It seems that birthday celebrations call for Stone Barns. And not just birthdays—the place is thick with tipsy bridesmaids and full-on wedding parties. You may recall that last January I chose to turn 48 within its glorious confines. G and I dined there recently with a group of friends to fête the marvelous Matthew on the occasion of his 50th. Each of the three times I’ve been in the last 18 months have been revelatory experiences; not only the food, but the service and the ambiance elevate this restaurant above most others. It’s part of a multi-million dollar farming, education and hospitality enterprise, and much of the food served is raised on the grounds or locally. This summer, I was lucky enough to get a little window into the kitchen when my sister-in-law secured an externship as part of her program at I.C.E. In lay terms, that means she worked there. She assuaged my jealousy by religiously recounting tips, techniques and stories from behind the scenes at one of this country’s finest restaurants. It was almost as good as eating there…

don’t miss the bar experience

When you’re waiting for your table, be sure to order a cocktail. They are nicely seasonal, of course (at this point that’s mandatory), but they tend to incorporate some interesting boozes, fresh fruits and herbal ingredients. I had a rum drink flavored with angelica syrup that veered slightly towards the medicinal but was nonetheless good. And should you decide to go for the wine pairing with your meal, you will not be disappointed. The sommelier, Thomas Carter, does a bang-up job selecting complementary flavors.

gazpacho and the familiar display of pristine vegetables

They don’t even bother with a written menu now. There is a choice between 8 and 15 courses (we’ve always chosen 8, and 15 seems unfathomable regardless of what they say about modulating portions) and it’s a seasonal tasting menu. Online there is a sort of menu listing the ingredients they are working with each month. By now a few of their tricks have lost some of their novelty—kale chips, potato chips woven with herbs, teensy garden vegetables on spikes—but still remain largely delicious. This time the amuse-bouches included little chasers of gazpacho, silky and sharp with sherry vinegar.

red fife brioche with chard marmalade

I don’t really feel like walking you through the whole menu. I think I may be a little jaded. I’ve come to realize that what I love even more than this very refined, technique-driven cuisine from gifted chef-artiste Dan Barber are the very bold, intense flavors I return to time and again at Momofuku Ssam, or even at Danji, that new Korean place. I’m thrilled to eat cumin-crusted Muslim lamb chops at some dive in Flushing, or pungent Thai food or curries. That being said, two of my favorite courses at this Stone Barns dinner involved bread. The first was this incredibly delicate brioche, made with red fife wheat from Anson Mills. They describe it as having “profoundly herbaceous and nutty fresh wheat flavors; a m—t, satisfying crumb; and a lovely crust with deep, toasty caramel notes.” It’s all true. It was served with a delicate, creamy and slightly warm ricotta with a tiny quenelle of chard marmalade on the side. These three tastes together, sprinkled with a little crushed pepper, was entirely heavenly and very memorable.

potato-onion bread with butter and flavored salts

A few courses later, out came this potato-onion bread. We all remembered it from last time and were extremely excited when it made another appearance. We even had seconds. Undoubtedly a bad idea given all the food that lay ahead, but absolutely irresistible. The bread was served warm, with the world’s creamiest and most divine butter (possibly from Ronnybrook) as well as two housemade salts: tomato, which was fresh and tangy, and black trumpet, which had a funky, truffle-like flavor. Was I disturbed to later learn that this bread is not baked in-house, but is instead delivered from New York’s Balthazar Bakery? Slightly. But the butter, the salts and the perfect temperature do enhance it quite a bit.

the trolley of herbs

There was also a rich pasta made with ostrich egg and coated in a thick film of tomato essence; the tenderest pork loin on the planet, accompanied by an unctuous square of belly; and some other things I’ve forgotten, including dessert which was not thrilling. But the meal ended on a high note when I ordered the most expensive tea on the menu—an herbal tisane. This is simply an infusion of dried or fresh herbs, so I wasn’t entirely sure why it would cost $15, but I wanted to find out. As they say, presentation is everything. Out rolled a dramatic wooden tea trolley covered with glass teapots glowing atop lit bunsen burners, loaded with clear containers of herbs fresh from the garden: anise hyssop, lemon verbena, lavender, mint, Thai basil, etc. You choose what you want and little sprigs are snipped off and stuffed into your own small teapot.  Like everything at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, it was inspiring, sensual and restorative.

The birthday is past, but the celebration continues! The lovely Miriam treated me to luncheon at The John Dory yesterday, both of us braving snowdrifts and delayed trains, serendipitously arriving on the very day Sam Sifton’s rave review appeared in the Times. (Just missed scooping him by one day!) Like The Breslin, the restaurant is adjacent to—and part of the same building as—the Ace Hotel; upon inquiring, we were informed that the frigid indoor temperature was a result of the entire shebang losing its heat. I ate with gloves on and the cold endowed the whole venture with a sort of pioneer quality. Things began shaping up from the moment our hot toddies arrived. Cocktails, you gasp, in the middle of a workday?! Yes, I must say, it was rather Mad Men of us, and ushered in a mood of general excess.

hot, hot, hot: bourbon, lemon, star anise and cinnamon

I managed to remember to photograph everything we ate, so here goes…

how green is your valley?

The menu said “parsley and anchovy toast,” so I was picturing a piece of bread with a couple of slices of anchovy, maybe sprinkled with a bit of parsley. What arrived was thick, crusty (Sullivan Street Bakery?) grilled bread topped with big chlorophyllic gobs of what turned out to be one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted: fresh parsley pureed with anchovy, hot pepper and olive oil. Savory and lip-smackingly addictive. Go have some. Now. (Will be making at home, no question.)

chef april bloomfield really knows her way around a caesar salad

The Caesar salad at The Breslin—where April Bloomfield is also the chef—is one of the best around, so I had high hopes for this escarole salad with anchovy dressing. But I wasn’t expecting the tender inner leaves to be complemented by braised and smoked outer leaves. Plus the dressing rocked and the tiny crunchy breadcrumbs would make even a turd delectable.

roll with it

The waitress recommended we not skip the Parker House rolls, buttery flaky creations named for the Boston Hotel where they were invented. These were a particular favorite of my mother, so for sentimental reasons alone I had to try them. Not sure what Miriam’s excuse was. Oh, I know: It’s your birthday. A great excuse to scarf down pretty much anything. Which we did.

chorizo-&-rice-stuffed squid with smoked tomato

oyster pan roast with uni toast

I don’t like cooked oysters (boogers) and I don’t like uni (faint perfume of urine), but I would take a bath in that broth of buttery cream spiked with vermouth and tarragon.

it was all cake

You have to have dessert on your birthday, so we shared this decadent Eccles cake: a ball of flaky pastry stuffed with orange-scented currants, served atop a slice of rich and pungent Stilton. It seemed like a fantastic combination, though in truth the Stilton was so strong it rather overpowered the delicate flavors of the cake. Still, I would do it again without any qualms.

Would you believe I was back at it that same evening for dinner at Balaboosta with G, Andy and Judi?! Another recipient of a rave review in the Times. This little Middle Eastern join in Nolita knocked our socks off with an array of small plates, including falafel; divine fried olives to dip in rich, creamy labne; smoky eggplant bruschetta; fried cauliflower with raisins and pine nuts; and a wonderful pizza topped with a brilliant orange carrot puree, goat cheese and a ton of cilantro. Would you believe I skipped dessert?

It was my birthday on Saturday and I had the great fortune of celebrating with friends at Blue Hill, the restaurant at Stone Barns in Pocantico Hills. You may remember I wrote about another delectable meal I enjoyed there back in May. In a perfect world, I would eat there four times a year. The menu is linked to the seasons and what is grown on the farm—beef, pork and lamb included—and sourced locally. Stone Barns is a beautiful and fascinating place, an educational center as well as a non-profit working farm and a fine dining restaurant; please visit their websites (here and here) to learn more about the many things that go on there.

the picturesque barns are indeed made of stone

Blue Hill offers only tasting menus, five or eight courses; wine pairings are available of course. They used to post a long list of ingredients on one side of the written menu, so you could see the palette with which the chef was working that night. Now they have dispensed with that and it truly is like the Japanese omakase, where the diner relinquishes all control. They do give everyone a chance to opt out of anything, so if you don’t eat offal, say—or dairy or gluten or beets—you’ll never be presented with something you won’t enjoy.

I visited the current website after the fact and the following list of ingredients was posted, some of which were indeed on our plates on Saturday night:

Hudson Valley venison, Hakurei turnips, Jerusalem artichokes, Cosmic and Mokum carrots, Brussels sprouts, Claytonia, Peruvian altitude potatoes, green tomatoes, field celery root, wintered leeks, Emden and African geese, frika, kidney beans, Mulefoot pigs, honeycup squash, Wapsie Valley corn, cellar “hung” tomatoes, Blue Hill Farm eggs, ginger, Blue Hill Farm veal, mibuna, Ossabaw pigs

we did not eat beef, but if we had it might have come from the farm’s own herd

Upon arrival, we sat in the small lounge by a warm fire and had lovely cocktails. Mine was made with quince juice and quince syrup and was topped with an amazingly frothy head of foam. The dining room is large with high wooden beams, and beautifully lit. Large arrangements of white amaryllis blooms emerged from silver birch logs. Outside the windows, improving ever-so-slighty upon the beauty of nature, perfect glass icicles had been hung from the canopies of bare and twisting wisteria branches. Every detail is perfectly considered.

beets from the state-of-the-art greenhouse

Here is what we ate:

Pristine young vegetables from the farm, presented on long metal spikes emerging from a single wooden plank: cauliflower, carrot, radish, pickled squash

A tiny glass of cool beet gazpacho, rich with beef stock and enlivened with horseradish sorbet

A beet “slider” with goat cheese on a tiny, sesame-seed encrusted bun

Crunchy vegetable chips served entwined on a cluster of metal branches: smoked Tuscan kale, red potato embedded with a sage leaf, cabbage

Slices of charcuterie: bresaola (beef) and lonza (pork)

Cubes of incredibly sweet beets with greenhouse cress, yogurt, a slice of pickled plum and a slick of pine nut butter

Then the lovely and articulate waitress brought out a tray covered with blackened and barely recognizable foodstuffs: a charred lobster, pork bones, a corn cob. She explained to us that Stone Barns has a piece of equipment that has the potential to transform the way natural waste is processed on the farm. In their words, this “biochar apparatus”—also known as a gasifier—is designed to transform biomass (anything from felled trees to paper plates) into a pure form of carbon called biochar. The process of biochar production (called pyrolysis) involves burning biomass inside the gasifier’s steel chamber until oxygen is completely gone, transforming the substance into pure carbon, or biochar, that is free of the volatile chemicals and ash contained in charcoal.

Apparently, the use in farming of biochar dates back thousands of years to the Amazon Basin, where farmers added it to the soil to improve crop yields. More recent scientific research has confirmed its ability to improve soil health and accelerate mineral absorption by plants. Stone Barns uses biochar as a natural soil amendment, adding it to compost and soil mixes and holding side-by-side trials to compare plant growth. They hope that plants grown in a biochar mix will have a 20%-40% increase in growth over plants grown without it, providing a boost in production for farmers.

Beyond its use in the fields, biochar contributes to the culinary experience: Blue Hill chefs experiment with it on the grill. And thus, for our next course we were treated to:

Day-long grilled onion (a Sicilian variety) with four sauces: pickled vegetable, olive tapenade, carrot puree and crépinette, a chopped mix of pork and offal, traditionally cooked in caul fat, that was rich and addictive. This was one of my favorite dishes of the evening. The subtle smokiness of the outer layers giving way to the velvety heart of the onion, and combined with the rich savoriness of the pork condiment, was truly divine.

Potato-onion bread, still warm from the oven, with cultured butter from Ronnybrook farm and two kinds of salt: sweet potato and carrot. Whoever said man cannot live on bread alone had surely never eaten this. The elastic, warm crumb and the dark, crisp crust made a heavenly combination.

Creamy razor clam and celery root chowder

“This morning’s farm egg” poached then lightly breaded and fried, with thin slices of pastrami and lardo, and a little escarole

Goose ravioli with spinach

Berkshire pork loin and belly with black beluga lentils

Toasted and chilled oatmeal with apple sorbet and apple compote

Chocolate strudel with chestnuts and dulce de leche ice cream

Linden tea

Birthday cake: sacher torte with homemade berry jam

Tiny hazelnut milkshake accompanied by little squares of dark, honey-infused chocolate

STOP! PLEASE, NO MORE! MERCY!

It was a lot of food. The portions were all quite modest, but it does add up. Thomas Carter, the genius sommelier, paired all these dishes with 7 wines that were equally revelatory. Favorites were a Frank Cornelissen ‘Contadino 6′ Etna Rossa, a raw, fruity, biodynamic red; a Lopez de Heredia ‘Vina Tondonia’ Rioja that was light but full of flavor; and a Rare Wine Co. Boston Bual Special Reserve Madeira from Portugal.

The wine flowed, as did the conversation. We laughed, we toasted one another, we basked in the glow of candlelight and in each other’s company, we savored the food and the moment. Five hours later (!), we emerged sated, delighted, transformed. This is what it is to be a glutton for life.

Home sweet home. Stuffed. And officially back in the saddle. But before I dispense with the vacation entirely, let me just wrap up the litany of LA dining. There was lunch at Terroni on Beverly Boulevard, an outpost of an Italian restaurant from Toronto that hits all the basics—salume, antipasti, pizza, pasta—but does them surprisingly well. That pizza above had a super-thin crust with molten pools of fresh mozzarella, and salty hits of caper and anchovy. It was delicious but gave me heartburn, a rare occurrence that for me signals the end (of over-indulgence) is nigh.

it’s a big, open, sunny space

g’s gnocchi came in a darling little casserole with a big scoop of fresh ricotta

And, finally, the last supper was held at Lucques in West Hollywood, a favorite of mine that is helmed by the über-talented chef Suzanne Goin. It was G’s birthday (for 2 weeks we are the same age!) and this cozy restaurant was the perfect place for a celebration with dear friends.

it’s a lovely room with a fireplace

Continuing the Mexico theme, I enjoyed a Moscow Margarita, tinged purple from the addition of beets, whose earthiness blended beautifully with the tequila. It’s been rather chilly in LA, and almost everyone opted for Suzanne’s deservedly famous shortribs, but I went for the market fish. My plate of black cod with sweet potato puree and preserved lemon was silky and buttery, sort of like adult baby food but in a good way. And, yes, I did have one of pastry chef Christina Olufson’s confections: a divine passion fruit mille-feuille with braised pineapple, coconut sherbet and candied macadamia nuts. It was a fitting end to a wonderful holiday and a series of delicious feasts. Let the detox begin (again)…

snow daze

Our flight to Mexico was totally cancelled—not delayed, not postponed, CANCELLED! 10 years ago exactly, trying to make my way from LA to Tulum to celebrate Scott’s 40th, the same exact thing happened. In the end, I never made it down there at all, but this time G pulled a rabbit out of a hat and got us a flight to Mexico CIty on Thursday. We’ll make it to Todos Santos late that night, missing just a day and a half of our vacation. By the 31st, we’ll have our day in the sun.

In the meantime, we’ll make the most of another 2 days tromping around the snowy city, and another couple of nights at the Ace. Yesterday we saw Black Swan and True Grit; the former a hot mess, the latter a beautifully shot and rather compelling film, though not the Coen brothers’ best. There followed another flawless dinner at Momofuku Ssam. The duck with plum and cashew was divine, as were the pickled Prince Edward Island mussels. Today, we’re headed out to see The Fighter and The King’s Speech, then Co. for pizza—G will fall off the gluten wagon for that! Bottom line: it could be worse. Hope you’re tucked up somewhere warm…

photo by george billard

Have you been to Peels yet? It’s the new restaurant from the people behind Freemans, that early proponent of old-timey-taxidermy-comfort-foody hipness, where downtowners still go for their mac ‘n’ cheese and hot artichoke dip. Owner Tavo Somer has described his new venture as “kind of supposed to be Freemans’ girlfriend. He’s all old New England, and she’s like a feminine, Southern girl.” Hmmm. Not sure if that really comes across since I haven’t had a proper meal there, but I did pop in early one morning for a cup of tea and really liked the cozy atmosphere downstairs in this 2-story restaurant. Nowness, LVMH’s über-coolness blog, featured the place on Thanksgiving; check out their photos. It turns out that pastry chef Shuna Lydon, whose blog rants are as amusing as her desserts are divine, has taken up residency here and is overseeing a baking extravaganza of homey treats that elevates Peels way above your average downtown cafe. I had a buckwheat muffin flavored with rosemary and lemon marmalade that was truly delicious.

the pedestrian rice crispy treat is transformed with brown butter

There is a rotating assortment of pecan sticky buns, monkey bread with mascarpone frosting, spicy ginger cake, granola biscuits, savory scones and all manner of delectable brownies, cookies, cakes and pies. Most have a rustic look that belies their sophisticated flavorings and flawless execution. Grab a mug of Stumptown coffee or Earl Grey, a newspaper and a stool at the counter, and make the most of your East Village morning.

Since my visit there, I have been haunted by memories of their graham crackers: dark rectangles of buttery crispness that are definitely a grown-up version. (Which is not to say any self-respecting child wouldn’t instantly demand a glass of milk and sit down to a plateful of these.)

deceptively humble

Obsessed with replicating them so G could also indulge, I found a gluten-free recipe from Shauna at gluten-free girl, here. Let me know if you try it before I do. For those of you who can eat wheat flour, here is another gorgeous recipe, adapted from Nancy Silverton by Deb at smitten kitchen. As she says, making your own graham crackers allows you to avoid the hydrogenated fat and corn syrup in the store-bought kind. I’m thinking s’mores in front of the fire (homemade marshmallows are next!); I’m thinking Meyer lemon cheesecake; I’m thinking a thick swirl of fresh ricotta and a drizzle of honey; or simply dunking them into a nice hot, milky cup of tea. Thanks, Peels, for the inspiration.

Today was one of those days when I was filled with a great love for New York City. The energy is always particularly high around the holidays, the streets filled with tourists, the shops crowded and a bracing chill in the air. I was walking up Central Park South, watching dogs chasing squirrels in the park, enjoying the lovely vistas, when I came upon the sweetest sight: a couple of chefs from the Ritz-Carlton feeding the carriage horses fresh carrots (greens and all) from a big market basket. So delightful, especially since I always get a pang of sadness when I see those horses gussied up in that cheesy frippery they really don’t deserve. (I think I read Black Beauty just a few too many times as a girl.) Anyway, it was an especially New York-y moment—unexpected, extravagant, poignant. And it was the perfect set-up for an exceptional day that included lunch at A Voce, a facial from the incomparable Claudia Colombo, dinner at Nougatine, A Free Man of Color at Lincoln Center, and a night at The Jane.

I’d never been to the uptown A Voce, and it did not disappoint. Although I find eating in the Time Warner Center a rather bizarre, un-New York experience, more akin to the LA mini-mall restaurant phenomenon, the fact that you get a nice view of the park is a big perk. Knowing that I would also be dining out, I kept it simple: a few thick slices of panfried mushroom served atop a thin slick of cheesy fonduta and an order of broccoli rabe doused with an astringent anchovy dressing. For dessert, my friend and I split a small portion of perfectly airy honey semifreddo, topped with a divinely salty crust of honeyed sesame seeds. I had a glass of Sicilian red and not a single regret.

Dinner at Nougatine ended with this lovely marzipan scroll on Philip’s birthday dessert. The Jean-Georges “brand” is truly above reproach. Every one of his restaurants offers a lovely environment, impeccable service and reliably delicious food. Our fish and lobster were prepared beautifully with inventive flavor combinations and not overly larded with butter and salt, a drawback of much restaurant food. And we had the added pleasure of seeing the chef himself, all slicked-back hair, crisp whites and smooth professionalism. What is the opposite of the saying “The fish stinks from the head”?

colorful, indeed

As for the play, well…we deemed it a folly. The performances were all wonderful, with many hilarious characterizations, and the costumes were great, but I totally lost the plot. I mean I had no idea what was going on, and I swear Stephanie’s eyes were closed for the entire second act! Can’t say I recommend it even though I am a fan of the very talented Geoffrey Wright.

A bit of a non sequitur, I know, but with Hanukkah in full swing, I wanted to give you at least one recipe for latkes. Here’s a fun one from Floyd Cardoz at the soon-to-be-defunct Tabla restaurant. It’s an Indian twist on the classic potato pancake—with apple, warming spices and a hit of blue cheese!—in case you’re inspired to change things up a bit this year.

not your mother’s latkes

POTATO APPLE TIKKI

serves six

2 large Idaho potatoes

1 large apple (Mutsu, Empire)

1 tablespoon ginger, minced

½ fresh green chili pepper, sliced

¼ cup cilantro leaves, cut into thin strips

½ tablespoon coriander seeds, toasted and ground fine

½ teaspoon black pepper, toasted and ground fine

¼ teaspoon chat masala

¼ cup blue cheese crumbled

¼ cup safflower oil

Roast whole Idaho potatoes on a bed of salt until just tender (but not mushy). Remove from oven and let cool.

Peel and grate potatoes on large side of box grater.

Peel and grate half the apple. Place in cheesecloth and squeeze dry.

Combine the potato and apple, season with salt and pepper. Add the ginger, chili pepper, cilantro, coriander, black pepper, and chat.

Form rounds slightly smaller than golf balls.

Using a round mold (1½-inch diameter), take one ball and form it on the base of the mold. Place a little less than 1 tbsp. of blue cheese on top and one more potato ball on top of that. Finish forming smooth tikkis, then refrigerate.

Place a heavy-bottomed cast-iron skillet over moderate heat, add half the oil, and heat until it shimmers. Add half the potato tikkis to the pan and cook until golden. Turn them over; cook the other side until golden brown. Repeat.

Vegetables are in the zeitgeist. Pro-vegetable articles are popping up all over, like this one and this one. It seems like some people—a vocal minority?—are really starting to embrace Michael Pollan’s edict to “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” Actually, I’m not so sure about the “not too much” part. We Americans are all about plenty; a surfeit, even. But look, a ton o’ vegetables is still a whole lot healthier than a ton o’ beef. And I think I’ll just take this opportunity to say once more, and probably not for the last time, I loathe the non-word “veggies.” As if somehow you’re going to make them what, more palatable? more cute? more friendly? Please. Just do me the great favor of honoring them with their lovely and true name: vegetable. Anyhoo. Eating lots of vegetables is always pretty easy during the warm months, when fresh tomatoes and corn and summer squash and lettuces and herbs are so plentiful, but what about now, as the farmers markets begin to dwindle down to a more paltry selection of onions, squash and the like? I feel a teensy bit smug knowing that my freezer is stocked with bags of local blackberries, freshly shucked corn and homemade tomato sauce. We can easily pop into the grocery store for hydroponic greens and grapes from Chile, but I urge you not to abandon seasonal eating quite so readily. Look again: local cabbage, celeriac, sweet potatoes, leeks, carrots, rutabagas, garlic, kale, collards, beets, turnips. And of course, there are always dried grains and legumes like lentils, chickpeas, barley, wild rice, buckwheat groats (kasha, to you Jews out there), farro, quinoa, brown rice, polenta and all manner of pasta. As well as a slew of nuts, seeds and dried fruits and spices to zhush it all up. The reality is, once you stop thinking of animal protein as the center of every meal, a whole gorgeous world of possibility crops (no pun intended) up.

take that, abc kitchen

I always eat a lot of vegetables, and this week I plan to be eating even more. We stopped in at the uptown Fairway on the way home from the city on Saturday evening and picked up leeks, rutabagas, celery, pomegranates, persimmons, avocado, rainbow chard, celeriac, beets (even though G doesn’t care for them), broccoli, radicchio, arugula, mushrooms and carrots. Last night I made my version of the carrot-&-avocado salad from ABC Kitchen I mentioned before. If there’s one piece of advice I can give you about eating more vegetables, it’s this: prepare them. Combine them, apply a technique, create textures and juxtapose flavors. Don’t just eat them raw or steam them and expect to be blown away. Need a little inspiration? Look at some restaurant menus, like this one and this one. Granted, you’re probably not going to make an 11-course vegetarian tasting menu a la Per Se at home (and neither am I!), but you catch my drift.

Last night I made my version of the carrot-&-avocado salad I mentioned before. At ABC Kitchen, it’s topped with a couple of spoonfuls of loose sour cream that, in the words of Jean-Georges himself, “brings together all the flavors.” I didn’t have any, so I whipped together an ounce or so of blue cheese with half a cup of buttermilk and, on a whim, stirred in a half teaspoon of xanthan gum. Yes, a little bit of molecular gastronomy! Xanthan gum is a polysaccharide that is often used in salad dressings and sauces to help prevent oil separation by stabilizing the emulsion. It also helps create the smooth mouth feel in many ice creams. It first came to my attention because of gluten-free baking, where it gives dough a bit of the stickiness that would otherwise come from gluten. It’s used in very small quantities and doesn’t change the color or flavor of foods. But back to the salad. It’s what is known as a composed salad, with separately prepared ingredients brought together on the plate: spicy roasted carrots; buttery avocado; a tangle of citrus-dressed greens; and the crunch of toasted pumpkin seeds. It hits all the taste and texture targets and is surprisingly filling. I find it addictively delicious. Let me know if you do, too.

the carrots get a nice caramelized finish

CARROT-&-AVOCADO SALAD À LA ABC KITCHEN

serves 2

For the roasted carrots:

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon honey

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon chile powder

1/4 teaspoon cayenne

6 medium to large carrots, peeled and trimmed

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Whisk together everything except the carrots until well combined. Slather all over the carrots and then place them in a roasting pan. Pour over all the remaining sauce. Bake, basting every 15 minutes, until carrots are tender, about an hour. Remove from oven and set aside.

For the citrus dressing:

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon honey

1 generous pinch sea salt

1 tablespoon olive oil

Whisk together honey, lemon juice and salt until well combined; then whisk in olive oil until emulsified. Set aside.

For the spiced pumpkin seeds:

2 teaspoons olive oil

1/4 cup raw pepitas (hulled pumpkin seeds)

1/4 teaspoon spicy pimentón

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1/4 teaspoon ground cumin

1/2 teaspoon rapadura (or sugar)

In a small skillet, heat the olive oil and add the pepitas. Sprinkle over the remaining ingredients and stir to combine. Cook for a few minutes, until the seeds are lightly browned and beginning to pop. Remove from heat and spread on a plate to cool.

To assemble the salad:

4 large handfuls of baby arugula

citrus dressing

6 roasted carrots, sliced in half lengthwise

1 perfectly ripe avocado, peeled and cut into eighths

4 tablespoons sour cream, whisked to loosen a bit

spiced pepitas

In a bowl, toss the arugula with the citrus dressing until the leaves are well coated. Divide the dressed greens between two plates. Around the greens, arrange 3 sliced carrots and 4 avocado sections. Spoon 2 tablespoons of sour cream in the middle and scatter pepitas over the top.

I’ve now made two trips to Eataly, New York City’s new temple of Italian gastronomy, and although I haven’t actually eaten anything on premises, I’m able to give you my initial impressions. On my first visit, shortly after it opened in late August, I muscled my way through the throngs of gaping tourists and irritated locals in what looked a lot like an Italian airport, barely able to check it all out before fleeing to the relative calm of 23rd Street. Porca miseria, I texted G. What a mob scene! And for what? A small, bedraggled-looking produce section (and alleged “produce butcher” Jennifer Rubell nowhere in sight); aisle after aisle of dried pasta; very pricey imported salume (culatello for $65 a pound!); walls cluttered with the kind of boxed biscotti and candies you find at most corner delis…well, you can see I was underwhelmed. (And the thought of the carbon footprint on much of this stuff gives me pause.) Still, I did get a glimpse of what looked like a very impressive selection of fresh pasta. Pat La Frieda’s meats caught my eye, as did whole fresh duck, sweetbreads and tripe—not a common sight in most butcher shops. And the seafood counter, curated by the master David Pasternak, was flawless. La Verdura, a counter serving vegetable-based dishes and the only menu I eyeballed, seemed very promising. Now if all those people would just fuck off…

the salumeria

My second visit, on a Sunday at 11am, proved more successful. The restaurants weren’t yet open and there were no crowds to speak of. The place is 50,000 square feet, with a 300-seat, 6,000 sq ft partially enclosed rooftop beer garden on the 15th floor slated to open in November. There’s a cooking school (“La Scuola”) under the tutelage of Dean Lidia Bastianich, who, along with her son Joe and cohort Mario Batali, has lent her name, reputation and occasional presence to this ginormous, Italian-underwritten venture. Here’s what all is going on there: a Lavazza coffee shop; a gelateria; a paninoteca poised to grill and press huge quantities; two wood-fired pizza ovens imported from Italy; a fresh pasta counter with two dozen varieties on offer; an Italian bank ATM (WTF?); a bakery (overseen by Nancy Silverton of La Brea Bakery); a butcher; fishmonger; locally-sourced produce; canned tomatoes, tomato sauces, olive oils, vinegars, jams, honey, and too much dried pasta and risotto rice; a planned microbrewery, headed by Teo Musso of Birrificio Le Baladin, Leonardo Di Vincenzo of Birra del Borgo in Rome, and Sam Calagione of Dogfish Head Brewery, including “guest brewers every month that come from Italy to brew regionally- and seasonally-specific beers”; and restaurants, including Pizzeria Rossopomodoro fronted by two guys from Naples; Il Crudo; Salumi e Formaggi; La Pasta; La Verdura, the vegetable bar/restaurant; Il Pesce, run by David Pasternack (genius); Il Manzo, a white-tablecloth Italian steakhouse with 80 seats, headed by Michael Toscano, formerly of Babbo. Plus other food stands: Paninoteca, Pasticceria (pastries and desserts), Rosticceria (roast meats) and Il Laboratoria De La Mozzarella. AND, Italian housewares, a book shop (inconsequential) and a separate wine shop. In a word, BASTA! A lot of it looks and smells amazing. I came away with delicious pistachio-studded mortadella; local stone-ground polenta; some soda water flavored with lemons from Amalfi; and a stinky piece of Castelmagno cheese that virtually cries out for a Super Tuscan. I’ll be returning for a visit to the vegetable restaurant, a closer inspection of the bakery and, perhaps, a whole octopus, G’s favorite. Below, a selection of his photos, taken as I was waiting my turn at the salumeria.

of course there’s fresh mozzarella, but also fresh burrata flown in from Italy

who could resist this Castelmagno?

the place has bad flow but there are lots of little seating areas

tiramisu, naturally

the fresh pasta is truly unprecedented

la brea bakery in los angeles is one of my favorite places on earth so I will try this one

if you’ve ever been to Esca, you know that David Pasternak rules the waves

note the tripe at the back

Still haven’t made it to Momofuku Ko (can’t seem to perform that Pavlovian task of logging on every day at 10am and frantically pecking at the keyboard in hope of getting a reservation) but finally dined at David Chang’s latest outpost in midtown, Mà Pêche. It’s what you might expect from an uptown version: roomier, sleeker and slightly more soulless. As chef, Chang has installed Tien Ho, formerly the boss of the kitchen at Momofuku Ssam Bar, which still remains my favorite of the empire. As Sam Sifton put it in in his review in the Times, “The food is not quite as precise and magical as it often is in the downtown restaurants, but it is recognizably Changish and strong: big flavors tied together with herbs and acids.” I killed some time in the dimly-lit bar first and things started off with a bang. There was a bar snack of what looked like pork rinds and turned out to be large, crunchy cassava chips dusted with salt and spicy shichimi togarashi, a favorite spice blend of mine that was also used to spike a yuzu-infused sake “sour.” Needless to say, I was very happy to sit there devouring Jonathan Franzen’s “Freedom” and the entire bowl of chips along with my cocktail.  

Once G arrived, we headed downstairs to the restaurant. It’s been stripped of the fancy decor from the former tenant, Town, and the usual mix of music blares (though not quite as loudly), but the seats have backs and there’s a great deal more room between tables than what you would expect from a Chang enterprise. It’s not necessarily an improvement. I love the din and the crush at Ssam Bar. But whatever. I’m there for the food and that didn’t disappoint, although there were no really new thrills for which we’ll be returning. You can see the entire menu here. We had some nice oysters with a Thai-basil infused mignonette and a squid salad with fish sauce, coriander and peanuts. As usual, all the seafood was impeccable.

There was a delectable summer bean salad that was just green and yellow string beans generously dressed in an intense miso-sesame sauce. The Vietnamese summer rolls with shrimp and herbs were exactly what you might expect, authentic and fresh. Pork ribs with lemongrass and caramel sauce were good, but outshone by a dish of Tuscan kale infused with smoky bacon and showered with lemony bread crumbs. Cheese is on offer for dessert, or you can hit the Milk Bar bakery in the lobby on the way out. I asked for a taste of the salty pistachio-caramel ice cream, and it was the perfect mouthful to end the evening. Would I go back? When I’m in the area, and I’ll definitely head there for lunch next time I’m up there. But, what can I say? I’ve been a downtown girl since I moved to Avenue A in 1985, and this was further proof that all the best stuff is still below 14th Street.