VittlesVamp

Emeril Live Is Dead

Remember when Emeril Lagasse was as hot as Cayenne Pepper? Well, it looks like his "bam" has finally gone "boom," with the Food Network canceling his Emeril Live show.

In the wake of the show's demise, if the network still wants kick up the ratings a notch Big Easy-style, I suggest they consider reviving the "Live" series, but shoot it on location from New Orleans instead of an NYC studio. And in terms of a chef/host, they might want to go for a less over-exposed Crescent City chef like Frank Brigtsen or Susan Spicer.

Laissez les bons temps rouler -- the N'awlins way!

The "Other" Mac n' Cheese, Revisited

Longtime readers may recall my Mac n' Cheese smackdown from a couple years back.

Well, an email from an ardent Macaroni fan caused me to revisit that legendary contest. Upset that Gourmet Gal's "Other" Mac n' Cheese recipe had mysteriously been erased from its original 2005 posting, she wanted to see if I could re-post it.

Horrified that my recent technical snafus might have incited the Mac n' Cheese disappearance, I leapt into action and dialed Gourmet Gal's number. Could I please, please, please get another copy of her coveted recipe?

The answer? No. Nada. Think not.

The recipe is long gone.

Apparently, over the course of the past couple of years, Gourmet Gal has developed an even better formula for gourmet cheesy goodness. And, lucky for Macaroni and Cheese lovers everywhere, she was happy to share:

The Other "Other" Mac n' Cheese

2 tbsp. butter
6 oz. Tilamonk cheese (grated)
6 oz. Extra Sharp Canadian Cheddar (grated)
12 oz. American cheese (grated)
1lb box Barilla macaroni (cooked al dente, as directed)
1/8 tsp. cayenne
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Use one tablespoon butter to thickly grease a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Combine grated cheeses and set aside two heaping cups for topping.

2. In a large bowl, toss together the pasta, cheeses, spices and salt to taste. Place in prepared pan and evenly pour heavy cream over mixture. Sprinkle reserved cheese on top, dot with remaining butter and bake, uncovered, 45 minutes. Raise heat to 400 degrees and bake 15 to 20 minutes more, until crusty on top and bottom.

Gridskipper Skips Over Some NYC Mixology Hot Spots

This past week, the fine folks at Gridskipper proffered a guide to New York's Finest Cocktails. Now, I'm a fan of all of the bars highlighted in their rundown, from Pegu Club to Little Branch. However, there are a few praiseworthy drinking establishments that I believe they overlooked:

*Death & Company -- Any prohibition era-insipired lounge that can snag a mixologist like Philip Ward is a winner by me!

*The Star Bar & Lounge at The Ritz-Carlton Central Park South - The legendary Norman Bukofzer behind the bar. 'Nuff said!

*The Campbell Apartment - Set in the former Grand Central terminal office and salon of 1920's tycoon, this cocktail lounge is simply splendid.

*The Rose & Jade Bars at The Gramercy Park Hotel - Sat in front of the Rose Bar's wood-burning fireplace the other night and enjoyed a gorgeous concoction called a Bohemian Sidecar. (That said, at $20 a pop, no Bohemian could afford one!)

*Temple Bar - This Noho lounge sports a handsome oak bar, soft sexy lighting and an admirable cocktail menu.

*The King Cole Bar at The St. Regis Hotel - It doesn't get more classic than this longtime cocktail stalwart. And, what could be more civilized than imbibing below Maxfield Parrish's famous mural of Old King Cole?

Monkey Meat

From today's New York Times:

It takes strategic thinking to find monkey meat in New York. Best to avoid the word “monkey,” for one thing — start with something innocuous-sounding, like “dry meat,” or common, like “grass cutter,” a rodent similar to the guinea pig. Seek out the proprietors of tiny West African restaurants, or the “bushmeat market queens” who do business out of their homes.

That is, if you can find them. And if they trust you enough to sell it to you.

The market in the United States for bushmeat — that is, the meat of African wild game — is obscured to outsiders and virtually impossible to measure. But most everyone agrees it has grown exponentially in recent decades along with immigration from West Africa, thriving in destination cities like Minneapolis and Atlanta.

A case that came before a federal judge in Brooklyn this week may — some believe for the first time — send someone to prison for importing bushmeat — in this case, pieces of baboon, green monkey and warthog.

And to think, I've often had dining companions offer withering looks of disapproval when I simply order Bambi or Thumper off a restaurant menu.

Dim Sum & Dragonfruit

Venturing into Manhattan's Chinatown yesterday morning, I thought my appetite would be satisfied by the extravagant array of dim sum options at Jing Fong. That, however, was not to be the case.

Mind you, I'm not complaining about said dim summerie. Jing Fong had a mighty fine selection.

Carts clattered away through the dining room's maze of tables, each stacked high with steaming bamboo baskets encasing Sharks Fin Dumplings, Shu Mai, Sticky Rice in Lotus Leaves, Barbecued Pork Buns, Stewed Chicken Feet, Vegetable Dumplings, and so much more. Platters came forth with thick ribbons of rice noodle stuffed with sweet shrimp, which I happily sprinkled with salty soy sauce. Other plates featured braised chicken and veggies swaddled in a sheaths of chewy bean curd, and skewered beef complimented by sugary chunks of pineapple.

It was definitely a first-rate brunch-time feast.

But once I exited the restaurant and hit Chinatown's bustling sidewalks, I couldn't help but get caught up by the showmanship of the food stalls that lined the streets. Everything from fat chestnuts to fresh squid to clumps of longan berries to baby snow pea leaves were on display. My stomach might have been full, but my tastebuds were watering. Then I spotted them...

...the most bizarre fruit I'd ever seen. The Chinese produce seller explained that they were called dragonfruit -- and that their bright pink flesh would give way to a kiwi-like honey center. I had to try one!

And try I did, the second I got home. Considering the fruit's spiky green leaves, I thought the center would be green as well, but instead it was snow white, dotted with dark seeds galore.

Unfortunately, the dragonfruit's visual impact wasn't matched by its flavor. The texture was reminiscent of watermelon and the juicy center was slightly musky - but not terribly memorable.

In the end, I guess I would have been better off bypassing the dragonfruit altogether and going back to Jing Fong for another order of dumplings. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind going back there right now. Too bad dim sum is only available in the AM, and I have to work tomorrow morning. Guess I'll just have to wait until next weekend to get my dumpling fix. In the meantime though, I think I'll go out and rent Eat, Drink, Man, Woman to put me in the mood.

Bleating in Chelsea

How could I resist an invitation to an event called Goatstravaganza NYC? Puh-leeze!

Last night, myself and about a hundred or so other fascinated urbanites piled into Aronson's Flooring on W. 17th Street to sample artisanal goat's milk cheeses from Saxelby's Cheesemongers, taste goat's meat pate from Focolare Bar and Bistro, guzzle glasses of Goats do Roam vino, pet real live goats in the middle of Manhattan, and listen a reading by the married authors of "The Year of the Goat," a book chronicling their flight from a one-bedroom rental in Fort Greene, Brooklyn to a more fulfilling life in the countryside raising goats.

What fools these Brooklynite goat farmers be.

Little did they know that they were only a couple of subway stops away from some jim-dandy take-out Goat Curry at Boerum Hill, Brooklyn's Brawta. Goodness knows, they could have saved themselves a whole lot of trouble.

Dishing At The Taste of New York

It's a must-do on every New York foodie's annual agenda: New York Magazine's Taste of New York benefit event for City Harvest. And after experiencing last year's festivities, I entered the Puck Building this past Monday night with anticipation and a dollop of dread. I adore the glitterati gourmands that line the ballroom sharing delectable tidbits from their über-fabulous restaurants, but the crushing herd of attendees leaves something to be desired -- mostly elbow room.

Still, sliding in a wee bit early thanks to a press pass, I was able to enjoy my fair share of the fare and even got to chat with celebrated chefs Tom Valenti and Marcus Samuelsson. The big win though came in the form of an exchange with Flatiron Lounge mixology maven Julie Reiner (pictured above), in which she confirmed the rumor that has been circulating among Kings County cocktail cognoscentis: Reiner will indeed be opening a new cocktail lounge on Brooklyn's Smith Street later this year. She's naming the Boerum Hill watering hole after a classic gin drink - The Clover Club - which, cocktail shaker in hand, she merrily whipped up at the event.

After that bit of happy Brooklyn bar news, I sailed through the rest of the bash rather quickly, noticing a decidedly sweet trend this year. Each dessert seemed harder to resist than the next. Los Dados tempted me with deep fried, cinnamon sugar-coated Churros served with a choice of warm Dulce de Leche or Chocolate Sauce.

Pastry master Pichet Ong of P*ONG illicited moans of pleasure with a twist on a New York City classic - Cheesecake. His beguiling version was composed of goat's milk chevre, surrounded by a toasted walnut crust and graced with a splash of cabernet-poached huckleberries and basil oil.

Even Chinese-themed treats made the rounds. Rickshaw Dumpling Bar served up Chocolate Shanghai Soup Dumplings coated with black sesame seeds, squirting hot, molten chocolate lava when you took a bite, and Chinatown Brasserie offered up whimsically decorated Coconut Custard Bao which were exotic, playful and delicious all at once.

A Taste of New York - How sweet it is!

Olé

I am most definitely an avid reader. Fiction, non-fiction and biographies all intrigue, but admittedly I do have a soft spot for cookbooks. I can spend hours pouring over them, concocting riffs on the recipes they share and imagining dinner parties at which they might take centerstage.

Lately, I've become fascinated by a massive tome entitled "1080 Recipes," a veritable bible of authentic Spanish cookery, coming in close to 1000 pages in length. Recipes range from Galician Pie to Rabbit Cooked with Olives and Almonds. I have a strange feeling that this book might end up serving my kitchen and dinner guests well during the brisk days of autumn.

And just to raise the stakes, the publishers are throwing an event tomorrow night at 6pm at the Instituto Cervantes New York to ignite foodie passions for Spanish cuisine. Apparently, a renowned food writer will be leading discussion about the tradition of Spanish home cooking, and wine and olive oil will be sampled as well.

Not sure if I'll be able to attend, but considering I already have "1080 Recipes" in hand, it seems a safe bet that I'll gleefully be shouting out "Olé" soon enough.

High-Flying Dining In Dumbo

I had heard about it, but I didn't believe it. An amazingly authentic Mexican restaurant located in Brooklyn's Dumbo General Store? Pshaw!

Well, the "pshaw" is on me. The bizarre night-time redo of the art supply/sandwich-slinging shop into an organic, farmer-friendly nod to Mexican street food -- Hecho en Dumbo -- is a winner through and through. I discovered this on Friday night when I agreed to join my friend Tobi at Hecho for a gal's night out.

It was a chilly evening and I had been through a tough work week when I hit the restaurant, but a sour lime-tinged Margarita started to soften the edges before the food arrived.

First up was a plate filled with warm slices of Mollete Defectuoso, Mexico's answer to Stouffer's French Bread Pizza, crispy ciabatta bread slathered with black bean puree, mozzarella and spicy pico de gallo. Then the hits kept on coming, from a sensational Duck Mole Tamale which I drizzled with the house green salsa, to a lusty Burrita de Res stuffed with wine braised beef stewed in lime with carmelized onion.

My palate was pleased and my tongue still felt a scorching salsa burn as we exited the restaurant. The only way to quench the fire was a trip to reBar, Dumbo's popular, hipster hangout. There, the ever-friendly Scott let Tobi and I try several brews before we settled on a pair of imported, high-falutin, hoppy pints. Mmmm...

Mmmm aside, a second round wasn't even ordered. Between the tequila and suds, we were suddenly out for the count.

But neither of us minded. We were both well-assured of pleasant dreams - dreams that just might include a flying elephant, a brew or two, and some kick-ass Mexican munchies.

Scheherazade, Elderly Behaving Badly & A Menage A Trois

The only way to return to New York City after a trip like my maritime odyssey in Nova Scotia, is to take a headlong plunge back into the city's cultural offerings.

First up was a taste of Off-Off Broadway theater - a night watching an oddly compelling look at Scheherazade's 1001 Nights with some apocalyptic NYC war stories thrown in for good measure. All in all though, it wasn't enough to draw me back into the thick of New York's crazy, cultural hustle and bustle.

So, another play date was made. Through some creative scheduling, I was able to wrangle time off to catch a Wednesday matinee of the new Tom Stoppard play "Rock n' Roll" with my pal Sandra.

But stepping up to the theater we were suddenly concerned. We were surrounded by a sea of seniors. Could a somber, political drama featuring songs by Pink Floyd and The Rolling Stones have a target demographic market of Long Island and Westchester church and Hadassah elderly? We didn't know for sure, but could only hope for the producer's sake that these retirees were hip at heart, despite their replacement hips.

Hip they weren't. Loud they were.

I have never heard such a noisy cacophony of "What did he say?," "What is this about?" and "Shhhhhhh," in all my life. At one point an usher actually had to ask a particularly talkative Granny to leave the theater. She left, but not quietly. (No big surprise!)

Once the curtain fell, I realized that theater wasn't going to be enough to get me back into a New York groove. That said, a good friend, a few good laughs and a good glass of wine might just do the trick.

Thankfully, Sandra was more than delighted to accompany me to the bar at nearby Thalia to make the dream a reality. Two glasses of a jammy red wine called Menage a Trois and several giggles and guffaws later, I was feeling much more my usual city self.

Lesson learned. The New York theater scene is marvelous - not to mention the New York art, dance and music scenes. But at the end of the day, it's only part of a larger puzzle for me. And if I can successfully fit those jigsaw pieces in with the addition of a pal and a Menage a Trois, all with be right with the world. Or at the very least, all will be right with me and NYC.