STIR THE POTS

Get to Eataly... but get there early!

Since I first noticed the signs in front of Eataly in the Flatiron district, it intrigued me. I had heard rumors that its founders included both a famous chef and a food family emporium, and obviously it was going to be Italian. Other than that, I wasn't sure. Then I finally figured out that the Batali and Bastianich's  were behind this Italian temple to food.

 

It finally opened, drawing masses of out-of-town tourists (American and foreign), folks from Jersey, and local curious gourmands. One weekend I slipped through the crowded doors, making my way through rows of pasta, sauces, oils and various food stalls. Then I stopped to try some of the offerings. But the loud and boisterous crowd made it difficult to eat my $14.00 porchetta sandwich, frugaly dressed with hand sliced,rosemary laden pork, some fat drippings and simply sprinkled with sea salt. Sticker shock and the crush of the maddening crowd had me squeeze myself out till I was popped back into New York's Herald Square - the area best known by Shake Shack and Madison Park.

 

I tried it again recently, going with my wife at 9:00 am to the store's cafe, which opens slightly earlier than its mothership. The first thing I noticed were some Dolce and Farro croissants made with olive oil. The other thing I noticed was a line of people waiting to order. So we decided to return later for the main stores opening at 11:00 am.

Returning later, my wife and I took a quick, "ooh and ahhh" walk around. Yes, we were impressed. But with the recent drop of the dollar, it was expensive. There were no sales, and though Eataly is an Italian market, it's structured like a high end department store. In otherwords, you aren't going to haggle or get discount prices. That said, the place has some gems. A few are actually local but most are obviously imported from Italy. Apparently, the original founders of the store in Turin follow the ethics of the slow-food movement. I'm not sure they would like the New York version's carbon footprint. But there definitely are delights.

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bread-head that I am, I was pleased to finally be able watch some of the Italian-speaking bakers making bread, obviously training. It's said that Nancy Silverton, of Mozza and formerly La Brea Bakery will be overseeing the baking operations.  The loaves looked fresh and straight out of the oven, with signs of rising loaves on bakers racks.

  


Across from the check-out aisles is a ceiling high glass window filled with wine bottles... basically a fully stocked Italian wine shop. You're not going find a a $7.00 or $10.00 range here, but the sales clerk was Italian and was quite helpful. With its interesting choices, I had a strong urge to go to work stocking my own wine rack at home. But as suggested above, it was a bit on the pricey side. I stuck with bread.

 

The various restaurants inside the store are booked solid, and the pizzeria bustling. Our attempt to make a reservation was futile on the Saturday of our visit. The only opening was for pre-theater dinner at 5:00 PM. If you're going for dinner, you'll have to wade through the broohaha to get a table. This has become a destination place.

 

 

 

 

Kamal Mouzawak

Kamal Mouzawak - it's hard to narrowly pinpoint who he is or what he does; guardian of traditional food, social innovator, and market organizer. These are just some of the titles that follow him. I was introduced to him through Anthony Bourdain's  recent return to Beirut. By coincedence (and the surprisingly small boundaries of the food blog world) both my friends Andrea Stewart and Brad Farmerie are co-contributors with Kamal on Poetry Of Food.

I e-mailed Kamal and he told me we could meet while he was attending Bill Clinton's Global Initiative Conference.  After our interview, we spent time at the farmers market, talked to his friends and even had a Shake Shack burger. I met so many people just spending a short bit of time with Kamal and hope to take up his invitation to Beirut soon.

 

 

 

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Brooklyn Grange, a garden in the middle of paradise! (Astoria)

Coming home the other day from work, I passed by Quaint, a neighborhood restaurant in Sunnyside, Queens, and saw my friend, owner Tim Chen. He asked me if I wanted "to go to the farm on Northern Boulevard" in Astoria, a nearby NYC neighborhood. I was puzzled (a NYC farm?), but told him, of course I'd go. Apparently the farm is called the Brooklyn Grange, strangley since they are in Queens, not Brooklyn.

We jumped in Tim's car and drove over, passing the blistering hot throughfare called Northern Boulevard and the old Standard Motors parts building, not exactly typical farm country landscape.Then Tim parked in front of an industrial loft building. There I saw a table set with fresh farmed products and some bread from a Brooklyn bakery. Tim suggested we go meet one of the farmers, which meant taking an elevator ride up to the fifth floor, then a walk one flight up to the building's roof. Voila, the farm sat amid patches of gravel and dirt - this amid the glorious New York City skyline.

 

Amazing place. There were tomatoes (in what seemed their last leg given the heat), some beautiful different colored peppers, okra,(to us in military food service circles, known as "poodle penis"), eggplants, wonderful salad mixes, mizuna and lots more. But this farm was in NYC, which meant the parking meter was running. And Tim had dinner service to contend with, and I just wanted to get out of the blazing sun or I would wilt like lettuce!

Downstairs I bought some mixed baby tomatoes and yes, lettuce, perfect with my pizza and salad for dinner tonight! We chatted with Ben, the young farmer who also looked overwhelmed from the city heatwave. Be sure to visit or volunteer! I will go back again and pick up some goods for my table, that is for sure.

No doubt a tree grows in Brooklyn, or should I say, a garden on a rooftop in Astoria is blooming.

When in the neighborhood do as the locals do, Sorriso's!

For years, I have ridden my bicycle countless times to and from  Queens to my mother's Connecticut home in southern Fairfield County. The ride usually takes me through Astoria, a multi-ethnic neighborhood rich with food markets and restaurants.

One of my stops after a long ride is, you could say, a canoli pick me up. My specific destination is someplace I divulge with hesitance. Gian Piero. Okay, I've let the secret out. The folks behind this place deserve recognition. Their pasticceria makes the classic Italian pastries, cannoli, biscotti, sfogliatelli, etc and the  meanest and most incredible espresso. 

Anyway, last weekend brought me back there, but not with my bike. Rather, my wife and I were driving  to shop at a nearby Costco. After she heard my description of their coffee and desserts, she suggested we make a stop. As we sipped a macchiato (and after we bought a box of cannoli's for my sister in-law) I noticed a sign on a store front window across the street, "Salumeria Sorriso's." Costcos would have to wait, because I had to check it out. I wasn't disappointed. It was a delight, filled with dried,hanging Sopressate, various Italian cheese behind the counter, all sorts of sundries and specialties, from olives, anchovies, capers, oils and vinegar. Buonissimo, food orgasm!

Since I have been on a roll making pizza of late I couldn't think of a better thing then some fresh mozzarella cheese, some 00 flour, this place had it all, and why not some homemade fresh percatelli?

Frank, the helpful owner, made suggestions for the fresh pasta. When I asked about making my own mozzarella, he gave me some fresh curd. We couldn't resist the  homemade sopressate, with just a slice to sample of the fennel and orange perfumed sausage. And it goes on and on, from good to better and all in the old world charm of a neighborhood family store with value and homemade feel without having to go to another borough.

Sorriso's 44-16 30 AVE.Astoria, NY 11103

All the leaves are brown... well not yet!

Just back from the Union Square market today. It's the end of summer and the beginning of fall on Monday. I got the season's last peaches, as well as some chard. It's my second visit to this New York City farmer's market since my trip to Istanbul, itself home to great open street food bazaars. I was pleased to see that our market was bustling sweetly in the sun. After a frightful week generalized by a Wall Street looking anything but sunny, it's refreshing to walk amid a green market, a place whose focus is not dollars but vegetables, fruits and flowers!

The way you go for Wagyu

Last Tuesday, while removing pin bones from trout fillets for a large party at the club where I chef, my manager introduced me to two gentlemen, Paul Dojo and Yasuo Iba. Both are salesmen from ADIRECT USA INC, importers of Ohmi Premium Wagyu Beef.  After a sales pitch with intermittent translation, business cards exchanged, some waist bending, and an offer of a rib eye cut that was heavily marbled with fat, I cut off a piece to try sometime after the party. The salesman warned me that the beef had a low melting point. "Like chocolate," I said half jokingly. They laughed, then told me that they would be doing a demonstration with their steaks across the river in Edgewater, New Jersey at Matsuwa market on Saturday morning.

The following day, my sous chef and I finally tasted the very "phat" beef. Whew. Call my cardiologist! My first impression chewing the flash seared piece of marbled meat, (hardly your average USDA dry aged cut)  this specimen has just a deceptively light taste of beef with airy, silky fat resonant on your lips and tongue. Safe to say you might want to take a couple extra Omega 6 pills immediately! When my boss squealed disgust, commenting that he didn't like the beef's fatty nature, I thought "fine by me cause it tastes very good to me!"  And so I marked my calender Saturday morning for the demo at Matsuwa Market in Edgewater.

Matsuwa is a Japanese food emporium with all sorts of goodies, from beer, sake, rice, sushi,etc.. Like Mitsuwa market, which I wrote about yesterday, Matsuwa is located in New Jersey, just across the Hudson from Manhattan. It sits  in a large mall complex with a number of different stores selling kitchenware, perfume to books. As well there is a large riverfront Japanese Steakhouse, if you're not inclined to eat in the market's busy food court. When I arrived we were greeted by sales reps for a baking company who offered long cookie sticks covered in chocolate. Hardly Japanese I thought, but my mind was swimming with visions of shabu-shabu pieces of Ohmi beef shimmering in water speckled with fat. We were directed to the back of the store where I located Paul, salesman for Ohmi.  He welcomed me and we started to taste and talk Wagyu. After some introductions to Kazuko Nagao publisher of Pecopeco, a cool web foodzine, according to Kazuko's card, for "hungry Japanese." All the while people were crowding around the Wagyu table, and I even made a friend with an elderly gentleman who kept commenting that  the beef was so good while he tapped my stomach. Was he trying to tell me something? Anyway, Paul says he will talk with us about Wagyu in depth when he returns from the West coast. Stay tuned!

Montreal

Two years ago I went to Montreal for the first time for four day's. If your Jonesing for France and your not to far from the great white north, go and enjoy a great food town! I tried some fine bread, beer,cider as well as great food, unpretentious service and really a small city that felt like a village sort of atmosphere!

Arthur Avenue

Arthur Avenue... It's what we call little Italy, an enclave amongst the collegiate Fordham set and the knock-off boutiques with big butt mannequins in hot pants amongst the subway sandwiches on Fordham road east!
Since my last visit I noticed decay like a scene reminiscent of a B-grade Roman movie where the empire is crumbling from the barbarian invasions!
Sad to say the bakeries are dwindling and the cloned Little Italy style restaurants with tour guides in tow of out of towner'€™s on the crowded sidewalks explaining the difference of extra virgin olive oil from just the regular oil visit like a freak show visit! From downtown Mario meatball type restaurants to the same bread with one-dough breads, are abundant. Still clinging to some lost memory, there is something to be savored, for how long I am not sure? Amongst the other immigrant population are the Albanians who are making in-roads as if this  enclave is an escape from there current and past history, I dared myself to venture into a restaurant with name Skopje restaurant, thought again but determined to comeback for that experience,but for the moment I was feeling Italian!
My nostalgic visit found me dismayed at Pietro's bakery shuttered, last time they still had a rye and pancetta bread in the window crying for me to buy it! Now most of the bakeries have pre-filled cannolis and the basic frolla cookie with the a-typical garnishes of chocolate and sprinkles! Where are the Italians? As real estate and gentrification determine the boundaries of where poor and middle class neighborhoods are overrun with homogenized mega markets for the rich!

es of our city, we will all be eating and drinking from the same well and with no more diversity!
I stopped at what is the market with only a few stalls and cigar makers, my usual sausage store no longer there! These are pilgrimages that a Queens mets fan makes when crossing into unfamiliar territory, Yankee land! I ate a sandwich with familiar cold cuts and cheese, semolina bread, $7.00 bucks and it wasn't a whole hero! $2.00 for a pint of Pellegrino water, what made up for the steep prices was listening to the older gentlemen talking Italian and trying to decipher it all!
Still the place is valuable to find some gems, Tietel Bros. sale prices of imported oils and sundries. The meat markets with coniglio, strange cuts of smoked pork, tail and snout!
Dismayed but still satisfied, I hope that this corner of Belmont can survive the rich people invasion and still give some satisfaction for us foodies!

Springtime in New York

Nothing like a guilty conscience especially on a hot Saturday morning in New York's lower east side!
Finding myself with a 'wife free' day and a bloggers dilemma of finding some subject to talk about like a case of writers block. I initially was heading across to New Jersey for Mitsuwa in edgewater for a look at everything from exotic ingredients to housewares, perhaps a ramen or something for lunch? instead I started out at the Union Square Green Market where I set forth with the idea of photographing food and instead started buying cheese from some great cheese makers including Cato Corner Farm as well as a  sheep  milk cheese producer  of  Valley  Shepard Creamery. I lazily walked by stalls snapping at ramps, potatoes, onions and of course that all so photogenic bread! The people of Flying Pigs Farms were amazed at the fact that I wanted to snap at some samples of their pork products and engaged in conversation about my previous guest Michael London's famous encyclopedic knowledge of anything food!

The market finished I started losing direction and my plan to go to Mitsuwa vanishing with the rising temperature, so much for it felt like summer already, I made my way to the subterranean transport intending now to see either Brooklyn Brewery or Una pizza Napoletana (even though I had forgotten the exact address!) I made a last minute jump from the L train and got off of first avenue and 14th street in the east village. Somehow I had forgotten how different New York city had changed or turned into a commercial hub of boutiques, Starbucks a legacy of the Giuliani years, white washing what was character in these neighborhoods. Crossing Houston street I decided to just pass some of the landmarks of Jewish culinary tradition, what is still left interspersed with new luxury development and New York University claiming land  like the settlers buying Manhattan for 24 dollars and some glass beads just so they can say they are an Ivy league school!

Katz , Russ & Daughters along with Yonah Schimmels Knishes are what is left of a dead neighborhood and lost art of the Delicatessen's I remembered, no more Shmulka Bernstein's on Essex, Ratners or 2nd Ave. Deli it's not here anymore!
Crossing Delancy I made my way down Essex passing some old Synagogue padlocked, sighing a bit I looked ahead of me on Grand street at the Doughnut Plant next Kossars Bialy's, being Saturday I decided to stop in for a doughnut as Kossars observed Sabbath rules and were closed, I have to remember to stop by on a Sunday!

The Doughnut plant are the brain child Mark Israel who follows the recipe handed down by his Grandfather Herman who's picture hangs on the wall as you enter. Fretting a bit the sign above the counter calmed me when I noticed  the dough nuts were trans fat free! The wafting smell of the yeasted dough nuts permeated and I ordered an iced chai tea and a phat raspberry filled dough nut, unorthodoxly square with a whole in the middle that had a heavenly vanilla glaze, all organic!
I skipped out making my way to the next corner ceremoniously chomping and licking my fingers, across the way the Pickle Guy's were shuttered as was Gertels probably one of the only Jewish bakeries left!

The neighborhood was turning into the periphery of Chinatown but I made my way down Eldridge street to look at the Old Synagogue that is being renovated, beautiful building! Across the road when my Brother made me aware of this jewel landmark when we were eating across the street in  a Malaysian restaurant.  Following the back streets  near the Manhattan bridge  I noticed the vegetable vender's selling Asian vegetables and seafood in the ad hoc fashion, still with a large clientèle.

Heading back north from Canal street I made my way up to see my friend at Public, Brad Farmerie. I first stopped to by some wine at Wine Therapy on Elizabeth street and chatted with it's amiable owner who made a suggestion what I should try with my Sister in-laws Salt cod dinner! (Seem to be eating a lot of the stuff of late!)
I stopped in to see if I could invite the Chef of Peasant for an interview but all I found in the window was a funny looking French Bulldog so I snapped a picture of the photogenic fella!
Brad was knee deep in brunch so I retired myself to having a snack of Dosa filled with potato masala and peanut chutney at  Hampton Chutney co. before heading for dinner at the in-laws later that evening!

Saturday's can be hell especially in Springtime!

Loja

So having survived the hell bent and stomach churning drive through the Andes, we finally made it into Loja! Our driver, dead tired turned and asked us where we were staying(like he didn't know we hadn't made any reservations!) I nudged my wife telling her to explain our predicament, he said no worry he knew a place, Hotel Libertador! I rolled my eye's as we drove up the narrow street and a scrawny looking security guy with a escopeta(fire arm) helped us in with the bags. Our driver recieved his pay, leaving us with a wave and very tired looking eyes(I wondered if he would take the same route next time, and was he driving back or staying in a 4*** hotel like us?)!
We made it into our room and the bed felt good even though it was a bit cramped, no worry I nodded out in seconds!

The next morning we had a typical  hotel buffet breakfast, I said no to tamales(I never say no to tamales!) Instead I had some anise tea and a soft roll. On a sad note, bread hasn't made great strides as far as an artisan trade here, I was Jonesing my sourdough bad!
As usual with no guide book(we left it in Guayaquil), we let our selves venture a bit around the town. Our first encouter with the natives so to speak! My brother-inlaw was out of his element, this is foreign soil of the serranos(pejorative for mountain dwellers),and  he is a coastal man(mono-pejorative for Guayaquileno's). Here it is cool and the people are leftists he said! Could of fooled me there were two churches at least two blocks away from each other, non-descript and very poor, the Spanish had taken most of the gold I think when they left! As if by coincidence and sheer luck I ran into the fellow who founded most of this region, Capitan Alonso De Mercadillo. None one seemed to know much about this guy, I assume by his outfit he came with a sword and did some nasty things, yet here was his statue!(we would meet later!)

So as not to upset my sensitivity, my wife and brother-inlaw left the two churches after a prayer and some candle lighting; both of which had some real goulish crucifixes with JC looking like he had just left a Mel Gibson set. That was  some serious violence, between the piety and dire  poverty of the poor asking for alms I had enough religion!
We  headed for the food market!

Food my sanctuary
The market of Loja is organized and colorful. We first  set into the vegetable section, right away I started to snap pictures of food, asking politely before I shot. I remembered my mistakes in Paris(thanks David ) the ladies who had allowed me to take pictures were then themselves framed in my lense!

                   
                         

                                                                         The array of  colors and smell was inspiring as a chef.All  I  needed were my knives, a stove and a kitchen!What surprised me about such a humble town was the cleanliness of the market and the real pride and friendly faces I met. My brother-inlaw a one time "Rey de bolon"(bolon typical dish of plantain) in Guayaquil, described to me the different fruits and vegetables. With each picture of the women in the stalls he showed them the instant images of themselves as they giggled, probably musing about the silly guy taking pictures!

With my mind in food my nose caught the wiff of coffee being ground.Known for primarily exportation of bananas.Ecuador produces a small yield in comparison to Colombia or other coffee producers. Ecuadorian coffee though has a special distinct taste of rich and flavorsome beans, each region having a proud esteem for it's own particular bean and roasting style! The coffee that was being ground in a home manufactured grinder had a  smokey aroma that immediately got me in the queue for a few pounds!

We then crossed through the market, already starting to bustle with morning business.A familiar sign appeared  on the otherside(red meats), indicating we were going to see some butchering! I seem to recollect some book I have at home about Great French chefs and how one in particular said that most cooks should learn to butcher or at least recognize the animals they cook, that book was written in the early 70's! As a chef I see my share of dead mammals, this was an eye opener,faint hearted and Paris Hilton types  should perhaps skip this page! This reminds me of alot of old Flemmish painters still lifes, and yet I was comfortable with both sight and smell.Today's cooks, home and pro alike I believe, have no clue about what real food is.They mostly get packaged prepared peices of meat in plastic covered containers in supermarket styrofoam, even a weird tampon looking pad which I still haven't  figured out it purpose in the package?

If ever the time to get scared it was now! I thought how hungry I was and knew lunch was not far off, with trepidation and weak stomach! We looked around and bought some local sweet treats, mostly panela laden with some fruit paste or peanuts.We returned to the hotel with our bags and made very quick plans to visit some local sites, on the itinerary, Vilcabamba,Cisne.We hired a quick talking young taxi cab driver, haggling over fare(he was a decent guy, and hell he drove a lot!) we finally proceeded to Vilcabamba first.We followed the road down out of Loja, the air was cool and suddenly it changed to a hot humid valley with some undercurrents of mountain air. Our first stop the zoo, a few interesting animals, then a local tourist shop, lot's of Americans and Euro's floating around looking very eco-touristy in this non-descript town, my wife quipped that she didn't see any of the legendary old people, I said "there taking a nap!" We stopped for a quick shot of guarapo that this guy was selling.The heat was intense and so was the drink.
The man selling the nectar of sugar cane,was also as interesting as his product.He and my brother-inlaw conversed a bit and he took out a pitcher that had some strange looking branches, roots and leaves covered by some strange dark liquid.He claimed it had medicinal value, none of the locals needed doctors when they had this elixir! After an explanation like that my brother-inlaw was sold, anything to relieve his asthma, hell there were coca leaves in that there imbibed guarapo! He offered me a sip, after saying that it was rather bitter and nasty, I thought better and declined, I felt fine! He bought a bottle and we were off.Winding back up the mountains to Loja we decided lunch was in the sights, where and what should we have? The driver called in on his radio for good locations, my fellow travelers chimed in about trying cuy. Needless to say I was going to have to bite the bullet and partake, couldn't hide behind my gringo 1st world chicken ass and avoid it! A few laughs over the cb and we found a real mecca for the delicacy, I started sweating and inquired if there was anything else on the menu?

Too be continued.......