VittlesVamp

Checking In & Checking It Out

And so the gal's weekend in California wine country began.

Karen and I made our way to the charming and historic Napa River Inn, where we delighted in our luxurious accomodations, the ample marble bathroom and the comfy beds outfitted with goosedown and such, and even the soft echoes of "choo-choo" emanating from the Napa Wine Train across the river. The only drawback? The room's working fireplace, which both made us regret that we were on a gal's weekend instead of a romantic escape.

Still, we made more than the best of it. Much more...

*Visiting Clos de Val for a wine tasting and oddly enchanting decanter demonstration involving a glass dreidel.

*Hitting a strip mall in Napa, only to find kickin' Memphis-style Baby Back Ribs and Painted Hills Brisket tucked in between the Target and Trader Joe's at the beloved barbecue joint BarbersQ.

*Being befuddled by the pirates "search for the booty" theme treasure hunt at Pine Ridge Winery for the Stag's Leap District Winegrowers Association V2V open tours.

*Tucking into a tender House-Cured Ham and Egg Salad Sandwich from the Oxbow Public Market charcuterie fave Fatted Calf (pictured below), while I pick up the latest issue of Meatpaper Magazine.

*Looking deeply into the mesmerizing gaze of a blue-eyed winemaker at Robert Sinskey Vineyards. Recognizing a wild flirt when we see one, Karen and I turning heel to focus on the winery's mesmerizing Abraxas, with hints of exotic spice and white nectarines.

*Being told we smelled wonderful by a busboy at dinner at the much-lauded Redd, where the Carnaroli Risotto with Maine Lobster and Truffle Oil was sublime, the Halibut with Sunchoke Ravioli ho-hum, and dessert of Strawberry Pain Perdu perfection.

*Realizing that we are being unwittingly followed by a burly blue-shirted gent and his Flamingo bedazzled wife, as we hopped from Stag's Leap Winery to Shafer to Regusci Winery, all the while enjoying the breathtaking vineyard views.

The finest vino experience during our stay? Not at a vineyard at all. Got you curious now, don't I? Stay tuned...

By The Bay In A New York Minute

My time in San Fran went by in a flash. Then again, I did only have a mere day and a half to log in before heading out the wine country.

Nonetheless, in between business and such, I did get a sampling of the city -- and a tail of the city too. As seen above, I was lucky enough to meet a royal figure at the Hotel Rex: a majestic, wrinkly pooch named Max. Quite the scamp with one soulful set of eyes, I almost ended up throwing him in my satchel and taking him with, but his Front Desk Manager owner kept too watchful an eye.

Guess I'll simply have to make do with my own Max back in Brooklyn. But it's not exactly like he inspires a petting session. A cocktail -- yes. A real tail -- no.

I also hit the Ferry Market Building and SFMOMA, but of course the real Bay Area bliss was to be had when I arrived at Zuni with my longtime pals Hi and Ho in tow.

I'm a sucker for classic comforts. A beginning of briny, sweet oysters and a shared Caesar Salad started us off well.

Then, of course, came the Chicken with Bread Salad.

It was delish.

That said (dare I say it?), I do think my riff on this bird is a bit better. Guess Hi and Ho have no choice now, but to visit me in New York for a taste test comparison.

Tripping In San Francisco

Heading to the airport soon for a quick trip to the Bay Area for business and pleasure.

Trying a new boutique hotel this time around. I'll be checking into the dapper Hotel Rex, chosen in part for its arty and literary sensibilities, which will happily allow for my continued observation of the hipster scene -- this time, that of the West Coast variety.

And, following my meetings and such, a wine-filled weekend is planned in Napa with the free-wheeling and fleet-footed Karen, of Argentina fame.

More when I return...Or if you're very good, perhaps I may post from the road from time to time too...

Brunch So Hip It Hurt

Antlers, antlers and more antlers. Taxidermy behind glass. Stuffed animal heads. Worn mirrors mounted askew. A pint glass jam-packed with dark purple cala lilies, so dark that they're just this side of black.

Of course I'm talking about Freeman's Alley, one of the most popular places in New York to see hipsters in their natural habitat. (Obligatory hard-to-find entrance pictured above).

Sitting with a very stylish Southern gentleman friend across the table, brunch drinks at our side, we spotted all the urban bohemian Sunday standards: frayed skinny jeans falling off a cast of entitled men and women, vintage plaid shirts, wildly expensive sunglasses, pairs and pairs of worn Chuck Taylors, a handful of unfortunate bow ties, a series of ratty t-shirts emblazoned with irony, a blur of hats, distressed thrift store dresses, artful tattoos, and the occasional hoodie graced with a Paul Frank monkey.

Not exactly an appetizing environment. Yet, the menu ultimately drew me in. Our shared app of Artichoke Dip was a bubbly, decadent, gooey mess of fat-filled goodness. It made my entree of Poached Eggs with Grilled Tomato and Cheese Grits practically pointless. After a bite or two, it was. But, that said, the bite or two was marvelous.

Then again, everything tastes better surrounded by antlers, taxidermy, stuffed animal heads and hipsters. Doesn't it?

Come What Mayahuel

It's been a love affair for the past few years. Phil and I. A bartender and a cocktail nerd patroness. The bond was undeniable from the moment we met years ago at Flatiron Lounge. Then it shifted to Pegu Club and moseyed on over to Death & Company.

But, as with all relationships, it'll only survive if it changes and grows. And, I think our "on the rocks/straight up" romance can make it through Phil Ward's transition from mixologist-for-hire to bar owner -- with the birth of his new East Village tequila and mezcal cocktail haven Mayahuel.

It won't officially open its doors until May 1 (just in time for Cinco de Mayo), but I stopped by for a soft launch sampling of his new Mexican-inspired tipples.

Stepping inside after being greeted by Phil's partner Ravi DeRossi of Bourgeois Pig, Desnuda and Death & Co fame, I was impressed at the work that had gone into transforming the Moroccan spot Zerza into an alluring, cozy cantina. Then came the shake and stir...

The Loop Tonic, made of blanco tequila, green chartreuse, vermouth and celery bitters, went down so smooth, I had to order up another cocktail right quick. A Whoopsy Daisy came next, with blanco tequila, joven mezcal, lime and pomegranate molasses. Mouth-puckering, lightly sweet and potent all at once.

With a second drink under my belt, it seemed time to explore. The second floor beckoned with its stained-glass parasol chandelier catching my eye from ground level. Upstairs was scarlet red with crushed velvet banquettes and enough sex appeal to make the tequila and mezcal almost unnecessary in order to inspire a canoodling session with Mr. Wrong -- almost.

It all appeared a bit too dangerous for a Saturday night with two strong drinks already making their effects known. Still, I couldn't leave without at least one more for the road. I went for a Phil Ward classic, the Fresa Brava, with its muddled strawberries, jalapeno peppers, yellow chartreuse and blanco tequila. Spicy, juicy and spring-like, it qualified as a proper dessert on a warm late April night.

Can't wait to come back once the kitchen is in order and continue to see where this cocktail courtship leads.

And Even More Balls

They seem to follow me wherever I go. Perhaps it is sign from the heavens...

But, when I'm honest with myself, I realize that these Bombas de Jamon y Queso were simply a sign of "feh." Fatty, fried feh. One of several underwhelming results from a markedly mediocre tapas cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I had been so wowed at a recent Slow Food pig butchery class at the Institute that admittedly I had high expectations for this one-night Spanish cuisine session.

That'll teach me. Or in this case -- not teach me.

Instead of learning tricks of the tapas trade across the board, we were each individually assigned recipes and immediately put to work.

I can do that in my own kitchen. I don't need to pay for the privilege.

And, I was disappointed that I didn't even get to make some of the dishes I was most interested in, such as the Gazpacho Shots with Sweet Chile Serrano Foam...

Instead, I made a Spanish Tortilla, without use of the recipe's suggested French mandolin, as none were to be had. Between that and not enough oversight from the teacher, I ended up with a very pretty, but undercooked and tough rendition...

The one saving grace...

Sangria.

It didn't entirely distract from the greasy Mejillones Rellenos or bland Mini-Torchon de Bacalo con Salda de Chorizo y Datiles, but it was eminently tastier.

Think I best turn to my copy of "1080 Recipes" if I want to tackle tapas properly. And, if I have a pitcher of Sangria at my side as I cook, all the better!

California Cuisine?

I always thought of the City of Angels as the culinary home to sprouts, tofu and wheat grass. That is, unless you're savvy enough to indulge in the city's hot and spicy -- and very, very tasty -- taco truck culture. So, the Los Angeles Times' homage to the glory that is Schnitzel paired with German Potato Salad took me by surprise.

Nary a sprout or tortilla in sight.

Sehr gut!

Chelsea Market: Chelsea Thai Wholesale Part Deux

After a mountainous serving of insipid Pad Thai few weeks ago, I almost gave up on Chelsea Thai Wholesale. But tender-hearted foodie that I am, the line of efficient wok-happy cooks in the back inspired me to return.

So, I did.

This time around I strayed from the regular menu and ordered up a special, promising chicken and vegetables in a peanut sauce tinged with chili peppers.

Unfortunately, what I got was a mound of nicely sauteed veggies mixed with overcooked white meat, the texture of styrofoam. Served over a heap of white rice, it was coated in a drab sauce, vaguely hinting at peanut and utterly devoid of spicy heat.

Clearly, Thai food is not really this spot's strong suit. Is it possible that those dexterous looking Asian cooks are really imports from Nebraska?

About Beauty & The Beast

So, I've gotten a question or two about my recent trip to the Great White Way to see the new Neil LaBute drama "Reasons To Be Pretty," followed by supping at the Lower East Side eatery Fat Hippo.

Lady M and I thought ourselves quite clever for putting the two side-by-side. Figured we were in for a great two-parter of an evening.

Well, the first part was smashing. Must say that "Reasons To Be Pretty" is the most sentimental and hopeful play that I've ever seen from LaBute, and at moments I kind of wished it was a bit more shockingly hateful. But, all in all, it was gripping and I'll never think of the word "regular" in the same way ever again. It also introduced me to a riveting up-and-coming actress named Marin Ireland, who I'm sure will nab a Tony nod for her performance.

The second part of the evening started off well enough too. Fat Hippo's dining room was still hopping at 10:30pm on a weeknight, our waitress was lovely and our app of Hot And Sour Sautéed Calamari with ginger, garlic, lime and crushed peanuts was delish. The wine, conversation and Burger Fondue that followed were all damn fine as well.

A half-hour later at home though: NOT SO FINE. I felt wretched. I was wretched.

And, I couldn't help but wonder about the irony of it all. Obsession over beauty followed by decadent dining?

Let's simply call it "LaBute's Revenge."

Hornswaggled (aka The Vamp May Be An April Fool)

I had no reason not to trust my bartending source. That said, I was initially surprised by the name pick for a rumored bar to be opened by Audrey Saunders and Sasha Petraske, but was assured that the origin had to do with Welsh ancestry and not Harry Potter.

Have no idea if I was simply a belated April Fool or if my mixology mate was led astray and was simply passing along mis-information, but the folks at NY Mag's Grub Street did get confirmation that my Rumor report was off-base.

Still, I believe it is time to remember that The Vamp was indeed the first to break the news of Sara Jenkin's Porchetta and the first to report the opening of a Clark Street branch of Tazza.

Not bad for a food blogger who still has a day job.