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Looks like I'm having trouble staying in one spot these days.
About to get on a plane for sunny California - for work and hopefully a bit of pleasure too. (Mexican food anyone?)
Not sure if I'll have time to post while I'm on the road, but will try to have a tasty adventure or two worth reporting on when I return...
Quickly they come and quickly they go. At least that's been the pattern on the north end of Henry Street in Brooklyn Heights. No sooner had the sub-par Afficionado Cafe and the painfully named Food Maestro opened their doors, when they were shuttered.
Now, a new lease on life - and a new literal lease - are being taken out at both locations. Afficionado is under construction and reinventing itself as Oven (door signage pictured above). One can only assume that the place will be heating something up.
Food Maestro (Really - Who the hell named that place?), has re-opened as Busy Chef, a take-out gourmet shop with freshly baked breads and muffins. If the pleasant aromas eminating from their front door are any indication, this store might be able to break the Cranberry and Henry Street southwest corner curse.
In addition, the short-lived Cranberry Place party space for kids is transforming itself into a coffeehouse - with a liquor license and the occasional jazz quartet performance. A bonafide coffeehouse is sorely needed in the nabe. So, if Uncommon Grounds Brooklyn does it right, they might able to break the Cranberry and Henry Street northwest corner curse.
Next on the Henry Street revival list - rumors that a cigar lounge is opening in the old bodega spot.
When you've found a great bartender, you've hit gold. Now, I've expounded on many a mixologist's gifts on this site, but I have never been shy about my high regard for the spirited talents of one Philip Ward.
I guess I'm a bit of a groupie. A cocktail groupie. I followed him from Flatiron Lounge to Pegu Club - and now Death & Company, a cozy, candlelit East Village speakeasy that's been packing them in since it opened back in January.
Pictured above, shaking things up, Phil can happily claim the majority of the lounge's libations as his own - with nary a Vodka drink in the bunch. He's come up with some real winners too - from the Company Buck, a bubbly Dark Rum concoction brightened by the flavors of pineapple, orange and ginger, to the Mig Royale, a Gin cocktail graced with Maraschino, Cointreau, fresh lemon juice and a Champagne float.
One of my new all-time faves is a sweet spicy number that Phil christened the Fresa Brava (pictured below). How that man came up with a drink the features Tequila, Jalapeno Peppers, Strawberries and Yellow Chartreuse, I'll never know.
Different - yes. Delicious - an emphatic yes.
Can't imagine trying to make one at home though. What can I say? Actually taking the time to infuse the Tequila with the spicy peppers, when I can just visit Death & Company, seems too ambitious - if not downright silly.
But in case you want to give it a go, here's Phil's recipe:
1.) Muddle a few Strawberries in a 1/2 ounce of Simple Syrup
2.) Add ice.
3.) Pour in 3/4 ounce of Yellow Chartreuse, 3/4 ounce of fresh Lemon Juice and 2 ounces of Herradura Silver Tequila infused with Jalapeno Peppers.
4.) Shake
5.) Strain into a chilled Champagne coupe glass
6.) Serve
I decided to use my morning meeting in Soho as an all-out excuse to return to Paris - or get as close as I could within the confines of New York City.
I went to Balthazar for breakfast.
Admittedly, this Keith McNally favorite has a beautiful dining room. Every inch has been meticulously designed to evoke a Parisian brasserie. Yet, for some reason I couldn't help but wonder if the restaurant's design group had also been employed by the folks at Epcot.
It was too perfect. I had only the attitude of the Manhattan elite, giggles of Japanese tourists and grating accents of Long Island daytrippers spoiling the fastidiously French setting.
My Almond Croissant was too perfect too. It appeared to be the quintessential, Gourmet Magazine cover-ready Almond Croissant. But one bite and I realized that its flavor was lackadaisical. The almond filling had no oomph. The croissant itself was tired and flat. No flaky, buttery goodness here. All in all it was "feh."
All in all I wasn't in Paris - I was in Manhattan.
I shoulda just gone for a bagel.
Disheartened, I trudged through my day to another appointment in the Columbus Circle area - meeting up later with my pal Jen at the Time Warner Center's Bouchon Bakery for lunch. Having yet to try this little slice of Napa Valley and Thomas Keller on-the-cheap, I had high hopes.
The display cases didn't disappoint. They were mesmerizing. I finally settled on a Tuna Nicoise Sandwich (a few specimens pictured above), a mound of well-seasoned tuna topped with sliced hard-boiled egg and slivers of crisp red radishes, heaped on a fresh roll with just enough give to make me want to give in.
It was yummy. So was the Nutter Butter Cookie that Jen and I wolfed down as a completely undeserved dessert at the meal's end. (The best desserts are always undeserved - thereby more decadently sinful.)
The meal, the company, it was all marvelous. Yet something was profoundly wrong.
Very wrong.
For no matter the meal or my lunchtime companion, not only was I in New York rather than Napa - but I was in a MALL.
I WAS IN A MALL!
Once again, I found myself surrounded by those darn Japanese tourists and Long Island daytrippers. (The Manhattan elite were presumably across town at Barneys.)
So ultimately, I never made it to Paris or Napa - just Epcot France and the mall.
But who am I to complain? A Metrocard is a heck of a lot cheaper than a plane ticket. Besides, that Nutter Butter Cookie was a doozy of a dessert!
Time to call my travel agent and book a ticket to Thiruvananthapuram.
Huh?
How can I resist? Apparently, this Indian city is to play host to a four day event called Cocofest 2007.
Figuring that they'll have Mounds at the ready 24/7.
As they say, sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't. But, I always feel like coco-nut.
Hafta say that it was odd to be home after three-weeks of travel. I had gotten so used to hotel rooms that my apartment seemed foreign. New York City streets seemed strange.
I had to get over this feeling of be out of place right quick, so I threw myself headlong into the city:
*Visiting Norman at the Ritz-Carlton for one of his majestic Manhattans.
*Catching a 7pm screening of The Lives of Others at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema on a freezing cold April night (what's the deal with the weather???).
*Happily accompanying Mama Vamp when she payed a weekend call - taking her to some of my fave city spots including Flatiron Lounge, Otto (damn, if I don't love the truffle-honey they serve with their cheese plate!), and The Bread Bar at Tabla, not to mention Bloomingdales and the Apple Store in Soho.
*Enjoying an evening at the theater seeing Curtains, a new, fun, frivilous musical. (NYC theater actress extraodinaire Debra Monk seriously chewed up some scenery - and totally stole the show.)
*Debating about politics, the environment and Imus with two opinionated gents at the overpriced and underwhelming Fred's at Barneys.
*Joining a pal for an early supper at Williamsburg's Australian outpost - Wombat - where I indulged in their Tuesday night $12 lobster special.
*Working out at my local gym - sans iPod, since it had been stolen along with the rest of my purse when I was in Barcelona.
*Reading the Wall Street Journal and New York Times daily - thereby re-establishing my news fix ritual.
It took a couple of weeks. But I think I finally feel like I'm back. Really back.
As Dorothy would say - "There's no place like home." And, as Martha would say - "It's a good thing."
Spain would have been a dream come true - if it hadn't been for a couple of nightmare experiences.
First nightmare: Spending the night sick as a dog on the bathroom floor of a nasty hotel room in Zaragoza. However, the Aragon capital did boast a gorgeous basilica (pictured above) and I'm sure it would be a lovely place to visit, if I hadn't been nauseous, stuffed-up, sweaty and dizzy.
Second nightmare: Getting my pocketbook stolen - passport and all - in Barcelona's famous Mercado Boqueria (pictured below).
In all honesty neither my illness nor the thievery were my fault. In fact, the latter happened after a eye-popping morning at the market, admiring stalls specializing in ham, fresh fruit, eggs, seafood, candy, and more. My bag had been safe and at my side the entire time.
Taking a break was my mistake. Sitting at a cafe stall for some cafe con leche, I perched the bag on a hook between my knees in front of my stool. Clearly, the thief had to be a small child or midget in order to deftly squeeze under the seat and steal the bag without being noticed by me or my dining neighbors.
Word to the wise - hold onto your bag in Spain! And, make a copy of your passport to keep in your luggage at all times. That move actually saved me a lot of paperwork, panic and pain.
But there was a lot of pleasure to be had in Espana as well...
*Tucking into delicious, fragrant Seafood Paella and a glass of Sangria, sitting on the terrace of La Santa Maria Hotel in the beach resort town of Sitges, while admiring their unparalleled view of the Mediterranean.
*Taking in the brilliance of Gaudi - from Casa Batllo (pictured below) to Segrada Familia.
*Following in the footsteps of "Shadow of the Wind," strolling through Barcelona's Gothic District.
*Sipping ice cold shots of Chocolate with Passion Fruit, Chocolate with Jasmine Tea and Deep Dark Bitter Chocolate drinks at Cacao Sampaka (Barcelona branch pictured below) - a temple to chocolate create by the brother of cutting-edge Chef Ferran Adria.
*Overwhelmed by canvases and sculpture at the Picasso Museum, followed by a tapas and Cava break at nearby El Xampanyet, where I was admired by three fiesty, older Spanish gents.
*Oohing and aahing over a dish of creamy Vasconian-style Spider Crab at the legendary Barcelona seafood mecca known as Botafumiero.
*Luxuriating in my oversized bedroom and bathroom at Madrid's Hotel De Las Letras (pictured below), a 1917 library turned modern, boutique hotel.
*Touring the Palacio Real de Madrid accompanied by an LA architect who was in awe of the palace's incredible marble work, ornate ceilings and all-around opulence. ("You know, you can't even order pieces of marble that size anymore!")
*Experiencing three kinds of addictive cod tapas at the cod-crazy Casa Labra restaurant and bar.
*Being transfixed by Goya's black paintings at the Museo del Prado.
*Descending into the basement dining room of Botin, the oldest restaurant in the world, where their chef's Roast Suckling Pig is still receiving applause from patrons (a plate of the toothsome specialty is pictured below).
*Knocking back some amazing sherries, while nibbling lomo, smoking an authentic Cuban cigarette and flirting with a barkeep - all at one of Madrid's dustiest and most enchanting, old-world taverns, La Venencia.
My vacation finally came to an end on a dreadful flight with Iberia Air. Let's just say the plane was old and dirty - and the flight crew was more vile than the airplane itself. To top it off, we landed in the middle of an ice storm and ended up stuck on the tarmac forever. Then, because we were stuck on the tarmac forever, the baggage hold froze over. It took them an hour to defrost the sucker and get us our luggage.
Welcome home.
And back once more to my travels - Off to Morocco I go.
Admittedly, Marrakech wasn't quite what I expected. The garbage in the streets. The donkeys used as major transportation. The aggressive sales pitches that came from every direction - from henna tattoo artists, shoe shine boys, snake charmers, rug salesman - basically everyone. Thankfully, my hotel Riad Dar Anika was an oasis at the edge of the bustling Medina quarter (pictured below).
Once outside its doors though, the scent of donkey dung, decaying garbage and intense, aromatic incense permeated the air. That said, Marrakech did offer some remarkable treasures...
*The whirlwind of colors, tastes and sights at the city's main square Djamaa El Fna once night took hold of the city.
*Dining at some of the myriad of food stalls in the square, noshing on juicy Merguez sausage, Pastilla stuffed with pigeon meat, almonds and cinnamon-sugar, Lamb Brochette, Eggplant Salad scented with cumin, and more. Sopping up all the goodies with bread, dipping into spicy Harissa, while watching North Africa's cast of characters - and several British and French backpackers - go by.
*Enjoying an ecstasy of a spa experience - called gommage - at my hotel's hammam.
*Overwhelmed at how blue blue could really be, while strolling through the Majorelle Gardens.
*Practically overdosing on my hotel's ambrosial sweet mint tea, while watching the lunar eclipse from its rooftop terrace.
*Being ever so glad that I hired a guide to walk me through the maze that is Marrakech's souks - cause if not, I'd still be lost in that labyrinth of shops. Not kidding.
*Learning to make authentic Chicken, Olive and Preserved Lemon Tagine at a cooking class held at Maison Arabe (their kitchen pictured below).
Truth? Even in Marrakech, my cooking rocks!
Another posting that takes me away from my travelogue. This time for my friend Ruth's recipe for Flourless Chocolate Cake. Happily, she just emailed me instructions on how to make this Kosher for Passover, chocolate cloud delight - and said she'd be pleased if I shared it with my readers, note and all...
I promised my Flourless Chocolate Cake recipe, so here it is! (It's actually not mine, it comes from one of the silliest mysteries I ever read called The Cherry Cheesecake Murder by Joanne Fluke and is certainly the best thing about this ridiculous book.)
**This is really a type of chocolate souffle so it will fall in the center once you take it out of the oven. Don't panic; you invert it to serve it so it doesn't really matter.
Ingredients
1/2 cup butter (1 stick, 1/4 pound)
8 oz semi seet chocolate chips (1 1/4 cups - Ghirardelli's is best)
4 egg yoks (save the whites in a separate bowl for later)
1/2 cup white (granulated) sugar
1/2 teaspoon rum extract or vanilla (i used vanilla)
4 egg whites (the ones you saved)
1/4 cup white (granulated) sugar (you'll use 3/4 cup in all)
Sweetened whipped cream to decorate top (more later)
shaved chocolate or chocolate curls to decorate top (optional)
sliced whole berries to decorate top (optional)
Spray an 8-in springform pan with Pam. An 8-1/2 in springform will also work, but a 9-in is too big). Line the bottom of the pan with a circle of parchment paper (wax paper will also work). Spray the paper with Pam too.
In a small microwave-safe bowl, combine butter and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Melt for one minute on HIGH, stir, and heat for an additional 20 seconds if necessary. (Some chocoalte maintains its shape even when melted. Stir before you microwave for the addtiional time.) Cover your bowl, or put it back in the microwave to keep it warm
In a medium bowl, beat 1/2 cup of granulated sugar with the egg yolks until they're light yellow in color. Mix in the rum/vanilla. (This is easy with an electric mixer, although you can do it by hand.)
Stir a bit of the egg yolk mixture into the melted chocolate to temper it. Then add the chocolate to the egg yolk mixture and stir until it's well blended.
In a large bowl, using clean beaters, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Continue beating while sprinkling in the remaining 1/4 cup granulated sugar. Beat until stiff peaks form (about 1/2 minute).
Stir just a bit of the egg white mixture into the bowl with the chocolate. Now add the chocolate to the bowl with the rest of the egg whites and gently fold it in with a rubber spatula. Continue folding until the mixture is a uniform chocolate color.
Pour the batter into the cake pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake at 375 degrees F. for 35 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted in the center comes out dry.
Cool in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Run a knife around the inside of the rim of the pan, invert the pan on a serving plate, and cool for another 10 minutes. Release the catch on the springform pan and remove it. DON'T PEEL OFF THE PARCHMENT PAPER UNTIL THE CAKE IS COMPLETELY COOL TO THE TOUCH.
When you're ready to serve, you can fill the crater in the center and frost the top of the cake with sweetened whipped cream. If you want it to look fancy, decorate it with chocolate shavings, chocolate curls and/or a sprinkling of raspberries of strawberries.
Sweetened Whipped Cream
Whip two cups of heavy cream sweetened with 1/3 cup of powdered sugar.
ENJOY!
And so, the Red Sea parted and my Ryanair flight landed in Roma. After a very late night (and early morning) of carousing around Paris, the flight was a brutal one. But, one step into the Splendide Royal Hotel across from the Borghese Gardens and all was right with the world once again.
What can I say? Missy K and I like being treated like princesses! (Where's my tiara?) And, happily enough, our twosome morphed into a Three Musketeers scenario, when our mutual friend Lo showed up to share in the Italiano fun.
From strolling through the ruins in the Forum to throwing three coins in the Trevi Fountain; rooftop drinks at our hotel terrace, looking over the hills of Rome and St. Peter's Basilica, to shopping for rings and things at Liliana Michilli; flirting with devilish Irish men at the Excelsior's bar to a dinner at the Trastevere district's Trattoria Monti, where moanworthy fare was joyfully consumed (including a bewitching platter of delicately fried sausage-stuffed olives, artichoke hearts and seductive vanilla cream), while an adventure unravelled featuring fishnet stockings, one of the aformentioned rings, as well as several handsome Italiano gentleman patrons and servers (I'll let you ponder on the possibilities involved in the latter...) - it was truly la dolce vita!
To think - there was also a brilliant prank, another beautiful ring, shoe shopping and kisses from a gorgeous Signore to be had.
I hated to leave Rome. But leave we did - sans Lo, who headed to South Africa for safari. (As if the animale in Italia weren't enough to keep her entertained?) Thankfully though, the blow of leaving Rome for Milan was definitely softened by a 1st class train ride up north. I was particularly enchanted by the dining car.
It evoked another era - and offered up a tasty three-course lunch with vino - as we chugged up through Firenze, Bologna and alike.
Milano wasn't as exciting as Roma, but I had to admit that I did like the view from our room at the Carlton Baglioni Hotel.
More so, listening to a rehearsal of Turnadot at La Scala and taking in DaVinci's Last Supper were definite highlights of the stay. But sometimes Missy K and I found ourselves wanting to give up the tourism ghost and just tuck into our hotel's lobby bar to sip on Espresso Macchiatos and nibble on buttery cookies. (No, not Pepperidge Farm Milanos!)
Indeed, high-design shopping aside, the city was a more low-key affair than Paris or Rome. That said, it was the pause that refreshed - and put us in close proximity to a breathtaking daytrip destination...
Lake Como.
And, no, we didn't run into George. His loss.