Blog Page 5

Pulqueria

I know it’s over-priced, over-hyped and over-crowded, but I still love Apotheke. I used to live around the corner, and there’s just something about calling both a bar like Apotheke and Joe’s Shanghai your neighborhood joints, that quiets the rumble of uptowners flocking the place and makes it really feel like your own. When I found out that brother-sister team Christopher and Heather Tierney, the siblings behind Apotheke, were opening a Mexican joint next door, I couldn’t wait to try it.


We all know what they say about good Mexican food in New York City (that there isn’t any!), so I didn’t expect to be wowed by the new Pulqueria, but I couldn’t resist seeing what the new spot was all about. A pulqueria is a mexican bar that serves Pulque, a traditional, milk-colored, alcoholic beverage. In the drink’s heydey, at the start of the twentieth century, many pulquerias were members-only clubs. A fitting name for the new speakeasy on the block.


The food exceeded my minimal expectations (Mexican in New York is one thing, but Mexican in Chinatown?), and the ambiance met my high ones. The super hip dance music of Et Music Pour Touscasted a party-like vibe, while a decorative patchwork of a stylized, Mexican interior brought an air of sophistication. El
egantly presented small plates – my favorite were the tacos de chorizo and the tacos de verduras – were packed with flavor. The highlight was a whole, roasted, market fish, wrapped in banana leaf, accompanied by a simple side of black beans and rice.

The real allure of
Apotheke and Pulqueria for me, however, is not the food and drink, but the location. The corner that the speakeasies call home is known as the “Bloody Angle,” named for a number of gang shootings that occurred early in the twentieth century. Legend has it that a network of underground tunnels used to connect the buildings, offering getaways for gang members on the run or hideaway opium dens. My sights are now set on finding the secret passage way that connects Apotheke and Pulqueria.

Seersucker

I finally made it to Seersucker, the much-talked-about, Southern restaurant that opened in Carroll Gardens last June. I met two friends there late on a Wednesday night, in the middle of a downpour. After trudging through puddles and torrential rain, I couldn’t have landed in a more inviting spot. Despite its simple, clean, and almost stark interior, Seersucker feels cozy and intimate.

Maybe it’s the dim lights, or the personable staff, or the wood paneling and oversized mason jars on the back wall. Whatever it is, the minute you walk inside, you feel at ease and at home.The young, very attractive waitstaff are dressed in denim tops and bottoms, looking hip but low-key, like the restaurant itself. When you first sit down, you’re offered flat or sparkling water – both on tap. A simple amenity that sets the tone for what’s to come.

Following the wonderful trend about town these days, (or at least the town of Brooklyn), most ingredients are locally sourced from small farms and distributors, and many come from the Carroll Gardens farmer’s market right across the street. We started with an heirloom tomato salad with ricotta that completely blew us away, and the entrees were equally as astonishing. My favorite was the Potato Crusted North Carolina Trout with Zucchini, Virginia Peanuts and Sweet & Sour Tomato.

Serving refined Southern cooking and subtle but deeply felt Southern hospitality, Seersucker brings a freshly foreign flavor to Carroll Gardens. Fitting in with the neighborhood by embracing the local community, Seersucker also brings with it a new and almost ethereal vibe – one that is entirely welcome in this once wholly Italian community that is now pervasively gentrified with the familiar. Its menu changing with the seasons, Seersucker will no doubt stay as fresh as the food and ambiance it delivers.

The Slow Cooker Chronicles: Mediterranean Lamb

Yesterday I christened my slow cooker, my newest kitchen appliance and an instant best friend. I madeLamb Shanks with Lemon, Dill, and Feta, an easy and delicious recipe from Food & Wine.


Minimal preparation, plus five hours of slow-cooking at high heat, and the lamb shanks were so packed with flavor and so tender, that I might never cook anything outside the slow cooker again.
It’s perfect for a lazy Sunday when you can enjoy the aromas wafting from the pot – especially if you live in a pint-sized, New York City apartment and the aromas fill your entire home.

Along side the lamb, I served healthy and light sides to even out the rich flavors of the meat: Whole-Wheat Orzo tossed in Olive Oil and seasoned with Salt, Pepper and Oregano, and an Israeli Salad – my favorite.

The slow cooker will undoubtedly become a reliable companion for me as the winter encroaches on the joys and great tastes of summer fruits and vegetables, and outdoor grilling. Stay tuned for the next slow-cooked meal, and check out yesterday’s recipe here.

Rucola

Rucola is my favorite new restaurant. On a quiet, residential corner in tree-lined Boreum Hill, Rucolo seems like it’s always been a part of the neighborhood. Decorative but homey, it’s the restaurant version of all the wonderful, federal-style town houses down the block. A few precious tables sit outside the ornamental, cast-iron facade of the restaurant – a facade spotted with picture-perfect, tin flower pots. Inside, a long, communal table, surrounded by smaller tables on three sides and a bustling bar on the other, foster a convivial vibe. The friendly staff make you feel at home under the rustic, wood-paneled ceiling and milk-bottle chandeliers.

I’ve been twice now for dinner, and can’t wait to go back for breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner again. Both times I’ve gone for dinner, I’ve started at the bar. And both times, I couldn’t resist my summer liqueur of choice: Aperol. The first night, I ordered the Basil Bite, which was an elegant and tasty mix Gin, Aperol, Cynar, Orange Bitters, and Basil. The second night, I ordered the Tirulian Schpritz, made of Gin, Aperol, Yellow Chartreuse, Lemon, Grapefruit. While the Basil Bite may have won my heart, I loved both Aperol-flavored cocktails alike.

For dinner, I’ve had the Caponata – Eggplant, Currant, Caper, and Olga’s mint – which was flavorful and wonderful on crispy, French bread. Twice, because it’s so delicious, I’ve had the Crudo – Bronzino, Toasted Pistachio, Pickled Rhubarb, Herbs, and Ligurian Olive Oil, sliced thin and drizzled with spicy oil. It was explosively flavorful but light enough for me to enjoy the buttery, cheese sprinkled corn at my side.

I’ve also loved the Market Squash Salad – English Cucumber, Ricotta Salata, and Toasted Sesame – and the ultimately fresh Strozzapreti – Green Garlic Pesto, Zucchini, and Grana Padan (a hard, Italian cheese). I’ve tasted the LI Duck, whose seasonal ingredients – Fresh Cherries and Braised Swiss Chard – made what I often think of a wintery meat, light and summery instead.

Perhaps the most special part of Rucola is This Batch, a customizable CSA of sorts that the restaurant offers. I’ve just signed up and am eager for the weekly emails that will announce the week’s produce offering. I’ll be able to choose whether or not I want to purchase it, at a single or family-size portion, all for a discounted price. Sounds pretty great to me! I’m challenging myself to cook a Rucola-worthy dish with whatever ingredients I get. It may take me a few decades to perfect food so good, but I have no doubt the restaurant – an instant, neighborhood classic – will be around long enough to see me try.

Nova Scotia

Leaving New York always brings with it a restored sense of space, one that is hard to imagine when you’re in the thick of the concrete jungle. Leaving New York for Nova Scotia punches you in the gut with that sense of space, almost choking you with the immensity of your newfound breathing room. Miraculously, Nova Scotia has escaped the fate of so many beautiful places that get overrun with tourists. It remains pristinely intact and scarcely occupied, its natural beauty echoing loudly in the dearth of human visitors. Or so it seemed to Alex – my lovely boyfriend – and I when we spent a week there at the end of July.


Even in the height of Nova Scotia’s tourist season, Alex and I encountered only a handful of people on our various excursions around the south part of the peninsula. Struck by this apparent isolation, we had to wonder: was it us, or was Nova Scotia really this unpopulated? Had we become true New Yorkers, wary of anywhere remotely dissimilar to our burgeoning sidewalks and subway cars? Were we overreacting to what was nothing more than rural normality?

With a little investigating, it seems that Nova Scotia’s relative quiet is, indeed, real, and we weren’t the paranoid New Yorkers I thought we were. While much of Nova Scotia’s economy relies on tourism, only two million tourists visit the providence each year. New York, to put it in perspective, received 48.8 million tourists in 2010 (not that any of us missed that). With a little more time spent in Nova Scotia, this lack of visitors and residents became one of its most alluring qualities. In the week of backpacking, camping, kayaking, canoeing, and cooking over the open flame that was to follow our arrival in Nova Scotia, the remote, sparsely populated and under-traveled peninsula didn’t feel like it was missing a thing, or anybody at all. It was perfect the way it was.

Alex and I started our trip with the long drive from Brooklyn, New York to St. John, New Brunswick, from where we took a ferry to Digby, Nova Scotia on Saturday night. Having driven eleven hours to the sea, to then board a ferry at sunset that would carry us three hours into the night, it seemed like we were embarking into oblivion. Oblivion turned out to be a quaint fishing down called Digby, where we sleepily stumbled into a cheap bunk beds and breakfast and awoke in the morning to find ourselves very far from home. After breakfast and a stroll around town, we stopped at a farmer’s market to pick up a Nova Scotian delicacy: dulse, or a native kind of red seaweed. Dried and salted, dulse is a common Nova Scotian snack.Unfortunately, our dulse collected moisture sitting in our hot car for two days, and by the time we tried it, this Nova Scotian snack was nothing short of inedible. Luckily, later on in our trip we had the good fortune to sample properly preserved dulse, and it tasted a little better, in that dried seaweed sort of way.

 

We drove from Digby – dulse in car – to Kejimkujik National Park, one of two national parks in Nova Scotia, and the only one in the southern part of the peninsula, where Alex and I had decided to travel.Kejimkujik, commonly known as Keji, contains great trails for day-hikes and a few longer loops for overnight camping. Perhaps most famous for its ample canoe routes, Keji holds a large lake and many smaller waterways for canoe trips of every duration. Alex and I made a morning of it and canoed to one of the tiny islands in the middle of Kejimkujik Lake, which was pristinely blue and beautiful. Canoeing against the wind on our way back to shore required some major heaving and hoeing, but we eventually paddled our way to safety and relief. Now, it was time to hike.

 

 

Coated in Deet, we set off for the first backpacking loop of our trip. We completed a little less than half of the loop’s total fifteen miles to arrive at what would be our favorite campsite of the whole trip. Located on the banks of remote lake, Campsite #5 was a welcome end to a hot day of canoeing and hiking. We jumped in the lake, set up our tent – home for the next five of six nights – and settled in. Alex built a fire and I prepared a rather gourmet camping meal – if I may say so myself – of orzo with corn, zucchini, pecorino and thyme, which we topped off by hot chocolate and star gazing over the quiet lake. We slept very well. So well that we got a late start to the next day and hiked the remaining leg of the loop at a speedy, New Yorker’s pace.

 

 

That afternoon we drove an hour to the opposite coast of the peninsula, known as the South Shore, and set up camp at Thomas Radall Park, a park situated right on the beach. We explored white sand and rock beaches, where coves of icy, sapphire-blue water cast a majestic spell over me. Again, the feeling of isolation, the sensation of feeling very far away and utterly alone, was both engulfing and liberating. The battle of cooking quesadillas over an open fire brought me back down to earth, and the s’mores to follow put me in a serious food coma. Again, we slept soundly in our tent.

Although it rained lightly the following morning, we hiked along the shore in Seaside Kejimkujik, a satellite of the inland park, well worth the journey for more majestic seascapes and seal sightings.
The afternoon took us to La Have islands, a tiny archipelago of fishing cottages inhabited by, our guidebook explained, “those who have escaped the rat race.” As if they hadn’t already escaped it by living in Nova Scotia.
 

We spent the night at Rissers Beach Provincial Park, another campground where we could drive right up to our site- an amenity for which we were grateful, as the rain had continued throughout the day. Our Volvo station wagon and one, measly tarp looked pitiable next to the RVs and extensive tarp contraptions fully-covering most other campsites, but we cooked a mean vegetarian chili that any campsite would have envied. And it stopped raining just in time for an after-dinner stroll to the beach, where we stuck our toes in the ice-cold water and stargazed for another peaceful, Nova Scotia night.

The next morning we drove to Lunenburg, a fishing village an hour south of Halifax whose Old Town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Colorful homes and storefronts lie stacked on a hilly downtown, leading to a picturesque waterfront, replete with board-walked piers, fishing boats and seafood restaurants. The harbor, speckled with sailboats and lobster traps, is timeless, showing not a wrinkle of age.

After a trip back in time along the waterfront and a stroll around the town, we were back in the car again and off to Halifax, Nova Scotia’s capital. A bit like a Canadian (read: grungier, not- quite American but not-yet European) Boston, Halifax is an old, harbor city of brick buildings, and is home to four universities. Alex and I had our first meal in a restaurant all week – a relative feat for us New Yorkers – at the Henry House, a three-story pub built in 1834, offering regional cuisine and a host of English-style ales brewed in Halifax’s own Granite Brewery. A lobster roll, grilled salmon, and couple beers later, we lazily wandered around the city, and were back in the car in time to make it to our next destination before nightfall.

We headed to our inn for the night: the Lighthouse on Cape d’Or. Once parked in the inn’s lot, we loaded our packs and hiked down a steep, dirt road to the edge of the cliff, the only way to
get to the lighthouse inn, which consists of an operating lighthouse and two, matching white houses – one a four-bedroom guesthouse, the other a charming restaurant and the inn-keeper’s quarters. Sitting on the point of Cape d’Or, the Inn’s views were spectacular. Taking a hot shower and sleeping in a bed felt very luxurious, but nothing could compete with the stunning, dramatic scenery right off the cliff we were perched on. Listening to Frank Sinatra and taking-in the views over a breakfast of French Toast at the inn’s restaurant the following morning was the perfect way to begin the final leg of our journey: a morning of sea-kayaking followed by a three- day, two-night backpacking loop in nearby Cape Chignecto Park.

The Bay of Fundy is home to the largest tidal range on the planet, the water rising and falling
twice a day anywhere from 40-50 feet. Alex and I kayaked with a tour group around the bay, witnessing the extraordinary difference in sea level as we paddled out alongside red, rock cliffs and returned to find beaches where coves where there had only been water.

At about 3 p.m. we embarked on a thirty-one mile loop that would snake us along the coastline
of Cape Chignecto Park. With three days worth of food, cooking supplies, clothes and our tent on our back, as we set off along a black sand beach, I felt like we were forging into the unknown, leaving behind a post-apocalypse society and looking for hopes of survival. Survive we did, enduring taxing up-hill and far distances. The striking views of crystal, blue water meeting rocky, red coastline coated with emerald evergreens eased our burning leg muscles as we pushed our bodies to the limit each day. By night, dinner was the best thing we had ever eaten and our sleeping bags felt like clouds. Difficult as it was, testing our mental and physical strength and endurance over those three days in Cape Chignacto was exhilarating and rewarding.

By the time we left Nova Scotia, we were stronger, happier and ready to do it all over again. We couldn’t wait to tell everyone about our epic adventure, and then plead them to keep it to themselves, in hopes of protecting the best-kept secret that is Nova Scotia.

 

Saraghina

I’ve been wanting to go to Saraghina ever since I learned about it over a year ago. A beautiful, rustic pizza restaurant in Bed-Stuy, Saraghina is a destination-eatery well worth the trip. Enjoy the simple and charming interior, or better yet, the vine-covered garden out back, and by the end of the night, you’ll be hard pressed to remember you’re not in Italy.

Alex, my handsome boyfriend, and I shared a green salad dressed in a citrus vinaigrette, followed by a Prosciutto & Funghi pizza. We each had a glass of Lambrusco – my
summer-time favorite for Italian, and year-round favorite for pizza. The pizza’s crust was simple and fluffy and the toppings were so fresh there was no doubt the pize had be crafted from start to finish minutes before arriving at our table.

I can’t wait to return to the garden before it gets cold, and then when the weather cools, to try out the warm ambiance inside. Could this enticing restaurant be named after Felini’s prostitute, La Saraghina, in the movie 8/12? Watch this classic after visiting the delightful oasis that is Saraghina and you’ve got a perfect date night.

Beverage of Choice: London Buck

The London Buck

Dry Gin, Ginger, Fresh Lime Juice, and Chilled SeltzerCourtesy of The Beagle

Learning the ABCs has never tasted so good. A most wonderful new addition to Avenue A is the Beagle – a beautiful Cocktail bar and restaurant that opened in May of this year. A few weeks ago, I met two friends there for a drink, and it took everything I had to keep it to just one. The London Buck is a fabulous summer refreshment, and served with a metal straw (that you can purchase for $3 according to the menu), felt just right.

So now one repetition for memory’s sake:

On Avenue A, it’s the Beagle for Cocktails.

Next time I’ll add a D for dinner.

Beverage of Choice: Sohm & Khing

Sohm & Khing

House-Infused Ginger Mekhong, Calamansi, Aperol, Bitter Lemon Soda
Courtesy of Kin Shop

Aperol is my new favorite liqueur. This summer I’ve been loving any cocktail – made to order or of my own, novice creation – mixed with this orange-colored aperitivo. My latest favorite came from Kin Shop, Harold Dieterle’s outstanding Thai restaurant in the West Village.The creative, contemporary, family-style dishes at Kin Shop, like the Squid Ink and Hot Sesame Oil Soup and the Roasted Duck Breast with Crispy Roti, Green Papaya, Fresh Herbs and Tamarind Water are not to be missed. Neither are the cocktails. The ginger-infused Mekhong – a Thai whisky – mixed with Calamondin – an Asian citrus fruit – melded perfectly with lemon soda and with, of course, Aperol. Garnished with a piece of candied ginger, the Sohm & Khing cocktail matched the food in presentation and flavor- everything was exquisit.

(For another Aperol-flavored cocktail, try Locanda Verde’s Rosato Spritz, which I had the absolute pleasure of a drinking before dinner there. Hanger One Mandarin, Rosato Vermouth, Aperol, Passionfruit and Soda.)

Harbor Line Cruising

For something new, Alex and I took a Classic Harbor Line cruise one summer afternoon. Not only was it far less corny that I had expected, but it was actually quite sophisticated and impressively educational. Starting at Pier 62 in Chelsea, we cruised down around the tip of Manhattan and then up and around the island to return on the Hudson to Pier 62 three fact-filled hours later. If you ever wanted to take a crash course in the city’s architectural history, and you like sipping drinks on a yacht while you learn, the Classic Harbor Line’s Architecture Tour is for you!
(And after the cruise, walk a few avenues over to Eataly’s roof-top beer garden, Birreria, for some house-brewed ales and delectable, Italian – of course – bar food! Just get there before the after-work scene lines-up for an hour+ wait.)
 
 

Restoring the waterfront will be the one of the city’s primary projects of our lifetime. The Harbor Line Architecture Tour delves into the reasons the waterfront was built the way it was, and discusses how the waterfront is slowly being restored to maximize its incredible potential. We are a city surrounded by waterfront, and in time, hopefully we’ll not only be able to admire but also enjoy and partake in this privilege. Seeing parts of the city I had never seen before, and with the breath of perspective of viewing them from the water, I found an enhanced appreciation for both the waterfront and the architectural glory of this great city.

Brooklyn Edible Social Club

Ricotta & Duck Prosciutto Terrine
Peppermint, Sweet Pea

It’s been over a month since my first underground dining experience, and I keep putting off writing about it because nothing I could say could quite do the meal justice. I suppose I literally can not find the words to describe it.
But the whole experience was such a pleasure, I’m forcing myself to put something down on this page- something that won’t begin to live up, but will just have to do because I really must share it.

On a rainy Saturday night in early June, my lovely boyfriend and I trotted down the road of impending gentrification from Fort Greene to Bed-Stuy, and landed at a stranger’s apartment, greeted by ten other strangers, a chef and a host. We had arrived at the Brooklyn Edible Social Club, a supper club I had stumbled upon during some light internet reading one fateful afternoon.


Chilled Strawberry Salmorejo

Basil, Piperita Mint, Almonds, Chevre

The Brooklyn Edible Social Club belongs to two kind, generous and fun souls – she a former DJ turned graphic designer and overseer of the supper club; he a jovial and intuitive chef, passionate about locally sourced food and the exquisite master behind the meal.
Host and chef aim to keep the dinners small, at only twelve people per night, to encourage a communal environment where everyone talks to everyone. Sitting across from two school teachers, next to two documentary film-makers, down the table from a banker and even further down from a symphony musician, my lovely boyfriend and I did, in fact, get to know everyone.


Steamed Mussels

Young Garlic, Smoked Pepper Beurre Blanc

Garlic Scape Biscuits

The table shared the different wines we had each brought, shared anecdotes about the most outrageous food we had ever eaten, and definitely shared our utter astonishment at the quality, originality and superb taste of each dish. I can’t event pick a favorite they were all so outstanding.
Before each course, our gracious and humble chef, dawning denim cut-offs, suspenders, and a bandanna around his thick, dark hair, explained what we had prepared for us. Every ingredient was seasonable and fresh – having been grown and bought locally. Every dish was unique but accessible, and indisputably incredible.

Portions were perfect, leaving time to explore and linger over the flavors, but leaving you wanting more, with room for the next course. Everything was cooked to perfection. No one left a crumb on a plate or a drop in a bowl.

Roasted Hanger Steak
Chipolata Sausage, Radishes, Sauce Verde

The menu followed a wonderful succesion, commencing with an ever-so-slightly chilled Ricotta and Duck Terrine which blew everyone away, an exciting harbinger of the extraordinary meal to follow.
The Strawberry Salmorejo, a chilled soup made of strawberries, was slightly sweet, slightly creamy, but somehow definitely a savory dish; the blend of basil, mint, almonds and chevre producing an exceptional flavor. I’ve never tasted Mussels cooked so right, and in a sauce just enough buttery, tangy and spicey, everyone spooned up every last drop.

The Hanger Steak was phenomenal – tender as could be and accompanied by pickled radishes and a green sauce that no-one could quite identify or get enough of. Finally, the flaky, crusty Rubarb Tart Tatin had just enough salt to bring out the flavor and maintain the sweet.

Rhubarb Tarte Tatin

Hibiscus & Prosecco Float

The bar set unreasonably high for my first supper club experience, I am afraid no other supper club will quite compare! I have decided, however, to take upon the grave responsibility of finding out, the night at the Brooklyn Edible Social Club having undoubtedly reved my curiosity engine for supper clubs, despite my sneaking suspicion that nothing could top this first trial.
It was one of the most special dining experiences I have ever had the fortune to take part in, and one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. I’d put it in the “Best Meals I’ve Ever Had” book.
At the end of this too-delicious-to-be-true dinner, I asked the chef how he developed his recipes. He didn’t use recipes, he told me. He just thought about what ingredients would work well together and how, went to a few farmer’s markets to see what was available, and composed his dishes by intuition. A true artist.

As we sat and listened to records selected by whoever felt like playing a tune, sipped on coffee and chewed Mary Jane candies, the communal enthusiasm for food, new friends, and taking a chance permeated the room. Ten strangers, a chef and a host, and my lovely boyfriend – the loveliest dinner date of them all – knew they had just shared an evening no one would forget.

Tribeca Trails

Last night Alex — my beloved boyfriend who tirelessly humors me in my endless pursuit of new restaurants — and I ate at a lovely, little restaurant in Tribeca: Tiny’s and the Bar Upstairs. The three-story restaurant and bar is impeccably decorated: elegantly rustic without feeling contrived, the restaurant, and bar upstairs, are as charming as the people in it. Matt Abramcyk, former owner of the now-closed but forever-famous Beatrice Inn, hit the nail on the head with this landmarc Tribeca townhouse turned cute and cozy restaurant filled with antique chairs and walled by perfectly distressed, exposed brick, wood and tin.We shared burrata on toasted baguette with arugula and rhubarb mustard- the mustard was the best part. I had grilled hake, which, with a slightly battered coat and perfectly soft inside, was delicious on top of a white bean spread and arugula. Alex had the hanger steak, served on crispy, cubed potatoes. The simple menu is refreshing, and the food is tasty and not overwhelmingly heavy. The china is floral and, of course, antique. Our cocktails – I had The White Lady, made of muddled raspberry, vodka and soda water; my lovely one had a Whiskey Sour – were delightful and not too strong. Tiny’s is quiet and not overwhelming in anyway, which is actually a delightful treat in a city where sensory-overload is the norm.

Unintentionally, we ended up at another one of Mr. Abramyck’s Tribeca establishments after dinner. En route to a comedy show at the 92nd Street Y Tribeca – a variety show featuring the hilarious Kristin Schaal, we were searching for somewhere to have an outdoor cocktail, and spotted the one and only outdoor table at Smith and Mills: it was free and calling our name. Round two of sipping drinks among Mr. Abramyck’s beautiful, just-so decor speedily commenced. Although I’m afraid it’s a little passé at this point -Gasp!- Smith and Mills is still one of my favorite bars. I’d more-than-happily go for their dark and stormy any winter night, and their champaign cocktail and salmon tartar any summer evening.

 

Sipping our pre-comedy show cocktails, we realized our table was directly facing the booth where we sat at Locanda Verde the weekend prior. Having salivated over Locanda Verde since its opening, I was thrilled to finally take a great occasion to dine at this still-hot spot last week. Alex and I had met for a drink there a year ago, and when we returned this time, the restaurant was just as vibrant as ever.
I loved my cocktail, loved our bottle of wine, and loved our appetizers: Sheep’s Milk Ricotta Crostini with Sea Salt and Herbs, and Warm Asparagus with an Organic Egg and Pancetta and Truffled Vinaigrette. And while my lovely boyfriend’s Girandole with Homemade Duck Sausage, Chickpeas, Escarole, and Fiore Sardo was very good, my Grilled Branzino with Roasted Sunchokes, Dandelion and Salsa Rossa was less than wonderful. It almost tasted like it was microwaved, even though I know it couldn’t have been, could it?!
I thought, for a moment, that I might have been better off sticking to cocktails and appetizers, which usually proves the best route at many restaurants of Locanda Verde’s size. I think, however, that I was just a little unlucky and perhaps a little over-excited, and will next time only order Branzino if it’s a special. At last, despite my somewhat disappointing main course, the appetizers, drinks, and incredible ambiance made for a fantastically festive evening, and if I can get another reservation, I certainly would love to return.

Popbar!


I’ve been wanting to try Popbar for a while, and on Thursday night, I finally did! A make-your-own popsicle store, Popbar is ideal for New Yorkers who want it their way and on the go.

You start by choosing your popsicle flavor: gelato like coconut and gianduia, or sorbet such as blood orange or lemon mint. Next, you decide if you want your popsicle dipped in the likes of white chocolate, dark chocolate or caramel. Finally, do you want a topping on that? Crushed almonds or shaved coconut?

I chose a mixed berry sorbet pop, half-dipped in white chocolate coated in pistachios. It was simply delicious and I will definitely be trying more mix-and-match popsicles over the summer.

Beverage of Choice: Jasmine Tea Ricky

Jasmine Tea Infused Plymoth Gin and Fresh Lime Juice.

Courtesy of The Campbell Apartment

Out of sight in an attic corner of Grand Central Terminal,The Campbell Apartment is one of the hidden gems of this classically beautiful building. An obvious after-work destination for commuters, this twenties-themed cocktail lounge bears no comparison in both class and convenience. Red leather bar seats, stained glass windows, intricate wood moldings and a giant fireplace holding a giant safe, bring the lounge’s sumptuous interior to life and transport patrons back in time, to the era of its former occupant, 1920s tycoon John W. Campbell.

I’ve been twice, and both times had the Jasmine Tea Ricky. It’s light, refreshing, tangy and just sweet enough. The jasmine tea flavor also makes it unlike any drink I’ve ever had. I love it for happy hour, and love the easy escape to anywhere I’d need to go afterwards.

Coney Island’s Mermaid Parade

Today Alex and I woke up and decided to go to Coney Island. The last and only time I had been there was for a Daft Punk concert that still reigns as one of, if not the, very best nights of my life. And I was excited to see Coney Island in daylight and in the comfort of cut-offs and a tank-top, as opposed to the gold, spandex leggings I sported at the concert.

As we approached the train station, we realized that our spur-of-the-moment day trip to Coney Island was going to coincide with the Mermaid Parade – an annual art festival celebrating the beginning of sum
mer.

Every summer since I moved to New York, I’ve been tempted to follow the mermaids and sea creature-clad paraders that I spot on the train down to Coney Island to see them in action.

Today turned out to be that day! Hipster neon replaced by aquamarine and magenta, high-tops and skinny jeans by seashell bikinis and umbrella-converted jelly fish, Coney Island was still a carnival through and through.

When we got off the train among the thousands of Mermaid Paraders, we watched the beginning of the parade and paid equal attention to the lively audience.

Then we indulged in Nathan’s Famous Frankfurters, fries and beer.
(I also had a chocolate and vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles in a waffle cone, to the audible envy of every woman I passed).

Next we walked to the boardwalk and strolled onto the pier, where the people-watching was almost as good as the ocean view.

Leaning over the railing and noting the deep green of the water, all of a sudden we saw a fisherman tugging his string. “He’s got something!”

A few seconds later, to our amazement, we watched him pull a thrashing sting ray out of the water!

Needless to say, the catch caused quite the commotion on the pier, and a small crowd gathered around to watch the fisherman unhook the flopping ray.

Everyone watched in nervous excitement as the fisherman, an old hand at the job, got to work. I’ll spare you the rest of the story, but will say that Coney Island certainly offered more bizarre thrills than I had expected.

We sat out on the beach for a few hours, which, although not the most pristine in the world, was great for a beach read and for soaking in some… rays?

We didn’t ride the Cyclone, so we’ll have to return for some more adventure. For now, I’m happy I finally got to see the Mermaid Parade in all its glory, with a few added delights and surprises along the way.

Ina Garten’s Macacroni and Cheese (Or How I Won My Boyfriend Over)

If I didn’t win my lovely boyfriend over with my wit and my charm, I won him over with homemade macaroni and cheese. I made it once, and now I have to make it on a regular basis, otherwise my lovely boyfriend might not think I’m so lovely anymore! I kid. But he really, really likes it. Anyway, my favorite recipe belongs to the queen of the Hamptons herself: Ina Garten.  She has a classic recipe that you can modify to cook in a cast iron skillet instead of the oven, to save some time or if it’s just too hot to deal with the oven.

I cherish the few Barefoot Contessa‘s cookbooks that I own. Actually, I cherish all of the cookbooks I own. But Ina’s are special- they set a mood of summertime. Summertime filled with garden dinner parties, fresh squeezed lemonade, and beautiful friends dressed exclusively in white linen. Thank you, Ina, for bringing me summertime all year-round. (And thank you for helping me seal the deal with my lovely one.)
xo
Alison

The High Line Part Deux

Another Sunday of brunch and strolling, today I wandered from the West Village, up to Chelsea, down to the triangle that gives Tribeca its name, and back through Soho.

Two of my dearest girlfriends – we’ve been best pals since we were twelve – and I started the day at 1:30 p.m. with brunch at August.

We lingered over our challah french toast, croque madame and baked eggs with chorizo and blistered peppers for two laughter-filled hours.

Then we continued our lingering around the West Village, stopping into a few stores and admiring the classic charm of the neighborhood. (One day I’ll live there. One day.)

Then we strolled West, making our way to the West Side Highway to walk along the water, up to the High Line.

A park of the future, the High Line is a design maven’s dream. I love seeing the old tracks embedded in the grass, and oh, do I love those flowers!

The High Line is a wonderful place to spend a sunny afternoon or watch the sunset. Even a design novice like me can appreciate its immaculate feats.

We went to check out Section 2, the addition that runs from 20th Street to 34th (Section 1 runs from Gansevoort Street to 20th Street).

A fitting extension of the first section, Section Two offers similarly spectacular views, comfortable lounge chairs and bleacher-like benches for maximum city-scape-viewing, and a plethora of floral delights. Every time I’ve visited the High Line, I’m reminded how special this city is. Another beautiful layer.

Bob’s Grinding Service

Bob’s Grinding Service truck can be found in Fort Greene. (If you can’t tell from the tiny pic, Bob sharpens knives). I’m not sure where else the truck drives, or when it stops where, but I’m always happy to see it on my street.

Sichuan and Bowling in Sunset Park

I’ve only been to Sunset Park twice, and both times I’ve followed the exact same itinerary – and what a worthy one it is. I can’t wait to return and continue exploring, next time, to be sure, with a different line up. Regardless of where my next visit takes me, however, I have a feeling I will always recommend my twice-tried plan to any visitor; remarkably, it’s a plan that would suit pretty much any group size and appeal to pretty much any age group.

The plan is a simple one: a two-stop trip with a nice, long walk in-between. Chinese food, followed by a walk in Sunset Park – the actual park, not the entire neighborhood- followed by bowling.

You’ll begin at Metro Cafe, a friendly, causal and delicious Sichuan restaurant on Eighth Avenue (at 50th Street), which has become known as the Chinatown of Brooklyn. The texture of the spicy Mapo Tofu will woo even a non-tofu eater, and the divine, sweet and sour Pork with Eggplant in Garlic is a perfect accompaniment. Wash it all down with a Tsingtao or two, and you’re ready to bowl.


To get to the bowling alley, take a digestive walk through Sunset Park, where the views of Manhattan are real. The elevated vantage point is such that you might feel you are on a mountain, looking down on the city from across an expansive body of water. And I do mean expansive. If you felt like the trip down to Sunset Park was leading you too far from home, this view will not soothe your separation anxiety. When you are done admiring the views and the great distance, Melody Lanes awaits.

Melody Lanes is an institution. I imagine it feels just the same as it did the day opened. Heavily patterned carpet covers the floor of the entrance, where on one side sits the sign-up desk and shoe exchange, and on the other side sits the barroom, where the infamous bartender, Peter Napolitano, resides.

Mr. Napolitano is a verifiable hoot. He sports a bow-tie, suspenders, and the fattest chops you’ve ever seen. He’s ready to launch a minimum ten-minute-long-story to anyone that nears his tap. Deservingly dubbed a “bartender-philosopher” by The New York Times in a wonderful exposé from May, 2009, Peter Napolitano is one of a kind. During my last visit to the bowling alley, my lovely boyfriend and I got to hear Peter explain how the house he grew up in backed right up to the hospital where he was born. On a paper napkin, he drew a diagram to show us how the window of the room where his mother gave birth literally faced his childhood bunk beds, and although they have since built a building in-between the the hospital and his house, Peter could show us the alley-way that would still permit a clear pathway from window to window. Peter is a spectacular storyteller and a truly congenial man. Although I still didn’t want to ask for his photograph, he’s the type of person who wouldn’t think anything of it and would gladly agree with no suspicion or reservations. If only everyone was so unassuming and trustworthy.
One side of the bowling alley are the disco-bowling lanes, flashing lights, music, disco-ball and all. These are the lanes for the recreational bowler, and where I’ve bowled both times. The opposing side is reserved for the leagues and professional bowlers: the lights are fully iluminated and the sound of ten pins falling in one fell strike is the primary noise coming from this side of the room. As a layman, it’s fun to watch the other side, although I did feel somewhat intrusive even at the full distance of five, empty lanes away from the action.

But Melody Lanes is a friendly place; everyone is there to have a good time, and it was refreshing, for me, to hang out among people of all ages and backgrounds in one, communal space. If you still have room after a Sichuan feast, have some curly fries, a beer, and a gum ball, and maybe feel like you’ve gone back in time for a brief moment. Whatever you do, don’t miss the chance to hear a tale from the legendary, Bay Ridge-born bartender.

Beverage of Choice: Floradora

Floradora
Gin, Fresh Raspberry, Lime & Lemon Juice, Ginger Syrup & Club Soda“Shaken and served tall”

Courtesy of Lantern’s KeepTucked away in the back of the Iriquois Hotel on 44th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues is Lantern’s Keep. The Degas prints hanging on the walls of this this dark and velvety room heighten its elegant ambiance. The cocktails and perfect-sized offering of small plates fit right in. It was love at first sip for me when I tasted my cocktail of choice: the raspberry and gingery delight that couldn’t have been more perfect for the first real hot day of early summer, where dining al fresco was a must (and followed, for me, at Cacio e Pepe in the East Village).

Read about the Floradora’s history, as well as a few other fabulous and fresh – all fruit juices in the Lantern Keep’s cocktails are freshly squeezed – libations:

http://www.zagat.com/buzz/drinkable-history-lessons-at-lanterns-keep

Cockle-Doodle-Don’t


I didn’t love the Red Rooster. It was good, but I was a little disappointed. I went with my parents, wonderful dinner partners with a knack for getting reservations, (and who, incidentally, like to pick up the bill!).

We got the Fried Yard Bird, the Mac & Greens, and the Blackened Catfish and Black Eyed Peas. We started with Gravlax on toast, which was my favorite, creatively mixing flavors and culinary styles. We finished with Coffee and Doughnuts. Everything was really well cooked and pretty delicious, but I’m afraid there was some seasoning which threw me off- something which I’m sure others appreciate but for which my palate isn’t properly fined tuned. The place also felt a bit factory-like, a habitual problem for restaurants of that size and popularity. I didn’t love it like I wanted to.

I love the concept and was sure I was going to love the food, especially because Aquavit, – Red Rooster chef Marcus Samuelsson’s wonderful Scandinavian restaurant – is one of my favorite restaurants in the city, andAugust, owned by Mr. Samuelsson, is another fave! Still, I really loved the ambiance and the menu – lexicon, design and offerings – and the staff was extraordinarily friendly. I would really love to return for the Jazz Brunch because, I think, like it’s namesake, the Red Rooster may be at its best in the morning.