A thank you lunch at The Spotted Pig

Many people have commented on the lovely little piglet that lives at the top of my blog. She, and the overall design, were created by my friend Doug Parker. Aside from working diligently on such a wonderful design, including a pig that he has said on more than one occasion looks just like me (which I think is supposed to be a compliment?), Doug has been a big believer in my blog. Even when I was not really sure if I'd be able to bare my food-loving soul to the world, he encouraged me to take the leap, offering his much respected opinion all along the way.

During a shoot this past summer in Portland, he was one of the first people I told about my tentative plans to start blogging. To say he was encouraging would be an understatement. The next thing I knew, he was snapping photos of me everywhere we went, from Stumptown Coffee to a sake brewery to the beautiful Penner-Ash vineyard, each time exclaiming, "This will be perfect for This Little Piglet!"

At first, he was more excited than I was, taking it upon himself to inform our entire crew about my blog, beaming like a proud parent. After shooting him a shocked look, he immediately kept our This Little Piglet conversations strictly confidential, until I was finally ready to take the leap. It was after that trip to Portland that I spent an entire weekend in front of a computer, typing away, before finally pressing publish on my very first post. Without Doug's neverending encouragement, I might have chickened out.

To show my gratitude, I recently treated him to lunch at The Spotted Pig. Since Doug's last day at Food Network happened to be just two days later, we convinced Karlyn, another one of our food-loving co-workers (who also weighed in during the design phase of This Little Piglet) to join us.



New Yorkers flock to The Spotted Pig, located on a beautiful block in the charming West Village, at all hours, usually in search of the restaurant's signature chargrilled burger with roquefort and shoestring fries. When we arrived, it was completely packed, our chances of finding a table for three slim. Unwilling to give up, we snagged a small spot for two conveniently located next to a window. It would be great for taking photos of the food, Doug commented as we squeezed in.

Though Karlyn and I are both not the best at sharing food, we finally decided to split three dishes. We teased Doug, as we regularly do, about how our large appetites would dwarf his less demanding one, before choosing a cubano sandwich, zucchini bruschetta and cockles in a tomato broth.

Small appetite aside, Doug still loves food just as much as we do. At the office, he regularly brought a 12-pack of Sarabeth’s chocolate chip cookies to late afternoon meetings, sent out frequent meeting requests for coffee and gelato breaks, organized trips to Wogies for cheesesteaks, and always knew the right time to call a champagne Friday at Ara Wine Bar. His fervor for food also led him to create and oversee Eat This, Food Network's first broadband web series, which just launched its second season as Dave Does a few weeks ago. Karlyn and I were lucky enough to work with him on both projects, his dedication and creativity completely inspiring.

I made sure that each of us photographed the dish we'd ordered before digging in. I was lucky enough to have the cubano sandwich land directly in front of me, its melted gruyere and slow roasted pork shoulder sneaking out the warm, toasty sides. Karlyn cut it into three and though I was secretly longing to snatch the biggest piece, I settled for the second largest, lingering over each warm, jalapeno spiked bite.



My mouth hot and spicy from the cubano’s spicy flavors, we all switched plates and I cooled off with the zucchini bruschetta which unfortunately looks like a piece of roasted chicken in this picture.



I assure you it tasted nothing like poultry and instead consisted of thick, roasted slices of zucchini, draped over some toasted bread. Next to it sat a hunk of fresh mozzarella the size of a fist.

Doug worked his way through the cockles, piled high in a small bowl and topped with handfuls of parsley and a slightly burnt piece of extra crunchy bread, perfect for sopping up the garlicky broth, before passing it off to the scavengers he was having lunch with. We dug in, my fork went flying and I spent the next few minutes trying to get a tomato stain out of my once clean shorts.



Ever eager to completely stuff Doug, we decided to order two desserts, a flourless chocolate cake and the banoffee, which we’d soon find out was a caramelized banana tart. Doug impressed us by eating most of the cake, the angular slice visually stunning, though way too rich for my taste.



Instead of a bouncy, cakey crumb, it had a consistency similar to flan, each bite as rich and filling as a chocolate truffle.



Karlyn and I became best friends with the banoffee, a buttery tart topped with soft rounds of banana hidden beneath fluffy clouds of whipped cream. Topped off with wisps of finely grated chocolate, it bore a slight resemblance to tiramisu.



It didn't take long till we'd finished every last bite.



After I wandered up to the second floor to check out some of the restaurant's pork-inspired paraphanelia, we walked back to our office, our last lunch as co-workers sadly coming to an end. Doug's new office isn't too far away and future outings to Shake Shack are already in the works. But even though he's just a subway ride away, his daily dose of inspiration will certainly be missed.

The Spotted Pig
314 W. 11th Street
New York, NY
212-620-0393

Sunday brunch, Sokorelli style

I've never been big on brunch. I prefer to have my morning meal (which I like to call by its proper name: breakfast) in my peejays at home. Sometimes I'll experiment a bit with sweet breakfast treats, or Daniel will make his signature cheesy scrambled eggs, but most mornings, I can be found eating one of two meals.

The first stars two slices of spelt bread, subjected to 1.5 rounds of toasting in my tomato red toaster, followed by a one minute resting period that completes their transformation to crackly, crunchy toast. Each slice is then slathered with creamy, all natural peanut butter, and topped with overlapping layers of banana rounds that I smush slightly into the nutty swirls. Washed down with a glass of cold 1% milk, it's pure bliss.

The other option starts with a small handful of chopped onions sauteed gently in olive oil until nice and tender. I then top the browned bits with two beaten eggs, a sprinkling of red pepper flakes and wait until the edges harden slightly along the pan before giving the mixture a few nudges and flips with a spatula, creating thick and fluffy curds -- a messy omelet if you will. Finally, I slide them onto a plate alongside sliced avocado, a delicious combination I first tried in Tulum, Mexico. Served with a glass of freshly squeezed OJ (squeezed by yours truly), it's a more labor intensive, but equally blissful breakfast.

I take all my meals every day very seriously, but I'm most protective of breakfast. I find that whenever I have it at a restaurant, the toast is just never toasty enough (or the edges are burnt black), the scrambled eggs consist of lonely little curds devoid of any fluffiness or real flavor, and milk for coffee or tea is never served hot. Which is why I prefer to have breakfast at home, its delicious simplicity so very soothing.

Since we don't do brunch with many of our friends too often, I was surprised when Mark and Allison (who we like to refer to as the Sokorellis, a playful combination of their respective last names) invited us to their apartment for a morning meal a few Sundays ago. Having been treated to Mark's mean meatball subs and Allison's bevy of baked goods on many occasions, I was hopeful that they too were believers in the beauty of a good breakfast.



Breakfast began with mimosas, freshly baked muffins and a bowl of juicy berries. The muffins, flecked with bits of banana, were perfect on their own, though a few smears of butter didn't hurt either. I easily could have eaten a few, but when I found out we'd be having Croque Madames from Food Network's baroness of butter, Paula Deen, I knew I needed to save room.



Daniel and I sat at the table nursing our mimosas while Mark and Allison set to work at the stove, juggling three different pans, thick pats of butter sizzling in each one. Allison stuck to the sandwich side of things, buttering slices of soft, white country bread before piling them high with layers of ham and cheese while Mark diligently fried eggs, timing the finish of each one like a pro.



Since these fancy sandwiches should be eaten as served, I was the lucky recipient of the first one. To say these were good would be an understatement. They were hot, salty and truly amazing, with just a hint of sweetness that I suspect came from a sneaky swipe of mayo.



Once everyone else had been served their gourmet grilled cheese and a few links of sausage, I was almost finished with mine, completely full, but unable to stop eating. I'm a champion at cleaning my plate and today would be no different.

We spent the rest of the day digesting in Prospect Park, the Brooklyn version of a beach. Daniel and Mark kicked around a soccer ball, while Allison professed her love of Diet Dr. Pepper. I will admit that I had a few sips since we had forgotten to pack water, which only helped to further confirm that I do not like soda, especially diet ones which are chock full of freaky ingredients I've never heard of.

We played a couple rounds of cards, of course encouraged by Daniel who takes any type of game, especially Canasta and Cranium, quite seriously. We had originally planned to be back at our apartment by 3pm, a ton of last minute weekend to-do's still attached to our fridge, but when Allison and Mark casually mentioned that they'd be barbecuing for dinner, our ears perked up. A mention of homemade chocolate chip cookies for dessert helped us push off any remaining chores till Monday.

After a group trip to C-Town, Mark fired up the grill, Daniel quickly whipped up a blue cheese sauce for some steak, Allison started working on her chocolate chip cookies (a secret recipe that can be tasted by ordering a batch from her recently launched Sweet Cookie Company), and I began searching Web MD to find out if some lingering sniffles were in fact a cold or just allergies.

When Daniel went outside to help Mark grill the meats, I manned the stove, stirring his velvety blue cheese sauce, sneaking just a few tastes, while Allison added mashed bananas into the cookie batter, curious to try a new combination.

Once the cookies were in the oven, she and I tried to ignore our grumbling stomachs by leaping around the apartment to the theme song to The Hills, a show that Allison loves as much as I dislike diet Dr. Pepper. For a moment, I envisioned the four of us buying a Brooklyn townhouse and all living together, just like senior year at Lafayette, though luckily these days, our taste in food is much better. I'd even be willing to eat breakfast with them every morning, as long as they'd wake me up with homemade muffins, croque madames and mimosas.

When Mark and Daniel brought in a plate of piping hot meat, I was in the process of renacting how fast I sprint to Kelly Clarkson's Since U Been Gone in my Monday morning spinning class. Once some Magic Hat #9 beers had been cracked open, we each piled our plate with pieces of salt-crusted steak, some scoops of Daniel's creamy sauce, chicken breasts that had taken an overnight dip in Mark's homemade marinade, super sweet corn on the cob and steamed green beans and carrots.

Allison had unfairly finished her new cookie creation about a half hour before dinner was ready, but forbid all of us from touching, let alone looking at the saucer sized treats until right at 10pm as Entourage was starting. I, either in my excitement about the cookies, the show, our endless day of eating, or maybe a little bit of everything, managed to spill my glass of milk all over myself and the couch, before even having a bite.



After moving to a safer seat at their dining table (though conveniently closer to the cookies), I broke off my first piece, loving how the moist gooey crumb was balanced by crisp, buttery edges. Allison and I agreed that they could have used a bit more flour or possibly even some oats since the smashed fruit had made the batter a bit more moist than usual, but aside from that, the bananas blended beautifully with the warm chocolate chips.

Finally, at 11:30, exactly 12 hours since Daniel and I arrived for our first meal of the day, we hopped on our bikes, bloated, but relieved to have a mini workout on the short ride back to our apartment. I'll always be protective of my breakfast eating rituals, but should the Sokorellis whip up any more world-class brunches followed by impromptu barbecues, I'll be sure to bike right over.

Wedding bells and bobotie

The weeks before a wedding can be some of the busiest and also some of the best. Just two weeks before Judith's recent nuptials, I was lucky enough to receive an ivitation to an impromptu dinner party at her house with four other guests. Judith informed me that that her mother, who had recently arrived from New Zealand, would be preparing bobotie (pronounced ba-boo-eh-tee), a traditional dish from her native South Africa. Its exotic name and supposed spicy flavors had me counting down the days till I'd be able to try it.

When Wednesday rolled around, and the buffet of bobotie was unveiled, we all lined up and watched as Jennifer prepared some last minute toppings. As she sliced bananas into a bowl and tossed them with coconut flakes, she gave us some background information on bobotie, the pronunciation rolling off her tongue rather than clumsily stumbling as it did from mine.

Once it was time to serve ourselves, I opted for a hearty scoop of the spicy, meaty version and multiple spoons of some chopped tomatoes and red onions sweetened with cider vinegar and brown sugar, the banana and coconut mixture, turmeric touched yellow rice with sliced almonds, and a drizzle of a true South African chutney.



I first tried the lightly spiced minced meat that was blanketed by a soft, velvety custard. After a few bare bones bites, I combined it with the banana and coconut flake mixture which helped cut the spiciness as Jennifer explained it would. Its appearance and combination of flavors reminded me a bit of moussaka, one of my favorite Greek dishes, though the bobotie, even with its meaty filling and creamy custard seemed much lighter. It didn't take long to finish my entire serving, and after piling my plate with a second one, I snagged a seat next to Jennifer and bombarded her with questions about the delicious dish.

She explained to me that bobotie had been created by the Malays, slaves who worked on ships during the spice trading days. Growing up, her grandmother typically made it on Monday or Tuesday using leftover roast beef or pork from a weekend dinner, though these days ground beef is more commonly used.

As we sat talking blogs and bobotie, I glanced around the room and saw Judith lounging with Roxanne and Lucy, two of her bridesmaids while Tim, her soon-to-be husband, and Daniel were hunched over a map of Rio. Since we'd helped influence Tim and Judith's decision to spend their honeymoon in Brazil, Daniel was making sure to highlight the best parts of his beloved city, while also drawing skull and cross bones on areas that they should avoid.

The setting reminded me of the weeks leading up to our own wedding, almost five years ago, when many of our guests traveled great distances to be with us for not only the actual day, but the week leading up to it. One night, we hosted an impromptu dinner party with Tara, one of my maids of honor, Gisela, Daniel's childhood friend from Rio who had flown in from London, Daniel's sister Gisele who was in from Munich and his step-brother David, from Amsterdam. Together in an even tinier kitchen than the one we have now, we prepared pumpkin ravioli in a sage butter sauce, a recipe Daniel and I made more times than I care to admit the first year we were married. Spending that time with our loved ones, many of whom were meeting for the first time but would feel like old friends after camping out on our living room floor for multiple nights, made the days before our wedding that much more memorable.

As I was leaving Judith's apartment after her pre-wedding celebration, I told her to enjoy special gatherings such as these that would surely continue before and of course, on her big day. The wedding would be wonderful, there was no doubt about that, but it was these little impromptu get togethers that I was sure she, like I, would cherish most.

While Daniel and I drove the short distance back to our apartment, I thought of our 5-year anniversary which will be here in a little over a month. Our friends, who lovingly refer to our nuptials as wedding camp due to the rustic environs we chose for it, have always jokingly asked when we’ll have the second one, begging for it to be in Brazil. Full from bobotie and giddy with nostalgia, it suddenly didn't seem like such a crazy idea after all.

Bobotie
From inmamaskitchen.com
Serves 6

Jennifer told me that she found the bobotie recipe she used from inmamaskitchen.com. After finding the recipe, I found it interesting to see this quote at the top: "No self respecting South African housewife does not own (and treasure!) a favourite bobotie recipe. You'll be forgiven for not having heard of it, but not trying to make it? Unforgivable!"

Considering the Tim's carnivorous cravings, I think there will definitely be some more bobotie making in Judith's future!

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 onions, peeled and sliced
2 1/4 pounds good quality lean ground beef
1 thickish slice of white bread
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon medium curry powder (or hot for the hale and brave)
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons salt
freshly grated pepper (about a half teaspoon)
3/4 teaspoon turmeric
1 1/2 tablespoons malt vinegar
1/2 cup seedless raisins
2 tablespoons strong chutney
2 bay leaves (or fresh lemon leaves if available)
2 medium eggs
Preheat oven to 350°F.

Heat oil in medium saute pan. Stir in onions. Cook over medium heat until transparent. Add ground beef. Cook until lightly browned and crumbly.
Soak bread in half the milk, squeeze out excess milk and mash with a fork - DON'T TOSS SQUEEZED OUT MILK! Pour it straight back into remaining milk. Set milk aside.
Add curry, sugar, salt, pepper, turmeric, vinegar, raisins, chutney to the beef mixture. Spoon the mixture into a greased baking dish, and place bay leaves on top.
Bake for 50-60 minutes in preheated 350°F oven.

Beat egg with remaining milk and pour over mixture approximately 25 - 30 minutes before end of baking time.

Serve with steamed rice (traditionally yellow!) and extra chutney.

A six-course meal and a concert

On Tuesday night, my Mom, Daniel and I met at Knife + Fork, a restaurant in the East Village, before heading to see Lenine, a Brazilian musician, perform at Joe's Pub. When trying to figure out where to meet before the show, we first made reservations at Hearth and The Mermaid Inn, two of our favorite spots, before remembering Knife + Fork, a restaurant that’s received a lot of attention for its $45, 6-course tasting menu since it opened in May.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I met my Mom at Daniel at the handsome wooden bar, a quite large one I might add for a place with only 12 tables. After being moved to a cozy, round wooden table, I began scribbling in the notebook I now bring everywhere, not wanting to forget how the white stucco walls and dangling amber lanterns reminded me of the riyads we’d visited during a trip to Marrakesh last year. I also was impressed by the restaurant's incredibly small kitchen, where the chef-owner, Damien Bressel spends most of the night slaving over each day’s selection of gourmet dishes.

All day, I’d been dreaming about the six-course tasting menu, only to find out that my Mom and Daniel both agreed it would take too long and be too filling. As they perused the menu, our conversation turned to some emails we’d all exchanged earlier regarding my upcoming 29th birthday and a possible visit to Per Se. Daniel, who had said yes to the suggestion over email, asked how much that particular outing would cost and almost dropped his menu when my Mom broke the news to him ($210 per person not counting tax, gratuity or beverages for those of you who are wondering). As I watched my chances of Per Se in this decade go down the drain, I noticed that it at least helped my Mom and Daniel to suddenly change their minds about Knife + Fork’s tasting menu. Compared to fancy Per Se, it really was quite a bargain.

After ordering a bottle of Knife + Fork, 2005 Chardonnay (the house wine, though the restaurant has no connection to the vineyard), we were presented with a rustic wooden cutting board on which rested thick slices of freshly baked Irish soda bread, pats of butter (that could have been softer for easier spreading) and crunchy rock salt. The bread, a perfect pre-dinner snack when slathered with butter and sprinkled with the coarse granules, was soft with a delicious sweet scent. I had a hard time not devouring every last slice. Thinking of how delicious it would be toasted and topped with jam, I was disappointed to find out that they do not sell it by the loaf.

After finishing an amuse of sundried tomato consommé in a small tea cup, our tasting began with an attractive display of house cured salmon on a bed of seaweed with cauliflower puree and a sprinkling of sea salt. I felt that the flavors worked much better together than those in our second course, an herb crusted tuna with squid ink, pink grapefruit and melon, served with a shot of tomato juice. Unfortunately, our waiter delivered that particular dish and failed to offer any instructions, so we weren’t quite sure of the proper way to approach it, though small bites intertwined with quick sips of juice seemed to work quite well.

The third course, and by far the most large and decadent, was a hearty slab of foie gras, served with plump pieces of escargot (that could easily be mistaken for mushrooms), pea puree and pickled rhubarb. This was my least favorite of all the courses, the foie gras too rich and buttery to be served with the pungent escargot which tasted tough and rubbery. The rhubarb’s tart flavor helped counter some of the richness of the other ingredients, though there wasn’t enough of it. I had just a few bites before feeling quite full.

The dish that we all seemed to enjoy the most, quail wrapped in bacon with green apple puree and sliced carrots, was the fourth to emerge from the tiny kitchen. Smaller in size than the other dishes, it was the perfect serving, the moist meat sweetened by the fruit puree and tender carrots. By the time our second to last course, duck with a coffee and cinammon rub and sweet red onions arrived, we only had about five minutes before the start of the show. My Mom, afraid we’d miss the concert, but aware that I would not allow us to miss dessert, asked if we could postpone the final course till after the show. Our waitress checked with Damien, who gave the ok, then off we went, running the few avenues and blocks up to Joe’s Pub.

Once we arrived, Lenine had already started, his music louder and a bit heavier than my Mom and I were anticipating. Daniel however, was in heaven. After making our way up to a bar area where crowds of Brazilians danced to the mix of reggae like rhythms and rock n roll, I struggled to understand his complicated Portuguese lyrics while trying to keep my mind off of what awaited me back at the restaurant.

About an hour later, I still couldn’t stop thinking about the dessert. I was hoping for something chocolatey with a scoop of an exotic ice cream, or maybe even a bubbling fruity cobbler topped with a dollop of crème fraiche. When Lenine finished his last song, right at about 11pm, we weaved our way through the crowd, stopping to say hello to some of Daniel’s co-workers, and then ran all the way back to the restaurant. Our server set us up at the bar and soon returned with another cutting board, this time topped with an assortment of cheese, before quickly cutting a few thick slices of that delicious Irish soda bread. I took a few bites of the cheese, but was still seriously craving something sweet. My Mom, aware of my disappointment, called our server back over and inquired about any sweeter treats that might be lying around in the kitchen.

I felt all of about five years old, but was still slightly hopeful. A few minutes later, a coffee panna cotta, served in a small shot glass and topped with two juicy blackberries landed in front of me. While I slowly nursed my caffeinated sweet, my Mom and Daniel split the cheese plate, pairing each slice with a piece of that sweet-smelling soda bread.

When it came time to call it a night, my Mom, from whom I inherited my love of leftovers, wrapped up the two remaining pieces of soda bread and stuck them in my purse. They'll be great in the morning, nice and toasty with lots of butter and jam, she explained as we went our separate ways on East 4th street, full and happy from a delicious dinner and a night of music. Per Se will have to wait. For now, I'm all about future visits to Knife + Fork.

Knife + Fork
108 E. 4th St., between First and Second Avenues
212-228-4885

The Farm on Adderley

It isn't often that a friend who lives in Manhattan calls (or in this case, texts) to suggest we have dinner at an out of the way Brooklyn restaurant that I've never heard of. Yet that is exactly what happened last Tuesday night, when Alexandra, my former co-worker and fellow food lover proposed we go to The Farm on Adderley, a new restaurant in Ditmas Park. I immediately texted back an enthusiastic yes, then hopped online to learn more about where we'd be sharing a long overdue dinner.

Opened just one week ago by Alexandra's two friends Gary Jonas and Allison McDowell (both of whom had no prior restaurant experience), The Farm on Adderley is hoping to bring the farm back to Ditmas Park, an area that was once occupied by farmland. To do so, their very reasonably priced menu (the most expensive dish, a hangar steak is still a NY bargain at $16) incorporates seasonal dishes made with ingredients from local purveyors including Shelbourne Farms, Golden Ridge Cheese Co-op, Sheldon Farms, local greenmarkets and others. I don't think I'd been this excited about trying a new restaurant in a long time.

When Wednesday rolled around, I called the Farm to find out which subway lines would get me there. I was told to take the F or Q, so I opted for the former even though I'd been warned that it'd be a very long walk once I arrived. I, always up for a nice stroll, quickly scribbled down the directions and was on my way.

A few stops past Park Slope, I exited the train at Church Avenue and began what really was a long walk to the restaurant. It took about twenty minutes and though I do love walking, I had chosen to wear high heels, it was hot, and I was close to starving. Luckily, the last stretch led me down Stratford Road, where grand Victorian homes seem to spring out of nowhere, their manicured lawns and large porches reminiscent of streets in my suburban hometown. It was at first soothing, and then surreal, especially when the street abruptly ended, depositing me back in the middle of bustling Brooklyn.

At the restaurant, the bar was buzzing and both the small indoor dining room and serene garden were full of diners who seemed liked they'd been coming to The Farm for years. After waiting about 15 minutes, Alexandra and I were seated outside opposite a splashy mural from the nursery school that had formerly occupied the space. Though we had quite a lot of catching up to do, we first focused on the menu and she, who had already been to the Farm on a few occasions, helped guide our order.

I decided to start off with poached fresh wild caught shrimp and Alexandra selected an endive salad with fuji apple, Maytag blue cheese, bacon and walnut. As we talked about her upcoming move to Italy, Gary and Allison each checked on us a few times, and I sang their praises, impressed by both the knowledgeable service and the restaurant's warm, cozy setting.



Considering the menu's reasonable prices, I worried about skimpy portions and was pleasantly surprised to receive just the opposite. Both of our appetizers were large, almost entree size, and I was particularly pleased by the plump pieces of shrimp and hearty heaps of avocado and tangy pickled cucumbers that came with mine. We slowly cleaned our plates, swapping a number of stories, but never quite finishing any, and awaited the arrival of the two entrees we'd be splitting.



I started with the chicken in the hay, a dish I normally wouldn't have ordered but agreed to after Alexandra assured me it was unlike any other chicken dish I've ever tried.



I'm not sure exactly how you roast chicken over hay, but I'd sure like to learn considering this particular piece of poultry was remarkably moist and tender and didn't require my usual generous shakes of salt. It also came with a side of quinoa, a slightly nutty grain that had been topped with small pats of farmer's cheese. I forgot to ask our waitress what type of cheese it was exactly, but the flavor was fairly light and mellow, so a few extra pieces would have been nice, but not entirely necessary. When it came time to switch plates with Alexandra, I was sad to see the chicken go.

The grilled brook trout, served with fork crushed Yukon potatoes, chard, and coriander seed vinaigrette was good, but I have to admit I didn't fully give it a chance since I was still lamenting the loss of the chicken. Such is the life of a food lover who is learning to share!



As we scraped our plates clean once again, I couldn't stop thinking about a particular dessert that Alexandra had told me I must try: milk chocolate mousse with salted cream. I know this might sound strange, just as my habit of putting thin slices of cheddar cheese on top of toast with jelly always seems to receive some raised eyebrows, but in my opinion, nothing is better then spicing up dessert with a hint of salt. If you don't believe me, march yourself over to Mario Batali's Otto and try a scoop of his olive oil gelato which comes topped with a nice pinch of it. I also like eating hunks of dark chocolate with a sprinkling of sea salt, so I knew I'd fall hard for this particular sweet & salty combination, and fall I did.



Although we also ordered a peach-blueberry crisp which came piping hot with a nice, large scoop of vanilla ice cream, it was this velvety smooth mousse that I couldn't stop eating. I was sad when my spoon scooped up the last bite, but since The Farm also doesn't skimp on dessert, my stomach thanked me.

At the end of the evening, Allison and Gary joined us outside to relax a little bit before calling it a night. They begged for some critiques -- any and all that we could think of -- and we really could come up with none. The prices were right, the attention to detail was apparent, and their complete ease as first time restaurateurs was simply amazing. I'm not sure if Alexandra will be able to go back before she heads off for Rome, but she can be sure that I'm planning on many future visits.

The Farm on Adderley
1108 Cortelyou Road
Brooklyn, NY
718-287-3101