Ruth Reichl's Blog, page 38

Forty Hours in Manhattan

Where should Carla eat on her 40th birthday?  She has 40 hours in New York.  Here’s my answer.

Start with breakfast at Buvette in Greenwich Village, a tiny shoebox of a place that serves very satisfying bistro food. As the day wears on the cozy room becomes very crowded, with people piling in for the fine food and great wine. But I love it best in the morning, when it’s truly a neighborhood place.

Afterward, wander over to the Lower East Side and stop in at Russ and Daughters for the city’s finest smoked salmon and fantastic bagels. Turn right as you leave and go down the street to Katz’s Delicatessen. Take a ticket and examine the generous display of meats; if you can resist a pastrami sandwich you’re a stronger person than I am. (Be sure to tip the carver and tell him you don’t like lean meat.)

Turn right again, as you’re leaving, and wander down Orchard street to Mission Chinese, for an entirely different way to experience pastrami. They turn it into a searingly hot version of a kung pao dish. (The salt cod fried rice will put the fire out.)  At dinner the line here often stretches to three hours, but lunchtime is a different story. 

If it were me I’d spend the next few hours at the Tenement Museum, restoring my appetite.  Or wandering around Little Italy, stopping in at Di Palo’s to buy a hunk of their impeccable Parmigiano. Then I’d go to Chinatown, stopping in for dumplings at the Nom Wah Tea Parlor, the oldest dim sum purveyor in the city.

Dinner?  For me it would be Il Buco Alimentari & Vineria; I love their food. Some homemade salume to start, then a salad (somehow theirs always tastes better than anyone else’s), a plate of spaghetti cacio e pepe and finally the spectacularly rich rib eye.

The next day you might want to stay above 14th Street. If that’s the case, I’d suggest, breakfast at Maialino (porchetta and fried egg sandwich), then a wander through Eataly.  I’d stare at the gorgeous display of meat at the butcher, appreciate the produce, and perhaps have a tiny bite at Il Pesce, the wonderful fish bar. For lunch I’d opt for the prix fixe lunch at either Nougatine at Jean Georges or Del Posto; they’re the two best deals in New York. Fabulous food in fantastic settings - for under $40. Finally, I’d have a farewell drink at Michael Lomonaco’s Center Bar, look out at the view and toast the city. 

One more thing.  If you’re not a plan-ahead person: many of the best restaurants in New York offer no-reservations bar menus, which are the best way to get a taste of greatness at a reasonable price. The Salon at Per Se offers a wonderful a la carete menu, as does the bar at Eleven Madison Park. The new bar at Le Bernardin is also a no-reservations opportunity to experience truly superb food. For something less formal (and much less expensive), consider the bar at Gramercy Tavern; you can simply walk in and share a meal with someone you love in one of the most appealing rooms in Manhattan.

 

The Best Use for Prune Plums

Prune plums are a rather dull fruit, but they're the last gasp of summer.  This classic cake, which has been published in many places, is the best use for the fruit that I've ever found. It's best served warm, although it's  delicious at any temperature.

Plum Torte 

1 stick (4 oz.) unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup sugar

2 eggs, room temperature

3/4 cup well-shaken buttermilk or plain yogurt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

zest of one lemon

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

12 large or 20 small prune plums, pits removed, halved the long way

4 tablespoons brown sugar, divided

 

1. Heat an oven to 350 degrees 

2. Prepare an 8” round cake pan. Butter the bottom and sides of the pan, and line the bottom with parchment paper.  Butter the parchment paper and dust the whole pan with flour.

3. Cream the butter with the sugar until light and fluffy in a standing mixer for about 5 minutes. 

4. Add the eggs one at a time and thoroughly combine after each addition. If the batter appears curdled, do not worry, it is because the eggs may be cooler than the rest of the mixture, and the butter hardened when the eggs were added. The batter will become smooth with the addition of the flour..

5. Beat in the the buttermilk or yogurt and add the vanilla and lemon zest.

6.  Whisk together the flour, the baking powder, and salt, and add to the butter mixture, at low speed, until just combined.

 7. Separate the halved plums into two equal piles.

 8. Spoon half the batter into the pan and level the top with a small offset spatula. 

9. Place the plums, cut side down on the batter, and sprinkle with two tablespoons brown sugar.

10. Spoon the rest of the mixture over the plums, and place the rest of the plums on top cut side up. Sprinkle with the remaining brown sugar.

 11. Bake for about an hour, until golden.

12. Cool the cake on a rack for 10 minutes. The cake will pull away from the sides of the pan.

13. Run a knife around the edge of the cake. Invert onto a plate, peel away the paper, and invert again onto a serving plate.

 

 

 

 

Heat's Gone: Time for Bacon

Even though the leaves haven't started changing, on this cool gray day it's starting to feel like fall. 
Just back from the market, I look down at the bacon I've just bought, and the block of righteous Cheddar cheese, and know exactly what I'm going to serve my guests tonight with their cocktails.
There's nothing elegant about this dish, but at Gourmet it was a staff favorite.  It's pure Americana - and completely irresistible. Really.
Deliriously Delicious Bacon Cheese Toasts 

Chop a half pound of cold bacon very finely.  (I like a sweet maple-cured bacon, but the brand is up to you.)

Dice an onion very finely and add it to the bacon.  Grate a half pound of the sharpest Cheddar you can find, and mix it into the bacon and onion.   Stir in two tablespoons of bottled horseradish, some salt and a few swift  grinds of pepper.

Smoosh this mixture onto slices of firm supermarket white bread (I  use Pepperridge Farm Sandwich White), set them on a baking sheet and bake in a hot oven ( 400 degrees) for about 20 minutes. You should have  a glorious melted sheen on each toast.  

Remove the toasts from the oven, cut off the crusts and slice into finger-size tidbits. You will think this makes too much for 6 people– but you will be wrong. 

 

Saturday in Toronto

 I’ve spent the last 3 days in Toronto, working on a television show.  And this is what I’ve learned: Canadians really ARE nicer.  There’s a palpable lack of tension. Everything here feels more relaxed.

And Toronto is a wonderful food town. I spent yesterday morning wandering around the St. Lawrence market.  Bustling. Aromatic. And every time I saw a line, I went and stood in it.  The longest one was for the famous pea meal bacon on a bun at Carousel Bakery,  It is, apparently, a de rigueur stop on the chef’s tour, and the place roars with encomiums from Tony Bourdain, et al.  It was delicious- soft bun, lean, mild, slices of pork loin - but it’s never going to figure in my dreams. I prefer the sassy fatness of belly bacon.

The other long line was at the Kozlik’s mustard stand, and I have to admit that I stood there eating pretzel after pretzel of their crunchy triple C mustard. Irresistible.

There are a couple of wonderful cheese vendors, but my favorite stand had to be Whitehouse Meats, which specializes in game of all kinds.  They had fresh pheasants - not to mention sliders made of kangaroo and camel.  I asked the man behind the counter if they actually sell, and he insisted that they’re extremely popular.

I had lunch with Chris Nuttall-Smith, restaurant critic at the Globe and Mail. I love reading his stuff - he has the mix of enthusiasm, knowledge, talent and fairness that makes a really good restaurant critic. I love the fact that of all the restaurants in Toronto, he chose a wonderful little Persian place called Tavoos.  “You can’t get this kind of home-cooking in New York,” he explained. (Read his review here.) 

 Lunch was wonderful; I practically inhaled the dish of green olives tossed with chopped walnuts, mint and pomegranate molasses topped with barberries- an extraordinary plate of salt, savory and sweet whose flavor resonated in my mouth like a musical instrument, still thrumming long after I’d taken the last bite.  I loved kashk-e bademjan, smashed eggplant, with mint and shards of fried onions, with a splash of whey across the top that accentuated all the flavors. Still, I have to admit that I was wary of the scary sounding  kaleh pacheh, a classic Iranian breakfast.  “Each portion comes with 2 hooves and a tongue,” the waitress explained, and then circled back to correct herself.  “I meant,” she said, “that you get one hoof and 2 tongues in each bowl.”  Oh, right. You also get a side dish of pickled garlic, chiles, lemons and basil to mix into the broth.

 When the soup arrives, it’s exactly as promised _ a tiny, but very identifiable lamb’s hoof and two small lamb’s tongues in a greyish broth. Definitely not pretty.  But I pick up the delicate little hoof and start gnawing at it, and it’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tried: subtle, chewy, fun to eat.  I squeeze in some of the lemon, tear off some basil, stir that into the soup. The flavor is transformed.  Then I add one of the soft, robust cloves of pickled garlic, and the flavor is rounded out, smoothed.  I slice off a bit of tongue and it’s soft and pliant, the way tongue is, the most delicious meat.  I squeeze in more lemon, have a spoonful of beets in yogurt, a bite of the home-made bread.  What a way to start the day!  I kind of float out of that restaurant, so satisfied.

But the day is young, and there’s so much more to eat.  I’m having dinner with an old friend.  No, I mean a really old friend - a man I knew and loved in college, but last saw in 1973.  (It’s Mac, if you’ve read Tender at the Bone.) He walks into the hotel and forty years fall away; we can’t stop hugging each other.  And then we start to talk. And talk. As if all those years have not gone by, and we’re just picking up a conversation where it left off.  

I’d asked friends where to take Mac to dinner.  I wanted good food, but not some celebrity-studded place where everyone would dance around and demand that we pay attention to what we were eating.  “Edulis,” four people said, “Edulis is where you want to be.”

And I think Edulis might be where one always wants to be.  It’s cozy. Tobey may be the best front person I’ve ever met - the perfect hostess. Loving. Proud of her restaurant. And utterly restrained.  She made me feel so safe.

They fed us wonderful food. Herring, in a big pot, with onions, carrots and a salad of tiny fingerling potatoes.  The heartiest, most satisfying bread, with great butter and a little pot of tomato.  On the meal went, through the most extraordinary wild Nunavut Arctic char - a revelation to me, who has never had anything but farmed char before. So delicate. So delicious. We ate in a kind of dream; here a bit of sausage, there the softest slice of lobster mushroom.  A tomato consomme so delicious we were scraping the bottom of the bowl. A pungent little square of sausage. And in the end, a plate of perfect raspberries. When those berries arrived I was stunned to discover we’d been there, at that table, eating and talking for four hours.  It had seemed like four minutes.  

It was the company of course. But the food too. We’d been lucky enough to put ourselves in the hands of restaurateurs who understand that there are times when the role of food is to make a good situation better.  It would have been so easy to get that wrong.  But Tobey and Michael - and the entire staff - get it completely. 

So many restaurants insist that the experience is about them: their food, their ambiance, their wine.  At Edulis, it’s all about you. They feed you wonderful food - but they understand that a great meal transcends what’s on the table. 

Mac and I were there to get to know each other all over again.  Edulis - the food, the wine, the ambience - was the perfect place to do that. I am very grateful. And I can’t wait to go back. 

 

Today's Farmers' Market Find

I've always loved Cape Gooseberries.  Nestled into their papery husks, they look like tiny yellow tomatillos. When you peel off the husk and pop the fruit into your mouth you get a quick impression of juiciness, then the crunch of the seeds, and finally a rush of sweet tartness.

I like cape gooseberries best eaten out of hand, but they're also great thrown into pie where they add a touch of tartness to sweet fruits. I also admire the way many restaurants serve these fruits: dipped into caramel to give each one a crackling coat.

It's easy to do: make caramel by melting a cup of sugar with three tablespoons of water, put the pot into hot water to keep the caramel molten, then carefully peel back the husks and dip each fruit into the hot caramel. Set them onto an oiled baking sheet or Silpat to harden.  

 

My Dinner at Blanca

My Dinner at Blanca

Went out to Bushwick last night, enjoying the subway ride. When you change from the 2 line to the L, your fellow subway riders undergo a remarkable transformation. Suddenly they’re young, hip and very well dressed. The women all have bare legs, high heels, great makeup. Get off at Morgan Street and two food carts are waiting by the entrance; even at 9:30 the street is alive with people walking, talking, drinking coffee.

At Roberta’s the scene is even wilder, noisier, happier, a great jumble of people drinking beer, eating pizza. But you walk through the garden to Blanca in the back, and everything changes.  Suddenly your surroundings are quiet, sedate, serious.

Blanca is a bit strange, a huge windowless white space, all kitchen, where 12 privileged people are slowly served a couple dozen tiny courses. The meal takes a few hours. The room was clearly designed to be something else, and what should be an intimate experience is overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. There must be six feet of empty space between you and the kitchen, so you feel disconnected from the cooks bending over the plates, tweezering each little tidbit with scientific precision. 

And the food? What we had was almost entirely wonderful: the meal began with a small square of perfectly ripe white melon in a bright green, intense anise broth.  It went on to a wedge of peach, and a single raspberry in almond milk. 

Pictures are forbidden, and note-taking frowned upon so many details have escaped. What I remember best is crudo: shrimp so soft and white they might have been velvet.  Rich, oily mackerel. a single circle of octopus. A magenta rectangle of tuna....  

Raw shaved wagyu beef, a mineral mouthful, arrived bright red, then slowly darkened as the lovely young server poured concentrated beef broth across it. A pillow of tofu was brightened with fresh epazote. A bit of weakfish was brilliantly topped with black lime. Tiny tomatoes reveled in the sweetness of a corn puree. 

The chef seems to be challenging himself to wrest the maximum amount of flavor out of every ingredient, wanting to satisfy you with a single bite. A little tortellini had a filling so powerful you sat there, your mouth pulsing with flavor, long after the dish had been taken away. I looked down the counter: everyone looked stunned, happy. 

I enjoyed every minute of that meal. But I wonder where the restaurant will be five years from now. At the moment these expensive tasting experiences for a small, exclusive  audience- think Ko, Aterra, Brooklyn Fare - are the meals of the moment.  How will they evolve?

Every chef dreams of doing meals like these, but if they are to last I expect they’ll have to offer more than merely fabulous food and wonderful wine. Patrons will demand interaction with the kitchen, comfortable seats, good lighting, a more integrated experience. 

American food is at a high point; we’ve never had more talented chefs or more interesting restaurants. But that’s precisely why the smartest chefs are thinking beyond cuisine to the total experience. When you leave a restaurant like Blanca, you want to remember more than the pleasant service and wonderful food. 

Things I Love

Taking the bread out of the oven this morning, it hit me that this wonderfully homely creature is the most-used pot I've got.

I bought my Dutch oven at a thrift store, maybe thirty years ago, for five bucks. Since then I've used it almost every day.  It's perfect for baking bread; if you put it in a really hot oven before you put the dough in, it becomes an oven within an oven, shooting intense heat at your dough from all sides so it emerges with a fine, crisp crust.

It's wonderful for braises; the little raised points inside collect steam, returning it as liquid so your meat is constantly basting itself. Nothing makes a better pot roast. On top of the stove it's teh perfect vehicle for stews, soups and sauces. 

You could buy a new Dutch oven, but why would you?  Thrift stores almost always have a few on hand. It's not just that you're saving money, but getting a little bit of history as well.  I like to think about my Dutch oven's last life - and wonder about its next one. 

A Great Dinner

Wish I'd made it....

The Chef was Chris Cannon, formerly of L'Impero, Convivio, Marea, etc. I've always thought of him as a front of the house man, but the guy can cook. The food was stunning - a perfect high summer meal.

Grilled Filone with Burning Heart Farm Scrambled Eggs and Black Truffles:

A bright golden pillow of eggs laced with truffles. Irresistible

Mosefund Farm Mangalitsa Sopressata

From the world's most adorable pigs.

Mosefund Farm  Mangalitsa Lardo Crostini with Figs and Black Pepper

Soft figs, bursting open beneath melting lardo.

Forty North Mantoloking Oysters,
Manzanilla Sherry, Castelvetrano Olives and Shallots

Those oysters! Big, juicy, briny. 

Papardelle with Maine Lobster, Fava Beans, Corn and Tarragon

Like the richest lobster bisque you've ever had, tossed with noodles, fresh favas and corn. 

Jameson Farms Loin of Lamb, Parmigiana of Graffiti Eggplant, Jersey Tomatoes, Taggiasca Olives and Green Lentils

Lovely little lamb, and a whole new way to think of eggplant parmesan.

Grilled Jersey Yellow Peaches, Basil
Lambrusco Vinegar, Vincotto, Toasted Almonds and Mozzarella di Buffala

The high point of a fantastic meal. For me at least. The peaches were ripe and smokey, and they clung to that pliant mozzarella. Every once in a while, the surpriing crunch of almonds. This is going to become a summer staple in my house. 

Pretty in Pink

 

There are many great cookbook writers, but at this time of year Elizabeth David is my favorite. Her recipes depend on nothing so much  as perfect produce. She collects these gorgeous specimens, and allows them to speak for themselves.It would be foolish to attempt her Mediterreanean recipes in the middle of a snowstorm, but right now they're elemental and completely satisfying.

High summer is the time for one of my all-time David favorites. You simply take tomatoes, slice them, and cover them with good thick cream. That's it. You won't believe how delicious they are. My only embellishment?  A little bit of basil.

Tomatoes and Cream

3 ripe tomatoes

sea salt

freshly ground pepper

¼ cup fresh heavy cream

5 basil leaves, shredded (optional)

 

1. Stack the basil leaves and roll them tightly. Slice crosswise into thin shreds and immerse them in the cream. 

2. Slice the tomatoes into rounds and sprinkle liberally with good salt and freshly ground pepper.

3. Pour the cream mixture over the tomatoes. Sprinkle with the shredded basil.

Try not to lick the plate....

 

Things I Love

When Michael brought this enormous cast iron skillet home, I was furious. It weighs a ton. It takes up too much room in the cupboard. And I knew he’d use it exactly once.

I was right about the last part. And dead wrong about everything else. Lately I find myself reaching for this huge (15 inches across) black beauty with increasing frequency. It can cook a dozen lambchops on the stove. It can make pancakes for a crowd. And it slides easily into the oven, where it makes the perfect roasting pan for a chicken with a lot of potatoes, garlic and onions.  

And because it’s pre-seasoned, it’s extremely easy to care for. 

It costs about $70 - and I’m sure it will last forever. How did I ever live without it?