VittlesVamp

The End Of Pancake Month Draws Near

I'm not one to feel the need to cling to bizarre holidays -- Festivus being the obvious exception to the rule. Still, I felt like I would derelict in my duties if I didn't celebrate National Pancake Month is some way, shape, manner or form.

A trip to the holy grail of pancakes seemed inevitable. And so, with Lady M in tow, I ventured to the Lower East Side and finally tasted what is universally considered to be the quintessential blue-chip stack of blueberry griddle cakes -- the Clinton Street Baking Company's Wild Maine Blueberry Pancakes with Warm Maple Butter.

Because a pun is unavoidable, here you go: I flipped for these flapjacks!

I grew up on the tried and true IHOP Happy Face Pancakes, but these Clinton Street cakes blew the smile off of that stack and put a happy-go-lucky, supremely satisfied and very grown-up smile on my face.

The tender cakes were fluffy, but still had a bit of toothsome give to the chew. The blueberries were honey sweet and bursting with juicy berry goodness. Then there was the dipping sauce of warm butter and maple. Oh my God! Its heady, sweet, buttery, saucy appeal made me want to keep a flask of the stuff on hand at all times, in case of flavor emergencies.

Lady M and I only shared one of these glorious stacks and were thankful we didn't indulge in another. These are not pancakes on which to gorge. These are pancakes meant for savoring and celebration.

Needless to say, I think we did up Pancake Month just right. And, I can't help but wish that every month was Pancake Month.

Chelsea Market: The Lobster Place

Guess I should have tried the lobster, because Chelsea Market's Lobster Place is NOT the place for awesome sushi. "Feh sushi" is more like it. A pretty lunch, perhaps, as evidenced by the photo above. Just not a particularly tasty one.

And, it's a shame, cause the fishmonger's selection of undersea wares is impressive. If only the sushi was as pristine and lovely as The Lobster Place's cases overflowing with the fresh catch of the day.

Guess if I really have a yen for sublime sushi in the building, I'll have to give in and fork it over for a pair of chopsticks at Chelsea Market's Morimoto.

Dumpling Disappointment

I'm spoiled. Very spoiled. I'm a spoiled princess. Spoiled rotten -- at least when it comes to dumplings. Most definitely when it comes to dumplings.

So, I couldn't help but pout a bit in the City of Brotherly Love when Mama Vamp and her pal Christina joined me at Philadelphia's new Chinatown hole-in-the-wall-du-jour Dim Sum Garden for middling Shanghai Soup Dumplings (pictured above). They weren't dreadful. They just weren't...weren't...good enough -- at least not good enough for a spoiled dumpling princess.

Once you've done Shanghai for real, I guess there's simply no going back. Or if you are going to attempt to do so, at least take the 7 train to Flushing. An Amtrak to Philly just won't do.

A Pumpkin Grows In Philadelphia

A trip to Philly to visit Mama Vamp usually includes an entertaining dining opportunity. In this case, a pal had recommended that we pay call on a fave BYOB in the Graduate Hospital nabe called Pumpkin.

I was looking forward to the pie.

I was disappointed on that account.

I was delighted on others.

Mama Vamp and I swooned over our selected first course of Escargot with Crispy Sweetbreads, Farm Egg and Fresh Herb Salad (pictured above). Main dishes were equally impressive, from the rich and savory Duck Two Ways to the Greek-inspired Seared Lamb Sirloin.

Our lily was gilded by the bottle of peppery Tempranillo Mama Vamp brought in tow. (Read: CHEAP and yummy!!!)

All in all, it made me wish for creative culinary hot spot BYOBs in New York -- and, gotta admit, I'm still craving a slice of Pumpkin Pie.

Chelsea Market: Ninth Street Espresso

Caffeine was necessary today.

Luckily, working at the Chelsea Market, I didn't just have Starbucks to contend with for coffee options. Instead, I could treat myself to a real java treat, sidling up to the counter at Ninth Street Espresso.

Considering it's on Ninth AVENUE now, this above 14th Street outpost of the East Village Joe standby still retains its hipster cool, while serving up hot, rich, gorgeous, deep dark brew. No muss. No fuss. No multitude of flavored syrups. It's all about the bean.

It's nice to get a kick out of your caffeine kick. And, for me, pure bean is a definite kick. Add a little commitment to quality, throw it in a to-go cup and I'm one happy -- and awake -- customer.

Yard Birds

With a chick chick here and a chick chick there. Here a chick. There a chick. Everywhere a chick chick.

Suddenly, chick chicks have become the hottest new backyard accessory. Barbecues? Gazebos? Tennis courts? Pools? Forget about it! A hen house is really where it's at.

The New Orleans Times-Picayune has this to say on the subject:

Chickens are becoming popular with urban homesteaders because they fit neatly into the gardening cycle. They're natural composters.

"You feed chickens your food waste, they produce meat or eggs for you, and they also produce fertilizer for your garden. It's a great cycle," Estrade said. "That's one of the great things about having chickens."

Chickens always have been a part of the fabric of New Orleans during its long history, from the first French Quarter patios. They are nearly ubiquitous to this day; many residents see chickens roaming the area or hear a rooster crow regularly.

But the recent renaissance in backyard chickens is part of the national "locavore" movement, which is all about knowing where your food comes from. Poultry lovers in many cities have flocked to city halls to get ordinances changed to allow small numbers of hens to live in backyards. Thousands of enthusiasts post messages and videos on www.backyardchickens.com; subscriptions to Backyard Poultry magazine reportedly have more than tripled since he launched in 2006.

That's right. Backyard Poultry Magazine. Domino Magazine might not have been able to fly, but Backyard Poultry seems to be eggs-actly what the magazine reader is looking for these days.

A Miracle No More

Southwestern stalwart Miracle Grill was one of those rare places in the West Village where the food was fresh and tasty, the drinks solidly poured, the atmosphere warm and inviting, the staff friendly and efficient -- and the price tag affordable.

You'd think spots like that could withstand the recession with ease. Instead, the restaurant's landlord asked to hike the rent up considerably and after tonight, Miracle Grill, who's kitchen was once home to one-time up-and-coming chefs like Bobby Flay and Patricia Yeo, is shutting its doors.

Word among the regulars is that owner Lynn Loflin plans to spend more time on her upstate farm tending to vegetables, but is receptive to the concept of potentially opening up a smaller cantina, simply offering up Margaritas, beer, wine and a few of the restaurant's signature dishes, such as the zesty Catfish Tacos pictured above. That said, no definite plans are underway.

Right now, we'll just have to surrender to New York's restaurant world roller coaster and accept that miracles don't last forever.

Chelsea Market: Ronnybrook Milk Bar

After my artery-clogging stop at Ruthy's the other day, I thought it wise to go lighter and brighter in my next Chelsea Market dining adventure.

I spied Ronnybrook Milk Bar. At first glance it seemed wholesome and rustic. Straight from the dairy farm yogurt could be a wonderful pick!

Then I was confronted by a case brimming with flavor after flavor of decadent Ronnybrook Ice Cream.

NO!!!

I turned away and turned to the menu. There, I saw my salvation. A Strawberry Yogurt Shake. Nourishing yogurt, blended with sweet red strawberries and a splash of skim milk. Tart and tasty, it sated my need for something sweet and hedonistic, but ultimately was nutritious Nirvana in a plastic cup with straw.

Now, if I could only stop looking over at Amy's Bread...

Chelsea Market: Unbagelievable Ruthy's

Looks like my day job is going to be bringing me to an office in Chelsea Market on a regular basis for a while. Who am I to argue with being stationed at one of New York's finest foodie landmarks?

Yesterday morning, I bypassed the pastries at the many bakeries that dotted my path to work, but when the lunch bell rang I couldn't resist grabbing a colleague and exploring.

Our explorations quickly landed us at Ruthy's Bakery & Cafe, where we immediately agreed to split the NYC bagel classic of a toasted sesame with cream cheese, Nova Scotia smoked salmon and a couple of slices of tomato. Ruthy's fine example of this Judaic sandwich standard is pictured above.

Taking a decidedly non-Judaic turn as well, we also agreed to split another bagel sandwich -- one inspired by a un-Kosher bagel-rific specimen I fell in love with at Charlottesville's Little John's Deli many years back.

The combo was a marvel: a toasted bagel served open-faced, smeared with cream cheese, crispy slices of bacon, rings of sweet Vidalia onion, topped with Beefsteak tomato slices and christened the Baby Zonker. In this case, we ordered up another toasted sesame with a schmear of Ruthy's bacon-flavored cream cheese, onion and tomato...

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't a Baby Zonker. The bacon cream cheese seemed characterless when compared to the smoky goodness found in a bona fide slice of bacon. The onion was fairly anemic as well.

Thinking a road trip to Charlottesville might be called for. Or, if Little John's has taken it off the menu, I might have to bite the bullet and buy the ingredients myself -- and rechristen the sandwich the Baby Vamp.

Third Floor Dinners

As a cost-saving measure, several of my third floor neighbors and myself have decided to have monthly rotating dinners at our apartments.

This time around, the group supper was at Mr. P and Mr. L's place. The meal included talk of the 'hood, talk of workplace trials and tribulations, talk of bad reality TV and talk about the moan-worthy meal we were savoring, including Mr. P's luscious rendition of Craig Claiborne's Chicken Bourgogne (pictured above) from The New York Times Cookbook. Mr. L's still-warm-from-the-oven Dark Chocolate Molten Cake topped with scoops of Vanilla Ice Cream also drew sighs of pleasure.

Unsurprisingly, we all agreed: THIS is most certainly the way to get through a recession!