up.

Many of the booths lining the walls of Forlini's have brass plaques inscribed with the names of regular customers. Paintings that hang above the booths have not always met with the approval of the honorees' families. Mr. Morgenthau's daughter said she thought the woman in the painting above his booth was dressed too provocatively, and a former federal judge, John S. Martin, said his family was concerned that the painting of the tousled, haggard man above his would be mistaken for a portrait of him. (It has since been replaced by a landscape.)

At Forlini's, it is not unusual for criminal defendants, prosecutors, defense lawyers and judges to dine next to one another over plates of Caesar salad and eggplant Parmesan - usually without incident.

And, considering the courthouses' proximity to Chinatown, the legal eagles and legal bird feed also congregate over pho and such:

Those whose culinary tastes are more Asian than Italian - often, it seems, scrappier defense lawyers and public defenders - frequent the Vietnamese noodle bistros in the area, where a bowl of pho, beef noodle soup, costs $4. Court chatter also hangs in the air over steaming plates of curry at the Thai restaurant Pongsri, at Baxter and Bayard Streets. An assistant district attorney, Charles Curlett, said last week that he had been dining there at least once a week during lunch breaks in the trial he is prosecuting.

For those who have neither time nor money for a sit-down lunch, the Civic Deli on Worth Street - referred to by locals as the D. A. Deli for the throngs of young prosecutors who flock there - offers take-out from the salad bar.

And the chicken and hot dog cart of Moustafa Moustafa, a New Yorker originally from Egypt, is invariably parked just outside the criminal court's south entrance on Centre Street.

Even in winter, court employees and lawyers can be seen wolfing platefuls of his chicken over rice near the cart. When the line of people waiting to pass through the metal detectors is long, Mr. Moustafa also does a brisk business in hot dogs.

As for who orders his vegetarian offerings, Mr. Moustafa answered with certainty.

"The lawyers," he said. "The skinny ones."

Dinner Theater

No. I'm not discussing Junior Mints during intermission, or a three-course rubber chicken dinner during a suburban performance of "Man of La Mancha." I'm actually talkin' about having a beer, chili and cornbread during a honest-to-goodness, off-Broadway theatrical performance.

And, let me say, until you've had a pony-neck Lone Star beer and Virgil's chili during a musical theater rendition of Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor, you haven't done theater!

Last night I was lucky enough to do just that with my pal Celeste, when we took in a performance of Lone Star Love at the John Houseman Theater on 42nd Street. The show is a Pappy-slappin' good time unto itself. And, forsooth, the whole Shakespeare meets Texas thing actually works. (I think that the Bard would've been especially delighted with the yodeling cowboy.) But, it was the full-blown, on-stage, audience-participation barbeque at the onset of the play that set the jovial tone of the comedic delights to come. And, there were guffaws a plenty. In fact, I can't remember laughing that much at the theater since I saw Avenue Q.

And, how do you handle intermission after a hefty helping of BBQ and musical theater comedy? With an oversized rugelach, of course!!! Celeste had picked up four of these boffo-baked treats at the unvenerable, 24-hour Trolley's Deli & Pizza on 42nd. Those suckers were so big, I christened them ruge-large. Dare I call them Texas-sized, complimenting the theatrical theme of the evening?

Nah. I like ruge-large better. Oh, and the rest of the play was a humdinger too! (Never used the word humdinger before. I'm so delighted!) I suggest you buy a ticket to Lone Star Love before it closes at the beginning of February - and come hungry.