Sweet Blog O'Mine

Category: Food and Drink

  • A Taste of Tribeca

    My dad was visiting this weekend, and the majority of our plans centered around food. Not all, but certainly most of our day and a half together was focused on where we were going to eat, and when. Luckily for us, his visit coincided with Taste of Tribeca, an all-day food festival featuring a variety of Tribeca’s finest eating establishments. For a small fee, we were able to sample the wares of six different restaurants. My favorites of the day were:

    the pulled pork sandwich, from Walker’s,
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    the ribs from Odeon,
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    and a colorful sushi plate from a sushi place, the name of which I can’t recall. 112_1222

    Hmm. Anyway, Taste of the Village is coming up on June 17th — you know I’ll be there.

    Dad and I were joined at the food fest by some friends from Maine who were in town visiting their son and his partner. Coincidentally, the younger two had recently moved to NYC from San Francisco, and were giving me all kinds of comparisons between the two cities, and the pros and cons of each. Very helpful, given my current wanderlust. After stuffing ourselves silly in the heat, we cooled off in the atrium of the Tribeca Grand, and then wandered through SoHo, stopping in various shops along the way. We stopped in the funky new Apple store, where Danny and I fielded various technology questions about iPods. Despite some confusion about how they work, the older generation seems quite keen on buying iPods at some point.

    After a rest and a shower, we were off to eat again. This time, to Otto, for some light antipasti and vino before dad had to fly back to Maine. Thanks for everything Dad, and thanks to Phyllis, Bernie, Danny and David for a fun day in NYC.

  • Cyberfood

    This week’s Time Out New York includes a roundup of food links, including some of my personal favorites — Chowhound, NYC Eats, Menupages, and Epicurious. Some other favorites of mine that I thought were missing include The Food Section, Walker New York: Eats, and The Strong Buzz. You can find a few more of my favorites here and here, in two early posts.

  • Weekend Highlights

    All in all, a fairly mellow weekend, but there were definitely some high points. Met up with a few friends on Friday night at Fuel, the hip lounge, which used to be Phebe’s, the dive with cheap pitchers. I remembered back to my first day of law school orientation when I was the hero for bringing a group of law students to a place so close to school with such cheap beer. After Fuel, we went to Great Jones Cafe, which would be my neighborhood bar were it only a few blocks closer to my apartment. Try the vodka lemonades if you haven’t already. Saturday I had brunch with a longtime friend uptown, which gave us a much-needed opportunity to catch up on life, the universe, and everything. Then — despite the fact that it was gorgeous out, I had already planned to go to the Met for a Tufts Alumni event — a treasure hunt in the museum. Not only was it fun, but my team won, in record time. Got a pedicure (the purple polish leapt out at me — I couldn’t help it), then settled in for a mellow evening. I rented a flick and made my very first batch of enchiladas — so easy and a perfect dish for lunchtime leftovers. After my enchilada, I was craving something sweet, so headed to Otto for some gelato before my movie. While I was there, the scary drunk guy next to me declared me to be “the girl for him.” Thankfully, he was visiting from Florida. As they were leaving, his companion, who seemed much less drunk, offered me half a bottle of wine that they hadn’t finished. Perhaps he figured it was adequate compensation for dealing with his drunk friend. Either way, I called up a neighbor and fellow wine society member, and we happily finished a great bottle of wine. She then joined me for the movie I had rented, and she and her boyfriend (who works at Otto) polished off the remaining enchiladas (no leftovers for me this time — guess I’ll make anonother batch!). Started off Sunday with yoga at Laughing Lotus, followed by brunch at City Bakery, and continued to enjoy the sunshine with a bike ride in Central Park, all with my friend Sarah, who was excellent company. Finished off the evening with drinks outside at B-Bar with my Sunday night crew.

    So, despite the fact that I’m considering leaving to get a clean slate and a fresh start, life here in NYC is not too shabby either. . .

  • Food, food, food . . .

    All kinds of exciting food news today. First, the James Beard Award winners. My two faves on the list are Sam Hayward, from Fore Street in Portland, Maine, and Allison Vines-Rushing, from Jack’s Luxury Oyster Bar, here in NYC. I have had the pleasure of dining at both of these restaurants, and they are up there as some of the best meals I have had. My parents were even lucky enough to win a dinner cooked by Sam Hayward in a silent auction fundraiser. They were supposed to send me a copy of the menu (ahem). My meal at Jack’s was outstanding, and would have been an ideal romantic evening, had I actually been there with a date.

    Next, a brief review of The Spotted Pig, and a first glimpse at 5 Ninth. We arrived at The Spotted Pig at about 7:15, and were informed that we would have a 45 minute wait for a table for two. Since there was no room at the bar, I suggested that we walk to nearby 5 Ninth, which had recently opened. We could check out the menu there as well, and then make a decision. We entered 5 Ninth tentatively, as it appeared from the outside that it might still be under construction. Once we entered, however, we were greeted with a calming, mellow atmosphere, with high, beamed ceilings (similar to Chickenbone Cafe, where the chef used to work). We took a glance at the menu, which looked fantastic, but a little above our price range for the night, so we only had a glass of wine. I have plans to go there next Tuesday for dinner (after payday) with some wine society folks, and now I’m really looking forward to it. The service was a little spotty, especially just for a glass of wine, but I’m going to chalk it up to being so new. Hopefully they’ll tighten up a bit by next week. Back to the Pig, where we were told that our wait would be another half-hour. We debated outside for a while, but luckily the half-hour turned into ten minutes, and we were seated at a comfy table in the back. Although the atmosphere is somewhat pub-ish, the food seems much more complex than anything you’d find at a pub. We started with the much-reviewed gnudi, a gnocci-like dumpling made of cheese, served with brown butter and sage. It was creamy and delicious, and although we agreed that the serving was pretty small, I didn’t think I’d be able to each much more, as it was very rich. My dining companion disagreed, but he’s a guy with a pretty large appetite, or so he says. For our entrees, I opted for the burger, served with a highly seasoned mound of shoestring fries. It was good, but I’d still be more likely to walk the few blocks to the Corner Bistro to get my burger fix. Ethan got the steak with potatoes, artichokes, and pancetta. Once again, I thought it was pretty good (he was kind enough to give me a taste), but nothing extraordinary. All in all, though, it was a pleasant dining experience. I’d like to hit the place again on an off time, and maybe sit at the bar and order several of the appetizers, which seemed more interesting to me than the main courses.

  • The Spotted Pig, 314 West 11th St. at Greenwich Street
  • 5 Ninth, 5 9th Avenue

  • You Want Fries With That?

    It’s time again for a blatant plug, in this case, for a film. I had the privilege of seeing Super Size Me yesterday. This documentary chronicles one month in the life of the writer and filmmaker, during which he eats only at McDonald’s. Hilarity and disastrous health effects ensue. It is incredibly well-done — funny, insightful, educational, radical, illustrative, and thoughtful — and it left me with a feeling of utter gratitude. Gratitude, you ask? Yes, gratitude. I am so thankful that my family has raised me to love, eat, and enjoy healthy food. I don’t really drink soda because I never had it in my house growing up. My stepmother has a masters degree in nutrition, so our meals were always incredibly healthy and well-balanced, full of vegetables, and always served with a big salad. Watching the film made me realize that our family was not your “typical” American family. We could afford to eat well, and nutrition was a priority for us. Similarly, every time I beat myself up for not going to the gym, I should realize that I am getting more exercise than the average American simply by living in Manhattan, where I walk all the time. The film has created a small dent in the McDonald’s corporate machine, although they deny that any changes were related to the film. According to the film, McD’s is no longer offering their supersize options, and has introduced a line of “active” happy meals for adults. I’ll have to take his word for it — my trips to McD’s are generally limited to road trips and acts of desperation, like PMS-induced french fry cravings (which are most often taken care of elsewhere). So run right out and see the film — you’ll be eating veggies for days afterwards.


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  • On the Bayou

    Okay, it’s time for the full report.

    Day 1
    We arrived on Wednesday and picked up our first po-boys on the way home from the airport from a local joint out in Lakeview, where we were staying. Ah . . . welcome to New Orleans. After lunch, we followed up with a stroll around the French Quarter. “Food” stop number one was a hurricane, which we purchased on Bourbon Street. Now, for those of you who are not aware, New Orleans is the home to one of my favorite phenomena, the “to-go” cup at bars. Yes, my friends, you can walk into a bar and order a drink to go. We got our hurricanes and continued our stroll around the Quarter. At one point we stumbled upon a gospel choir — between that and the booze in the hurricanes, our spirits were soaring. We rounded off our stroll with a stop at Cafe du Monde for coffee and beignets, which we enjoyed by the riverside. Dinner that night was at Lola’s, where we had some good paella and warm dinner rolls with fantastic garlic butter — mostly garlic. Later that night, we got rocking at the House of Blues with George Clinton and P-Funk. The 60+ year old grandfather out-rocked us that night; we had to turn in at about 2:30 AM.

    Day 2
    Our first day at Jazz Fest. Our first stop was food — Danielle and Seth headed for the crawfish bread, and I for my soft-shell crab po-boy. Just as delightful as I had remembered — salty, crispy, and briny. Other delicacies of the day included the Nachitoches meat pie (a spicy ground beef concoction wrapped in dough and then deep-fried), a BBQ oyster po-boy, fried plaintains with tangy Jamaican hot sauce, a taste of Danielle’s bread pudding, and, of course, the rosemint tea. We met up with my friend Arielle’s brother David — my prior trips to New Orleans were all with Arielle, and David stepped in on hosting duties during her absence, making sure we had a good spot from which to enjoy the music, and that we always had a cold beer. We were able to catch two acts that afternoon: Allen Toussaint and the Steve Miller Band. Although there were sprinkles throughout the day, it never really rained that hard, and we even saw a rainbow. After heading home, we decided to take a nap before we went out for the evening. When we woke up, it was already 11:45 p.m. So much for going out. We ended up sleeping until about 10 the next morning. Guess we were wiped out.

    Day 3
    During our 14 hour “nap,” there were constant bursts of thunder and lightning, and torrential rains. Conditions were so bad that Jazz Fest got rained out for the first time in ages — perhaps over a decade. We decided to make the best of it, so we ultimately headed down to Bourbon Street to start drinking. We started at Pat O’Brien’s — I had a hurricane and Seth started with a bloody mary. He would later graduate to a mint julep, while I continued to nurse my hurricane (give me a little credit — it was easily twice the size of his bloody mary). On a side note, while we wandered around the Quarter our first day, we had set out some “goals” for our trip — little things we were going to try to accomplish while we were there. They included shaking hands with a famous person, singing into a microphone, riding on the back of a motorcycle, getting a business card from a stranger, and eating a food we had never eaten before. Our first day at the Fest we were each able to eat something we had not eaten before, and at Pat O’Brien’s, we got word that there was a famous person at the bar inside — Yanni. After much debate about whether (a) Yanni actually counted as a famous person and (b) the person sitting at the bar was, in fact, Yanni, we decided to pass on that particular opportunity, even if one of our goals was left unaccomplished. Later in the day, we ran into my friend Erika and her posse at the House of Blues. We were walking by to check out what was playing later that night. We all retreated to a bar offering 3 for 1 drinks to decide on our musical plans for the evening. We made the mistake of ordering white russians as our drink of choice — they were each the size of my head (I think they combined the three drinks into one huge cup). Now I know why white russians are usually served in a very small glass. Ugh — way too much milk. Determined not to sleep through another evening despite having spent our entire day getting boozed up, we went home, quickly showered, and headed out to Mid-City Lanes Rock ‘n Bowl to see the Rebirth Brass Band and Kermit Ruffins, both New Orleans institutions. It was a fantastic show, but incredibly crowded, even for little miss New York City. At sometime during the second set, we called it a night — we needed to be well-rested for our next day at Jazz Fest.

    Day 4
    To make up for our rained-out day, we got up early so we could put in a full day at the Fest. We certainly got started with some good karma — someone gave me a free ticket as I was walking up to buy one. In typical New York fashion, I asked Seth if we should check to make sure it was valid. He looked at me as if I were insane. Maybe it’s time for me to leave the city for a while . . . Anyway, back to Jazz Fest. We started off (after a round of beignets, of course) at the Blues tent, where we saw God’s Followers of South Africa, who are reminiscent of Ladysmith Black Mombazo. We then went to one of the main stages, where we wanted to set up camp for later shows. While we were there, we saw Marc Broussard, who was unknown to either of us, but was definitely the hidden gem of the day. He couldn’t have been more than 20, but his voice had a depth and maturity way beyond his years. We predict big things for this guy in the near future. Leaving our chairs to mark our turf, we went over to the Congo tent, where, despite the geographical inconsistency, they were focusing on music from South Africa. We saw Busi Mhlongo and Vusi Mahlasela, who were joined by the legendary Hugh Masekela. While we were at the Congo tent, we guided Arielle’s friend Bebe (who I’ve seen on all of my previous New Orleans trips) to our stuff, and met up with her after we had both returned from our ventures to the smaller tents. Thank god for cell phones. We picked up some food on the way back — a chicken taco for me, and a steak pita for Seth. And, of course, more rosemint tea. Back at the main stage, we caught the end of the Funky Meters, and ran off to grab a catfish po-boy before Santana got started. As we were winding our way back through the crowds, we heard Santana off in the distance — they had started early! We made it back to our chairs, and were treated to some of the best guitar playing in the world. Incredible. Towards the end of the set, we could see the black storm clouds moving closer and closer. We only missed a few songs, but made it back home before the rain came crashing down again. We planned to take a nap (not a 14-hour one, but a short one), but were sidetracked by the National Spelling Bee, which was being broadcast on ESPN2. Strangely enough, we had been talking about Spellbound the day before. The winning word was pococurante. After the Bee, we geared up for our night with Jurassic 5 and Galactic. Although the show was good, it made me think that I might finally be turning into an old woman. It was unbearably loud — so much so that I wished I had brought earplugs. After several hours of having our eardrums blasted into oblivion, we headed to the Clover Grill for some late night burgers. Gotta love a place that cooks their burgers under hubcaps. Satiated, we returned home.

    Day 5
    After two days fighting crowds at Jazz Fest with a day boozing in the French Quarter in between, we opted to take our Sunday at a slightly more subdued pace. We started off with brunch at Lulu’s in the Garden. Not wanting to go into shock from lack of fried food and shellfish, I ordered a dish called the “Hangtown Fry,” scrambled eggs with bacon, fried oysters, and fried onion rings. Delicious. Not light, but fantastic. The best quality of well-done fried food is that it isn’t at all greasy, which surprises me every time. We were able to walk off some of the brunch with a do-it-ourselves Garden District walking tour. We purchased a great guide book, we were off. After our tour, we returned back to the Quarter for one last drink in to-go cup. After taking in a few more sights, sounds, and smells, we opted to finish off our weekend with a quiet, lovely dinner at Cafe Degas, outside of the Quarter. For whatever reason, we were both craving beef, so we each had a steak. A simple, yet tasty finish to our culinary adventures.

    Day 6
    We awoke at the crack of dawn and headed home. People were still out partying as our cab drove off to the airport. Thanks to Seth for being an ideal travel partner, to Danielle, Alan and Ela for letting us stay with them, despite our keeping odd hours and sleeping half the time, and to David and Bebe for chipping in on hosting duties at the Fest. You can see the pictures here.

  • Goin’ Down to the Big Easy

    The wait is over. It’s finally time.

    Truth be told, I’ve been waiting for this moment since last year’s trip. Wasn’t sure I’d make it this year, but thanks to a very hospitable college friend and a travel partner with a flexible schedule, I am once again able to make the pilgrimage to Jazz Fest in New Orleans.

    As you might have guessed, two of my very favorite things are food and music. New Orleans generally, and Jazz Fest specifically, bring those two worlds together in an incredibly decadent atmosphere. If you poke around the Jazz Fest website, you can see the wide variety of musical artists and vast menu of culinary delights awaiting me. I have always said that if I lived in New Orleans year-round, I’d end up as a fat, lazy, alcoholic slut. It just kind of brings that out in you. Arguably, that might be okay for a week or so, but not so good as a lifestyle choice.

    By the time you read this, I’ll be on a plane, but never fear, I’ll have a full report when I return. I already know of a soft-shell crab po-boy with my name on it.

  • Hot Dogs for All Tastes

    I started off my weekend at the Yankees/Red Sox game. A good college friend, a die-hard Sox fan, was in town, and I have to admit that I am somewhat of a closeted Sox fan myself. Truth be told, I don’t care much one way or the other, but when the Sox play the Yankees, I root (quietly) for the Red Sox, in honor of my uncle, who was a hard-care fan. He passed away when I was in college, but when I got into Tufts, the first thing he did was buy me a Red Sox hat.

    As usual, when I arrived at the game, I was ravenous. I had my first hot dog of the evening before we even walked through the gates of the park — a Hebrew National jumbo dog, boiled, with ketchup. It was good, but once I was done, I needed something sweet. When we arrived at our seats, I began the search for the Cracker Jack guy. I thought I saw him in the distance, but as he got closer, I saw that he was actually selling Crunch-n-Munch. After wandering around and scoping out the refreshment stands, I couldn’t find Cracker Jack anywhere, so I settled for the Crunch-n-Munch. Not quite the same, but it did the trick (Cracker Jack is more of a caramel corn, while Crunch-n-Munch is more butter toffee based. Both have peanuts). I was then ready for hot dog number two, a grilled Nathan frank, with ketchup. My conclusion? Grilled dogs are much tastier than the boiled. Hands down. The other thing I noticed at the game is that, while there was never a line for the ladies’ room there was always a looooooong line for the mens’ room. Ahh, sweet revenge.

    And, oh yeah, the Red Sox won.

    Saturday was gorgeous, and as we wandered through Washington Square Park, we realized that we had stumbled upon the Dashchund Festival, an event held twice a year by the Dashchund Friendship Club. Wiener dogs everywhere, including one dressed as, you guessed it, a hot dog.


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    Definitely my favorite hot dog of the weekend.

  • Southern Gentlemen and Pork Fat — My Trip to Atlanta

    Considering that I spent the better part of four beautiful, mild, sunny days inside a Hilton, I actually had a good trip to Atlanta.

    I was there for the Equal Justice Conference, and moderated a panel presentation on disaster legal assistance. I hadn’t met any of my co-panelists before we got there — we coordinated the whole thing by phone and email — so I had arranged to meet them in the lobby an hour before our panel. The two women were at our assigned meeting point, and all I knew was that I was looking for a guy named Mark. I started asking around the lobby — I approached each man sitting alone and asked if he was Mark. One gentleman, in his late forties, when I asked if he was Mark, literally looked me up and down, lingering a tad too long on my cleavage, and said, in a deep southern drawl, “no, but I wish I was.” I spun on my heel and walked away, thinking of all the clever things I should/could have said. Ick. I wanted to take a shower. Blech. Southern gentlemen, my ass, although I’m sure he thought he was giving me some sort of compliment.

    If that was the low point, the high points were the people, a few good meals, and a forty-five minute stretch of lounging in the sun by the pool. First and foremost, I’d like to thank the Atlanta-based Chowhounds for responding to my post — I had two great meals thanks to their suggestions. First was Watershed, a calm, soothing, airy spot in Decatur that features new Southern cooking and is co-owned by Emily Saliers, one of the Indigo Girls (the name is a tribute to their song). We had fried catfish and some of the best onion rings I have ever had — light and crispy on the outside and sweet and chewy on the inside. I got the duck as an entree, served simply with figs, sauteed bok choy, and roasted parsnips (which I have currently declared to be my favorite vegetable). One of my co-workers got the special that evening, which was a Greek-style roasted fish. It was delicious. They also served warm cookies and milk for dessert.


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    The next night was Harold’s Barbecue. As we walked up to the place, there was a cop hanging out in front. I snapped a picture of him there, but was too self conscious to take a picture of him later, despite the fact that he was standing right next to a porcelain pig. It was so perfect — you’ll just have to imagine it in your mind. It was definitely a down-home, old-school barbecue joint. Our hands-down favorite of the dishes we ordered was the pork ribs — juicy, tender, and succulent, with a tangy, vinegar-based sauce. Each plate was served with Brunswick stew, fantastic (non-mayo-heavy) coleslaw, and came with chips and a platter of cornbread. As I was inspecting the cornbread, I noticed chunks of something in it — at first I thought it was apples, as they were sort of square and had the translucent quality of a cooked apple, but when I picked a chunk out and tasted it on its own, I realized that it was . . . pork fat. Nice. A special thanks to Tiela and Teresa for joining me in my adventure.

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    Finally, I got to spend time with the extended Pro Bono Net family — folks we work with all over the country — and meet some great new people in the public interest legal community, mostly from California. It was a pleasure hanging out with Becky, the “legions of Stephens,” Amy, Michelle, Tamarra, Marni, Megan, McGregor, and everyone else. We even made the most of being trapped in the Hilton by visiting all the hotel bars, including getting a round of drinks at Trader Vic’s, the cheezy Polynesian-style joint. How can you resist drinks served in a conch shell?!

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  • My Seder Was More Fun Than Your Seder

    Last night was my second annual Passover seder at Sammy’s Roumanian Steakhouse on the Lower East Side. I went last year as well, with a slightly smaller group (I even met Jill Sobule there last year — see the picture). When I told my dad I was going there, he said that he recalled the food was very heavy — “your great-grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary there, and your great-grandfather died a week later.” Well, he’s right. They have schmaltz (rendered chicken fat) in syrup containers on every table. They make the chopped chicken liver in a bowl at the table, complete with cooked onions, radishes, and a liberal dose of the schmaltz. I have been dreaming about it since last year — so good, yet so disgustingly bad for you. Mmm. The steak literally droops over the side of the plate. Good thing there are plenty of bottles of vodka frozen in ice to cut through the artery-clogging food. And beyond the food, there is singing and dancing — our table singlehandedly started the hora, and I did a cameo song with the band. They’re not too big on the religious part of the seder, but they managed to cover some of the basics — blessings over the wine and matzo, the four questions, and of course, dayenu. No Cadbury creme eggs, though.


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    You can find the pictures here.