VittlesVamp

Deviled Eggs Are My Culinary Kryptonite

A little over a year ago I wrote about fear of rice. Admittedly it's hard to get it right on the stovetop. From time to time I've mustered some small success with basmati rice. Even so, it took buying a rice cooker for rice to start making regular guest appearances at dinnertime.

Sadly, there is no device or advice that has yet to help me when it comes to another staple -- one that has proven to be a formidable frenemy. I'm talking about Satan's favorite high-cholesterol snack, the Deviled Egg.

Some downright gorgeous specimens from The Long Island Bar & Restaurant are pictured above. Delicious.

Would I like to replicate these beauties for a Southern-style dinner party opener (someday, when we can have dinner parties again)? Yes! But, alas, all my attempts at hard-boiling and peeling eggs has come up short. I am never able to peel away the shell clean. I am always ending up with whites with major pockmarks. Not a pretty sight. And Deviled Eggs must be pretty. That's in the Deviled Egg bylaws. It's pretty strict about the need for Deviled Eggs to be pretty.

I have tried many methods. All have failed. I have officially given up and I will leave the "Deviling" to those more capable. I think we'll all be better for it. I know the eggs will be better for it for sure.

Chicago's Galit

I just returned from the Windy City, where I ate very, very well. Evidence is provided here in the form of snapshots taken at a fantabulous dinner at Galit, an award-winning Israeli spot that seriously delivered. (Had no doubt, since my gourmet rambling pal Tatiana had secured the reservation!)

Above, spy the cloud-like Hummus with bits of brisket braised with carrots and cinnamon. Because that couldn't be nearly enough to start us off, a series of small plates followed, including a bowl of mouth puckering Pickled Vegetables...

Heirloom Tomatoes with wood-roasted okra, amba, and Persian lime...

A bowl of creamy Labneh topped with hyssop, sumac, and sesame, alongside bowl of ethereal Baba Ganoush, sprinkled with a torrent of chives...

Gloriously hot, puffy Pita arrived to help us sop it all up...

Next up, a plate of Roasted Beets with Black Garlic Tehina, showered with crispy bits of pumpernickel and dill fronds...

And, we also swooned over Iraqui Kubbeh Halab, which were similar to Italian Arancini rice balls -- in this case, bright saffron rice encasing stewed lamb with a sauce made of blitzed golden raisins and almonds...

Then, this gobsmacking dish arrived...

That flower-strewn beauty was half a Wood-Roasted Cabbage, stuffed with oyster mushrooms and saffron mujadara, surrounded by a deep green chermoula sauce. And, lest we forgot we were meat eaters, there was Smoked Turkey Shwarma with peach amba and carrots...

To finish it all off, White Chocolate and Pistachio Baklava with raspberries and orange water.

Yeah. I ate very, very well in Chicago.

Went To Venice Beach To Figure Out What I Was Missing

Several years ago I was gifted the cookbook from Venice Beach's Gjelina. I remember thumbing through the book and eyeing the gorgeous photos of veggies galore and pizzas a plenty.

Today, I had the opportunity to visit the spot for lunch. It was glorious -- from the Grilled Trumpet Mushrooms with Tarragon Butter, seen above, to the Grilled Pork Neck with Salsa Verde, seen below...

And, brilliantly bringing up the rear was a gorgeous dish of Grilled Peaches with Burrata, Prosciutto, Arugula, and Aged Balsamic...

Now, this was my kind of dessert!

The food was truly delicious.

So, why hadn't I ever cracked open the cookbook to actually test out some of the recipes at home?

Good question and I have a good answer.

Every single one of these dishes was made on a wood-burning grill.

I know you're shocked, but my Brooklyn apartment doesn't come equipped with one. It clearly was a major 'miss' in my kitchen renovation.

One consolation? Open flame isn't completely off the table. I was recently gifted a mini Butane torch. It won't do the job on the pork, but maybe Brûléed Peaches will be on the menu at the next dinner party.

Who Wants To Tartare?

It scares away a lot of people. Red meat alone is enough to put a good number off. Add "raw" to the equation and I most certainly lose a significant amount of the dining audience.

But, dang, if I don't enjoy a good Steak Tartare.

Had one not long ago in Raleigh at Crawford and Son - showered with fresh horseradish and served alongside a mound of potato chips. All in all, a winner. I definitely need to get back to Buvette in the West Village for their rendition.

It's been many years, since I made this gloriously rich dish in my own kitchen. Maybe it's time to tackle it again...But, considering anti-red meat and anti-raw sentiment, not sure who would be game to enjoy it with me.

Could it be you?

Unmitigated Decadence

I have zero control. I know Delta is out there, but I am drawn to restaurants nonetheless. I am fully vaxxed. Know that there are some slight risks -- but at this point I am all in.

I went to Philadelphia and took Mama Vamp (also vaxxed!) for a multicourse extravaganza at Friday, Saturday, Sunday, which included the stellar Beet Cappelletti with Chive and Nasturtium Honey. Eyes roll back in your head time!

Then I went to the deepest darkest corners of the West Village for dinner with a friend at the Austrian powerhouse restaurant Wallse, where we tucked into these Smoked Trout Planshinken with glee...

There have been meals out with foie gras, truffles, and seared scallops -- and then there was this genius Tuna Tartare with Fava Beans and Agretti at Prospect Park's LaLou...

And a trip to Raleigh-Durham afforded me the opportunity to visit Saltbox Seafood Joint for a gargantuan Grouper Roll with all the fixins...

...including some otherworldy Honeyed Hushpuppies. Those puppies were a problem.

Have I cooked? Rarely. I have been throwing together food rather than properly cooking. I feel a longing to be served. It's where I am at. I am owning it. And, trust me, I will be cooking full force again. Just need to strike a balance.

We'll see how I do on the balance beam...

Vietnamese Vittles Victory in Brooklyn - Pt. 2

I had you hanging there for a while, didn't I? Well, I'm back for part 2 in this tale of two restaurants.

The next spot is within easy walking distance from my apartment, so it definitely has an edge on Bolero -- but the food is so good that I would be happy to grab a subway or Uber to get there. The spot? Em Vietnamese, newly ensconced on Front Street in Dumbo, Brooklyn.

Let's start at the beginning. Let's start with the Iced Vietnamese Coffee.

Let's start by saying YAAAASSSSS!

This was a perfectly balanced glass of intense coffee over ice, softened with just enough creamy sweetness from the condensed milk. I slurped it down and order a second at record speed.

Then, there was the food. The best of it isn't pictured. It was devoured too quickly. In particular, let me say that Bo Kho -- Vietnam's answer to Beef Bourguignon, scented with lemongrass, ginger, and coconut milk -- was a revelation. Once the meat and veggies were dispensed with, I brought the bowl to my lips to down every last drop of the rich broth.

Also, have to give a strong thumbs up to the restaurant's version of Banh Xeo, an eggy turmeric rice crepe that blankets a filling of shrimp, pork and bean sprouts. The crepe was crisp on the outside, soft and buttery within. Sliced off a wedge, wrapped in a lettuce leaf, dipped in a fish sauce vinaigrette and released a joyful moan shortly thereafter.

Oh, and then there are addictive chicken wings, doused with garlic butter nuoc mam sauce and topped with scallion and cilantro...

And, there is also the all-important Bun Thit Nuong, the cold noodle dish that I have deemed the baseline testament to solid Saigon-style eating at any worthy Vietnamese restaurant...

Needless to say, Em Vietnamese is worthy. Very worthy. I have gone back three times in the past couple weeks and I am tempted to go there tomorrow to continue my march through the menu. A very worthy endeavor, I can assure you.

Vietnamese Vittles Victory in Brooklyn - Pt. 1

I love Vietnamese food. It's bright flavors, palm sugar hits of sweetness, married with the briny bite of fish sauce, is a genius combination in my book.

I have often bemoaned the lack of great Vietnamese fare in New York City, accepting the fact that without a big Vietnamese population, we couldn't expect big Vietnamese restaurant wins. So, I'd typically steer myself towards one of the Vietnamese neighborhoods in Philadelphia when I went to see Mama Vamp, to get my fill of glorious bowls of Pho or chilled noodle-icious Buns.

Then a few years ago a couple of hipster Vietnamese spots arrived in Brooklyn. I was very excited. But, one of the restaurants quickly shuttered and the other one fell off considerably in terms of service. Once in a while I would order from the fast-casual Vietnamese mini-chain Hanco's nearby, but it always tasted like a muted, more Americanized version of the Hanoi- and Saigon-style food that I'd fallen in love with elsewhere.

Then, a few months ago I ventured into the tea garden of a new Vietnamese spot in Williamsburg called Bolero -- a place that was decidedly elegant, while aiming for big flavors. I have returned two times more, each time finding something new on the menu to get me grinning from ear-to-ear.

Pictured above, Littleneck Clams and fragrant lemongrass leaves, steamed in a Saigon beer broth with charred ramp oil, garlic, shaved salted chicken egg and coriander.

Pictured below, turmeric-marinated Skate with bronze fennel, radicchio, pickled cantaloupe, tricolor carrots, onion flowers, sesame cracker and fermented fish sauce vinaigrette...

Can you see why I was grinning ear-to-ear?

But, lucky enough for me this is a tale of two restaurants -- two new Vietnamese places to keep me in fish sauce and grins. Stay tuned for part 2...

The Unsung Hero of the Pandemic: Pizza

Yes, sourdough took a lot of the limelight during the pandemic. But, there was a staple that helped us all make it through -- the humble pizza pie.

You know it's true.

For comfort at the height of the crisis, I'd buy a store-bought frozen pie and add toppings to make it a little special. Then there was the glory of a Stouffer's French Bread Pizza dinner with a bit of salad to pretend that I was being "healthy" in some respect. Eventually, I was able to order again from a real-deal pizza parlor. The delivery of a Hot Sausage and Brown Butter with Sage Pizza from F&F's in Carroll Gardens was particularly memorable. Soooo good!

And, now that we are starting to emerge from the pandemic, pizza hasn't lost its luster. Heck, when I was finally able to take a plane - you read right, A PLANE - and head out to Portland to see a friend, we ended up tucking into pizza. A trip to the St. John neighborhood meant grabbing a picnic table in a courtyard for cocktails from The Garrison and couple pies from Gracie Apizza (one of which is pictured above).

Pizza has a permanent place in my heart -- and it has staked claim on my waistline.

Maybe I'll try the whole sourdough thing some day. But, for now, I'll stick with pizza as my pandemic starch superhero.

A Coffee Trip

Travel is a non-starter. So, being enveloped by something outside of yourself while still remaining in the borough is a distinct pleasure.

Pleasure. That was the sensation after one sip of Mofawar -- rich coffee with cardamom and cream -- at Qahwah House in the heart of hipster Williamsburg.

Williamsburg? Yes. Yemen by way of Bedford Avenue. Quite the trip, indeed. Hands warmed by fragrant, cardamom-laced coffee on a makeshift patio, I was a bit transported.

Then I took a plastic fork and tucked into a warm slice of...

...Khailat Alnahi, a honeycomb-inspired sweet. Small, soft pull-apart rolls stuffed with buttery cheese and drizzled with honey.

Totally worth braving the cold and sitting off a busy street to nibble on the pastry and slowly sip the hot coffee.

A warm breeze from Yemen suddenly hit. (Or was that backdraft from the L subway line?)

I knew full well that it wasn't proper travel. It was a cup of coffee and a slice of cake. But, right now an improper trip to the Middle East is welcome nonetheless. On a magic carpet or via a cup of coffee? I'm not quibbling over the specifics.

Eating Out of Season

I am 110% about eating foods while they are in season. Asparagus and Ramps in April or May. Cherries in June. Peaches in July. But some seasonal designations are beyond me.

For example, lore has it that we should only be eating shellfish, particularly oysters, in months with the letter “R."

Ummm...I think it depends on the shellfish in question. Local oysters are harvested at different times of the year, but considering we fly many a shelled beauty across the country, I have slurped oysters throughout the year.

Clams definitely have a season, if we are talking about wild varieties. But, Stuffed Clams are a year-round indulgence. The platter above was had at Bostwick's front patio in East Hampton just a couple weeks ago. On the other hand, I ordered something else off the menu, which may be a bit more controversial...

Yes, a gorgeous Lobster Roll. For some reason this glorious sandwich is considered a gustatory hallmark of summer. Yet, I enjoyed this one in November. I enjoyed it fully, gleefully, and without guilt!

According to Maine-Lobster.com, "There is no special Maine lobster season for the hard-shell lobsters that are more commonly shipped out of state, since lobstering is done year-round in the waters off Maine. More lobsters are caught in the summer months than during the winter, but that is mainly because the demand is higher due to tourism, and because the working conditions are easier."

So, admonish me at your peril. There is no seasonality issue at play. Besides, it's a pandemic for goodness sakes! If I want a Lobster Roll in November, so be it. And, you know what? I might want another one in December. And, just to put it over the edge, I might wear white after Labor Day.

I'm such a rebel!

Hummus Is Where The Heart Is

Finally was able to get to Philadelphia and see Mama Vamp.

Did we celebrate? My mother made a special request - that I bring cocktail supplies to make her something special that we could sip together. I packed up a shaker, a jigger, and small bottles of St. Germaine and Applejack. Montparnasse cocktails were shaken and poured into good crystal coupes. We raised them, toasted to being in good health and lucky enough to be together.

One round and we were hungry. Very hungry. Some things don't change. Thank goodness!

It was a beautiful Saturday and Philadelphians were out-and-about, masked up, sitting outdoors at local cafes. Wait times for a table were upwards of a half-hour. Not surprised. We kept walking and then saw it - Dizengoff - Chef Michael Solomonov's Center City Hummuyisa. In other words - a trip to Tel Aviv without the flight.

Yes. This was lunch. Gorgeous, light, fluffy hummus. One platter topped with roasted cauliflower and pistachios, and another with roasted brisket, beefy in a rich tomato and onion sauce. Swiped the plates with freshly baked pitas and thick slices of Persian cucumbers.

Oh, yes.

It made me question why I haven't made Solomonov's hummus recipe as of late. The difference between the homemade stuff, using his recipe, and the stuff in the market? They aren't even close. A comparison isn't fair. Solomonov's hummus is revelatory. The secret ingredient? Ice water. Seriously. Ice water.

I may have been leaning on my "Meat and Greek" combo throughout the pandemic, but "Hummus and Friends" may be my next go-to. It'll make me think of Mama Vamp. And, I have a strange feeling that even if I start making the hummus at home, I'll be visiting Dizengoff again with my mom the next time I am in Philly.

Her face lit up tasting its creamy goodness. Maybe the company had something to do with the smile too - but that hummus sure didn't hurt!