VittlesVamp

The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

Who knew that the Creator was really a mound of spaghetti and meatballs?

Yes, of course it's a hoax - an intelligently designed one. The brainchild of a 25 year-old unemployed slot-machine engineer, the Noodle-rific one was first brought to the public's attention through an open-letter to the Kansas school board, in response to the board's intentions to include intelligent life theories into the science curriculum.

Now it has me wistful for a higher-being composed of pasta and ground beef. If only it could be so...Then again, it might be...

T-Day Has Arrived

It is here: Thankgiving.

Already, I have ventured forth, bearing Pumpkin Gelato (pictured in nascent form above) as a festive offering to the owners of The Oriental Pastry & Grocery shop on Atlantic Avenue. (Not quite bringing gifts to the Indians, but figured it would do in a pinch - besides, I got a mean cup of honey-sweet tea in the bargain.)

After that journey, I picked up Yukon Gold potatoes and chives - took to mashing - and also swung by the liquor store to purchase some Sauvignon Blanc to go with dinner and a bottle of Pimm's #1 just for me.

I'll be packing up now - the wine, Mashed Potatoes with Chives, Wild Mushroom Gravy with Black Truffles and Pumpkin Gelato.

Promise to take photos of the big shindig. Hope you and yours are enjoying a shindig of your own!

Day After Tomorrow

Thanksgiving is fast approaching. And, would you expect anything less than me in the kitchen in expectation of the holiday? Tonight I'm finishing up my Pumpkin Gelato and also whipping up a mighty Wild Mushroom Gravy - with black truffles. (Yes, The Vamp is gettin' crazy with the ingredients. Would you expect anything less?)

Will wait until T-day to make the Mashed Potatoes with Chives. The rest will be provided by Maureen, Erica, Stacy and many, many others.

I'm jealous. I want to make it all. But, I guess I have to leave other dishes to other folk. It's tough. I'm a kitchen control freak - but the festivities aren't even at my home. They're at Mo's. Somehow, I'll work through it before Thursday. Besides, Erica is making her famous Turkey Enchiladas. And, I'm assured that frozen pumpkin pie won't be allowed in the house - just a frozen pumpkin confection. (Don't think that I won't be licking the spoon tonight, when I finish off the gelato...Would you expect anything less?)

Shakin' It In Chicago - Part 3

The next day started with the happy sight - the bridges of Chicago lifting one by one to make way for a motley collection of sailboats. (Pictured above.) Soon Bonnie and I were off to Wicker Park and Bucktown for boutique browsing (OK - I bought too!), back to Ogden Slip and then shipboard for a breathtaking lake and river architecture tour, taking in Chicago from a stunning vantage point. To top it off, that evening we had reservations at the hugely popular modern bistro Blackbird.

A perfect ending to a perfect Windy City day.

But, I guess too much of a good thing, ain't so good. Not to say that Blackbird wasn't perfect. It was perfect - too perfect. Too practiced. Too precise.

Earnest, intense cookery had clearly gone out of the window ages ago in this dining destination. From my first course of Seared Hudson Valley Foie Gras and Duck Confit Crepe with Sweet Potatoes, Currants and Comice Pears, to dessert of English Muffin Pain Perdu, Cranberry Compote, and Sweet Potato Ice Cream, each and every dish was - well -

Shakin' It In Chicago - Part 2

Like Sleeping Beauty, I awoke from my nap refreshed and ready to be kissed by the Handsome Prince. (Or was she kissed and then awoke refreshed? Whatever!) Sans Handsome Prince, I decided to make due with my pal Bonnie and our 8:30pm reservations at a BYOB spot at the edge of Bucktown called Schwa.

Now, not a lot had been written about this fairly new New American restaurant, but the few rave reviews I read, coupled with the fact that I have always uttered the word schwa when I yawn, induced me to put it on our dining itinerary. (BTW - Always hoped that I'd find out that schwa was Sanskrit for tired, giving me insight into one of my past lives. No such luck. Apparently it is English for an unstressed vowel. Well, perhaps I used to be an English teacher obsessed with phonetics...)

Knowing full well that the restaurant was BYOB, Bonnie and I took a quick detour to the wine bar/shop/eatery Bin 36 to pick up some Tempranillo before we hopped into a cab. The place was cavernous, yet warm. Modern, but comfortable. Hmmm...Perhaps we'd return here after dinner for an extra glass of vino before heading back to the hotel. Besides, the manager of the shop area was rather cute...

We hailed a cab. 20 minutes later we arrived on a rather desolate block of N. Ashland. Thankfully, the softly lit windows of the restaurant were welcoming. We walked in to find a tiny, comfy, sage-colored dining room - 28 seats in all - barely full on a Friday night at prime time. This didn't bode well. Then again, the open kitchen activity looked interesting - especially since it came with a view of a handful of attractive twenty-something males slicing, dicing, broiling and braising.

Yum!

We were suddenly greeted by an ebullient blonde with a gracious manner and ease. She uncorked our wine, and after a few sips, Bonnie and I felt a bit uncorked ourselves. And, then we perused our menus.

Oh, my. EVERYTHING sounded amazing. Just edgy enough to keep us on our toes, but not so wacky that we were put off. We couldn't decide what to order. Thankfully, it was a grand excuse to ask the restaurant's adorably scruffy chef/owner Michael Carlson over to the table for advice and insight. Why wasn't the restaurant more packed - especially considering that week's Time Out Chicago write-up? What were his favorite items on the menu? Could I have his number? (Okay, didn't ask the last one - but I was thinking it!)

Carlson expressed some frustation over the restaurant's lackluster success in keeping the front of the house full. Apparently, even with the BYOB draw, many folks would make reservations and then ditch at the last-minute. As for the menu - now his eyes lit up - he had several favorites. He smiled. Damn. What a great smile. A confident smile. This was a man who knew what he was doing in the kitchen. And so, with a little reluctance, we let him go back to his pots and pans.

And, soon the dining began. I started with a beautifully composed salad of crisp celery root, buttery Manchego cheese, sweet apple slices and brackish white anchovies. Bonnie indugled in a lighly fried, crumb-coated egg, which oozed bright yellow yolk, offsetting a generous spoonful of shiny black Illinois sturgeon caviar and a dollop of potato puree.

Wow.

My entree of housemade ravioli stuffed with ricotta, parmesan and quail eggs in brown butter with fried sage was a revelation - a trip to Bologna on a plate. Bonnie was equally enthralled with her dish of plump, sweet scallops, which came with a warm shot of apple cider to match their sugary goodness.

Wow again.

What's for dessert? There were only two, so there was no question or debate. They sounded incredible - a brownie stuffed with creme fraiche served with a pumpkin puree and pumpkin seeds, and baked banana with roasted pineapple and ginger custard. Unfortunately, after our series of brilliant, intensly flavored dishes, these desserts paled in comparision. In fact, they were downright bland. Heck, the ginger custard was downright salty.

Still, all in all, Schwa was an amazing find. And, if Carlson can find a pastry chef to live up to his cuisine, it could be an unstoppable haute cuisine hot spot.

We hailed a cab and still felt the need for something sweet. Or, even better - cheese. Or, even better than that - cheese and wine. We told the driver to take us to Bin 36. We were instantly greeted by the amiable shop manager, named Justin, who we quickly sussed out was fabulous - and fabulously gay. (And, I can't for the life of me understand how he's single. Cute, funny and has access to great wine. Yet, he was threatening to move to NYC to meet Mr. Right.)

Bonnie and I bonded with Justin instantly - and he made sure we were treated like princesses, as we sampled a selection of creamy, gooey, and sometimes pungent cheeses (one of Bin 36's cheese plates pictured above) and sipped a final glass of vino for the evening.

Gabbing, sipping and nibbling, time flew. Suddenly it was nearing midnight. We figured we'd better return to the hotel before our carriage turned back into a pumpkin. Wait - was that Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella? Well, no matter the fairy tale, I believe there was a Handsome Prince at the end. It was pretty evident that neither Bonnie or I would be ending up with a Handsome Prince tonight. A hug from Justin and turn-down service at the Monaco would have to do. Besides, I was tired and beginning to yawn...schwa...

See. I told you!

Shakin' It In Chicago - Part 1

I am not a morning person. Really. I mean it. I'm not chirpy and joyous in the AM. I'm blech. Blech awaiting an injection of caffeine.

So, I can't for the life of me figure out why I thought a morning flight from Newark to Chicago was a good idea. And, worse, I thought I would wake up EXTRA early and take the subway from Brooklyn to Penn Station, get on a New Jersey Transit train and then transfer onto the airport's monorail system. This was not a good vacation plan.

Yet, tired as I was when I landed at Midway airport late morning on Friday, I was determined to hit the tarmac running. I quickly checked into the beautiful, hip (but not enough to hurt) Monaco Hotel, and then made my way to N. Michigan and Randolph to the Chicago Visitor's Center to pick up a man. Russ to be exact. He was my tour guide from Chicago Greeter, a city program matching volunteer tour guides with hapless tourists - like moi.

We took a brisk walk through the Loop district of Chicago with Russ enthusiastically pointing out the sites and sharing a bit of local history. First stop: Millennium Park - not terribly historic, but most definitely a magnificent site. The centerpiece: the Frank Gehry-designed Jay Pritzker Pavilion (pictured above), a breathtaking, modern concert venue with an intricate woven metal trellis extending over gorgeous green lawn. I suddenly wished I had a picnic - and a symphony orchestra. We meandered for about an hour - even peaking into the shrouded Christmas windows at the original Marshall Field's, scheduled for unveiling the next day.

By the time I bid Russ adieu, I was really, really tired. But, I convinced myself that the problem was that I simply needed a drink - a cocktail to be exact. (At least it was a much better idea in comparison to the whole early morning flight concept.) And, so I headed over the river to one of Chicago's most lauded Mexican eateries, Frontera Grill. I grabbed a seat at the well-tended bar, and was immediately tended by the very dapper David, a bartender who came complete with a gift for shaking Margaritas and a dandy mustache which he meticulously curled up at the ends.

I placed a food order before the kitchen closed and awaited my lunch selection - Uptown Texas Chili - cubes of pork and Crawford Farm lamb simmered with ancho chile, cumin, beer and white runner beans; topped with aged Jack cheese and onion, served with house salad and homemade tortillas for making soft tacos. David nodded with approval when I ordered. I nodded with approval when the plate arrived (see picture below).

I imbibed and ingested. Now I was officially exhausted. I had to sleep. I wandered back to the hotel, attempting to note points of interest - most especially watering holes - on the journey. I had to get the lay of the land (aka bar scene) before my partner in crime appeared later that evening. My pal Bonnie was in route to the Windy City and she would expect no less than an evening of great food, great libations and great gab once she arrived.

Yeah. A nap sounded like a really good idea. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Raising A Glass To Our Elders

I'm back from Chicago and promise to post about my adventures shortly, but had to take a moment to say "cheers" to a new elder care initiative in Ireland - drinking. According to Reuters:

A nursing home in Ireland has hit on a cheering way to keep up the spirits of its elderly patients -- by providing its own pub.

St Mary's Hospital in County Monaghan, near the Irish border with Northern Ireland, believes ready access to a good pint may help its patients -- average age 85 -- actually live longer...

...The pub, which opens at 11 a.m. and closes at 9 p.m. and charges normal bar prices, had also led to an increase in the number of visitors, she said.

Well, guess that's one way to get your children and grandkids to visit more often.

Note to Mom and Dad: Ever consider putting a fully-stocked bar in your home?

Windy City Weekend

Off to Chi-Town. Plan on visiting Marshall Field's before it closes its doors, taking an architecture river boat tour and bopping into the Art Institute.

But what about food and drink?

Planning on a weekend-long fast.

Psyche! Actually have reservations at BYOB fave Schwa and all-around fave Blackbird. And, yes, deep-dish pizza will be had.

Full report when I return.

Google Gourmet

Forget about simply searching for background on your next blind date - now Google has much more important things to do - like dinner. Andrea Sachs of the Washington Post explains:

The concept behind Google cooking is basic: Simply plug in your ingredients and the word "recipes," press Google search, then wait for the results to pop up. The engine will scour reams of Web sites -- from the expected (Food Network's http://foodtv.com/ ) to the obscure ( http://acupuncture.com/ ) -- for recipes that incorporate your desired foodstuffs. With its infinite repository, Google can find recipes for unconventional food pairings or exotic products that might stump most cookbooks. Indeed, it was a piece of salmon and a bunch of Swiss chard that inspired Judy Hourihan to enlist Google's assistance three years ago...

..."It's good when you don't have a clear idea of what to make with an odd combination of ingredients," said Hourihan, 60, who Google cooks at least once a week. "You take your chances, but it really pays off. I have never put in a combination that I did not find a recipe for."

And therein lies the appeal of Google cooking: It helps you build a meal from bottom up (vs. recipe down), while also purging your kitchen of languishing edibles, aging produce and meats, or overstocked perishables (i.e., that crate of pineapples bought impulsively during a Hawaiian vacation).

Not sure I want to depend on Google for my next dinner party. But, it might be worth a whirl the next time I get a crate of pineapples.

An Age Old Mystery

What is the difference between a sweet potato and a yam? Apparently, in writing yesterday's posting, I fell prey to the commonly made mistake that a sweet potato and yam are the same thing. In fact, that is not true at all:

There are many varieties of sweet potatoes but the two that are widely grown commercially are a pale sweet potato and the darker-skinned variety Americans erroneously call yam (the true Yam is not related to the sweet potato). The pale sweet potato has a thin, light yellow skin and a pale yellow flesh. Its flavor is not sweet and after being cooked, the pale sweet potato is dry and crumbly, much like a white baking potato. The darker variety has a thicker, dark orange skin and a vivid orange, sweet flesh that cooks to a much moister texture.

For the record - I use the darker variety of sweet potatoes when I make the recipe below. These taters are regularly labeled as "yams" at my local bodega, so they may be labeled similarly at yours too (same goes for your local Gristedes or Key Foods).