Grandma's Crumb Cake

My senior year in college, I lived in a house with my friend Tara. We had a front porch, a French-inspired curtainless shower, an out of tune piano, a rickety dining room table, a big kitchen and not a single cookbook. Photos ripped from Vogue covered our walls and though we hosted countless dinner parties, guests always had to bring their own silverware.

When I married Daniel (who once asked me out in that very house while reclaiming some forgotten forks and knives), Tara surprised us with a black binder full of recipes from all our friends and family. Even though our shelves are now overflowing with cookbooks thanks to my job at Food Network, these are the recipes I cherish most.

Sometimes I just flip through, laughing every time I see Keith’s “recipe” for perfect pork chops (pork chops + OJ + George = delicious), a meal he made night after night on his George Forman grill when Daniel and I lived with him. And though we’ve never tried either of the two recipes from Daniel’s Dutch step-brother David, I love how they’re both peppered with foreign food-related words my husband mastered after a few visits to Amsterdam. There are even two recipes for love, one handwritten in perfect pink and black script by Nina, and another sexier version in tangled English and Portuguese from Daniel’s ex-stepfather Othon.

And then there is Kristen’s Grandma’s Crumb Cake, the one recipe I practically know by heart, its simplicity so soothing. Kristen and I met while living in Paris and it was there that we bonded over our shared love of good food, especially sweets.

Made by combining some basic ingredients that practically everyone has in their pantry, her family's recipe makes for a very quick, easy and oh-so-satisfying homemade sweet. I usually fold in fresh berries, loving how they bring a burst of color to the cake, though Kristen tells me that apples and peaches work just as well.



The part of the cake that is the most addicting however is the crumb topping, a combination of sugar, flour, butter and cinammon. Rolled into fat, buttery balls, the crumbs are sprinkled on top of the cake, then baked till crispy and golden. Dusted with a hearty sprinkling of powdered sugar, the cake looks and tastes better than any boxed variety you'll ever find.

When Kristen and I made Grandma's Crumb Cake together a few weeks ago while waiting for some take-out Thai to arrive, she accidentally added an extra cup of flour while doubling the topping ingredients, something she does to ensure a nice thick layer of sugary crumbs.



Our cake looked like it had been sprinkled with sand, but that didn’t keep us from devouring two thick slices each.



In honor of a special brunch Daniel and I hosted for the Sokorellis on Sunday, I went the Grandma’s Crumb Cake route once again, opting to keep the topping ingredients the way grandma intended.



Best when warm, I baked the cake just an hour before they arrived, then served it as a sweet prelude to Oeufs à la Cantalienne and Sweet-and-Spicy Bacon, a brunch menu we'd discovered from Molly of Orangette. That part of the meal dserves its own post entirely, but since I could never top Molly's delicious descriptions of both recipes, I advise you check out her inspiring words.

What I can say though (while borrowing Keith's unique recipe writing skills for a second) is that baked eggs + spicy bacon + multiple slices of my favorite homemade sweet on the side = pretty perfect Sunday. Not to mention that the few leftover pieces of Grandma's Crumb Cake haven't made the past few days half bad either.

Grandma’s Crumb Cake

Cake ingredients:
¾ cup of sugar
¼ cup butter
1 egg
½ cup milk
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 pint fresh blueberries, washed and drained
Note from Kristen: Grandma often substitutes chopped apples, peaches or raspberries for the blueberries. All are really yummy but my personal fave is peaches and blueberries together.

Crumb topping ingredients:
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup flour
½ cup butter
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions: Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Combine sugar, butter, egg, and milk. Mix well. Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add to the sugar mixture. Fold in the fruit of your choice. The mixture will be thick. To make the topping thoroughly combine the four ingredients.

Spread the batter in 13”x 9” x 2” baking pan. Sprinkle on the topping mixture and bake for 35-45 minutes. When cool, sprinkle with powdered sugar.

Heavenly steamed buns at Province

Ever since Province, a new Chinese sandwich shop, opened in Tribeca a few weeks ago, I'd been craving steamed buns. After lunch plans at Masala Bollywood with Doug and Karlyn fell through on Friday afternoon (much to my dismay since I'd also been craving naan bread all week), Mark and I were off on the C train to meet Daniel downtown.

Province's specialty is mantou (pronounced mon-tow), a steamed bun (made in-house, a big plus in my book), that is a staple in Northern China. Lured by the special offering of three for $10.75, we ended up ordering nine sandwiches to share, even though Daniel warned us that he only needed two on his last lunchtime visit.

After waiting about five minutes in one of the only empty blonde booths opposite a bright chartreuse-colored wall, our bulging steamed buns arrived. I grabbed my cell phone to get a shot of the spicy pork with pickled daikon (which coincidentally ended up being my favorite), and was able to take just one picture before my battery dramatically died.



Similar in size and shape to a bagel (especially at Province where they're sprinkled with black sesame seeds), mantou feels more like a thick hamburger bun. Firm while still soft and fluffy, these addictive little breads get stuffed with all sorts of fillings and still never seem to get soggy. I loved how they were chewy with a nice, subtle sweetness.

Standouts included the spicy pork with daikon that's pickled in-house, the Chinese radish giving some nice crunch and an extra touch of sweetness; the grilled chicken which came with some cilantro sprigs; and the braised pork shoulder with thinly sliced cucumbers that are pickled in-house as well.

One with shitake and oyster mushrooms, a special on Friday, didn't really wow any of us, and the short rib sandwich, a regular menu item, was tough and tasteless, unlike the tender strands of meat it claimed to be; luckily the spicy kimchi (Chinese cabbage and chili peppers) it came with did help liven things up. Mark particularly loved the angus beef burger with sambal sauce, but by the time I took my first bite of that one, I was starting to feel very full, the fluffy white buns sitting like bricks in my belly.

Once all nine were finally gone, I convinced Mark to skip the subway and walk back to work, predicting it would take just over 20 minutes. It ended up taking 38, but a supermodel sighting (Christy Turlington) kept any complaints at bay.

Back in the office, we both felt painfully full for the rest of the day, so if you do make your way to Province anytime soon (which you should), I'd say two stuffed buns will suffice. You'll be tempted to try more, but take it from me, you'll suffer all day if you do.

Province
305 Church St., at Walker St
212-925-1205

Comfort food classics at Alias

Brooklyn Girls Night Part 4 had been scheduled for Thursday night at Beast in Fort Greene. And just like last time, some last minute cancellations caused us to postpone till October.

Judith, Roxanne and I decided to still do dinner, so I suggested Alias on the Lower East Side. I'd been a few times before and had really liked the restaurant's cozy ambiance, even if it was a little too loud due to poor acoustics (Thursday night being no exception).



Whenever I go to the Lower East Side, I love how it's much grittier than other New York City neighborhoods, but still full of so much life, especially on Clinton Street. Hair salons, Chinese bakeries, Middle Eastern sandwich shops, and now even some pricier restaurants all sit sandwiched together, not to mention that there's usually not a Bugaboo baby stroller in sight (and this is coming from someone who loves babies -- it's just a nice change of pace, that's all).

The first time I ever saw Alias, decorated with neon lights and a bright, colorful exterior (leftover from the Latino rice and beanery of the same name that used to occupy the space), I assumed it was a bodega that had yet to be swept up by the area's ongoing gentrification. Instead I discovered an American bistro that's buzzing on most nights.

Judith and Roxanne had been out late the night before and didn't feel like drinking, so they both opted for passionfruit spritzers once we'd settled in at a kind of tight table (that happened to be the same one I'd squeezed into on my last visit with Daniel and Richard in March). My week had consisted mostly of chicken stirfry leftovers and late nights in front of a computer thanks to the Food Writing Boot Camp class I'm currently taking, so I went with a glass of crisp Gruner Veltliner.

We started our meal with watercress, peach and goat cheese salads, a really nice combination that I'd like to try making at home some time. I guess the rest of our food was taking a long time to come, because while we were wrapped up in conversation, a server surprised us with a plate of shredded kale spiked with currants and parmesan cheese, apologizing for the delay. I might have to say it was my favorite dish the entire night (and no, not just because it was free), the cheese and dried fruit adding a nice punch to the strands of green.

For entrees, Judith was very happy with the roasted Jersey tomato with zucchini-goat cheese risotto, summer beans, parsley and pinenuts she ordered, as was Roxanne with her VT mac n' cheese.



Both of them are very good at sharing food (an area where I could use some improvement), but after one bite of the mac n' cheese which was sharp, buttery, and completely addicting, I have to admit I kind of forgot to try the tomato. Unfortunately, my entree was the least exciting, a taco plate with three different types (steak with an avocado sauce, fish with a mango salsa and mushrooms with sour cream).



For dessert, we split the autumn berry crumble which was served warm but tasted a bit too sweet, and ice cream sandwiches made with cookies that I'm pretty sure were Tollhouse slice and bake. The mint gelato from Il Laboratorio sandwiched in between each one was absolutely delicious, but considering the detail paid to other dishes, I would have expected stronger sweets.

Non-homemade cookies and so-so tacos aside, Alias is still one of my favorite neighborhood spots. Prices are reasonable, the atmosphere is lively and the menu promises to use local ingredients whenever possible. Next time I'll remember to stick to the American comfort food classics, such as the fried chicken I almost ordered, or if I'm trying to have a meatless meal, maybe the stuffed tomato. I think I'll just skip dessert and go to nearby Sugar Sweet Sunshine where it's easy to find more satisfying, homemade sweets.

Alias
76 Clinton Street, on the corner of Rivington
212-505-5011

Pears, pink peppercorn ice cream & panini

I usually always eat a lot, but last week, in honor of my 29th birthday, I went a little overboard. To give both my wallet and digestive system a break, this week consisted mainly of leftovers -- with a few exceptions, of course.

Roasted Baby Pears with Herbed Goat Cheese


An impromptu potluck on Saturday night at the Sokorellis' started with this sweet and salty appetizer. Wrapped with thick slices of bacon and roasted till tender, the pears were accompanied by glasses of Ombra Prosecco.

Pink Peppercorn Ice Cream Cookie Sandwiches


Ever since my slight struggle with homemade ice cream sandwiches this summer, I've kept a distance from frozen treats. For our Saturday night potluck, I decided to dabble once again, this time focusing on some pink peppercorn ice cream. Slapped between two of Allison's saucer-sized Chocolate Chocolate Chip cookies, it made a for a very sweet, spicy and satisfying second try.

Paninis at Ino
Whenever I crave panini, I make my way to Ino, a sliver of a spot on charming Bedford Street in the West Village. Kristen had never been, so today, after side by side reflexology treatments together at Angel Feet, she had her first introduction. As expected it was love at first bite.

We beat the brunch rush by just about five minutes and squeezed into the only available table (and also the teensiest) before ordering up two types of bruschetta to share (I selected my all-time favorite, the ricotta fresca with oven roasted tomatoes and Kristen picked the basil pesto). For our paninis, we split one with sweet coppa, hot peppers and rucola which was good, though it was the Italian sausage, fennel mustard and fontina that really hit the spot. Service was a bit spottier than usual, but the perfectly pressed sandwiches made up for that.




Roasted Baby Pears with Herbed Goat Cheese
From Tyler Florence

1/2 pound goat cheese
1/4 cup chopped mixed herbs such as parsley, thyme, and chives
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 baby pears
12 slices bacon, about 1/2 pound, cut in 1/2
2 tablespoons honey
Arugula or dandelion greens, for garnish

Heat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In a small bowl, mix the goat cheese, herbs, and 2 tablespoons olive oil; season with salt and pepper. Halve the pears and scoop out the seeds and cores. Stuff each pear half with about a tablespoon of the cheese. Wrap each stuffed pear with a slice of bacon and place it on a baking sheet. Drizzle some olive oil over the pears and season them with salt and pepper. Bake them until the pears are tender and the bacon is crisp, about 25 to 30 minutes. Place the pears onto a platter, drizzle with the honey, and garnish with the arugula.

Pink Peppercorn Ice Cream
From Bon Appétit

2 cups whole milk
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup pink peppercorns, crushed (about 1/2 ounce)
7 large egg yolks

Bring milk, cream, sugar, and peppercorns to boil in heavy large saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat; let stand at room temperature 1 hour for flavors to blend.

Bring milk mixture to simmer. Whisk egg yolks in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk hot milk mixture into yolks. Return mixture to pan and stir over medium heat until finger leaves path on back of spoon when drawn across, about 3 minutes (do not boil). Strain custard into large bowl; cover. Refrigerate until cold, about 4 hours. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Keep refrigerated.)

Process custard in ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. Transfer to container; cover and freeze. (Can be made 3 days ahead. Keep frozen.)

Makes about 6 cups.

Ino
21 Bedford Street
New York, NY
212-989-5769

Louis De Sacy, Grand Cru

Since I'm still a fairly new food blogger, I had never heard about Wine Blogging Wednesday (or any other blogging events for that matter) until I read about the upcoming 25th one on Becks & Posh.

After reading that you don’t have to be a wine expert, though you do have to enjoy a nice glass of champers now and then, I went to Smith & Vine and picked up a bottle of German sparkling wine. It wasn’t until I re-read the instructions that I realized I needed to buy a bottle of true Champagne, produced in the Champagne region of France, and so I set out again, this time visiting Chelsea Wine Vault. It was there that I settled on a bottle of Louis de Sacy, Brut Grand Cru ($29.99), intrigued by the promise of lemony aromas, a creamy mouthful and the merest hint of strawberry.

Since bubbly only seems to get broken out on special occasions or when friends treat me to a fancy Sunday brunch, it’s a good thing I bought this particular bottle a few days before I turned 29. I originally planned to share it over scrambled eggs with Daniel on my actual birthday, but a heavy dinner the night before made us reconsider. After spending the following day at the US Open semi-finals with Olivia, she and I decided to make a homemade tomato and cheese tart and arugula salad for dinner with some Louis De Sacy on the side.

Once we arrived at my apartment, Olivia set to work preparing the tart crust from scratch while I roughly chopped six fat Jersey tomatoes before scattering them in a pyrex with thick slices of garlic.



I drizzled olive oil on top, added some salt, pepper and a hearty sprinkling of fresh thyme sprigs, then popped them in the oven to roast for about twenty minutes.



While the tomatoes cooked, we worked on the salad, Olivia spicing up some pecans with cayenne pepper as I soaked the spicy greens in a bowl full of water, freeing all the sandy grits that were buried in each bundle.

Once the tomatoes had roasted for awhile, Olivia and I blind baked the tart shell for about ten minutes, aware that our lack of pie weights would probably cause the sides to sag and the bottom to puff up (which they did), before spooning some of the garlicky juice from the tomatoes into small cups for an impromptu amuse bouche.

About two hours later, it was finally time to sit down, fill our flutes and dig in. Looking at the bottle of Louis De Sacy as he prepared to pop it open, Daniel, full of information about his native land, treated us to an entertaining story about Saci, a one-legged, pipe-smoking elf from Brazil. I'm not sure French folklore has a similar character, though after doing some research, I discovered some myths might have originated in Europe, so peut-être?



Before taking our first sips, we each tried to describe the champagne's aroma, all agreeing that it had a fruity, rather than citrusy scent. When it came time to sip, I was expecting something a bit more sweet, but to be completely honest, this champagne tasted much like all the others I have sampled.

I took a bite of my tomato tart (which was buttery and delicious even if the bottom was slightly soggy) hoping that it might cause me to think differently, but this time the combination of the two resulted in an uncomfortable tingle in my throat. Though the woman who rang me up at the Chelsea Wine Vault claimed that champagne goes with evvvvverythig, I think that this particular one would work better with some pieces of cheese and maybe some fruits, or best of all, by itself. If only we’d thought to crack open the bottle while cooking, this experiment might have been more successful.

Either way, it was still a good excuse to continue celebrating my birthday, not to mention that popping open a bottle of champagne always feels so luxurious, even when it is for the sake of research. And while the Louis De Sacy didn't wow us, I'm still dreaming about that to-die-for tomato tart.



Thanks for letting me participate, and if anyone wants to start a Sweets Blogging Saturday, I'm in!

Olivia's Tomato Tart
Pastry dough:
1 stick unsalted butter, chilled
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2-4 tablespoons chilled water

Slice the butter into the bowl of a food processor (a Cuisinart, for
example) and add the flour and salt. Pulse the mixture until crumbly
(don't over-process or the dough will be tough). Keeping the lid on,
feed the water drop by drop into the tube opening while continuing to
pulse the food processer. As soon as the dough starts to form into a
ball, stop adding the water. Too much water can also make the dough
tough.

Remove the ball of dough and wrap with wax paper. Let chill in the
refrigerator for 10-30 minutes. Then roll the dough on a floured
surface using a rolling pin dusted with flour. Fill it and bake soon after rolling it - the dough should always be as chilled as possible, to keep it flaky when cooked.

Tomato filling:
7-10 Roma tomatoes (we used Jersey)
1/3 cup olive oil
3 cloves garlic
5 sprigs fresh thyme
Sea salt
Pepper
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese (we used goat and Pecorino Romano)

Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees. Roughly chop the tomatoes and dice the
garlic. Remove the thyme leaves from the sprigs. Toss the tomatoes,
garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme leaves together in a
roasting pan. Roast in the oven for 25-35 minutes. Separate the
tomatos and garlic from the juice; save the juice for later use as an
amuse-bouche or as the base to a tomato soup.

Roll out the pie dough and place in a 9-inch pie tin. Add pie
weights to the dough (several cups uncooked rice on top of wax paper
works nicely) and bake for 10 minutes.

Remove the crust from the oven and let cool slightly. Using a pastry
bush, spread a thin layer of mustard on the bottom of the crust, then
add the roasted tomatoes and garlic. Top with grated parmesan
cheese. Bake for 15-25 minutes, until the cheese is nicely browned.

Remove from the oven and serve with a mixed green salad.

A very happy 29th birthday

On Thursday, I turned 29. To some, this might not seem like a big deal birthday. But to my surprise it was quite possibly my best yet (and this is coming from someone who likes to make every birthday a fairly big deal). I feel completely spoiled by all the celebrations I was treated to over the past week and can't thank my friends and family enough for helping me give the last year of my twenties such a warm welcome. And without further adieu, here's a rundown of the week's food-filled festivities.

Wednesday, September 6: S’mores Pizza at Food Network



Whenever your birthday rolls around at work, you know that you’re going to be called into some sudden meeting where your co-workers will find stuff that you suddenly need to meet about while other co-workers will scurry around, trying to gather a whole slew of people together to catch you off guard with a cake, cupcakes, donuts, ice cream sandwiches or some other sweet treat -- at my particular place of employment, we like to get creative!

This year, I'm happy to report that my co-workers managed to completely surprise me with an enormous s'mores pizza from Chocolates By The Bald Man, Max Brenner, a new chocolate emporium in Union Square. Still hot since it had just been assembled and baked in Food Network's kitchens, it was topped with bits of melting chocolate and golden brown mini marshmallows, perfectly crunchy on the outside with a soft gooey center. I’d been “surprised” with Buttercup Bake Shop cupcakes, banana cake from Billy’s Bakery and a fruit tart from the French Oven Café in Chelsea Market for the other three birthdays I've celebrated at Food Network, but this sweet treat was definitely the best, and most unexpected, one yet.

Wednesday, September 6: Dinner at Salt



Daniel knew he’d be sharing me with lots of friends and family over the next few days, so on Wednesday night, we settled in for a romantic dinner a deux at Salt, a small, cozy SoHo spot. Remembering how delicious the English pea and asparagus risotto with lamb’s lettuce was the last time I was there, we began our meal by splitting an order, the dish just as bright, beautiful and creamy as I remembered, the plump, fresh peas sticking out like polka dots in the soft sea of risotto.

For an entree, I ordered the escolar with a summer vegetable fricassee in an herb broth (which unfortunately was very similar to the risotto -- had I known, I might have opted for something a bit different), while Daniel after some slight deliberation went with the whole grilled Dorade Royale in a balsamic reduction, corn on the cob with chile and lime, and a summer tomato salad. He, who doesn’t throw around food compliments lightly, must have said five times during the dinner how impressed he was by everything at Salt. He also enjoyed how nothing needed to actually be salted, which may explain why the salt sampler that I remembered from my first visit was not on top of our table this time around.

Having overdosed on some chocolate chip cookies with crystallized ginger that I made Labor Day weekend, I proudly told Daniel that we would not be ordering any dessert. We had a full week of gluttony ahead of us, and after that s’mores pizza, I was truly hoping for some dessert detox. Since I recently got a new camera phone (which Daniel used to take the picture above), I was playing around with that when he went to wash his hands after our meal. How I didn't put two and two together I have no idea, but once again, I was completely surprised when a chocolate cake arrived at our table, studded with slivered almonds and covered with cascading chocolate. After making a wish and blowing out my candle, I dug in, cutting the rich, intense flavors with bites of tangy crème fraiche gelato.

Thursday, September 7: Lunch at The River House Tavern



On the day of my actual birthday, I woke up with the sun streaming in my bedroom window, a welcome relief from the gray skies and non-stop rain we’d been subjected to all week long. Still full from our dinner at Salt, Daniel and I started our morning with big glasses of fresh squeezed OJ before opening some presents including a new camera to help me take better food photos.

After snapping a few shots and realizing that I really will have to read a dreaded instruction manual from beginning to end, I was off to Westport, CT to see my friend Courtney, her husband Eric, and mom Lynn at The River House Tavern for lunch. Sitting in the sun along the Saugatuck River, we sipped glasses of champagne while devouring my all-time favorite summer sandwich –- a lobster roll in a toasted hot dog bun. Again I tried to tell my three dining companions that I would not be partaking in dessert since I had dinner plans that evening, but before I could say another word, a brownie sundae was ordered, which actually turned out to be a blondie sundae (even better), and my plans for a dessert detox were postponed once again.

Dinner at Wallse: Thursday, September 7



Every year for my birthday, my Mom, Daniel and I try a new restaurant we’ve never been to in the city. Last year it was Po on Carmine Street, the year before that Gramercy Tavern on East 20th. This year, I had hoped for Per Se, but ever-practical Daniel informed me that we'd be saving that for a really big birthday – maybe 50 if I’m lucky? – so I made two reservations, one at Buddakan, the trendy Steven Starr spot known for its flashy clientele and sexy ambiance, and Wallse, an Austrian restaurant on W. 11th that I remembered Tim and Judith once raving about.

As the date drew near, I decided that I’d rather spend my birthday in a neighborhood I love (the West Village) with food I normally don’t have the opportunity to eat (wiener schnitzel and spaetzle), rather than in a loud, flashy spot that also happens to be situated right next door to my office. I’d save Buddakan for a "Brooklyn Girls Night Goes to Manhattan" edition or some similar occasion.

Perhaps in an effort to be more responsible in my older age, I arrived early (7:27 to be exact), a record of sorts, since I’m usually always running 5-7 minutes late on any given day. I joined Daniel, the promptest man I’ve ever met, at the bar before ordering a blueberry lemon drop, the special cocktail of the evening.



My mom, the promptest woman on earth, arrived at 7:30 on the nose and after studying the menu for quite some time, ordered herself a peppery margarita sans the spicy sugar rim. When we were led to our table, I couldn't stop staring at the stunning painting of Wallse’s chef Kurt Gutenbrunner, the deep, dark shades of blue and black completely hypnotic.



The service at Wallse was slightly cold and indifferent at times, but rather than waste time focusing on that, I’ll tell you about all the delicious dishes we sampled.



Daniel and I split two appetizers, the first being soft, succulent scallops with figs and a spicy arugula salad followed by spaetzle with braised rabbit, mushrooms, peas and tarragon, the German-style pasta buttery and rich in flavor, yet light and fluffy on the tongue.

My Mom and I each ordered sea bass with wild mushrooms, black truffle shavings and a Riesling sauerkraut, both suckers for the sweet German wine we love to sip by the glass, while Daniel selected a skate special. My new camera definitely got quite a lot of use, though low lighting made it difficult to photograph everything.

For dessert, Daniel immediately chose the Salzburg nockerel, an Austrian style souffle with a very stately name. I selected the dessert special of the evening, a peach tart with a citrus sorbet, and my Mom decided to experiment with a Viennese iced coffee with espresso ice cream, vanilla cream and coffee “strudel."

Of the three, we all liked my tart the best, its light, flaky crust paired perfectly with the thin slices of sweet peach. Our only complaint was that the sorbet was too acidic, causing it to clash a bit with the warm fruit. A good ol' scoop of vanilla would have been better.

The Salzburg nockerel was also quite good, the souffle’s sweet scent completely intoxicating when it arrived piping hot at our table.



Though the actual taste of sugary egg whites became redundant after a few bites,
warm, roasted huckleberries being held captive in the bottom of the dish helped counter the sweetness with warm, tart bursts.

The Viennese Coffee, though interesting in its presentation, tasted a bit too bitter for all of us. A few extra spoons of sugar would have helped perk it up.



The “strudel”, fat cigarette shaped concoctions constructed out of phyllo dough, were daintily displayed on the dessert platter, though the flavors were quite bland.

After we thought we couldn't eat another bite, a plate full of chocolate covered almonds dusted with cocoa powder were delivered with our check, offering some final shots of sugar. My mom, never shy about her love of leftovers, loved the almonds so much that she asked our waiter for a to-go box to take the remainders home. Expecting him to find this request absurd, we were pleasantly surprised when he brought us a big plastic carton full of the addictive treats, perhaps in an attempt to apologize for some service snafus we'd encountered throughout the evening.

Friday, September 8: The US Open, a tomato tart and champagne



After leaving Wallse on Thursday night, I received a phone call from Nina offering me two US Open tickets for the next day. I first called Olivia, a friend that I'd planned to spend all day Friday with to confirm that she in fact does like tennis before accepting the tickets.

Our wonderful day included a surprisingly good (though completely overpriced) chicken, spicy cashew and pineapple salad at the tennis center, some scoops of Ben & Jerry's for dessert, and two fantastic semi-final matches. On our long subway ride home, I remembered that I still hadn't sampled a bottle of champagne I recently bought for my first Wine Blogging Wednesday which Olivia and I decided to pair with a homemade tomato tart. But you’ll have to wait until September 13 to get all the details about that!

Sunday, September 10: A Brazilian Birthday BBQ



Every year, Daniel and I host an all-you-can-eat Brazilian BBQ with meat from Rio Bonito in Queens, one of few places that sells picanha, a specific cut of beef revered in Brazil for its velvety flavor.

Daniel and I hosted the first one for his birthday 5 years ago in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park since our apartment at the time lacked any outdoor space. The second year, rain threatened to cancel the churrasco, but since we'd already bought about 30 lbs of meat, we had no other choice but to host the event at home, with Daniel using a small hibachi grill on the fire escape out our bedroom window. Our apartment smelled like meat for weeks, but how could we let that picanha go to waste?

Luckily, the last few have been in our current apartment which has a big backyard, perfect for carnivorous feasts such as these. While meat is the main attraction each year, which Daniel expertly prepares, we decided to kick this one up a notch with a keg of Six Points Cream Ale (brewed in our very own borough) Daniel's black-eyed pea salad, and a slew of side dishes from our friends.





We had Karlyn and Doug’s “You Won’t Be Single for Long Penne Vodka Sauce” (a Rachael Ray recipe that they tweaked by adding in sausage), Judith’s tasty shrimp skewers, Courtney’s veggie and hummus platter, Karen’s summer tomato salad (using Emeril’s Kicked Up Tomato Salad Recipe without the cheese), Renata’s cherry tomato, mozzarella and basil pasta salad, Ola’s tomato, mozzarella, basil and pine nut salad, and Amanda and Jeff’s perfectly portioned tinfoil packets of the sweetest corn on the cob I’ve had all summer.

In the drinks department, Kim and Keith arrived on their adorable plum-colored Vespa with about 3 cases of non-alcoholic beverages (of which about 2 3/4 cases remain), while Olivia whipped up a jalapeno-infused vodka drink, sweetened with a simple syrup. Since lots of you who were at the BBQ have asked for the recipe, Olivia was nice enough to send it along. You can find it at the bottom of this post, along with info on all the restaurants I've mentioned.



And then there were the sweets. In addition to a Devil’s Food Cake with Vanilla Buttercream Icing that Daniel baked from scratch for me, we had three tins of Allison’s cookies (chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin chocolate chip, and chocolate peanut biscotti), Sara’s toffee blondies, Alyson’s peanut butter chocolate squares, and Jason’s exotic summer salad. I, and practically everyone else at the party, sampled all of them, in between slices of sausage, chicken and salt-kissed meat of course.

As usual, Daniel spent the entire afternoon behind three blazing grills, using skewers and other sharp objects to cook and slice meat like a madman while crowds of our friends surrounded him, watching in awe as he worked his way through this year's record-breaking 50 lbs of meat. He's the true star of this BBQ, and without him, we'd be munching on burger and dogs year after year. Not to mention that this particular BBQ was also celebrating the recent completion of his MBA, but I don't think he received a single break the whole day. I, and the 50 people he fed that day, don't know how he does it, but we couldn't be more grateful. Maybe next year, he'll let someone be his sous chef, or -- gasp -- we'll have it catered? I guess we'll have to wait and see...

Tuesday, September 12: Tired, full and coming down with a cold

So, here I am, five days after my birthday, happy that the celebrating is over since, but still smiling from my absolutely wonderful week. I feel blessed to have such wonderful friends and family, all of whom are as obsessed with food as I am -- almost, at least. Thanks for making the past 28 years of my life so amazing and here’s to many, many more fun feasts.


Chocolates By The Bald Man, Max Brenner
841 Broadway
New York, NY
212-388-0030

Salt
58 Macdougal Street
New York, NY
212-674-4968

River House Tavern
299 Riverside Avenue,
Westport, CT
203-226-5532

Wallse
344 West 11th Street
New York, NY
212-352-2300e

Jalapeno Lime Ricky
Three cups water
1.5 cups sugar
4-5 jalapeno peppers
8-12 limes
Vodka
Ice cubes
Cilantro sprigs (optional)
Club Soda (optional)

To make the simple syrup, mix the water and sugar in a saucepot.
Bring to a boil, then let cool.

Halve the jalapenos and remove most, but not all of the seeds. Then
chop them into thin slices. When the simple syrup has cooled for
several minutes, add the jalapenos. Let the mixture infuse in the
refrigerator anywhere from 3 hours to overnight. The longer you
infuse, the more pronounced the jalapeno flavor will be.

Meanwhile, squeeze all the limes into a pitcher. When ready to
serve, mix the lime juice in with the simple syrup. Serve individual
glasses of vodka, ice and the syrup mixture (about 2-3 parts syrup to
one part vodka, depending on how strong you want the drink). Garnish with cilantro sprigs. If you want a bit of a lighter drink, add club soda as well.

Caracas Arepa Bar

Sometimes I put a restaurant on my ever-growing must-try list and it just sits there for a very, very long time. This is exactly what happened with Caracas Arepa Bar, a little sliver of a spot that I've always wanted to try since it first opened three years ago.

Arepas, corn cakes stuffed with all sorts of savory fillings, are the main attraction at Caracas Arepa Bar. I first tried these delicious little pita like sandwiches when my friend Panchita, who grew up in Venezuela, made them from scratch for me and some other friends at her apartment about five years ago.

Earlier in the week, Daniel and I made plans to visit Caracas Arepa Bar with April, Josh, Tim and Judith, and though Hurricane Ernesto tried to soak our arepa-filled dreams with the buckets of rain, we didn't let the dismal weather deter us.

Our night began at April and Josh's where we were treated to a selection of specialty cocktails, including a spicy Bloody Mary that was the perfect pick-me-up on such a dreary night. Sipping one of those, while munching on spanikopita and mini quiches, we heard all about Tim and Judith's recent honeymoon in Brazil before walking the six blocks or so to the restaurant.

By the time we arrived, it was close to 10pm and the place was packed. We put our name in with the waiter and a half hour later, just as he had promised, a table for six became available. I immediately started taking pictures of the cozy space, its bright, vibrant colors a welcome relief from our rain-soaked city streets. Although I knew that the restaurant had recently expanded, I still only counted 12 tables in the whole place and a few seats at a teensy bar that had a front row view of the kitchen.



We all had arepas on the brain, but many appetizers, cleverly called sidekicks, beckoned as well. We agreed on an order of yoyos, guasacaca and chips, and an ensalada mixta just to get some greens. As for the arepas, our waiter suggested that we order the four samplers, called Curiaras, which would allow each of us to have two full arepas if we divided them all in half. Eager to try out as many of the fillings as possible, this seemed the best way to go. We also threw in a few of the night's special arepa, La Pierena, which featured pork shoulder, avocado, tomato slices and chimichurri sauce.

I was curious to try the restaurant's natural juice of the day (only after making the waiter promise me that it really was made fresh in the kitchen and not poured out of a bottle). They were serving papaya and passionfruit, which I chose to have mixed together, thinking the papaya would help soften the passionfruit's tart taste which it definitely did.



Served in a mason style jar with a straw, it was the perfect way to start off the meal, the two flavors reminding me of the fresh juices that Daniel and I drink whenever we're in Rio. I even slurped up a few small chunks of passionfruit, confirming that this juice was in fact fresh, another big plus for Caracas Arepa Bar.

The guasacaca, Venezuela's version of guacamole soon followed and we all tried to figure out what it was that made this avocado-based dip slightly different from its Mexican counterpart.



The consistency seemed a tad thinner, more similar to an aioli, and with a different type of zing which I think came from the addition of vinegar rather than lime. Homemade plantain chips became yet another reason to fall in love with this cheery South American sandwich spot.

The yoyos, little deep fried balls of bread cradling a plantain sliver and a hunk of cheese, offered a sweet start to the meal.



After a quick dip in a molasses like sauce with a hint of maple, we all agreed that they tasted a lot like French toast. I could imagine having a few of those in the morning for breakfast.

When the arepas arrived, they were served on long rectangular platters, each little pocket overflowing with some combination of vegetables, meat, beans, cheese, avocado or all of the above. As we tried to divide each of them, our knives fighting to crack through the tough exterior, I remembered that Panchita's arepas had been softer both inside and out, more closely related to a corn muffin.



At Caracas, the arepas are baked to a nice golden brown, resulting in a harder shell that I think helps avoid any potential sogginess once they're stuffed. Each bite was crackly and crunchy with a hint of corn flavor.

I'm pretty sure I tried every single one of the 12 different arepas that were on our table, and while most were absolutely delicious, there are a few that really stood out, the first being the Da Pabellon with shredded beef, black beans, sweet plantains and aged cheese. I also found the Reina Pepiada with chunky chicken and avocado salad to be quite refreshing, even if it was on the salty side. La Jardinera with grilled eggplant, sundried tomatoes, caramelized onions and guayanes (a creamy Venezuelan cheese) was definitely my least favorite, the combination of flavors colliding rather than blending together.

By the time there wasn't a single arepa left, the entire restaurant had cleared out and we had the entire place to ourselves. Almost everyone was too stuffed to even contemplate dessert, and since Daniel and I had already satisfied our sweets cravings for the day with slices of Diner Dark chocolate cake and a vanilla cupcake at Baked in Red Hook, we too were ready to pur our forks down.

Just as the menu said, the arepas really were an inexpensive gastronomic experience, with the entire meal costing just about $25 per person (and that includes a couple beers and a bottle of wine). It may have taken me three years to finally get to Caracas, but it won't be that long till I go back.

Caracas Arepa Bar
93 ½ East 7th Street at First Avenue
212-529-2314

La Esquina

I didn't expect to like La Esquina, a secret SoHo restaurant that had been on my must-try list for a long time. After hearing it was a good place for groups, I'd been trying to get a reservation since June. Each time, I called the restaurant a full month before my desired date only to find out that seatings at 6pm or 11pm were available. I didn't understand how a supposed secret place could always be booked at the best times. I immediately assumed it would be like all the other overpriced Mexican spots where I've gathered to celebrate someone's engagement or another person's birthday, forking over an arm and a leg at the end of the meal for insanely priced guacamole (prepared tableside!) and pitcher after pitcher of sangria. I wished I didn't want to try it, but after hearing again and again about just how good it was, I begrudgingly kept it on my list.

Then a few weeks ago, when discussing a going away dinner for Alexandra who will soon be moving to Rome, Karlyn suggested La Esquina which she and Doug had recently visited during a Dave Does shoot. After a few phone calls, Karlyn was able to secure an 8pm reservation for last Thursday night.

We kicked off the evening with cocktails at Pravda, a Russian vodka bar on Lafayette, a great pre-dinner spot with its own secretive setting, before walking over to the corner of Kenmare Street and Cleavland Place.



We entered through the front door of a taco stand that looks more like a movie theater, its list of stuffed treats displayed in big, black letters next to a neon sign that reads La Esquina, and its English tranlsation, The Corner, which I've been told was the name of the former deli that used to occupy the space.

Once it was time to make our way to the actual restaurant, I immediately took my camera out only to have almost every single person in our group scold me since apparently picture taking was not allowed in this super secretive place. That alone made this adventure even more fun, especially when Doug whispered to me that he had already shot a whole slew during the shoot, which is where the first three pictures from La Esquina came from.

After entering through a door marked Employees Only, we walked down a dingy stairwell, through the brightly lit kitchen and into a dark, sexy, subterranean space dimly lit by candelbras that dripped mountains of wax. The bar was full of people, deep in conversation, and Cesaria Evora's soulful lyrics of longing and sadness danced hauntingly through the air.



With its hard wood floors and distressed walls, the restaurant felt like a stylish cave, complete with kitschy tile displays for decoration, my favorite being the Drop It Like Its Hot one featuring a bikini clad woman surrounded by some chili peppers. The restaurant was surprisingly much more subdued than I expected, less sceney and more mysterious, with very little lighting and of course not a window in sight.

One round of potent and pricey margaritas later, we were seated, hungry and ready to eat. When our waitress came to take our order, we immediately demanded guacamole, only to have her shake her head, ready to deliver a speech that Im sure she's had to present many, many times. I suspected she even found some slight pleasure in telling us the bad news that particularly broke Karlyn's heart.

She explained that guacamole is more Tex-Mex than true Mexican which is why you won't find it at La Esquina. Normally, I'm all for avoiding any sort of gimmicky food trap, especially the guacamole that's prepared tableside just so restaurants can tack on an extra $10 for it. I've been told many times that the Japanese do not eat saucer-sized pieces of sushi doused with an array of sweet sauces, and this I can understand. I also know that many of the dishes that I love to order from some of my local Thai restaurants are very Americanized, which is why I'd rather eat at authentic Sripraphai any day with April and Josh who lived in Thailand for a year and can help guide my order. But no guacamole at a Mexican restaurant? Come onnnnn.



I glanced back down at my menu, sure that I had seen guacamole written there only to realize that while La Esquina does not serve guacamole, they do offer whole avocados, which I guess one could mash up, sprinkle with some salt and a squeeze of lime if really desperate. I must admit I considered it, but since there was a lot of other intersting items on the menu, we tried to move on, though this did become an ongoing joke, with Karlyn asking for an order each time our waitress came to check on us.

Since it was Alexandra's last night in Manhattan, we decided it'd be best if she just ordered a bunch of stuff. Our waitress warned us that portions were particularly small, so she took the liberty of doubling and tripling some of our orders just to make sure we had enough. That decision, delivered after her avocado annoucement, left me even more suspicious of La Esquina.

And then, the food arrived. So many platters landed on our table at once that I felt overwhelmed by all the options, causing me to quickly pile my plate out of fear that there might not be any left in just a few minutes. Everyone at the table either once did or still does work for Food Network and our appetites can prove it.



To start, Alexandra had ordered a nice assortment of tacos, tostadas and a quesadilla with roasted corn, epazote, mushrooms, queso oaxaca and huitlacoche. Considered a pest in the United States and a delicacy in Mexico, the huitlacoche, a corn fungus, added an earthy flavor to my soft slices of quesadilla with extra crispy edges, making it my favorite appetizer of the bunch. I also learned that epazote is an herb used in traditional Mexican cooking for its tangy kick -- and antiflatulent properties -- that has been compared to tarragon and even fennel, though I didn't taste any lingering licorice flavors.

I was only able to try two of the tacos, the pulled pork which consisted of sauce soaked strands of tender meat, wrapped up in a traditional corn tortilla, and the grilled fish, whose tangy salsa verde, livened up the clean, light fish. There was also one with veal toungue, avocado crema and black beans floating around, but my hands weren't quick enough.

Though we didn't order it, I'd also noticed a gazpacho a sandia with watermelon, roasted ancho pepper, and queso blanco on the menu, which reminded me of a salad with watermelon and Mexican goat cheese that Daniel and I tried at Hechizo, a similarly secret restaurant that we discovered during our first trip to Mexico this past March. Slowly I was beginning to see that maybe La Esquina was the real deal after all.

After our plates were cleared and a bottle of champagne was popped open, round two began, the main attraction this time being a pile of Mexican corn on the cob, its tender, sweet kernels charred slightly and dusted with crumbles of cotiija, a Mexican cheese that is similar in consistency to feta. I'd first tried corn prepared this way at SoHo's other popular Latin spot, Cafe Habana, though there, they give the cob a nice sprinkling of chile powder for extra kick.



I was no longer afraid of using my camera in the restaurant, so I chose to shoot some corn shots, though it was Alexandra and Doug who looked the best while stuffing themselves silly.



After the pile of corn had been devoured, we moved on to the entrees, a platter of chicken with mole, charred chipotle-guava glazed pork ribs, mayan shrimp with a honey lime glaze and chipotle corn slaw and a side of plaintains served with salsa verde and queso fresco.



The plump pork ribs were succulent and sweet, and the meat literally fell right off with just one bite. The shrimp, prepared a la plancha, were fat and salty, with a slighty charred taste that the cabbage slaw helped soften a bit.



We were all a bit aggressive in our approach to the chicken mole which sat in the middle of the table the entire time. Rather than pass it around like civilized people, we chose to all just lean over and rip hunks of it off with our forks and knives, the chocolatey sauce clinging on for dear life. How I managed to leave La Esquina with not a single spill on my white jeans is truly a miracle.

Once we'd sufficiently wiped out very single platter of food, someone noticed that there was still a covered plate in the middle of the table. Someone else asked what was in there, someone else said tortillas, and before you knew it, the top flew off, our hands flew in, and we were using those hot corn pancakes to sop up any lingering bits of sauce we could find. It's a good thing they keep it so dark in there, because at this point, I think we looked like total animals. But with food this good, it was hard not to!

Once it felt like we couldn't eat another bite, Kellie whipped out a box of goodies from Magnolia Bakery, a place where most New Yorkers have stood in line at least once for their signature cupcakes. These days, the bakery has become too popular, thanks to a Sex and the City scene that was once taped there, and a line snakes around the corner on any given day.

We cut them each in half and again dug right in, surprised to see that these were even more fresh than normal and of course, extra sugary. I usually always go the vanilla cake, vanilla icing route at Magnolia, but decided to give the chocolate a whirl, impressed by its light cocoa flavor which wasn't too cloyingly sweet, but definitely quite buttery.

We paid the bill, the final damage expensive, but not as bad as I'd expected, before making our way back through the kitchen, up the dingy stairwell, through the taco stand and out onto Kenmare Street and Cleveland Place.

I didn't just like La Esquina, I loved it. The secretive setting and the traditional yet imaginative take on Mexican cuisine really surpassed my originally low expectations. The portions were kind of small (which means that our waitress was correct in her decision to order more for us) and there is that pesky reservation process, but I now know that you can get most of the same food at the taco stand or the restaurant's calmer, no reservation cafe around the corner. As for the lack of guacamole? To be honest, I didn't even miss it.

La Esquina
106 Kenmare Street
New York, NY