Skip to content

Archive for

Tater Nots

Idahospud
The recession certainly brings out strange recipes in the name of thriftiness. Internet sensation Great Depression Cooking with Clara can concoct hot dog potato hash because she’s 93 years old and who’s to argue.

But when I open an e-mail touting the Idaho Potato Commission’s, “Watching Waistlines and Wallets” (hey, two of my favorite things) and see a dish called Fruity Idaho® Potato Breakfast Squares, I am frightened. There is also another user-contributed recipe for Chocolate Chip Idaho® Potato Poppers.

I grew up in a state that bordered Idaho; I understand a potato’s appeal yet the only sugary tater chimera I ever want to see is an Idaho Spud, one of my favorite candies.

I will admit that I appreciate the cross-cultural attempts in the more savory non-wallet-watching categories. Roy Yamaguchi of the Financial District’s recently departed Roy’s provides a way complicated recipe with lots of impossible to source ingredients (unless you live in Hawaii). His Lasagna of Idaho Potato with Halibut and Lemon Grass Curry Sauce uses Kona crab claws, masago caviar and Waimanalo corn kernels.

And chef Julian Medina’s Idaho Potato and Huitlacoche Soup with Oaxaca Cheese Croutons is probably not getting whipped up in homes around the nation either. Granted, it’s considerably easier than the Casuelitas & Carnitas requiring tamales from scratch made from lard and masa harina

A Piece of Cake

Demel pastries
Photograph from schmuela on Flickr

No follower of the pastry scene, modern or historic, I wasn’t familiar with Austria’s iconic Demel until reading (ok, skimming) an article in the latest Saveur.

Now I know what the Frankie’s Spuntino Franks were referring to in their description of Café Pedlar, scheduled to open Wednesday.

“It will be like a little Demel’s from Vienna,” Mr. Castronuovo said, “with sacher tortes, linzer tortes, and strudels.”

Ignoring the superfluous apostrophe S for now, isn’t that a bit of hubris? I was beginning to soften on all those Brooklyn culinary artisans but what would make someone whose success has come from home-style Italian food believe that mastering Viennese pastry arts would be the next step?

Maybe I just limit myself with a chronic lack of healthy NYC-style confidence (and funding for pies in the sky). Why not just go for it? I have no formal Chinese culinary training but wouldn’t it be cool if I opened up a peking duck shop? I’m sure I could figure out how to source plump fowl, do that thing where you blow air between the skin and flesh, build a brick oven. Sure, I should apprentice with a master first, but my one beginner Mandarin class wouldn’t get me far.

Eh, who cares? There’s no limiting my desire to provide peking duck to South Brooklyn. It’ll be like a little Quanjude’s.

Certain Standards

As a Pacific Northwest native, I’ll be extra certain to never ever visit this Brooklyn bar.

Chain Me Up

A fast food chain with no presence in NYC rumored for the former Gage & Tollner space? What could it be? I’m dying to know. That’s not sarcasm, I really want to know. Didn’t a TGI Friday’s already set up shop there briefly?

The old-timey interior is landmarked so it’s not like you could just stick a Sonic in there easily. I wouldn't argue with a classy Sonic, though. I vote for Cheesecake Factory, but that’s not really fast food.

What’s missing in NYC? In-N-Out (never going to happen), Red Robin? Fuddruckers? Panera Bread? Cracker Barrel? Waffle House? Minus In-N-Out, non of those are technically fast food either. Chick-fil-A? (NYU cafeteria doesn't count). We don't have Dairy Queen now that I think about it. Help!

Another Case Against Shoveling Your Food

Milkshakering
You put Mormons and milkshakes together and hilarity is bound to ensue. A gentleman from New Mexico got the bright idea of stashing an engagement ring in his sweetheart’s Frosty while out with friends at  Wendy's. And as LDS members are wont to do, an impromptu ice cream eating contest began. Chug! Chug! Chug!

Sure enough, the game girlfriend chowed down to the bottom of her cup with no ring to show for her efforts. After Kaitlin Whipple was sent home from the hospital with a most romantic x-ray she set about the serious business of reclaiming her prize.

“‘Everybody stocked me up on fiber and prune juice and everything we could think of, and pills just to make that thing come out!’ Kaitlin said.”

Two days later that Metamucil paid off. Aww…dreamy.

More via the New York Daily News

I’ll Keep on Truckin’

Happy to report that my painful 45-minute wait at the Financial District banh mi cart a few weeks ago was likely an aberration. Or maybe the hype has already dissipated (though not banh mi mania in general—I swear in the last 24 hours I’ve read about ten recently opened or about to open Vietnamese sandwich purveyors).

I just picked up a #1 and two summer rolls (which I’m saving for dinner so no word on them) and only spent about three minutes in the process. It should be noted that they now have a $3 shrimp cocktail (six pieces) and a posted phone number for pick up orders made before 11am: 646-996-8990.

I’ll admit that I’m curious about what a Vietnamese shrimp cocktail would be like. I don’t recall ever seeing such a dish on any restaurant menus.

By the way, I’m baffled by commenters (then again, I’m frequently amazed by
the blowhard-ness of commenters
. Yesterday I was supposedly schooled on the
inauthenticity of sweet and sour chicken at a Korean restaurant. Well, duh, and
no amount of culinary knowledge will stop me from ordering non-traditional
dishes if that’s what I feel like eating), specifically the commenters currently
going batshit
over the $8 banh mi at newly opened An Choi (and before that, it
was the $7 banh mi at Park Slope’s new Hanco’s).

Seriously, who cares if someone wants to overpay for a sandwich. If that
offends you, then clearly you’re not their target market and if it turns out to
be rip off they’ll have to adjust their prices to stay in business. It's the evergreen no one will pay good money for "ethnic" food debate. I can see both sides; I'm seriously averse to $15 tacos. I’m well
aware that the $5 Financial District banh mi costs more than a typical
Chinatown version but it’s not Chinatown and I’m willing to pay a $2 premium
for convenience (not atmosphere in this case, obviously) because I have no
other options in this neighborhood. Quibbling between a $3 and $8 sandwich? We’re
talking dollars here, even in a wretched economy I’m not going to spazz over a
few bucks, especially if the sandwich is actually good.

I’m not crazy, however. Yesterday I briefly went insane and made reservations at Per Se for Friday night after reading everywhere how easy it is to now score a table there since the entire world is destitute. But after the reality of a $275 dinner set in, I chickened out and cancelled. That’s a lot of money for a gal with a lower middle class salary (by NYC standards, of course). I'll have to settle for being price gouged on banh mi, instead.

Krolewskie Jadlo

I’m not biased against Eastern European food; it just never occurs to me to seek it out. I lived in a Polish/Bosnian/Croatian/Romanian neighborhood for three years and didn’t sample the local fare even once. (That had more to do with not being able to afford going out to eat in the late ‘90s-early ‘00s, though. I think that’s why I originally started a dining diary. Restaurants were more of a rare treat and I liked to keep track of where I had been even if it meant no more than typing a short awkward paragraph. New Green Bo was my initial entry back in 2000, and no, it’s hardly illuminating (and I'm still not much for illumination but now I have photos to lean on) but the librarian in me likes documenting and archiving. These oldies have actually been helpful, if for nothing more than jogging my own memory.)

Krolewskie jadlo exterior
 But while looking for something quick and cheap before attending an Oscar party in Greenpoint (that had food—I’m just spazzy about squeezing in a choice meal because I never know what might be served at a party and I don’t like taking chances. It’s kind of like how many years ago a friend, a recovered alcoholic who thought I drank too much, asked me if I drank before going to parties, as if that were a serious warning sign. Uh yeah, I did and still do and my liver is fine.) I was moved by the Krolewskie Jadlo’s regal kitsch. I’d always wondered what went on inside the restaurant with two suits of armor standing guard at the entrance.

In this case my pre-party drink was a $5 glass of cheap Shiraz (which I followed with some nice fizzy Lambrusco at the party). Maybe I do have a problem because I’m not terribly bothered by plonk; it’s what it is. Beer might’ve been a better choice than wine but at least I didn’t succumb to one of their chocolate martinis.

Krolewskie jadlo bread

I will admit that I'm not sure what this spread was, though I suspect that chicken fat played a major role.

Krolewskie jadlo pork cutlet

I really wanted the Polish plate (potato pancake, stuffed cabbage, pierogis and kielbasa). It was only $9 but still being the most expensive item on the entrée list, I knew it would be a gut buster. That’s not what I was looking for on this particular evening. Instead, I tried the $7.50 pork cutlet. Ok, pounded, breaded flaps of meat aren’t exactly light either but it felt like a concession. There’s never anything revelatory about a cutlet but the crust was appropriately crisp and the meat wasn’t dried out. And who hates mashed potatoes?

Krolewskie jadlo beets & cabbage

You can specify the starch and vegetable you want but I made no requests wanting to see what the default accompaniments might be. It looks like a beet puree and a cabbage salad. I love root vegetables and pickled things so both of these sweetly vinegared slaws worked for me.

Krolewskie jadlo interior

Krolewskie Jadlo means king’s feast, which in turn means portraits of men in crowns gracing the walls. If these were actual members of royalty, I’ll never know. I liked this touch, as well as the Polish language music sampler that seemed to be a pastiche of ’90s styles. There was an alt-country ditty and a Liz Phair-like number, yet no Macarena, unfortunately.

Krolewskie Jadlo * 694 Manhattan Ave., Brooklyn, NY

No Comment

Libbysfruitcocktail Commenters are an unruly bunch. I don’t have a particularly social site but from what I can tell much time is spent spelling you’re as your, calling people douches and/or haters and accusing innocents of hailing from the Midwest (Ohio, more specifically).

Even The New York Times, which used to remain fairly civil (due to firm monitoring, I suspect) has become hotbed of angriness lately. I do appreciate how the economy has somehow whipped what might have been ordinary citizens into a pissy frenzy, dour as I am normally.

The tragedy of people who had six-figure salaries now resorting to $12/hours jobs? Idiots who should’ve saved more when they were making the big bucks. (I concur.)

Children whose parents can’t afford to pay for their reduced public school lunches being given cold cheese sandwiches and fruit? Cry babies who are lucky they get fed at all. (Harsh, but I can see their point.)

The “Frugal Traveler” bemoans the lack of Saigon boutique hotels in the $50 range? Pick from: sounds like you should rename your column to The Affluent but Cheap Traveler, I suffered through hell in Vietnam and it sounds like you’re a pansy or hey, dillweed why do you think you’re too good for a $5 a night fleabag backpacker hostel like I enjoy? Sheesh, rich folks. (Ok, I totally don’t agree with these attacks. I’m middle-income, luxury-averse but do value well-priced wi-fi, air conditioning and minimally stylish accommodations when traveling. So what?)

But my favorite breed of commenters are the assholes who’ve never seen a recipe they didn’t want to mess with. This weekend I was browsing croquette recipes because, you know, that’s what I do for fun on a Saturday afternoon. Wine and Ham Croquettes, a fairly traditional seeming Spanish recipe compelled me to click.

And unwisely seeking the advice of strangers, I immediately came to this doozy from a Westchester resident:

“Not a bad ham croquette recipe but I found it a bit bland. I added 2 tablespoons of maple syrup, a teaspoon of cinammon [sic] and a small can of diced pineapple chunks which made all the difference!”

My god. This sounds like someone who thinks raisins gussy up celery and peanut butter and considers fruit cocktail topped cottage cheese a legitimate dessert. Remind me to never eat Spanish food in Yonkers.

Lam Zhou

Hand-pulled noodles for less than five bucks are a wonderful filling thing. It’s too bad that I’m rarely in Chinatown because this would be an ideal lunch.

Lam zhou exterior
I recently had the opportunity to stop by Lam Zhou (previously I had only tried Sheng Wang, which I never posted here but reviewed for nymag.com) on the way to a party in one of those co-ops along the East River that look like projects. A million blocks from any subway station, I needed fortifying on the long trudge from the East Broadway F station to the F.D.R. Even though I’m not fanatical about Flight of the Conchords, I did recognize the building they use as a stand-in for the New Zealand consulate as we walked past.

Lam Zhou is typically no frills, fluorescently lit with diners ordering, slurping and out the door in minutes. No time need be wasted on deciding what to order since they really only do two things: noodle soup or dumplings. Soup requires choosing your meat from options like beef, pig’s feet or fish balls and the dumplings are both sweet and savory, boiled or fried.

Lam zhou noodle making

Immediately after placing your order (it seems that if you’re non-Asian a server will come take your order where you sit but Chinese speakers tend to just walk into the middle of the small room and shout out their wishes to the kitchen in back) a dull thwacking sound fills the air. Dough is pounded out at a stainless steel table in a corner and long, thin noodles are coaxed from the floury mass within seconds. That’s a lot of on demand craft for $4.50. Hey, there’s an untapped artisanal product ripe for hipster plucking.

Lam zhou tripe soup

To me beef tripe is honeycomb tripe, the thick, lacy webbed part of the stomach you normally see cut into curled strips as in the center of this photo. But this bowl contained a bonanza of bit parts: cuts that looked like shiitake mushrooms, clear gelatinous tendons and darker beef slices with transparent striations.

The noodles are amazingly chewy and springy and there are a ton of them. So much that the chopsticks can barely pick up strands without succumbing to the weight. Too many bowls of noodle soup and you might develop carpal tunnel syndrome. Our waitress seemed disappointed that we didn’t also want dumplings but I knew the soup would be substantial. An ideal cushion for drinking.

Chinese bechamel

I like adding in a heaping spoonful of pickled mustard greens and a tinier amount of chile oil. I don’t think anyone would mistake what’s labeled here as Chinese Bechamel for the classic white sauce.

Being a party with a large contingent of Johns Hopkins alumni, professionals from the medical field weren’t scarce. I was particularly amused to meet a psychologist who specializes in workplace matters. She thought the peanut butter and jelly hoarder I was recently fascinated by wasn’t a problem worth making an issue out of as long as the worker was doing his job well. We’ll see about that.
 

Lam Zhou * 144 East Broadway, New York, NY

The Redhead

1/2 Starting Friday night I semi-give up on all the ridiculous food stringency, i.e. no sugar or starch, I set up for myself during the week, kind of like binge drinking but with edibles. Sure, it’s unbalanced but it works for me. Oatmeal breakfast and Little Lads vegan mush lunch allowed for fried chicken dinner.

I’d been curious about The Redhead but it struck me as one of those places that might have interesting food but also might annoy me with a cramped space and long wait times. A weeknight venture, essentially. But I went wild and made an attempt directly after work on a Friday and the timing was just right. Seating was no problem at 6:30pm but by 7pm the bar area was one solid, immobile hungry pack.

Redhead bacon peanut brittle
I started with a generously sized snack of the bacon peanut brittle. It wasn’t what I expected at all. Which isn’t to say that it wasn’t tasty. I was imagining shards of hard candy studded with nuts and bacon. But this was almost a dead ringer for one of my favorite Chinatown grocery store treats of peanuts tossed with thumbnail-length dried anchovies, a salty-sweet flavor combination that I don’t associate with the restaurant’s fancified Southern cooking at all. This seriously tasted Asian to me (ikan bilis in Malay). I brought home the remainders in a foil packet only to later catch our toothless cat getting into the peanuts and licking them.

I seriously though James was bullshitting me when he said he couldn’t have any because of Lent, but he did refrain from the pork-laced legumes. I’ll never understand religion. I’ve never known him to attend church, though two years ago around this time of year I came home to find him sitting on the couch, Ash Wednesday smudge on forehead. Baffling. Certainly, I grew up with Catholics but I’d never ever seen the charcoal on the face thing until I moved to NYC. I honestly had no idea what was going on the first time I encountered the practice, though I never articulated my confusion until six years ago.

So, he opted for a cod dish enhanced by fennel, shoestring potatoes and a sauce described as clam chowder. I did not take a photo because the setting was cramped, dim and awkward (though not wholly uncomfortable) as it was.

Redhead fried chicken

Me, I got the fried chicken. I generally find large amounts of white meat heavy and overwhelming. I just prefer a closer ratio of skin to flesh. Thankfully, the breast here wasn’t dried out in the least and the crust was very light and flaky. Both the spinach salad with apples and candied walnuts and very moist triangular wedge of cornbread satisfied love of sweetness in savory dishes. I wouldn’t have minded a biscuit in lieu of the cornbread, though.

Redhead cookie

Despite foregoing dessert we were still given a parting goodie. An intense chocolate cookie with chocolate chunks and big pockets of crystallized ginger.

The Redhead * 349 13th St., New York, NY