Posts Tagged ‘New York’
Posted Wednesday 21 November 2012on:
Local restauranteurs and Seattleites supporting the relief efforts.
Tini Bigs poured Manhattans.
Skillet‘s linguine with clams.
Hot Cakes‘ chocolate egg creams and chocolate chip cookies.
Seattle hearts New York City!
Listed alphabetically by state, Joe’s Shanghai (鹿鳴春) was in the New York section of CNN’s ‘50 best Chinese restaurants in the United States‘. In the same block as Momofuku Má Pêche and Momofuku Milk Bar in Midtown, Joe’s Shanghai is a double storey ‘centre of exotic specialties’.
I signalled a table for one and was ushered upstairs. Bronze deer and potted bamboos decorated the bay window. A tiered sparkling gold and crystal chandelier was suspended above the vestibule.
A curious specials menu included New Zealand mussels, T-bone steak and rack of lamb.
A mound of cold egg noodles was drizzled with sesame dressing, topped with julienned cucumber and served in a scallop shell shaped dish. I slurped the cold sesame noodles (芝麻冷麵), a simple but appetizing celebration of Chinese carbs.
The traditional trio of ginger slivers, soy sauce and vinegar were stirred in a bowl for dipping.
Joe’s Shanghai is famous for their soup dumplings. Six crab and pork xiao long bao (蟹粉小籠包) were on a bed of shredded Napa cabbage (黃芽白) in a steaming bamboo basket. The delicate morsels were juicy and meaty, although the skin was a little doughy.
Noodles and dumplings were requisite sustenance for shopping in Manhattan!
I’m an expert at booking tickets. I note the on sale details on my calendar and I’m on the website at the precise time to click ‘purchase’. Thanks to this quirk I have learnt to brine and roast chicken, knead and throw pizza dough, bake macarons, and pleat dumplings at The Pantry at Delancey.
On a residential street in Ballard adjacent to Honoré Artisan Bakery, Delancey occupies two simply decorated rooms.
I was seated at the counter with a view of the custom made wood fire oven.
A row of lights above the counter were inverted cylindrical Weck jars.
The ornate silverware was engraved with an elegant cursive ‘D’.
Each setting was spaced with a votive candle, and dainty glass bowls of chilli and sea salt flakes.
Chef Brandon Pettit cooks every pizza at Delancey. An assistant stretches the dough and tops the wooden paddle with ingredients. Brandon then slides the pizza into the wood fire oven. As I was eating alone, I observed the dexterous pair in harmony.
I ordered the crimini mushroom pizza with olive oil, onion, mozzarella and thyme. Thin slices of crimini mushrooms were intertwined with slivers of onions and molten splotches of mozzarella. The textured crust had charred blisters, and was both crispy and chewy.
Each bite was a joyful union of flavours, the bread and toppings waltzed in time and sang in tune. After the pizza class with Brandon and being recommended by just about every Seattleite I know, I’m a Delancey convert.
I caressed my flat foil package of leftover pizza home for supper the same night.
New York is a walking city. When I was in the Big Apple during Hurricane Irene, stores, museums and the Subway were closed. Ms H and I traipsed from Times Square to 86th on the Upper East Side in a futile search for an open cinema. We whiled away the afternoon criss-crossing the subdued neighbourhoods, pausing for a glass of vino in an Irish pub.
Located in a historic building, a painted wooden plaque reflected the botanical display in the entryway that greeted patrons.
The tavern has street frontage and the separate dining room is at the back. Only the tavern is open for lunch on weekends. An earthy arrangement of yellow buds, blooms and branches in terracotta pots was adjacent to our table.
Square canvases of modern murals fenced the ceiling.
On a wire stand at the end of the bar was a wild bouquet of corn coloured stems.
A disc of butter and sea salt preceded a basket of bread.
A jewel toned effervescent beverage, the cranberry crush of cranberries, lime and club soda was tart and refreshing.
Served in a shallow bowl, the chunks of smoked pork shoulder and cornbread were atop salsify and in a pool of bacon broth. The meat was luscious, the root vegetable tender and the broth rich, it was a soulful dish.
A crispy skinned chicken portion was paired with yu choy, spring onions and shiitake mushrooms. The yu choy purée had an intense leafy green flavour that accentuated the simplicity of the poultry.
We shared a selection of sorbets for dessert. Quenelles of blackcurrant, roasted pineapple and mango lime sorbets rested on shortbread crumbs. The sorbets were a trifecta of vibrant fruitiness.
Thanks to Adrian for the recommendation!
New York was quiet on a Sunday morning. Four days of volatile spring weather concluded with drizzle as we walked to the Upper East Side for sweet souvenirs. I had scrawled Ladurée‘s address in my notebook for last September‘s trip but avoided the opening weekend. I had mentally prepared myself for a queue out the door and was surprised by an empty footpath. Hello Kitty macaron decals decorated one window.
Macaron towers and Ladurée branded merchandise were displayed in another.
Sea foam walls were calming and accentuated the colourful macarons on the counter. Tiers of ribbons cascaded down wrought iron bars on a mirror.
Different sized boxes were neatly stacked on shelves interspersed by mini monochromatic macaron towers.
I resisted the themed boxes (Hello Kitty!) and purchased two classic boxes of eight, one for us and one as a gift for our French friends.
I was careful with the bag on the flight and there were minimal cracks on the macarons. From bottom: pistachio, vanilla, chocolate, caramel with salted butter, raspberry, coffee, orange blossom and praline.
Despite my lack of appetite due to laryngitis I gleefully halved each of the macarons with Mr S.
I have happy macaron memories and they’re best shared!
Halloween isn’t observed in Australia. It’s considered an American tradition but some neighourhoods do celebrate it. A couple of houses near our home in Sydney decorated their front yards with fake cobwebs and glow in the dark skeletons. Children in costumes were chaperoned by parents to go trick-or-treating.
A visit to Dylan’s Candy Bar is like trick-or-treating for adults. Sweetness perfumes the air and rainbow coloured candy tempt you on every floor.
Decals cover the windows to promote The Smurfs film and there was a section dedicated to themed merchandise.
The centrepiece of the store is rows of clear containers of candy sold by weight, to be scooped into plastic bags or glass jars. Candy of every shape and flavour entices and I purchased half a scoop of sour cola bottles, my childhood favourite.
A chocolate fountain is by the entrance and dipper choices included Graham crackers, marshmallows, pretzels and fruits.
I skipped the upstairs Candy Café and walked down the ‘stairway to candy heaven’.
A kaleidoscope of Jelly Belly dispensers.
A collection of retro candy.
‘I want candy…’
Shelves of Hershey’s products.
Hello Kitty branded candy.
I was delighted to find purple M&M’S!
The psychedelic Wonka display.
Inedible candy paraphernalia.
Slabs of fudge.
Sprinkled and coated chocolate treats.
Sweet Paws for your pets!
A wall of Pez.
A lollipop stand.
I would like to know how parents stop their children exiting with a sugar high from Dylan’s Candy Bar!
I was exploring the Flatiron District after lunch at Shake Shack and I found myself at the entrance of Eataly. I stood on the sidewalk for several minutes, observing the speed of the foot traffic in and out. I finally walked in, thinking I’ll do a quick lap and exit.
All my senses were on alert. Cutlery clanging on china, diners conversing and shoppers ordering, the decibel of the din would be near noise pollution. The hum of human activity and the kaleidoscope of colours was a sight to behold. The aroma of freshly ground coffee wafted through the air. I breathed in deeply, to ease the anxious feeling of being enveloped in a large crowd, and to absorb caffeine!
I got lost in Eataly. Unlike IKEA, there were no arrows on the floor, no dividers for a path and no map. Directionally challenged, I weaved and wandered until I took a photo of every section and every restaurant.
The Eataly website lists twenty sections in their market and twelve places to eat. Below is a selection of them!
Wood fire ovens and counter seating at La Pizza and La Pasta for Neapolitan pizzas and al dente pasta.
Il Pesce serves fresh seafood including whole fish.
Paninoteca‘s chalkboard menu highlights regional specialties.
A pretty display of single portion cakes and tarts at Dolci.
With such a concentration of eateries, Eataly is ideal for progressive meals. Apéritif at Birreria, appetizer at one restaurant, main course at another, dessert at Dolci or Gelateria, and conclude with an espresso at Caffe Lavazza or Caffe Vergnano.
A stainless steel espresso machine is the centrepiece of Caffe Vergnano, a standing only espresso bar.
Caffe Lavazza is at the Fifth Avenue entrance and you can while away an afternoon people watching.
Cone, cup or to go, the Gelateria has three sizes and many flavours of gelati.
The market is well stocked with dried pasta.
Shelves are laden with sauces.
Marinated, stuffed and in brine, jars of olives aplenty.
A multitude of packaged biscotti.
Preserves and conserves of every fruit.
Chilled local and imported beer.
Sliced and packaged salumi.
Boxes of cheese wedges.
The butcher has some local and organic meats.
The requisite hanging and dangling salumi.
The bakery bakes daily on site.
Bags of flour are stacked high for handmade fresh pasta.
‘The mozzarella you eat at Eataly is never more than two hours old.’
I had a fleeting urge to roll one of these Parmigiano Reggiano wheels around Eataly.
The fishmonger’s seafood is ‘never frozen’.
The fresh produce are piled high in wicker baskets.
The greens and root vegetables are neatly presented.
Beautiful trays of mushrooms.
Some on vine, others wrapped in protective foam, the tomatoes were glossy and vibrant.
A curated bookstore on Italian culinary culture.
Basic dinnerware and glassware.
Melamine glasses and bowls in rainbow hues.
A ten point manifesto and a motto, ‘eat better, cook simpler’.
I left contemplating how local European style delicatessens and providores can compete with a corporate marketplace that is Eataly.
I grew up in a household that weaned off salt over time. My parents cooked with it sparingly in a salt reduced diet that was advocated by dieticians and nutritionists. As adults we had the same shaker of supermarket brand iodised salt in our pantry for many years, its only purpose was to salt the water to boil pasta in.
A couple of evenings ago Myra gathered a group of food lovers for a salt themed potluck with Mark Bitterman. Owner of The Meadow and author of Salted, Mark was visiting from Portland and hosted a dinner at Spring Hill on Sunday.
I bought some leftover heirloom tomatoes at the TomatoFare for the bargain price of two dollars a pound. I made an insalata Caprese as my contribution to the potluck. Heirloom tomatoes, mozzarella and basil were layered, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and sprinkled with Murray River salt flakes.
There were a variety of salts at the potluck and each had a story. Some were favourites, others were gifts, and mine reminds me of home.
Carol brought this beautiful Himalayan pink salt crystal for display.
The Secret Stash vanilla salt was speckled and moist.
I love the cute Sugarpill container!
Chuck made his own applewood smoked Maldon salt with lemon thyme.
There were several salads and one other insalata Caprese. Darryl‘s was geometrically styled compared to my rustic approach!
Ashleigh‘s salad of heirloom tomatoes, chèvre and mint was a kaleidoscope of colours.
The soup of the evening was by Kristin, pumpkin soup with salted pumpkin seeds.
Hors d’oeuvres included a cocoa nibs studded chèvre log with applewood salt by Karen.
Bite size hickory smoked salt pretzels, a recipe in Salted made by Carol.
Charred and fanned out on a bamboo tray, Shirley grilled maitake mushrooms and shishito peppers.
She brought three types of Japanese salts to taste with the vegetables – wasabi salt, dashi salt and shichimi tōgarashi blended with salt.
Chuck assembled fresh farm cheese and sungold tomato jam crostinis with his own applewood smoked Maldon salt and lemon thyme.
These sticky nuts were salted orange blossom honey almonds by Lisa.
Kim baked a tin of salted cranberry and pistachio biscotti.
Carol’s second recipe from Salted was Himalayan pink salt brittle.
Nazila dipped vanilla marshmallows in chocolate with salt on top.
Carol made her signature alderwood smoked salt caramels.
We piled our plates with the delectable selection and ate as we listened to Mark, a James Beard Foundation Book Award Winner. An eloquent speaker, we were all mesmerised by his salt narrative. Salt is a ‘universal food, a defining ingredient of the world’s culinary traditions’. He described himself as a vagabond writer and a ‘ravenous and perennial eater’.
When he opened The Meadow, he felt all he was doing was putting contents of his basement into jars! Salt connects people and he stocks over one hundred varieties of salts in his store. They also sell flowers, chocolates and bitters.
He realised there was no original research on salt and its behaviour on food. Salt is a powerful flavour enhancer, a nutritional necessity and the only mineral we eat. It is not just a chemical, it is a substance made by hand.
The Meadow has recently opened a store in New York for retail customers, and they supply food manufacturers and restaurateurs.
Salt makers have an intimate relationship with nature, a deep understanding of complex conditions. Saltiness is modulated by the shape and size of the crystals. Salts have different moisture levels. Fleur de sel has about ten percent residual moisture and is resilient in food, it glistens as it dissolves to spark our palate. Eighty pounds of salt yields one pound of fleur de sel for a ‘luxurious, sensual experience’!
Japan has the most sophisticated and obsessive salt culture. To make takesumi bamboo salt, sea water is extracted from three thousand feet under the ocean, sprayed onto bamboo to dry and stirred continuously with a wooden paddle while simmering until evaporated.
Hundreds of millions of years old, Himalayan salt blocks can function as tableware or cookware. It’ll slightly cure sashimi or Carpaccio, and can be heated up for sautéing.
The ‘manifesto’ is the byline of his book and this is clear when he declared that kosher salt is a stainless steel cleaner! Kosher salt is a desiccating agent that extracts moisture. It is a refined chemical manufactured for industries and it is Mark’s ‘mission in life to eradicate kosher salt’.
Salted has three sections: the life of salt, a history; salt guide, varieties and profiles; and salting, techniques and recipes.
We concluded the evening with a peek inside his case of sample salts. Mark had a bottle of nigari, or magnesium chloride. At the Spring Hill dinner the attendees had experimented with droplets into bourbon, adding a complex bitterness.
So for Kate, salt is not just salt!
Sincere thanks to Myra for her hospitality, Mark for his insights, and the Seattle food community for a delicious and informative potluck!