Posts from the ‘Distractions’ Category

Jun 3

If You Like Piña Coladas

I'm breathing a little easier now that our nation's youth has begun to fixate on the '90s (I'm acquainted with the throwers of this party, so maybe it's just a Brooklyn microcosm) instead of the earlier decade. I guess that's what happens when Gen Y starts hitting their 30s. But as scornful as I am for mindless nostalgia, the '70s were my '80s and I became genuinely excited last night as I read about a potential fern bar revival.

I wish I had a job that would send me to Tales of The Cocktail instead of the Special Library Association's annual conference, also about to take place in New Orleans, because I would love to attend this session: "The Smooth and Creamy History of the Fern Bar." It’s not really a contest compared to "How Business Information Professionals Can Move Up The Value Chain.” (Um, probably by not blogging during work hours—I’m typing this at night, I swear.)

I wasn't old enough to drink in the '70s or even the '80s, but I love the Regal Beagle concept. Maybe that's why I enjoy eating at chain restaurants so much; Ruby Tuesday, Houlihan’s and their ilk. If I had a time machine I would totally go back to Midnight Cowboy-era NYC and sip a tequila sunrise at the original T.G.I. Friday's, gritty cityscape be damned. (I associate fern bars with a west coast, Christopher Cross, honeymoon in Hawaii vibe.)

Sadly, Martin Cate, the moderator of this Tales of the Cocktail panel, doesn't see a progression from speakeasy to tiki to fern bar actually happening. Are we just a bunch of sophisticates?

I'm not. In fact, this weekend I made my first white wine spritzer. Yes, I am officially elderly. I rarely drink during the day (even though I’d like to) and this Saturday afternoon I wanted a refreshing alcoholic beverage while writing (I write faster when I'm not dead sober) but didn't want to conk out by 7pm. I'm not saying the Charles Shaw Sauvignon Blanc and club soda was good; it wasn't. I did keep my concentration, though. Next up, Fuzzy Navels and Strawberry Margaritas.

No, we are not sophisticates. Someone must still be buying those T.G.I. Friday’s branded Long Island Ice Teas and Mudslides in jugs.

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May 27

Gourmet Latino Festival

Every so often I'll take a break from being a self-obsessed (though rarely self-promotional) blogger and mention an event that has nothing to do with me. I tend to ignore all the cooking competitions (I can only be so Brooklyn) but I do have a soft spot for Latin cuisine.

June 4-12, the Gourmet Latino Festival will be held in New York City. That means parties, educational seminars and food and wine pairing dinners. Zarela Martinez, Sue Torres, Maricel Presilla, Julian Medina and Jose Garces are among many chefs represented. And the cocktail side isn't shabby either: Dale DeGroff, Junior Merino and Julie Reiner are just a few who will be involved.

Restaurants in the New York area will be serving special menus during Authentic Dining Week, June 8–12. Here is the list. I've been meaning to try Cucharamama in Hoboken for a million years, so maybe I will.

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May 15

A Knuckle Sandwich

My T Magazine blog rss feeds serve little purpose beyond adding to my future likelihood of getting carpal tunnel syndrome. I scroll and scroll, finger on the click wheel, waiting for a headline and one-line description to pounce on.

“The Curious Case of Samuel’s Button: Samuel Gassmann set out to make a documentary on men’s clothing, and ended up launching a collection of cufflinks.”

No!

“Fiddling: Fiddleheads are good vegetables with real appeal, but they’re not as flexible as some produce.”

I almost want to read this because Jurassic-looking fiddleheads creep the hell out of me. Maybe Peter Meehan will change my mind? But ultimately, no, not clicking.

“Latin Flair: In São Paulo, a young class of chefs is mixing cuisines and techniques and taking Brazilian cooking to a higher level.”

Ok, I’d like to hear more about chefs in Latin America. Do we know any except Francis Mallmann and Gastón Acurio? São Paulo’s cuisine already got The New York Times treatment last year, but I’ll admit that none of the chefs’ names stuck with me. I reluctantly click.

But what stands out in the T Magazine paragraph is only peripherally related to cooking. What to make of Bolivan chef, Checho Gonzáles? “Each of his knuckles is inked with the image of a popular local bar snack.” I don’t know what Brazilian bar snacks might be, but that’s one of the awesomest tattoos I can think of even if it sounds like something only an Asian girl could pull off. And with no photographic evidence, I only had my imagination.

Thankfully, I got my answer on Eater when they provided a photo (above) in a tangential post. Pizza and sushi! I hope one of those is a pão de queijo.

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May 9

Oh, I’m Sneering

I celebrated my last birthday, number 37, at Cafe Boulud.

Meenakshi, the two-year-old daughter of the author who penned this week’s irritant in The New York Times, “Fine Dining Where Strollers Don’t Invite Sneers,” also marked the passing of another year at this Upper East Side restaurant. Toddlers love goat-cheese risotto balls, it turns out.

The types of parents who thinks it’s adorable that L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon will provide DVD players showing Shrek, are also those deluded into thinking that servers enjoy cleaning up after kids.

I’ve never worked in a restaurant but I have a hard time believing that the waiter at Fred’s “…was amused, not annoyed, by Meenakshi’s game of dropping her plastic cutlery on the floor more than a dozen times so he could pick it up."

Sounds like a fun game. You know what might be more fun? Getting stoned and watching Babies.

Saigon baby restaurant photo from miandering.

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Apr 22

Speaking of Taste of Home

I broke my five-day staying in the house streak yesterday and forced myself to go into the office. You don’t realize how obnoxious coughing fits sound (though I have an unusually low tolerance for the sound of coughing) until you’re surrounded by others in near silence. Today I am back at home where I can choke on food and hack up phlegm in peace.

Tuesday, I still had Sichuan leftovers in the house as well as some homemade pho from a not half-bad Cooking Light recipe (you never know with them). Normally, all I want to eat is Asian food. But both of those options sounded meh. What I really wanted and rarely ever think about was eggs and bacon in a tortilla. Meatloaf? Mac and cheese? No, not comfort food to me.

Who knew the foresight in my family? This slapdash meal that we frequently ate for both breakfast and dinner presaged the wrap craze and the breakfast burrito of the late ‘80s. This was a popular item in my household for obvious reasons: the ingredients are cheap, it’s easy to make—it was one of the few things my dad cooked, and my sister and I ate it without complaint, and we complained a lot.

The simple process involved warming a flour tortilla on a gas stovetop burner, then filling it with one fried egg, bacon (I say two pieces), grated cheddar cheese and a scoop of jarred salsa, probably Pace.

I think it’s the fried egg that makes it because logically you would use scrambled eggs in a breakfast burrito. Breaking the rules. I always had my bacon undercooked so it was still chewy and fatty (my sister like hers crisp), often the tortilla would be blackened in spots and the cheese never fully melted creating sharp orange patches. This wasn’t plate food—another advantage, no dishes—you would eat it wrapped in a paper towel. Inevitably, the yolk would burst and pool at the bottom, soaking through the napkin.

Recreating this special, I had to resist many temptations. No fancy cheese. I pushed aside the aged gouda and Manchego in the fridge, though I did deviate by using a slice of Kraft Deluxe American cheese for its melting properties (I have a sick obsession with these slices). I would also be inclined to use Sriracha, but used a bland watery jar of Target salsa leftover from Super Bowl. Besides, you need the tomato chunks; it’s not really about the heat. Sometimes we have nicer bacon in the house, but these low sodium strips from Costco did what they were supposed to. I guess freshly laid eggs, you know from the backyard chickens that everyone is keeping now, would completely gild the lily, but I don’t eat like that. I’m still not sure how brown organic eggs even ended up in the fridge. I think it’s because at Fairway, their house brand is the same price as a standard Styrofoam carton of eggs.

I also never said this was healthy, and it’s certainly isn’t helping with the ten pounds I vowed to lose in 2010 (sometimes I think I will just have to give up reading rood blogs—it pains me to eat my morning oatmeal when I’m constantly reading about things like peanut bacon Shake Shack burgers and artisanal egg and cheese biscuits). How hard can one pound per month be? I will eat fruit and yogurt for lunch and all will be well.

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Jan 8

Fruit Hunters

Gourmet’s Diary of a Foodie keeps showing up recorded with no description in my DVR. Every time I click, the episode turns out to be “Montreal: Cooking on the Wild Side” and now I feel like hate fucking Adam Gollner. That is all.

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Jan 8

Stop, Thief!

Foodie cries of copying, imitation and more strongly, plagiarism, have been popping up faster than banh mi joints (or is it fried chicken? I can't keep up). I would understand if two people in a short time frame had written about a Ukranian vegan holiday meal at Veselka (surprisingly, the most e-mailed article in the New York Times last night, currently it is at number six). It's hyper-specific and not widely known.

But Seattle being a teriyaki town is not that much different than the ten million articles devoted to Philly cheesesteaks or on a smaller scale green chile burgers in New Mexico or lobster rolls in Maine. Not exactly secrets.

Is John T. Edge really copying a 2007 story by Jonathan Kauffman? You just don't hear about Seattle teriyaki much because no one gives a rat's ass about the Emerald City, a nickname not quite up there with the Windy City or The Big Apple. (As a native Portlander, the truth is even harsher; the average non-hip New Yorker has no idea where Oregon even is). Though, I imagine that when your under-the-radar regional specialty is acknowledged you feel possessive of it.

Same too, with General Tso’s chicken, it seems. I knew Francis Lam's warm, even-handed style would get him into trouble eventually (I was always surprised by the civility of Gourmet.com commenters). Yes, Fuchsia Dunlop is a recognized Western expert on Chinese food (and of course I made her General Tso’s recipe from Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook ) but it's not as if she owns all historical inquiry into Americanized Chinese food, which I guess is also Jennifer 8. Lee territory. Digging into a topic that's been previously written about does not make one a plagiarizer.

No one rips on Saveur's monthly "Classic," which briefly explains the origin of a dish then gives a recipe. But then, their website is so discombobulated that these columns are floating freely as recipes and not findable enough to comment. Maybe I should go stir up some shit over pavlova or chouchroute garnie. I’m quite certain someone somewhere has written about them before.

Copy Cat photo from Handheld Games Museum

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Nov 12

I Have a Hunch that You Prefer Subway Over Pret a Manger

Hunch is fascinating if not a little creepy (I think creating smarter, personalized search engines is how machines start rising up). When it first launched I got sucked into answering questions for over 30 minutes, partially anticipating an end result and partially because I find answering questions addictive.

They recently published a report, “How Food Preferences Vary by Political Ideology” which reinforces stark stereotypes. Apparently, food choices are cleanly divided between political parties. For instance, right-wingers prefer Velveeta, white bread, deep-dish pizza with lots of meat and liberals love Brie, multigrain, and vegetarian regular crust pizzas. Kind of like an ’80s funny-’cause-it’s-true black people dance like this/white people dance like this comedy routine.

Fortunately, we can all get along on a few culinary topics: both groups prefer romaine over other lettuces and practically everyone thinks bacon double cheeseburgers are delicious.

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Oct 12

The Sweet Life

I wanted to say that there was irony in sending a diabetic to cover a dessert-centric event called SWEET, but then I became concerned that I was using ironic in an Alanis Morissette sense, i.e. incorrectly.

Ironic or not, endless confections and champagne did not kill me. Guy Fieri touching my shoulder, leaning in and speaking an inch from my ear came close, though.

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Sep 15

My Touch

Urgh, I broke down and bought a smartphone (not an iPhone—out of principle I bought something else, anything else, the My Touch—before I saw Whoopi Goldberg in the ad, I swear). That would mean nothing to anyone else but I’m one of those freaks who resisted owning a cell phone at all until late 2007. Crossing over to the other side was tough, and frankly, I never even use my phone (in July I only used 8 minutes and 15 texts).

And the thing that got me? Being able to customize the shell. I like putting photos on things, what can I say?

And despite declaring the banh mi over earlier this year, I couldn’t resist using said sandwich’s cross section from the New York Times’s sandwich piece (please don’t turn me into the copyright police). It’s really more abstract unless you know what you’re looking at.

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Posts from the ‘Distractions’ Category

If You Like Piña Coladas

Gourmet Latino Festival

A Knuckle Sandwich

Oh, I’m Sneering

Speaking of Taste of Home

Fruit Hunters

Stop, Thief!

I Have a Hunch that You Prefer Subway Over Pret a Manger

The Sweet Life

My Touch

Featured

Occasional Instagramming

Yes, it’s come to this

My Other Blogs

What?

The Past Will Haunt You

Pigeonholing 101