Mrs. Delicious

"When God closes a door, he always opens a window..."

2008-02-11T14:31:00.001-05:00

I don't know why that little Sound of Music line just popped into my head.

But it's true: last week we heard the terrible news of the Yankee Doodle closing; this week we learn of the rebirth of O'Rourke's. Hallelujah.

R.I.P. Yankee Doodle

2008-01-30T15:38:00.000-05:00

Truly sad news in New Haven today. One of my favorite restaurants of all time, the Yankee Doodle, has closed after 57 years. Article from the Yale Daily News here.

It is a dark day. Never again the grilled donut. Never again the two-cheese-two-pig lunch. My arteries celebrate; my taste buds weep.

Thank You For Your Patience

2008-01-29T15:37:00.002-05:00

...as I settle down from several months of house craziness, holiday festivity, and promotion file panic. Now I can take a deep breath and tell you: EXCELLENT new cheese store in New Haven! Best pancakes in Connecticut discovered in Westbrook! Oyster glove inauguration on Christmas Eve! Dried hibiscus flowers in Champagne: delicious!

Hello to all the readers who've just discovered this, and hello to the remaining few of you who actually check this blog for updates occasionally. New year, new posts.

On that note, though, I must sheepishly say that I'll be away for the next week. Will come back to regale you with tales of old and new favorites in Miami.

Pardon the Interruption

2007-09-10T10:56:00.000-04:00

1. Conference madness.
2. Summer lethargy.
3. Buying a house.

Many tales to tell, soon, about the glory and the gutwrenchingness of New Mexican food, Blackbird Redux and Hot Doug's disappointment in Chicago, a perfect summer day of German beer hall, Rich Chocolate ice cream, and wok-seared shrimp, re-visiting a favorite Italian in New Haven, and our last bottle of Pacific Echo Cremant.

Belated

2007-07-31T18:21:00.000-04:00

Belated birthday wishes to this blog, which turned two this month. At the moment I think I could have this blog taken away from me by blog protective services, though, for neglect.

But I was inspired to post by this amazing little gadget that my very sweet Swiss Saarinen researcher gave me yesterday:

Isn't it lovely? It is a REX vegetable peeler. Kornell said that 98% of Swiss households have one of these. It is light as a feather and made peeling my potato last night feel like peeling butter. Incredible! And check out the little potato-eye-popping-out widget on the side:

In other news, we just got back from Chicago, where we ate at Alinea, for better and for worse (neither of us cared much for the spun-sugar dessert that felt like chewing a mouthful of licorice-flavored fish bones, but some of our other courses were LIFE-CHANGING), and also at Hot Doug's, where our shared three sausages and platter of duck-fat fries allowed us to go the entire rest of the day without eating, and also at Kuma's where we had incredible burgers with Kim and Eric, and at the Pitchfork festival where we ate some kind of delicious lamb + beef + pork pattie thing served with spicy eggplant sauce, and at Avec, where the lovely bartender said, upon learning that we were leaving that meal to go to Hot Doug's for Second Dinner, "It is clear that it is not your first time at this rodeo." (But actually, it marked us as mere amateurs, since we learned when we got there that Hot Doug's is only open for lunch. We went back another day.) I have a huge list of places we didn't get to. Fortunately I'm going back at the end of this month.

We are going to Still River Cafe this weekend (finally!) to celebrate our eighth anniversary together. It was eight years ago this week that we first kissed on the Gantry Plaza State Park piers to the catcalls and hoots of the kids riding around us on bikes and skateboards. Who cared about them? We just took another swig of wine from our picnic bottle and kissed some more to spite them.

Oh, right, and we are buying a house. This one:

If you have hidden carpentry skills, or an excess of plywood laying around your house, we would like to hear from you.

Frozen in place

2007-07-02T21:21:00.001-04:00

Literally, due to the g-d Indiana Jones filming that has cut off access to most of downtown New Haven to vehicular traffic, and created minimum 15-minute delays trying to get to or from the Yale campus on foot. Derek was stopped on his way to work this morning by a cop -- not even film crew flunkies, a COP -- demanding to know where exactly he thought he was going as he tried to cross College street. "Um... to work?" Casey has an altercation with the PAs every time she needs to get in or out of the building she lives in downtown. One of them told her to "go find a bar." New Haven and Yale are purportedly seeing enormous financial gains from allowing this production to shut down the heart of the city for a week. I say we New Haveners should get free parking anywhere in the city for six months, at the very, VERY least. Checks in the mail would be even better.

And figuratively frozen in place, too, by this presentation I'm scheduled to give to a jury of my peers in Chicago two weeks from today. I'm supposed to be an "expert" in this stuff, but I've never been so freaked by a presentation in my life! They're paying me! It's terrifying! So many second-guesses about how I do things and so many second thoughts about my chosen career. I need to breathe. Two hours out of my life and it's over.

To take my mind off the whole thing, I've been cooking: key lime pie, broiled salmon, multigrain salad with dressing of pureed cucumbers and feta, warm broccoli and turnip green salad (I know it makes me a rube, but I don't think I like turnip greens -- or any bitter greens, for that matter), some other stuff I'm forgetting now. And buying fresh pickles and prosciutto bread (PROSCIUTTO BREAD! Can you believe such a thing exists?!) from the flea market in New Milford.

And eating: the first hot, buttered lobster roll of the year at Abbott's in Noank, of course; backyard barbequed filet mignon at Kyle and Sabrina's house; kefte kebab and cheeses at Stephen and Moa's; and a wonderful dinner at the new Po in Brooklyn, where I was sweet as peaches and cream to the frazzled maitre d' after he said to a foursome who had been waiting for their reservation for 10 whole minutes, "which table would you like me to kick out so that you can sit down?" I purred about how hard it must be to be so popular after only being open a week, of course we'd be happy to sit at the bar, smiling, smiling, smiling.

Five minutes later we had a table. And we made good use of it. Poached asparagus with truffled egg salad crostini and Cacio di Roma. Tuna with white beans, leeks, cabbage, and chili oil -- the best salad I've had in recent memory. Orecchiette with sweet sausage ragu and broccoli rabe, pappardelle with the sweetest peas and mint and Parmesan all over it, local strawberries in balsamic vinegar with ricotta gelato, and a thin tile of dark chocolate terrine with amaretti crumbles, vin santo and espresso caramel that was barely sweet. Did someone once hear me say I wasn't a big fan of Italian food? I eat my words.

Send me your suggestions for where to eat in Chicago. We'll be there a week. Alinea is already on the itinerary.

Just Quick

2007-06-14T09:13:00.000-04:00

1. Tom assures me that the burrito carts are in no danger of closing. I hope he's right.

2. Word on the street is: don't waste your hard-earned cash at Foster's, that new fancy place on Orange Street next to ArtSpace. Our anonymous tipster reported chicken so dry it was like jerky, a stuffed pork loin "special" that had likely been sitting in the fridge for three days, and syrup-like salad dressing. Every new kitchen takes a few weeks to find its stride, to be sure, but when the chef has this kind of kitchen experience, the learning curve should probably be a little less steep.

Spotted

2007-06-12T00:16:00.000-04:00

Last night, while taking the Australians to dine on mashed potato pizza at Bar: OMG Arturo! On the street! Mr. Roomba/Bespoke himself! I came |thisclose| to stopping him and pleading with him to keep the burrito carts open. Jen makes a good point: those damn carts make him too much money to close, so I'm less worried than I was, but still. Burrito lunch today, and maybe an extra one to keep in the freezer.

All-Girls-Superfun-Weekend (with three dudes and some babies) in the Poconos was a veritable International Party (as opposed to Alcohol Party, which didn't become as fully realized as Casey and I thought it might -- witness remaining liters of gin and vodka) of culinary delights. Tildy and Robin's crepes on Friday night. Pauline's "Full English" fryup on Saturday morning, followed a few short hours later by Sol's Korean barbeque smorgasbord with two different cuts of beef, pork belly, and squid. Later that night, the Canadians Nicole and Elisa represented with a whole salmon, butter tarts, and stout ice cream transported all the way from Toronto. And Ariel and Katy made a true Continental breakfast for us on Sunday: Ariel's typical Danish brunch spread of cheeses, breads, lightly pickled tomatoes and cucumbers, and fruits, served up with Katy's Italian strata and British dried cherry and lemon scones.

All this consumed while lounging about in pajamas half the day under dappled sunlight in the Glass House (no, not that one, but one almost as lovely), interrupted by swimming in the warm lake and rousing rye-fueled games of Taboo, followed by more eating. And so much laughing. My sides are still split.

Yale Does It Again

2007-06-07T13:28:00.000-04:00

Roomba has never been one of my favorite local restaurants, but it was one of the pioneers of New Haven's much-touted Restaurant Renaissance. Plus, I like their burritos, sold from three carts around town. And when I say that I "like" them, I mean it as in "I like to breathe."

Now they're closing over a dispute with their Yale landlords.

If this means no more pork-with-everything burritos, there will be Hell. To. Pay.

A Cry for Help

2007-06-05T17:40:00.000-04:00

People, I am addicted and need an intervention. I am addicted to the Panang Curry at Thai Taste here in New Haven. The vegetables are not very fresh. The rice is your white standard-issue. But the sauce. Oh, the sauce! I think it has crack in it. At the very least, it has kaffir lime leaf in it, which must be on my top-ten-flavors-on-the-planet list. I have eaten the Panang Curry twice in a week, now, and today I have a bit of a tummy weirdness. Perhaps I am overdosing. I really could eat it every day: so spicy, so pink, so smooth, so beautifully creamy when combined with 9,428 calories of white rice.

Please help. Where else should I go for lunch, now that all my local microwaves are locked up for the summer? (I plan on making myself lots of cold salads, too: send recipes for your favorites!)

Photo by Amanda and Tyler.

Spring in New England

2007-05-24T09:27:00.000-04:00

...means two things: shad roe and fiddleheads.

This year it also means chevre rolled in dill from Beltane Farm in Lebanon, CT. This cheese tastes like freshness. Tangy, sweet, herby, milky combine to taste. just. fresh.

I always cook my shad roe according to instructions from John McPhee, published in the New Yorker in August, 2002. He wrote the book on shad so I figure he knows from cooking it.

Dinner is served, covered in a thatch of bacon, alongside fiddleheads that I sauteed in olive oil and champagne vinegar:

John McPhee writes: You have your shad roe! You are in business! This is always exactly how we feel. Like we have just won the lottery and cannot help dancing in our chairs as we eat these huge lobes of fish eggs. The foie gras of the Connecticut River valley.

I also purchased two other amazing things recently. One is the loveliest watercress in the world, grown hydroponically by Two Guys from Woodbridge and available locally at Romeo's, Nika's, Bishop's Orchards, Limon Fine Food, and the Cityseed Farmer's Market at Wooster Square:

And the other is this Brazilian delicacy, available locally at the Shop-Rite in West Haven:

We haven't tried Ham Snack yet because the package is too beautiful to open!

You Asked For It

2007-05-22T19:06:00.000-04:00

On August 23rd, 2004, Andy and I celebrated his birthday by having dinner with a group of friends, including Garett and his sister Erika, who shares Andy's birth date. None of us had ever been to Eccolo, a new-ish Italian restaurant on Fourth Street in Berkeley whose kitchen, like two of every three restaurants in the Bay Area, was run by some Chez Panisse alumni. It was a long and delicious meal: the first time I ever tasted tripe (it didn't look, feel, or taste like stomach lining! Amazing!); the first time I ever tasted Barbaresco; and definitely the first time I'd ever heard of bread soup. That soup was a revelation. In fact, "I'd never had a soup so silken and concentrated", as I described it in a letter that I wrote to Gourmet magazine begging them to ask the chef to share his recipe.

I received a letter from Gourmet a few weeks later, thanking me for writing and enclosing the recipe for "Pappa al Pomodoro" on Eccolo letterhead. I made the soup -- which was of course not as delicious coming off my home stove as it had been that night, but was still good -- and that was the end of it.

Until I received this month's issue of Gourmet. There, on page 38, two and a half years after our dinner, is my letter to them asking for the soup recipe! It even has my old location information -- my dateline reads Berkeley, California. The magazine adapted the recipe somewhat from the restaurant's original to allow for the use of fresh tomatoes and some standardized measurements.

Here, for my loyal readers, is the original recipe verbatim, straight from the mouth and kitchen of Eccolo:

Pappa al Pomodoro
serves 6 to 8 people

Extra virgin olive oil
4 red onions, chopped finely
3 cloves garlic, sliced thinly
2 28 oz cans San Marzano tomatoes, chopped
2 bunches fresh basil, leaves washed and picked
Salt
1 2 lb. loaf of stale rustic bread, crust removed and torn into 1-inch pieces

Heat a large soup pot over a high flame and coat the bottom with extra virgin olive oil. When the oil begins to shimmer, add the chopped onions and saute until they are soft and golden brown (about 10-15 minutes), stirring occasionally, and adding a little water if necessary to prevent burning.

When the onions are cooked through, add the garlic and tomatoes. Cook over a low flame until the tomatoes begin to sweeten and concentrate, about 25-30 minutes. Stir occasionally. Tear the basil leaves into the soup as the tomatoes are cooking. Add salt to the pot. It's important to correctly season the soup with salt at this point, because it is difficult to adjust the salt once you've added the bread.

Now add the bread to the tomatoes and cook over a low flame for about 5-10 minutes, until the bread has absorbed the tomato. If the soup seems too thick, add a little water, but this is one soup that really should hold up a wooden spoon stuck into it.

Serve the pappa warm or at room temperature, with some freshly torn basil and a liberal dousing of olive oil.

Not Recommended

2007-05-21T11:24:00.001-04:00

Possible alternative titles for Gael Greene's memoir of New York food and sex, Insatiable:

Insufferable

Intolerable

Interminable

White Merlot

2007-05-16T21:15:00.001-04:00

Is this an actual wine? Or is it Hawaiian Punch? Or is it something whereupon it touches your lips your nerve endings hit the REJECT button and you spray it across the table?

The Sutter Home White Merlot that we drank in a blind tasting of cheap, mass-market wines on Tuesday at Seppi's was, hands down, the worst wine we tasted that day. Worse than any White Zinfandel "blush" concocted by Franzia, ever. We were all in agreement on that, if on no other wine that afternoon.

The tasting was organized by Robin Goldstein, Mr. Fearless Critic himself, recently decamped to Austin after several years on the I-91 corridor, publishing books on where to eat and where to avoid eating AT ALL COSTS in New Haven and the Northampton/Pioneer Valley area of Massachusetts. It's him that I have to thank for introducing me to Roy Ip and Le Petit Cafe, and Roy that I have to thank for inviting me to the tasting. There is no better way to play hooky mid-week than to run off to New York on a perfect spring day to begin drinking lots of wine at 1:00 in the afternoon. Lady of leisure manque, c'est moi.

First, mad props to my tasting table compatriots Tom, Chris and Dave, all urologists at Yale-New Haven Hospital. Drinking wine in the afternoon with urologists is wonderful. After the first flight we had a long chat about Things That No Longer Gross Them Out.

The tasting was set up so that each of about eight tables had six bottles of wine in the middle, all wrapped in brown bags and labeled with a number. We were to sample each wine and immediately record our impressions as to its aroma, its taste, its other desirable or undesirable qualities, and how much we would pay for said bottle of wine at the grocery store. (Each of the wines we sampled was to have cost under $15 and be available widely in grocery stores or basic liquor stores; excluded, then, were many inexpensive-yet-wonderful wines from lesser-known regions that might not be easy to find outside knowledgeable wine shops). We were encouraged to be as blunt, honest, and perhaps sarcastic as we needed to be to express our true love or loathing for the wines in question. After each flight of six wines, the table was to move as a group to the next table over to sample another six. This happened three times: a group of rose wines, another of white, and another of red. Our opinions would be recorded and synthesized for the upcoming book, edited by Robin, entitled Cheap Wine Review.

First quick generalization: As a rule, my taste in wine was the exact opposite of that of all of my tablemates, including that of the sommelier from a well-known restaurant on the Upper West Side who joined us partway through. Things I liked, they hated. Things they liked, I spat out. Quick generalization #2: Cheap wines are very, very sweet. This is a wonderful quality in a well-balanced Riesling, an off-dry Gewurtztraminer, a ripe Muscadet. Not in a Chardonnay. Not in a "White Merlot". Certainly not in a Shiraz. However, this is not to discount the opinion of my fellow tasters: it may be that the memory of my overly-sweet and underly-cooked lemon pancakes from the VASTLY overrated Norma's at breakfast was lingering too near in my memory.

We got the roses over with first. (Pardon my lack of accents aigus and other diacritics -- I don't know how to make them in Blogger.) Please note that I adore a good rose. They can be wonderful summer wines. There were two that I tasted that I might have enjoyed at home (and, in fact, after the wines were revealed at the end, I realized that I had enjoyed one of them at home -- the Marques de Cacera), but on the whole, they tasted like Raspberry Diet Rite. With extra aspartame. We were all grateful to move on to the whites.

It was at this point that James the sommelier joined us. We all sat up straighter in our chairs and began to rinse our glasses between tastes. James told us the story of how, at a recent blind tasting of wines at a fellow sommelier's bachelor party, he snuck a bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz in with the heavy-hitters. His friends, all professional wine drinkers, couldn't quite tell what it was, concluding that it was not great but surprisingly well-balanced, nice fruit notes, etc. When he tore off the brown wrapping, many of the assembled guests demanded non-disclosure agreements with the rest of the guests there.

We tasted the whites, all of which I identified as Chardonnay (in the end, I was wrong, but only by two). One of the wines was corked, according to James -- a first for me, and I am so pleased to know, at last, what a corked wine tastes and smells like (think your grandmother's attic). Again, the one I liked was reviled by the rest ("number three smells like a baby's ass"). About the favorite, number two, I had written, "This is the '70s cliche of California in a bottle -- sweet, buttery, over-oaked, cheap cheap cheap Chardonnay." About number two, James said, "I thought it was balanced, nuanced, much more interesting than it needs to be for a wine at this price point. A lovely Viognier."

I was crestfallen. I love Viognier. How could I have been so wrong about a wine I have professed to love? Am I really that snobby person who is so easily seduced by the name of an under-grown grape? I blushed furiously and struggled mightily to come up with a witty way to save myself. I couldn't. I didn't even try.

James called Robin over to our table to ask what wine #2 had been, since it was well-received by the group at large. Robin consulted his labyrinthine chart of numbers and cross-references for several minutes, then delivered the verdict: Wine #2 at our table was a Yellow Tail Chardonnay.

"The best-selling wine in the world," said Robin.

I will say no more on this matter.

Everyone in our group was anxious to taste the reds, which we shouldn't have been. Gross generalization #3: if you are going to take a chance on bringing a cheap wine to a party, make it a cheap white. Cheap supermarket reds are so, so terrible. Red wine should not be sweet AND tannic AND high-alcohol. Most cheap reds seem to be all three. Or at least five of the six we tasted were. The only one that had any dryness, elegance, and depth of character was the Chianti I tried (another first for me). A distant second was Cline's Red Truck. The rest were not worth mentioning, aside from the sneaky trick Robin pulled in putting TWO bottles of Yellow Tail Shiraz at each of the tables to see whether we would say different things about them. Honestly, after three hours of lots of tasting and not much spitting, I don't remember what I wrote about them aside from "SWEEEEET!" And not "sweet" meaning sweeeeeeet.

I am very curious about seeing the Cheap Wine Review in print after this experience. I didn't talk to many people at the event aside from Roy and the others at our table, but I do wonder if my preference for dry, lean wines will be the outlier that's averaged out of the overall opinions of these wines. I like a wine that smells more floral than it tastes and that doesn't hit you over the tongue with an alcohol afterburn. I'm anxious to see what my fellow tasters end up preferring, and what, in the end, makes for a "good" cheap wine. I wonder if I'll agree, or if I'll use the book to pick the Least Favorite Wines as a guide to what I'll like instead.

Aside from the White Merlot.

And hey! Do you want to taste cheap wine, too? Do you live near me? Roy is hosting a tasting for the book at Le Petit Cafe on June 23rd -- let me know if you want to go.

This is Getting Embarrassing

2007-05-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know. The computer demands a blog. Here's how I've really been feeling: paralyzed. I have an embarrassment of riches, so many things to write about. The Sysco food show. Our nine-course tasting dinner at Ibiza. Seeing Harold McGee give a talk at the law school about "molecular gastronomy" and having him sign my copy of On Food and Cooking the next day. Making a reservation at Mr. McGee's favorite fancy restaurant, Alinea, for July 18th, during our trip to Chicago. Next week, a wine tasting for the upcoming book Cheap Wine Review in New York with Mr. Ip. Our first Rhubarb Collinses of the season. The loveliest watercress I have ever seen in my life, picked by Two Guys from Woodbridge.

It's all too much, and all these subjects deserve more coverage than I am up to giving them right now. Spring is here, the nights are warm, and who wants to come home from staring at a computer all day at work to staring at one at home on a spring evening? I want to cook, not compute!

But here's something small to think about in the meantime: is Sysco any more evil than Stop & Shop? Or are the restaurants that serve "Sysco truck" food (thanks, Meredith) the ones really trying to pull one over on their customers?

I need to get a scanner. I wish you all could see the photos from my Sysco Fried Appetizer catalog.

Lovely Day of Food and Related Utensils

2007-04-26T15:08:00.000-04:00

Spicy Mee Yok at York Street Noodle House for lunch
Mid-afternoon Ciao Bella break: jasmine-cassis sorbet and carrot-ginger gelato
Harold McGee talks at the Law School in 45 minutes*
Spoon plays at Toad's at 9 pm**

* This was a different talk than the one I thought he would give, but in the end I'm glad this is what he talked about: his invention of the term "molecular gastronomy" in 1992 and what MG has become today (hint: something different than what he originally intended with the term!), with lots of photos, examples, and explanations of how Wylie Dufresne and Ferran Adria and Grant Achatz et al. do what they do. Thanks to Pauline for this article, too!

**A terrific show of long sets. And then Stephen brought the band out for beers with us at Rudy's. It was amusing to watch Britt Daniel enjoy about 45 seconds of anonymity in the bar, looking for a seat on one of our benches. And then get swarmed by wannabe-rocker boys and girls wearing lots of lip gloss and little else.

Loot

2007-04-17T16:23:00.000-04:00

This requires two installments to fully describe.

First, before I forget and to whet (or utterly suppress) your appetite, here's my haul of freebies from the SYSCO Spring Food Show that I went to in Hartford today:

about 10 pounds of ads and catalogs
One bag Terra Chips
One bottle Saratoga spring water
Hormel pen and sticky-notes set
One giant bag of what appears to be every condiment Heinz makes
Three McCormick "Big 'n Bold" spice blends packets: "Monterey Style" Roasted Garlic and Red Bell Pepper, "Key West Style" Lemon, Basil and Thyme, and "Grill Mates Montreal Chicken" seasoning
One "House Recipe" (aka SYSCO) brand Salt-Free Original Seasoning Blend
One bottle Hydrive dragonfruit flavor energy drink
A-1 Steak Sauce pen
Two individually-packaged Rice Krispies Treats
Two packets Crystal Light "On the Go" drink mix
One Donna's Delights whoopie pie
One bottle Butter-It "trans-fat free liquid butter alternative"
One pop-up sponge in the shape of an Idahoan potato
Two plastic cockroaches from Ecolab

Stay tuned for more observations from a fake food professional. In a bizarre coincidence, the Connecticut Library Association was having their annual conference in the same convention center today. I am so busted.

Delicious Sandwich

2007-04-10T19:07:00.000-04:00

Sandwiches are a conundrum for me. All that bread gets in the way of what I really want: the bright yet rich, crunchy yet smooth filling that goes in the middle. But I don't usually want a salad made of just the filling ingredients, either. Something about the way the bread mashes everything together makes the whole so much greater than the individual parts. Even better is when someone else makes the sandwich for me. I have vivid memories of my mom's putting together the humblest ingredients: mayonnaise, processed cheese slices, iceberg lettuce, and Wonderbread together melded to make the most soothing and wonderful sandwich mush in the lunchbags of my youth.

I can appreciate the simplicity of a pressed media noche, dripping with margarine and pickles, and the extravagance of sirloin steak and caramelized onions that you eat with a knife and fork at the Union League. One of the best things I ever ate was a sandwich of sopressata, salami, mozzarella, marinated anchovies, and a lot of vinegar and oil at Genova in Oakland. But your standard turkey/Swiss/mayo on a Kaiser roll is never what I want for lunch.

That said, I made myself something simple and delicious tonight, to eat over the sink while poor Andy slept off his 24-hour flu bug. Take a third of a roasted garlic ciabatta loaf from Chabaso. Warm in the toaster oven and split. Add mayonnaise, if you like. Mix together a can of tuna and some of Deborah Madison's lemon vinaigrette*, spread half on the bread, save the rest for another lunch. Add some arugula leaves. Press together and eat over the sink. Perfection.

In other brief news:

Two thumbs up to Liv's Oyster Bar in Old Saybrook, where we gorged ourselves on winter oysters for Easter dinner. The seared scallops with gremolata were also quite fine, as were the fried oysters on celery root remoulade (though no fried oysters will ever match those of the Sea Swirl, which I was chagrined to find was profiled recently on Rachael Ray's tourist show). And Andy ordered a dessert that I never would have ordered, given my usual aversion to segments of citrus fruit: blood oranges and clementines in a Prosecco sabayon. Heavenly, not very sweet, a perfect tribute to the end of citrus season.
Damn you, Limon Fine Food, for stocking Krinos Taramosalata. I have you to thank for the extra five pounds I am sure I have gained by eating the taramosalata out of the jar, with my fingers, while standing in front of the open fridge. I don't even bother with the damn pita anymore, even though their homemade pita is the best I have eaten anywhere besides Hoomoos Asli.
The King Ranch Chicken recipe in Cook's Country didn't quite live up to the hype. Tastes delicious -- certainly much, much better than the classic "take two cans of cream of chicken soup" version -- but overly liquid. As this is perhaps Andy's favorite dinner in the world, I am sure I will have many chances to tweak and perfect the recipe.

*Deborah Madison's Lemon Vinaigrette, adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone:

2 T fresh lemon juice
1 t finely chopped lemon zest
salt and pepper
about 1 t capers, minced
1 scallion (white part only), thinly sliced
a few T olive oil

Combine everything except the oil and let that sit for 15 minutes. Then whisk in the oil. Taste and add more salt and pepper if it needs it.

Sing It, Sister

2007-04-04T09:43:00.000-04:00

Maira Kalman and I are clearly soul mates.

I Almost Forgot!

2007-04-02T19:27:00.000-04:00

Have you seen?

The amazing

CUPCAKE HOLDER

Purchased by me at Grocery in Philadelphia, but can be purchased by you here!

Those spiky protrusions dent the cupcake a little, but what's a little dent when the result is a topful of unmarred frosting?

Blini is more interested in the cupcake than in the cupcake holder.

You Can't Win 'Em All

2007-04-02T17:40:00.000-04:00

In recent days, we have had two terrific meals and one terrible meal. It's the terrible one that I fixate on, though. What is it that is so deeply disappointing about a bad meal? What makes many people so risk-averse when it comes to dinner? For me, the disappointment is made worse knowing that for the same $70, we could have feasted on fresh, delicious fish rather than the dry, stinky stuff we ate at Kiraku in Fair Haven on Thursday night.

We should have known from the moment we walked in: scented candles and a huge, loud wall projection of a Sting concert are not auspicious in a sushi restaurant. Nor was the very small number of diners on a Thursday night at 7:30 pm (and we were the last people there at 9). My sashimi was the worst I have ever eaten, and I have eaten a lot of raw fish, and in some questionable places. My mackerel was dry as a bone and actually seemed to suck some of the moisture out of my tongue, my scallops were slimy and fishy, and my "white tuna" (whose very existence is up for debate) still had ice crystals in the flesh. My eel tempura roll tasted like the oil it had been fried in was at least a week old. Andy's selections were no better, and our waitress was nowhere in evidence so we had no one to complain to. Kiraku had come to us highly recommended, making us wonder whether we'd hit it on a bad night, but still, a Thursday? Scented candles? I don't think we'll be trying it again, despite its perfect Quinnipiac river deck.

A much, much better meal, and a cuisine that is ever so welcome in New Haven, was had by our little group on Friday night at Mezcal, a new Mexican restaurant in the old El Charo Alegre space on Mechanic street (between Lawrence and State). It was no Dona Tomas, but it was damn good, and we can walk there!

Seven of us shared shrimp ceviche (okay), taquitos (so-so), a shredded beef and egg dish (whose name I can't remember -- I can't read my own handwriting) that wasn't very flavorful.... I can see your eyes glazing over, but WAIT! Then the amazing stuff arrived: one order of pollo entomatado, chicken on the bone cooked in a spicy tomato, tomatillo, pepper, and raisin sauce; pollo con pipian, also on the bone in an achiote-colored pumpkin seed sauce that was so good we all tried to eat it with a spoon; and two orders of deeply porky carnitas, stewed, fried, and spiced unlike any I'd had in California, home to Libby's Hero Carnitas. Plus all the homemade chips and incredibly spicy salsa verde and tortillas and beans and rice we could eat. We all left disgustingly full and about $16 lighter, each. The place is BYOB, so go early and stop at the liquor store around the corner for a six-pack of Negro Modela. I always worry about whether places can and will stay open in this town, but on Friday night Mezcal was packed. Hooray!!!

The other home-run meal we had was last week's at Ibiza. Yes, at last and finally we went to Ibiza. I promised I'd take Andy there when my job became permanent, so he cashed in and we got the tasting menu with paired wines. But I will save that post for next.

EDITED TO ADD: It's actually three great meals to one bad one. This afternoon, Tom and I got burritos from the Roomba cart and they had a special barbacoa lamb burrito filling. Oh my god. Roasted lamb in spicy sauce in a Roomba burrito. Best burrito ever? Maybe one of the top three. Ever. And I think one of those other two was at the Roomba cart as well.

Dark Horse

2007-03-26T14:13:00.000-04:00

Now that my job is really for realz, Andy and I have been beginning to get a glimmer in our eye about maybe possibly thinking about perhaps looking at buying a house. Please do not get too excited about this. After our one visit to an open house yesterday -- which mostly just opened our eyes to what a disappointment $300,000 can buy you in Connecticut, even in a dying industrial town -- we were feeling a little blue on a gray day. Fortunately, inspiration struck on our way out of Shelton and we hung a quick U-turn back to Derby and Roseland Apizza.

Photo by Roadfood.com

I am here to tell you that you have not eaten New Haven pizza until you have eaten in Derby. In fact, New Haven pizza should actually be called Derby pizza. It was that good. The white clam pie we shared makes former-favorite Frank Pepe's look tough and chewy. You heard it here: Roseland puts Pepe's to shame. TO SHAME! The crust was a minor miracle of thinness, crispiness, and give -- utter Platonic pizza crust perfection. I was also blown away by our red pie with "muzz" and meatballs. Andy was not as convinced that the red pie was better than Modern's, but I do believe that Roseland's is now my favorite pizza in Connecticut.

I thought I might actually be smitten by God with lightning when I left the restaurant after voicing such heresy, but instead we emerged from the dark dining room into a newly bright, sunny evening. I think it was a sign. The housing stock in Derby suddenly looked much more charming.

This Just In

2007-03-19T17:50:00.000-04:00

James Beard Award nominees announced today. Many, many favorites are here! I particularly liked the Pete Wells article about copyrighting recipes that was in Food & Wine a few months ago.

Good News For People Who Love Bad News

2007-03-19T17:12:00.000-04:00

Here we are, always crying in our beer about no good grocery stores within walking distance in New Haven, when in sneaks LIMON FINE FOODS just across the border in Hamden, right near the godforsaken DMV. The "coming soon" sign at State and Ridge had been up in the old Nations Supermarket building for a while, but then all of a sudden Limon opened! Okay, so they opened up early last month, but we finally went to sniff around for ourselves yesterday.

And what a delight! A Turkish delight! Lots of lebne, kefte kebab mix, stuffed eggplant in a can, and homemade baba ganoush every day. An olive bar where you can sample before you buy. More hot chili pepper varieties than these parts of Connecticut have ever seen. The cheeses! The Italian crackers! Quality, low-acid vinegars! Many kinds of masa! Organic versions of almost everything! A huge and beautiful prepared foods section! I am agog. There is no reason to go to Stop & Shop ever again! Just a quick drive through the back of East Rock Park, no more than five minutes away. C'mon, neighbors, let's help make sure this place stays in business.

Dreamy Food

2007-03-14T23:01:00.000-04:00

This morning I dreamt that Jen and I and her enormous extended family were in Texas at the world's biggest buffet restaurant. They boasted that they had over 17,000 individual dishes. I saw enormous chicken cutlet sandwiches being made with boatloads of mayonnaise, at least 50 different types of pasta, and a huge made-to-order breakfast bar with every kind of pancake or waffle or omelette you could imagine. I put a pumpkin manicotti on my plate and headed over to the breakfast nook. Just as the lady behind the counter was handing me a beautiful, golden pancake stuffed with mascarpone cheese and served with scoops of butter and jam, Andy woke me up. It was awful!

I think my pressing need for a pancake -- unsatisfied for over a month -- has finally worked its way into my subconscious mind. It's beyond time to fill this gnawing, pancake-sized hole in my belly. Bella Rosa. Saturday. Here we come.

Photo by Chocmonster on Flickr.