VittlesVamp

Viennoiserie

Vienna is a city rich in history, brimming with baroque grandeur and spirited Secessionist influences. It's also a European capital celebrated for its sweet tooth. So, how could I resist the opportunity to get together with a noted pastry chef when I hit town?

My Brooklyn pal Peter had worked with French-born pastry chef Pierre Reboul a while back, when they both were in the kitchen at New York's Wallsé. A Facebook note, a few phone calls, a trip across the ocean, and a train ride from Budapest later, and I was all set.

I arrived late afternoon at the new upscale cafe from the Austrian bakery chain Ströck just as the pastry team was finishing up from a long day of baking; a day that started in the wee hours of the morning. After stints at Café Central and the Salzburg outpost of Demel, Chef Reboul now helmed the chain's patisserie operations -- with a special focus on the cafe's sweeter offerings -- and this was a chance to take in his handiwork. Surveying gleaming cases filled with a variety of breads, confections, tarts and more, I couldn't help but ask which among these beauties was his favorite. Pierre's pride and joy? He answered without pause: the croissants.

But instead of indulging in the depth and breadth of Pierre's patisserie creations, we sipped on local wines and talked about the business of dining in "The Imperial City." And once we'd felt that enough talk had been had, we headed into the center of town, so he could show me a bit of what 1st District had to offer. First stop - the grande dame of Viennese pastry and chocolate, Demel.

The shop's rooms were chock-a-block with enticingly wrapped chocolates, graceful tins of delicate miniature cookies, and beautiful boxes of candied violets. The cafe was in the back, along with a magnificent kitchen protected by glass -- a jewel case of sorts -- where we stood to watch young pastry chefs expertly decorate tray after tray of cookies.

We sat ever so briefly to enjoy a Melange, Austria's version of a Cappuccino, and then Pierre wanted me to see another old stomping ground, Café Central. A bustling hot spot since 1876, the place was regal to say the least -- and packed to the gills. We opted to simply ogle at the restaurant's opulent dessert display, decked out with gorgeous renditions of Sacher Torte, Punschkrapfen, Apple Strudel and Esterházy Torte.

With visions of sweets still dancing in my head, Pierre led me down the street and through an elegant arcade passageway, until we arrived at a place without a dessert in sight. The spot was known as Vulcanothek, and it specialized in Austrian pork products -- namely, air-dried cured ham, matured for up to 27 months, with delicious results. Not wanting to limit ourselves simply to the ham, we ordered up a platter of several delicacies, including Asmonte cheese, pepper salami, cut loin, and more.

Marvelous as it was, I still wanted to get my sweet on.

The next day, I was a woman on a mission; one that might involve nougat, caramel, fruit, chocolate or nuts. I had most definitely visited some incredible pastry stops with Pierre, but I never actually ate a sweet at any of them. I had been delinquent in enjoying one of Vienna's most storied contributions to culture: kick-ass desserts.

Thankfully, a trip to Joseph Genuss, an bright, modern bakery and bistro seemed like it might just do the trick.

Eyeing shelves lined with dozens of different types of freshly baked breads, and cases overflowing with sumptuous tarts, eclairs and cakes, I settled on the oddest dessert I could find.

In German, it is called "Maroni Blätterteig Mit Vanille Krapferl." Doesn't even sound appealing, I know, but this confectionery was pure heaven on a piece of puff pastry -- a rectangle of buttery pastry goodness topped with a piping of intense chestnut puree, and crowned by sugar-crusted profiteroles filled with fragrant vanilla cream. A couple dabs of currant jam finished it off with a touch of color.

It wasn't your classic Viennese dessert, but it was most certainly the finest piece of pastry that I had on my trip.

Now, I simply need to find a pastry shop in New York that makes it too.

Well, that or plan another visit to Vienna. Yeah. Maybe another trip to Vienna is in order. I do need to finally eat some pastry at Demel and Café Central. And, there was a Pistachio-Filled Croissant at Ströck that seemed to be calling my name. (Happily "VittlesVamp" is the same in German.)

My Bartender in Budapest

I'm a picky eater. I'm an even a pickier drinker, so when I hit a barstool: game on. And, if you are a bartender who can bring it, you got me.

So it was for me at the Blue Fox Bar when I was introduced to the mad skills of Attila Felhő Felhősi. This man isn't just talented with a muddler and a shaker, he is creative and enthusiastic to such a degree that I wanted to put him in my luggage and take him back to Brooklyn, so I don't have to live without his brilliant - and potent - concoctions.

Just take a look at this stunning rendition of a Ramos Gin Fizz...

It put the Ramos Gin Fizz I had at New Orleans' Sazerac Bar to shame. His latest seasonal creation is a reworking of that old "Sex and the City" chestnut, the Cosmopolitan, in which a cucumber, rose pepper foam takes the drink to a whole other level.

So, do I need to go back to Budapest and pack this gentleman in my bag to get him to New York or is some savvy bar owner going to whisk him across the Atlantic for me, shaker in-hand?

A Taste of Budapest

No one prepared me for a typical late October morning in Budapest -- bright skies, but blustery and cold.

That, my friends, is a glass of Unicum, Hungary's traditional herbal amaro liquer. My first morning in Budapest was an especially frigid one and I was quickly informed by natives that I would be remiss if I didn't partake in a shot before I started my day.

Start my day it did, packing a wallop and warming the body, while it scorched my throat.

Needless to say, I didn't start scouring stores for little gift bottles for friends back home. (You can thank me later!)

Other tastes of Hungary were more to my liking, including some sampling of the wares at the city's bustling Central Market. Smokey paprika-crusted pork sausage was a particular favorite, as was a dry, mild "Gypsy" salami.

I also tried the classic Hungarian fried bread known as Langos, capped with chopped garlic, soft cheese and a slathering of sour cream. (Not light, but pretty darn addictive.)

A visit to the "pickle lady" in the market's basement led me to sample vinegary, spicy pickled peppers, along with orange nubbins of pickled carrot and mouth-puckering pieces of pickled cauliflower.

A short stroll over to the Jewish Quarter offered up a much sweeter treat, cake from Rachel Raj -- who is quite literally the Rachael Ray of Hungary.

The cake in question was Flodni, a layered confection made with squares of pastry crust alternating between generous helpings of honeyed poppy seeds, walnut paste, plum jam and a filling of slivered apples. Not too sugary, it almost ventured into savory territory.

Other great tastes around town included a luscious Duck Burger at a neighborhood Hungarian wine bar, made even richer by a topping of seared duck liver; a mammoth Pork Knuckle, the caramel-tinged skin blistered and crackling, at a hip city bistro; and a latte piled high with whipped cream at the grandest cafe I'd ever seen...

Not too shabby, eh? But do notice that I went for coffee, not Unicum -- not to say I didn't drink in Budapest.

More about that later...

My Go-To's: French Louie

You may have expected my next blog post to focus on my recent European adventures. Promise that you'll get your fill of Budapest and Vienna soon, but I have to admit that being away always makes me appreciate home and New York City all the more. So, I thought it only right to start this month with a look at another one of my NYC go-to's: French Louie, the Atlantic Avenue bistro sister to the down-home Carroll Gardens fave Buttermilk Channel.

The restaurant's entryway bar is welcoming and, if the weather mild, French Louie's expansive backyard patio is an irresistible spot to share a bottle of Picpoul de Pinet, order the kitchen's heavenly Gougeres and end up lingering over a leisurely dinner that ends with glasses of chilled Poire Williams -- or come when the sun is shining and tuck into a well-earned weekend brunch.

Considering the Bloody Mary snapshot above, you can safely assume that I'm going to talk more about the latter. And, since the photo is of one of the most classic brunch cocktails around, you might assume that French Louie focuses on the classics as well, albeit with a Parisian accent.

This assumption would be incorrect.

No Croque Monsieur or baskets of Croissants here. Why should there be, when the kitchen can instead bring you a petite dish filled with warm Orange Madeleines fresh from the oven?

Or if that sounds too conventional, how about something from the garden? Order up a small plate of deep pink, crisp radishes, ready to dip into creamery butter that's been showered in black olive shavings.

So simple, but this addictive combination is crunchy, bitter, rich, sweet and salty all at once.

And, if you didn't get enough of a veggie fix with that starter, perhaps you'll need to try the Socca, a savory chickpea pancake topped with bits of roasted cauliflower, nutty freekeh, slivers of sauteed onion, chopped herbs and two perfectly cooked sunnyside-up eggs.

Must admit that this Mediterranean delicacy, by way of the Côte d’Azur, had never been on my radar screen before dining at French Louie. Now I wonder why it isn't on restaurant menus across the city.

Classics do emerge on the menu from time to time, but usually with a twist -- as with the restaurant's Cordon Bleu, a Gallic staple reinvented with a nod to culinary traditions below the Mason-Dixon Line.

It's a gobsmacking tower of succulent fried chicken breast, thin slices of Benton's country ham, melted Gruyere, decadent Mornay sauce and a leaf or two of Bibb lettuce so you can pretend that there is some small part of this dish that's healthy. Let's be clear: healthy this is not, but delicious it is.

My recommendation? Bring along a few friends to attack it with you and then walk across the Brooklyn Bridge afterwards.

Then make plans to return for dinner, when -- thank goodness -- the dish isn't on the menu and you can turn your attention to lighter fare like a Roasted Carrot and Beet Salad with a Pistachio and Coconut Vinaigrette or Flounder Grenobloise. Then again, the Pork and Rabbit Rillettes sounds pretty good, and so do the Anchovy Frites with Crispy Lemons and Aioli.

Maybe I should just start walking across the Brooklyn Bridge now.