VittlesVamp

Getting Ready For Blowback On This Post

So I am going to sound like a fullon 1-percenter right now - but, I have noticed an incredibly inordinate amount of Truffles and Caviar on menus as of late. For some, I am sure it is about "revenge dining" post-Pandemic. For others, there is surely a deep appreciation for these umami-packed ingredients.

Yet...

I am just starting to think that there are other options that are more affordable - and, are less knee-jerk than these indulgent luxury staples.

For example, last weekend I dropped by Red Hook Tavern one weekend morning. Instead of ordering their deservedly-hyped burger, I thought I would try their French Omelette with Truffle.

Was it good? Sure. Was it great? Not really.

I kept thinking how much a bright herb salad - maybe with Italian Parsley, Chives, and Tarragon - could have been an even better option than the generous shaving of Black Truffle showered on the perfectly cooked eggs.

And, then there are pieces of nigiri from Sushi Lin with fish that melts in your mouth.

Is a hit of Beluga Caviar balanced on top of Otoro Tuna and Uni a crowd pleaser? Sure. It it as good as the seared Tomato they put on top of King Salmon? Not really.

I know that complaining about too much Truffle and Caviar makes me sound like Marie Antoinette. But, I am not saying "Let them eat cake."

I am saying "Let me eat fresh herbs and tomatoes." Different. Besides, it comes at a much more manageable price tag - and hopefully doesn't inspire anyone to break out a guillotine.

My Pasta Obsession

Fusilli was so last year. Rigatoni? Fine, but not getting me all that excited. How about Penne? What can I say? It's sort of commonplace.

A new pasta shape has caught my fancy. And, you know how I like my fancy struck!

It's called Reginetti. They are gorgeous ribbons with curlicue edges, cut into bite-sized, ruffled pieces.

Above, I served them in a White Ragu made with veal, guanciale and marjoram.

Below, they are enveloped in a Creamy Mushroom Ragu.

If Italy Magazine is to be believed, there are 350 pasta shapes in the Italian food canon. Will I find another shape that sets me aflutter? With 350 to choose from, I would imagine so. That said, right now I am seriously enjoying my infatuation with Reginetti. And, so are the guests at my table, if I do say so myself!

A Tale of Two Markets

First of all, let me say that I made it out of the country. Yay! Made it all the way to Rome. And, my first stop after the obligatory espresso? A market.

My stay started at a friend's place in the Esquilino neighborhood, a hodgepodge of ancient relics and vibrant community. That community includes generations' old Italians and immigrants from India, China, Morocco and elsewhere. At moments when passing through the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II, I could breath in the aromas of coffee and curry all at once.

Unsurprisingly, the Nuovo Mercato Esquilino was buzzing. My senses were overwhelmed by stands filled with spices and olives...

And, then this seafood stall caught my eye...

I left empty-handed, since lunch at a local trattoria awaited, but I vowed to cook a little while I was in the city. Thankfully, the next day I journeyed to Circus Maximus and visited Campagna Amica. This market had a different feel from the one in Esquilino. The tip off? These at the entrance...

The man wielding a knife at a massive porchetta and loads of pork products vacuum-sealed, ready to go...

Then there was the verdure...

Magnificent! Bellisima! I pounced on some puntarelle, which is almost impossible to find in the States. Radishes were bought. A salad would soon be born. It wasn't major cooking, but with the additions of good Italian olive oil, a few chopped anchovies, and a splash of white wine vinegar, it was delizioso!

Buttering Me Up

Is this an excessive amount of butter?

Um, probably. No. Definitely.

Was it worthy butter? Butter worth gorging on?

Yes. No question.

Was I inspired to buy a log of incredible Brittany butter with sea salt at the newly opened Le French Tart Deli near my apartment?

Of course.

Did I slather it on slices of baguette in a much more judicious fashion than the person who made the Anchovy and Butter Crostini above?

Once again, of course.

But was I tempted to slather more on?

Yet again, of course.

Butter: It's important.

The Picnic Approach

The kitchen still isn't done. Almost there. Not quite. Despite all that, currently back in my apartment.

What does that mean for food prep? Can't stock the fridge yet and my cooking equipment isn't on-hand, so meals are a bit of a "throw together" these days.

Poor me? Not really. I'm making it work. I'm going with a picnic approach to dining. Think a slice of pâté from Marlow & Daughters with some cornichons, a dab of Dijon, and good crackers. The vacuum-sealed Spanish charcuterie above were lovely with a wedge of lightly smoked Idiazábal cheese and a small baguette from Sullivan Street Bakery. Then again, Acme whitefish salad spooned onto slices of cucumbers was also quite satisfying. Mandarin oranges have been a go-to dessert, easy to peel and luscious to down.

Am I ready to start cooking and baking again?

Hell-to-the-yes! But, the picnic-ing phase of this renovation hasn't been all bad.

Rice Scares The Heck Out Of Me

I can make homemade Ricotta Sorbet. I can sous vide Shrimp Cocktail. I can stir up a mean Martini. But rice. It scares the heck out of me. (My stash of Jasmine Rice is pictured above. A frightening sight!)

Seriously.

I have burned more pots of rice than I care to count. Let's not forget the pots of still crunchy, never cooked-through rice. And, then there are the pots of soupy unGodly rice porridge that I brought into the world.

A sad state of affairs.

Then I finally bought a rice cooker. This device was a miracle. Jasmine rice turned out perfectly every time!

Then I was stupid. i decided I wanted to make basmati rice. This is not ideal for a rice cooker. What was I thinking?!? I went down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos about making basmati rice. It was painful. There are so many different techniques. I finally settled on one though. In addition, I decided to take a recipe and tweak it to my taste. And, what happened? A delicious basmati pilaf was born!

Basmati Pilaf with Caramelized Onion, Cherries & Pistachios
(Serves 6 - 8)

2 cups of basmati rice
2 TBSP canola oil
3 yellow onions, sliced thin
1/2 cup dried cherries (reconstituted with hot water and drained)
1/3 cup shelled pistachios (toasted and chopped)
Zest from 1 orange
2 TBSP Kosher salt

Soak basmati rice 3 - 4 times in cool water, swishing around and draining to remove excess starch. Then soak rice for 30 - 45 minutes before draining. Put drained rice in a big pot and add 1 TBSP of canola oil. Put over moderate heat and saute for 3 minutes, making sure all grains are coated. Add 3 cups of boiling water and 1 TBSP Kosher salt. Bring to a rolling boil and then lower the stove temperature to a simmer and place a lid on top, leaving it alone for 10 minutes. Take pot off of the heat for 10 minutes and then fluff rice with a fork.

In a separate pot or Dutch oven, melt butter with 1 TBSP canola oil. Add onions and 1 TBSP Kosher salt. Saute until brown and caramelized, about 45 minutes.

Add rice into caramelized onions and mix with a fork. Add cherries, pistachios, and orange zest. Mix further and gently heat through on stove top before serving.

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?

Chyn & The Chips

My friend Chyn is obsessed. Seriously obsessed. I do like a potato chip now and then - especially if I am able to plunk a bit of creme fraiche, caviar, and snipped chives atop - but Chyn is the Queen of the Chips.

She cannot resist a new flavor, texture, or brand.

I took her to Shelsky's for a smoked fish fiesta, and although she was enchanted by her first bialy and downed two different sorts of herring, it was their selection of potato chips that had her swooning. All three pictured above were purchased - Iberian ham, black truffle, and caviar. Then she bought a different brand's white truffle chips to round things out.

The other night, walking home after being mightily stuffed on brilliant Thai food at Brooklyn's Ugly Baby, she stopped short when she spied some Korean BBQ-flavored potato chips in a bodega. It took some persuading to get her to agree to keep moving and not buy a bag.

Right now, Chyn is somewhere in deepest darkest Montreal. I imagine she has a bag of foie gras-flavored potato chips by her side. Or maybe they are poutine-flavored. Then again, perhaps they are smoked meat-flavored.

Any which way, I am sure she's happy. Or should I say chipper?

BA By the Sea

I realize that Buenos Aires is considered a mecca for meat, but I have been on the hunt for great seafood and fish in this carne-crazed town. It's a tough ask.

Still, there have been some wins - especially Grilled Langostinos, fresh with a delicate sweetness, at San Telmo's exquisite Cafe Rivas. Then there was the shrimp-filled ravioli at Chacarita neighborhood cafe Rita, blanketed with a cream sauce and dotted with bright red roasted tomatoes...

Each bite brought me a bit closer to the sea.

Yet, I get the feeling that these meals were aberrations in BA's bife-obsessed food scene. Most restaurants offer very little by way of seafood and fish. And, while these two dishes were fantastic, they are the exception to the rule.

Case in point: La Mar, the city's Peruvian import, a high-end cebicheria that is on every critics' "must visit" list. It was a total disappointment. The menu had a focus on fish, yes, but they drowned most of it in sickly sweet sauces. Even the classic ceviche was lackluster in many respects. Some of the flavors were spot-on, but ultimately the kitchen didn't trust the fish to grab the spotlight as the star of the show.

And, although BA has many sushi spots, maki with gobs of cream cheese is the norm. Authenticity and quality fish really aren't the sushi strong suits here. Think middling salmon and tempura rolls. Meh to say the the least.

Well, what about making fish or seafood at home? Aren't there some solid fishmongers in town? Um, no. Several locals urged me to visit Barrio Chino, which supposedly has the best that BA has to offer. Let's just say that if that's the best the city has to provide, I understand why folks stick to meat here.

So, am I "Debbie downer" when it comes to things aquatic in Buenos Aires? Not entirely, but I will say that I can't wait to sink my teeth into some really good sushi when I get back to New York. Until then, though, I will revel in BA's beefier delights.

The Holy Grail of Jamon

Nothing in Spain seemed quite as vital to the national culture as its glorious, dry-cured ham. Gin and tonics came in at a close second, but Jamon definitely ruled the day - and, the night too for that matter, when restaurants save space for a decked out leg of Jamon iberico with a knife-wielding ham-slicing expert at-the-ready. More often than not, two or three bone-in beauties are polished off in night.

Then of course there is the Museo del Jamon...

...a small Madrid chain of grocery stores dedicated to the history and majesty of Jamon.

Thinking this would be an excellent franchise opportunity for someone in the States. Happy to make an investment. After relishing this gorgeous delicacy on its home turf, thinking Jamon is probably a safer bet than gold right now. And, goodness knows, it's a lot more tasty.