April 2011

Certain foods just have a universal appeal. Consider the dumpling, for instance. It's found in so many cultures, this rose by any other name: knedlíky (Czech), kreplach (Jewish), pantrucas (Chile), manti (Armenia), ravioli (Italy), buuz (Mongolia), pangsit (Indonesia), dim sum (China), gyoza (Japan), mandu (Korea)...the list goes on and on. Yogurt—and soured milk of all kinds—may not be quite as common, especially given that many African and Asian countries don't do dairy, but among those that do it's a deeply-held tradition. From straight-up yogurt to crème fraîche to quark to ricotta to paneer to Mexico's indigenous Nahuatl jocoque árabe, people have long been introducing bacteria or acid to milk with delectable results. Greek yogurt has become hugely popular in this country over the last few years, thanks in no small part to the ubiquitous Fage (pronounced "fa-yeh") brand and now Chobani, too. It's simply yogurt which has been strained to remove the whey, giving it a much denser, creamier texture. Sometimes this style of yogurt is even enriched with extra butterfat or powdered milk.
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Although it's raining today, yesterday was unbelievably balmy, conjuring up thoughts of daffodils, asparagus and, yes, ice cream. Seems like a good time to tell you about a recent visit to the (relatively) new flagship of Il Laboratorio del Gelato, on Houston Street, conveniently located near Katz's. Not familiar with this temple of frozen treats? Even those of you who aren't in Manhattan may well have succumbed to the temptations of Ciao Bella ice cream. Well, they were started by the same gelato obsessive, Jon Snyder. For a long time, he mostly supplied fine restaurants with his quality product, including flavors both classic (chocolate, espresso, vanilla) and unusual (basil, kalamansi, prune/armagnac). But this venue is most definitely retail, and provides the fortunate public with access to a vast number of flavors, produced in authentic small batches.

For a list of the whole repertoire, see here. By no means have I tested even a small percentage of these flavors, though I can vouch for the sensuous texture and rich, true flavor of espresso, coconut and pumpkin, as well as the deliciously creamy sorbet, especially the mind-blowing passionfruit. Other flavors I'd like to go back for include rosemary, honey-lavender, mascarpone, pink peppercorn, malt, rhubarb, cheddar cheese and licorice. I can dream, right?
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Passover is coming up next week, and more than one person has already asked me for a good brisket recipe. It's a classic Jewish holiday dish, especially among the Ashkenazi, perhaps simply because it's economical and delicious. It's also incredibly easy to make, and turns out best if you braise it, especially if you're using a "first cut" which has less fat. Passover, for the goyim among you, commemorates the story of the Exodus, in which the Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt. Because the Jews had to flee quickly—is there any other way?—matzoh (unleavened bread) is eaten to remind us that there was no time for the bread to rise. This does not explain why brisket, which requires such long cooking, is also on the menu. Beef jerky would really be more like it. Anyway, this recipe comes from Martha Stewart, who is most definitely not of the tribe, but knows her way around a good pot roast.
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I awoke to this the view from my window today. I have traveled to Sandpoint, Idaho, this week and am staying in the northern Idaho Panhandle at The Lodge on Lake Pend Oreille. A French-Canadian fur trader allegedly gave the lake its name, which is French for an ear-hanging or pendant, the likes of which were characteristic of the local Kalispell Indian tribe. When viewed from above, the lake is also shaped much like a human ear. If I weren't here for work, I would be trekking into the breathtaking wilderness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the abundant wildlife: whitetail deer, elk, moose, grey wolves, black and grizzly bears, bobcats, bald eagles, osprey and lots of other beautiful birds. Still a big logging area, local trees include ponderosa pine, Douglas fir, poplar, quaking aspen, birch and Western larch. And, yes, Idaho has the good potatoes. I had the best hash browns ever for breakfast!

I visited an intriguing new retail concept recently, on Sullivan Street in Manhattan. It's called The Little House and is the result of a collaboration between three talented and artistic souls: Savania Davies-Keiller, Michael Capotosto and Joel Alexander Morales. (The first two are a married couple, and friends of mine.) Their website describes this project as "a movement towards an inspired, personal and creative experience." The Little House offers its own label of clothing for men and women, but also curated works of art (including the amazing woven sculptures and two-dimensional works by Capotosto), beautiful objects and a limited edition Little House Periodical. It's a basement space into which you descend via a tightly coiled spiral staircase whose banister is wrapped in a wonderfully tactile leather of the sort used on bicycle handlebars. Everything in the tiny space is subject to the same surprising and delightful level of artisanal detail. The house candle, smelling of rich pipe tobacco, is encased in a supple black leather box; the shopping bags are printed with one of Capotosto's drawings; purchases are carefully wrapped and tied with leather string.
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One of the more beloved tales in my family's rich lore is of how my father, very early in his marriage to my mother, came up behind her as she was leaning into the oven and goosed her—except it turned out to be my grandmother!! I can just see the shock on both of their faces, and imagine the explosion of laughter that followed. They both had a wicked sense of humor, especially my dad. He and my maternal grandparents loved each other dearly, once the deeply Christian Chávez family got over the idea that their beloved eldest daughter was going to marry a Jew.

But this is about another sort of goose altogether. A goose egg, actually, no doubt laid by a female relative of the lovely fellow from River Brook Farm who was the centerpiece of our Christmas dinner.
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The snow's gone but it's not exactly shirtsleeves weather. My idea of a good time is still hunkering down in front of the fire, or under a duvet. Soon I'll be donning my linen overalls and running up and down the aisles of Silver Heights Nursery buying scented geranium and heirloom tomato plants. But today I'm not above a good braise. Get 'em while it's cold. One last chance to slowly simmer and stew, to watch those lazy bubbles and that mesmerizing cloud of steam. So put aside thoughts of spring things for the moment and haul out your lovingly broken-in Le Cresuet, your stalwart Staub. You've just got time for one more stew before the mercury rises. Make it oxtail, the ultimate slow-cooker. Ick, you say. How can you eat a cow's tail? How can you not? I firmly believe you honor that cow more by making use of its every beefy bit.
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Call me an April fool, but I see snow out my window. Big, wet flakes coming down, forcing me to dismantle my weekend plans of frolicking amongst the daffodils. If, like me, you intend instead to light a fire and put your slippered feet up, I have a couple of suggestions for hours of decadent viewing pleasure. First, in case you haven't found out, I need to tell you that Netflix now has streaming movies you can download instantly to your TV or laptop. Now this is some technology I can get behind. Already a big fan of iTunes instant downloads, I may never need to leave the house again. (Joking.) At any rate, between these two applications, you now have instant access to some fantastic international productions you may have missed in the theatre and which won't likely make it to TV. The two I'm recommending are Carlos, a 5 1/2-hour mini series co-written and directed by Olivier Assayas, and Mesrine (Killer Instinct & Public Enemy #1), directed by Jean-François Richet in 2 parts totaling almost 5 hours.
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