Alex Raij is the chef and co-owner of Txikito, a wonderful restaurant in Manhattan with its own uniquely personal take on Basque cuisine. I have eaten there on many occasions—on my own or with a friend for lunch, with groups big and small for dinner—and she has never failed to impress me with her imaginative and delicious cooking. El Quinto Pino, a more traditional tapas bar, is also part of her empire, which I'm sure will continue to diversify and grow in popularity. Chef Alex was kind enough to agree to an interview and submitted to a quick photo session with G. She even passed along a recipe for the basil pomada served at El Quinto Pino (I've done my best to adapt it faithfully). The result is the first of what I hope will be a series of interviews on gluttonforlife.
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photo from the new york times

Run don't walk to see Alfred Molina play Mark Rothko in Red on Broadway. This two-man play, also featuring the young British actor Eddie Redmayne (you may remember him as Matt Damon's son in The Good Shepherd), comes to us from a successful run in London. Written by John Logan (whose screenplays include Sweeney Todd, The Aviator and Gladiator), Red delivers an authentic and complex portrait of Rothko as he works on a series of murals commissioned for—but ultimately never delivered to—the swank Four Seasons restaurant. He is ferocious, pedantic and very funny, and Molina fully inhabits this character, body and soul. Redmayne does a great job of portraying his young assistant, ambitious and brash in his own right. There is no intermission, and the play moves along quite briskly. It received a roaring standing ovation the night I was there.
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Can I tell you a little secret? I absolutely love eating lunch out by myself. As much as I enjoy meeting friends, I really like taking an hour out, relaxing with a book (on my Kindle!) or just taking in the sights. It doesn't have to be a fancy place—I'm a huge fan of the very low-key City Bakery—but I'll confess to having a weakness for fine dining. (What, you didn't know?!) I was in the Madison Square Park area, scarcely having recovered from dinner the previous night at Momofuku Ssam (where I accidentally ate a big piece of kimchi and had the WORST garlic breath for about 12 hours; OK, and I ate the MOST delicious lo mein noodles with trout roe and the skinniest ramps all afloat in pools of butter), and I had an hour or so to kill before a meeting, so I decided to duck into 11 Madison Park for a little luncheon. I knew I could eat at the bar there, having done so in the past, and I often prefer that when I'm alone. It's a very beautiful room, as you can see above, and pretty much everything about the place is perfection. The service, as at all of Danny Meyer's restaurants, is very friendly, but it's also rather formal here.
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G did a bad thing. He went to Bouchon Bakery in the Time Warner Center and came home with all these goodies. I mean baddies! He claimed they were for our guests but a few crumbs fell into our mouths as well. Do you love Thomas Keller? (If you don't know who I'm talking about, Rip Van Winkle, you can read his bio on the Bouchon Bakery website.) I had an incredible lunch at the French Laundry in the spring of 2001 and even went into the kitchen to have Thomas sign a copy of his recently published cookbook of the same name. It was immaculate in there and quiet as a tomb. But the food that came out was hardly demure. For such a serious chef, he loves his little food puns: oysters and pearls (tapioca); coffee and doughnuts (cappuccino semifreddo), etc. He opened Bouchon Bakery right outside Per Se—his magnum opus where I have dined in splendor overlooking Central Park—so that it could provide bread for the restaurant and also "add an additional layer of cafe life to the surrounding area." So thoughtful. There, you can grab and go, perch on a stool, or get a real table at which to enjoy light fare, including soups and sandwiches, quiche, wonderful breads and all manner of sweets. I once had a huge coconut-dusted doughnut stuffed with passionfruit curd that nearly did me in. They even bake dog treats for New York's most pampered canines. My personal favorite from the selection shown above happens to be the frisbee-sized Nutter Butter. It's unwise to eat more than a quarter of this creamy, peanutty travesty at a time. I've even posted the bakery's recipe for it should you be reckless enough to want to try this at home.
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I’m going to institute a new feature that, along with Round-Ups and Novel Ingredients, will become something you’ll see from time to time on my blog. Shop Talk will give me a chance to spotlight some of my favorite retail venues, both brick-&-mortar and virtual. Many of you may already know about Global Table, as it’s received plenty of coverage elsewhere. Still, I’d like to toss in my 2 cents. Owned and curated by Nathalie Smith, a former stylist at Elle Décor, this tiny shop on Sullivan Street in SoHo is stuffed to the gills with a well-edited selection of housewares at really accessible prices. Smith has a great eye for the beautiful and the functional—from delicate glass decanters and bamboo bowls to melamine trays and even lamps. Want to make a statement with a bunch of oversized ceramic vases in brilliant hues?
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I've never gotten into reality TV, never seen Top Chef, so I can only judge Tom Colicchio on the basis of his food which I think is pretty damn good. It was over a luxurious dinner at Craft in 2005 that G requested permission to officially court me. I still remember coyly nodding my head as I stuffed in a mouthful of roasted chanterelles. This was a man who knew the way to my heart. (Which one? you're asking...) I've also been a loyal fan of Craftbar over the years, especially during the reign of Akhtar Nawab, when you could sip some delicious Campari cocktail at the bar while noshing on fried sage leaves stuffed with sausage. These days, in its new location on Broadway, Craftbar is still a fun spot—and a good deal—for lunch. During the abbreviated run of Craftsteak, I had one of the best steaks of my life, a flatiron. But I remember being rather appalled at the blasting air-conditioning (for all those sweaty, rib-eye-eating Wall Streeters) and the equally affronting price tag. Now this huge, wood-filled space has been reincarnated as Colicchio and Sons—a more modest but also more ambitious restaurant. As Sam Sifton of the Times said in his 3-star review last week, "A lot of testosterone has been drained off, and a combination of flowers and a Grateful Deadish soundtrack do much to counter the boom-era feel of the restaurant’s towering ceilings and soft leather seats." I took a friend there for her birthday lunch yesterday but arrived early, so decided to perch at the bar while I waited. Of course this led to a cocktail (at noon!), a wonderful combination of thyme-infused vodka with lemon and ginger ale called the Hard Thyme, accompanied by a teensy bowl of chile-roasted nuts. When my friend arrived, I was pleasantly loose and ready for anything.
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Bond Street is no longer the tucked-away, cobblestoned street of artists' studios it once was. The arrival of Herzog & de Meuron’s overwrought luxury residences and a slew of expensive boutiques signaled a definitive transformation. But it still retains its charm, in no small part because of Il Buco. What began in 1994 as a little antiques shop is now this wonderful Italian restaurant where candelight bounces off rows of hanging copper pots, illuminating dark paintings and the smiles of sated guests. Rustic wooden tables and cozy banquettes make for leisurely dining. The place attracts a nice crowd of locals and regulars that creates a buzzy but not pretentious scene. The eclectic menu is Italian-inflected, with a nod to Spain’s tapas-style grazing. I have found the food to be uniformly delicious. And although it’s hard to make the meal the main focus when you’re surrounded by a gorgeous gaggle of old friends who rarely come together now—sharing stories and secrets and laughs at full volume—it’s also impossible not to stop and savor Il Buco’s inventive flavors. I always look forward to the bread—chewy, yeasty and crusty. Its peerless accompaniments of peppery Umbrian olive oil, Sicilian sea salt and balsamic vinegar from Modena are from Il Buco’s own brand and are available for sale in the restaurant and here.
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After a long day of work meetings and running around the city (and, yes, a mani/pedi with the Chanel "Black Satin" nail polish I have been hoarding for 2 years), I returned to the Ace and decided to have a late lunch/early dinner at The Breslin to see if I could experience what the fuss is all about. A you may recall, I tried their burger and excellent thrice-cooked fries from room service. And I also had some airy pumpkin pancakes with melted chile butter at brunch the next day that I really can't complain about. But much has been written about the alleged nose-to-tail eating at this joint, so I wanted to root around in the menu a bit more. As it turns out, I snarfled down quite a panoply of delights, so if you're thinking of making the trek to 29th and Broadway, press on, gentle reader.
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You can take the girl out of the city but you can’t take the city out of the girl…especially when she’s stuffing it back in with both hands! No better place than Momofuku Ssam Bar to remember what it’s like to eat somebody else’s cooking. We chowed down on David-Chang-deliciousness and it was yet another flawless dining experience, from cocktails to cookies. You know all about the place already, right? So I don't have to tell you that you'll eat hunched over at the bar on a hard stool, gazing at strange '70s art featuring John McEnroe and rocking out to loud music. It's all part of a funky, stripped-down dining experience that really wakes up your senses. So glad they’ve now got a full bar and mixed drinks on their extensive alcohol menu. I've written before about the truly wonderful “Penicillin;” even posted the recipe for you here. Smoky Scotch + ginger syrup + lemon juice = divinity. It outshined the Wild-Turkey-based “Gold Rush” I had last night, if you ask me. Here’s what we ate:
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Fela is astonishing! One of the most vibrant and uplifting theatrical experiences you will ever see. You should treat yourself to a night out. The show has migrated from off-Broadway to the Eugene O’Neill theatre on 49th Street. Some heavyweight producers have signed on (Jay-Z, Will and Jada Smith) and luminaries in our packed house included Spike Lee (yes, wearing a baseball cap) and Oprah BFF Gayle King (sporting a Michele Obama-esque waist-cincher). Written by Jim Lewis and directed and choreographed by the legendary Bill T. Jones, this music and dance extravaganza is about Fela Anikulap-Kuti, the Nigerian creator of Afrobeat, a unique synthesis of highlife jazz, James Brown and traditional African rhythms. We saw Sahr Ngaujah in the taxing lead role, but some nights Kevin Mambo takes over. Apparently he is just as good. As incredible as Sahr is, and as smokin’ as is the on-stage band, the show for me was all about the nine female dancers. They represent the 28 women who worked and toured with Fela, all of whom he married in one big ceremony.

Their performances are centered around their incredibly regal attitudes and their amazing booties, constantly rotating and shaking to the beat. The colorful and sexy costumes (designed by Marina Draghici, who is also responsible for the fine set), and the extraordinary makeup, are like the vivid plumage on rare birds. Their bodies range from Amazonian to tiny, from sinewy to well-muscled; they are all strong and supple and gorgeous.
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