VittlesVamp

How Did I Miss This One?

I can't believe it. I missed it completely.

International Waffle Day.

It was this past Wednesday, March 25th, and I plumb forgot. At least I didn't let Pancake Month slip away without notice. But, I feel ashamed to have not made sure that the flapjack's breakfast brethren, the sweet maple-syrup drizzled waffle, also made the grade -- or at least a calendar entry reminder on my Blackberry.

Thankfully, I've learned my lesson. I've already marked October 9th and November 28th on my calendar. (World Egg Day and National French Toast Day, respectively.)

Eating Crow

Seriously. Not kidding. Really. Check it out.

The Vamp Does Broadway

I'm not one for tie-dye or flower power, but nevertheless, last night's performance of "Hair" was mesmerizing. The unbridled energy of the cast, their voices raised in song, their bodies breathlessly contorting in gymnastic fervor...It all was a colorful, rapturous, knee-slapping, arm-waving, head-bobbing, back-flipping good time.

My choice for dinner was decidedly a downer after that enthralling night of theater -- Joe Allen. It's a Theater District classic. Sturdy enough, but drab in comparison to the musical performance I'd just witnessed.

Would have been much better to have traveled downtown to a hodge-podge of an East Village Indian restaurant, overflowing with psychedelic twinkly lights. Or, if I wanted to take a moment to ponder the very somber themes of the play, I could have ventured to Baxter Street for Vietnamese fare. Then again, a bowl of Pho and the requisite restaurant photos of Saigon might have been a bit too somber under the circumstances.

Next show on the list?

"Reasons To Be Pretty" is on the docket for later this week. Lady M is coming along for this hot Neil LaBute Broadway newbie.

And, considering the weighty subject matter, we think we have a contender pick for dinner in the offing -- Fat Hippo.

Kosher Commotion

Hell hath no fury like a Hassidic foodie scorned. At least that's the message I'm getting from an article in today's New York Post:

It was kosher chaos.

A riot erupted at a Brooklyn restaurant last week when Orthodox Jewish patrons discovered the "kosher" hot dogs on the menu were chicken franks that didn't answer to a higher authority.

What ensued was as unholy as the hot dogs. The eatery's frightened manager was punched in the face and fended off the angry mob with an electric carving knife until cops finally broke up the frankfurter fracas.

To read more about this unholy "dog" fight, here's a link.

(Get it? A link?)

Hype For Nut (And Naught)

I've never seen such a fuss about bar nuts. The new Southern-tinged East Village hot spot The Redhead offers, what has been touted as, the most addictive bar snack ever -- Peanut Brittle with Bacon. And, these porky nuts emergence on the scene has sparked a foodie buzz that continued to buzz in my ears when I entered the small restaurant to celebrate my pal Queen Celeste's b-day the other night.

We ordered a five-dollar bowl of the stuff up right quick. Even the Queen was curious -- and she doesn't eat meat.

Pictured above, I consider this so-called Peanut Brittle with Bacon a sorry sight. It's not brittle. It's simply sugar-coated peanuts with flecks of crispy bacon. Still sound tasty? Perhaps, but I'm thinking NO. These nuts were neither sweet enough or smoky swine enough to make me swoon.

That's it. I'm sticking to my own bar nuts. Even thinking about bringing a batch over to Queen Celeste's place, so she can give 'em a try. And, happily for her, nary a meat scrap in the recipe.

Chelsea Market: Bowery Eats

Hidden away in the depths of the Chelsea Market's outpost of Bowery Kitchen Supplies is Bowery Eats, a takeout spot that serves a stable of staple subs, from Classic Tuna to Turkey & Brie.

Are they made on freshly baked bread and topped with amazing locavore artisanal ingredients? Nope.

Nevertheless, they do have a leg up on the competition in one important category: size.

(And, yes, it does matter.)

These sandwiches are ample, bulky, colossal, considerable, copious, enormous, gigantic, heavy-duty, heavyweight, hefty, huge, hulking, humongous, immense, jumbo, mammoth, massive, mondo, monster, oversized, prodigious, sizable, substantial, tremendous and weighty.

In short, they're big.

Additionally, they're satisfactory in the taste department too. At least that's how I felt about the gargantuan beast of a Chicken Pesto sandwich that I ordered for lunch yesterday. (See photo of said-strapping specimen above.)

Regardless, I think I'm a "less is more" gal.

And, in a pinch, I'd much prefer the freshly baked bread topped with amazing locavore artisanal ingredients on a normal-sized sammy.

(Not miniscule, mind you: AVERAGE. As I said before, size does matter!)

Nose To Tail Charcroute

I finally decided to take my pork obsession one oink further and go whole hog. Literally.

I'd heard tale of Chef Ryan Skeen's nose to tail charcroute plate at Irving Mill, and after regaling Miss Piggy in all her glory it seemed high time to say sooey and order up this supreme ode to the porcine.

It was a substantial platter of swine: Mini Boudin Blanc, Mini Boudin Noir, Crispy Pig's Feet, Terrine Tete de Cochon, Fried Pork Belly, Glazed Pork Shoulder, Pork Ribs, Pickled Cabbage, Fried Potato & Creme Fraiche, Violet Mustard and Whole Grain Mustard.

My favorite slice of the sow? No question: the Crispy Pig's Feet.

And, on the heels of my brown bag cinema expedition, I couldn't help but think that they would be the perfect take-along to a screening of "Babe."

Yet, gotta say that the next time I hit Irving Mill (and there WILL be a next time), I might be tempted to beef things up and try their Burger.

Does this mean that Miss Piggy's star wattage is fading? Nah! It simply means that Elsie is her new hot, happening sidekick. Sorta like Paris and Nicole.

Brown Bag Cinema

Mama Vamp used to pack brown bag lunches for myself and my brother when she took us to the local movie theater for afternoon Disney double-features as children.

Now it was my turn. However, I was going solo. And sadly "Bednobs & Broomsticks" and "Lady & The Tramp" were not showing at my neighborhood cinema.

Instead, I was going to see "The Reader," the dramatic tale of a clandestine affair between a teen and former Nazi prison guard, and consequences triggered by a war-crime trial years later.

It was a tough call, but Jewess that I am, I knew which way I'd go.

I packed a Ham and Cheese Sandwich.

Treyf seemed fitting.

I was right. It was.

That said, I have absolutely no idea what sort of lunch to bring along, if I go to see "Watchmen" next weekend. Any suggestions?

Seven Courses

It took till now for all the pots, pans, dishes and glassware to be cleaned and put away. It's times like this that I thank the Lord for my dishwasher.

Still, even if it had broken down, it was worth it. Seven courses. All in the name of my good friend Mr. L and his 40th birthday.

Okay, not ALL in his name. Admittedly, I was delighted by the prospect of letting loose in my kitchen for a multi-course extravaganza for Mr. L and his husband Mr. P. And, now that Mr. L had decided to jump head-long into oenophile obsession, I knew that the pairings would be nothing short of sublime.

We kicked off the evening with a bottle of Bollinger Champagne accompanied by buttery, warm, spicy Bar Nuts and silky Cerignola olives.

Bubbles and nibbles.

A great start to a great meal.

Table service began with a fave -- Basque Tuna Tartare with Endive...

In retrospect, I think a few more leaves of endive were necessary to scoop up the luxuriously chive-laced sashimi-grade fish. Still, with forks in one hand and glasses of crisp Sancerre in the other, we had no problem making "all gone."

Same goes with the following course of Rigatoni with Pancetta and Radicchio...

...with hits of shallot, a splash of Balsamic vinegar, a grating of parmesan and bits of rosemary to round out this toothsome dish.

And, soon the main event would arrive. Mr. L had just the wine to accompany: Stag's Leap Cabernet Sauvignon...

...a deep crimson wine with hints of tobacco and cassis. It proved the perfect foil for Seared Porcini-Crusted Ribeye Steak served with Mashed Rutabaga and Frizzled Leeks, and Sugar Snap Peas with Fresh Oregano and Lemon Zest...

Soft sighs of happiness were heard around the table. But, there was still a little Cab to be had. A good thing too, since it would be necessary to wash down the next course: cheese, cheese and more cheese...

The board featured Ibores, a fragrant semi-soft goat's milk cheese from Spain, Valdeón Blue Cheese, a slightly sweet and creamy blue wrapped in Sycamore Leaves, and Rossellino, a young Pecornino rubbed in tomato paste. Companions included Quince Paste, Toasted Pecans and Stewed Dark Cherries with Star Anise.

Moans of contentment could be heard around the table. Nevertheless, Mr. L said he could not wait a moment longer for dessert.

The birthday boy's wish was my command.

And so, I brought forth thick Butterscotch Custards topped with Bourbon Cream, and poured cups of aromatic French-Press Coffee.

Spoons scraped the sides of the ramekins as I brought out the last sweet taste for the evening...

Bright red, juicy, freshly picked Strawberries plated with ambrosial Dark Chocolate Bon Bons from gourmand chocolatier Jacques Torres.

There were no more sighs. No more moans. Just smiles of glorious contentment.

Nothing could beat that. Not even birthday candles. So, instead, I blew out the votives on the table and we called it a night.

The door shut behind my guests and then I was left with the aftermath of pure joy: the dishes.

If it hadn't been for the blissful evening that had proceeded -- and the divine intervention of my dishwasher -- it could have been a buzz kill. Lucky for me, I quickly plopped the offending plates, pots, pans and glasses into the machine, pushed "start" and was drifted off to sleep by the comforting, cleansing lullaby of the Maytag singing "swish, swish, swish" -- looking forward to dreaming about Mr. L's next birthday. Or, Mr. P's for that matter.

Pizza For Anytime, Automat Style

Apparently, Pizzas served baked to order out of a vending machine are becoming popular in Italy. Seriously.