VittlesVamp

Where's The Meat?

Why the hell isn't pâté a bigger deal in the States? The stuff is brilliant. It is meatloaf on crack cocaine. It is a deeply satisfying appetizer served with baby pickles and sharp mustard, often piled on crusty bread. Considering America's utter adoration of all things "hamburger," you'd think that this meaty snack would be a full-on phenomenon coast-to-coast.

Above is one of many glorious pâtés I had on my recent trip to Paris. The waiter at Le Comptoir du Relais simply plunked down the entire terrine and a sharp knife - and I was told to dig in at will.

And, I will. And, I did. And, it was delicious.

The selection of pâté I have seen in NYC since my return has been paltry at best. Thank goodness for D'Artagnan. Without them, I am not sure that pâté would be available in New York, unless I hightailed it over to a proper French restaurant (my thoughts drift towards the West Village and Buvette).

Any other suggestions for getting my mitts on some profoundly good pâté without buying a ticket to France?

About The Pizza...

You read the professional reviews. You hear oohs and aahs on your social media stream. But is it worth the hype?

In my experience? Rarely.

So it was with the Sicilian slice at F&F Pizzeria, the newly minted pizza spot from the Frankie's team. It had heft. It had crunch. It had a thin, slightly charred layer of acidic tomato goodness and a light sprinkling of cheese. But altogether it wasn't enough to lift it up past "good focaccia" status.

The Neapolitan slice on the other hand, this was a thing of beauty. This slice had a perfectly singed crust with a heavy gloss of tomatoes and a thick oozing layer of cheese with a sharp, tangy edge that spoke of good aged Parmesan alongside soft mozzarella. The bright green basil leaf may have only been there for a bit of decor, but it gave off a heady scent as I angled the slice towards my mouth. All in all, this was pizza to write home about -- even if home is Naples.