VittlesVamp

Tart Trend

Not talking about small pies or big sluts. No. I'm talking about the hottest piece of produce on the circuit these days: rhubarb. Pomegranate may have been "in." But now, rhubarb is the reigning queen of the kitchen and cocktail.

About a month ago, rhubarb rumblings began. And, recently, I've been noticing rhubarb popping up on all sorts of menus. I have been partaking quite happily. In particular, gotta say that Blue Smoke's warm Strawberry-Rhubarb Cobbler with Homemade Buttermilk Ice Cream was stellar - just sweet-tart enough to serve as dessert and palate-cleanser all at once.

So, if you have rhubarb on the brain and want to try your hand at a couple of rhubarb-infused recipes, here are some tips to keep in mind.

Hmmm...Thinking that fresh Strawberries with Rhubarb Ice Cream might be in order this summer.

Under the Sea

Don't really think I could eat a seafood meal, while checking out my dinner's cousin. Could you? If so, time to book a vacation at the Hilton Maldives Resort & Spa.

Letting Down the Brits

Little did I know that I'd let down a nation - or at least one British reporter from The Guardian, sent to New York armed only with a BlackBerry and a mobile phone, obligated to live and die by the writings of NYC-based bloggers:

The idea was simple. For 48 hours, I would tour Manhattan using the "blogosphere" as my guide. By tapping the freshly posted thoughts of the city's (perhaps the world's) most opinionated insiders - New York bloggers - I'd leave behind the instantly outdated world of guidebooks, with their inherent obsolescence and excess poundage. What use could I possibly have, in a high-speed world, for knowledge distributed on a crude and bulky medium like paper?

And, here's where I come in:

The blogosphere is growing at an estimated rate of 40,000 weblogs per day and, after 50 minutes of browsing rather aimlessly in search of food, I was beginning to suspect that most of them originate in New York. There's a heap of information out there, much of it a distraction, so it was with genuine relief that I finally found a good tip from Vittles Vamp (vittlesvamp.com), an anonymous food-and-drink blog. I scrolled down to an entry marked "B-Day Bash Pt 2" and found the author's thoughts on a Soho restaurant called Porcupine: "In a word: GO. I mean it."

I went - perhaps too hastily, because it was closed. The blog had landed me in Soho, but hunger dictated my next move, a couple of doors down to Bistrot Margot (26 Prince Street). The space had the dimensions of a pencil (much longer than it was wide), with a walled jardin at the back, where I sat, as the reluctant April sunshine forced out a few green shoots on overhanging branches...

So close to having my personal musings vindicated by the Brits - and so very, very far.

Oh well, perhaps someone out in the blogosphere will do me one better, when I venture forth to Europe next month. Destination: Ireland. Irish vittles and drinking tips definitely encouraged.

The Foodie Top 50

I've now had two friends send me a link to the Observer's feature about the 50 things that every foodie should do. So, it seems that this posting is a "must-do."

Frankly, I was pleased to note that I have already done several things on the list, including:

3) Dismember a chicken

6) Dine at the French Laundry

13) Learn how to make a dry martini

20) Wolf down a hotdog on Coney Island (Nathan's pictured above)

28) Dine at Jean Georges in New York

29) Pod fresh peas

30) Queue for fish and chips

31) Get up early and go to market

33) Catch your own dinner

35) Grill a steak

A number of other ideas on the list sound tempting - ranging from slurping udon noodles in Takamatsu to eating chocolate cake in Vienna - but it was really #11 that made me realize that I have a lot more "foodie living" to do:

11) Make love in a vineyard

And, according to the article, it had better not be "just any vineyard either, not even any French vineyard, but in no fewer than all five of the Bordeaux first growth vineyards. At night."

Ch

The "Other" Bubbly

The Vamp offers up her list of some of NYC's best beer bars on Gothamist. Check it out.

C is for Celery?

Considering that I used to work in children's television, I'm shocked that I somehow missed this groundbreaking news:

Sesame Street officials on Thursday finally made the ravenous iconic muppet available for interviews. This was two weeks after announcing Cookie would be cutting back on his namesake snack as the popular children's TV show stresses healthy lifestyles this season.

Nearly everyone wanted to know the monster's reaction to this major revamping of his role. People wondered how Cookie would adapt to emphasizing that cookies should only be eaten on occasion after a generation of trumpeting their merits by shouting, "AGGGHHHHH! ME LOVE COOKIES!"

After initially saying Cookie would have no comment on the drastic change, Sesame Street officials decided to have him face the media after the controversy refused to subside.

But Cookie did not appear at all reluctant to talk as he spoke to reporters while sitting in a monogrammed bathrobe and sipping a glass of white wine. He started by saying he was not, to put it in terms his adoring fans likely would use, about to wee-wee on the kiwi.

"They come to Cookie and say, 'You do healthy?'" he recalled. "Me say, 'Ha! Me once do Willy Loman off-Broadway in "Death of Salesman.'" Me actor. Of course me do healthy."

This is not to say the furry blue monster, who honed his craft in the late '60s under the acclaimed acting teacher Lee Strasberg, is without reservations about his character's direction.

"Me have to have it make sense to viewer," he said. "Cookie eat cookies for years. Why Cookie now eat celery?"

He confirmed an on-set blowup with Sesame Street producers over a scene in which Hoots the Owl sings "A Cookie is a Sometimes Food." The song advocates eating fewer cookies and eating more fruit.

I dunno. This past weekend I saw my adorable nephew Dylan, age 2 - and I bore witness to the sheer delight on his face when my father (better known as "Pop-pop" by the young lad) brought him an oatmeal cookie from Starbucks. I just can't imagine the same amount of glee for a rutabaga. Know what I mean?

The Flim Flam

There's nothing quite as smooth as a smooth-talking barkeep. And, I happened upon one of that elusive bartending breed the other night at the hot cocktail haunt Employees Only: Henry.

He was quite a specimen too. Dapper to a fault and just tipsy enough to make you wish you were having whatever happy elixir he had downed earlier.

We soon were chatting about all things cocktalian - and all things altogether. By the time I was done with my first drink, a Hemingway Daquiri, we had already decided that the "mystery ingredient" in any wonderful wateringhole was this: possibility. He believes that it's something apparent the moment you walk through an establishment's door. I disagree. I think possiblity is in the eye of the beholder. It may be in the room, but if you can't see it...You get the picture.

Any-who, it wasn't long before Henry offered to make me a very special cocktail - The Flim Flam.

Now, there was a possibility I could get into.

He grabbed Raspberry Vodka (not off to a good start in my book), added lime and lemon juices, as well as dashes of a few other secret elements. He shook. And then, with bravado, he poured.

But nothing came out of the shaker.

A Flim Flam indeed.

Henry smiled. And, then offered a drink on the house. I smiled back and said "yes." But this time, I decided to stick to the cocktail menu - and was rewarded with a fragrant, not too sweet Fraise Sauvage, gin muddled with strawberries and topped with a champagne float.

And, needless to say, the rest of my evening seemed filled with possibilities.

Boozin' Behind Bars

I've watched enough episodes of "Oz" to know that drinking alcohol in prison is a must-do. Hence, I wasn't surprised to learn that prisoners have actually come up with their own brand of maximum-security, homemade hooch: Prunar.

Nasty at 3000 Feet

I'm sorry, but airlines should just admit their failure in the food department. We all know that the food sucks. And, paying for it doesn't make it taste any better.

Case in point: The incredibly disgusting "snack box" that my colleague Kurt attempted to consume on a cross-country trip on American Airlines to SF a few weeks back. He just couldn't. Really. It was too nasty. I mean this boy is from Chattanooga. He's probably eaten possum. And, heck, we just celebrated his b-day with surprise 6-pack of Coors Light and two flavors of pork rinds. And, yet, he just couldn't stomach the "snack box."

And, so it amazes me when airlines continue to tout their culinary offerings, as with this lovely press release from American Airlines:

American launched its main-cabin food-for-sale program on Feb. 1, 2005. American offers food for sale on selected domestic routes longer than three hours and on transcontinental and Hawaii flights. American's decision to expand the program is based on positive feedback the carrier received from its inflight surveys. Among the findings:

* Nearly 80 percent of passengers surveyed reported that the snack boxes currently available are a "good value."

* More than 90 percent of flight attendants reported the service ran smoothly and some reported selling out of snacks and sandwiches because the option is so popular.

Who the hell took this survey?????

I Left My Ribs in San Francisco...

Finally!!! It's about time I wrote about my trip to San Francisco.

Admittedly, I had luscious oysters and a toothsome pork chop on the outdoor patio of Foreign Cinema. And, I enjoyed fine Mexican tapas at Colibri. But, the culinary highlight arrived on one very appetizing appetizer plate at a SOMA restaurant called Oola - Baby Back Ribs with Cilantro, Ginger and Soy-Glaze, served alongside an addictive Asian-influenced Red Cabbage-Apple Slaw.

In truth, several plates of these sweet, sticky, rich and meaty delights were ordered. They were like crack-cocaine to the table. We even had the waiter hoist over an extra plate of the slaw solo.

Now, I can't whole-heartedly recommend Oola (dining room pictured above), as the rest of the fare didn't live up the "rib-standard." (Even the restaurant's Foie Gras Torchon with Mango Jam and Vanilla-Infused Extra Virgin Olive Oil couldn't hold a candle.) But, I have to say that I can't get those darn ribs outta my mind.

For those of you who read this site regularly, I know what you're thinking: Dr. Biggles would be proud.