Yep, I baked a pie.
And here’s the evidence.
Underneath that shiny butter and almond-flour crust lies a blend of apples,
cranberries and ginger. The pie was a stunner in the looks department. Not bad on first eating. And awesome after a couple days sitting in the fridge.
Can you tell how proud I am of myself? In these recessionary times, we must focus on life’s little pleasures to get through the day. Next up? Punkin', of course.
PS: Blame my friend Howard for the crappy image.
I’ve been closely following the rumblings that the Empire’s lease
is about to change hands. Today I
was delighted to read that the owners of Union Square’s Coffee Shop are taking
over the Empire. Chelsea
Today has the story. Photo credit here.
Coffee Shop has itself delivered questionable service over the years -- at least to the less than hip and lovely … not me, of course. But nothing compared to the rudeness of the Empire staff. I’m happy to see the change of hands, and even happier to know that the good ol’ diner is not becoming the first Capital One branch-in-a-railcar.
If you know me, you know that patience is not one of my virtues. So when, like a fool, I visited New York City's one and only Trader Joe's on opening weekend (!!!), I was shocked, appalled and repelled by the never-ending line of shopping carts waiting to check out. "You've got to be kidding," I thought when I first glimpsed the line, and I abandoned my cart mid-store ... certain that I'd never return.
But on more than one occasion since then I've thought about all those weird and wonderful TJs prepared foods that I ate during my San Francisco heydey. I simply had to go back, and eighteen months later I returned.
This time, I saw the line right off the bat. I nearly fell on my knees and started to cry. The line circled more than half the store. "This is frickin insane," I thought. "Has Manhattan lost its mind? Who are these crazy people waiting in line when there are a million grocery stores right around the corner? And why aren't they out of town for the holidays like they should be?" I contemplated giving up once again, but I'd come too far and I'd waited too long. I miserably sulked my way through the jam-packed aisles ... I hemmed and hawed through the 15 minute check out wait ... I was a total Scrooge to my overly chipper checkout lady. I vowed never to return.
But. Then I started eating. I dipped into TJs Hummus and Tahini dip. I scooped up TJs Olive and Feta Tapenade. I pan-fried TJs pork and chive pot stickers. I scarfed down TJs chicken enchiladas. And I swooned over TJs Extra Sharp Canadian Cheddar. What, dear God, have I been doing shopping at my neghborhood Gristedes!?! I can't even breathe in it. Yes, my friends, I have learned my lesson. All I need now is some guidance as to when the line at Trader Joe's is manageable. I'll plan my week accordingly. Cause those pot stickers is good eatin! Happiness, indeed, is a thing called Joe. (photo credit)
Is there anything yummier than a Caesar Salad, as long as you're not hoping to get lucky later in the evening? I think not. But who knew that the Caesar originated south of the border, rather than over there, on the boot? Now, thanks to an amusing article in today's NY Times, we all know. The Caesar was invented in Tijuana in 1924!
Regular readers of this blog know that I took a special interest in Mexican culinary prowess earlier this year. Little did I know that adorable Eduardo came from such a fine tradition. :-) photo credit
All good things must come to an end. So with many a deep sigh along the way, I have journeyed from Denial to Anger to Bargaining to Depression to, yes, Acceptance that Florent is no more. Last night I enjoyed the final public dinner service at this amazing little diner that defined a neighborhood and was home and refuge to New York City’s finest. Thanks to Curtis for making the reservation (months ago). He and Danny were my table-mates (see below).
As a final farewell, here’s an off-the-cuff list of some of the people with whom I shared laughter and joy at my favorite NYC restaurant, since 1985. Thanks for the memories, and feel free to share …
Sibyl, Steve, Phil, Lee, Howard, Laura, Linda, Gene, Margot, Mom, Devorah, Paul, Viv, Ian, Bobby, Danny, Danny, Curtis, Adam, Jeff, Jeff, Dad, Doris, Carl, Sarah, Rachel, Tom, Joanne, Michael, Tom, Diedre, Barbara, Billy, David, Vince, Eduardo, Emily, David, Tom, Michael, Seth, Scott, Steve, Ed, Derek, Steve, Michael, Shel, Matthew, Rob, Gaetan, Mario, Sean, Lisa, Allen, Paul, Tony, John … and the list goes on.
One of my favorite things about friend and family visits to New York is the opportunity to alter my dining-out patterns. I’ve had an adorable, adventurous and talented chef staying with me for the past 10 days (sadly, he’s returned to YVR), so my NYC dining exploration has been especially rich and robust lately. The highlights:
Kyotofu: NYC's one truly gourmet tofu establishment. Trust me. Do not come to NYC again and miss it. A delectable and eye-opening adventure, even if you hate tofu.
Momofuku Ssam: Frank Bruni’s #1 pick for 2007. A total journey into the new and unknown in a sexy, hip environment. Perhaps a tad too adventurous for my palate, but not for Eduardo’s, who loved it. He ate all the sweetbreads.
Commerce: The newest incarnation of the space that most famously held Grange Hall, one of my all-time favorite Village eateries. The food was excellent, the room is a dream, the noise level is over the top, and it’s all a tad pricey. But a great night avoid weekends) with 4-6 friends.
Barrio Chino: The most authentic Mexican I’ve eaten in NYC. Chef Eduardo agrees, and he should know: Though Vancouver trained, he’s Mexican born. Get your ass to the Lower East Side soon.
If you know even a little bit about New York's gay history, you know that FoodBar was one of the pioneers of super-gay dining in the early renaissance of Chelsea. Along with long-defunct 18th & 8th, FoodBar defined the gay eatery of the Nineties. Core components: Gays dressed in gym wear, gays gorging after a night at the club, gays ordering chicken breasts, gays reading HX, and gays eating unbelievably bad food.
I learned today that FoodBar is no more (hat tip: Genex). And while I can't imagine that anyone will miss FoodBar as a dining establishment – unlike the impending shuttering of Florent – its closing is an audible tick in the passing of gay time.
Thanks for the mediocre times, FoodBar. It wouldn't have been the same without you. Photo Credit
Happiness is eating dinner at one of your favorite restaurants (florent) with several of your favorite, long-standing New York City friends (Linda, Gene, Howard, Laura). The smiles say it all.
If you're a Jew of a certain age, you will recognize this menu. It's from Wolfie Cohen's Rascal House in Miami Beach, Florida. I fell in love with Rascal House on a trip to Florida in 1972. Their pastrami, kreplach and cheese cake were all to die for.
Over the next 30+ years, I rarely missed an opportunity to grab a Rascal House meal when near Miami. My final dinner was digested (somehow) in January 2007.
Sadly, all good things must come to an end. As reported in today's NY Times, Rascal House is officially over. Thanks for the memories, Wolfie's. And for the Hamentashen. Photo credit
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