VittlesVamp

Feelin' Festive

Put on my Dollywood apron just to take the Season's Greetings celebration up a notch. A gift from my Southern Fried friend Kurt, it certainly put me in a barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen kinda mood (sans the preggers bit, and I did wear Manolos).

My pal Grant was coming over for a Christmas morning brunch, and I had to put on my best holiday VittlesVamp show! Nothing like cracking open a couple of fresh eggs, pouring some rich cream, adding a splash of bourbon, and soaking it all up in some slices of cinnamon-swirl bread to say yuletide to y'all!

And, here's the recipe, just to make your holiday a bit brighter...

Egg Nog Cinnamon French Toast

2 eggs
1 1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup bourbon
1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. cloves
3 TBSP. butter
10 slices cinnamon-swirl bread

Heat oven to 275 degrees. Beat the eggs. Add cream, bourbon, vanilla, sugar, salt, cinnamon and cloves. Whip mixture till well-combined. Soak bread slices in the cream mixture. Place butter in a skillet, heating on medium till bubbly. Brown the soaked bread in batches. Place on a cookie sheet. Drizzle remaining cream mixture over the slices. Bake for 15 minutes.

Happy, Merry Kitchen

There's nothing like the holidays to inspire me to become Martha Stewart (sans the jail time and redwood forest up my backside, of course)!

OK, well, perhaps it isn't MY holiday per se, but that doesn't mean I can't find the Christmas spirit stove-side. Besides, I've been invited to partake in a holiday feast tomorrow at my decidedly Christian friend Christine's house.

Baking and cooking in preparation isn't just in order, it's downright peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.

So earlier today I broke out my Pecan Pie recipe from Camellia Grill and baked away. (Photo of a fully-formed specimen above.) Then I took to stirring up a pot of lip-smacking Creamed Spinach graced with freshly grated nutmeg - the perfect accompaniment to Christine's planned Christmas dinner of Kobe beef. I also whipped up my Champagne Shallot Vinaigrette for tomorrow's salad.

And, later tonight I'll pull a real "Stewart" by preparing a few dozen Asparagus Blue Cheese Bites - for freezing.

Will they end up gracing my table on New Year's Eve? Well, according to the latest news, Beluga Caviar certainly won't. So, I best be prepared.

What a great mantra: Be prepared.

Maybe I should join the Boy Scouts in 2007.

It's a thought. But before then, I have more baking a cooking to get to.

Must make Martha proud!

B-Day Bonanza - Pt. 2

One day doesn't really feel like quite enough, when it comes to my birthday. So, this past weekend I kept on celebrating with a day-long below-23rd Street excursion with my archaeologically-inclined pal Kristin.

And, let me just say that between Steak Tartare at Blue Ribbon Bakery, her thoughtful gift of Averna Amaro, and a girly girl shopping spree that took us from the ultimate den of scent and sensibility - Aedes De Venustas - to the chock-a-block makeup circus that is Sephora, we had a rip-roaring time.

By the time 7:30pm rolled around, we knew that the day had only begun. We headed over to Temple Bar, a lounge that harkens back to a much more civilized era, and sipped on civilized cocktails with another pal, Ms. T. Then we meandered through Nolita until we stumbled upon the D.O.C.-approved hot spot L'Asso. There, we upped the day's ante with some wine and an 18" pizza masterpiece, topped with thin slices of portobello mushroom, pesto, cheese, fresh rosemary, and truffle oil.

When we could eat and drink and gab no more, I grabbed a cab. Loaded down with perfume samples, a few cosmetic treats from Sephora, a couple of slices of leftover pizza, my bottle of Amaro and a big smile on my face, I zipped off home still feeling like it was my "special day."

C'mon. Why shouldn't a girl get to turn 21 for two days in a row? Or two years in a row for that matter. Or 5 years in a row for that matter. Or...Well, you get the idea.

So, there you have it - Happy birthday to me!

B-Day Bonanza - Pt. 1

Time keeps tickin' along and with it the necessity of celebrating my 21st birthday - again.

What's a Vamp to do? Do it up with style. Style topped with freshly shaved white truffles, of course!

The afternoon of the big day, I grabbed a stool at Otto and was easily swayed to indulge in the White Truffle and Robiola Bosina Pizza (pictured above). The smell alone was intoxicating. Paired with a quartino of crisp, fruit-forward Kerner, it was the perfect festive lunch before my usual birthday pampering ritual - an hour-long reflexology session at a quaint, underground, West Village parlor, aptly named Angel Feet.

With tootsies in order, I headed back to the County of Kings, where a friend with a very friendly pair of blue eyes took me out to Jack the Horse Tavern for a fizzy cocktail, aptly named Behind the Knees.

I hated to leave the bar - not to mention the pair of blue eyes - but a gaggle of gal pals awaited on Smith Street. We all converged on a Brooklyn culinary star called The Grocery. The restaurant's Zagat-topping dining room was tiny and packed to the rafters. One glance at the mouthwatering menu and a warm greeting from our server and I could see why.

This was definitely a good choice for dinner. Within minutes my friends and I descended into chatter and headlong into a bottle of French white wine.

Talk only ceased momentarily, as I let out a low moan biting into my Fois Gras appetizer and similar gasps of pleasure were illicited around the table from a small plate of Goat Cheese Ravioli with Roasted Beets, Fried Shallots and Toasted Pinenuts. Mmmmm...What was next?

Unable to make the fateful decision between The Grocery's impressive list of entrees, I had wussed out - asking the chef to decide. I wondered what could possibly top the Fois Gras.

Note to self: Be a wuss more often.

My entree was a humdinger - Slow Rendered Duck Breast in a Carmelized Red Wine Sauce, plated with Celery Root Mash and Sauteed Cabbages.

What kind of sweet could follow?

It was time to be a wuss once more.

We asked our server to bring out the best dessert on the menu for the five of us to share. I suspected that the Chocolate Fig Cake would emerge from the kitchen, but we were all delighted by her deeply satisying choice of deep dish Apple Cobbler with dollop of housemade Vanilla Ice Cream.

Were five very happy ladies as we headed out into the night - three to head home- and my pal Joy and I off to for a nightcap. Where to go? Another visit to Jack the Horse seemed unseemly. But then again, another one of those Behind the Knees would be a wonderful ending to a wonderful day...

Needless to say, it was.

I adore being 21.

Barman Bukofzer Alert

Norman Bukofzer is a legend - and deservedly so.

His ability with a cocktail shaker is unprecedented, his ease with patrons unmatched, his humor reminscent of Henny Youngman in his prime, and his memory is that of an elephant.

An elephant?

No kidding. You show up once at the Ritz-Carlton Central Park South's small Star Lounge Bar, and even a year later Norman will not only greet you like a returning friend, but he'll remember your name - and he'll remember your drink.

Now that's hospitality!

And, last night I wanted to share the treasure that is Norman with my California pal Karen. Once she took a sip of a Bukofzer Dirty Martini, I was assured that my Cali friend would be paying more calls on NYC - and more calls on Norman.

We entered the bar and miraculously were able to claim two seats at the height of happy hour.

Wonderful!

Not so.

I suddenly noticed that Norman was not behind the bar. What was going on? I was informed by an attendant that Norman had fallen ill. Concerned, I pushed for more details - and learned that he had recently gone into the hospital for heart surgery.

I jotted down a note to send a "Get Well" card through the Ritz-Carlton ASAP, in hopes that messages from regulars might be some small comfort - and Karen and I decided to stay put and give the new bartender a go.

Unfortunately, we never had the chance.

The new bartender let used, dirty cocktail glasses from former patrons remain in front of us for 10 minutes straight. He finally removed them and promised he'd return to quench our thirst.

Things didn't look good for Norman's replacement.

We waited. Then we waited some more. And then we waited some more.

All the while, he never brought us water, never brought us a drink menu, and even had the gall to assist newcomers at the bar before taking our order.

That was it!

We were out of there. If for no other reason than for Norman. This was no way to try to carry on his legacy while he recuperated.

So this is a plea to the Ritz-Carlton Central Park South:

If you respected Norman enough to sing his praises when he was behind your bar, have enough integrity to make sure that his bar is maintained to the highest standards while he's away - no matter for how long. Even if he decides to retire, the Star Lounge Bar will always be Norman's bar. And, let me speak for his vast number of adoring patrons - we want it kept that way.

Blur with Novocaine, Kimchee and a Score

This week was a indistinct haze. I can blame a trip to the dentist and a hefty shot of novocaine on some of it. The rest I'll have to chock up to age - and maybe one too many Manhattans.

What I can recall through the mist is a roadtrip to Flushing's Chinatown - a trip that included the joyful clattering of dim sum carts at Ocean Jewel Seafood Restaurant and a visit to the Assi Plaza Korean supermarket where beyond the requisite aisle of hot and spicy condiments, they employed a kimchee expert to make the pungent stuff before your very eyes.

I also recall sitting at the bar at Thalia some days later and ordering a selection of melt-in-your-mouth cheese as a nibble before heading to a preview of Spring Awakening...Did I order anything else at the bar though?...

Memory is a tricky thing. Sometimes you have to sift through the blur - other times you can't get something out of your head.

As for the latter, I am still replaying Spring Awakening's line-up of songs in my head. I can't stop hearing them, humming them...And, this is one of those memories I'd like to hold onto. So, clearly Gingko Biloba is called for - and I ordered the cast recording for good measure.

And, what memories am I hoping to make this weekend? I'll start off with brunch with a good friend, then dinner with another, and tomorrow I'm going to the theater with my Irish pal Brady.

Now, those are the plans. We'll just have to wait and see what ultimately makes the memory cut...Best buy that Gingko Biloba before brunch though, just to up the odds.

LES on Sat

It had most certainly been a while since Lady M and I had gone out on the town. We were due.

It was Saturday night and we had Manhattan at our feet. Where to go?

It was cold and blustery and we were already in Lady M's part of town - the Lower East Side - so the 'hood decision was fairly easy.

Finding a drink was not.

East Side Company Bar was closed for a private event. Barrio Chino had an hour wait for a space at the bar. Little Giant was packed to the rafters.

It was sad. Two parched women in search of cocktails.

We looked too good to remain sad for long.

Finally we found a perch - and a Vodka Martini and Manhattan - at Tenement. The scene became cheerier by the sip.

The drinks and chatter were marvelous, but soon we required more sustenance. Women can't live on conversation and alcohol alone! Or can we? We decided not to find out - and headed over the LES's throbbing restaurant row - Clinton Street.

Once again, we were able to find a perch - this time at Alias Restaurant. The Sangria was tasy and the view was sublime - a full-frontal view of the kitchen complete with a tempting hunk of a chef. But would he tempt us with more than the menu?

One bite into our appetizer of Roasted Cauliflower, Chanterelles, Red Grapes, Rosemary, Aioli and oozing Poached Egg and we could have cared less. (OK - That's a lie. But, dang if that dish wasn't an orgasm in a bowl!) My meaty St. Louis-Style BBQ Ribs with Jumbo Onion Rings and a vinegary Cole Slaw was pretty moan-worthy too. And, Lady M seemed similarly pleased with her entree of Seared Sea Scallops.

By the time Lady M's consort Sir M arrived there was little possibility that the grins were going to be wiped off our faces any time soon.

Sir M was wise enough to appreciate the tableau before him - and assisted us in maintaining our smiles with a double-dip into the dessert menu - a buttery, intense Chocolate Pecan Bourbon Pie and a decadent Ice Cream Sundae drizzled with warm chocolate sauce and topped with a dollop of fresh whipped cream.

That was it. We were done. Even a Cheshire cat grin from the chef couldn't have put me over the edge. (Not that I didn't get one as I exited, mind you!)

Heading home that night, I couldn't help but think that more LES exploration would be required in 2007. I also realized that Lady M would be essential to these jaunts. And, if Sir M plays his cards right, he may be invited too.