VittlesVamp

Ebelskiver Ecstasy

I went to the charming Danish Church on Willow Street with only one thing in mind. Glogg. Unsurprisingly, it was glorious.

For those of you who are not well-versed in Danish beverage traditions, Glogg is simply hot, spiced wine with a splash of brandy or vodka. What could be possibly be bad about that?

But, while on line, I spied folks mingling with plates of little enchanting donuts, which they rolled in soft, white powdered sugar and bright red strawberry jam. I had to get me some of those!

Those were called "Ebelskivers," melt-in-your-mouth globes of pancake batter, cooked to golden brown. Yum!

Yet, little did I know that I would be enthralled by another helping of Ebelskivers later that day.

Did I return to the wee Danish Church on Willow?

No. I ventured further afield, across Atlantic Avenue to Henry Public, a former television repair shop turned saloon that had been making waves in cocktailian circles. After downing a few potent drinks, I suddenly spotted platters of Ebelskivers everywhere I looked.

Was this simply a drunken vision brought on by my new-found Ebelskiver lust? I doubted it. I hadn't had that much to drink.

A waitress, seeing my curiosity piqued, let me know that I was actually staring at plates of Henry Public's popular snack food and dessert mainstay called "Wilkinsons."

As Shakespeare once wrote: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

And so it is true with the Ebelskiver. A Wilkinson is a Ebelskiver renamed and served alongside warm caramel sauce. An Ebelskiver that is decadent and delicious, soft and buttery, the perfect foil for the sweet caramel drippy goodness that comes with.

So, with Thanksgiving only hours away, I do not have thoughts of giblets and cranberry sauce dancing in my head. I dream the dream of Danish delights gone Brooklyn. I dream of Ebelskivers.

Pumpkin Pie Is So Over

According to the Dallas Morning News, pumpkin has much more to offer for the Thanksgiving table than pie filling. I quite agree. In fact, my Pumpkin Gelato will be put into the freezer momentarily.

That said, a savory pumpkin stuffed ravioli makes for a fabulous Thanksgiving vegetarian main. And, going back to the sweet side of T-Day, how about Pumpkin Mousse or Pumpkin Bread Pudding?

But, is it possible to celebrate the holiday with a pumpkin in glass? No, I do NOT mean cloying Pumpkin Spice Lattes from Starbucks. Heck, no. I'm talking about a Rye and Amaro-spiked concoction poured into a chilly coupe.

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

Reviewing Eating Animals

So, for my 1000th post on VittlesVamp, I point you to my review of Jonathan Safran Foer's "Eating Animals" on TheBookStudio.com.

Needless to say, I'm still a meat-eater.

Rudi Had A Little Lamb

The head was sawed just so
And everywhere that Rudi went
Carnivores were sure to go...

And, so it was last weekend, when Master Butcher Rudi Weid butchered the carcass of a 110 lb sustainably and humanely raised lamb, straight from the pastures of upstate New York at the Institute of Culinary Arts in Manhattan. In the able hands of the expert butcher, bones were cleaved, glands were extracted, a liver was sliced and shanks were hewed. It was all for a good cause, with proceeds benefitting Slow Food NYC's Harvest Time program.

After the lamb was broken down, we nibbled on a pre-cooked lambie (darn if those deep-fried testicles weren't tasty!) and the bidding began on Weid's gorgeous cuts...

But, alas, The Vamp was out bid on everything from a leg to stew meat. I even came up short on these glorious, roasted half heads...

Guess I'll just need to hit the greenmarket for a sustainably farm raised lamb carcass of my own. Then I'll just need to get a professional bone saw and I'll be ready to go.

(Figure that's a not-too-subtle hint for a holiday gift. Get me a cleaver too and you'll have one happy Vamp on your hands!)

There Is Always Room For Bread Pudding

Just want to journey back to my New Orleans weekend one more time -- time enough to share a valuable lesson in the art of excess and indulgence.

It was a tutorial first taught to myself and my travel companion over an abundant brunch at Mother's on Podryas Street, featuring Cafe au Laits, OJ, two Eggs Over-Easy with Grits, thick slices of Baked Ham, a buttery Biscuit Sandwich with Smoked Sausage, and a heaping bowl of Jerry's Jambalaya, which was crammed with Chicken and Andouille. Needless to say, we ate our fill. OK - more than our fill.

Yet, when the owner of this longtime N'Awlins home cooking mainstay came by the table to offer us a slab of the restaurant's Bread Pudding, we didn't have the heart to say "no."

So, the gargantuan brick of sweet, eggy Bread Pudding arrived (see above). Stuffed to the gills, we forced ourselves to take a taste.

Then, as if by some form of black magic, we actually felt hungry. Seriously hungry enough to finish off the entire helping in record time.

We were frightened. What was going on here? How was this possible?!? Was it something in the air in the Big Easy? In the water? In the alcohol?

We decided to stop questioning this mystery and headed out of Mother's as quickly as our feet could carry.

Realizing that it was necessary to stay away from food as long as possible, we hit Magazine Street for another brand of decadence: shopping. The visit included browsing in antique stores, shoe emporiums and even a stop at an artist's studio...

...where we were not only introduced to some fine paintings, but the artist's fine fido as well.

And, the trip continued with walks around the Quarter, a look at the Voodoo Museum, listening to a local jazz crooner at the Ritz, a chance to catch a sneak peek of Mardi Gras at a rousing Halloween parade where we caught beads aplenty, and much, much more.

Unsurprisingly, "much, much more" also included French 75's at The Pelican Club, an extravagantly good dinner at Restaurant August, Pimm's Cups at Napoleon House, Shrimp and Grits at Luke, etc...

Then it finally came time to leave. But something was missing. Sorely missing. Two hours before our flight home, we sidled up to the Hermes Bar at Antoine's and instantly knew what was called for...

Only after we licked the plate clean, were we full. Contentedly so. Ready to sleep on the long flight home. Ready to go on diets.

Astoria's Culinary Tourist Trap Is Shuttered

Uncle George's has long been the Astoria "it" destination for Fodor's-lugging gyro and souvlaki loving tourists.

The food was greasy. The help was greasier. And, now it looks like all that grease from Greece - and goodness knows what else - has finally caught up with the joint. Signs on the darkened windows declare that the restaurant is under renovation, but it is the sign from the Department of Health that tells the true story. As of late last month, they took down Uncle George and any nieces or nephews that remained.

(Photo credit: Eating In Translation)