Dear Reader,
Being intuitive, I understand that one of the most pressing issues on your mind these days is something more or less along the lines of "I wonder what a laundry list of Izzy's favorite foods might look like.?." Being wise, I feel the need to inform. So, in no particular order, here it is:
grapefruit. oatmeal. soft-boiled eggs. brussel sprouts. artichoke. liver. mangosteen. cereal. ice cream. mantou. fresh soymilk. chorizo. sausage. difara's pizza. 1000 year old eggs. salty fish. french fries. cookies. cupcakes. oysters. guacamole. mango. grapes. digestives. balarina aged gouda. uni. panna cotta. prosciutto. anchovies. capers. roe. lox. milkshakes. chinatown coffee. fried rice. sticky rice. skate. truffles. spinach. corn. bitter squash. peking duck. fresh bread. mochi. pistachio ice cream. marzipan. crab cakes. string beans. steak tar tar. hot pot. cilantro. garlic. ugly fruit. fermented tofu. foie gras. white asparagus. truffles. goat cheese. earl grey gelato. lobster rolls. RNB. avocado. berries. homemade granola. baked brie. lotus flowers. szechuan peppercorns. razor clams. basil. chilean sea bass (so spit on me!). bloody argentine steak. cold noodles. corn. cornichons. dijon mustard. peking duck.
Go ahead, talkst amongst yourself. I'll give you a second.
I've always intended to gather all those foods into my kitchen, make them into unexpectedly delicious combinations, and have a fantastically deranged photo shoot with them. In keeping with the current theme of my life, however, I am backlogged, and this will have to suffice.
Speaking of backblogged, and because you care so, here is a taste of some upcoming posts to come!:
1. Camp Eastman, New Hampshire. imagine me - HEAD CHEF!!
2. Mother's Day dinner at my favorite Japanese-owned Italian restaurant in the city, Basta Pasta, with Raymond Park and mi mama.
3. A step-by-step picture tutorial on how to make cold noodles. just in time for the summer!
4. Chilean food and why it kind of sucks.
5. Argentine Steak and why it is almost better than sex.
6. Best of Prospect Heights - Chavellas, Farm, Gen, Sorrel
7. Birthday dinners - Lucy's at the Mermaid Inn, my baby cousin Iris's at Flor de Mayo (Upper West side Peruvian-Chinese place of deliciousness that I used to work at. Maybe I do like fusion after all?)
8. My favorite brunch spots.
9. Chinatown restaurants - Joe's Shanghai, Almond Flower, Congee on Bowery, this little guy on Elizabeth, and many more.
10. Ssam Bar, Kampuchea, and other places where I can fogive the hipness factor because the food is actually good.
11. Where to find the best pizza in the city, and in one instance, the WORLD. !!!
12. Some other lovable randomness.
Yours,
Izzy
; )
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Pacifistic Extremism
Let's play guess this country!! Its notable greats include Roger Federer, Martina Hingis, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Hermann Hesse, and Heidi. It has four national languages. It is really really good at precision. And neutrality. Oh, and chocolate. Really good at chocolate, can't forget that.
Yes! Unless you are a fully certified moron, you guessed right- S*W*I*T*Z*E*R*L*A*N*D*!! Home to landscapes that heighten your human and suprahuman senses, skiing that skips your heart a beat, and so much peace and prosperity that Dadaism is its defining form of artistic expression.
My parents go there each year for business (Didn't know the Chinese mafia conducts its business in Switzerland, eh? Where else did you think they go to deposit all those giant wads of cash carried by the trousers of Chinatown? Duh.) Every now and again they tote me along with them. I am like their big, chocolate-gobbling, truffle-sniffing, not-so-travel-sized talking doll. This year, however, my mother's friend Deborah came too, so the two of us decided to venture off and have some non-mafia related fun.
This is Deborah. She is maybe the coolest and also freaking weirdest Chinese lady I know. She wants to have dreads because she thinks they're "so cooluh."
As you can see, Deborah is very "sporty." One day she had us go paragliding in the morning and skiing in the afternoon. She even ventured to the tippy top of the Schilthorn mountain with me. Her method of descent was an ingenius, though tedious, combination of tumble and vertical slip'n'slide. I admired her technique and courage.
Deborah and I also did some extreme eating. In one local restaurant in Murren (the only one open past 9 pm), we stunned our waitress by gobbling down 3 hearty Swiss meals after she told us it could not be done by foreign folks such as us.
I remember the first time I went to Switzerland. I was shocked and awed by the way the milk tasted. Why did it taste so different, so strange, so...fresh? Do they just go outside and milk the Bessie in the backyard everytime they need milk, shrug their shoulders and say "fuck pasteurization"? I dont' get it.
That's kind of how this egg was. You can tell that it was just freshly plucked from the roost by the dark orange color of the yolk. Kind of makes you want to dive right in and go for a nice long yolky swim, doesn't it? So extreme.
I am a giant dork and love muesli, another great Swiss invention. Especially with fresh from Bessie milk, I could eat good muesli ALL day and night. Judge me all you want.
Ahh-white asparagus. One of my favorite things in the world and one reason I always look forward to going back to Switzerland. It's so soft and stringy, almost like what crispy fresh mozzarella might be like. It sort of enrages me that we never get it on this side of the Atlantic.
All in all, I heartily enjoyed my stint as a pacifistic extremist. Though I'm pretty sure that a longer-term commitment to such a lifestyle would be far less extreme, and more, well, serene. And pretty. Really really pretty.
Yes! Unless you are a fully certified moron, you guessed right- S*W*I*T*Z*E*R*L*A*N*D*!! Home to landscapes that heighten your human and suprahuman senses, skiing that skips your heart a beat, and so much peace and prosperity that Dadaism is its defining form of artistic expression.
My parents go there each year for business (Didn't know the Chinese mafia conducts its business in Switzerland, eh? Where else did you think they go to deposit all those giant wads of cash carried by the trousers of Chinatown? Duh.) Every now and again they tote me along with them. I am like their big, chocolate-gobbling, truffle-sniffing, not-so-travel-sized talking doll. This year, however, my mother's friend Deborah came too, so the two of us decided to venture off and have some non-mafia related fun.
This is Deborah. She is maybe the coolest and also freaking weirdest Chinese lady I know. She wants to have dreads because she thinks they're "so cooluh."
As you can see, Deborah is very "sporty." One day she had us go paragliding in the morning and skiing in the afternoon. She even ventured to the tippy top of the Schilthorn mountain with me. Her method of descent was an ingenius, though tedious, combination of tumble and vertical slip'n'slide. I admired her technique and courage.
Deborah and I also did some extreme eating. In one local restaurant in Murren (the only one open past 9 pm), we stunned our waitress by gobbling down 3 hearty Swiss meals after she told us it could not be done by foreign folks such as us.
I remember the first time I went to Switzerland. I was shocked and awed by the way the milk tasted. Why did it taste so different, so strange, so...fresh? Do they just go outside and milk the Bessie in the backyard everytime they need milk, shrug their shoulders and say "fuck pasteurization"? I dont' get it.
That's kind of how this egg was. You can tell that it was just freshly plucked from the roost by the dark orange color of the yolk. Kind of makes you want to dive right in and go for a nice long yolky swim, doesn't it? So extreme.
I am a giant dork and love muesli, another great Swiss invention. Especially with fresh from Bessie milk, I could eat good muesli ALL day and night. Judge me all you want.
Ahh-white asparagus. One of my favorite things in the world and one reason I always look forward to going back to Switzerland. It's so soft and stringy, almost like what crispy fresh mozzarella might be like. It sort of enrages me that we never get it on this side of the Atlantic.
All in all, I heartily enjoyed my stint as a pacifistic extremist. Though I'm pretty sure that a longer-term commitment to such a lifestyle would be far less extreme, and more, well, serene. And pretty. Really really pretty.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
So, uh, what's the DEAL, Prospect Heights? (the Bad)
There are many reasons why I love living in Prospect Heights in Brooklyn. I love being close to Prospect Park, and having barbecue parties there in the summer, strolling over to Grand Army Plaza on the weekends for the farmers’ market, stalking my favorite French bulldogs and Foxy Brown, and eating out at all the unpretentious neighborhood restaurants. Most of these restaurants serve some really decent, at times great, affordable food. Lately, though, it seems like there is a price to pay for the price we pay.
One Sunday not so long ago, I went for brunch with my amigas at Beast, one of our oft-visited neighborhood joints. In a neighborhood of very unreliable peers, Beast can usually be counted on for solid service. But on this particular day, this was disappointingly not the case - our food took almost an hour to get into our hungry bellies, with not one word of consolation from our waitress, who seemed barely to notice us at all. The food, as usual, was very good (see below for evidence*), but it hardly mattered because that magical brunch mood had been squashed, and we all brooded bitterly like 5 recently sacked federal prosecutors. Yet this is nothing compared to the brunch we had at Tavern on Dean only a couple weekends before, where we waited an obscenely generous TWO HOURS PLUS to get our food, again with scant apology, recognition or compensation.
Sadly, most of us are accustomed to this ordeal. Some restaurants, though, have caused one too many premature gray hairs, and have managed to earn the extremely rare status of “Blacklisted” from some of my less forgiving friends (Café Shane , hottest servers in the world and all, with a brunch I love, is one of these elite few).
So come on, Prospect Heights, get with it, cause this shit is sooo played out. Yo.
*The food at Beast is actually consistently good:
Brunch - homemade granola with fruit and yogurt
Brunch - three cheese omelette on croissant
Dinner - seared tuna rolls
Dinner - duck with beet salad
Dessert - fried baby bananas with pistachio ice cream
One Sunday not so long ago, I went for brunch with my amigas at Beast, one of our oft-visited neighborhood joints. In a neighborhood of very unreliable peers, Beast can usually be counted on for solid service. But on this particular day, this was disappointingly not the case - our food took almost an hour to get into our hungry bellies, with not one word of consolation from our waitress, who seemed barely to notice us at all. The food, as usual, was very good (see below for evidence*), but it hardly mattered because that magical brunch mood had been squashed, and we all brooded bitterly like 5 recently sacked federal prosecutors. Yet this is nothing compared to the brunch we had at Tavern on Dean only a couple weekends before, where we waited an obscenely generous TWO HOURS PLUS to get our food, again with scant apology, recognition or compensation.
Sadly, most of us are accustomed to this ordeal. Some restaurants, though, have caused one too many premature gray hairs, and have managed to earn the extremely rare status of “Blacklisted” from some of my less forgiving friends (Café Shane , hottest servers in the world and all, with a brunch I love, is one of these elite few).
So come on, Prospect Heights, get with it, cause this shit is sooo played out. Yo.
*The food at Beast is actually consistently good:
Brunch - homemade granola with fruit and yogurt
Brunch - three cheese omelette on croissant
Dinner - seared tuna rolls
Dinner - duck with beet salad
Dessert - fried baby bananas with pistachio ice cream
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Blogs - the New Letter?
Last night I went to a screening of a documentary on Dalton Trumbo, a brilliant Hollywood screenwriter (Roman Holiday, Spartacus, Papillon)who was blacklisted during the McCarthy era. The documentary revolved around the many letters Trumbo had written during this time to friends and family. Each and every letter was intelligent, eloquent, funny, thoughtful, entertaining and superbly well-crafted. I especially enjoyed the one he wrote to his son (who was in college at the time)where he expounded on the endless virtues of the fine art of masturbation. The man was a letter-writing genius, and I was amazed at how much we were able to learn about him and that time through his written correspondence with loved ones. I thought of how very empty and meaningless my own written correspondence is, manifesting itself primarily in the forms of emails, text messages, facebook/myspace, and blog comments. OMG! WTF? TTYL. I lament the tragic death of letter-writing in our time, and have decided to revive this lost art. So if you receive a letter from me in your mailbox, I promise you it won't have anthrax in it. Promise.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Momofuku, I te amo you
By now, most everyone has heard of Momofuku. This little east village asian-fusion noodle bar was hailed as one of the best new restaurants of last year, and has gotten rave reviews from practically everyone. But you know, I really don’t give a cat’s ass about buzz. What finally pushed me to try those much-hyped Berkshire pork buns for myself was a story in New York Magazine. The article tells of how chef and owner David Chang reacted when a bitchy East Village lady (yes, you know the type) threatened to sue him after she discovered that a broth she had consumed was not *GASP* vegetarian. He did what any other rational chap would do, and added meat to every item on the menu except one - the ginger scallion noodles. Vindictive? Perhaps. Heartless? Heavens no! Hearing Chang (who hereon in shall be referred to exclusively as ”my hero”) explain his actions - “I guess I just don’t like being told what to do.” – sparked an epiphany of self-awareness and rekindled my own longtime life motto - idowhatiwant. I was thus compelled to visit the mecca of my spiritual awakening.
Telling this story a million times over to anyone who would listen probably wouldn’t be worth deeply offending my vegetarian loved ones again and again if the food weren’t actually good. Happily, it is such that I feel perfectly justified to offend freely and liberally. Here are my favorites so far:
BERKSHIRE PORK BUNS
Take a look at these beauties! There is something almost heretical about just how good my hero's take on a very simple Chinese snack is. I'm hesitant to describe to my grandmother just how sweetly the homemade pickes complement the ridiculously succulent yet crispy slab of fatty pork for fear of sounding insolent.
BRUSSEL SPROUTS with kimchee puree and bacon
Brussel sprouts and skiing are two things that make winter worthwhile to me, and though I normally snicker at the idea of Asian fusion, this dish made winter just that much better, even if it was a tad too salty for my tastes.
MOMOFUKU RAMEN with Berkshire pork combo and poached egg.
My mother says the Japanese like to use these types of Chinese noodles for their ramen. She also says that the Japanese race originated from a boat carrying 500 women and men each, sent over from China by the emperor to hunt for the fountain of youth. I'm inclined to believe her on both counts.
The prettiest beer ever.
Eugene
He is a great server and indulges all my ridiculous questions and picture-taking.
Jesse's facial manifestation of the offense I render...
...but Darius intervenes as peacemaker. SHALOM MOMOFUKU!
Telling this story a million times over to anyone who would listen probably wouldn’t be worth deeply offending my vegetarian loved ones again and again if the food weren’t actually good. Happily, it is such that I feel perfectly justified to offend freely and liberally. Here are my favorites so far:
BERKSHIRE PORK BUNS
Take a look at these beauties! There is something almost heretical about just how good my hero's take on a very simple Chinese snack is. I'm hesitant to describe to my grandmother just how sweetly the homemade pickes complement the ridiculously succulent yet crispy slab of fatty pork for fear of sounding insolent.
BRUSSEL SPROUTS with kimchee puree and bacon
Brussel sprouts and skiing are two things that make winter worthwhile to me, and though I normally snicker at the idea of Asian fusion, this dish made winter just that much better, even if it was a tad too salty for my tastes.
MOMOFUKU RAMEN with Berkshire pork combo and poached egg.
My mother says the Japanese like to use these types of Chinese noodles for their ramen. She also says that the Japanese race originated from a boat carrying 500 women and men each, sent over from China by the emperor to hunt for the fountain of youth. I'm inclined to believe her on both counts.
The prettiest beer ever.
Eugene
He is a great server and indulges all my ridiculous questions and picture-taking.
Jesse's facial manifestation of the offense I render...
...but Darius intervenes as peacemaker. SHALOM MOMOFUKU!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Friends in High Places
Unlike a certain high-profile country crooner who shall remain nameless (Garth Brooks), i have friends who sit in places so high it would make your nose bleed. How so?, you may ask. Well, let me put it to you like this "I got friends who work at restaurants that make food taste real good." Yup, I am one pretty well-connected fat kid in this manzana city.
You see, among my circle of friends, we are basically divided into two camps. The first is that which I, sometimes unfortunately, belong to - those who started working in an entry-level office job after graduation, accepting the low pay and long-dreaded office environment as necessary sacrifices to be made for a higher ambition. A "career," if you will. The other half enjoy high pay, non 9-5 work hours, and incredible flexibility for vacation schedules, and mostly work in the restaurant industry. This wasn't really an option for me, though I learned that fact the hard way. (In college I had given it a shot, but soon discovered that my uncontrollable and incessant obsession with eating made working in a restaurant impossible for me. I would constantly hawk over customers' meals (especially the anorexic ones! I was so pro-ana.), making sure to rush off their untouched leftovers to the back and gobble it down as soon as possible. Needless to say, especially when I was working as a hostess in some retardedly chic soho restaurant that shall remain nameless (Thom, now Kittichai), this didn't really go over so well with upper management.)
But I digress. Last Wednesday, a couple of us went to visit our good friend and excellent waitress Lucy, who works at Olives in Union Square. She was cocktailing, and we thought we'd pay her a visit and protect her from the drunken lobby patrons.
Do you see how menacing we are? Grrr.
Dark & Stormy
Ginger beer + rum. Recently I realized that this summer favorite is actually a great winter drink, and probably spring and fall as well.
Gnocchi with duck sausage, grapefruit and celery root
Never content to have only drinks, especially at a restaurant as fine as Olives, I decided to order a snack. I'm not a huge pasta fan, but I chose this gnocchi dish (one of the night's specials) because I wanted something lighter (this is Olives, afterall), and because I wanted to try the duck sausage with grapefruit. The light and savory sauce was able to seamlessly blend the separate textures and strong flavors of the three ingredients into one robustly well-rounded dish.
Shrimp Grits
I was so happy with the gnocchi that I made Lucy give my compliments to the chef. Reaffirming my suspicion that I love every single person named Sebastian, Sebastian the chef sent us this dish to try. Cheesy, shrimpy and mushy - perfect end of winter comfort food!
Jesse arrived late, fresh from a debate at Cooper Union's Grand Hall (that once hosted the famous Lincoln-Douglas debates) between Newt Ginrich and Mario Cuomo. Clearly, he needed some fresh french fries to wash down all those big ideas.
Fried to perfection, with parmesean and rosemary and bits of parsley, and garlic aioli for dipping. Everytime I eat them, I have to emphasize how much I love fries. Nothing like scrumptious simplicity.
MELT
Our friend Rachel recently started working at this Park Slope Restaurant (Bergen between 5th and Flatbush), and on Tuesday nights they have this genius five course tasting menu for $20. The best part of this is that it's a fixed menu, so you don't have to make ANY decisions, save for that of whether or not to get the fixed wines to go with the meal (an additional $20), and whether to get dessert.
Rachel and Lucy - servers extraordinaire!
Course #1 - Roasted red pepper soup and fried goat cheese ravioli
This was followed by a mesclun salad, which I failed to photograph.
Course # 3 - Asparagus wrapped in prosciutto with watermelon balls and a balsamic reduction
Course # 4 -
Fried calamari
Course # 5 -
Swedish meatballs
The owners of the restaurant are Swedish, which explained why these little guys (we got three of them!!) were so delectable. The fresh cranberry sauce also helped.
Dessert!
Everyone else was somehow "really full," but I really wanted dessert. It was a good choice. I melted.
You see, among my circle of friends, we are basically divided into two camps. The first is that which I, sometimes unfortunately, belong to - those who started working in an entry-level office job after graduation, accepting the low pay and long-dreaded office environment as necessary sacrifices to be made for a higher ambition. A "career," if you will. The other half enjoy high pay, non 9-5 work hours, and incredible flexibility for vacation schedules, and mostly work in the restaurant industry. This wasn't really an option for me, though I learned that fact the hard way. (In college I had given it a shot, but soon discovered that my uncontrollable and incessant obsession with eating made working in a restaurant impossible for me. I would constantly hawk over customers' meals (especially the anorexic ones! I was so pro-ana.), making sure to rush off their untouched leftovers to the back and gobble it down as soon as possible. Needless to say, especially when I was working as a hostess in some retardedly chic soho restaurant that shall remain nameless (Thom, now Kittichai), this didn't really go over so well with upper management.)
But I digress. Last Wednesday, a couple of us went to visit our good friend and excellent waitress Lucy, who works at Olives in Union Square. She was cocktailing, and we thought we'd pay her a visit and protect her from the drunken lobby patrons.
Do you see how menacing we are? Grrr.
Dark & Stormy
Ginger beer + rum. Recently I realized that this summer favorite is actually a great winter drink, and probably spring and fall as well.
Gnocchi with duck sausage, grapefruit and celery root
Never content to have only drinks, especially at a restaurant as fine as Olives, I decided to order a snack. I'm not a huge pasta fan, but I chose this gnocchi dish (one of the night's specials) because I wanted something lighter (this is Olives, afterall), and because I wanted to try the duck sausage with grapefruit. The light and savory sauce was able to seamlessly blend the separate textures and strong flavors of the three ingredients into one robustly well-rounded dish.
Shrimp Grits
I was so happy with the gnocchi that I made Lucy give my compliments to the chef. Reaffirming my suspicion that I love every single person named Sebastian, Sebastian the chef sent us this dish to try. Cheesy, shrimpy and mushy - perfect end of winter comfort food!
Jesse arrived late, fresh from a debate at Cooper Union's Grand Hall (that once hosted the famous Lincoln-Douglas debates) between Newt Ginrich and Mario Cuomo. Clearly, he needed some fresh french fries to wash down all those big ideas.
Fried to perfection, with parmesean and rosemary and bits of parsley, and garlic aioli for dipping. Everytime I eat them, I have to emphasize how much I love fries. Nothing like scrumptious simplicity.
MELT
Our friend Rachel recently started working at this Park Slope Restaurant (Bergen between 5th and Flatbush), and on Tuesday nights they have this genius five course tasting menu for $20. The best part of this is that it's a fixed menu, so you don't have to make ANY decisions, save for that of whether or not to get the fixed wines to go with the meal (an additional $20), and whether to get dessert.
Rachel and Lucy - servers extraordinaire!
Course #1 - Roasted red pepper soup and fried goat cheese ravioli
This was followed by a mesclun salad, which I failed to photograph.
Course # 3 - Asparagus wrapped in prosciutto with watermelon balls and a balsamic reduction
Course # 4 -
Fried calamari
Course # 5 -
Swedish meatballs
The owners of the restaurant are Swedish, which explained why these little guys (we got three of them!!) were so delectable. The fresh cranberry sauce also helped.
Dessert!
Everyone else was somehow "really full," but I really wanted dessert. It was a good choice. I melted.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Tales of Heaven
Once upon a time, I lived very briefly in a place called Heaven. It was a land where cows roamed free in green green pastures, beautiful angels danced until the early morn, and ice cream glided like cupid's wings down oceans of dulce de leche. Early last month, I returned to this fantasy land for a sweet visit. I now live to tell these phantasmagorical (food) tales from that visit.
CHAPTER ONE
**La Cupertina** (Cabrera 5296)
On a not very busy corner in Palermo Viejo, Buenos Aires, there lives a little restaurant called La Cupertina. Small and simple, it is run by two well-aged Argentine women and one sweet young lad of a helper. One of the women, the shorter and squatter of the two, is like your strict Italian grandmother - she'll scold you for not eating enough (or, in my case, for taking too long to order), but it's okay because you know she just wants the best for you. The restaurant has an ambience that calls to mind a French countryside kitchen - fresh cut wild flowers at each table, a pretty theme of subdued lilac-blues and yellows on everything, brass pots with ribbons hanging on the walls, and plenty of soft sunlight to illuminate it all. I seriously don't think one restaurant has given me so many sensations of contentedness ever. Sitting there waiting for the food, I felt as giddy as a school girl waiting for the last bell to ring before summer break.
The menu at La Cupertina is straightforward - empanadas, sandwiches, stews, and plenty of insanely rich desserts. The first time we went, we were novices and didn't quite have a good strategy for ordering. However, I think we still did quite well.
Empanadas y Empanadotas!
It has been said that they have the best empanadas in all of Bueno Aires, and to Ray that meant in the whole world. I am inclined to agree. They make the Tucuman variety, but they do it with the perfect combination of love and an ocd'd sense of perfection. There were empanadas with cut beef in sauce, humita (sweet corn -my favorites), chicken, ham and cheese, and onion stuff. The empanadotas were the big fat round ones, and they were filled more with vegetable varieties, like zuchinni and eggplant.
Empanada de Jamon y Queso
Notice the sugar on top of the empanada. very weird, but a really nice, crunchy touch.
Sandwiches
Steak sandwiches, ham and cheese, and complete.
La Completa
Complete sandwiches in Argentina have beef, ham, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, a fried egg, and some other ingredients that are complete. Here is one halfway devoured.
The best thing about the sandwiches is that we got to eat them with this:
Colorful and delectable flavored mayonnaise dipping sauces. The green pesto one was my favorite. I could eat it by the spoonful, and I don't even like mayonnaise.
"Mini-cappucinos"
For some reason these little versions of the normal thing was genius. Just the perfect amount of cappuccino, each made to such delicate foamy perfection. They were so satisfying that they actually were enough to stand in as dessert, despite the many, many wonderful offerings.
Max is feeling A-Okay!
As is Ray.
Pots on the wall!
We were fortunate enought that La Cupertina was only one block away from our apartment. On our last day, after we checked out, we thought we'd have one last meal. To our great disapointment, it was not open. Fitting for such a tragic ending, we kind of just sat in front of the entrance and cried for half an hour or so.
Here you can see Ray consoling a very brokenhearted Max, while an equally depressed Lucy looks on.
Our suitcases also felt the pain, I think.
CHAPTER ONE
**La Cupertina** (Cabrera 5296)
On a not very busy corner in Palermo Viejo, Buenos Aires, there lives a little restaurant called La Cupertina. Small and simple, it is run by two well-aged Argentine women and one sweet young lad of a helper. One of the women, the shorter and squatter of the two, is like your strict Italian grandmother - she'll scold you for not eating enough (or, in my case, for taking too long to order), but it's okay because you know she just wants the best for you. The restaurant has an ambience that calls to mind a French countryside kitchen - fresh cut wild flowers at each table, a pretty theme of subdued lilac-blues and yellows on everything, brass pots with ribbons hanging on the walls, and plenty of soft sunlight to illuminate it all. I seriously don't think one restaurant has given me so many sensations of contentedness ever. Sitting there waiting for the food, I felt as giddy as a school girl waiting for the last bell to ring before summer break.
The menu at La Cupertina is straightforward - empanadas, sandwiches, stews, and plenty of insanely rich desserts. The first time we went, we were novices and didn't quite have a good strategy for ordering. However, I think we still did quite well.
Empanadas y Empanadotas!
It has been said that they have the best empanadas in all of Bueno Aires, and to Ray that meant in the whole world. I am inclined to agree. They make the Tucuman variety, but they do it with the perfect combination of love and an ocd'd sense of perfection. There were empanadas with cut beef in sauce, humita (sweet corn -my favorites), chicken, ham and cheese, and onion stuff. The empanadotas were the big fat round ones, and they were filled more with vegetable varieties, like zuchinni and eggplant.
Empanada de Jamon y Queso
Notice the sugar on top of the empanada. very weird, but a really nice, crunchy touch.
Sandwiches
Steak sandwiches, ham and cheese, and complete.
La Completa
Complete sandwiches in Argentina have beef, ham, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, a fried egg, and some other ingredients that are complete. Here is one halfway devoured.
The best thing about the sandwiches is that we got to eat them with this:
Colorful and delectable flavored mayonnaise dipping sauces. The green pesto one was my favorite. I could eat it by the spoonful, and I don't even like mayonnaise.
"Mini-cappucinos"
For some reason these little versions of the normal thing was genius. Just the perfect amount of cappuccino, each made to such delicate foamy perfection. They were so satisfying that they actually were enough to stand in as dessert, despite the many, many wonderful offerings.
Max is feeling A-Okay!
As is Ray.
Pots on the wall!
We were fortunate enought that La Cupertina was only one block away from our apartment. On our last day, after we checked out, we thought we'd have one last meal. To our great disapointment, it was not open. Fitting for such a tragic ending, we kind of just sat in front of the entrance and cried for half an hour or so.
Here you can see Ray consoling a very brokenhearted Max, while an equally depressed Lucy looks on.
Our suitcases also felt the pain, I think.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
A Berry Chinatown Birfday
To mark my entrance into my early mid-twenties, I decided this year that I wanted a proper celebration, complete with an authentic Chinese banquet dinner and all. Fittingly, I dragged some of my nearest and dearest to 8th Ave. Seafood Restaurant, in one of Brooklyn's Chinatowns (at 4418 8th Avenue). This is a restaurant that my mom's friend Ding Ding owns - very authentic, and very Cantonese. I knew it was the perfect choice when we walked in because every single head in that restaurant turned around to unabashedly stare (staring is a proud Chinese national sport), looking like they'd never seen WHITE PEOPLE before. Who knows, maybe they hadn't. Me and 14 whiteys - god what a sight!
Ding Ding was really nice to have accommodated my request for a mix of "stuff we like and stuff that's not too weird that Americans would like. Oh and also some vegan dishes for those geniuses among us who decided that was the best way to live life." Here is what he came up with:
The starter plate:
Cold Jelly Fish (one of my favorite appetizers - crispy and squishy all at once) with squid and fried pork chops. We had some trouble with the less adventurous eaters with this one. They didn't know what they were missing.
Ally is thinking "Would a Russian eat this? Probably." God knows what Darius is thinking. He's probably been just reminded of some horror in Shihezi.
Fish and Chinese Vegetables
You can see the really yummy starter soups in the background.
Prawns with Broccoli and Walnuts in a creamy sweet sauce
A very Cantonese dish, this was a big hit.
Pickled Turnips and Carrots with something I can't remember. Was it is eel or fish?
More Fish, but sauteed with vegetables - tender like a baby's butt.
Lobster with Garlic and Scallion (in Shell)
Sauteed Chinese Vegetable
"Pork Chop with Champan Style"
Fried Tofu
Fried Noodles (all vegan!!)
The freshly made noodles are a must have for Chinese birthdays. The long noodles represent longevity, and you're not supposed to break them otherwise you will not live a long life. Long like the noodles.
Rack of Veal with Black Bean Sauce
Fried Rice
Even with so much other food, I always have room for some good fried rice.
Sebastian and Nils - all the way from Germany!
Even with 15 of us we didn't do a very good job at finishing our plates. If my mom had been there no one would have been allowed to leave until every last morsel was gone. "Just one more bite!" I tried to play that role, but it didn't work out so well.
Chinese Birthday Buns (with lotus)
I made Darius study the bill since, you know, he was the only one of us who could read Chinese. *Sigh.
Pure Overeaten Joy
I couldn't have imagined a better way to turn 24. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!
Ding Ding was really nice to have accommodated my request for a mix of "stuff we like and stuff that's not too weird that Americans would like. Oh and also some vegan dishes for those geniuses among us who decided that was the best way to live life." Here is what he came up with:
The starter plate:
Cold Jelly Fish (one of my favorite appetizers - crispy and squishy all at once) with squid and fried pork chops. We had some trouble with the less adventurous eaters with this one. They didn't know what they were missing.
Ally is thinking "Would a Russian eat this? Probably." God knows what Darius is thinking. He's probably been just reminded of some horror in Shihezi.
Fish and Chinese Vegetables
You can see the really yummy starter soups in the background.
Prawns with Broccoli and Walnuts in a creamy sweet sauce
A very Cantonese dish, this was a big hit.
Pickled Turnips and Carrots with something I can't remember. Was it is eel or fish?
More Fish, but sauteed with vegetables - tender like a baby's butt.
Lobster with Garlic and Scallion (in Shell)
Sauteed Chinese Vegetable
"Pork Chop with Champan Style"
Fried Tofu
Fried Noodles (all vegan!!)
The freshly made noodles are a must have for Chinese birthdays. The long noodles represent longevity, and you're not supposed to break them otherwise you will not live a long life. Long like the noodles.
Rack of Veal with Black Bean Sauce
Fried Rice
Even with so much other food, I always have room for some good fried rice.
Sebastian and Nils - all the way from Germany!
Even with 15 of us we didn't do a very good job at finishing our plates. If my mom had been there no one would have been allowed to leave until every last morsel was gone. "Just one more bite!" I tried to play that role, but it didn't work out so well.
Chinese Birthday Buns (with lotus)
I made Darius study the bill since, you know, he was the only one of us who could read Chinese. *Sigh.
Pure Overeaten Joy
I couldn't have imagined a better way to turn 24. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!
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