New York City.com : People : Adanna

September 23, 2005

Smile and Say Medium Rare

My brother the Chef called me the other day to chit chat about fatherhood and about taking a seven year old out for a birthday dinner. Knowing nothing about child-rearing, I asked him where the all the hip seven year olds go for dinner these days.

“To a steakhouse,” he said.
“No kidding?”
“It’s all about the food now.”
“I liked steak when I was her age,” I said wistfully.
“Yeah, well we all did. But….”
“Don’t say it.”

The fact that my niece is a steak eater comes as no surprise. When I was her age, I watched jealously whenever my father ate a t-bone steak and my brothers and I got to dig into a pile of … MEATLOAF! At least we had A1 Steak Sauce to mitigate the blandness of the blah.

“You know, mom still thinks she makes a mean meatloaf,” he said. “It’s making a comeback.”

I’ve heard all the waxing nostalgic about comfort food and meatloaf and frozen peas and carrots, but let’s all just stop painting our pasts with rose-colored sharpies and admit that meatloaf is a dish that should never appear on a modern table. Period. There are a thousand tastier, healthier things one can do with ground beef. I know that it can be fun once in a while to watch the Brady Bunch on TV Land while eating a frozen TV dinner, but we have to remember why we are doing it – so that we won’t. Oh, the conundrum. It’s like that scene in “Coffee and Cigarettes”. Once you quit smoking, it’s okay to smoke, since you no longer really need to smoke. Or, the Captain is only in when he’s out. Or, the heads of some important government departments … only know what to do when there’s nothing to do.

“So, you’re taking her out for steak – at a steakhouse,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “She knows what she wants.”

Man! To be seven years old and know what you want – now that is something. But my brothers and I come from that time when everyone told us what we wanted: />“Here’s that Fish Stick you wanted”, followed by Peter Pan, Captain Crunch, Snickers, Twinkies, Pixie Stix and Oscar Meyer. I don’t think anyone ever asked us what we wanted, and certainly would not have entertained the answer “a t-bone steak medium rare”.

What a great dad my brother is! Right on!

“Cool,” I said. “What cut does she like?”
“Rib eye, or filet mignon.”
“How does she like it cooked?"
“Medium rare. And she means it. She’ll send it back if it’s overcooked.”

I try to imagine the look on a server’s face as my seven year old niece says, “This isn’t what I ordered. I asked for medium rare.” And I can imagine the server thinking, “why the hell did her parents let her order a steak? Why can’t she order the meatloaf from the kids menu?” And then I imagine her smiling, and saying, "I asked for medium rare".

Tags: comfort food, meatloaf, medium rare, steak

Posted on 9/23/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 21, 2005

Vegetarians in the Day to Day

My vegetarian cousin and I decided to get together for a bite to eat, and opted to meet at Union Square. (There is a vegetarian joint on the east side of the square, but I had a mad craving for meat – to be specific, grilled sausage – and had no intention of looking at tofu.) I felt guilty. Vegetarians often have to make accommodations for the rest of us, eating bread and a green salad with a side of fries while surrounded by the aroma of sizzling flesh. But damn, I needed a sausage.

Nostalgia:
I was longing for those simpler years when I was a student on stipend, traversing Europe without a care in the world, unaware of the fact that I had amassed nothing in assets or mutual funds and that I was facing a bleak retirement back home. What did I care, really, when I had a fantastic sausage sandwich in my hand, replete with a local artisanal mustard?

My cousin accommodated my longings and we headed to Mandler’s on 17th Street, a Euro-style sausage stand with an array of mustards no one can sneer at. No French’s Yellow Dye Number 5 Flavored slime here!

“I can always find something to eat,” he said, adding, “I survived for months in Brazil.”

More Nostalgia:
My cousin’s mother was at one time a radical hippy writing inflammatory prose from a Haight-Asbury apartment, and then later from a commune in Missouri. She raised her kids on milk straight from the goat, homegrown produce and a fear of any large organization. She still lives on an organic farm and remains as isolated from the Establishment as she can be, although the flame of her prose has all but flickered out.

I ordered the Krainerwurst on onion bread, a delicious combo that I highly recommend. The counter staff encouraged me to let them slather on some toppings, but I wouldn’t have any of it.

“I want to taste the sausage,” I said. “I’m here for the sausage, not the mushrooms.”

My cousin ordered the vegetarian sausage and some zucchini fries.

“Oh my God,” he declared, “this is really good. I’m so happy!”

We sipped on our beer and then gossiped about his recent overnight incarceration for smoking weed while riding a bicycle.

“They stripped-searched me,” he said.

“No kidding?” I asked. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Obvious reasons” he replied.

Thankfully, Mandler’s has a happy hour – two for one. We got happy – about three times.

Nostalgia Redux:
I remember my aunt standing next to the campfire in her gauze dress, hair in braids, breastfeeding my cousin and spouting off about the Establishment and how one day all we will have to eat is corporation-owned, genetically engineered, processed foods. I miss those nights around the campfire, even if she did get on my nerves.

“The one thing about being a vegetarian that sucks,” my cousin said, “is that I miss that whole grilling-out in the open thing. But this vegetarian sausage tastes like the real deal.”

“I just wish you had more options,” I said.

“There are thousands of options out there. It’s a matter of looking at it as a creative challenge, and not as deprivation.”

Resolution: Keep an eye out for exciting vegetarian dishes to share with those many out there who refrain from flesh. They, too, like to have a good time and a good laugh.

Tags: None

Posted on 9/21/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 20, 2005

The Myth of the American Breakfast

Origins of the Myth:
The belief that a fried pork product, eggs, toast, juice and coffee constitute the “all American breakfast” has its roots in advertising jingoism, and not in custom or habit. In the not-so-distant American past, meat for breakfast was a luxury found on the tables of the upper classes. Porridge was likely the standard fare for the hoi polloi. Mmmmm. How long ago was that?

Until around World War I, bacon and eggs were a dinner item (supper if you live in the south). But producers of bacon and other cured pork products, in an attempt to sell more such product to the middle class, began pushing swine as a breakfast staple, calling it “The All American Breakfast”, and thus capitalizing on the emotions of the era.

Slap a flag on the package and you have a winner. Restaurants soon caught on. Good solid Americans started the day with a good solid American breakfast. Salute!

My Grandmother's Mythical Breakfast:
My grandmother, an Orange County native who grew up on the shores of the Pacific, often spoke about breakfasts of tea, toast, fruit and cream – served on a silver tray and brought to her on the veranda. But that was pre-1929 and some hyperbole. My grandfather on the other hand, remembered coffee, toast and dried beef and gravy – the more pepper the better. Both were true to their regions and the products available to them.

New Myths - Technology & Colorful Packaging:
When I was kid and food distribution was well on the way to the monopoly that it now is, our breakfast table was certainly interesting to look at – boxes of Pop-Tarts, sugar-laden cereals, Tang, Nestle's Quick, Flintstones vitamins – a cacophony of colors and slogans and tricks and treats. My mother attempted to feed us these things because the added vitamins were said to be “good for you”. Meanwhile, she munched on cold pizza and guzzled a can of Coca Cola. Surprisingly, we all made it through these tough times.

Enter the Porcine Hero:
At some point, my brothers and I graduated to the Traditional American Breakfast. Let’s review this meal as advertised to adults:
Orange Juice
Toast (or a biscuit)
Coffee (I will concede that tea is becoming more and more popular now that we’ve all forgotten about the goings on in Boston).
Eggs, or some egg-like product
Potatoes
Bacon or sausage (link or patty – you decide, and if you live down south, you are obligated to turn that pork fat into a nice gravy.)
Cereal (this they try to sneak in so we can get some needed fiber)

The Myth Implodes:
Americans don’t have time for all that prep work, or chewing work! We are busy people. We grab an egg, bacon & cheese on a roll (no matter how fake-ass the cheese is), an everything bagel with scallion sour cream, a double chocolate doughnut, a flavored & sugared yogurt, a BLT, whatever we can grab in under 60 seconds. If we do sit down and take our time for that first meal of the day, we do not call it breakfast. We call it Brunch.

Breakfast is a strange meal. Its place in our lives has yet to be defined. We know that we are hungry. And somehow we know that after shoving a bacon, egg & cheese sandwich into our faces and washing it down with a regular coffee we will not feel good. But we STILL do it.

What we need is a New Myth, a new product equally worthy of today's nationalistic mood, a truly American product that we can wave the magic flag over and say "poof!" here's your new All American breakfast item.

Any contenders?

Tags: None

Posted on 9/20/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 15, 2005

Ode to Feta Cheese

Feta is widely known as that white cheese sprinkled on a Greek salad (and all too often the salad is 90% iceberg lettuce).

But feta is much more than that.

Believe it or not, some people are so passionate about this cheese that they have come to blows.

"Feta cheese", in the American vernacular, has come to mean any white, curd cheese packed in brine. It is a cheese common in the Balkans and has a long history there. Traditional versions of this cheese are made from sheep milk, but variations made with goat milk have been around for centuries. What we know as "feta" is usually the Greek variety (from whence the name), but several others, including domestic versions, are now available.

Technical Notes:
1. Many Greeks complain about the use of the word "feta" for non-Greek, non-sheep cheeses, in much the same way that the French complain about the use of the word "champagne" to mean "any sparkling wine". To date, the EU has not limited the use of the word "feta" to Greek cheeses only.

2. It is essential that the cheese be made from sheep or goat milk. The bovine variety is just plain blah.

3. Why the brine? Feta cheese dries out easily and must be stored in its brine in order to stay fresh. In the old days, no one kept it in the back of frig for weeks on end.

4. No feta cheese is Number One. Everyone has an opinion about which feta is the best. Some are very sharp, others mild, some dry and crumbly and others creamy. It is a matter of taste and what you intend to do with the feta.

5. Feta for breakfast? I say yes! Try "kavalti", a traditional Turkish version of breaksfast: some tomato slices, cucumber slices and feta slices serve with a hard boiled egg, tea and toast. Very refreshing, not to mention healthy.

The magic of feta is that it retains much of the original properties since the days when nomadic shepherds made it: simple, salty, fresh and yummy.

Tags: balkans, cheese, cucumber, feta, worthy of an ode

Posted on 9/15/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 14, 2005

Not all Pad Thai created equal...

With the explosion of Thai or Thai-like eateries all along Manhattan and Bedford Avenues, one thing becomes clear: All Thai food is not equal.

Let’s start with the simplest of dishes: Pad Thai. On Manhattan Avenue alone, between Driggs and Huron Streets, there are four Thai restaurants. Add these to the cache in Northside and you have at least a dozen Pad Thais to choose from within a mile radius.

Pad Thai is a simple dish that, in Thailand, is a popular street-vendor food. The trend these days is to make it into something gooey. Personally, I do not like a pile of sticky, oily noodles masquerading as Pad Thai. Oil content is very important in this dish. There should be almost none. Too often, pad thai oozes oil and the noodles stick together because they were not properly tossed in a wok or flipped on a flat griddle.

Dilemmas, dilemmas, always dilemmas.

My choice for Greenpoint pad thai is Ott Thai Restaurant, on Manhattan Avenue at Huron Street (near the G Train stop). It is small, mom & pop shop with Spartan but clean furnishings.

Here’s why I like the Pad Thai:

1. It is not oily or sticky
2. If you want to spice yours up “Thai style”, they will give you the dried chili flakes, sugar and lime, and show you how they do it back home.
3. The portions are not so aggressive that you feel full even before you start eating it.

Special Ott Notes:

While Thai eateries are many and most have similar menus, Ott offers some stand out dishes that you won’t find elsewhere on the avenue:
1. Steamed Fish with Fried Ginger – this is a great dish and so much nicer than a fried version of the same. Usually made with sole or tilapia, this is a delicate and flavorful way to treat the fish.
2. Grilled Squid – a great alternative to the usual fried calamari, and served with a spicy sauce that leaves no question marks hanging over your head.
3. Spicy beef salad – appetizer or entrée size, for when you just are not in the mood for a curry.
4. DESSERT! While they do have the fried bananas and green tea ice creams, there are also dessert surprises lurking in the kitchen. Try the coconut pudding, served warm in a trio of small, traditional dishes.
5. Other surprises – from time to time, the owner will have other homemade desserts on hand, or a fish special inspired by that day’s catch.

Beer is available by the bottle, but wine is a problem. Best to bring your own.

Tags: None

Posted on 9/14/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 14, 2005

Ya estamos .... en Vera Cruz

Vera Cruz

For those who remember the Bedford Avenue of the mid-90’s, two eateries spring to mind: The L Café and Vera Cruz. The L Café is gone but not lamented, while Vera Cruz still pulses to the Northside beat. Hordes of other restaurants, bars, cafes and snack shops have moved in, everything from big-box Thai to intimate upscale continental, but Vera Cruz still reigns as one of the neighborhood’s most popular spots.

The always-crowded bar is a local hang-out where the drinks are cheap and the bartenders are pleasing to view. Shove your way in and demand a margarita on the rocks. The house tequila is Montezuma, not the college Cuervo that many in the crowd remember from those first semesters away from home. Ah, those were simpler times. Nowadays, there are a lot of tequilas to choose from, but the list at Vera Cruz is simple – you don’t need an agave guru to guide you to the anejo of your dreams. Someone sitting nearby is bound to have an opinion – and an upcoming gallery event.

If you want more than a drink at the bar, check in with someone who might be a host. Several people will try to get you a table. You might even get two. Ask for one in the garden – the long, narrow dining room with its flapping kitchen doors and parade of diners, service staff and bathroom-goers is frenetic. Relax in the garden and resist that ever present basket of deep-fried tortilla chips sitting in the middle of the table. Sip your margarita and eavesdrop on the two servers hovering nearby as they swap tattoo stories or argue over sidework.

Stick to the basics. The best things on the menu are those that require the fewest descriptive words. If you are sitting in the garden in a romantic capacity, keep a few things in mind. It is almost impossible to be elegant and poised while eating corn on the cob. A very traditional item, “elote” is grilled and salted, then covered with a Mexican mayonnaise and a kiss of chili powder. It is extra delicious, but gnawing on it in front of a potential romantic entanglement might not be the way to go. Order the seafood estafado appetizer or the Vera Cruz salad.

If you are there with your beloved and are used to eating from the same plate, get two orders of “elote” and one entrée to share. The entrée portions are immense. A good choice is the “pollo mole”. The mole, a special sauce built around poblano chiles and cocoa, is reliable and believable. The only thing that detracts from this dish is the ubiquitous plop of refritos, or refried pinto beans. The Vera Cruz version is bland and doesn’t really add anything to the rest of the dish.

The biggest disappointment will be the fajitas. They will be soggy and the vegetables wilted, instead of char-grilled. They will not excite you and you will regret ordering the massive heap of food that will drop in front of you. If you want meat, order the steak with chipotle sauce – and ask to hold the refritos.

Tags: None

Posted on 9/14/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 14, 2005

On the Wings of Paloma....

New to Greenpoint, Paloma is spacious and forward-dreaming, anticipating the inevitable crowds that will pour out of the skyrise apartments soon to clog the view of Manhattan. In the meantime, locals have the place all to themselves, and it is a gracious space worth visiting.

Would you like a table?

The front doors open on a bar that is warm and friendly, although not as crowded as it should be. (Employees can be found huddled together here, but they are friendly and one of them will greet you and will smile, and will ask if you would like a table.)

A short list of specialty cocktails is available, but most regulars tend to sip beer. The décor and layout lie somewhere between Bauhaus and Sugar Plantation, with high ceilings and stark white walls punctuated by revolving art exhibits and a huge, white projection screen for special film viewings. The limited banquette seating is open and airy, and family-friendly. No one has to hide the kids behind the horror of vinyl covered confessionals sticky with goo. Here, everyone can experience being seen, even the newborn on her first day out on the town. There is one secluded banquette where you can geschmooze with your beloved – nab that one if you are in the mood.

“Is that my trout grilling?”
If you are with your entourage, a large group can be accommodated just across from the kitchen, where you can watch dinner grilling on the open flames. So far the kitchen staff have been extra-friendly to those of us who want to watch the action or ask a few questions.

The Menu: Like the décor, the menu is Bauhaus sparse and Urban American in flavor. The inspiration for the menu comes largely from the owners’ Caribbean roots. Everything is based on fresh, simple ingredients that change daily. Each entrée comes with a simple side of your choosing, along with a down to earth price. Nothing on this menu is above 17 dollars. If you are cuddling with a new cutie, go out on a limb and try the Paloma appetizer version of tortilla Espanola, based on the sweet rather than white potato. It’s big enough to share, but might be too filling for one person who intends on eating a light fish entrée. If you have a big appetite, start with the mussels. On our last visit, we decided to try to the codfish special, a grilled block of bacalao roofed with glazed onions and peppers and served on a foundation of white beans. The plating reflected Paloma’s simple approach to food while highlighting the Spanish nuances of Caribbean cuisine. We also ordered the hangar steak, which wasn’t quite as well seasoned as it has been in the past. But the meat was tender and cooked to a perfect medium rare.

“Care for a dessert?” Avoid the more complex offerings. They don’t always work out as planned. But do try the spicy chocolate torte. If you and your beloved both need a shot of chocolate, order two. These portions are understated, but divine.

“I’m so happy you’re here!”
Paloma seems to bring out the empathic emotions of its service staff. The hosts are so happy that they seem to float on air. Sometimes you feel like you are being led to the ballroom floor for a waltz. A beautiful woman in a gossamer dress twirled her way across the floor, and we followed. She came by several times to smile and glow at us, wordless but happy. The staff seem to take any disappointment to heart. When announcing that the kitchen had run out of the string beans, the server was crestfallen. The haricot shortage had left him at a loss for words. I thought he might hug me.

“Oops!” Paloma could use a little more sophistication on the wine list, and the service staff could be better trained in corkage, pouring and serving. Our glass of pinot noir was so full it sloshed onto the table, and the pinot grigio was served a glass that was too warm. It was sweating by the time it arrived at the table. I whipped out my Valencian and fanned it.

Fantatsticisms: The bathrooms. The two, unlabelled bathroom are a must see of dark blue fixtures and tiles, with heavy doors the glide shut and are secured with an industrial latch. A small, shrine-like mirror and flower arrangement allows for a teeth-check and a little self reflection, or a quick prayer to the goddess. The central, exposed wash basin filled with marbles is fun to splash around in for a few seconds before returning to the table. The large mirror lets you admire yourself is a soft golden light while affording a view of what’s happening behind you.

Do not expect gruesome portions of poorly plated rice and beans and a withered pork chop. Paloma is too sleek for that. Do expect fresh ingredients, clean presentation and a nice atmosphere. Oh, and a check that won’t take your breath away.

Tags: None

Posted on 9/14/2005 ( Permanent Link )

September 12, 2005

I love a good tomato

A good tomato is a beautiful thing. But the flavorless ovals of pith that get slapped onto sandwiches - even in gourmet sandwich shops! - are not worth the time it takes to say "hold the tomato".

It is not just that most such wedges are whacked off of the ubiquitus genetically engineered varities - no. Few tomatoes are ripened properly and, to make matters worse, most are over-refrigerated. Yuck.

But how to avoid ordering that BLT... I really wanted one for breakfast but knew that the ratty tomato slice would ruin it.

What other tasty piece of edible matter could replace the the tomato in a BLT?

The Roma Tomato
The lack of flavorful tomatoes can be mitigated to some extent by the Roma, provided it has been allowed to ripen properly.

One reason that most delis and sandwich shops use those larger, harder, pinker and flavorless tomatoes is that they store well.

But the Roma also stores well, slices well and just plain tastes better.

If you buy a handful of Romas at the market and want them to take on as much flavor as possible, do not rush home and put them in the fridge. Place them in a shallow bowl and let them sit out for a day or two.

PLEASE – put Roma tomatoes on my BLT! What a great breakfast treat: smoked bacon, red leaf lettuce, and some Roma slices on a toasted Portuguese roll – hold the mayo! A thin slice of avocado would be a nice addition.

Yummy Tomatoes
The best tomatoes are the heirloom varieties now available at some upscale markets and from Fresh Direct. These gems come in a variety of colors and sizes, from tiny yellow tear-drops to ping pong ball-sized purple.

Another widely available variety is the grape tomato, a deep red, marble sized variety whose shape and taste most reflects the original, wild tomatoes found on the western coast of South America.
/>While some are partial to the Jersey tomato, it, too, suffers from bad ripening and refrigerating habits.

Tags: None

Posted on 9/12/2005 ( Permanent Link )