I note this post from "Serious Eats" about the pistachio gelato at Grom, which I posted briefly about below. I concur. I knew things were good when they scooped out the gelato, and it was a nutty brown - no matter what anyone says, pistachio is not green, and green colored pistachio ice cream is just a sympton of food coloring, and possibly contamination by almond (Almonds are cheaper than pistachio, and combined with green food coloring, are often used to mimic real pistachio ice cream - see Baskin Robbins).
Things got many orders of magnitude better when I dug in.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Bowery Kitchen Supply
My girlfriend just moved out to her own apartment. She doesn't have kitchen supplies, so I decided to surprise her with at least some knives, pots, and pans. I headed to Bowery Kitchen Supply in Chelsea, had some trouble finding the store in the Chelsea Markets complex, and then raided it for two skillets, a wonderful $14 chef's knife, a $2 (!!!) dollar paring knife, some handles for the skillets (so that they can come in and out of the oven) and, for myself, a baguette mold.
It is unclear to me why I am encouraging the Hirsute Warrior's girlfriend to cook. This may result in me being able to cook less often in the future, which concerns me rather.
I also managed to avoid having yet more Gelato (see below), this time from L'arte de Gelato, which has an outpost in the markets. Of course, I also somehow withstood Sarabeth's Bakery, Amy's Bread, and various other temptations. Always standing on the precipice of fatness has its dangers.
It is unclear to me why I am encouraging the Hirsute Warrior's girlfriend to cook. This may result in me being able to cook less often in the future, which concerns me rather.
I also managed to avoid having yet more Gelato (see below), this time from L'arte de Gelato, which has an outpost in the markets. Of course, I also somehow withstood Sarabeth's Bakery, Amy's Bread, and various other temptations. Always standing on the precipice of fatness has its dangers.
Grom
An encounter at Grom, the new Italian gelato haven on the upper West Side:
Me, to my sister: This place has been in all the papers. I'm amazed there's such a short line.
Sister: huh.
Elderly Widow ("EW") in Front of us, turning: Eh, young man, it's overrated.
Me: But why are you in line, then?
EW: Because I'm rich!
Me, to my sister: This place has been in all the papers. I'm amazed there's such a short line.
Sister: huh.
Elderly Widow ("EW") in Front of us, turning: Eh, young man, it's overrated.
Me: But why are you in line, then?
EW: Because I'm rich!
Monday, July 9, 2007
Craftbar
I'm late to the show. Everyone and their brother has apparently already eaten at, gushed over, gotten tired of, and moved on from, Craft and its lesser sibblings. My girlfriend and I just made it to Craftbar this weekend. I need to earn money. Which means I can't flitter about restaurants as much as I'd like.
Food talk later. But first, we couldn't figure out whether we had a good table or not. We were tucked into a sort of dark box off to the right of the main dining room. A booth to be sure, but in a small alcove.
On one hand, there was something of the imperial about it. On the other, we were in a box. A dark, gloomy box. I cannibalized the candle in order to see the menu, but I was tempted just to set the menu itself on fire in desparation. Though, this is an idea for a gimmick - the self immolating menu.
Am I unattractive enough that the maitre d' thought I needed to be hidden away? My hirusitism isn't usually visible through my shirt, I thought. In any case, it was some of the food that needed to be hidden away.
The risotto balls were satisfying. But the chickpea fries were soft, and limp but saved by the creamy black olive tapenade.
My veal sweetbreads (when did sweetbreads become ubiquitous?) tasted like those Weber chicken cutlets I used to eat when I was younger. It is not clear to me how this was accomplished, but using the same, heavy, Weber chicken cutlet like breading that was used for the risotto balls might have something to do with it. A hint for Craftbar - more than one breading makes The Hirsute Warrior a happy boy. As would more than one cooking method (I like frying. But we have PROGRESSED beyond the fry pot.)
On the same note, fried things made of an organic wholes cut into sticks are "fries". Cut up pieces of dough, like the supposed Chickpea "fries", are "fritters". But the Warrior forgives. People like fries. I like fries. So they're called fries.
A $90 bill for two, for a nice meal. I have no complaints.
But what was up with that booth?
I'm late to the show. Everyone and their brother has apparently already eaten at, gushed over, gotten tired of, and moved on from, Craft and its lesser sibblings. My girlfriend and I just made it to Craftbar this weekend. I need to earn money. Which means I can't flitter about restaurants as much as I'd like.
Food talk later. But first, we couldn't figure out whether we had a good table or not. We were tucked into a sort of dark box off to the right of the main dining room. A booth to be sure, but in a small alcove.
On one hand, there was something of the imperial about it. On the other, we were in a box. A dark, gloomy box. I cannibalized the candle in order to see the menu, but I was tempted just to set the menu itself on fire in desparation. Though, this is an idea for a gimmick - the self immolating menu.
Am I unattractive enough that the maitre d' thought I needed to be hidden away? My hirusitism isn't usually visible through my shirt, I thought. In any case, it was some of the food that needed to be hidden away.
The risotto balls were satisfying. But the chickpea fries were soft, and limp but saved by the creamy black olive tapenade.
My veal sweetbreads (when did sweetbreads become ubiquitous?) tasted like those Weber chicken cutlets I used to eat when I was younger. It is not clear to me how this was accomplished, but using the same, heavy, Weber chicken cutlet like breading that was used for the risotto balls might have something to do with it. A hint for Craftbar - more than one breading makes The Hirsute Warrior a happy boy. As would more than one cooking method (I like frying. But we have PROGRESSED beyond the fry pot.)
On the same note, fried things made of an organic wholes cut into sticks are "fries". Cut up pieces of dough, like the supposed Chickpea "fries", are "fritters". But the Warrior forgives. People like fries. I like fries. So they're called fries.
A $90 bill for two, for a nice meal. I have no complaints.
But what was up with that booth?
The Hirsute Warrior
Hi. I'm the Hirsute Warrior. I'm going to write about food and restaurants, mostly in New York. My life is pretty busy. So I will write briefly. And to the point. And hopefully with flavor and verve. Or if not, just briefly.
Stay Tuned.
Stay Tuned.
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